BFILWY CH 4

Chapter 4: Confession

He Zhifan listened quietly to the sinner’s confession.

He listened to the outrageous past of Ye Qinghe, which he had heard about abroad but never been part of. From curiosity to shock, and finally to speechless helplessness.

The rumors were confirmed by the person involved, and it was hard to bear. He scolded Ye Qinghe a few times, but in the end, all he could say was, “It’s all in the past.” A pale, powerless comfort, knowing full well that this scoundrel didn’t deserve any comfort.

At nine o’clock in the evening, after the music ended, the crowd dispersed. Ye Qinghe sat alone in a quiet corner outside the restaurant. He Zhifan had just received a call; the orchestra conductor, Shao Ye, had arrived outside the restaurant, waiting to pick up the cellist who had strayed from the group and bring him back to catch a flight.

After finishing the call, He Zhifan became uncomfortable, shifting in his seat as if a needle were poking him. In the darkness, he secretly felt pleased. He said, “Someone’s here to pick me up.” The two of them paid the bill and walked out, only to find that the young master’s car had a passenger in the front seat—his girlfriend, Su Yingcheng, the principal of the orchestra.

He Zhifan immediately deflated, silently getting into Shao Ye’s car, sitting in the backseat with his head lowered, and waving half-heartedly to Ye Qinghe.

Su Yingcheng also elegantly waved goodbye to the car, and Ye Qinghe nodded in return. He had just opened his mouth to say “Take care” to He Zhifan when the car suddenly roared to life, leaving him no chance to say “Goodbye” or “Let’s meet again”—the car sped off as if they were in a hurry.

With He Zhifan gone, Ye Qinghe was left alone, sitting quietly by the flower bed. He bit a cigarette, turning sideways to shield it from the wind, still struggling to light it. After several failed attempts, the lighter clicked open and shut again, making a crisp metallic sound—click, pop, click, pop, click, pop. The smoke gently swirled in the wind, and among the small trees, delicate white flowers swayed gently, carrying a faint fragrance.

The clinking of the lighter and the swaying of the flowers couldn’t shake off the fragments in his mind. Nicotine didn’t calm the sharp sting in his heart.

Six years. Six years ago, Ye Qinghe was only twenty-four years old, a spoiled young master. His peach blossom eyes were so mesmerizing, they made people lose their minds and souls. To put it bluntly, he was just a reckless playboy. So, when the Ye family fell apart, he often heard people muttering “karma” under their breath.

Earlier, in the pitch-black restaurant, Ye Qinghe had briefly discussed his past misdeeds, from fleeting romances to his wild and unrestrained behavior. When he reached the story of the “little dirt egg,” He Zhifan was infuriated. He couldn’t even bear to imagine how much hatred and despair the person involved, that “little dirt egg,” must have felt at the time.

The “little dirt egg” was one of his most infamous stories. Well, to be exact, it was the most reckless thing he had ever done, with no exceptions.

The “little dirt egg” was blind. His beautiful eyes lacked the sparkle they should have had.

Like Brian, he was blind.

The story began with a celebration banquet. A celebration for what? To celebrate Ye Qinghe’s success in collecting twelve lovers, one from each zodiac sign, within four months.

A few spoiled rich young men in the private room were celebrating, discussing which zodiac sign was the best in bed, and planning what to do next. Someone suggested collecting people from the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac or people from specific countries, but then a particularly evil-minded person suggested “saving the disabled.” The group, drunk and heartless, agreed unanimously. Ye Qinghe, still drunk and excited, added a few types of disabilities—blind, deaf, mute, and lame.

That was how the “little dirt egg,” Qin Sian, was introduced to him.

(To be continued…)