BSS CH 27

Secret

Cheng Jing slammed on the brakes. Fortunately, the streets were empty this late at night, allowing him to pause for a brief moment in the middle of the road.

Liang Jingmin had always been a skilled kisser. Every time he pressed against Cheng Jing’s nape and kissed him, it left Cheng Jing weak and powerless to resist. But this time, the kiss was completely unrestrained—chaotic, almost desperate.

It was as if he was trying to claim Cheng Jing entirely, leaving no room for escape. Their lips and teeth clashed, and Cheng Jing was nearly suffocated. His vision blurred into darkness, the world collapsing around him, crumbling into fragments. With the last shred of his reason, he shoved Liang Jingmin away.

A sharp slap landed across Liang Jingmin’s face. Cheng Jing hadn’t used his full strength, but a stark red mark remained.

He wiped his lips harshly and cursed, “Are you out of your mind?!”

Liang Jingmin seemed to sober up slightly, tilting his head with a self-deprecating chuckle.

He really had drunk himself senseless.

The night in Xijing was a deep, murky orange—it was always this color. A single photograph, a cold breath of air, the dim glow of streetlights casting their hazy beams, the worn-out overpasses scattered across the city, the excessively wide roads—all of it painted the unmistakable hues of Xijing.

When Cheng Jing first arrived in Xijing, he couldn’t help but think of Liang Jingmin every time he saw this night sky. He thought of how Liang Jingmin had abandoned everything to return to this very city. He thought of how this city had shaped him.

Leaning back in his seat, Cheng Jing gasped for breath. His lips, stained crimson from their struggle, were the only part of his face carrying a trace of warmth.

He quickly pulled over, switched on the hazard lights, and finally had the clarity to question Liang Jingmin.

Recalling Liang Jingmin’s cryptic words from earlier, suspicion stirred in his chest. He wanted to test him, to push for answers, yet feared that doing so would only bring himself more pain.

Hesitant, he simply shook his head and ordered, “Get in the back seat.”

But Liang Jingmin, unfazed, reached for Cheng Jing’s right hand and murmured, “Wife, I love seeing you all riled up.”

Cheng Jing closed his eyes slowly but didn’t pull his hand away.

Lowering his voice, he coaxed, “What did you just say?”

Liang Jingmin, reeking of alcohol, lowered his head and earnestly repeated, “Wife, I love seeing you—riled—up.”

Cheng Jing’s heart skipped a beat, but he only shook his head and said, “The sentence before that.”

Liang Jingmin pressed a hand to his stomach. “I don’t remember… I feel awful.”

How laughably predictable—just like any overbearing CEO, Liang Jingmin had a weak stomach. Cheng Jing instinctively turned to check if there were any spare meds in the car. He often had stomach troubles himself, and Liang Jingmin’s car was always stocked with medicine.

But just as he was about to reach for it, something made him pause.

Cheng Jing’s voice was quiet. “You feel awful too? Good. Maybe now you’ll understand how much I hurt.”

Liang Jingmin’s other hand refused to stay still, clinging to Cheng Jing’s neck in a lazy, affectionate way. His touch sent a shudder through Cheng Jing, making him grit his teeth, on the verge of snapping—yet he didn’t tell him to stop.

Silently, he studied the drunken mess before him. Even a man as arrogant and twisted as Liang Jingmin had moments of complete helplessness.

“I miss you so much…” Liang Jingmin murmured, his voice slurred.

Cheng Jing raised a brow, repeating softly to himself, “You miss me?”

“I can’t—can’t live like this anymore…”

Suddenly, Liang Jingmin’s brows furrowed in pain, his body curling slightly, as if his heart and stomach were twisting in agony.

“That bastard Liang Yulin—he thinks he’s grown wings, always picking fights with me instead of handling real business… Debt belongs to the debtor, I never owed him anything…!”

“Sometimes I really want to kill him…”

One moment, he was threatening murder against his own brother, and the next, his eyes fluttered shut, his long lashes trembling as if they were shedding invisible tears.

“I’ve failed Cheng Jing. I’ve failed A’Lin. I’ve failed my mother… None of them believe me. None of them believe I really tried, that I really regret…”

He didn’t even seem to be speaking to anyone anymore, his voice growing quieter and quieter, as if hoping some god above would listen to his confession.

Cheng Jing reached out and lifted his chin. “Enough with the nonsense. If you puke in the car, you’ll just blame me for it later.”

Liang Jingmin’s unfocused eyes searched for the voice, finally settling on Cheng Jing’s face. In the dim night, his pallor was almost ghostly—yet he was the most vivid thing in sight.

“Cheng Jing…” He called his name softly.

“Mm.” Cheng Jing gently squeezed the hand that had held his just moments ago, answering just as softly.

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

Cheng Jing’s voice was indifferent, almost careless. “I know. I already regret it more than anything.”

“I looked for you for so long… longer than ever before. You’re the best at hiding, really. After all these years, I searched until I was exhausted… I really did.”

Cheng Jing scoffed, lips curling in mockery. “I should thank you, actually. If you hadn’t spent years hunting me down, I wouldn’t have known I had such talent for running.”

“I searched for you for so long…”

“Then stop looking. Let me go.”

Cheng Jing replied absentmindedly, his gaze lingering on Liang Jingmin’s long lashes, imagining a delicate butterfly resting upon them.

But the moment those words left his lips, they struck a nerve. Liang Jingmin’s head suddenly lifted, his eyes bloodshot and feral. He spat out, “Never. That will never happen.”

“Why? Why won’t you let me go?” Cheng Jing frowned, his voice carrying a rare trace of disbelief.

“Because…” Liang Jingmin seemed dazed again, as if admitting this was harder than enduring the pain of losing him.

He was struggling, shrinking inward, as though the knife piercing his heart was one he had turned upon himself.

His breath was ragged, each inhale revealing his suffering.

Finally, he whispered, “Because… I love you.”

“My heart hurts so much. Being with you—it’s driving me insane.”

He lifted his gaze, and through the haze of intoxication, his strikingly beautiful eyes were veiled in a soft, fragile mist.

Cheng Jing was taken aback. So even Liang Jingmin had moments of vulnerability—it was almost unlike him.

“Cheng Jing,” he pleaded, like a drowning man grasping at his last lifeline. “Say you love me.”

The demand was absurd. No one could guess what was going through Liang Jingmin’s mind as he forced out those words.

Cheng Jing suspected it was just another cruel joke, another trick at his expense. But perhaps, in his drunken state, Liang Jingmin had simply grown tired of hearing Cheng Jing say he hated him.

Perhaps, for once, he just wanted to hear “I love you.”

Cheng Jing trembled slightly. “Do I not love you?” His voice was quiet, but bitter. “I’ve already given everything I have to love you. But the more I love you, the more it hurts. Liang Jingmin, hating you… is the only way I know how to survive.”

Liang Jingmin spoke in a voice drained of strength, murmuring, “It’s my fault. From the very beginning, it was all my fault… Cheng Jing, I’ve always regretted it—regretted lying to you, regretted marrying you, regretted letting you meet Liang Yulin, regretted letting him see through me…”

Cheng Jing struggled to steady his breathing and asked in a barely audible voice, “Liang Jingmin, are you confessing to me?”

Liang Jingmin didn’t answer.

“I don’t understand you,” Cheng Jing continued, his voice growing quieter. “Liang Jingmin, your actions and your words don’t belong to the same person. After everything you’ve done, what’s the point of saying all this now?”

Liang Jingmin seemed as if he hadn’t heard a word.

After a long silence, he suddenly turned and pulled Cheng Jing into his arms. His breath ghosted over Cheng Jing’s ear. “Just go, Cheng Jing…”

“If you hate this child, I’ll raise them myself. As long as you’re alive, that’s enough for me. I used to think I couldn’t live without you by my side, but that day, when I saw you lying on the hospital bed, pale as a sheet… I finally understood—I just need you to live.”

“I know you hate me, but I never meant to hurt you. As for the past, I don’t expect you to remember my explanations. You always choose to hold onto the memories that fit your own version of events…”

His voice grew softer and softer, and Cheng Jing, who had been listening in silence, finally shut his eyes, unable to bear it any longer.

So, the man who once trampled on his youthful love with calculated cruelty… never believed that he truly loved him?

How laughable.

So all these years, they had been living the same kind of hell?

How did it end up like this?

Whenever his heartbeat turned erratic, Cheng Jing would press his wrist and start counting. From the moment he closed his eyes, he silently counted to ten. But when he reached eight, Liang Jingmin’s phone began vibrating uncontrollably.

A sharp pain stabbed through Cheng Jing’s head. He quickly searched Liang Jingmin’s pockets and fished out his phone, seeing “Auntie Wang” displayed on the screen.

She was probably worried since they had taken too long. Cheng Jing hated answering calls, so he simply sent a text to reassure her.

On impulse, he suddenly realized—he had never once checked Liang Jingmin’s phone.

What kind of “wife” was he, with absolutely no authority?

Holding the phone, he tilted Liang Jingmin’s face toward the screen. The facial recognition unlocked instantly.

But they had been parked on the roadside for too long. Feeling uneasy, he shoved the phone into his coat pocket, started the car, and drove toward the villa.

When he finally hauled the dead-drunk Liang Jingmin into the bedroom and dumped him onto the bed, Cheng Jing unlocked the phone again.

Thin fingers gripped the sleek device as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window. The night outside was pitch black, reflecting his fragile, paper-thin silhouette.

Beyond the dazzling façade of high society, Liang Jingmin’s private life was actually quite empty. His phone still had the default system wallpaper, no entertainment apps, and his personal WeChat, corporate email, and work software were flooded with unread notifications, all showing “99+” in red.

Cheng Jing scrolled through his apps first. As expected, the villa’s full surveillance system and his old phone’s tracking software were installed. But the logs hadn’t been updated in a long time—surprisingly, his new phone seemed untouched.

He opened the search engine. Liang Jingmin had private browsing fully enabled—his history and searches were wiped clean. Whether it was paranoia or an ingrained lack of security, he didn’t even trust his own phone.

Next, Cheng Jing opened the work apps. The sheer number of scattered workgroup chats made his eyes ache—mostly legitimate work discussions, coordination, and a mess of approval requests.

After a long dive into Liang Jingmin’s phone, Cheng Jing found nothing.

He frowned slightly, a little dissatisfied.

Finally, he tapped on WeChat.

Even before he could see the contents, his heartbeat pounded violently in his chest, as if his body had already predicted what he was about to find.

Sure enough, before he could check any other unread messages, his eyes landed on Liang Jingmin’s only pinned chat—the one at the very top.

Its name?

“Cheng Jing.”

The profile picture was strangely familiar—an old, abandoned WeChat account of his. The avatar was still that simple doodle of a white-haired man in a suit.

Cheng Jing reached out to tap the chat window.

But before his fingers could touch the screen, a low, icy voice rang out behind him.

“What are you doing?”