The enemy’s friend is the enemy, and the enemy’s enemy is a friend.
But Qi Beisong clearly didn’t follow this logic.

He had a throne to inherit, so he could use whatever logic he liked.
Lei Jing quickly steered the conversation in another direction to avoid Qi Beisong launching into another domineering CEO speech that would be embarrassing.

“Beisong, you asked me to look up his family’s address this morning. I found it, and it matches the information on his ID. It’s in that old neighborhood in Gongren Xincun,” Lei Jing said.
“So he lives there?” Qi Beisong asked.

“For now, yes.”
“What do you mean?”

Lei Jing explained, “He sold his only house to raise money for his mother’s medical treatment. The buyer is their downstairs neighbor, but the price was only half of the market value.”
Qi Beisong immediately understood. “The neighbor took advantage of the situation?”

“Yes,” Lei Jing said. “But at least the neighbor didn’t go too far. He allowed them to stay in the house until after the Spring Festival, and they’re supposed to move out after the New Year. We have a local custom where you can’t move houses in the first month of the year.”

Qi Beisong’s expression grew serious. “Next time you see that neighbor, make sure you deal with him properly. What kind of scumbag takes advantage of a widow and orphan like that? He thinks a little kindness can make up for it?”
Lei Jing almost asked whether the Cheng family’s son was Qi Beisong’s enemy or his lover. He barely managed to hold his tongue.

“Let’s go check out his house tomorrow morning,” Qi Beisong said. “Since he’s not at the hospital, maybe he’s at home. Let’s take a chance.”

“Okay.”
Qi Beisong added, “I saw him this morning. He seemed sick.”

Lei Jing thought to himself: If he’s sick, why did you chase him out? He remembered Cheng Ji’s “24-hour ceasefire” request and was about to bring it up when Qi Beisong interrupted.
“Let’s take the Bentley Mulsanne,” Qi Beisong continued. “It’s a nice new car. He insisted on telling the police that there was a bomb in it. If we’re lucky and catch him tomorrow, I’ll tie him to the back seat and let him smell the gunpowder. I’ll make him disarm one that’s already there!”
“… Okay.”

But Qi Beisong left. A call from his grandfather pulled him back. He didn’t listen to his father, but he listened to his grandfather, mainly because his grandfather was old and had just had heart surgery. He feared upsetting him and risking his health.

In the middle of the night, Cheng Ji’s temperature spiked again. He finally admitted, with some frustration, that the fever wasn’t caused by a damaged nipple, but by a cold.

How long had it been since he had a fever from a cold? He had had fevers from injuries and pneumonia, and now it seemed like a lifetime ago. Given that it was already like a different world, he decided not to be so upset about it.

Fortunately, he was still young, and with the high temperature in the room, he sweated a little and felt much better by dawn.

He got up, dressed, and quietly slipped to Mrs. Cheng’s hospital room. He saw that Lei Jing had already left, and it was impossible for Qi Beisong to still be around. Wang Beifeng was fast asleep in the empty bed next door.

Wang Beifeng was about 1.9 meters tall, and the small hospital bed barely fit him, so his feet hung over the edge of the bed as he slept with his clothes on, snoring loudly.

Cheng Ji thought that money and power were a passport in any world. The people who weren’t obviously family members of the patients, who came and went with unfriendly faces every day, probably had no fear from the hospital, which might even be complicit in dealing with him.

Wang Beifeng slept soundly. Cheng Ji quietly walked over and felt Mrs. Cheng’s forehead, finding it slightly warm and moist, the same as yesterday. But the doctor had reminded him that Mrs. Cheng’s urine output was decreasing, and he should keep an eye on it.

For Mrs. Cheng, organ failure was inevitable, just a matter of time.

He sat down by the bed in sorrow, and suddenly Wang Beifeng muttered something in his sleep, startling Cheng Ji. He quickly crouched down, but fortunately, Wang Beifeng showed no signs of waking up and continued snoring.

Cheng Ji leaned in to look at Wang Beifeng. His appearance was rather rough and not traditionally handsome, more of the “tough guy” type.

Cheng Ji opened his mouth silently and mouthed, “Thank you!”

No matter what purpose Wang Beifeng had, Cheng Ji thanked him for staying with Mrs. Cheng.

To be honest, it wasn’t easy lying between two strangers who were both on the brink of death (there was another elderly patient in the room who had lost consciousness). Wang Beifeng’s willingness to do this showed that he was brave, that Qi Beisong paid him a good salary, and that he was loyal. Cheng Ji liked loyal people, no matter whom they were loyal to.

Cheng Ji quickly packed up and left Changkang Hospital at dawn. After breakfast, he took the bus to Gongren Xincun. Today, he wanted to go home.

He knew the house had been sold, but he was going there to take a chance, because he realized he had a bunch of keys with him. If he wasn’t mistaken, those were the keys to the old apartment’s unit door and the house’s security door.

On the bus, he briefly checked his phone. Xu Lele and Manager Zhou had both sent him messages. Xu Lele sent three or four messages, mostly asking what had happened and where he was.

Manager Zhou also sent three messages: the first one read, “What did you do to Young Master Qi?” The second was, “Hide and don’t come out for now.” And the third said, “I heard about your mother’s transfer to another hospital. Get her settled first; I’ll find time to visit you.”
How loyal!

In the few days since Cheng Ji arrived in this world, though it had been chaotic and exhausting, he found that while this world was as imperfect as the one he left behind, it was also filled with kindness. At least, in these short days, the help he’d received far outweighed the harm.
The only exception was Qi Beisong, the epitome of negativity, who hadn’t shown a single redeeming quality so far.

When Cheng Ji arrived at Worker’s New Village, he followed the address on his ID and found the apartment. It was on the fifth floor—the top floor—featuring old-fashioned grid windows that pushed outward. Judging by the building’s age, it was at least thirty years old.

The communal entrance to the stairwell had been retrofitted with a green metal gate. Pulling out a key, Cheng Ji tried one, and to his surprise, it fit. Encouraged, he hurried upstairs with what he assumed was the key to the apartment’s security door. Sure enough, it opened as well.

Cheng Ji was puzzled. The house had been sold, so why did he still have the keys? Could it be the handover hadn’t been completed?

What he didn’t know was that the new owner was their downstairs neighbor, who, out of consideration for Cheng’s ailing mother, had allowed them to delay moving out. However, they had set two conditions: Cheng Ji’s mother couldn’t pass away in the apartment, and no funeral rites could be held there.
In other words, Cheng Ji was essentially renting his own former home.

The old apartment had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom, with a small balcony. It spanned just over 50 square meters. Though the décor was dated, it was meticulously clean, brimming with the traces of a mother-and-son life.

Closing the door behind him, Cheng Ji let out a slow sigh.
No one had been here for about a week. The windows were sealed tight, and a thin layer of dust had settled on the table.

Of the two rooms, the larger one belonged to the son. It had a desk and a bookcase, filled with professional books. The smaller room was his mother’s, with an old wardrobe full of outdated dresses—she must have been quite fond of fashion in her younger years.

The bathroom, tiled in an old-fashioned white ceramic, gleamed from frequent cleaning. The bathtub was spotless except for a few water stains under the faucet. The kitchen was tiny but well-organized, with cabinets stuffed full of pots, pans, and dishes.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cheng Ji began rummaging through the house in search of money!
Unfortunately, he found nothing—no cash, no bankbooks, not even a bit of gold or silver jewelry. The home wasn’t bare, but it held only the essentials of daily life.

They say “a broken home still holds treasures,” but that assumes no one in the family is ill!

Now, he had no roof over his head or land under his feet, his mother was gravely ill, his bank account was empty, and his enemy was both wealthy and powerful. He had no idea how he’d manage from here on out.
Still, he didn’t regret saving Shen Zimo. Crossing Qi Beisong was unavoidable; some consequences for disrupting the storyline had to be borne.

As mentioned before, Cheng Ji compromised when necessary but was resolute when it counted. Even if he were given another chance, he would still have barged into Room 388 that night.

Eventually, in the fridge, he found a small packet of tea leaves. With no better option, he boiled water for tea and spotted a moderately used water heater. Deciding to indulge, he figured out how to turn it on and took a shower.

The bathroom’s old ceiling-mounted heater wasn’t enough to fend off the deep winter chill, so he quickly stripped and stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water warm both his body and the room. It felt so good he lingered until he started feeling lightheaded from the steam and had to step out.

Just as he finished dressing, there was a knock at the door.

Cheng Ji had sharp hearing and was sure he hadn’t imagined it, though he wondered who it could possibly be. Who else would come looking for him here?

Deliberately slowing his movements, he waited to see if the knocking would stop on its own, but the person outside was persistent.

There was no peephole on the door, so Cheng Ji couldn’t see who it was. He cautiously opened it a crack—only to find himself pulled into a full embrace!
By a man.

The stranger’s breath brushed against the side of his neck. “Cheng Cheng!”

“…”

Cheng Ji shoved the man off abruptly and frowned. “What’s going on?”
Even though it was the same body, his strength was different now, and he pushed the man back a couple of steps.

The man, leaning against the doorframe, looked hurt, his eyes filled with pain and longing.
“Cheng Cheng, you’re finally willing to see me! They said you dropped out of school. Where have you been all this time? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

To be fair, the man was reasonably good-looking, probably in his mid-twenties—around the same age as Qi Beisong—but thinner and more refined in demeanor.

“What do you want with me?” Cheng Ji asked.

“Did you cut your hair?” the man inquired.

Cheng Ji was bewildered and stared at him. His hair was still wet, dripping water down his face, and his skin, steamed from the bathroom heat, glowed pale with a hint of red.

Before he could respond, the man lunged forward again, hugging him tightly. “Cheng Cheng, you’re so handsome! I can’t stop thinking about you—I can’t forget you. Please, love me again!”

Another full bucket of melodrama came crashing over Cheng Ji, drenching him from head to toe. It poured with such abandon that it extinguished all the warmth from his freshly taken shower.

Damn it…

There was no need to ask any further.
This was clearly the original host’s ex-boyfriend.