Chapter 60#
After Nie Xu stepped back, he took out his phone.
He scrolled through the internet and said, “Don’t worry about it. There’s not much malice.”
“What do you mean not much malice?” Ji Yang immediately rose from the sofa, kneeling backward on it, craning his neck to glance at the screen, then poking Nie Xu’s phone display. “Look at what this guy says — ‘A young master from a rich family changes men the way he changes clothes.’ This is pure slander against my reputation.”
As he was talking, he noticed Nie Xu had opened that candid photo someone had taken, and then seemingly at random, directly tapped save.
Ji Yang: “…”
Nie Xu dried his hair with a towel while responding to what he’d just said. “Then I’m the one who was ‘changed’ — shouldn’t I have more reason to complain?”
Ji Yang forgot about the photo entirely, tilting his head back with a long sigh.
“Big brother.” Ji Yang was exasperated. “Both the new flame and the old love are you, okay? That scene at the banquet — scumbag top and pathetic bottom? I’ve humiliated myself enough as it is. Who should really be the one complaining?”
Nie Xu paused, then leaned forward. “Big brother?”
“Uh.” Ji Yang froze and retreated slightly.
Nie Xu pressed one step closer, both hands braced on the back of the sofa. “Scumbag top, pathetic bottom? Is that how you define it? Or are you saying…” Nie Xu’s gaze swept him up and down. “You’ve always had such a clear analysis of your own position?”
Ji Yang’s brain short-circuited momentarily from the string of sudden, rapid-fire questions.
He felt that ever since last time, when they’d discussed matters of a physiological nature, he could never keep up with Nie Xu’s words.
Ji Yang looked at him.
He involuntarily noticed the water droplets rolling down his Adam’s apple. He must have just shaved while showering — only a faint layer of dark stubble remained on his chin, clean and crisp. A faint trailing note of body wash lingered on his skin: bergamot, one that Ji Yang had bought himself, setting a bottle in the upstairs bathroom for him.
He hadn’t thought much of it when he bought it, but placed in this particular scene, Ji Yang inexplicably felt it was far too suggestive.
And that wasn’t even a question, was it?
Ji Yang felt like he was being interrogated.
Whether in the cryo-chamber or at the banquet, whether passively cooperating or taking the initiative, the boundary line in Ji Yang’s mind had always been clear.
At the very least, he wouldn’t truly go so far as to sleep with a man just to get back at Ji Chengyi.
That wouldn’t be foolish — that would be outright insane.
Besides, Nie Xu wasn’t that kind of person.
Ji Yang had always known that. Nie Xu’s goal had always been fixed and steady, especially now that he’d caught a faint trace of what had happened nearly twenty years ago, he was even more convinced nothing could shake him.
But.
At this moment, he realized that something had crossed the line.
Ji Yang’s first reaction wasn’t panic — it was doubt.
Doubting whether he was overinterpreting things, or thinking too much.
This was Nie Xu.
Could someone like Nie Xu look at him differently — a person who had beaten him black and blue and had him publicly punished with kneeling in the rain? Even if they later cooperated seamlessly and got along reasonably well, at best he’d just given up on killing him, right?
Ji Yang hesitated, and without thinking blurted out, “Heh, I wouldn’t say ‘clear.’ I hear the one on top is quite tiring.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he was already mentally screaming: Oh God, what nonsense am I saying?
Then he suddenly piped up again: “What do you think of me?”
“What do you mean, what do you think?” Nie Xu asked.
Ji Yang probed cautiously: “You know… looks, personality, everything.”
A barely perceptible smile touched Nie Xu’s eyes. He rose from the sofa and said, “Pretty good.”
“Just pretty good?” Ji Yang was thrown again. “You don’t think I’m incredibly good-looking? That my personality is one of a kind?”
Nie Xu nodded: “It certainly is one of a kind.”
Ji Yang grabbed a cushion from the sofa and hurled it at him.
Don’t think he couldn’t tell — that was absolutely sarcasm!
Fine. He’d proven it. He was nothing but an idiot with too much free time, to actually have developed the illusion that Nie Xu was interested in him.
As expected, people really shouldn’t be too full of themselves.
Carrying this realization, Ji Yang hopped off the sofa and decided to just go back to his room and sleep.
He floated back to his room in a daze, completely unaware that behind him, Nie Xu’s gaze had followed him the entire way, and that little smile lingered until the door closed behind him before it gradually faded away.
Nie Xu turned and sat on the armrest of the sofa, one leg bent, the other stretched out.
He reopened the news app.
He didn’t go to the gossip section, but instead browsed the financial news. After a while, he sent a message to Qi Songqing: “Let’s begin.”
The reply came in seconds: “Tonight?”
Nie Xu: “Mm.”
Qi Songqing: “Actually, you could wait a little longer.”
Nie Xu glanced at the closed bedroom door a few meters away and replied: “No need.”
Qi Songqing sent over a link — it was the very blog post from tonight’s night market.
Qi Songqing: “I was just testing the waters. You’re already on a date — I can tell you’re in a hurry.”
Nie Xu couldn’t be bothered to respond.
He turned off his phone and headed upstairs.
Ji Yang slept perfectly well, not so ashamed of his own vanity that he felt compelled to wake up in the middle of the night to slap himself. But when he woke early the next morning, he discovered the sky had fallen.
Peng Jiaying had sent him just a few words: Quick, watch the live news broadcast!
Ji Yang opened his phone.
The live camera was aimed at Haicheng Tower.
The sky was so blue there wasn’t a single cloud, and the sunlight made the glass curtain wall of the Haicheng Group headquarters blaze with reflected light. Cars packed the lot below. Barriers had been strung up at the entrance. Dozens of media outlets had set up cameras with long lenses along both sides of the steps. Security guards and staff wove through the crowd, maintaining order.
Ji Yang even spotted a few familiar faces in the security detail — all of them men he’d seen in Building Four.
Beside Ji Yansong stood Ji Chengyi, along with elders from the first and second branches, and several senior Group executives, all gathered at the entrance.
The security detail cleared a path, and Ji Yansong led the group upward.
Reporters’ voices drowned one another out one after another.
“Chairman Ji, we hear that Ji Corporation is officially entering bankruptcy liquidation procedures today. Could you give us a brief statement?”
“Ji Corporation’s debts are piling high. Are there any new measures being considered going forward?”
…
No one answered.
Everyone was silent.
The only thing the camera captured was Ji Changshou raising his hand and flipping the camera of a reporter who had shoved it right in his face. In a frenzy, he seemed about to charge forward and kick, only to be restrained by the bodyguards in front of him.
Ji Yang was completely stunned.
Weren’t they just at the Chamber of Commerce banquet last night?
How was today’s news talking about Ji Corporation’s bankruptcy liquidation?
A reporter at the scene spoke to the camera: “The bankruptcy liquidation of Ji Shipping is not an unexpected outcome.
As early as the beginning of this year, after the Lanhai Bay project suffered its second setback and the Huizhou water quality scandal fermented, the financial situation of Ji Haicheng had already turned red. Mid-year, after the Group was hit with heavy fines for financial fraud, which triggered delisting procedures, the shipping division became its last lifeline. However, as the power struggle between the first and second branches within Ji Corporation intensified and the asset transfers through the shell company ‘Yongsheng’ were exposed, this final straw ultimately could not hold.
According to documents disclosed by the liquidation team, as of the day the bankruptcy application was filed, Ji Shipping’s total book liabilities amounted to approximately 7.4 billion yuan, while realizable net assets were valued at less than 3 billion. The debt-to-asset ratio reached a staggering 247%. Compensation and settlement for hundreds of shipworkers and shore-based personnel has been designated a priority repayment item.
That same afternoon, an asset transfer announcement from Jianyuan Group quietly appeared on the public notice board of the Fanzhou Property Rights Exchange. The contents were not complex — Jianyuan Group, through public bidding and negotiated transfer, would fully take over the property and operating rights of three major shipping routes, two 10,000-ton berths, and the associated cold-chain warehousing system under Ji Shipping’s name.
Two documents, one after the other.
Based on publicly available data analysis, this security-focused enterprise, established decades ago, had conducted a full-scale siege and absorption of Haicheng Group over the past year.
On the ruins of one dynasty, another is rising.
For continued coverage of Jianyuan, please stay tuned to this channel.”
By this time, Ji Yang had already gotten out of bed.
He pulled open his bedroom door. The house was quiet, just as it had been when he went to sleep last night. The only difference was that the throw pillow he had hurled at Nie Xu had been neatly returned to its proper place.
The housekeeper was preparing breakfast in the kitchen, and the faint fragrance of rice porridge wafted through the air.
Ji Yang asked her: “Auntie, where’s Nie Xu?”
“You’re up?” The housekeeper turned and saw him, smiling as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Mr. Nie left early this morning. Before he went, he told me he won’t be back for the next week, and asked me to take good care of you.”
Ji Yang paused. “Not coming back for a whole week?”
“That’s right.” The housekeeper said: “I thought Mr. Nie was going on a business trip, but he said no — he said he’s going to settle some old matters.”
Old matters?
Ji Yang took out his phone. The message box was flooded with Peng Jiaying’s messages.
After all, no one had expected Ji Corporation to change so drastically overnight. With Ji Corporation currently in the midst of all manner of property rights transfers and chaos, whether it would affect the bidding — no one could say.
But Ji Yang didn’t have the bandwidth to worry about that right now. He sent a message to Nie Xu. No reply.
He called. The phone was off.
Ji Yang thought for a moment, then contacted Deng Jiao.
“Jiao Jie,” Ji Yang asked. “Where’s your boss?”
Deng Jiao replied quickly: “Fourth Young Master, why are you asking me? Hasn’t Boss been at Borman lately? He didn’t report to you before leaving?”
Ji Yang: “Stop playing dumb. The news is all over — I’m not blind.”
At that moment, the early-shift ferry at Fanzhou Port had just docked.
The dockworkers hadn’t even begun unloading when the broadcast crackled with the latest news about Ji Corporation.
The radio broadcast blended with the whistles and loading sounds across the port area during the morning rush, drawing little attention. A few people glanced up at the speakers on the ceiling, then lowered their heads and went back to their work.
Among them were the elderly, able-bodied young men, and children running about nearby.
If you looked closely, you’d notice that in what appeared to be a scene of hard manual labor, most of the faces wore relaxed, easy smiles.
The adults among them would occasionally look up at the deck of an old tugboat at the shore, where a figure had been standing for a long time.
Deng Jiao didn’t quite dare to go up and disturb him. She exchanged a glance with Han Biao beside her, hesitated for two minutes, then finally approached.
“Something the matter?” Nie Xu leaned on the railing and turned his head.
Deng Jiao held up her phone: “The Young Master can’t find you. He’s asking.”
Nie Xu looked at the phone and took it.
“Hello.” Nie Xu spoke.
On the other end of the line, Ji Yang’s voice was somewhat quiet. “Where are you?”
Nie Xu: “The dock.”
Ji Yang: “Not coming back?”
“Mm.” Nie Xu gazed out at the sea. “Not for now.”
Ji Yang seemed completely devoid of emotion: “Wouldn’t you call this leaving without saying goodbye? Fine, you’re busy — I just wanted to let you know. I’m planning to move out.”
Nie Xu was quiet for a moment.
Then he pressed his forehead and let out a soft laugh.
“Are you angry?” His voice blended with the cries of seagulls, carrying an unusually deep and gentle warmth, as if coaxing someone. “Don’t be like that.”