Chapter 94: Youthful Heart
There weren’t many places Wen Yan could go. Crowded places were off-limits, places outside of Pei Zhouye’s control were off-limits, and meeting strangers was forbidden.
During this time, he had been preparing his application process. Once his exchange slot was confirmed, he spent his time reading original academic texts and other materials. He didn’t like going out anyway. He only met with Wu Qingqing and Duan Mingtao once. They had already started preparing for the postgraduate entrance exams, and Wen Yan didn’t want to affect his friends with his own troubles, so he didn’t say much during their meeting.
The two were genuinely worried about him, but since Wen Yan was clearly unwilling to talk, it wasn’t right to pry. They had a good meal, watched a new movie, chatted about some gossip, and then parted ways.
The bodyguards remained on the first floor. Wen Yan stood on the stairs, looked down briefly, and then withdrew his gaze.
He went back to his bedroom and took out his burner phone. He knew Pei Zhouye wouldn’t dare install cameras in his bedroom again. This room was airy and spacious, with a meticulous layout and decor. It was perfectly suitable as a study space, meaning he didn’t have to share the study with Pei Zhouye.
There was a message on the burner phone. Wen Yan tapped the notification.
[Cheng Shangshi: Wen Yan, my flight is tonight.]
The message was from last night, but since Pei Zhouye had only left this morning, Wen Yan had just seen it. After hesitating for a long time, he finally replied:
[Wen Yan: Okay.]
They had agreed to meet up early before leaving. With only a month left before the semester started, Cheng Shangshi was going to help him in advance. He hadn’t expected Cheng Shangshi to return to the country earlier than planned; it was quite sudden.
As soon as he sent the reply, another message popped up.
[Cheng Shangshi: Is it convenient to talk?]
They spoke on the phone occasionally, but to avoid detection by Pei Zhouye, the frequency was very low. Wen Yan instinctively surveyed his surroundings before realizing he was no longer in that room from the end of last year.
He took a silent deep breath, composed himself, and dialed the number.
Cheng Shangshi’s voice was dry and raspy, sounding somewhat exhausted. “How have you been lately?”
Wen Yan was a bit surprised. They had been in intermittent contact, but this question felt abrupt.
“I’m okay. Pei Zhouye just left this morning,” he replied steadily. “And you? Why…”
He didn’t finish his sentence.
“Why the sudden return?” Cheng Shangshi finished for him, then let out a strange, low chuckle.
After talking to Manager Wang last night, he had suffered from insomnia. For some reason, he desperately wanted to see Wen Yan. Perhaps he was afraid that Wen Yan was truly being bullied by Pei Zhouye like that.
He couldn’t close his eyes; every time he did, he saw Wen Yan’s face, and Manager Wang’s words about “methods for disciplining a canary” echoed in his ears. Even though he didn’t believe it, he had simply bought a ticket, grabbed his documents, and headed to the airport.
There were very few direct flights from Country D to Country C, so he had to transfer. It had taken from the early morning until now to finally reach A University city. But he was lucky; just as he got off the plane and was still at the airport, he received Wen Yan’s call.
Cheng Shangshi was silent for half a minute. Wen Yan watched the seconds tick by on the screen. It had become a habit; holding the phone made him feel an involuntary tension, a fear that Pei Zhouye would knock on the door.
“Yeah, it’s a bit sudden.”
There was the background noise of a crowd on the other end; Cheng Shangshi must still be at the airport. Wen Yan’s fingers tightened on the phone. After a pause, he asked, “Was the trip exhausting?”
The summer night breeze was too hot against the skin. Cheng Shangshi didn’t want to be recognized, so he wore a hat and a mask. The chatter of the crowd surrounded him, and the car he called hadn’t arrived yet. It wasn’t a comfortable experience.
The audio quality was excellent, likely because Wen Yan was holding the phone close to his mouth. He could hear the steady sound of Wen Yan’s breathing.
“It’s not exhausting anymore.”
Wen Yan went out.
Pei Zhouye could see the surveillance from inside the car. On the other side of the screen was the vehicle heading toward the Linjiang flat. The person inside was leaning quietly against the seat, his profile clean and his features almost translucent in their beauty. When the car reached the city center, he opened the window, rested his elbow on the frame, and stared out at the street, lost in thought.
Even without a full view of his face, the sight was moving. Some people possessed a natural, unconscious allure.
“President Pei.”
The assistant spoke softly beside him, drawing Pei Zhouye’s attention back.
“Mm,” Pei Zhouye acknowledged, his eyes still fixed on the video.
The assistant continued, “The other party has agreed to a two-percent concession. Shall we continue?”
The tablet screen finally went dark, and Pei Zhouye looked up. The assistant inwardly guessed Pei Zhouye’s thoughts. Two percent was still too little for him; the goal for this trip was to secure five percent. In a project worth hundreds of millions, every percentage point was a massive sum.
Looking at Pei Zhouye’s expressionless face, the assistant clenched his fists, slightly regretting his question.
“Forget it. Draft the contract.”
“Okay…” The assistant looked up in shock before quickly composed himself when he saw Pei Zhouye didn’t care about his lapse. “I’ll go inform them.”
Pei Zhouye gave a casual hum, his body sinking into the seat. His gaze lost focus, drifting lazily toward the simulated starry sky on the car’s ceiling—scattered points of light in a deep, ink-blue void.
I should go back early to be with Wen Yan. I’ll take him out for a walk.
The decor was so cold it lacked any sign of being lived in.
Pei Zhouye didn’t like others entering his private space, so when they reached the door, the two accompanying bodyguards stopped automatically. Wen Yan knew all the passcodes for this apartment.
The living room faced the river. It was still daytime, and he could see the congested traffic below. Up here, none of the noise or sweltering heat could be felt; it was a perfect place to be alone.
Coming here was merely a ruse. He just needed an excuse to leave the house and find an opportunity to meet Cheng Shangshi.
Wen Yan withdrew his gaze and pretended to look for materials he had left behind. After faking the search for a long time, he picked up a document folder. Even though this was supposed to be a high-stakes, exciting moment, his mind kept wandering. He even felt a sense of pointlessness.
Wen Yan took a deep breath, refusing to overthink the reason.
Before leaving, he glanced at a certain door. Pei Zhouye had never specified any rooms as off-limits, but Wen Yan had never seen him enter this one, nor had he felt any curiosity about it until now.
An instinctual premonition warned him not to open that door. But since he was leaving anyway…
Before he realized it, Wen Yan had walked up to the door and raised his hand. If he pressed his finger to the scanner, he could open it. Maybe it contained the Pei family’s secret documents, or a room full of gold, like in a TV drama.
In the midst of the tense atmosphere, Wen Yan actually laughed at his own imagination. After another moment of hesitation, he pressed down.
With a soft beep, Wen Yan pushed the door open, and the lights inside automatically flickered on.
By the dim, seemingly intentionally low light, Wen Yan saw the contents of the room. The smile on his face froze, gradually replaced by shock and horror.
An entire wall was covered in photographs, packed so tightly there were almost no gaps. From the window of a high school classroom to a corner of a university path—it was all him. Smiling, frowning, daydreaming, running. Some photos were blurry due to the distance, yet they had been printed and pinned there with solemn care.
A fountain pen, a school badge, a scarf…
The original owner of these items stared in shock and terror. After the initial shock came a sense of helplessness. He had been watched for so long. He had no idea when Pei Zhouye had started observing him from the shadows, nor for how long. It had been five years—a pair of eyes had been fixed on him for five years.
Wen Yan unconsciously took a step back.
It was silent; even the ticking of a clock was absent. Wen Yan checked his watch, took a deep breath, and walked further inside.
There’s nothing to be afraid of.
The room was organized with clinical precision, like a personal museum. It was cluttered with items, but not messy.
There was a calligraphy piece he had submitted for a school exhibition that hadn’t been returned; at the time, he thought it had just been misplaced among the many works. A plain ring he had lost while moving classrooms at the end of the semester—he had made it with a friend at a workshop owned by the friend’s sister. He didn’t like wearing jewelry and hadn’t worn it much before losing it. He had planned to go back and look for it during the evening cleanup, but with all the desks and chairs piled together, he hadn’t found it.
There were even notes he had once given to underclassmen. He didn’t know why they were here now.
The yellowing paper and the neat handwriting brought back blurry high school memories. Wen Yan’s gaze darted around, trying to avoid the evidence of his stolen life, until it landed on a stack of letters. He couldn’t look away.
These were the letters he had written by hand—letters born from a vague, budding affection, the very ones Gu Yulan had taken credit for. Their presence here pointed everything in one direction.
A soft leather notebook lay nearby. Wen Yan was certain it wasn’t his. While snooping through someone else’s belongings without permission was incredibly rude, his hand hovered in the air for ten seconds before finally opening it.
After reading just a few words, his eyes began to sting. The nearly one hundred love letters had all been written by the owner of this handwriting: Pei Zhouye.
The dark red leather notebook with kraft paper pages didn’t seem like Pei Zhouye’s style. It was likely a gift.
[This color is hideous. Actually, it’s okay, since she’s the one who gave it to me.]
Wen Yan had a faint guess who “she” was. The handwriting was as flamboyant as the man himself. The first page was written somewhat seriously, but it only contained those two lines.
Flipping forward, there wasn’t much content—just strings of numbers or the name [Pei Zhouye].
[She stole the fruit knife the nurse left in the basket and stabbed me in the arm. Ridiculous. I didn’t even cry out in pain, and then she immediately regretted it. The result was her telling me not to snitch. I told her to tell me a secret in exchange, and she agreed. She said she had a best friend back in Nanshi, but they stopped talking because she had to leave her hometown to marry into the Pei family in A University city. Now that person is a teacher, and even now, that person has no idea she is Mrs. Pei; they think she immigrated.]
Wen Yan’s pupils shrank. The person Pei Zhouye was writing about was his mother. No wonder his mother had such a strong reaction when he mentioned Yu Qiu.
The teenage Pei Zhouye seemed lost in thought, his pen scratching and crossing things out until he finally jumped to the next page.
[I don’t know if I should be shocked that she actually has a friend, or wonder why she won’t listen to advice. What’s the point in her hating me? She should hate Pei Mingcheng. He’s the one who ruined her and refuses to let her go.]
Pei Zhouye wasn’t the type to keep a diary. He only recorded these awkward emotions because the notebook had been a gift from Yu Qiu.
[Might as well all just die. Why even bother living? What ‘reunion’? Why does he get to control me?]
[I threw my school assignment about ‘Happy Reunions’ in front of Pei Mingcheng. I’m a high schooler, not an elementary student. How do they have the nerve to bring this kind of assignment to our school? It’s sick. How many people in this school actually have a ‘happy reunion’? These idealists have zero real-life experience and live entirely in fairy tales… Designer: Nanshi Second High School, Wen Yan…? Nanshi again. Does Nanshi specialize in delusions or acting? Do they have to force everyone to play along with their show of a ‘happy ending’ for the world to be satisfied?]
When Wen Yan saw his own name, his hand shook violently. That was a lesson plan competition he had entered in his second year of high school. Because it had won first place nationally, many schools had implemented it. If Pei Zhouye had looked a bit closer, he might have realized that wasn’t Wen Yan’s intent at all.
[Been in a bad mood lately. Got into a fight with Pei Mingcheng. I asked him if he regretted it; he asked what there was to regret. Shameless. Regretting forcing my mother to give birth to me, then spending so much effort to keep me alive. He said he doesn’t regret it. The Pei family needs an heir. If Yu Qiu didn’t give birth, someone else would have been put by his side. And since Yu Qiu went through so much to have me, he couldn’t let all that effort go to waste by letting me die.]
The handwriting became more forceful toward the end, as if infused with genuine hatred and pain. The cold words were chilling.
[Dumbass. Bastard. Why did you insist on marrying her then? She clearly told you she didn’t want kids. You just wanted an heir, so why didn’t you accept a political marriage? And you still think you did nothing wrong…]
Several pages were blank until the next one, which was wrinkled. Wen Yan instinctively thought they were tear stains, but he froze when he turned the page.
They were bloodstains. Fingerprints were pressed into the paper, as if he had gripped the pen with a bleeding hand, causing the blood to dry and smudge the ink.
[I saw Wen Yan. He’s very handsome and a good person. He bought a bottle of water and a Band-Aid and had the shop assistant give them to me.]
It was such a small, ordinary event—so ordinary that Wen Yan couldn’t even remember which time it had been.
[Idealists. What’s so great about them? He even stops to feed a sausage to a stray dog. Wen Yan, is your brain made of water?]
[Saving everyone he sees. He can’t even tell when people are faking it just to get his attention. Hmph. A living Bodhisattva has appeared.]
Translator’s Note:
Cultural/Term Notes:
- Nanshi Second High School (南市二中): “Second High School” is a common naming convention for public schools in China.
- Bodhisattva (活菩薩): Often used sarcastically in modern slang to describe someone who is “too good” or “too naive,” helping everyone even when it’s to their own detriment.
- Linjiang flat (臨江大平層): A “Da Ping Ceng” is a luxury apartment type in China, usually very large and on a single floor, often with a great view (in this case, the river).
Happy reading~
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