POTINS 34

Just as Wen Zhongyi finished his shower, turned off the lights, and was about to close his eyes and sleep—

Meng Chuan called him for a video chat.

Wen Zhongyi turned over and sat up, switched on the bedside lamp, and leaned against the headboard as he answered the call.

The screen lagged for a second before Meng Chuan’s face appeared.

Unlike the dim lighting on Wen Zhongyi’s end, Meng Chuan’s room was brightly lit. He was shirtless, sitting on the hotel bed with a laptop on his legs, smiling at his phone. “About to sleep?”

“Mm,” Wen Zhongyi replied. “Just lay down.”

“Why so early today?” Meng Chuan asked curiously.

It was still more than half an hour before Wen Zhongyi’s usual bedtime.

“A little tired.” Wen Zhongyi rubbed his eyes. “Why are you video calling me?”

His phone camera wasn’t great, like there was a film of white mist over it. Even so, his delicate and refined features still stood out.

Meng Chuan stared at him for a few seconds, completely distracted from work. He shut his laptop with a soft snap, leaned toward the screen, and whispered, “What else? I miss you.”

He could say “I miss you” eight hundred times a day, as if they’d been apart forever—even though it had only been three days.

The warm amber light softened Wen Zhongyi’s features. His lips curved faintly, just about to speak, when Meng Chuan suddenly said, “Pull your collar down a bit. I think I saw something.”

Wen Zhongyi blinked. “What?”

“Didn’t see clearly—looked like a bug or something.” Meng Chuan answered with a serious face.

Wen Zhongyi hated bugs. He immediately looked down at his pajama collar. The top button wasn’t fastened, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. He tugged the collar up and peered down. “There’s no bug.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw one,” Meng Chuan coaxed. “Just undo one more button and you’ll see it.”

“Really?” Wen Zhongyi, half-believing, started to unbutton the second button. Halfway through, he suddenly realized and clutched his chest, glaring. “Meng Chuan!”

“Ahahahahaha!” Meng Chuan burst into laughter, his handsome face on the screen looking thoroughly in need of a smack. “What a pity—so close!”

Wen Zhongyi slammed the phone onto the blanket, buttoned up his top, and gritted through his teeth, “…I really want to kill you.”

“Being hit means love, being scolded means affection. I’ll let you beat me up when I get back,” Meng Chuan teased with a chuckle. “Don’t be stingy. You’ve already let me touch, what’s wrong with a peek, baby?”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t reply. Meng Chuan just kept repeating “baby, baby,” so much that Wen Zhongyi grabbed the phone with an annoyed face. “Shut up, or I’m hanging up!”

Meng Chuan glanced at the time and, reining in his grin, said, “Wait—don’t hang up yet. I need to tell you something.”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t believe a word and acted like he was about to disconnect.

Meng Chuan hurriedly said, “Okay, okay, I’m serious this time. Do you know who Jiang Ye really is?”

Wen Zhongyi paused. “Isn’t he a dessert shop owner? What kind of ‘identity’ could he have?”

“Wrong. He’s not that simple.” Meng Chuan’s tone turned serious. “When I saw him at the restaurant, I felt he looked familiar but couldn’t recall where. Then when you said his name, it rang a bell too, but I didn’t connect it right away…”

Wen Zhongyi cut him off, impatient, “Get to the point.”

“The point is, he’s Jiang Ming’s younger brother—the president of Zhaobo Technology. I’ve seen him before at a banquet.” Meng Chuan spoke concisely. “Jiang Ming is my biggest business rival. That guy’s as shady as they come, cunning and ruthless. If I had the evidence, I’d have had him locked up already.”

“And if that’s how the older brother is, the younger one won’t be much better. Jiang Ye may not be involved in business, but he’s no angel either. The fact that he dared to talk shit about me in front of you—what a scumbag. Even Biluochun ( Chinese green tea) isn’t as green as he is.”

Meng Chuan cursed the Jiang brothers up and down through the phone. Wen Zhongyi listened quietly, then frowned and said, “So Jiang Ye got close to me to help his brother deal with you?”

If Jiang Ye knew Meng Chuan, then he must’ve known about their relationship from the start.

Jiang Ye’s badmouthing wasn’t casual gossip—it was calculated, intended to drive a wedge between them and manipulate Wen Zhongyi into doing something that could harm Meng Chuan.

In short, Jiang Ye’s real target was Meng Chuan.

Wen Zhongyi had seen these tricks plenty of times. Back in Sanka’s internal turmoil, there were endless schemes and rivalries. He instinctively chalked Jiang Ye’s motives up to personal gain.

After Wen Zhongyi explained his reasoning, Meng Chuan on the other end went oddly silent, staring at him as if wanting to say something.

“…How did I manage to win you over in the first place?” Meng Chuan asked out of nowhere.

Wen Zhongyi was annoyed. “I’m talking business, don’t change the subject.”

“…”

Meng Chuan scratched his nose and said with a complicated expression, “You’re right. Jiang Ye approached you to get at me. So don’t believe anything he says, and don’t have any more contact with him.”

“Mm.” Wen Zhongyi nodded seriously. “I’ll be on guard.”

Meng Chuan locked eyes with the Wen Zhongyi on the screen. After a moment, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

His shoulders shook with it. Wen Zhongyi frowned. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.” Meng Chuan’s eyes curved as he grinned. “Just thinking—it wasn’t easy getting you back then.”

Wen Zhongyi snapped, “Why do you keep circling back to that?”

Meng Chuan beamed. “Just feeling sentimental.”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t get what he was feeling sentimental about. He glanced at the time. “If you have nothing else to say, I’m hanging up. I need to sleep.”

“Alright…” Meng Chuan clearly didn’t want to end the call and murmured, “Can I have a goodnight kiss?”

“No.”

“You stingy little thing.”

Still, Meng Chuan leaned in toward the screen and gave the image of Wen Zhongyi a light kiss. Seeing Wen Zhongyi’s eyes widen slightly, he chuckled and said, “Sleep tight. Goodnight, stingy one.”

Maybe it was the bedtime video chat, but that night Wen Zhongyi dreamed of the time when Meng Chuan had pursued him.

Meng Chuan’s tactics back then were incredibly old-school.

Including but not limited to sending flowers. Since there were no flower shops in the war zone, he picked wildflowers from the roadside—and ended up with a bee hiding in the bouquet that stung Wen Zhongyi’s finger.

He tried to cook for him, but the first time almost blew up the kitchen. His squadmates chased him out, asking if he was a spy sent by the enemy.

He attempted a poetic love letter, but with limited literary ability, it came out completely incoherent. Wen Zhongyi couldn’t make sense of it at all and tossed it like trash.

There were countless ridiculous episodes. If Wen Zhongyi hadn’t gone easy on him, Meng Chuan probably wouldn’t have succeeded until the next century.

Those were some of the few lighthearted moments in three years of wartime. Even now, revisiting them brought a smile to Wen Zhongyi’s lips in his sleep—a smile tinged with nostalgia.

_____

The next morning was Saturday. Wen Zhongyi didn’t have work and slept in until nearly ten.

There was a message from Meng Chuan saying the bidding was about to begin—but he wasn’t nervous at all.

Wen Zhongyi smiled.

The message from Meng Chuan had been sent an hour ago—he was probably finished by now.

After washing up, Wen Zhongyi was just about to call him when Meng Chuan’s call came through.

“I’m done!” The background on Meng Chuan’s end was noisy, and though he was speaking in a lowered voice, the excitement in it was unmistakable. “I’m one hundred percent getting this project, do you believe it?”

A smile rose unconsciously in Wen Zhongyi’s brows. “I believe it.”

In the bustling building, Meng Chuan strode confidently out the front doors.

Cold wind ruffled the collar of his suit jacket. While everyone else rushed to their cars, Meng Chuan stood tall on the steps, holding up his phone and chatting with a beaming face.

When Jiang Ming came out, Meng Chuan had just finished his final words to Wen Zhongyi and said, “Bye-bye.”

“Who were you calling, President Meng?” Jiang Ming stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow as if curious.

“None of your damn business.” Meng Chuan bristled the moment he saw him.

“Just now you were whispering sweet nothings, and now you’re all fiery.” Jiang Ming didn’t take offense to the rude response and said lazily, “Don’t tell me President Meng’s fallen in love?”

“Jiang,” Meng Chuan restrained the urge to punch him and let out a cold snort through his nose, “with how obsessed you are with other people’s private lives, why don’t you become a paparazzo?”

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and glared daggers at Jiang Ming before heading straight down the steps.

Jiang Ming watched his back, his eyes flickering as if deep in thought.

Meng Chuan’s return flight was scheduled for the evening, but there were a few business dinners to attend after the bid.

Wen Zhongyi received a message from him and replied: Don’t drink too much.

Meng Chuan said: Okay.

Then added: No need to wait up. Sleep if you’re tired.

Wen Zhongyi responded: Got it.

He turned off the screen and resumed working on his practice problems.

He’d finished more than half of his online course, and his accuracy rate was climbing fast.

If Meng Chuan saw his test papers, he’d probably be shocked by Wen Zhongyi’s intelligence.

Some people could get near-perfect scores after two or three months, while others barely passed even after two or three years.

Of course, Wen Zhongyi’s rapid progress was also built on a solid foundation.

He quickly finished one side of the test paper and was just about to turn the page when he heard a sound from outside.

He froze.

In the stillness of the large house, any sound stood out sharply.

The familiar fingerprint unlock tone lightened his heart, and the taut corners of his mouth curved faintly.

Meng Chuan was home.

All that talk about coming back late—he was probably already on his way when he sent those texts.

Typical of him to pull this trick.

Wen Zhongyi’s smile deepened. He put down his pen, stood up, and opened the bedroom door.

At the same moment, the front door opened.

Zhou Lu was stunned to see shoes on the rack. When the door fully opened and she saw someone inside, her brain stalled.

Wen Zhongyi also hadn’t expected a stranger—he stood frozen, staring back at her.

“Excuse me…” Zhou Lu stood at the entryway, polite but confused. “Isn’t this Meng Chuan’s place?”

She’d just used the fingerprint lock—she couldn’t have walked into the wrong place.

Meeting her eyes, Wen Zhongyi blinked a bit uneasily, his fingers curling slightly at his side—tiny involuntary movements betraying the tension beneath his calm surface.

Thanks to his keen memory for faces, Wen Zhongyi guessed almost immediately who she was.

Meng Chuan’s lower face was a mirror image of hers—especially the shape of the lips.

Maintaining an unfazed calm, Wen Zhongyi said steadily, “It is his place, but he’s rented it out.”

“Rented it out?” Zhou Lu was stunned. “Why would he rent it out?”

The place had been vacant for years. Meng Chuan wasn’t hurting for rent money—and more importantly, the apartment held a lot of important documents. Zhou Lu used to run her business from here and stored materials she hadn’t bothered to move. She’d come now to retrieve them.

Looking sincere, Wen Zhongyi explained, “I’m his friend. I ran into some trouble and had nowhere to stay, so Meng Chuan rented the place to me.”

“I see.” Zhou Lu seemed to accept that. She smiled politely. “Sorry about the surprise. I’m Meng Chuan’s mother. I didn’t know anyone was living here—I’m just here to pick up some files. Did he move any of the things that were here?”

“No,” Wen Zhongyi said softly.

Zhou Lu’s brows knit slightly. Something felt off, but she didn’t show it. She asked, “Would it be alright if I step into the study? If the documents are still here, they’d be in there.”

“Of course.” Wen Zhongyi nodded. As she moved to change her shoes, he added quickly, “No need to change—please, just go ahead.”

…

Zhou Lu looked down at the shoe rack—and then it hit her.

Two pairs of shoes: different sizes of dress shoes and slippers, indicating more than one person lived here. One pair of larger dress shoes looked awfully familiar. She was pretty sure she’d seen Meng Chuan wear them.

And that coat on the entryway hook looked like something Meng Chuan often wore.

Zhou Lu swallowed stiffly, mentally chanting just a coincidence, just a coincidence…

She kept her calm, heading to the study without glancing around. Good manners kept her from showing her growing suspicion.

She opened the door and was immediately struck still.

The room had been completely rearranged, obviously tidied and organized by someone.

Thankfully, it was neat enough that she quickly found the files she came for.

She reached for the topmost blue folder, stretching on tiptoe—when Wen Zhongyi’s voice came from behind: “Let me get that for you.”

“Alright.” Zhou Lu forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“No trouble.”

Wen Zhongyi stepped forward. Tall as he was, he reached it easily.

Standing beside him, Zhou Lu caught a glimpse of the label peeking from the collar of his shirt—and her eyes jolted in shock. Her expression changed instantly.

It was a globally limited edition shirt she had gifted Meng Chuan for his birthday last year.

The brand had publicly listed its sales. Except for this one, all other pieces had gone overseas.

Zhou Lu was one hundred percent sure—this was Meng Chuan’s shirt. She could no longer convince herself this was coincidence.

Wen Zhongyi quickly retrieved the blue folder, brushed the dust off, and held it out with both hands. “Here you go.”

“…Thank you.” Zhou Lu took it, her fingers trembling slightly, struggling to maintain her composure.

She looked up, as if to ask something, but when she met Wen Zhongyi’s calm and gentle gaze, she swallowed the question and instead murmured, “What’s your name?”

“Wen Zhongyi.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Zhou Lu said sincerely, then exhaled softly.

Wen Zhongyi walked her to the door, bowing politely as he said goodbye.

Once the door closed, he let out a long breath.

He wasn’t sure if Zhou Lu had figured anything out, but judging from her behavior, she probably hadn’t.

Wen Zhongyi felt a bit more at ease.

_____

Meanwhile, at the dinner banquet, Meng Chuan was dodging toasts left and right. “No, really, I can’t drink—President Zhang, you have no idea. My partner is super strict. I’m not allowed even a drop. If I dare drink tonight, I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

President Zhang raised an eyebrow, surprised. “When did President Meng start dating?”

“Not long ago.” Meng Chuan grinned. “Next time, I’ll find a good occasion to introduce him to everyone.”

The table was filled with business partners. Though they didn’t interact much outside of work, gossip was still irresistible. Hearing Meng Chuan say that, they all nodded and smiled.

President Zhang teased, “Didn’t expect you to be the whipped type.”

“Not quite,” Meng Chuan winked, “but come on, different rules for different situations, right? I’ve been away for four or five days already. If I go back and still end up on the couch, that’d be pretty tragic, wouldn’t it, President Zhang?”

“True, true.” Zhang chuckled. “Then just have some tea tonight—no alcohol.”

Just as Meng Chuan was about to respond, his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket.

His face instantly took on a look that said See? Told you so. Amid the teasing laughter, he took out his phone—and the smile froze on his face the moment he saw who was calling.

Zhou Lu rarely called unless it was urgent.

A wave of guilt hit Meng Chuan out of nowhere.

He stood up, holding his phone, and pointed toward the door. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”