Chapter 24: Heartbeat

Chapter 24: A Stirring

Chu Yan didn't wake up until noon the next day, feeling utterly drained and famished. His entire body ached as if he'd been run over by a truck, especially certain unmentionable areas, where the discomfort was particularly acute.

He groaned, clutching his head, and realized his throat was hoarse. Then, a flood of explicit, R-rated memories crashed into his mind, instantly making his face burn crimson.

Drinking to celebrate, throwing a tantrum to keep him from leaving, insisting on *it*, being on top, being on bottom, begging through tears…

*Gege… Gege…*

“Aaaaaaah!”

Chu Yan clawed at his hair in frustration. Why were his memories filled with nothing but *gege, gege*? It felt like he’d called him “gege” hundreds of times last night.

“Asshole! You damn pervert! Who’s the real pervert here?!”

He could never look at the word “gege” the same way again.

“Gege” seemed to be some kind of trigger for that male model’s lust. The moment Chu Yan called him that, the man instantly transformed into a beast.

What Chu Yan didn’t know was that it wasn’t the word itself that mattered—it was the way *he* said it. Soft, seductive, soul-stirring… Naturally, the effect was extraordinary.

Fu Junhang had already left at some point. When Chu Yan dragged his sore body out of the bedroom, the place was deserted. The hangover left him slightly dizzy, but at least he felt clean.

Last night had been brutal. At first, fueled by alcohol, he’d been wild and unruly, but in the end, he’d been thoroughly subdued. No amount of crying or pleading had worked—in fact, the more he cried, the more relentless Fu Junhang became, until he was too exhausted to even sob.

“Total animal!”

Afterward, Fu Junhang had carried him to the bathroom. The entire cleaning process was a blur—partly due to the alcohol—so Chu Yan had no memory of the latter half. The next thing he knew, he was waking up now.

When he shuffled into the living room, he spotted a note on the table.

*Had something to take care of, so I left. Ordered takeout for you—remember to eat. Next time you want it, be sure to call me. Guaranteed to be at your service anytime, guaranteed to go deep.*

*Go deep?*

Chu Yan froze for two seconds before certain memories from last night resurfaced—Fu Junhang biting his ear, asking if it was deep enough, if he could feel it…

Ugh, you disgusting pervert!

Chu Yan’s eyes widened. He got it. He actually understood that innuendo.

The realization set his face on fire as those images assaulted his brain, sending shame crawling over his scalp.

Aaaaaah, what kind of dirty talk was that?! And he claimed he didn’t have other sugar daddies? With smooth talk like that, who would believe him?

Another wave of embarrassment hit, but at least the male model wasn’t around. Chu Yan figured he’d gone to return the car—after all, a million just for one night was way too extravagant.

Thinking of that limited-edition luxury car made Chu Yan’s heart race with excitement. What a shame he hadn’t even gotten to touch the steering wheel. If he’d been able to drive it himself, he’d have been ecstatic.

But as he drifted off, his mind kept drifting back to the image of that male model emerging from the play of light and shadows—the man, the trench coat, those long legs… The vibe was everything.

Suddenly, Chu Yan pressed a hand to his wildly beating heart, his lips curving up unconsciously. This… this was definitely a stirring.

A man that gorgeous, kneeling before him, carefully cradling his foot, tending to his wound so attentively. Sure, he’d sounded gruff, but his touch had been gentle. And he’d carried him to the car…

With all that, how could he not be moved?

But—no! Chu Yan knocked his fist against his forehead, forcing himself to snap out of it. *No feelings. None. It was supposed to be just sex, no strings. No way am I falling for him!*

Love only leads to misery and makes people foolish, especially when it's unrequited. It not only leads to misery but also makes you pitiable, wretched, and even detestable.

In short, smart people avoid love.

Chu Yan believed he was rational. After twenty-seven hard years of life and living through two tragic lives, he shouldn’t let himself be bothered by such things anymore.

What he needed was fun, luxury, and freedom.

It must be because the escort’s skills were top-notch. He had spent so much money—it was only natural to enjoy top-tier service. So, there was no need to get worked up.

At worst, he could just hire him longer. After all, he was loaded now.

Chu Yan quickly rationalized his feelings, then suddenly felt starving. Where was the takeout? Where was the food he ordered?

Just as he was searching around, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, he saw the delivery driver.

It was hot porridge. The moment he brought it inside, his phone buzzed with a notification.

Nine Million: *“I figured my sugar baby would be awake by now. Ordered you some lean pork and vegetable porridge—don’t forget to grab it.”*

Chu Yan was stunned. This guy was a mind reader—how did he guess?

Little did he know, the delivery man had called Zhu Ye right after Chu Yan closed the door. This was his fifth try at Chu Yan’s doorstep that morning.

Every half hour, he’d wait for fifteen minutes. Finally, at 12:05, after three knocks, Chu Yan opened the door.

Chu Yan: *“Excellent service. Here’s your tip.”*

He immediately transferred 1,000 yuan.

Ah, the perks of being rich—throwing money around for kicks.

Nine Million: *“Thanks, Your Highness.”*

Chu Yan: *[Sends a petting-the-dog emoji.]*

Sipping his porridge happily, Chu Yan began planning how to spend that hundred million.

First, he wanted to donate 50 million to orphanages and nursing homes—a dream he’d had in his past life but never had the means to achieve.

No one understood better than Chu Yan the hardships orphans faced growing up, or how difficult it was to grow up safe and healthy. His only luck was having a grandmother who stood by him.

Though elderly and unable to provide a lavish life, she had done her best to shelter him, feed him, and even struggled to send him to school. Most importantly, she had given him boundless love.

These were things many parentless orphans could only dream of.

Chu Yan wanted to help them.

In his past life, he had often thought that if he ever became a big star, a top celebrity, and earned serious money, he would dedicate himself to helping these children—at least ensuring they could have a warm meal in their tender years when they needed love, instead of scavenging for discarded clothes in trash piles or shivering in the cold. He even wanted to give them the chance to attend school and learn skills that could change their fate.

Then there were the lonely elderly, those who had toiled their whole lives only to meet bitter ends. They deserved a peaceful and worry-free twilight.

His grandmother, until her dying breath, had worried that her illness would burden Chu Yan. So she hid it from him, always assuring him everything was fine whenever he called. He never knew she was sick until it was too late—while he was still desperately filming, dreaming of one day making it big and giving her a better life.

But she never lived to see that day. It was a regret that followed him through two lives, a pain that twisted his heart whenever he remembered.

He wanted to do something for elders like her.

But Chu Yan had no experience in this, and he knew there were many complications. He wasn’t some saint who could help everyone—there had to be criteria.

Moreover, he didn’t want to casually pick a charity only to end up making others profit, so this matter required careful consideration. But the fifty million had to be earmarked first.

The remaining ten million would be used to pay off debts.

That left only thirty-nine million. Thinking of this, Chu Yan couldn’t help but complain about that wasteful pretty boy again—renting a car had cost him a million, and just for one night! Couldn’t he have just ridden a shared bike if it came down to it?

Besides, a million was enough to buy a mid-range luxury car, wasn’t it?

That spendthrift was truly wasteful! Keeping a male model was indeed expensive.

So, Chu Yan had to allocate another ten million for keeping the boytoy.

Ugh, who could blame him? He just was weak for that man’s body. Three months? Please.

After these calculations, only $29M remained. Chu Yan wanted to buy a villa and a car.

Though the pricing in CEO romance novels was always nonsensical, $29M should be enough, right?

Chu Yan had only made a rough plan. The house and car weren’t urgent, and these things took time to materialize. The breach penalty, however, needed to be resolved sooner rather than later, so Chu Yan prepared to contact Liao Jian.

But to his surprise, before he could reach out, Liao Jian came to him first.

Liao Jian’s visit was naturally about last night’s incident. The hashtag about Chu Yan and Fu Hongan’s broken engagement was still trending, and because both the Fu and Chu families had issued statements, the topic remained at the top of the hot searches.

By today, #ChuYanFakeHeir, #ChuYanKickedOutOfHighSociety, #ChuYanDarkHistory, #FromBelovedHeirToMostHated—a series of scandals about Chu Yan had taken turns dominating the hot searches.

In short, Chu Yan had become notorious, the kind of getting dragged online.

As his manager, Liao Jian had every reason to come and chew Chu Yan out. After all, Chu Yan hadn’t discussed the broken engagement with him beforehand, nor had he informed him about how to handle damage control.

So, Liao Jian had been completely unprepared for last night’s sudden crisis. But more importantly, he needed to know Chu Yan’s plans to make decisions moving forward.

On another note, as someone who had worked with Chu Yan for years, Liao Jian knew all too well how deeply Chu Yan was in love with the Fu family’s young master. Calling him a love-struck fool wouldn’t be an exaggeration. So, being dumped must have devastated Chu Yan, leaving him in a terrible state.

Thus, Liao Jian also felt it necessary to check on him.

But while Liao Jian had imagined countless possibilities—Chu Yan breaking down, sinking into depression, giving up entirely, or even making reckless decisions in despair—

He never expected Chu Yan to be this calm, as if nothing had happened. When he arrived, Chu Yan was even casually watching a drama while sipping congee.

He still had the mood to watch dramas? To drink congee?

Had the shock driven him mad?

No, no, that couldn’t be. Who was this man glowing like the cat who got the cream?

Look at that smug expression, that satisfied face, those a whole constellation of hickeys on his neck and collarbones…

Every gesture of Chu Yan’s screamed to Liao Jian exactly what he’d been up to last night.

But how was that possible? Hadn’t he just got dumped by Young Master Fu?

Wait—if it wasn’t Young Master Fu, then where was the hopelessly lovestruck Chu Yan from before? Had the current noisily slurping congee Chu Yan been body-snatched?

“You…”

Liao Jian was utterly bewildered.

Chu Yan watched as Liao Jian stared at his congee like a statue, only managing to choke out one syllable after a long pause. Suddenly realizing something, Chu Yan clutched his congee possessively.

“Mine. No sharing.”

Liao Jian: ?

Chu Yan promptly scarfed down the remains of the congee in two or three gulps, then turned back to the stunned Liao Jian, dangling the empty bowl tauntingly in front of him.

“Stop looking. I finished it. Not a drop left. Don’t even think about it, bro. Get your own damn bowl if you want some.”

It wasn’t that Chu Yan was stingy—it was just that in all his born days, this was the first time he’d ever tasted congee this delicious.

Wasn’t it just a basic pork-and-greens congee?

Some imperial banquet chef: *Plain? How rude.*

Liao Jian also found Chu Yan downright offensive. He’d spent the whole night worrying—afraid Chu Yan might do something drastic over Young Master Fu, or over the online hate—only to find this ungrateful little shit casually sipping congee, even hogging it like a dragon with gold so fiercely he left not a drop.

The absolute nerve.

But what was even more shocking was Chu Yan excitedly telling him he’d already earned enough to cover the breach penalty.

In just a few days?

So… had this problem child been taking on under-the-table jobs behind his back?