Chapter 3: Let Him Spill the Beans? Think Again.
Liu Ming Zhou patiently replied, “Jing Qiu Chi. ‘Jing’ as in scenery, ‘Qiu’ as in autumn, ‘Chi’ as in belated.”
Chi Qui Lin couldn’t shake the feeling that Liu Ming Zhou’s tone softened considerably when he said “Qiu.”
However, remembering that this man was his rival, a wave of nausea washed over him. He decided his brain must be filled with mud to have such a ridiculous thought.
As a silence fell between them, Chi Qui Lin again found his thoughts drifting to Yao Xin Yu. Had Yao Xin Yu grieved over his death? Was it Yao Xin Yu who had lost his mind and caused a scene at the hospital for him…
Chi Qui Lin felt pathetic. He’d been killed once by that scumbag, yet the thought of him still stirred curiosity about his well-being, even a desire to approach him.
Looking at the silent Liu Ming Zhou, though he felt disgust, after a moment’s thought, Chi Qui Lin indirectly questioned him, “Do you have a partner?”
Liu Ming Zhou didn’t look up, replying quickly, “No.”
No? Liu Ming Zhou and Yao Xin Yu weren’t together? Chi Qui Lin was puzzled. Had his death created an insurmountable obstacle between Yao Xin Yu and Liu Ming Zhou, preventing them from being together?
If so, his death had served some purpose.
But then he thought about how he was supposed to return home as a rich, powerful second-generation heir, only to slip and become a disabled invalid confined to a hospital bed. Chi Qui Lin felt he’d lost out, and lost big.
He changed the subject, continuing, “Then, do you have someone you like?”
“Yes.” Liu Ming Zhou answered quickly, immediately changing the topic, “What do you want for dinner? I’ll go buy some food for you.”
It seemed Liu Ming Zhou didn’t want to continue this line of questioning, further solidifying Chi Qui Lin’s suspicion – his death had created a knot in Liu Ming Zhou’s heart, preventing him from being with Yao Xin Yu without guilt.
…
Following doctor’s orders, Liu Ming Zhou only brought Chi Qui Lin some congee. Chi Qui Lin resignedly reached for the bowl, but discovered he lacked the strength, and dejectedly fell back onto the bed. “I won’t eat.”
A chuckle came from beside him. Before Chi Qui Lin could react, Liu Ming Zhou had his arm around his shoulder, supporting him. “I’ll feed you. Eat a little, or you’ll hurt yourself.”
Meeting the concerned gaze of his rival, Chi Qui Lin felt uneasy, but nodded.
Liu Ming Zhou patiently cooled the congee, feeding him spoonful by spoonful.
The congee fed to him by his meek rival tasted surprisingly good. Although that’s what Chi Qui Lin thought, what he said was, “I really want hot pot. When I can eat normal food, I’m definitely going to have spicy hot pot.”
As he spoke, Chi Qui Lin’s mind was filled with images of an old hot pot restaurant in the west of the city. The hot pot there was authentic, with fresh ingredients. In his past life, he had loved it, frequently taking Yao Xin Yu there. Yao Xin Yu didn’t like spicy food, so they ordered a double-flavored pot. Chi Qui Lin would kiss Yao Xin Yu with the lingering taste of spicy hot pot on his lips, grinning as Yao Xin Yu pushed him away with a frown.
“Brother,” Liu Ming Zhou’s unusually serious voice suddenly broke Chi Qui Lin’s reverie, causing him to choke on his congee. He coughed, his face reddening, replying in embarrassment, “What?”
Liu Ming Zhou put down the bowl, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on Chi Qui Lin. “You’re allergic to chili peppers, especially hot pot. Even one bite would cause a shock.”
Damn it, I knew talking too much would lead to trouble. Chi Qui Lin cursed his own stupidity inwardly, but still argued, “Oh, I just woke up, my brain isn’t working properly, I forgot.”
“Really just forgot? But the way you said it, it was like you used to love hot pot,” Liu Ming Zhou leaned closer, his eyes fixed on Chi Qui Lin’s face, “I knew someone who really liked hot pot, especially the one in the east of the city.”
Friend? Who’s your friend? Chi Qui Lin rolled his eyes in his heart, blurting out without thinking, “Isn’t it the one in the west?” The moment the words left his mouth, he cursed his own impulsiveness.
Liu Ming Zhou leaned even closer, his gaze inches away, his hot breath on Chi Qui Lin’s cheek. “Did I say which hot pot restaurant? Why do you know it’s the one in the west?”
Faced with Liu Ming Zhou’s barrage of questions, Chi Qui Lin felt overwhelmed but pressed on, “Just a guess. Because I remember an old hot pot restaurant in the west. What’s wrong with you today? You’re like a lunatic, constantly questioning me, it’s ridiculous.”
He made a move to push the man whose face was almost touching his away.
Liu Ming Zhou grabbed his almost powerless hand, his voice low. “I think it’s ridiculous too, but my friend, he also really liked that hot pot restaurant in the west.”
Liu Ming Zhou’s hands were warm, the warmth gradually melting the chill in Chi Qui Lin’s palm.
Though panicked enough to want to bang his head against the wall, Chi Qui Lin still mustered his courage, “It seems you care a lot about that friend.”
“Chi Qui Lin.”
“Ah?” Chi Qui Lin instinctively responded, then reacted, correcting himself, “Oh, his name is Chi Qui Lin, it’s quite a nice name.”
Liu Ming Zhou countered, “Don’t you know him?”
Chi Qui Lin confidently shook his head. “No, I’ve never heard of him.”
Warm hands moved from his palm to his chin. Liu Ming Zhou said calmly, “But the doctor told me that the first person you asked about after waking up was Chi Qui Lin.”
Though a statement, it sounded like an interrogation. Before Chi Qui Lin could figure out an excuse, Liu Ming Zhou lifted his chin, and Chi Qui Lin watched helplessly as he leaned closer.
Chi Qui Lin felt intense pressure, a hint of warning in his voice. “Liu Ming Zhou.”
Liu Ming Zhou responded softly, “What, brother?”
Chi Qui Lin was speechless, blaming himself for his carelessness in leaving so many loopholes. He didn’t know how to cover it up. Maybe he should just confess.
But if Liu Ming Zhou knew he was Chi Qui Lin, his guilt over his “suicide” would vanish, and he might naturally get together with Yao Xin Yu. Chi Qui Lin wouldn’t allow that to happen.
He looked into Liu Ming Zhou’s eyes, dark and complex, filled with intense scrutiny, as if trying to see through him.
Chi Qui Lin’s heart leaped. He felt that if Liu Ming Zhou knew his true identity, he would immediately strangle the defenseless him on the hospital bed.
“Brother,” Liu Ming Zhou’s voice broke through his distraction, “I remember telling you that your father died during the year you were unconscious, but you didn’t even ask. Why?”
Why? What does Jing Qiu Chi’s father’s death have to do with him, Chi Qui Lin? But he dared not say that. After a brief thought, he pretended to be shocked, widening his eyes, and raising his voice dramatically, “What? Old man died? When did you tell me? I didn’t hear you!”
Liu Ming Zhou was about to speak, but was stunned by Chi Qui Lin’s over-the-top acting – Chi Qui Lin wailed, his voice choked with sobs, “My father! How could you abandon your son to ascend to the heavens? How can you be so heartless…”
【Author’s Note: Chi Qui Lin: Didn’t expect it, did you? Your grandpa’s an Oscar-winning actor.】