The shared, slightly antagonistic quiet on the terrace was broken by Zhiyuan. He kept his eyes on the garden below, his voice lower than before.
"Where were you this morning?" he asked. "Meilin said you were gone."
Yichen stopped his silly stretching and leaned back on the railing. "I was out. Jogging. Checking the neighborhood. You know, guard stuff." His answer was smooth, too smooth.
Zhiyuan glanced at him. He didn't believe him for a second. There was no sweat on his clothes now, and "jogging" didn't explain the missing breakfast or the look in his eye that was more calculated than casual. But pushing felt dangerous. It would mean admitting he'd noticed, that he cared about the answer.
He looked away again. "I see." He took a final drag of his cigarette and put it out. "And... about last night." The words felt awkward, stuck in his throat. "I apologize for my... behavior. It was unacceptable. Please forget what you saw."
The words were formal, a CEO issuing a correction. But they landed on Yichen with a weight Zhiyuan didn't intend.
Yichen felt a sharp, unexpected pang in his chest. Forget it? Forget the raw, shattered look in Zhiyuan's eyes? Forget the feeling of his trembling body going limp with trust? That wasn't something you forgot. It was something you held onto, to understand the true shape of the person you were protecting.
He forced his usual easygoing smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Last night? What happened last night? I just remember a very boring family dinner and then driving home." He waved a dismissive hand. "You must be thinking of someone else, boss."
He was changing the subject, offering an escape hatch, and Zhiyuan was grateful for it.
Before either could say anything more, a familiar, bright voice floated up from the garden below.
"Zhiyuan! Are you home?"
Both men looked over the railing. Down in the courtyard, dressed in a cheerful yellow sundress, was Li Xiao Xue, waving up at them with a small, anxious smile.
Yichen immediately straightened, his playful demeanor shifting into something more neutral, more guarded. "Looks like you have company."
Zhiyuan sighed, a mix of obligation and genuine fondness for Xiao Xue cutting through his turbulent thoughts. "It seems so." He turned to go back inside.
Yichen fell into step behind him, the brief, almost intimate moment on the terrace thoroughly buried under the return of their public roles: the CEO and his bodyguard, about to receive his fiancée.
Zhiyuan and Yichen descended the stairs to find Xiao Xue waiting in the grand foyer, looking slightly out of place in the minimalist mansion.
"Xiao Xue," Zhiyuan said, offering a small, polite smile. "This is a surprise. How did you know I was home today?"
Xiao Xue brightened. "Oh, I called your office, but Miss Zhang said you weren't coming in. I was worried, so I phoned Uncle Zhaoxi to see if he'd heard from you. He said he'd spoken to the housekeeper this morning and that you were taking a day to rest at home. So, I thought I'd come check on you myself." She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly. "After everything..."
Zhiyuan's polite smile stayed fixed, but inside, his mind sharpened. Uncle Zhaoxi? Talking to his housekeeper? Since when did his cowardly uncle take such a direct, personal interest in his daily schedule? It was a tiny detail, but in the current climate, every detail felt like a potential wire in a trap.
"I see. That was... thoughtful of him," Zhiyuan replied, his tone neutral. He didn't push. Not here, not now. "Please, come in."
He led her into the spacious, sunlit living room. Xiao Xue settled gracefully on the large white sofa, and Zhiyuan sat a respectful distance beside her. Yichen positioned himself with his back to the large window, standing perfectly still a few feet behind Zhiyuan's shoulder, his eyes constantly, subtly scanning the room and its entrances. He wasn't just a guard now; he was a statue of vigilance.
"It's so good to see you looking better," Xiao Xue began, her voice soft with concern. "That night at the dinner, you seemed... tense. And then you left so suddenly. Mother was upset, but I told her you must have been exhausted."
"It was a long week," Zhiyuan agreed, giving her the expected answer. "I needed the quiet."
Meilin entered then, carrying a tray with delicate teacups and a pot of jasmine tea. Her face was a mask of polite welcome. "Miss Li, what a pleasure. Please, have some tea."
"Thank you, Auntie Zhao," Xiao Xue said kindly, accepting a cup. She'd always been sweet to Meilin.
As Meilin served the tea, her eyes flicked for a millisecond to Yichen, standing rigid and watchful. A silent communication passed between them her gaze held a question, his slight, almost imperceptible shake of the head was an answer: No threats here. For now.
The conversation continued, a gentle stream of pleasantries about the weather, mutual acquaintances, and plans for the upcoming engagement party. But the atmosphere was strange. Zhiyuan was distracted, his mind on his uncle's odd interference. Xiao Xue was trying too hard to be cheerful. And Yichen's silent, intense presence behind them was like a thundercloud in the bright room, a constant, unspoken reminder that the quiet day off was an illusion, and the danger was never far away.
The polite chit-chat in the living room flowed like the tea warm, smooth, and surface-deep. Xiao Xue was describing a new art exhibition when Zhiyuan's phone buzzed insistently in his pocket.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said, glancing at the screen. It was a work call he couldn't ignore. "I'll be right back."
He gave Xiao Xue an apologetic nod and left the room, heading towards his study for privacy.
In his absence, a heavy silence settled. Xiao Xue sipped her tea, looking around the room. Meilin had discreetly withdrawn to the kitchen.
Yichen, who had not moved from his post, broke the quiet. His voice was casual, conversational, but his eyes were sharp.
"Miss Li, you're studying medicine, correct? At Peking University?"
Xiao Xue looked up, pleasantly surprised. "Yes! I'm in my final year. How did you know?"
"Just something I heard," Yichen said with a small, friendly smile. "It's impressive. You must know a lot about pharmaceuticals."
She beamed with pride. "I try my best. Pharmacology is a fascinating field."
"I have a question, then," Yichen said, leaning slightly against the window frame as if making casual conversation. "Maybe you can help me. I came across a chemical name recently. Clonazepam. Do you know what that is?"
Xiao Xue's smile faded into a thoughtful frown. She set her teacown down. "Clonazepam… Yes, I know it." Her voice became more clinical, a student reciting facts. "But it's… not really a standard medication you just 'come across.' It's a potent benzodiazepine. It's highly controlled because it's very addictive. It's used for severe seizure disorders or, in very limited cases, extreme panic attacks, but it's a last resort because of the side effects."
Yichen's expression remained neutral, but his heart beat faster. "Side effects?"
"Drowsiness, confusion, memory problems, loss of coordination… With long-term use, dependence, severe withdrawal, cognitive decline," she listed, her brow furrowed. "It's not something a doctor would prescribe lightly, especially not as a regular pill. Why do you ask?"
The puzzle pieces Yichen had been collecting since last night slammed together. The doctor's evasiveness. The strange instruction to give a second pill if one was missed. The "sleepy" or "limp" reaction Meilin described. The mention of an injection for worse attacks.
It wasn't medicine for anxiety.
It was a chemical leash.A drug designed to dull, to sedate, to make its user compliant and weak.
"No reason," Yichen said, his voice light again, masterfully covering his chilling realization. "Just heard it somewhere. Thank you for the information. It's very… enlightening."
Just then, Zhiyuan returned, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"
Xiao Xue, still slightly puzzled by the odd question, tried to regain the previous light mood. But Yichen didn't hear her. He was staring straight ahead, his body tense.
He had taken one of Zhiyuan's pills this morning before his "jog." He hadn't been jogging. He'd gone to see an old friend who worked in a private lab, a friend who asked no questions. He'd handed over the pill with a simple request: "Test this. Tell me everything that's in it. Fast."
The name Xiao Xue just confirmed Clonazepam was on that report. And Yichen now knew with cold, sickening certainty that Zhiyuan's "anxiety" was a lie. Someone likely the "trusted" Dr. Fan had been slowly poisoning him for years, keeping him in a docile, weakened state.
The attacks weren't from a condition. They were symptoms of manipulation and withdrawal. And the person trying to kill Liang Zhiyuan wasn't just coming at him with knives and fire. They had been inside his bloodstream all along.
After the phone call, the afternoon passed in a blur of forced normalcy. Xiao Xue stayed, her concern manifesting as a constant, gentle presence. They had a quiet dinner together in the dining room, the conversation light but strained. Yichen stood sentinel by the door, a silent, brooding statue. His mind was racing, the truth about the pills burning a hole in his pocket, but he couldn't speak, not with Xiao Xue there.
Finally, after dinner, Xiao Xue prepared to leave. "Promise me you'll rest, Zhiyuan," she said at the door, giving his hand a squeeze.
"I promise. Thank you for coming," he replied, giving her a tired but genuine smile.
The moment her car disappeared down the drive, the polite mask dropped from Zhiyuan's face, replaced by pure exhaustion. He rubbed his temples and turned to go back inside.
"Boss. We need to talk," Yichen said, stepping into his path, his voice low and serious.
Zhiyuan sighed, the sound heavy with irritation. "Not now, Yichen. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense. I have a headache, and I just want to go to bed." He moved to walk around him, heading straight for the living room sideboard where a glass of water and his pill bottle waited.
"I said, we need to talk," Yichen repeated, more firmly. As Zhiyuan's hand closed around the bottle, Yichen's shot out and snatched it away.
"Give that back!" Zhiyuan snapped, his patience gone. "This isn't funny!"
"It's not a joke," Yichen said, holding the bottle tight. "Don't take these. They are not for anxiety."
Zhiyuan stared at him, a flare of real anger in his eyes. "Oh, and you're a doctor now? Give it to me." He made a grab for it, but Yichen held it out of reach.
"I'm not a doctor. But I asked one. A real one." Yichen stepped closer, his gaze intense. "You've been taking these for… ten years, right? Since you were a teenager? What happened back then, Zhiyuan? What was the big event that caused this 'anxiety'?"
The question hit Zhiyuan like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, to list the pressures, the grief… but his mind went blank. A fog seemed to roll in. He could remember the feeling of dread, the panic attacks starting, but the why… the specific trigger… it was hazy, unclear, like a dream he couldn't grasp.
"Sickness doesn't send you a warning before it arrives," he said defensively, but his voice lacked its usual certainty. "Now give me my medicine and get lost. You're annoying me."
"No." Yichen's voice was final. Before Zhiyuan could react, Yichen turned and with a powerful throw, hurled the small white bottle out the still-open front door. It sailed through the night air and landed with a faint clatter somewhere in the dark bushes.
"Are you insane?!" Zhiyuan shouted, truly furious now.
"Maybe!" Yichen fired back, turning to face him, his own composure cracking. "But I'm not the one being poisoned!"
The word hung in the air like gunshot smoke. Poisoned.
Yichen took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak calmly, clearly. "I took one of your pills this morning. I gave it to a friend who works in a lab. I had it tested. The main ingredient is Clonazepam. It's a highly addictive sedative. It's not for managing daily anxiety. It's for shutting people down. It causes drowsiness, memory loss, weakness."
He took another step forward, his eyes pleading for Zhiyuan to understand. "Your 'attacks'… the sleepiness, the confusion Meilin described… that's not illness. That's the drug. And the bad attacks, the ones where you fight and cry? That might be what happens when your body is trying to fight it off, when you miss a dose."
He laid out the facts he'd learned from Xiao Xue and his own investigation. "Dr. Fan has been lying to you. For ten years. He hasn't been treating you. He's been drugging you. Making you weak. Making you manageable."
Zhiyuan stood frozen, all anger drained from his face, replaced by a slow-dawning horror. He looked from Yichen's earnest, fierce expression to the dark doorway where his medicine had disappeared. The unexplained mental fog, the gaps in his memory about his own past, the constant, dragging fatigue he'd blamed on stress… it all rearranged itself into a new, terrifying picture.
The enemy wasn't just outside. The betrayal wasn't just about business or inheritance. It was in his own body. And it had been there, silently shaping him, for half his life.
The horrible truth hung in the air between them. But instead of the shock turning to gratitude, it curdled into something darker—a deep, primal suspicion. Zhiyuan took a step back, putting physical and emotional distance between himself and Yichen.
"Why," he began, his voice dangerously quiet, "should I trust you?"
Yichen blinked. "What?"
"What if this is your plan?" Zhiyuan's words came faster, fueled by a decade of betrayal he was only just comprehending. "What if you're trying to poison me by keeping me from my medicine? Or making me sick by stopping it? Why should I trust a single word from a man I know nothing about?"
He took another step forward, his eyes blazing with confusion and fear. "I don't know who you are. I don't know where you come from. I don't even know where to start! Should I ask how a supposed 'distant relative' of a maid speaks fluent Italian? Should I ask how a street kid got world-class combat and medical training? Should I ask why me? Why are you protecting me like I... like I mean something to you?"
He was shouting now, all his frustration and fear pouring out. "Or should I ask how you just happen to know someone in a private lab who can run illegal drug tests in a few hours? You're not from Shanghai, are you? You're not from Meilin's village! So who are you?!"
Yichen stood perfectly still, taking the verbal blows. When Zhiyuan finished, breathless, Yichen's expression wasn't angry. It was pained. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a raw, pleading honesty.
"If I wanted to kill you," Yichen said, his voice thick with emotion, "I would have done it a very long time ago. I had a thousand chances. In the fire. In the garage. In your sleep last night. I swear on Nainai's life, I am not lying to you. I am trying to save you from the real poison."
He held his hands out, empty. "If you don't believe me, test it yourself. Send the pills to any lab you trust. But do it secretly."
Zhiyuan stared at him, his chest heaving. The logic fought with the paranoia. The memory of Yichen carrying him from the fire fought with the terrifying unknown of his past.
Without another word, without even blinking, Zhiyuan pulled out his phone. He dialed his assistant, Miss Zhang.
"Miss Zhang. I need you to do something. Discreetly. Take the bottle of my anxiety medication from Dr. Fan there's a spare in my office drawer. Send it for a full, private toxicology screen. Use a lab with no connection to us or to any of our known associates. No one is to know. Not the doctor, not the family, no one. I want the results on my private server only. Do you understand?"
He listened to her brief, professional confirmation, then hung up.
He turned back to Yichen. The CEO was back, but there was a crack of sheer terror in his eyes. "Before the results come..." he said, his voice trembling slightly. The thought of facing the next hours, the next days, without the chemical crutch that had defined his reality for a decade was terrifying. The fear of losing control, of the raw panic returning, was overwhelming. "I... I need to take the pills. Go get them for me. Now."
It was an order. A desperate plea from a drowning man.
Yichen didn't move. He shook his head, his resolve solid as steel. "No," he said, the single word gentle but absolute. "You won't take them. Not ever again."
"You don't get to decide that!" Zhiyuan yelled, the control snapping.
"I do," Yichen said, stepping closer, not in threat, but in solidarity. "Because I'm here. And I won't let you fall. The withdrawal will be hard. You'll hate me. You might even fire me. But I will be right here. And you will get through it. Clean. And awake. And finally able to see who your real enemies are."
He was offering himself as the new anchor, replacing a decade of chemical dependence. It was a staggering promise. Zhiyuan looked at him, at this infuriating, mysterious, impossibly loyal man, and for the first time, he had no words. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, and the only thing stopping him from falling was a pair of steady, amber eyes and a truth he was too afraid to fully believe.