IOLYF Chapter 72

It was almost 3 AM. The shop was closing down, and the staff were tidying up the office when they noticed that their boss hadn’t left yet.

Zhao Cheng sat in his office chair, staring at his phone with a serious expression, as if he were engrossed in some shocking gossip.

Noticing the employees, Zhao Cheng snapped out of his thoughts and looked up, asking, “If you found out that your partner was just using you as a stand-in for someone else, what would you do?”

The employee was caught off guard but, seeing how serious Zhao Cheng was, answered earnestly, “I’d break up with them, of course.”

“But what if you’ve been together for three years?” Zhao Cheng’s expression grew more complicated. “And you’ve already fallen deeply in love with them?”

“Three years, huh…” The employee imagined themselves in that situation and immediately responded with anger, “If it were me, I’d never get over it. I’d definitely confront them!”

“Confront them…?”

A sudden chill ran down Zhao Cheng’s spine. He immediately stood up, grabbed his coat, and hurried out of the office.

It had already been some time since he last called Han Shao Zhou.

As soon as he stepped outside, Zhao Cheng called Han Shao Zhou, but no one answered.

Getting into his car, Zhao Cheng then dialed Mo Ming’s number.

In the dead of night, even the wind in Chuanhai seemed silent.

Mo Ming was woken by the phone ringing. Still half-asleep, he groggily answered and heard Zhao Cheng’s anxious voice on the other end, “Mo Ming, has Han come to see you?”

“…Zhao ge?” Mo Ming was still dazed. “What’s going on?”

Hearing how sleepy Mo Ming sounded, Zhao Cheng felt a slight sense of relief but pressed on, “Mo Ming, what’s your relationship with that singer who died three years ago, Zhou Xu? There are rumors online that you two were lovers. Is it true?”

In the darkness, Mo Ming slowly opened his eyes.

“When you got together with Han three years ago, was it because he looked like Zhou Xu?” Zhao Cheng hesitated before adding, “Whatever the truth is, if Han asks you, make sure to say no. The resemblance between a past lover and a current partner could just be a matter of personal taste, right?”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang in Mo Ming’s apartment.

In the living room, Xiao Han was startled awake and barked twice.

Mo Ming sat up and glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table.

It was 3:09 AM…

“Did I just hear a doorbell?” Zhao Cheng asked over the phone. “Is someone ringing your door?”

Mo Ming turned on the light, got out of bed, and walked to the front door of the apartment.

Through the peephole, he saw Han Shao Zhou standing outside, wearing a black trench coat. His thick brows were like swords, and his expression was completely blank.

Mo Ming closed his eyes briefly before saying, “He’s outside.”

“Outside? Who, Han?” Zhao Cheng’s voice shot up in alarm. “Mo Ming, where do you live? I’m coming over right now.”

Mo Ming opened the door, and the cold wind from the hallway rushed in.

The biting chill hit his face as Mo Ming, dressed in a thin, light-colored sleepwear, his black hair tousled, calmly looked at the man at the door. “We could’ve just talked on the phone.”

Han Shao Zhou stepped inside, his voice emotionless. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to explain it properly over the phone.”

Mo Ming left the door slightly ajar and turned around to see Han Shao Zhou standing right behind him, not moving further into the living room.

His eyes were close, dark, and cold, as if no light could penetrate them.

“I want to see your ID,” Han Shao Zhou’s voice was unusually calm. “The internet says your birthday is next month, but I remember we already celebrated it two months ago.”

Mo Ming tried to move past Han Shao Zhou. “Let me get a coat first.”

But Han Shao Zhou blocked his way, his lowered gaze emanating an eerie warmth. “Or you could just tell me, when is your actual birthday?”

Mo Ming’s gaze dropped. He noticed Han Shao Zhou’s hands clenched tightly at his sides. After a brief silence, he said, “The 19th of next month.”

“…Then, whose birthday were we celebrating two months ago?”

“Zhou Xu’s.”

Han Shao Zhou’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected Mo Ming to say that name so calmly and without hesitation.

The heavy cloud of confusion that had been weighing on his chest suddenly froze, plummeting rapidly. His voice, now tinged with anxiety, trembled, “Then why did you make me… celebrate Zhou Xu’s birthday with you?”

“…”

Han Shao Zhou reached out and gently cupped Mo Ming’s chin, forcing him to look up. “I still remember, you said ‘Happy birthday’ to me that day…”

Mo Ming didn’t respond. His dark eyes were as tranquil as a moonlit lake.

Han Shao Zhou’s lips trembled. “You weren’t interested in me or the fireworks. You just wanted to watch the fireworks with Zhou Xu, didn’t you?”

The image of Mo Ming’s photo with Zhou Xu under the fireworks burned in his mind like a poisoned thorn, making him feel dizzy.

Mo Ming’s lips moved slightly, but he didn’t deny it.

Suddenly, Han Shao Zhou’s grip tightened as if he wanted to crush the bones in Mo Ming’s cheeks. He leaned closer, his eyes now bloodshot. “So, you were with me because I look like Zhou Xu?”

Mo Ming slowly closed his eyes. “…Yes.”

Han Shao Zhou’s hand slipped away as Mo Ming opened his eyes. He saw Han Shao Zhou standing motionless in front of him, his tall figure seeming lifeless, like a withered tree, exuding an aura of despair.

“Three years… You’ve played me for three years…” Han Shao Zhou’s face turned ashen. “How dare you deceive me like this…”

Self-delusion, arrogance, and… utter humiliation.

The realization hit him like a searing slap across the face, making his entire body burn with sharp pain.

He vaguely recalled how much Mo Ming had liked his face…

How Mo Ming would gently kiss his brow and eyes, how he would cradle his face tenderly, kissing him inch by inch, how he would softly call his name like a kitten…

And it was all because his face resembled Zhou Xu’s.

Zhou Xu…

Mo Ming turned and walked into the living room, draping a coat over his shoulders as he said calmly, “For the past three years, we fulfilled each other’s needs. I don’t see that as deceit.”

Han Shao Zhou looked at the slender figure standing in the living room. The illusion he had been lost in for the past three years shattered, and he felt as if he had never truly known this man.

He had thought he was in control of their relationship, not realizing that from the very beginning, he had been the one being manipulated. He had been a fool for three whole years…

Three years.

Suddenly, he had the urge to kill him.

Han Shao Zhou’s hands trembled as he clenched them into fists…

He wanted to wrap his hands around Mo Ming’s slender neck and squeeze, as if crushing a defenseless kitten.

Yes, kill him…

The cold, predatory look in Han Shao Zhou’s eyes sent a shiver down Mo Ming’s spine. He spoke again, “Our relationship is over. I made that clear before. It’s you who kept…”

“Over?” Han Shao Zhou’s expression twisted into a sinister smile as he slowly walked toward Mo Ming. “I was your stand-in, your human massage tool, providing you with emotional and physical sustenance for three years. Someone as naive and selfless as me… shouldn’t you keep using me? Why the sudden kindness in letting me go?”

“You feel betrayed because you developed feelings…” Mo Ming’s eyes showed a hint of caution as he slowly backed away. “But you were the one who said we weren’t in a romantic relationship and didn’t need to be responsible for each other’s feelings.”

Mo Ming backed up against the wall, cornered. His face was easily seized by Han Shao Zhou’s hand.

His face was forced upward.

Mo Ming frowned, considering fighting back but restrained himself… He knew he couldn’t match this man’s strength.

“You remember that well…” Han Shao Zhou’s sharp gaze bore down on him, his voice gravelly, “But that’s why you felt justified in playing me, right? What do you think I am? Well, guess what—I’m not just going to make you responsible for my feelings now. You’ll have to answer for the humiliation I’ve suffered too…”

Every moment of tenderness that had touched his heart, every time he had been lost in their intimacy, now felt like a cruel joke.

Mo Ming had never loved him. He was just a replacement, a conduit for Mo Ming’s feelings toward another man. His own feelings for Mo Ming were nothing more than a complete farce.

The confidence he had always had—had never existed in the first place.

Han Shao Zhou’s grip on Mo Ming’s cheeks tightened, as if he wanted to crush the bones. Mo Ming’s head was forced back against the cold wall, his upper body immobilized. He could see the countdown to an explosion in the darkness of Han Shao Zhou’s eyes.

“Are you going to hurt me…?” Mo Ming asked.

Han Shao Zhou let out a twisted laugh, his gaze erratic. He released his grip and lightly patted Mo Ming’s cheek. “Hitting you would be too easy…”

Xiao Han, who had been curled up in its bed, was startled by the loud crash in the living room, nearly leaping out of its bed.

It rushed out of its bed and saw the overturned coffee table, the broken tea set, and the shattered potted plant scattered across the floor.

One of Han Shao Zhou’s shoes crushed the green leaves in the puddle of water, and then, with another loud crash, the hundred-inch TV on the wall was smashed, a spiderweb of cracks spreading across the screen.

“Woof woof woof…!!”

Xiao Han arched its back, fur standing on end, and barked furiously at Han Shao Zhou, who was now hurling a chair across the room.

Han Shao Zhou slowly turned his face, his eyes so devoid of warmth that Xiao Han hesitated for a moment, but then it barked even louder, “Woof!! Woof woof woof!!”

Han Shao Zhou began to move toward the dog.

But Mo Ming was quicker, scooping Xiao Han into his arms, gently cradling the dog’s head and pressing it against his chest.

Deprived of its sight, Xiao Han quickly calmed down.

…

Zhao Cheng had called both Han Shao Zhou and Mo Ming several times, but neither answered. He knew something was wrong.

He knew Han Shao Zhou better than anyone.

The man was probably losing his mind.

Driving like a madman, Zhao Cheng sped toward Mo Ming’s address.

When he arrived, he found the apartment door ajar and immediately pushed it open.

“Han, you need to calm…”

The word “down” stuck in his throat as Zhao Cheng froze in place, staring in disbelief at the wreckage before him. It looked like a hurricane had torn through the apartment.

The entire place had been destroyed, even the chandelier on the ceiling had somehow been smashed, leaving debris scattered all over the floor. There was hardly a safe place to step.

Han Shao Zhou stood in the middle of the living room, holding the remnants of a broken chair, now reduced to an H-shaped piece of wood.

Mo Ming stood in the corner, wearing light-colored cotton pajamas with a black coat draped over his shoulders, holding Xiao Han calmly, his expression neutral as he stared at the floor.

Zhao Cheng’s mouth twitched as he tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.

Han Shao Zhou turned to see Zhao Cheng and casually tossed the chair’s remains aside. “Oh, you’re here.”

Zhao Cheng: “…”

As if nothing had happened, Han Shao Zhou stuffed his hands into his pockets and casually walked through the wreckage toward the door. “I’m done here. Let’s go.”