Chapter 34#

Does This Little Boy Look Like Qi…?#

Just past midnight, Si Jingheng was already awake.

The room was pitch black. The thick curtains, airtight and lightproof, completely shut out the faint night light from outside without leaving a single gap. His biological clock seemed to have been forcibly triggered; even though he had slept for only three hours, his consciousness was instantly and terrifyingly clear.

Subconsciously turning on his side, he stretched out a long arm, wanting to pull the warm body beside him into his embrace, but his fingertips only brushed against a cold silk duvet. The chill spread from his fingertips, instantly soaking through his entire body.

Si Jingheng’s movements froze. A brief moment of bewilderment surged in his pitch-black eyes, quickly replaced by a deeper irritability. He propped up his upper body with his elbow on the pillow, his palm stroking the empty space beside him. The silk duvet seemed to still carry a faint, elusive trace of Qi Xu’s scent—a sweet, tart plum fragrance. In the past, he had always felt this scent was too sweet and soft, not to his taste. But now, this last remaining bit of residual warmth was like a lifeline, making him unable to resist leaning closer, burying his nose in the pillow to inhale greedily.

The phone vibrated on the nightstand, its lit-up screen exceptionally prominent in the dark.

Si Jingheng squinted and picked up the phone. The three characters “Zhou Xuanli” flashed on the screen.

“Hello,” Si Jingheng answered.

“You finally picked up,” Zhou Xuanli’s voice carried a hint of banter. “How long has it been? You bury yourself in the company every single day, or lock yourself up at home. Are you trying to become an immortal? Come out for a drink. The usual spot, Jianzhang and the others are all here.”

Si Jingheng reached out and pulled the giant orange dinosaur plushie from the bedside into his arms. Qi Xu had bought this last year, saying he thought it looked a bit like Si Jingheng—both looking so fierce. At the time, he had scoffed, calling such childish toys naive.

There was a moderately sized hole on the plushie’s left ear. During a passionate moment last time, he had been too forceful; Qi Xu hadn’t dared to make a sound and could only bite down on this little dinosaur. Only after they finished did they notice a tear had been bitten open. Back then, Qi Xu had blushed, frantically saying he would sew it up, but he was sidetracked by a pile of work the next day, and the matter was eventually forgotten. Now, one could still vaguely see the snowy-white cotton stuffing inside.

“Not going,” Si Jingheng’s voice was lazy.

“Don’t be like that,” Zhou Xuanli persisted. “If you keep bottling things up like this, you’re going to make yourself sick sooner or later. That thing with Qi Xu…”

“Shut up.” Si Jingheng’s voice instantly turned cold, as if dipped in ice. “Why bring him up?”

Zhou Xuanli paused on the other end of the line, seemingly not expecting such a strong reaction, and then sighed. “Fine, we won’t bring him up. Just think of it as having a drink with the boys, alright? You’ve practically turned into a powder keg lately.”

Si Jingheng frowned and said nothing. He knew his temper had been getting worse and worse lately, and the smallest things could ignite his rage, but he couldn’t control it.

Whenever he had a free moment, his mind would be completely filled with Qi Xu’s shadow, impossible to shake off.

Fuck, what was he thinking about again?

An inexplicable frustration welled up in Si Jingheng’s heart, like a fire burning in his chest, leaving him parched and dry. He abruptly sat up, the silk duvet slipping off his body to reveal his smoothly contoured back.

“Send me the address.” Si Jingheng changed his tune and agreed.

He couldn’t sleep anyway.

Si Jingheng tossed back the covers and got out of bed, stepping barefoot onto the cold floor; each step felt like walking on ice. He walked to the walk-in closet and turned on the lights, the bright illumination lighting up the entire space. The wardrobe was packed full of clothes.

Si Jingheng’s gaze lingered on those clothes for a long time. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He reached out, grabbed a grey shirt next to an off-white knit sweater, and put it on.

His movements while dressing were a bit rushed. The zipper of his trousers got stuck halfway up. Si Jingheng yanked at it irritably a few times before barely managing to pull it up.

Walking out of the bedroom, the living room was pitch black. Si Jingheng turned on his phone to light the way ahead, tracing the empty outline of the living room.

In the past, when urgent matters came up at the company, it was common for Si Jingheng to leave in the middle of the night. Qi Xu would always leave a single nightlight on in the living room beforehand and place a cup of warm water on the coffee table. But now, the coffee table was completely empty, save for a thin layer of dust, and the nightlight had long lost its glow.

Si Jingheng frowned, grabbed his keys, and went out.

The underground parking lot was dead silent, with only the motion-sensor lights turning on and off in sync with his footsteps.

Walking up to his usual black Bentley, Si Jingheng pressed the key fob. The car didn’t budge. Si Jingheng froze for a moment, only then remembering that when he came back yesterday, the gas tank was empty.

Si Jingheng clicked his tongue in frustration, turned toward another car next to it, and pressed the key fob, but there was still no response.

Apparently, this car’s gas tank was also empty.

Standing in the middle of the parking lot, looking at the row of cars that belonged to him but all lacked gas, Si Jingheng suddenly let out a humorless laugh for no reason.

In the past, he never had to worry about these things. Qi Xu would always remember to refuel each car regularly, arrange for routine maintenance, and even put water and tissues in his frequently used cars. He had grown accustomed to Qi Xu’s care, accustomed to having someone like that by his side to keep his life perfectly organized, to the point that now, he didn’t even know if his own cars had gas.

“Dammit.” Si Jingheng ruffled his hair irritably, running his fingers through his thick black hair and rubbing forcefully. The stray bangs fell across his forehead, concealing the bloodshot lines in his eyes.

Right now, he desperately needed a housekeeper—one who could care for his life with meticulous detail, just like Qi Xu.

Si Jingheng walked along the parking spaces step by step, his gaze scanning a red sports car coated in a thin layer of dust. That was Qi Xu’s car. The color was Qi Xu’s favorite—vibrant and ostentatious, completely different from the personality he usually displayed. Si Jingheng still remembered that on the day Qi Xu picked up the car, he was exceptionally happy because the license plate was his birthday.

At the time, he had only given a faint “Mn,” privately finding these little romantic gestures tedious. But now, looking at that familiar license plate and the thin layer of dust on the car body, his heart felt as if it were being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand, aching so much that he could barely breathe.

Why was his life completely filled with Qi Xu?

No matter how he tried to escape it, it refused to fade away.

Si Jingheng shook his head, as if trying to shake off those damn memories. He walked up to the red sports car and took out the spare key to unlock it. He had kept this key on him the entire time, without even knowing why himself.

The car’s interior was filled with a familiar, faint fragrance, identical to the scent on Qi Xu. The angle of the seat was still adjusted to what Qi Xu had set, suited to his height. Si Jingheng placed his fingers on the steering wheel, gently rubbing it twice.

The night was thick, and pedestrians on the streets were sparse, with only the streetlights casting a dim, yellow halo.

Stopping the car in front of the bar, Si Jingheng turned off the engine and sat in the car, dazed for a moment, before pushing open the door and walking inside.

As soon as he walked in, Zhou Xuanli came up to meet him, wearing his usual bantering smile. “We finally managed to wait you out. I thought you’d back out halfway.” He sized Si Jingheng up from head to toe, his brows furrowing. “What’s up with you? Aren’t you usually the most meticulously put-together? Why do you look so displeased now?”

That guy used to spruce himself up until he was practically glowing.

What, did Qi Xu leave you with nowhere to peacock?

Si Jingheng ignored his teasing, walking straight inside and saying with a cold face, “Do I look displeased?”

Zhou Xuanli gave a soft snort, grumbling inwardly: You’ve practically got “volatile” written all over your face.

However, he didn’t dare say it out loud, only catching up quickly and patting Si Jingheng’s shoulder. “Alright, alright, we know you’re in a bad mood. To cheer you up, we went to a lot of trouble to invite a few friends over, just to help you unwind.”

Si Jingheng was pushed into a seat by Zhou Xuanli. Song Jianzhang immediately poured him a glass of whisky. The amber liquid swirled in the crystal glass, emitting a rich aroma of alcohol. “Jingheng, come, have a drink. To celebrate our President Si regaining his freedom?”

“What are you doing?” Zhou Xuanli jabbed Song Jianzhang hard with his elbow.

He really loved stirring the pot.

Song Jianzhang raised an eyebrow, said nothing more, and picked up his glass to take a sip.

Si Jingheng picked up the drink in front of him and took a large gulp, tilting his head back. The spicy liquid slid down his throat, burning it and bringing a wave of sharp pain, but this stinging sensation gave him a trace of inexplicable relief.

He lowered the glass, his gaze drifted aimlessly around the room while his fingers tightly gripped his phone. The screen lit up and went dark, then lit up and went dark again. He repeatedly unlocked and locked it, not knowing what he was actually waiting for.

Was he waiting for a message from Qi Xu?

No. Was he out of his mind? Why did he keep thinking about Qi Xu?

Pour—

A waiter walked over carrying a pitcher of alcohol and stopped in front of him, his wrists slender as he gently refilled his glass.

Si Jingheng’s gaze fell on that wrist. Fair, slender, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails that showed a faint hint of pink.

These hands looked a lot like Qi Xu’s.

Qi Xu’s hands were like this, too—fair and slender, his skin unbelievably delicate. He remembered that Qi Xu had a small, crescent-shaped scar on his finger, accidentally cut by scissors when he was a child. He used to love holding Qi Xu’s hand, stroking that scar, thinking it was adorable.

His heart felt as if it had been struck hard by something, pounding wildly. Almost instinctively, Si Jingheng reached out and grabbed the waiter’s wrist.

The waiter stumbled, falling into the empty seat beside Si Jingheng, and looked up to reveal a delicate, handsome face with curved eyes.

He had long heard that Si Jingheng was into men, and that he had been in a bad mood recently.

Song Jianzhang had approached him privately and given him a photo of Qi Xu, telling him to learn to speak and act like the person in the picture, saying that as long as he could hook Si Jingheng, there would be no shortage of benefits.

He had carefully studied the person in the photo, mimicking his clothing style, expressions, and demeanor. Confident that he could replicate eighty to ninety percent of it, he refused to believe he couldn’t land this big fish.

Si Jingheng squinted, his gaze locked tightly onto the boy beside him. Applying a bit of pressure with his fingers, he refused to let go of his wrist. The boy’s features indeed held a trace of Qi Xu’s shadow, especially when he smiled; the curve of the corners of his eyes was slightly similar. But it was only a similarity.

“Qi Xu?” Si Jingheng’s voice carried a slight tremor born of excitement.

The boy immediately followed his lead, smiling softly, his voice deliberately sweet and cloying. “Jingheng~”

This single call was like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing the faint glimmer of hope in Si Jingheng’s heart.

No, this person was not Qi Xu.

Qi Xu would never call him in such a sweet, cloying way. When Qi Xu called him, it was always proper and precise. When angry, he would call him by his full name, “Si Jingheng.” Even in bed, when begging for mercy as he was being tormented, Qi Xu would only pant softly, his voice carrying a sob, soft and tender but never clingy, and never with such a deliberately seductive tone.

He seemed to have never heard Qi Xu seduce him with such a tone.

Si Jingheng’s heart felt as though it were being pricked by a thousand needles, aching intensely.

“Who told you to copy him?” Si Jingheng’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes filled with disgust and rage.

Looking at this boy in front of him who was deliberately mimicking Qi Xu, he only felt a wave of nausea, his stomach churning.

The boy hadn’t expected to be seen through by Si Jingheng in a single glance. The smile on his face froze instantly, his eyes filled with panic and confusion. His face paled in fright. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but was too nervous to utter a single word.

Song Jianzhang raised his glass, arching an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. “Doesn’t he look like him? Why not take him home? He’s just a distraction anyway. This one is still in university, very clean. Didn’t you always complain that… that other one is older than you?”

Si Jingheng whipped his head around, casting a cold glare at Song Jianzhang.

“Let go.” Si Jingheng flung the boy’s hand away with such force that the boy stumbled back several steps, nearly falling over.

Si Jingheng stood up, straightened his clothes, making no effort to hide the disgust in his eyes.

Qi Xu was unique.

Even if Qi Xu was a liar, only Qi Xu could deceive him.