Cheng Ji took the painkillers, paused for a moment, then said, “Thank you.”

Qi Beisong waved his hand dismissively, as if saying “no need to mention it.”

Cheng Ji couldn’t figure out how Qi Beisong knew he needed painkillers, but seeing him about to leave, he reminded him again, “A 24-hour truce.”

Hearing this, Qi Beisong pulled the door open, turned his head, and gave him a deep, lingering look. “I keep my word.”

Just then, hurried footsteps came from the stairs, growing louder until they reached the door.

It was a large, stout woman, with narrow eyes and thick lips, appearing to be in her fifties. She was dressed in a bulky cotton nightgown, her brown-yellow hair rolled in many curlers—an unmistakable “landlady” look.

She seemed surprised to see Qi Beisong and, with her chest puffed out, shouted into the room, “Xiao Cheng, you’ve got a guest!”

Cheng Ji didn’t recognize her, and seeing that she didn’t introduce herself, he just mumbled a vague reply, “Hmm.”

The woman said, “Oh my, no wonder it’s so noisy in here. We heard it downstairs, our hearts were jumping out of our chests. One moment, there was a thud, then a bang, then a crash! What are you two doing, tearing the house apart?”

“Sorry,” Cheng Ji said politely, getting off the bed.

The old apartment’s soundproofing wasn’t great, and it seemed the noise between him and Qi Beisong had disturbed the neighbors.

Cheng Ji didn’t know that this downstairs neighbor was the buyer of the house, but Qi Beisong did. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, listening.

The woman continued complaining, “Ah, Xiao Cheng, I don’t need to remind you, you should know better. Don’t push your luck. The property transfer has already been completed, so this house is mine, not yours. I let you live here because I saw your family was struggling, and your mother’s illness is so pitiful. I haven’t charged you a single cent in rent.”

Qi Beisong interrupted, “How much did you pay for the house?”

The woman was startled by the question and retorted angrily, “How much I paid is none of your business.”

Qi Beisong responded coldly, “It doesn’t matter how much you paid, I’ll pay twice that.”

Cheng Ji immediately covered his mouth.

“Sorry, Auntie, it won’t happen again.”

The woman said, “Oh, Xiao Cheng, why are you apologizing? You should know your place. You need to understand basic manners. I understand your family’s difficulties, I really haven’t charged you any rent.”

“Sorry,” Cheng Ji said firmly, his gaze growing colder.

The woman muttered a few more words, visibly upset, before leaving.

Qi Beisong immediately pulled Cheng Ji’s hand away from his mouth, feeling the warmth of his palm. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just worried you might say something unnecessary.”

“You think you can control what I say?”

Cheng Ji replied, “Of course I can, because she’s my mother’s savior. If she hadn’t bought our house, my mother wouldn’t be alive today.”

Qi Beisong scoffed. “Don’t be naïve. Guess how much she paid for the house—less than half the market price. She took advantage of your family’s desperation, capitalizing on your misfortune, and you’re grateful?”

“How do you know that? Have you investigated?” Cheng Ji asked.

He then nodded. “Right. You have so many subordinates, you’re a special forces officer and part of the reconnaissance unit. Of course, you’d have everything about my family checked.”

He took two painkillers and chewed them. “You’re free to go. We’ve agreed, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Qi Beisong glared at him furiously, “You really don’t know how to appreciate kindness.”

“I don’t know how to appreciate kindness?” Cheng Ji leaned against the doorframe. “Mr. Qi, I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

“That fat aunt just now, not only did she give half the market price, even if she only paid ten or one hundred yuan, she was still helping our family through a tough time. But you, at a time like this, are making me frustrated and unsettled. My mom is lying in a hospice, and because you’re there, I can’t even stay by her side. And you think you’re in the right.”

“That’s because you provoked me.”

“Yes, you’re right, I was wrong.”

Cheng Ji never takes advantage in an argument. Apologizing comes as naturally to him as eating and drinking, but sometimes his apologies are more biting than insults. He acts without hesitation, slamming the door right in front of Qi Beisong.

Qi Beisong stared at the still trembling security door, a rebuttal stuck in his throat, unable to speak or swallow. He was so angry that his whole body was shaking.

Cheng Ji is probably the only person in over twenty years who dares to speak to Qi Beisong like that, as if educating a grandson. What infuriates him further is that Qi Beisong is twenty-five, and Cheng Ji is only nineteen. What kind of child is this who doesn’t know their place?

“You dare scold me? Aren’t you afraid of shortening your life?” Qi Beisong yelled.

“It was agreed upon for 24 hours,” Cheng Ji replied.

Qi Beisong wiped his lips, which were genuinely burning. He had walked around outside and now his cheeks and forehead were cold, but the spot Cheng Ji touched was still hot.

What the hell is going on?

Qi Beisong was silent for a moment, then angrily turned and left.

Finally, the noise outside stopped. Cheng Ji lay back down on the bed, holding his head, groaning in pain, feeling like his temples were about to burst.

Unfortunately, peace didn’t last long. Less than an hour later, someone came to deliver the bed for Qi Beisong and knocked on the door.

Cheng Ji, still in a shallow sleep from the painkillers kicking in, was suddenly woken. He was afraid the downstairs neighbors would complain or that the fat woman would call the police, so he struggled to get up and open the door.

The person outside was in a suit and appeared to be under thirty, with a fair and upright appearance. But with steam rising from his head in the cold winter, it was clear he was rushing.

“Mr. Cheng?” he asked. “Mr. Qi asked me to deliver something.”

“You’ve got the wrong person,” Cheng Ji said, closing the door.

The man knocked again, and Cheng Ji opened it once more.

“Mr. Cheng, I wanted to say that the bed Mr. Qi ordered is too wide. Even if it’s disassembled, it won’t fit through the corner of the stairs. Can I take off your window and use a crane to lift it in?”

“No,” Cheng Ji said, trying to shut the door.

“But Mr. Qi has already paid,” the man blocked the door. “If you don’t accept it, he’ll get upset and blame me for not doing my job properly.”

Cheng Ji, forcing a smile despite his weariness, said, “Here’s an idea: take the bed to the big chimney outside, pour gasoline on it, set it on fire, then invite Qi Beisong over. You guys can carry it together, have monks and Taoists chant, and watch it burn into ashes. Sweep it up, put it in a box, and scatter it in the rivers and seas of our great nation. That way, you’ll be done with it, and I’ll have completed my good deed. Then we can all sit down and have a nice hot meal together, drink, and laugh.”

He slammed the door shut.

The man outside stood still for a while before muttering, “Damn, this kid is ruthless. Does he even know who he’s cursing?”

After being slapped and scolded, Qi Beisong’s face turned red with anger. He had plans with two or three friends that evening, but he couldn’t avoid them, so he went.

Everyone brought their new lovers, except for him; everyone ate and joked, but he sat there drinking alone. When others teased him, he muttered, “Get lost.”

Zhao Xiaojing, the son of a family he’d grown up with, laughed and said, “What’s wrong with you? Losing your appetite over some woman? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Qi Beisong replied, “Fuck your woman.”

“Ah, you’re killing me,” Zhao Xiaojing said, holding his lover and pouring drinks. “Look, Qi Beisong, the iron tree has finally bloomed after all these years. He says it’s not love.”

Someone else chimed in, “If the iron tree has bloomed, it’s not just love, it’s true love.”

Qi Beisong slammed his glass on the table.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his face dark, speaking each word slowly.

The person was startled.

“Do you even know what the situation is?” Qi Beisong snapped. “Want me to pull your tongue out?”

Fortunately, Zhao Xiaojing wasn’t drunk yet, and quickly smoothed things over. “True love, my ass. I don’t dare say that about Qi Beisong. But the ones I like are all true love, right, baby?”

The person in his arms smiled and agreed, “Yeah, Mr. Zhao.”

Qi Beisong was disgusted, stood up, and said, “I’m leaving.”

“Why leave? Keep going,” Zhao Xiaojing said. “We’re just joking around, why take it seriously?”

They didn’t have a waiter in the private room for convenience, so Qi Beisong opened the door himself. His bodyguard, Chen Chuan, came forward and put a coat on him.

He pulled the coat around him and walked out, muttering, “What a buzzkill.”

Chen Chuan asked, “Who’s the buzzkill?”

“Everyone’s a buzzkill,” Qi Beisong said. “Zhao Xiaojing brought a big Ukrainian white pig. Wang Hua eats and feeds his new pet water rats—no hygiene at all. Li Shan brought that little celebrity again, but his mouth smells like shit.”

Chen Chuan said, “Li Shan’s been with that girl for half a year, right?”

“About that.”

“True love,” Chen Chuan nodded. “Anyone who can stay around these young masters for half a year is no fool.”

Qi Beisong’s expression darkened further. “Chen Chuan, what are you talking about? Learn something useful.”

Chen Chuan, left behind and confused, thought to himself, “What did I say? I didn’t say anything.”

Nervously, he went to the car and saw Qi Beisong sulking in the backseat, looking like someone owed him tens of millions of dollars. He asked, “Mr. Qi, are we going home?”

“Take me to Shuiyue Mountain Villa(T/L note: From now on I will change the Moonlight Villa to Shuiyue Villa),” Qi Beisong said.

Chen Chuan relaxed a little, thinking, Good, if he wants to play, fine, just don’t let him get too upset. It’ll be hard to explain to Old Master Qi.

Halfway there, Qi Beisong suddenly said softly, “Chen Chuan.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of me?”

Chen Chuan glanced at him through the rearview mirror and asked, “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“Both.”

Chen Chuan replied, “The lie is that you’re perfect, a model of virtue. The truth is, no matter what, I, Chen Chuan, still recognize your character. Otherwise, I wouldn’t work for you. We both come from military backgrounds, educated by the people for years. Though we’re not so naïve as to not see the bad stuff, I can’t stand the dirty, vile, and low things. I wouldn’t do it for any amount of money. At least you haven’t really gone in that direction.”

Qi Beisong smirked. “Chen Chuan, you don’t know. I’ve gone in that direction.”

Chen Chuan asked, “When?”

“Last time at Shuiyue Mountain Villa, I got angry at a weak bartender. A guy named Cheng chased me and beat me up.”

What happened that night at Shuiyue Mountain Villa, aside from Qi Beisong himself, no one knew clearly. Lei Jing might know, but keeps it secret. Wang Beifeng is an idiot and still wonders why Cheng Ji left behind a crystal shoe.

Chen Chuan couldn’t comment, so he said, “It must have been a misunderstanding.”

“It wasn’t.”

Just then, the guy who had delivered the bed for Cheng Ji called.

That guy was no ordinary person—he was the second housekeeper of the Qi family, named Zheng Haiping. Even Qi Beisong had to call him “Brother Hai.”

Zheng Haiping immediately began to complain, explaining how Cheng Ji had been planning to burn Qi Beisong, scatter his ashes to the rivers and seas of the country, and how they couldn’t even get the bed into Cheng Ji’s house after an hour of trying.

Qi Beisong listened, bitterly laughing, and no longer had the energy to get angry. He said, “Brother Hai, you’ve worked hard.”

After Zheng Haiping hung up, Qi Beisong raised the phone and said, “Chen Chuan, look, someone as slick as Zheng Haiping still ran into trouble.”

He gazed out of the car window. “I feel like that person really hates me. It’s making me wonder whether it was his fault or mine.”

Chen Chuan, distracted, looked at his employer.

Qi Beisong motioned for him to open the sunroof, lit a cigarette, and placed it in his mouth, letting the night wind blow away the smoke.

“I never thought I would be this annoying,” he said in a tone full of an unfamiliar kind of exhaustion.