Qin Wuyan gave Song Cheng a new phone, even a SIM card—so generous, clearly not entirely innocent.
Yet Song Cheng, with his amnesia, didn’t perceive danger. He inserted the SIM card into the phone while asking, “How do you even have a SIM card ready?”
Qin Wuyan answered calmly, “My backup accounts always get banned. So I bought a bunch of SIM cards, just in case.”
Song Cheng: “……”
Brother, how much do you like debating with people…
Once set up, following Qin Wuyan’s instructions, Song Cheng called him immediately. Only then did Qin Wuyan get up to leave. Before going, he asked, “Do you need to go to the hospital for a checkup on that injury?”
Song Cheng shook his head. “No, I’ve been in the hospital for several days. All the necessary tests were done. It looks worse than it is.”
So he’d been in the hospital for several days…
He only came to see Qin Wuyan after being discharged. So while he was hospitalized, who had been by his side?
Someone he used to like? Or someone new he had met in these years?
Qin Wuyan left without a word. Song Cheng tidied up his things; when he turned around, Qin Wuyan was already gone.
Looking at the empty space, Song Cheng froze again.
Clutching his only set of spare clothes, a wave of sadness washed over him.
He could feel Qin Wuyan’s resistance, aversion, and bluntness. This was completely different from what his diary had described. In the diary, Qin Wuyan wouldn’t speak to him in this tone, nor would he leave without a word.
Song Cheng knew things wouldn’t go as smoothly as he imagined, but facing this treatment in reality still made him sad.
Sitting on the bed, zoning out for a moment, he touched the soft new sheets. His spirits lifted.
Qin Wuyan had brought him fresh sheets and even laid them himself. Although his face showed impatience, his movements were meticulous—each corner tucked, uneven spots smoothed out.
Perhaps, Song Cheng thought, Qin Wuyan is like these sheets—pretending to be annoyed on the surface, but wanting to care properly deep down.
He didn’t know if this was self-deception, yet it felt reasonable. In his fragmented thoughts, only one idea was clear: he wasn’t ready to give up.
He would try again, spend more time together. If the diary was correct, if his feelings were right, things between them could only get better.
Hope filled him, and he felt energy surge through him. He stood and turned, taking in the entire room.
He said he was only going to stay a few days and then leave, but in reality, he had come with the intention of settling in. If that was the case, then this room wasn’t a temporary place to stay—he still wanted to tidy it properly.
Song Cheng was cleaning the room on the first floor, while Qin Wunian sat in the basement recording studio.
Occasionally, when a piece required his vocals, he would sing. His singing wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exceptional either, certainly not comparable to a professional. So whenever he had the time, he would practice at home. This little room was built with soundproof materials, only six square meters in size, without windows, and required lights just to see anything.
The studio had cost a fortune to build, much like someone buying a treadmill at home. He had never used it for actual recording or serious practice, but whenever he was troubled, he liked to retreat here.
He sat like a marble sculpture, phone vibrating relentlessly beside him. His parents, his brother, acquaintances, friends, strangers—all were asking about Song Cheng. Qin Wunian listened for a while, then suddenly picked up his phone and held down the power button to turn it off.
Finally, the world was quiet.
Yet his mind felt far from peaceful. The weeds in his heart only grew taller, and no matter how hard he tried to pull them out, it was useless.
He had to face the reality: whenever it came to Song Cheng, he became this hopeless. Four years ago it was like this; today, it was still the same.
He stayed there until three in the afternoon, only realizing how much time had passed when his stomach growled. He went upstairs to ask Song Cheng what he wanted to eat. Opening the door, he found Song Cheng already lying in bed, asleep deeply, mouth slightly open. Qin Wunian watched for a moment, then entered and took a summer quilt from the closet.
He carefully draped one corner over Song Cheng’s navel.
…
Satisfied with his little act, Qin Wunian turned to leave, then suddenly remembered what he had seen just before. He spun back around.
Qin Wunian’s eyes widened.
Where were the vase and books on the bedside table? The blanket on the sofa? The paperweight, brush holder, and tea tray on the solid wood desk? The glass bird and coral stand on the dresser???
If Song Cheng weren’t still snoring in bed, he might have suspected that Song Cheng had robbed him blind!
Qin Wunian hurried a few steps, careful not to wake him. Even moving quickly, his steps were light. Opening a drawer, he discovered that Song Cheng had put all these things away.
Then he was left with an indescribable expression.
All the ornaments neatly stored away—nothing left on the visible surfaces. What new quirk was this? Even a neat freak wouldn’t go this far.
Qin Wunian didn’t understand and could only leave, feeling oddly bewildered.
…
Over the next few days, due to his injury, Song Cheng slept a lot, often until five in the afternoon. When he woke, Qin Wunian had already gone out, but had left him a meal with a note to heat it in the microwave.
Staring at the microwave, Song Cheng paused for a long while. Then he put the food in, pressed the ten-minute button.
That should be fine, right?
Song Cheng watched the microwave spin expectantly. After ten minutes, he took out the food, feeling the steaming heat, proud of his accomplishment. But upon tasting it, he realized the rice had turned to scorched crust.
A flush rose to his face. He silently opened his new phone and searched for guidance, learning that microwaving rice only required a minute; ten minutes was far too long.
He had thought perhaps he had become a wealthy man post-divorce, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Having never used a microwave, how could he possibly be rich?
Quietly, he ate the overcooked meal, one bite at a time. He decided to wait a while before telling Qin Wunian about his amnesia—at least until he was certain they still had a future together. Otherwise, he feared Qin Wunian might think he was a burden and refuse to let him continue staying there.
Additionally, as someone with memory loss, Song Cheng had to be cautious. He remembered nothing himself; his knowledge of others came only from the internet or secondhand accounts. He worried that if he told Qin Wunian about his condition, Qin Wunian might fabricate things to discourage him.
After all, he had changed—he could no longer be judged by the impressions in his old diary.
Thinking this way, Song Cheng ate faster and quickly finished both their portions. At the hospital, the nurses had remarked on how much he ate, yet his small frame made it unclear where it all went.
After finishing, Song Cheng quickly washed the dishes, neatly putting everything away, then continued cleaning the kitchen, still in high spirits and surprisingly skilled.
Meanwhile, Qin Wunian, protected by his assistant, arrived at the company, having narrowly avoided the paparazzi. He went to the office of the company president.
The president was the wife of an old friend of Qin Wunian’s father. Because of this connection, the company had long tolerated Qin Wunian’s unorthodox ways. Though blunt, he was not ungrateful—he knew who had been good to him.
Seeing the woman nearing fifty, he greeted, “Aunt Meng.”
Meng Shiyue nodded, “Sit.”
She said, “Zhou Qingge’s agent contacted me. They want you and Zhou Qingge to issue a joint statement, saying the video was an accident. She would step back and no longer accuse you, and you would also step back and not respond.”
Qin Wunian: “Oh, tell her to go to hell.”
Meng Shiyue: “…”
She had long expected this reaction. Sighing, she said, “I already refused them. While you were away, I discussed with Ban Yunfang. Even if you clear up the matter with that boy Song Cheng and prove you were never involved with Zhou Qingge, she could still play the victim—after all, you really did push her.”
Qin Wunian said, “Yes, I’ve already faced my own consequences, so all the more reason I should make Zhou Qingge face hers. This is for her own good.”
Meng Shiyue didn’t respond with agreement or disagreement, but instead asked, “Do you have evidence?”
Qin Wunian was silent for a moment, then said, “No.”
“But I’ll find it. The person filming was on her side. That was in the hallway; the hotel should have surveillance. If not, there would at least be witnesses. She kept blocking me, insisting on a proper conversation. I was in a bad mood that day and told her to move aside many times, but she refused. So I pushed her. Yes, I pushed with some force, but not enough to make her hit the wall. She did that on purpose.”
Ban Yunfang interjected, “Are you sure?”
Qin Wunian: “Of course I’m sure. I can remember every detail of that day.”
After all, he had been rejected that day—no, to be precise, his confession had failed.
Nonsense! He had been dumped! He didn’t care what Song Cheng said; as far as he was concerned, they had been in a relationship. They had done almost everything couples do—just never officially established it. According to international convention, the correct term after the relationship ended was that he had been dumped!
Ban Yunfang and Meng Shiyue exchanged a glance as Qin Wunian’s expression grew more ferocious. Both were quite surprised.
It seemed Zhou Qingge had really infuriated him. Look at that—he had transformed the image of the Second Young Master from a military lord into a bandit.
…
Meng Shiyue tapped the desk. “Alright then. Stop worrying about this for now. Tonight, have Xiao Zhao draft a statement on your Weibo clarifying your relationship with Song Cheng. I’ll find the evidence. Until I do, Ban Yunfang will fully assist you, weakening the public perception of your connection with Zhou Qingge. Ideally, weaken it so much that when people see you, they can’t even remember Zhou Qingge’s name.”
Unexpectedly, the company was looking out for him so carefully. Qin Wunian straightened his usually casual posture. “Fine, I’ll fully cooperate. What exactly do you plan to do?”
Ban Yunfang had been waiting for him to say that. She pulled out the contracts she had already printed. Qin Wunian, out of habit, reached for a pen to sign. But this time, Ban Yunfang handed him not only his own contract but also another with Song Cheng’s name on it.
Qin Wunian froze. He looked carefully at the contract title, and after three silent seconds, a deafening shout erupted from him in the office:
“You want Song Cheng to appear with me on a divorce reality show?!”
Author’s note:
Qin Wunian, a man who constantly emphasizes that he was dumped, will never have this title taken from him! (Clenches fist)