Zhiyuan was methodically eating his breakfast congee, using the simple, familiar routine to ground himself after the bizarre and unsettling morning. The flush had finally faded from his cheeks, replaced by his usual cool mask. He was determined to pretend the shirtless-bed-incident never happened.
He heard Yichen's footsteps approaching but refused to look up. He simply took another deliberate bite.
Yichen pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. He wasn't smiling or teasing now. His expression was serious, solemn even. He placed his phone on the table between them, screen facing Zhiyuan.
"We need to talk," Yichen said, his voice devoid of its usual playful lilt. "About last night. Not about… the bed thing. About the withdrawal."
Zhiyuan finally looked up, his guard instantly rising at the tone. "What about it?"
"It wasn't just withdrawal from a missed dose," Yichen said, holding his gaze. "It was your body fighting a poison it's been fed for ten years." He tapped his phone screen. "I have proof."
He pushed play.
The video was dark, grainy, but clear enough. It showed Dr. Fan, looking terrified and broken, tied to a chair in a grim, shadowy place. His left hand was bandaged clumsily. His voice was a ragged sob.
"...His uncle, Liang Shuren... came to me. Ten years ago... Zhiyuan was sick, grieving... Shuren said he needed to be 'calmed down'... gave me drugs... told me to keep injecting him..."
Zhiyuan's spoon clattered against his bowl. All the color drained from his face. He stared, unblinking, as the confession spilled out.
"...when he became dependent... I lied. I said it was anxiety... Shuren supplied the pills... said it was to make him 'manageable'... to protect the company..."
The video ended. The dining room was utterly silent. The only sound was the faint, rapid rhythm of Zhiyuan's own heartbeat in his ears.
He looked from the dark phone screen to Yichen's grave face. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
All the unexplained fog. The memory gaps. The constant, underlying fatigue he'd attributed to stress. The way his "anxiety" had conveniently started just as he was becoming old enough to step into his father's shadow.
It wasn't an illness. It was sabotage. A decade-long, calculated act of psychological murder by his own flesh and blood.
"Uncle Shuren," Zhiyuan breathed, the name tasting like ash. The bitter, overlooked CFO. The man who always seemed resentful of his position. He hadn't just wanted the company. He'd wanted to break the heir to claim it.
He felt a nausea that had nothing to do with food. It was the sickness of betrayal so deep it felt bottomless.
"The lab results on your pills will confirm it," Yichen said quietly. "But you heard it from his mouth. This is the enemy. The one who's been closest to you all along."
Zhiyuan slowly pushed his bowl away, his appetite gone. He looked at Yichen, really looked at him past the teasing, past the annoyance, to the man who had ripped this horrific truth out of the darkness and laid it bare in the morning light.
"How did you get this?" he asked, his voice hollow.
Yichen didn't flinch. "Does it matter? What matters is that you know. And now, you get to decide what happens next."
Zhiyuan leaned back in his chair, his mind cold and clear for the first time in years, the chemical fog burned away by the scalding truth. The game had changed. He was no longer a sick, anxious victim. He was a target who finally knew the name of his hunter. And the quiet, simmering anger that replaced his shock felt more familiar, more real, than any emotion he'd felt in a decade.
Few minutes later....
The morning calm at the Liang Family Mansion was shattered by the aggressive purr of a car engine and the slam of doors. Before the staff could even announce him, Zhiyuan stormed through the grand front door, his expression a thundercloud.
"Uncle Shuren!" his voice rang through the cavernous foyer, cold and commanding. "Where is he?"
The family, who were having a leisurely breakfast in the sunroom, hurried out, startled by the intrusion.
Aunt Ruifen was the first to reach him, she looked concerned and surprise. "Zhiyuan! Darling, what is it? What's happened?" She moved to hug him, but he took a subtle step back, making her embrace fall awkwardly short.
"Where is CFO Liang?" he repeated, ignoring her.
Before anyone could answer, the reason for his urgency became clear. Two uniformed police officers and a detective in plain clothes entered behind him, their footsteps echoing with official finality.
The entire family froze, spoons hovering, mouths agape.
"He's… he's upstairs, in his wing, I believe," Uncle Zhaoxi stammered, his face pale.
The detective gave a curt nod and led the officers up the main staircase. The family stood in stunned silence below, listening to the heavy footsteps fade, then stop. A door was knocked on, then opened.
There was a shout of surprise, a crash like a suitcase falling.
"What is the meaning of this? Get your hands off me!" Uncle Shuren's voice, shrill with panic, echoed down the stairs.
The police emerged, dragging a struggling, disheveled Liang Shuren between them. He was still in his dressing gown, a half-packed travel bag left behind in his room. Perhaps he was trying to run.
"Stop! I've done nothing! This is an outrage! Zhaoxi! Ruifen! Do something!"
They dragged him down to the foyer where everyone was gathered. Shuren's eyes, wide with terror, locked onto Zhiyuan.
"You!" he spat. "What have you done? Where are they taking me?"
Zhiyuan stepped forward, looking at the man who had helped raise him with a gaze of pure, icy contempt. "How could you go so far?" he asked, his voice deceptively quiet. "You tried to kill me. And I'm sure now… you're the one who killed my father."
A collective gasp ripped through the room. Aunt Xinyi's hand flew to her mouth.
Shuren's face went from red to ashen white. "What?! No! That's a lie! I never tried to kill you! Or Wenhao! I swear on my life!"
"Really?" Zhiyuan's voice sharpened. "Then why did you spend the last ten years paying my doctor to drug me? To poison me? To make me weak and 'manageable'?"
Another, louder gasp. All eyes swung to Shuren. The accusation was so specific, so horrific, it sucked the air from the room.
Shuren looked utterly stunned, as if he'd been struck. "Drug you? I… what? No! Those… those were for your health! Dr. Fan said you needed them! For your nerves!" His panicked eyes darted around the room, landing on his sister, Liang Ruifen. "Ruifen, you know! You know I only wanted what was best for—"
"Zhiyuan!" Aunt Ruifen's voice cut through her brother's plea, sharp and full of manufactured concern. She rushed to Zhiyuan's side, grabbing his arms, her eyes scanning him frantically. "My poor boy! Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Did he give you something? Look at me! Are you feeling dizzy?"
She physically inserted herself between Zhiyuan and his uncle, her back to Shuren, blocking the line of sight.
Shuren, seeing his sister's betrayal, grew more frantic. "Zhiyuan! Don't trust her! Don't trust anyone here! I swear, I did nothing! I gave money to the doctor, yes, but it was for treatment! She's twisting everything!"
But his voice was drowned out by Ruifen's frantic mothering and the general shock of the family. Zhiyuan stood firm amidst the chaos, his eyes cold. He didn't look at his weeping aunt. He looked past her, at his uncle being dragged away.
Yichen stood silently by the front door, a watchful shadow. His eyes were not on the arrested uncle, but on the aunt who was holding Zhiyuan a little too tightly, asking a few too many questions, her concern a little too loud. He was ready to move in an instant if her grip became more than just theatrical.
"Take him away," the detective said to the officers.
With a final, desperate shout that was cut off by the closing door, Liang Shuren, the CFO, was taken from his home in disgrace. The luxurious foyer was left in a ringing, heavy silence, broken only by Ruifen's dramatic sniffles and the dawning realization in everyone's eyes: the war within the Liang family was no longer hidden. It was out in the open. And Zhiyuan had just fired the first, very public, shot.
The echoing silence after the police left was thick with shock and unspoken accusations. Aunt Ruifen, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief, turned her full, watery attention back to Zhiyuan.
"Oh, my dear, you must be in such shock. Please, stay. Have some tea with us. We need to… to process this as a family," she pleaded, her voice trembling artfully.
"No, Auntie. I have to go to the office. There will be… fallout to manage," Zhiyuan said, his tone polite but distant. He needed to get out of this poisonous house.
Ruifen surged forward and wrapped him in another tight hug. "I just can't believe it," she sobbed into his shoulder. "Shuren… my own brother… I never imagined he could harbor such jealousy, such evil in his heart! To drug a child…" She pulled back, holding his face in her hands, her eyes searching his. "Promise me you'll let Doctor check you over immediately!"
Zhiyuan gently pried her hands away. "I'm fine, Auntie. Truly." He offered her a small, strained smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Uncle Zhaoxi shuffled over then, his face a mask of cowardly regret. "Zhiyuan… I… I never thought he could go this far just for money and power." He shook his head, the picture of a disappointed, naive man. "This world is so cruel. You must be so careful now. Do not trust anyone. Anyone."
The hypocrisy of the warning, coming from the man who had stayed silent for a decade, was almost impressive. Zhiyuan simply gave a curt nod. "I'll keep that in mind, Uncle."
With final, somber nods to the shell-shocked family, Zhiyuan turned and walked out, Yichen falling into step a half-pace behind him, a silent, protective shadow.
Once inside the quiet, sealed car, the heavy atmosphere shifted. Lao Chen started the engine. As they pulled away from the mansion, Yichen was the first to break the silence, his voice low.
"Don't you think your Aunt Ruifen was acting… a little too worried? A little too… perfect?"
Zhiyuan let out a long, weary sigh, leaning his head back against the seat and rubbing his temples where a stress headache was blooming. "She's always been like that," he said, exhaustion evident in his voice. "She gets overly emotional, worries about everything. She's the only one who's ever been consistently… nice." He opened his eyes and stared at the roof of the car, a flicker of pain in his gaze. "But I can't even trust that anymore, can I? I can't trust anyone."
He felt a sudden, warm weight on his hand. Yichen had reached over and placed his hand over Zhiyuan's, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "Don't think too much right now, okay? One thing at a time. Everything will be alright."
The simple touch and the promise, delivered with such quiet certainty, were a lifeline. Zhiyuan nodded, swallowing hard, but didn't pull his hand away. He kept rubbing his forehead with his other hand.
"Your head still hurts?" Yichen asked softly.
"Mmm."
"Here."
Before Zhiyuan could react,Yichen gently pulled him closer. "Place your head on my lap. It'll be more comfortable."
Zhiyuan stiffened, turning to look at him with a flash of familiar annoyance. "Yichen, please. Not now. Don't always flirt like that. It's not the time."
Yichen's expression was sincere, his teasing completely absent. "I'm not trying to flirt," he said softly, his hand guiding Zhiyuan's head down onto his lap. "I'm trying to help."
Zhiyuan, too tired and emotionally raw to fight, allowed himself to be maneuvered. His head settled onto the solid muscle of Yichen's thigh. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Then, Yichen's fingers began to work. They pressed into Zhiyuan's temples with just the right amount of pressure, then moved in slow, soothing circles across his scalp, threading through his hair. It was a skilled, gentle massage that immediately began to unravel the knots of tension.
A soft, involuntary sigh escaped Zhiyuan's lips as he closed his eyes. The touch was grounding, calming in a way the pills had never been. He felt his body slowly relax into the seat, into the warmth of Yichen's lap.
Above him, Yichen smiled a small, tender smile as he felt the tension leave Zhiyuan's body. He continued the massage, his touch speaking the comfort his words couldn't fully convey.
Lao Chen drove on towards the company, the city passing by in a silent blur. In the back of the car, there were no words, no schemes, no betrayals. Just the gentle rhythm of fingers in hair, the steadying warmth of contact, and the first fragile sense of peace Zhiyuan had felt in a very, very long time.
At the Police Station:
The interrogation room was cold and smelled of stale coffee and despair. Liang Shuren sat slumped at the metal table, his face haggard.
The door opened, and an officer said, "Shuren, you have a visitor."
Aunt Ruifen walked in, elegant and composed in a somber grey suit, a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving them alone.
"Ruifen!" Shuren cried out, lurching forward in his chair. "Thank God! You have to tell them! Tell them I did nothing! Tell them you're the one who gave me that medicine for Zhiyuan! Tell them I never tried to harm him! Why would I harm him? He's my nephew!"
Ruifen sat down slowly opposite him, placing her purse neatly on the table. She offered him a gentle, pitying smile. "Shuren, Shuren... calm down. Getting hysterical won't help anyone."
"But you have to clear my name! You know the truth!"
"Of course I know the truth," she said soothingly, reaching across to pat his hand. "And I will get you out of here. Soon. I promise." Her voice was like honey. Then it cooled, just a degree. "But, brother, you have to promise me one thing first."
"Anything! Just get me out!"
Her eyes locked onto his, the warmth in them freezing over. "Do not tell anyone not the police, not your lawyer, not a soul that I was the one who gave you those medicines. Do you understand?"
Shuren's breath hitched. The pleading died in his throat. He stared at her, finally seeing past the sisterly concern to the cold calculation beneath. "Ruifen... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I am your only way out of this," she said, her voice low and firm. "And if you try to tell anyone, anything, about my involvement... I will make sure you never leave this prison alive. Do we have an understanding?"
The threat, delivered so sweetly, turned Shuren's blood to ice. He was paralyzed, his mouth slightly open, unable to form words.
Ruifen stood up, her smile returning, warm and fake once more. "Good. Don't worry, brother. I'll take care of everything." She gave him one last, chilling look before turning and walking out, her heels tapping a precise rhythm on the floor.
Outside, in the parking lot, Guo Lian was waiting by her car. She slid into the passenger seat, her composure flawless.
"We have to be more careful now," she said, her voice all business. "Zhiyuan is awake. He's digging. He'll try to find out who really killed his father, and why. We need to find it before he does."
"Find what?" Guo Lian asked, starting the engine.
"That USB drive," Ruifen said, her eyes sharp. "It has to be in his old office at the company. We need to get to it before Zhiyuan does. Speed up the timeline."
At Liang Group International:
Back in his modern office, Zhiyuan was a man possessed. The genteel CEO was gone, replaced by someone with a fierce, singular focus.
"Miss Zhang," he said to his assistant, his voice leaving no room for debate. "I want you to arrange for my father's old office to be opened. Today."
Miss Zhang, usually unflappable, hesitated. "Sir, the late CEO's private office... it has been sealed since his passing. The board's directive. No one has the spare keys. We don't have access."
Zhiyuan looked up from his desk, his gaze piercing. "Then break the door down. Call a locksmith. Use a battering ram if you have to. I don't care. That room will be open for me by the end of the day."
"Y-Yes, sir." She hurried out, unsettled by the new, raw intensity in her boss.
Yichen, leaning against the wall by the door, watched the exchange. He saw the lines of tension around Zhiyuan's eyes, the set of his jaw. The gentle man from the car was gone, buried under a mountain of righteous anger and purpose.
Once the assistant was gone, Yichen pushed off the wall. He walked over and perched on the edge of Zhiyuan's gigantic desk, right in his line of sight.
"Breaking down doors. Very dramatic, Lao Ban," Yichen said, his tone light. "Should I get you a sledgehammer? I can hold it for you. We could make a video. 'CEO Takes Anger Management to New Level.'"
Zhiyuan didn't look up from the papers he was now pretending to read. "Not now, Yichen."
"Or we could just use a credit card. I'm very good with a credit card. It's a useful life skill. I could teach you. It might help you relax."
Zhiyuan's pen stilled. He continued to ignore him.
Yichen leaned closer. "You know, when you frown like that, you get a little line right here," he said, reaching out to gently tap the space between Zhiyuan's eyebrows.
Zhiyuan finally snapped his head up, swatting his hand away. "Would you stop? I'm trying to work."
"I know. You're trying to work yourself into an early grave. Your face is so fierce today, you're scaring the stock price." Yichen grinned, unrepentant. "Come on, give me a little smile. Just a tiny one. For my morale. A bodyguard needs to know his principal hasn't been replaced by a very handsome, very grumpy robot."
A muscle twitched in Zhiyuan's jaw. He was fighting it, but the sheer, ridiculous persistence of the man was like water on a stone. The corner of his mouth betrayed him, quirking up for a millisecond before he forced it back down.
"Ha! I saw it!" Yichen declared triumphantly. "A micro-smile! Progress!"
"Get off my desk and go annoy someone else," Zhiyuan muttered, but the harsh edge had left his voice. The fierce focus remained, but Yichen's annoying, lifesaving interference had momentarily lifted the crushing weight of it, reminding him he wasn't alone in the fight.