Song Yi carefully observed Fourth Master Shen’s expression. It didn’t seem like he had said anything wrong, so what was going on?

Fourth Master Shen closed his eyes briefly and let out a long sigh. Fatigue was evident between his brows. At this moment, he was no longer the formidable political and business figure who once dominated the scene—just an ordinary old man mourning the loss of his son.

“My son and daughter-in-law died in a car accident in Su City.”

“My condolences, Fourth Master.”

Song Yi sighed inwardly as well. A parent burying their child—no matter how strong someone like Fourth Master Shen was, it had to be unbearable.

Staring at the floating tea leaves in his cup, Fourth Master Shen shook his head. “It’s my fault. I was too headstrong in my younger days and drove my son away. In the end, he died with nothing left—not even his remains. Now, I have nothing.”

A middle-aged man nearby, his eyes brimming with tears, choked out, “Fourth Master, you still have two grandsons. They are the treasures your son left behind. Please don’t say such things.”

Fourth Master Shen let out a bitter chuckle, then lifted his head to study Song Yi. His expression had returned to a calm, unreadable state. “I have a good feeling about you, kid. Come by often for tea and a chat.”

With the utmost respect, Song Yi poured him a fresh cup of tea. “It would be my honor to keep you company.”

A mix of sympathy and admiration stirred within him. He didn’t mind forging an unlikely friendship with this legendary figure from another era.

As soon as Song Yi stepped out the door, Fourth Master Shen narrowed his eyes and picked up the document Song Yi had signed. His gaze lingered on the bold, fluid strokes of the signature before he spoke calmly, “Xiao Li is back. Have someone arrange a paternity test.”

“Fourth Master… what do you mean?” The middle-aged man’s eyes widened in shock.

Fourth Master Shen’s tone left no room for argument. “Just do as I say. No questions. Keep it discreet—I don’t want Xiao Li to find out.”

The man’s face turned pale as parchment. He dared not ask further and nodded repeatedly in compliance.

Lately, Song Yi had been enjoying a leisurely life—falling in love, reading the original novel for his upcoming script, and studying how to perfect his role. Everything was going wonderfully.

In the entertainment industry, there was a famous fortune-teller whose predictions were eerily accurate, making him a favorite among A-listers. By chance, Song Yi ran into him one day and had his fortune read.

The master gave him a cryptic reading:
“Sir, you are no ordinary man. The dragon crouches in the abyss, biding its time, yet the shallow waters are plagued by shrimp. But one day, it will soar into the sky.”

Song Yi had never been one to believe in such things—good fortune had never been on his side. But now, with both love and career thriving, he had to admit… maybe the old man had a point.

Gu Xingchuan’s trip to Hokkaido for a commercial shoot was officially on the schedule, so the two made the most of their time together, cherishing their little world of two.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Song Yi was browsing the weather forecast for Hokkaido on his phone as they headed to a private theater. “Take a few extra warm clothes tomorrow—it’s been raining there nonstop lately.”

Gu Xingchuan kept one hand on the steering wheel and hummed in acknowledgment. After a moment, he suddenly turned to him. “Are you going to miss me like crazy?”

Song Yi hesitated, feeling a little embarrassed to say anything too clingy. “I guess… a little.”

Gu Xingchuan shot him a sideways glance before refocusing on the road. “When my dad used to go on business trips, my mom would always hate to see him leave.”

Song Yi nodded, genuinely impressed. “Uncle and Auntie must have a really great relationship.”

Gu Xingchuan raised an eyebrow as the car idled at a red light. Leaning over, he brushed a kiss against the tip of Song Yi’s fair ear, his breath hot against his skin. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

Song Yi rubbed his now-warm ear, nodding lightly as a soft wave of warmth spread through his heart. Before he could fully savor the moment, Gu Xingchuan’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, dripping with mischief. “Miss you… and miss doing—”

Song Yi shot him a glare. Shameless.

Right then, his phone rang, breaking the tension. Glancing at the screen, he saw an unfamiliar landline number and answered.

A sweet, polite voice came through. “Hello, Mr. Song. This is Xiao X, the floor manager from Wuliqing Teahouse. Do you have a moment?”

“Hello. Yes, what’s the matter?”

“Fourth Master has requested that you come by to renew a confidentiality agreement.”

“Understood. I’m nearby—I can be there in about thirty minutes.” Song Yi checked the time on his phone before hanging up.

Gu Xingchuan frowned. “That old man sure knows how to drag things out. One meeting wasn’t enough? Now he’s making you run back and forth.”

Song Yi smoothed his hair in the rearview mirror. “Clients are like this. He hasn’t given me any trouble, and renewing a confidentiality agreement is standard practice.”

Gu Xingchuan let out a faint scoff but said nothing more. He pulled up in front of Wuliqing Teahouse, and Song Yi pushed open the car door, stepping inside.

At the entrance, the same cheongsam-clad beauty from last time greeted Song Yi. She walked with an elegant sway, her striking figure reminiscent of a professional etiquette model, leading him forward without a word.

After a few steps, Song Yi realized this wasn’t the usual path to Fourth Master Shen’s tea room. Still, he didn’t question it and simply followed. The woman in the cheongsam led him to a room with a traditional yet understated decor. She pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.

Inside, cream-colored curtains hung partially drawn, letting the sunlight filter through in shifting patterns across the dark wooden floor. The furnishings were simple—modern office-style furniture, a black leather chair, and a man in a tailored suit sitting with his back to Song Yi, exuding an air of effortless charm.

As soon as Song Yi stepped in, a faint whiff of cologne reached him. He frowned slightly, sensing something was off.

Sure enough, the man turned around, revealing a handsome face with striking features and an easygoing charisma. The only flaw? His face was mottled with bruises—blue here, purple there—looking like an abstract painting gone wrong.

“To see you even once is ridiculously difficult,” Shen Du said, smiling politely.

Song Yi’s head throbbed. He didn’t need to guess to know exactly who Shen Du was. No matter how things twisted and turned, he still couldn’t seem to escape the Shen family. “What do you want?”

Shen Du touched the bruised corner of his mouth. “Fixing my car cost me a hundred grand. How about you have a cup of tea with me as compensation?”

Song Yi let out a light chuckle, meeting his gaze with cool indifference. “Young Master Shen, you spent a hundred grand on car repairs—that’s on you. I already told you, I have a boyfriend.”

Shen Du blinked a few times, then smirked. “Your family keeps a stray dog, and it bit me. Don’t you think you should take responsibility?”

“My dog is on a leash. If Young Master Shen wasn’t sneaking around where he shouldn’t be, how would he have gotten bitten?” Song Yi shot back without missing a beat.

Shen Du let out a soft chuckle, then lifted his gaze, his expression teasing. “The more aggressive you are, the more interested I become.”

Song Yi had to admire this level of shameless persistence. If Shen Du put the same effort into business as he did into chasing people, he’d be on the Forbes list by now. He enunciated each word clearly: “But I am not interested in you.”

Shen Du, as thick-skinned as a city wall, showed no trace of embarrassment. He stood up from the leather chair and slowly walked toward him.

Song Yi narrowed his eyes but remained unfazed, watching him calmly. “My boyfriend is waiting outside,” he reminded him.

Shen Du’s steps faltered for a second before he suddenly grabbed Song Yi by the waist.

Song Yi swung a fist at him, but Shen Du caught his wrist effortlessly. Like a rogue, he lowered his head and inhaled lightly against the faint blue veins on Song Yi’s wrist. “Let him wait.”

“Young Master Shen, have some self-respect.” Song Yi yanked his hand back, prying Shen Du’s arm off his waist before stepping back, widening the distance between them.

Shen Du let out a low laugh. “Do you really dislike me that much? Tell me, what does Gu Xingchuan have that I don’t?”

Song Yi shook his head, about to respond when a piercing scream suddenly rang out from the distance. The sound was shrill, almost distorted, followed by broken sobs—frantic and terrified.

Song Yi instinctively turned his head in confusion, but before he could make sense of it, he noticed Shen Du’s face had gone pale, his eyes filled with panic.

A frantic clatter of high heels echoed down the hallway—hurried, unsteady, almost stumbling. The chaos was punctuated by violent bangs—thud, thud, thud—each impact so forceful it seemed to shake the entire corridor.

Shen Du moved quickly, grabbing a chair and rushing toward the door, intending to block it. But the person outside was even faster.

Crash!

A sharp splintering sound filled the room as the delicate wooden door gave way. The tea house’s doors, designed more for aesthetics than durability, were nothing more than thin carved panels covered with a layer of rice paper. One aggressive blow had already cracked it open—revealing the tip of a silver carbon steel wrench protruding through the wood.

The kind used for car repairs. Nearly the length of a forearm. A single swing of it could easily shatter bone.

“Is it this room?” Gu Xingchuan’s voice was thick with barely contained fury.

A woman’s muffled sobs answered hesitantly. “I… I don’t know…”

Shen Du stared at the wrench for a few seconds, and suddenly, the bruises on his face started aching all over again. He took a cautious step back, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the fractured wooden door.

Song Yi stepped forward and yanked the door open.

Gu Xingchuan stood tall at the entrance, wrench in hand, his imposing frame filling the doorway. The moment he saw Song Yi, he exhaled in relief—but as soon as his gaze landed on Shen Du standing behind him, his expression darkened. He lifted the wrench and pointed it at Shen Du, his voice ice-cold. “Shen Du, you must have a death wish.”

He had only stepped out of the car for a moment to buy a bottle of water, yet in that brief window, he noticed Shen Du’s luxury SUV—its front end freshly dented from a collision. Without hesitation, he had stormed into the tea house to find Song Yi.

When the front desk refused to give any information on Shen Du, Gu Xingchuan had quickly lost patience. So, he did what any reasonable man would do—grabbed a wrench from his car and forced his way in.

Shen Du, standing on his own turf, straightened up, emboldened. “This is Wuliqing Teahouse, not your backyard. You’re the first person crazy enough to smash up my grandfather’s place.”

Song Yi’s head buzzed with a dull hum, his mind momentarily blank. He took a deep breath, stepped closer to Gu Xingchuan, and said calmly, “Let’s go.”

He could figure out how to apologize to Fourth Master Shen later.

Gu Xingchuan didn’t move an inch. He simply stood there, staring Shen Du down with an arrogant smirk. “Shen Du, do you really think I’d be afraid of Shen Mingguo?”

Shen Du’s expression darkened. He gritted his teeth and asked, “What exactly do you want?”

Gu Xingchuan stepped past Song Yi in one swift motion, closing the distance between him and Shen Du. Instinctively, Shen Du took a step back. Gu Xingchuan shot him a look of pure disdain, tapping the wrench lightly against the top of Shen Du’s head. “Next time, I’ll take your skull home and use it as an ashtray.”

Shen Du’s entire body tensed. The wrench hovered over his head like a guillotine, and for a moment, he genuinely feared that Gu Xingchuan might just crack his skull open then and there.

The room was thick with tension.

Then, a voice rang out—calm yet commanding, carrying an innate authority that made the air in the hallway still. “Gu family’s boy, do you dare?”

Everyone turned in unison. Silence fell.

A middle-aged man stood beside Fourth Master Shen, supporting the elderly man by the arm. Fourth Master Shen’s sharp gaze swept over the shattered wooden door, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a cold chuckle. “Take note of the damages. Send the bill to Gu Shaoyuan.”

Shen Du’s composure returned somewhat, and he quickly stepped to Fourth Master Shen’s side, bowing his head in respect. “Grandfather.”

Gu Xingchuan casually tossed the wrench aside, crossing his arms as he met Fourth Master Shen’s gaze. Then, he slowly lifted his chin. “Shen Mingguo, keep your grandson in check. Tell him to stop eyeing what’s mine—otherwise, I’ll kill him.”

Song Yi tugged at Gu Xingchuan’s sleeve in a silent plea for restraint.

Gu Xingchuan glanced down at him, then, without hesitation, turned and took Song Yi’s hand—his strong fingers lacing tightly through Song Yi’s cooler ones. Their fingers intertwined, and the warmth of his grasp spread through Song Yi’s palm. The rapid pounding of his heart gradually steadied.

Fourth Master Shen was so furious that he burst into laughter. “Hah! You’ve got guts. Even your father wouldn’t speak to me like this.”

“That’s because my father respects his elders.” Gu Xingchuan’s voice was icy as he looked Fourth Master Shen up and down. “You’re not young anymore—maybe it’s time to start accumulating some virtue.”

Fourth Master Shen’s face darkened, his eyes widening in rage. “What did you just say?”

Gu Xingchuan shot a glance at Shen Du, who stood there with his head lowered in feigned humility, and his temper flared again. “Old man, your grandson has been pestering my person over and over again. Don’t tell me you had no idea?”

Fourth Master Shen narrowed his eyes. “Your person?”

Gu Xingchuan pulled Song Yi close, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and bringing him to the front. He pointed at Song Yi and bluntly declared his claim, “Him, my wife.”

Fourth Master Shen’s face turned as cold as ice. He turned to look at Shen Du. “You’re pursuing Song Yi?”

Shen Du froze for a moment, then nodded. Before he could say anything, Fourth Master Shen slapped him hard across the face. With the strength of years spent doing physical labor, the blow sent Shen Du stumbling backward, his head spinning, nearly toppling to the ground.

Fourth Master Shen’s voice roared with fury. “You animal!”

=^_^=