After Dumping the Scumbag Top, I Was Relentlessly Chased by a Top-Tier Idol - Chapter 3

Lin Yizhou was startled by the sound for half a second. Without thinking much, he used his body to slowly push the door open, only to hear the sound of intense, tangled breathing coming from inside.

Perhaps lost in the heat of the kiss, the people inside didn’t notice the door being opened.

Lin Yizhou turned his stiff neck to look inside. He saw Song Chizheng with his back to the door, while the person in his arms was draped entirely over him, cupping his face and kissing him.

His gaze shifted upward, only to lock eyes with that person’s playful and provocative stare.

His breath hitched for a second. Clutching the lunch box, he fled from the office entrance as if escaping for his life.

The door to Song Chizheng’s office was specially made; unless slammed with force, it would close automatically, softly and silently.

It was as if no one had ever been there.

Running into a nearby restroom, Lin Yizhou slammed the lunch box onto the sink. He gripped the edge of the basin, breathing rapidly, trying desperately to calm his emotions.

Having lived together for a year, Song Chizheng was busy nearly every day, around the clock. No matter how foolish Lin Yizhou might be, he could probably guess something was off.

But he never expected the man to bring someone directly into the office…

That person’s eyes—he slowly lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror—except for the pupil color, they looked just like his…

Suddenly remembering the text message from before he entered the elevator, Lin Yizhou quickly pulled out his phone. It was indeed a reply from Song Chizheng:

[Don’t come over. He’s back. Don’t contact me for a while.]

The hand holding the phone trembled slightly.

What did that mean?

With that thought in mind, he sent a reply: [What do you mean?]

To his surprise, the man actually had the leisure to reply while in the middle of that: [Is it that hard to understand? You’re just his body double (stand-in).]

Lin Yizhou stared at the word “stand-in” in disbelief. His mind flashed back to the first time he met Song Chizheng’s friends, and the instinctive comment one of them made: “Wow, Chizheng, this one really looks like him.”

At the time, he had been brushed off with an excuse. Connecting it to the current situation, everything finally seemed to have an answer.

Heh. Is this what they mean when they say: When the ex returns, the current partner is bound to lose?

Song Chizheng probably never even considered him a “current partner”—just a substitute…

How strange the human heart is; it can swell with joy one moment and turn cold the next.

He replied: [Don’t contact me again. Let’s break up.]

The other party replied quickly again: [Suit yourself. Just don’t regret it.]

He threw the lunch box into the trash, turned on the faucet to wash his face, and left the company building.

He drove aimlessly through the streets, eventually finding himself at the bar district.

A few people were stumbling along, supporting each other. Lin Yizhou parked his car at an intersection. After staring for a few seconds at a “Grand Opening” sign on a bar across the street, he put on a mask and got out of the car.

A new shop opening, a new beginning—it was the perfect match for him.

Entering the bar, he sat in a dim corner. He didn’t know much about alcohol, so he simply ordered everything with a name he liked. One by one, glasses of various flavors went down his throat, and his head quickly grew heavy.

It hurt—it certainly hurt—but it seemed slightly more bearable than being sober.

He suddenly felt he could understand Gu Lan’s feelings of getting dead drunk every day after her divorce.

Lin Yizhou lowered his head and rubbed his temples. Just then, a glass of wine was placed in front of him. A pinky finger provocatively brushed against his cheek, and a voice drifted in as if from a distance, ethereal yet clear: “Hey handsome, you alone?”

He looked up, and it seemed like there were three, four, five, or six people standing in front of him. His vision blurred, making his dizziness worse. He pushed away the “floating” drink and spat out coldly: “Don’t bother me.”

The person laughed softly. Instead of leaving, they sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder: “Being alone is boring. Why not keep me company? I guarantee I’ll make you… [erased], so happy you’ll forget all your sadness and pain.”

A warm, flirtatious breath brushed against his neck, sending a tickle through him. Lin Yizhou frowned and tried to dodge, but the person pressed closer: “You look really familiar, though. You look a bit like… hiss… who was it?”

Hearing the word “like,” Lin Yizhou felt his headache worsen. He grabbed the hand on his shoulder and twisted it back forcefully. Like an irritable kitten, his strength increased as he said in a cold, stern tone: “I like being alone. Understand?”

The person struggled but couldn’t break free. Their expression quickly changed, and they nodded repeatedly: “I understand, I understand! I’m leaving, leaving right now!”

Hearing this, Lin Yizhou let go and watched the “multiple” figures disappear from his sight. He shook his head.

Song Chizheng’s face involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

In these two years, this was the first time he had been so impulsive.

Chizheng will come looking for me, right?

That “ex” who just came back—he must just be confused about his feelings for a moment. It’s just lingering attachment or something… and…

Chizheng said not to contact him “for a while,” he didn’t say he wanted to break up.

Thinking of this, he clicked his tongue in annoyance. He shouldn’t have been so impulsive as to suggest a breakup just now.

He shook his head violently, trying to drive the man out of his mind.

How can I still be thinking about him? I must not have drunk enough.

Thinking this, he reached for a glass on the table. However, another hand reached out at that moment—not to give him a drink, but to press down on his glass. A broad palm covered the back of his hand, enveloping it entirely.

Instantly, his temples throbbed. He didn’t even bother to look up; he yanked his hand back and grabbed the interloper’s hand, intending to repeat his earlier move. But before he could act, the other person spoke first: “Zhouzhou, you’re drunk.”

The explosive movement froze instantly. Lin Yizhou looked up sluggishly. The bar lights were dim, making it hard to see the person’s expression, but his voice was clearly tinged with grievance: “Chizheng, is that you?”

“Zhouzhou”—in his real life, Song Chizheng was the only one who called him that.

The newcomer didn’t answer. Instead, he flipped his wrist to grip Lin Yizhou’s hand, pulling him up and draping the drunk man’s weight over himself.

Being pulled up so easily, Lin Yizhou didn’t resist. Instead, he leaned closer to the person’s face, blinking his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, locking them, and rubbed his forehead against the man’s shoulder as if acting spoiled: “I don’t want to break up, Chizheng. I really like you.”

“You like me too, right? Otherwise… you wouldn’t have pursued me for a whole year… for such a long time.”

“You even told me about your family matters. I can understand why you’re cold to me, but please, don’t throw me away, okay?”

The person being hugged remained silent. Lin Yizhou seemed to realize something and lifted his head, trying to see the person’s face clearly: “Chizheng, why are you wearing a mask?”

“And… hic… a hat.”

The warm breath suddenly drew close. The man’s body stiffened for a moment, and he held his breath. Under the brim of the bucket hat, eyes as dark as the shadows stared greedily at the person in front of him, as if wishing to devour him whole.

His throat bobbed as he pulled back slightly, his voice rasping with a touch of hoarseness. “Zhouzhou, you’re drunk. I’m taking you back.”

“Taking…” Lin Yizhou murmured, repeating the word. Suddenly, he brushed off the hand holding him and plopped back onto the sofa, crossing his arms and turning his face away—a clear posture of someone waiting to be coaxed.

During his two years with Song Chizheng, he had once overheard a friend mention that Song Chizheng liked people who were gentle and obedient. From that moment on, he had intentionally tried to change himself.

People said he was expressionless, like he had facial paralysis. Fine, I’ll change. He forced himself to smile. They said his voice sounded like a robot, devoid of inflection. Fine, I’ll change. He used his experience in acting to modulate his tone…

He only hoped that Song Chizheng would always… like him.

In any other situation, he could soothe himself. But this time, if Song Chizheng remained indifferent, he might not be able to fix his own heart.

Perhaps he really was drunk.

He had always hated alcohol because his mother used to get dead drunk, losing consciousness before using the intoxication as an excuse to beat and scold him. But at this moment, he didn’t hate it; it allowed his emotions to surface as he pleased.

After waiting for a moment with no movement, he was about to turn his head back when a hat was pulled down over his head, blocking his vision. A gentle, coaxing voice soon reached his ears: “Be good. I’m taking you back.”

Beep! Beep!

The alarm had only chirped twice before Lin Yizhou jolted awake from his dream. He sat up abruptly, gasping for air as he surveyed his surroundings.

The room was spacious, clean, and organized, decorated in warm tones that felt luxurious yet cozy.

Where was he?

The migraine from the hangover hit him without warning. He massaged his temples as the memories of last night flooded back like a torrential rain. The “film” of his memory cut off after leaving the bar; he couldn’t remember how he had ended up here.

Another sharp pain shot through his head. He shook it, refusing to dwell on it further, and reached for his phone to silence the clamoring alarm. He checked his clothes and his body—everything was normal.

It was as if last night had been a dream, but waking up in a strange place confirmed that it was all real.

—Song Chizheng had only treated him as a stand-in all these years. —He had broken up with him last night.

Yesterday was the anniversary of their love’s beginning, and also the day it ended.

Outside, the rain had lessened at some point. Droplets streaked down the window, leaving tiny trails of water that quickly vanished. The room felt exceptionally quiet.

He had been too drunk last night; it seemed he never saw the face of the person who brought him to the hotel. But now, he was certain it wasn’t Song Chizheng.

Lin Yizhou frustratedly ruffled his hair. He wasn’t just drunk last night; he was insane. To have been treated with such indifference for a year and yet still crave the “fantasy” of Song Chizheng coaxing him was pure madness.

Who could it have been?

Among those close to him, only Song Chizheng had called him “Zhouzhou” so intimately during their pursuit. Could it be a fan?

He pressed his phone screen. Before he could even unlock it, Weibo notifications began pushing one topic after another—his own name flashed repeatedly across the screen.

He clicked one. The page lagged for a few seconds before loading. Seeing the familiar ID on the pinned post made his chest feel inexplicably tight.

He thought he could be carefree enough to walk away, but his heart felt as if it were being torn by a blunt blade—slowly and mercilessly shredding the facade of his composure to reveal the bloody reality he didn’t want to believe.

Song Chizheng’s Weibo post was short and blunt:

[Officially announcing my breakup with Lin Yizhou.]

Those eight words were being screenshotted and forwarded by every marketing account. The hashtag #LinYizhouUnilaterallyAnnouncedBreakup# sat at the top of the trending list, marked with a “Explosive” tag.

[Lin Yizhou, at your peak you said you were taking a one-year break for love. It’s been exactly one year. I imagined many ways you’d return to the public eye, but I never thought it would be like this. So, what did you gain this year?]

[He deserves it. I really can’t stand people with “love brain.”]

[I never liked them together. Lin Yizhou should look at himself—is he even worthy of CEO Song?]

[Is Lin Yizhou playing dead? Why hasn’t he responded yet?]

Lin Yizhou scrolled through the comments. As expected, 90% of them were insults.

While he was reading, a message from Song Chizheng popped up at the top of the screen. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly tapped into it.

Song Chizheng: [Come home. I have something to tell you.]

Lin Yizhou’s eyelid twitched. The veins on the hand gripping the phone bulged. He leaned forward slowly, his body trembling uncontrollably.

No, Lin Yizhou.

You once swore you would never be like your mother—begging for life and death after a breakup. When compromise and sacrifice fail to earn equal love and respect, you must let go decisively.

However, he did need to go back. All his belongings were still in that house. Even if there wasn’t much, they were at least his.

He turned off his phone and pulled back the covers to get out of bed. A slip of paper was blown off the nightstand by a draft. He caught it—it was a note left by the kind person who brought him to the hotel. The handwriting was elegant and bold:

I had an emergency and had to leave. If you need help, you can contact this number: 131-XXXX-XXXX. Any kind of help is fine [Smile face].

Lin Yizhou booked a car online first, sent a “Thank you” to the number, and then tore the note up and threw it in the trash.

By the time he reached the entrance of the residential complex, the rain had turned torrential again, drumming against the car windows. The world was shrouded in a grey curtain of water.

He should have borrowed an umbrella from the hotel. Going back soaked would be so pathetic… Maybe he should come back another day.

Just then, an umbrella was extended from the front seat. Lin Yizhou blinked and looked up. The driver smiled warmly. “Young man, you’ve looked distracted the whole way. Are you feeling unwell? Take this. Don’t get sick in the rain. Take care of yourself.”

His nose felt a bit stingy. Lin Yizhou took the umbrella. “Sir, could you wait for me here? I should be out soon. Just keep the meter running.”

“No trouble,” the driver said, turning off the meter with a cheerful wave. “I won’t be picking up many passengers in this weather anyway. Don’t rush.”

Lin Yizhou hesitated for a moment. “Thank you.”

Walking into the villa, the garden full of sunflowers swayed in the wind and rain, many golden petals fluttering down. His gaze followed them, landing on the mud being splashed by the raindrops.

The seeds he planted yesterday would probably be drowned by the rain. But that wasn’t up to him.

Reaching the front door, he folded his umbrella, brushed the stray droplets off his shoulder, and pushed the door open.

Song Chizheng was sitting on the sofa with a steaming cup of coffee. Seeing him enter, the rhythmic tapping of his finger on the cup stopped abruptly. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by indifference.

As usual: no warmth, no greeting.

The floor was cluttered with luggage that had already been packed.

Before either of them could speak, an unfamiliar voice rang out from the living room:

“So, you’re Lin Yizhou?”

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