Chapter 66#

Ji Yang was bounced by that slight recoil and fell silent for two seconds before settling down quietly and obediently.

Nie Xu glanced at him, released him, and rolled back over.

He tugged at the pillow and lay down.

The single bed in the dorm had limited width.

When Ji Yang slept alone, he thought having one more person lying on it was perfectly fine. But now that they were actually sharing it, he found he had to squeeze inward as far as he could just to keep Nie Xu from hanging half off the bed.

By the third time he was scooting inward, a hand suddenly clamped around his waist and pulled him forward.

From the momentum, Ji Yang’s forehead ended up pressed against Nie Xu’s scapula, his nose brushing the edge of the strap on that black tank top. It was warm, like leaning against a quiet source of body heat.

Ji Yang tried to ease back, but the force on his waist tightened.

Nie Xu, eyes still closed, said: “I told you not to move. Sleep.”

“I can’t sleep like this,” Ji Yang said honestly. Pressed too close, his voice came out somewhat muffled and indistinct.

Nie Xu tilted his head down slightly. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

Ji Yang: “…”

He mumbled: “That won’t be necessary.”

Ji Yang relaxed.

Listening to the sound of rain, he inexplicably found that this environment had put him at extraordinary ease.

Even knowing that someone could come at any moment outside, even knowing Building No. 4’s current situation, even though it had been pouring rain when he arrived—now lying under the blankets, feeling the endless warmth coming from the person beside him, he actually felt very safe.

He rarely had moments like this.

In his previous life, he could hardly recall a time when he had no sense of urgency, when he had completely let his guard down. So he wasn’t quite sure whether it was his own mindset that had changed, or whether the person next to him had given him this feeling.

Ji Yang buried his head lower and said: “Can’t sleep. Tell me about your parents?” Then, hesitantly: “Is that okay?”

“Why are you suddenly asking about that?” Nie Xu opened his eyes and looked at him.

Ji Yang shook his head: “No particular reason. I just heard a little from Jiang Lei. Not much, though.”

Nie Xu paused, his voice dropping two registers, slow: “So that’s why you came?”

“I suppose so,” Ji Yang said.

He didn’t mention his dream.

That was far too absurd.

This time, Nie Xu’s hand reached over and landed on the hair at the back of his head. He gazed upward as if sinking into memories, and only after a while did he speak: “Actually, there’s nothing particularly special. My origins aren’t a secret at the Ji household. My parents were always busier than the ordinary workers below. I rarely saw them. With so many people coming and going in and out of the house, you stop feeling there’s any difference between your family and anyone else’s. I was raised by You Li’s grandmother when I was young.”

Ji Yang looked up: “No wonder… Then earlier when you said Zhou Ling’s wooden house was copied from your place—your home…”

“Demolished many years ago,” Nie Xu said, recounting it all as if it were remarkably calm. “After the shipwreck disaster, things blew up. The Nie family relatives encountered problems one after another—some had business failures, some had sudden accidents. Forget about my family—nowadays you can hardly find anyone named Nie in the entire Fanzhou shipping trade history. The few distant relatives that are left emigrated overseas long ago.”

That cold shudder surfaced again from the depths of Ji Yang’s heart.

Was it really just simple business problems or sudden accidents?

Obviously not.

But was it really necessary to go this far just for resource plundering, for business competition?

And it wasn’t just the Ji family. Ming Yue’s former fiancé’s family, the Qi family. Lu Li’s main family, the Lu family. And so on—probably the entire Fanzhou Shipping Merchant Association had participated in covering up the truth of the “Qiming” disaster.

Ji Cheng Yi had also said that Nie Xu would not let the Ji family go, including the Association.

He had been so certain.

After all, as a person who had been reborn, he must have known something.

Ji Yang: “Were your parents good to you?”

“Mm.” Nie Xu spoke: “All of my knowledge and skills related to shipping—map routes, shipbuilding techniques, even fleet operations—all came from my father. As for my mother, she was a strong woman in front of outsiders, but actually very gentle. She supported my father’s career wholeheartedly, including his early plan for me to inherit everything from him.”

Ji Yang was quiet for a long while.

Putting it together with what Jiang Lei had told him, Ji Yang could roughly imagine what Nie Xu’s childhood had been like.

Born into wealth, with a towering father and an erudite mother, lacking neither money nor love.

This could roughly explain why, facing such enormous upheaval and hatred, the fundamental tone of so many of his actions had always maintained a bottom line.

This was also why Ji Yang had always believed that, in the end, Nie Xu would not become the kind of irrational person Ji Cheng Yi described.

What had young Nie Xu been like?

There was nothing unexpected—he would have been a scion of a shipping magnate with deep roots, a youthful prodigy, yet one who never made people feel distant.

He would have easily mingled with the children of ordinary dockside families and could also hold his own, talking shop at his father’s side. Had he grown up smoothly and come of age, he would have been a carbon copy of his father—elevated to even greater heights, perhaps several stories higher.

But the truth was that the trajectory of his life had suddenly reversed in a certain year.

Now he was the boss of Building No. 4, navigating between all factions.

He was the behind-the-scenes owner of Jian Yuan—his identity had still never been fully exposed.

He was someone who had experienced real gunfire and rain, who had struggled out of darkness, who often tread the fringes of danger.

Ji Yang had actually noticed it back at Berman.

He had several scars on his back, none of them small.

Someone who consistently ranked first in assessments throughout the selection system of not only Building No. 4 but the entire Jian Yuan—the scars certainly weren’t recent.

Ji Yang’s fingertip brushed over one on his shoulder, an old scar that had faded to white from years of wear, and asked: “How did you get all these injuries?”

Nie Xu caught his hand and stopped his movement.

“Most of them were from running the ship routes,” Nie Xu said matter-of-factly. After confirming he wouldn’t start groping around again, he let go and continued: “Only the one on my lower back was left when I was twelve.”

Ji Yang: “That doesn’t look like a knife wound.”

“A rock scrape,” Nie Xu said. Then he added: “For a kid.”

He himself was twelve—what kid?

Ji Yang: “Ji Cheng Yi? The time he was kidnapped?”

“No,” Nie Xu said. “Nobody knew who he was.”

Ji Yang: “So what happened to him?”

Nie Xu paused briefly. “Dead, probably,” he said softly.

Ji Yang went completely silent.

His chest felt slightly tight.

Perhaps it was because Nie Xu had said “dead, probably” too lightly. So lightly, in fact, that it made Ji Yang sense a certain weight within it—heavy like a boulder, as though it had never rolled away from his heart.

From Nie Xu’s parents to this child he had suddenly mentioned—who might be dead—all of it settled deep in Ji Yang’s heart from this conversation on a rainy night.

He didn’t know what to say. Until Nie Xu’s hand smoothed over the hair at the back of his head, and he said: “Sleep. If there’s anything else you want to know, we’ll talk about it later.”

Ji Yang murmured an “mhm” and rolled over onto his back.

In the dark, after a while.

Ji Yang: “You asleep?”

Nie Xu: “No.”

Ji Yang: “Good night.”

Nie Xu: “Mm.”

Ji Yang woke the next day to daylight flooding in from outside.

The rain had stopped.

It was somewhat similar to the scene when he had first woken up here—no one on the bed anymore.

Ji Yang got up and saw his white cardigan, folded neatly at the foot of the bed, with the document folder he had brought the night before placed on top of it. On the stool beside the head of the bed sat a thermos water bottle, with a note tucked underneath.

Ji Yang picked it up: Signature already done. There are red dates and goji berries in the cup. Drink it when you wake up. Come to the cafeteria to eat after you wash up.

Ji Yang put the note back.

He drank half the cup of water, picked up his clothes, and sniffed. The familiar scent of soap berries was still there. Perhaps because they had shared a quilt the night before, Ji Yang felt the scent was even stronger than when he’d first put it on the evening before.

He got up, washed up, changed, and headed out.

The corridor was quiet.

Ji Yang had fallen into too deep a sleep later in the night—he didn’t know if anyone else had come by in the small hours.

He went to the cafeteria floor.

It was the morning meal hour. Everyone was basically on this level.

Two groups of people in different uniforms, clearly divided.

The moment Ji Yang appeared, the previously noisy cafeteria went completely silent.

Ji Yang turned a blind eye to it all and headed straight for the counter.

The auntie who had served him ribs before still remembered him. Seeing him, she smiled meaningfully. “You’re awake?”

Confused by the smile, Ji Yang hesitated and returned one of his own.

Behind him came waves of muttering.

“They really live together?”

“Isn’t that obvious? Someone said he went in last night and never came back out. I even asked around the other people here—this young master isn’t here for the first time.”

“Look at the cafeteria auntie—she seems so familiar with him.”

“President Chu said this morning he wanted to have a private word with this Fourth Young Master. It was refused without any hesitation. Said he’s not within the scope of the investigation.”

“Hasn’t this Chief Nie ever refused something this bluntly before? Seeing it this way, does he really have no feelings for this young master?”

“Who knows. Either way, if I had to face someone I don’t like, I couldn’t stand it for a single minute, let alone share a room.”

…

The auntie at the counter placed the porridge and eggs Ji Yang wanted onto his tray, bent down, and said: “Don’t listen to their nonsense. They’ve been here for days and all they do is annoy people.”

Ji Yang laughed at her and nodded: “Got it.”

Then, almost as if by habit, the auntie slipped two siu mai he hadn’t ordered onto his tray, a jidan guanbing, and a cup of soy milk.

Then, before Ji Yang could react, she nudged him and gestured: “Go on. Captain Nie and the others are over there.”

The auntie had probably been here for many years—she still called him “Captain Nie.”

Ji Yang looked up in the direction the auntie had pointed and spotted Nie Xu right away.

At the long table on their side, with Nie Xu and the middle-aged man from the Supervision Group as a boundary, each side had seven or eight people seated.

Nie Xu was sitting parallel to the other man. He wasn’t eating, leaning back in his chair, body angled toward the other as they talked.

When Ji Yang looked over, Nie Xu happened to glance up at him.

At the same time, he raised his hand and tapped downward, signaling him to come over.

Ji Yang walked over with his tray.

The seat directly across from Nie Xu happened to be empty. Ji Yang sat down and found that to his left was Han Biao, and the seat to his right—directly across from the middle-aged man—was also empty.

Han Biao noticed his tray and was shocked. “Can you finish all that?”

“The auntie insisted—what could I do?” Ji Yang picked up the soy milk, inserted the straw, and took a sip right in front of Han Biao.

Han Biao rolled his eyes so hard at him.

Nie Xu was still talking with the middle-aged man about time limits and the investigation.

Ji Yang let it go in one ear and out the other, eating without much focus.

Until the middle-aged man suddenly spoke: “Fourth Young Master, since you’re here, why not stay a couple more days?”

“He’s leaving after breakfast,” Nie Xu said flatly.

The middle-aged man smiled. “Is that any way to see a guest off? This is the Ji family estate, after all. It could count as your home, Fourth Young Master.”

“I have nothing to do with the Ji family anymore,” Ji Yang said, putting down his cup. He glanced at Nie Xu and continued: “And I’m not staying long. Last time I was eating in this cafeteria halfway through a meal, he rushed out with a bunch of men for another man. The feng shui is even worse now—even sleeping, there’s someone guarding the door. I’m really not used to it. If I need to see anyone, I’ll come back after they come out.”

The middle-aged man paused, forced a smile, and said nothing more.

Ji Yang turned and moved most of the contents of his tray to the one across from him.

He was halfway through transferring the jidan guanbing when it was intercepted.

“Eat it yourself,” Nie Xu said.

Ji Yang: “I can’t eat anymore.”

Nie Xu: “Just this one.”

Ji Yang didn’t want to concede, so he preemptively took the moral high ground: “Are you disgusted with me? When you held me last night you said you felt nothing—that means you’re disgusted with me.”

The moment Ji Yang’s words fell, both sides, as if they had rehearsed it, all lowered their heads and shoveled food into their mouths in unison.

Nie Xu stared at him, but what flashed through his mind was the soft, resilient texture his hand had felt when it hooked around that waist the night before.

With Ji Yang always opening his mouth with such random, fabricated nonsense out of nowhere, a vein at his temple throbbed.

This time there was absolutely no room for negotiation.

He rapped his knuckles on the table in front of Ji Yang’s tray. “Finish it. No leftovers.”