Ten minutes after class, Qi Xu watched as Xie Huai coldly and methodically sent a cease-and-desist letter to the harasser via MMS.
At that moment, Qi Xu finally understood just how powerful Xie Huai’s people were. The legal firm behind that letter was one of the biggest names in the industry, backed by more powerful families than you could count.
The Shen family wouldn’t even be able to hire that firm—they didn’t have the standing.
A simple harassment incident had warranted the mobilization of a top-tier legal team. Qi Xu suddenly felt like his personal stock had skyrocketed.
He had only managed to trace the number back to somewhere in the capital. He leaned in to glance at the phone number’s exact login IP and asked, “How’d you even find this? You tracked down his network login too?”
Xie Huai replied, “My team found out he used that number to register for an app. As long as he goes online, we can track it.”
Qi Xu recognized the app—it was a payday loan platform. And Xie Huai’s people had uncovered all this in just two class periods. That wasn’t something one or two people could do—it took a seamlessly coordinated team.
In their past life, Qi Xu knew how much backing Xie Huai had from the Qin and Xie families. Even his assistant was an H University graduate.
Li Kaixing once secretly looked into the assistant’s salary—it was higher than what he made as a project director. And it was paid in USD.
At one point, Li Kaixing had even considered poaching Qi Xu to jump ship with him. But they gave up at step one: the bar to enter Xie Huai’s team was too high. Postgrad degrees only. With just undergrad diplomas between them, all they could do was cling to each other for warmth.
In the mainland, tracing IP addresses was skirting a legal red line. That thought made Qi Xu worry, and he quietly asked, “Digging this deep—are you sure it doesn’t break any laws?”
Xie Huai looked up and warned him, “Watch out, you’re about to hit a wall.”
Qi Xu: “…”
It took him a second to realize Xie Huai was talking about the Snake game he was playing. He hit pause using a power-up and stared at him, speechless.
Xie Huai asked in return, “Worried about me?”
Qi Xu shot back with mild annoyance, “Worried my ass.”
Xie Huai explained calmly, “Some of my guys are based in Hong Kong. It’s fine.”
Hong Kong? So Xie Huai really did have business there.
Qi Xu finally had confirmation. Rumors from his past life now had roots in reality. What surprised him was that Xie Huai was already expanding this early—he was only 18.
Qi Xu pointed to the string of numbers on the screen. “Is it someone from our school?”
Xie Huai gave him a sidelong glance. “Didn’t you say you didn’t suspect anyone?”
“I don’t, but that creep mentioned the military training photo. So I figured it has to be someone from school—how else would they even know me?” Qi Xu laid out his reasoning matter-of-factly, unaware that the offending message had already been deleted.
Xie Huai didn’t remember anything about a message referencing a military training photo. “Which one? What did it say?”
Ever since the National Day holiday, Qi Xu had felt a subtle shift in how Xie Huai treated him—not distant, but constantly showing concern at every opportunity.
Like asking whether he liked men. And now? Just casually hijacking his phone to dig into personal matters.
And his own response? Honestly, he’d let Xie Huai do whatever he wanted. He hadn’t pushed back at all.
Physically 18, Qi Xu’s mindset was still that of someone 28. He was used to handling everything alone, bearing every burden on his own.
Years in a position of power had left him emotionally detached. With his family distant and loved ones gone, trust didn’t come easily anymore—he only trusted himself. Not even his right-hand man, Li Kaixing, was an exception.
Xie Huai’s presence was like a tiny boat drifting into his isolated, storm-tossed world. The Qi Xu from his past life wouldn’t have even glanced at him—let alone shared a ride. He’d have built his own damn ship and sailed out of misery solo.
But now? Qi Xu would let Xie Huai disembark and help him build that boat. He’d share the ride. Xie Huai’s small vessel may only have space for one, but Qi Xu was willing to row with him toward the future.
Qi Xu knew: in this life, his relationship with Xie Huai was already nothing like their past. He was now part of Xie Huai’s 18-year-old world—and Xie Huai, in turn, was becoming part of his. Maybe their futures would be intertwined, too.
For the first time in his life, Qi Xu was genuinely making a friend. And if that friend asked him something, he figured he should answer honestly.
Leaning in close, Qi Xu whispered in Xie Huai’s ear, “He said he jerked off to my military training photo. Honestly, I think he was just trying to mess with me. I’ve never taken a solo photo from that day. To pick me out of a group of dozens and feel that kind of way… he’d have to be some kind of reincarnated sperm cell.”
Xie Huai didn’t respond for a long moment. Qi Xu leaned back a little to check his expression—it was calm, not a flicker of reaction.
Still, that face… damn good-looking. Qi Xu studied his profile carefully and silently took back what he said earlier about the 28-year-old version being more attractive. Eighteen-year-old Xie Huai had a unique charm of his own.
Qi Xu momentarily forgot that no matter how capable Xie Huai seemed, he was still only eighteen.
“Huai-ge,” he said, teasing, “don’t tell me you’re that pure?”
No way, right? Didn’t the Xie family give their kids any kind of sex education?
Just as Qi Xu was about to ask more, Xie Huai suddenly said:
“Qi Xu, you’re seriously underestimating your own appeal. Even without a photo, just imagining that face of yours could make someone blow their load.”
Each word hit Qi Xu’s eardrum like a hammer. The low, rich tone sent a jolt through his chest. He was genuinely stunned by how blunt Xie Huai had been.
Xie Huai looked at him and echoed, “Xu-ge, you’re the one who’s pure, huh?”
Qi Xu let out a helpless laugh and didn’t reply. He just lowered his head and went back to playing Snake. But he’d barely started when—bam—his snake crashed into the wall.
Checkmate. He’d just been completely outplayed.
The IP address wasn’t from Q University—it was from an internet café near campus.
There were tons of internet cafés near Q University. Most were legitimate businesses, requiring ID to prove you were of legal age.
But of course, some slipped through the cracks. They eventually found an illegal one in the basement of an old residential complex nearby.
After Xie Huai sent the cease-and-desist letter, things were quiet for two days—then it all started up again. Clearly, the sender didn’t give a damn. And honestly, why would he? Cease-and-desist letters are a dime a dozen on WB, just another “lawyer warning.”
Most people who get harassing messages just suffer in silence—because they don’t have the means to track the sender down.
Qi Xu wasn’t most people. He took every slight personally. Even without Xie Huai’s help, he would’ve spent whatever it took to find the person responsible.
When they arrived at the old residential district, Qi Xu gave Xie Huai a once-over. The fabric of his clothes screamed luxury, and that watch on his wrist probably cost more than the whole damn internet café.
Qi Xu turned, grabbed a jacket from the car, and handed it to Xie Huai. “Put this on. Take the watch off. And stay behind me.”
Xie Huai put on the jacket and tucked the watch into his pocket. He fell in behind Qi Xu like a loyal little underling.
Old Gao and Chen Wei were already waiting by the back entrance of the black-market internet café, covering all angles.
Before walking in, Qi Xu pulled out a pack of cigarettes, took most of them out, and left only two. Then he crumpled the pack a little for effect.
He glanced up and locked eyes with Xie Huai, who gave a quick look to the cigarettes in his hand.
Qi Xu explained before he could ask, “I don’t smoke.”
Qi Xu gave Xie Huai a couple of looks, then stepped forward and pulled the hoodie over his head, covering up that handsome, clean-cut face that didn’t look like it belonged to a street punk at all.
Their shoes nearly touched, and when Qi Xu raised his arm, his fingers brushed against Xie Huai’s cheek. Neither of them noticed just how close they were.
They entered the black-market internet café together. Qi Xu led the way and stood at the front desk. The receptionist, spotting two unfamiliar faces, watched them cautiously.
But Qi Xu’s smooth attitude and fluent street slang put the receptionist at ease.
“Two machines, one hour?” the receptionist asked.
Qi Xu drawled lazily, “Let’s just go an hour for now, might extend later. Got a lighter?”
He paid in cash, pulling some coins from his pocket.
Then he handed a second card to the quiet “little brother” behind him and led the way into the room to find their computers.
This underground café was a far cry from a legit place—no proper ventilation or fire safety, thick with smoke and the stench of alcohol. The smell alone was enough to give you a headache.
Qi Xu booted up a machine for Xie Huai and launched a popular game—just to keep up appearances, even if they didn’t actually know how to play.
Turned out, that wasn’t necessary. Xie Huai had already logged into his gaming account.
Qi Xu suddenly remembered—when they first met, it had been in an internet café too, with Xie Huai playing the helpful do-gooder. Guess this model student was no stranger to net cafés.
Though “Bluebird” wasn’t exactly legal either, at least it was cleaner and brighter than this smoky hellhole. That place catered to high schoolers, had front and back exits to help them sneak out—this one was pure chaos.
Qi Xu had just settled in when the “little brother” piped up, “Want me to carry you through a round?”
Qi Xu: “…”
Well, they had to wait around anyway, might as well play to avoid looking suspicious.
Only thing was—Qi Xu hadn’t played this game in this life yet, so he didn’t have an account. Xie Huai borrowed one from Xu Yichen for him.
Qi Xu got a taste of what it felt like to be totally carried in a game, just tailing the jungler as they raided the enemy’s jungle.
Their ADC even accused the jungler of “babysitting his girlfriend.”
Xie Huai ignored the chat. Qi Xu, who was half watching the door, didn’t see it either.
The ADC got even more annoyed and started whining about how annoying it was to deal with clingy in-game couples.
They won anyway. And right after the victory screen, the person they were waiting for finally showed up.
A scrawny young man with dry, straw-like hair strolled in, backpack slung over one shoulder, and greeted the receptionist like he was a regular. He made his way to a seat in the corner.
Less than ten minutes later, he got up and walked over to the front desk to grab a cup of instant noodles.
Qi Xu and Xie Huai exchanged a glance and got up to approach him.
Huang Chao stood at the water dispenser, waiting for it to fill his cup. Without turning around, he said, “Hang on, man. This machine’s super slow. I’ve complained a ton but they never replace it. I’m starving here.”
That water dispenser had been passed down like a family heirloom—slow to pour and barely hot, so the noodles were always half-cooked. But people here didn’t care—it was dirt cheap.
Something about the silence behind him made Huang Chao nervous. He turned to take a look.
Qi Xu stared him down coldly, then gave a faint smile. “Someone took your bag.”
Huang Chao blinked and turned to see a tall guy in a hoodie walking off with his bag through the back door.
He dropped the noodles and bolted after him. That bag had all his tools in it—might as well have been his lifeline.
By the time Qi Xu got to the back door, Lao Gao and Chen Wei already had Huang Chao pinned to the wall.
Huang Chao immediately shouted, “F*** your mother! What is this, gang work? Do you even know who I am? This place is my brother’s turf! Let me go now if you know what’s good for you—maybe you’ll live to see tomorrow!”
Qi Xu walked up, unzipped the bag, and dumped everything onto the concrete floor—over a dozen second-hand phones, including flip phones and ancient brick-style ones, scattered everywhere.
Qi Xu coldly asked, “Which one was it?”
Huang Chao’s heart skipped a beat, but he still tried to act tough. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bro, you want money? I’ll pay.”
Qi Xu didn’t bother arguing. He pulled out his own phone and sent a message to the latest number that had harassed him.
One of the elderly phones chimed with a text.
As Qi Xu lowered his head to check the phone, Xie Huai, silent until now, asked coldly, “Who told you to send those messages?”
Only then did Huang Chao start to realize how deep he was in—and exploded. “F*** your mother!”
Lao Gao grabbed his shoulder and dislocated his arm. Huang Chao screamed in agony, his face going pale as it scraped against the rough wall, leaving bloody streaks behind.
Lao Gao warned coldly, “Watch your mouth.”
Huang Chao trembled all over, voice shaking. “I don’t know who’s on the other end. We don’t meet. They send me the numbers, I send the messages. After I got your cease-and-desist letter, they told me it was fake and to lay low for a couple days, then keep sending.”
Qi Xu pulled out Huang Chao’s phone, opened the chat history, and found the conversation thread. The other party was still messaging, urging him to send out the latest round of harassing texts.
Qi Xu tapped the account info. A second later, it showed: account deactivated.
He frowned and held the screen up to Huang Chao. “What’s this about?”
Huang Chao winced from the pain, barely able to get his words out. “That’s our rule. If I don’t reply in five minutes, it means I’ve been caught. They deactivate the account right away.”
Qi Xu’s voice turned cold. “Wow, real customer-focused service, huh?”
Huang Chao let out a bitter laugh. “Client is king. As long as there are clients, there’s always a comeback.”
Qi Xu said flatly, “Then you can start your comeback in lock-up.”
Suddenly, Huang Chao burst out laughing. “I’ve looked into the law. This isn’t even a real crime. A couple days in detention and a fine—then I’m out.”
Xie Huai responded on Qi Xu’s behalf, voice calm but icy: “We’ll see about that. Let’s find out whether you’ll really bounce back.”
Lao Gao had already called the cops. Before they arrived, he reset Huang Chao’s dislocated arm, and by the time they handed him over to the police, their lawyer had also shown up.
The account had been completely wiped—no useful intel left behind. Everything else would have to be handled by the authorities.
Huang Chao was a local thug, well known in the back alleys. He already had several assault charges pending. This time, he was in for it.
They’d spent the entire afternoon chasing down a middleman who sent harassing messages—but the person pulling the strings was still at large.
Still, it wasn’t a complete loss. At the very least, Qi Xu shouldn’t be getting any more of those texts for a while.
On the way back to campus, Xie Huai kept reviewing the messages and the details about the deactivated account. Before turning it in as evidence, he backed everything up. He saw clearly what the first message said on the first day—and what Qi Xu had deleted.
Qi Xu reached over and turned off his screen. “What’s there to look at? Don’t wanna ruin your eyes.”
As the screen dimmed, the faint light revealed a chilling coldness on Xie Huai’s face—expressionless, yet tinged with a quiet violence.
It reminded Qi Xu of Xie Huai at the negotiation table—intimidating, deadly calm.
“First time going on an op and didn’t catch the real culprit, Huai-ge feeling a little salty? Come on, don’t be mad. How about this—pick any cafeteria you like, dinner’s on me.”
Typical Qi Xu—shamelessly thinking about food even now.
This kind of petty harassment didn’t bother him. It was annoying, sure, but not something that could truly get to him.
In his previous life, he’d made enemies left and right. Every morning he’d wake up not to messages from his assistant, but to threats and harassment.
Of course, he never let them off the hook. Every last one of them got arrested for blackmail.
Now, seeing how quiet Xie Huai was, Qi Xu figured this version of Huai-ge might scare their dormmates Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie half to death.
To salvage his reputation as the “friendly one,” Qi Xu turned to Lao Gao and gave him an address. “Let’s head there—cool off a bit before we go back.”
Lao Gao looked at Xie Huai through the rearview mirror. He didn’t say a word, so Lao Gao followed Qi Xu’s instructions and started driving.
The apartment was newly acquired—just a couple of days ago. The security system wasn’t fully set up yet, but Qi Xu had already registered the car’s license plate under the resident database for easy access.
He had a housekeeping service deep-clean the whole place yesterday. Since there was no new furniture yet, the apartment wasn’t livable—just a temporary hideout.
Like now, for example—he was bringing back a Xie Huai who looked ready to kill someone.
They stepped inside. Qi Xu bent down to grab two pairs of disposable slippers. “Change into these,” he told Xie Huai.
Looking at Xie Huai now, his expression seemed a little less grim. Oddly enough, Qi Xu never thought Xie Huai looked scary when he was cold and distant. Not in this life, not in the last.
After changing shoes, Qi Xu stood and flashed him a grin. “Welcome to my place. You’re the first guest—shouldn’t you be bringing a housewarming gift or something?”
Xie Huai glanced around the living room. The furniture was old. “I’ll send over some furniture in a few days.”
Typical Xie Shao—when he spends, he spends big.
Qi Xu waved him off. “Nah, I’ll pick out my own stuff. Our tastes are different. You can get me something else instead.”
Xie Huai thought for a moment. “How about a bed?”
Qi Xu paused, then laughed. “Sure, go for it.”
Soon after, dinner arrived—not your average takeout, but delivery from Shen’s Hotel. The hotel might not be thriving, but the food was still excellent.
The two of them sat across from each other, visibly more relaxed than at school. No one else was around—just the two of them.
While eating, Qi Xu was responding to messages in the dorm group chat: “Li Yan said our group’s meeting tonight. Once we finish eating, we should head back.”
He wasn’t planning on staying here tonight anyway. The place wasn’t ready for that.
After dinner, Xie Huai started clearing the table. Qi Xu lounged on the couch, glancing over toward the dining area and suddenly got a weird feeling.
I cook, you wash. I do laundry, you hang it. I bring it in, you fold it.
That kind of domestic scene only existed in families.
Qi Xu had never experienced anything like that—not in his real life. Only in the cheesy romantic dramas he watched with Zeng Yun.
Just thinking about it gave him goosebumps. He rubbed his face and mentally shook the scene out of his head.
Probably watched too many idol dramas and got brainwashed—how could that kind of scene ever happen between him and Xie Huai?
Xie Huai, holding the trash, watched Qi Xu shake his head like a little wolf, as if trying to shake off something dirty.
It was… kind of adorable.
Which is exactly why this person could only be his. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to lay a finger on him.
Ever since Xie Huai realized his feelings, he’d been restraining the possessiveness he felt toward Qi Xu—pretending to be chill when someone slung an arm over Qi Xu’s shoulder, forcing himself to overlook Qi Xu’s carefree smiles directed at others.
Qi Xu was, first and foremost, Qi Xu himself. Only after that was he the Qi Xu Xie Huai liked. Xie Huai always had this feeling—that Qi Xu deserved to live freely and be welcomed wherever he went.
But the moment he saw that string of harassment messages, the possessiveness simmering in his blood almost exploded.
Qi Xu shouldn’t be tainted by filth like that.
Honestly, the chat records had a lot of holes. Everyone has their own texting habits—it’s unavoidable, unless someone deliberately hides them every time they type.
Clearly, whoever was behind it never expected Huang Chao to be caught, or that someone else would get their hands on the chat logs. And that gave them a chance to dig deeper.
After Qi Xu finished shaking his head, he looked up and caught Xie Huai watching him, which made things a bit awkward for a second.
He stood up and brushed nonexistent dust off himself. “Let’s go. Time to head back to school.”
Xie Huai, not missing a beat, asked, “What was with the head-shaking just now?”
Qi Xu immediately felt guilty. No way he could let Xie Huai know what had just been running through his head. This was going to the grave with him.
“What do you care? I could be doing a head-bang dance and it still wouldn’t be your business.”
Still flustered, Qi Xu struggled with the door lock and clicked his tongue in frustration when it wouldn’t open. Then the person behind him stepped closer, reached over, and unlocked the door with one firm turn.
With a soft beep, the door opened—and Qi Xu’s heart skipped a beat.
Xie Huai didn’t pull his hand away. Qi Xu felt warmth at his back, that familiar chest pressed against him, enveloping him completely.
And just like that, all his defenses were down. His usual discomfort with physical contact evaporated.
He had boundaries with other people, sure—but it seemed like they never applied to Xie Huai.
Then, Xie Huai said calmly, “Next time you dance, give me a heads-up. I’ll bring a camera.”
Qi Xu pulled his hand out from under Xie Huai’s and slipped out the door. “Try it. See if you live to see the next day.”
He ended the conversation with his usual temper, but even he couldn’t shake off how weird all of this felt. From the moment he brought Xie Huai home, something had been off. The place wasn’t even ready, and yet he’d brought him here.
And it wasn’t like the lock thing was that big a deal—Xie Huai just helped him open the door.
But that simple gesture made Qi Xu realize something: Xie Huai held a different place in his heart than anyone else.
How different, exactly? Qi Xu wasn’t sure yet.
As for why… a word popped into his mind: double standards.
