Chapter 20

Chapter 20

After graduating with a degree in finance, Zhuang Ji pursued further studies in acting.

He had won three Best Actor awards and was lauded by countless audiences and fans for his exquisite acting and captivating gaze—

But it was only at this moment that Zhuang Ji truly understood.

So-called acting could never compare to genuine, raw emotion.

He stared at the child before him, his entire body frozen as if encased in ice. Several times he tried to speak, but not a single word escaped his lips.

It wasn’t until the child looked up, his almond eyes—strikingly similar to Lu Tingchao’s—gazing at him with innocent confusion: "But I’m going to have a dad soon."

Even though it was a noisy summer night in City B, filled with the incessant chirping of cicadas,

Zhuang Ji instantly felt a piercing, bone-chilling cold.

His voice was hoarse and strained, like that of a terminally ill patient: "...What?"

The child’s tone, however, was sweet and gentle: "Chao Chao said that two-legged dads are easy to find. If one doesn’t work out, there’s always another."

The young voice was tender,

yet it landed like a hammer blow.

A strange, metallic taste surged from somewhere, flooding his throat and filling Zhuang Ji's mouth with the coppery tang of blood.

Zhuang Ji almost knelt down, trembling, bringing himself to the child’s eye level. He reached out both hands, wanting to embrace the child, but the boy instinctively stepped back with surprising quickness.

His arms, having met only empty air, hung suspended.

Zhuang Ji gazed at the child before him and, after a long moment, asked, "What’s your name? Your full name."

"Lu Doudou."

The pain shooting through his nerve endings left Zhuang Ji unexpectedly lucid at this moment.

Zhuang Ji said softly, "Doudou, I'm Daddy."

As if worried the child hadn’t heard clearly, Zhuang Ji repeated, "Lu Doudou, I am your father."

Lu Doudou lifted his small face and studied him intently.

Apart from the eyes, which were entirely inherited from Lu Tingchao, Lu Doudou’s features bore many similarities to Zhuang Ji’s.

Zhuang Ji took a difficult step forward and reached out to Lu Doudou again: "Will you come back with me? Let’s find Chao Chao together and return to our home. Dad can build you an indoor playhouse in the hall—whatever you want..."

"Chao Chao is right here."

Lu Doudou’s clear voice cut through the night air. His small, fair finger pointed toward the house. "I won’t go with you."

Having spent so much time around Mo Lingnan, Lu Doudou had developed a serious, no-nonsense manner: "Because you’re not my dad."

Zhuang Ji was at a loss for words: "I..."

Lu Doudou: "I’ve seen you before, on Chao Chao’s tablet."

Zhuang Ji was startled, then overjoyed: "He looks at photos of me?"

Lu Doudou nodded his little head: "Chao Chao showed me too. There was another *gege* in the photo. Chao Chao said you and that *gege* are a pair."

Zhuang Ji was stunned.

But Lu Doudou quickly climbed the steps on his short little legs and knocked on the villa’s door: "You should leave. Stop pretending to be my dad."

The villa’s heavy door opened from the inside.

Lu Doudou turned back, his eyes bright, and added: "Lots of people want to be my dad. You’re just not cut out for it."

The house staff who had answered the door: "..."

Lu Doudou waved goodbye to the person and, well-mannered, changed into slippers by the shoe rack nearby.

The house staff prepared to close the door.

But an arm suddenly shot out from outside, blocking it.

It was already midnight.

The arm forcefully wedged in the doorframe was sinewy and muscular, radiating domineering intensity.

The solid wood door slammed shut with force against that arm, and the house staff cried out in alarm.

Outside, Zhuang Ji’s eyes were bloodshot, like a vengeful spirit returned from hell. Even his voice was ice-cold: "Lu Tingchao is here, Chao Chao is here, isn’t he?!"

The house staff naturally recognized Zhuang Ji.

All of City B knew Zhuang Ji.

The house staff didn’t dare close the door, afraid of breaking the precious arm of this actor with millions of fans—after several hesitations, they pressed the doorbell by the entrance.

Slow footsteps gradually approached from the hall inside the courtyard.

After a moment, a mature male voice carried over from the sitting room:

"I believe... knowing propriety and boundaries should be the basic morals taught by the Zhuang family’s ancestral teachings."

Fei Yuncheng must have been preparing for sleep as well. His traditional Chinese jacket had been replaced by a robe, the belt tied loosely at his waist. His posture was upright, showing no signs of age.

Zhuang Ji didn’t yield an inch: "I’m here to pick up my lover and child. Could it be that the Fei family’s ancestral teaching is forcible seizure?"

"Forcible. Seizure."

Fei Yuncheng rotated the bodhi beads in his hand once, repeating the four words with great interest. The laugh lines at his eyes deepened. "Mr. Zhuang, I quite like this phrase. I appreciate the lesson."

Zhuang Ji mocked: "Mr. Fei, it seems you share your son’s lack of shame."

"A Qi?"

Fei Yuncheng laughed, "Actor Zhuang, how does a man who can’t even keep hold of his wife and child have the audacity to come here and cause a scene... Besides, didn’t you never claim that child as yours?"

The shrewder a businessman, the better they knew their enemy’s weaknesses.

Whether it was due to the pain from his arm injury or some other reason, within moments, large beads of cold sweat were already rolling down Zhuang Ji’s jaw onto the ground.

He shook as if drenched in ice water.

Fei Yuncheng waved a hand at the house staff, who obediently pulled the door open.

Fei Yuncheng: "Come in. It's understandable for the young to lack manners, but I should still know better."

Fei Yuncheng led Zhuang Ji back to the inner hall and took a seat on the armchair at the main table.

"The child has gone to sleep."

Fei Yuncheng's voice was calm. "Chaochao was exhausted today and went to rest early. Young Zhuang, are you certain you wish to wake him now?"

Zhuang Ji: "No need."

The heavy main door had left a deep, swollen mark on Zhuang Ji's arm, now mottled with bruises, looking particularly alarming.

Zhuang Ji looked at Fei Yuncheng: "Let him sleep peacefully. I’ve waited over a decade for him; one more night means nothing."

"Oh?"

Fei Yuncheng raised an eyebrow. "I hadn’t realized Young Zhuang was so devoted."

Fei Yuncheng: "At today’s banquet, I thought you and the Jiang family's youngest seemed well-matched."

Zhuang Ji averted his gaze. Blood dripped from the wound on his arm, splattering on the floor like drops of blood.

Fei Yuncheng continued leisurely: "If falling for someone new each time isn’t your preference, could it be that, like some people, you feel your partner doesn’t love you enough and are trying to provoke a reaction?"

Zhuang Ji’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the carved wooden chair, scoffing: "Mr. Fei, you’re no spring chicken, yet you’ve heard quite a bit of gossip."

Fei Yuncheng smiled: "Indeed, though most gossip leads to unhappy endings. What do you think, Young Zhuang?"

*

Tingchao felt as if he had slept forever, his back and body aching. Fortunately, the bed was comfortable—he rolled around several times before slowly climbing down.

…Fei Yuncheng’s liquor was too strong. Was it really this strong? (T_T)

Good wine really shouldn’t be overindulged.

In his hazy memory, Fei Yuncheng seemed to have whispered something in his ear, but he’d already forgotten.

He’d ask about it later when he went downstairs.

Tingchao still disliked wearing slippers. After washing up, he walked barefoot down the stairs, yawning, his soft white feet stepping soundlessly on the heated wooden floors like a cat’s.

Turning the corner—

Tingchao rubbed his sleepy eyes and found Zhuang Ji and Fei Yuncheng each sitting upright on opposite sofas, waiting in the inner hall.

Tingchao: "!!!"

Chaochao hadn’t done anything recently that would warrant both of them coming to catch him, right? (T_T)

Flustered, Tingchao missed a step on the last few stairs, his left foot tangling with his right, and immediately lost his balance, tumbling forward—

"Chaochao!"

"Baobao!"

Both men rose from the sofa and rushed toward the stairs, but gravity prevailed.

Tingchao only had time to grab the stair rail with his left hand before his sleep-weakened knees gave way, and he fell on the steps: "Ugh—"

Tears of pain instantly welled up in Tingchao’s eyes.

He froze for a few seconds in sharp pain before Fei Yuncheng, who was closer, finally reached him.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered. He crouched down before Tingchao: "Chaochao, where does it hurt?"

Tingchao was in agony, his voice a righteously complaining whine. Used to being spoiled, he blamed everything—the heavens, the earth, the stairs—everything but himself.

His eyes bright with tears lifted: "Fei Yuncheng! Your stairs are defective—they made me fall so early in the morning!"

Tingchao was too beautiful.

His beauty wasn’t confined to one moment but revealed different allure in different instants.

When crying, he was beautiful in a way that made you want to possess and comfort him; when bright and bold, he was mouthwateringly attractive; even when a mess in bed… that was a disheveled beauty never meant for others’ eyes.

Zhuang Ji was a step behind, blocked by Fei Yuncheng.

Over Fei Yuncheng’s shoulder, he saw Fei Yuncheng getting what had once been his alone—Tingchao’s beauty.

Jealousy was like countless ants gnawing day and night, devouring Zhuang Ji’s insides. The pain made him unsteady on his feet; he wanted to reach past Fei Yuncheng toward Tingchao.

But caught nothing but air.

Fei Yuncheng, however, could envelop Tingchao’s ankle with his large hand.

Fei Yuncheng spoke as if coaxing a child: "Hush now, don’t cry. This house is too old. I’ll have an elevator installed for Chaochao this afternoon."

His sprained right foot had already swollen into a large bump.

Tingchao said between hiccupping sobs: "You have to pay... pay for my medical bills."

Fei Yuncheng built his fortune from nothing, his palms covered with thin calluses, rough fingers bearing scars from healed wounds.

Tingchao’s skin was pale as honey, delicate and jade-like, making the swelling appear even more frightening.

Fei Yuncheng’s burning palm slowly smoothed over Tingchao’s ankle, the rough, scorching sensation startling him, making his shoulders tremble.

"Alright, Uncle will make it up to you."

Fei Yuncheng’s eyes stayed fixed on Tingchao’s ankle, not releasing him, his fingers rubbing the skin over and over—a gesture reminiscent of caressing and a lover's touch.

But his tone was like an elder’s comfort: "Whatever Chaochao wants, Uncle will make it up to you. Is that any better now?"

Perhaps it was because the injury was touched.

Tingchao let out a soft gasp, his voice pleading: "Don’t! Fei Yuncheng, don’t touch, it hurts…"

Fei Yuncheng’s large hand completely wrapped around Tingchao’s ankle; his other arm wrapped around Tingchao’s waist from behind: "Okay, Uncle won’t touch anymore. Let me help you to the sofa to rest, alright?"

In that instant.

Likely due to some masculine sixth sense, Zhuang Ji subtly sensed something off.

The oddness of the scene before him.

Fei Yuncheng was a full twenty years older than Tingchao—their age difference was a generation apart.

Tingchao had always been spoiled, lazy, and hated pain—he could get anything he wanted by whining.

But Fei Yuncheng was a mature, shrewd man who'd spent years in the business arena… a man.

Fei Yuncheng, after all, is a man too.

This realization made Zhuang Ji feel as if he had gone mad in an instant. He stepped forward to block Fei Yuncheng's path: "I'll do it."

Fei Yuncheng: "You?"

Lu Tingchao instinctively shrank back in Fei Yuncheng's arms.

Fei Yuncheng's expression showed no contempt, but his tone was that of an elder offering guidance: "Mr. Zhuang, please take a seat first. The injury on your arm is quite serious. If it worsens, I'm afraid your fans will come after me for it again."

Zhuang Ji: "No. I'll do it."

Fei Yuncheng narrowed his eyes: "Zhuang Ji, Chao Chao's injured and needs rest. Are you sure you want to argue with me now?"

Zhuang Ji: "I..."

Zhuang Ji met Lu Tingchao's gaze.

Those almond-shaped eyes reflected his disheveled figure.

Zhuang Ji felt as if all his strength had been drained in an instant, and the pain he had been forcibly suppressing surged up and overwhelmed him.

Zhuang Ji suddenly said: "Chao Chao, Lu Doudou is our child."

It was a statement.

Fei Yuncheng walked past Zhuang Ji, holding Lu Tingchao in his arms, and placed him on the couch. He then gently stroked his hair: "I'll call the family doctor."

Lu Tingchao pointed to the table: "I want some water."

Fei Yuncheng personally went to the tea table to pour him a glass: "I've tried it. See if it's too hot?"

Lu Tingchao took a small sip and shook his head.

Zhuang Ji turned around and walked to Lu Tingchao's side: "Chao Chao, Doudou..."

"No."

Lu Tingchao said.

The family doctor had already entered the hall.

Lu Tingchao's slender fingers idly picked at the rim of the water glass. After a moment, he repeated: "No."

"You're lying to me, you bad Chao Chao."

Zhuang Ji laughed.

The blood on his arm hadn't dried yet, staining the sofa where Lu Tingchao sat.

Zhuang Ji asked: "Do I gotta do a DNA test myself?"

Lu Tingchao didn't answer.

Zhuang Ji: "I've already taken a strand of that child's hair, Chao Chao..."

"Enough, Zhuang Ji."

Lu Tingchao interrupted him.

Zhuang Ji heard the ice in Lu Tingchao's tone.

They had known each other for fifteen years and been married for seven years. Zhuang Ji had never known that Lu Tingchao could sound so cold.

"When my family went bankrupt, my grandfather called for you and put me in your care, which forced you to marry me and wrecked your thing with Jiang Rong. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't good marriage material..."

"But I once loved you most, Zhuang Ji."

Lu Tingchao had too many bad habits—when he was hesitant, he would pick at his hands. "I don't regret marrying you, and I don't regret having Doudou. I don't have any good qualities, but I've never regretted anything I've done."

Lu Tingchao: "Including now, I just want to leave you."

Lu Tingchao no longer acted spoiled with him, no longer clung to him for kisses and hugs, no longer seduced him, and no longer even asked for his money.

He just wanted to dump him.

A chill seeped through Zhuang Ji's entire body.

He suddenly realized that he was a sinner awaiting judgment.

His crime, perhaps, was claiming Lu Tingchao as his.

He was too afraid of losing him, so he kept demanding, kept losing control, until finally—he faced his sentence.

Zhuang Ji had seen too many people whom Lu Tingchao had grown tired of and dumped—some lasted three or four months, some just three or four days, the longest not even a year.

Lu Tingchao was too chicken to break up with them directly, so he made excuses, saying that Zhuang Ji's brother wouldn’t allow him to see them anymore—and so, one by one, they came looking for Zhuang Ji.

After so many came, Zhuang Ji actually gotten used to it.

He thought he'd become messed up... He thought, great, once all those people left Lu Tingchao, then Lu Tingchao would be his alone.

Later, Lu Tingchao truly became his alone.

He thought of too many ways to keep Lu Tingchao from working, from meeting other people—if only there were a golden cage.

"A 'golden cage to hide a beauty'," why did the ancients have such a beautiful phrase?

"I'm not getting divorced."

The first rays of morning sunlight came through the windows of the old house.

Zhuang Ji's eyes hurt from the light, but he still stared straight at Lu Tingchao: "I'm not getting divorced."

The family doctor was doctoring Lu Tingchao's ankle.

Fei Yuncheng sat on the sofa arm, his hand, which had been pressed against the injury, moving upward to stroke Lu Tingchao's calf.

Lu Tingchao, too mad to notice, didn't notice.

Fei Yuncheng's fingers, confident and unhurried, full of suggestive meaning, traced the line of his calf again and again under Zhuang Ji's increasingly wild-eyed stare.

Fei Yuncheng said: "Mr. Zhuang, marriage is a decision for two, not just what you want."

Fei Yuncheng: "Even if you insist, if Chao Chao sues for divorce, it won't look good for either of you."

Zhuang Ji gritted his teeth: "I said I'm not divorcing."

"Please, Zhuang-ge!"

A clear, bright voice suddenly drifted over from the daybed.

Lu Tingchao clasped his hands together, pleading, looking at Zhuang Ji with hopeful, adoring and reverent eyes, bowing to him like a child. "I don’t want to marry you anymore. You can just be my brother, okay? Let your Chao Chao off the hook, please!"

A silent sword, wielded by the one he loved most, plunged into his very core, instantly flooding him with excruciating pain and despair.

His lover was still capricious, still mischievous, still using every advantage and shortcut to achieve the outcome he desired.

Zhuang Ji was in so much pain he could barely breathe.

Seeing his desperate silence, Lu Tingchao thought there was hope: "Brother Zhuang, let’s end this nicely! You’ll still be my brother, please, please!"

Everything went pitch black before his eyes.

The ground seemed to morph into a lake.

Zhuang Ji felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the dark waters, and then he saw the memory of Lu Tingchao at eighteen.

He rarely ever wore the blue-and-white uniform of No. 1 High School—slim, delicate, his beautiful face with fragmented panic.

"Brother Zhuang Ji, please marry me, I have no home anymore. Please!"

"Brother Zhuang, have me. I’m all yours—Chao Chao is freshly washed and sweet now!"

So this was what it felt like to have your flesh and bones torn apart.

Zhuang Ji staggered, reeling, and had to grip the table edge to keep from collapsing right then and there.

Lu Tingchao wasn’t his Achilles' heel nor his armor.

Lu Tingchao was the only sustaining force that sustained him—poisonous, yet sweet.

Zhuang Ji didn’t know what kind of expression he wore now; even Lu Tingchao seemed a little frightened. "...Brother... Brother Zhuang Ji?"

"Alright."

Zhuang Ji heard his own voice.

The person before him lit up immediately, his eyes shining like stars in the night—brilliant and dazzling.

From age eighteen to twenty-five, Lu Tingchao’s expression when happy hadn’t changed at all.

Yet Zhuang Ji felt as though he had already died countless times.

"Tomorrow morning at eight, I’ll be waiting for you at home."

Zhuang Ji straightened up with effort and began walking toward the door. "Bring Doudou back... back to our home."

Lu Tingchao: "...What?"

Lu Tingchao hesitated. "Can’t we just meet at the divorce registry office?"

Zhuang Ji: "No."

Zhuang Ji’s figure swayed precariously. He paused for a moment, then turned back to take one more look at the person on the sofa.

That was his lover, his world, his everything.

"After eight o’clock, the deal's off."

Zhuang Ji let go of the wall he’d been steadying himself against and started walking again. "Lu Tingchao, as you suggested, we end this nicely."