That night’s dinner ended in an utterly strange atmosphere. Qi Xu picked up his shoulder bag from the sofa, holding the deed in hand as he returned to his room.
As soon as he got in, he called Zhao Wen. “Mr. Zhao, sorry to bother you this late, but I was wondering—do you happen to have the contact info for the journalist who covered the story two years ago about me and Qi Guohui getting into a fight and ending up at the police station?”
Zhao Wen was still at school grading papers. Hearing Qi Xu’s question, he frowned and stood up from his seat, stepping out of the office. “Why are you suddenly asking me for that? Something happened?”
Back then, Qi Xu had broken Qi Guohui’s arm and been reported by so-called relatives. He ended up in a detention center.
It was Zhao Wen who bailed him out, and even personally contacted a journalist friend to clear his name in the midst of all the wild rumors. But domestic violence wasn’t much of a hot topic in M City, so the story didn’t get much attention.
“It’s nothing serious,” Qi Xu replied. “Someone’s trying to dig up the past to use against me. I just want to buy the rights to the original article before they can. No room for opportunists.”
He tossed the deed aside and sank casually into the sofa.
Zhao Wen said, “He’s a friend of mine. He has professional ethics—I doubt he’d just hand it over to anyone. I’ll send you his number in a bit.”
Qi Xu gave a half-smile. “Thanks, Mr. Zhao. You’re still at school this late?”
Zhao Wen had always taught senior-year students, so his schedule often matched their evening study hours.
“Hey, you got telescopic vision now or something?”
Qi Xu replied, “Nah, just bat ears. I heard the school bell in the background. Around this time, the first evening class should be over.”
They chatted for a bit and ended the call as the bell rang for the second evening session.
Not long after, Zhao Wen sent over the journalist’s contact info. Qi Xu didn’t hesitate—he dialed immediately.
He explained his intentions clearly, but as expected—things didn’t go as planned.
The journalist, just as Zhao Wen had described, was highly professional. “The original draft has already been sold. I won’t resell it.”
Qi Xu’s mind started working. He asked, “What about the article about the top scorer in the science track during the college entrance exams—was that one sold too?”
The journalist knew Qi Xu was Zhao Wen’s student. As Zhao Wen’s friend, he’d heard plenty about this kid and how he had a promising future. He also knew about Qi Xu’s unfortunate background—he couldn’t help feeling a bit sympathetic.
“As far as I know, every report about you in M City has been bought out—and for a pretty high price. I suspect your family was behind it. You don’t need to worry—we all signed contracts. None of it will be leaked.”
Putting in that much effort—could it really have been the old man from the Shen family? But even then, would he really go so far as to suppress even the positive press?
And back at the old house, why hadn’t Uncle Li hinted at any of this?
Qi Xu slipped off his beaded bracelet and idly ran his fingers over it. “Do you have contact info for any other reporters? I’d like to confirm it myself.”
Just as he was dialing a third journalist, his phone vibrated—a call was coming in.
Qi Xu tilted his head slightly when he saw the caller ID. He let the ringtone run halfway before answering slowly.
He raised the phone to his ear. No one spoke right away—just quiet breaths passing through the receiver.
After a while, he heard the sound of a door sliding open and the distinct summer chorus of cicadas.
“Qi Xu, what exactly are you trying to do?”
Qi Xu countered, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You went to all this trouble to buy up every single report about me in M City—what, saving them for your personal viewing? I had no idea Young Master Xie had such… unique hobbies.”
Judging by the timeline of when those articles disappeared, it must have been shortly after he was officially acknowledged by the Shen family—around half a month after Fang Qian’s coming-of-age ceremony.
He hadn’t had much interaction with Xie Huai. Their only real meeting was on that little balcony, when they both realized each other’s identities. That was their first true encounter.
There was no logical reason for Xie Huai to get involved in the identity switch so early—unless he had always been deeply in the loop, quietly helping Shen Zeyu solidify the “switched-at-birth” narrative.
Xie Huai said, “I knew before you did that Shen Zeyu wasn’t Shen Zhuohai’s biological son.”
Qi Xu raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Xie Huai continued, “The day the college entrance exams ended, I was at the Shen family’s old house. Grandpa Shen and my grandfather didn’t bother hiding anything from me. Grandpa Shen was desperate to find his real grandson. My grandfather and a bunch of their old friends joined forces to help him—they go way back.”
Qi Xu started to see where this was going. “So you’re saying you were just lending a hand for the sake of the long-standing bond between the Shen and Xie families?”
Xie Huai answered briefly, “That was the reason at the beginning.”
Qi Xu wasn’t the type to nitpick over words.
The bond between the Shen and Xie elders ran deep, but the next generation’s ties were tepid at best—only the grandsons had any hope of carrying it forward. In this life, Xie Huai was indifferent and dispassionate, refusing to acknowledge Shen Zeyu as his childhood friend. Judging by how things were going, the relationship between the two families was hanging by a thread.
“Name your price. I want to buy back the draft that Reporter Chen has.”
Xie Huai’s tone turned serious, even a bit warning: “If you want to sabotage tomorrow’s banquet, there are other ways. You don’t need to go public with this—it’ll only put you in the crosshairs.”
Gossip was a sharper weapon than most people realized. Every word could cut deep, leaving wounds that never fully healed.
Like the cigarette burn on Qi Xu’s hand—new skin had grown, but the scar still stood out from the rest.
“I just can’t stomach the way they’re whitewashing Qi Guohui, painting him as some self-sacrificing father figure who carried the family on his back. You and I both know what kind of scum he really was.”
Qi Xu knew Xie Huai had seen the reports and the online chatter. The same man portrayed with polar opposite reputations. “They’re trying to package me as some model student with perfect grades and morals. But that’s not who I am. Am I supposed to live my whole life under that false label? I’d rather tear it down myself than have someone else expose me as a fraud later.”
On the surface, Qi Xu didn’t seem to compete or strive for attention. He disdained fighting for favor in front of the Shen couple. Even showing up with them at the banquet felt beneath him.
He never tried to please anyone.
But when it came to what he did care about—he’d do whatever it took, even if it meant sacrificing his own interests.
Qi Xu had said all that, but Xie Huai acted like he hadn’t heard a word. He simply said, “I’m not giving you that draft.”
Qi Xu felt something stir inside him—not quite disappointment, more like a faint irony. Maybe it was because of everything Xie Huai had done up to this point. He hadn’t expected Xie Huai to take his side just because of the families’ old friendship, but he had thought he wouldn’t get in the way.
But the truth was, Xie Huai was just being Xie Huai. And that was exactly the kind of person Qi Xu had always believed him to be. If the future heir to the Xie family could be so easily swayed, he’d be unfit for the role.
Qi Xu didn’t push further. “Let me make one thing clear—I won’t let tomorrow’s banquet end smoothly. If you don’t want to sully your eyes, then don’t show up.”
He wasn’t worried Xie Huai would run to the Shens and warn them. He said this so that Xie Huai would understand: even without that report, there were other ways. He couldn’t be stopped.
Just as Qi Xu was about to hang up, he heard Xie Huai’s voice again:
“When are you planning to release it?”
—
As the hosts, the Shen family arrived early with Qi Xu and Shen Zeyu and headed straight to the top floor of the hotel to begin preparations.
Qi Xu and Shen Zeyu were placed in two separate luxury suites, where a team of people bustled around taking care of everything.
Though the Shen couple knew Shen Zeyu was mature and had accepted their decision, he was still the child they had raised for eighteen years.
Maybe that’s why the idea of having only Qi Xu appear left them with a twinge of guilt. In the end, they decided to have both sons make a public appearance—to show the world that the Shen family treated them equally.
Qi Xu refused to let anyone “paint” his face. When the makeup artist showed signs of distress, he compromised—by stepping back just a little. So when Chen Wei walked into the suite and saw him, he nearly jumped.
Qi Xu had a face mask on—not the usual plain white kind, but one with a fierce-looking beast on it.
Specifically, it was a lion. Wearing a pink bow.
It was a mix of scary and inexplicably cute.
Qi Xu looked over at Chen Wei, his eyes silently asking what was up.
Chen Wei took a lunchbox and a pouch of herbal medicine out of an insulated bag. “The old master knew you’d be too busy today to eat, so he had me bring you something from the old house.”
Qi Xu stared at the herbal medicine in exasperation. Still, he was grateful the old man wouldn’t be attending tonight’s banquet. This whole event might just send his blood pressure through the roof.
His gaze drifted to the table. No candied fruit.
He suddenly realized he’d gotten used to Xie Huai’s snacks. Now he couldn’t even drink his medicine without them.
The timer for the face mask went off. After washing up, Qi Xu sat down to eat.
Chen Wei stood like a wall in front of him, not moving an inch.
Qi Xu glanced up. “You can go take care of other stuff.”
Chen Wei didn’t budge. He’d been assigned to Qi Xu’s security detail tonight and wouldn’t leave unless absolutely necessary.
“The old master insisted I watch you finish the medicine.”
Qi Xu was once again at a loss for words. Just then, the doorbell rang, and Chen Wei went to answer it.
Standing outside was Shen Fengkai. When he saw Chen Wei, he froze. He already knew that Grandfather had assigned people to protect Qi Xu, and that he’d given Qi Xu full control over his own team.
His parents weren’t aware of this arrangement, and he hadn’t told them either—it would only lead to more unnecessary arguments.
He had spoken with Grandfather over the phone and, after some thought, expressed his concerns: Qi Xu was still young and impulsive—giving him too much authority might lead to reckless behavior.
Old Master Shen had only said one thing:
“Fengkai, in truth, Xiao Xu’s personality is a lot like yours. You never crossed the line, and neither will he.”
After escorting Xie Huai and his group upstairs, Shen Fengkai left to continue greeting other guests. What surprised him, though, was that the group didn’t go to Shen Zeyu’s room—but to Qi Xu’s.
In just a few months, Qi Xu had somehow managed to work his way into Xie Huai’s circle. That alone showed he had some real skill.
He knew firsthand how hard Shen Zeyu had worked just to barely be accepted into that crowd.
Shen Fengkai didn’t interfere. He wanted to see how far Qi Xu could go without relying on the Shen family. Deep down, he even looked forward to the day Qi Xu hit a wall and came crying to him for help.
Chen Wei saw who it was and stepped aside to let the visitors in. Xu Yichen rushed in, yelling,
“Qi Xu! I missed you so much!”
As Xie Huai passed by, Chen Wei couldn’t help but recall the nonsense he’d blurted out back on the first day of school. He guiltily lowered his head, but Xie Huai didn’t spare him a glance.
Qi Xu looked up from his meal when he heard the familiar voice, only to see a group of colorfully dressed people flood into the room.
Xu Yichen was in a light blue denim set. Fang Qian wore a cocoa-colored miniskirt. Jiang Zimu had on a sweatshirt covered in colorful handprints across the chest.
The last one, Xie Huai, was in semi-formal wear—no tie, the collar slightly open, giving him a laid-back, breathable look.
Qi Xu set down his chopsticks. “Why are you guys here this early?”
Xu Yichen flopped down on the sofa beside him with a grin. “I’m representing the Xu family at tonight’s event. Downstairs it’s all uncles and ‘yes sirs’—figured I’d sneak up and hang out with you instead.”
Fang Qian sat in the single armchair, staring openly at Qi Xu. “Qi Xu, you look really handsome today.”
He used to always wear casual clothes, never tried too hard with his appearance, yet still turned heads. Now, dressed in well-fitted attire that framed his features perfectly, he looked more refined—more at ease and composed than usual.
Xu Yichen immediately raised his hand to block her view of Qi Xu’s face, grumbling,
“There you go again. Why don’t you ever compliment… your cousin?”
Jiang Zimu wasn’t prepared to be dragged into it. “Huh? If she doesn’t scold me, I already count that as a win. Compliment me? That’d feel like a bad omen or something.”
Their banter made Qi Xu laugh out loud.
Xie Huai glanced at the untouched packet of herbal medicine on the table. Instinctively, he reached into his pocket—only to realize he hadn’t brought any candied fruit. When he looked up, Qi Xu was already gazing at him with a hopeful expression.
“I didn’t know you still had to drink medicine today. I’ll make it up to you back at school,” Xie Huai said.
Qi Xu mimicked his tone: “Then maybe I should wait to drink it until we’re back at school?”
Xie Huai shot that down immediately. “No chance.”
The two went back and forth in a conversation that left the others completely lost.
Xu Yichen was the first to protest. “Hey, can you two speak in a language the rest of us understand?”
Qi Xu tilted his chin. “I’ve been drinking herbal medicine for a while now—tastes like absolute hell. The only thing that stops me from gagging is his candied fruit. Been relying on it to survive. He didn’t bring any today and won’t tell me where to buy more.”
Fang Qian and Xu Yichen locked eyes, stunned. It was no less shocking than when they heard Xie Huai telling Qi Xu to sleep in the room at the end of the hallway.
Jiang Zimu, slower to catch on, racked his brain for anything he remembered about candied fruit and finally chimed in without a filter:
“Wait, you mean Aunt Qin’s candied fruit? I had it once as a kid. Huai-ge said it’s a huge pain to make—takes forever. Aunt Qin hasn’t made any in years.”
This time, Qi Xu heard the full explanation and was just as surprised as the others.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward Xie Huai, silently waiting for him to speak.
Xie Huai stayed as calm as ever. “Why are you all staring at me? It’s just candied fruit, not some family heirloom. Haven’t you all had it before?”
Xu Yichen sounded deeply aggrieved. “Yeah, and when I took one extra piece as a kid, you smacked me for it. You wouldn’t even let us act like we liked it—said if Aunt Qin thought we loved it, she’d feel pressured to keep making it. For years, she thought we didn’t even like it! I’ve stuck with you through thick and thin. Maybe I didn’t help much, but I suffered plenty. And this is how you treat me?”
Qi Xu passed him a tissue. Xu Yichen took it and dramatically dabbed at his eyes, pretending to cry.
“You didn’t hit him back?” Qi Xu asked, clearly entertained and even egging him on.
Xu Yichen grit his teeth. “Couldn’t beat him.”
Qi Xu gave a light “oh” and looked at Xie Huai. “That’s a you problem.”
Xie Huai raised an eyebrow at him. “What, you want to fight me too? Fine—beat me and you can eat it.”
Qi Xu fell silent. He could fight, sure—but there was really no need.
Now fully committed to the drama, Xu Yichen suddenly leapt to his feet from the couch.
“Xie Huai, you’ve changed! After all the effort Aunt Qin puts into making those, you only share them with him? So I’m not your best friend anymore, huh? You know what? I’m telling Aunt Qin!”
Fang Qian and Jiang Zimu weren’t fazed—they were used to this. Fang even started recording on her phone, and Jiang Zimu helpfully guided Xu Yichen on where to stand for better lighting.
Xie Huai frowned. “Xu Yichen, are you mentally ill? Go see Grandpa Xu and get a few doses of brain medicine. Don’t bother my mom—she’s still recovering. She didn’t make the candied fruit. I… inherited her recipe.”
Xu Yichen blurted out, “Wait, wasn’t that recipe supposed to be passed on to daughters, not sons?”
Qi Xu chimed in dryly, “Doesn’t matter—he’s got the range. Whether he’s acting like a guy or a girl, he’s got skills.”
Under the pressure of Xie Huai’s death stare—the kind only someone skilled at being both “guy and girl” could deliver—Qi Xu wisely shut his mouth, picked up the herbal medicine, and quietly took it to the bathroom to drink.
From the bathroom came a distinct gagging sound. Xu Yichen, Fang Qian, and Jiang Zimu instinctively went to check it out—then promptly united in protesting against Xie Huai.
Before the banquet began, the four of them did, at last, get to taste the candied fruit Xie Huai had made by hand.
Qi Xu had two pieces.
