Xiao Cheng clenched his jaw tightly, and his mouth had a faint metallic taste. Anger clouded his judgment, and he couldn’t hold back as he raised his fist, aiming a punch at the person beneath him.
But before it could land, Luo Jingshu caught his fist in a firm grip. With a cold expression, the young man held onto Xiao Cheng’s wrist tightly, and a mocking smile crept across his lips.
“What’s wrong? Did I hit a nerve? Are you angry because I was right?”
Xiao Cheng snapped back to reality, yanking his hand free from Luo Jingshu’s grip. “Yes, right now, I can’t hit you.”
It would be best if Luo Jingshu stayed out of his sight forever. In a few months, when Luo Jingshu became an adult, Xiao Cheng feared he couldn’t stop himself from settling new and old scores.
Luo Jingshu’s expression became even sharper at that, his crimson lips twisting like a snake spitting venom. His eyes flashed with a hint of anger.
“So, you’re admitting you’ve been fooling around with Xie Zhao?”
How dare Xiao Cheng say he loved him while keeping things unclear with Xie Zhao?
Xiao Cheng released his grip on Luo Jingshu, straightening up and looking down at him. “I admit that what I did was wrong.”
“Knowing Xie Zhao might have feelings for me, yet still seeing him so often—that’s on me.”
Even if Xiao Cheng knew he and Xie Zhao were innocent, his actions were irresponsible. He unintentionally gave Xie Zhao hope and caused his boyfriend to misunderstand. It was unfair to both of them—a classic case of being cluelessly inconsiderate.
He knew this was his fault.
Xiao Cheng’s chest heaved, his suppressed anger burning like fire, making his entire body feel uncomfortable.
“But Luo Jingshu, ask yourself—aside from this, when have I ever wronged you?”
What had he done wrong to deserve Luo Jingshu’s constant deception?
Luo Jingshu was silent for a moment, then tugged the corner of his mouth into a faint smile. “So, what now?”
Xiao Cheng had discovered his identity and lies. He had also overheard that one sentence from last night.
That was what Luo Jingshu was most concerned about. Last night, it had been just him and Jiang Yi in the room, so how did Xiao Cheng know?
Could Jiang Yi have told him?
Luo Jingshu lowered his eyes, glancing at Xiao Cheng’s clenched fists. A flicker of unease passed through his eyes.
Xiao Cheng exhaled a deep breath, his tense body relaxing slightly.
“Let’s break up,” he said in a hoarse voice.
Luo Jingshu’s head jerked up, his eyes locking onto Xiao Cheng’s, who turned his face away, showing him only a cold profile.
“I don’t want to be with someone who’s just playing with me.”
Luo Jingshu tightened his grip on the carpet beneath him. “You’re upset about what I said last night?”
“I can explain,” he said, staring intently at Xiao Cheng’s face.
Xiao Cheng turned back to look at him, his expression now calm. “No need. I’d rather believe what I heard with my own ears.”
He couldn’t fathom what explanation Luo Jingshu could have for saying something like that. Xiao Cheng couldn’t think of any other reason unless it was his true feelings.
Was Luo Jingshu still trying to deceive him?
Luo Jingshu’s eyes were bloodshot as he let out a bitter laugh. “You really want to break up?”
Xiao Cheng was about to nod when Luo Jingshu suddenly pushed himself up, grabbing Xiao Cheng’s wrist and using his legs to pin him down on the carpet. Xiao Cheng’s back slammed into the floor, the soft rug cushioning him somewhat, but he still groaned in pain.
At the same time, he kicked out, his foot connecting with Luo Jingshu’s calf, but in the next second, his legs were also pinned down by Luo Jingshu’s firm grip.
His wrists and legs restrained, Xiao Cheng struggled fiercely, his breath coming in harsh, erratic gasps. His jaw clenched so tight he looked like he wanted to tear a piece of flesh from Luo Jingshu.
Luo Jingshu tightened his hold on Xiao Cheng’s limbs, his own breathing growing heavier. His chest rose and fell rapidly as a mocking laugh escaped his throat.
“Not struggling anymore?”
That magnetic voice, usually Xiao Cheng’s favorite, now grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, making his expression twist in anger and frustration.
“Let me go!”
Luo Jingshu sneered. “It seems like this is the only way to make you talk to me properly.”
His eyes lingered on Xiao Cheng’s flushed face and reddened eyes, studying every detail. With a low murmur, he added, “Are you really willing to break up with me?”
Xiao Cheng obviously still loved him.
Xiao Cheng tried to resist, but Luo Jingshu’s strength far surpassed his own. It seemed effortless for him to restrain Xiao Cheng.
Suddenly, Xiao Cheng went limp, relaxing his body. His eyes turned an even deeper red, with a tantalizing flush framing the edges of his eyes, which shimmered with unshed tears.
“After all, you don’t love me,” he whispered.
For a moment, Luo Jingshu was tempted to reach out and wipe away the tear from the corner of Xiao Cheng’s eye, but doing so would require him to release Xiao Cheng’s wrists.
After considering his options, Luo Jingshu leaned down, intending to kiss away the tear instead.
Just as his lips were about to brush against the corner of Xiao Cheng’s eye, the young man turned his head aside, causing Luo Jingshu’s kiss to land nearby, missing the intended mark.
“Don’t touch me…” Xiao Cheng’s voice trembled, laced with sobs. He sounded like someone who had been pushed to his limits, weakly resisting despite his helplessness.
This was the first time Luo Jingshu had ever seen Xiao Cheng like this. Normally, it was Xiao Cheng who acted like the older, more mature one, while Luo Jingshu would play the part of the one pretending to be obedient and affectionate. But now, it seemed the roles were reversed.
“If you don’t want me touching you, who do you want instead? Xie Zhao?” Luo Jingshu’s hatred for Xie Zhao had reached its peak.
Xiao Cheng’s lips were deep red, bitten harshly by his own teeth, with faint impressions of teeth marks still visible. He licked his lips slightly. “I have nothing to do with Xie Zhao.”
Luo Jingshu was mesmerized by this scene, but he failed to notice how calm Xiao Cheng had been throughout their interaction. Even with their close contact, Xiao Cheng no longer had the same emotional reactions as before.
Instead, Luo Jingshu seemed agitated—perhaps because he had fully revealed his true self in front of Xiao Cheng. Every small action Xiao Cheng made felt like an invisible temptation.
Luo Jingshu’s voice softened a little. “Then don’t see him again.”
“And as for what you just said, I’ll pretend it was all in the heat of the moment.”
Breaking up? What a ridiculous idea.
Xiao Cheng lowered his eyes, his expression a mixture of innocence and concession. His gaze lingered on Luo Jingshu’s lips, and he suddenly leaned in closer.
Luo Jingshu swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He sensed something was off, but still, he allowed Xiao Cheng to draw near. His grip on Xiao Cheng’s limbs loosened slightly.
The next moment, a sharp pain shot through his leg, followed by a knee driving into his abdomen. Luo Jingshu grunted, forced to release Xiao Cheng’s wrists.
Xiao Cheng kicked him away and quickly propped himself up. He staggered briefly but regained his balance, stepping back a few paces and glaring at Luo Jingshu.
A teacup on the table wobbled violently before tipping over, rolling in a small circle before smashing onto the ground. Shards of porcelain scattered everywhere.
Luo Jingshu glanced at it—ironically, it was the cup of tea he hadn’t touched earlier. The scene felt like a silent omen of something broken between them.
Neither spoke for a moment, until Xiao Cheng, rubbing his wrist, broke the silence with a cold voice. “Get out.”
Xiao Cheng had kicked him hard just now, and Luo Jingshu lay on the floor for a good while, waiting for the pain to subside.
Xiao Cheng had said twice that he wouldn’t hit him, but in the end, he did.
Xiao Cheng didn’t regret it. He’d been holding back for too long, and Luo Jingshu had pushed him too far.
“You’re telling me to get out?” Luo Jingshu stood up, one hand pressed against his stomach, tugging casually at his shirt. “And then what?”
He seemed ready to say more, but Xiao Cheng interrupted him. “Don’t ever mention Xie Zhao to me again.”
He’d had enough, and his patience had run out. His anger bubbled over, and he finally cursed.
“You know very well that there’s nothing between me and Xie Zhao.” Xiao Cheng wiped his eyes harshly, especially at the corners.
“I’m breaking up with you because of you, and you alone. You played with my feelings, and I’m done being the fool who keeps holding onto you.”
Luo Jingshu’s eyes darkened as he watched Xiao Cheng’s actions, especially when he noticed how he had wiped away the spot he had kissed earlier.
“Stop dragging innocent people into this, Luo Jingshu. Is it so hard to admit you’re a scumbag?”
Xiao Cheng paused, taking a deep breath. “Now get out. I never want to see you again.”
Luo Jingshu hadn’t expected him to be so stubborn. “You never want to see me again?”
Did Xiao Cheng truly plan to cut him off completely?
Xiao Cheng’s cold gaze met him. “I only hate you eight out of ten right now. If I see you again, that hate might just become ten out of ten.”
All Xiao Cheng wanted now was to cut Luo Jingshu out of his life completely. But if Luo Jingshu kept showing up in front of him, he feared he might lose control and take revenge for all the ways Luo Jingshu had toyed with him.
Luo Jingshu wiped his lips roughly with the back of his hand. “Fine. Don’t regret it.”
He had come with hidden hopes, but now he left wanting to destroy everything in sight.
The door slammed shut with a loud bang. Xiao Cheng exhaled, resting his head in his hands as he sat by the table, his back pressed against its edge. A silent sigh escaped his lips.
In the end, he broke up with Luo Jingshu.
Xiao Cheng couldn’t explain why, but beyond the overwhelming pain and confusion in his heart, there was also a strange sense of inevitability.
From the moment they started dating, Xiao Cheng had always felt uneasy, as if deep down, he knew they would end up like this one day.
Now he understood. It wasn’t that Luo Jingshu was some disposable side character, but rather that he was the protagonist shou in this twisted story. But Xiao Cheng wasn’t the main love interest. How could he ever expect to stay with Luo Jingshu forever?
That role belonged to Jiang Ying.
Xiao Cheng sat quietly for a moment, then cursed under his breath, “Fuck!”
It was supposed to be just a simple relationship. How had it turned into a battle against the plot?
To hell with this scripted fate.
He hadn’t broken up with Luo Jingshu because of any storyline; it had nothing to do with anyone else.
Luo Jingshu simply didn’t love him.
Xiao Cheng rubbed his throbbing head. He wasn’t foolish enough to still believe that Luo Jingshu was some pitiful victim. After all, when Luo Jingshu had played with his feelings, there hadn’t been a trace of naïveté or sweetness in his actions.
But the thought that Luo Jingshu might love Jiang Ying and willingly degrade himself for him was something Xiao Cheng couldn’t accept.
A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind before he closed his eyes and sighed.
Forget it. An ex is as good as dead.
Just like he thought from the start, there was no point in worrying about the toxic dynamics of a scumbag gong and a cheap shou. He was just a nameless extra in the story, no match for the protagonists.
He had to live for himself.
The next day, Xiao Cheng decided to visit the Xiao family. Xiao Yu had gone on a business trip the previous day, so even though Xiao Cheng wanted to talk to him, he would have to wait for another time.
However, He An was at home. When she saw Xiao Cheng, she looked him up and down carefully.
Xiao Cheng noticed the gentle concern on her face, and for some reason, an overwhelming sense of grievance welled up inside him.
He An saw her son standing there without moving and chuckled softly, “Come over and sit down. Why are you just standing there?”
Xiao Cheng blinked, forcing back the tears that stung his eyes. “Mom.”
“Feeling wronged?” He An patted his shoulder gently and then adjusted his collar with soft, careful movements. “Do you have something you want to talk to me about?”
Xiao Cheng thought about how he had been chasing after Luo Jingshu all this time while also resisting connecting with his family, ignoring their care and concern.
He really had been foolish.
He An clearly wanted to mend the family’s strained relationship, suggesting they all go fruit-picking to relax and ease the tension.
Xiao Yu, despite his hectic work schedule, had made time for them.
Even Xiao Ziyue, busy with exams and studying, had said nothing.
Yet, Xiao Cheng was the only one to ignore their good intentions, staying glued to Luo Jingshu’s side the entire time and barely speaking to his family at all.
Would He An resent him for that?
A sudden wave of anxiety hit Xiao Cheng. He felt like a disobedient child who only remembered his family’s love after getting hurt, shamelessly hoping they wouldn’t blame him.
He An gently patted her son’s back. Even though the young man standing before her was now 1.8 meters tall, in her eyes, he was still the little boy who would reach out for a comforting hug when he cried.
She pulled Xiao Cheng into her arms.
“Is there something on your mind that you want to talk to me about?”
Last night, Xiao Cheng had called the family’s driver and told him not to pick up Luo Jingshu anymore. The driver, in turn, called Xiao Yu, and not long after, He An also found out.
She knew how much Xiao Cheng liked that boy from the Luo family. Xiao Yu had even personally arranged for an investigation into Luo Jingshu, and He An had seen the report.
Luo Jingshu hadn’t committed any major wrongs. In fact, many of his classmates described him as weak and gentle.
But one or two people had mentioned that Luo Jingshu wasn’t always as harmless as he appeared, that there was something complicated about him.
When she remembered this, He An’s expression turned colder, though her voice remained soft and soothing as she comforted the young man in her arms.
“Maybe Mom can help you figure things out.”
Xiao Cheng’s nose burned with emotion, though he felt embarrassed about crying in front of his mother, especially considering this body was already eighteen years old.
“Mom, do you think I’m being disobedient?”
He An’s heart ached when she heard her son’s raspy, tear-filled voice. She stroked his hair affectionately. “Don’t be silly.”
“My son is amazing—obedient, considerate, always thinking of his family, and never giving us any trouble with his studies.”
She added, “You’re my pride and joy.”
A wave of happiness surged through Xiao Cheng, but it was tinged with bitterness. He An was indeed a good mother, but the person she was praising wasn’t really him.
It was the original owner of this body, wherever they might be.
Xiao Cheng blinked hard, fighting back the stinging in his eyes. He relaxed and allowed He An to hold him close.
As He An recounted stories from his childhood, Xiao Cheng vaguely responded, having no real memories of those moments. But he didn’t want to break the warm atmosphere, even though it made him feel more conflicted inside.
Then He An chuckled softly and said, “Do you remember how you once promised to buy me an island and fill it with cyclamen flowers?”
Her tone was playful, with a hint of pride. “Mom’s been waiting for those cyclamen flowers you promised.”
Xiao Cheng’s face froze. He suddenly remembered how he’d been unexpectedly moved when he saw the cyclamen at the café the previous day. At the time, he’d thought it was just his bad mood, but now…
Xiao Cheng shifted uncomfortably. He followed He An’s words, saying, “Then I’d better start working hard to make money.”
“By the way, why do you like cyclamen so much?” he asked.
He An patted his head. “That’s something from when you were little. The first time you saw a pot of cyclamen, you said something.”
A little Xiao Cheng, cradled in his father’s arms, pointed at the flowers and said, “Pretty flower, fairy come.”
Then, he pointed at He An.
She couldn’t hold back her tears at the time.
When Xiao Cheng was born, he was so tiny—a premature baby, smaller and weaker than most newborns.
At just over four months old, he almost left He An forever.
Even the doctors had called it a miracle. A baby whose heartbeat had stopped suddenly began to breathe again.
He An firmly believed that Xiao Cheng was a gift from heaven.
However, when Xiao Cheng was young, he didn’t talk much and wasn’t close to her. He An tried to get closer to him, but he always seemed resistant.
It was only after that moment when Xiao Cheng said, “The fairy is coming,” to He An that he gradually became closer to her and Xiao Yu. He An saw that moment as a significant turning point, and from then on, Cyclamen became her favorite flower.
Xiao Cheng listened, his expression growing more confused, and his hands on his lap gradually clenched tighter.
His mind was in turmoil. It was as if the scene He An was describing was unfolding before his eyes, yet it felt like it was happening between another mother and child.
Why did the original Xiao Cheng say such words to He An?
Xiao Cheng vividly recalled a specific evening, just a little over a month before he had entered this novel world. It had been the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the streets were bustling with families—parents, grandparents, and children strolling together, chatting as they walked.
Xiao Cheng mingled with the crowd, his pace slowing down.
He had lost his parents at a very young age and had been raised by his uncle. But no matter how kind his uncle was, Xiao Cheng still felt like an outsider.
His uncle had called the day before the Mid-Autumn Festival, inviting him to spend the holiday with them. But thinking of his younger cousin, who clearly disliked him, Xiao Cheng smiled and politely declined, saying he had schoolwork.
In truth, he didn’t want to make things awkward by showing up and disrupting his uncle’s family harmony. His cousin believed he had stolen her father’s attention, and Xiao Cheng himself felt out of place. His presence would only make things uncomfortable.
His uncle truly wanted him there, but Xiao Cheng couldn’t pretend to ignore the tension.
He stopped walking, watching the flow of people, suddenly unsure of where to go.
He didn’t want to be alone in his dorm room—the silence and emptiness would only intensify his feelings of loneliness. But seeing other people’s happiness up close only made that loneliness more unbearable.
He stood quietly, watching a young mother holding her son, speaking gently to him.
Xiao Cheng’s eyes stung, and he took a deep breath, moving a little closer.
The mother pointed to a potted plant nearby and asked her son, “Baby, look, don’t these flowers look like little butterflies?”
“Little butterflies,” the boy mumbled.
The mother continued, “Or do they look like little rabbit ears?”
Xiao Cheng watched quietly, a small smile creeping onto his face.
“They’re called rabbit ear flowers, or also…,” the mother trailed off, forgetting the full name.
Xiao Cheng softly finished the sentence for her, “Cyclamen.”
“Yes, yes!”
The woman finally noticed him and gave an embarrassed smile.
Her little boy suddenly followed suit, smiling and pointing at the flowers and then at his mother, “Fairy’s coming!”
“It’s Cyclamen.”
“Fairy’s coming!”
Xiao Cheng smiled as he watched the scene unfold, bittersweet emotions swirling inside him as he looked at the mother’s blissful expression.
“You really love your child,” Xiao Cheng remarked.
The woman looked at him with a smile. “I think all mothers love their children, unless they aren’t worthy of being called mothers.”
Xiao Cheng couldn’t help but wonder if his parents were still alive. Would they love him? Would they be proud of him?
He didn’t know.
He thought he had long since grown used to the pain, thought he had forgotten this memory, but as soon as He An mentioned it, the image of that evening resurfaced clearly in his mind.
But why did the original Xiao Cheng say that same thing?
Was it just a coincidence?
The exact same words, those subtle mannerisms that belonged uniquely to him but didn’t arouse suspicion, his inexplicable closeness and affection toward the Xiao family, and the original Xiao Cheng who had suddenly disappeared…
A bold theory began to form in Xiao Cheng’s mind: What if there never was an original Xiao Cheng?
But that didn’t make sense. He was sure he had transmigrated into this book just over two months ago. How could he possibly be the original Xiao Cheng?
His mind was a chaotic mess, and his face grew more solemn as the tension on his lips tightened, a telltale sign of his nervousness.
He An, mistaking his reaction as concern about making money, smiled and comforted him, “Your father and I have discussed it. Since you’re not interested, we won’t push you to think about the company for now. Take your time and pursue your dreams.”
“When you’re ready to take over, you can start learning slowly.”
Xiao Cheng snapped out of his thoughts. “Mom, it’s not that I don’t like it. I was just being immature before.”
He An looked at him, surprised. “Are you saying you’re willing to start the internship?”
Xiao Yu had mentioned to him before that he should start as an assistant, learning from experienced people and gradually gaining hands-on experience.
Xiao Cheng nodded, “I’ll follow Dad’s plan.”
He An told him, “Your father has already chosen the best person to mentor you. You’ve met him before—he’s the CEO of our branch in City A, Bai Yiheng.”
“When you’re on break, you’ll go work as his assistant and learn from him.”
Xiao Cheng took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll do whatever Dad arranges.”
He An smiled, “My son has really grown up.”
Xiao Cheng thought to himself that he had to mature. He couldn’t continue being as impulsive and reckless as he was before.
With a rough plan for his future in mind, Xiao Cheng finally felt less lost and more grounded, as though he was truly ready to let go of his past confusion.
With all its challenges, the road ahead was far more important than love. Prioritizing love over career would be a foolish choice.
Perhaps one day, when he looked back, he would find that his 18-year-old self had been quite naive.
Xiao Cheng’s transformation was obvious to the three other guys in the dorm.
“Xiao Cheng, why don’t you call your ‘goddess’ anymore?” Jiang Zihe asked.
Xiao Cheng used to spend at least an hour a day on the phone with her. Even if they weren’t calling, they’d be texting constantly. But now, he barely even touched his phone.
Xiao Cheng’s eyes remained fixed on his computer screen without looking up. “It’s a waste of phone credit.”
Jiang Zihe: ???
Really?
You’re going to chase a goddess like that?
“You don’t like her anymore?”
Fang Hui also glanced over, looking thoughtful. Had Xiao Cheng broken up with that boy?
Unlike Jiang Zihe, who was oblivious, Fang Hui didn’t believe Xiao Cheng’s nonsense for a second.
They used to be so attached to each other, but now they weren’t even in touch. They must have broken up.
Fang Hui couldn’t figure out why. Just a while ago, Xiao Cheng had been madly in love, and the happiness on his face wasn’t fake.
Did he really fall out of love so quickly?
“You’re not chasing her anymore?” Jiang Zihe pressed.
“Hmm.” Xiao Cheng released the mouse as the software finished installing, finally giving Jiang Zihe a bit of attention.
“Why?” Jiang Zihe seemed more worked up than Xiao Cheng, frustrated that Xiao Cheng had given up before he even got a chance to see this “little beauty.”
Xiao Cheng responded with a fake smile and an air of seriousness, “Because men only slow down my money-making.”
Jiang Zihe: “Oh…”
As he processed the answer, he suddenly realized something was off.
Wait, what?
Men?
“Wait, you—you’re not…” Jiang Zihe was thrown into chaos.
You’re not straight??
Just then, Xiao Cheng’s phone lit up, displaying a new message.
[Xie Zhao: Xiao Cheng, is my USB drive with you?]
Xiao Cheng replied, [Yeah, I’ve got it. Senior, are you free tomorrow? I want to treat you to a meal and give it back to you.]
Xie Zhao had indeed helped him a lot, and Xiao Cheng felt that simply treating him to a meal wasn’t enough to express his gratitude.
However, his feelings of appreciation for Xie Zhao were one thing; emotions in relationships were another.
It wasn’t Luo Jingshu’s fault for misunderstanding; it was his own lack of clarity.
He’d have to sit down and talk with Xie Zhao properly tomorrow.
