IMPGS Chapter 65

Xiao Cheng held his breath slightly on the other end of the call. His suspicion was confirmed.

But he still couldn’t understand—how could his past self stand by and watch someone he loved suffer?
In the previous life, he had no idea that everything was part of Luo Jingshu’s plan. How could he have remained indifferent?

“Did I really never say I would help you?” His voice was tinged with doubt and uncertainty.

Luo Jingshu knew Xiao Cheng probably wouldn’t believe what he was saying. After all, he was the only one with memories of the past life. Xiao Cheng might think he was just playing the victim.

But Luo Jingshu still affirmed, “You didn’t.”

Xiao Cheng was bewildered. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

He wanted to ask Luo Jingshu why, but how could Luo Jingshu possibly know what his past self had been thinking?

“I…” Xiao Cheng managed to say one word, but the rest got stuck in his throat.

He stared into the void, dazed. Under the dim light, Xiao Cheng suddenly felt a wave of dizziness.

Luo Jingshu rubbed his temples. He was indeed drunk. On any other day, he wouldn’t have revealed his true thoughts to Xiao Cheng—not because he wanted to hide them, but because he was too embarrassed and too scared.

He was afraid that after confessing, Xiao Cheng would think he was even more scheming and dislike him even more.

Luo Jingshu would rather Xiao Cheng remain unaware.

He tried hard to maintain a harmless and pure image in front of Xiao Cheng because he firmly believed that was the version of himself Xiao Cheng loved.

Brother Cheng wouldn’t love the real him.

But the alcohol numbed his mind. The thoughts he couldn’t say before seemed to lose their restraints, and Luo Jingshu was finally willing to speak his heart to Xiao Cheng, word by word.

“Brother Cheng, back then, you truly loved me.” His voice carried a drunken slur, hoarse and slow, with a hint of barely detectable tenderness.

Xiao Cheng didn’t interrupt. Perhaps the night had softened his emotions and thinking. He had always avoided talking about his embarrassing days of chasing after Luo Jingshu, but now that he thought about it, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal.

Especially when Luo Jingshu recounted those memories—they seemed to reveal something different.

Luo Jingshu didn’t seem to need a response from him. It was less of an explanation and more like reminiscing.

Those veiled memories, once uncovered, weren’t entirely sharp like cold blades.

Beneath the layers of ice and snow, he had once received someone’s burning affection.

Luo Jingshu chuckled softly. “When you first met me, you blushed just like before, staring at my face without looking away.”

Xiao Cheng cursed under his breath. He rubbed his face, his fingertips brushing against a warm flush of embarrassment.

He was blushing.

Xiao Cheng was relieved that Luo Jingshu could not see his current state—at least he could preserve a shred of dignity.

Quietly, he turned the air conditioning down a few degrees.

No one could remain calm hearing their embarrassing moments recounted, especially when it was coming from the other party involved.

“Maybe my looks really match your taste so well that even without your past memories, you’d still be drawn to this face.”

When Xiao Cheng heard this, Luo Jingshu’s stunningly beautiful face surfaced in his mind.

He admitted that Luo Jingshu’s appearance did match his aesthetic preferences. But his feelings for Luo Jingshu weren’t just about his face.

Whether in this life or the last, there had to be something else that attracted him.

Still, Xiao Cheng didn’t explain himself in front of Luo Jingshu.

There didn’t seem to be a point in explaining. After all, they had already broken up.

“At that time, I refused to trust anyone, including you. So, in the beginning, I didn’t believe in your feelings for me.” Luo Jingshu paused slightly here, but Xiao Cheng didn’t notice.

Finally, Luo Jingshu was getting to the crux of the matter. Xiao Cheng straightened his back a little.
He had always wanted to know why he had acted so unusually in the past. Perhaps Luo Jingshu could provide the answer.

Even if Luo Jingshu himself didn’t fully understand, Xiao Cheng hoped to glean some useful information from his words. After all, there was still a significant secret being kept.

“I admit I’m not a good person. I never intended to trust you, whether in this life or the last.” Luo Jingshu closed his eyes slowly, listening to Xiao Cheng’s breathing on the other end of the line. The overwhelming sorrow and stubbornness in his heart seemed to dissipate a little.

No matter what, even though Xiao Cheng wasn’t willing to forgive him now, at least this person was still in front of him—alive and vibrant.

Luo Jingshu had finally found a reason to keep going.

“In the last life, everything was just part of my plan. But I never told you, and you never knew.”

Luo Jingshu spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing his words. Xiao Cheng didn’t rush him.

“You actually warned me that Jiang Ying wasn’t a good person, just like you did this time. You tried to persuade me to leave willingly.” Luo Jingshu still didn’t understand how Xiao Cheng knew Jiang Ying’s true nature, but whether in this life or the last, Xiao Cheng had indeed tried to save him.

“And then?” Xiao Cheng exhaled deeply, trying his best to suppress his nervousness and agitation.

Up to this point, everything Luo Jingshu said perfectly matched Xiao Cheng’s speculations.

“But I didn’t listen to you. I only asked you to take me away,” Luo Jingshu said, finally pausing after speaking.

It sounded like he took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was even hoarser.

“But you refused.”

Xiao Cheng had already guessed what he was about to say, yet even so, he still felt a hollow ache in his chest, a wave of sadness and discomfort washing over him.

“Why did I…”

He wanted to ask Luo Jingshu why he had refused him, but upon reflection, he realized even he didn’t know the answer. How could Luo Jingshu possibly know?

“I tested you three times,” Luo Jingshu said, “and each time, you refused.”

He had always believed in the principle of “three strikes and you’re out.” When Xiao Cheng refused him for the third time, he stopped entertaining the idea of trusting him.

Xiao Cheng wanted to explain himself, but it felt like there was a lump in his throat, and he didn’t know where to begin.

There was no way to justify himself.

If everything Luo Jingshu said was true, then from his perspective, Xiao Cheng’s professed love must have seemed laughable.

To say he loved him but refused to help him?

No wonder Luo Jingshu couldn’t trust him. Even Xiao Cheng himself wouldn’t believe someone who claimed to love him yet refused to act and stood by while he sank into despair.

It almost felt as though he had found a justification for Luo Jingshu’s deception and manipulation after his rebirth… Yet Xiao Cheng still felt he had the right to be upset.

While the Xiao Cheng of the past and the Xiao Cheng of the present were the same person, the Xiao Cheng of this life had never wronged Luo Jingshu.

His mind was a chaotic mess. He desperately wanted to separate his past self from his present self. But he knew they were inherently one, and Luo Jingshu had every reason to resent him.

Still, a voice in his head argued in his defense: even if he had been cowardly and powerless, he had never intentionally hurt Luo Jingshu.

The silence between them stretched for so long that the only sound in the receiver was their breathing.

Luo Jingshu seemed to sense Xiao Cheng’s inner turmoil and hesitation. After a long pause, he spoke softly, “Brother Cheng, I have a theory. I’m not sure if I should tell you.”

Xiao Cheng wiped his face and replied hoarsely, “Say it.”

“I feel like your indifference wasn’t because you didn’t want to help but because you couldn’t,” Luo Jingshu said after much deliberation.

His theory was baseless, and since Xiao Cheng had no memories of their past life, he might not believe him.

But Luo Jingshu also didn’t want Xiao Cheng to think he was weaponizing the past to garner sympathy or accusing him of being indifferent and cold.

That had never been his intention.

Maybe such tactics would evoke a temporary sense of guilt in Xiao Cheng, but that wasn’t what Luo Jingshu wanted.

He had learned a profound lesson from his past: lies would eventually be uncovered, and compassion gained through deceit never lasted.

What he desired was Xiao Cheng’s love—complete and unconditional.

Luo Jingshu’s words pulled Xiao Cheng out of his chaotic emotions. He couldn’t untangle the web of right and wrong in this situation. Perhaps both he and Luo Jingshu were at fault. It was likely a combination of factors that had led to their current predicament.

But Luo Jingshu’s words offered him a new perspective.

“Why do you say that?” Xiao Cheng asked. He could hear faint water sounds and the clink of glass from the other end. Luo Jingshu was probably drinking again.

Xiao Cheng wanted to tell him that drinking was bad for his health, but he felt like he had no grounds to say that right now.

He lowered his gaze. The air conditioner hummed softly in the room, but his body felt cold under the covers.
“There were many times when you looked at me with a conflicted and pained expression,” Luo Jingshu recalled.

He had tried to avoid remembering the events of his past life since his rebirth.

People who had interacted with him often marveled at his skill and insight. But Luo Jingshu hadn’t always been so capable.

When he returned to the Luo family in his past life, he had been nothing more than an ignorant young man.

Every skill he had now, every decision he made, came from countless stumbles and lessons learned in his past life.

He had deliberately feigned weakness and subservience before Jiang Ying because, at the time, he had no other way to protect himself.

The Luo family had practically offered him up to Jiang Ying. Alone and vulnerable, how could he refuse?

Once, Luo Jingshu had genuinely harbored hope for his family.

As a child, he had been abused countless times by his adoptive father. His timid adoptive mother, unable to protect him, could only hold him and cry as they both endured the beatings.

Luo Jingshu had often been beaten so badly that he could barely walk.

During those times, he would wonder if his biological parents were still searching for him. Surely they wouldn’t treat him this way, right?

When he found his biological parents, would he finally experience normal parental love?

But the greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment.

Luo Jingshu returned to the Luo family full of expectations, only to be met with Mother Luo’s indifference and Luo Yuan’s hostility.

As for his father, he was rarely home, constantly surrounded by mistresses. Why would he care about this son?

To him, this biological son who had been kidnapped as a child was no different from a stranger.

After all, if he wanted a son, his mistresses could easily give him one at any time.

Luo Jingshu had merely leapt from one fire pit into another.

Disappointment accumulated over time and turned into resentment.

He hated everyone. He hated that no matter how hard he tried, he could never get what he truly wanted.
Luo Jingshu endured humiliation and submission by Jiang Ying’s side, biding his time for four years.

One thing he learned from Jiang Ying was this: you should never show mercy to your enemies.

And so, he utterly destroyed Jiang Ying, leaving him with a shattered family and reduced Madam Luo from her high status as a wealthy socialite to the very thing she despised most—a lowly, destitute woman.

Luo Jingshu placed his last shred of hope in Xiao Cheng, reaching out three times in desperation.

Each attempt was like a hand reaching out from the depths of hell, desperately hoping for someone to pull him up.

But unfortunately, even Xiao Cheng, who professed to love him, chose not to save him.

In his previous life, Luo Jingshu hated Xiao Cheng for giving him a glimmer of hope, only to leave him to sink deeper into the quagmire.

Xiao Cheng’s so-called love was more fragile than bubbles. It was like a game—teasing a little dog, watching it beg pitifully for attention, but never truly extending a hand to it.

But later, Luo Jingshu came to terms with it, as he was now explaining to Xiao Cheng.

“Maybe you wanted to help me, Brother Cheng, but I don’t understand why you ultimately did nothing.”

In his past life, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge Xiao Cheng’s inner struggle, marking a big “X” over him and rejecting his feelings entirely.

Luo Jingshu wasn’t sure if Xiao Cheng could understand what he was saying now. He explained further:

“It was as if something was restraining you. You could only stand outside the circle to warn me but could never step inside to embrace me.”

A few words immediately came to Xiao Cheng’s mind: original plotline!

He had never understood why he could remain indifferent to Luo Jingshu’s suffering, but now he had a perfect explanation.

If, in his previous life, his transmigration into the novel had subjected him to the constraints of the original plotline—preventing him from altering its trajectory—then it made sense that all he could do was warn Luo Jingshu while being unable to truly change his fate.

Thus, Luo Jingshu’s destiny in his past life had to play out as the original plot dictated. Whether sincerely or otherwise, he was forced to stay by Jiang Ying’s side for years, just as the story described, playing the role of a “cheap shou.”

Meanwhile, Xiao Cheng could only remain by his side in anguish and conflict, unable to genuinely rescue him.

But oddly enough, in this life, Xiao Cheng had never felt the limitations of the original plotline. From the very beginning, everything had gone off script.

Since the moment he encountered Luo Jingshu by the pool, nothing had followed the original story.

If the constraints of the original plotline had bound him in his previous life, then why had that power suddenly vanished in this life?

Xiao Cheng still couldn’t figure it out, but at least he now had a lead.

“Brother Cheng, you don’t have memories of those years, so you might not believe what I’m saying. But I never intended to deceive you again,” Luo Jingshu said, holding a wine glass in one hand and swirling the liquid inside. His gaze seemed unfocused.

His thoughts were already muddled, and some of his words were disjointed, but Xiao Cheng could still understand what he meant.

Luo Jingshu’s murmured words were mostly fragmented apologies.

Xiao Cheng found himself at a loss for words once more.

He understood that he hadn’t helped Luo Jingshu in their past lives due to the constraints of the original plot, but Luo Jingshu didn’t know that.

Luo Jingshu’s distrust and deceit were not without reason. Xiao Cheng tried to consider things from Luo Jingshu’s perspective.

If there had been someone in his life who claimed to like him but refused to save him or ignored his pleas for help…

Wouldn’t he also doubt that person’s sincerity?

Wouldn’t he also think that the professed affection was nothing more than a game?

And then, in this new life, when Luo Jingshu met him again, he heard Xiao Cheng profess his love once more.

Would Luo Jingshu have thought, ‘Why is this person deceiving me again after lying to me once before?’
Xiao Cheng seemed to grasp Luo Jingshu’s perspective.

If it were him, he would also have doubts and anger.

Although no one had ever stipulated that loving Luo Jingshu obligated him to help, Xiao Cheng couldn’t deny the moral implications.

And yet, if he hadn’t even been willing to try, how could he expect Luo Jingshu to believe in his sincerity?

If Xiao Cheng had been in that situation, he would have silently distanced himself from such a person. He wouldn’t believe in the love professed by their lips, let alone pin any hope on them.

But Luo Jingshu was different. His personality was deeply twisted and obsessive, and he harbored immense malice toward the world.

Xiao Cheng finally understood why Luo Jingshu had toyed with his emotions after his rebirth.

He could understand it, but he couldn’t condone it.

After all, the one who got hurt the most was Xiao Cheng himself.

Between him and Luo Jingshu, it was hard to say who was right and who was wrong. It seemed as if neither of them was at fault, yet at the same time, both bore some responsibility.

Xiao Cheng rubbed his temples, and suddenly, another thought came to him.

“Luo Jingshu, did you…” He hesitated. “After you retaliated against Jiang Ying last time, did you…”

Xiao Cheng’s voice was hesitant and stammering, leaving Luo Jingshu momentarily confused.

“Hmm?”

Luo Jingshu was already drunk, leaning against the sofa with half-lidded eyes. He could barely hold the wine glass in his hand, which slipped onto the carpet, spilling wine into its fibres.

His reactions were sluggish, his mind a chaotic mess, but he still managed to respond to Xiao Cheng almost instinctively.

Even Luo Jingshu himself hadn’t realized what he was saying.

Xiao Cheng exhaled softly. “Do you still remember the fire?”

The dream he had—was it something that had actually happened in the past, or was it simply a manifestation of his own deep-seated fear?

Luo Jingshu was silent for several seconds before finally understanding what Xiao Cheng meant.

“How do you know…”

Wasn’t Xiao Cheng supposed to have no memory of the past? How could he know about the fire?

In the haze of his muddled thoughts, Luo Jingshu’s mind flashed back to the events of his previous life. In that world, he had no attachment to anything. After exacting his revenge, life seemed to lose all meaning.

Luo Jingshu chose to end it all with suicide.

But at that time, he was alone in the room. Xiao Cheng shouldn’t have been there.

Perhaps Xiao Cheng had only learned of his death after the fact.

For a fleeting moment, Luo Jingshu wanted to ask: When Xiao Cheng heard of his death, had he felt sorrow for him?

He should have, shouldn’t he? Xiao Cheng had loved him.

But back then, Luo Jingshu had already been utterly disappointed in him.

Now, looking back, Luo Jingshu realized that the reason he had fallen for Xiao Cheng so quickly after his rebirth might have had something to do with Xiao Cheng’s proactive behavior.

Luo Jingshu even thought, perhaps in his previous life, he hadn’t been entirely indifferent to Xiao Cheng. Otherwise, why would he have tested Xiao Cheng three times, even knowing the likely outcome?
Perhaps during those tests, he secretly hoped Xiao Cheng would respond the way he wanted.

If Xiao Cheng had even tried to help him—no matter if he ultimately failed—Luo Jingshu wouldn’t have been so completely disillusioned.

And so, in this life, under Xiao Cheng’s repeated advances and warmth, he had fallen for him so quickly.

Because such warmth and affection were things Luo Jingshu had longed for all along.

Images of Xiao Cheng’s face flitted through Luo Jingshu’s mind—sometimes smiling, sometimes angry—vivid and radiant.

“So you really set the fire and tried to end your life?!”

Xiao Cheng’s voice abruptly brought Luo Jingshu back from his wandering thoughts. Luo Jingshu softly hummed in acknowledgement, instinctively licking his dry lips, his heartbeat inexplicably quickening.

“Why!” Xiao Cheng’s tone was urgent, as if he wanted to scold him for his lack of resolve. The words reached the tip of his tongue but were swallowed back.

What could he even say? Tell Luo Jingshu to cherish life?

For Luo Jingshu to reach the point of attempting suicide, how deeply disappointed must he have been in the people around him?

Xiao Cheng’s eyes felt sore. Clutching the blanket beneath him tightly, he asked, “Do you still have thoughts like that now?”

No matter how angry he had been at Luo Jingshu for his indifference and manipulation, he couldn’t bear the thought of watching him end his own life.

Even though, in his angriest moments, Xiao Cheng had indeed cursed him to go die, those words had never come from his heart.

“No.” Luo Jingshu brushed his hair back, his muddled mind seeming to clear slightly. From Xiao Cheng’s voice, he thought he could hear a faint tremor.

Luo Jingshu promised, “I want to live, Brother Cheng. Because you’re in this world.”

He wasn’t entirely unanchored or alone. He finally had someone he cared about.

Luo Jingshu’s words carried a breathy tone, his lips curving slightly in what felt like both a promise and a plea.

“I want to love you.”

Xiao Cheng’s nose tingled, and he nearly burst into tears.

He should have been angry, yet at that moment, all he felt was an uncontrollable urge to cry.

Luo Jingshu was possessive and domineering at his core, but he was willing to humble himself to the dust before Xiao Cheng, repeatedly pleading for his affection.

Xiao Cheng brushed a trace of wetness from the corner of his eye with his fingertips, rubbing it away.
The entanglement between him and Luo Jingshu had long since become an unresolvable mess.

He could no longer righteously accuse Luo Jingshu of deception, yet he couldn’t bring himself to forgive him entirely and move forward together.

Xiao Cheng remained silent, but Luo Jingshu seemed to sense an opportunity.

“Brother Cheng, I’m begging you.”

“Give me one more chance to love you, please?”

Luo Jingshu coaxed softly, his tone brimming with supplication.

“This time, let me be the one to pursue you. You’ll be the one to test my sincerity.”

Xiao Cheng couldn’t deny that, at that moment, he was tempted by the proposal.

Even in his darkest moments of anger and resentment toward Luo Jingshu, Xiao Cheng couldn’t say he didn’t love him.

His love for Luo Jingshu had never stopped; it had merely been buried beneath layers of hurt and resentment, unwilling to surface.

But as soon as he thought about giving in, Xiao Cheng felt he was too easily swayed.

He was angry at himself for being so soft-hearted, for feeling pity just because he’d learned of Luo Jingshu’s past suffering.

Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t muster the resolve to tell Luo Jingshu to get lost like before.

This time, Xiao Cheng’s silence dragged on longer, and Luo Jingshu didn’t press him. He simply listened quietly to Xiao Cheng’s breathing.

Regardless of Brother Cheng’s answer, Luo Jingshu’s resolve wouldn’t waver.

He was determined to win Xiao Cheng back and spend the rest of his life loving him.

One day, Xiao Cheng would believe in his love.

“You…” Xiao Cheng paused for a moment and ultimately didn’t answer directly. Instead, he changed the subject. “Shouldn’t you return the necklace to me now?”

Even though he had designed that necklace intending to give it to Luo Jingshu, Luo Jingshu did not accept it at the time.

Luo Jingshu’s breathing grew heavier. “Can’t I keep it?”

He sounded almost aggrieved.

“You didn’t take it when I gave it to you, did you? I don’t want to give it anymore.” Xiao Cheng’s ears inexplicably grew warm. Though he had no memory of what had happened before, he could imagine what the scene must have been like when he handed the necklace to Luo Jingshu.

“I want it now!” Luo Jingshu coughed lightly, covering his lips. “I didn’t take it before because…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Xiao Cheng knew what he was trying to say.

Luo Jingshu hadn’t taken the necklace because, at the time, Xiao Cheng had been too inconsistent and conflicted.

Bound by the original plotline, he couldn’t interfere with the plot’s progression and could only covertly express his feelings for Luo Jingshu.

Luo Jingshu hadn’t believed in his professed affection, so naturally, he hadn’t accepted the necklace.

Xiao Cheng didn’t want to explain. Even though he understood his own reasons, he didn’t want to tell Luo Jingshu about being transmigrated into the book’s world.

Unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want anyone else to know this secret.

“Anyway, you didn’t take it before.” Xiao Cheng’s tone carried a hint of unconscious relaxation. “I don’t want to give it to you now.”

Luo Jingshu’s voice turned hoarse. “Fine.”

“I’ll give it back to you.”

“But could you at least not give it to someone else?”

Xiao Cheng fell silent for a moment. “Who do you think I’d give it to?”

He seemed to ponder for a few seconds before continuing softly, “Mr. Bai probably wouldn’t wear this kind of jewelry. Senior Xie might like it; it would suit him.”

“Xiao Xi and Xiao Nan would also look good wearing it, but there’s only one necklace, and they’d have to fight over it. If I were to give it to them, should I design another one?”

Luo Jingshu’s breathing suddenly grew sharper. Unable to bear it any longer, he shut his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth, whispering a plea:

“Brother Cheng!”