Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Ji Qingyu and Fu Han’s eyes met across a distance of over ten meters. Fu Han’s gaze remained as languid and detached as ever, as if nothing could stir his emotions.

Ma Yu rose, stepping protectively in front of Ji Qingyu.

Fu Han’s smile was dangerously sharp. “I must say, *this* uninvited guest—you appear to be in my home, and the person behind you is *my* person.”

He approached unhurriedly, hands in his pockets, casting a sidelong glance at Ji Qingyu before calmly stating, “Come here.”

Ji Qingyu’s body stiffened. He slowly made his way over.

A few more people entered behind him—the lawyers who had previously handled Ji Qingyu’s cases.

Fu Han said nothing, instead winding Ji Qingyu’s hair around his finger, then tucking the stray strands behind his ear.

Ji Qingyu felt as though a snake were coiling around his neck. A chill ran down his spine, his entire body rigid, yet the snake maintained an elegant, almost intimate posture.

His mind went blank, consumed entirely by Ma Yu’s recent words: Had Fu Han come looking for him?

He recalled a particularly grueling period when his consciousness was hazy, and he struggled daily just to cling to life.

On the day he was meant to return to school, he hadn’t waited for Fu Han. Staggering home, he’d collided with a roadside trash can, leaving a large bruise on his arm. He felt nothing. A stray cat jumped up, nuzzling his hand.

Ji Qingyu couldn’t move, his body numb. He closed his eyes, rain tracing paths down his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing once. The kitten pressed closer against his side, and he raised his hand to drape his jacket over its head.

A street-side gardenia flicked mud onto the ground beside him. A figure rushed over from afar. “Qingyu! Are you out of your mind?!”

Ma Yu lifted him, supporting him as they hurried home. A figure brushed past them—he couldn’t make it out clearly. He didn’t know how much time had passed; dust motes danced chaotically in the air.

He heard Ma Yu’s voice downstairs, telling someone to leave. His ears were fogged over, and he couldn’t make out the words. The rain grew heavier, an unending torrent accompanied by thunder that lasted the entire night. Harsh arguments erupted in his ears—he didn’t want to hear them, covering his ears while curled up on the bed.

So, had Fu Han really come looking for him?

Ji Qingyu stood motionless, eyes blank and dazed. Fu Han’s arm rested on his shoulder, the familiar scent of green plums lingering in the air. Ma Yu was forcibly escorted out. Ji Qingyu managed an apologetic smile in his direction.

The lawyers entered. A statement had already been posted online—the Fu Corporation’s official Weibo account had published an explanation and course of action regarding the incident, quickly soaring to the top of Weibo’s Hot Search. Ji Ran’s side had yet to respond.

“Mr. Ji, you must not make any more concessions in this matter. We have ample evidence—what's the point in holding back?” The lawyer spoke earnestly. Ji Qingyu lowered his head. Ji Ran still hadn’t contacted him. Fu Han leaned against the wall, listening with an air of detached indifference.

Suddenly, Ji Qingyu wanted to lay all his cards on the table and talk with Fu Han. If Fu Han hadn’t been so heartless back then, if he had shown even a hint of lingering affection, would there have been a chance for reconciliation between them?

The bruise on his arm from when he was eighteen—he still remembered its shape. It was like the relationship between them, weighed down by too many unresolved mistakes.

He still didn’t speak, merely listened to the lawyer’s lengthy discourse before finally signing the power of attorney.

After the lawyer left, Ji Qingyu caught Fu Han’s hand. “Fu Han…”

Fu Han turned, his gaze shifting slightly as he looked down at him.

“You…” Did you come looking for me back then? Did you also want to talk to me? “Back then…”

“Back then, I was a fool, played for a fool by you. Now, you bring someone into our home, and all I can do is ask him to leave. I felt like putting a hole through his head. And now you want to talk about ‘back then’? Back when you were all sweet with that low-tier alpha while still keeping me on the hook?” Fu Han leaned in slowly, a faint smirk curling his lips. “You dare bring up ‘back then’ with me?”

Ji Qingyu felt like a convicted criminal, unilaterally sentenced to death in Fu Han’s heart. The little courage he had mustered shattered completely, leaving nothing behind.

Fine. He knew to keep his mouth shut and docilely fell silent.

If the earlier incident with the song copyright had only drawn limited criticism toward Ji Ran online, this time the backlash was overwhelmingly one-sided, with filthy, degrading language flooding his Weibo—just as they had for Ji Qingyu months earlier.

Ji Qingyu stared at his chat history with Ji Ran—blank. Ji Ran still hadn’t reached out to him.

“Can’t you control your fans? A holier-than-thou white lotus online, stirring up public opinion, but when things go wrong, you hide like a turtle in its shell?”

“Are idols responsible for the actions of their extreme, brainless fans?”

“You enjoy the perks of your fans’ support, but when they cause trouble, you disappear? How convenient! Even if it wasn’t your doing, shouldn’t you at least try to rein them in?”

Ji Ran glanced at the messages, then put his phone down.

Fu Han looked at the dishes Ma Yu had prepared on the table and scraped them all into the trash. Ji Qingyu moved to stop him but withdrew his hand. Fu Han shot him a cold glance. “If you’re hungry, ask Aunt Wang to make something for you.”

“Oh…” Ji Qingyu could tell Fu Han was genuinely displeased.

His phone rang—it was Nannan.

“Teacher, did you miss me?” Nannan chirped cheerfully. “It’s finally the weekend! Can I come over to play?”

Ji Qingyu glanced in Fu Han’s direction, then lowered his voice and said into the phone, “Come on over, but your Brother Fu Han is in a bad mood today. Let’s keep it quiet.”

“Oh…” Nannan said, “But I wanted us to play cards together! The loser has to put paper strips on their face!”

Nannan arrived quickly and indeed brought a deck of cards. Ji Qingyu played with her for a while but felt increasingly uneasy. Nannan rested her chin in her hands and asked, “Teacher, can’t we ask Brother Fu Han to play? Didn’t you say you’re the boss at home?”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try—just once! I don’t think Brother Fu Han is that hard to talk to!” Nannan dashed into the study. Ji Qingyu stood frozen for a few minutes, hesitating before finally gathering his courage and carrying a tray of cherries and juice into the room.

He brought his guitar along too.

“Hi…” Ji Qingyu peered cautiously into the room. Nannan was explaining the rules of the card game to Fu Han, and the two seemed to be interacting quite harmoniously.

When Fu Han noticed him enter, the slight upturn of his lips vanished.

Ji Qingyu set the fruit tray down, then hoisted his guitar from his shoulder. Without looking at Fu Han, he asked the little girl, “Nannan, would you like to hear me sing?”

“Yes! It’s been so long!” Nannan sipped her juice and nudged Fu Han with her elbow. “Brother Fu Han, do you want to listen? Your wife's going to play the guitar!”

Fu Han didn’t respond, picking up a glass of juice and leaning back on the sofa to watch. Ji Qingyu tilted his head, cradling the guitar. He seemed to merge with the music, like rain melting into the sound of the strings.

The study curtains were half-drawn, and he stood bathed in the sliver of daylight—light and almost translucent, as if dissolving into the light.

“So… how was it? Did you like it?” Ji Qingyu’s voice trembled slightly with nervousness, though he offered a faint smile.

“Don’t think this will make me forgive you for bringing that man into our home,” Fu Han said after a pause.

“I’ve told you so many times—there’s nothing between him and me. If there were, it would’ve happened long ago, and you wouldn’t even be in the picture…” Ji Qingyu’s voice trailed off into a near-whisper.

“You’re marked by him, and you still deny it?” Fu Han’s tone was icy with disbelief.

“The one who marked me wasn’t him. It was a bastard.”

“Oh?” Fu Han finished his juice, setting the glass down on the tray with a sharp clink. “And you still loved that bastard?”

“Yeah. What can I say? I was foolish.” Ji Qingyu set his guitar aside, took the cards from Nannan, and sat cross-legged on the wooden floor. “But I don’t love him anymore. Once you hit a wall hard enough, you learn to turn back.”

“Hmph.” Fu Han chuckled coldly. “You’d better mean that.”

They began playing the childish card game. Ji Qingyu struggled to keep up, losing repeatedly until his face was covered with paper strips.

Nannan burst out laughing and reminded Ji Qingyu, "Teacher, we'll have to take all these off later—it's going to hurt! You really shouldn't lose anymore!"

Like he had any control over that.

Finally, after losing more than ten rounds in a row, he managed to win one against Fu Han. Picking up the largest strip of tape, he slapped it on Fu Han's face. Fu Han let out a short laugh and asked, "Got a death wish?"

Ji Qingyu and Nannan giggled quietly together, watching Fu Han talk with the strip still stuck to his face.

It was a rare evening—no arguments, no tension, just... nothing. By the end, Ji Qingyu was laughing so hard tears were streaming from his eyes, and he ended up leaning clumsily against Fu Han.

Fu Han lowered his head and suddenly asked, "What did you like about that jerk?"

For a moment, Ji Qingyu almost thought he was asking whether he liked Fu Han more now or that jerk more.

After a moment's thought, Ji Qingyu decided he still preferred the school jerk from when he was eighteen.

He blinked, unable to come up with a clear answer, and stammered, "Well, everyone has a first love, right? It's pretty normal."

Fu Han stared into his eyes and said, "Yeah, it's normal."

As if bewitched, Ji Qingyu asked, "What about you? Do you have one?"

"What?"

"Do you have a first love?"

Fu Han didn’t answer. Instead, after a couple of seconds, he ripped the strip off Ji Qingyu’s face, making him jolt with pain, tears springing to his eyes.

They played a few more rounds, and Nannan kept winning. Ji Qingyu, unwilling to admit defeat, kept insisting "one last round," only to end up playing several more.

Seeing Ji Qingyu supporting himself with his injured hand on the floor, Fu Han frowned, took hold of it, and pulled him to lean against him instead.

Fu Han glanced at Ji Qingyu a couple of times. Covered in strips of paper dangling from his face, Ji Qingyu looked like a fool, still frowning intently as he studied the cards in his hand.

Suddenly, Fu Han laughed. Leaning against the side of the sofa, a nostalgic look entered his eyes. Outside the window, maple leaves fell, covering the ground. Fu Han sighed slowly and murmured, "Ji Qingyu, you're such a fool."