After Failing to Reverse the Plot, I Made My Escape - Chapter 27

Welcome Back!

“Welcome back.”

“Mommy!”

By the time Yu Fuqiu finished the procedures for the gala, he was so exhausted that he could barely lift his arms. The banquet still had performances scheduled, but he missed Chun Chun dearly. He hid backstage and made a video call to the child.

Yu Fuqiu helplessly tapped the child’s chubby face on the screen. “How many times have I told you? You should call me Daddy when we are out.”

“No, no! I want to call you Mommy.” Chun Chun stuck his tongue out at Yu Fuqiu from the other end of the video, acting playfully.

“Is your father with you?” Chu Baoli took the phone from Chun Chun. The child lay alone on a small bed. Looking at that face so similar to Chang Tingzhi’s, Yu Fuqiu dazed for a moment.

“He is not here. Do you miss him? I will go find him now.”

“Mommy, Papa told Chun Chun that he must stay by your side and protect you.” Chun Chun looked at his mother’s face. His throat tightened, but in the end, he did not tell Yu Fuqiu what Chang Tingzhi had actually said. “Mommy, Chun Chun is seven years old. I actually know a lot of things. Do not treat Chun Chun like a child who knows nothing. You can tell me everything and let me share the burden with you.”

Yu Fuqiu’s heart throbbed painfully.

It was not that he had never thought about telling Chun Chun about Chang Tingzhi’s amnesia. He simply did not know how to start the conversation. How could he explain that the father who always loved him had become so cold and heartless, treating Yu Fuqiu as nothing more than an opportunist?

Perhaps Chang Tingzhi would not even believe that Chun Chun was his child. He had once even referred to Chun Chun as a “bastard” in front of Yu Fuqiu.

Therefore, Yu Fuqiu did not know how to speak. He looked at the child who was falling asleep in the video and simply pursed his lips. He decided to bear these matters alone. As long as his child grew up healthy and happy, that would be enough.

“It is alright, Chun Chun. In two days, Mommy and Papa will come to pick you up.” His throat felt dry. He was already in his thirties; how could he let a seven-year-old child worry about him?

Yu Fuqiu, you are truly becoming more useless as you get older.

“Mommy, do you have the peace charm with you?”

Chun Chun’s brows were tightly knit. For some reason, he felt exceptionally restless today. His mood only improved slightly after seeing his mother’s face on the call. At least his father was by his mother’s side for now.

“I have it. What is it, baby? Did we not just see each other yesterday?” Yu Fuqiu touched Chun Chun’s face through the screen. His heart was filled with infinite affection. This was the child he shared with Chang Tingzhi, the only bloodline they had in this world.

“I miss you! Remember to pick me up tomorrow!”

Yu Fuqiu was reluctant to hang up. However, the thought of Chang Tingzhi saying he would return tonight made his low spirits soar again. A small spark of joy rose in his heart. The banquet was about to begin. Yu Fuqiu looked at his phone, calculating the timeline of the plot in the original novel. It was almost time.

But just as Yu Fuqiu reached the entrance of the hall, a voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Mr. Yu.”

Yu Fuqiu turned around and saw an elegant young man with a scholarly aura. Yu Fuqiu did not recall knowing this person, but he responded politely.

“It is normal that you do not recognize me. I am President Chang’s newly hired secretary.”

Secretary. That word made Yu Fuqiu pause. Previously, Ke Qi’an had served as Chang Tingzhi’s secretary, but they had no interaction after that.

“You can call me Yu Xu.”

“Hello. Is Tingzhi inside? I have something to discuss with him.”

Yu Xu’s fox-like eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He studied Yu Fuqiu for a long while before flashing a trademark smile. “Something sudden came up at the company, so he went back first. He asked me to tell you that he will be home later.”

Home. Yu Fuqiu mentally lingered on that word. He hummed softly to himself, unable to suppress the smile on his face. If Chang Tingzhi was no longer at the banquet, he would not run into Ke Qi’an. Did that mean the plot would not advance so quickly?

He suppressed the excitement in his heart. “Alright, I will go inside and say my goodbyes.” Even his footsteps became light and cheerful.

Yu Xu remained standing there, watching the beautiful figure disappear from sight. He blinked slowly and let out a long breath. “No wonder President Chang is attracted to him.”

He recalled Chang Tingzhi’s words, and a smile appeared on his face. “The feeling of watching someone so beautiful fall from the clouds into the mud is indeed quite addictive.”

Yu Fuqiu walked around the room, greeting everyone with a smile that made people turn their heads to look at him repeatedly. Once he confirmed that Chang Tingzhi was not there but had returned to the company instead, his heart finally settled. He exhaled slowly, and his tense nerves finally relaxed.

Perhaps it was just a dream? Chang Tingzhi only has amnesia; he is not some protagonist from a book. Perhaps this was all just a hallucination caused by my own mental instability.

Yu Fuqiu sat on a bench on the terrace, his long hair fluttering slightly in the wind. He leaned back against the seat, relaxing. When he looked up at the sky, his eyes widened slightly. The starry sky was reflected in his eyes. It was a rare, beautiful day; he could actually see the long-lost stars in the center of the city.

His mood was lighter than ever before, as if he had returned to the time when he and Chang Tingzhi were still in love. As long as Chang Tingzhi was there, he had infinite strength to move forward without hesitation.

Suddenly, the sound of a ringtone shattered the moment of peace. It was a call from Chu Baoli.

“Sister?” Yu Fuqiu answered the phone, feeling somewhat confused.

“Fuqiu! Did Chun Chun call you earlier?” Chu Baoli’s voice was filled with panic. A sense of foreboding throbbed in Yu Fuqiu’s heart.

“Yes, he called me earlier. He said he missed me.”

“Chun Chun is missing!” As soon as Chu Baoli returned home, she found the bedroom door open. Chun Chun, who was supposed to be reading quietly in his room, was nowhere to be found. He had taken nothing with him, as if he had vanished into thin air. Only his shoes at the entrance were gone.

“Did Chun Chun go to the old house?”

They owned many houses, but they only lived in a few. The one closest to Chu Baoli’s home was that dilapidated old house. It was located in the old city district and surrounded by elderly residents; it was not safe at night. Yu Fuqiu had only taken Chun Chun there a few times. What was he doing there?

“I will go find him immediately!”

Yu Fuqiu calculated the time it would take to get from the old house back to their main home. He should still be able to make it back by the time Chang Tingzhi returned. Yu Fuqiu ignored all obstacles, even running red lights, and used his maximum speed to reach the location of the old house.

When he finally stopped, panting, in front of that familiar, dilapidated building, he saw the renovated iron gate downstairs. He froze. Countless memories that had been deliberately sealed away surged back like a tide, instantly overwhelming him.

When he first picked up Chang Tingzhi, they could only huddle in a basement, sleeping in a large dormitory shared by twenty people. At that time, even having a bright light was a luxury. The air was filled with a lingering impurity. He and Chang Tingzhi could only squeeze onto a tiny bed.

Back then, the Chang Tingzhi he had rescued was small and thin with cold hands and feet. He would nestle obediently in Yu Fuqiu’s arms. He never complained about hardship or exhaustion. He would simply wake up in the morning to buy breakfast for Yu Fuqiu and then go out to collect bottles to sell. The money he saved could sometimes buy a marinated egg.

Their best meal was when Yu Fuqiu worked as a featured extra for a day and earned two hundred dollars. Yu Fuqiu took him to eat at KFC. Yu Fuqiu looked at the skin-and-bone Chang Tingzhi and swallowed his saliva at the sight of the fried chicken. But Chang Tingzhi simply reached out, pushed the chicken in front of Yu Fuqiu, and said in unskilled Mandarin, “You, you eat.”

At that moment, Yu Fuqiu’s heart was filled with endless heartache. So, he began to work desperately hard. During the day, he worked as an extra in various film crews, playing background characters without lines or visible faces. Sometimes he was a corpse in a war movie, lying perfectly still while heavy props rolled over his body, and he never made a sound.

At night, he would set up a stall at the night market to sell cheap, handmade jewelry. Later, he sold grilled sausages and was often chased by city officials. When he returned to the narrow dormitory, the snoring was deafening, but Chang Tingzhi could always keenly detect his arrival.

As soon as he got into bed, Chang Tingzhi would burrow into his arms. The cold bed was warmed by Chang Tingzhi’s body, and his pleasant scent isolated them from the stale air. Every night, Chang Tingzhi would whisper something very softly, but Yu Fuqiu was always too tired and heard it only vaguely.

But on that one night, Chang Tingzhi burrowed into his arms again, his small hand gripping the hem of Yu Fuqiu’s shirt. At that moment, Yu Fuqiu finally heard clearly what he had been saying all along. Chang Tingzhi said, “Welcome back.”

Eventually, Yu Fuqiu managed to save enough money to buy this dilapidated little house. Even though it leaked when it rained and the old windows rattled eerily in the wind, Yu Fuqiu loved it. The house was small, with only one bedroom, a living room, and a bathroom. It felt crowded even when two people stood together.

However, Yu Fuqiu cherished this place. They would squeeze onto that tiny, creaking old sofa and share a bowl of instant noodles. Chang Tingzhi was smart and learned the language quickly. He would take the marinated egg bought with the money from collecting bottles, place it in Yu Fuqiu’s bowl, and then clumsily lean up to kiss his forehead, saying, “Qiuqiu, I will definitely let you live in a big house in the future.”

He remembered countless nights spent huddling together on that small bed. Outside the window was the noise of the streets, but inside, there were only their intertwined breaths and whispers. By the time he reached high school, Chang Tingzhi was already taller than him. He would hold Yu Fuqiu and plan their future in his ear.

Those memories had supported Yu Fuqiu through the darkness many times. With trembling hands, Yu Fuqiu looked at the little house that was exactly as he remembered. He took out the key, inserted it into the lock, and held his breath. Since they moved to their new home, Yu Fuqiu had never returned here.

He remembered clearly that in order to say a complete goodbye to the past and to raise emergency funds, he had personally sold this little nest, which held their initial dreams and hardships, to a kind elderly couple through an agency.

But before him, the creaking small dining table they had found together at a second-hand market, covered with a clean checkered tablecloth, was still in its original place. Hanging on the wall was still that photo frame from the beach, low resolution but filled with bright smiles. Even the angle was exactly the same.

On the sofa, there was even the faded yarn blanket that Yu Fuqiu had crocheted himself years ago. The air did not smell of elderly residents. Instead, it was filled with a sense of meticulous care, spotless cleanliness, and a faint, familiar scent of cedarwood.

It turned out that without his knowledge, Chang Tingzhi had quietly bought this house back long ago. Then, bit by bit, patiently and stubbornly, he had restored their home to exactly how it used to be.

Yu Fuqiu froze at the door. His heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand and then suddenly released, bringing a wave of suffocating softness and violent throbbing. He looked around this space that was familiar enough to be carved into his bones, and his vision was instantly blurred by a surge of tears.

That cold, amnesiac Chang Tingzhi, who kept talking about disgust and profit. How much did he actually remember? And in what kind of silent, obsessive way was he guarding the place he came from, a place he might have forgotten himself?