BSS CH 3

Epilogue

Cheng Jing stopped in his tracks, his eyelids lifting slightly as he curved his lips into an indistinct smile.

When he turned his head, however, he looked perfectly innocent. “Oh? What a coincidence. You’re here too.”

Liang Jingmin tightened his grip around Cheng Jing’s wrist, using nearly all his strength to pull him directly into his arms. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

Cheng Jing loathed being this close to him in public. He struggled, but when he couldn’t break free, he could only glare up at him. Liang Jingmin, utterly unfazed, met his gaze head-on. Tension crackled between them, sharp and hostile, as if they were moments away from an open confrontation.

The atmosphere was delicate, charged with something indescribable.

There was something unreadable in Cheng Jing’s expression. Liang Jingmin felt an unfamiliar sense of loss of control, a guilty hesitation creeping in. He wasn’t sure what Cheng Jing had seen in him just now—but it made him loosen his grip.

Cheng Jing sneered inwardly. Oh, so now he wanted to play the gentleman in front of others?

Throwing caution to the wind, he spoke words he normally wouldn’t dare to say. “So this is why you’re not coming home tonight—out for a romantic rendezvous?”

Predictably, Liang Jingmin smiled to placate him. “What are you talking about? Baby, you’re mistaken.”

Cheng Jing’s lips curved, but the coldness in his eyes never thawed.

“I thought you didn’t like coming to places like this. What changed your mind today?” Liang Jingmin took a step forward, his tone carrying an unspoken pressure.

“And what? I’m not allowed to be here?” Cheng Jing met his gaze fearlessly. “Do I not have the right to go out?”

He lifted his hand, the slim membership card slipping between his index and middle fingers as he tilted it slightly, letting it sway.

Cheng Jing was in a rare mood tonight, outright provoking him. Surprisingly, Liang Jingmin didn’t push back. Maybe he was reminded of what had happened at the club earlier—memories he’d rather not revisit.

Instead, he reached out and draped an arm around Cheng Jing’s shoulders, smoothing things over. “Alright, baby, my fault. I was just about to head home, and look at that—we’re going the same way.”

And just like that, he pulled Cheng Jing out of the club.

---

Leaning against the car window, Cheng Jing watched the rain pour down in sheets.

Not long ago, the sky had been cloudless, and now it was pouring. Xijing’s weather was as unpredictable as ever.

He had grown up in Yue City, which was nothing like Xijing. In Yue City, it rained constantly. Xijing, on the other hand, rarely saw rainy days—which was why, whenever it did rain, it reminded him of home. He stared at the downpour, barely blinking.

His back was to Liang Jingmin, yet he could still feel that burning gaze fixed on him.

“Put your glasses on.” The order came, cool and commanding.

Liang Jingmin was always like this. Even now, when he was no longer his boss, he still acted like he was giving orders.

Normally, Cheng Jing would comply at this point. But tonight, for some reason, he found it all utterly tiresome. “There’s no sun. What’s the point?”

Before he could react, Liang Jingmin had already leaned in, pushing the glasses up to his ears himself. His long lashes cast quiet shadows against his skin.

“I’ll drop you off first. I need to head out again later,” Liang Jingmin said.

He had received a WeChat message from He Peiting just now—a warning. Liang Jingmin was in the wrong tonight, so he had to go back and entertain those so-called friends. Of course, he never explained any of this to Cheng Jing.

But Cheng Jing didn’t hear it that way. The image of the beauty he had glimpsed earlier resurfaced in his mind, connecting the dots with Liang Jingmin’s plans for the night. His mood plummeted.

“Suit yourself.”

Still unsatisfied, he took the glasses off in front of Liang Jingmin and added, “If you’re tired of playing, you can let me go. Liang Jingmin, I promise I won’t cling to you.”

After speaking, Cheng Jing turned his head, coldly watching Liang Jingmin’s reaction. He took his time, deliberately observing the shift in his pupils—knowing full well he held the key to deciphering Liang Jingmin’s ever-changing emotions.

The words he had just spoken were a double-edged sword. He wanted to wound Liang Jingmin, but in doing so, he found himself bleeding just as much.

Cheng Jing stopped in his tracks, lifting his eyelids slightly, his smile unreadable.

When he turned his head, however, he looked utterly innocent. “Oh, you’re here too?”

Liang Jingmin gripped his hand with nearly full strength and, with brazen ease, pulled him into his embrace. “I think that’s a question I should be asking you, don’t you think?”

Cheng Jing disliked being this close to him in public. He struggled but didn’t break free, so he could only glare up at him. Liang Jingmin met his gaze with indifference. Their eyes locked in silent confrontation, tension brimming between them.

The atmosphere was delicate.

Something flickered in Cheng Jing’s gaze—something unreadable. Liang Jingmin felt a rare sense of losing control, a flash of guilt. He couldn’t be sure what Cheng Jing had seen, so he let go.

Cheng Jing sneered inwardly. Of course. He still had to maintain the gentlemanly façade in front of others.

So, he spoke words he wouldn’t normally say, without fear: “So this is why you didn’t come home tonight. Turns out you had another romantic encounter.”

As expected, Liang Jingmin forced a smile. “What are you talking about? Baby, you must be mistaken.”

Cheng Jing’s lips curled up, but his eyes remained cold.

“I thought you didn’t like going out. What made you come here today?” Liang Jingmin took a step closer, his tone carrying an unspoken pressure.

“What, I can’t go out?” Cheng Jing met his gaze fearlessly. “Do I not have the right to be here?”

He lifted his hand, lightly shaking the membership card held between his long fingers.

He was being deliberately provocative tonight. Liang Jingmin, for once, had no desire to argue with him. Perhaps it reminded him of the last time they were at the club—something he didn’t want to relive.

So he wrapped an arm around Cheng Jing’s shoulders, smoothing things over. “Alright, baby, I was wrong. I was just about to head home anyway. Looks like we’re going the same way.”

And with that, he pulled him out of the club.

---

Cheng Jing leaned against the car window, watching the downpour outside.

It had been clear just moments ago, and now the weather had turned. The sky in Xijing was as unpredictable as ever.

Cheng Jing had grown up in Yuecheng, which was nothing like Xijing. Yuecheng rained constantly, while Xijing rarely saw rain at all. So whenever it rained, he couldn’t help but think of home. He stared out, motionless.

His head was turned away from Liang Jingmin, yet he could still feel the searing gaze on him.

“Put on your glasses,” Liang Jingmin ordered coldly.

He was always like this—still acting as if he had the authority to give orders, even though he was no longer Cheng Jing’s boss.

Normally, Cheng Jing would listen at this point. But today, he felt particularly defiant. “There’s no sun. Why would I wear them?”

In the blink of an eye, Liang Jingmin was already leaning in, slipping the glasses onto him. His long lashes lowered quietly.

“I’ll drop you off first. I need to head out later,” Liang Jingmin said.

The real reason was that He Peiting had just warned him via WeChat. Liang Jingmin knew he was in the wrong and had to go back and entertain his so-called friends. Of course, he never bothered explaining to Cheng Jing.

But Cheng Jing interpreted it differently. Thinking of the beauty he had caught a glimpse of earlier, linking it to Liang Jingmin’s whereabouts tonight, his mood plummeted.

“Suit yourself,” he said.

Still not satisfied, he deliberately removed the glasses right in front of Liang Jingmin, adding, “If you’re tired of playing, you can let me go. Liang Jingmin, I promise I won’t cling to you.”

He turned his head to look at him coldly, taking pleasure in watching the subtle shifts in his pupils. Liang Jingmin’s emotions were like a kaleidoscope, and Cheng Jing knew exactly how to unlock them.

Saying something like that was a double-edged sword. He wanted to wound Liang Jingmin, but at the same time, he was the one left reeling in pain.

Even though he had steeled himself, seeing Liang Jingmin’s expression darken still left him feeling hollow inside.

“What kind of nonsense are you saying?” Liang Jingmin bit down on Cheng Jing’s lips suddenly, his emotions surging like a tidal wave.

Just like before, “leaving” was the one thing that could never be brought up with Liang Jingmin.

Since he couldn’t see, Cheng Jing allowed himself to give up—let his breathing and emotions slip beyond his control. His beautiful violet eyes were misted over; sorrow didn’t need color to be seen.

Was it because he was a man? Because he couldn’t be allowed the same grievances as a delicate young lady? Was that why he wasn’t permitted to leave—why his unspoken, humiliating affections were used to keep him in this secret, unpresentable role? No, actually, they were married. Lover, wife, husband—it didn’t matter what you called it.

He couldn’t deny that Liang Jingmin’s dominance, his extremity, his refusal to be opposed—all of it had a deadly allure. Like a poisonous, predatory flower. He feared it, despised it, yet still couldn’t stop himself from approaching—until he handed himself over completely.

But at this moment, it all felt meaningless.

The kiss was suffocating. He could almost taste Liang Jingmin’s fury. In his ears, the sound of waves crashing against the shore roared endlessly. If he had another chance, he wished he would never have fallen in love with Liang Jingmin.

Three years of marriage in the lakeside villa had drained Cheng Jing of his fiery emotions. But it didn’t stop him from making up his mind.

By the time they reached the villa, he was completely exhausted. Liang Jingmin carried him into the bedroom and gently tucked him under the blankets.

His sweat-dampened face shimmered under the light. His eyelids slowly lifted. “I hate you.”

Liang Jingmin turned back with a faint smile, reminiscent of the tenderness from when they first met.

“I know,” he said.

---

A rainy winter night made it easy to catch a cold. By nightfall, Cheng Jing had inevitably developed a fever. Liang Jingmin’s late return was a given.

Cheng Jing was already out of bed, curled up on the soft cushion beside the piano. A dismantled remote control lay next to him—the television was well and truly broken.

The butler stood silently, holding a bowl of now-cold medicine, watching him fiddle with the electronics.

Cheng Jing was actually quite skilled at fixing things. Soon, the massive TV was reduced to a pile of scattered parts. Eventually, he gave up.

His fever blurred his mind, his limbs weighed down like lead, his body aching like someone was carving into his bones. Pain had become second nature since being with Liang Jingmin. Cheng Jing had evolved his own defenses.

But recalling that sweltering night took no effort at all.

He had been lying down. It wasn’t his room. His wrist was ice-cold.

His own voice had startled him—it was hoarse, like rusted gears struggling to turn.

“I want a divorce.”

Liang Jingmin’s voice remained as composed as ever. He narrowed his eyes, his elegant smile carrying a dangerous undercurrent. His deep voice was as mesmerizing as always:

“Impossible.”

“Then let’s break up, President Liang, if all you want is that piece of paper—”

Liang Jingmin’s fingers brushed over Cheng Jing’s damp forehead, his touch deceptively gentle. “That will never happen, baby. You’d best not think about it again.”

His bloodshot eyes told a different story.

---

Three years. Every play had its final act. Every book had its last page.

Cheng Jing ended this distorted love cleanly and decisively.

As for the epilogue—

On the bedside table, in his elegant handwriting, Cheng Jing had left a note:

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I’m letting you go—so stop tormenting me.”