POTINS 13

When it was time for dinner, Ji Fan showed up too.

The Ji family’s driver dropped him off at the door. Ji Fan tossed his schoolbag off his shoulder and let it fall to the floor. His school uniform had some dust on it, and he wore a sour expression, like a little lion barely holding back its temper.

“What’s with the face?” Ji Shu said with a laugh. “Got in a fight and lost?”

“I didn’t lose,” Ji Fan huffed.

Meng Chuan ruffled Ji Fan’s bristling hair and chuckled at how funny he looked when he was mad. He joined Ji Shu in teasing him, “Who bullied you? Just say the word, your brother and I’ll go get revenge for you.”

“If you wanna go, go ahead. I’m not going,” Ji Shu said, keeping himself out of it. “If my sister finds out I helped him fight, she’ll beat us both to death.”

Ji Fan hadn’t expected either of them to help, so he just glared at Ji Shu and said, “You’re the worst.”

Meng Chuan burst out laughing.

Back in first grade, Ji Fan had been quiet and got bullied by a boy in his class. Once Ji Shu and Meng Chuan found out, they cornered the chubby bully in the classroom and scared him silly. No one dared mess with Ji Fan again—except for these two brothers who liked to tease him now and then.

Ji Fan was still a little scared of them, so when something happened, he usually ran to his sister. And her intimidation factor was no joke. Back when they were kids, Ji Shu and Meng Chuan got plenty of beatings from her. Even now, they still got nervous just seeing her.

During dinner, the two of them tried to keep a low profile, but they couldn’t escape getting nagged.

“Xiao Chuan’s about to turn thirty soon. So is Xiao Shu. Isn’t it time to find someone?” Zhou Lu said as she ladled soup into their bowls.

Ji Shu pretended not to hear.

Meng Chuan gave a perfunctory nod. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

His dad looked at him. “Who are you going to start with?”

“Anyone, just to stop all the nagging,” Meng Chuan said.

“Not just anyone,” his dad said. “I’m serious. Don’t joke around with me.”

Meng Chuan sighed. “If I don’t date, you keep pushing me. If I say I will, you won’t let me. Isn’t that a bit contradictory?”

Ji Shu snorted with laughter.

The two of them quickly finished eating and slipped away with an excuse.

Ji Shu was driving, and Meng Chuan sat in the passenger seat.

It was a rare relaxed evening. Ji Shu said he wanted to go to a bar, but Meng Chuan wasn’t interested. “Drop me off first.”

“What for?”

“To sleep,” Meng Chuan said.

“Sleep? It’s barely even late!” Ji Shu turned the wheel and the sports car roared onto the road. He rolled the window halfway down, clearly getting excited. “Young Master Meng, the night is still young. What happened to your energy? Back in the day, you could party all night and never feel tired. What changed?”

Meng Chuan’s hair was whipped around messily by the wind. He couldn’t stand it and rolled the window back up, grumbling, “Try working a full day. Your sister never should’ve let you have so much free time.”

Just as he finished speaking, the phone on the dash lit up.

Ji Shu glanced at it and said, “Damn, you jinxed it.”

__

“Let’s go home, Jiaran.” Wen Zhongyi sat in the lounge area, watching as Yang Jiaran showed up with two more shopping bags in hand.

But Yang Jiaran was still full of energy. “Don’t just sit there. Come pick stuff with me.”

He dragged Wen Zhongyi into a hat store, where he started trying on different baseball caps on him, successfully messing up his hair.

“This one looks great on you.” Yang Jiaran motioned for him to look in the mirror, thrilled. “So handsome.”

In the mirror, Wen Zhongyi wore a deep blue cap. The brim shaded half of his face, the color making his skin appear even paler. His light-colored lips were pursed slightly, giving him a distant, untouchable look.

Wen Zhongyi took off the cap and glanced at the price tag. “…Forget it.”

Yang Jiaran checked the price too and yelped, “Is this store robbing people?!”

They put the hat back on the shelf without hesitation. Yang Jiaran quickly snapped a picture and sent it to Wen Zhongyi, leaning close to his ear and whispering, “You should image search it and find a cheaper one online.”

Wen Zhongyi smiled. “You’re really smart.”

They wandered around the mall for another twenty minutes. Yang Jiaran finally had his fill and left with his arms full of bags.

This mall was on the verge of shutting down, so most of the items were cheap—though a few stores still hadn’t caught on. Wen Zhongyi only bought a few clothes. The weather had turned cold over the past few days, and thin sweaters were no longer enough—he needed something warmer.

As they took the elevator down to the first floor, Yang Jiaran passed a claw machine and couldn’t resist. He bought twenty tokens and, after a long effort, only managed to win one incredibly ugly bunny.

It was actually Wen Zhongyi who caught the prize.

Yang Jiaran held the rabbit by its ears, looking unimpressed. “So ugly.”

Seeing his disappointment, Wen Zhongyi offered, “Want me to win you another one?”

“No, it’s a waste of money.” Yang Jiaran shoved the rabbit into a bag and asked, “You taking the subway back?”

“Yeah.” Wen Zhongyi walked to the entrance, lifted the curtain, and gestured for him to go first. “You?”

“I’ll call a ride. Otherwise I’ll miss dorm curfew.” Yang Jiaran pouted.

Outside the mall was a wide avenue. The subway station was across the street.

After Yang Jiaran left in a taxi, Wen Zhongyi watched the taillights disappear into the distance, then took the footbridge to the opposite side.

This side of the road was mostly filled with entertainment venues. A brightly lit hotel stood tall and imposing, its lights glaring and sharp, almost like it belonged to another world compared to the dim surroundings.

The plastic bag handles were cutting into Wen Zhongyi’s fingers. He switched hands. Just as he took two steps forward, a group of people exited the hotel.

At the center of the group was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her long black hair draped over her shoulders, and she wore a white suit. The crisp sound of her heels echoed on the pavement.

She was speaking to the man walking beside her, smiling. “Then let’s wish each other a successful collaboration, President Wang.”

“Likewise, President Ji.”

They shook hands cordially. Ji Ying watched the man get into a car and leave.

As soon as he was gone, Ji Shu, who had been following behind her, dropped the act and slung an arm over Meng Chuan’s shoulder. “We’re done here, right? Let’s go.”

“So late—where do you think you’re going?” Ji Ying glanced at them.

“Can’t tell you that,” Ji Shu replied.

Ji Ying reached out and pinched him hard. “If I find out you’re going somewhere shady, I’ll break your legs.”

Ji Shu cried out in pain, “I didn’t say I was going!”

“I’m not going with him,” Meng Chuan added helpfully. “I’m heading home.”

“Xiao Chuan is always so dependable.” Ji Ying smiled at him and placed her hand gently on his arm as they walked down the steps together.

Ji Shu followed them, sulking. Compared to her unreliable brother, Ji Ying clearly favored Meng Chuan. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have specifically invited him to join her for a business dinner.

Wen Zhongyi stood too far away to hear what they were saying. He could only see the smile on Meng Chuan’s face and his gentlemanly behavior.

The night enveloped him in shadow. Standing beneath the trees, the cold wind paled Wen Zhongyi’s profile, and the fingers at his side were already white from gripping the bags too tightly.

Meng Chuan opened the car door for Ji Ying and bent down to speak a few words. After waving goodbye, he watched as the red taillights disappeared into the distance.

Ji Shu shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered, “Anyone watching would think you were her real brother.”

Meng Chuan lit a cigarette and said flatly, “God forbid. I couldn’t handle it.”

Good thing Ji Ying had already left—if she’d heard that, she probably would’ve pinched him too.

A valet brought Ji Shu’s car around. Meng Chuan opened the passenger side door. Just as he was about to get in, something caught his eye and he froze.

The pavement ahead wasn’t well lit, and it was hard to see clearly. A breeze blew past, sweeping a withered leaf to the ground. Meng Chuan’s gaze followed it—then paused on a shadow faintly shifting on the tiled walkway.

When he blinked again, the shadow was still. Maybe it was just his imagination.

Ji Shu buckled his seatbelt and glanced over. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing.” Meng Chuan looked away and got in, glancing at the rearview mirror.

Ji Shu started the engine. “You seriously going home? You sure you don’t want to enjoy this lovely evening with me?”

“Nope. Quit whining and take me home,” Meng Chuan replied.

Only when the roar of the sports car had faded into the distance did Wen Zhongyi finally move again.

He stepped out from behind the tree. Red marks covered his palm where the plastic bag handles had cut in.

It was as if he didn’t even feel the pain. He walked into the subway station, and only when he let go of the bag to go through security did the delayed sting make him clench his hand.

Even though Wen Zhongyi didn’t want to dwell on it, the image of Meng Chuan with that woman lingered in his mind.

After getting off the subway, he still had a bit of a walk. Distracted, he tripped near the entrance of the complex. Luckily, he caught himself on a tree trunk.

His heart, which had just leapt, settled back into place. Wen Zhongyi exhaled and slowly stood upright.

The rough bark scraped against his palm, worsening the pain. Under the streetlight, he looked down—he was bleeding.

He’d endured much worse on the battlefield. But now, just a bleeding palm left him restless and agitated.

Back home, he didn’t treat the wound. He just sat alone on the sofa for a long time.

He was remembering—not just tonight, but much further back. He was thinking about what Meng Chuan had said when he proposed.

It was after their final battle.

Meng Chuan had stood beside him on scorched earth, the air thick with blood and dust. Flames lit the sky in the distance. The trumpet of victory echoed across that desolate land.

Their comrades cheered behind them. Meng Chuan lowered the rocket launcher from his shoulder, dropped to one knee, pulled a ring from his pocket, and proposed.

Wen Zhongyi had stood frozen, wide-eyed, staring at him.

Meng Chuan looked up, smiling—not his usual cocky grin, but something more sincere, with a hint of nervousness. Amid the rowdy laughter of their comrades, his smile deepened.

He babbled a lot—clearly a speech he’d prepared, but he got it all jumbled up. It was cheesy beyond belief.

Wen Zhongyi couldn’t help but laugh, touched despite himself.

Seeing him laugh, Meng Chuan got anxious. Thinking Wen Zhongyi didn’t believe him, he grabbed the pistol from his waist and handed it over. “I swear everything I just said is true. If I break my word, shoot me.”

His gaze was deadly serious—no one could’ve said no to that Meng Chuan.

But he had broken his word.

Sometimes people can’t live up to the promises they make.

Wen Zhongyi walked into the bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand.

Inside was a black pistol—and a silver ring.

He stared at them for a long time, unmoving.

In the end, he didn’t touch either. He simply closed the drawer again, quietly.