WMSR — QT Chapter 86

 

Chapter 86

To make matters even worse, the Qiao family, who commanded immense leverage locally, completely abandoned their former facade of amicable cooperation with the Baixu Group, seizing the opportunity to ruthlessly kick them while they were down without holding back a single ounce.

By this point, Qiao Qianqian had already caught wind of the nationwide scandal dominating the airwaves, which naturally clued her in to the true identity of the "kept toy" she had brazenly attempted to seize at the villa that fateful day.

Discovering the true identity of that wheelchair-bound man provided a retroactive, logical explanation for why Xu Jiangzhe had exhibited such intense anxiety and possessiveness over him. It also meant that the label of a closeted homosexual man tricking a woman into a marriage of convenience could arguably be peeled off Xu Jiangzhe's record. Even so, Qiao Qianqian's heart remained utterly shattered and scarred by the trauma of that day. She had been bound up in excruciating agony, yet Xu Jiangzhe had walked right past her without a flicker of concern, refusing to spare even a single glance backward when she shrieked for help. Could a man who acted like that possibly harbor a single fragment of genuine affection for her?

From the perspective of the Qiao family, the calculation was even simpler. Xu Jiangzhe had never been their ideal candidate for a strategic matrimonial alliance; they had only consented because their beloved daughter was infatuated with him. Now, however, cracks had fundamentally fractured the relationship between their daughter and that young man. More critically, the massive scandal exploding out of the Xu family gave them an entirely new perspective on the moral caliber of Xu Weihai's household, while the forced carving away of substantial corporate assets compounded by the devastating public relations maelstrom plunged the Xu family into an undeniable downward spiral. A family in such a degraded posture was obviously no longer a viable partner for marriage. Since they were no longer bound as matrimonial allies, tearing off a generous chunk of flesh for their own benefit was simply the logical, appropriate course of action.

Putting aside the dog-eat-dog brawl unfolding between the Xu and Qiao families for the moment, on the other side of the city, Fang Ruoming—dressed in formal attire and carrying a collection of thoughtful gifts—pressed the doorbell outside a standalone luxury villa.

While his finger remained steady against the buzzer, Fang Ruoming's internal state was far from tranquil. Anticipation, nervous butterflies, and an unnameable, swirling vortex of bittersweet anxiety that he couldn't yet fully decode warred within his chest. Yet the very second the domestic helper pulled the door open, enthusiastically welcoming him inside, and his eyes locked onto that familiar silhouette seated in the wheelchair, all those restless jitters vanished into thin air.

At that exact moment, his entire field of vision and soul narrowed down to a single person.

Truthfully, Fang Ruoming had recognized his own abnormal behavioral shifts over this past period. Ever since Bai Yichen moved out, he found himself relentlessly manufacturing excuses to drop by for visits—so frequently that he occasionally felt a prickle of self-conscious embarrassment. Yet staying away and failing to lay eyes on this man inflicted an even deeper, agonizing dullness, rendering him completely incapable of focusing on anything else.

Throughout his grueling developmental years, Fang Ruoming's mind had perpetually drifted back to the person who rescued him from that catastrophic car crash, remembering the lingering warmth of that embrace, the financial lifelines and mentorship provided, anchoring his ambition around the singular, driving goal of earning a chance to stand before him once again.

For the longest time, he had blindly convinced himself that his obsession stemmed purely from gratitude and the duty of repaying a life debt. Following his mother's passing, he had unconsciously elevated this man into the single closest, most sacred emotional anchor remaining in his world. He had assumed that if he simply managed to reunite with him, discharge his debt of gratitude, establish a polite, respectful distance, and occasionally send warm holiday greetings, he would be entirely fulfilled.

Yet right now, he finally understood just how thoroughly he had been self-deceiving. If his motivation had been nothing more than simple gratitude and repayment, would he be reduced to a pathetic state where three days without catching sight of a face left every meal tasting like ash? (Read this novel on https://donttelmewhattodo.blogspot.com/ for free.)

Inside the corporate trenches of his own enterprise, his primary emotional turbulence no longer stemmed from tracking his company's valuation or outmaneuvering market rivals, but rather from obsessively monitoring every micro-movement executed by Xinri Company. Whenever Xinri Company rolled out a fresh strategic initiative, he caught himself frantically analyzing it: Was this ordered by him? What is the underlying tactical objective? If he managed to deduce an angle that others missed, a surge of illicit pride would warm his chest, as though unlocking that insight made him a fraction closer to truly understanding the man.

In his day-to-day life, his mind was utterly saturated by thoughts of him. A sudden downpour brought him to mind; a drop in ambient temperature triggered immediate concern for his well-being; every single festive holiday revolved exclusively around him. Even in the vulnerability of sleep, he had replayed visions of the days he spent acting as his personal caregiver.

Every single one of those realizations systematically obliterated his self-righteous rationalizations. His profound attachment to that man had never been rooted in mere thankfulness or debt clearance, but was driven by an infinitely more fervent, intense emotional current.

Once he finally stripped away the fog and confronted his true desires, Fang Ruoming plunged straight into a turbulent sea of internal hesitation. He had fantasized about pursuing him, about blurting out a passionate confession—yet the terrifying shadow of Xu Jiangzhe invariably loomed over his thoughts. Without a shred of doubt, Xu Jiangzhe harbored feelings of an equally abnormal, possessive intensity toward the man he loved. Yet that exact same man had subjected Bai Yichen to twelve grueling years of captivity, weaponizing that absolute isolation to assert ruthless dominance and bludgeon the victim into enduring his forced affection. Under the weight of such grotesque trauma, Fang Ruoming dared not gamble on whether Bai Yichen could possibly harbor a welcoming disposition toward anyone harboring romantic designs upon him. Not to mention the harsh sociological reality that men capable of accepting romantic overtures from another man remained an extreme minority in this world.

For a prolonged stretch, Fang Ruoming remained agonizingly paralyzed, torn between taking a bold leap to lay bare his soul or desperately clinging to a safe, platonic boundary to avoid detonating any landmines.

Yet amid that agonizing indecision, as the frequency of his visits accelerated and his psychological intolerance toward the mandatory gaps between encounters grew increasingly intolerable, the internal balance of his heart quietly tipped.

I have no right to remain this cowardly. If a man lacks the spine to even voice his confession, how can he ever win the right to stand beside the person he loves? Furthermore, he knew he was fundamentally distinct from a monster like Xu Jiangzhe. He recognized that the object of his affection possessed a razor-sharp intellect and pristine rationality; he would never lump him into the same category as Xu Jiangzhe, nor project unreasoning malice upon him. Since that was true, why shouldn't he summon the courage to take a bold risk?

Emboldened by that internal pivot, Fang Ruoming had quietly dialed up the frequency of his doorstep visits over recent days, simply waiting for the optimal convergence of stars to lay his heart bare.

Catching sight of Fang Ruoming stepping across the threshold—and registering the heavy gift bags dangling from his hand—Bai Yichen offered a helpless, affectionate smile: "You're already welcome here anytime; why bother hauling gifts over?"

A bashful, youthful flush crept up Fang Ruoming's cheeks, though his burning gaze remained glued without a single blink to the man seated in the wheelchair. It had been exactly thirty-seven hours since he last laid eyes on him.

Bai Yichen harbored zero sensation of being intruded upon by Fang Ruoming's persistent visitations. Life in the wake of reclaiming absolute freedom was exquisitely tranquil and pristine. The security infrastructure safeguarding his residence was meticulously optimized, ensuring virtually zero unauthorized exposure; visitors were virtually nonexistent. Aside from his core administrative assistants dropping by periodically to secure signatures on critical corporate dossiers, Fang Ruoming stood virtually alone as a regular social visitor.