Chapter 14 Searching for Little Fag

Chapter 14: Looking for the Little Faggot

Lin Zaishan put down the document in his hand.

"You went in?"

"Yeah." Lin Wenjun, still teary-eyed, nodded blankly. "I still have the key you gave me, remember? You forgot already?"

Lin Zaishan didn't respond.

How could no one be there?

His mind raced over what happened that morning.

When he left, that little faggot was still peeking through the doorway, all clingy and waving, calling out "Hubby, come back soon." He didn't turn around, but he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye—that guy standing at the entrance, with messy hair, the lump on his forehead still swollen.

At the time, he just wanted to get out of there quickly and didn't think much of it, but now, the more he thought about it, the more something felt off.

Had he said something too harsh this morning?

He carefully replayed the scene in his head—he didn't seem to have said anything before leaving. It was just that when that guy tried to get close, he dodged, and maybe his expression wasn't great... but wasn't that normal? Who the hell would be in a good mood when some guy's all over you first thing in the morning?

But what if that little fool got the wrong idea?

What if he felt rejected and stormed off in a huff?

Fuck.

Without another word, he grabbed his suit jacket from the chair and headed out.

"Bro!" Lin Wenjun's voice chased after him. "Where are you going!"

Lin Zaishan didn't look back. He pushed the door open and walked straight out.

On the way, he floored it.

His first stop was his own place, but just as Lin Wenjun said, the apartment was empty, not a soul in sight.

He quickly yanked open the closet. Empty.

No. He closed the closet door, looking around blankly—did this guy even have luggage in the first place?

He couldn't worry about that now.

As he called the driver to check the surveillance footage, he flopped onto the sofa and began desperately racking his brain for where that idiot might've gone. But no matter how hard he thought, there was no clue. That little hillbilly didn't know anyone around here—where else could he go?

After racking his brain with no luck, Lin Zaishan had to face the truth he least wanted to face: the little faggot had gone to his crazy sister's place for cover.

He closed his eyes, his temples throbbing.

Everything he had dealt with all day, combined, didn't exhaust him as much as this one thing. At this point, even if he didn't want to admit it, he had to—those siblings had him twisted around their little fingers.

He had spent years navigating the business world, dealing with all kinds of shrewd operators, but no matter how tricky they were, in the end, they were just sharper than most. But these two siblings? One was crazy, the other was stupid—no, one was crazy, the other was pretending to be stupid. Even if he lived another thirty years, he'd never figure out how to deal with psychos like those two!

Now, one psycho was out of control, and the other had run away. If those two psychos teamed up, who knew what kind of trouble they could stir up?

And honestly, Lin Zaishan was a businessman, not a philanthropist. If it were anyone else dying out there, it wouldn't matter to him in the slightest. But this one was not only his male wife but also the only son of the company's cash cow. If that little schemer goes crying to his family, the money they just got would have to be sent right back.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was that little bastard had hit his head last night...

He touched his own forehead, remembering the bump that was still swollen from checking it that morning. If Yuan Jingtian saw that injury, what would happen then? Although their families were nominally now one, Lin Zaishan knew nothing about what kind of person his father-in-law was.

He'd already heard rumors about the Yuan family being rich and overbearing. If his youngest son came to harm under Lin Zaishan's watch, would just returning the money even fix things?

Just as he was worrying, the driver responded. The message was simple: the surveillance only showed that Yuan Che had indeed left, on foot, with no car picking him up.

A video clip followed.

Lin Zaishan quickly opened it and zoomed in. The video showed Yuan Che's tall back, walking unhurriedly toward the main gate, alone, with no one beside him.

Strange.

He brightened the screen and played it again. This time, he noticed something new—Yuan Che seemed to be holding something.

He zoomed in with two fingers, then zoomed in more. When his face was close to the screen, he finally saw it—it was the insulated lunchbox from Lin Yajun's house!!

By the time Lin Zaishan arrived downstairs at Lin Yajun's place, it was already completely dark.

He had left in such a hurry that he forgot his car keys and only realized it when he got to the lobby. But he had no time to care—he just hailed a taxi. Halfway there, it started pouring. Soon steam was rising from the pavement. Running from the car to the building entrance, he ended up soaked to the bone.

When he got out of the elevator, his wet clothes were plastered to his body, but he didn't care if he might scare Lin Yajun—he just used his key to open the door.

The moment the door opened, the scene before him made him see red—

The guy he thought was missing was sitting right there on the sofa.

With Lin Yajun.

Watching TV.

The TV was so loud that even after Lin Zaishan had been inside for a while, the two of them hadn't noticed him.

He stood at the entrance, dripping from head to toe, staring at the two on the sofa. A surge of anger got stuck in his chest, choking him.

He'd found them. That was good, he told himself.

But the anger he'd been bottling up all evening was hard to suppress. As he walked toward the sofa, he silently urged himself: Don't blow up. Don't blow up. At least not in front of his mom.

But the moment he got close—

That little faggot had a face mask on!!

Lin Zaishan's brain short-circuited for a moment.

Holy shit.

He'd been going crazy looking for him, left company stuff half-done, rushed home, and now was drenched—he'd never been through this for any woman in his life. And now he was being played for a fool by a man—

And that man was sitting right in his own mother's house, wearing. A. Face. Mask!

"You!!!"

He couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Get over here!!!"

That shout made both of them jump on the sofa. Two masked faces whipped around at the same time, four eyes staring at him in sheer terror.

Lin Zaishan then noticed that Lin Yajun was also wearing a face mask. Sitting there together, anyone would think they were a family.

Everything went black.

"Son?" Lin Yajun hurried over with the mask still on, "Why are you soaking wet? Why didn't you bring an umbrella?"

Lin Zaishan ignored her and walked straight up to Yuan Che.

Yuan Che still hadn't gotten up. He sat upright on the sofa, and when he saw him approaching, he even grinned and called out, "Hubby."

That tone, that expression, that face with the mask on—

Lin Zaishan's head started buzzing, his mind going blank.

He was about to explode when Lin Yajun came over again, hovering around him: "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Nothing!" Lin Zaishan shouted without even turning his head. "Just drop it!"

Lin Yajun was already a little afraid of her son. Lin Zaishan normally had a temper, and when he got angry, she didn't dare say much. Now, being yelled at like this, she didn't dare speak and just stood awkwardly between them.

The yell also startled Yuan Che. He finally stood up, the mask trembling on his face, and looked at him confusedly: "What's the matter with you?"

Lin Zaishan looked at him—at that face covered by a mask, bewildered and innocent—and suddenly felt a deep sense of powerlessness.

What's wrong with me? You're asking me what's wrong? I've been going crazy looking for you, and you ask me what's wrong?

He glared fiercely at Yuan Che, his voice strained with suppressed anger, unable to hold back the fury surging from his chest: "Who told you to come here!?"

"No one told me," Yuan Che replied honestly, the mask shifting with his expression. "I wanted to come see Mom, so I came."

Lin Zaishan was taken aback.

He instinctively glanced around the living room, his gaze wary: "Your mom... came to my place?"

"The mom he's talking about is me," Lin Yajun couldn't help interjecting. She still had the mask on, and as she spoke, the corners of her mouth pulled, making two creases in the mask. "I told Yuan Che last time to come back and bring the thermos."

Lin Zaishan's blood rushed to his head, his temples throbbing. Forcing himself to calm down, he turned to Lin Yajun: "Did you send someone to pick him up?"

"No," Yuan Che answered for her. "I walked here myself."

This back-and-forth pissed Lin Zaishan off so much he laughed.

He pointed a finger at the two of them: "You two are something else. I ask him, you answer; I ask you, she answers. So I'm the only one left in the dark?"

"I left you a note before I left," Yuan Che's voice came out muffled through the mask, tinged with grievance. "I put it on the nightstand in the bedroom. I thought you'd see it when you got home..."

The mask was too thick, making his voice muffled. Lin Zaishan listened for a while but only caught a few broken words.

He couldn't take it anymore and commanded loudly: "Rip that mask off now!"

"Xiaoshan," Lin Yajun stepped forward, trying to mediate, "Why are you so angry?"

Perfect timing—she walked right into the crossfire.

Lin Zaishan turned to her, his anger undiminished: "You take yours off too!"

As soon as the words fell, both faces did as they were told in unison.

The moment the masks were removed, the light revealed two moist, shiny faces. One old, one young, both with cautious expressions, looking at him timidly.

This unexpected compliance left Lin Zaishan momentarily speechless.

His gaze swept over the two of them. His anger was half-dispelled by this bizarre scene, and he suddenly realized that his yelling earlier had indeed been a bit much.

But what's done is done.

The old lady was probably used to it by now. As for that little brat—he glanced at Yuan Che. The guy was standing there, face still streaked with leftover mask serum, but his eyes sparkled as he looked at him, looking as innocent as could be.

Needs a lesson! Lin Zaishan sneered inwardly.

Without another word, he turned and walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and stared at himself in the mirror for three seconds.

The person in the mirror was soaking wet, hair plastered messily to his forehead, dark circles under his eyes, looking pathetic, as if he'd just been pulled out of the water.

He stared at that face and suddenly felt it was very unfamiliar. For a little fag wearing a face mask, he had reduced himself to this.

Lin Zaishan closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

I'm so fucking finished in this life.