Chapter 58#

These words of Ji Yang’s seemed to hit the one point Ji Chengyi found most unbearable.

“What exactly did you do to him?” he asked. “Do you know the ending, just like I do?”

The ending?

Ji Chengyi was still probing him.

Ji Yang assumed the ending in the book could only be some kind of 1v1 happily-ever-after — family feuds resolved, hatred dissolved, one forgiving him for exploiting them from start to finish, the other finally recognizing their own heart and finding fulfillment.

Isn’t that how these tropes always go?

But the fact that Ji Chengyi had specifically brought it up, looking so anxious about it, meant the ending probably wasn’t that kind of outcome.

Playing along with Ji Chengyi’s guess, Ji Yang responded with deliberate ambiguity: “Of course I know. I died before you. Unwilling to accept it, I’ve been waiting to see how you end up.”

“That’s wrong.” Ji Chengyi wasn’t stupid after all. He quickly seized on the flaw, eyes fixed on him. “If you truly knew, you would never have gone street racing two years ago without a shred of caution. And for the two years after that, there’s no way you’d have been so reckless toward Nie Xu.”

Ji Yang looked down at himself.

He lifted his leg slightly and let out a soft laugh. “Third Brother, you don’t really think that because you broke one of my legs, I’d care more about who you care about, do you?”

“You should be grateful to me,” Ji Chengyi suddenly said. A flicker of madness born from warped self-recognition flashed in his eyes. “Two years ago I wanted to set you free. Your luck was just too terrible — you had to go and suffer this on your own.” He sneered as he spoke. “You don’t think I could have planned all of this single-handedly, do you?”

Cold light flashed in Ji Yang’s eyes, but his tone remained as nonchalant as ever. “You’re about to tell me that Ji Yansong knew it was you all along?”

“That’s right.”

Ji Chengyi relaxed again, enunciating each word with emphasis: “You’ve always been nothing but disposable. That’s all.”

In the vast banquet hall, no one noticed what earth-shattering truths were being exchanged in this corner.

To outsiders, it was just another petty squabble between brothers.

In fact, Ji Chengyi had come specifically to tell him: “The old man has always been that kind of person. And let me advise you not to be so naive. Twenty years ago, at Qianlong Bay — 1,320 lives. Nie Xu won’t spare a single member of the Ji family. Not you, not me. Not any of these people at the chamber of commerce tonight either. You think him taking you away from the Ji family and letting you attach yourself to Jian Yuan means you’re special? He won’t be. He’ll make your life a living hell — worse than death, unable to even die.”

When Ji Chengyi said this, the fear carved into his very bones was not feigned.

Rather than talking about Ji Yang, he was really talking about himself, wasn’t he?

Unable to even die.

And then there was the Qianlong Bay narrative.

For all this time, even if Ji Yang had caught fragments of it here and there, he had never truly tried to dig into this part of Nie Xu’s past. But the number 1,320 was too specific. So specific that upon first hearing it, one’s initial reaction was numbness.

Behind that enormous figure were real, living human lives.

It was only when the thought surfaced that the chill rising from the depths of one’s heart would slowly begin to consume a person.

So the ending where Nie Xu imprisoned Ji Chengyi in the book was indeed not a happy ending.

But Ji Chengyi’s account still had plenty of holes.

If everything he said was true, then what was the point of his rebirth?

He hadn’t stayed away from Nie Xu. He hadn’t stayed away from the Ji family. He hadn’t even tried to meaningfully change anything.

He had only once attempted to kill himself.

It was like a beautifully constructed montage of lies.

Because everything he said was true.

But how could the true nature of those facts possibly be determined by one person alone?

At the very least, the Nie Xu that Ji Yang knew was not fake.

His brotherhood with Jiang Lei and Qi Song was not fake. His tolerance of You Li was not fake. And for Ji Yang himself — even that time when Ji Yang had gone to Building No. 4 to find him for the very first time and taken a tumble on the open ground, Nie Xu’s attitude had been cold, his treatment of the wound efficient and no-nonsense, but the disdain for using it as an excuse for revenge was genuine.

All the countless details of their time together afterward only confirmed to Ji Yang that Ji Chengyi had not told the whole truth.

It was just a pity that Ji Chengyi had been spinning this fiction for so long.

So long that he himself seemed to have become a true believer in his own words.

Ji Chengyi glanced back at Nie Xu’s retreating figure.

Then he turned back and looked at Ji Yang. “I’ve said everything there is to say. I won’t stand in his way when he takes everything from the Ji family. When all of this is truly over, he’ll realize that the one who’s been helping him all along has always been me. And only I can become the person by his side.”

Ji Yang was thoroughly stunned by this, and the absurdity of it was almost funny.

Ji Yang: “Don’t tell me you clawed your way to the top, used Ji Zhonglin to get your hands on the Ji family’s core shipping assets, and set up Yongsheng to funnel funds — all of it to help Nie Xu take down the Ji family?”

Ji Chengyi: “Yes.”

“Ha.” Ji Yang laughed outright. “I bet you’re the only one who believes that.”

Ji Yang mentally reviewed the logic of Ji Chengyi’s actions — and his habitual self-deception — then tore into him without hesitation. “Your climb to the top was nothing but your childhood resentment. Using Ji Zhonglin was you savoring the secret pleasure of your eldest brother’s gradual favoritism toward you. Setting up Yongsheng was you keeping an escape route for yourself. Now that everything’s gone down the drain, you’ve found a seemingly perfect justification for everything you’ve done.”

Namely, that it was all for Nie Xu.

In the book, Ji Chengyi had been passive — he’d sided with the Ji family, inherently opposed to Nie Xu by default.

With his rebirth, the excuse of “it was all for Nie Xu” made it seem like it could rationalize all his motives, while conveniently grafting onto himself a label of deep devotion and righteous justice.

He was trapped inside that book.

Every action he took followed the book’s script, yet he wanted to break free from it.

What Ji Yang saw was a person’s greed for his so-called heartthrob status in the book, his unwillingness at the ending not going as expected, at never having gotten the person he’d spent the whole book trying to win, and all the scheming and ruthlessness that went with it.

Sure enough, a strange, startled expression flickered across Ji Chengyi’s face — the look of being seen through.

Then he quickly regained his composure.

“Believe whatever you want,” Ji Chengyi said.

Ji Yang crossed his arms. “Shouldn’t we settle our accounts then?”

Ji Chengyi didn’t take the bait. He had his own agenda for coming up here voluntarily. “As long as you agree to cut off all dealings with Nie Xu, including anything through Jian Yuan, I can tell you something very interesting about the Ji family estate.”

Ji Yang raised an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you tell me first how you died in your previous life. What gave you such a fierce obsession?”

A vicious glint flashed through Ji Chengyi’s eyes, and he nodded. “Fine. Just don’t regret it.”

Ji Yang said, “Oh? Did you die at Nie Xu’s hands?”

“That was an accident!” Ji Chengyi snapped, provoked in an instant, teeth gritted. “A fire on a cruise ship. That’s all it was. He didn’t survive either. We were supposed to be together from the start. He belongs to me.”

Ji Yang opened his mouth but found himself momentarily speechless.

Forgive him, but he truly could not sympathize with Ji Chengyi’s rage.

Because The Young Master’s Personal Bodyguard was, at its core, a third-rate romance novel. Ji Chengyi, as the protagonist bottom, had several men orbiting around him — and even the background was haphazardly explained at best.

Ji Yang just felt the ending could be considered a sloppy wrap-up. Sloppy enough that readers would chase after the author with insults for months.

Good thing he’d never finished it.

Pure waste of time.

This thought, coming from the moment he was now facing this protagonist bottom in the flesh — or rather, someone desperately trying to become the Ji Chengyi from the book — made the dissonance feel particularly jarring.

He couldn’t accept that he was living in a world from a book, nor could he reconcile the two versions of Ji Chengyi into one.

Just then — “Ji Yang.”

It was Ji Mingyue.

She approached alone.

Their conversation came to a hurried close. Ji Chengyi turned and left with his assistant.

“You alright?” Ji Mingyue watched Ji Chengyi’s departing back. “Just now I saw him so close to you, he seemed pretty agitated.”

Ji Yang was still leaning against the window, a faint smile on his lips. “He was probably just flying into a jealous rage.”

Ji Chengyi believed they were the same, but what he didn’t know was that Ji Yang had absolutely no memories of “Ji Yang” from the book.

He was an observer’s perspective.

Their anger was different. Their emotions were different. Whatever Ji Chengyi thought could provoke or attract him was completely ineffective.

If anything, Ji Yang had seen his true colors for what they were — completely and utterly.

Ji Mingyue: “You have no idea. Uncle and his wife have been pressuring him to apologize to Grandpa, and eldest brother has been pushing hard from another angle. I’ve run into him twice recently and both times found his way of looking at people downright creepy. Who knew he’d put on another act today, showing up with documents to apologize — in this venue of all places, as if he’s afraid people won’t notice what a hypocrite he is.”

Ji Yang leaned there alongside her, not wanting to continue the topic of Ji Chengyi.

He asked instead: “How have you been lately?”

“I picked two scripts. Still deciding.” Ji Mingyue sounded a bit excited. “Eldest brother said he’s willing to invest.”

Ji Yang was genuinely surprised. “He’s willing to invest in this industry?”

“I’m his sister, after all, you know,” Ji Mingyue said. Then after a beat, her voice dropped a little. “If you ever couldn’t afford to eat, he wouldn’t leave you hanging either.”

Ji Yang said in exasperation: “Curse me with something good, would you? Besides, who knows which one of us won’t be able to afford meals.”

Although he now knew that Ji Zhonglin’s previous actions had been deliberately steered by Ji Chengyi, and that he seemed clear-headed now — this eldest brother had a track record after all.

Whether he’d end up with the same fate as in the book remained to be seen.

Speaking of fates, Ji Yang couldn’t help but think back to the ending in the book that Ji Chengyi had mentioned.

He spotted Nie Xu again.

This time, a different group of people surrounded him. His coat was draped over his forearm, and he looked thoroughly at ease in this kind of setting.

Ji Mingyue followed his gaze and spotted him too, muttering: “When he took you away from the house before, I kept thinking he was just some bodyguard or assistant. Who knew — it’s barely been any time, and now even Grandpa has to give him a wide berth. People are saying that the Ji family’s current situation is inextricably linked to that person called A-Xu who’s been at Grandpa’s side. Do you think it’s true?”

“It’s true,” Ji Yang said.

Ji Mingyue’s eyes went wide. “You’ve heard the rumors too?”

“Does it even need to be a rumor?” Ji Yang said, looking in that direction.

After today’s event, he could guarantee that similar rumors would only intensify.

Rearing a tiger only to invite disaster — that was probably how the outside world was interpreting the Ji family’s predicament.

Ji Yang suddenly asked: “Have you heard of Qianlong Bay?”

“Qianlong Bay?” Ji Mingyue hadn’t expected the sudden change of subject. She instinctively repeated it, then thought for a moment. “Is that the Qianlong Bay where the maritime disaster happened? It was so long ago. There’s hardly any information online now. I only remember hearing people talk about it when I was a child. Almost no one mentions it anymore.”

A maritime disaster?

Of course. With a number that enormous, there had to be some legitimate, official explanation to make it go away.

Aunt Mo had said that when Nie Xu entered the Ji family, he was twelve years old.

That was a full seventeen years ago.

Which meant whatever happened had occurred well before seventeen years ago.

Ji Yang actually took out his phone and searched. A handful of results surfaced on the first page of results.

“Cruise ship ‘Qiming’ encounters natural storm at Qianlong Bay. No passengers survive.”

Just like countless other official reports.

There wasn’t even a specific number mentioned. They called it — “preventing public panic.”

Ji Yang thought again of the wall painting Nie Xu had at Bowman.

So this maritime disaster was another entry in the Ji family’s ledger of sins?

Ji Yang’s head throbbed.

He had taken in far too much information tonight.

The banquet came to an end.

Ji Yang had originally intended to leave with Peng Jiaying.

But as soon as he stepped outside, a black sedan pulled up right beside his feet.

The driver’s side window slid down slowly. Nie Xu turned his head. “Get in.”

“Are you heading back?” Ji Yang asked.

Actually, his thought was that with Ji Yansong present tonight, he’d assumed Nie Xu might not return to Bowman.

No sooner had he spoken than the Ji family’s car squeezed up from behind. Ji Zhonglin was driving, and in the back seat, Ji Yansong could be seen with his eyes closed, resting, while Ji Mingyue sat beside him playing the obedient good girl.

Ji Zhonglin leaned out. “Want me to have my driver take you? What I said before still stands — my house is yours if you want it.”

Ji Zhonglin’s words were obviously deliberate.

But he had just put on a show in the hallway not long ago. He couldn’t go out the door and immediately break character.

“No need,” Ji Yang said. “I’ll have Nie Xu take me.”

Ji Zhonglin, mindful of the old man in the back seat, said: “Suit yourself.”

Then he shut the window and drove off.

The moment he left, Peng Jiaying urged him: “If Assistant Nie is heading back, you’d better get in. I’m heading off too.”

Ji Yang got into the passenger seat as if herded up by a duck.

Nie Xu started the car and drove into the Fanzhou night.

Ji Yang let out a breath, relaxing into the seat back.

Nie Xu glanced at him and asked: “What did Ji Chengyi want with you tonight?”

Ji Yang stared at the car ceiling and laughed. “Told me to stay away from you.”

Nie Xu steered with one hand and pulled a document from the console beside him, handing it over. “This is evidence that he transferred part of his assets into cryptocurrency ahead of time and funneled them out through Jin Husheng’s underground channels. With this, we’ll have double insurance for the upcoming ‘One Yuan’ bidding.”

Ji Yang took it and flipped through it. “So even if the authorities investigate him now, they’ll only find an empty shell?”

“It won’t be that easy to get out of it,” Nie Xu said. “Tangling with someone like Jin Husheng — even if you don’t die, you’ll lose a layer of skin.”

Ji Chengyi’s dealings with Xile Gate, based on the premise of his rebirth, had likely been going on for many years.

Ji Yang sighed softly.

Nie Xu: “What’s wrong? Worried about the bidding?”

“No.” Ji Yang shook his head.

He turned to look at Nie Xu’s profile. Something heavy kept spreading through him. He wanted to ask, but suddenly didn’t want to shatter the peace of this moment.

“Brother Xu,” Ji Yang said.

Nie Xu: “Mm.”

Ji Yang didn’t ask. Instead: “If in some alternate timeline, you were in love with Ji Chengyi and couldn’t be together because of family pressure — would you die for him?”

He’d just suddenly thought — both dying together, isn’t that technically a satisfying ending?

Dying right alongside each other.

He was being a bit passive-aggressive.

The car screeched to a halt by the roadside.

Nie Xu turned to look at him, saying nothing.

Ji Yang gripped his seatbelt. “What are you looking at me for?”

Nie Xu held the wheel with one hand, eyes locked on him. “I’m watching to see what other nonsense is going to come out of your mouth.”