Volume One, Chapter 47: Illusion
He remembered how the two of them once went together to seek out the master of fountain pens. He remembered the silent understanding between them. Pei Jingmo’s jealousy mixed with a chill, seeping outward in layers.
“Haha—” Fu Linhan suddenly burst into laughter.
Chu Xingzhi’s heart tightened; a sense of foreboding swept over him. He glanced at Pei Jingmo, who was staring back coldly, his gaze like a crescent moon in winter, biting with an icy edge. It sent a shiver of danger through Chu Xingzhi, a chill rising from the depths of his heart. He forced himself to hold back his unease and anxiety, laughed dryly, and asked, “Is something wrong?”
No one else understood what was happening. Could it be that the young prince didn’t like the pen, thinking it too cheap?
Fu Linhan chuckled, “Young Master Chu, before giving a gift, at least do a little research first. Our prince’s handwriting is like a dog scrawling across paper—sometimes even he can’t recognize it himself, and you gave him a fountain pen.”
Chu Xingzhi broke out in a cold sweat. He didn’t know Gu Yuandong well enough to know what would please him. He vaguely remembered something Song Qingyu had said—when at a loss for a gift, just give a fountain pen. So he had commissioned a master to craft a special pen, never imagining it would strike at Gu Yuandong’s sore spot.
No wonder Gu Yuandong’s gaze had been so terrifying just now.
“My apologies, President Gu, it was my oversight.”
Meng Yucheng quickly stepped forward to help, “President Gu, Xingzhi meant no harm. If you don’t know, you can’t be blamed—don’t let this gift spoil your birthday mood.”
No one spoke, not even Fu Linhan, usually quick to smooth things over. The atmosphere grew tense and awkward.
Fu Linhan glanced at Pei Jingmo. He wasn’t unwilling to mediate, but Chu Xingzhi was his brother’s rival in love. Years ago, while his brother was in the army, Chu Xingzhi had been the boyfriend of his brother’s white moonlight, nearly marrying her. This was a different situation—if he tried to smooth things over now, it would be courting disaster.
Realizing things couldn’t go on like this, Chu Xingzhi picked up his glass, “It’s my fault; I’ll punish myself with three drinks.”
He downed three deep shots in a row.
Pei Jingmo lounged lazily on the sofa, silent from start to finish, his thoughts inscrutable to those present. He hadn’t made things difficult for anyone, but everyone was on edge because of him.
Eventually, Fu Linhan and Bai Yinian stepped in, and the room gradually regained its earlier liveliness.
Meng Yucheng pulled Chu Xingzhi aside, “You’re really unlucky, aren’t you? Of all things, you had to give him a fountain pen.”
Chu Xingzhi was nearly beside himself with frustration.
It really seemed like he’d been cursed lately—whatever he did was wrong.
“But it’s alright, we’ve got a backup plan!” Meng Yucheng checked his phone, showing Chu Xingzhi the message, “Look, she’s already in Gu Yuandong’s bed.”
Chu Xingzhi had no interest in looking at the phone; he brushed Meng Yucheng’s hand aside and, glass in hand, strode back toward the man lounging on the sofa. The phone screen showed the back of a woman lying on the bed—had Chu Xingzhi glanced at it, he might have recognized Song Qingyu. But he didn’t look.
“President Gu, I was wrong today, but I sincerely wish to be friends. I hope you’ll give me a chance.”
Life truly is filled with drama.
Not long ago, Chu Xingzhi had taken Pei Jingmo to dine at the most luxurious “Sky Explorer” in the capital, where he’d insulted and suppressed him at every turn. Now, the tables had turned—Chu Xingzhi’s pride and arrogance were gone, replaced by humility.
Pei Jingmo lifted his eyes, regarding him with indifference, legs crossed on the sofa, the tip of his shoe aimed at Chu Xingzhi’s shin. “Plenty of people want to be friends with me. Who do you think you are, Young Master Chu?”
Pei Jingmo’s gentlemanly demeanor was merely a facade; at his core, he was a scoundrel. Whoever displeased him, he made sure they suffered tenfold. Especially a rival in love.
Chu Xingzhi’s face shifted from pale to green.
“What must I do for you to give me a chance to redeem myself?”
Having finally met Gu Yuandong, Chu Xingzhi didn’t want to miss this opportunity. But he forgot: the worst thing is to wear your ambitions and motives openly on your face—it’s handing your weaknesses to others.
“Well said, ‘redeem yourself’!”
His tone wasn’t loud, nor did it seem deliberately emphasized, yet it pressed down with invisible weight.
He lifted his gaze slightly, smiling coldly, “Unfortunately, I don’t have any merits here for you to redeem.”
Aside from Song Qingyu, another person had appeared before Chu Xingzhi, leaving him powerless and at a loss. It was as if, no matter what he did, he could not move them.
Chu Xingzhi failed yet again.
Meng Yucheng comforted him, “You can’t rush these things—let’s just wait for our trump card.”
The birthday celebration lasted until one in the morning.
Pei Jingmo missed Song Qingyu dearly; he sent her a message asking if she was asleep, but received no reply. Perhaps she was chatting happily with Xie Liuzheng and forgot to check her phone. The thought of her immersed in conversation with someone else stirred Pei Jingmo’s jealousy.
Little Tan Mountain was far from the city, and with Song Qingyu not at home, Pei Jingmo didn’t feel like returning either.
Having been plied with drinks by Fu Linhan and Bai Yinian, he staggered back to his room.
Fu Linhan draped an arm over Pei Jingmo’s shoulder, “Let’s sleep together tonight—it’s been ages since we shared a bed.”
“Get lost!”
“Come on, we used to sleep in the same bed all the time.”
Pei Jingmo tossed Fu Linhan to Bai Yinian, “You sleep with him!”
Fu Linhan pouted, “So stingy, now that you have a wife—”
Before he could finish, Bai Yinian covered his mouth and dragged him into the next room.
Hiding by the stairs, Meng Yucheng asked Chu Xingzhi, “What did Young Master Fu just say?”
“It’s too far, I didn’t catch it!”
“Doesn’t matter! Just wait a bit longer, and we’ll be the ones taking the prize.”
Pei Jingmo’s suite was spacious. He entered, loosened his tie, and headed straight for the bathroom.
The alcohol made him long for Song Qingyu even more.
Her brows, her nose, her lips—
And her soft, fragrant body.
Even a cold shower couldn’t quell his inner desire and restlessness.
His phone sat on the shelf; his dark eyes lingered on a photo of Song Qingyu taken when she was drunk. He closed his eyes and slipped into a reverie—
He was on the verge of madness.
A quarter of an hour later.
Pei Jingmo wrapped himself in a towel and stepped out; seeing that Song Qingyu still hadn’t replied, he felt a flicker of irritation.
He picked up his phone and walked into the bedroom, ready for sleep, when he suddenly saw a woman lying on the bed.
Was he imagining things because he missed Qingqing so much?
How could Qingqing appear in his bed?
Though it was only a silhouette, he recognized it instantly—it was Song Qingyu!
No—she was supposed to be meeting Xie Liuzheng, wasn’t she?
Suddenly, Song Qingyu, who had been unconscious, opened her eyes—