HL 6

Xu Nanxiao’s insomnia grew even worse.

He couldn’t believe he’d been scared out of his wits by that hooded man’s video—he despised himself for it. But every time he closed his eyes, he felt as though a pair of giant eyes were watching him without blinking, sending chills down his spine.

In the dead of night, tossing and turning, Xu Nanxiao would always think of Ying Yusheng. If he went to Ying Yusheng for hypnosis, wouldn’t he be spared this suffering?

But he quickly dismissed the thought. Ying Yusheng had seen those finger marks on his ankles—he must look down on him now, thinking he was some disgusting homosexual. He didn’t want to see Ying Yusheng. And if he did, he wouldn’t know how to explain himself—it would only add to the awkwardness.

So Xu Nanxiao resolved to tough out another night on his own.

He shoved his head into his pillow, squeezed his eyes shut, and told himself it didn’t matter what time he fell asleep.

…

When he opened his eyes again, the sky had already turned pale blue, and he hadn’t slept a wink all night.

The next day, Xu Nanxiao went to the boxing club as usual. To keep from looking too drained, he slapped himself hard twice across the face—his cheeks stung fiercely, but at least he felt a bit more alert.

Before he’d even walked through the front door, he could hear a racket coming from inside.

“Sir, please calm down. Put the banner away.”

“He’ll be here any minute. Let’s talk this through.”

“Sir, we still have training to do. Whatever issue you two have, please settle it outside—there are kids waiting here.”

Xu Nanxiao’s gut told him something was wrong. He shoved open the door and, sure enough, saw a familiar older man—one who looked like he’d been carved from the same mold as his dead son.

Xu Nanxiao’s heart sank. He couldn’t believe that bastard had tracked him down again.

“What are you doing here?” Xu Nanxiao strode forward, his voice dropping low.

“What am I doing here? You killed my son, and you ask what I’m doing here?! You think just because you move somewhere else you can start over? Dream on!!!” The old man’s frame was stooped, as if his spine had been ripped out, yet he stood there stubbornly, radiating a fierce bitterness.

He clutched a white banner in his hands, on which crude red lettering spelled out: “Xu Nanxiao the murderer! Blood for blood!”

Xu Nanxiao felt a surge of hot blood rushing to his head, ringing in his ears.

The young man he’d accidentally killed was the son of a major corporation’s CEO. She’d used her connections to shut him out of almost all commercial matches and opportunities to teach at big clubs. Now even this meager livelihood was being taken from him by the man’s father. No matter how many jobs he changed or which city he moved to, the man followed him like a persistent ghost, turning his life upside down.

If he didn’t know the couple had divorced, Xu Nanxiao would have sworn they were teaming up to destroy him.

“Mr. Liu.” Xu Nanxiao’s voice came through gritted teeth. “Because of this mess, I’ve lost everything—bankrupt, banned for life. What more do you want?”

“What more?!” Old Liu lunged forward. “My son is dead! He was only twenty-one! You think paying money makes it right? Moving somewhere else lets you pretend nothing happened?”

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. He grabbed Xu Nanxiao by the collar and shook him violently, the banner falling to the ground.

“You beat my son to death! Money can’t buy a life! You murderer! Beast!” he howled, sobbing loudly.

The coaches and young trainees who’d been trying to intervene were frozen in place, not daring to breathe. Xu Nanxiao staggered from the grip, his cheeks burning with humiliation and accusation.

“Let go.” Xu Nanxiao’s voice was terrifyingly low, his body trembling from the sheer effort of restraint. “Old Liu, my life is ruined too. My future, my money—all gone! I wish I’d been the one to die that night! Is that what you want?!”

“Then go die! You’re just like your murderer father—both of you are worthless bastards who deserve to be shot!”

The gym fell into dead silence, then erupted in increasingly loud murmurs.

Xu Nanxiao froze.

It felt like he’d been clubbed over the head—his mind went blank, his nails nearly digging into his palms.

The next second, against his will, his eyes burned red from that one sentence.

He wasn’t like that!

He wasn’t like that man!!

Don’t lump him together with that man—he was not a murderer!!!

“SHUT UP!!!” Xu Nanxiao suddenly exploded. He grabbed the gaunt old man and started dragging him outside. Everyone watching could feel the immense hatred in those hands—hatred that nearly crushed the old man’s throat.

The air in the entire gym froze, leaving only Xu Nanxiao’s ragged breathing and the old man’s choked gurgles.

The disparity in strength made this grieving father kick his feet like a struggling old dog. Many of the younger trainees couldn’t bear to watch and turned their heads away.

Manager Wang had had enough. He rushed forward and ordered Xu Nanxiao to stop, but Xu Nanxiao was too consumed by his own emotions to hear a word.

He didn’t understand. He just didn’t understand.

On the day of the match, a friend had driven Xu Nanxiao’s sports car to take him to the venue. Xu Nanxiao sat in the back, a soft, beautiful woman in his arms.

His companion asked him: “How’s today’s match looking? Confident you’ll win?”

Thinking of that day’s opponent—the leering laughter that echoed in the room, the sickening warmth of unwanted touch—Xu Nanxiao’s eyes darkened with a surge of fury. He sneered: “Win or lose, I’m winning.”

“Good luck, darling.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, then kissed the woman’s cheek. “Win this, and I’ll buy you that sports car you wanted.”

“Really?! You said it!” she gasped, then nestled affectionately against his chest.

“Mr. Xu’s too generous!” the driver teased.

“Our Mr. Xu is the boxing king—this kind of money’s nothing to him!” the front passenger chimed in.

Back then, Xu Nanxiao was the hottest contender for the Golden Belt, China’s youngest lightweight boxing king. With a frame that foreigners dismissed as “frail,” he’d defeated one seemingly unbeatable opponent after another.

Honors, endorsements, money, friends, women—he had as many as he wanted. At first, all of this had been overwhelming for a small-town kid who’d grown up poor. But eventually, it all became numb.

But why?

Why did it all vanish in an instant, just because his opponent died from hitting the back of his head on the mat? Why, three years on, no matter where he moved, did this man always show up to destroy his reputation?

Yes, he’d cursed that man who almost assaulted him—countless times.

But not once had he wanted him to die by his own hands.

“Xu Nanxiao!” Manager Wang’s roar finally broke through the layers of memory, piercing his eardrums. “If you don’t let go right now, pack your things and get out tomorrow!”

Xu Nanxiao froze. He looked down and saw that the old man in his grip was pale from lack of oxygen, nearly foaming at the mouth.

Gritting his teeth, Xu Nanxiao turned and hurled the man out of the club. Ignoring the pathetic figure writhing on the ground, he slammed the iron door shut.

The prolonged insomnia, combined with his emotional collapse, suddenly made the walls seem to tilt. The world began to spin. He felt his body’s support give way, and he was falling—irresistibly.

Suffering was like a razor, shaving off that layer of cynical bravado on his face as easily as foam, revealing the pale, fragile truth beneath.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Ying Yusheng had just walked out of the administrative building after a faculty meeting when three female students stopped him.

He smiled warmly, tilting his head: “Oh, it’s you three. Still have questions about the social cognition section from last class?”

The girls quickly waved their hands. “No, no—we understood everything in class! You explained it so clearly! We, um… wanted to ask when you’ll be holding that open lecture again?”

“So many upperclassmen recommended it! They said your lecture was life-changing! But we hadn’t enrolled yet back then, so we missed it…” another student said regretfully.

Ying Yusheng listened attentively, a humble smile on his face: “Thank you, but probably not anytime soon. The current project is at a critical data collection and analysis stage. Our team is practically working around the clock—weekends in the lab too.”

He pointed to his slightly tired eyes and joked: “See? The ‘results’ of working around the clock are written all over my face.”

“Then… after this project wraps up a bit, would you have time?” The girls’ eyes held cautious hope.

Ying Yusheng sensed their persistence and hidden admiration. He remained composed, keeping an appropriate social distance, and smiled lightly: “Well, the project won’t be over anytime soon—”

Suddenly, a shout came from behind him—

“Ying Yusheng!”

Before the four of them could react, Ying Yusheng’s arm was grasped firmly. They saw an exceptionally handsome man, but one with a thoroughly rogue-ish air that seemed completely out of place in this prestigious institution.

“I’m borrowing your professor,” Xu Nanxiao said, and under the three girls’ astonished gazes, he dragged Ying Yusheng away.

Ying Yusheng was taken aback at first, but once he recovered, he couldn’t help smiling silently.

Xu Nanxiao was walking too fast, nearly tripping Ying Yusheng several times along the way. But Ying Yusheng didn’t protest—he just kept smiling, letting Xu Nanxiao pull him along.

They stopped inside a dormitory building. It was still daytime, and most students were in class, so the dorm hallway was empty and quiet—perfect for talking.

“Nanxiao, what do you—”

Before he could finish, Xu Nanxiao slammed one hand against the wall beside Ying Yusheng’s ear, trapping him between his body and the wall.

Ying Yusheng fell silent, simply watching him. Though Xu Nanxiao was shorter than Ying Yusheng, his aggressive posture made him seem no less imposing.

“Ying Yusheng.” Xu Nanxiao gritted his teeth. “Hypnotize me. Right now.”