IOLYF Chapter 73

Zhao Cheng stood there, unsure of what to do. He glanced at Han Shao Zhou, who was leaving calmly, then turned his gaze back to the mess in the apartment and Mo Ming standing by the wall.

If he had any doubts before coming here, they were now almost completely confirmed—Mo Ming had indeed treated Han Shao Zhou as a stand-in for Zhou Xu over the past three years. Otherwise, Han Shao Zhou wouldn’t have lost control like this. Mo Ming must have admitted it when questioned.

“Are you hurt?” Zhao Cheng asked Mo Ming.

Mo Ming shook his head, then squatted down, gently placing the trembling Xiao Han on the floor.

Zhao Cheng let out a sigh of relief but then said, “Mo Ming, I’ve got to say, how could you…”

Mo Ming quietly squatted there, picking up the broken pieces of plants from the floor. They were the ones he had planted on the balcony. Han Shao Zhou had thrown the pots onto the living room floor, crushing most of them, but some were still intact enough to be replanted. Xiao Han stood by Mo Ming’s hand, gently licking the dirt off his fingers.

Seeing this, Zhao Cheng found himself unable to scold him anymore.

Even though he sympathized with his friend, he also knew that what Han Shao Zhou did by trashing the apartment was pretty messed up… but this was probably the most restrained form of revenge Han Shao Zhou could manage. Before he arrived, Zhao Cheng had thought Han Shao Zhou might actually harm Mo Ming.

“I can’t believe this… what a mess!” Zhao Cheng muttered in frustration, scratching his head. After a moment of hesitation, he turned and ran after Han Shao Zhou.

He managed to get into the passenger seat before Han Shao Zhou could drive off.

Seeing the vacant look in Han Shao Zhou’s eyes, Zhao Cheng swallowed nervously. “Han, you need to stay calm. Maybe, uh, let me drive?”

Han Shao Zhou glanced at him. “You think I’m going to lose it?”

“…No.”

As they drove, Zhao Cheng noticed that Han Shao Zhou’s expression didn’t seem too different from usual, which made him relax a bit.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Zhao Cheng said with a forced smile. “We’ll probably laugh about it one day.”

Han Shao Zhou chuckled lightly. “We can laugh about it now. I didn’t care that much about him.”

“That’s even better. It’s all pretty absurd, really. I was wondering why everyone called you ‘Han ge,’ but he insisted on calling you ‘Xiao ge.’” Zhao Cheng continued, “Turns out it’s because of Zhou Xu—‘Xiao ge’ sounds like ‘Zhou ge’…”

Screech!

The Aston Martin suddenly screeched to a halt at the side of the road, and Zhao Cheng’s body was yanked back into the seat by the seat belt.

“What the hell, Han, you scared me—”

He turned to see Han Shao Zhou’s face, ashen and lifeless, and instantly fell silent.

“Xiao…” Han Shao Zhou’s eyes were wide, his lips trembling. “It’s from Zhou Xu…”

Xiao ge… Zhou ge…

Han Shao Zhou felt like a machine that had suddenly seized up, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly they turned a ghastly, bloodless shade of white.

He had once thought that nickname was something special, something Mo Ming had chosen just for him. But now… now he realized the truth, and it was unbearable.

In all those nights when Mo Ming whispered his name in a daze, he was never calling out to him.

Never…

Zhao Cheng watched as the light in Han Shao Zhou’s eyes slowly crumbled, and he deeply regretted saying anything. If he had known that Han Shao Zhou hadn’t connected the dots about the nickname, he wouldn’t have opened his mouth.

“Han, you—”

Before Zhao Cheng could finish, Han Shao Zhou had already gotten out of the car, taking a pack of cigarettes that had been sitting unused in the car for a while. He sat on the edge of the flowerbed and lit one up.

It was nearly 4 AM. The city’s neon lights had mostly dimmed, and the empty streets were wrapped in a biting cold wind, like a blade cutting through the air.

Zhao Cheng watched as Han Shao Zhou, with his broad shoulders slumped, sat there smoking, looking like a lost, broken man—a stray dog, abandoned and forgotten.

Zhao Cheng’s expression grew more somber. He knew how confident Han Shao Zhou had always been that Mo Ming loved him, just as sure as he was that the sun would rise in the east. For three years, he had never doubted it. Even during their recent separation, Han Shao Zhou had firmly believed that Mo Ming was just testing him and that Mo Ming would come back as long as he proved his sincerity. But now…

Fate had handed him a clown’s role, and he had played it for three years with glee.

Han Shao Zhou stared at the ground, the ash from his cigarette falling into the wind. “I just need some time to think… alone.”

Zhao Cheng stood in front of him, the cold wind stinging his face, making him pull his hood tighter over his head. “Han, you’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but back when you got together with Mo Ming, weren’t you also treating him as a stand-in? So really, neither of you is innocent…”

The light seemed to drain from Han Shao Zhou’s eyes. “He willingly became a stand-in for me, but he never asked if I wanted that. He must have known I didn’t, which is why he hid it for three years, using his love for another man to slowly ensnare me… All I know is that the anger and hatred I feel now, he’s the one who gave it to me. I’ll never forget it, not for the rest of my life…”

As Han Shao Zhou smoked, there was a wet, vicious glint in his eyes. He muttered, “Why didn’t I kill him just now? I should have strangled him…”

When they got back in the car, Zhao Cheng made sure Han Shao Zhou didn’t drive.

On the way, Han Shao Zhou kept his eyes fixed on his phone. Zhao Cheng glanced over and saw that he was numbly scrolling through information about Zhou Xu.

Zhao Cheng’s heart ached for him. “Han, stop looking at that. I don’t think you two look alike. He’s not as handsome as you. Really, you’re the best-looking guy in our circle, with movie star looks. You—”

“Go to Jinpan Apartments,” Han Shao Zhou suddenly interrupted, his gaze growing icier as he stared at a photo on his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Cheng asked, alarmed by the sudden shift in his friend’s mood.

Han Shao Zhou’s breathing grew heavier. “Just drive. I need to confirm something…”

Jinpan Apartments was the building where Han Shao Zhou and Mo Ming had once lived together. After they moved out, Han Shao Zhou had the place renovated, restoring it to its original condition. It was close to his office, and he sometimes stayed there overnight.

Zhao Cheng didn’t know what Han Shao Zhou was up to, but since it wasn’t about going back to confront Mo Ming, he figured it couldn’t be too serious. He drove them to the complex and followed Han Shao Zhou up to the apartment.

Back at the apartment, Han Shao Zhou quickly went to the walk-in closet and found a set of clothes. He stood there, staring at them in a daze, then looked down at the photo on his phone. His face turned a sickly gray.

The veins on his forehead bulged, and his breathing became ragged. “I’m going to kill him. Kill him, kill him…”

Standing at the doorway, Zhao Cheng was completely confused. He walked closer. “What’s wrong with those clothes? They look pretty stylish to me…”

As he approached, Zhao Cheng caught a glimpse of the photo on Han Shao Zhou’s phone. It was a candid shot, likely taken by a fan, showing Zhou Xu wearing a turtleneck sweater and a light gray coat—exactly like the outfit Han Shao Zhou was holding.

“These clothes…” Zhao Cheng looked at the bloodshot eyes of his friend and hesitantly asked, “Did Mo Ming give them to you?”

The dark, murderous look on Han Shao Zhou’s face was all the answer he needed.

“Han…”

Zhao Cheng’s expression turned somber as well.

He had only been with Xiao Mei for a little over a month, but learning the truth had left him shattered for days. He knew the pain of that kind of emotional betrayal, and for Han Shao Zhou, it had been three years…

With his bare hands, Han Shao Zhou tore the clothes to shreds, then kicked the closet wall in a fit of rage, roaring, “Damn you! How dare you do this to me!! How dare you!!”

That night, in this very apartment, he had worn the clothes Mo Ming gave him and experienced the kind of warmth and affection he had never felt in their three years together.

Ever since then, whenever he felt the need to please Mo Ming, he would deliberately wear those clothes, knowing how much Mo Ming liked seeing him in them.

Even during that night under the fireworks on the hill, he had worn the outfit, hoping to catch Mo Ming’s eye.

Zhao Cheng didn’t dare leave Han Shao Zhou alone.

He was afraid that if he did, Han Shao Zhou would either strangle Mo Ming or take his own life.

The morning sunlight was soft, but the air still carried a lingering chill.

Han Shao Zhou seemed to have calmed down.

He sat on the living room sofa like a lifeless statue, completely different from the man who had been smashing walls and screaming just moments before. His eyes were half-closed, devoid of any emotion.

He told Zhao Cheng to leave, but Zhao Cheng didn’t move, clearly wanting to say more.

“I’m calm now, and I’m perfectly clear-headed…” Han Shao Zhou stared blankly at the floor. “I just need a day to process this. After today, everything will be back to normal…”

“Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble with Mo Ming,” Zhao Cheng said. “Now that you know the truth, you should be able to let go. What you need to do is cut him out of your life completely…”

These were the same words Han Shao Zhou had once said to him, but he doubted they would sink in.

Zhao Cheng sighed. “You’re acting just like when you found out Wen Ci got married…”

Han Shao Zhou kept smoking, his gaze darkening. “It’s different…”

It was completely different.

No matter how obsessed he had been with pursuing Wen Ci, he had never truly believed that Wen Ci belonged to him. But with Mo Ming, he had unknowingly come to see him as an inseparable part of his life.

“No matter how you try to process this, you still need to eat,” Zhao Cheng said, glancing at the sunlight streaming through the balcony. “When you’re hungry, everything seems worse. And it’s morning anyway, so let’s grab something to eat. I saw a bunch of restaurants near the entrance when we got here…”

They didn’t bother driving, choosing instead to walk to one of the nearby restaurants.

As they walked, Zhao Cheng kept talking about the incident at Mo Ming’s apartment, while Han Shao Zhou stared blankly ahead, his eyelashes drooping, devoid of energy.

The gentle sunlight fell on his face, but he still felt like he was in a dream. He knew he had to go to the office after breakfast, to work, to socialize… everything had to be done with a clear and rational mind.

“This area has quite a few restaurants. Hmm, the food looks decent too.”

Sitting in a restaurant, Zhao Cheng looked at the menu. “Let’s keep it simple. Good food can lift your spirits…”

They ordered beef stew, steamed grouper, mapo tofu, and a vibrant lotus stir-fry…

As the dishes were served, Han Shao Zhou stared at the familiar dishes, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “He used to make these dishes for me. Every time I came home, he would have a whole table of food waiting for me…”

Zhao Cheng nodded. “Mo Ming was pretty good to you, then. These dishes are a lot of work. Even if he was in love with someone else, at least the food went into your stomach…”

“…”

Under Han Shao Zhou’s death glare, Zhao Cheng quickly changed the subject, stuffing a piece of beef into his mouth. “Uh, Han, this beef is really tender…”

Han Shao Zhou squeezed his eyes shut, then picked up a piece of beef and put it in his mouth.

The moment he bit down, the familiar taste filled his mouth, and his entire body stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Cheng asked, noticing the sudden change in his expression. “Is it bad? I thought it was pretty good…”

Han Shao Zhou quickly tasted every dish on the table, his face growing darker with each bite.

“Waiter!”

Han Shao Zhou suddenly stood up, calling over the waiter.

Zhao Cheng was confused, still chewing on his beef. “Wh-what’s going on?”

The waiter hurried over. “Yes, sir? How can I help you?”

“Who made these dishes?” Han Shao Zhou pointed at the table.

“Our chef, sir.”

“Do you offer delivery?” Han Shao Zhou asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yes, we do. You can place an order by phone, and we’ll deliver it to your door.”

Han Shao Zhou’s voice dropped even lower. “Do you have a customer with the surname Mo who orders from here often?”

The waiter looked surprised. “Yes, we do have a Mr. Mo who orders regularly. It’s a rare surname, so I remember it.”

Han Shao Zhou closed his eyes tightly. “Do you deliver to Building 9, Unit 2202 in the complex behind here?”

The waiter paused, then nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. So, you’re a friend of Mr. Mo’s?”

Han Shao Zhou slumped back into his chair, staring blankly at the dishes on the table.

Zhao Cheng quickly dismissed the waiter, then turned back to comfort Han Shao Zhou.

But all Han Shao Zhou could see was Zhao Cheng’s mouth moving…

Suddenly, he remembered the night in T City, during that interview where Mo Ming had calmly told the camera that he wasn’t good at cooking, that he didn’t enjoy it…

“Heh…”

Han Shao Zhou pressed his hands against his forehead, letting out a bitter, broken laugh. He laughed until tears began to blur his vision…

He had once believed that Mo Ming’s love for him was hidden in every little detail of their life together, but now he realized that in every single one of those details, there was no love for him at all…