DLRAS Chapter 8

Chapter 8: If you want to set boundaries, let’s set them.

And perhaps Chen Wengang’s daydreams had seeped into his subconscious, for that night he once again had a dream related to Huo Niansheng.

He didn’t actually see the man himself; what he dreamt of was the day Huo Niansheng had his accident.

He abruptly received a call from Amanda, her voice low and hoarse: “Mr. Chen, I’m very sorry, there’s some unfortunate news…”

In his impression, Chen Wengang always felt that it had been a gloomy, stormy day, but in reality, the weather that day had been beautiful—blue skies, clear waters, and the lake connecting to the villa sparkling with light. It was so beautiful that it made him feel Huo Niansheng could walk through the door at any moment and urge him to go out for a walk.

Yet, amidst such weather, he heard Amanda say regretfully, “My condolences.”

Chen Wengang’s mind went blank.

What lay before him—his future and his life—was also a vast, empty white.

It was an oppressive, despairing, suffocating white—the white of the flowers pinned to every piece of black clothing at the funeral.

He stared blankly at Huo Niansheng’s suicide note, holding it in his hands. On it, Huo Niansheng asked him if he had ever truly loved him, even just once.

I did.

But an answer was no longer necessary, for even the one who asked the question knew there would never be another chance to hear it.

In the dream, there was a bright halo of light. Chen Wengang ran towards it, wanting to chase after it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. Only then did he realize that he had somehow turned into a withered tree, his charred, gnarled, and ugly roots firmly trapped in place.

A pair of sharp claws tore open his chest; inside was only a shriveled, rotting hollow, filled to the brim with heavy sorrow.

No wonder his life could never bloom.

Chen Wengang jolted awake in a cold sweat, his heart palpitating. The night was still deep.

After waking up, he sat in the darkness for a while, pressing his hand against his chest until his heartbeat steadied, and finally decided to check if there were any available medical appointments.

He had originally thought that returning to his younger body meant he was free from the torment of illness and pain, but looking at it now, he still ought to get checked out.

He felt around for his phone, intending to open the hospital’s official website, but his fingers familiarly tapped into his contacts list instead.

He stared blankly at the pinned number.

During the day, he had deceived Zheng Baoqiu with an attitude of complete unconcern, but he couldn’t deceive himself—

Ever since his rebirth, he and Zheng Yucheng clearly had no karmic ties left. It wasn’t as if he was entirely unable to repay Zheng Bingyi’s grace of raising him, and leaving this place definitely didn’t mean he lacked the ability to support himself. Yet, he still chose to remain in the Zheng household, walking the path of his past life without deviating a single step.

Deep down, it was nothing more than wanting to wait for a chance to meet again like this.

Due to the dream and the lingering effects of insomnia, Chen Wengang’s brain was still in a chaotic, sluggish state when he went down for breakfast.

However, he rarely showed his discomfort or unhappiness on his face, so outwardly, he looked reasonably energetic.

In comparison, Zheng Yucheng’s appearance was the definition of haggard. He probably hadn’t slept much all night either; he had dark circles under his eyes, and had nicked his skin a bit while shaving that morning.

As soon as Chen Wengang sat down at the dining table, Zheng Yucheng pushed his bowl away and said to the butler, Uncle Lin, “I’m full.”

By the time Chen Wengang turned his head, Zheng Yucheng had already vanished, driving himself out of the house.

Even though there were no longer any feelings left between them, Chen Wengang still knew him like the back of his hand. This action meant nothing more than:

Didn’t you want to draw a clear line? Then let’s draw it.

For some reason, Zheng Baoqiu was also acting peculiar, shooting sidelong, stealthy glances at Chen Wengang.

He caught her red-handed: “What’s wrong with my face?”

Zheng Baoqiu shook her head: “Nothing! Could someone pass me the scrambled eggs?”

Chen Wengang figured it wasn’t a big deal, so he let her be.

He hadn’t been assigned a car originally; previously, he had always shared a ride with Zheng Yucheng whenever he went out, never thinking he needed his own.

Uncle Lin began arranging things: “Let the driver take you to the company first today. I’ll look and see which car we have idle at home for you to use later.”

Chen Wengang thanked him. After the driver had also eaten breakfast in the building out back, he was dropped off at the entrance of the Zheng Group building.

Zheng Bingyi wasn’t called the “Shipping King” of Jin City for nothing.

The Zheng Group had built its fortune on shipping operations. Even though its industries had now expanded into multiple sectors, maritime shipping remained its primary pillar. They owned a fleet of up to 300 vessels, which, combined with leased ships, could reach over a thousand. Their container shipping routes spanned Asia, Europe, the Americas, and Central and South America, with hundreds of thousands of employees scattered across hundreds of ports globally.

The headquarters, located in the near suburbs of Jin City, boasted its own building. It wasn’t tall—only seven stories—but it covered a massive area and was quite grand in scale. Having weathered thirty years of wind and rain, its exterior walls were completely covered in overlapping layers of Boston ivy.

Zheng Yucheng had his own small office on the fourth floor, the windows looking out onto a sea of greenery.

He and Chen Wengang had started interning at the company during the summer after their high school graduation, rotating through various grassroots departments. He was relatively hardworking, and as the boss’s son, he enjoyed the minor privilege of a private office.

Benefiting from this association, Chen Wengang had occupied a corner of it. Bumping into him at the door, Chen Wengang politely offered a greeting out of courtesy: “Morning.”

Zheng Yucheng ignored him with cold indifference once again, walking straight past without a sideways glance.

Chen Wengang lowered his hand, acting as if nothing had happened, and with a smile, returned to his own cubicle to tidy up his documents.

After work began that day, the head of the Human Resources Department called Chen Wengang in and handed him a rotation notice.

Starting today, he would no longer be working with Zheng Yucheng, but was being transferred to the documentation department where Zheng Maoxun was located.

At this time in his past life, he had been banished to the logistics department of a subsidiary company, given an expendable, idle position where he no longer had access to core business operations.

Master Zheng had made it clear he was giving up on grooming him, having warned Chen Wengang that wanting to be with Zheng Yucheng would come with many consequences.

This so-called “consequence” was like a Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, constantly and silently threatening him.

Back then, Chen Wengang had shouldered all the anxiety and unease, showing none of it in front of Zheng Yucheng.

Now, the roles of the one feeling frustrated were reversed.

Zheng Yucheng’s face was knotted in gloom, as if someone owed him five million.

Chen Wengang quickly sorted through his current work and handed it over to other colleagues. He spent the entire morning running in and out dealing with these matters. Actually, since he held the same position as Zheng Yucheng, he should have handed things over to him, but Zheng Yucheng was dead set on maintaining a cold war with him to the bitter end.

In the middle of this, Xiao Wang from the IT department proactively came to ask: “Where is your new desk going to be? I’ll go set up your computer for you.”

Zheng Yucheng suddenly slammed the folder in his hand onto his desk, producing a loud bang, then stood up and left the office.

Chen Wengang smiled at the terrified Xiao Wang: “It’s fine, it’s not your fault. Thank you for the trouble.”

Xiao Wang murmured an agreement and went to arrange his computer.

Regarding the boss’s family affairs, colleagues in the company inevitably heard some rumors. Gossiping is, after all, human nature. As Chen Wengang carried a cardboard box of stationery out of Zheng Yucheng’s office, he felt gazes trailing him, like probing tentacles.

But when he looked back, they quickly withdrew.

His new workspace was an unoccupied desk near Zheng Maoxun’s office; this time, he had mingled with the masses.

Zheng Maoxun also had his own small office, but it was clear Chen Wengang couldn’t expect him to share it amicably either.

The documentation department was responsible for preparing bills of lading and related matters, involving relatively simple operational work. This was a department Chen Wengang had already been in before. Going around in a circle, he was back again. The work itself wasn’t difficult; the main purpose was to help Zheng Maoxun familiarize himself with the business.

If Madam Zheng’s request for him to put in a few more good words for Zheng Maoxun was also counted, he had one more additional responsibility.

The prerequisite being that he could actually uncover any shining qualities in Zheng Maoxun.

Zheng Maoxun hadn’t gone home the whole night yesterday, coming to the company straight from the race track today. Chen Wengang knocked on his office door, but there was no answer. Walking straight in, he found the guy sound asleep on the bed in the inner rest room.

…And his morning temper was quite significant.

When woken up by Chen Wengang, Zheng Maoxun was so impatient he nearly exploded: “I say, why aren’t you off brown-nosing Zheng Yucheng? What are you bothering me for? What, did you have a falling out with him and want to come kiss my ass?”

With an attitude like this, never mind shining qualities, it would be a miracle if someone didn’t blacken his eye.

Chen Wengang didn’t get angry, but simply reached out and yanked off his blanket: “Tell me, who provoked you?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, setting off alarm bells in Zheng Maoxun’s head. Remembering that this guy wasn’t exactly straight, he snatched the blanket back and clutched it to his chest.

“Eighteen. Not exactly old, but not young either,” Chen Wengang asked him, “How is it that you still don’t know how to speak properly?”

Zheng Maoxun scoffed disdainfully: “Heh, I don’t have Zheng Yucheng’s refinement. This is the only way I know how to talk. Just endure it.”

He ran a hand through his dyed brownish-yellow hair, shaking off a bit of his sleepiness, and lifted his eyelids to look at Chen Wengang.

They had lived under the same roof for many years, but hadn’t spoken many words to each other in the past.

Who could have guessed that both Zheng Yucheng and he were gay, and had even been tangled up together for a long time?

Zheng Maoxun had deeply ingrained stereotypes about homosexuality. Hearing about it, he imagined that kind of behavior—spending every day pumping iron in the gym, flexing muscles in the mirror, taking photos, posting on social media, wearing effeminate shorts and white socks, and swaying their hips when they walked.

To put it more bluntly, he was homophobic.

But the person in front of him completely contradicted his preconceptions. Chen Wengang had a lean build; through his clothes, you couldn’t see any abs, but his waist was very narrow.

Zheng Maoxun unconsciously glanced down at his ankles.

Proper dark suit trousers and leather shoes; there was absolutely no way he’d pair those with white socks.

“Alright, move aside.” Zheng Maoxun swung his legs over the edge of the bed and searched the floor for his shoes. “I’m getting up.”

After washing up, the pampered second-generation heir finally returned fully dressed, but he still looked incredibly sour and displeased.

Looking at the person in front of him, Zheng Maoxun suddenly felt a surge of malicious courage: “Hey, do you want to hear what everyone outside is saying about you right now?”

Chen Wengang asked: “What are they saying?”

Zheng Maoxun scrolled through his group chats.

These rich kids grouped together by type, often hanging out and mixing together in small cliques.

The chat history was too long to scroll to the top, and he was too lazy to filter it. Plus, every sentence was a “masterpiece,” so he simply held his phone up for Chen Wengang to read.

Chen Wengang saw them discussing in the group that he was a “bed-warming maid” prepared by Zheng Bingyi for his son—someone kept in the room to serve Zheng Yucheng before he married his official wife. A bunch of playboys in their twenties, their brains connected straight to their crotches; even if they tried, they couldn’t produce a single decent thought.

Zheng Maoxun observed his expression with utter malice.

Chen Wengang, however, remained unmoved: “Then do you know what they’re saying outside—” he pointed outside the office, “about you?”

Zheng Maoxun froze: “What?”

“Overambitious but incompetent, thinking you’re cut out for the job but useless when you actually try, and lacking any sense of responsibility,” Chen Wengang said. “You don’t need to look at me like that, I’m not going to tell you who complained. In short, I asked around, and everyone has been suffering because of you for a long time.”

“Y-You—!”

“You agreed to submit some documents, but when the time came, you were nowhere to be found because your friends called you out to go clubbing. Did you do this or not?”

“…Fine, so I did it, wasn’t it just that one time?”

“It’s not a matter of one time. It’s that everyone knows you’re the boss’s son, and no one wants to stick their neck out and play the bad guy—they neither dare to be strict with you nor dare to ignore you, so they can only pinch their noses and endure it. What, do you still want to compete with me to see whose reputation is worse?”

Chen Wengang dragged over a chair and sat down opposite his desk: “If you like slacking off, I don’t mind either.”

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