Chapter Eighty-Five: Fright

Cheng Hui’s anger flared the moment she saw He Cheng. She and He Cheng had always been at odds, and she’d suffered plenty at his hands.

When Cheng Hui was still a small child, she once went to his house to play. He pushed her down the stairs, scraping her knees and elbows. Fortunately, nothing worse happened. At the time, Madam He had merely chuckled, saying that children always roughhoused and He Cheng hadn’t meant it—so she brushed it off and nothing more was said.

He Cheng and Madam He might have forgotten, but Cheng Hui never did.

Thankfully, when He Chuan later found out, he stood up for her and gave He Cheng a stern lesson. He Cheng, of course, was indignant and ran to complain to Madam He, who then scolded He Chuan. Of course, Cheng Hui never knew about this part, and He Chuan never mentioned it.

As she grew older, Cheng Hui didn’t want to cause He Chuan any more trouble, so she avoided He Cheng whenever possible, steering clear of direct conflict. Not even Cheng Jiu knew that He Cheng had once pushed Cheng Hui down the stairs.

This time, He Cheng and Xin Gan were secretly photographed and the images were posted online. Since He Cheng wasn’t especially famous yet, the trending topic was likely paid for and quickly lost heat.

Cheng Hui couldn’t get it off her mind. After some thought, she decided not to trouble He Chuan about it—she’d go straight to He Cheng herself and get answers.

Without He Cheng’s contact, she had to be roundabout. She called Madam He, pried for a while, and finally got He Cheng’s number. After much mental rehearsal, she dialed.

He Cheng answered with a careless “Hello?”

“It’s me, Cheng Hui,” she replied, her tone firm as steel.

“Oh, it’s you.” The disdain in his voice was almost blinding. Why would Cheng Hui be calling him?

“Are you free? Come out to meet me—I need to talk to you.”

“Cheng Hui, you sure you’ve got the right number? I’m not He Chuan, you know.”

He wasn’t someone she could just summon at will.

“I know exactly who you are, He Cheng. I’m looking for you. Where are you? I have something to ask.”

He Cheng raised an eyebrow. “No need for a meeting. I don’t have time to play house with you. Just say what you have to say.”

So rude. Cheng Hui forced herself to stay calm. “Why did you go looking for my sister-in-law? What’s your game this time?”

“Sister-in-law?”

“Don’t play dumb—Sister Xin Gan, my brother’s wife!”

“And?”

“Cut the act. I saw the photos. You even bought a trending topic and had your fans attack people!”

He Cheng replied lazily, “You mean that trending topic this morning? I wondered what you were going on about.”

Cheng Hui wanted to scream at his shamelessness.

“I’ve known Xin Gan for a while. We just happened to run into each other at the art exhibition and exchanged a few words. So what? I didn’t want to be photographed any more than she did. How’s that my fault? What, just because she’s married to Cheng Jiu she can’t have normal friends? Is Cheng Jiu that possessive? Are you just like your brother?”

She couldn’t win an argument with him, and fumed in silence, finally cursing, “Bastard. I know exactly what kind of person you are. My sister-in-law would never be friends with someone like you. You’re not worthy.”

Azhou had no idea who He Cheng was talking to on the phone, but the instant he hung up, his face darkened, and she grew even more timid, standing to one side with her head down.

He Cheng tossed his phone onto the table, clearly irritated. Not only did he have to film in this godforsaken place for another month, but the director was on his case lately—always finding fault and making him reshoot. His temper was bad to begin with. Yesterday, he’d run into Xin Gan, only to be spotted by Tan Yashuo. His luck couldn’t be worse.

He couldn’t afford to fall out with Tan Yashuo just yet, so he had to put up with her for now. Once he truly became famous, he’d kick her to the curb and strike out on his own.

He Cheng snapped out of his brooding and noticed Azhou, his meek little assistant, head still lowered. She was the only one who never dared defy him—obedient, quiet, but always looking so miserable with that perpetually bitter expression.

“Why the long face? Look up,” he ordered.

Azhou raised her head timidly. “Cheng… Brother Cheng, what is it?”

“How old are you again?”

“N-nineteen.”

“Nineteen? Forgot. Come sit on my lap.” He Cheng patted his thigh.

Azhou’s whole body tensed instinctively, her voice nearly breaking. “I… I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brother Cheng. It’s the middle of the day—what if someone comes in…”

He Cheng laughed. “What are you afraid of? Just keep your voice down.”

He Cheng, with his striking looks and privileged background, was someone Azhou both feared and longed to be close to. She saw herself as ordinary and deeply insecure—utterly insignificant in his presence.

Timidly, she edged over and sat on his lap, keeping her head down, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Drop the act. What’s with the shyness? It’s not your first time.”

He Cheng, practiced and rough, took her chin in hand. “Look at me. This time, you’re not allowed to close your eyes.”

Azhou was so nervous her heart felt like it would leap from her chest. “Brother Cheng… please, just be gentle…”

Last time, he’d hurt her. Even split her lip.

He Cheng was never gentle—least of all with someone like Azhou, who wasn’t worth the effort.

As for the trending topic Cheng Hui mentioned, he couldn’t care less.

…

Cheng Hui returned home, fuming.

It was around October, and the autumn wind had picked up. The nights were cool and refreshing.

She stepped onto the soft mat at the entryway, changing her shoes as she peeked into the lively living room. There seemed to be guests.

Madam Cheng came out, spotted her, and called her over to greet the visiting uncle and aunt.

Cheng Hui had no choice but to put on a cheerful front, greeting everyone in the living room.

Not until the guests had left did she finally rub her stiff cheeks and retreat to her room.

She checked her phone—it was dead.

She went to fetch the charger, plugged it in for a bit, and then went to shower.

When she came out, the phone was ringing—He Chuan was calling.

She answered in silence, waiting for him to speak first.

“Looking for me?” he asked.

His tone was cold, almost dismissive.

Cheng Hui felt even worse. “It’s nothing.”

“Cheng Hui.” He called her name, voice low and commanding. “Speak. Don’t sulk.”

He didn’t even call her by her nickname—just her full name.

Cheng Hui felt aggrieved. She stepped onto the balcony, letting the cool night breeze clear her head. Frustrated, she raked her fingers through her hair and asked, “Does He Cheng know Sister Xin Gan?”

He Chuan didn’t answer, but asked, “Why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

“He’s causing trouble for Sister Xin Gan.”

“Tell me.”

“I saw photos of He Cheng and Sister Xin Gan online—they were secretly taken. I think He Cheng is behind it.” Cheng Hui hadn’t known what He Cheng was doing in the entertainment world, but after seeing the photos, she’d looked him up online and found plenty of information.

He Chuan was silent for a moment. “Where are you now?”

“At home.”

“Wait for me outside your house in half an hour. We’ll talk in person.”

Before Cheng Hui could refuse, he said, “See you soon. I have to drive.”

She felt like she’d fallen into his trap—he just wanted to lure her out!

But she couldn’t very well refuse now.

She changed her clothes again and again, dissatisfied with every outfit, finally settling for an oversized T-shirt that covered her shorts before heading downstairs.

Madam Cheng saw her coming down, changed and ready to go. “Going out so late?”

“I’m thirsty—going to buy a drink.”

“Isn’t there any at home?”

“Drinks from outside taste better.”

Madam Cheng: “…”

…

Afraid her mother would see her, Cheng Hui crept outside like a thief, slipping into a shadowy corner of the yard where the lights didn’t reach.

A pair of headlights appeared in the distance, engine growing louder.

Before He Chuan’s car even pulled up, Cheng Hui dashed out, waving.

The car stopped, and she hurriedly opened the back door and climbed in.

…

He Chuan took her to a small café near her house.

It was late, so he ordered her a hot milk and got himself coffee. He smoked as he sat across from her, as if he’d just come from a night of drinking—three buttons undone on his shirt, exuding a languid elegance and an air of distant nobility. His dark eyes were half-lidded, unfocused as he looked her way.

He said nothing for a long while, so Cheng Hui prompted, “About earlier—you haven’t answered me.”

“The photos,” He Chuan said, nodding.

Cheng Hui pulled out her phone, found the saved photos, and handed it over.

He Chuan scrolled through them lazily. “Has Xin Gan seen these?”

“I haven’t told her—she probably hasn’t seen them. The topic’s already gone.”

“Then don’t tell her. I’ll take care of it.”

Cheng Hui blinked, surprised by how easily it was resolved. She stared at him with wide, innocent eyes.

He Chuan said nothing, studying her for a moment, frowning. “When you snuck out, did anyone notice?”

“My mom saw, but I talked my way out of it.”

He Chuan finished one cigarette, put another to his lips but didn’t light it, jaw tight.

Cheng Hui had no idea how pale her legs looked right now—so pale it stirred something in him.

He Chuan asked, “Still angry?”

“No.”

They sat a while longer, and, having nothing more to say, Cheng Hui stood. “I’ll head back now—you should get some rest too.”

He Chuan reached out and caught her wrist. “I’ve been drinking. There are police checks at the intersection.”

“I’ll call a driver for you,” Cheng Hui said, not struggling.

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand, Huihui. I want you to stay with me.”

…

Autumn had arrived in Beiyu, and the nighttime chill was biting.

After her hospital stay, Jiang Tang was discharged and borrowed a stranger’s phone to contact Ji Bai, arranging to meet.

Ji Bai dressed up specially and met Jiang Tang at a shopping mall.

When they met, Jiang Tang looked her up and down. “No wonder we could never catch you. You’re a woman.”

The Ji Bai that Cheng Jiu had been hunting was an impostor—the real Ji Bai had hired someone to stand in for her.

Ji Bai removed her sunglasses, smiling. “That’s a secret, Miss Jiang. You’re the only one who knows. See how sincere I am? I truly want to work with you. If you don’t show some sincerity in return, it wouldn’t be fair.”

Ji Bai looked to be around thirty, remarkably well maintained. Yet, despite her efforts, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes betrayed her true age.

Jiang Tang quickly regained her composure. “If I didn’t want to work with you, I wouldn’t have asked to meet. I owe you for your help those days.”

“No need for thanks. You’re clever and adaptable—you know what’s best for you. Don’t worry, if we work together, I can get you what you want.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. What do you want?”

“It’s simple.” Ji Bai leaned in, whispering a sentence in her ear.

Jiang Tang’s expression changed instantly. “Impossible.”

“There’s no such thing as impossible. If you really weren’t interested, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I want to cooperate, not hurt anyone. I refuse to cause harm. Anything else, I’m willing to discuss.”

“Who do you think you’re bargaining with, Miss Jiang?” Ji Bai threatened. “Still think you have a way out? Should I release the video of what those men did to you while you were kidnapped? Let everyone see?”

Someone had filmed those days—she knew they still had the footage.

“Fine. I’ll agree. But I have a condition of my own.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Leave Cheng Jiu to me. I want him.”

The fake Ji Bai had dealt with Cheng Jiu many times, but the real Ji Bai had only heard of his exploits, never met him. After so many stories, she was naturally curious to see what kind of man he really was. She said, “Of course, that’s fine. I only want to see them fall—leaving one alive is no issue.”

“It’s settled, then. Wait for my message.”

…

Not long after being discharged, Jiang Tang returned to her unit and requested leave, which was granted, considering what she’d been through.

She went to see Commander Meng, meeting him in person to offer a heartfelt apology.

Commander Meng’s expression was complicated. “Say what you have to say standing up.”

“I was immature before, Commander Meng. I came to apologize.”

“There’s no need for that, Jiang Tang. Take care of yourself. I heard you’ve applied for leave, and that’s for the best. Use this time to rest and don’t overthink.”

At that moment, someone knocked and requested entry.

Commander Meng waved her off. “That’s all for now—I have things to do. You should get going.”

Jiang Tang hesitated, not leaving. “There’s something else I want to say.”

“Go on.”

“Never mind. I’ll be going.”

…

Jiang Yang was out on the training field when Cheng Jiu arrived. He pretended not to see him and turned away.

When training ended and everyone headed to the showers, Jiang Yang bumped into Cheng Jiu but didn’t greet him, keeping his head down as he passed.

Someone nearby noticed and called out to Jiang Yang, but he ignored them.

“What’s wrong with Jiang Yang? He ignored me…” he asked Cheng Jiu, “Brother Jiu, what’s up with Jiang Yang?”

Cheng Jiu shot him a cold glance and said nothing.

The man hurried into the showers, not daring to say another word.

The bathhouse was full of small stalls; all men, all naked, walking about.

After showering, Cheng Jiu went to look for Jiang Yang.

He found him running laps on the back mountain track.

Cheng Jiu joined in, not caring that he’d just showered.

Jiang Yang kept silent, wanting nothing to do with him.

After seven or eight kilometers, Jiang Yang was exhausted and stopped to rest. Cheng Jiu caught up, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jiang Yang turned, grabbing for his hand, but Cheng Jiu was quicker and avoided his grip.

They went back and forth, tussling.

Jiang Yang was no match for Cheng Jiu. Soon, he was pinned to the ground, knees bent, thoroughly subdued.

Cheng Jiu asked, “Got a problem?”

“Yes!” Jiang Yang refused to yield.

“Then let it out—don’t bottle it up. Here’s your chance!”

“Bring it on!”

…

After a while, Jiang Yang’s legs were shaking with exhaustion, sweat pouring down, but he was still defiant, shouting at Cheng Jiu.

Cheng Jiu’s blows were harsh but measured—he left Jiang Yang with bruises but no real harm.

Their fight eventually reached Commander Meng.

Commander Meng arrived at the back mountain in a fury, barking orders for the two to be separated. “Are you two trying to turn the world upside down? What the hell is this? Life too peaceful for you lately?”

Jiang Yang was dragged aside, face full of resentment. “I refuse to accept this!”

“Speak up—what’s your problem?” Commander Meng demanded.

“I don’t accept Cheng Jiu. How can someone like him lead us? I don’t respect him!”

Cheng Jiu stood silently by, expression unreadable.

Commander Meng looked at Cheng Jiu. “He doesn’t accept you—what about you?”

Jiang Yang kept shouting, “Cheng Jiu, we all looked up to you—but you know what you did!”

Commander Meng, hands on his hips, temper rising, pointed at them both. “You two, run laps. Now. Move!”

…

Commander Meng personally supervised them, counting their laps.

He didn’t care who started it—if you were involved, you faced the consequences. Cheng Jiu wasn’t spared.

Jiang Yang barely managed another five kilometers before slowing to a walk, gasping for breath.

Cheng Jiu, in better shape, kept running, though not quickly.

When they could run no more, Commander Meng approached and fixed Jiang Yang with a look. “Still dissatisfied?”

Jiang Yang turned away, stubborn as ever.

Night had fallen, and the field was deserted.

“Answer me!” Commander Meng barked.

“I don’t accept Cheng Jiu.”

“Is it because of Jiang Tang?” Commander Meng wasn’t stupid.

Jiang Yang didn’t deny it, his voice hollow. “Yes. My sister suffered so much, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”

…

Cheng Jiu didn’t feel the need to explain himself to Jiang Yang. They were adults—their choices were their own, and so were the consequences.

Jiang Yang might have misunderstood him because of Jiang Tang, but he saw no reason to clarify.

Commander Meng dragged Jiang Yang to his office for a stern talking-to, leaving Cheng Jiu waiting on the field.

Jiang Yang was made to stand at attention for half an hour.

Commander Meng smoked, the ashtray overflowing. “You’ve got plenty of stamina—stand there and don’t move. I’ll get through to you eventually. Got nothing better to do than cause trouble every day?”

Jiang Yang didn’t dare move, legs trembling.

“What happened to Jiang Tang isn’t anyone’s fault—not even Cheng Jiu’s.”

“You’re defending him, Commander Meng.”

“Defending my ass!” Commander Meng cursed without pretense. “Jiang Yang, if you had any conscience, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

…

Night had deepened. The art studio was empty—all the students had left.

Xin Gan alone remained, working on her sketches, when she suddenly received a call from an unknown number.

There was no sound at first. She said hello—and then, out of nowhere, a woman’s voice screamed hysterically on the other end.