Chapter 30: The Assist

The night was eternally silent.

A candle had been added to the coffee table, its flame flickering dimly. Yan Zhuo pushed open the bedroom door and saw a figure who was not Song Chengfeng. His voice turned cold. "Who is it?"

The person on the sofa turned around and smiled brilliantly. "Not happy to see me?"

Yan Zhuo’s expression shifted, and he closed the door before walking over.

The night breeze snuck in through the half-open window, dancing undisturbed as a chill spread through the room. Wen Xi plucked a withered petal from the coffee table and took a casual sniff. "Nothing you want to ask me?"

"What happened to your face?"

"How direct." Wen Xi wore a look of helplessness. "Is that really the first thing you wanted to ask?"

Yan Zhuo watched him in silence.

"Fine, you could probably guess it anyway." Wen Xi leaned back against the sofa in resignation. "He did it. He said he wanted to give me a gift, and I agreed."

Yan Zhuo frowned. "If he lied to you..."

"If he lied to me, then I deserve it!" Wen Xi interrupted, raising his voice. "Isn't this face beautiful? I like it immensely."

His slender fingers traced his own arched eyebrows, slowly glided over the bridge of his nose, and finally rested on his beautifully colored lips. "It is simply too perfect; no one could fail to love it."

He sank into the soft cushions, head tilted back, his fingers touching his cheeks with careful reverence, as if caressing a precious treasure. "So, this is how important a beautiful face is. Everything that used to be unreachable to me can now be summoned with a mere flick of the finger. Do you understand this feeling? To be cherished and adored..."

Yan Zhuo looked at him and suddenly stood up. "You are becoming more and more like him."

"Yan Xingzhang?" Wen Xi laughed until tears pricked his eyes, his body doubling over. "You're overthinking it. I will never become Yan Xingzhang in this lifetime."

Across the glass coffee table, Yan Zhuo pulled out a tissue and passed it over.

Wen Xi did not refuse. He wiped away his tears, his demeanor returning to its usual languor. "What else do you want to ask?"

Yan Zhuo asked his second question: "Where is Yan Xingzhang?"

A flash of malice appeared in Wen Xi’s eyes, and a flicker of irritation gathered between his brows. "Good question. I would like to know where he is, too. Let’s hope to heaven that he doesn't get bitten by a zombie and is waiting, well-fed and rested, for me to find him."

His tone was sincere, yet his teeth were gritted.

Recalling something, Yan Zhuo took an object wrapped in a plastic bag from his pocket. He unwrapped the many layers of plastic and hooked the item out. As he extended his hand, the object dangled from his fingertip, swaying.

Wen Xi’s gaze followed the movement.

"You went back to Yan Xingzhang’s villa?" Wen Xi asked, surprised.

Hanging from Yan Zhuo’s index finger was a small jade Buddhist pendant, marked with several fine scratches.

Yan Zhuo offered no denial and tossed the pendant into Wen Xi’s lap.

Wen Xi pinched the pendant and held it up to the candlelight to inspect it closely. "How marvelous. I remember every single scratch on this."

He turned it over and over again, finally satisfied, and then curled his fingers, clenching the pendant in his palm. "What a pity."

With that sigh, he tossed the pendant into the trash can beside the sofa with a thud.

Yan Zhuo instinctively stepped forward. "You..."

"I will not give anyone the chance to use this to threaten me again." Wen Xi shook his head. "Its size, its shape, the position of every scratch—I remember it all perfectly. Nothing is more secure than memory, is it?"

Yan Zhuo withdrew his hand and nodded with a complex look. "You're right."

Wen Xi clapped his hands together and stood up. "I'm off. Get some rest, see you tomorrow."

He looked relaxed, without a hint of hesitation.

Yan Zhuo paused, but ultimately asked, "Then how does one judge whether those who cherish and admire you like your face or the person beneath it?"

"Is that the third question?" Wen Xi tugged at his own cheek and countered, "What use is the affection of a superficial person?"

He squinted his eyes, looking behind Yan Zhuo. "You’ve changed a lot. Is it because of Qu Yan, that person you’re secretly in love with?"

When the topic shifted to Qu Yan, Yan Zhuo was no longer as calm as before. Seeing his reaction, Wen Xi knew he had guessed correctly.

He undid a button on his shirt, loosened his shoulders slightly, and leaned forward, creating a posture that mimicked an embrace with Yan Zhuo. Yan Zhuo was confused and tried to step back, but he was held in place.

Wen Xi looked solemn, though his eyes sparkled with excitement. "Don't move!"

"In return for helping me retrieve that pendant, I’ll give you a gift in return."

The orange candlelight created an ambiguous atmosphere. The two men, well-matched in height and looks, stood pressed close together—one full of charm, the other boyish—looking like a beautiful scene from an old film.

When Wen Xi pulled away, the excitement in his eyes had not faded. Yan Zhuo asked with a sense of unease, "What gift?"

Wen Xi patted his shoulder. "The name of this gift is 'the assist.' You’ll understand soon enough."

He left as soon as he spoke, bumping into Song Chengfeng the moment he pushed the door open. Song Chengfeng paused, stepping aside to let him pass. Once Wen Xi was gone, he complained to Yan Zhuo, "I truly don't know what I ever did to offend him..."

Before he could finish, the person who had just left returned.

Wen Xi leaned against the door and said to Yan Zhuo, "I’ve changed my mind."

He fished the pendant out of the trash can, gripped it tightly in his hand, and said confidently, "No one will ever dare to threaten me again."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway gradually faded. Song Chengfeng let out a sigh of relief, put down his things, and leaned against the window to light a cigarette. He rarely smoked; this was the first time Yan Zhuo had seen him do it.

The candlelight magnified everything—the weariness on his face, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Looking at his reflection in the window glass, Song Chengfeng realized with sharp clarity that he was aging; he was no longer young.

Beside him, Yan Zhuo was full of vitality. For the second time, a wave of envy for Yan Zhuo washed over him.

"I didn't find her. She isn't here." Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Song Chengfeng coughed twice. The man in the glass looked dazed, the ring around his neck digging painfully into his collarbone as if it wanted to grow into his body, though he knew that was just an illusion.

Spending so much time together had indeed worn down certain edges; for instance, Yan Zhuo no longer detested Song Chengfeng as much as he once had, and he didn't just walk away to his bedroom to sleep, leaving Song Chengfeng behind.

But that was all.

The cigarette was tossed aside before it was even half-finished. Song Chengfeng rubbed his temples, feeling his exhaustion taking over.

"How much of your heart do you actually give to Qu Yan?" he asked suddenly.

Yan Zhuo was startled, wondering why everyone tonight was bringing up Qu Yan. He remained silent, so Song Chengfeng made his own estimate. "Eight tenths?"

"Too much? Then six?"

"At the very least five. It can't be any less than that."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Yan Zhuo finally reached his limit.

Song Chengfeng took a cigarette from the pack, didn't light it, and just turned it between his fingers. "I was twenty-nine when I first met Qu Yan."

"Back then, I had just taken on the first major case of my life and won it brilliantly. The newspapers were filled with news about me, and there were more people inviting me to banquets than I could count." Speaking of his former glory, Song Chengfeng couldn't help but feel proud.

"That day, I was invited to another banquet—the birthday party of the Qu family's second son. I don't remember who was there, only that I drank a single glass of wine and became dizzy. I had to run to the balcony to sober up, and that was where I met Qu Yan."

"He had just been discharged from the hospital, and his family hadn't even prepared a wheelchair for him. Even the servants serving the wine were bossing him around. You see how elegant Qu Yan is now, but back then, he was just as pathetic."

Yan Zhuo could imagine the scene. Ten years ago, Qu Yan was far from the powerful figure he was today, forced to passively accept the suffering imposed upon him.

Song Chengfeng held the unlit cigarette in his mouth and continued, "He held the newspaper reporting my victory, crawled to me bit by bit, and asked if I wanted to cooperate with him. Doesn't that sound ridiculous? I laughed at the time—I laughed for a long time. He just looked at me expressionlessly until I couldn't laugh anymore."

"Then he asked me again: did I want to cooperate? What value could a crippled, abandoned son in a powerful family have? But perhaps I had drunk too much, or my mind wasn't clear, so I actually agreed."

Yan Zhuo’s expression was obscure. "Why are you telling me this?"

Song Chengfeng didn't quite understand himself. "Perhaps my head isn't clear tonight either. I’m a man without friends. Over the years, the only person I've been able to talk to has been Qu Yan. If you count it up, I suppose we are half-friends."

He muttered a low curse. "It was a long time later that I realized the wine I drank at that banquet was indeed drugged, and the person who did it was acting under Qu Yan’s orders. What a damn schemer!"

Hearing this, Yan Zhuo couldn't help but curl the corners of his lips. No matter the situation, Qu Yan always had the courage to fight back.

Song Chengfeng caught his expression and was speechless. "Don't tell me—do you actually give Qu Yan ten-tenths of your heart?"

Yan Zhuo put away his smile and returned to his expressionless facade.

Receiving no answer, Song Chengfeng was slightly disappointed. "I didn't mean anything else by telling you this. No matter how much of your heart you give Qu Yan, after hearing what happened today, I hope you can show him a bit more tenderness. Be better to him. Even if you can't, you should know this: Qu Yan is a man who seeks revenge for the slightest grievance, and he is a deep-scheming man. If you wrong him, your end will absolutely not be a good one."

He was beating around the bush to speak well of Qu Yan while simultaneously warning Yan Zhuo. Yan Zhuo was no fool; he understood perfectly.

After saying all that, Song Chengfeng’s eyelids began to droop, but he didn't forget to distance himself. "I'm dizzy. Everything I said was nonsense—just listen and forget it. Don't you dare tell Qu Yan."

He drifted off to sleep as he spoke. Yan Zhuo thought to himself: I never promised him that.