HL 22

The rain was not falling, but pouring down in a violent torrent. Like countless thick, hard whips lashing down from the churning clouds.

Everything within sight became blurred and distorted. The distant buildings and trees were reduced to nothing but gray silhouettes, swaying violently in the dense mist of moisture.

It was only a few zhang (tens of feet) from the garage door to the eaves, but by the time Ying Yusheng ran over, the hems of his trousers were already soaked.

He shook off his umbrella, tapped the toes of his shiny leather shoes against the ground, and was about to head toward the elevator when he suddenly noticed someone standing not far away.

Xu Nanxiao was drenched on half his body, his white T-shirt clinging tightly to his skin, outlining the lovely curve and fullness of his chest. His hair had collapsed, plastered in strands against his forehead and cheeks, with droplets continuously gathering at the ends—dripping into his collar or falling straight to the ground.

And he didn’t bother to wipe them away; he just stood there in a daze.

“Nanxiao?” Ying Yusheng looked at him with a hint of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Only then did Xu Nanxiao notice him. He pressed his lips together, then replied, “I came to pick up something I left here.”

Ying Yusheng paused briefly, then smiled calmly and asked, “Something that absolutely had to be picked up on a day with such heavy rain?”

He led the drenched big cat back home, made Xu Nanxiao a cup of hot cocoa, and then sat down across the dining table.

“It’s pouring out there—no need to rush off. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other; why don’t we have a chat?” Ying Yusheng said.

“Yeah.” Xu Nanxiao hadn’t really come to pick anything up anyway. He dried his hair with the white towel Ying Yusheng gave him and stared blankly at the hot cocoa in his cup.

Ying Yusheng didn’t rush him, letting the minutes tick by one after another, until Xu Nanxiao finally spoke in a hoarse voice: “Let me ask you something.”

Then he laid out the whole story to Ying Yusheng.

This time, without any embellishment or concealment.

After finishing, Xu Nanxiao licked his dry lips and let out a bitter laugh. “You think I’m crazy too, don’t you? Those shoes aren’t the only pair in the whole world, so it doesn’t prove that the hooded man is Lu Yingjie.”

Ying Yusheng just looked at him quietly.

“What else could it be?” In the end, Ying Yusheng asked back, ruthlessly.

Xu Nanxiao’s body jolted violently.

“If it weren’t absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t want to suspect my own student. But Nanxiao, we lived together for over four months, and I think I have a fair understanding of your social circle. There aren’t actually that many men taller than you, let alone ones skilled in psychological manipulation. Do you really think any of those fair-weather friends of yours could pull that off?”

Of course not.

Xu Nanxiao’s crowd were all good-for-nothings—whether they even graduated high school was debatable. If they had that kind of skill, would they have been rejected by women again and again?

But to say Lu Yingjie was the hooded man—Xu Nanxiao simply couldn’t bring himself to believe it. From age nine to twenty-four, despite their arguments and separations, the kid he had watched grow up would never do something to humiliate his dignity.

Most importantly, those heartfelt, genuine memories—Xu Nanxiao didn’t want to taint them! The last “connection” he had in this world—he didn’t want it to become such a fucked-up “connection”!

So Xu Nanxiao lashed out in fury, shouting back, “Can’t it just be a stranger? You’re pinning something this disgusting on your own student? So what if he’s taller than me? So what if he knows psychological control? You’re the same—honestly, you look even more like that fucking lunatic!!!”

After a brief moment of surprise, Ying Yusheng’s expression turned completely cold. “That’s truly hurtful, Nanxiao. So you’ve never trusted me at all, have you?”

“When the hooded man first started harassing you, did we even know each other? The day he came to your door and sent you that video, I was in my office chatting with a student—didn’t you verify that? In the nearly half a year we’ve known each other, haven’t I been good enough to you? Now you’d rather believe Yingjie, who just happens to own the same pair of shoes, and pin the blame on me?”

Xu Nanxiao was left speechless. He rubbed his brow in frustration. “That’s not what I meant…”

“Do you really think the hooded man is someone you don’t know? A whole year of stalking and harassment, all just out of malice toward a stranger?”

“I was wrong, okay?” Xu Nanxiao held his head in his hands. “Just shut up.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, then so be it. But I hope that’s a judgment you’ve made after careful thought, not simply because you don’t want to accept reality.”

“Shut up.”

“What’s the matter, Xu Nanxiao? Are you that unwilling to admit that the cute little brother you’ve raised all these years is actually thinking about how to fuck you? Or perhaps he’s already been fucked somewhere, and you just don’t know it.”

“SHUT UP!!!!” Xu Nanxiao exploded completely. He shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor with a deafening screech.

He hadn’t expected Ying Yusheng to utter such filthy words. His whole face flushed crimson. He glared furiously, but the other man stared back at him expressionlessly.

Xu Nanxiao could no longer hold back. He kicked the table leg hard, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Only when the room fell silent again did Ying Yusheng lower his head and take a sip of his jasmine tea, which had long gone cold.

Actually…

He hadn’t meant to say anything that harsh.

Being so reckless with his words—really, it wasn’t like him at all.

Lu Yingjie, still at school, knew nothing of this.

He hadn’t brought an umbrella, but by the time class ended, the sky had cleared up. He counted himself lucky, humming a little tune all the way back.

Returning to the cozy little nest he shared with Xu Nanxiao, Lu Yingjie pushed open the door and found Xu Nanxiao sitting on the sofa. The room was dark, the lights off, and in the dimness, Xu Nanxiao’s face was somewhat indistinct.

Lu Yingjie didn’t think much of it. His eyes immediately landed on the bread bag on the coffee table. He bounded over cheerfully, rifled through it, and sure enough, there was his favorite pretzel bread inside.

Chewing on the sweet wheat bread, Lu Yingjie asked, “Ge, what are you doing just sitting there?”

Xu Nanxiao looked up, his eyes weary and exhausted, with faint red veins running through them—as if he had just gone through some major life upheaval.

Lu Yingjie slowly stopped chewing and asked in confusion, “Did something happen?”

“Lu Yingjie.” Xu Nanxiao’s voice was low and grave. “Is there something you’ve been hiding from me?”

“No, no, there isn’t.” Lu Yingjie was taken aback.

“I’m asking you one more time—are you hiding something from me?”

Seeing Xu Nanxiao’s serious expression, Lu Yingjie realized this was no small matter. He racked his brains, reflecting on what he might have done wrong.

Suddenly, he shot Xu Nanxiao a guilty glance.

He thought to himself, surely Nanxiao Ge hasn’t found out about my crush on him, has he?

But how could that be? He’d never told anyone—he didn’t even dare moan Xu Nanxiao’s name when he was masturbating.

Could it have been Ying Yusheng? Although Lu Yingjie often couldn’t figure out what his professor was thinking, Ying Yusheng wasn’t the type to meddle in other people’s business. Besides, it wouldn’t do him any good.

Then… did his parents come looking for him?

Lu Yingjie tensed up instantly, staring fixedly at Xu Nanxiao’s face, his expression twisting as he blurted out, “Did my parents come to see you?!”

“…No.”

Hearing that, Lu Yingjie relaxed all at once, even feeling a bit weak in the knees. But now he was completely baffled—what else could he possibly be hiding from Xu Nanxiao?

“I don’t know,” Lu Yingjie said meekly. “I really can’t think of anything. Ge, just tell me directly.”

Xu Nanxiao looked at Lu Yingjie with a complicated expression. Finally, he let out a long sigh and turned his head away. “It’s nothing. I was just bluffing. Since there’s nothing, good.”

“Ge.” Lu Yingjie was speechless. “How could I possibly hide anything from you? What do you take me for?”

“Yeah.” Xu Nanxiao gave a noncommittal grunt, then stood up. “Come eat. The bread is for your breakfast tomorrow morning—don’t finish it all.”

With that, he snatched the bag from Lu Yingjie’s hands.

Lu Yingjie was starving, and he’d been enjoying his snack. Xu Nanxiao’s action was like yanking food from a hungry dog’s mouth.

“Just one more bite.” He grabbed Xu Nanxiao’s wrist and pulled him over.

Caught off guard, Xu Nanxiao stumbled and fell heavily into Lu Yingjie’s solid embrace. The college student’s hormones, carrying a hint of sunshine and sweat, instantly enveloped him, and his breath was all hot against Xu Nanxiao’s ear.

On reflex, Xu Nanxiao shoved Lu Yingjie’s hand away. The motion was so forceful that his hand smacked hard across Lu Yingjie’s face. Lu Yingjie had delicate skin, pale and fair, and a red mark immediately appeared.

Lu Yingjie was stunned. He covered his face, staring blankly at Xu Nanxiao.

Damn it. Xu Nanxiao cursed inwardly.

“Who told you to grab me all of a sudden.” Before Lu Yingjie could speak, Xu Nanxiao cut him off. “Come eat. We’ll play games after dinner—you’ve been saying you wanted to try that new one for days.”

Though Xu Nanxiao brushed it off, Lu Yingjie could still tell something was off. Throughout the meal, he kept cautiously observing Xu Nanxiao but didn’t dare ask.

For a while, the only sounds at the table were the clinking of bowls and chopsticks. The atmosphere was unbearably heavy.

It wasn’t until they started playing games that things finally improved.

It was a recently released horror game where the player explores an abandoned haunted house, searching for clues to uncover the truth behind a past death. At any moment, demons could jump out, and bloody killings could occur.

Lu Yingjie was both cowardly and addicted, occasionally letting out loud screams. Every time he grabbed Xu Nanxiao’s arm or hid behind his back, Xu Nanxiao felt as if hundreds of tiny needles were pricking him. To avoid shaking him off, he endured it with iron will.

This torment lasted over two hours until it was finally time for bed.

Before sleeping, Lu Yingjie did as usual—set the air conditioner timer and laid out his bedding on the floor. Halfway through, he suddenly stopped, looked up guiltily at Xu Nanxiao, who was sitting by the bed, and asked:

“Ge, this game gave me the creeps. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Seeing Xu Nanxiao frown, Lu Yingjie had expected that. He quickly defended himself: “Never mind if not—I was just saying…”

To his surprise, Xu Nanxiao was silent for a moment, then said, “Fine.”

Lu Yingjie blinked, his eyes lighting up. He smiled sweetly, grabbed his blanket, and climbed into bed.

As the room grew dark, Xu Nanxiao heard Lu Yingjie’s steady breathing behind him.

Xu Nanxiao wasn’t asleep at all—not that he could sleep even if he wanted to. The reason he’d agreed to let Lu Yingjie into his bed wasn’t out of kindness, but to test if the other would try anything while he was unconscious.

Minute after minute passed, and the person behind him remained quiet, as if already fast asleep.

Just as Xu Nanxiao was about to succumb to exhaustion, Lu Yingjie suddenly moved.

Xu Nanxiao could feel him carefully inching closer, little by little, the fabric rustling against the sheets. Then he brought his head near, and the small patch of skin at the nape of Xu Nanxiao’s neck felt the feedback of warm, damp breath. At this distance, it would take just a slight dip of the head to kiss him.

Xu Nanxiao clenched his jaw, summoning every ounce of willpower not to punch him. Just then, he heard Lu Yingjie say:

“Ge, how come you’re not asleep?”

Xu Nanxiao froze, his clenched fist loosening.

“I was asleep,” Xu Nanxiao lied through his teeth.

Lu Yingjie let out a helpless chuckle. “Your back muscles are tensed up like you’re about to throw a punch—and you say you’re asleep?”

Only then did Xu Nanxiao realize that his anxiety had manifested physically.

Lu Yingjie was silent for a moment, then suddenly pressed his hand against Xu Nanxiao’s back. His shoulder blades, thin yet covered with firm, elastic flesh, slightly dug into his palm.

“Ge, what’s really going on with you today? If I did something wrong, just tell me—I’ll definitely change.” Lu Yingjie’s timid voice came through.

When Xu Nanxiao still didn’t answer, a wave of sadness and grievance surged in Lu Yingjie. Though he tried his hardest to suppress it, his voice still came out tearful: “Ge, you can yell at me all you want, but don’t ignore me. Lately, I keep having nightmares—dreaming that we drift apart as we walk, and no matter how much I call you, you never stop. I’m scared that the days from when we were kids won’t ever come back.”

Lu Yingjie didn’t want to be this pathetic. Just as Professor Ying had said, if he kept this up, Xu Nanxiao would never see him as a man—only as a little brother.

But he also realized, with sorrow, that when it came to Xu Nanxiao, he had no other way to soften his heart. He didn’t want to be Xu Nanxiao’s little brother, yet only as a little brother would Xu Nanxiao even look his way.

Sure enough, Xu Nanxiao once again turned back for his “weakness.”

He faced Lu Yingjie, the two of them inches apart. Then he let out a long sigh and stroked Lu Yingjie’s soft hair. “Don’t overthink it. I was in a bad mood today—it’s got nothing to do with you. Sleep now; you have an 8 AM class tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Lu Yingjie sniffled and nodded, then obediently closed his eyes, moisture still clinging to his lashes.

As Xu Nanxiao patted Lu Yingjie’s back, he thought, It can’t be him. He’s too spineless—even if you gave him ten times the courage, he wouldn’t dare. Right?

Xu Nanxiao decided he had to find the real hooded man—only then could he clear Lu Yingjie’s name.

“Nanxiao, what jam do you want?” Ying Yusheng poked his head out of the kitchen and saw the empty dining room. He suddenly froze.

Look at his memory—hadn’t Xu Nanxiao moved out months ago? He must have been up too late writing his paper last night and still wasn’t fully awake.

Oh well, he’d just have to eat two servings of toast.

He spread butter evenly over the golden bread slices with a white ceramic knife, chewing expressionlessly. The dining room felt suffocatingly quiet, so he casually turned on a news broadcast on his tablet—

“Hong Kong’s ‘Stablecoin Ordinance’ officially takes effect, with 77 institutions having already expressed intent to apply for licenses, including multiple banks and tech giants.”

“Enzhong Capital releases its 2025 performance report, narrowing losses to 171 million yuan, with the company’s strategy shifting toward hard tech and Web3 sectors.”

“Qing’an Capital Chairman Ying Baiying returns to China on August 7, 2025, making a public appearance in Shanghai at the Jiaxin Mi Financial Forum.”

Ying Yusheng’s chewing suddenly stopped.

He stared at the capable, sharp-featured woman on the screen for a moment, then silently closed the video.

Sure enough, that afternoon, Ying Baiying sent someone over.

It was the Ying family’s old butler, who had been working for Ying Baiying since she was a child. Even Ying Yusheng had to address him as Uncle Bai.

No appointment, no prior notice—Uncle Zhang drove straight into P University, caught Ying Yusheng just as he got out of class, and without any explanation, insisted on taking him home.

Figuring he’d have to face it sooner or later, Ying Yusheng, though amused, didn’t resist.

Ying Baiying’s villa in Zhongguancun was very large, mostly unused year-round. By the time Ying Yusheng arrived, the servants had already cleaned it, but the place lacked the scent of human presence—the wooden furniture lent the air a cold, fragrant chill.

A dozen Huaiyang dishes were laid out on the table. Ying Baiying sat at the center of the long table, her expression stern, exuding an unspoken authority. People accustomed to sitting at the head always carried that air, regardless of gender.

Actually, Ying Yusheng was somewhat surprised that today’s guest was only himself. He had assumed that since she was back for a rare visit, she would have invited his stepfather and their children as well.

It seemed, then, that she intended to say things to him today that weren’t convenient to say in front of others.

“Mom.” Ying Yusheng smiled and greeted her, then took a seat. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” Ying Baiying replied.

After that, neither of them spoke much more.

They saw each other infrequently and weren’t particularly close—there really wasn’t much to say.

Ying Yusheng sat down, took off his trench coat, and handed it to a servant. The servant took it, hung it up, and when she returned, she was carrying a cake.

“Today’s your birthday—Uncle Zhang reminded me,” Ying Baiying said, not looking up from her meal. “I ordered a cake.”

Ying Yusheng looked down—chocolate flavor.

“I don’t eat chocolate,” Ying Yusheng said wryly.

He was allergic to cocoa beans; as a child, eating chocolate had nearly killed him.

“You don’t like chocolate?” Ying Baiying frowned. “You never told me that.”

He had told her—more than once.

But there was no point arguing about it now. He simply thanked her, said he’d take it home to eat, though in truth he planned to share it with his colleagues tomorrow.

“How have you been lately? Work going smoothly?” Ying Baiying asked again.

“Pretty good. The research project is going very well. If nothing goes wrong, it should enter clinical trials in the second half of this year.”

“I told you to study finance, but you insisted on teaching at a university. Now look—several executives are fighting tooth and nail, and I can’t trust a single one of them.”

Ying Yusheng smiled but said nothing.

“What future is there in doing research? At the end of the day, you’re just a highly paid laborer. Truly smart people know how to let others handle all that trivial groundwork, while they simply invest capital to buy up the results—and then the returns multiply a thousandfold overnight. For the sake of those unrealistic goals, you can’t even prioritize properly. You’re just as stubborn and foolish as your father.”

Mentioning Ying Yusheng’s father made Ying Baiying’s tone noticeably sharper. It seemed that a wealthy young lady running off with a poor boy, even getting pregnant before marriage, was a stain on her life she could never wash away.

“Whatever you say.”

Though Ying Yusheng appeared deferential, Ying Baiying knew he was just humoring her. Her words probably wouldn’t even leave a trace on his cerebral cortex.

Ying Yusheng never got angry, treating everything with an air of indifference. Even toward her, his mother, he never showed much regard. So among her children, Ying Baiying couldn’t say she was particularly fond of him.

“Speaking of your father—have you seen him in recent years?”

“I happened to run into him a while ago.” Ying Yusheng wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“…How is he doing?”

“Not well. He still hasn’t gotten over the grief of losing his son.”

“Then does he know that you’re now mixed up with that murderer?”

Ying Baiying’s words landed like a thunderclap on the dining table. For a moment, no one spoke, the atmosphere oppressively heavy.

Ying Yusheng smiled. He found that he wasn’t surprised at all. “You’ve been monitoring me?”

“It’s not monitoring—it’s a mother’s concern for her son.” Ying Baiying tapped her index finger on the solid wood table.

Concern that extended to not even knowing whether he could eat chocolate?

“Fine, suit yourself.”

“Ying Yusheng.” Ying Baiying’s face darkened, using his full name as a warning. “What on earth is going through your mind?! Why are you living with that man? He killed your brother—you know that—are you out of your mind?!”

“What a thing to say.” Ying Yusheng smiled dismissively. “What could I be thinking? I’m just trying to avenge my father and brother in my own way.”

“Avenge? Have you ever visited your brother’s grave? Do you even know when his death anniversary is? You say you want revenge?!” Ying Baiying shouted. “Do you even believe that yourself?!”

Ying Yusheng said nothing, just smiling as he gazed at his mother.

If a moment ago he had seemed annoyingly casual, now his eyes carried something rather unsettling.

Through his pupils, one could vaguely glimpse an ancient, inhuman focus. The smile itself should have been gentle, but those eyes made it bizarre and strange.

Ying Baiying had never been able to figure out what this son of hers was thinking.

He seemed, from a young age, to lack normal thoughts and emotions—as if something had hollowed him out, leaving him an “empty” person.

At over fifty, Ying Baiying wasn’t exactly afraid of him. But the discomfort she felt around this son, the urge to leave, was very real.

“Ying Yusheng!” She demanded again, loudly. “What exactly are you trying to do?!”

His stepfather always said Ying Yusheng was a freak, and Ying Yusheng never denied it.

Though he did a pretty good impression of a normal person.

As a child, other kids would cry over toy ownership or not getting candy, but Ying Yusheng had no interest in such things. On the contrary, he couldn’t even understand why they got so hysterical.

He was born with little emotional fluctuation, and thus little desire.

Though “emotionally stable” and “without desires” were considered excellent traits nowadays, the downside was that Ying Yusheng was trapped in a suffocating dullness.

This dullness had seeped into his flesh, tugged at his limbs, and trembled through every vein. He had even thought of cutting open his chest or jumping off a tall building to escape it.

Imagine—food, money, friendship, honor—none of it brought anticipation or joy. Beneath the numbness lay only deeper numbness. And then, if you went further, wasn’t the difference between life and death, living and dying, also negligible?

To keep from being driven mad by the dark, still depths of his heart like a stagnant pool, he tried to find stimulation. As a child, he’d tortured insects and animals; as a teenager, he’d joined extreme sports clubs; now, he was even doing psychological research for self-help… but none of it worked.

The tedious days didn’t bring the intense, surging pain he’d imagined. Yet he still felt a hollowness in his chest—and it was immense.

As for the things people desperately sought, he either had them by birth—like family background and wealth—or could attain them effortlessly—like achievements and fame. So he had, in a sense, seen all that the world had to offer and didn’t know what else to pursue.

One quiet, late night, Ying Yusheng stood on his balcony, gazing into the distance.

He suddenly felt the whole world turn into a black hole, swallowing all his sounds, binding all his struggles. Those viscous, filthy things slowly flowed in through his seven orifices, filling this empty shell.

It really was… quite meaningless.

Ying Yusheng casually tossed away his cigarette—nicotine’s addictive pull no longer worked on him anyway. Smoking them was no different from chewing on a paper stick.

At the same time, he had an idea.

He planned to settle everything before turning thirty, then go alone to Norway or Ushuaia—anywhere, really—and end his life peacefully at the edge of the world.

No headstone needed.

He didn’t need anyone to pay respects, nor did he have any attachments.

Just like his heart—geese pass without leaving a trace, dust is carved by wind but leaves no shadow.

But he never expected that at twenty-six, his younger brother, born of the same parents, would go first. His mother called it murder; he thought it was just an accident.

Ying Yusheng didn’t have much feeling for his brother. His parents divorced when he was seven, his brother went with their father, and they never saw each other again.

But he still had to attend the funeral—if he didn’t, his mother would make a scene.

That day, many prominent figures from the political and business worlds were present—naming them all in the news would take a good while. Most of them probably didn’t even know his brother; they were there out of respect for his mother.

The memorial hall was filled with suppressed weeping.

His father stood closest, supported by two men. He looked as if his soul had been drained, his hand resting on the edge of the coffin, unconsciously stroking the cold wood back and forth. He muttered farewells under his breath, then broke into sobs, his throat emitting choked, grinding sounds as he swallowed his grief.

After handing his father a handkerchief to wipe his tears, Ying Yusheng’s duty as a son was done. He left the memorial hall, put on a mask to guard against pollen allergies, and stepped outside for some air.

That was when he noticed a man kneeling by the bushes not far from the hall.

An accident? A heart attack?

Ying Yusheng wasn’t usually one to meddle, but that day, for some reason, he found himself walking over.

“Sir, are you alright?”

As he drew closer, he saw that the man had vomited. He seemed to have not eaten in a long time, so the acid he threw up was clear, but the smell was still unpleasant.

Ying Yusheng frowned slightly, preparing to leave. Just then, Xu Nanxiao finally looked up and weakly met his gaze.

With just that one look, Ying Yusheng froze, even holding his breath instinctively.

An exceptionally handsome face. An exceptionally disheveled face.

Xu Nanxiao’s nose and tears were mixed together, his eyes bloodshot, kneeling on the ground looking filthy, like a rag anyone could step on. His spirit seemed utterly shattered, his gaze hollow.

He had a good build, but he was so weak that he looked like a fawn just learning to walk—standing up, falling down, standing up, falling again, until he could only brace himself on his arms.

A normal person would feel sympathy seeing this, wouldn’t they? Would offer gentle comfort, right? Then why did Ying Yusheng, in that instant, feel a jolt of… excitement that sent sparks through his scalp?

Ying Yusheng suddenly wanted to grab the back of his neck and push his face into the vomit, to hear him whimper louder in pain, to watch his twitching nails leave wet scratches in the dirt, to nail him forever to that patch of filth with iron spikes.

He himself hadn’t expected to harbor such cruel malice toward a complete stranger.

“Can you stand? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

On the surface, Ying Yusheng still played the gentleman, reaching out to help Xu Nanxiao up, but his arm was violently shoved away. Though the man looked battered, he was surprisingly strong.

Rubbing his stinging hand, Ying Yusheng heard Xu Nanxiao rasp, “Don’t bother with the fake concern. You all probably just want to grab me by the throat and choke me to death, don’t you?”

Ying Yusheng blinked, thinking to himself—I did want to grab your throat just now, but I never planned to choke you to death.

Watching Xu Nanxiao stagger forward, Ying Yusheng was about to ask his name when a trembling “Get lost” cut him off.

So he could only watch as Xu Nanxiao walked away.