Chapter 43: “The past cannot be changed, but the future can still be pursued.”
He used the key to lock the front doors of the academic building securely, then pulled down the metal gate with a loud clatter.
Huo Niansheng waited for him patiently behind him.
Or rather, he guarded his prey like a cheetah that never strayed a step away.
Of course, Chen Wengang wasn’t going to run away. Huo Niansheng had booked his time the day before.
An upscale French restaurant, and two VIP tickets to the opera Turandot.
It was a standard dating itinerary.
Huo Niansheng pulled a bouquet of Rhodes roses from the car. They were the most classic true red, rich in texture, with blooms as large as fists.
Chen Wengang smiled and accepted them: “Thank you.”
Huo Niansheng opened the car door for him: “Let’s go. We’ll find a place to eat first.”
A sudden roll of thunder rumbled on the road. Dark clouds gathered, and soon, dense raindrops pelted the car windows, plunging the sky and earth into darkness.
Upon arriving at the entrance, Huo Niansheng stepped out of the Rolls-Royce first. Pulling an umbrella from the door, he gentlemanly opened it for Chen Wengang.
He tossed the keys to the valet, and the doorman bowed slightly, opening the door for them with a professional smile.
The foul weather did not affect the evening’s plans, which were so meticulously arranged that they were flawless. The restaurant had been booked out entirely; there were only two guests. The sound of the violin was melodious, the ambiance elegant and refined. The head chef came out personally to ask if their dining experience was pleasant and if anything needed improvement.
With every course served, a new set of cutlery was swapped in. Chen Wengang wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, his etiquette impeccable.
Huo Niansheng leaned back relaxedly against his chair, his eyes following every movement.
They both knew exactly where this date would lead.
When Turandot concluded, the sharply dressed audience stood up to applaud. The opera curtain fell, and the crowd moved slowly toward the theater doors.
All of this was merely a prolonged foreplay, waiting to build the atmosphere to its absolute peak.
Finally, Chen Wengang was brought to a hotel by Huo Niansheng.
A five-star establishment, just as he had said last time—finding a better place.
Huo Niansheng’s intentions were crystal clear. Going through all this trouble was meant to make Chen Wengang truly accept him. Though the routine was cliché, as long as it worked, that was enough. The emotional tension had been strung high enough today, and both men knew exactly what was coming. Chen Wengang sat on the bed and docilely lifted his face.
Huo Niansheng leaned over him, pressing one knee against the edge of the bed and sinking a deep indentation into the mattress.
With a warm thumb, he stroked beneath Chen Wengang’s eye: “Look at me later, alright?”
The gaze opposite him was heart-stopping. Chen Wengang’s breathing was already uneven as he ran his slender fingers through Huo Niansheng’s hair.
He personally granted permission: “You can do whatever you want.”
Huo Niansheng’s neck was pulled down, and he heard him repeat it by his ear: “You can do whatever you want to me.”
The presidential suite was on the fiftieth floor, where the building was high and the winds were fierce. Looking down from here would likely send a shiver through anyone afraid of heights. But tonight the rain was pouring, the vast misty deluge cutting off the distant night view. As countless threads of water clung to the glass, Chen Wengang saw his own white breath fogging the pane.
Forehead pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window, he half-lowered his eyes before suddenly raising them.
The blurry moisture was wiped away. Through the hazy view, he could faintly make out the scattered lights on the opposite bank strung together like a necklace of pearls.
Behind the ribbed glass, the warm water in the bathtub was scattered with rose petals, spilling over and flooding the floor.
In the latter half of the night, the sound of the rain quieted down significantly. Satisfied, Huo Niansheng kissed his shoulder blade: “What are you thinking about?”
Chen Wengang shifted slightly, seemingly thinking he had said something, but in reality, no sound came out. Huo Niansheng lowered his head to look at him again; his eyelids were already heavy and drooping, so he decided not to bother him anymore: “Go to sleep.” Utterly exhausted, Chen Wengang seemed to find comfort in this and slipped into slumber along with his words.
Yet at the edge of his consciousness, a few stray thoughts lingered. It was his own voice, recalling what the ancients said: What is past cannot be amended, but what is to come can still be pursued.
When the sky brightened again, the weather had cleared, as spotless as a mirror, dispelling a bit of the summer heat.
Chen Wengang rarely slept in until the sun was high in the sky, but today he remained asleep well into noon.
He had actually been woken briefly by his biological clock in the morning. Forcing his heavy eyelids open, he tried to text Zheng Maoxun to ask him to help request a leave of absence at the company. After trying a few times, he couldn’t even string the words together. Huo Niansheng took the phone away, seemingly typing the message on his behalf.
Not caring how he phrased it, Chen Wengang let his head fall and sank back into dreams.
The dreams were chaotic and bizarre, filled with darting, strange shadows.
At first, he had fallen asleep purely from exhaustion, but later he found he couldn’t wake up. His throat felt increasingly strained, so parched it felt like a ball of fire was burning inside.
He only realized he had a fever because Huo Niansheng reached out to feel his forehead, asking if he was thirsty and if he wanted some water.
Chen Wengang’s head was dizzy and heavy. His voice sounded like it was muffled by cotton, and the other man’s words rumbled like thunder in the sky.
When the rim of the glass touched his lips, he opened his mouth and tasted warm, sweet water—it seemed honey had been mixed in.
Huo Niansheng helped him sit up and fed him a glass. Seeing him drink greedily, as if parched to the bone, he turned around and poured another.
If an outsider had been present, they ought to have been shocked. After all, Huo Niansheng wasn’t someone who should know how to serve others—regardless of his background, he had at least been raised surrounded by nannies and tutors. He was only used to being served, yet now he was doing these things with unreasonable proficiency.
He didn’t know how long had passed before the doctor arrived. After taking his temperature and seeing the state of the room, the doctor understood what was going on. He saw Huo Niansheng murmur a few words to the person on the bed, pull back the covers a bit, and turn him halfway over to make administering the injection easier.
The doctor stepped forward for a closer look. Unlike the previous one, this was Huo Niansheng’s regular family doctor, who was intimately familiar with him. He had never actually treated any of Huo Niansheng’s little lovers before; this was a first. Especially upon seeing the numerous marks, he understood the situation while simultaneously feeling curious, even wanting to see this person’s true face when awake. But as a family doctor, keeping a tight lip was paramount; he knew his boundaries and knew what he should and shouldn’t pry into.
In addition to fever reducers, the doctor left behind some extra medication and mentioned a few precautions.
Huo Niansheng said, “That’s fine, hand them all to me.”
The doctor nodded: “I’ll write down the dosage and instructions.” With that, his business here was done.
From the pile of medicine, Huo Niansheng first dug out a tube of ointment. Drawing a slender wrist from under the covers, he slowly applied it to the bruises.
Chen Wengang wasn’t fully awake yet. Having his sleep disturbed, he instinctively tried to pull back, but was held firmly in place.
Huo Niansheng shushed him by his ear: “I won’t bother you anymore. Just putting on some medicine so it doesn’t scar.”
After a pause and a rustle of movement, Chen Wengang struggled to sit half-up, trying to find a comfortable position. Without even opening his eyes, he leaned against Huo Niansheng’s chest like a cat. A soft patch melted in Huo Niansheng’s heart.
A man is truly easiest to talk to after sex; if asked for the moon and the stars at this moment, he would eagerly hand them over.
Besides, the words from last night still echoed in his ears—whatever you want, indeed. Huo Niansheng went to pour himself a glass of ice water, draining it in one gulp to suppress his restlessness. He stood by the window for a while, whether reflecting or reminiscing, it was hard to tell.
He had originally planned for just this one night, but with Chen Wengang falling ill, he found himself tied down and unable to tear himself away.
In the meantime, Amanda, Yu Shanding, and others called. Huo Niansheng lazily pushed aside all the tasks he needed to do.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t leave to tend to business and have a doctor stay behind, but Huo Niansheng had no intention of doing so. He had never put so much effort into pleasing someone; having finally made his mark, this was precisely the time to enjoy the fruits of his labor.
By evening, Chen Wengang’s forehead was still a bit warm. He had caught a chill and a slight cold, but it would be unreasonable not to send him home now. Although the hotel had excellent service, it wasn’t a suitable place for an extended recovery.
Huo Niansheng took him back to the Zheng household so he could rest in a familiar environment.
Chen Wengang had intended to sneak in quietly, but he ran into Uncle Lin, the butler, at the door: “How could you catch a chill in this weather? Did you get greedy for the cold AC?”
Chen Wengang, feeling top-heavy, silently took the blame as Huo Niansheng handed him over.
Uncle Lin supported him and cast a glance at Huo Niansheng. The old man was as sharp as a tack; Chen Wengang knew there was no hiding it from his eyes anymore.
But the butler didn’t say a word. Hearing that he hadn’t eaten dinner, he just had the kitchen cook some porridge and send it up, without mentioning anything else.
Ultimately, youth was on his side. After getting enough sleep, his body repaired itself, and by the next day, there was no major issue.
Feeling better, Chen Wengang still didn’t go to school. It wasn’t the peak season at the company either, so he simply had Zheng Maoxun request a few more days off for him.
The given reason was that final exams were imminent, but there was another reason—and this was entirely Huo Niansheng’s fault. The fading bruises on his wrists from being bound with a tie were mottled blue and yellow, looking quite alarming right now. Even wearing long-sleeved shirts couldn’t cover them up, and it would be inappropriate for people to see.
Chen Wengang was studying in the large study shared by the whole family. Later on, Zheng Baoqiu also came in to review her coursework.
After reading a couple of lines, she finally couldn’t help but ask: “Where did you go the day before yesterday and yesterday? You even got sick?”
“A date,” Chen Wengang replied concisely. “Caught a cold in the rain.”
“With who?”
“Not telling you.”
“Hmph, I know, it was my cousin.”
“Then why did you ask?” Chen Wengang glanced at her sideways.
“Sigh…” She paused, shaking her head like an old soul. “You just won’t listen to advice.”
“Yes.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “So you shouldn’t tell anyone else.”
“I know, whatever makes you happy.” Seeing his expression, Zheng Baoqiu fell silent. Chen Wengang might be gentle, but when he got stubborn, no one could change his mind. “Right, let me tell you some other gossip. Did you hear? Mu Qing met a talent scout—some curator or whatever—and they’re going to help him hold an art exhibition.”
“Is that so? At which gallery?” Chen Wengang thought for a moment, unable to recall the other party pulling off this exhibition in his previous life.
“I’m not sure. I just overheard him acting humble with someone, saying his skills weren’t up to par and that the other party insisted on promoting a newcomer like him. He made it sound like they were begging to sponsor him,” she said. “What’s the point? He might as well just show off directly. I clearly remember how much he wants to be famous.”
There was a reason she said this, and both of them knew it perfectly well. It was true that ever since entering university, Mu Qing had constantly been making a fuss about wanting to be famous.
But then again, the modern art world was all about getting famous early. These days, who wanted to be Van Gogh and only be appreciated after death?
Especially during the year he enrolled, the Jin City Art Academy had produced a “genius teenage painter” in the very same grade. Before even finishing enrollment procedures, this person had already made a massive splash, generating immense hype. For a time, media and art circles flocked to him, hyping up his works into auctions early on. It just set a rather poor precedent for the other students—if he could get famous, how could it not provoke the envy of others?
Zheng Baoqiu didn’t lack sharp private commentary. Mu Qing was exactly the envious, jealous, and bitter type; if he wasn’t given a chance to become famous too, he was going to make himself sick holding it in: “Do you think he can actually get famous this time?”
The Zheng family didn’t lack money or influence; it was just that Zheng Bingyi considered painting a frivolous pursuit, so as an uncle, he didn’t care enough to offer support. Fortunately, this circle didn’t lack connections; all Mu Qing lacked was an insider to lead him in. It seemed he had now met this benefactor.
“I don’t know. Depends on his skill.”
“I think it’ll be hard. He’s been tossing around for two years and hasn’t made a name for himself even within the school. I’m curious who exactly is supporting him?”
Chen Wengang tapped Zheng Baoqiu with the end of his pen: “Reel in that gossipy heart and focus on your own review. Don’t always get distracted.”
