Chapter 84 – No Time to Think

In terms of physical strength, Chu Yin and “Li Huaxian” were evenly matched, chasing each other like marathon runners for over two hours.

As they ran, the crowd gradually thinned, and the roads grew narrower. Chu Yin faintly sensed something familiar about the surroundings. After circling around in the darkness, he finally realized where that familiarity came from.

A hundred meters to the east used to be an elementary school. Now that it had relocated to a new campus, the old one had been abandoned.

Next to the school stood a row of old faculty dormitories. The area had poor transportation, so most of the older teachers had moved away following the school’s relocation. However, the cheap rent still attracted quite a few people, and a few scattered lights could be seen flickering through the windows.

Chu Yin had lived here with Chen Meixian and his mother when he was little.

Before being adopted by Chen’s mother, Chu Yin remembered that his favorite place to sleep back then was next to the trash cans behind the school.

That spot was practically a treasure trove!

There were no stray dogs that would bite. With so many children around the school, adults naturally wouldn’t allow aggressive strays near the area, so Chu Yin didn’t have to fight dogs for food. Plus, many kids had small appetites and were picky eaters. After their parents left, they’d secretly toss out their nutritious breakfasts, allowing Chu Yin to snag a warm meal—though such opportunities were rare.

There was also plenty of trash to collect near the school. Chu Yin would gather bottles and scrap paper to sell. The first time he met Chen Meixian was while he was scavenging. Through the iron fence of the schoolyard, Chen Meixian was drinking a carton of milk.

Chu Yin stared at him—not because he wanted the milk, but because he wanted the empty carton.

“Your… carton,” Chu Yin said, his face smudged with dirt, making his eyes stand out starkly in contrast. He looked directly at Chen Meixian without a trace of shame for being a scavenger. “Can I have it?”

Separated by an iron gate, Chen Meixian inside the fence and Chu Yin outside breathed the same air but seemed to belong to two different worlds. Chen Meixian, dressed in a clean school uniform, let his pale fingers loosen slightly before tossing the milk carton into the trash can inside the school grounds. He smiled faintly and said, “No.”

Chu Yin pursed his lips, his eyes instantly glazing over with a thin film of tears. He gave Chen Meixian one last look before dragging his trash bag and walking away.

Chen Meixian could never forget the sight of Chu Yin on the verge of tears. Haunted by it, the more he tried to forget, the more it clung to him. After searching for days, he finally found Chu Yin curled up beside the trash cans.

When Chu Yin was first adopted, he was extremely wary. He couldn’t sleep at night, clinging to a furball and curling up by the door as if ready to bolt at any moment. But Chen’s mother was an extraordinarily patient woman. If he didn’t want to sleep in bed, she let him be. Worried he’d get cold, she laid out a soft children’s play mat on the floor and would even pinch Chu Yin’s neck to coax him to sleep.

Chen’s mother was a math teacher at the elementary school. Chu Yin referred to Chen Meixian’s mother as Teacher Chen—both his mentor and mother figure, a profound kindness he could never repay.

Since Teacher Chen passed away from illness, Chu Yin had never returned to this place. Even when driving, he’d take detours to avoid it.

The place remained, but the people were gone. Just a glance at the scenery was enough to suffocate him with emotion. Who would’ve thought he’d end up chasing someone here today?

The person he’d been chasing for two hours now stood ten meters away from him—short, wearing a black hoodie, face hidden behind a mask.

“I thought your target was Yao Chaowu,” Chu Yin leaned against the wall, picking up a brick first. “Now it seems you’re after me. Hmph, you made me miss out on my fish. I’m gonna flatten you.”

“…Brother, let’s talk this out. No need for bricks,” the person said with a strange accent. “I’m just a hired hand.”

“…Why did you deliberately lead me here?”

“The money he paid.” The man pointed into the depths of the alley, where a figure slowly emerged from the mist.

Chen Meixian.

Chen Meixian had lost weight, his cheekbones jutting out sharply. His face was pale, and the black trench coat he wore made him look even more gloomy and deranged. One hand was hidden behind his back, concealing something.

Chu Yin wasn’t surprised to see Chen Meixian here—just annoyed. “What’s your game? Don’t tell me you’re planning to kidnap me in this dump.”

Chen Meixian said, “Would kidnapping you even work? Would you stay by my side willingly?”

Chu Yin: “…Chen Meixian, I’ve told you countless times. We’re completely over.”

Chen Meixian’s breathing grew heavier, his teeth grinding as if he were shivering from cold. “You’ve said that before. You said we were completely over, that we should stay away from each other. And yet, in the end, you still came back to me.”

Chu Yin: “…”

Chen Meixian: “My dad died in a car crash. My mom died of cancer. Chu Yin, your name is on my family register—you’re the only family I have left. But now you won’t even spare a moment alone to talk to me…”

Chu Yin: “Talk about what? I’ve heard enough of your apologies. Nothing you say matters anymore.”

“Me, apologize to you?” Chen Meixian’s eyes were bloodshot. “You’re the one who should be apologizing! You’re the dog I raised, and I’m your only master!!! But you went and fell for some worthless bastard behind my back, you idiot!”

“He’s not worthless,” Chu Yin tightened his grip on the brick, his tone stiff. “Chen Meixian, I have nothing to say to you. Get out of my way, or I’ll smash your head in with this brick.”

“Go ahead.” Chen Meixian pointed at his forehead, his bloodshot eyes locked onto Chu Yin. “My mom’s standing right behind you. Hit me in front of her, why don’t you?”

If Yan Yunshui were here, he probably would’ve launched into a lecture on materialism right then and there. But Chu Yin was genuinely afraid of ghosts—for twenty-eight years, he’d slept with his feet tucked under the covers. Now, with the alley shrouded in yellow mist and a cold wind howling, Chen Meixian’s face blurred like a specter, making it seem as if ghosts really were present.

Chu Yin froze. A chill crawled up his spine to the nape of his neck. Logically, he didn’t believe it, but his eyes still flickered involuntarily. In that moment of distraction, Chen Meixian suddenly lunged forward, pressing a towel soaked in something over Chu Yin’s nose and mouth.

Chu Yin held his breath the second he caught the scent and swung the brick at Chen Meixian’s head with full force. Even as blood gushed from his head, Chen Meixian refused to let go. Chu Yin kicked him away.

Blood covered Chen Meixian’s face as he collapsed backward, yet he seemed impervious to pain. With a crazed laugh, he charged again. Chu Yin’s head spun as he dodged, coughing hoarsely, “…Your only trick is knockout drugs. Pathetic.”

Chen Meixian clutched his chest, panting between sharp laughs. “If it works, it works. I think—you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Too embarrassed to come back to me, so you make me catch you myself. Playing hard to get.”

Chu Yin: “…Bullshit.”

In Chu Yin’s fading vision, Chen Meixian’s bloodied face split into overlapping afterimages, spinning rapidly around his head like some kind of psychological torment, laughing diabolically. Chu Yin covered his ears and passed out.

This time, Chu Yin’s disappearance was different from the last—when he’d stormed off after fighting with Wei Lai. Now, there was real danger involved. Wei Lai immediately reported it to the police, but even after explaining the situation, his anxiety didn’t ease. While checking surveillance footage with the property manager, Booty-san and Yan Yunshui arrived one after another.

Yan Yunshui disliked Yao Chaowu. The moment he spotted him from afar, he rolled his eyes dramatically before clinging to Wei Lai’s arm, stomping his foot in distress. “In just one week, my male god has gone missing twice! What’s going on?!”

Booty-san said, “Pouty Princess didn’t run off on foot, did he? No matter how long his legs are, he can’t have gone far. Which direction did he head in? Let’s sweep through every street first.”

Wei Lai roughly confirmed the direction Chu Yin had gone and nodded, ready to drive out and search himself.

Yao Chaowu stopped him. “Wei, don’t panic. Let’s cooperate with the police investigation. No need to lose our heads.”

A sense of foreboding surged in Wei Lai like tidal waves. He rubbed his eyes. “You stay home and rest. I’ll go look. Oh, and—give me Chen Meixian’s phone number.”

Yao Chaowu stiffened, pausing before saying, “You don’t have his number? Why call him?”

As everyone knew, Yao Chaowu wasn’t a great actor. On-screen, he tended to overdo it, earning him the title of “trash drama male god.” In real life, whenever he got nervous, his speech became painfully unnatural—in short, cringe-worthy.

Hearing Yao Chaowu’s words, a strange feeling prickled at Wei Lai. He usually didn’t overthink things concerning himself, but when it came to Chu Yin, his entire demeanor changed.

The Slut Queen chicken instantly transformed into a battle rooster, his mind spinning so fast it might as well sprout a thousand hands and eyes like the Goddess of Mercy.

Ever since Wei Lai realized Yao Chaowu knew about Chu Yin’s peanut allergy, he’d been observing his actions from a detached, analytical perspective. He noticed Yao Chaowu was unusually tense—not out of concern for Chu Yin, but as if he were afraid of something.

Wei Lai asked, “Do you know where Chen Meixian is?”

Yao Chaowu thought for a moment. “He has a concussion. Probably still in the hospital? I’m not sure.”

Wei Lai: “I don’t have his number. Keeping it would be bad luck. Give it to me.”

“Okay.” Yao Chaowu pulled out his phone to find Chen Meixian’s number. Wei Lai glanced sideways at his screen. Even though Yao Chaowu moved quickly, Wei Lai still caught a glimpse of his recent calls—one from today, connected to Chen Meixian.

Chen Meixian was still Yao Chaowu’s manager, so calling him wasn’t strange. What was strange was Yao Chaowu acting like he had no idea about Chen Meixian’s condition earlier. If they’d already spoken today, how could he be clueless? Contradictions meant deception.

Wei Lai changed tactics. “Call him for me? I can’t be bothered.”

“Sure.”

Yao Chaowu dialed Chen Meixian, who naturally didn’t answer.

Wei Lai listened to the dial tone, his expression darkening.

“Is this his personal number or work number?”

Yao Chaowu: “…”

Wei Lai: “The first lesson in manager training is that a competent manager must never miss a call from their artist—unless they’re dead. So tell me, is Chen Meixian dead?”

Yao Chaowu’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He forced a laugh. “Wei, you’re kind of scaring me. I know you’re worried, but what’s the point of panicking? Chu Yin’s a grown man. Nothing serious could’ve happened. He’s probably on his way back right now!”

Wei Lai hummed. “Where do you think Chu Yin is now?”

Yao Chaowu: “How would I know? Chengdu’s huge. He could’ve ducked into any street and vanished.”

Wei Lai: “After Li Huaxian got out of prison, he went to work in Vietnam. There’s no record of him re-entering the country. The sasaeng fan you described—the one who’s freakishly obsessed—I could never figure out how he knew where you were, down to which hospital room you were in and what takeout you ordered. You weren’t bugged. Your phone wasn’t hacked. So how did he know?”

A thin layer of sweat formed on Yao Chaowu’s forehead. When Wei Lai wasn’t being led astray by his dick, he was sharp and incisive. Once he eliminated the wrong answers, his conclusions were unaffected by personal bias.

“Chu Yin had an allergic reaction on Happy Match-Up last time. Were you involved?” Wei Lai pressed. “Was there ever even a sasaeng fan? Or was this all just to get my attention—or Chu Yin’s?”

Yao Chaowu’s face flushed crimson as if deeply insulted. “Wei Lai, how could you think that of me??? Am I that kind of petty person???! Chu Yin isn’t even hurt yet, and you’re already accusing me! If something really happened to him, would you sacrifice me to the heavens next???”

“We’ve been friends for years, yet our bond can’t withstand the slightest test. You’d insult me like this? Fine. I must’ve been blind to ever call you my brother.” Yao Chaowu jabbed a finger at Wei Lai. “I’ll chalk this up to a momentary lapse. Go look for him. But from now on, don’t you dare contact me again!!!”

“Wait.” Wei Lai stopped him.

Yao Chaowu softened his tone slightly. “Forget it. I won’t add to your stress. We’ll talk about us later.”

Wei Lai forced a stiff smile, his lips twitching slightly. “I was at the hospital today. Passed by the proctology department and ran into an old acquaintance. Remember that investor from your first movie, Boss Li? Still got any impression of him?”

“Boss Li, now middle-aged with a loose chrysanthemum, insisted on reminiscing about the ‘glory days’ with me. He praised me up and down—his exact words were, ‘Xiao Wei, your skills are still the best. Yao really didn’t steer me wrong.’ And then, after chatting some more, guess what? Turns out, back when he took a liking to you, you handed him my business card?”

Yao Chaowu: “…What are you even saying? You were my manager. Whose business card was I supposed to give him?”

“Oh.” Wei Lai took a few steps toward Yao Chaowu, then suddenly pushed him, pinning him against the garage wall with a hand pressed to his chest. “I thought you’d at least ask, ‘What do you mean, Xiao Wei’s skills are the best?’ Seems like you already knew. Whatever, it was my choice. Can’t blame you for using me. Right now, I just need to know one thing—where is Chu Yin?”

Yao Chaowu gritted his teeth. “How the hell would I know!?”

Wei Lai pressed down hard on Yao Chaowu’s fractured ribs, making him scream in pain.

“Call the sasaeng fan actor you hired. Now.” Wei Lai glared at him. “Or else I’ll break a few more of your ribs.”

Chu Yin woke up on a play mat—this was his childhood bedroom. His head was foggy, so much so that for a moment, he thought he’d transmigrated.

The air was thick with smoke, but it wasn’t the smell of secondhand smoke. With great effort, Chu Yin turned his head and was immediately jolted by terror.

A black-and-white funeral portrait hung on the wall. The woman in it smiled gently and kindly—it was Chu Yin’s adoptive mother, Chen, as he remembered her.

Chu Yin had inhaled some kind of drug earlier, and now everything in his vision was warping, including the portrait. Mother Chen’s face twisted grotesquely.

She was blaming him for being ungrateful, for seducing her only biological son, for disobeying Chen Meixian, for failing to take care of him, for hurting him so ruthlessly, for making him suffer.

Mother Chen crawled out of the portrait, limbs dragging, inching toward Chu Yin. Drenched in cold sweat but paralyzed, Chu Yin instinctively whimpered, “Wei… Wei Lai… save me…”

Hearing the noise, Chen Meixian entered the room and kicked Chu Yin in the stomach. “Still thinking about that bitch?! Have you even considered—what right do you have!?”

“You’re crying?” Chen Meixian crouched down, pinching Chu Yin’s chin, and let out a laugh. “I love it when you cry. These past few months, not seeing you cry made me so unhappy. Brother Yin, do you remember? You used to be my little bitch.”

Chu Yin’s pupils contracted.

Chen Meixian scratched Chu Yin’s chin playfully, delighted. “Back then, you were so glamorous. Just posting a single selfie would make thousands of people throw money at you. Who would’ve thought you were my dog? Wearing designer shirts worth tens of thousands, but the moment you stepped through my door, you’d strip naked and kneel at my feet, begging me to feed you. Little bitch, do you remember?”

Chu Yin: “…Get the fuck… away from me.”

Chen Meixian sneered. “You’re rotten. Filthy. You only deserve to be with me. Do you even know Wei Lai’s family background? Do you really think you’re worthy of him?”

Chen Meixian turned on the TV. A video began playing. He yanked Chu Yin’s hair, forcing him to watch. “I know you’ve forgotten. Let me remind you—what kind of filthy trash you are, Chu Yin.”

The footage was unspeakable. Chu Yin seemed to relive that moment, screaming and curling into a ball, his agony unbearable.

Satisfied, Chen Meixian reveled in the pleasure of destroying Chu Yin’s spirit. He pulled out a syringe, injected a bit into his own arm first, took a deep breath, then clamped down on Chu Yin’s wrist to immobilize him. “You’re mine, Chu Yin. If you don’t love me, then there’s no point in me living. Let’s die together. I’ve thought about it for a long time—let’s die together. Down below, we’ll reunite with Mom. We’ll be a happy family again.”

Chu Yin had no strength left, but he was drenched in sweat, his mind clearing slightly. His breathing was ragged as he gasped, “…Chen Meixian… you’re actually… doing drugs… You’re really… doing drugs… right in front of Teacher Chen’s photo…”

Chen Meixian tilted his head. “What’s wrong with drugs? I’m happy now. And I’m sure Mom would want me to be happy.”

He pressed the needle to Chu Yin’s wrist. “Chu Yin, I know you’re scared of pain. Don’t worry—this won’t hurt. Your heart will race like you’re on a rollercoaster, you’ll reach new heights. When you see the light, just walk toward it. I’ll be right behind you.”

Just as Chen Meixian was about to inject him, Chu Yin thrashed violently, kicking out and knocking the needle aside. Annoyed, Chen Meixian grabbed Chu Yin’s ankle—and noticed a red cord tied around it.

“Which man gave this to you? Wei Lai?” Chen Meixian set the syringe aside and reached to untie it. “You can’t take another man’s token with you.”

Chu Yin jerked his leg back. “Don’t… fucking touch it.”

Chen Meixian scoffed. “You think Wei Lai’s any better? Didn’t he put a dog collar on you too? You just switched masters, that’s all. Chu Yin, you’re mine. Look at yourself in that video—who would ever want you?”

“No… no…” The excruciating memories swirling in Chu Yin’s mind teetered on the edge of a cliff. But strangely, mixed in with them were also warm, comforting voices.

Other kids might get bedtime stories, but Wei Lai was different. He’d lean against the headboard and enthusiastically shower Chu Yin with praise.

“Hey, look at this fan! She says you’re so cute she fainted and hopes her unborn baby inherits even 1% of your adorableness!!!”

“Ahhh, and this little rhyme—Crybaby, so sweet, spicy chicken heads can’t compete!”

Chu Yin would blush and hide under the blanket. “I’m not cute. What kind of nonsense is this?”

Wei Lai would always ruffle his hair. “Goodnight, my big crybaby darling! Mwah mwah!”

Big crybaby darling.

Mwah mwah…

Chu Yin shook his head, gathered his strength, and—with a powerful kick—sent Chen Meixian’s neck snapping to the side. “Laozi is someone’s treasure!!! Fuck off!!! Don’t touch me!!!”