POTINS 33

After Meng Chuan left, the house felt much emptier.

Wen Zhongyi had dinner alone, then leaned against the sofa watching TV for a while.

Only a floor lamp was on in the living room, and the television was playing a documentary he liked.

He leaned against a cushion, gently rubbing his hand over his lower abdomen, but for some reason, he couldn’t find any interest in it.

The noise from the TV started to feel irritating. Wen Zhongyi picked up the remote and turned it off.

Before Meng Chuan had moved in, he could handle living alone just fine. But now, the solitude made him feel lonely.

Especially after a night like last night—being the only one left in such a large house made it all feel oddly unreal.

That vague sense of emptiness was quickly interrupted by a sudden ringtone.

Meng Chuan had called him the moment the plane landed, full of energy: “What are you doing? Had dinner yet? Miss me?”

Even through the phone, Wen Zhongyi could imagine his exuberant expression. He couldn’t help but smile slightly and answered one by one, “Watching TV. Ate already. Not missing you.”

Meng Chuan clicked his tongue, his voice still brimming with the buzz from last night. “Of course you miss me. Isn’t it weird without me around to annoy you? Just say it if you miss me, don’t be shy. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.”

He sounded like some newlywed kid who had just come out of his wedding night, radiating joy from head to toe.

Wen Zhongyi found it a bit amusing. “What kind of gift are you bringing me?”

“What do you want?”

Truth be told, Meng Chuan really didn’t know what Wen Zhongyi liked. Aside from a preference for sweet snacks like chestnut puffs, he’d never shown much interest in anything.

Then something occurred to Meng Chuan, and he laughed mischievously. “I got it.”

Wen Zhongyi asked, “Got what?”

“Not telling you yet,” Meng Chuan replied mysteriously. “It’ll be a surprise when I get back.”

Wen Zhongyi chuckled lightly and didn’t press. He changed the topic: “How’s your rut? No more fever?”

“No more fever, but still a little uncomfortable,” Meng Chuan said.

“You need more rest during this time,” Wen Zhongyi said.

The implication: don’t work yourself too hard.

Meng Chuan’s heart warmed. In a low voice, he mumbled, “Good thing I brought your clothes with me. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’d survive.”

Last night, they had been holding each other so closely. Now they were apart again.

If he wasn’t still hanging on to a shred of rationality, Meng Chuan would’ve flown back immediately—screw the damned project. What mattered more than his wife?

The call turned sticky and sweet, to the point that Wen Zhongyi began to feel sleepy. Meng Chuan, however, was reluctant to hang up.

“By the way,” Wen Zhongyi said seriously, lying on the sofa with the back of his hand blocking the light, “don’t get my clothes dirty. If you mess them up, you’re done for.”

Meng Chuan paused, catching the implication, and asked, “Did I get them dirty before?”

Wen Zhongyi fell silent.

Meng Chuan clicked his tongue and said sarcastically, “That was the old me. I’d never do something that shameless now.”

Wen Zhongyi couldn’t help smirking. It was the first time he’d heard someone curse at themselves.

Meng Chuan added, “Don’t forget to apply the ointment. If your legs hurt too much, don’t go out. Just stay home and rest.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” Wen Zhongyi said, annoyed.

He couldn’t even sit down properly now, lying on the sofa in loose pajamas, and the culprit wasn’t even here to vent his anger on.

“My bad, I’ll be more careful next time,” Meng Chuan said sweetly.

“There is no next time,” Wen Zhongyi huffed and ruthlessly hung up, ignoring all of Meng Chuan’s sugary coaxing.

Before bed, Wen Zhongyi heated up some milk and applied the ointment himself.

With Meng Chuan gone, there wasn’t even anyone around to order around. But he didn’t want to hire a housekeeper either. He wasn’t used to being taken care of by others. He only wanted Meng Chuan to do it.

The scraped skin on his legs scabbed over by the next day. When he took a bath, he also noticed faint bruises behind his knees and under his thighs—all pinched there by Meng Chuan.

And this was Meng Chuan being restrained. Wen Zhongyi didn’t even want to recall the pitiful state he’d been in last night.

There were several times when Meng Chuan had carried him in front of the mirror, making him look at his utterly defeated reflection.

Wen Zhongyi’s ears flushed. He closed his eyes and forcibly cleared the images from his mind.

The next day, he went to see Yang Jiaran.

The exam week had ended, and Yang Jiaran was like a freed man. He treated Wen Zhongyi to a meal, and the two of them went to see a movie afterward.

It was the first time Wen Zhongyi had been to a movie theater in this world, and it was much more advanced than the ones in Sanka.

He had always thought he just didn’t like watching movies or shows, but now he realized—it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy them, he’d just never seen any good ones before.

After the movie, they found a café and sat down to chat.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I really don’t want to go,” Yang Jiaran said wistfully.

Winter break was coming, and Yang Jiaran had already bought his ticket home. Though still within the province, his hometown was on the opposite end from this city. They wouldn’t see each other again for over a month.

Wen Zhongyi felt reluctant too. “I’ll take you to the station tomorrow.”

Yang Jiaran said, “No need, the station’s kind of far. I can go by myself.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got nothing else to do anyway,” Wen Zhongyi replied with a smile.

The next morning, after a delivered breakfast and a quick tidy-up, Wen Zhongyi bundled up in a thick coat and went out.

He first took a taxi to the school, then accompanied Yang Jiaran to the station.

They chatted the whole way. When Yang Jiaran learned that Meng Chuan was away on a business trip, he exclaimed in concern, “Then you really have to take good care of yourself.”

Then he glanced at Wen Zhongyi’s lower abdomen and whispered so only the two of them could hear, “And the baby too.”

Wen Zhongyi nodded, smiling gently.

After watching Yang Jiaran pass through the ticket gate, Wen Zhongyi didn’t linger at the station.

He tightened the scarf around his neck and headed toward the exit, just about to flag down a taxi—when a “beep” sounded behind him.

Turning around, he saw a black sedan parked nearby, and the person in the driver’s seat was none other than Jiang Ye.

Jiang Ye smiled at him, slowly pulling the car up and stopping in front of him.

“I thought I was seeing things. Didn’t expect it to actually be you,” Jiang Ye said through the lowered window.

“I came to see a friend off,” Wen Zhongyi replied, smiling a little too.

“What a coincidence, so did I.” Jiang Ye leaned over and opened the passenger-side door, raising his brow. “Hop in. I’ll take you wherever you’re going.”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t refuse and got into the car.

The heater was on inside. Wen Zhongyi loosened his scarf and gave Jiang Ye his address.

Jiang Ye entered it into the GPS and chuckled. “It’s close to where I live.”

Wen Zhongyi casually replied, “What a coincidence.”

Jiang Ye steered the car out of the station. The roads weren’t crowded, so he drove a little fast.

Wen Zhongyi endured it for a moment, then exhaled with a frown and said, “Could you slow down a bit? Thanks.”

Jiang Ye immediately eased off the gas and glanced at him, asking with concern, “Sorry, I didn’t know you get carsick. Are you feeling really unwell?”

Wen Zhongyi shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Jiang Ye slowed the car even further, then reached into the glove compartment and handed Wen Zhongyi a piece of gum. “Chew this—it helps.”

Wen Zhongyi thanked him, unwrapped the gum, and popped it into his mouth.

Halfway through the drive, Meng Chuan called. The moment the ringtone sounded, Wen Zhongyi picked up and answered around the gum, “Hello?”

Meng Chuan laughed, “What are you eating?”

“Candy.” Wen Zhongyi pressed the gum beneath his tongue, his voice slightly muffled.

“Don’t eat too much,” Meng Chuan warned. “You need to watch your sugar intake now.”

“Got it,” Wen Zhongyi said. “Are you feeling better?” He was still concerned about Meng Chuan’s heat period.

Meng Chuan chuckled, “Worried about me, huh?”

“You’re overthinking it,” Wen Zhongyi denied. “I’m worried about my clothes.”

With the phone pressed to his ear, Wen Zhongyi listened to Meng Chuan’s nonsense with relaxed brows, a subtle smile flickering in his eyes.

Jiang Ye, who was driving, glanced sideways at him.

Wen Zhongyi leaned against the car window, gazing outside, unaware of Jiang Ye’s look.

The car was quiet, but a few indistinct words drifted to Jiang Ye’s ears—something like “clothes,” “eat,” “baby.” None formed a complete sentence, and he couldn’t make out the full conversation.

“It’s cold again lately. Dress warmly, okay? Scarf, hat, gloves—wear them all. You look good in anything, but don’t freeze,” Meng Chuan rambled. “I’ve arranged for someone to deliver your meals every day. Don’t go into the kitchen, and even if you’re alone, you still need to eat well. Look how skinny you are—only your butt has a bit of meat on it. For the baby’s sake, eat more. And call me more often, okay?”

Meng Chuan wouldn’t stop nagging. Wen Zhongyi grunted a few times, growing impatient and urging him to hang up.

After Meng Chuan finally hung up—reluctantly—Wen Zhongyi shook his head with a helpless smile.

At a red light, the car gradually came to a stop. Jiang Ye asked, feigning innocence, “Who was that on the phone?”

Wen Zhongyi thought for a moment and said, “Someone you don’t know.”

Jiang Ye smiled faintly. “What if I do?”

His tone made Wen Zhongyi frown, but he didn’t respond.

Jiang Ye didn’t press further. He turned on the car radio, which was broadcasting a finance report.

“…It’s reported that eleven companies are participating in the bidding, with third-party evaluators involved in the review. Competition is fierce. Local business figures Mr. Meng Chuan of Huanyu Group and Mr. Jiang Ming of Zhaobo Technology are among the participants…”

He hadn’t expected to hear a familiar name on the radio. Jiang Ye smiled. “Meng Chuan?”

Wen Zhongyi paused. “You know him?”

Jiang Ye neither nodded nor shook his head. He simply said, “Heard a few things.”

Wen Zhongyi sat up straighter and asked, “Like what?”

“Some things from the past.” Jiang Ye smiled. “Want to hear?”

“I do,” said Wen Zhongyi.

With one hand on the wheel, Jiang Ye spoke slowly, “Before he joined the military, he was known as a notorious rich kid. Rumor has it he almost went to jail multiple times for getting into fights. Once, he got into a bloody brawl at a bar over a woman. But his family had money, so he got off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Some even said they saw him drag racing with models, or attending adult-only performances. After he enlisted, he calmed down a lot. Then he had a car accident and disappeared for four years. I heard he came back with amnesia.”

Wen Zhongyi frowned slightly, unconvinced. He asked coldly, “How do you know all this?”

“From people in his circle,” Jiang Ye said offhandedly. “You think these trust fund kids are good people? They’re just well-packaged.”

“You don’t even know him. You’re really going to take hearsay as truth?” Wen Zhongyi’s expression chilled.

Those words had struck a nerve. Even if he didn’t believe them, they were unpleasant to hear.

“I didn’t mean to slander him,” Jiang Ye said. “I was just repeating what I heard. If you don’t believe it, forget I said anything.”

The car slowly stopped at the entrance of Wen Zhongyi’s apartment complex. Jiang Ye smiled politely. “Sorry, I didn’t know that would upset you. How about some chestnut puffs to make it up to you? My shop’s not far.”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t respond. He unbuckled his seatbelt, expression flat.

“No need. Thanks for the ride.”

Then, just before getting out of the car, he added, “I won’t be eating your chestnut puffs again.”

____

In a hotel conference room in a certain city.

With the bidding tomorrow, Meng Chuan and the project team were on full alert, working from morning to night without a single complaint.

The proposal had been polished to perfection. Meng Chuan, satisfied, twirled a carbon pen between his fingers and said, “The bid’s solid. Now it’s all about tomorrow’s presentation.”

He would be giving the pitch himself. Confident as always, Meng Chuan had set his sights firmly on winning this project.

Just as he was about to head to dinner, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out while walking, saw the caller ID, and immediately smiled. He waved the others ahead and stopped by the hallway window to answer.

“Hey, baby.”

He’d gotten shamelessly used to calling Wen Zhongyi that over the phone. “Baby” rolled off his tongue sweetly and naturally.

Wen Zhongyi rarely called him first, so every time he did, it felt like a pleasant surprise.

This time, Wen Zhongyi didn’t complain about the nickname. Instead, he calmly asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. You?”

“I have,” Wen Zhongyi replied, then added, “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

Meng Chuan listened attentively, but as Wen Zhongyi continued, his smile froze.

“Wait, baby… where are you getting all this from?”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t react to the interruption and finished speaking in a calm, unreadable tone. “Honestly, I don’t believe it. But I’d like to hear your explanation.”

Jiang Ye’s words hadn’t shaken Wen Zhongyi deeply, but it wasn’t something he could completely brush off either.

He barely knew anything about Meng Chuan’s past.

Back in Sanka, he hadn’t believed Meng Chuan was an alien, so Meng Chuan rarely mentioned his own history. Even when he did, he was vague.

But Wen Zhongyi knew what kind of person Meng Chuan was—before or after the amnesia, his core hadn’t changed. He didn’t believe he’d misjudged him.

He wanted to hear Meng Chuan’s side.

Meng Chuan felt unjustly wronged. He rubbed his face and took a deep breath.

“That bar fight? Some guy was harassing a girl, so I stepped in with a bottle. It wasn’t over love or anything—just me being a good Samaritan. The police report should be on file. I’ll take you to look when I get back.”

“The model and the drag racing—my buddy brought her and forced her into my car. I didn’t even let her sit in the front. I told him my passenger seat’s for my future wife only. Dropped her off right away.”

“And the adult shows? Come on! Who’s spreading this crap? I only went once! Before I could go again, the place got raided. I was just curious, not doing anything shady. Before I met you, I was still a virgin! Never even kissed anyone. Heaven can be my witness!”

He said it all in one breath, clutching his chest and gasping, grinding out, “Which bastard, brain-dead son of a bitch went and told you all that garbage? They’re clearly trying to stir the pot and wreck our marriage!”

There was a short pause on the other end. Then Wen Zhongyi said, “It was Jiang Ye.”

Meng Chuan frowned. “Who? What does he look like?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Wen Zhongyi added, “The one I had dinner with before.”

That set Meng Chuan off. “I knew he was trouble. Block him right now. When I get back, I’m digging into what kind of demon he is.”

But actually, Jiang Ye hadn’t said anything too extreme—and he might not even know about their relationship.

That thought made Wen Zhongyi pause. If Jiang Ye had heard so much about Meng Chuan, how could he not know who Meng Chuan was?

Meng Chuan was about to say more when he noticed something reflected in the glass beside him—the elevator doors had opened, revealing another figure behind him.

He cut himself off. “I’ll call you back later. Hang up for now, okay?”

After hanging up, Meng Chuan’s face went cold as he looked at the approaching figure in the reflection without turning around. “What do you want?”

The man wore a black suit, about Meng Chuan’s height, with a fake, insincere smile on his face.

“Wanted to invite Mr. Meng to dinner. Your line was busy, so I came in person,” Jiang Ming said, stopping two steps away and shrugging apologetically. “Did I interrupt your call? I can leave if you want.”

If he really cared about interrupting, he wouldn’t be standing there saying that crap.

The two were business rivals—normally oil and water.

But Jiang Ming was a snake, always acting polite around Meng Chuan, as if none of their scheming and grudges ever existed.

Meng Chuan knew about some of the dirt he’d pulled. He couldn’t stand the guy and didn’t bother hiding it. “I’m not eating. Get lost.”

“Still as rude as ever, Mr. Meng.”

Meng Chuan sneered. “Scram.”

They were both bidding for the same project tomorrow. This dinner was clearly a setup.

Meng Chuan didn’t waste another word, brushing past him and entering the elevator.

Jiang Ming turned slowly, smiling faintly as he watched.

God, I want to punch that smug face, Meng Chuan thought.

Just like that other guy—Jiang Ye. So damn annoying.

…..

Wait—hold on.

Two seconds later, as the elevator doors closed, Meng Chuan stood there, looking stunned.