The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 13: He Knew That Universally Hated He Ning Had Come Back

The wedding day was clear and sunny.

He Ning stood before the full-length mirror adjusting his bow tie, muttering under his breath, “Didn’t we already do this once?” Zhou Ji passed behind him and said, “One wedding or several, what’s the difference? I want the whole city to know about my marriage.”

The Zhou family’s attitude toward He Ning could be described with the phrase “as clear as black and white.” Their surface manners were impeccable, but that was where it ended.

Compared to fake warmth, He Ning actually found this straightforward coldness more reassuring. Because at least this contempt, whether loud or quiet, couldn’t hurt him in the slightest.

Their wedding had been planned in a rush. There hadn’t even been time for custom tailoring, so they could only make do with selections from a brand-name store.

That day when He Ning arrived abroad, Zhou Ji still had fierce kiss marks on the side of his neck, as if someone had bitten him hard.

Zhou Chong had stared at He Ning with a gloomy expression then: “You actually came here?”

He Ning calmly asked why he couldn’t, and reached out to pull Zhou Ji away.

He Ning didn’t know what Zhou Chong had just said to him. He only heard Zhou Ji mutter self-mockingly: “Dragging you into this mess… did I do the wrong thing?”

He Ning shook his head. When everyone had watched He Ning’s downfall with cold eyes, only Zhou Ji had been willing to reach out a hand to him.

So now, He Ning was willingly playing along with this act, using a marriage certificate to wash away those stains of “incest.”

After all, He Ning already had nothing left. His reputation, his dignity, had all shattered into pieces along with the He family’s collapse.

“I can’t stand love like his.”

No love should look like this, full of scheming, twisted possessiveness, and all that harm done in the name of love.

He Ning said: “Then don’t accept it.”

He Ning’s fingers brushed over the displayed suits. He suddenly remembered years ago when he had stood like this before a fitting mirror adjusting his collar. Only back then he’d been wearing pure white ceremonial dress, a designer had personally pinned his boutonniere, and when the shop assistant pulled back the curtain the fabric had made a soft swishing sound.

In his memory, Wen Junhe sat on the sofa looking up. He Ning had been so nervous his palms were sweating, constantly fiddling with his cuffs, shy and restless like a bride waiting to be married.

Wen Junhe’s gaze had lingered on He Ning for a long time, his fingers unconsciously tapping the edge of his phone. The news page on the screen had already gone dark.

He Ning was so flustered by that gaze he didn’t know what to do with himself. He threw himself onto Wen Junhe, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck: “So do I look good or not?”

His voice carried a coquettish tone. He Ning said: “Don’t just stare without saying anything.”

Wen Junhe couldn’t take his pestering anymore and gave a bland evaluation of “too flashy.” He Ning immediately pouted and called him perfunctory, hugging Wen Junhe and saying he wanted everything to be beautiful.

He Ning had eagerly picked out a suit for Wen Junhe, a pure white tailcoat with intricate gold thread embroidered on the cuffs. It was his favorite style, yet also a design Wen Junhe found distasteful. He Hongxing thought his son was simply playing house and didn’t find it absurd enough to put a stop to it.

Back then He Ning had lived like a little prince who knew nothing of hardship. He Hongxing’s bottomless indulgence had built him a golden bell jar, making him feel like the whole world should revolve around him. Fake friends held him up on a pedestal, his lover would always stay by his side, and even his unreasonable demands would be satisfied one by one.

Later, when the He family fell, He Ning truly understood what it meant that “every gift from fate already has its price tag.”

When visiting his father in prison, he put on a relaxed expression and told He Hongxing, “I’m doing fine. I’m taking good care of myself.”

He Ning said this to everyone. He was taking good care of himself.

On the other side of the glass, He Hongxing grew older by the day, yet his gaze grew sharper. He saw through everything and told He Ning: “Ningning, don’t be sad. Loss is something everyone has to go through.”

When He Hongxing had said back then that Wen Junhe wasn’t a good match, he had been protecting this spoiled son from tasting the bitterness of wanting something he couldn’t have.

He Hongxing had built He Ning a golden cage for over twenty years, but never taught him how to face the storms outside the cage. When the protective shield suddenly shattered, He Ning was like a lamb thrown into a wolf pack, stumbling and fumbling his way through unfamiliar human dealings. Those who once fawned over him now looked at him like he was trash by the roadside. Things once within easy reach were now beyond his grasp even with all his might.

He Ning gradually learned to withdraw into his shell, watching this bizarre world like a bystander. Until Wen Junhe spoke of his years-long heart knot a few days ago, He Ning was shocked to realize how much of a failure his life had been. The love he wanted he couldn’t get, and the trust he should have had was barely there at all.

These years He Ning had nailed himself in place, like doing penance, not daring to draw near, not daring to entangle himself, only hoping that someday when Wen Junhe looked back, he might give him an evaluation of “at least he knew when to quit.”

He kept thinking that although his father had done those things, they had still had a few good years together.

But Wen Junhe had never thought that way at all.

How ironic. They had been together for four years, not one or two. He Ning had given him his heart and soul, and in the end Wen Junhe would rather believe a few instigating words from an outsider than give him even half a shred of trust.

And that person was the one who had hurt him.

Those tender moments were probably just forced pretense in Wen Junhe’s eyes. His true feelings meant nothing to Wen Junhe.

When Wen Junhe spoke that day about misunderstanding him, He Ning looked at him as if this handsome face had suddenly rotted into ash, crumbling into a pile of bones.

Everyone said Wen Junhe was lofty and self-restrained, but in that moment He Ning saw through to the arrogance and selfishness in his bones, that deep-rooted coldness that would rather kill a thousand by mistake than lower himself to ask a single question about the truth.

Everyone said He Ning was willful, but the one truly proud to the bone was clearly Wen Junhe.

The traits that once captivated He Ning had now become what he hated most.

So love and hate really were just a moment apart.

He Ning might be bad, but he was bad in an open and aboveboard way. He didn’t need this belated sympathy, was disgusted by this hypocrisy, and no longer wanted to grovel like a fool begging for a little warmth!

He Ning’s guilt toward Wen Junhe was like a heavy stone, pressing on his heart for years.

But hadn’t Wen Junhe also used years of cold violence to retaliate, cutting him down piece by piece like a slow execution?

Even if Wen Junhe were a block of stone with not a trace of feeling for him, He Ning wouldn’t be this disappointed. But Wen Junhe clearly knew everything. He wasn’t completely without feeling for him. He was doing it on purpose.

He suddenly felt light. Those self-deceiving expectations could finally be let go.

He didn’t owe Wen Junhe anything, nor did he owe anyone.

This five-year-long self-torture should end here.

Zhou Ji watched He Ning wearing a very well-tailored suit and praised him: “You look very good.”

He Ning gave him a smile. Zhou Ji didn’t know if it was his imagination, but that stiffness and suppression in He Ning, like the morning sun’s cautious light, had completely vanished without a trace.

As if whatever had been binding his heart had thoroughly disappeared.

“…Brother Ji, you look very handsome too.”

Zhou Ji took He Ning’s hand. Under the brilliant lights, he raised his eyes: “Call me A Ji from now on.”

“…A Ji.”

Zhou Ji looked at him: “He Ning, let’s neither of us have regrets.”

White rose petals scattered down. Melodious music began to play. On the freshly renovated lawn under the open sky, guests came and went. Relying on his not-so-great memory, He Ning memorized the identities of the Zhou family’s relatives and associates, large and small.

On the huge outdoor terrace, against a pure white backdrop, flowers and balloons were everywhere. From afar it looked like a carefully edited landscape photograph.

He Ning stood in the center of the crowd. The collar of his white shirt pressed neatly against his slender neck. The cut of his suit pants perfectly outlined the straight line of his legs.

Sunlight fell on him through the church’s stained glass. His lightly made-up features showed an almost unreal delicacy in the interplay of light and shadow. The whole person seemed to be coated in a soft glow, so beautiful he looked like an angel that might spread its wings and fly away at any second.

Meng Xuan sat in the third row near the aisle, his elbow propped on the armrest, his chin resting in his palm.

He squinted at He Ning’s profile, his gaze sliding from the slightly upturned corners of the other’s lips down to the knuckles gripping the bouquet. The emcee’s voice drifted near and far. He thought of another afternoon years ago, when He Ning had also stood beneath a floral arch like this, with Wen Junhe as the one facing him. Meng Xuan remembered all too clearly. When He Ning stood on tiptoe to kiss Wen Junhe, that smile had carried a desperate sweetness, a love as if he were burning himself into ashes as an offering.

It had been blinding.

Now He Ning’s smile was appropriate, standard.

Zhou Ji took the ring offered by the best man and slid it onto He Ning’s ring finger.

Zhou Ji smiled gently. He Ning placed a kiss on the side of his face. Enthusiastic cheers rose from below the stage. Zhou Moufu and his wife sat in the audience, listening to the commotion around them, finally raising their hands to clap a couple times, the corners of their mouths rising into a somewhat satisfied curve.

Zhou Moufu remembered how He Ning had come to see him a few days ago.

He’d said: “Uncle, if you can’t be hard-hearted enough with Zhou Chong, this wedding won’t happen. If it doesn’t happen, he’ll keep hounding Zhou Ji.”

“Between two sons, you have to protect at least one. You can’t treat your biological son like he’s nothing for the sake of an adopted one.”

During the wedding, the light at the end of the Zhou family corridor remained on. Bodyguards stood like two statues outside the door, not daring to relax for a moment, as if what was locked inside wasn’t a person but a trapped beast that might tear through its cage at any moment.

From the room came the dull thud of heavy objects hitting walls, the crisp sound of shattering glass, and the ripping of fabric. The bedsheet was pulled half off onto the floor. Feathers from the pillow scattered through the air, floating like snow at an inopportune time.

And the one who started it all lay sprawled on the disheveled bedding, his dark eyes unblinking as they stared at the ceiling.

He suddenly shot upright, stepping barefoot across the floor full of wreckage. Porcelain shards cut tiny bloody trails across his pale feet, but he seemed to feel no pain. He only pounded against the heavy door like a madman, his knuckles striking dull thuds against the solid wood.

“Make my brother come see me! Dad can’t do this to me!” Zhou Chong’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition. “Tell them I’m dying! Make my brother come see me! I’m dying!”

Outside the door remained a silence like death.

His voice gradually lowered, finally becoming a near-whispering whimper. His fingers slid down the door panel, leaving several reddened trails on the lacquered surface.

The wedding ended. While taking the group photo, sudden noise and commotion came from the distance.

The banquet was by invitation only. Wen Junhe’s strength was surprisingly great. Three security guards couldn’t keep him out.

Wen Junhe’s white shirt was dusty, his hair somewhat disheveled, as if he’d been through some fight. Ever since his youth, no matter what situation he fell into, he always kept his back ramrod straight, his posture tall and upright like a green pine tree. So he always gave people a very spirited impression. He raised his gaze in a daze, looking toward where He Ning stood.

He Ning looked very beautiful today, holding a pure white bouquet, like a bride. Only the person standing beside him was someone he hated very much.

For the first time, Wen Junhe felt the sensation of blood draining from both his brain and limbs. He’d never had this experience before. It was as if he couldn’t perform complex thinking anymore. The pinky ring on his ring finger became burning hot.

He Ning seemed to frown slightly.

Wen Junhe and he looked at each other from afar. Because the employer hadn’t spoken to stop them, the security personnel also stopped moving. No one called out to stop Wen Junhe, so he walked up the stairs in front of many people, heading straight toward He Ning.

Passing the second floor, he tripped on the carpet, grabbing the wooden railing to keep from falling.

He steadied himself, lifted his leg to continue walking forward without regard for anything, when someone called out to him: “Wen Junhe!”

It was Han Qing.

With this shout, almost everyone’s gaze fell on Wen Junhe.

He Ning remembered how he’d swaggered up to the door of his and Wen Junhe’s residence, holding a medicine bottle, telling Wen Junhe that being with him was because of his father’s threats. During that time He Ning had always been in a daze.

He turned those few sentences over and over in his mind, only feeling a pain that pierced through his brain all the way to his heart. Yet he couldn’t even cry. Later he looked up that medicine. It was for erectile dysfunction. He Ning didn’t know what he had done wrong.

For Wen Junhe and Han Qing to humiliate him like this.

Han Qing stood not far away, saying to He Ning: “Sorry, I couldn’t stop him.”

Meng Xuan looked at the person who had suddenly appeared. After brief surprise, a faintly smiling expression of watching the fun settled on his face. The crowd began whispering among themselves.

He Ning’s eyelids drooped for a few seconds. Sunlight fell on his face. Wen Junhe could barely make out his expression anymore, only seeing the slender outline traced by faint shadows.

Wen Junhe ignored Han Qing and continued forward.

It was He Ning who spoke first: “I don’t think we sent you an invitation.”

Wen Junhe stopped. He looked at He Ning and said steadily: “…I said I would come pick you up. I’ve already cleaned up the house. I won’t leave anymore from now on.”

He stretched out his hand: “He Ning, come with me.”

Zhou Ji leaned close to He Ning’s ear and whispered: “He Ning, if you leave at this moment, I won’t blame you. Really. This is your last chance to change your mind.”

After speaking, he gave him a comforting smile.

When He Ning first started seeing a psychologist, what he did most often was sit in a recliner with the TV on, spacing out and thinking about nothing. As long as he didn’t think of Wen Junhe, he would be much happier.

Actually, what had always trapped him was Wen Junhe.

The white-clothed youth who once made his heart burn hot at the mere thought of him, he didn’t know when, had begun to burn so hot it started to hurt, fiercely scorching his heart.

Sometimes sober from the sharp pain, sinking into a struggle as painful as being stuck in mud.

He Ning gently returned the grip on Zhou Ji’s hand. His expression changed toward the security guards as he said ruthlessly: “I don’t know them. Throw them out. Anyone without an invitation, throw them all out.”

Meng Xuan watched as He Ning’s gaze swept over Wen Junhe as if looking at a speck of dust, that expression of such contempt and haughtiness. His breath suddenly grew heavy, his fingers trembling. That excitement seemed to flow through his veins into every limb and bone.

He knew that universally hated He Ning had come back.

That He Ning who disdained to please anyone, who only cared about himself, who treated all the love and romance in this world as mud dirtying his shoes.

Had come back.