Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Though Fu Xie answered quickly, Xi Wenlun waited until they returned to the villa before explaining.

Fu Xie showered and changed, snuggling into bed smelling fresh.

After a day of stress, he felt dead tired the moment he lay under the covers.

Only when the mattress dipped beside him did Fu Xie force himself to crawl out of the silk quilt.

Seeing his exhaustion, Xi Wenlun pushed him back under. "You're wiped out. Sleep first."

"No!" Fu Xie just knew if he missed this today, he'd get the runaround later.

He held his eyes open with his fingers. "See? Totally alert! Not sleepy at all."

Xi Wenlun's almond-shaped eyes crinkled at his antics.

"Hey, you good?"

Fu Xie caught Xi Wenlun's fingers, giving them a small shake.

"Been years. I'm over it." Xi Wenlun raised an eyebrow. "Sure you want to hear this? No chickening out after."

Fu Xie let out a nervous laugh. "Hahaha. Chicken out? What's that?"

Xi Wenlun didn't press, patting the space beside him.

Fu Xie slid all the way over, wrapping around Xi Wenlun's waist.

Fresh from the shower, his deep-V robe clung to him, droplets still tracing paths down his pale, toned chest.

The lingering body wash mingled suggestively, but Fu Xie swore Xi Wenlun smelled better.

He discreetly rubbed his face against those firm muscles, hands roaming shamelessly over Xi Wenlun's waist.

Storybook CEOs really were different—perfect looks, perfect body, the whole package.

Right before things got too heated, Xi Wenlun caught and laced their fingers together.

"Thought you wanted the story?"

Now alert, Fu Xie started messing with him shamelessly, oblivious that he was just as irresistible in Xi Wenlun's eyes—

Like dessert served on a silver platter.

Fu Xie looked up, melting against him. "I do." Then yawned.

Xi Wenlun: "..."

He was done for.

Even though his audience was being lazy, Xi Wenlun told the story anyway, picking up where they'd left off.

After Zhuo Huilian's rise, young Xi Wenlun became her biggest problem in the Xi family.

Here’s the refined translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

She allowed the servants to torment him psychologically.

Xi Jinggen could do no wrong—he was showered with praise and affection, while Xi Wenlun faced only belittlement and neglect.

Sarcastic jabs became routine. If Xi Wenlun ever outperformed Xi Jinggen, his awards or works would be destroyed or tossed in the trash.

If not for the Xi family’s social standing—and Zhuo Huilian’s need to maintain her image—she would’ve openly abused her stepson.

Otherwise, Xi Wenlun might not have survived.

After the family turmoil, Xi Wenlun, once somewhat lively, grew silent.

The school catered to their social circle, and everyone knew about the Xi family’s troubles.

As the Xi family’s legitimate eldest son, Xi Jinggen was fawned over by classmates eager to curry favor.

To suck up to him, they’d pick on Xi Wenlun, who was already quiet by nature.

So Xi Wenlun clammed up, refusing to engage. Around strangers, he’d tremble reflexively—a conditioned response from the tormenting servants—developing full-blown social anxiety.

Only Ji Shaoting from the next class over didn’t care about his cold shoulder, occasionally talking to him.

Back then, Ji Shaoting was pretty much his only friend.

Fu Xie’s brow furrowed at the mention of the name.

Xi Wenlun gently stroked his back, urging him to keep listening.

If that’s all there was to it, Xi Wenlun would’ve kept staying with Ji Shaoting.

Then things took a turn.

No one caught on to Zhuo Huilian’s sneaky abuse of her stepson. Confident in her victory, she grew crueler.

She grew bold enough to try ruining Xi Wenlun for good.

It was an ordinary afternoon.

The Xi children’s school followed an overseas schedule: classes ended at 3 p.m., with activities afterward.

Depressed, Xi Wenlun quit his after-school clubs. To avoid crowds, he’d leave immediately after class.

One day, Ji Shaoting came running, eyes puffy from crying. "Wenlun, I have no one else—I had to come to you."

Xi Wenlun kept to himself, but he’d go to bat for his friends.

"What’s wrong?" he frowned.

Ji Shaoting looked down. "That gang... they’re making me go somewhere. I’m terrified."

Ji Shaoting was a fellow outcast. But his situation was worse.

At worst, Xi Wenlun was ignored—no one would dare cross a Xi.

Ji Shaoting’s dad was a nobody back then, and the bootlickers who preyed on the weak saw him as an easy target.

Their shared misery bonded them. They couldn’t fix each other’s problems, but at least they had each other’s backs. Xi Wenlun knew about the bullies in Ji Shaoting’s class, but they usually left him alone after school.

Here’s the improved translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

Because this group had strict rules for club membership—members had to arrive at the activity area on time—and their parents had high expectations for their progress in this skill.

Xi Wenlun sensed something was wrong and pressed further, "Where do they want you to go?"

Ji Shaoting named a location not far from the school.

"Can you come with me? It won’t put you in danger—I just paid them protection money! They... probably won’t give me too much trouble either."

He gave a bitter smile. "If it’s really too much, I’ll go alone."

"I’ll go."

Ji Shaoting’s eyes lit up. "R-really?! Wenlun, thank you! Thank you so much!"

His relief was overwhelming, like a dark cloud finally lifting.

Xi Wenlun paused. "This might be the first time you’ve asked me for anything. I wouldn’t refuse. If anything happens, I’ll call the police for you."

Ji Shaoting stiffened, unable to meet his eyes. "Ah, it’s not that serious... Let’s just hurry over!"

The two soon arrived at the place Ji Shaoting mentioned—a run-down, crumbling warehouse.

Ji Shaoting checked his phone. "Can you give me your phone? Mine’s about to die, and I’m afraid inside..."

Without hesitation, Xi Wenlun handed his phone over.

"Let’s just leave." He had a bad feeling about this place and shouldn’t enter, pulling Ji Shaoting to go.

"Huh?" Ji Shaoting stood rooted, reluctant. "B-but if I don’t show, they’ll come after me!"

They were now right at the warehouse entrance.

Xi Wenlun scanned the surroundings again but heard no voices—likely an ambush waiting inside.

He stubbornly tried to drag Ji Shaoting away. "If they come after you tomorrow, we can—"

A sudden tug on his arm sent Xi Wenlun stumbling into the warehouse before he could react, slamming onto the cold, dusty concrete.

The door clanged shut behind him.

Ji Shaoting’s voice was muffled by the heavy metal door: "Wenlun! I’m sorry! They promised they’d back off if I brought you here!"

"You’re still a Xi—they wouldn’t risk messing with you! Please, just help me this once!"

Xi Wenlun nearly laughed at Ji Shaoting’s audacity—pushing him into danger while playing the victim.

He thought he’d grown numb after enduring so much malice.

Yet his entire body trembled uncontrollably. Faint light filtered through the rusted window, clearly showing sweat dripping onto the damp floor.

He had no way to call for help.

Xi Wenlun described his past with unsettling calm, as if narrating someone else’s story.

Fu Xie, on the other hand, was livid. "How could he do that?! Jesus, that’s too much! No shame at all!"

"I’m furious! Next time I see him, I’ll give him a piece of my mind!" Xi Wenlun distractedly rubbed his shoulder, about to continue with what happened in the warehouse—when suddenly, he covered his mouth and nose, doubled over and retching violently.

Fu Xie was suddenly frantic, rubbing Xi Wenlun’s back to steady his breathing while reaching for his phone.

"What’s wrong? Don’t worry, I’ll call a doctor right away!"

Xi Wenlun wrenched his consciousness back from the past memories, finally quelling the violent nausea.

"It’s fine." He waved a hand dismissively, like he’d dealt with this before. "Nothing here’s setting me off. I can control it."

He took a deep breath, then chugged some water.

Fu Xie watched him worriedly. "Are you really okay? If it’s too much, you don’t have to keep talking. I don’t mind not hearing it."

Xi Wenlun set the water down, his stomach still heaving as he slowly caught his breath.

Fu Xie suddenly found the scene familiar, tying it to Xi Wenlun’s "triggers" comment.

He couldn’t help recalling that night at the chairman’s daughter’s birthday party—when Xi Wenlun had seemed equally distressed, until Fu Xie stepped in?

"Actually, that night at the banquet… did it tie into what you’re talking about?"

Xi Wenlun shot him a surprised glance.

"You’re right."

"I don’t remember much after entering the warehouse. When I woke up, I was in a psychiatric hospital."

"I was powerless against Zhuo Huilian’s schemes. My escape attempt almost backfired. If Grandpa hadn’t randomly dropped by that day and run into me, we might’ve never crossed paths."

He gave Fu Xie’s cheek a playful pinch.

"Later tests showed I had ED and was allergic to all medications for it. Some substances with comparable effects trigger me too."

Xi Wenlun raised an eyebrow. "Having the condition *and* being allergic to treatment—might as well be a death sentence, huh?"

Fu Xie choked up, hearing him brush off his own incurable diagnosis.

But this was fiction’s world.

Hence someone like him.

"But you have me now!" Fu Xie lunged at him, sending Xi Wenlun sprawling back.

Fu Xie blinked his peach-blossom eyes, glistening like dawn.

"Don’t write yourself off like that!"

Lying between Fu Xie’s arms, Xi Wenlun smirked, pulling him closer to skim the curve of his waist. Months of good living had left Fu Xie lean but supple, skin silken under his touch.

"We haven’t finished talking, and you’re already impatient?" Xi Wenlun teased, nudging him with a knee.

Fu Xie seemed to suddenly notice their charged proximity, cheeks flushing.

With a sigh, he flopped down beside Xi Wenlun. "Then keep talking."

Here's the edited translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

Xi Wenlun threaded his fingers through his pale pink hair, massaging gently, "As for the box you found later, it actually contained... a memento of my mother's."

"What?" Fu Xie was shocked. "Why would your mother's personal belonging be in someone else's possession, and why was there blood on it?"

Xi Wenlun narrowed his phoenix-like eyes in recollection.

"This matter... I managed to reconstruct it by reading my mother's diary and combining various pieces of information at the time."

"As you know, my mother and Zhuo Huilian were very close. The dagger in that box was an adulthood gift from my mother to her."

"Actually, Zhuo Huilian was the complete opposite of my mother. My mother preferred staying home to study art, while she loved guns and blades - that sort of thing."

Fu Xie pondered for a moment. "So that's why your mother gave Zhuo Huilian a dagger? But from my interactions with her, I never got the impression she was into that kind of hobby."

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what happened between them either. After my mother married my father, Zhuo Huilian changed herself so much that when I was little, I thought they became friends because of shared interests."

Hearing this, Fu Xie combined it with what he roughly knew from before and suddenly had a terrifying thought.

"Wait... you said your mother's death wasn't a suicide. Could it have been... Zhuo Huilian?!"

He clenched his fists in dramatic fear. "And that dagger was the murder weapon! The blood on it wasn't someone else's—it was the victim's blood!"

"She's been hiding the murder weapon for over twenty years out of some twisted sentiment!"

"Exactly." Xi Wenlun raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations, you guessed right."

"What?" Fu Xie had just been following typical tropes in his speculation and hadn't expected it to actually be true.

Excited, he pressed against Xi Wenlun's chest, babbling excitedly, "So does that mean we can bring her to justice now? Then her and all those disgusting things behind her can be completely eradicated, giving you and your mother real justice!"

"That's enough storytelling. Time for bed." Xi Wenlun rolled his eyes.

Only then did Fu Xie realize he might have gotten a bit too carried away with excitement. By the time he'd thought of it, his Xi Wenlun had probably already handled it.

With such long-overdue justice finally achieved, he wanted to celebrate for Xi Wenlun, even if it was just saying some words of congratulations.

But for one, his social anxiety made him bad at expressing himself, and for another, everything he had was given by Xi Wenlun—so it'd be like giving nothing at all.

An idea suddenly struck Fu Xie. There was one thing—he could offer himself!