“What are you drinking?” Sheng Min put away his phone and turned to Deng Jing.
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
Sheng Min handed him his own bottle and bought another. Deng Jing didn’t hesitate, taking a sip as he casually asked, “Were you just calling your friend? The one who picked you up yesterday?”
Sheng Min’s hand stiffened slightly. He turned to look at Deng Jing. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Just curious.” Deng Jing grinned, pointing to Sheng Min’s collar. “That shirt looks better with the collar up.”
Sheng Min wasn’t sure if Deng Jing had noticed anything. He was someone who seemed naive but was actually quite perceptive. He hadn’t formally studied theater, hadn’t even spent many years in school, yet he had a natural talent for acting, honed through keen observation of people.
Still, Sheng Min didn’t sense any ill intent from him. He simply took a sip of water and smiled. “Heading back?”
“Wait a bit, finally caught my breath, I’m exhausted.” Deng Jing said lazily, then pointed to a bench in the garden ahead. “This spot is the best for watching the sunset in winter.”
“It’s noon right now,” Sheng Min responded seriously.
“I meant in the future, not now. There’s plenty of time.”
Sheng Min didn’t know how to respond to that.
“You, ah.” Deng Jing laughed and shook his head. “No need to be so cautious. Don’t worry, Yin Qianpin will definitely choose you. If he doesn’t, he’ll be the one regretting it, biting his blanket and crying in the middle of the night…”
The imagery was so bizarre that Sheng Min’s eye twitched slightly. Deng Jing, completely unfazed, continued, “He was planning to choose you from the start. When Xiao Xie showed him the audition video, his expression went from disdain to shock…”
Deng Jing mimicked the reaction perfectly, then added, “Did you two have some kind of grudge before?”
“Huh?” Sheng Min was caught off guard. “Back when I was in school, Director Yin approached me, but I didn’t recognize him…”
“That guy is super petty,” Deng Jing said, drinking some water but leaving the cap off, tossing it around in his hand like a ping-pong ball. “He wanted to pick you but kept hesitating. Honestly, there was no reason for the process to drag from open auditions to callbacks for this long… He’s just stubborn, overthinking everything, picking and choosing a few extra candidates to test, but in the end…”
Deng Jing clapped his hands together. “Total waste of time… He pulled the same intimidation tactics on me.”
“You never mentioned why you started acting,” Sheng Min said, taking the chance to ask.
“Haven’t you heard? My family are herders. I used to be up in the mountains taking care of horses. One day, he came by doing research and asked if I wanted to act in a play, said it would definitely pay better than herding. I believed him, so I came down the mountain…” Deng Jing spread his hands. “Then he didn’t even sign me to a contract, kept me waiting for two months, scaring me every other day with crap like, ‘Don’t think your talent guarantees you a spot, I never hire people who can’t even speak Mandarin properly.’ Sure, I didn’t get much schooling, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything…”
He scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “I can’t stand his scare tactics. But don’t worry… Some of the other contestants thought you were just here to fill the numbers, but they picked the wrong person to underestimate.”
He tapped Sheng Min’s shoulder. “As for me, I was never competing for your role. From the start, I was cast as the understudy… Why that face? It’s normal. This time, I’m your understudy. Next time, if there’s a role that suits me better, you might be mine. It’s just part of the job. Would you mind?”
“I just didn’t expect you to bring this up so suddenly.” Sheng Min shook his head, took a sip of water, and happened to catch a glimpse of a shadow disappearing around the corner.
“You seemed a bit tense, so I wanted to reassure you. You’re fun and good-looking… Besides, it’s no secret. Everyone else already figured it out—you’re the only one who didn’t. Otherwise, why would he drag you in every day when he can’t even be bothered to show up to an awards ceremony…”
“Want some biscuits?” Sheng Min suddenly interrupted Deng Jing’s rambling.
“Hm?” Deng Jing was puzzled but cooperated, turning back toward the vending machine. “What’s up?”
Sheng Min touched the glass, pointing lightly. “There’s someone by the wall.”
Deng Jing squinted at the shadow. “Following you?”
“Probably.” Sheng Min swallowed. “Just noticed them.”
“Whenever I go on theater tours, I get stalkers too—so annoying. I just walk up to them and say hi, and they all run off.” Deng Jing sighed. “But getting followed every day? That’s rough.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s been especially frequent these past few days. It’s fine.” As they talked, the person left. Sheng Min smiled. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“Wait.” Deng Jing grabbed his collar casually, adjusting it with a grin. “I want biscuits. The ones in the green package.”
Sheng Min had no love for scallion-flavored biscuits. Even after Deng Jing insisted a few times, he refused. But the light sweetness in the air, combined with the sight of golden ginkgo leaves falling outside, suddenly made him crave chestnut mille-feuille. As he headed upstairs, he texted Li Xuan, asking him to pick one up from the cake shop near the software park on his way over.
Li Xuan was about to enter a meeting when he saw the message and couldn’t help but smile. He turned to his assistant. “Get one mille-feuille of each flavor—chestnut, matcha, osmanthus, and the new persimmon one—and leave them in my office. Also, grab some egg tarts and muffins for afternoon tea. Pick whatever you want.”
“Thanks, Xuan-ge.”
“Oh, and get me a fried rice too… I haven’t eaten.”
Just then, Qi Boyuan walked in, loosening his tie. He noticed Li Xuan holding his laptop. “You heading to a meeting?”
“Yeah.”
Qi Boyuan, clearly fresh from an investment pitch, sighed, “No progress… These investors, man… But I checked the backend stats, and things are holding steady. Your adoptive father couldn’t push through this time, huh? Either that, or he’s not paying Yuanxin enough to do their job properly. Even without extra investments, we’re not in trouble for now… Has he still been trying to contact you?”
Li Xuan just smiled, his expression unreadable. How could he not be? Li Mingge had never stopped trying, not even for a day.
“He should give up by now… Unless he has an even nastier trick up his sleeve…”
Qi Boyuan muttered, then immediately felt like he jinxed it. He quickly tapped his mouth twice. Just then, Li Xuan’s phone rang.
Qi Boyuan glanced at him. “Who is it?”
Li Xuan looked at the caller ID, then at Qi Boyuan.
“What?”
Li Xuan shook his head. He thought, Speak of the devil. Some people really can’t take a hint. Even after blocking him, he just keeps calling. Without hesitation, he added Li Mingge to his blacklist. “Nothing, just a spam call. You go take a break in the office and eat. We’ll talk after my meeting.”
….
Li Mingge realized something was off when the third call still didn’t go through.
The housekeeper had just informed him that Shu Xin was having another bad episode—needed two sedative injections just to sleep. Naturally, he wanted to track down Li Xuan and blame him for it. But the fact that Li Xuan had the audacity to block him…
The automated message in his ear pissed him off even more. His brows furrowed, and after standing still for a few seconds, he suddenly lost his temper and slammed his phone to the ground. Zhou Qi, startled, rushed to pick it up.
Fortunately, the carpet was thick, so nothing broke.
“That piece of trash!” Li Mingge cursed. He prided himself on being a cultured man and always maintained a refined demeanor in front of his subordinates. Zhou Qi dared not say a word, shrinking into himself.
“What about what I asked you to investigate? How’s it going?! It’s been so long, and there’s still no progress?” Unfortunately for Zhou Qi, trying to remain unseen was impossible—someone had to take the brunt of Li Mingge’s anger.
“I was just about to report to you, President Li.” Zhou Qi hastily placed freshly printed photos and a few A4 sheets on Li Mingge’s desk.
“And who is this?” Li Mingge impatiently pointed at a photo of Deng Jing.
“A theater actor. He seems to be Sheng Min’s friend. He’s been rehearsing for a play recently,” Zhou Qi answered respectfully.
“This was taken today? And this is all you’ve got?” Li Mingge frowned and flung the photos to the ground. “Do you even use your brain when you work? What am I supposed to do with this crap?!”
“President Li, President Li…” Zhou Qi quickly said, “There are some other photos too… I also captured something else… about Xiao Xuan—”
“What about him? Speak!”
Zhou Qi gritted his teeth and pulled out a few more photos. “President Li, please take a look…”
Li Mingge snatched them up and flipped through them with a deep frown.
The pictures were taken in a parking garage—Li Xuan and Sheng Min entering an elevator together. There wasn’t anything overtly inappropriate between them, not even close physical proximity, but their relaxed laughter carried an intimacy that naturally excluded outsiders.
Check, check, check. Zhou Qi thought. Who knew this was what they’d uncover?
“President Li.” Seeing that Li Mingge had been staring at the photos for a long time without saying anything, Zhou Qi cautiously said, “Sheng Min and Xiao Xuan appear to be close friends…”
“Friends?” Li Mingge sneered.
What else was he supposed to say if not “friends”? Zhou Qi felt trapped. Even if he had suspicions, he absolutely couldn’t voice them.
Being a secretary wasn’t exactly the hardest job—so long as you stayed out of the boss’s family affairs.
No matter how much Li Mingge disapproved of Li Xuan, he was still a father dealing with his son. If Zhou Qi, an outsider, got caught in between, he’d suffer on both ends. Li Mingge was devoted to his wife, and Shu Xin was frail and sickly, treating Li Xuan like the apple of her eye. If Li Xuan ever came around, who knew who’d be in charge then…
“With his loner personality, do you really think he’d have a ‘friend’ who shares a room with him? Getting dropped off and picked up?” Li Mingge flipped through the photos one by one before coldly spitting, “Disgraceful filth…”
Zhou Qi’s back broke into a cold sweat.
These past few years, Li Mingge’s temper had worsened, and recently, it had become even more unpredictable. At his age, he would never approve of such a thing—knowing this kind of private affair was bad news. In hindsight, Zhou Qi regretted bringing it up at all.
“President Li, I…”
“You did well with this task.”
To Zhou Qi’s surprise, Li Mingge actually praised him. Rubbing the photo between his fingers, he pressed it against the table, looking deep in thought. “A celebrity, huh…”
A twisted expression crept onto his aging face as he leaned on his desk, rubbing the corner of his mouth. “And what about the company background check I asked you to do?”
“I found some information as well.” Finally, something had gone right. Zhou Qi discreetly sighed in relief and pointed at the A4 papers. “But Yuan Yi doesn’t have many employees, and their turnover rate is low. The data is pretty basic. If you want to target them from the inside, it might be difficult…”
Perhaps because he was pleased with the earlier report, Li Mingge didn’t immediately lose his temper this time.
Zhou Qi braced himself and continued, “In reality, Yuan Yi’s structure is quite simple. At its core, it’s just Xiao Xuan and his partner, that guy surnamed Qi. They also have an older employee who transferred from Yuanxin—he’s relatively central to the company. I was able to dig up a bit more on him… President Li, if you’re looking for an entry point, he might be the best target…”
“This person is from their company too?”
Before Zhou Qi could finish, Li Mingge abruptly interrupted him. He followed Li Mingge’s gaze—it landed on a particular photo.
Zhou Qi had indeed put in effort. He had bribed the security at the software park and pulled surveillance footage from Yuan Yi’s entrance, photographing every person who frequently came and went.
“Yes,” Zhou Qi recalled what little information he had. “He used to be an administrative staff member. He left recently—within the past month. The surveillance records don’t go back far enough to confirm more details…”
Modern surveillance cameras were highly detailed, even capturing faint scars on an exposed forearm. Li Mingge narrowed his eyes. He had seen this man before.
It was from seven or eight years ago, in an interrogation video of a criminal suspect. Along with the video, a thick file of records had been submitted.
Zhou Qi had no idea why this person caught Li Mingge’s attention, but he noticed an eerie excitement in his boss’ expression.
“I thought so…” Li Mingge picked up the photo of Sheng Min again, his eyes glinting as if he had just unraveled a mystery. His expression turned dark and sinister. “So it’s a case of old flame versus new lover…”
Zhou Qi nearly had a heart attack. Did Li Mingge just wildly overinterpret things? But he dared not correct him. At this moment, he wished more than anything to disappear into thin air.
But Li Mingge wasn’t done with him. “This person has already left the company?”
“Y-yes, he resigned,” Zhou Qi stammered, his mind blanking out on the man’s name. “His name is…”
Li Mingge spoke first. “Zhao Jizhe.”
“Present.”
Zhao Jizhe responded instinctively.
This was his twentieth day in the psychiatrist hospital.
The hospital had excellent facilities, resembling a garden from the outside. Time here felt slow, the days blurring together, but he kept count—day after day. Li Xuan hadn’t come to see him.
He had been tricked.
Zhao Jizhe thought bitterly. Nineteen just wanted to get rid of him. It was all a lie.
He heard that the rooms here were expensive—so much money just to cut him off…
The door slid open.
A nurse stood there. “Zhao Jizhe.”
“Is it time for my meds?” Zhao Jizhe asked boredly.
“No… There’s someone waiting for you in the visitor’s lounge.”
“Someone came to see me?” Zhao Jizhe shot up from his seat. “Someone’s here for me?!”
He asked the question, but before the nurse could respond, he rushed out in a hurry, barely putting on his shoes and nearly stumbling.
“Nineteen.”
He excitedly pushed open the door, but when the man in the visitor’s lounge turned around, Zhao Jizhe suddenly froze in his tracks. Disappointment and surprise surfaced on his face at the same time.
“I know you…” After a long pause, Zhao Jizhe said. He still remembered the last time this man had argued with Li Xuan in the office—so loudly that the entire company heard it. Instinctively, he took a step back.
Li Mingge sat arrogantly on the sofa. “I know you too, perhaps even from earlier.”
“You wanted to see me?” Zhao Jizhe asked cautiously, a confused expression on his face. “What for?”
Li Mingge looked at him. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother talking to someone like this, but the situation was different now. He didn’t answer Zhao Jizhe’s question and instead asked, “Did Li Xuan send you here? A mental hospital… My son sees illness in everyone.”
His last words carried a personal grudge. Then, looking at Zhao Jizhe with a half-smile, he added, “Quite heartless, too. Considering your relationship, he discarded you just like that…”
Even if Zhao Jizhe wasn’t the sharpest, he could tell that this man was up to no good. “I came here on my own,” he said. Then, realizing that Li Xuan and his adoptive father weren’t on good terms, he worried that Li Xuan would be furious if he found out about this meeting. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Flustered, he turned to leave, but behind him, Li Mingge spoke slowly, “You were working at his company just fine, so why did he suddenly send you away? Why dump you in a place like this? Have you never wondered about that? …Young man, everything happens for a reason.”
As he finished, he was satisfied to see Zhao Jizhe stop in his tracks. “I assume you have internet access here.”
Zhao Jizhe stood frozen, not turning around, but that didn’t affect the confidence in Li Mingge’s tone. “A little over four months ago, an artist named Sheng Min was in a car accident. The news is easy to find online. Look up photos from the scene, and then keep digging. You’ll find something… different.”
That was all he said. He buttoned up his suit jacket and stood, slipping a business card between Zhao Jizhe’s fingers as he passed him. Zhao Jizhe didn’t take it, so Li Mingge casually stuffed it into his hand. “Keep it. There’s also an email address on there. Once you’ve done your research, log in—I left you something. After you see it, you’ll want to find me.”
….
At 1 a.m., the sharp ring of a phone split the silence of the night.
Li Mingge hadn’t slept yet. Shu Xin’s condition was deteriorating. She had woken up earlier, nauseated and vomiting… The housekeeper had once again hinted that maybe it was time to go to the hospital.
Li Mingge despised that place.
That was where he lost his son. That was where he lost his wife.
But Shu Xin couldn’t eat anything, and now he had to wonder—was the “checkup” Li Xuan had mentioned not about her mental state, but her physical health?
That ungrateful brat—what did he know? Li Mingge turned to look at his wife lying in bed. She would get better. Everything would be fine.
The priority was to get Li Xuan back home as soon as possible. Shu Xin’s illness was simple—a dream would be enough to heal everything. All he had to do was create that dream for her.
Thankfully, he lowered his gaze to the unfamiliar caller ID flashing on his screen. His late-night visitor hadn’t disappointed him.
There was silence on the other end of the line for a long time, but Li Mingge wasn’t in a hurry.
Finally, Zhao Jizhe spoke. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Seems like you’ve already checked and seen it,” Li Mingge said. “If you truly didn’t understand, you wouldn’t be calling me. What I mean… is exactly what you think it means.”
“That’s impossible!”
“I have more evidence. Want to see it?”
Zhao Jizhe didn’t respond. He could hear a mentally ill patient crying and screaming in the room next door—just like every night. He felt like he was losing his mind.
How could this be? Zhao Jizhe thought. Nineteen… How could Nineteen be?
But then, he remembered the red marks on Li Xuan’s neck, ones that looked like hickeys…
A deep sense of betrayal and disgust flooded him. How could Nineteen be…? How could he do this? Had he forgotten his pain? Or… was this some twisted form of mockery and revenge?
“If you really don’t believe me, you can verify it yourself. I’ll get you out of there and have someone take you to see for yourself,” Li Mingge said casually.
“Why?” After a long silence, Zhao Jizhe asked, his voice shaking—not from the cold, but from something else. “You have no reason to do this.”
The fish had taken the bait. Li Mingge rubbed his tired eyes.
“Of course, I’m not helping you for free. Let’s make a deal. Li Xuan has been out there for too long. He needs to be reined in. You might be useful for that.”
“I won’t do anything to hurt Nineteen.”
Zhao Jizhe said this instinctively, firm and unwavering. Li Mingge sneered. “It’s just a small lesson. He’s my adoptive son, and my wife cares deeply about him. I won’t do anything to him either… Bringing him home is for his own good. And it benefits you too. Li Xuan thinks he’s all grown up now, that he’s independent, but he needs a reality check. He’ll realize where he belongs.
“Our family…. doesn’t accept celebrities… But you’re different. You two have known each other since childhood. Once he’s back, I can treat you like a son as well.”
Even as he said it, Li Mingge found his own words repulsive. Over the years, he had seen plenty of men who toyed with young boys for entertainment. The thought of two men together was disgusting.
“Treat me like a son too…? You mean, you want to adopt me?” Zhao Jizhe hesitantly asked.
They were talking about completely different things. Li Mingge frowned. Maybe Li Xuan had a point in sending him to a mental hospital—what kind of grown man needed to be adopted?
“If you want that, it’s not impossible.”
“I won’t hurt Nineteen.” Zhao Jizhe repeated.
“The task won’t be difficult,” Li Mingge assured him. Convincing Zhao Jizhe was even easier than expected—just as he thought, someone without much education had a very narrow perspective. “I have some personnel files from his company. You worked there before—tell me which people had conflicts with him. Li Xuan has a bad temper. I know that. There’s no way every subordinate is happy with him…”
“Just this?”
“If you can provide more information, even better.”
Zhao Jizhe was still hesitant. “You could ask someone else…”
“Of course,” Li Mingge said. “But one, I don’t want to waste more time. And two… I think it’s more interesting if you do it.”
But Zhao Jizhe’s focus wasn’t on that. Instead, he seemed more concerned about another matter. “You’re Nineteen’s adoptive father… would you really be willing to adopt me too?”
Li Mingge thought to himself that Zhao Jizhe’s insistence on this was probably because he wanted a share of his wealth. He scoffed inwardly. “I could.”
“I… I’ll think about it.”
“Take your time,” Li Mingge said lightly. “Tomorrow, I can have someone get you out of the hospital first… I heard from the doctors that ever since you were admitted, no one has visited you, right? Not even Li Xuan. Once I get you out, you can go see him secretly and verify for yourself whether I’m telling the truth.”
This time, the silence lasted even longer. Li Mingge patiently turned the beads of his Buddhist bracelet. Finally, Zhao Jizhe answered, “Okay.”
