Jiang Ciyuan, however, feigned ignorance, pressing down with a hint of a cold fragrance that lingered after a bath, causing every inch of Tong Sui’s skin to tremble uncontrollably.
Tong Sui instinctively shut his eyes, feeling the warm breath against the side of his face and neck, sketching a delicate space between them.
Jiang Ciyuan’s dark gaze fixed on Tong Sui’s trembling eyelids, like the quivering wings of an insect caught in a spider’s web; the more it struggled, the tighter it became.
He asked in a hushed voice, “Why are you trembling?”
His words carried little evident emotion, more like a monologue.
Tong Sui hesitantly opened his eyes, his pupils still clouded with a mist reminiscent of a pond ruffled by a spring breeze.
Jiang Ciyuan continued, “What if it were Chi Xingyu doing this to you?”
Tong Sui’s expression momentarily froze, seemingly confused as to why he was bringing up someone else at that moment.
But Jiang Ciyuan suddenly stood up.
Feeling the weight lift from his body, Tong Sui looked at the man standing by the bed, turned away, obscuring his expression. “Good night, Tong Sui.”
With that, he pulled the blanket back, lying down on his own bed, turning his back to Tong Sui. He sank back into the pretense he wore like a second skin, as if everything that had just occurred was merely an illusion.
Tong Sui reached up to touch his neck.
Jiang Ciyuan hadn’t even physically touched him, yet that trembling sensation still lingered.
Tong Sui turned slowly, looking at Jiang Ciyuan’s silhouette; the two beds were so close that he could easily reach out and touch his back if he wished.
Jiang Ciyuan lay on his side, pressing down on his hand, and he heard a faint “Good night” from behind.
Chi Xingyu landed back in H City in the early hours, and as soon as he touched down, he took a cab to the Chi family home he hadn’t visited in a long time.
Everything seemed unchanged since he left. Although it’s a villa area uncommon in the city center, it was eerily quiet under the night, almost like a tomb.
He pushed open the villa’s large door, and one lamp lit the entrance.
Chi Xingyu walked straight through, quickly making his way to the third floor.
The doors to the third-floor rooms were tightly shut, the gaps under the doors were also engulfed in darkness, suggesting the occupants had gone to bed early.
But Chi Xingyu lacked the patience to wait until morning; he raised his hand and knocked on the door—knock, knock, knock—such a sound ringing loud in the silence.
Inside, a calm voice responded, “It’s late. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
Chi Xingyu retorted, “Is it fun to mess with me?”
After a moment, the door opened from the inside, revealing his father, now nearing forty but still well-groomed and without signs of weight gain; only a few more lines etched into his face.
When his gaze landed on Chi Xingyu, he scrutinized him, almost as if assessing, “Are you hurt?”
Chi Xingyu replied, “That kind of guy can’t hurt me.”
Chi’s father walked into the adjacent study, sat down, and lit a cigarette without hesitation, letting the ash fall freely on the desk. “Do you think you can be reckless just because you can win a fight?”
Chi Xingyu took out his phone and opened a video. “I think I was justified in hitting him.”
The video was a complete recording.
Normally, he wouldn’t bother explaining himself like this; misunderstandings didn’t matter. But he wanted to resolve this quickly and return to Tong Sui.
After watching the entire video, Chi’s father extinguished the cigarette when it burned down, his expression graver than before. “Do you like that boy in the video?”
Although he hadn’t interacted with Chi Xingyu for a long time, he knew his son wasn’t entirely reckless or thoughtless.
For him to react this strongly, it meant someone was significant to him.
Chi Xingyu’s throat bobbed. “Yes.”
And it was more than just liking.
Chi’s father remarked, “With all the troublesome things you’ve done—dropping out, fighting, liking boys—how can I turn over the Chi family to you?”
“Then don’t hand it over. I have no interest in your possessions,” Chi Xingyu replied. “I never expected to gain anything from you!”
Chi’s father slammed the table. “You’re my only son!”
“Then go remarry and have another heir! Remember to keep him far away from me; I don’t want him learning from your mistakes!”
“Outrageous.”
Chi’s father slapped his face, his chest heaving violently; the force left a visible mark on Chi Xingyu’s cheek.
After calming down, a hint of panic flickered across Chi’s father’s face. “I…”
Chi Xingyu pushed his hand away, chuckling coldly, “Isn’t it a bit too late for you to start pretending to be a good father? I know exactly how you treated my mother.”
Chi’s father froze in place.
Chi Xingyu picked up the phone from the table and paused by the door before leaving, “Anyone can criticize me, but you can’t.”
With that, he left the study.
His departing footsteps were resolute, causing Chi’s father to panic as he chased after him.
“Xingyu!”
Chi Xingyu paused for a moment. His father asked, “It’s quite late; are you still leaving?”
“I want to go back.”
Chi’s father added, “I’ve given them instructions; even if you return, you won’t be able to film normally.”
This time, Chi Xingyu didn’t stop, walking straight out of the villa and slamming the door behind him.
That was his response.
Chi’s father leaned weakly against the railing, feeling aged in just a few minutes, and finally returned to the study to make a call.
“Communicate with the production team again. Let Chi Xingyu return to continue filming.”
Outside, the taxi driver watched Chi Xingyu rush in and out, looking rather upset.
Chi Xingyu got into the car and said, “Driver, to the airport.”
The driver was taken aback since they had just come from that route less than ten minutes ago.
He glanced at Chi Xingyu’s face in the rearview mirror; the middle-aged man didn’t browse the internet, so he didn’t recognize him, thinking only that the world of the wealthy was truly incomprehensible.
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