Chapter 65

Chen Jiaming gripped the heavy wine glass in his hand. Upon hearing Xie Huai’s words, his fingers froze, and the wine sloshed over the rim, spilling down his hand.

Xie Huai lifted his chin slightly. A server stepped forward, silently refilled the glass to the brim.

All voices trying to intervene fell silent. The mood in the room shifted instantly—no one dared speak, and even the onlookers sobered up, their appetite for drama fading.

The venue was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

With the blindfold over his eyes, Chen Jiaming’s hearing was heightened. Every splash of wine being poured into his glass sounded like a drumbeat. The glass felt as heavy as lead in his hand—almost unbearable.

Xie Huai’s tone wasn’t sharp. In fact, it was gentler than when he confessed love. Of course, no one else had seen what Qi Xu had—Xie Huai, the favored son of heaven, could bite when provoked.

But that softness, paired with the iciness in his eyes, gave him the aura of a living hell king.

In that moment, it struck Chen Jiaming that Xie Huai was actually a few years younger than him. Yet no one present dared treat him like some freshly minted adult. As the heir of the Xie family, he didn’t need to flaunt his power—it was precisely that restraint that made people forget how ruthless he could be.

There was once a young master from Hong Kong who provoked Xie Huai at a party. Despite being warned, the guy had laughed it off, arrogantly claiming, “Hong Kong is my turf. What can he possibly do to me?”

Less than twenty-four hours later, that young master’s family business was exposed for faulty construction practices. The stock market took a hit, and they lost a billion overnight.

The news was first reported by the oldest media outlet in Hong Kong. When the young master’s family tried to buy their silence with an eight-figure sum, they were flatly rejected.

Everything pointed back to Xie Huai. People in the inner circles knew the truth. The young master’s family flew to the capital with him in tow to apologize in person—but Xie Huai refused to meet them.

Xie Huai always kept a low profile and never used his family background to pressure others. But he wasn’t a saint either. Anyone who crossed him never had a good ending.

Between ten billion and a glass of wine, Chen Jiaming chose the latter.

He lifted the heavy glass and took a sip.

Ten wines blended together—any nuance of aroma or taste was completely lost. There was no art in this.

Chen Jiaming tried to down the entire glass in one go, but Xie Huai’s voice stopped him:
“One sip, one guess.”

What was supposed to be a game of luck became a public punishment.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, Chen Jiaming drank and guessed one wine at a time. Only Xie Huai responded—coldly and minimally. Whether his guess was right or wrong, there was no reaction. He had to keep going.

His luck was poor. He didn’t guess correctly until the very last sip—by then, the glass was empty.

At that point, no one cared whether he got it right or not. The wine had already muddled his senses. His mind was foggy.

Xie Huai turned to Qi Xu.
“Keep tasting, or go home?”

The crowd’s eyes all turned back to Qi Xu. What shocked them was that Xie Huai’s familiarity wasn’t with Xu Yichen—but with Qi Xu.

Qi Xu met those calm, dark eyes. His heart skipped a beat. Somehow, he knew tonight wasn’t going to end peacefully.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

Many had hoped to use this opportunity to strike up a conversation with Xie Huai—but before they could, he was already walking out, side by side with Qi Xu.

Zhang Xinping, watching his wine tasting event take such a turn, gave a cold laugh:
“Chen Jiaming, you’re on your own now.”

Chen Jiaming and his friends were immediately blacklisted. They would never appear on Zhang Xinping’s guest list again.

As Qi Xu left, he casually took a few bottles of wine with him. He came, drank, and left with souvenirs. The winery’s manager even offered one of the collector bottles as a peace offering—not to Qi Xu, but to Xie Huai.

Xie Huai declined. His family had no shortage of rare vintages, and he had no interest in being associated with this winery.

At the entrance, a server handed Qi Xu his down coat. He put it on. Xu Yichen caught up to Xie Huai and asked,
“How’d you get here so fast? Done with business already?”

Xie Huai glanced at Qi Xu zipping up his coat obediently, half his face buried in a scarf, then looked away.
“Wasn’t a big deal.”

Just a routine family meeting that happened twice a month. But then he’d seen Qi Xu’s heart emoji and decided to leave early by half an hour—just to hear the story directly from him.

And thank god he did.

Had he arrived even slightly later and seen Qi Xu hurt… he wasn’t sure what he might’ve done to Chen Jiaming—or the entire Chen family.

Qi Xu noticed Xie Huai wasn’t looking at him.

The temperature had dropped again. The wind was bitterly cold.

Xu Yichen watched the two of them get into the car and sighed.
Love isn’t easy. Staying together is even harder.

Qi Xu climbed into the back seat, only to realize there was no driver. Xie Huai got in up front but didn’t start the car right away.

After a few seconds, Qi Xu got out and moved to the front passenger seat.

“Why didn’t you let Lao Gao drive tonight?”

Xie Huai locked the doors, turned on the heat, and placed his hands lightly on the steering wheel.
“Wanted to see you alone.”

Qi Xu immediately thought of the heart emoji he’d sent earlier. It hadn’t been acknowledged. It was awkward to bring it up now—he couldn’t even remember exactly what he’d meant to say in that message.

Xie Huai tapped the steering wheel, still patient, offering him multiple choices:
“Do you want to tell me now what happened tonight, or wait until we get home? Or should I just ask someone else?”

Qi Xu, perceptive as ever, wisely didn’t ask if there was any real difference between telling him now or later. Home was a switch. At home, Xie Huai could do whatever he wanted.

To save his own neck, Qi Xu decided to talk—right here, in the car.

“Chen Jiaming found out I had a business trip over the weekend and assumed I was taking over the Shen family project. He mocked me—both openly and behind my back—implying I wasn’t good enough. I snapped back. He has the ego of a peanut, so during the wine tasting, he called me up to guess the wine blindfolded and brought up my background to humiliate me. Shen Zeyu jumped in to stir the pot, and in the end, Chen Jiaming stood up for Song Ruoming, trying to provoke me into throwing the first punch.”

Qi Xu had seen through Chen Jiaming’s intentions from the beginning—that’s why he’d warned Xu Yichen to stay calm. When Chen brought up Qi Guohui, it crossed a line. Qi Xu picking up the wine bottle had been for show. He never intended to use it—he just wanted to toss it aside and walk away.

He had lived another life now. He wasn’t that explosive 18-year-old anymore.

Xie Huai picked up on a few inconsistencies in Qi Xu’s story. If Xu Yichen was there, Chen Jiaming should have restrained himself—but instead, he escalated the conflict. Something didn’t add up.

And what was Shen Zeyu’s motive for stepping in? Xie Huai didn’t believe he was helping Qi Xu.

Then there was Song Ruoming. Xie Huai had only recently learned that Shen Zeyu had been in contact with him. The two of them had even met recently at the Song family’s estate.

“If I hadn’t shown up, were you planning to fight Chen Jiaming?”

Qi Xu was fiddling with the scarf in his hands.
“No. I would’ve just smashed the wine bottle and walked off. What, was he gonna try and stop me?”

Xie Huai pressed further.
“What exactly did he say that made you snap?”

Typical Xie Huai—zeroing in on the heart of the matter with one sentence.

Qi Xu’s hands paused. He slouched against the car door and took two seconds to reply:
“Chen Jiaming used the public image of Qi Guohui, crafted by the Shen family, to get under my skin. I made it very clear at the old estate—I don’t allow them to keep using a fake version of Qi Guohui.”

Xie Huai understood. He’d heard Qi Xu express his disgust before—about how the Shen family had whitewashed Qi Guohui’s image. Whether it was a switch at birth or some other mistake, Qi Guohui was no saint. That was why Xie Huai had personally leaked the news about Qi Guohui being detained for causing public disturbances—tearing apart the Shen family’s carefully spun web around Qi Xu.

“Qi Guohui was released two weeks ago.”

Qi Xu looked up, surprised. He had assumed the delay in Qi Guohui contacting him meant he was out wasting the Shen family’s money again—he had no idea it was Xie Huai’s doing.

“When?”

Xie Huai explained calmly:
“A few days after the banquet, when the news broke. He got involved with some local thugs, extorting passing trucks. But the truck drivers knew martial arts and beat up a bunch of them—including Qi Guohui. I called the police, dug up his past offenses, and hired a lawyer to press charges. He was locked up for a few months.”

Qi Guohui was a coward—he only dared to get involved in street fights and gambling. Nothing serious enough to land a heavy sentence, but enough to get him thrown in jail for a while.

Qi Xu fell silent.

The banquet—that was not long after the school year had started. Quite early, really. Before that, someone had helped shut down rumors on the school forum, blocked negative media coverage, and protected his privacy.

So many things. All with Xie Huai behind them.

He asked quietly:
“Why? Did you already like me back then?”

Back then, they were still teasing and testing each other, not even close—right?

In the dim light, Xie Huai’s voice was steady and deliberate:
“Maybe. I think I subconsciously placed you in an important position. When I learned what Qi Guohui had done to you—when I saw your injuries—it hurt. If there were a time machine, I’d go back to that day to protect you. Since the Shen family didn’t do anything, I decided I would.”

Xie Huai, who never watched cartoons, had for the first time wished a time machine existed—not for anything grand, but simply so Qi Xu wouldn’t have to suffer.

Qi Xu went still.

He had never had anyone beside him before. He wasn’t even used to it.

But in that moment, he realized—Xie Huai had always been there. Someone would help him. Someone would stay. Someone would always be on his side.

That person… was Xie Huai.

And suddenly, the firecracker that was 7th-tier explosive Qi Xu felt like it was turning into a firework barrel, ready to shoot colors into the sky.

Xie Huai had no idea the impact his words were having. He simply wanted Qi Xu to understand what was in his heart.

Qi Xu looked over.
“Are you… my family?”

Xie Huai said without hesitation:
“I can be your family.”

Outside, the wind howled violently, like a dust storm approaching.

But it still couldn’t compare to the storm raging inside Qi Xu.
He sat there, stunned, head down, saying nothing.

But inside, he felt it—his breathing, his heartbeat—they were changing. Right in that very moment.

It was like a long-parched branch finally receiving rain—revived, taking root again, bursting with life.

The feeling was foreign, even a little frightening. Qi Xu realized… he couldn’t see Xie Huai as just a friend anymore.

To Xie Huai, even in Qi Xu’s silence, he’d never seen him like this before—fragile, vulnerable.

Not when he was fighting punks on the street.
Not when he was forced on stage to perform.
Not even when he stood in open opposition to his own family.

Qi Xu had always carried himself with boldness, strength, and unwavering confidence.

But now—why was he showing this unseen side to him, and only to him?

Because in this moment, Qi Xu had fully, consciously given him access. A permanent pass, one that led straight into the deepest corners of his heart.

He had let his guard down—completely, unreservedly.

And realizing that made Xie Huai’s heart surge uncontrollably. His blood felt like it was running wild, and the urge to reach out to Qi Xu—emotionally, physically—was impossible to suppress.

Xie Huai reclined the driver’s seat slightly and leaned over, pressing the seatbelt release Qi Xu had fastened when he got in.

Click.
Qi Xu heard the sound and glanced down, confused—only to be lifted and pulled straight into Xie Huai’s lap, across the center console.

By the time Qi Xu realized they were now face-to-face in the driver’s seat, his brain was still catching up.

His first conscious thought was:
Good thing we drove the Cullinan today. Any other car wouldn’t even have this much space.

Xie Huai gently tilted Qi Xu’s chin up, his eyes tracing over his face in the dim light filtering in from outside.
“Were you crying?”

Qi Xu, now straddling Xie Huai’s lap, suddenly realized just how compromising his position was. His face turned hot.
“Cry my ass.”

Xie Huai’s voice stayed calm, soft.
“I didn’t want you to cry right now either.”

As he spoke, he brushed a finger lightly under Qi Xu’s eye—checking for tears. Finding none, his hand slowly drifted down… resting at the zipper of Qi Xu’s puffer jacket.

With careful deliberation, he began to pull it down.

Qi Xu didn’t stop him.
Instead, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Xie Huai pulled the zipper all the way down.
“Holding you.”

Qi Xu scoffed. “I thought you were trying to screw me.”

That fleeting, fragile version of Qi Xu had already vanished.
Xie Huai almost regretted not savoring it longer.

He raised a brow and said nothing, instead carefully peeling off Qi Xu’s thick down jacket with the kind of reverence one might have when unwrapping a long-awaited gift.

For once, Qi Xu didn’t resist—like a puppet with its strings cut, letting Xie Huai move him however he pleased.

The heavy jacket slipped off his shoulders, tossed casually onto the passenger seat.
Xie Huai didn’t remove the scarf—it was his scarf, and if he could have it his way, everything Qi Xu wore would belong to him.

Then, finally, he got what he wanted—Qi Xu, tucked tightly into his arms, their chests pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.

Qi Xu felt the arms around his back clutching him with a strength he’d never experienced before.

He wrapped his own arms around Xie Huai’s neck, letting all his weight melt into the embrace.

For the first time since his rebirth, he let go. No more thoughts, no more worries.
Right now, this world was just the two of them.

Qi Xu sat up slightly, looking down at Xie Huai. His lips curved into a smile as he reached out, fingertips tracing from the center of Xie Huai’s brows down to the outer corner of his eye.

Xie Huai never looked away, his hand gently stroking down Qi Xu’s back, anticipation tightening every nerve.

Qi Xu leaned in and kissed the corner of his eye, warm lips pressing against dry skin—leaving behind a trace of moisture.

Outside, the sandstorm howled.
Inside the car, they held each other, loved each other.

At last, Qi Xu gave Xie Huai a clear, unmistakable answer—and thankfully, it wasn’t too late.

His eyes sparkled, brighter than when he was handed a black card.
“Xie Huai, I like you.”

Xie Huai’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. He gripped the back of Qi Xu’s neck and pulled him down, their breaths growing heavier, mingling in the narrow space between them.

Qi Xu brushed his lips against Xie Huai’s, a tentative invitation.

That was all it took.

Xie Huai’s muscles tensed, and then he couldn’t hold back—he deepened the kiss, prying Qi Xu’s lips open.

The kiss was fierce.
It was long desired.
It was everything he’d waited for—and finally received.

A brand-new heart caught a battered, scarred one, still beating. It cradled it with love, stitched its wounds with warmth, made it part of its own flesh and blood.

Xie Huai kissed with reckless abandon. Qi Xu clung to him, only to be pushed up against the steering wheel. Xie Huai’s hands weren’t content with just holding him anymore—they slipped beneath the hem of Qi Xu’s sweater, kneading his waist with practiced care.

Qi Xu was into it—fully, at first.
But the steering wheel was pressing into his back, making it harder to focus.

“Xie Huai…” he mumbled, breathless, half-protesting.

That only seemed to excite Xie Huai more—his kisses grew deeper, more urgent.
He slid a hand behind Qi Xu’s waist, giving him some support so he wouldn’t feel the wheel digging in so much.

Eventually, they did stop—because Qi Xu realized if they didn’t, they’d be spending the night right here in the car, treating it like a second home.

He turned his head away, panting slightly, and muttered under his breath,
“God, I’m a gentleman. Can’t believe I actually stopped.”

They say teenage boys are a handful—judging by both their reactions, it was undeniably true.

Xie Huai’s lips landed on Qi Xu’s cheek now, this time slow, reverent.

Qi Xu rested his head on Xie Huai’s shoulder, eyes closed, clearly satisfied.
“So… can you still drive?”

Now that his mind had cleared a little, he was thinking about getting home to sleep.
And yeah, maybe he felt a little guilty about that—just a little.

But Xie Huai replied:
“Nope. We’d be driving under the influence.”

Qi Xu was a little slow on the uptake. He leaned in close to Xie Huai’s ear and let out a soft “Mm?”
“You’ve been drinking?”

Xie Huai corrected him,
“You’re the one who’s drunk.”

Qi Xu blinked.
“Then… are you drunk?”

“I am,” Xie Huai answered.
And he was—drunk on alcohol, and even more drunk on Qi Xu.

Qi Xu glanced at him, then leaned in and kissed him again—just a light one this time, brief and sweet.

He absentmindedly played with Xie Huai’s hair, completely messing up his neat hairstyle.
“Then let’s wait till the alcohol wears off before we go,” he said casually.

Xie Huai’s hand rested on Qi Xu’s waist.
“Do you like the wine, or do you like me?”

Qi Xu laughed lightly.
“I like you.”

Xie Huai didn’t let up.
“Say it again. Proper sentence. Subject, verb, object.”

Qi Xu raised a brow playfully.
“Want me to record it for you?”

Xie Huai—who was usually quite obsessed with voice recordings—surprised him by saying,
“No need. Just tell me once every morning when we wake up.”

“That’s like giving you the perfect start to every day,” Qi Xu teased.
“Can’t do that. I’m grumpy in the mornings. You’d be lucky to get a ‘hi.’”

Xie Huai offered instead,
“Then I’ll tell you every morning.”

Qi Xu looked at him, unusually serious.
“You don’t have to say it every day. I remember it. I won’t forget.”

This lifetime, he’d been incredibly lucky—he’d gotten to take with him things he never had before.
At the very top of that list… was Xie Huai.

In their past life, they’d barely spoken. Their first meeting had been a mess. They were practically enemies.

But now?
They were wrapped up in each other’s lives, whispering love and stealing kisses in quiet corners.

Outside, the wind had calmed, no longer howling. The branches swayed gently, the flowers bent low.

As the warmth of the moment faded, Xie Huai noticed a shadow pass over Qi Xu’s expression.
He didn’t ask about it. Instead, he changed the subject.
“Do you like the estate? We could buy one someday.”

Qi Xu shook his head.
“No. Too big. Too empty.”

By nature, Qi Xu was someone used to loneliness.
He didn’t like being alone, but he’d grown used to it.
To him, sprawling mansions and estates were just vast spaces filled with silence—a reminder that in this world, he was often the only one left.

Even if it wasn’t entirely true, he still tried to fill the void—his apartment, though wide and minimalistic, had little action figures young people liked. A touch of “someone lives here,” even if it was just an illusion.

He’d wanted to get a cat, but never followed through.

Instead, in this life, he got himself a Xie Huai.

Xie Huai wasn’t like a cat—he was more like a wolf.
He could bite, knock Qi Xu over… but he’d also stay by his side.

“Then we won’t buy one,” Xie Huai said.

Qi Xu was fickle. After a pause, he reconsidered:
“Actually, if we’ve got the money, maybe we should. Property values go up.”

Even in the middle of a tender moment, he was still thinking about returns on investment.

Xie Huai smiled.
“Alright. We’ll buy one. You pick it, I’ll pay. We’ll put your name on it.”

His voice was soft, gentle—like coaxing a child.

Qi Xu squinted at him.
“Are you babying me right now?”

Xie Huai tilted his head.
“I am.”

Qi Xu laughed.
“I’m not a kid. I don’t need coddling.”

“Wasn’t babying a kid,” Xie Huai said as he held Qi Xu’s warming hand,
“I was babying my boyfriend.”

The urge to make it official was already bubbling up—he wanted the right to bite, and he wanted it to be legitimate.

Qi Xu raised a brow, teasing:
“I don’t remember saying I agreed to be your boyfriend. You’ll have to keep chasing me.”

Xie Huai didn’t complain—he treated it like part of the fun.
“Alright. I’ll keep chasing.”