The glow from the laptop cast sharp shadows on Zhiyuan's face as he pieced together the timeline. "It's clear now. There's something in that room. When I first joined the company and asked about opening it, Uncle Shuren was the one who insisted it stay sealed. 'Keep it as a memorial,' he said. 'A sacred space for your father's memory.' At the time, I thought it was just sentimental, maybe superstitious. I didn't think much of it." He closed the laptop, the room dimming. "But now, after finding out he was the one poisoning me… I realize he probably wanted that door shut forever so I'd never find what's inside. Something that could incriminate him further."
Yichen listened intently, his mind racing. "But the thing is," he pointed out, "your uncle is in jail now. He can't be the one tampering with the footage now."
A heavy silence followed. Yichen shifted on the edge of the bed, gathering his courage. "Zhiyuan… don't mind me saying this, but… your aunt Ruifen. I suspect her."
Zhiyuan's head turned sharply.
Yichen held up his hands defensively. "I just… I can't help it. I get a snake vibe from her. No offense, okay? She looks… fake to me. Everything is too perfect, too sweet. And suddenly, right when you start digging into your father's past, she's the one pushing for this 'important' business trip to get you out of the country. It feels off. Really off."
Zhiyuan didn't dismiss him outright. He leaned back, staring at the ornate hotel ceiling. "I can't blame her without evidence," he said slowly, his voice thoughtful. "But you're right. I can't trust her either. Not anymore. Not after Shuren." A new resolve hardened his features. "I'll have some discreet eyes put on her. If she's the snake, she'll go to that room again. She'll want to find or destroy whatever is there before I do."
Yichen nodded, a sense of grim satisfaction mixing with his worry. They were on the same page, working as a team again, even amidst the personal awkwardness.
Meanwhile, across the city, the atmosphere was a world away.
The club was a sensory overload of pounding bass, swirling colored lights, and a sea of moving bodies. Xiao Xue, who had lived her life in a bubble of controlled elegance, was in heaven. The initial nervousness had melted away after one surprisingly strong cocktail. She was laughing, dancing without any of her mother's prescribed grace, her hair coming loose from its updo.
"Miss Zhang, come on! Dance with me!" she shouted over the music, grabbing the assistant's stiff hands.
Miss Zhang, utterly out of her element, was a statue of discomfort in her sensible cardigan. But as Xiao Xue pulled her into the crowd, swaying their joined hands and laughing with unbridled joy, something shifted. The sheer, infectious freedom of it was hard to resist. Xiao Xue twirled, bumping playfully into her, and Miss Zhang found herself smiling a real, unguarded smile.
When Xiao Xue leaned in close to be heard, her breath tickling Miss Zhang's ear, the assistant felt a blush bloom hot across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the club's heat. Xiao Xue, noticing the blush, just grinned wider and looped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the rhythm of the music.
"See? Fun!" Xiao Xue yelled, her eyes sparkling under the strobe lights.
Miss Zhang, for the first time in perhaps a decade, wasn't thinking about schedules, contracts, or protocols. She was just trying not to trip over her own feet, her heart beating in time with the bass, acutely aware of the heiress's arm around her. In the chaotic, liberated heart of the Hong Kong night, two more people were stepping out of their assigned roles, discovering new and confusing feelings amidst the noise and the neon.
Back in the quiet hotel room, the mood was different but no less charged. Yichen handed Zhiyuan his evening dose of the new, harmless vitamins the doctor had prescribed, his eyes full of unconcealed concern.
"Here. Drink all the water," he instructed softly. Then, trying to sound casual, he added, "Um… wanna go out for a walk? Some fresh air might make you feel better. Clear your head."
Zhiyuan, who had been staring into space, thought for a moment. The walls of the room were starting to feel close again. He nodded. "Okay."
They changed into simple, comfortable clothes Zhiyuan in dark trousers and a soft sweater, Yichen in jeans and a hoodie and slipped out into the cool Hong Kong night. They found a small, peaceful park near the hotel, a green oasis amidst the towering skyscrapers.
Yichen walked beside him, a quiet happiness bubbling inside him just from being near Zhiyuan without anger or walls between them. He found himself giggling softly to himself whenever their hands accidentally brushed as they walked. His mind raced, trying to think of something light to talk about, to break the comfortable silence.
"So, the weather here is—" he started, just as a loud, heartbroken wail cut through the quiet.
A little boy, no more than five, was sobbing while his two friends pointed helplessly up into the branches of a tall tree. A well-loved, stuffed rabbit doll was caught high up in the branches.
Yichen didn't hesitate. He veered off their path and crouched down to the child's level. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Through hiccuping sobs, the kids explained they'd been playing and accidentally threw the doll too far.
Yichen looked up at the doll, then at the tree, then back at the tear-stained little face. A determined smile spread across his lips. He pointed to the sturdiest lower branch. "Alright, champ. Get on my shoulders."
Before the kid could protest, Yichen hoisted him up, settling him securely on his shoulders. "Now, reach for it! You can do it!"
From a few steps away, Zhiyuan watched. He saw the careful strength in Yichen's hands as he held the child steady, the encouraging grin on his face, the way the little boy's tears turned to a triumphant giggle as his small fingers closed around the beloved doll. A warm, unfamiliar feeling spread through Zhiyuan's chest. He watched Yichen gently lower the boy back to the ground, receiving a wobbly but grateful "Thank you, mister!"
In that moment, an unbidden thought flashed in Zhiyuan's mind: He'd be a good father. The image was so sudden, so vivid and tender, that it made his own heart stutter unexpectedly in his chest. He looked away, confused by the intensity of the feeling.
Yichen, mission accomplished, sauntered back to Zhiyuan, puffing his chest out slightly, a proud, I'm so cool grin on his face. "See? Community service."
Zhiyuan looked at him, the warm feeling still lingering, but a more practical observation won out. He nodded solemnly. "Very heroic. Your fly is open."
The proud grin vanished. Yichen's eyes went wide. He looked down. Indeed, the zipper on his jeans was gaping wide open, having likely come undone when he lifted the child.
"Oh, shit ugh!" he stammered, frantically yanking the zipper up, his ears turning bright red with embarrassment. He'd wanted to look like a cool, capable hero. Instead, he'd just provided a full view of his boxer shorts to a park full of strangers and the man he was trying to impress.
Zhiyuan watched his frantic fumbling, and for the first time in days, a genuine, quiet laugh escaped him. It was just a soft huff of air, but it was real. He turned and started walking further down the path, a slight, amused shake to his shoulders.
Yichen, now properly zipped but thoroughly mortified, hurried after him. The cool hero was gone, replaced by a flustered, lovestruck fool. But as he caught up to Zhiyuan and saw the faint trace of a smile still on his lips, he decided the embarrassment was a small price to pay.
Back at the hotel suite, a different kind of scene was unfolding. Miss Zhang had managed to get a very giggly, very drunk Xiao Xue back to their room and was trying to guide her to the bed.
"Come on, Miss Li, just lie down," Miss Zhang said, her professional tone softened with amusement.
Xiao Xue flopped onto the mattress but immediately grabbed the front of Miss Zhang's cardigan, pulling her down so their faces were close. Her eyes, glassy but sincere, searched the assistant's face. "You're cute. I like you. We can be besties," she declared, her words slurred but heartfelt.
Miss Zhang's cheeks flushed a deep pink. She gently pried Xiao Xue's fingers loose and straightened up, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. "You're very drunk, Miss Li."
But as she turned to get a glass of water, she heard a quiet, broken sob. She looked back. Xiao Xue had curled into a ball, tears suddenly streaming down her face.
"Don't you want to be my friend?" she whispered, the drunken confidence gone, replaced by a raw, childhood loneliness. "No one wants to be my friends. Why? Am I that bad?"
The sudden vulnerability pierced through Miss Zhang's professional reserve. All she saw was a lonely, over-pressured young woman, not an heiress. She hurried back to the bed, sitting on the edge. "No, no, don't cry, please," she said softly, reaching out to wipe a tear from Xiao Xue's cheek with her thumb. "You're not bad at all."
Xiao Xue sniffled, looking up at her with hopeful, watery eyes. "Then be my friend. We'll have so much fun."
Miss Zhang's heart melted. She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Okay. Fine. I'll be your friend."
Xiao Xue's face lit up with a wobbly, brilliant smile before she promptly passed out, clutching Miss Zhang's hand. The assistant sat there for a long moment, holding the hand of her new, very drunk "bestie," feeling a connection she hadn't expected.
After a final day in Hong Kong filled with more of Xiao Xue's enthusiastic (and now friend-guided) shopping, the group flew to Singapore. The hotel rooms were arranged identically a shared suite for Zhiyuan and Xiao Xue, with separate rooms for Yichen and Miss Zhang nearby.
In the Singapore suite, Zhiyuan was already feeling worse. The flight had left him pale and drained. While Xiao Xue happily unpacked her new purchases and began her elaborate night routine, Zhiyuan sat propped against the headboard with his laptop, his brow furrowed.
He pulled up the remote feed for his father's office hallway. And there it was again the same telltale digital skip in the footage, at a time when the office should have been undisturbed.
Frustrated, he called his kind aunt, Liang Xinyi, whom he'd asked to discreetly watch Ruifen.
"Auntie, any movement?"
"Zhiyuan,I was with Ruifen in her charity office almost the whole day today. I just left her there. She couldn't have gone to the company headquarters. Are you sure it's her?"
Zhiyuan's confusion deepened. "If it's not her… then who?" His mind, foggy with fatigue, scrambled.
"Maybe I should keep an eye on your other uncle, Zhaoxi," Aunt Xinyi suggested gently. "What if he's the one going there? He's always been a follower, not a leader. He could be acting on someone else's orders now that Shuren is gone."
The web of suspicion seemed to grow larger, not smaller. Zhiyuan sighed, a wave of exhaustion hitting him. "I'm sorry, Auntie, for troubling you with all this. Don't worry, you can go back and rest. I'll ask someone else to look into it."
"Nonsense," she said firmly, her voice warm. "No trouble at all. I'll always be here for you whenever you need me. You get some rest, you sound tired."
He managed a small, grateful smile before hanging up. As soon as the call ended, the smile vanished. A familiar, worrying tightness banded around his chest. He rubbed his temples, the headache returning with a vengeance, and leaned back heavily against the headboard, closing his eyes.
Xiao Xue, coming out of the bathroom in her silk pajamas, noticed his pallor and strained expression. "Zhiyuan? Are you okay?"
He didn't open his eyes. "Maybe I'm just tired from the flight," he murmured, his voice weak. Without another word, he pushed the laptop away, slid down under the covers, and turned his back to the room, seeking escape in sleep from the physical discomfort and the spiraling, unsolved mystery that seemed to have no end.
The night in the Singapore hotel was long and suffocating for Zhiyuan. Lying still in the dark, every slight ache amplified. The tightness in his chest wasn't the sharp panic of withdrawal anymore it was a deep, persistent pressure, a constant, worrisome companion. He fought the instinctual craving for the old pills, the chemical promise of numbness. He knew he didn't have them, and he shouldn't want them, but his body was a traitor, screaming for relief.
He couldn't take it anymore. With a stifled gasp, he threw the covers off and sat up, one hand pressed hard over his heart as if he could physically hold the discomfort inside. He stumbled out of the bed, moving as quietly as he could in the dark.
The movement, slight as it was, woke Xiao Xue. She blinked sleepily, seeing his silhouette leave the room. Concern immediately chased away her drowsiness. Is he sick again? She slipped out of bed and padded to the slightly ajar door of their suite.
Peeking out into the dimly lit hallway, she saw him stop a few doors down. He was standing in front of Yichen's room, his posture hunched, one arm wrapped around his own torso. He looked pale even in the low light, his breathing visibly shallow and rapid.
He raised a trembling hand and knocked, a soft, urgent sound.
The door opened almost immediately, as if Yichen had been awake and waiting. Yichen stood there, hair ruffled from sleep, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants.
What happened next made Xiao Xue's breath catch in her throat.
Zhiyuan didn't speak. He didn't wait for an invitation. The moment the door opened, he practically fell forward, his arms going around Yichen's waist, burying his face against his bare chest in a desperate, clinging hug.
Xiao Xue froze, her hand flying to her mouth.
Yichen's reaction was instantaneous. There was no surprise, only deep, understanding concern. His arms came up and wrapped tightly around Zhiyuan, holding him secure. He didn't ask questions. He just held him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Zhiyuan's head, the other rubbing slow, firm circles on his back.
Zhiyuan's voice, muffled and strained against Yichen's skin, was a broken whisper. "Please… hug me tightly. Don't let go."
"I've got you," Yichen murmured into his hair, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Just breathe. I've got you." He rocked them gently, right there in the doorway, a sanctuary in the sterile hotel hall.
After a long moment, Yichen shifted, guiding the still-clinging Zhiyuan backwards into the room. He glanced once, quickly, down the hall a guard's instinct but didn't see Xiao Xue hidden in the shadow of her door. Then he closed his door, sealing them inside together.
In the sudden silence of the hallway, Xiao Xue slowly backed up and closed her own door with a soft, definitive click. She leaned against it, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
She knew it. She had suspected, with the teasing and the tension and the overprotectiveness. But seeing it… the raw, desperate need in Zhiyuan's move, the instant, tender care in Yichen's response… it wasn't just suspicion anymore. It was confirmation.
There was something much, much deeper than a professional bond between her fiancé and his bodyguard. And she was now a silent witness to a secret that changed everything.
Inside Yichen's room, the world narrowed to the space of the single bed and the warmth of another body. Zhiyuan clung to Yichen as if he were the only solid thing in a dissolving universe, his face pressed into the curve of his neck, his arms locked around his waist. Yichen held him just as tightly, his hand slowly stroking up and down Zhiyuan's trembling back.
As the frantic edge of Zhiyuan's panic began to dull, replaced by exhausted stillness, Yichen looked down at the dark head resting on his chest. He wanted to lighten the crushing weight in the room. A small, tentative smile touched his lips.
"Well," he whispered, his voice a soft vibration against Zhiyuan's forehead. "Does this mean you forgive me? For… everything?"
Zhiyuan's arms tightened around him even more, a wordless protest. His voice, muffled and thick, came out. "No."
It was a childish, stubborn denial that held no real anger. Yichen's smile grew a little. He risked a little more, his tone gently teasing. "No? But you're hugging me so tight. This feels like forgiveness to me."
That got a reaction. Zhiyuan lifted his head just enough to glare up at him, his eyes red-rimmed but sharp. Without a word, he reached up and pinched a sensitive spot on Yichen's chest, hard.
"Ow! Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I won't do it!" Yichen yelped, laughing softly despite the sting. The playfulness had worked; the suffocating fear had broken.
As Zhiyuan settled back against him, the false anger gone, Yichen asked softly, "Were you feeling stressed? Was it a dream?"
Zhiyuan shook his head, burrowing his face deeper into Yichen's chest as if to hide. He nodded slightly.
Yichen felt the dampness then a warm, slow seep of tears against his skin. His heart clenched. He gently hooked a finger under Zhiyuan's chin and tilted his face up. In the dim light from the city outside the window, he saw the silent tracks of tears on his cheeks.
"Hey… what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Yichen asked, his voice filled with soft worry. He wiped a tear away with his thumb.
The dam broke. Zhiyuan's breath hitched in a sob. "I've… I've been living my whole life in fear," he confessed, the words tumbling out between hiccupping cries. "Ever since Dad passed… it's been threats, attacks, lies… smiles that hide knives. No one… no one has ever seemed genuine to me. Everyone wants something. I feel so scared. All the time."
His hands fisted. "I feel so safe around you," he whispered, the admission raw and vulnerable. He looked up, his wet eyes meeting Yichen's in the dark. "Please… please don't ever betray me. I couldn't take it."
The plea was a knife to Yichen's soul. It laid bare a trust so fragile and so profound it stole his breath. All teasing, all guards, all secrets fell away in that moment.
He cradled Zhiyuan's face in both hands, his gaze steady and utterly sincere. "Listen to me," he said, his voice low and fierce with promise. "I will never betray you. Never. You are safe with me. I swear it on my life."
He pulled him close again, holding him as the quiet sobs slowly subsided. In the silent hotel room, a promise was made one that went far beyond the duty of a bodyguard. It was a vow from one wounded soul to another, a lifeline thrown across a sea of betrayal, and the foundation of something new and terrifyingly real.