That night, Sheng Min slept restlessly, waking up several times. Even though their limbs were intertwined, he would still reach out in a daze to touch Li Xuan’s face, just to confirm that he was really there.
This went on until dawn, but he couldn’t fall back asleep.
“You’re awake? Do you want some water?”
Sheng Min shook his head. “Does your hand still hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Sheng Min’s eyes were slightly swollen, and his voice was hoarse. Hearing Li Xuan say that, he still turned to carefully check his wound, making sure there was no fresh bleeding. Then, he grabbed his phone and checked the time.
“What time is it?”
“Still early—five fifteen.”
As he spoke, he replied to some messages. It wasn’t surprising. After the commotion yesterday, he was still trending online. From fans and reporters to industry insiders, everyone wanted to know the full story.
But he hesitated over one message for a long time, typing and deleting repeatedly, the screen still lit up.
“What’s wrong?”
Li Xuan, noticing the pause, leaned over from behind, resting his chin on Sheng Min’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. He swiped the screen.
It was a WeChat message from Yin Qianpin, sent at midnight. He had clearly heard about yesterday’s incident but didn’t say much—just casually asked when Sheng Min would be back for rehearsals.
“Why aren’t you replying?”
Sheng Min ignored him and pushed away the hand resting on his waist.
“Ouch.” Li Xuan let out a low hiss.
Sheng Min sighed, unimpressed. “I pushed your right hand.”
“Oh,” Li Xuan said shamelessly. “But my heart hurts.”
“Then just drop dead.” Sheng Min still didn’t reply to the message. He turned off the screen and put his phone back on the nightstand.
“As if you’d let me.”
Sheng Min turned his head away, his expression unreadable. “That’s right. I wouldn’t. That’s why you think you have me wrapped around your finger.”
Li Xuan knew that yesterday’s events were still a thorn in Sheng Min’s heart. The thorn might be gone, but the wound remained. He leaned in to kiss him, clinging to him. “Don’t be mad at me. I wouldn’t dare…”
“You always make up your mind without asking me—”
Before he could finish, Li Xuan swallowed the rest of his words with a kiss. He gently cradled Sheng Min’s jaw with his uninjured hand, and Sheng Min had no choice but to let him kiss him. It wasn’t until he was slightly breathless that Li Xuan finally let him go.
With his eyes misted over, even his glare held little power. Li Xuan pretended not to notice, hugging his slim waist and running his fingers through his soft hair. “Why won’t you reply?”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’re not going back?”
Sheng Min stayed silent for a moment before murmuring, “If I hadn’t known Yin Qianpin, Deng Jing wouldn’t have come to you in the first place…”
Li Xuan froze. “Why would you think that?”
“Of course I shouldn’t think that way,” Sheng Min spoke softly. “It’s not like they knew you beforehand. How could they have known you’re a lunatic?”
Seeing the conversation taking a turn, Li Xuan was about to defend himself when Sheng Min suddenly sighed, wrapped his arms around Li Xuan’s neck, and kissed him lightly. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”
Li Xuan pressed his forehead against Sheng Min’s, feeling an overwhelming tenderness. “I won’t. Never again.”
Their breaths intertwined, the moment thick with intimacy. Through the gap in the curtains, a sliver of morning light peeked in.
“Are you going to the company today?”
“Later,” Li Xuan replied, then added, “There’s too much work. Senior can’t hold down the fort alone.”
“Come back early. And take care of your hand.” Sheng Min didn’t stop him, just reached over to grab his wallet from his coat on the floor, pulled out a card, and handed it to him. “The password is our birthday.”
Li Xuan paused in surprise, but before he could refuse, Sheng Min shoved it into his hand. “You don’t need to use that money for my contract termination fee anymore. Take it back. Also, there’s another sum in there…”
He noticed Li Xuan’s gaze and curled his lips. “So, you’re allowed to prepare money for me, but I can’t do the same for you?”
Li Xuan chuckled and gently embraced him. Sheng Min leaned against his collarbone and, after a moment, said, “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. After what happened yesterday, President Zhang definitely won’t have any hopes of renewing my contract. Right now, she’s probably scrambling to find other ways to salvage the stock price and doesn’t have the energy to deal with me… She’s a businesswoman. Profit comes first. If harming me doesn’t benefit her, it’s better to just let it go.”
Li Xuan wasn’t sure how much of this was true and how much was just to put his mind at ease. But now that Sheng Min had a way out, even if Zhang Shan tried to spread rumors, it wouldn’t be a big deal—just some gossip for idle chatter, nothing that could cause real damage.
He gently stroked Sheng Min’s cheek, and Sheng Min, like a small animal, nuzzled against his palm. “So, just use the money however you need. I don’t know how much your company needs to keep running every day, but holding out for another two months shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll just waste it all?” Li Xuan teased.
Sheng Min wrapped his arms around his back. “You’re mine. The money doesn’t matter.”
After breakfast, they went to the traffic police station to handle the fine, then took the car to the 4S shop for repairs before Li Xuan headed to the company.
Yesterday, he had said he’d be back in forty minutes for a meeting, but Chu Tianheng had waited and waited, only managing to get through to him by phone late at night. Now, seeing the bandage on his hand, he couldn’t help but ask a few questions.
“It’s nothing,” Li Xuan shook his head. “The road was slippery in the rain, and the car crashed.”
“A crash?! Was it serious?”
“If it was serious, would I still be here?” Li Xuan opened his laptop. “Are the updated files ready?”
“They’re ready.”
He glanced at the clock. “Meeting room at ten.”
Chu Tianheng nodded and was about to leave when an administrative staff member knocked on the door, looking a bit awkward. “Xuan-ge, someone’s looking for you at the company’s entrance.”
The moment Li Xuan saw Zhao Jizhe, he understood why the admin staff was feeling awkward.
Aside from Chu Tianheng, most of the employees weren’t fully aware of the details, but ever since Qi Boyuan angrily resigned, speculation—both reliable and unreliable—had never ceased.
Li Xuan gave Zhao Jizhe a glance, then calmly walked to the end of the corridor before addressing him. “What do you want?”
“Nineteen…” Zhao Jizhe called him timidly. “How’s your injury? I was worried about you. I couldn’t sleep all night.”
Li Xuan shook his head. “It’s not serious. Anything else?”
Zhao Jizhe had long forgotten how long it had been since Li Xuan last spoke to him in such a calm manner. But instead of relief, this realization filled him with an unprecedented sense of panic.
“Nineteen!” He practically stumbled forward, grabbing Li Xuan’s hand, desperate for any reaction—even if Li Xuan denied knowing him, like yesterday, it would be better than this distant indifference. “Hit me, yell at me, do whatever you want! I was wrong. I shouldn’t have listened to your foster father and given him that hard drive. I was wrong, Nineteen! I didn’t know, I really didn’t—”
Li Xuan easily withdrew his hand. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do this. It’s unsightly. I still have to work in this building—I can’t afford to lose face like this.”
Even as he spoke, there was no strong emotion in his voice, his tone remained calm like a thin layer of frost over winter pine.
“Zhao Jizhe.” Li Xuan’s phone was ringing, but he didn’t look at it—he simply declined the call. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve known for a long time that you were the one who took the hard drive. I don’t care anymore.”
Zhao Jizhe’s expression was close to terror, his legs weakening beneath him—a stark contrast to Li Xuan’s cold detachment.
Li Xuan crouched down and looked at him steadily. “I’ve always said, I don’t owe you anything. I can say that with a clear conscience. But I also know that you probably don’t think the same way.”
“No…” Zhao Jizhe’s eyes widened. “Nineteen, I—”
“I may not have accepted your kindness willingly, but I’m repaying it willingly.” Li Xuan shook his head. He didn’t know who was urgently calling, but the phone rang again just after he declined it. This time, he ignored it and continued, “From now on—no, not from now. Ever since the day you stole that hard drive, we’re even. If you can’t accept that, I don’t care anymore.”
Footsteps sounded behind them—Chu Tianheng, worried about the situation, had come to check.
“It’s nothing, Senior. Let’s go back to the meeting.”
Li Xuan stood up. Zhao Jizhe immediately grabbed the hem of his coat. “Nineteen, Nineteen… I was wrong, I swear I’ll change, really… Please, forgive me just this once… Or—are you lying to me?” A sudden thought seemed to strike him. “You don’t want to deal with me anymore because of that little celebrity?! You’re in love, so you don’t need me anymore…”
“I never needed you!”
The moment Sheng Min was mentioned, Li Xuan’s expression remained unchanged, but his eyes turned cold and ruthless. “Let me tell you, today’s outcome is your own doing—just as much as it is mine. I accept it. Now you do the same. If you try to drag someone else into this…”
A smirk played on Li Xuan’s lips. “Zhao Jizhe, remember this—you’re afraid of dying.”
The meaning was crystal clear. Zhao Jizhe instinctively let go, but when he tried to grab Li Xuan again, it was too late. Li Xuan walked away without even sparing him a glance.
It was over.
This time, Nineteen really wasn’t going to care about him anymore. A chill spread through Zhao Jizhe’s heart, but that thought kept echoing in his mind.
Watching Li Xuan’s departing figure, he suddenly felt as if the entire building was collapsing around him. He wanted to chase after him but didn’t dare to. When he tried to stand, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor.
Chu Tianheng, having overheard bits of the conversation, felt an odd sense of awkwardness amidst the chaos.
He glanced at Li Xuan, who had already walked ahead, then at Zhao Jizhe. Back when they were both in the company, they didn’t interact much. He hadn’t particularly disliked Zhao Jizhe before, but now… it was difficult to muster any sympathy.
Still, seeing him sitting on the floor half-paralyzed was an eyesore. Chu Tianheng sighed. “Can you walk? Do you need me to take you downstairs? … Just don’t come back. Seriously. Li Xuan has enough on his plate.”
“Is the situation really that serious?”
Zhao Jizhe raised his empty gaze. Ever since Yuan Yi’s plagiarism incident, he had been spending all his time on online forums, reading different analyses. Everyone was saying it was serious. He was scared, but he didn’t want to believe it.
“What do you think?” Chu Tianheng couldn’t help but feel frustrated, though he kept his composure. “Let me put it simply—our company’s entire revenue depends on Nook, which is also everything Li Xuan has worked for over the years. Now, to put it bluntly, it’s almost completely gone. Everything has to start over…”
“I didn’t know!” Zhao Jizhe suddenly shouted, but his voice quickly dropped as he frantically explained, “That’s not what he told me! He said this was just a small lesson! No one told me… He lied to me…”
Being ignorant isn’t an excuse. Chu Tianheng felt a headache coming on. “You should leave sooner rather than later. Staying here isn’t good for anyone.”
He had said all he needed to say. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Zhao Jizhe’s trembling voice behind him.
“Was it because of the company? Was Nineteen too exhausted, under too much pressure, so he intentionally crashed the car?”
Zhao Jizhe had been following Li Xuan for the past few days, trying to apologize or get answers. Maybe he just wanted to hear Li Xuan say it wasn’t that serious, that the people online were exaggerating. He himself couldn’t even explain it clearly.
He had been wandering in a daze for days, but Li Xuan had barely left the company and never once noticed him.
Yesterday, when the accident happened, Zhao Jizhe had been two cars behind Li Xuan, watching everything clearly. The car had been parked properly, then suddenly started up. It wasn’t an accident—Li Xuan had done it on purpose.
Hearing this, Chu Tianheng was momentarily stunned. He had only learned about the crash ten minutes ago, but knowing Li Xuan’s personality, there was no way he would ever contemplate suicide because of work. If anything, he’d crash into someone else first. He had no idea how Zhao Jizhe could come up with such a ridiculous notion.
They had known each other for years, and yet he still didn’t understand Li Xuan at all? Chu Tianheng didn’t know what to say.
But Zhao Jizhe clearly misinterpreted his silence.
“Alright, I understand now…” He pushed himself up from the floor, muttering like someone possessed, “I’ll make it up to him. I’ll compensate him. I didn’t mean to hurt him…”
Zhao Jizhe leaned against the wall, his head hanging low, and slowly made his way down the emergency exit. The cold wind ruffled his messy hair like withered grass. He turned a corner and disappeared.
…..
Inside the company, Li Xuan was seated at a programmer’s workstation, fixing a bug. His fingers danced over the keyboard effortlessly. Several people had gathered around him, watching in awe. When Chu Tianheng walked in, they were so absorbed they forgot to greet him.
“Got it?” Li Xuan turned slightly and took a sip from a cup someone handed him.
“Um…” The person hesitated, exchanged glances with a colleague, then said, “We’ll study it a bit more.”
“Go ahead.”
Li Xuan checked the time and got up to head back to his office, likely to grab his laptop for the meeting. Seeing Chu Tianheng following closely behind, he asked, “Do you need to talk now?”
“He left.”
“Oh.” Li Xuan nodded without much reaction. “Alright, let’s go to the meeting… What? Something else?”
Chu Tianheng saw that Li Xuan had no interest in talking about Zhao Jizhe, but still wanted to check on him after the car accident. Yet somehow, what came out was something completely different:
“So… you’re dating a female celebrity?”
Li Xuan raised an eyebrow. Chu Tianheng immediately regretted prying into someone else’s business, but gossip was human nature—it was hard to control. “No, Li Xuan, I was just—”
“A male celebrity.”
Chu Tianheng’s words got abruptly cut off. Li Xuan smirked and repeated, “I’m dating a male celebrity.”
“You… wait, what?” Chu Tianheng looked dumbfounded, struggling to process the information.
At that moment, Li Xuan’s phone rang again. It was the same number he had ignored earlier. Since he had been fixing a bug the whole time, he hadn’t gotten a chance to return the call.
He patted Chu Tianheng on the shoulder, signaling him not to stand there in shock, and started heading toward the conference room while casually answering the phone.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
“Li Xuan? Damn, you’re hard to reach. Changed your number? Do you still recognize my voice?” A cheerful voice came through the speaker. “It’s me—Song Wen.”
