YMW CH 64

Heartless Man

Xie Guilan lowered his long lashes, poking at the little cat sticker on his screen. He stayed silent for several minutes.

Even without seeing him, Cen Wu could feel Xie Guilan’s mood plummeting—heavy, suffocating, like the oppressive chill of a snow-cloaked night.

What’s wrong this time, Ge?

Why so upset all of a sudden?

Bearing another person’s emotions wasn’t easy, but somehow, it also wasn’t. The moment he thought of Xie Guilan, his heart softened. All he cared about was why Xie Guilan was upset—it never felt like a burden.

He wished Xie Guilan would tell him everything.

Cen Wu had already been lying in bed, pondering his escape plan. But now, phone in hand, he rolled onto his stomach and began coaxing Xie Guilan with practiced ease—so practiced it was almost heartbreaking.

【Cen Wu: Hello! How may I assist you today? Press 1 for homework help, 2 for late-night snacks, 3 for customer service.】

Xie Guilan stood rigid, his expression icy and stormy. His pale skin, stark against the dim snowlight, cast sharp shadows from his brow to his nose. Tall and imposing, he loomed in the darkness like a vengeful spirit.

Song Lingwei trembled under her blanket, convinced she’d said something to anger him.

Then Xie Guilan’s phone screen lit up. His dark, peach-blossom eyes suddenly curved—a rare smile that only terrified Song Lingwei more. She’d hardly ever seen him smile. Had she actually driven him mad?

Ignoring her, Xie Guilan typed a reply.

【Xie Guilan: 3】

【Cen Wu: Hello! This is customer service rep Xiao Wu. How may I assist you today?】

Cen Wu waited, expecting Xie Guilan to say something. Instead, the reply that came made him freeze.

【Xie Guilan: Do you hate me?】

Cen Wu: “…”

Isn’t this kind of talk a little too intimate for a customer service bit?

Xie Guilan’s face paled again, his fingers digging into his own flesh with restless tension. Even from meters away, Song Lingwei could see blood welling on his hands.

She feared Xie Guilan more than she’d ever feared her ex-husband. With Chen Weiguo, she’d learned to read his rage—ducking before the blows landed. But Xie Guilan was unpredictable. His moods shifted without warning, his dark eyes turning frigid and unreadable.

She hadn’t always been hospitalized. Years ago, after being discharged, she’d lived with Xie Guilan in one of Xie Mingcheng’s private residences. Back then, Xie Guilan was thirteen.

She never understood what set him off. One moment he’d be fine; the next, he’d lock himself in the basement—a damp, lightless hole—for an entire day.

She’d knock, calling softly, “I made fish for dinner. Come out, okay?”

No response.

He’d come home from school with fresh bruises, scars barely healed before he’d claw them open again.

Song Lingwei had worked in clubs long enough to recognize the signs. Xie Guilan wasn’t trying to die—he just craved pain. The sight of blood excited him. When Chen Weiguo first died, Xie Guilan had been euphoric.

Even when he wore that cold, detached mask, she could feel it—the frenzy in his veins. It made her skin crawl. There’s something wrong with his mind.

Watching him stare blankly at his bleeding hands, she’d thought, Pathetic. I should’ve smothered him in that hospital years ago.

If Xie Guilan had died, Chen Weiguo would never have discovered the stolen baby. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to marry him at all.

But she didn’t dare provoke Xie Guilan now. Afraid he’d hit her, yet resentful—after all I’ve done for him, how dare he raise a hand against me?

A twisted dance of mutual torment.

Love, laced with poison.

Cen Wu’s delayed reply lasted only seconds, but Xie Guilan’s agitation spiked visibly. Song Lingwei pressed herself into the corner, muffling her breath, bracing for an outburst.

Xie Guilan’s mind was chaos. Outside the ward, Xie Mingcheng’s men watched—a silent threat.

A reminder: Song Lingwei’s life is in my hands. If you want her to live, deal with Zhou Li. Now.

Zhou Li, the only daughter of the Zhou family, had been raised like a jewel in the palm—only to have her life ruined by Xie Mingcheng.

Her father’s death also seemed suspicious. She no longer cared about Xie Shangjing, directing her hatred equally at everyone. The only reason she hadn’t targeted Song Lingwei yet was timing.

After all, revenge against Xie Mingcheng took priority. Women like Song Lingwei—just another one of Xie Mingcheng’s mistresses—weren’t even worth her notice.

But Song Lingwei had Xie Guilan, forcing Zhou Li to tread carefully. She had to guard against being bitten unexpectedly.

Xie Guilan had always sensed the Zhou family’s eyes on them. From the moment they arrived in Huaijing, they’d been watched. Countless bloodthirsty gazes lurked in the shadows, never letting up.

Even if the Zhou family had fallen, their branches and allies weren’t completely wiped out. This wasn’t something Song Lingwei could handle. And Xie Guilan hadn’t been strong enough yet—it had taken him half a year just to orchestrate Chen Weiguo’s death.

So he endured all of Xie Shangjing’s torment. The moment he showed resistance, they’d eliminate him completely. He had no choice but to endure—at least until he finished high school.

Meanwhile, Song Lingwei clung to her delusion of becoming Mrs. Xie, believing Xie Mingcheng’s “affection” was why she could stay in the hospital for treatment. Every night seemed as ordinary as the rest of her life.

She never realized who had been pulling out the poisonous thorns in the dark for her, shielding her dreams with blood and dignity.

---

“Ms. Song,” the nurse pushed open the door, wheeling in a cart, “time for your evening medication.”

Song Lingwei hurriedly sat up.

Xie Guilan watched coldly, making no move to help. She didn’t dare order him around either. Once the nurse left, she fumbled for her phone, trembling as she tried to urge Xie Mingcheng to come to the hospital.

Save her.

Someone… anyone…

Just then, Xie Guilan’s phone buzzed.

He looked down. It was a reply from Cen Wu—who hadn’t answered his “Do you hate me?” question. Instead, he’d sent something cryptic:

【Cen Wu: “Nice to see you.”】

Xie Guilan’s sharp instincts caught the nuance. Cen Wu didn’t say “meet”—he said “see,” as if they’d known each other for a long time but were only just now seeing one another.

For some reason, it soothed him. Cen Wu wants to see me. He still cares.

Then Cen Wu asked:

【Cen Wu: Want me to come keep you company?】

Xie Guilan refused.

【Xie Guilan: I’m fine. Goodnight.】

Cen Wu hesitated. He could tell Xie Guilan genuinely didn’t want him to come, so he didn’t push.

【Cen Wu: Goodnight!】
【Cen Wu: cat tucking itself in.jpg】

Seeing Xie Guilan’s mood improve, Song Lingwei finally exhaled in relief, her back drenched in cold sweat. She didn’t dare bring up Zhou Li or Xie Shangjing again.

---

Xie Guilan left the hospital, switching vehicles multiple times to shake off his pursuers before finally trudging home through the snow late at night.

The surveillance was tightening. He’d even run into Chu Zijian at Lan Ye.

Chu Zijian, clad in a leather jacket, was muttering to himself as he staggered from the dance floor toward the booths—nearly colliding with Xie Guilan. He immediately started cursing:

“The f*ck? Who’s blocking your grandpa’s—”

Then he looked up and froze at Xie Guilan’s icy expression.

“Ah, Ge,” he instantly bent at the waist, forcing a grin, “you go first.”

He despised Xie Guilan, but Cen Wu liked him. He couldn’t mess with his boss’s person.

Chu Zijian had been in a foul mood lately. His uncle worked at a shipping company under the Xie Group, and Xie Shangjing had ordered him to keep tabs on Xie Guilan. He had no choice but to obey.

Xie Mingcheng’s frequent hospital visits lately had Xie Shangjing on edge. He refused to admit it, but he was terrified Xie Mingcheng might divorce his mother.

Xie Shangjing would never say it aloud, but Xie Mingcheng was a cutthroat businessman. The Xie family might not dominate Huaijing, but they were influential enough.

Xie Mingcheng’s greatest rival was the Cen family. Toppling them would cement his absolute control over the city.

His underground casino was just a means to amass funds against the Cens—but greed had consumed him.

Though Xie Shangjing didn’t know about the casino, he was aware Xie Mingcheng allowed Xie Guilan to get close to Cen Wu.

Xie Mingcheng had married Zhou Li to climb the social ladder. If Xie Guilan could coax that idiot Cen Wu into helping, maybe they could swindle the entire Cen family too.

Xie Shangjing had never met anyone as stupid as Cen Wu. Xie Guilan’s ill intentions were blatant, yet Cen Wu still shielded him.

Chu Zijian was miserable. What kind of double agent am I? He had to obey Xie Shangjing but couldn’t betray his boss (Cen Wu)—while also secretly protecting Xie Guilan.

Xie Guilan gave him a frigid glance and stepped around him.

“…F*ck.” Chu Zijian slammed back a shot, trying to suppress his anger.

It’s not my fault I keep picking fights with Xie Guilan. Who the hell could stand that attitude besides Cen Wu?

That disdainful look alone was enough to make him want to throw hands.

---

The national math Olympiad training camp, originally scheduled for early December, had been postponed to after Christmas. Until then, the school would hold preparatory classes.

The head of the second-year department personally led the training. Xie Guilan attended—but not every session. Cen Wu noticed he was growing busier, spending less time at school.

Before, Xie Guilan might skip a couple of morning classes or ditch evening self-study. Now, he sometimes vanished for half a day.

Whenever Cen Wu tried to find him, Xie Guilan always had an excuse. Cen Wu could sense something was wrong.

Xie Guilan knew he couldn’t hide it forever but refused to explain, opting for evasion instead.

But Cen Wu wasn’t so easily deterred. He began tailing Xie Guilan—only to realize Xie Guilan was, in some ways, a born devil. Cautious, cunning, with terrifying situational awareness.

Cen Wu lost him every time they left campus. Left with no options, he could only message Xie Guilan at night:

【Cen Wu: You won’t let me find A-Ling. Didn’t you promise to tell me everything?】

Xie Guilan remained his usual infuriating self—the kind of boyfriend who’d get dumped two hundred times a day.

【Xie Guilan: It’s nothing. Just busy.】

Fed up, Cen Wu decided to provoke him:

【Cen Wu: Then I’ll go drink at Lan Ye. Lots of people have been asking me out—I’ve been turning them down.】

Xie Guilan paused for several minutes before replying:

【Xie Guilan: Mhm.】

Cen Wu’s eyelashes trembled with rage. He kicked off his blankets, thinking, Good thing we’re not actually dating, or we’d be fighting right now. What kind of attitude is this?

【Cen Wu: What if I touch someone else?】
【Xie Guilan: …Mhm.】
【Cen Wu: What if I date someone else?】

This time, Xie Guilan didn’t reply for hours. When he finally did, it was a voice message, his voice low and strained:

“No.”

Cen Wu: “…”

Then why the hell were you pretending earlier?!

Late at night, Xie Guilan called him, asking softly, “Young Master, have you fallen for someone else?”

The question inexplicably made Cen Wu feel guilty, as if he’d been caught cheating—even though they weren’t together, and he hadn’t fallen for anyone. Why should he feel guilty?

He didn’t want to discuss this. After all, he wouldn’t date Xie Guilan. But Xie Guilan fixated on it, ignoring everything else.

“Who knows?” Cen Wu deliberately needled him. “If you won’t even… come to class, how would you know who I like? Maybe I… maybe I already like someone. What’ll you do then?”

Xie Guilan fell silent for a long time. He had thought about it—if Cen Wu loved someone, he’d kill that person. Make them vanish. Then take their place.

Even if they were apart temporarily, it didn’t matter. As long as he was the one standing beside Cen Wu in the end.

But he could only think it, never act on it. Because he didn’t want to hurt Cen Wu, or become someone too wretched to stand openly by his side.

Cen Wu, thinking he’d gone too far, pursed his lips, about to say it was a joke.

Then Xie Guilan spoke:

“If liking them makes you happy… then like them.”

Cen Wu froze. The words were utterly sincere, even indifferent—as if Xie Guilan would genuinely bless him if he dated someone else.

He hung up without another word.

---

Heavy snow fell over Huaijing, and December arrived before Cen Wu could figure out what Xie Guilan was up to.

Their long-dormant cold war reignited. In class, they ignored each other—though it was mostly Cen Wu’s doing.

Lu Wang, caught in the middle, trembled like a child helplessly watching his parents fight.

When Cen Wu was summoned to the office for too many math mistakes, Meng Liangping told him, “Have Xie Guilan meet me in the lab later.”

Grudgingly agreeing, Cen Wu returned to class and—without looking at Xie Guilan—told Lu Wang: “M-Mr. Meng wants him. Lab.”

Lu Wang: “…”

Swallowing hard, he turned to Xie Guilan. “Xie-Ge, Wu… Wu says Mr. Meng needs you.”

“Mhm.” Xie Guilan left, returning with a test paper. When Cen Wu ignored him, he handed it to Lu Wang instead.

Lu Wang, sweating, passed it to Cen Wu. “WuWu, Xie-Ge… brought your paper.”

Cen Wu had forgotten it in the office. Meng Liangping had asked Xie Guilan to deliver it.

Snatching the paper, Cen Wu stuffed it into his desk without looking. “Who… who asked him to meddle?”

If Xie Guilan doesn’t need me anymore, fine. I’m leaving at semester’s end anyway.

Lu Wang glanced between his “mom” and “dad,” genuinely distressed. If they divorce, who do I go with?

Xie Guilan’s face was unreadable, the winter light leaving his eyes dark and impenetrable.

Overwhelmed, Lu Wang texted his real dad:

【Dad, if you and Mom divorce… who should I pick?】

His father, opening the message at work: ???

Don’t filial-piety me to death.

---

Xie Guilan’s injuries multiplied—bandages on his hands, bloodstains at his collar.

One evening, Chu Zijian called Cen Wu: “Xie Guilan got stabbed.”

Cen Wu rushed to the hospital without even asking for leave.

The scene was surreal—Chu Zijian had secured a room and was holding Xie Guilan’s test results. But Cen Wu barely registered it, zeroing in on the gauze taped to Xie Guilan’s abdomen.

Chu Zijian had exaggerated (with some personal bias). The knife hadn’t gone deep—Xie Guilan had grabbed the attacker’s wrist in time—but it left a long gash.

Three stitches. IV fluids overnight.

His arm was also bandaged, blood seeping through. No stitches, but the wound beneath looked nasty.

When Cen Wu reached to check, Xie Guilan blocked him. “Young Master, I’m fine.”

Cen Wu’s face darkened. “Fine” after being stabbed? What would count as not fine?

Before, he’d have pushed closer to inspect. But they were still fighting.

He’d come in a panic after Chu Zijian’s dramatics, only to find Xie Guilan very much alive. Now, he felt awkward—but leaving seemed wrong too.

Chu Zijian, unable to resist, sneered: “You’re both guys, what’s the big deal? It’s not like he’s some chaste maiden guarding his abs.”

Earlier, when the nurse changed Xie Guilan’s bandages, Xie Guilan had coldly ordered him out.

Chu Zijian nearly choked on his own rage. As if I’d even want to look at him!

It’d just dirty my eyes!

He quickly shut his mouth, remembering—oh right, this bastard’s technically my “sister-in-law.”

Cen Wu stood stiffly by the bed, torn between leaving and staying. He didn’t even know why he was so angry, but his eyes kept drifting to Xie Guilan’s bandages—wilted and sulky.

Xie Guilan’s the male lead. He shouldn’t die. But the original novel gave him no plot armor, and Cen Wu had already changed too much of the story. Who knew what would happen now?

He understood better than anyone how fragile life was. If that knife had struck just slightly differently, Xie Guilan might not be here.

I was about to leave, and now he’s hurt. We’re fighting.

Like they were doomed from the start.

Cen Wu’s face paled. Having died once, death didn’t scare him. What gutted him was realizing—even at the end, Xie Guilan still wanted me dead.

Xie Guilan watched his tense shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Finally, he broke first:

“I am.”

Both Cen Wu and Chu Zijian froze.

“I said,” Xie Guilan met Cen Wu’s gaze, utterly shameless, “you looked. Now you’re responsible.”

Cen Wu saw red. Responsible?! After fighting with me, you still demand responsibility?!

If not for hospital rules, he’d have slapped Xie Guilan right then.

Ears burning, he blurted out: “I’ve seen plenty of people! Should they all… all come demanding I take responsibility?!”

Silence.

Dead silence.

The temporary ward housed over a dozen patients besides Xie Guilan. Though Cen Wu had spoken quietly, several heads turned their way.

Who’s this playboy?

Xie Guilan, pale and beautiful with downcast peach-blossom eyes, clutched his bandaged abdomen—the picture of a jilted lover. Cen Wu, meanwhile, looked every bit the heartless scoundrel.

Cen Wu: “…”

Your Honor, this is slander!

His face burned. He wanted to strangle Xie Guilan, then himself. An uncle nearby eyed them and sighed: “Young people these days… Love should be faithful. Cherish what you have.”

“Exactly,” Xie Guilan agreed before Cen Wu could speak, “I cherish him very much.”

The uncle nodded approvingly, waiting for Cen Wu’s response.

“I… I want to strangle him,” Cen Wu deadpanned.

Chaos erupted. Aunties nearly yanked out their IVs to intervene. Cornered, Cen Wu had no choice but to sit beside Xie Guilan—and under collective supervision, reluctantly hold his hand.

“Good,” the uncle beamed, “arguments happen. Just don’t break each other’s hearts.”

Outside, snow fell—reminding him of his own youth, his late wife, their lifetime together. Some bonds, he knew, not even death could sever.

Xie Guilan’s palm was scalding. Their intertwined fingers grew damp. When Cen Wu tried to pull away, Xie Guilan tightened his grip.

“Uncle—” Xie Guilan began, feigning weakness.

Panicked, Cen Wu clutched his hand tighter—only to see Xie Guilan’s lips curl smugly.

Cen Wu: “…”

Strangulation it is.