Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Fu Xie woke up on a bed that was certainly not 500-meter-long, his hair a mess of bedhead from sleep.

For a moment, he felt dazed—as if he had blacked out while drinking last night.

So how did he get back?

Fu Xie threw off the covers and realized he hadn’t changed clothes, instantly exhaling in relief.

Good. Nothing must have happened.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Fu Xie mused that normally, when a benefactor and his companion went out for drinks, there were certain expectations.

But! Nothing happened between them! They didn’t even sleep together!

Recalling Xi Wenlun’s circumstances—his unattainable love and erectile dysfunction—it all made perfect sense.

Fu Xie’s spirits immediately lifted. That meant from now on, no matter how hard he came on to Xi Wenlun, nothing tragic would happen!

He wanted to laugh his head off in bed. As long as things stayed this way, if he ever broke character and ruined his "madly in love with Xi Wenlun" persona, he could easily cling to him relentlessly to make it up!

Excited, Fu Xie rolled from the head of the bed to the foot. His gilded cage performance could become even more lackadaisical! No need to constantly worry about maintaining his image, leaving him free to play games worry-free.

Suddenly, the phone by the bedside rang.

Fu Xie scrambled over to answer it, hit by a worrying thought—had he given himself away while drunk last night?

Was Xi Wenlun calling to scold him?

Before he could dwell further, Xi Wenlun’s voice came through: “Hello? Fu Xie?”

Fu Xie tensed. “Hello? Is that Mr. Xi?”

Xi Wenlun’s voice was unreadable. “If you’re awake, come downstairs for breakfast.”

Fu Xie’s slightly hunched shoulders relaxed. “Okay, I’ll be right down.” He hung up immediately.

Since Xi Wenlun said nothing, he probably hadn’t exposed anything from last night.

At the thought of his carefree days ahead, Fu Xie’s mood lightened considerably. He got ready quickly and hurried downstairs for breakfast.

*

The island trip ended with Xi Wenlun’s call, and Fu Xie returned to the villa he used to live in back in City A, resuming his life of leisure.

Xi Wenlun, however, had no such luxury—the backlog of work from the past few days had him buried.

Until one evening, when Steward Zheng from the Xi family estate paid a visit.

“Young Master Wenlun,” Steward Zheng gave a slight bow.

“Steward Zheng,” Xi Wenlun nodded in return. Having served alongside his grandfather for years, Steward Zheng often stood in for the patriarch when his health declined, so none of the younger generation of the Xi family would dare disrespect him.

Steward Zheng said, “The old patriarch has been asking for you. If you have time, he hopes you will return to the family estate for a visit.”

Xi Wenlun considered briefly before lifting his gaze. “No need to wait. I’ll return tonight after finishing my work.”

Steward Zheng half-bowed. “Understood. The family estate will await your arrival tonight, and your room will be prepared in advance.”

The Maybach wound its way past skyscrapers, arriving at a grand estate bordering the city center.

The black iron gate radiated a chilling, oppressive presence, swinging open after the intercom buzzed to life. The vehicle wound its way down the long, tree-lined drive, eventually halting before an imposing mansion.

A servant opened the car door for Xi Wenlun, who stepped out and made his way leisurely into the foyer.

Steward Zheng stood waiting: "The Patriarch has already turned in for the night. Perhaps Master Wenlun should return tomorrow."

Xi Wenlun nodded without a word and followed the maid escorting him upstairs.

After turning past the wooden curved staircase, the maid led Xi Wenlun to the third-floor open sitting area. "Master Wenlun, please wait here for a moment. The mistress wishes to see you."

Xi Wenlun narrowed his eyes. He could tell this floor was where Zhuo Huilian and Xi Shoucheng often spent their time—lived-in and personal.

He casually took a seat to wait, but no one appeared for a long while.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face as he stood up, ready to leave and head to his room on his own.

As he rose, a faint sound came from a slightly ajar door nearby.

Frowning, Xi Wenlun turned toward the noise, peering through the crack at the flickering dim light inside.

Unsure what trick Zhuo Huilian was playing, he pushed the door open with mild annoyance.

Light cascaded from above, illuminating the center of the room where a gleaming Steinway grand piano stood. A long-haired woman sat with her back to Xi Wenlun, playing the *Moonlight Sonata*—a piece etched into his memory.

Her dark tresses fluttered with her movements, catching the light like a halo, while her pure white skirt swayed gracefully, floating weightlessly.

Everything merged seamlessly with the figure in Xi Wenlun's memories.

...Her? How could it be?

Xi Wenlun was engulfed by the flood of past recollections. Stunned, he stared at the white-clad back, his voice barely a whisper: "Mom..."

Just then, the final piano key was struck. The woman in white abruptly turned around—Xi Wenlun's eyes widened in shock. It was Zhuo Huilian!

The beautiful memories of the past burst like a soap bubble popping, leaving only grime behind.

His breathing grew ragged as he fixed Zhuo Huilian with a piercing, phoenix-sharp gaze.

She truly was the one who knew his mother best—and more hatefully, she had used this very method to torment him countless times before!

Zhuo Huilian seemed oblivious to the warning in his glare. The cautious, people-pleasing demeanor she usually wore had evaporated in an instant.

She smiled as she approached him. "Wenlun, you've grown so much over the years."

"Just like your father—though he never had looks as fine as yours." Her round almond eyes suddenly brimmed with allure as she slowly closed the distance, the cloying sweetness of tuberose filling the air.

Xi Wenlun paled and retreated several steps. Old nightmares surged back. He snapped sharply, "Know your place!"

Zhuo Huilian covered her lips with a light laugh. "I don't understand."

"Perhaps..." Her gaze turned sultry as she loosened part of her white gown, revealing scarlet undergarments beneath. "...come closer and say it again."

Xi Wenlun’s mind reeled—this was the exact outfit she had worn when he first saw her in the old mansion’s study as a child, draped over his father.

Bile rose in his throat. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he covered most of his face with a hand.

Unfazed, Zhuo Huilian gently rested her hand on his shoulder—only to be shoved away ruthlessly.

Xi Wenlun swiftly turned his back, leaning against the sofa as he doubled over, retching.

Even Zhuo Huilian couldn't keep her composure, her face twisting in disgust.

Xi Wenlun vomited as if trying to expel his very stomach. It took a full half-minute before he could finally catch his breath.

Zhuo Huilian stood aside with arms crossed, watching coldly. "Pathetic."

Xi Wenlun stripped off his suit jacket like it had caught a disease and flung it to the ground. "You're on your own!" he spat before storming out.

Zhuo Huilian sneered. The Zhuos were now major shareholders in the Xi Group. Back when Xi Wenlun was patriarch, he couldn’t touch her—let alone now?

Well past midnight, Xi Wenlun had his driver speed away from the ancestral Xi mansion back to his villa in A City's central district.

Before storming out, he'd scrubbed his mouth raw with rose-scented mouthwash, desperate to erase the foul taste. Now his every breath reeked of roses.

But compared to the vile acidic tang of regurgitated bile, it was already an improvement.

His face remained pale, but his spirits had lifted considerably. He thumbed the tiny recorder hidden in his trouser pocket, lips curling smugly.

That idiot had served up blackmail material gift-wrapped, and he gladly accepted.

Xi Wenlun’s gaze darkened. His carefully laid traps were about to snap shut.

The Zhuo family had entrenched themselves for years, their roots deep. When he moved, he’d burn them to ash—no chance for resurgence.

He wasn’t one to let things slide. Since this woman had made him suffer, her moron of a son would do nicely for venting.

He leaned back, clearing his mind.

Step one: bait the hook.

The staff scrambled in surprise at his sudden arrival but still readied everything he might need.

Perhaps because of the rush, they forgot to notify one person—Fu Xie.

Now, Xi Wenlun stood at his bedroom door, locking eyes with Fu Xie, who was mid-game.

Xi Wenlun: "..."

Fu Xie yanked off his headset and grinned nervously. "H-hey! You’re home?"

For a moment, Xi Wenlun felt like he’d jumped from a serious drama into a slapstick comedy. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What are you doing here?"

"Grinding ranked," Fu Xie chirped. "Your rig’s killer in here."

"You’re never here, so I just borrowed it for a bit." Perhaps that island getaway had inflated his ego, because he added cheekily, "Want me to clear out so you can crash?"

"You..." Xi Wenlun sighed, scolding without heat. Amused and irritated all at once, he didn’t even notice his expression softening.

Noticing the shadows under his eyes, Fu Xie asked, "Rough day at the office? Lie down—I’ll move my stuff."

After battling both boardroom politics and Zhuo Huilian’s bullshit, Xi Wenlun’s nerves were frayed beyond recognition. But accustomed to pressure, he barely noticed his exhaustion.

Fu Xie saw it before he did.

Having company… wasn’t the worst.

His mood gradually improved, tension easing until suddenly—his knees buckled.

He collapsed straight into Fu Xie’s arms.

Fu Xie didn't understand why Xi Wenlun suddenly collapsed mid-sentence. He rushed forward to catch him, only to be knocked to the floor by the taller man's weight.

Xi Wenlun let himself sink into darkness when a soft, sweet-smelling embrace cushioned his fall.

Fu Xie let Xi Wenlun's head rest against the crook of his neck, sliding an arm under his neck before hesitating slightly and placing the other on his shoulder, holding him gently.

Unlike Zhuo Huilian and the calculating outsiders, there was an inexplicable sense of security in Fu Xie's presence.

Slender, gentle limbs encircled him, their bodies pressed together through layers of fabric, warmth spreading between them.

"Long day?" Fu Xie asked softly, his voice tender.

Xi Wenlun was too exhausted to even open his eyes, wanting to just lose himself in it.

His lips unconsciously brushed against Fu Xie's collarbone, his breath—still carrying the scent of midnight roses—tickling his ear and neck.

The light touch sent a shiver through Fu Xie, his face heating up.

"Hmm?" When Xi Wenlun didn't respond, he asked again.

Only the sound of steady breathing filled the room.

Out cold? Fu Xie thought, slightly troubled.

Xi Wenlun was much taller and broader, like a human boulder pinning him, making it hard to move.

Well… at least this boulder smelled nice.

After a moment's consideration, Fu Xie hooked his arms under Xi Wenlun's and, with a sudden heave, dragged him onto the nearby bed.

Even being unceremoniously dumped onto the mattress failed to rouse Xi Wenlun.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Fu Xie sighed—who knew playing sugar baby came with a gym requirement?

For once, Xi Wenlun slept deeply. When he woke, he was surprised by how well-rested he was, frowning in disbelief.

Fu Xie…

Running a hand over his chin thoughtfully, Xi Wenlun eyed the beanbag chair Fu Xie often used, lost in contemplation.