Chapter Seventy-Two: Whereabouts Unknown

He Chuan forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Feeling sorry for him, are you? Can’t stand to hear a word against him? Cheng Hui, I never knew you were so protective.”

“He Chuan, have you lost your mind? This is my own business, I never asked you to get involved, so don’t comment.” She blurted it all out in one breath, then stood there panting, her head spinning, partly from anger at He Chuan.

Her gaze swept the table and landed on the ashtray, stuffed full of cigarette butts—so many she couldn’t tell how many he’d smoked.

Cheng Hui’s heart softened. “Do you not want to live? Smoking that much, aren’t you afraid of getting lung cancer?”

He Chuan’s hand paused mid-gesture, lost in thought for a moment. “I thought someone else was all you cared about.”

Cheng Hui, lost in a fog, couldn’t discern any deeper chill to his words. “Anyway, don’t insult him. If you have a problem, take it out on me.”

He Chuan laughed in disbelief.

Cheng Hui’s head throbbed. She staggered along the wall to the kitchen to get some water.

He Chuan got up from the sofa and followed her in.

After downing a glass of water, Cheng Hui felt her thirst subside and was just about to turn when she felt a warm chest press up behind her. Over her head, He Chuan’s voice came: “Pour me a glass too.”

“Okay.” Cheng Hui complied without protest.

She handed him the glass, but he didn’t reach for it right away. Cheng Hui stepped aside. “Didn’t you want water?”

“Yes.” He Chuan glanced down at her, took the glass, and set it aside.

“If you didn’t want it, why ask me to pour it?” She quietly put more distance between them, muttering, “What a waste of effort.”

He Chuan was silent for a moment. He turned to see her making a move to escape, and reached out to grab her arm, pulling her into his embrace, his hand pressing firmly against her shoulder blade, fingers tightening, locking her in.

Cheng Hui froze, not daring to move. She whispered, “What are you doing?”

Even though they’d often squabbled and occasionally touched, it had never gone beyond a hand on the shoulder or arm—never a hug, never hand-holding. He Chuan had always kept his distance, never crossing the line.

He smelled strongly of smoke—not unpleasant, but sharp. She wasn’t used to it; it made her uneasy.

“Don’t move, little Hui,” He Chuan murmured. “Let me hold you for a while.”

“He Chuan, I can’t breathe…” Her voice was barely a whisper, more like a mosquito, and though she was the one who’d drunk, it was He Chuan who now seemed intoxicated.

He Chuan released her, studying her face. The overhead light spilled a soft halo atop her head, gentler than he’d ever seen her. Her eyes were still red—clearly she’d cried hard just now, but not for him. She’d wept her heart out, drowned her sorrows in drink, all for someone else.

She still called him “He Chuan-ge.” He gave a short laugh and, regaining his composure, said, “There won’t be a next time.”

He Chuan pinched her cheek, not gently. She winced and batted his hand away.

“Did you hear me? No more drinking. If I catch you again, do you even know how to spell ‘death’?”

Cheng Hui, still muddled, returned to her room to lie down. She reeked of alcohol, and if she sniffed closely, there was also a lingering trace of smoke from He Chuan’s embrace.

Her mind was blank. She tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, her head still aching.

The next morning, He Chuan drove her home. She sat silently in the passenger seat, saying nothing, occasionally glancing down at her phone, fingers flying over the screen. When He Chuan glanced her way, she immediately locked the screen—obviously not wanting him to see.

When they reached her house, Cheng Hui hurried to unbuckle her seatbelt, eager to get out, but He Chuan hadn’t unlocked the doors; she couldn’t open it.

“Unlock the door. I can’t get out if you don’t.”

He Chuan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, pausing before he said, “You like that guy, Tang Que, right? Doesn’t he have a sister named Tang Huaihuai?”

Cheng Hui bristled like an angry cat. “Did you look into him?”

He Chuan just smiled, saying nothing.

“Don’t you dare investigate him. Stay away from him!”

He Chuan’s eyes fixed on her face. “Why?”

“No reason. Just don’t. It’s my business—don’t you dare interfere!”

He Chuan’s face darkened, becoming almost frightening.

Cheng Hui kept quiet, neck stiff with tension.

With a click, the doors unlocked. Cheng Hui bit her lip, opened the car door, and got out.

As soon as she closed the door, He Chuan drove off without a backward glance.

Cheng Hui couldn’t help muttering, “Petty jerk, what are you so mad about? I’m not even angry yet.”

Tang Que had rejected her, and now He Chuan was inexplicably upset with her. She felt miserably unlucky. Men really were all the same—especially He Chuan, who only ever bullied her, scolded her, treating her like a ball to be kicked around.

She thought again of Tang Que—this person, from now on…

…

Xin Gan’s texts to Cheng Jiu disappeared into the void; she got no reply for a week.

She called, but his phone was always off—unreachable.

Maybe he had some new mission, and couldn’t carry a phone.

She could only wait for his return to bring it up.

On the day Lady Cheng was discharged from the hospital, He Chuan came by, and Cheng Hui was there as well.

Xin Gan had planned to come, but Lady Cheng called ahead and told her not to worry, that someone would be there to help. She didn’t want Xin Gan to run back and forth in the heat, feeling bad for her as well.

Cheng Hui was in low spirits, her words sweet as honey to Lady Cheng, but her eyes avoided He Chuan, keeping her distance without making it obvious. Whenever He Chuan approached, she retreated, pretending to admire the scenery, anything to avoid looking at him.

Lady Cheng wasn’t blind—she noticed. As soon as He Chuan left to handle discharge paperwork, she fixed Cheng Hui with a stern look. “Cheng Hui, what’s this about? He Chuan’s here to help, and not only are you ignoring him, you’re not even greeting him? What’s going on now?”

Cheng Hui couldn’t possibly tell Lady Cheng the truth. She shrugged as if nothing was amiss. “It’s nothing. I’m not ignoring him—I’ve always been like this.”

“You think you can fool me with your little tricks? You must’ve stirred up trouble again. Out with it.”

Cheng Hui was too listless to argue. “It’s nothing, really. I haven’t done anything.”

Lady Cheng got nothing out of her, and just then, He Chuan returned with the discharge papers and helped gather the luggage. “Let’s go.”

He Chuan pushed Lady Cheng’s wheelchair—her leg still not healed enough for walking. Cheng Hui trailed behind, dawdling as if avoiding someone.

He Chuan noticed her reluctance but said nothing.

Lady Cheng, unable to manage her legs, sat in the back seat and told Cheng Hui to take the passenger seat.

Cheng Hui had no choice but to comply, sneaking a glance at He Chuan’s profile. He didn’t look at her, and she felt guilty, quickly turning away.

The whole ride, Lady Cheng and He Chuan chatted lightly. Cheng Hui kept her head down, busying herself with her phone, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Lady Cheng assumed she was just sulking, a childish mood, and said nothing.

When they arrived home, the Cheng family’s housekeeper wheeled Lady Cheng inside. “Huihui, aren’t you going to thank He Chuan? Still sulking?”

“Thank you, He Chuan-ge,” Cheng Hui mumbled, not looking at him.

Perhaps because Lady Cheng was there, He Chuan’s expression remained normal, even gentle. “You’re welcome.”

“Huihui’s spoiled, all thanks to you,” Lady Cheng said with a smile, chiding Cheng Hui. “He Chuan, come in for some tea. The weather’s so hot.”

Cheng Hui shot a wary glance at He Chuan, hoping he’d refuse. But of course, he went out of his way to contradict her, smiling as he agreed.

Cheng Hui was speechless.

…

This wasn’t He Chuan’s first visit to the Chengs—he knew the house well, even Cheng Hui’s room.

Cheng Hui washed her face and changed clothes—she’d sweated and felt sticky. When she emerged from the dressing room, she found He Chuan sprawled comfortably on her bed. “Weren’t you in the living room? Why are you in my room?”

“I want to talk.”

“About what?” Cheng Hui couldn’t help remembering that night at his place, the intimacy of that embrace, and just the memory made her uncomfortable.

The girl before him wore a pale pink dress to her knees, revealing long, slender legs—a delicate, sheltered girl with clear, innocent eyes.

He Chuan stared at her. Cheng Hui, feeling his gaze, looked for something to shield herself. She thought there was a hunger in his eyes—the kind of desire men have when looking at a woman.

She couldn’t place where she’d seen that look before, but it felt familiar.

He Chuan snapped out of it, lips quirking. “What was with the attitude at the hospital? Was that for my benefit?”

“No, you misunderstood.”

“Cheng Hui.” His tone softened. “Do you not want to see me?”

That night’s embrace had truly startled her. She blurted, “You’re acting strange, and I’m a little scared.”

“You mean because I hugged you?”

She jumped. “Keep your voice down! If anyone hears—”

He Chuan laughed. “You’re overthinking. What, got PTSD from being rejected? Has it scrambled your brains?”

“Are you insulting me again?” Cheng Hui was about to explode.

He Chuan stopped teasing and spoke seriously. “You’re Cheng Jiu’s little sister. No matter how insane I get, I’d never lay a hand on you. I’m nearly twelve years older than you—you’re just a kid.”

Cheng Hui scratched her head, embarrassed. “Then why did you hug me that night…”

“You were drunk. I was afraid you’d fall. If it bothers you, I can just stop looking after you for your brother. It’s not like I’ve gotten anything out of it—now you treat me like a beast.”

Cheng Hui mulled this over. He Chuan’s past girlfriends had all been mature women—she wasn’t his type.

She must have been overthinking. The realization made her want to crawl into a hole. She quickly apologized, “He Chuan-ge, I was wrong—I’m sorry, I misjudged you.”

He Chuan didn’t accept her apology. He left, cold and indifferent.

Cheng Hui, her mind in turmoil, didn’t even register his comment about “not getting anything out of it.”

…

Two days later, still no reply from Cheng Jiu. Xin Gan grew uneasy, though she couldn’t say why. She even dropped a bowl at dinner, startled by a news report featuring a fleeting shot of a small town in Beiyu.

It looked familiar. Before she knew it, she’d dropped the bowl.

“Auntie, bring a broom.”

Her mother summoned the housekeeper to clean the glass. Xin Gan seemed distracted. Her mother asked, “What’s wrong? You’re not yourself.”

Xin Gan shook her head. “It’s nothing. Maybe I didn’t sleep enough.”

“You’ve been working too much overtime lately. Is there really that much to do? Don’t wear yourself out.”

“Mm, I’ll be careful.”

After dinner, Xin Gan went to the kitchen for honey. She overheard her mother on the phone with Lady Cheng, though she couldn’t make out the details. When she came out, her mother looked at her and said, “Xinxin, you need to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“Cheng Jiu is missing.”

Lady Cheng had just called, sobbing uncontrollably. Cheng Jiu had an accident during a mission—his car went off a cliff. It had been three days, and the rescue team still hadn’t found him.

Xin Gan stood there, gripping her cup, unable to react for a long time.

Her mother hurried over to hold her, patting her shoulder. “It’s okay, don’t scare yourself. He’ll be fine—he’s always been lucky.”

Xin Gan’s face was white, her eyes lost.

“The Cheng family is in chaos. Lady Cheng hadn’t wanted to tell us, afraid you’d be upset, but not telling you wouldn’t be fair.”

Xin Gan steadied herself and gently pushed her mother away. “I need to go out.”

“Where?”

“To the Chengs’. I need to ask for details.”

“I don’t want you to go alone. I’ll go with you.”

Xin Gan forced a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Let me just find out what’s happening, all right?”

Cheng Jiu had once told her, if anything ever happened—if he died in the line of duty—what would she do? She hadn’t answered then, but now she remembered, thinking maybe he’d said it on purpose. Who else would jinx themselves like that?

She didn’t want her mother to come—afraid of what she might hear.

The Chengs were in a sorry state.

Lady Cheng was crying nonstop. Mr. Cheng had rushed home overnight and was now frantically making calls, switching phones when one died.

It was a mess.

When Xin Gan arrived, it was dinnertime, but though the housekeeper had set out a full table, no one had any appetite.

Cheng Hui was upstairs, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. Hearing a car arrive, she rushed down, saw Xin Gan in the foyer, and flung herself into her arms, weeping.

Xin Gan was moved but kept her composure, patting her. “What’s wrong, to make you cry like this?”

“My brother’s missing. They say the situation in Beiyu is bad. My dad’s calling everyone he can to search for him, but there’s still no news. No wonder I couldn’t reach him.”

Xin Gan soothed her gently. “Sometimes no news is good news. Don’t panic. I want to check on Mr. Cheng.”

Cheng Hui led her into the living room. Lady Cheng, unable to walk, sat in her wheelchair, the housekeeper at her side.

Mr. Cheng finished a call and, seeing Xin Gan, managed to stay calm. “Cheng Jiu will be fine. Don’t worry.”

Xin Gan nodded. “Uncle Cheng, is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I’ll handle it.”

No one could guarantee that Cheng Jiu was safe.

There was still no concrete news from Beiyu. Mr. Cheng couldn’t sit still and booked a flight to go there himself the next morning.

Cheng Hui wanted to go but was stopped.

Lady Cheng, unable to walk, certainly couldn’t go.

At this point, Xin Gan spoke up. “Can I go with you?”

Mr. Cheng shook his head. “No, wait for my news.” He was afraid Xin Gan wouldn’t be able to handle the outcome.

Xin Gan insisted. “I want to go. I want to look for him.” Even if she’d wanted to break off the engagement, even if her feelings for him were never love, now, with his life uncertain, she couldn’t just sit and do nothing.

Mr. Cheng refused. “No, Xin Gan. If something happens to you too, how could I face your parents and grandfather?”

“I promise I won’t do anything foolish or reckless. I’ll follow all your instructions. If you won’t take me, I’ll book my own ticket.”

Mr. Cheng had no choice but to agree.

Cheng Hui protested that she wanted to go too, but Lady Cheng stopped her. “Don’t make trouble—the house is already in chaos.” She was upset enough, and even locked Cheng Hui in her room to keep her from leaving.

Cheng Hui had no options left. The only person she could think of was He Chuan.

…

He Chuan was out on the town, a woman in his arms—one far more experienced and charming than Cheng Hui, with a hot body and a knack for making him laugh. She even bore a faint resemblance to Cheng Hui, though only just.

His phone kept ringing, but he ignored it, tossing it aside as he held the woman and sipped his drink.

He Chuan was picky about women and rarely called them out to play. The woman in his arms was Tang Huaihuai—Tang Que’s older sister, the very sister of the boy Cheng Hui liked.

He Chuan drank absentmindedly, his whole manner cold and distant, his face clouded, clearly in a foul mood.

Tang Huaihuai nestled closer, her voice soft. “I heard your little sister got rejected by my brother. She kept pestering him, too. Even showed up for his birthday. When I asked what he was up to, he wouldn’t say at first—only admitted he’d seen your little sister when I pressed him.”

He Chuan grunted distractedly.

“What’s wrong? Haven’t seen you in a while, and you don’t seem to miss me. Jerk. And I still think about you all the time.”

He Chuan patted her waist. “If you think about me, I’m honored.”

“Liar. Your face says you’re unhappy. Did the little sister upset you?”

Everyone in their circle knew the Chengs’ little darling was always trailing after He Chuan. Privately, they joked that He Chuan was raising his child bride, though it was only a joke—nothing more.

His phone rang again. He Chuan didn’t answer Tang Huaihuai, just picked it up—Cheng Hui had texted: “Pick up my call, He Chuan. Just pick up, okay?”

He Chuan curled his lips in a cold smile and shut off his phone.

Tang Huaihuai noticed. “Something up? The little sister looking for you?”

He Chuan lost all interest. “Don’t ask. You keep having fun. Put it on my tab—I’m heading out.”

“Where to?”

“Home.”

Tang Huaihuai clicked her tongue and muttered, “Such a brooding bore.”

…

Xin Gan returned home to pack a small bag and update her family. She told her mother, “Don’t tell Grandpa for now. Wait until I’m back.”

“Are you really going?” Her mother looked worried.