Chapter 034
As soon as the two entered the private room, Fu Hairong immediately beckoned them over. He and Xu Zhuoyan had each saved a seat beside them. Ming Huai took the place next to Fu Hairong, while on the other side sat Xia An, a rising young starlet. She wasn’t part of the film crew, so she must have been brought by someone present. Ji Tingqian, meanwhile, settled into the seat beside Xu Zhuoyan, ending up right next to Bai Ying.
Xu Zhuoyan had initially been speaking with Fu Hairong while casually accepting a glass of wine from Lin Zhimeng, but the moment Ming Huai and his companion entered, his gaze fixed firmly upon them. A flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes; he distinctly remembered Ming Huai stating last time that he and Ji Tingqian had not yet reconciled, yet now the two appeared to be on remarkably good terms.
Mindful of the occasion, Xu Zhuoyan held his tongue, planning to speak with his two friends after dinner. It was only once they were seated that he withdrew his gaze and exchanged a greeting with Ji Tingqian. Perhaps their bond had deepened to such an extent that Ji Tingqian’s expression softened noticeably as he looked at Xu Zhuoyan.
Many present were aware that Xu Zhuoyan and Ji Tingqian were close friends, and likewise knew of the ambiguous past between Ming Huai and Xu Zhuoyan. The room certainly no lack of onlookers eager for drama—Lin Zhimeng among them. Once she returned to her seat, she boldly shot Ming Huai a mocking glance across the table.
Ming Huai naturally caught that look. He curled his lips into a smile, raised an eyebrow at Lin Zhimeng, and let his eyes brim with undisguised mockery. With women like Lin Zhimeng, ignoring them only emboldens their audacity; it’s far better to strike back and silence them promptly.
Anyone with half a brain would know better than to bring up matters between Ming Huai and Xu Zhuoyan on such an occasion. Yet who knows what possessed Lin Zhimeng today—she had turned her artillery squarely on Ming Huai, bombarding him relentlessly.
“President Xu, I heard Brother Ming Huai used to be an artist under your company. Were you two very close?” Lin Zhimeng widened her eyes, feigning innocent confusion. She appeared gentle and harmless, as though she had never heard those rumors and had asked the question entirely by chance.
Her voice was loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. The moment Lin Zhimeng finished speaking, every person seated there deliberately or inadvertently focused their attention on that very question.
Ji Tingqian’s expression remained neutral, yet a flicker of surprise crossed his mind. It was then that he recalled overhearing that conversation while filming the show; so the “President Xu” Lin Zhimeng had spoken of was actually his own friend, Xu Zhuoyan.
Of course, in City C, how many people could truly be addressed as “President Xu”?
Xu Zhuoyan’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. His gaze swept over Ji Tingqian before he stated in a low voice, “Ming Huai and I are very good friends, but what does that have to do with Miss Lin?”
These words left Lin Zhimeng no face at all, even seeming deliberately intended to put her in an awkward position. Xu Zhuoyan’s intent was so pointed that everyone present could sense his displeasure.
Lin Zhimeng had never expected Xu Zhuoyan to respond this way. Her face flushed then paled, until finally she could only force a stiff laugh and say, “Is that so.”
Xu Zhuoyan paid Lin Zhimeng no further attention. He studied Ji Tingqian’s expression carefully, assuming his friend would surely show some sign of irritation at such remarks. Yet contrary to his expectations, Ji Tingqian’s face remained utterly expressionless.
As Ji Tingqian’s friend of many years, he knew that such an expression represented two extremes: either Ji Tingqian truly didn’t care at all, or he cared deeply about the matter and was so furious that he was struggling to restrain his emotions.
Xu Zhuoyan, deducing from the relationship between Ji Tingqian and Ming Huai, assumed it was likely the latter scenario, and thus planned to clarify everything thoroughly with Ji Tingqian later.
Meanwhile, the other party involved, Ming Huai, clearly didn’t take it seriously at all—eating and drinking as usual, forming a stark contrast with Lin Zhimeng.
Tonight’s meal was primarily to accompany Xu Zhuoyan. Afterward, Bai Ying and several other cast members suggested heading to a KTV for some singing, which Fu Hairong agreed to; it all depended on what Xu Zhuoyan thought. Xu Zhuoyan simply told everyone to enjoy themselves, saying he wouldn’t join them but would cover the expenses.
Ming Huai had no desire to join in the commotion either. Since Ji Tingqian received a phone call and needed to attend to some matters, he didn’t go along either. In the end, only Ming Huai and Xu Zhuoyan returned directly to the hotel.
Just as the dinner was nearing its end, Ming Huai sent a message to Yu Bin. As he stepped outside, he noticed Ji Tingqian speaking with Xu Zhuoyan. Having no intention of inserting himself between the two, he bid them farewell and departed.
Ji Tingqian watched the direction in which Ming Huai disappeared, appearing somewhat distracted. It wasn’t until that slender figure vanished from sight that he finally redirected his attention back to Xu Zhuoyan. He hadn’t clearly heard what the other man had just said, so he asked, “What did you say just now?”
Xu Zhuoyan sighed helplessly. “There are some things I’d like to ask you. Let’s sit down and talk once we’re back.”
After returning to his room and taking a shower, Ming Huai only then began to worry about what Xu Zhuoyan might have said to Ji Tingqian. His mind raced through countless possibilities, each one implying that the past could be unintentionally laid bare.
Suddenly, Ming Huai could no longer sit still. He got up and paced back and forth in the room, a trace of anxiety gradually appearing on his face. What if Ji Tingqian found out everything? How would he explain it? And how could he possibly recount those sweet yet arduous days to Ji Tingqian? His heart hung high in the air because of this very assumption, finding no peace whatsoever.
What on earth did Xu Zhuoyan come here for?! Ming Huai wondered, biting his lip.
The moment the door was knocked, Ming Huai felt not the slightest surprise. He rushed to the door in three long strides, turned the lock, and there stood Xu Zhuoyan outside.
Ming Huai let out a sigh of relief; the fact that Ji Tingqian hadn’t followed meant Xu Zhuoyan had said nothing.
“Come in,” Ming Huai said, stepping aside to let him pass.
Once inside, Ming Huai poured Xu Zhuoyan a glass of water and immediately asked, “You didn’t say anything to my brother, did you?”
“No.” Xu Zhuoyan studied Ming Huai, trying to read something from his expression. After a long pause, he hesitantly voiced a question that had flashed through his mind: “I feel… there’s something strange about how you and Tingqian are getting along. It doesn’t look like you’ve made up, yet you seem incredibly close. There’s a sense of dissonance. What’s going on between you two?”
Ming Huai fell silent, pressing his lips together uneasily, his gaze darting away as he clearly wished to avoid answering the question directly.
After a long pause, Ming Huai let out a heavy sigh, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked at Xu Zhuoyan, his eyes filled with helplessness and panic, and spoke word by word: “You think something’s wrong too, don’t you?”
“He doesn’t remember me.” Those few light words landed in Xu Zhuoyan’s ears, covering his face completely with shock.
“What’s going on?” Xu Zhuoyan found it both absurd and unreal, yet all the inconsistencies suddenly had a source of explanation. No wonder Ji Tingqian and Ming Huai had broken up, and no wonder Ji Tingqian had seemed so indifferent whenever Ming Huai was mentioned back then.
It wasn’t that he had stopped loving; it was that he had forgotten he ever loved.
Ming Huai lowered his head, gazing at the pattern on the carpet on the floor, and stated a fact: “Aftereffects of the car accident.”
“Does Tingqian know? I mean, does he realize he has amnesia and doesn’t remember you?” Xu Zhuoyan pointed out the crux of the matter.
Ming Huai shook his head.
Xu Zhuoyan’s face was a mask of disbelief; he opened his mouth, at a loss for words. “Why didn’t you tell him? Ming Huai, what on earth were you thinking?”
Ming Huai had no desire whatsoever to discuss this matter. Why hadn’t he told him? How could he possibly tell him? Should he inform Ji Tingqian that they had once been brothers, yet had become lovers? Should he explain that the reason Ji Tingqian had suffered such grievous injuries was because Ming Huai had risked his own life to shield him? Or should he reveal that Dudu was his child, and that Ming Huai himself was a freak capable of bearing children?
Ji Tingqian’s ability to accept all of these things had been built upon the foundation of his love for Ming Huai. Now that this love was gone, Ming Huai could not be certain whether Ji Tingqian would still be able to accept any of it.
These successive violations of ethics and morality were like crushing mountains weighing on Ming Huai, leaving him gasping for breath at every moment. It took an eternity before he could finally begin to let go. But what about Ji Tingqian? If he were to learn the entire truth all at once within a short span of time, would he be able to accept it?
In the end, Xu Zhuoyan failed to reach any definite conclusion. He was not Ming Huai; he could never truly comprehend that agonizing dilemma of being torn between two impossible choices. When he asked Ming Huai about his future plans, Ming Huai merely smiled and said he would take things one step at a time. Regardless of everything, he would never let go of Ji Tingqian.
“Won’t it be too exhausting?” Xu Zhuoyan still couldn’t understand. “If you told Tingqian the truth, everything would become so much easier.”
Ming Huai didn’t seem particularly concerned. Smiling optimistically, he replied, “My brother loves me so deeply; it’s only a matter of time before he falls for me again. If there was ever a truly exhausting period, it must have been right after I first left home. Even though I had quarreled bitterly with my family then, Brother couldn’t bear to let me suffer even the slightest hardship. He has always been so resilient, protecting me throughout my entire life, nearly sacrificing his own life for my sake in the end. What harm is there in waiting for him a little longer?”
Ming Huai finally asked Xu Zhuoyan to keep this secret for him, urging him repeatedly not to let a single word slip.
Xu Zhuoyan looked at Ming Huai’s optimistically beaming face and felt that the road ahead would be a long one for him. How could someone with Ji Tingqian’s disposition be easily moved? Without some dramatic revelation, even if Ming Huai tried for a year or two, Ji Tingqian would likely remain as unreadable and unmoved as ever.
However, Xu Zhuoyan couldn’t bear to dampen Ming Huai’s enthusiasm any further. With a helpless sigh, he said, “If you need help, just contact me. I’ll do my best.”
“Alright, alright,” Ming Huai replied, though he wasn’t really counting on Xu Zhuoyan. In the end, he knew he had to rely on himself.
It was already late; they had been chatting for quite some time. Xu Zhuoyan stood up to bid Ming Huai farewell and head out. Ming Huai walked him to the door and reminded him once more, “Don’t let anything slip.”
“Alright,” Xu Zhuoyan agreed.
Just then, a man’s deep voice rang out from nearby, “Zhuo Yan, it’s this late; aren’t you going back to your room yet?”
Ming Huai and Xu Zhuo Yan turned simultaneously toward the sound. Under the bright lights, Ji Tingqian stood with one hand in his pocket, his lips pressed tightly together, brows slightly furrowed, gazing at the two of them with profound, dark eyes.