DLRAS Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Alright, I’ll help you gain some popularity too.

“You don’t need to be like this,” Chen Wengang finally said with a slight laugh. “I have no reason to be angry.”

“Things have already reached this point; what we should be thinking about now is how to resolve it. Do you want to pay to keep her quiet, call the police, or what? Of course, if you call the police, it might be impossible to keep it under wraps, and the ensuing wrangle would be quite troublesome. But if you try to pay her off, she might not necessarily agree to negotiate reasonably either.”

Chen Wengang’s reaction to this matter was astonishingly calm. Zheng Yucheng stood with a slight hunch; knowing he was in the wrong, he could only remain struck dumb.

In fact, with this entire trap, Zheng Yucheng had no choice but to swallow his grievance whole.

Upon waking up, a man knows best whether anything had happened—absolutely nothing did!

Yet He Wanxin had confessed her feelings to him with a triumphant expression, telling him to go ask around and see if anyone would believe him.

So that was that.

However, amidst all of Zheng Yucheng’s panic and dread, Chen Wengang’s reaction was the blow that truly devastated him.

He hadn’t even asked if it was true; he had only calmly helped Zheng Yucheng figure out how to handle the crisis.

Chen Wengang simply didn’t give a damn.

Suddenly, a glaring red mark caught Zheng Yucheng’s eye right on Chen Wengang’s collarbone.

Noticing the sudden tightening of his gaze, Chen Wengang looked down, paused for a moment, and gathered his collar slightly.

“Since this photo now—”

“On your neck,” Zheng Yucheng asked through gritted teeth, “did Huo Niansheng do that?”

Since it had already been seen, Chen Wengang simply stopped caring: “Yes, it was him. We spent the night together.”

His tone was entirely nonchalant.

Yet Zheng Yucheng felt as though he had plunged straight into an abyss: “You and him—at the yacht club?”

Chen Wengang frowned: “Zheng Yucheng.” His expression finally turned cold. “Don’t interrogate me like a criminal.”

Zheng Yucheng felt as if his stomach were filled with stones. Nightmare after nightmare pressed heavily against his chest, making it feel as though he could never wake up.

He abruptly grabbed Chen Wengang’s shoulders, his words turning reckless with fury: “Why? Are you doing this to get back at me?”

Chen Wengang looked at him sideways with a flicker of vindictive satisfaction, delivering each word clearly: “My feelings for him have nothing to do with you.”

Zheng Yucheng’s mind was practically blank; behind his menacing appearance was pure hollow bravado, his breath trembling.

Chen Wengang had already turned and headed upstairs.

Only when he returned to his room did the surge of spiteful satisfaction gradually settle.

Chen Wengang let out a self-deprecating laugh, placed his phone on the desk, and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

The physical trace Huo Niansheng had left on him had not fully faded yet; he shifted slightly, adjusting his posture.

Declaring something to an ex was a childish act, yet he had done it anyway—caught up in a momentary impulse, Chen Wengang hadn’t held back.

He lowered his head to look at his phone again, pulling up the calendar to check the dates. In his previous life, Zheng Yucheng had also gotten embroiled in a bed-photo scandal with He Wanxin, but the location hadn’t been Singapore, and this business trip had happened much later.

It seemed that after his rebirth, the different choices made by each person had triggered various butterfly effects.

Just like Huo Meijie getting pregnant, which was also something that hadn’t happened in his previous life; all of these changes were understandable.

Chen Wengang actually could no longer remember clearly how he had faced Zheng Yucheng’s first betrayal in his previous life—it was merely a memory no longer worth dwelling upon. Yet looking back, what he resented the most was not this particular betrayal.

The moment he had resented Zheng Yucheng most was after Huo Niansheng’s passing, when Zheng Yucheng learned the truth, divorced He Wanxin, and tried to win him back:

“Wengang, you need to face reality. Huo Niansheng has been dead for so many years after all… He can never come back.”

Chen Wengang had looked at him expressionlessly, as if looking at an enemy: “His affairs are not for you to lecture me on.”

Zheng Yucheng had begged meekly: “But the living still have to go on living. I just beg you to give me another chance. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making up for all the mistakes I made before. I’m actually very grateful to Huo Niansheng—he saved you when you were at the end of your rope, doing what a bastard like me was supposed to do, so that I wouldn’t be left without even a chance to repent.”

If he hadn’t just confronted Zheng Yucheng, he wouldn’t have suddenly recalled those unpleasant memories he had selectively buried.

Chen Wengang hadn’t even realized he would harbor that grudge until now.

He was not one to dredge up old debts; he had already said what needed to be said to Zheng Yucheng in his previous life, which was why he felt no need to curse him out again.

Back then, what he had probably said was: “You have no right to feel grateful to him. Yucheng, don’t flatter yourself.”

Early the next morning, Chen Wengang got up and went downstairs to find Zheng Yucheng already seated at the dining table, his expression sullen and dark.

Chen Wengang smiled faintly, pulled out a chair, sat down as if nothing had happened, picked up a fork, and began cutting the scrambled eggs on his plate.

He was dressed as usual, wearing a light blue shirt with the top button undone, revealing his fair neck.

Unless one looked closely, the marks inside weren’t easily noticeable, but he showed no intention of concealing them either.

Besides, Zheng Yucheng knew that certain facts could no longer be changed.

Neither for him nor for Chen Wengang.

Zheng Bingyi was still staying at the hospital, so only Zheng Baoqiu and Zheng Maoxun came down one after another for breakfast.

Before long, A-Mei walked over quietly, glanced around at the few people present, and chose to inform Zheng Baoqiu: “Young Master Huo is here.”

Overhearing this from the side, Zheng Maoxun found it odd: “Is he alright? Who drops by someone’s house as a guest this early in the morning?”

“Probably because he heard the mistress is pregnant?” A-Mei couldn’t quite fathom it either, but guessed with a cheerful expression, “He even brought tonics like red bird’s nest. Uncle Lin is leading him to the small parlor. You can go over and take a look after finishing your meal.”

Zheng Maoxun was even more baffled and asked Zheng Baoqiu, “He sure got the news fast. Since when did he care so much about our mom?”

Zheng Baoqiu didn’t think much of it: “We’ve been spending these past few days together after all. Wengang-ge, did you tell him before you left?”

Zheng Yucheng pressed his lips into a tight line, trying his absolute best not to lose his composure.

Chen Wengang nodded, pushed his plate aside, and gave a faint smile: “Yes, I left a note. I’m done eating; I’ll head over first to check on him.”

When he arrived at the small parlor, Uncle Lin had just finished serving tea to Huo Niansheng.

This guest, who paid little mind to etiquette, had his legs crossed casually on the sofa. Seeing Chen Wengang, he offered him a rakish, playful smile.

It held a touch of wicked charm, yet exuded sheer delight from head to toe.

Uncle Lin took the tray away; entertaining guests was the hosts’ affair.

“Why are you here? Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet.”

“There’s still food in the kitchen. I’ll have them serve you some to hold you over?”

Huo Niansheng was truly amused by him: “Wengang, do you think I rushed over to the Zheng residence early in the morning just to beg for a meal?”

Chen Wengang finally smiled and took a seat on the armchair beside him. Huo Niansheng leaned in toward Chen Wengang, resting his arm casually on the armrest and inclining his body forward; while his words carried complaint, his body language sought intimacy.

Chen Wengang didn’t pull away. Their foreheads and noses nearly touched.

His eyelids lowered slightly, his gaze falling onto Huo Niansheng’s chest as a faint, subtle woody fragrance drifted over.

Huo Niansheng gently traced his fingers toward his wrist, his voice dropping to a murmur: “It was nice of you to sleep your fill, but leaving me behind to run off—why didn’t you wake me up so I could drive you back?”

Chen Wengang took his hand in return, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he countered, “Under what title?”

Huo Niansheng suddenly exerted force, pulling him into his embrace mid-air, grumbling resentfully, “What other title could it be? Your chauffeur.”

Chen Wengang pitched forward slightly, bumping into him.

Chest pressed against chest, the air between them instantly took on an intimate heat.

Sunlight illuminated Chen Wengang’s face, catching even the fine fuzz on his skin, his pupils clear and luminous like translucent amber.

With one arm encircling Chen Wengang, Huo Niansheng placed a hand on his lower back and massaged it slowly, asking softly by his ear, “Still sore?”

Chen Wengang’s body softened into a relaxed curve. Resting his forehead on Huo’s shoulder, he buried his face and shook his head. Feeling a sudden coolness in his palm, his fingers brushed against a tube of some sort. Peeking through the gap of his eyes, he saw that Huo Niansheng had pressed a tube of ointment into his hand.

The translucent tube was covered in dense English lettering. Just as he was focusing on making out the drug’s name, his earlobe was softly grazed.

Huo Niansheng teased: “Going through all that trouble just to deliver something to you—make sure to use it.”

Realizing what it was, Chen Wengang felt heat suddenly rush to his face. He hummed an “En” in acknowledgment and shoved it into his pocket.

Huo Niansheng loved teasing him, and that soft hum made his heart itch: “Or take me to your room, and I’ll teach you?”

Chen Wengang chuckled softly and gave him a swat on the back: “Don’t get too wanton in someone else’s house.”

When Zheng Baoqiu entered the parlor, she was greeted by a tube of lipstick tossed through the air toward her.

The two had already parted and were sitting upright, their faces showing not the slightest hint of impropriety.

She was surprised: “I rummaged through my bag so many times for this lipstick, wondering where it went!”

Huo Niansheng teased with a smile: “Scatterbrained. You left it in the guest room’s bathroom; the housekeeping staff found it.”

Zheng Baoqiu beamed: “Thanks, cousin! A good friend gave this to me before going abroad, so it has sentimental value.”

“How is Aunt doing?”

“Both she and the baby are fine, but she’s still feeling dizzy. They don’t know if it’s Ménière’s disease or not, so they’ll observe her for two more days. If everything is fine, she’ll be discharged.”

Huo Niansheng’s interest lay elsewhere; he clearly had no genuine enthusiasm for babies. After exchanging a few superficial pleasantries, he soon stood up to take his leave.

Zheng Baoqiu and Chen Wengang stood up as well to see him to the door.

Throughout this brief visit, only Zheng Maoxun remained completely in the dark, his curiosity driving him crazy: “What on earth did he come here for? Just to check if our family is really getting a new addition? Is he out of his mind?”

Turning around, he saw Chen Wengang looking at him with a half-smile: “A-Xun, when are you going to fix that mouth of yours?”

Zheng Maoxun snorted, stretched nonchalantly, and shrugged it off. The holidays weren’t over yet, and his playful mood hadn’t subsided. Since his mother didn’t need him at the hospital, he was pondering what to do when he suddenly asked Chen Wengang, “Hey, where are you going today?”

Chen Wengang glanced back toward the stairs. Zheng Yucheng hadn’t shown his face again since finishing breakfast.

If that was the case, he was probably willing to resolve his own troubles himself.

Chen Wengang turned his head: “I’m going to the university library to read.”

Zheng Maoxun curled his lip: “No way, that hard-working?”

Chen Wengang teased: “Yes, so you should learn a thing or two from me.”

Zheng Maoxun glared at him, but on a sudden whim, changed his mind: “Fine, I’ll go too. I haven’t been to that campus library more than a couple of times anyway.”

He wanted to see just how a good student studied.

Evidently, Zheng Maoxun wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest; at most, he only knew which direction the grand entrance of the university library faced.

Chen Wengang brought him along, and Zheng Maoxun even spent a good while figuring out where to swipe his student ID card to get through the turnstiles.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Jin City University library lay the famous, unobstructed mountain view, magnificent against surging clouds and a brilliant azure sky.

Yet Zheng Maoxun began spacing out after sitting for barely fifteen minutes, his clear eyes drifting aimlessly.

Chen Wengang sat across from him, flipping through a thick professional textbook, already preparing ahead of time for his graduation thesis next semester.

His profile was faintly reflected on the glass—focused in expression, sitting upright and poised. Zheng Maoxun was not the only one observing him; a girl sitting at the same table stole several glances as well. Finally unable to hold back, she asked somewhat timidly:

“Um… is your last name Chen?”

Chen Wengang looked up, smiled at her, lowered his voice, and gave an affirmative reply.

Relieved and pleasantly surprised, she spoke back in a whisper: “I was worried I had the wrong person. Hello, Senior! I’m in the same major as you, two years below you.”

Zheng Maoxun raised an eyebrow: “Then how do you know him?”

The girl laughed, her eyes crinkling into crescents: “Haven’t you looked at the campus forum? Senior is a regular on the confession wall! Besides, our entire major has been canvassing votes for him for ‘Campus Star’ lately. Senior, everyone in our dorm just cast all their votes for you yesterday!”

Chen Wengang was taken aback, then smiled: “Why is that?”

She said, “You represent the face of our entire department; of course we have to push our own person to the top!”

Only Zheng Maoxun found himself with more and more question marks popping over his head: “What on earth? What’s ‘Campus Star’?”

Thinking he wasn’t a student of this university, the girl explained: “Ah… it’s an honorary title our school votes on every semester. The nominees are students with outstanding all-around performance recommended by each department, from sophomores to seniors, who then compete against each other for the championship.”

Only then did Chen Wengang remember that his advisor had indeed asked him for a resume a while back, something he had completely forgotten about.

Zheng Maoxun raised his voice in an exclamation: “Holy sh—” but was nudged by Chen Wengang, prompting him to lower his tone sheepishly: “…I know, I’m a student here too! I just don’t pay attention normally. Where can you see this voting thing you’re talking about?”

The voting interface could be accessed through the school’s official website.

Guided by the girl, Zheng Maoxun opened it on his phone, only to see two familiar faces pop up on his screen at the same time.

Aside from Chen Wengang, Mu Qing’s photo was also prominently displayed among the nominees from the School of Arts.

Mu Qing had garnered quite a few votes, but they were no match for Chen Wengang’s far-and-away lead.

Zheng Maoxun was quite astonished: “Not bad, Chen Wengang. You’re actually pretty popular.”

The girl smiled without saying a word; she could tell he was a straight-laced guy who probably wouldn’t get it even if she explained.

With tens of thousands of faculty and students across the university, it was naturally impossible for everyone to know all the candidates. Aside from groups in each department with strong collective pride actively canvassing for votes, or candidates campaigning for themselves, as for whom the rest of the passersby voted for—at the end of the day, it was a superficial world.

Those chosen in the end were without exception people who had looks, brains, and impressive resumes worth bragging about.

In that sense, it really carried the aura of a campus celebrity.

Zheng Maoxun studied it for quite a while: “Does this come with prize money?”

“No, it’s just an honor,” the girl said. “But you see, the photos and bios of past Campus Stars remain visible permanently. In other words, you’re permanently featured on the school’s official page, proving that you were once the most popular figure during your school days. Simply put, it gives you major bragging rights.”

Zheng Maoxun logged in with his student ID, which showed each student was granted five votes.

Muttering that it was boring, he casually cast all five of his votes for Chen Wengang and claimed credit: “There, I helped you show off a bit too.”

Suppressing a laugh, Chen Wengang said, “Well then, thanks.”

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