Chapter 18 – Release

The window wasn’t shut tight, and Yu Zhen felt a chill creeping up from his feet. Half the blanket had slipped to the floor, while the other half barely covered his waist. His feet stuck out, cold as if soaked in ocean currents, devoid of any living warmth.

The phone’s ringtone exploded by his ear. Yu Zhen tucked his feet under the blanket but remained motionless, face still buried in the pillow.

The phone rang a few more lonely times before Yu Zhen finally opened his eyes and reached for it. It was his mother calling.

A crease from the pillow marked his nose, his hair tousled at the edges. The room was so cold it made him shiver. He dragged the blanket up, wrapping himself tightly, and mumbled groggily into the phone, “Hello?”

His drowsiness was obvious, and the person on the other end could tell.

“Still not up?”

His mother’s voice—something he hadn’t heard in a while. It had been some time since Yu Zhen last contacted home. When people don’t stay in touch, even familial bonds fade.

Yu Zhen sounded distant. “What is it?”

Once willful, a prodigy who rose to fame young and brimmed with arrogance, Yu Zhen had been slapped into adulthood by his mother after the family’s fortunes collapsed. He’d grown proper, but also distant.

During his father’s critical illness, the entire Yu household had trudged forward under heavy burdens, so silent they barely spoke a word all day, each face etched with worry. Those days had tamed Yu Zhen’s youthful recklessness and wildness.

Maturity, obedience, steadiness, responsibility—all the burdens an adult should carry—had settled onto his shoulders.

Calls from home usually meant they needed money. His mother wouldn’t say it outright; she’d talk about how severe his father’s condition was, the treatments he’d undergone, the mounting expenses. Yu Zhen would cut to the chase, asking directly—it saved trouble. He’d always done it that way.

“Nothing,” his mother said over the phone. “Why aren’t you up yet? It’s ten.”

Yu Zhen’s head throbbed. Eyes still closed, he muttered, “Stayed up late last night.”

“Work too exhausting?” His mother sounded concerned.

“No. Just not in a good state lately.” He really wasn’t, but he wouldn’t show it to outsiders. In Chaohai, he didn’t have many friends. He was used to bottling things up.

“Take care of yourself. You can’t handle too much pressure—it’s not good,” his mother urged.

Pressure wasn’t something one could control. Who in this world didn’t carry some weight? Balancing it was far more practical than eliminating it entirely. But under absolute psychological strain, nothing worked.

Yu Zhen had tried long ago.

He gave a faint hum in response.

His mother pressed on, “Have you seen a therapist?”

Judging by her tone, this call wouldn’t end soon. Yu Zhen pulled a cigarette from the bedside, the lighter’s click crisp in the quiet. A slim cigarette between his fingers, he took a drag, the clarity sharpening his mind just enough to reply, “I’m not sick. Why would I see a therapist?”

His mother’s voice softened. “A-Zhen, don’t be stubborn with me. I know it’s an illness too…”

“I’m not sick,” Yu Zhen said firmly. Then, picturing the look on his mother’s face, his voice gentled as he changed the subject. “How’s Dad doing?”

“He’s getting better,” his mother said. “But we’re more worried about you now.”

She hesitated, leaving something unsaid.

The prolonged scent of mint made his nerves ache. Yu Zhen didn’t have the habit of smoking early in the morning, but lately, he’d been smoking far too frequently. Silently, he formulated a new plan to quit in his mind. “What do I have to worry about? I’m strong and healthy, with a good appetite—life’s perfectly fine.”

Mother Yu’s voice remained filled with concern. “A-Zhen, I didn’t understand before, but now I know it’s an illness…”

“I’m not sick, I’ll say it again,” Yu Zhen lowered his voice slightly. “Just take care of Dad. Don’t worry about me.”

Mother Yu fell silent.

After finishing his cigarette, Yu Zhen leaned against the headboard. He didn’t want to speak coldly to his mother, but she was getting older, prone to nagging about the same things—things he didn’t want to bring up.

Knowing she would overthink, Yu Zhen forced a lighthearted tone and chatted about trivial matters. Only when her mood seemed to lift did the call finally end.

Ash had scattered on the bedsheets. The room was a mess—a beaded chain lay by the foot of the bed, a damp stuffed rabbit and soiled underwear discarded on the floor. Yu Zhen glanced at it all, wondering where to start with the deep cleaning later.

He lingered on the bed a while longer, then turned to gaze out the window. Overcast, no sun—the kind of day that easily dampened spirits.

Yu Zhen skipped breakfast. Having woken up too late, he didn’t do his yoga either. Instead, he began cleaning first thing in the morning. Thankfully, the robot helped, sparing him most of the manual labor.

After washing up, he noticed the camera by the bed. Picking it up, he transferred the photos to his computer and sat down at the desk.

A few were from a recent clothing collaboration—good angles worth keeping. But most were deleted without hesitation, his fingers decisive as he swiftly cleared them all.

Images from last night replayed relentlessly in his mind. Yu Zhen leaned back in his chair, fingers pressing against his temples as his nerves throbbed.

He cooked a bowl of plain congee. Tasteless, it did little besides warming his body.

By three in the afternoon, Yu Zhen was editing photos at home when Qin Bei called. He didn’t answer, seeing no reason to stay entangled. The first call went ignored, but then a second came through—Qin Bei had somehow gotten his number.

This time, Yu Zhen picked up.

Qin Bei cut straight to the point. “Can we meet?”

Yu Zhen reacted sluggishly. “Huh?”

He was a man of extremes—warm one day, detached the next, depending entirely on how he woke up. Yu Zhen knew his self-centered nature was problematic. He was trying to change, but the results, like the congee, were barely noticeable.

Qin Bei, oblivious, pressed on. “I want to see you. I’m downstairs.”

Yu Zhen looked up toward the window. Walking over, he actually spotted a figure by the osmanthus tree. But Qin Bei hadn’t noticed him—too many floors, too many windows to pinpoint his exact location.

“What are you doing here?” Yu Zhen stared at the silhouette. Qin Bei stood there, one hand in his pocket, looking almost reverent.

“Some things might’ve been left unsaid. I think we need to talk.” Qin Bei asked, “Is this a good time?”

A cold shoulder? Yu Zhen wasn’t that heartless, and besides, he hadn’t properly bid farewell to the other party. Yu Zhen agreed, “Give me five minutes.”

After tidying himself up, Yu Zhen stepped out. He didn’t take his car keys—he wasn’t planning to drive. His mood was foul today, his state poor, the aftermath of indulgence. He wasn’t fit to make any decisions, nor to grip a steering wheel.

Normally, he’d stay home to rest, waiting for his mind to settle before tackling serious matters.

But Qin Bei’s appearance disrupted his plans.

Yu Zhen took the elevator down. He felt weak, lacking energy, and Qin Bei could tell he wasn’t in high spirits, asking if he was ill.

Yu Zhen touched his cheek dismissively. “Just a slight chill. Nothing serious.”

Qin Bei raised his hand, gentlemanly. “May I invite you out?”

Yu Zhen looked at the offered palm, puzzled. He hadn’t formally parted ways with Qin Bei because he knew the other man was confident, not the type to stoop or humble himself. There was no need for an explicit face-to-face explanation—silence was a subtle enough message.

Qin Bei would understand. Qin Bei seemed to understand. So why had he still come? Why was he willing to rekindle this connection? Yu Zhen didn’t get it.

“I’m not in a good state, my mood’s low. I might not be the best company for Coach Qin,” Yu Zhen said tactfully. “I’d just bring the mood down.”

“I was planning to invite you out, but now that I know you’re feeling down, I want to even more. Will you honor me, Teacher Yu?” Qin Bei spoke earnestly. “I think we still have things to talk about.”

Asking Wang Baoshu to introduce this connection hadn’t been wise. Yu Zhen had doubted—doubted whether he’d rushed things, whether he was truly ready for a relationship. Had it just been loneliness and fleeting desire that drove him to seek someone out? Even if such a romance succeeded, could it last? He’d already given it serious thought.

“Before learning about Coach Qin’s profession, we had things to discuss. Now, I’m afraid not,” Yu Zhen laid it out plainly. “I’m not one for beating around the bush.”

“That’s why I came to talk to you about it today,” Qin Bei said. “Do me this favor—or rather, give me a chance to make amends?”

He extended his hand again.

Yu Zhen wavered. Tangling with no future in sight would only waste both their time.

But Qin Bei mentioned making amends, and that piqued his interest.

Seeing the other man soften, Qin Bei smiled. “I’ll take you somewhere to vent.”

Yu Zhen wanted to vent too, but his only outlet was always the same—dull as could be.

While he hesitated, Qin Bei took his hand and pulled him forward.

Yu Zhen blinked. “Where to?”

Qin Bei grinned. “It’s a secret.”

Qin Bei’s car was parked outside the compound, not driven in. As a coach, his income was substantial—his BMW was eye-catching. But even more eye-catching were two men holding hands.

Halfway there, Yu Zhen said, “Mr. Qin, let’s not hold hands.”

Qin Bei switched tactics. “It’s fine. Consider it practice.”

He didn’t let go, leading Yu Zhen all the way to his BMW and opening the passenger door for him.

Then he smiled gently.

The whole routine was hard to resist—thankfully, Yu Zhen wasn’t some naive teenager.

He got in, unbothered. The rearview mirror reflected his delicate, weary face. Yu Zhen pressed his lips together, waiting for the other man to join him.

After getting in the car, Qin Bei pressed Yu Zhen about what he was really thinking. Yu Zhen mixed truths with lies—not because he was insincere, but because he had to consider others’ feelings. In the adult world, blunt honesty wasn’t exactly a virtue.

Nor was it encouraged.

Emotions took precedence over honesty.

“So if I hadn’t come tonight, you were planning to cut ties with me?” Qin Bei said. “Teacher Yu, you’ve got a cruel heart.”

Yu Zhen disliked being called “teacher.” To him, the title carried deep respect, and someone like him—a person of dubious standing—was unworthy of it. If anything, it would only devalue the term.

“I was considering Coach Qin’s best interests,” Yu Zhen replied. “I think we’re incompatible. Our views on love are too different, and I’m not willing to compromise for the sake of your career. Cutting ties is the best outcome for you, isn’t it?” The implication was clear: Qin Bei should find someone willing to accommodate him, someone who’d prioritize his needs—and Yu Zhen was clearly not that person.

Qin Bei gripped the steering wheel and shook his head. “Teacher Yu, your words make me feel ashamed. But that’s fine—at least we have something to talk about now.”

The car started, and the BMW pulled away from the apartment.

Qin Bei didn’t say where he was taking Yu Zhen. He remained tight-lipped the entire drive, revealing nothing about their destination. Yu Zhen stopped asking—he’d find out soon enough—and sat quietly in the passenger seat, waiting.

His mood was indeed foul. His mother’s phone call, last night’s breakdown, his unsatisfied desires, his insatiable greed—all of it weighed on him.

He wasn’t sick, but he did have a problem.

A big one.

The kind that had shattered his self-respect, made him lose control, stripped away his dignity.

Animals could be as intelligent as humans.

But humans couldn’t afford to be as primal as animals.

Society would collapse. Morality would crumble.

And those without ethics would be condemned by all.

After about fifteen minutes, Qin Bei brought him to a club.

Yu Zhen had no idea what kind of place this was. Clubs usually sounded like sports venues, but he only did yoga at home—he rarely exercised outdoors and seldom visited such places.

Qin Bei, however, seemed familiar with it. Given his physique, it was clear he frequented spots like this. Yu Zhen followed closely, glancing around, and soon realized it was a combat gym.

“Weren’t we supposed to have a proper talk? Why bring me here?” Within moments of entering, Yu Zhen had already spotted several men built like Qin Bei—some even more muscular.

“Before we talk, you need to vent your frustration,” Qin Bei said bluntly. “You’re in a bad mood, right? Talking to you like this wouldn’t do me any favors.” He gestured ahead. “This way.”

The corridor was brightly lit. Yu Zhen brushed past one well-built man after another.

Lu Pingwei wasn’t entirely sure if the strikingly beautiful man he’d just seen was the same one he’d met only once before. He hesitated for a moment before returning to the spectator seats by the fighting ring, still uncertain.

Leaning down, he asked the man sitting beside him, “Zhou-ge, does that pretty neighbor of yours have a boyfriend?”

Zhou Daosen lifted his gaze, puzzled by the sudden question.

Lu Pingwei added, “I don’t usually forget a beautiful face, but last time I saw him, he was wearing women’s clothes—so I wasn’t sure just now.”

The noise around them was deafening. On the ring, the sound of bodies slamming against the mat echoed loudly.

“He seems to have come in with a man,” Lu Pingwei sat down, wiping her damp fingertips with a tissue, “holding hands, looking quite loving and sweet.”