The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 14 (Han Qing and He Hongxing’s scenes) Caution advised!

That wedding fiasco. Han Qing had originally waited to see He Ning lose his composure when Wen Junhe appeared, preferably throwing down the ring and running off with him right then and there, offending the Zhou family. Now that would have been spectacular.

But the show didn’t play out the way he’d predicted.

What a letdown.

Han Qing had never imagined Wen Junhe would actually show up at He Ning’s wedding to steal the bride. In his eyes, He Ning was the type to play both sides, back then relying on the He family’s power to forcibly snatch Wen Junhe away, then turning around and acting all pitiful, preparing to use that half-dead appearance to keep Wen Junhe tied to his side.

He really couldn’t figure it out either. Wen Junhe clearly hated the He family to death, his eyes going cold every time He Hongxing was mentioned. So why couldn’t he be ruthless when it came to He Ning?

He’d asked Wen Junhe why he had to keep tangling with He Ning. Wen Junhe never said, but Han Qing wasn’t stupid. There were some things he could see. Every time Wen Junhe stared at He Ning, that look in his eyes wasn’t hate at all. It was more like…

Han Qing and Wen Junhe were “very good” friends, at least on the surface. He never spoke ill of He Ning directly in front of Wen Junhe. That would be too stupid. Han Qing only brought up the He family’s rotten affairs at just the right moments, handing Wen Junhe a glass of wine when he frowned, “casually” revealing what ridiculous thing He Ning had done now.

All these years, he knew how to stab the knife in accurately and deeply, yet still walk away unscathed.

In his eyes, He Ning was just a spoiled young master.

He Hongxing had doted on this son beyond all limits, giving him the stars when he asked for the moon, raising him to be willful and任性. Han Qing had seen too many people put on a show of flattery toward He Ning while cursing him behind his back.

Sometimes he even found it funny. So many people surrounded He Ning, yet hardly any of them were sincere.

His friendship with Wen Junhe was, to some degree, built on shared dislike.

Han Qing had always believed there was an additional subtle understanding between them, like two survivors who’d crawled out of the same disaster.

Sometimes Han Qing would get the illusion that they could really trample the He family and He Ning completely underfoot together.

But Wen Junhe’s attitude always left him unable to get a read on him. This man’s hatred for He Ning seemed to be mixed with something else.

Han Qing had known early on that Wen Junhe had no interest in men. When He Ning wanted to pursue Wen Junhe, he was the first to step in and help.

That kiss was also just him lending a hand. He didn’t like Wen Junhe, a hypocritical, indecisive coward.

The fallout from standing up for Wen Junhe that time came quickly. That night Han Qing was called home, and his father slapped him so hard he slammed into the decorative cabinet in the entryway.

“Are you tired of living? Daring to snatch someone from that little treasure of the He family?” His father’s fingers were trembling. “He Hongxing is someone you want to mess with?”

He and He Ning had been classmates since middle school, though He Ning probably didn’t remember him.

Han Qing touched his swollen face, standing by the window lost in thought.

He remembered back when their middle school held a parents’ day. At the time He Ning had acted spoiled, wanting the championship prize from a running competition.

He Hongxing’s position wasn’t particularly high back then, but it was the most glorious period of a man’s career. Yet for He Ning he took off his suit jacket, tossed it to his secretary, and got on the track. The solid muscle lines faintly visible beneath his shirt.

Han Qing’s father told his son to swallow his pride and endure for the sake of survival.

But He Hongxing, for a single word from his son, would fight for things against people more powerful than himself without yielding an inch.

At that time Han Qing sat in the audience, arms crossed, watching He Hongxing stand out strikingly among a crowd of pot-bellied middle-aged men. Those eyes were like a restless fierce tiger, eyes that chased power and desire.

Han Qing heard someone in the row behind say that Madam He had passed away early, and though He Hongxing had people around him all these years, he never remarried for He Ning’s sake. The person speaking carried an exaggerated tone of sighing, as if this were some great feat worth praising.

Han Qing had snorted with laughter then. Putting on what act of deep devotion? A dirty man, clearly never lacking for company around him.

Han Qing normally hated this kind of noisy occasion the most. His parents never deigned to attend these boring school activities. Today he’d been dragged here by his deskmate.

The rubber smell baked out of the plastic track mixed with the crowd’s body odor, making him frown, the water bottle in his hand crackling from his grip.

But the moment the starting gun fired, his gaze was nailed in place.

He Hongxing’s starting posture was very professional, the hem of his shirt fluttering with his movement. Among the group of men with beer bellies, he was like a cheetah that had suddenly burst into a flock of sheep.

Han Qing unconsciously held his breath, watching that figure grow faster and faster, leaving the others far behind.

At the finish line, He Ning jumped directly down from the stands, crashing into He Hongxing’s arms like a little cannonball.

“Dad is so amazing!” The youth’s cheers pierced through the noisy crowd. He Hongxing’s chest was still heaving violently, yet he was already smiling and ruffling his son’s hair. Those eyes that normally inspired fear were now soft beyond belief.

Han Qing suddenly turned his face away, his eyelashes behind his glasses trembling slightly.

Later when Wen Junhe agreed to be with He Ning, Han Qing also began a disgusting relationship.

He still hated He Ning.

Han Qing had once arranged to meet Wen Junhe, setting down the medicine bottle in his hand. He looked up at Wen Junhe, a faint smile hanging at the corner of his mouth: “I think you need this. After all, you like women, don’t you? For your family’s sake, I don’t think you can afford to fall out with He Ning.”

Wen Junhe stared at that medicine bottle for a few seconds, then suddenly reached out, stuffed it into his pocket, turned around, and left.

Han Qing watched his retreating back without a single wasted word, snorting with laughter as he poured himself a glass of wine. He hummed a song and swirled his glass, with a premonition that someday this thing would make He Ning suffer terribly.

He even took advantage of Wen Junhe getting drunk, coaxing him to speak, recording those drunken words word for word.

Han Qing had waited for this opportunity for too long.

Until He Hongxing was arrested, Han Qing felt Wen Junhe was simply too soft-hearted. He clearly hated the He family to death, yet could never bring himself to be harsh with He Ning. Now that He Ning’s biggest backer had fallen, he could finally properly deal with that little young master who didn’t know the height of the heavens.

He understood He Ning too well, that good-for-nothing spoiled by He Hongxing, with no skills besides acting spoiled and throwing tantrums.

Wen Junhe had been bewitched by He Ning’s pretty face and shameless pestering.

So he told He Ning everything.

Before leaving, Wen Junhe had even asked Han Qing to “help keep an eye on He Ning.” He’d agreed very readily then.

Appreciating He Ning’s pained expression had become Han Qing’s entertainment for a time.

When He Ning fell down the stairs back then, Han Qing stood not far away, watching Meng Xuan below panicking as he picked He Ning up.

The medical accident investigation files lay in his desk drawer, the key pages long since removed. He’d specifically chosen a freshly graduated intern to handle He Ning’s case. The missing allergy history on the surgical consent form, the deliberately overlooked contraindications in the medication records, every detail he had arranged flawlessly.

Meng Xuan paced back and forth outside the operating room. When the attending physician came out and said there’d been an accident during surgery, Meng Xuan’s face went instantly pale.

The settlement agreement was signed quickly too.

When He Ning lay in the hospital bed signing, his wrist was so thin you could see the blue veins. Meng Xuan gave He Ning extra money behind his back, or so Han Qing heard. Han Qing found it laughable.

Meng Xuan had been a dog for so long, he truly couldn’t be human anymore.

Wen Junhe was the same. He Ning got married, and he was depressed for a long time.

Things that have happened, no matter how well hidden, as long as someone with determination wants to find them, can always leave traces.

When Han Qing’s office door was kicked open by Wen Junhe, he was in the middle of reviewing documents. A stack of materials was slammed down before him, the top page prominently showing He Ning’s medication records from a few years ago.

“Tell me what these are!” Wen Junhe’s voice was terrifyingly cold.

Han Qing swept his eyes over those documents, copies of medical records, surgical consent forms, even the identity of that intern back then. His Adam’s apple moved. Han Qing knew if the truth were exposed, this would be the Han family’s biggest scandal, and he’d be tangled up in criminal lawsuits too.

Did He Ning know? He understood that person. If He Ning got hold of leverage, he’d bite down and never let go.

“Junhe,” Han Qing stood up, arranging an earnest expression on his face, “calm down.”

Wen Junhe’s eyes were filled with anger: “Calm down?”

He pointed at the scattered documents: “The evidence is conclusive. What else do you want to deny?”

“Junhe, listen to me explain. I was… just momentarily confused back then.”

But Wen Junhe looked at him coldly: “Confused? This is how you secretly used schemes to harm He Ning. I truly considered you a friend. But what did you do?”

Han Qing looked at Wen Junhe’s furious appearance, his eyes behind his glasses narrowing slightly. He leaned forward, both hands on the desk, his voice soft and slow: “I considered you a friend too, Junhe. Everything I did was for your own good. Have you forgotten how He Hongxing threatened you back then? If he hadn’t used your aunt’s affairs to blackmail you, how would you have…”

“So you wanted to kill He Ning?” Wen Junhe grabbed his collar, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, “He almost didn’t make it through that surgery, do you fucking know?! He was the most innocent one!”

Han Qing’s breath caught from being choked, but he suddenly laughed.

He slowly pushed his slipping glasses back up, the lenses reflecting cold light: “Innocent?”

Han Qing’s tone rose at the end, carrying a few notes of mockery: “Which of the He father and son is innocent? They don’t deserve happiness.”

“Why do you hate He Ning so much?”

Han Qing looked at him and said: “What if I told you He Hongxing forced me before?”

Wen Junhe abruptly let go, backing away two steps as if he’d touched something filthy.

Han Qing straightened his wrinkled shirt collar, looking at the undisguised shock on the other’s face, suddenly finding it especially interesting. The sunlight made his lenses shine bright white, hiding the surging darkness in his eyes.

On Han Qing’s eighteenth birthday, he shook off the room full of guests and slipped out through the back door of the banquet hall.

The night wind blew the hem of his custom suit fluttering. Han Qing had just touched the door handle of that black Cayenne when a force yanked him inside.

He Hongxing’s palm still carried the coolness of the outdoor night wind. As it slid along his waistline into the hem of his shirt, it made a layer of fine shivers run up his back.

Han Qing instinctively shrank forward, but the man pinned him against the leather seat by his waist. He raised his head to wrap his arms around He Hongxing’s neck, smelling the familiar cigar scent mixed with cologne on the other.

“Happy birthday.” He Hongxing bit his lower lip and said, his fingers already undoing two of his shirt buttons. The cool fingertips circled on his collarbone, suddenly pinching hard, “But have you been too hard on Ningning lately?”

The man’s voice carried the hoarseness of lust, yet the words made Han Qing stiffen all over: “I’m not a fair person. I can’t hold two bowls of water level.”

Han Qing turned his head away from his kiss, his Adam’s apple moving: “I just want to compete with him.”

His voice was muffled in He Hongxing’s shoulder: “He’s your precious son. Tattling always works. I anyway… have no one who loves me.”

He Hongxing let out a low laugh, suddenly pinching his chin to force him to look up. The overhead light in the back seat snapped on. Han Qing was stabbed by the brightness into squinting, hearing the man say slowly: “Then who are you acting spoiled with right now?”

He Hongxing lowered his head to kiss the back of Han Qing’s hand, his low voice carrying a few notes of indulgent laughter: “You’re my precious too.”

His thumb rubbed against Han Qing’s wrist bone, where the red marks from being pinched just now still remained: “I really don’t understand. How have you two not gotten along since you were little?”

Han Qing had just opened his mouth to speak when He Hongxing’s lips and tongue blocked him back. A few muffled whimpers spilled from his throat, his fingers futilely gripping the leather seat, yet quickly going soft at the waist under the man’s forceful kiss.

The Cayenne smoothly drove into one of He Hongxing’s residences. The car door had just closed when he was pressed against the wall in the entryway.

Han Qing gasped, calling him uncle. He Hongxing’s desire grew even stronger, almost passionately enough to swallow the person whole.

On the night of his birthday, He Hongxing personally drove him home.

When the car window rolled down, he saw his father standing at the villa entrance, his gaze sweeping back and forth between them, finally settling on his bitten lip.

But his father said nothing. Only the next day, the Han family account suddenly had an extra cooperation payment.

He remembered the first time he formally met He Hongxing, at some business dinner. His father dragged him, pushing him before that man.

He Hongxing held champagne at the time, his impeccably tailored suit making his shoulder line especially straight. Han Qing lowered his eyes, properly calling out “Uncle He,” yet the tips of his ears uncontrollably burned hot.

He Hongxing looked at him with a seeming smile, illuminating his little thoughts until there was nowhere to hide.

He Hongxing knew of Han Qing this person because He Ning’s childish complaints in front of him grew more and more frequent.

Han Qing’s father was fully aware of this twisted and disgusting relationship, yet only silently accepted one project after another from the He family. He knew this money was less for the Han family and more the price for buying his father’s silence.

He Hongxing was also a sanctimonious old bastard, sleeping with a lover about the same age as his own son, again and again.

Han Qing spent two years in He Hongxing’s bed.

He thought he was special. Until one time when he wanted to give He Hongxing a surprise, he saw He Hongxing pressing down a college student beneath him. That young face turned around and even provocatively raised an eyebrow at him.

The scent of sandalwood mixed with lust assaulted his senses. Han Qing stood in the doorway, the gift in his hand dropping to the floor with a thud. He Hongxing didn’t even turn his head, only casually pulling the blanket over the two of them: “Close the door.”

Han Qing realized he was just a plaything for this man to vent his desires.

Later Han Qing drank until his stomach bled. He curled up, trembling hand dialing He Hongxing’s number. The other end was very noisy, a coy female voice faintly audible, before he finally heard He Hongxing’s careless voice: “Baby, let’s end this here.”

Han Qing opposed He Ning, and He Hongxing never once favored him.

He degraded himself, yet couldn’t exchange for even a shred of He Hongxing’s pity.

When Han Qing cut the card He Hongxing had sent into two pieces and threw it in the trash, the glass vase in the hospital room was smashed against the wall by him, shards splattering everywhere.

The nurse stood outside the door, not daring to enter.

He Hongxing never lacked for people around him. Han Qing was just one of them. But two years, and all he got in exchange was a cold bank card, even the breakup too lazy to say in person.

On the day of discharge, Han Qing stood across the street, watching He Hongxing’s new favorite get out of the luxury car.

No one could treat him like this.

Han Qing thought.

He wanted He Hongxing to experience the same pain he had. What he couldn’t get, he’d rather destroy.

He Hongxing’s imprisonment had his share of contribution, but in the final analysis it was this man’s own excessive greed.

There were still old loyalists of He Hongxing protecting He Ning by his side, so he couldn’t easily make a move. But he knew He Ning’s other weakness.

Wen Junhe.

This person who hated He Hongxing just like him.

Was He Ning’s weakness.

He wouldn’t kill He Ning. He wanted him to lose everything, to live this life in mediocrity, and for He Hongxing to live his whole life in regret. Han Qing had calculated everything, but what he hadn’t calculated was that Wen Junhe would come back.

“I don’t understand why you came back. You worked so hard abroad and had everything. All for a He Ning?!”

Wen Junhe: “Yes, I worked so hard precisely to come back.”

Han Qing was stunned.

Wen Junhe looked at Han Qing’s obsessive gaze: “We won’t be friends anymore from now on. I won’t let this matter rest either. I’ll hand all the evidence over to He Ning.”

After Wen Junhe slammed the door and left.

“Whatever.” Han Qing muttered to himself in the empty office, slowly lighting a cigarette.

The lighter’s flame shot up, reflecting cold light in his eyes behind his glasses.

Outside the window, the dusk was heavy. The glass reflected his blurry outline. Han Qing suddenly remembered the last look He Hongxing gave him before entering prison, also such disdain.

He viciously stubbed out the cigarette, the ember burning a small patch of red on his fingertip. Why? Why could a good-for-nothing like He Ning have people protecting him again and again? Why did Wen Junhe clearly hate the He family to death, yet still couldn’t help protecting He Ning?

Han Qing lit another cigarette, smoke filling the office. He watched the smoke rings he exhaled slowly rise, suddenly laughing out loud.

How laughable, Han Qing thought unwillingly. So why were the He family members so blessed by fate, one after another, always having people go crazy for them?

Even he, Han Qing, hadn’t he once knelt at He Hongxing’s feet like a dog, wagging his tail and begging for pity?