YMW CH 45

It’s Over.

Xie Guilan held on too tightly. Cen Wu tried to struggle, but Xie Guilan’s palm pressed firmly against the back of his head, locking him in place against his chest—no room to move, no chance to turn away.

Cen Wu’s pale cheeks flushed red, almost dripping with heat. Forced to press tightly against Xie Guilan’s chest, he could feel the scorching rise and fall of lean muscle beneath his clothes, his mind buzzing in chaos.

He kicked Xie Guilan a few times, hard, but the arms around him didn’t loosen. Instead, they tightened further.

What kind of disobedient little dog was this, biting the hand that fed it? If it refused to obey, maybe it wasn’t worth keeping.

He hadn’t even noticed Xie Shangjing standing just a few steps behind him, watching with bloodshot eyes. The sharp features of Xie Shangjing’s strikingly beautiful face were twisted with violent rage, veins bulging at his temple as he stared them down.

Maybe he had lost his mind. He had always known Cen Wu hired male models, always known Cen Wu was entangled with countless others, yet he had never felt jealousy before.

But now—now, it burned through him like wildfire, scorching his very bones. He wanted to kill Xie Guilan, tear him apart, rip those hands from his body.

He had never held Cen Wu like this.

What right did Xie Guilan have?

Xie Guilan lifted his head. The high bridge of his nose cast shadows beneath the dim, cold lighting. Light and darkness clashed over his brooding, stormy face, and his black, depthless eyes were swallowed in the gloom.

His arms tightened, inch by inch, encircling Cen Wu’s frame like an unyielding trap. He locked eyes with Xie Shangjing, engaging in a silent standoff.

Neither backed down.

Blood rushed to Xie Shangjing’s head, nearly overwhelming his reason. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from lunging at Xie Guilan. His face darkened as he took deep breaths, but in the end, he still couldn’t hold back. He lifted a foot, ready to march over—only to be yanked back by Xie Mingcheng’s secretary.

Xie Mingcheng couldn’t afford a full-blown fallout with the Cen family. He adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses, turned to the Cen family with a dry, absurd smile, and didn’t offer a single word of explanation.

But the moment he turned away, his expression darkened completely. Holding back his fury, he ordered the secretary beside him, “Get that beast back here.”

“Yes, President Xie,” the secretary stammered, too afraid to breathe loudly. “I’ll go immediately.”

This was getting out of hand.

If the Xie family and the Cen family broke ties, Huai Jing would be turned upside down. No one would escape unscathed. Yet as the secretary stood up to leave, his footsteps faltered. Swallowing his fear, he asked in a trembling voice, “P-President Xie… Should I summon the eldest young master or the second young master?”

When Cen Wu and Xie Shangjing had been arguing, they hadn’t noticed Xie Guilan. But from this side, everything had been clear. They saw Cen Wu slap Xie Shangjing before storming backstage—and Xie Guilan following close behind.

Cen Wu got delayed for a few minutes by a group of high school performers. Xie Guilan reached backstage first.

There was no doubt—he had gone to find Cen Wu.

If Xie Mingcheng hadn’t spoken, the secretary wouldn’t have even known which one he was calling a beast.

Xie Mingcheng’s face, already dark, twisted into full-blown fury. His voice was cold and sharp. “Bring them both.”

The secretary nearly tripped over himself running out. He searched high and low before finally spotting Xie Shangjing. Seeing his murderous expression, about to make a move, the secretary quickly grabbed him and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “Young Master, President Xie is looking for you.”

Xie Shangjing froze in his tracks.

Xie Mingcheng had too many illegitimate sons—Xie Guilan wasn’t the only one who posed a threat to his position.

Before, he would have prioritized appeasing Xie Mingcheng. He was the first son, officially acknowledged, and favored above all others. He couldn’t afford to lose that favor.

But tonight…

Cen Wu had called him worse than a dog, had been too ashamed to even raise his voice while cursing at him. And yet—why should he be the one to hold back? What was he afraid of?

For the first time, he didn’t want to leave.

“Young Master,” the secretary pleaded. “President Xie is furious. We should go back.”

Xie Shangjing didn’t budge. But he also didn’t dare call for Xie Guilan. Meeting Xie Guilan’s deep, pitch-black gaze gave him the unsettling feeling of being watched by a predator in the dark.

His chest rose and fell sharply. He didn’t know how long he stood there, his legs beginning to go numb, before finally swallowing his rage and turning to leave.

The secretary hurried after him.

Xie Guilan’s thin lips pressed together before he finally let go of Cen Wu.

Cen Wu’s face was bright red. He shoved at Xie Guilan’s chest, his long curls falling over his pale shoulders. The strap of his dress had been dragged askew.

Ungrateful brat.

Not only did he want to be a model—now he wanted to be someone’s dog?

Everything about him was a mess. Frustrated, humiliated, but staring into Xie Guilan’s dark, moody eyes, he caught a flicker of something… downcast. The anger drained from him. He couldn’t bring himself to scold him anymore.

He hesitated, then leaned in, cupping Xie Guilan’s face and gently rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks. Stammering, he asked, “D-Do you… do you know how a little dog barks?”

“…How?” Xie Guilan lifted his heavy-lidded eyes, gripping Cen Wu’s wrist. The bridge of his nose brushed against Cen Wu’s palm, like a restless, untamed dog sniffing its owner’s hand.

Cen Wu’s fingertips twitched. His hand itched to slap someone again. Why was everyone so damn aggravating?

The tips of his ears slowly turned red. He glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then curled his fingers and, bracing against the sheer humiliation, let out a tiny whisper:

“…Awooo.”

Cen Wu closed his eyes for a moment after making the sound.

It was over. In this life, he had truly become a man’s dog.

Xie Guilan: “…”

Xie Guilan’s thin lips curved slightly. Cen Wu leaned in again to appease him, rubbing against him and letting out soft, playful whimpers. Xie Guilan’s dark, almond-shaped eyes narrowed in amusement, and he couldn’t hold back a low chuckle.

Cen Wu pounced on him, intending to jump and run away immediately, but Xie Guilan hooked his leg and lifted him up into his arms.

The hold was steady, and Xie Guilan even took the time to gather up the hem of his dress.

“…” Cen Wu was startled. He struggled immediately, his embarrassment so overwhelming that he couldn’t lift his head. “What… what are you doing?”

He didn’t even want to imagine how humiliating it would be if someone saw this. In all his years, this was the first time he had been carried in a princess hold.

“What else could I be doing?” Xie Guilan’s deep red lips curled into a smirk. Though his posture was relaxed, he showed no intention of putting Cen Wu down. With a touch of mischief, he murmured, “I’m taking the young lady to change clothes.”

“I… I can walk by myself.” Terrified of being seen, Cen Wu buried his entire face in Xie Guilan’s shoulder, leaving only the tips of his ears—red as dripping blood—exposed. His legs kicked in protest.

What was with all this carrying?

Where did he get all this unnecessary strength?

Xie Guilan’s fingertips, slightly calloused, brushed against the soft flesh of Cen Wu’s calf, sending an involuntary shiver through him. Cen Wu instantly fell quiet.

Fortunately, the backstage area was nearly empty. The event was down to the final award presentation and the principal’s closing speech. Except for a few people who had no interest in returning to their seats, most had gone back to their class sections.

Somehow, they didn’t run into anyone along the way.

Xie Guilan set Cen Wu down on the dressing room counter and immediately started undoing the silk ribbons of his dress.

Cen Wu assumed Xie Guilan, as before, would simply untie the ribbons and then let him change on his own. But to his shock, Xie Guilan didn’t leave. Instead, he held onto his shoulders and continued undressing him. Cen Wu’s mind went completely blank. Under the dress, he wore nothing but a pair of briefs beneath the skirt support.

“…” Cen Wu pressed down on his hands. “Xie Guilan—”

“Young master,” Xie Guilan lowered his gaze, his voice husky enough to make one’s spine tingle. Brushing away the stray locks of hair on Cen Wu’s face, he asked softly, “Has anyone ever helped you change clothes before?”

“N-No…” Cen Wu could feel Xie Guilan’s arms encircling his waist, long fingers slipping beneath the fabric to unfasten the underskirt. Though Xie Guilan wasn’t touching him inappropriately, the brush of cool knuckles against his skin sent a shiver up his spine.

How did things end up like this?

He had no idea how he and Xie Guilan had reached this point.

Nervously, he lifted his eyes and, lacking any sense of dignity, said, “My parents helped me change when I was a kid… does that count?”

“It doesn’t,” Xie Guilan rasped.

Even though Cen Wu had slapped someone earlier, Xie Guilan wasn’t the first person he had hit. But he was the first person to change Cen Wu’s clothes.

Cen Wu actually sensed a bit of pleasure from Xie Guilan. Not the cold and detached kind, nor one laced with malice—just a quiet, genuine kind of happiness.

All because he said no one else had ever helped him change before.

Brother, are you okay?

Cen Wu felt a little afraid. Xie Guilan’s eyes were still dark and cold, his handsome face unreadable, but there was an undercurrent of suppressed madness. Even Secretary Xie from earlier hadn’t dared to call out to him.

Cen Wu didn’t dare resist, fearing that Xie Guilan might grow even more unhinged.

Besides, in the boys’ changing room, it was common for guys to strip down to just their underwear before putting on new clothes. They were all men, built the same way—no one cared.

And anyway, back at the hospital, Xie Guilan had already helped him before. Forget changing clothes—he had seen things he shouldn’t have, touched things he shouldn’t have, more times than Cen Wu could count.

With a sense of resigned defeat, Cen Wu let go of his grip and allowed Xie Guilan to fully remove his dress. The pale, well-proportioned lines of his body were exposed under the dim light. Xie Guilan’s dark lashes lowered slightly before he took off his own suit jacket and wrapped it around Cen Wu. His voice was hoarse. “I’ll go get your clothes.”

There were too many people changing into performance outfits tonight, so their belongings were locked in a cabinet outside.

Once Xie Guilan left, Cen Wu instinctively pulled the jacket tighter around himself, covering his burning face.

Xie Guilan hadn’t been trying to take advantage of him. He had genuinely just wanted to help him change.

Cen Wu didn’t even know how to be mad about it.

This was redefining straight male behavior.

Did straight guys really enjoy dressing other men?

He seriously doubted it. If he hadn’t already been wearing underwear, Xie Guilan probably would’ve tried to put that on him too.

Xie Guilan returned shortly with his clothes. Cen Wu sat there, his expression numb, as he let Xie Guilan help him get dressed. Xie Guilan even knelt to put on his shoes, carefully tying the laces as if dressing a beloved doll.

Cen Wu felt thoroughly defiled.

Apart from his backside, there was nothing Xie Guilan hadn’t seen.

He had sacrificed so much for this man.

By the time the event officially ended, people had begun to leave. First-year and third-year students were heading home with their parents, while second-year students had to stay behind to clean up the stage and auditorium.

This was a long-standing tradition at Huaijing No. 1 High. Every year, no matter the event, the second-years always did the most work. Stuck between the busy third-years preparing for exams and the still-young first-years, they had no choice but to take on the responsibility. Even the homeroom teachers stayed to supervise.

After changing, Cen Wu and Xie Guilan went outside to help clean up. The stage was littered with golden confetti and flowers thrown by the audience. Cen Wu swept a few times before nudging Xie Guilan. “Go take out the trash.”

Xie Guilan’s phone had been vibrating nonstop, but he ignored it. He knew it was probably messages from Song Lingwei.

After leaving school, Song Lingwei had taken a cab back to the hospital. Huaijing had been seeing heavy rains this year, and water splashed against the windows as she stared at the dark, overcast sky. A sudden chill crept up her spine, and she pulled her coat tighter around herself.

She had always hated rainy days the most.

That night, over a decade ago, when the storm raged on, she had handed her child over to the Cen family. Afraid of being discovered by Guan Xingxue, she had fled as soon as the rescue team arrived, taking Xie Guilan with her and leaving the mountains.

She had settled in a small town, where doctors told her that conceiving again had already been a miracle—she would never be able to have another child.

If she could no longer see Cen Wu, then Xie Guilan was the only child she had left.

She raised Xie Guilan properly—so wouldn’t Guan Xingxue also raise her child well?

But aside from serving drinks, she had no other skills, and her health was poor. She couldn’t do physical labor, and supporting a child alone was too difficult. In the end, through an introduction, she married a man.

His name was Chen Weiguo. At best, his looks were ordinary, but he was tall and worked at an auto repair shop.

At first, Chen Weiguo treated her well and even liked Xie Guilan a lot. The child was known for being smart, and with his sharp mind, people in town often said Xie Guilan could pass as Chen Weiguo’s biological son. Song Lingwei knew exactly what men wanted to hear, so she played along.

That only made Chen Weiguo like Xie Guilan more.

Song Lingwei thought they could live like that for the rest of their lives. But when Xie Guilan turned three, Chen Weiguo suddenly started staying out late. When he did come home, he reeked of smoke, alcohol, and cheap perfume.

Gambling. Prostitutes.

Song Lingwei felt wronged and cried as she fought with him. She had believed Chen Weiguo would hold back, but instead, he pinned her to the couch and slapped her hard across the face.

His large, calloused hand struck her so forcefully that her mouth filled with the taste of blood.

“You filthy whore—how dare you talk back to me?!” Chen Weiguo wiped his bloodstained fingers on his pants and spat at her. “Can’t even give me a damn kid, but you’re sure good at spending my money!”

He had never been particularly handsome, but as Xie Guilan grew older, he became strikingly good-looking—with a fair complexion and a pair of stunning, almond-shaped eyes. No matter who saw him, they would think he didn’t belong in that grimy, broken-down tenement building.

People stopped saying Xie Guilan resembled Chen Weiguo.

The words no longer felt like a compliment. Instead, they were a slap in Chen Weiguo’s face.

He had always known about Song Lingwei’s past in Huai Jing, where she had worked as a hostess. He had some resentment about it—but Song Lingwei was too beautiful. In his entire life, he had never met a woman as stunning as her.

So, despite his hesitation, he had married her.

But he hadn’t expected her to be infertile. Three years of marriage, and she had never once conceived.

They argued constantly over Xie Guilan. When the abuse became unbearable, Song Lingwei thought about abandoning him.

One snowy night, she took three-year-old Xie Guilan out, told him she was going to buy him a treat, then left him at the entrance of an orphanage in a neighboring city.

Xie Guilan didn’t move. His small, pale face remained expressionless, his dark eyes staring quietly ahead. He simply stood there and waited.

Song Lingwei’s heart pounded. She turned and ran toward the train station, afraid that Xie Guilan might follow her.

But just as she boarded the train, she spotted a tiny figure chasing after it on the platform.

Through the fogged-up window, she saw the child running desperately to keep up—until he tripped and fell.

Her tears fell instantly.

She shot up from her seat, intending to get off. But the train had just reached the station, and in those days, the old green train cars were packed tight with people hauling heavy luggage.

She was too frail to push through.

“Move! Please move!” Song Lingwei’s eyes were red, her face pale as she struggled against the crowd. The train was about to leave, but the small child still stood alone on the platform.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she cried out, “Please, my child hasn’t gotten on yet!”

People on the train, thinking she had lost her child, quickly made way for her.

Song Lingwei rushed off the train—only to realize the child wasn’t Xie Guilan.

She wiped her tears away, turned, and ran out of the station. The deep winter night was bitterly cold, and as the train slowly pulled away, its cars brushed past her.

Xie Guilan waited at the orphanage’s entrance until nearly 3 AM. His tiny hands had long since gone numb from the cold when he finally saw Song Lingwei walking toward him, wiping away tears.

She took off her scarf and wrapped it around him, then picked him up. Her eyes were swollen and red, but she forced a smile.

“Mommy was late. Were you scared, little Lan?”

The child shook his head.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Song Lingwei held him close and took him back with her.

Aside from that one time she abandoned him, Xie Guilan never thought she was any different from other mothers.

She worried when he was sick and stayed up all night by his side. When Chen Weiguo lashed out in violence, she shielded him with her own body—enduring the blows just to keep him safe.

For a few months after that, Chen Weiguo calmed down, and Song Lingwei thought they could go back to how things were.

Then, one afternoon during lunch, everything changed.

Xie Guilan was at kindergarten that day, so only she and Chen Weiguo were home.

Chen Weiguo insisted on watching the news while eating. The television showed a case about a child trafficking ring, where authorities had sentenced one of the traffickers to six years in prison.

Song Lingwei’s face went deathly pale. She endured it for a long time but eventually couldn’t hold back.

She said softly, “Do we have to watch this while eating? Can’t we change the channel to something else?”

Chen Weiguo glanced at her. At first, he didn’t want to argue, so he reached for the remote.

But when his gaze met hers, he noticed the flicker of unease in her eyes.

He narrowed his eyes sharply and suddenly sneered.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked.

“Unless… the kid isn’t even yours?”