IMPGS Chapter 108

Luo Jingshu glanced at Xiao Cheng, who was sitting beside him.

Ever since the phone call with Jiang Zihe, Xiao Cheng had been disinterested and listless, his entire demeanor lacking energy.

He slouched against the back seat, absentmindedly playing with Luo Jingshu’s fingers, pinching them as a way to ease his frustration.

Let alone checking Weibo—Xiao Cheng hadn’t even touched his phone.

Naturally, he hadn’t noticed that his Weibo alt account had been exposed.

Luo Jingshu withdrew his gaze, frowning as he continued reading the messages sent by Fu Ju.

[Should we release the evidence earlier?]

Originally, their plan was to let the situation simmer, allowing the controversy to spread before dropping the final, decisive evidence to completely take down Jiang Ying.

The more emotional the netizens became, the stronger their outrage would be when the truth was revealed.

Besides, forcing Jiang Ying into a corner, making him lie and struggle like a pathetic clown, was something that brought Luo Jingshu and the Xiao family a sense of satisfaction.

But all of that hinged on ensuring the Xiao family members remained unscathed.

Right now, the netizens were growing impatient, lashing out at anyone they could. At a time like this, Xiao Cheng’s Weibo account getting exposed was far from a good thing.

Luo Jingshu’s expression darkened. Out of consideration for Xiao Cheng sitting beside him, he managed to hold back his anger.

He typed out a short reply on his phone, about to send a simple [Okay], when Fu Ju sent another message.

[Fu Ju: You might want to check this out first.]

Check what?

Fu Ju immediately followed up with a link, leading to someone’s Weibo profile.

It had to be Xiao Cheng’s account.

For some reason, Luo Jingshu suddenly felt a sense of nervous anticipation, like he was sneaking a peek into Xiao Cheng’s private thoughts.

Especially since the person in question was sitting right beside him, making him feel like he could be caught at any moment.

Subconsciously, Luo Jingshu adjusted his posture, angling his phone screen slightly away.

Only after confirming that Xiao Cheng wouldn’t be able to see did he tap the link.

Xiao Cheng’s account was named [Nian Nian Doesn’t Eat Green Onions.]

The name was simple and direct—Luo Jingshu understood it immediately.

His face flushed instantly, and he sneaked a glance at Xiao Cheng, looking both embarrassed and excited.

Luo Jingshu had never expected Xiao Cheng to have a Weibo alt account. In fact, he never thought Xiao Cheng even used Weibo.

Let alone that he would choose a username related to him.

Luo Jingshu pressed his tongue against his cheek, scrolling through the account.

There were only about twenty posts in total, the most recent one dating back over a month—on the day after Christmas.

The post contained no text, just a photo of a snowy landscape. The sky was overcast, heavy with clouds, casting a somber atmosphere.

Luo Jingshu fell silent.

Perhaps, on that day, Xiao Cheng’s mood had been just as gloomy as the scenery outside.

To suddenly learn that the person you liked had been deceiving you all along—no matter how composed Xiao Cheng had appeared afterward, he must have been devastated at the time.

A dull ache spread through Luo Jingshu’s chest.

He wished he could go back in time and hold Xiao Cheng in his arms. He couldn’t imagine how much Xiao Cheng had suffered.

Yet back then, Luo Jingshu had been a complete jerk.

Even knowing that Xiao Cheng was hurting, he had deliberately twisted the knife, saying all sorts of cruel things.

As his emotions sank, Luo Jingshu scrolled further down. The comment section was empty.

Xiao Cheng had disabled comments.

His alt account had barely any followers, and no one knew he was the Xiao family’s young master. So when he posted, he had no reservations—every post was a glimpse into his unfiltered thoughts.

As Luo Jingshu continued reading, he felt like he was reliving Xiao Cheng’s experience of falling in love.

The posts were filled with complaints about how the person he liked never replied to his messages.

Yet, at the same time, there were posts about how a single casual remark from Luo Jingshu could keep him awake all night with excitement.

Xiao Cheng had loved with a passion so fierce, so unwavering—he had poured all his youthful longing into these posts.

The more Luo Jingshu read, the more his heart ached.

A deep, suffocating guilt settled over him.

Why hadn’t he realized his own feelings sooner?

Drowning in remorse, Luo Jingshu found himself thinking something absurd—why had Xiao Cheng been so soft-hearted?

He had done so many terrible things, yet Xiao Cheng still forgave him.

Even he himself felt unworthy.

Luo Jingshu meticulously read through every single post, each one making him feel worse.

It was as if a heavy weight pressed against his chest, making it impossible to breathe.

His lips parted, sucking in deep breaths, but the tightness in his chest refused to ease.

His eyes gradually turned red, and the sting in his nose made it impossible to hold back the tears.

He was so overwhelmed that he didn’t even dare to make a sound, afraid of alerting Xiao Cheng.

Since the comments were disabled, the only thing people who found his account could do was share his posts.

Perhaps they never expected that a wealthy young master like Xiao Cheng would be such a lovesick fool, reduced to a pitiful, one-sided love.

Amidst the mocking remarks, there were also people who expressed envy.

[So even money can’t buy love.]

[He’s rich, and I heard he’s handsome, yet he still couldn’t win over the person he liked. Now I’m curious—just what kind of person is this ‘Nian Nian’ ?]

Luo Jingshu wondered—what kind of person was he, really?

He was just a scumbag.

Exiting Weibo, he instructed Fu Ju to handle the situation as soon as possible, preferably by temporarily suspending Xiao Cheng’s account to prevent further harassment.

Even if Xiao Cheng hadn’t seen any of it himself, Luo Jingshu couldn’t stand the thought of him being insulted.

After replying to Fu Ju, Luo Jingshu fell silent again.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how Xiao Cheng must have felt at the time. It was almost masochistic—he knew the more he thought about it, the more it would hurt, but he still forced himself to put himself in Xiao Cheng’s shoes.

He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, lost in thought, before he finally blinked his reddened eyes and turned his head to look at Xiao Cheng once more.

Xiao Cheng had his eyes closed, seemingly on the verge of sleep. His forehead rested against the seatback, and his hand still loosely held onto Luo Jingshu’s fingers. His slightly parted lips bore a tiny wound, and further down, red marks lingered on his neck.

Those were from last night—marks that Luo Jingshu had left behind.

And that was just a small part of it. Underneath his clothes were countless more traces, evidence of the wild and reckless night they had shared.

Luo Jingshu couldn’t help but tighten his grip on Xiao Cheng’s fingers, his emotions growing even more complex.

He despised himself for being so cruel, so heartless—yet at the same time, he was incredibly grateful that Xiao Cheng had forgiven him.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Luo Jingshu gently rubbed Xiao Cheng’s hand with his fingertips.

He hadn’t expected such a small movement to wake Xiao Cheng up.

Xiao Cheng’s eyes suddenly snapped open, bloodshot and weary, with dark circles beneath them. Exhaustion was written all over his face.

It wasn’t entirely due to last night’s activities—his fatigue was more mental than physical. Ever since the phone call that morning, he hadn’t been able to shake the irritation weighing him down.

Seeing this, Luo Jingshu felt both heartache for Xiao Cheng and an even deeper hatred for Jiang Ying. His disgust extended to Jiang Zihe as well.

Xiao Cheng frowned, his voice laced with exhaustion as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

He was well aware that he wasn’t acting like himself today.

That morning, when Luo Jingshu had spoken to him, he had barely responded, giving only half-hearted replies.

Xiao Cheng knew he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on others, but he simply couldn’t muster the energy to act normal.

He wanted to smile at Luo Jingshu, to speak to him gently—but no matter how hard he tried, his facial muscles felt stiff, and his lips refused to curve upward.

So, he could only keep his emotions bottled up.

There was no solution in sight.

When Jiang Zihe had confronted him that morning, he hadn’t even been able to come up with a reason to refute him.

His heart was filled with anxiety and fear—fear of losing this friend, yet at the same time, he couldn’t let go of his hatred. He couldn’t convince himself to abandon his revenge against Jiang Ying.

As long as he continued to go after Jiang Ying, there was no way he and Jiang Zihe could ever have a peaceful conversation.

Because Jiang Ying was Jiang Zihe’s brother.

Both of them sat in silence, burdened by their own chaotic emotions, staring at each other as the air between them grew heavy and oppressive.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Luo Jingshu finally moved closer, wrapping an arm around Xiao Cheng’s shoulders and guiding his head to rest against him.

“Brother Cheng, don’t worry. Leave everything to us.”

“If you care about Jiang Zihe, then explain things to him. Whether he understands or not is up to him.”

Luo Jingshu had never once believed that Xiao Cheng was in the wrong. In fact, he thought Xiao Cheng was far too softhearted.

If it weren’t for Jiang Zihe, Luo Jingshu would have used much more ruthless methods to send Jiang Ying straight to prison.

But because he didn’t want to see Xiao Cheng upset, he had opted for this slower, more drawn-out approach.

Xiao Cheng rubbed his temples and sighed, “I’ll think about it.”

There was no problem that couldn’t be solved.

Xiao Cheng told himself that at worst, he and Jiang Zihe would have a complete falling out.

At least Jiang Zihe hadn’t said they were done being friends yet.

With this thought, some of the tension in Xiao Cheng’s heart finally eased.

He tilted his head up to look at Luo Jingshu. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

Luo Jingshu was momentarily taken aback. His lips pressed together slightly. “Why do you ask?”

Xiao Cheng gazed at him seriously. Now that he was looking up close, he noticed Luo Jingshu’s eyes were a little red, as if he had just been crying.

“You’ve been looking at me a lot just now.”

So he had noticed all along—he had just chosen not to say anything.

Luo Jingshu’s fingers rubbed small circles on Xiao Cheng’s shoulder as he hesitated before finally speaking.

“Brother Cheng, your Weibo account was exposed.”

Xiao Cheng froze for a few seconds before slowly processing what that meant.

He vaguely recalled that he hadn’t posted anything particularly scandalous, so being exposed wasn’t a big deal.

At most, it was just…

His pursuit of someone…

Wait.

Xiao Cheng suddenly realized.

The person he had been pining after—was sitting right in front of him.

Xiao Cheng swallowed hard and asked with difficulty, “You… saw it?”

All those embarrassing, overly sentimental, and downright cringeworthy Weibo posts of his—Luo Jingshu had seen them all?

Did that mean Luo Jingshu now knew all about his inner turmoil, how he had lost sleep over a single message, how he had spent countless nights giddy over a casual remark?

The more Xiao Cheng thought about it, the more mortified he became. He wanted to dig a hole and bury himself inside.

His past self was truly a fool in love.

Not only had he gone to great lengths to find excuses to talk to Nian Nian, but he had also overanalyzed every little thing and even indulged in self-indulgent fantasies…

Xiao Cheng abruptly covered his face with his hands. His skin burned with embarrassment, as if steam was about to rise from it.

He could cover his face, but he couldn’t hide his ears, which had turned a bright shade of red, betraying every bit of his emotions.

Luo Jingshu, however, had no intention of teasing him. Instead, he was deeply moved and filled with guilt.

He pulled Xiao Cheng into a tight embrace, resting his chin on Xiao Cheng’s shoulder.

“Brother Cheng, thank you for loving me.”

His voice was low and warm as he whispered in Xiao Cheng’s ear, “Once everything with Jiang Ying is over, I’ll help you fulfill all those wishes of yours, one by one. Okay?”

He wanted to do all those sweet, romantic things with Xiao Cheng.

He wanted to create countless beautiful memories together.

He wanted to go to Rome and finish what they had left undone.

Because as long as Xiao Cheng was there, even the most ordinary things became romantic.

Xiao Cheng slowly removed his hands from his face, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure.

“That’s fine,” he said, attempting to sound indifferent.

“But only after your college entrance exams.”

After all, his boyfriend was still a high school student.

Though, truth be told, Xiao Cheng often forgot that.

Especially during certain moments when Luo Jingshu behaved in ways that were anything but innocent…

Xiao Cheng sucked in a sharp breath, steeling himself.

“Your exams come first! Stop thinking about anything else!”

Luo Jingshu: …

The romantic atmosphere suddenly disappeared.