Chapter 40: The Unwelcome Truth

“I’m not sure, Xie Xu… are you aware?”

Guan Qing’s face paled. He twisted the hem of his shirt, his whole body beginning to tremble.

Ye Zi said nothing.

He sat on the edge of the bed, still in the same posture as when they’d first started chatting—a casual talk between friends. Ye Zi propped himself up with one hand on the bed frame, covering his eyes with the other. After a moment of silence, he let out a low laugh.

“What Wang Yun did… do you think he doesn’t know?”

Guan Qing froze.

He felt as if he were standing on a sheet of ice. A chill crept from the soles of his feet up into his heart, bit by bit. His heart dangled in midair, terrified that his next step would shatter the ice and plunge him into the freezing depths of winter.

He had to escape.

“I… I’m just that immature,” Guan Qing forced a smile. “I don’t know my limits…”

This was absolutely not a problem that could be solved with a simple “knowing one’s limits.” Something this important—Xie Xu was hiding it from him. Even if his own power was insignificant, and even if knowing wouldn’t let him do anything, still…

That was entirely separate from whether or not he had the right to know.

What if something had happened to his mother?

What if…

He remembered that gentle woman, almost spineless in her tenderness. Her strength wasn’t great, but she had protected him through the bitterest cold of life. She had always known that a woman with a half-grown child wouldn’t be easy to remarry, especially in a small place like that. Yet she had never once entertained the thought of abandoning him.

A bowl of hot soup in winter, a rag doll stitched together in poverty, the tuition fees patched together with needle and thread… She didn’t have much, but she gave him everything, never asking for anything in return.

“I don’t believe it.”

All expression drained from Guan Qing’s face. He spoke calmly.

Ye Zi let out a scoff.

Even though they were discussing such a sharp topic, both their voices and expressions remained composed. The two bodyguards hesitated, glancing over but not stepping forward. Outside, the wind howled, and it seemed to be snowing. A chill seeped in through the tightly shut windows.

Guan Qing stared at the small plate of apples on the table. He enunciated each word: “Unless Xie Xu tells me himself, I won’t believe it.”

He knew he was deceiving himself.

He knew the truth was right there, even lying beneath that cloth. A single breath could blow it away, exposing everything to the light of day. But he couldn’t, and he dared not. He could only circle around that cloth, watching it warily, papering over the cracks.

“Is that so?” Ye Zi exhaled and smiled.

He looked down and tapped something on his phone. A burst of noise suddenly erupted—the sound of porcelain shattering on the floor, muffled. Then someone said something, but it was too indistinct to make out.

Yet Guan Qing’s heart began to pound violently.

He had a vague premonition. He couldn’t listen any further. He reached out to grab the phone, fumbling to press the power button.

Ye Zi didn’t move. He sat in place, holding a teacup. He gently blew on the scalding liquid and laughed.

“Don’t want to listen? That’s fine. I wonder if your mother wants to listen.”

Guan Qing’s hand froze.

His mother… was in Wang Yun’s hands, and Ye Zi kept in contact with Wang Yun.

He let go, collapsing back into his seat, utterly drained. He covered his eyes. It was a long moment before he looked up at Ye Zi.

Ye Zi’s expression darkened.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

His voice was low and cold, as if holding back a rage that had been pent up for who knows how long, on the verge of bursting.

In that instant, a terrifying pressure erupted from Ye Zi. It was like some beast in a primeval forest—lurking, ambushing, approaching gently step by step—then baring its fangs, striking with deadly precision.

The two trained bodyguards almost immediately slipped into a semi-conscious state.

“This… this shouldn’t be,” Guan Qing stammered, shivering uncontrollably.

Such a level of pressure exceeded any existing record. The windows instantly frosted over; the sound of ice crystallizing was starkly clear in the silent room.

“Evolution is beautiful, isn’t it? That’s what your thesis taught me.” Ye Zi smiled, slowly loosening his tie. As he covered Guan Qing’s eyes, he whispered, “Let me give you one more lesson, as your senior.

“It’s not just love that can be a trigger… Jealousy, anger, hatred—all of them work. Even more powerfully.”

“Do you think your love is noble?” Ye Zi said. “It’s actually so cheap, so fragile.”

Guan Qing’s vision went dark.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Guan Qing sensed that when he faced danger, Xie Xu’s protection over him… had weakened. He didn’t know if it was because a rift had formed in their trust or for some other reason.

Darkness brought no sense of safety. Amid the overwhelming fear, Guan Qing heard the audio playing, and then a familiar voice—

“You—”

It was Xie Xu. His voice was furious. Guan Qing bristled.

“Didn’t you say your love was supremely noble?”

“Does your lover think the same?”

“Tell me… does he love you more, or his mother?”

The noise ceased. Everything stopped abruptly.

Guan Qing remained silent for a long time. Numb, he finally spoke, unwilling even to call Ye Zi by name.

“I’ve never marked a beta,” Ye Zi said with a smile.

Guan Qing’s hands instantly clenched.

He began to shake, the tremors growing more violent. Ye Zi watched him. After a while, he noticed that the tie covering Guan Qing’s eyes… the part over his eyes was darkening.

—He was crying.

Ye Zi was momentarily at a loss. He quickly calmed down, and without realizing it, his tone softened: “Anyway, Xie Xu isn’t good. Why do you…”

Ye Zi didn’t understand.

Seeing Guan Qing didn’t continue, he leaned back. “He’s immature. He’s never thought about you in anything he does.”

He paused, about to continue, when suddenly a jolly melody played in the silent space.

Ye Zi froze.

At the sound, Guan Qing trembled even harder but didn’t move. He wanted to turn his back to Ye Zi, but couldn’t.

So the room echoed with “Happy Birthday.”

The cheerful music was unbearably ironic at this moment.

Ye Zi stood up, looking down at the small device that played on a timer. His expression twisted.

After the music, Guan Qing’s voice came through. It was gentle, filled with sincere wishes. He even laughed, as if brimming with happiness:

“Ye Zi, happy birthday. There are some things I can’t say to your face, so I’m telling you this way. I know you don’t usually celebrate your birthday, but… you’re turning thirty. That’s a milestone. Maybe you should mark it?”

“Thank you for taking care of me all this time. Truly, thank you. Even though we might not be able to be like we were before for various reasons, I sincerely hope you find the right person, and touch the future that belongs to you.”

“I’m happy now, really happy. I’ve never been this happy. I wish you could taste what it’s like to have your feelings reciprocated—of course, you’re so outstanding, you’ll definitely meet the right one.”

“Also,” Guan Qing took a breath, his gentle voice dropping a little, turning more formal, “I’m actually very sorry. For some reasons, I accidentally found out about your family situation. I’m not trying to meddle, it’s just… you’re my friend. I don’t want to see you drowning in self-blame, hatred, and other negative emotions day after day. They’ll wear you down eventually. That’s from my own experience.”

The wind outside gradually died down.

The room was terrifyingly quiet, save for Ye Zi’s ragged breathing.

“You’re good enough,” Guan Qing’s recording laughed, his voice clean, like the warm sun in March—not dazzling but bright enough to light the way. “You don’t need to do anything more. You’re already good enough. That’s what Xie Xu told me. Now I’m passing it on to you.”

“You don’t have to control everything. You don’t have to keep pretending. You don’t have to work so hard. You don’t have to carry so much.”

“What happened to your mother—it wasn’t your fault. Even though she left on your birthday, that absolutely wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to blame yourself.”

Guan Qing paused, then said solemnly:

“I hope you can… forgive yourself, embrace yourself, love yourself.”

Ye Zi’s breathing quickened. He was suppressing something. He gripped the edge of the table, holding on tightly, his expression unreadable.

He had walked alone on this path for so long, carrying a heavy pack, a basket full of hatred, painting layer after layer of greasepaint on his face, hiding the dark, desperate self inside, smiling at everyone he met.

Until this day, someone reached out to the one wandering alone on a frozen wasteland.

He smiled every day. He also wanted—someone to listen to his tears, his pain, his anger, his loneliness.

But that person never came. And he deceived himself day after day in his disguise, until he almost believed it himself.

For a time, he even envied Xie Xu.

They were both pretending. Their true natures were just as rotten. So why—why could Xie Xu be loved, be forgiven, be so close to the sun?

For the first time since his mother passed, years later, Ye Zi’s eyes reddened.

“Saying such strange things… don’t mind me,” Guan Qing’s voice in the recorder laughed sheepishly. “Let’s celebrate. I prepared a cake. It’s probably in the fridge closest to you. I designed the style—of course I didn’t make it myself… I used your favorite blueberries. Hope it makes you happy.”

Guan Qing’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was earnest. He had clearly drafted a script, but he read it with feeling:

“I hope you find the love of your life.”

“I hope you…”

“Find happiness.”

The recording of Guan Qing sounded a little distorted. In the evening when the snow had just stopped, his gentleness almost felt like a hallucination:

“Senior Ye Zi, happy birthday.”

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