Han Congzhou studied Song Cheng’s face, and it shifted expressions like a theater opening on his features. In just five seconds, Han Congzhou felt he had never seen such a dramatic display in his life. After five seconds, Song Cheng suddenly focused his gaze sharply on him.
Ever since he was a child, Han Congzhou had been the strongest kid in their compound. As he grew older and learned to dress well, presenting himself properly, he also realized not everyone appreciated his looks. Those who didn’t would describe him behind his back as a “suit-wearing thug.”
Today, the suit-wearing thug swallowed nervously, sitting on the chair. He couldn’t go anywhere, so he leaned back slightly, subtly creating distance to boost his sense of security.
…
He placed his hands on his thighs, sitting as upright and composed as he could. “I’ve been looking after your dog for a month. I’m going to be very busy from now on. If you want me to help with anything else, I’ll need to think about it.”
Song Cheng leaned back in his chair, then shifted it closer to Han Congzhou. “It’s not about help. I have a few questions I want to ask you.”
Han Congzhou didn’t take it lightly. Song Cheng’s earlier gaze had been frightening, like a searchlight sweeping over him. He cautiously studied him and said, “Go ahead.”
Song Cheng pointed at himself. “Have I ever told you about my marriage?”
Han Congzhou shook his head. “No.”
Song Cheng: “Are you sure I’ve never been married?”
Han Congzhou opened his mouth to answer but paused, uncertain. “If you mean the past four years… I really can’t be certain. We don’t keep in touch daily; sometimes we talk once a month, sometimes not for half a year. If you secretly got married and didn’t tell me, I might not know. But!”
He raised a finger for emphasis. “You and Qin Wunian absolutely never got married. I can guarantee that, and honestly, it’s impossible. Considering your relationship, your circumstances—your being in school, him being a celebrity—how could you possibly have gotten married?”
Song Cheng lowered his eyes, slowly nodding. “Right… thinking carefully, it really wouldn’t make sense.”
Han Congzhou nodded and reflexively reached for his glass, then remembered almost choking earlier and withdrew his hand. Looking at Song Cheng’s expression, he tentatively asked, “Are you sure Qin Wunian didn’t trick you?”
Song Cheng shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
Han Congzhou: “Then how did you come to think you two were married? You said you saw something among your own things… a marriage certificate?”
Song Cheng was still thinking. He absentmindedly replied, “A diary.”
Han Congzhou: “A diary?”
Song Cheng was completely distracted and took a long while before looking up again. “Four years.”
Han Congzhou frowned. “Four years?”
Four years was a recurring number—Qin Wunian had mentioned it, Ban Yunfang had mentioned it, and he himself often referenced it. The diary said he got married four years ago, and on the first day they reunited, Qin Wunian even told the camera they had broken up on June 19th, four years prior.
Song Cheng hadn’t thought much of it at the time, assuming it was Qin Wunian just putting on a show for the audience. He hadn’t realized that the discrepancy in information had existed from the very beginning.
He didn’t answer Han Congzhou’s question immediately. After a pause, he looked at him. “You seem to know a lot about the things between me and Qin Wunian.”
Han Congzhou: “Not much, just some small details. You protected him extremely well—used counter-surveillance on me. Even if I wanted to find out who this mysterious lover was, I couldn’t.”
Song Cheng blushed slightly and smiled. “Did I really say you were like a brother to me?”
Han Congzhou: “Of course. I didn’t lie about that.”
After saying that with complete confidence, he lost a bit of bravado. “As for saying I’m more important than a brother… that part I made up. But I think you might feel that way in your heart. I’m not that narcissistic, really.”
Hearing him emphasize it twice, Song Cheng couldn’t help but smile. He then asked, “Can you tell me where I’ve been these past four years, and what I’ve been doing?”
Han Congzhou looked at him but said nothing, letting a quiet smile play across his face—almost comforting.
Qin Wunian led Chengfeng into the car. Earlier, he had thought the dog was smart beyond belief, but watching it jump in by itself, he began to question its intelligence again.
Little Zhao, seeing a large brown-and-black dog jump in, was startled, then laughed. “Wow, what a handsome German Shepherd! Qin Ge, this is Song Ge’s dog? It’s so big—aren’t dogs this size usually not allowed in the city?”
Qin Wunian climbed in behind Chengfeng and found that the dog had claimed his seat. He waved, and Chengfeng looked at him but didn’t protest. It got down, sniffed around, and finally settled under Song Cheng’s seat.
It would leave a spot for Song Cheng but immediately claimed it.
…Well, no doubt the dog’s intelligence was fine.
Sitting down, Qin Wunian drooped his eyelids and said, “I don’t know… retired police dogs probably get some policy benefits, right? If not, we’ll just move to the suburbs. Shooting locations don’t care where we live anyway.”
Little Zhao’s eyes lit up. “Retired police dog?!”
Chengfeng seemed to realize it was being discussed and proudly lifted its head. But within two seconds, Qin Wunian corrected him: “Wrong, eliminated police dog. Always finding shortcuts, never served properly, and was eliminated before duty.”
Little Zhao: “….”
Chengfeng: “….”
Little Zhao tilted to pet Chengfeng. The dog welcomed humans outside of threats—pet it if you want; it wouldn’t move anyway.
They coexisted peacefully, while Qin Wunian stared out the window at the bar’s exit. A long time passed, and Song Cheng still hadn’t come out.
There were staff inside the bar, and Han Congzhou wouldn’t do anything to Song Cheng in this situation, but Qin Wunian felt uneasy. He only saw Song Cheng’s lack of security, not realizing he felt the same, perhaps even more intensely.
When he left Song Cheng, Song Cheng might have been a little upset but could tolerate it. But when Song Cheng left him, Qin Wunian became restless, his mind racing with all sorts of worrying thoughts.
Finally, Song Cheng came out, with Han Congzhou at his side. The two exchanged a few words at the doorway, then Song Cheng waved, and Han Congzhou strode toward his car—a black Mercedes SUV perfectly matching his personal style. Qin Wunian silently wished Han Congzhou would unleash the car’s full performance, drive straight to some deserted area, and never come back.
…
By the time Song Cheng reached the car, Qin Wunian had already opened the door. The first thing Song Cheng said was, “He wanted me to say goodbye to you. There was a bit of a misunderstanding today—I hope you don’t mind.”
Qin Wunian looked at him expressionlessly. “Are you sure he said that?”
Song Cheng shrugged. “…He didn’t actually say it out loud, but I could tell from his expression that he wanted to.”
Qin Wunian let out a quiet scoff. Not mocking him—that alone was his way of showing deep love for Song Cheng.
Song Cheng knew exactly what kind of person he was. He buckled his seatbelt, patted Chengfeng at his feet, and gazed calmly out the window, waiting for Xiao Zhao to start the car.
The professional assistant–cum–driver Xiao Zhao started the engine, and the scenery outside began to change. Song Cheng seemed to settle into a quiet calm, while just inches away, Qin Wunian glared at him as if he wanted to burn a hole in the back of his head.
Hello???
You sent me away before, now you’re silent… what is this?
He wanted to wait until they got home to confront him, but Qin Wunian had no patience. Three minutes later, he couldn’t hold back: “What exactly did you talk about with him inside?”
Song Cheng thought he might actually keep it in until home, then slowly turned to Qin Wunian with a faint smile. “Nothing much. I told him I didn’t like his attitude toward you, and he admitted it, promising not to do it again.”
Qin Wunian: “And he only told you that with his expression too?”
Song Cheng nodded affirmatively. “You’re so clever.”
Qin Wunian: “….”
He gritted his teeth and asked, trying to keep calm, “Is that all?”
Song Cheng: “We also caught up a bit.”
Qin Wunian: “Caught up? You don’t even know him.”
Song Cheng: “I don’t know him, but he knows me. Haven’t you noticed? He knows a lot about me, things even you don’t, but he does.”
If people had an internal alarm system, Qin Wunian’s would be going off like mad—and about to explode. Sweat would already be dripping from his forehead if this were an animated scene.
He hummed, trying to seem unbothered: “Did he tell you anything I don’t know about?”
Song Cheng stayed silent, just watching him calmly.
Finally, when Qin Wunian’s nerves were practically screaming and his hairs stood on end, Song Cheng smiled slightly. “He told me how we first met—you didn’t know that, right?”
Qin Wunian froze, then shook his head honestly. “No.”
Song Cheng’s hand rested habitually on Chengfeng’s head. “He wasn’t in my year. I met him after he completed military service and returned to continue school. Because of his excellent grades, good image, and military achievements, the school had him give a speech promoting college students’ military service. I went to watch, and that’s how we met.”
After finishing, Song Cheng looked at Qin Wunian again, noticing his stunned expression.
It was like an unsolved mystery of the world had suddenly dropped a clue into his lap after he’d long given up.
The car kept moving, the hum of the air conditioning almost imperceptible. In that quiet atmosphere, Qin Wunian suddenly exploded: “You served in the military?!?!”
With a loud bang, he jerked upright so violently that he almost knocked himself back into the seat. Song Cheng was wide-eyed, quickly leaning over to press his head down. “Are you out of your mind?! We’re in a car—why are you standing up?!”
Song Cheng wanted to see if he had hurt himself, but Qin Wunian ignored him, grabbing his hand insistently. “You joined the military, didn’t you?!”
Song Cheng, feeling his hand being gripped a little painfully, tried to pull away, but Qin Wunian didn’t notice. After a pause, Song Cheng nodded helplessly. “Yes. Han Congzhou helped me enroll. Regular recruitment wouldn’t have been this early, but he has connections. You know his father’s a navy colonel, and I hear his grandfather was even more impressive. No wonder he has that air about him. But he’s not really interested in the military—serving was just to fulfill his father’s wish, and he stepped down as soon as it was time.”
Qin Wunian didn’t want to hear about others—he blurted out, “What about you? When did you step down?”
Song Cheng blinked, surprised by Qin Wunian’s reaction, but obediently answered: “According to Han Congzhou, it was just one or two months ago. Normally, with my status, I would have served two years like him, but he used his family connections to transfer me from student service to regular service. After the transfer, I went through the normal procedure, though he doesn’t know why I decided to return.”
Song Cheng’s lips curved in secret delight. “With my credentials, I wouldn’t have been able to adopt Chengfeng. I didn’t have enough money. Retired or eliminated dogs require proof of assets. Once again, Han Congzhou helped me—he had his father register the adoption, and they immediately assigned Chengfeng to me. Then Han Congzhou personally handed Chengfeng over. I was so grateful—he really helped me a lot. I want to take him out for a meal sometime. Would you like to come?”
Qin Wunian stared at Song Cheng’s moving lips, not catching a word of it—his brain was already overloaded.
After Song Cheng finished speaking, he waited for a response. Nearly half a minute passed before Qin Wunian finally said, “I don’t understand.”
Song Cheng was momentarily taken aback.
Qin Wunian fixed his gaze on him. “Why did you want to join the military?”
Song Cheng paused, not answering immediately. After a moment, he spoke slowly, “I… I don’t know. Han Congzhou doesn’t know either. Maybe I just… suddenly became interested.”
Qin Wunian’s tone was sharp and decisive: “Impossible.”
Song Cheng looked at him.
Qin Wunian continued, “The you of today, maybe—but the you of the past, absolutely not. That kind of choice makes no sense. You hate exercise, hate sweating, hate living with strangers, hate rules you’re forced to follow. Even if you didn’t dislike those things, I still don’t understand why you’d give up university to join the military.”
Some things didn’t need to be spelled out.
Although every profession has its dignity and serving in the military is considered honorable, it’s different for someone like Song Cheng. Born with everything, raised in the finest elite education, he never had to struggle, never had to sweat or bleed. People like him who choose that path are driven by dreams or true passion—but that wasn’t Song Cheng’s dream.
Qin Wunian didn’t even know what Song Cheng’s dream was; he only knew it definitely wasn’t to shine in the military.
Caught off guard, Song Cheng thought for a moment and said, “I’ll be able to answer you once I regain my memories. Right now… I honestly don’t know.”
Qin Wunian stared at him, then after a long moment, released his hand. He looked out the car window, his face taut, brows furrowed.
“At least now I understand why you were impossible to find all these years,” he said.
He wanted to ask more, but the words stopped at his tongue. He felt today had been enough; he didn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of Song Cheng.
He wanted to ask: did you abandon everything and join the military to avoid me?
He wanted to ask: was it because you knew I wouldn’t give up, and this was your way to make me resign myself?
But Qin Wunian remained silent. Song Cheng wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. He returned to his side of the car, and Song Cheng fell silent as well. They had many questions—yet not a single answer.
Chengfeng quietly watched the two of them occupy their respective sides, wagged its tail slightly, then lazily lowered it again.
Xiao Zhao focused on the road, pretending to be a robot.
Since Qin Wunian had work in the afternoon, Xiao Zhao was just taking Song Cheng and Chengfeng back. Qin Wunian couldn’t even go inside his own house—he had to hurry to the next place. At least at home there weren’t so many rules: Song Cheng could leave his hat off, and Qin Wunian didn’t have to hide his face with sunglasses.
After Xiao Zhao parked, Song Cheng led Chengfeng out. He didn’t leave immediately but looked at Qin Wunian sitting by the car door.
“I thought you’d be happy to hear this news,” he said.
Qin Wunian lifted his eyelids. His naturally cold eyes softened slightly when looking at Song Cheng, though they still hid things others couldn’t read. “Do you think I’d be happy knowing you weren’t appearing in front of me because you were doing ‘something that interested you’?”
Song Cheng pursed his lips. “I didn’t mean that. I meant… for the past four years, I’ve been in the military, surrounded by soldiers. I haven’t had time for anything else, haven’t had the chance to fall in love with anyone.”
“From start to finish, it was only you. Aren’t you happy about that?”
Qin Wunian blinked once. Honestly, he hadn’t expected that. His mood instantly lifted. He pressed his lips together and adjusted his posture awkwardly, trying to cover up, “Oh… I see. Well, it’s fine. Not especially happy, though.”
Song Cheng watched him act all dramatic and wanted to call him out, but after thinking about it, he decided he wasn’t that childish.
He tugged on Chengfeng’s leash, ready to enter the house. Just before leaving, it seemed he remembered something. He turned back and, without much context, emphasized again to Qin Wunian, “Four years, you know. How many four-year spans do you really get in a lifetime, sigh.”
Qin Wunian didn’t understand why he sighed. Before he could ask, Song Cheng was already gone. Seeing this, Xiao Zhao closed the car door and drove out of the neighborhood. Qin Wunian kept glancing back toward the house. When he finally gave up and turned forward, Xiao Zhao noticed his expression was a little better than before and started chatting casually, “I didn’t expect Song Cheng to have been in the military. That explains why he’s so skilled. By the way, Teacher Qin, did you see the teaser from the variety show? There’s a scene of Song Cheng climbing a wall—so smooth. I could do that before fifteen, but after fifteen… impossible.”
Qin Wunian muttered softly, “Four years?”
Suddenly, his expression froze, eyes wide with shock. “Four years!”
Xiao Zhao: “….”
Better to keep pretending to be a robot.
Song Cheng didn’t know if Qin Wunian had fully understood his hint. Initially, he hadn’t even intended to hint. When he left the bar, he thought he might tease Qin Wunian into believing he knew the truth and might go find his real ex-husband. But upon seeing Qin Wunian’s expression, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
His reluctance only amounted to a single hint—if Qin Wunian didn’t catch it, he didn’t care.
Once inside, Song Cheng first untied Chengfeng, then dashed up to the third floor. Chengfeng, thinking they were going to play, happily followed.
Song Cheng found his diary on the third floor, sat on the floor, and began flipping through it. Chengfeng paused, puzzled, but eventually realized it wasn’t playtime and quietly sat beside Song Cheng.
Even taller than Song Cheng while sitting, Chengfeng, though illiterate, carefully watched as he turned page after page of the diary.
Song Cheng never questioned whether he had mistaken someone for another. Ever since learning that he and Qin Wunian had never been married, he had instinctively realized that perhaps his own perception had gone awry. He was utterly certain: the person he loved was Qin Wunian—whether there was a diary or not, whether four years ago or four years later, it was only Qin Wunian. So if there was any problem, it certainly didn’t lie with him or Qin Wunian.
The first page of the diary still bore that encouraging message. Back then, Song Cheng had thought it resembled a slogan or even a couplet. Now he finally understood why: four years in the military had undoubtedly assimilated his mind to its environment, so his writing naturally became simple and rhythmic.
Turning the first page, he saw familiar scenes—how he had met his ex-husband, how their relationship began, and the despair he felt when it ended. At the time, he believed it was Qin Wunian. Reading the diary now, though, he realized many details didn’t align with real life.
For instance, Qin Wunian was never a mature person! How could he have taught Song Cheng how to live? Even four years later, he still relied on Song Cheng to tidy up his social messes.
…
Song Cheng had once thought of himself as a delinquent and a poor student, but when participating in the variety show, he discovered his knowledge was fairly broad. Back then, he believed it was because he had read a lot and wanted to maintain a good image in front of Qin Wunian, forcing himself to learn many new things. As for his superior physical skills, he attributed them to the leftover effects of his delinquent life.
The more Song Cheng read, the more silent he became.
The diary might have been the initial culprit, but it was his own imagination and mental embellishments that had truly blinded him all these years…
Reaching the last page, Song Cheng closed the diary. After a long pause, he slowly turned to look at Chengfeng’s large face.
“Chengfeng,” he said seriously. “Do you think it’s possible your dad is a hidden writer? I think my imagination’s pretty rich.”