The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 16: I Have Another Secret About Han Qing

Since that day meeting Wen Junhe, He Ning finally had a few days of peace and quiet.

Zhou Ji formally entered the Zhou Group headquarters, starting from the position of department manager. He left early and returned late every day, going out in a full suit.

The business conference the Zhou family hosted this time was very grand, inviting almost all the prominent figures in the city.

Beneath the crystal chandelier, wine glasses clinked back and forth. He Ning stood in a corner holding champagne, watching Zhou Ji navigate among various merchants and political figures with ease, a completely different person from his usual self.

Things at home had been rather turbulent lately.

Zhou Chong threw tantrums every day. The sound of things being smashed could be heard even through the door.

Every time He Ning mentioned moving to the new place, the commotion grew even louder, as if he were going to tear down the whole villa.

Zhou Ji was driven to headaches by the noise, so this time he brought He Ning out to clear his mind.

Zhou Ji starting work was what Zhou Moufu wanted to see. Zhou Chong’s illness had also improved. His gaze swept over He Ning with dark malice, then he followed Zhou Ji’s car to the company.

He Ning had long seen through Zhou Chong’s little tricks. The Zhou family fussed anxiously around this sickly child, instead indulging him beyond all limits. Zhou Chong spent his days either street racing or bungee jumping, living like a mad dog looking for death, probably thinking that since he wasn’t biological anyway, no one would care if he died.

“Really want to die?” He Ning blocked him at the stairwell one day, smiling especially sweetly. “Then go die. It would be nice and quiet, no one to disturb your brother and me loving each other until we’re old.”

Zhou Chong recorded it, then ran off to complain to Zhou Ji. He held up his phone and shrieked his accusations, saying He Ning wished him dead, that he was a vicious person.

Zhou Ji was reading documents and didn’t even look up: “I think He Ning is right. You don’t cherish your own life, what can others do about it? The Zhou family could use some peace and quiet.”

Zhou Chong suddenly went silent. He stared at Zhou Ji for a long time, then slammed the door and left.

After Zhou Chong stopped threatening to kill himself, the way he looked at He Ning grew even darker.

“You put on an act in front of my parents. Don’t put on an act in front of me. As long as I’m still breathing in the Zhou family, don’t even think about calling the shots here.”

He Ning suddenly smiled, reaching out to pat Zhou Chong’s cheek, the movement frivolous like he was teasing a dog: “Then you’d better live to be a hundred. Otherwise I might not let you into the Zhou family ancestral grave.”

He Ning began handling the matter with Han Qing. He absolutely would not let him off. When Zhou Ji heard about this after work, he was very angry too. He found several lawyers for He Ning.

He Ning had just taken a sip of his cocktail when he heard someone call out to him from behind.

He turned to see Meng Xuan walking over in a flashy shirt, the collar wide open, revealing well-defined collarbones.

This guy had been like this since they were kids. Clearly born with a decent face, yet he insisted on dressing like a peacock. That wicked air about him was very off-putting.

Meng Xuan held a glass of whiskey between his fingers, ice cubes clinking. When he leaned in, He Ning could smell that perfume on him, sickly sweet enough to make him frown.

“Heard you sued Han Qing?” Meng Xuan smiled until his eyes curved, but he couldn’t hide the calculation in the bottom of his gaze.

He Ning stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly tilted his head back and downed his drink. The glass landed heavily on the counter with a crisp sound.

“You should be grateful I didn’t take care of you too.”

Meng Xuan wasn’t annoyed either. Instead he moved half a step closer.

The light shone on his earring, reflecting a dazzling glare: “So fierce? I thought you’d thank me. If I hadn’t hidden the medical records back then, do you think Wen Junhe could have gathered some of the evidence that easily?”

He Ning stared at Meng Xuan’s face carrying a helpless expression: “You knew all along?”

Meng Xuan shrugged, swirling his glass: “I was pretty drunk myself at the time.”

His gaze suddenly drifted far away, as if recalling that day’s scene: “It was Han Qing who suddenly brought you up, saying Wen Junhe had left, asking if we should call you out to have some fun.”

He Ning remembered pushing open the door that day and seeing a room full of drunken people. Meng Xuan had his shirt unbuttoned to his chest, a cigarette still clamped between his fingers.

“I just didn’t expect him to be that bold. I apologize to you. Look, I got hit by you afterward, and didn’t I stop showing up in front of you after that?”

Meng Xuan really wasn’t lying. At the time, the people present were smoking, drinking, and fooling around, hardly thinking of He Ning at all. It was Han Qing who somehow brought up He Ning, mentioning that Wen Junhe had gone abroad.

Meng Xuan had been riding high on alcohol then, watching as someone called him out.

After the incident, Meng Xuan went to see him once after He Ning’s surgery.

He Ning had just woken up in the hospital room, his whole person pale and weak. The skin of his neck and collarbones was delicate, his entire body exuding a sense of frail illness. The sunlight was just right, warm light falling on his body. He was missing that arrogant and domineering air from before, staring out the window lost in thought, not knowing what he was thinking about.

Meng Xuan came to the bedside, set down the flowers in his hand, rubbed his nose and asked if he was feeling better.

He Ning hadn’t spoken at the time. He was very thin then. The hospital gown hung loosely on his body, his chin pointed, making his eyes look even bigger, even more pitiful. The stray hairs on his forehead were illuminated like a scattering of golden fragments.

Meng Xuan had initially spoken with sincerity, saying he would definitely take responsibility for the follow-up treatment. Then somehow his thoughts jumped elsewhere again. He suddenly spoke irritably: “That docile little lamb act you put on in front of Wen Junhe is really unbearable.”

Meng Xuan thought of those days when He Ning was controlled by Wen Junhe, and a surge of nameless fire rushed up in his chest.

He irritably pulled out a cigarette case, completely disregarding that He Ning across from him was still injured, snapping the lighter on.

They had known each other too long.

Since elementary school, Meng Xuan had followed behind He Ning, living like a vicious guard dog protecting its master.

He Ning had seen Meng Xuan in the discipline office with his legs crossed getting scolded too many times, his school uniform hanging loosely, his face still carrying bruises from fighting.

Every time he was asked if He Ning had ordered it, Meng Xuan would grin: “I just didn’t like the guy so I hit him. What does it have to do with He Ning?”

When He Ning was in middle school, some upperclassmen gave him trouble. Meng Xuan grabbed a stool and smashed it. That ferocity even scared the teachers.

Meng Xuan leaned against the window, blocking most of the sunlight. He tilted his head looking at He Ning, a playful smile at the corner of his mouth: “My proposal last time was serious. You like that uptight proper gentleman type like Wen Junhe, but look how harsh he was to you.”

He took two steps forward, leather shoes making soft sounds against the floor.

“Besides me, who else could afford to keep you? With that measly salary working yourself to death, you couldn’t even afford one of your coats.” He leaned down close to the hospital bed, his breath almost spraying on He Ning’s face. “You couldn’t live that kind of life.”

By the time Meng Xuan straightened up, He Ning suddenly grabbed the water cup by the bedside and threw it at him.

Blood beads slid down from Meng Xuan’s temple, dripping onto his shirt collar. Meng Xuan touched the wound, his fingertips stained with blood, yet smiled even more brilliantly, as if he’d anticipated this all along.

He Ning propped himself up, his hospital gown slipping slightly, his shoulder thin and bony. The violent streak in Meng Xuan’s eyes gathered for an instant, then quickly disappeared, revealing an indifferent smile: “Sick and still hitting pretty hard.”

He Ning might be useless in front of Wen Junhe, but he wasn’t afraid of Meng Xuan.

“Want to go down together with me?”

Meng Xuan looked at him, not retreating in the slightest. Instead he moved close to his face, pinching He Ning’s soft chin: “Someday you’ll understand. Love will hurt you, but friendship is priceless.”

“Get lost.”

After that, Meng Xuan never appeared before He Ning again.

On the contrary, now that He Ning was married, he kept running into Meng Xuan at various occasions. That guy wore flamboyant printed shirts, leaning against things and raising his glass to him, a smile carrying an indescribable meaning on his face.

Today Meng Xuan popped up from who knows where again, his gaze nailed directly to He Ning’s left ring finger, staring as if he could burn a hole through the ring.

“Do you like Zhou Ji?” Meng Xuan suddenly asked.

He Ning turned to leave, but was grabbed by the wrist.

Meng Xuan’s palm was frighteningly hot, but his voice went cold: “The way you look at him is completely different from how you looked at Wen Junhe. You don’t love him at all.”

He Ning fiercely shook off his hand, thinking this lunatic was even harder to deal with than before.

But Meng Xuan chased after him relentlessly: “I can be your witness. I can help you destroy that Han Qing scum. The Zhou family won’t go for the kill, but I can.”

Meng Xuan was still smiling, that confident smile of someone who had it in the bag, as if he was certain he would agree.

He Ning suddenly remembered when they were little, this guy was always like this too. Clearly beaten black and blue, yet still grinning at him.

He Ning sank lazily into the sofa: “Why are you helping me?”

Meng Xuan didn’t rush to sit down. Instead he was like a child seeking reconciliation. He tilted his head and smiled: “I’m happy to see you’re finally not being stupid anymore. So I’ve decided not to cut ties with you.”

He suddenly leaned down close to He Ning and slowly spoke: “I have another secret about Han Qing…”

Meng Xuan’s breath sprayed against his ear. Before he could finish speaking, he was violently yanked away. He staggered and crashed into a nearby marble pillar, his elbow hitting with a dull thud.

He looked up to meet Wen Junhe’s gloomy face. Meng Xuan rubbed his arm and suddenly burst out laughing: “Ha, it’s you.”

Wen Junhe was wearing a stiff and simple black three-piece suit, cold and severe, impeccable, not a single thing out of place, even strict to the point of fastening the top button of his collar, revealing a nicely shaped chin.

Clearly such an old-fashioned outfit, paired with that face of his, was worn by him with an utterly ascetic feel.

Wen Junhe didn’t particularly love dressing up. Privately he preferred sportswear and casual wear. But it was precisely that face that had once driven He Ning crazy.

“Mr. Meng, please conduct yourself with dignity.”

After Wen Junhe spoke, Meng Xuan seemed to have heard some joke. He looked at He Ning, moving his arm that had been hit sore just now: “He Ning, he’s telling me to conduct myself with dignity. Isn’t that funny? Anyone would think he was the one who married you.”

These words made Wen Junhe frown.

The next second, Meng Xuan provocatively sat down beside He Ning, throwing his arm over his shoulder like they were old buddies.

Wen Junhe’s fist clenched tight. There was no extra emotion on He Ning’s face, nor did he push Meng Xuan away. He gazed at Wen Junhe, sitting there with his legs crossed, revealing slender, bony ankles.

He Ning’s eyes had always been beautiful. Back when he looked at him, the jumping affection in them made people unable to look away. And now there was nothing at all.

“We really did get married, of course. But that wedding didn’t count for anything.”

Wen Junhe’s heart suddenly trembled, as if the air had been ripped from his chest, a suffocating feeling filling his entire body.

In the end when He Ning left, Meng Xuan made a face at Wen Junhe.

Until they reached a place with no people around, He Ning shook off Meng Xuan and waved away his hand: “Speak quickly if you have something to say. Don’t play games in front of me.”

Meng Xuan saw Wen Junhe unhappy, and the years of pent-up resentment in his heart was finally vented.

“He Ning, I’m truly happy you’ve gone back to normal.”

After speaking, Meng Xuan threw his arm over He Ning’s shoulder again, this time lowering his voice: “Let me tell you, Han Qing was kept by some big shot back in high school.”

He Ning shot Meng Xuan a sideways glance. He grinned, that smile carrying a wicked air: “Don’t not believe it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Once I climbed over a wall with some people to go to an internet cafe. I saw Han Qing get into a car. The window wasn’t rolled up all the way. The two people inside were practically stuck together. I took a careful extra look at the time. Later when he got out of the car, he couldn’t even walk properly.”

“Later I wanted my dad to look up that license plate, and my dad gave me a severe scolding. Now the Han family is different from before. No one wants to stir up trouble with him.”

He Ning looked at him suspiciously.

Meng Xuan said: “He’s someone who cares so much about his reputation. This is definitely his weak point. I’m sincere enough, right?”

Then Meng Xuan said a license plate number.

He Ning was silent for an instant, his expression quickly turning ugly beyond measure. He pushed Meng Xuan away: “Stay away from me.”

At the Zhou family dinner, Zhou Ji proposed moving out again at the dining table. Zhou Chong threw his fork on the floor and stopped eating. Pang Rao signaled the servant beside her to set out a new place setting before Zhou Chong, smiling: “It’s so lively at home. Why move out?”

Zhou Moufu took a sip of soup and nodded, saying there was a place at Tongwan they could go to.

Zhou Chong was about to go crazy again, but one glance from Zhou Ji made him lower his head and eat his vegetables and beef.

He Ning looked at Zhou Chong, thinking the whole family treated him like a lunatic. It was only a matter of time before he became a real one. If they kept indulging him like this, sooner or later they’d raise a genuine madman.

The opportunity for them to move out came when Zhou Chong went through their trash. One day He Ning was just about to return to his room when Zhou Chong leaned against the doorframe looking at him: “You and my brother haven’t slept together, have you? We have.”

The two of them stood confronting each other in front of the door for several minutes. He Ning suddenly laughed, revealing sharp little canine teeth, saying yes we have.

The next day Zhou Chong went through the trash again and discovered used condoms. Like he was possessed, he ran off to babble nonsense to Zhou Ji.

Zhou Ji finally lost his patience completely: “Zhou Chong, enough is enough.”

Zhou Chong’s illness came suddenly, a high fever that wouldn’t break, and he was rushed to the emergency room in the middle of the night. Zhou Ji stayed up the entire night. The next day his eyes were bloodshot, yet he still said to He Ning “wait a bit longer.”

He Ning looked at Zhou Chong lying pale on the hospital bed, thinking Zhou Ji’s soft heart really knew no bounds.

Truly everyone had their own demons.

As compensation, Zhou Ji handed over a foundation under his name to He Ning. He Ning treated it as a decent pastime.

At the foundation’s first dinner gathering, he ran into Wen Junhe.

That person sat in a corner of the private room, in a full suit, yet drinking one cup after another with his head down.

When He Ning went to the restroom, he had just grasped the door handle when he heard familiar voices from outside. It was those two people from the dinner table who had been fawning over him, speaking in lowered voices, also saying “President Wen.”

“Before I was wondering how Young Master Zhou could marry a man. That little slut is really not bad looking.”

“He Hongxing’s son has also fallen to the point of selling his ass. Who can’t say it’s karma coming around. Though he did sell for a good price.”

He Ning heard them say a few more dirty things from their mouths, letting out vulgar laughter.

He Ning then heard a dull thud.

Wen Junhe’s leather shoe kicked one of them viciously in the stomach. That person crashed into the wall and slid down, his glasses flying off. Wen Junhe’s suit was stretched tight across his shoulders, the outline of muscles visible underneath. Veins bulged at his temples, even his breathing carrying ferocity.

The person beside him was completely terrified. He had just wanted to speak up to stop him, but Wen Junhe didn’t let him off either. The door was locked with a bang. He Ning stood in the stall, listening to the dull sounds of fists hitting flesh outside and the gradually weakening pleas for mercy.

When the faucet was turned on, he came back to his senses.

Through the crack in the door, Wen Junhe was slowly and methodically rinsing the blood off his hands. His suit was only slightly wrinkled, his tie not even crooked. Two people lay on the floor, one clutching his stomach twitching, the other with a face full of blood.

The water stopped.

Wen Junhe pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands, then tossed down a card saying it was for medical expenses: “If you want to get a forensic examination, I’m ready anytime. Next time keep your mouths clean.”

When he turned around he still had that elite demeanor, as if the person who had just violently assaulted others wasn’t him.

He Ning never knew Wen Junhe could fight, nor had he seen this person look fierce. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t connect that violent man with the normally kind and accommodating Wen Junhe.

When Wen Junhe passed by the stall he was in, He Ning just happened to push the door open.

Wen Junhe saw He Ning. In that instant, the oppressive darkness in his eyes faded, and he called out: “Ningning…”