Chapter 76#
Panic was Ji Yang’s first reaction.
He instinctively held his breath, his palms faintly sweating.
Nie Xu noticed this but said nothing. Instead, he set the laptop aside, pulled Ji Yang into his arms, and leaned him back against the headboard.
It was a very firm gesture. Ji Yang could feel it—Nie Xu was comforting the sudden tension he’d shown.
He didn’t even wait for Ji Yang to respond. Instead, he picked up the thread himself, giving Ji Yang an out. “You made that up?”
Ji Yang very much wanted to nod.
But he stopped.
Those two fragments of memory came flooding back. Looking at the Nie Xu in front of him, Ji Yang had the feeling his eyes held knowledge of far more than he was letting on—just no urgency to expose it.
Ji Yang looked out the window. On South Island, at this time of year, a thin layer of fog had settled over the morning.
The large trees outside the hotel window had already turned yellow at the edges.
He had been playing the role of Ji Yang, the fourth young master of a wealthy family, for so long now—long enough that he was nearly forgetting who he used to be. Yet the questions just kept piling up.
Ji Yang hesitated for two seconds. “What if I wasn’t making it up?”
“Then you genuinely believe it?” Nie Xu confirmed once more.
Ji Yang: “It’s not that I believe it. It’s the truth.” Saying this, Ji Yang felt like he was being a complete lunatic. He simply sat up from the headboard, faced Nie Xu directly, and declared first: “I know I told you I was on too many medications, that my memory was incomplete, but please believe me—I’m not crazy. My mind is perfectly normal. The memory loss from the meds was a lie. Okay, I know I deserve to die, but set that aside for now. Just accept this premise first.”
Nie Xu nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Go on.”
Ji Yang took a deep breath and said quickly: “The truth is, we live inside a book. This is the world inside a book.”
With every additional sentence Ji Yang spoke, the world inside him crumbled a little more.
He didn’t want to admit he was somewhat falling apart.
Who the hell would have thought he’d be doing this at such a moment—first thing in the morning, disheveled and barefaced, sitting in front of a man he’d barely bedded the night before, someone he hadn’t even finished with—and telling him, you live inside a book.
This really sounded like the most absurd excuse imaginable, pulled out of thin air to dodge responsibility after getting someone into bed.
And yet, Nie Xu’s reaction far exceeded his expectations.
He was, remarkably, calm.
Ji Yang was genuinely impressed. “Aren’t you going to react? You can call me crazy if you want.”
Nie Xu: “Do I not know whether you’re crazy? Tell me—what kind of book.”
Ji Yang was incredulous. “You believe me?”
Nie Xu: “I don’t.”
Ji Yang rolled his eyes heavenward.
With just a few short sentences, Nie Xu had completely dissolved the tension Ji Yang had been carrying about making this confession. It was as though the biggest secret he’d been harboring—one that had been his alone all this time—had suddenly lost every shred of mystery, becoming almost bland.
Ji Yang had already gone this far. Continuing was easy, yet he felt an overwhelming reluctance mixed with a sense of obligation to keep going. He spoke without a trace of emotion.
What the book was called, what its contents were—Ji Yang told him everything he knew.
When he finished, half an hour had passed.
Ji Yang was fully awake now.
When he said the last word, he expected to feel at least something complicated. But there was nothing—just a long exhale of relief. It was as though the boulder that had been pressing down on his chest had finally been lifted, and he hadn’t been crushed. He was still alive and well.
And in this world, there was now one more person who knew his secret.
Nie Xu even digested and processed everything Ji Yang had relayed remarkably well, then spoke: “So this is why your temperament changed so drastically, why you sought me out on your own initiative, and why you’ve always suspected there was something between me and Ji Chengyi?”
Ji Yang: “I had no choice. You were trying to kill me, but with my leg the way it was, I truly had no other options at the time.”
Nie Xu: “Ji Chengyi made you think he was some kind of scriptwriter. How did he explain it to you? Rebirth?”
Ji Yang was speechless for a long while, choked without words.
He had no idea how Nie Xu’s brain worked—how he had arrived at that conclusion.
Wasn’t this insane?
Ji Yang couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he tried, so he just asked.
Nie Xu: “It’s simple. I had someone look into him. I found that from a very young age, many of his behaviors appeared premeditated. Many things he knows overlap with what you know, but—although you’ve probably noticed—there are also significant differences. So there are only two possibilities: either one of you is lying, or he’s been consciously manipulating events. Since he doesn’t know about your so-called book, and you say he’s some kind of scriptwriter, then there’s only one explanation left.”
Ji Yang’s heart went cold. If he ever tried to match wits with this man, he’d be obliterated instantly.
He had nowhere to hide.
However, Ji Yang was puzzled: “You said you don’t believe in transmigrating into books, yet you arrived at that conclusion?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe,” Nie Xu said, also rising from the headboard. “I simply trust my own eyes more.”
Ji Yang frowned. “What does that mean?”
Nie Xu didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he pulled back the covers and got out of bed.
He stepped down, picked up his jacket from the chair and put it on, then gathered Ji Yang’s clothes—including the prosthetic leg.
He placed them at the edge of the bed, braced both hands on the mattress, and leaned in close to Ji Yang, who was still waiting for an answer.
Nie Xu hooked one hand around the back of Ji Yang’s neck, pulling him near. “That night of the fire on the Qiming. You remember, don’t you?”
Ji Yang froze on the spot.
This morning—ever since Nie Xu had started questioning him—almost every word, every reaction, had been outside anything Ji Yang had anticipated.
He’d been wondering where this memory had come from out of thin air, and now Nie Xu was suddenly bringing it up.
They were close—close enough that the tips of their noses nearly touched. Ji Yang was almost hypnotized. Yes, I remember.
But how could Nie Xu be so certain about a memory Ji Yang himself wasn’t even sure of?
Ji Yang: “Even if you’re sure the person on that ship was Ji Yang, it could very well be that you knew the original Ji Yang. I only happened to stumble upon his childhood memories.”
Nie Xu held something back. He didn’t rush to deny this understanding. He simply said: “Then tell me—why do you get seasick? Why does seeing an explosion trigger such a severe stress response? And why, like the children on that ship, do you call me ‘gege’ when you’re not even in your right mind?”
Ji Yang: …When did I ever call him that?
Of all Nie Xu’s questions, he truly couldn’t answer a single one.
Nie Xu pulled back slightly, letting the topic rest, and simply met Ji Yang’s gaze. “I know there are many things that can’t be resolved right now. But the first thing we need to do is for me to make one fact clear to you.” He paused, waiting for Ji Yang to focus, then continued: “I believe many strange things happen in this world—things science can’t explain. I’m not saying I don’t believe in that. But the book you’re describing is simply too far-fetched, too illogical. And Ji Chengyi’s words aren’t necessarily all true either. First and foremost—I could never fall in love with him.”
That certain?
Ji Yang murmured: “This was supposed to be a ’ Heartthrob ’ melodramatic romance novel, not realistic fiction.”
Nie Xu shot him a look. “Do I look like a basin of melodrama to you?”
Ji Yang: “Honestly, the fact that you and I—a vicious villain—got together is pretty melodramatic in itself.”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Nie Xu pressed his palm flat against Ji Yang’s forehead. “Get up. I’ll get the door.”
He left Ji Yang clutching his forehead, even more flustered than before.
He was a mess. Yet, miraculously, his heart was steady.
A steadiness he had never known before.
Nie Xu wasn’t a man of many words. From the moment Ji Yang had broached this topic, he hadn’t expected to be treated as sane. But the reality was—though Nie Xu hadn’t believed him, he had analyzed things from angles Ji Yang had never even considered.
It was a strange feeling.
Like being lost in a thick fog, direction completely gone, and then someone reaches out and takes your hand.
He doesn’t tell you outright that you’re wrong.
He simply guides you—firmly, with conviction—and in doing so, makes you believe that the road has been there all along.
The visitors were Lin Yue and the others.
“Xiao Yang zong, are you okay?” Lin Yue peeked cautiously through the doorway.
Ji Yang noticed it wasn’t just him—Qian Yitian, Qiao Qiao, and the rest were all there too.
Ji Yang: “I’m fine, come in. When did you guys get here from Lanjiao Village?”
“First thing this morning.” The group glanced surreptitiously at the other person in the room, none of them quite daring to step inside. Lin Yue said: “There was a huge commotion in the village last night. Some police even showed up. After that, we got a call from Brother Jiang Lei and stayed put in the village until today, then drove into the city.”
Nie Xu had already tidied up and said to Ji Yang: “I have some things to handle outside.”
Ji Yang said “oh.”
Nie Xu walked to the door and looked at the cluster of people lingering at the threshold. “Go on in. Keep your Xiao Yang zong company.”
“Yes, yes, Brother Nie.”
Only after Nie Xu left the room did Lin Yue and the others dare to step inside.
Ji Yang was still on the bed. “Did the villagers give you any trouble?”
His colleagues shook their heads. “No. But the problems in Lanjiao Village aren’t minor. Even if we hand over the money to the power station now, this isn’t something that’ll be sorted in a day or two.”
Ji Yang: “Making sure this first batch of goods comes through without issues is more important. Lanjiao Village has mostly scattered households—as long as they don’t band together and cause a scene, the problem isn’t serious. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
Lin Yue looked around. “What was that explosion last night about? Also, when did Brother Nie get here?”
The moment those words left his mouth, the atmosphere among his colleagues shifted.
They glanced around the room, then at the bed where the blanket was in complete disarray, their expressions unmistakably suggestive.
Ji Yang immediately: “What’s with those looks?! He was here on business. Same as us.”
The instant that sentence fell, the grins across the room only grew.
Lin Yue finally couldn’t hold it in. He lowered his voice and pointed out: “Xiao Yang zong… your neck…”
His neck?
Ji Yang tidied up and headed to the bathroom. Facing the mirror above the sink, he tilted his head and pulled down his collar, and there it was—a vivid red hickey, just above the hollow of his collarbone.
“Fuck,” Ji Yang muttered under his breath.
He had absolutely no memory of when Nie Xu had left that mark.
Against his will, details from the previous night came flooding back. He’d barely recalled the beginning before he was cupping his toes in sheer embarrassment, splashing two handfuls of water onto his own face, and cursing himself: “Dirty mind.”
At that very moment, Nie Xu was sitting in the car downstairs.
Jiang Lei was looking at his phone. “The artifacts thing made the news.”
“It was never going to stay hidden,” Nie Xu said.
Jiang Lei noticed he was replying to messages.
“You noticed too?” Jiang Lei leaned over to look.
The next second, Nie Xu put the phone away.
Jiang Lei: “…Whose message was that? Did I just see someone calling you a dog?”
Nie Xu: “You saw wrong.”
Jiang Lei: I didn’t, did I???
Then he grew very suspicious—because who stays in a good mood after being called a dog?