Wei Jiayi had been exhausted after a full day and had originally planned to lie down and get a good night’s sleep to recharge for volunteering the next day. However, just as he was about to turn off the light and lie down, Zhao Jing came out of his room, greeted him, and then sat down without any explanation, not leaving.
Zhao Jing settled into the armchair without saying a word. His head was slightly tilted back as he glanced at Wei Jiayi from time to time, the look in his eyes difficult to interpret. He exuded a strong sense of pressure, and the strange silence made the atmosphere uncomfortable. Wei Jiayi had no choice but to take the initiative and ask, “It’s so late, and you’re still not sleeping? Aren’t you tired?”
“I already took a nap this afternoon,” Zhao Jing replied promptly.
This was followed by another half minute of silence. Wei Jiayi racked his brain for something to talk about. “Did you take the painkillers? Are they helping?”
“I did. They’re helping a bit,” Zhao Jing said. “Thank you.”
Wei Jiayi hadn’t expected to hear those words from Zhao Jing. He studied him carefully.
Zhao Jing’s face looked the same as always—handsome, with the corners of his lips slightly turned down. One hand rested on his crutches, giving off the impression that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
Because of the brace on his leg, Zhao Jing couldn’t wear long pants. Instead, he had donned a bathrobe provided by the guesthouse, tying it securely around himself. The robe, which was designed to reach the ankles, was a little short on Zhao Jing, only reaching his knees.
His wounds had been cleaned and treated, with gauze covering most of them. The longer, uncovered ones looked pretty gruesome.
Despite his usual arrogance, Wei Jiayi could tell that Zhao Jing had gone through hell during the tsunami. Still, beyond the scars, Zhao Jing was impeccably clean. This prompted Wei Jiayi to ask, “Did you take a bath?”
“I did. By myself.” Zhao Jing shot him a glance that carried a hint of pride.
At this point, Wei Jiayi ran out of things to say. Zhao Jing continued to sit there, showing no inclination to return to his room to sleep. Wei Jiayi noticed that Zhao Jing’s left hand, though barely noticeable, kept nervously tapping against the brace. A sudden suspicion crossed his mind, and he asked, “Are you avoiding sleep because of some kind of PTSD?”
Zhao Jing froze for a moment, his expression shifting subtly. It was as if he didn’t want to admit to such a vulnerable psychological reaction, but Wei Jiayi had hit the nail on the head—there was some truth to it.
Wei Jiayi was drained and didn’t feel like dealing with him, but there was no one else in the living room to take care of him, and Zhao Jing clearly wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon. Left with no choice, Wei Jiayi patiently comforted him. “After a massive disaster, it’s really common to have a post-traumatic stress reaction. If you’re feeling unsettled, you can talk about it or write it down. It might help a bit.”
Zhao Jing gave a nonchalant “Mm,” neither agreeing with Wei Jiayi’s suggestion nor accusing him of meddling.
After a moment of thought, Zhao Jing asked, “The kid I found—do you have any news about him?”
Wei Jiayi was surprised that Zhao Jing even remembered Lini. “In the afternoon, Nick came back to drop off some injured people. I asked him about Lini. He said the boy’s house collapsed, and his mother is still missing. But Lini’s grandparents and aunt live higher up and weren’t affected by the disaster, so Nick handed Lini over to them.”
Zhao Jing nodded and said to Wei Jiayi, “My helicopter will arrive tomorrow. Come with me when I leave.”
His tone was benevolent, but it wasn’t the kind that would be off-putting. Before the tsunami, Wei Jiayi would never have expected Young Master Zhao to be this polite to him.
Still, Wei Jiayi wasn’t planning to leave so soon. He smiled at Zhao Jing. “Thanks. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“You still want to stay here as a volunteer?” Zhao Jing raised an eyebrow, his question hitting the mark.
Wei Jiayi realized Zhao Jing was actually quite perceptive.
Even so, Wei Jiayi wasn’t in the mood for a deep conversation with him. He vaguely answered, “I’ll see how things go. Right now, I just want to get some rest. I’m really tired.” He hoped Zhao Jing would take the hint.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. It seemed Zhao Jing couldn’t fathom the idea that someone might not want to engage with him. Oblivious to the implied “eviction notice,” he pointed to the camera in Wei Jiayi’s hands and changed the subject. “You’re still holding that camera. Are you planning to take more photos?”
“…”
Even someone as socially adept as Wei Jiayi couldn’t help but feel stumped by Zhao Jing’s question. The implication was offensive, but Zhao Jing’s expression remained completely calm.
Fortunately, by now Wei Jiayi had a decent grasp of Zhao Jing’s thought process and knew there was no point in arguing with this young master. He replied, “No, I’m just reviewing the photos on the camera. I’ll return it to Li Mingmian tomorrow morning.”
Sure enough, Zhao Jing had just asked casually and wasn’t truly interested in his answer. Upon hearing Li Mingmian’s name, he immediately said, “Wei Jiayi, why do you hang out with someone like Li Mingmian?”
Wei Jiayi was exhausted and sleepy. The conversation had been normal, but now Zhao Jing was starting his interrogations again, and it was really getting on his nerves.
Before his annoyance could fully settle in, Zhao Jing continued, “Even though his last name is Li, he’s a nobody in the Li family. You could scold him directly, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to you. You don’t need to be so polite with him in the future.”
The rain slowed down, and Wei Jiayi remained silent, causing the room to grow even quieter.
Zhao Jing had to admit that Wei Jiayi’s ability to thrive in social settings was a result of his skill. He was like a therapist—once the conversation began, no matter the motive, it flowed smoothly, leaving people with a sense of being understood.
Just like now, after talking with him for a while, Zhao Jing felt much more at ease, and even the trauma from the tsunami began to fade.
Yet, despite their amicable exchange, Wei Jiayi suddenly seemed off the moment Li Mingmian was mentioned.
Zhao Jing concluded that maybe Li Mingmian had wronged him in some way. Wanting to offer some comfort, he added, “Most people don’t realize that Li Mingmian has less authority in the company than the facial recognition gates in the lobby.”
“Okay.” Wei Jiayi’s face finally relaxed, though his words remained brief. “Got it.”
Zhao Jing thought he still didn’t seem particularly cheered up, so he suggested a solution. “How about this: I’ll wake up Li Mingmian and make him sleep on the sofa. You can take his room.”
Wei Jiayi widened his eyes slightly, looking at him with a hint of surprise. He waved his hand. “That’s not necessary.”
Zhao Jing assumed he was just being polite. “Don’t worry about offending him. You helped me today, so your standing is already higher than Li Mingmian’s.”
For some reason, Wei Jiayi, who had been expressionless, suddenly smiled after hearing that.
Wei Jiayi’s smile was no longer annoying; in fact, it even seemed to lift the mood of those around him. If Zhao Jing had to describe it, he’d say that Wei Jiayi was very effective in his interactions and definitely someone worth getting to know.
Zhao Jing admitted to himself that his moral rigidity and guardedness in the past had been a bit excessive. But that was just how he’d been raised; he couldn’t change it. For his own safety, he wasn’t sure he even should.
Wei Jiayi stifled his smile, his demeanor much more relaxed than before. “Alright, thank you, President Zhao.”
Zhao Jing pulled out his phone, intending to call Li Mingmian and tell him to get out of the room, but Wei Jiayi stopped him. “I meant thanks for your kindness, but there’s really no need.”
“I’m fine sleeping on the sofa. It’s wide enough, and I don’t want to sleep in a bed he’s used,” Wei Jiayi explained seriously. “Besides, his wife is there too. Calling them out wouldn’t be appropriate, right?”
Once Zhao Jing confirmed he really didn’t want the room, he put his phone away and said, “I heard Li Mingmian didn’t pay you to take the pictures. I’ll have my secretary handle it for you.”
“That’s not necessary.” Wei Jiayi smiled again, this time more noticeably.
Zhao Jing suspected he was being laughed at but doubted Wei Jiayi would dare. Still, he frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not funny.” Wei Jiayi shook his head. “Not many people are this nice to me. I’m so happy I can’t help but smile.”
Zhao Jing felt reassured.
Just as the atmosphere settled back into harmony, Wei Jiayi’s phone suddenly buzzed.
Zhao Jing looked annoyed. “Who’s bothering people this late?”
Wei Jiayi glanced at the screen and explained, “A friend.” He didn’t pick up immediately, nor did he decline the call. Instead, he stared at the screen, as if hesitating. Zhao Jing couldn’t make sense of it.
After waiting for a while, Zhao Jing couldn’t hold back any longer and prompted, “If you’re not going to answer the call, why not just hang up?” He still wanted to get some advice from Wei Jiayi about dealing with post-traumatic stress; otherwise, he’d end up lying awake all night.
Unexpectedly, Wei Jiayi answered the call as soon as Zhao Jing urged him.
Wei Jiayi listened to the other person for a moment before responding, “I’m fine. You saw the news? … What did your sister tell you?” His voice was low, and it wasn’t clear if that was just how he usually spoke on the phone.
After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly said, “I’m not blaming you. You don’t have to apologize.”
Zhao Jing watched as Wei Jiayi turned his face to the side, looking away. His head dipped slightly, his back hunched a little, and his loose T-shirt enveloped his entire frame. Zhao Jing recalled once learning that such a posture might indicate psychological defensiveness.
The warm light from the floor lamp behind Wei Jiayi cast a glow forward, illuminating half of his ear in a fuzzy, translucent orange. The rest of his face remained in shadow. His eyelashes, the tip of his nose, and his pale, evenly shaped lips carried an indescribable melancholy as he spoke.
The person on the other end of the call seemed to talk for a long time.
After listening for what felt like ages, Wei Jiayi finally replied, “I know. You couldn’t come because you were filming… A busy bee now, huh?” He cracked a joke, his voice carrying a hint of humor, but his face showed no smile.
The voice on the other end continued, but Wei Jiayi eventually interrupted, “Okay, let’s talk next time. It’s been a long day, and I need to sleep.”
After hanging up, he held the phone for a couple of seconds, staring at it, before turning to Zhao Jing.
He asked, “Do you want to give sleep a try?”
Zhao Jing could sense that, compared to the phone conversation, Wei Jiayi’s mood and attitude were noticeably better when speaking with him.
Before Zhao Jing could say that he wasn’t tired, Wei Jiayi added, “If you don’t get enough sleep, the stress response could get even worse.”
Zhao Jing, not wanting to risk worsening his condition, felt a flicker of drowsiness at the reminder. He nodded and leaned on his crutch, making his way back to his room.
Wei Jiayi didn’t sleep particularly well, dreaming about the past.
He dreamed of a cramped shared apartment in S City, a single room across the hall, a bed that often collapsed during the night, and two people struggling to make ends meet. They couldn’t afford the proper equipment, dealt with an unreliable air conditioner, endured freezing early mornings where their fingers were too stiff to stretch, and treasured the hot soup left on the gas stove by the other.
When he woke, dawn hadn’t fully broken, but the rain had stopped. The sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows remained untouched by the aftermath of the tsunami. Clouds, like scraps of white gauze, floated against a clear blue backdrop.
After brushing his teeth and washing up at the sink near the door, Wei Jiayi decided to borrow a car to drive down the mountain road and check if the rocks blocking the way had been cleared. Just as he finished packing his bag, a rhythmic noise approached from above the guesthouse.
At first startled, he quickly realized it might be the helicopter arriving to pick up Zhao Jing.
A flurry of footsteps echoed from upstairs, and soon, Li Mingmian came rushing down, stopping in front of Zhao Jing’s door to knock. “Ge! Aunt and Uncle are here to pick you up! Are you awake?”
There was no response from the room. Li Mingmian rested his hand on the doorknob but hesitated to press it down and open the door. He started knocking again in sporadic bursts.
When Zhao Jing still didn’t respond, Li Mingmian turned and spotted Wei Jiayi. He immediately asked, “Jiayi, can you help me open the door?”
Wei Jiayi declined. “Sorry, I don’t know how to pick locks.”
“The door isn’t locked!”
Wei Jiayi pretended to be surprised. “Are your hands not working?”
Li Mingmian opened his mouth, but no words came out. At that moment, more people came downstairs. It was Zhao Jing’s parents, followed by a group of others.
Wei Jiayi had taken photos for Mrs. Li at a banquet once. Her personality was the polar opposite of Zhao Jing’s—approachable and easygoing. But now, she looked far from composed, her eyes filled with worry and urgency as she and her husband walked toward Li Mingmian and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Cousin didn’t come to the door,” Li Mingmian said hesitantly. “Maybe he’s still asleep.”
Without a word, Zhao Jing’s father opened the door. Unable to resist his curiosity, Wei Jiayi climbed a few steps up the staircase and positioned himself where he could get a clear view of the bedroom.
Peering over the heads of the gathered group, he spotted Zhao Jing motionless on the bed, wearing a black sleep mask of unknown origin. He was sleeping so soundly that he looked dead. It was baffling to think that someone who slept this well had been pacing the living room so much the night before.
Mrs. Li called Zhao Jing’s name and gave him a few nudges. Finally, he stirred, removed the sleep mask, sat up, and called, “Mom.”
When he noticed the crowd clustered at the door, Zhao Jing’s expression instantly darkened. He snapped at Li Mingmian, “Get out, all of you. Close the door.”
And just like that, the show ended.
Wei Jiayi slung his bag over his shoulder and went to find Li Mingcheng to borrow a car.
Li Mingcheng couldn’t join him since his mother wasn’t feeling well, so he stayed behind to take care of her. He asked the resort housekeeper for the keys to an off-road vehicle and handed them to Wei Jiayi.
Driving down the mountain alone, Wei Jiayi saw that the road had been cleared and was now passable.
The farther he drove, the more he could see the horrible ruins left by the disaster. The tsunami had turned the sea into a formless monster, tearing its way into human habitats, ruthlessly sweeping away homes, cars filled with toys, utility poles, grocery stores, and happy families.
The car was silent except for the sound of the wind rushing past the windows. Wei Jiayi thought about canceling some of his upcoming work and staying here a little longer.
As he rounded a bend on the mountain road, his thoughts returned to Zhao Jing.
Dealing with Zhao Jing had been exasperating, but after today, at least he wouldn’t have to endure Zhao Jing’s disdainful looks anymore. That wasn’t the worst outcome—and he wouldn’t have to see Zhao Jing again anytime soon.
With that thought, Wei Jiayi let out a breath of relief. The exhaustion from catering to that “lord” for a day would take a year to recover from.
He arrived at the medical center, first called his team to give them a heads-up that he might not return for a while, and then started helping out.
Relief supplies began arriving in batches from the other side of the island, and the number of support personnel steadily increased.
By lunchtime, Wei Jiayi grabbed a sandwich and sat on a stool outside to eat. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it.
The cracked screen displayed numerous news notifications. Scrolling through them, one headline from three hours ago caught his eye.
“Breaking News: Scandal Erupts as Puchang Tech Executive Tang Ting Involved in Drunk Driving Incident, Stock Prices Plummet.”
Puchang Technology was Zhao Jing’s company. Young Master Zhao seemed to have a bit of bad luck this year, Wei Jiayi thought to himself.
Just then, a new notification popped up at the top of his screen.
The keywords were eye-catching, with terms like “tsunami” and “rescue.”
He clicked on it and saw the story: “Puchang Tech CEO Zhao Jing Caught in a Tsunami on Buderus Island, Actively Participates in Local Volunteer Work, Donates Supplies, and Leads Charity Efforts.”
Author’s note:
Zhao Jing: Ge is back
Wei Jiayi: Who exactly is having bad luck here?
Oh man it’s always irritating to have higher ups pretend to do volunteer work
Thanks for the chapter <33333