The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 27: I’m Sick of This Twisted Relationship

He Ning stared at the yellow police tape pulled up not far away. Police officers were loudly maintaining order.

The back doors of the ambulance slammed shut. Medical personnel efficiently pushed the stretcher inside. That dark red pool of blood on the ground was especially blinding in the sunlight, spreading across the cement like spilled ink, the edges already darkening and coagulating.

Wen Junhe’s arm came around, his palm pressing against He Ning’s back: “Let’s leave first.”

His voice was mixed in with the surrounding clamor of voices.

He Ning jerked away with such force that he stumbled himself. He stared at Wen Junhe, his gaze as cold as looking at a stranger: “I can leave by myself. Wen Junhe, stay away from me! You should have known this would happen when you helped He Hongxing deceive me. Don’t you hate him the most? And you still helped him. Why should I be the only one kept in the dark?”

The sound of police sirens was still ringing in the distance. Onlookers held up their phones to record.

Wen Junhe’s hand hung in midair: “…Ningning, I don’t want to see you unhappy.”

He Ning’s chest heaved violently, black spots dancing before his eyes. Why did it have to be He Hongxing?

He stared fixedly at the chaotic scene not far away, medical personnel pushing the stretcher toward the ambulance, the red glare of police lights stinging his eyes. Right now he only wanted to strangle Han Qing with his own hands, or simply make this person disappear forever.

“Happy?” He Ning pulled out a smile uglier than crying, “Since I met you people, I haven’t had a single happy day!”

Wen Junhe watched He Ning get into the Zhou family’s black sedan without looking back. The car windows had privacy film, and he couldn’t even see He Ning’s silhouette.

That evening Zhou Ji came knocking on the door, carrying a food container in his hand. After hearing about what happened during the day, he somehow felt uneasy.

He Ning ate mechanically. Zhou Ji didn’t speak, just sat across from him waiting.

Zhou Ji: “What happened during the day was probably planned by someone.”

He Ning swiped open his phone. An apology text from Fu Shao popped up. He frowned and scanned it briefly, his fingers tapping on the screen a few times. After the call connected, the signal was intermittent. Fu Shao’s voice came and went, saying he failed to protect him and made him suffer.

“Stop with the useless talk,” He Ning interrupted him, “Uncle Shao, I just want to ask one thing. Did my dad really have something going on with Han Qing?”

The other end of the line suddenly went quiet, leaving only the static of electric current.

After several seconds, Fu Shao finally spoke: “The boss never lacked for company around him… Han Qing wasn’t anything special. Ningning, someone will take my place caring for you in the future. I can’t appear before you anymore.”

He Ning’s fingers gripping the phone turned white: “What do you mean someone will take your place?”

Fu Shao was silent again for a while, finally only saying: “I have to take a long trip.”

Fu Shao’s voice came through: “The boss couldn’t tolerate what Han Qing did to you… some things were planned long ago.”

He paused: “Wen Junhe later actively got involved. Most of the arrangements were handled by him. Now he’s in the same boat as us.”

At the same time.

Wen Junhe squatted on the unlit balcony. The flame of his lighter shot up, illuminating half his face. Several sheets of paper slowly burned to ash in a flowerpot. A night breeze blew, and the paper ash swirled upward.

He propped his elbow on the railing, the city lights below stretching into one continuous patch. He twirled a ring between his fingers, the metal surface reflecting cold light.

The cigarette pack was one He Ning had left behind. Wen Junhe stuck one in his mouth, the tobacco smell mixing with the coolness of the night wind.

After hearing Fu Shao’s words, He Ning’s fingers unconsciously pushed aside the bangs on his forehead. The night wind made his eyes red, and only after a long while did he make a sound: “…Uncle Shao, he was clean and spotless to begin with. What right do you have to drag him into this filthy mess?”

On the other end of the line, Fu Shao sighed, his voice suddenly becoming distant: “If he doesn’t jump down, how can he reach you?”

Said so lightly, yet landing in He Ning’s ears like a muffled thunderclap.

Perhaps his affection was indeed a disaster for some people.

He Ning: “You are not allowed to contact him anymore from now on.”

He Ning later learned all about He Hongxing’s shady rise to power. If he had honestly walked the straight path back then, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation now.

He Ning had noticed when he was young that the web between the thumb and index finger of the uncles around him had thick calluses, worn from years of gripping guns.

Once he hid in the cabinet of his father’s study, wanting to sneak a turn on the computer. That day the servants had all been sent away. Through the crack in the cabinet door he saw a blood covered man kneeling on the ground trembling.

He Hongxing stood before the window, his fingers moving among several glass vases.

On the windowsill sat the hydrangeas He Ning had arranged, the pink and blue petals wilted in a few places.

His father deliberately bypassed those two ugly vases, grabbed the plain white one beside them, and poured out all the water and flowers inside. Water droplets splashed onto the cabinet door where He Ning was hiding. Even through the crack he could smell the metallic scent of rust.

“Tough mouth.” He Hongxing weighed the empty vase, then suddenly raised his hand and smashed it down. The sound of shattering glass mixed with the man’s scream. Blood immediately flowed from that person’s forehead onto the carpet, soaking out dark marks.

That time He Ning was so frightened his asthma flared up, and he lay in the hospital for a full seven days. He Hongxing sent people to buy piles of toys, filling the corner of the hospital room.

He Ning hugged a stuffed bear, his face still deathly pale.

“Daddy,” his voice was thin, “don’t hit people anymore from now on…”

His fingers unconsciously tugged at the bear’s ear: “That uncle looked like he hurt so much.”

Sunlight leaked in through the curtain gap, falling on the child’s hair, the soft strands glowing golden.

He Hongxing’s hand stopped in midair. He looked at his son’s sickly appearance, suddenly feeling that this beam of light was too bright, exposing all his darkness with nowhere to hide.

“Okay,” finally he stroked He Ning’s crown, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile, “Daddy promises you.” Said so lightly, like he was coaxing someone, or like he was lying to himself.

From then on, He Hongxing indeed never let He Ning see those bloody scenes again.

The young He Ning naively thought his father had truly changed. It wasn’t until he grew older that he understood, it wasn’t that those things no longer existed, but that he had been isolated outside that world.

The young He Ning had actually been very smart, quick to learn anything. Once he heard his father’s subordinate praise him, saying “the young master is born to be successor material.” He turned around and climbed the tallest tree in the backyard of the villa.

The tutor and servants were circling anxiously below, exhausting all their good words to coax him down. Later he simply followed Meng Xuan around playing wildly everywhere, not touching books at all, gradually becoming the famously known “useless young master of the He family” in their circles.

Tree shadows swayed on the ground. At the time He Ning sat on a branch swinging his legs, watching the people below sweating buckets from anxiety.

He just didn’t want to learn how to beat people up.

He Hongxing had no way with this son of his, but let him act up as he pleased.

As time passed, the violent side of his father gradually blurred in He Ning’s memory, leaving only the image of that loving father who would stroke his hair and buy him toys.

But some scenes couldn’t be forgotten, like that day when He Hongxing carried him out of the cabinet, the un dried bloodstains on his hands smearing onto He Ning’s pajamas, warm and salty.

Wen Junhe was good looking, but He Ning was never short of beautiful people around him. What truly attracted him was that energy about Wen Junhe, bright and upright, like a blade pulled from its sheath.

He Ning remembered reading somewhere that people always fall in love with the version of themselves they long to become. He was destined to be He Hongxing’s son in this life, yet madly wanted to live like Wen Junhe.

He Hongxing had built him an ivory tower, but outside the tower were all man eating beasts. They raised him like a little lamb in a wolf pack.

The first time He Ning saw Wen Junhe he thought, how could there still be someone in this world who lived so seriously, so seriously it made you want to destroy them, yet so clean it made you want to draw near.

That pure sense of justice on Wen Junhe was something He Ning had never seen before and couldn’t bear to taint.

Even when Wen Junhe treated him coldly back then, He Ning never thought of using those dirty tricks. On the contrary he appreciated Wen Junhe’s stubbornness even more, feeling that this person even hated him in an open and aboveboard way.

Later when he learned that Wen Junhe had been threatened by his father, He Ning felt upset and guilty inside. He always felt it was He Hongxing who had forcibly broken Wen Junhe’s proud backbone.

He Hongxing had long looked down on someone like Wen Junhe. A young fool who stubbornly clung to rules was nothing but a joke in his eyes.

In He Hongxing’s world there were no rules, only winning and losing.

The higher he climbed, the more reckless the people under him became, until finally he couldn’t even be bothered with a fig leaf.

Wen Junhe was the exact opposite. He looked at He Hongxing like he was looking at a pile of stinking garbage, his disgust plain for all to see.

He Ning was caught in the middle. On one side was his blood kin, on the other was where his heart lay. Sometimes he didn’t know who was right either.

Back then when He Ning proposed that Wen Junhe become his lover, it was nothing but words said in anger. He never expected Wen Junhe would actually agree. Those always clear eyes lowered, and He Ning’s chest felt like someone had stabbed him with a knife, even more painful than if Wen Junhe had continued rejecting him.

He was more furious than anyone at Wen Junhe’s compromise, yet couldn’t help wanting to test this person’s bottom line. Every time he watched Wen Junhe break his principles for him, He Ning’s heart twisted painfully, both satisfied and heartbroken.

This twisted pleasure was like poison.

He Ning sat in the room for a long time, the sky outside the window gradually darkening.

When Zhou Ji pushed the door open, he was carrying a tray.

“Han Qing didn’t die,” he handed chopsticks to He Ning, “but the doctor says he won’t be able to stand up anymore.”

He Ning’s shoulders suddenly went slack, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of the bowl: “…Too easy on him.”

His voice was light like he was talking to himself, but he didn’t touch the food at all.

Zhou Ji stared at him for a while, his brow furrowing: “You don’t look happy.”

He Ning tugged at the corner of his mouth, pulling out an expression that barely counted as a smile: “I am happy.”

Zhou Ji didn’t press further, only rubbing the top of his head: “Eat and then rest.”

The sound of the door closing was soft, yet it made the whole room seem even emptier.

A few days later, Wen Junhe sent He Ning a message: “Still angry?”

Followed by another sentence, my birthday is in a few days, can you come?

He Ning stared at the screen for a long time. He remembered that last year he had forgotten Wen Junhe’s birthday.

On the day of the birthday He Ning still went, carrying a cake.

When Wen Junhe opened the door he naturally kissed He Ning’s cheek. He was wearing a gray sweater, and on his right hand he still wore a disposable glove stained with oil.

“The chicken wings are almost ready,” he turned and walked toward the kitchen, “just need to stir fry two more dishes and we can eat.”

He raised his voice a few degrees: “If you’re bored, play some games.”

He Ning leaned against the doorframe watching his stir frying silhouette. The sound of the spatula hitting the pan was somehow comforting.

The faucet ran with a splashing sound, the range hood hummed, mixed with the sizzling oil in the pan. It was so ordinary it was as if they had been living like this for many years.

Suddenly a phone vibrated on the coffee table. Wen Junhe didn’t turn his head and shouted: “Ningning, help me answer that.”

He Ning picked up the phone. The screen showed the word “Aunt.” He walked toward the kitchen. Wen Junhe was busy stir frying, both hands occupied, and nudged his chin toward the phone. He Ning had no choice but to answer and hold it to Wen Junhe’s ear.

“Mm… at home… just me and He Ning…” Wen Junhe responded briefly a few times and hung up.

Steam rose from the dishes in the pan. He turned to look at He Ning: “Aunt and Xiaozhen are passing by to drop off a cake.”

His stir frying motions didn’t stop. Wen Junhe spoke: “If you don’t want to see them, I can go down and get it.”

He Ning remembered Xiaozhen, the child of Wen Junhe’s aunt. The last time he saw her she was still a tiny little thing.

He shook his head: “It’s fine.”

He spoke a bit quickly, as if afraid he would change his mind.

When the doorbell rang, He Ning was helping set the table.

Aunt Wen stood in the doorway, her smile as gentle as in his memory. Behind her peeked out a girl in a white dress, her hair in a high ponytail, her eyes darting around as they looked He Ning up and down.

“Brother,” she suddenly grinned, revealing a small canine tooth, “so this is your boyfriend?”

The little girl’s voice was crisp and clear, especially loud in the quiet entryway.

Aunt Wen lightly patted the back of Xiaozhen’s head, her tone carrying affectionate scolding: “No manners. Call him Brother Ning. He even held you when you were little.”

Xiaozhen stuck out her tongue and obediently called out “Brother Ning.”

He Ning bent down and pulled out a smile: “You’ve grown into a young lady. So pretty.”

But He Ning’s gaze unconsciously softened. Xiaozhen suddenly blushed, her fingers twisting her skirt, all that clever energy from before completely gone.

Aunt Wen placed the cake box on the table: “I baked it myself. Wen Junhe said it wasn’t necessary, but I thought a birthday should have a cake, so I wanted to bring it over for you.”

She turned to leave. He Ning suddenly spoke: “Aunt, eat with us.”

Wen Junhe’s hand stirring paused for a moment. He looked up at He Ning, then turned to his aunt: “Stay.”

Aunt Wen said okay.

He Ning then put the cake he had brought into the cabinet.

Xiaozhen had already bounced over to the dining table, her nose close to the plate of chicken wings as she took a deep breath: “Brother, your cooking has improved!”

The moment Xiaozhen heard she could stay for dinner, her eyes lit up, saying yes repeatedly. Aunt Wen laughed and shook her head, rolling up her sleeves to go to the kitchen and help Wen Junhe.

The little girl plopped down across from He Ning, her elbows propped on the table, mysteriously lowering her voice: “Brother Ning, my mom says you and my brother got together back in high school?”

She tilted her head: “My brother is so dull, it must have been you who chased him, right?”

He Ning’s chopsticks paused for a moment: “…More or less.”

During the meal Xiaozhen only cared about digging into the chicken wings. Wen Junhe tapped the back of her hand with his chopsticks and said: “Don’t use your hands.”

The force wasn’t heavy, but Xiaozhen exaggeratedly hugged her head and cried out in pain.

At the dining table Aunt Wen and Wen Junhe both simultaneously put food into He Ning’s bowl, piling it up like a little mountain. The last chicken wing was placed into He Ning’s bowl by Wen Junhe, who then turned to Xiaozhen and said: “Aren’t you always shouting about losing weight?”

“I’m still growing!” Xiaozhen puffed out her cheeks in protest, her oily finger pointing at herself, “I’ll naturally get thin later!”

He Ning watched Wen Junhe and Xiaozhen bickering, suddenly remembering that time he went to Aunt Wen’s house looking for him. The Wen Junhe in front of his family was a steady and reliable good child in the eyes of elders, an all capable older brother in his little sister’s heart.

When Aunt Wen put food in his bowl, that warm family atmosphere made He Ning’s heart swell, as if in the next second he could truly become a part of this family together with Wen Junhe.

But the moment this thought popped up he pressed it back down.

He couldn’t betray his agreement with Zhou Ji, and even more shouldn’t drag Wen Junhe into his own muddy pit.

Wen Junhe should always stay clean and spotless, just like when they first met.

He Ning lowered his head and pushed around the rice in his bowl, suddenly finding it tasteless as wax.

Xiaozhen was still chirping away about school matters. Wen Junhe occasionally responded with a sentence or two, his voice carrying a lightness He Ning rarely heard. This meal was lively, yet He Ning felt like an outsider, sitting in the brightest corner yet wrapped in an invisible shadow.

After finishing the meal, Xiaozhen excitedly stuck in the candles, insisting Wen Junhe make a wish. In the flickering candlelight, Wen Junhe closed his eyes and opened them, his gaze falling straight onto He Ning.

He Ning turned his face away, staring blankly at the cream patterns on the cake.

When they finished eating the cake and were about to leave, Wen Junhe insisted on walking him downstairs.

The Zhou family’s car was parked right at the building entrance, the headlights blindingly bright in the night. Wen Junhe gripped his hand and wouldn’t let go: “Are you still angry?”

His fingers held with some force: “It was wrong of me to hide it from you. I knew you would be very unhappy when you found out.”

He Ning pulled his hand back: “Wen Junhe, happy birthday. It’s been almost ten years since we first met, so fast… you’ll be thirty next year. Live well from now on.”

Wen Junhe stood frozen in place, the streetlamp making his face pale: “…What do you mean?”

“I’m sick of this twisted relationship.”