Later on, even Chu Xingxiao himself couldn’t tell whether he’d approached Chi Zhan out of lingering anger—or because of that inexplicable urge, that stubborn little voice in his heart wanting to get closer, but too proud to admit it aloud.
If he were to deny it now…
Chu Xingxiao had always been strong-willed, the type who didn’t care much for public opinion. When he became passionate about music, he’d ignored his family’s opposition and charged forward on his own. When he grew dissatisfied with his boss, he didn’t hesitate to retaliate.
Yet in front of Chi Zhan, those three words—“It wasn’t me”—hovered at the edge of his lips, and he just couldn’t say them.
Chi Zhan had said he would believe him.
But for the first time in his life, Chu Xingxiao found it unbearably hard to speak. Even the thought of lying filled him with guilt.
In the end, Chu Xingxiao said, “It was me.”
Chi Zhan froze. He hadn’t expected Chu Xingxiao to admit it so directly. And yet, in the very next second, his grip on the phone loosened.
Deep down, he’d feared that Chu Xingxiao would lie—that if it came to that, even he wouldn’t know what to do.
“I can explain,” Chu Xingxiao said the moment Chi Zhan stirred, immediately reaching for his sleeve. He only dared to tug lightly at a corner of the fabric, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t tell you before because I was afraid you’d be mad…”
The truth was, Chi Zhan had been shaken by what happened that day. But only for a brief moment. Because even then, he hadn’t felt any real sense of danger. On some subconscious level, he’d known that man wouldn’t hurt him.
Still, he had been frightened.
If not for Zhou Yanxing and the beautiful distraction of the fireworks, Chi Zhan probably wouldn’t have slept well for several nights after.
He lowered his eyes.
“Why… did you do it?”
“At the time, the company wanted to fabricate a dating scandal for me,” Chu Xingxiao explained. “They did it without my consent. My agent took some staged photos of me and another person and was preparing to release them online. I told him to delete them, but he said it was all at Zhou Yanxing’s request.” Chu Xingxiao’s voice darkened. “I wasn’t about to let him manipulate me, so I called him. But the call was redirected to the secretary’s office. I didn’t even get halfway through before someone hung up. I took that as Zhou Yanxing’s way of cutting me off. I couldn’t reach him any other way—so I took that opportunity.”
As he spoke, the confusion that had plagued Chi Zhan for so long began to dissolve.
“You thought the person who hung up on you was me, so you deliberately threatened me.” The pieces clicked into place. “No wonder you moved so fast that night—it was like you’d planned it in advance…”
Chu Xingxiao’s gaze dropped to Chi Zhan’s wrist.
Back then, blinded by rage, the most extreme thing he’d done was tie Chi Zhan’s wrists with a ribbon from his own clothing. He probably hadn’t controlled the force properly—the ribbon had left red marks.
“I’m sorry, gege. Did it hurt a lot?”
Chu Xingxiao asked quietly, brushing Chi Zhan’s wrist with his fingertips. Though the marks were long gone, his heart still ached.
“It won’t happen again.”
To Chi Zhan, it had only been a minor thing.
Just a surface wound. And not even a serious one. He’d always bruised easily, so any small scratch looked worse than it was. Honestly, he’d forgotten all about it ages ago.
After moving in next door, Chu Xingxiao had wanted to deliver some soothing ointment, but by then the injury had already healed, and there hadn’t been a good excuse. If he’d shown up with it then, it would’ve been way too weird.
The ointment was still sitting untouched in his living room, completely useless now.
Chu Xingxiao’s fingers gently skimmed his wrist, sending a strange tingling sensation up Chi Zhan’s arm. Uncomfortable, he pulled back.
“It’s healed. If I hadn’t asked just now, were you planning on hiding this from me forever?” Chi Zhan pressed. “Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?”
Chu Xingxiao looked a little guilty, but in the end, he told the truth.
“I don’t know. At first, I wanted to tell you everything that night I confessed. But someone interrupted, and I never got the chance. As for anything else—definitely not,” he said firmly. “I swear.”
…Confession.
Chi Zhan suddenly remembered that night.
Compared to what had happened on the yacht, this was clearly the more important issue.
His head throbbed. If he’d guessed right, Chu Xingxiao had somehow gotten it into his head that Chi Zhan was Qi Song’s boyfriend. He didn’t know where he’d heard it from, but what shocked Chi Zhan even more… was that even with that belief, Chu Xingxiao hadn’t backed off. Instead, he’d chosen to keep pursuing him.
That night, when Chu Xingxiao played the piano, Chi Zhan had assumed it was just part of the act—part of playing along. He hadn’t expected it to be a real confession.
The moral boundaries of a romance target…
Forget it. He was tired of repeating that line to himself.
“There’s no way we can be together.” Chi Zhan felt he needed to spell it out, once and for all—make Chu Xingxiao give up. “Since you already know I have a boyfriend…”
“You’re not his boyfriend,” Chu Xingxiao cut him off. For once, he pushed back. “Gege, you’re not Qi Song’s boyfriend. If you were, then when I got drunk and confessed to you, you would’ve known exactly who I meant.”
It was only now that Chu Xingxiao realized—no wonder, that night, when he’d said he was in love with his cousin’s boyfriend, Chi Zhan hadn’t reacted with anger or rejection. Just surprise.
Because Chi Zhan hadn’t realized that he was the one Chu Xingxiao had meant.
Chi Zhan choked.
Chu Xingxiao… had gotten smarter.
In Chi Zhan’s mind, Chu Xingxiao had always been like a harmless big puppy—sweet, clueless, and silly. He’d never expected him to pick up on that detail.
He wasn’t so easy to fool anymore.
But what really complicated Chi Zhan’s feelings was realizing that Chu Xingxiao didn’t even care about the supposed “boyfriend” status. Not even a little.
Couldn’t he at least try to have some moral standards? Did he know how hard it was being a cousin? Even in a relationship, he had to worry about his boyfriend getting stolen. What a miserable way to live.
Sure enough, Chu Xingxiao added, “Even if you were, I wouldn’t care.”
