DLRAS Chapter 162 [If Never Missed]

Chapter 162: Set a deadline.

After the new semester began, everything continued as before.

The only difference was that Chen Wengang now had an “emotional investment project” on his hands. When he had agreed to Huo Niansheng’s advances that day—whether by letting things drift with the current or being half-reluctantly pushed into it—he had done so in a daze, half-terrified and half-confused by the fact that the young master was willing to serve him so personally. They didn’t go all the way, however; Huo Niansheng returned him to the Zheng household completely unscathed.

At the garden gate, before exiting the car, Chen Wengang asked, “How long do you think this… project of yours will last?”

Huo Niansheng replied, “I think you should play the long game and keep it under observation.”

He leaned over and kissed Chen Wengang on the lips.

Chen Wengang thought for a moment before asking again, “Can you even remember how many investors you’ve provoked before me, Young Master Huo?”

Huo Niansheng seemed amused: “Does this bother you?”

“It’s not that I mind if you have an ex—you know I have one anyway,” Chen Wengang said. “But having ‘seen countless people’ is a different story. I have a friend—well, not exactly mine, he’s one of Zheng Yucheng’s—who, whenever the guys get together, loves to brag about how many new girlfriends he has and how he can tell someone’s measurements at a single glance. All that nonsense.”

Huo Niansheng smiled: “Then you can rest easy. I’ve already told you I’m not that kind of person. This is just a lack of trust on your part.”

“My apologies. It’s mostly just a lack of information.”

“No matter. You’ll learn more as we go.”

Chen Wengang kissed him goodbye.

They maintained their arrangement with dates two or three times a week. A month later, Huo Niansheng returned from a business trip to Southeast Asia and told Chen Wengang he had brought him a gift.

Chen Wengang went to Huo Niansheng’s apartment, where they shared a candlelit dinner. Huo Niansheng grilled the steak himself, and Chen Wengang helped grind the black pepper. Huo Niansheng opened the bottle of red wine he’d brought back and poured it into two long-stemmed glasses. That night, things progressed naturally to the bedroom.

Chen Wengang stayed over. Waking in the middle of the night, he found Huo Niansheng’s arm draped over him, eyes shut tight, breath deep and even.

The next day, Huo Niansheng was in high spirits and even more attentive, dropping Chen Wengang off at school.

This was the second half of Chen Wengang’s junior year. With most of his credits already earned, his course load was much lighter. After this semester, only a summer break would stand between him and his senior year. Whether planning to pursue a master’s, study abroad, or start working, proactive students were already preparing ahead. Every graduation was a milestone that signaled another stage of choices, a topic Zheng Bingyi had discussed with him as well.

On Friday, Huo Niansheng picked Chen Wengang up at the school gate and noticed him drifting off into thought quite often. They arrived at their reserved restaurant but didn’t get out of the car immediately. The parking lot was empty, with no one in sight.

Chen Wengang asked, “What do you think?”

Huo Niansheng smiled: “You’re asking for my opinion?”

Chen Wengang nodded. Huo Niansheng moved his hand from the handbrake and wrapped it around Chen Wengang’s hand, which was resting on his thigh, giving it a squeeze. Chen Wengang looked at him earnestly, the shadows of his lashes veiling half of his light-colored pupils.

Huo Niansheng said, “If you don’t want to stay at the Zheng Corporation, is it because Zheng Yucheng is married with children?”

Chen Wengang didn’t deny it: “No matter what, being around him isn’t appropriate.”

“Are you able to leave?”

Chen Wengang said nothing.

Huo Niansheng laughed: “You’re right to think that way. If Zheng Yucheng takes power later, you’ll be in trouble; if he doesn’t, you’ll still be in trouble. It’s not as if there’s only one company in the world to work for. Whatever you want to do, I can help clear the path.”

Chen Wengang said, “I could work for the Houren Foundation. Professor Ma has mentioned it to me a few times.”

Huo Niansheng replied, “That sounds good.”

Chen Wengang probed, “What if I continue my studies?”

Huo Niansheng still agreed: “That’s also nice. Do you want me to cover your tuition?”

Chen Wengang declined: “There will be scholarships.”

Huo Niansheng laughed: “Right, you’re a high-achieving student. I forgot. That won’t be a problem.” It was hard to tell if he was being complimentary or mocking. He unbuckled Chen Wengang’s seatbelt: “Alright, let’s go. Time to eat.”

During dinner, Chen Wengang was still thinking about his career planning while Huo Niansheng helped him with his meal. Zheng Bingyi’s intention was for him to stay safely within the Zheng Corporation. If Chen Wengang only wanted to avoid a direct relationship with Zheng Yucheng, they could arrange for him to work at any number of subsidiaries, branch offices, or even an overseas post.

Chen Wengang knew his own weakness: he was accustomed to following orders and waiting for others to make decisions. Growing up, at every family gathering, relatives would joke about what he would do when he grew up—go to the Group, go to the family office—and he had just listened. There never seemed to be room for his own voice. When he chose his major in college, he chose the same one as Zheng Yucheng. During his sophomore year, when he wanted to pursue further studies, Zheng Yucheng had expressed some disapproval, and Chen Wengang hadn’t considered it again.

Having Huo Niansheng agree with everything he said felt like having the string of a kite snapped, leaving him with a floating, insecure feeling.

That night, they returned to the apartment. They hadn’t done anything yet when Huo Niansheng received a phone call. An issue had arisen with Huo’s overseas business, requiring an urgent video conference. Huo Niansheng took charge from his study computer; the door was left slightly ajar.

Chen Wengang waited quietly in the living room. Halfway through the meeting, he heard Huo Niansheng call him in. Seeing that the other party wasn’t avoiding him, he went in: “What is it?”

Huo Niansheng tossed a tablet to him: “Help me take the meeting minutes.”

Chen Wengang kept himself out of the camera’s view, resting the tablet on his knees. As he typed, he stole glances at Huo Niansheng. On the screen was a meeting room full of executives. Huo Niansheng’s face was expressionless; when someone tried to explain, he would interrupt to press for more detailed questions. When the answers were unsatisfactory, the sense of oppression radiating from him intensified, finally leaving the room in silence.

Huo Niansheng tapped the table, and the voice on the other end stammered, “How about this, President Huo? We will prepare another feasibility report.”

Chen Wengang watched him close the video: “As soon as possible.”

After the meeting, there were two more brief video sessions with overseas executives—one in Chinese, one in English. Huo Niansheng switched between the two languages with ease, demonstrating a masterful command of sarcasm in each, leaving even Chen Wengang afraid to speak.

Only after the calls were disconnected did he walk over and gently return the tablet to Huo Niansheng. Huo Niansheng lowered his head to flip through his notes, his expression still dark, as if he hadn’t yet satisfied his urge to lecture the staff. Chen Wengang, wisely avoiding the line of fire, became bored and eventually fell asleep on the small sofa.

He didn’t wake until midnight, when Huo Niansheng squeezed in next to him, kissing his hair. After a while, Chen Wengang rested his chin on Huo Niansheng’s shoulder: “All done?”

Huo Niansheng pulled him up so he could sit in his lap: “Bored?”

Chen Wengang rested his head against Huo Niansheng’s neck. He didn’t feel bored; he just felt that the man in front of him had many sides, and he only knew one. Huo Niansheng was good to him, but sometimes Chen Wengang felt he was being coaxed like a pet. If someone had always been sweet-talking him but had never revealed their anger, gloom, or moodiness, what were they really thinking?

Strangely enough, having seen that side today, Chen Wengang felt he was a little more real.

They returned to the living room. It was quite late, so Huo Niansheng opened the red wine from earlier and poured two nightcaps. Chen Wengang clinked his glass against Huo’s, and Huo Niansheng turned his gaze to him. His eyes were heavy, and the air went quiet.

Chen Wengang waved a hand in front of him: “What are you thinking about?”

Huo Niansheng leaned against the bar: “What else? The same as everyone else—thinking about when I can retire.”

Chen Wengang touched his face: “I haven’t even figured out what I’m going to do in the future. You’re killing my morale.”

Huo Niansheng laughed, grasping his hand: “You don’t have to work at all. Just stay home and keep me company. How about that?”

Chen Wengang tilted his head: “You want me to be your canary in a gilded cage?”

Huo Niansheng countered: “Is that a bad thing?”

Chen Wengang smiled and ignored him, slowly finishing the bright red wine in his glass. Huo Niansheng leaned against the bar, and Chen Wengang pulled his neck down, resting his forehead against his: “Goodnight.”

Time flowed from spring into summer. Chen Wengang submitted his resignation to the Zheng Corporation. It wasn’t a full-time position, so the paperwork wasn’t complicated, yet as he returned his employee ID to the HR department, a sense of loss washed over him. When he walked out of the building, the streets were filled with people and traffic, and for a moment, he didn’t know where to go.

He sent Huo Niansheng a message. Half an hour later, Huo Niansheng asked where he was, offering to take him out to dinner to celebrate.

Chen Wengang smiled and typed back: “Celebrate what?”

Huo Niansheng replied: “Celebrating your return to freedom.”

They maintained their dating relationship. Huo Niansheng would take Chen Wengang out to play, and basically every weekend, Chen Wengang stayed at his apartment. If one only measured time spent together, these days could hardly be called anything but happy.

Yet, sometimes Chen Wengang would think that they had never clearly defined what their relationship was. At the very least, he hadn’t met Huo Niansheng’s friends, nor had he introduced Huo Niansheng to his own, and they had certainly never publicly claimed to be a couple.

The semester was busy with thesis work and resumes, making it fulfilling but not exactly peaceful. On the eve of finals week, while Chen Wengang was preparing his thesis, he received a link from Zheng Baoqiu on the library campus forum. She sounded serious, saying she didn’t know who was trying to target him, but that someone had started a rumor thread.

Chen Wengang scanned the post quickly. The title was explicit, and the body text openly accused him of having an illicit relationship with his adoptive father’s son to gain benefits—things like getting scholarships through backroom deals and landing internships in core departments of the family business while still in college. It claimed that things hadn’t gone as planned, that the parents had put an end to their relationship and kicked him out of the company, and that he had now switched targets to land another wealthy benefactor.

The thread had shot to the top of the forum. The comments were filled with photos, and it had been flagged as a “hot” topic, remaining up for an hour before the administrators deleted it. But in that time, enough students had seen it, saved it, and discussed it that the gossip was unavoidable.

Chen Wengang was called into Zheng Bingyi’s study for half an hour. When he came out, Zheng Baoqiu was waiting anxiously downstairs: “How was it? What did Dad say?”

Chen Wengang only smiled: “What could he say? I got a scolding, that’s all. It’s fine.”

Zheng Bingyi had shared morning tea with a school board member he knew and forced the rumors on campus to be suppressed.

For the next two days, Chen Wengang kept a low profile, avoiding the library and studying at home for his exams. That afternoon, while he was in his small study writing his paper, his computer crashed, and Zheng Yucheng walked in. Looking as if he had made a difficult decision, he walked straight to Chen Wengang: “Can I ask you a question?”

Chen Wengang nodded: “Go ahead.”

Zheng Yucheng’s face was grim: “You broke up with me because you had a change of heart?”

Chen Wengang wasn’t surprised; he looked at Zheng Yucheng without answering. Zheng Yucheng stared back at him blankly for a long time before his spirit suddenly broke, his face showing extreme disappointment: “I should have realized it back then. You broke up with me for no reason, all of a sudden—it wasn’t normal. But it was actually because of the Huo guy? Do you have a heart?”

It sounded outrageous at first, but thinking about it carefully, there was no way to refute it. Chen Wengang still didn’t answer. The initial cause had been his accidental drunkenness and that one-night stand with Huo Niansheng. Chen Wengang hadn’t imagined that this disastrous connection would last until now.

However, for some reason, a voice in the bottom of his heart was instinctively defending Huo Niansheng. Being with Huo Niansheng was, in fact, easier than being with Zheng Yucheng—he was more mature, more stable, more sensitive to the situation, and better at creating romance and surprises. Chen Wengang couldn’t even imagine Huo Niansheng acting in such an aggressive manner.

Look, the human heart is always biased. Before one realizes it, the scales slowly tip, sliding toward the unknown.

In the end, he could only reply to Zheng Yucheng: “What’s missed is missed. Don’t be too obsessed.”

Zheng Yucheng looked at him with frustration: “Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you’re with him?”

Chen Wengang was calm: “Don’t worry, I know better than you.”

The stir caused by the scandal didn’t escape the notice of the other party involved. Using the excuse of studying, Chen Wengang didn’t meet Huo Niansheng during the entire finals week—even though his few courses were done in two days. When he returned to campus, Chen Wengang could still feel the pointed stares. Although the school leadership had banned talk of the post, how the rumors fermented in the shadows was beyond their control.

On the day finals ended, Huo Niansheng called him as if he’d been counting the days: “Do you have time to come out?”

Chen Wengang relaxed: “What do you want to do? I’ll keep you company.”

They ended up going camping. Huo Niansheng had chosen the site, mainly for relaxation, so he’d driven an RV there rather than trying to brave the wilderness. The vehicle was parked by the lakeside; the scenery was picturesque, and the water was clear.

Chen Wengang lay on a folding chair, feeling as if his mind had been washed clean, his heavy anxieties momentarily cast aside. When they went back to the RV to cook, Huo Niansheng brought up the post: “Do you have any suspects in mind?”

Chen Wengang, who was beating eggs, paused and turned his head to look at him: “Why bring that up all of a sudden? You knew?”

Huo Niansheng laughed: “It involved me, didn’t it? You were busy with exams, so I didn’t dare ask too quickly.”

Chen Wengang lowered his head to stir the golden egg mixture. He felt that explaining it would be too much trouble, and he didn’t want to bring it up again. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke concisely: “It’s nothing major. The school has already dealt with it.”

“What about the person who posted it?” Huo Niansheng asked, but he got no answer. “How can the school’s information department not be able to track it down?”

“Young Master Huo.” Chen Wengang smiled helplessly, shushing him: “Have you never heard the saying, ‘don’t wash your dirty laundry in public’?”

Huo Niansheng smiled and didn’t press the matter further. He watched Chen Wengang pour the egg mixture into the pan.

They had a simple lunch. Without realizing it, dark clouds gathered overhead, and after noon, it began to drizzle. It turned out that driving the RV there had been a wise choice; they retreated to the spacious cabin for a nap. The rain drummed against the glass, blurring the world outside. The RV’s double bed wasn’t exactly large; for two men, it was a little cramped.

Huo Niansheng held Chen Wengang, not asleep, idly playing with his hair. When he and Chen Wengang were in bed, it didn’t necessarily mean something had to happen. Sometimes, Huo Niansheng seemed to enjoy moments like this, with the two of them nestled intimately together.

Chen Wengang looked at the hazy scenery outside, but a strange sense of sadness grew in his heart. Over these days, it wasn’t as if friends who were still on good terms hadn’t asked him about the situation in private. Chen Wengang was always vague; even if he and Huo Niansheng had rendezvoused many times, he ultimately had no standing to announce their relationship without permission.

What exactly did this amount to? This was the kind of thing that required a mutual consensus. For some reason, he subconsciously avoided it. He probably vaguely realized that if he really asked Huo Niansheng, he might not get a very optimistic answer.

The result was just one delay after another.

In the study, Zheng Bingyi hadn’t actually said anything harsh—certainly nothing pleasant, but he had just warned Chen Wengang to think for himself: given a background like Huo Niansheng’s, what was it that he ultimately needed, and would he really choose to spend his life with a man?

This was actually superfluous. Even if he hadn’t said it, Chen Wengang wasn’t naive.

On any level, he and Huo Niansheng lacked a foundation for a long-term future. They were both likely just looking to enjoy the moment.

Fortunately, the weather cleared by evening. They cooked dinner, the stars came out, and a gentle night breeze blew, dispelling the heat of summer. Without the urban heat island effect, the mountains were exceptionally cool. Huo Niansheng jumped down from the RV and tossed a thin blanket to Chen Wengang.

The folding chairs were set back out, one for each. With the sound of frogs croaking, Chen Wengang called out to Huo Niansheng.

Huo Niansheng turned his head: “Yeah?”

Thin clouds obscured the moon, and the surroundings grew dimmer. Crickets sang in the grass, their chirps rising and falling.

Chen Wengang asked, “Have you ever thought about how long you intend for this project of ours to last?”

Huo Niansheng paused and smiled: “What? Looking to withdraw your investment?”

Chen Wengang smiled too: “I still feel quite happy when I’m with you.”

Several more seconds passed, and Huo Niansheng didn’t answer. It wasn’t until the crickets started chirping again that he broke the silence, raising an eyebrow: “And what do you mean by that?”

Chen Wengang said, “I’m not sure. I’m just guessing that you probably don’t have any intention of ‘hanging yourself on one tree’.”

Huo Niansheng leaned back on the folding chair, hands on the armrests, not denying it as if he were deep in thought: “I should give it some good thought.”

Chen Wengang waited for a few seconds. The air fell into silence again. From Huo Niansheng’s expression, it was impossible to see how far his thoughts had gone.

Chen Wengang said softly, “So I think we should just set a deadline. We can be mentally prepared, knowing about when it’s time to part on good terms. I hope that even when we do part, we won’t have to turn against each other and make things ugly.”

Huo Niansheng replied: “Sure.”

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