YMW CH 12

Playing the Role of Brother Again

Cen Wu asked A Ling to help take care of Xie Guilan because the weekly exams—English and Chemistry—were coming up this Friday. He could handle English, but Chemistry was another story.

He had even forgotten junior high knowledge. That night, he spent several hours writing down all the formulas he needed to memorize.

The next day, he woke up early again, heading to school to review.

Cen Wu couldn’t figure out what had happened. He wasn’t a “social animal,” but somehow, he was working harder than a cow or horse.

Xie Guilan came in late as usual. His typically cold face showed signs of fatigue. After handing in his homework, he slumped onto the desk to catch some sleep. When he woke up, he noticed the pancakes Cen Wu had left for him. He paused and said, “Master, you don’t need to bring these.”

“Just… think of it as my apology,” Cen Wu turned his head, resting on the back of his chair, raising his hand in a bow as he spoke sincerely. “I… I hope you can forgive me.”

Xie Guilan pursed his lips coldly, his narrow, dark, almond-shaped eyes glaring at him, like the eyes of a cold-blooded animal.

“I don’t blame you.”

Cen Wu: “…”
Playing the role of brother again.

Cen Wu didn’t believe him, but he didn’t argue. He reviewed the ionic reactions from this week’s lessons.

The weekly test began during the last class. Since it was a routine test and only took up self-study time, everyone stayed in their usual seats.

“Don’t worry,” Lu Wang comforted him. “I’m here this time—you’re still definitely coming in second to last.”

Cen Wu: “…”
Thanks, I guess.

Lu Wang’s concern left Cen Wu feeling a little guilty. His grades were actually pretty good. He’d been admitted to film school with top scores in cultural subjects.

Still, he decided to abandon Lu Wang. At least he wouldn’t come in last for English.

Fearing Lu Wang might be disappointed, Cen Wu decided to offer a preemptive explanation. In a hushed tone, he whispered, “I’ve been studying secretly every night. I’ll do well this time.”

“Okay,” Lu Wang said, though clearly not convinced. “Go for it.”

The student committee started handing out the test papers. Cen Wu didn’t say anything else to Lu Wang and began the exam seriously.

High school had just started, and there was no class on Saturday. Xie Guilan had a curfew set by his father, which required him to return home during breaks. He was definitely going back to the Xie family tonight.

Cen Wu filled in a few multiple-choice questions, growing increasingly uneasy.

Xie Guilan finished Chemistry quickly. For English, he completed only the reading and cloze test, skipping the essay, before placing the paper on the podium and leaving the classroom half an hour early.

“F*ck, why’s he pretending?”

“I’d like to be a top student too—just skip class if I want. Even if the principal shows up, I won’t care.”

A few boys at the back muttered sarcastically.

Zhou Ye sneered. The homeroom teacher was still invigilating, so he didn’t dare speak too loudly. “Dream on. What do you have to compare with him? He’s from the Xie family… and that’s that.”

Cen Wu furrowed his brow. Most of the class didn’t know the connection between Xie Guilan and the Xie family, but in a school like theirs, there were plenty of students from wealthy families. Even though they couldn’t rival the Cen family’s level of wealth, many came from influential business backgrounds.

Perhaps they would end up tangled in the Xie family’s affairs.

Afraid of offending Xie Shangjing, no one dared bring it up openly, settling instead for backhanded insults.

“Shut up.” Cen Wu crumpled a piece of draft paper and threw it at Zhou Ye when the teacher wasn’t looking.

Zhou Ye was caught off guard by the hit. “F*ck you…”

But when he looked up, he saw it was Cen Wu again. His jaw tightened, and he chose not to push his luck further.

He was puzzled. Before, he had always hung out with Cen Wu, but recently Cen Wu had been ignoring him. On top of that, he was sticking up for Xie Guilan, acting like he was protecting him. Was something wrong with him?

After the exam, Cen Wu didn’t go home. He asked the driver to take him to Xie’s house. Since the original owner had a good relationship with Xie Shangjing, going to Xie’s house was like going to his own home. No one would find it strange now if Cen Wu showed up.

He decided to stay at Xie’s house for a couple of days and go to school with Xie Guilan on Monday.

Cen Wu had been worried about running into Xie’s father, but when he arrived at Xie’s house, neither Xie’s father nor Xie Shangjing was home, and Xie Guilan hadn’t returned either.

He let out a small sigh of relief.

Xie’s father, named Xie Mingcheng, was a man of deep influence and hard to deal with. He wasn’t eager to meet this man.

Xie Mingcheng and Song Lingwei both came from the same mountainous region. Xie Mingcheng was the only person from that area to attend university, and later, he opened a real estate company in Huai Jing. At a banquet, he met Xie Shangjing’s mother, the heiress of the wealthy Zhou family, Zhou Li.

It was a classic “phoenix man” story—Xie Mingcheng was undoubtedly capable, rising from poverty to prominence in Huai Jing. However, there was still a gap between him and the upper class.

Zhou Li, the only daughter of the Zhou family, was a doctor, not skilled in business. After her father’s death, Xie Mingcheng took control of the board and the Zhou family, transforming himself into one of Huai Jing’s top families.

He was cold-blooded, stubborn, and unscrupulous, with little sense of morality.

“Second young master is here,” the butler greeted Cen Wu as he arrived. “The eldest isn’t home; should I—”

Cen Wu raised his hand, cutting him off. “I’ll look around myself.”

“Of course,” the butler bowed slightly. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Once the butler left, Cen Wu made his way toward Xie Guilan’s living quarters. Xie’s house was a large estate with separate living quarters for the servants.

But Xie Guilan wasn’t even treated like one of the servants.

Following what was described in the original story, Cen Wu headed toward the stables. Eventually, he found a small shack near the stables, barely large enough to offer shelter. It was covered with makeshift wooden boards, measuring less than ten square meters, containing a narrow metal-framed bed.

On the bed was a self-made bookshelf filled with textbooks and papers, and a worn-out desk and chair. A school uniform jacket hung on the back of the door. The servants had dumped their cleaning tools into this shack, making it dirty and cluttered. Even if it were cleaned, there was still a damp, musty smell.

Cen Wu doubted the recent rain had been heavy enough to wash this place away. If it had been just a bit stronger, the shack would’ve collapsed entirely.

Xie Guilan had lived here for ten years—enduring humiliation, struggling silently. It wasn’t much, Cen Wu shook his head, refusing to think any further. He didn’t want to be dragged into despair.

Xie Guilan only returned home on weekends. Even if Cen Wu cleaned up, there would still be a layer of dust from the past week. He didn’t touch Xie Guilan’s things but swept the floor and wiped the dust from the table.

---

That evening, Song Lingwei had a check-up. After leaving school, Xie Guilan went straight to the hospital and soon saw Xie Mingcheng in the ward. Xie Guilan paused for a moment.

“Xiaolan’s finished school,” Song Lingwei greeted with pale skin and full lips. If not for her frail appearance, she almost didn’t seem like a patient. She waved at Xie Guilan. “Your father’s here to visit us.”

Xie Guilan didn’t respond.

Xie Mingcheng was over forty, wearing cold silver-framed glasses that added to his aloof and distant demeanor, not the refined charm one might expect. His imposing presence didn’t help either, making him seem cold and untouchable.

He had a tall, broad frame, unlike many middle-aged men who grew overweight.

“Alright,” he said, suppressing his impatience as he addressed Song Lingwei. “The doctor will take you for your check-up. I’ll talk to Xiaolan.”

Song Lingwei tucked her hair behind her ear and gently nodded before letting the nurse assist her out of the room.

Xie Mingcheng stood up and followed them to the hallway, then turned back to Xie Guilan, patting his shoulder. “I heard you signed up for the chemistry competition next month?”

“Mm.” Xie Guilan’s gaze was sharp, cold, and filled with youthful intensity, though he quickly masked it.

“Good,” Xie Mingcheng said quietly. “You’re more like me than Shangjing. Don’t make me disappointed.”

He always felt Xie Shangjing had been spoiled by his mother, full of big-shot airs, unlike Xie Guilan, who carried a fierce, gritty edge, forged through struggle.

Xie Guilan said nothing more, and Xie Mingcheng didn’t press him either.

Song Lingwei had always argued with him, and now that he had visited the hospital, he didn’t linger after the check-up. Instead, he left with his secretary.

Xie Guilan waited outside the examination room.

Song Lingwei had taken Xie Guilan out of the mountainous region years ago after his birth. They settled in a small town and, a year later, arranged a marriage.

She had several miscarriages while working at the club, and doctors had advised her not to have more children. But Song Lingwei desperately wanted to use this child as leverage against Xie Mingcheng. The baby was too valuable to let go—she couldn’t bring herself to terminate the pregnancy, so she gritted her teeth and carried it to term.

Already in poor health, giving birth further deteriorated her condition. Her abusive husband made things even worse.

Xie Guilan still remembered that day—when he was seven years old, just starting first grade. Coming home from school, he found Song Lingwei lying on the floor, covered in blood. Her head had been bashed in by his stepfather, the blood streaming down her face, obscuring her features.

She had been stabbed in the stomach, and her attacker twisted the knife mercilessly, ripping her open. Her internal organs spilled out onto the floor.

Xie Guilan had called for an ambulance and tried to hold her organs in his hands, desperately attempting to return them. His hands were covered in blood.

Song Lingwei didn’t die that day, but the damage to her body was irreversible. From then on, she suffered from countless illnesses.

Half a year later, her stepfather died, but by then, Song Lingwei had developed stomach cancer. Without money for treatment, she and Xie Guilan came to Huai Jing to beg Xie Mingcheng for help. That’s when Xie Guilan discovered he was Xie Mingcheng’s illegitimate child.

Initially, Xie Mingcheng provided them with living expenses. But when he handed over the money, he deliberately walked past Xie Guilan, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. He placed the money on the armrest of the sofa, tapping his fingers over it, and told him, “Come and take it.”

It was a clear attempt to humiliate him, forcing submission.

Xie Guilan had already anticipated that receiving money from Xie Mingcheng would always come with such humiliation, so he refused. “I’ll find a way to earn my own living and pay back the medical expenses.”

Xie Mingcheng narrowed his eyes, a smirk on his face, as if surprised by Xie Guilan’s defiance. They had no bond—only control and conflict—until Xie Guilan either bowed to him or broke under the weight of this struggle.

Song Lingwei finished her check-up, and Xie Guilan escorted her back to her hospital room before heading home.

It was past 10:30 p.m. by the time he got into the car. The streets were nearly empty, and the dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the cold, bitter amusement in his eyes.

Parents?

They had nothing to do with him. From the moment he was born, he was just Xie Shangjing’s dog, the eldest son of the Xie family—always treated like dirt, always humiliated.

Xie’s estate was far from the city center, perched halfway up a mountain. The shadows of trees stretched out endlessly, while the mansion, lit by faint lights, deepened the darkness of the surrounding trees.

Xie Guilan carried the cold, oppressive air of the mountain night as he walked toward the stables.

He raised his eyes, his gaze faltering. Inside the stables, old-style lamps cast dim light, and a small shed nearby illuminated the path home in the night.

Xie Guilan pushed open the door. The servants had scattered discarded tools, and though the floor had been swept clean, the space remained dilapidated and cramped, but far more spacious than before.

Cen Wu lay on the bed, fast asleep, his posture tidy as if he was trying not to take up too much space. His pale, slightly flushed face was framed by long, curled eyelashes, giving him a soft, almost kitten-like appearance. His hair, illuminated by the dim light, looked warm and fluffy.

Xie Guilan’s brow twitched. A wild cat had followed him home.