BSS CH 21

Reunion

On July 2nd, what seemed like an ordinary day carried an undercurrent of significance. By midsummer, Xijing was already experiencing relentless heat, scorching both day and night. Meanwhile, the air conditioning provided a stark contrast with its biting chill. In the garden, the crape myrtles bloomed in their full glory. Clearly, this was the season for soda and blazing sunshine.

It had, in fact, been six months since that icy, rain-soaked spring night.

On this particular day, He Peiting’s new girlfriend was celebrating her birthday. Because the weather was unusually mild, he decided to host a lavish party. He invited a group of friends for a luxury cruise along the Bailong River, starting from the Yansheng Pier. Naturally, Liang Jingmin was included in the guest list.

Although Liang Jingmin had no significant connection to He Peiting’s girlfriend and initially had no desire to attend, he eventually relented. After all, He Peiting’s girlfriend was a friend of Zhao Duning and had insisted on meeting her “sister’s fiancé.” Thus, she had persuaded He Peiting to bring Liang along. In the end, Liang couldn’t refuse a friend’s request and made time to attend.

Although he didn’t particularly dislike these gatherings, he had grown accustomed to sitting quietly over the years. For most of the evening, he simply drank and enjoyed the breeze.

From a distance, he lit a cigarette. The smoke swirled around his sharp features, blurring them slightly, which gave him an air of quiet solitude.

“Liang has definitely lost weight,” Miao Chi remarked softly to He Peiting, swirling his glass of wine. “I can’t quite pinpoint it, but something about him seems different from the last time we met.”

In response, He Peiting remained silent. However, his silence spoke volumes, indicating his agreement.

“Still no news about him?” Miao Chi pressed further.

Although Miao Chi had no close relationship with Liang, he had once helped during Liang’s frantic search for Cheng Jing. Yet, as time passed, they had lost touch.

“No,” He Peiting replied, shaking his head. “But don’t bring it up today. It’s her birthday, and we shouldn’t ruin the mood.”

Upon hearing this, Miao Chi mimed zipping his lips and quietly moved away.

At that moment, Wang Heran, dressed elegantly in a white dress and holding a glass of red wine, approached Liang Jingmin with a bright smile. “Mr. Liang! Thank you for gracing us with your presence!”

Seeing her approach, Liang immediately extinguished his cigarette. With a polite smile, he raised his glass slightly and said, “Not at all. Happy birthday.”

Wang Heran sipped her wine gracefully and placed the glass on a small table nearby. Surprisingly, she showed no intention of leaving.

Casually, she began, “When I heard about Zhao getting married, I was shocked. But when I found out it was to you, I couldn’t help but admire her taste. It’s such a shame, though…”

She trailed off, but Liang understood what she meant.

His marriage to Zhao Duning had served its business purpose and was now a thing of the past. While not many people knew the details, those who did avoided discussing it openly.

Nonetheless, as Zhao’s childhood friend, Wang Heran was not afraid to mention it. Liang, of course, didn’t take offense. Instead, he asked, “If you’re so close, why isn’t she here today?”

“She’s abroad, playing cat and mouse with Susu. Honestly, I’ve stopped bothering with her,” Wang Heran replied with a dismissive click of her tongue.

“And if she were here,” she added with a playful smirk, “there’s no way I’d have dared invite you. The awkwardness would’ve been unbearable.”

Liang chuckled lightly. “How is she these days? Dotting will start school soon, won’t she?”

“Not yet—she still has another year,” Wang Heran replied softly.

Liang nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, my mistake.”

As the conversation seemed to reach its natural conclusion, Wang Heran surprisingly lingered, appearing uncharacteristically hesitant to leave.

After a brief pause, she finally said, “I heard about your missing friend—how you turned the world upside down looking for him. You haven’t found him yet, have you?”

Instantly, Liang’s expression darkened.

Noticing his reaction, Wang Heran quickly added, “Please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Liang. I’m not prying into your private affairs. On the contrary, I have a message to relay.”

She hesitated slightly, noting how his sharp gaze—cool yet fierce—sent chills down her spine. It was a presence that could make someone desperately want to escape.

However, gathering her courage, she continued, “Zhao asked me to pass this on. Since Susu is around, she couldn’t contact you directly.”

Zhao Duning was intelligent and poised, never overstepping boundaries. While she had accidentally learned of Cheng Jing’s situation during their wedding, her discreet inquiries had yielded no results.

“Her… doctor,” Wang hesitated, her tone unsure, “saw someone who resembled him. His condition is rare, so they didn’t dare confirm it outright. Zhao thought it best to let you know privately.”

At that moment, Liang closed his eyes briefly, as though a drowning man clutching at a rope.

Seeing his reaction, Wang pressed on cautiously, “Please don’t share this. The hospital has strict confidentiality rules, and we can’t let Zhao’s doctor lose their job.”

For a long moment, Liang remained silent. Wang dared not rush him, watching as he sat, his brow furrowed and his face a mask of cold determination.

Finally, he spoke in a low voice, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it with care.”

…

Eventually, the cruise docked. Without wasting a moment, Liang drove directly to the private hospital Wang Heran had mentioned.

After Cheng Jing left, Liang Jingmin finally had enough and fired Butler Zhai. Without Zhai Zhenlei managing all the tedious tasks for him, Liang now had to handle everything himself.

Driving with one hand on the steering wheel and a cigarette pinched between the fingers of his other hand, the car’s ashtray was overflowing with crushed cigarette butts—a testament to his growing frustration. He smoked like a chimney, his face increasingly pale, and the car swerved unsteadily down the road.

Thankfully, other drivers, noticing the luxury emblem on his car, hastily steered aside, unwilling to risk scraping against it. The result was a cacophony of honking from the cars left trailing behind him.

Minutes earlier, Liang had made a call to Xie Hanyi, a friend who worked at the hospital. Xie had discreetly started searching for patient information. Meanwhile, Liang tore through traffic, arriving at the hospital just as his phone buzzed with a response.

“Are you here already, Jingmin?” Xie Hanyi asked over the line.

“Just got here. Any updates?”

Xie emerged from the inpatient building facing the parking lot, his expression grave. “Still digging, but it’s tough. The hospital prioritizes data security, and my friend’s clearance isn’t high enough. Did Cheng Jing mention which department he’s in?”

Liang Jingmin shook his head. “I asked, but he didn’t say. And Zhao Duning is unreachable right now.”

“Then we’ll need another lead. He’s probably not even in there. Your intel is too late—I don’t think the odds of finding him are good,” Xie said, clearly skeptical. “Honestly, it’s not worth the effort. The whole thing feels like a wild goose chase.”

Xie frowned deeply, his worry evident. “Jingmin, you’ve been spiraling for too long. Just when it seemed like your life was getting back on track…”

Liang Jingmin’s expression barely shifted as he replied coolly, “Let’s go inside.”

There was no need for an explanation; the logic was simple. If news of Cheng Jing had already reached him through multiple sources, then others must know too. He had to find Cheng Jing first, or he risked someone using Cheng as leverage against him—a situation he couldn’t afford.

People say that loving someone is like handing them the key to your vulnerabilities. Liang Jingmin, already walking on thin ice, couldn’t bear the weight of another weakness.

They strode toward the hospital entrance, but before they could cross the threshold, Liang’s phone rang again.

Xie Hanyi watched curiously as Liang answered the call, only to see his face darken, a storm brewing in his eyes.

“At the hospital already, aren’t you, brother?” came a familiar voice on the other end.

Liang Jingmin didn’t waste time questioning how the caller knew his whereabouts. He never indulged in pointless shows of weakness.

“Let me guess. You finally heard the news, didn’t you?” The voice on the phone sounded almost gleeful.

The implication of those words left Liang Jingmin with two possibilities: either his brother Liang Yulin had already found Cheng Jing and was holding him, or Cheng Jing had never escaped in the first place. Both scenarios pointed to one inevitable outcome—blackmail.

In a matter of seconds, Liang pieced together the situation.

His grip on the phone tightened, veins bulging, but his expression remained cold and impassive as he asked, “What do you want?”

His tone was calm—whether from habit or sheer willpower was unclear.

“I knew you’d understand, big brother,” came the faintly distorted voice. Liang Yulin didn’t name his price right away; he was waiting to gauge Liang’s desperation.

Liang knew he couldn’t reveal how much he cared. If he showed concern, Yulin would only escalate his demands. Yet, consumed by anxiety, Liang threw all negotiation tactics out the window and said decisively, “The Liansheng partnership. And the shares you’ve been after for years.”

The weight of his offer was enormous. It was everything Yulin had schemed for, and Liang had never budged—until now.

Yulin seemed momentarily surprised by Liang’s readiness. He chuckled softly. “You’re awfully generous today.”

“Where is he?” Liang’s voice grew tense.

“But I must warn you,” Yulin replied with mock sincerity, “even if you know where he is, he may not want to see you.”

Liang’s voice sharpened. “So, do you want the deal or not?”

“Since you’re my brother, I’ll be kind,” Yulin teased, “but I have one more condition.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember our little bet?” Yulin’s tone turned distant, almost nostalgic.

At those words, an image of Cheng Jing’s pale, delicate face flashed in Liang’s mind. He remembered those tear-streaked eyes, bloodshot and filled with anguish, and those chapped lips murmuring broken words:

“So this was all just a bet between you and Yulin?”

At the time, Liang had said nothing, just stared at him.

“Then what am I to you, Liang Jingmin?” Cheng Jing had whispered, tears slipping down his face. “What are we?”

---

Liang Jingmin eventually got the location.

By the time he reached the hospital on the eastern edge of the city, the sun was setting. It was likely another jab from Yulin, forcing Liang to traverse all of Xijing in a torturous journey.

The private hospital was serene, its single-patient rooms polished and new. Unlike the usual chaos of hospitals, the hallways here radiated a calming warmth, adorned with plush toys hanging outside many doors. But Liang Jingmin stood out, his pale face and heavy breaths disrupting the tranquility.

No one dared stop him as he stormed into the room. Inside, Yulin’s assistant stood by the bed, flanked by two towering bodyguards outside. None managed to block Liang.

Panting, Liang burst into the room like a shadow breaking through dawn, a jarring presence in the quiet space.

On the bed sat a frail figure—Cheng Jing.

Six months had passed, and he looked unfamiliar.

His hair was longer now, tied loosely at the back. The dyed black strands hadn’t fully grown out, leaving a peculiar gradient: snowy white at the roots, fading into black at the ends. It should have looked odd, but instead, it lent him a strange gentleness.

Cheng Jing’s sickly pallor was even more striking under the contrast of his dark hair. He was frighteningly thin, his cheeks hollow, and his eyes framed by heavy shadows—evidence of sleepless nights.

Liang Jingmin had imagined their reunion many times, but not like this—not this shell of the person he once knew.

Anguish clenched his heart as he barked at Yulin’s assistant, “Get out.”

The assistant, having anticipated this, quickly obeyed.

Cheng Jing slowly looked up, the movement stiff, like a rusty machine struggling to function.

When their eyes met, Cheng’s brows furrowed slightly, his light-colored pupils trembling as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The realization dawned slowly, and his expression crumbled into pain.

So it’s true, he thought. Everything he didn’t want to believe—how Liang Jingmin had betrayed him—was real.

Despite his illness, Cheng Jing was still heartbreakingly beautiful, every fleeting glance radiating a charm that was hard to ignore. But Liang Jingmin couldn’t bear to look at him, the sight of his fragile body cutting into him like thorns.

His gaze wandered instead, taking in the room: the green shade of the trees outside the window, the pale blue walls, the half-drawn curtains letting in the soft evening light.

But when his eyes drifted back to Cheng, something made him freeze in shock.

Under the light blanket covering Cheng’s lap, there was an unmistakable curve—a gentle but undeniable swell at his abdomen.

Liang Jingmin’s hands trembled, his legs almost giving out beneath him.

Cheng Jing rasped his name, his voice raw and hoarse.

His gaze was empty now, void of the earlier confusion or pain. He simply asked, quietly and evenly, “Liang Jingmin, why do you do this to me?”