After Reuniting, My Beautiful Ex-Lover Fishes for Me Every Day - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: No-Go Zone

Wei Changli sat in the car, staring sullenly at the rain outside the window.

There had clearly been no necessity to get into the car, yet the words of refusal had died on his lips.

Possessed. Yan Xu must have cast some kind of spell on him.

Wei Changli thought with absolute certainty.

The street scenery before him overlapped heavily with that of last night. The dilapidated alleys were irritating to look at; he frowned, his gaze shifting a few degrees away from the window.

Yan Xu sat on the other side of the backseat, his eyelids slightly lowered. The light from his phone screen illuminated his chin; he seemed to be messaging someone.

For some reason, Wei Changli felt that Yan Xu’s current state was somewhat tense. Although the man beside him looked no different from usual—from the tips of his hair to the soles of his leather shoes—he could sense that subtle distinction.

He was unhappy. No, perhaps it was something more serious than unhappiness.

Maybe he had encountered something difficult to handle, yet was stuck in a car heading to a restaurant.

“If you have things to attend to,” Wei Changli spoke up, “just let me out.”

Yan Xu’s hand paused over the screen. He then turned off his phone and leaned back against the seat in a near-lapse of posture, saying softly, “It’s fine.”

Fine or not, see if I care.

Wei Changli turned his head back, continuing to watch the rapidly changing landscape outside.

Yan Xu’s gaze followed silently and gently, resting on the young man’s thin jaw and fair earlobes. When Wei Changli turned his head, it pulled a graceful line along his neck, connecting clear collarbones that vanished into his shirt. He looked clean and lean.

Twenty-three years old—the age of a recent university graduate. Because of his brother’s maneuvers, he hadn’t been able to continue his studies. With an uncertain future ahead, he had become the Wei family’s greatest sacrifice.

A life of luxury had been nothing but a “Nanke Dream” (a fleeting illusion).

If it were just that… if it were only that, it would have been fine.

In the past, the Wei family had conducted “international trade” as a front for business that was neither black nor white, but murky and unclear. They had made dark deals with countless “beasts that grind their teeth and suck blood.” Once the Wei family fell, those ferocious beasts exposed their tails and became impossible to restrain. The result was a hundredfold backlash—

If they couldn’t catch Wei Changjun, they would vent that backlash on his younger brother, who shared the same surname and the same bloodline.

Those shadows hiding in the dark loomed over Wei Changli like countless ghosts. They could silently pry open a window, kill an innocent cat, and do much more.

Right now, this was just the appetizer.

Yan Xu’s hand resting on his knee curled slightly. He finally understood why some people held an exceptionally cold and hard attitude toward the handling of Wei Changli. His family’s blood debts were heavy; direct supervision might actually be closer to a form of protection.

“How much longer do you plan to stare?” The presence of the other’s gaze became too much to ignore. Wei Changli reached his limit and suddenly turned to glare at Yan Xu.

However, at the moment their eyes met, his heart somehow skipped a beat. For no reason, he felt the man’s gaze was so deep it was bottomless.

He was momentarily stunned, then snapped coldly, “Stare any longer and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

Yan Xu lowered his eyelids slightly, hiding those bottomless eyes behind long, thick lashes. He had originally been leaning against his own separate seat, but now he suddenly leaned closer, the shadow cast by his body sweeping over the center armrest.

He reached out, took Wei Changli’s hand, and lifted it, pressing it against his own eyes. His eyelashes fluttered: “Do you want them? If you do, I’ll give them to you.”

In the dark car cabin, the man’s voice was as gentle as if he were making an offering.

Wei Changli froze. A numbing sensation, like an electric current mixed with the warmth of a body that wasn’t his, traveled from his fingertips through all his senses.

He instinctively touched the small patch of skin at the corner of Yan Xu’s eye. It was warm—completely different from the man’s cold fingertips currently holding his.

Then, Wei Changli snapped back to reality. He yanked his hand back, unsure if he was cursing the man for being touchy-feely or himself for the inexplicable lapse: “You’re sick.”

Yan Xu withdrew his hand and sat back properly.

“If you’re sick, go get treated,” Wei Changli regretted being brought out and getting into Yan Xu’s car for the umpteenth time. He asked impatiently, “Where exactly are you taking me?”

As if to answer his question, the driver in the front tapped the brakes lightly, bringing the car to a steady halt by the roadside. He said respectfully, “Director Yan, we have arrived.”

Wei Changli turned to look and realized that at some point, the car had turned out of the old city and onto a road he was familiar with—or rather, used to be familiar with.

The north-south street was clean and wide. Even the streaks of rain illuminated by the streetlights seemed more elegant than those in the old district. To the left was a river reflecting a bustling commercial circle; to the right was a row of buildings hidden behind lush vegetation.

Yan Xu had brought him to a private bistro called “Ke Hui.”

This plot of land had been designated for business use from the start, filled with private clubs that branded themselves as “elegant” and “sophisticated.” Every establishment boasted decent decor and extreme service, but Ke Hui was more special—the proprietor of this bistro was surnamed Yun.

Among the four most prestigious families in Ningcheng, the Yun and Yan families were like two “Great Pillars” pinning down the demons and monsters that stirred up trouble in the city. The two families had been close for generations. For Yan Xu, Ke Hui was a safe zone where he could take Wei Changli to escape danger.

But for Wei Changli, this place was undoubtedly part of a romantic fairy tale from those two years—sweet as a bubble, and something he did not wish to remember.

He felt offended.

It felt as though someone had carelessly sliced a wound into the cleanest part of his heart.

After the car stopped, Wei Changli slammed the door and turned to walk away.

“Changli.” Yan Xu opened an umbrella and reached for his hand, only for it to be slapped away with a “crack.”

“Is this fun for you?” Wei Changli sneered. “One trap after another, just to bring me here.”

This was the place where he had proposed years ago, only to be rejected by Yan Xu.

A hopeful attempt; a total, crushing failure.

“I brought you here,” Yan Xu said softly, “to eat.”

“What is so special that I have to come here to eat it?”

The corners of Wei Changli’s eyes burned red with anger. He felt he was incredibly stupid to have been so easily led out by Yan Xu and brought to this place without any guard up.

Yan Xu was about to say something when the phone in his palm vibrated abruptly. He glanced down, distracted. A few words popped up on the chat interface:

“Michu has been moved.”

Yan Xu’s brow relaxed briefly before furrowing again in silence. The image of the stew pot he had personally uncovered uncontrollably reappeared before his eyes.

Mangled fur. Muddy meat.

He sent a message back, just one word:

Investigate.

In the next moment, Yan Xu turned off his phone and took a step forward, closing the distance between him and Wei Changli. Just before the latter could swing a fist at his face, he silently wrapped his arm around the other’s shoulder.

Sharing the umbrella, the man rested his chin lightly on the young man’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A few strands of long hair brushed against Wei Changli’s face, feeling slightly itchy.

He was truly sad.

Much, much more serious than being unhappy.

Wei Changli stood stunned. The tense lines of his shoulders slowly relaxed, much like the pent-up anger in his heart dissipating bit by bit. He stood there without moving, neither hugging Yan Xu back nor pushing him away.

After a long while, he spoke in a low voice: “Yan Xu, if you’re unhappy, why must you trample on me?”

…

Wei Changli ended up entering the bistro after all, chewing through a salad along with the pre-meal bread.

Yan Xu didn’t order anything. He only took charge of refilling Wei Changli’s glass with warm water after he drank, as attentive as a silent doll.

“Haven’t seen you… uh, you guys, in a long time. I heard you just got back from abroad?”

The bistro’s proprietor, Yun Hui, happened to be there today. He came over to say hello while wiping a wine glass. “Want some wine?”

Yan Xu shook his head. “Sorry for the late intrusion.”

Yun Hui waved it off. “Isn’t this what I do? Besides, it’s not even that late.”

Despite his words, Boss Yun’s gaze drifted over Wei Changli now and then, a hint of worry and hesitation visible.

It made sense; under current circumstances, no one wanted to be tainted by even a whiff of the Wei family.

Wei Changli kept his head down, shoveling salad into his mouth, failing to notice that look.

He muttered, “Bring some.”

Yun Hui didn’t quite catch it: “What?”

“I said,” Wei Changli finally looked up to give Boss Yun a glance, “bring some wine.”

Without alcohol, Wei Changli was afraid he would flip the salad plate and walk out the next second.

The layout, the lighting, the music flowing from the vintage record player—everything here was exactly as it used to be. For him, the familiarity was far too cruel.

“Oh, okay,” Yun Hui said. “I’ll make a special blend for the two of—”

“No need, neat,” Wei Changli interrupted him. “Vodka, whisky, or whatever.”

“Eh?” Yun Hui blinked and looked at Yan Xu.

Yan Xu looked at Wei Changli, then gave a slight nod to Boss Yun.

Yun Hui raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.

Macallan Sherry Oak, 43% alcohol. Yun Hui served them a serious spirit and generously stated there was plenty more where that came from.

The moment it hit his tongue, Wei Changli felt the wine had been watered down.

There was almost no flavor, and he couldn’t even smell much of the aroma.

Has business become so hard in the last few years that they’re selling fake liquor…

Wei Changli frowned and took another gulp. The glass was suddenly intercepted by Yan Xu.

He looked over and saw Yan Xu also frowning at him.

Yan Xu asked, “Since when did your sense of taste and smell become dull?”

“?”

Wei Changli was stunned. Only then did he dully realize that his inability to taste the liquor was because of this.

He suddenly raised his hand to touch the medical patch on his temple. He remembered the thugs hitting his head on that rainy night; the shattered glass from the wine bottle had pierced above the mid-back of his brow bone, leaving a wound of moderate length.

Increased intracranial pressure from the accidental impact was temporarily affecting the normal function of his gustatory and olfactory centers.

Yan Xu, having confirmed his suspicion, silently took the glass away.

Wei Changli narrowed his eyes. “You’re testing me?”

“Drinking can easily worsen cerebral edema,” Yan Xu pushed the untouched mint-lemon water in front of him. “Do you want to have a stroke at such a young age?”

None of your business.

Wei Changli sneered in his heart but, valuing his life, didn’t persist. He looked at the expensive bottle of whisky and tore the decorative mint leaf on his glass in half.

Yan Xu rarely touched alcohol and didn’t have a habit of collecting or investing in wine. Opening a six-figure bottle of Macallan was no different from throwing money away to him.

He’s certainly willing to pay to test me.

Young Master Wei, whose pockets were currently cleaner than his face, gritted his teeth. He was mentally calculating how to snatch the bottle and sell it for a high price to pay for “child support” for his “single-parent baby” Michu, when he saw Director Yan—who “rarely touched alcohol”—tilt his head back and drain the glass in one go.

“…”

That was the glass he had just used.

Wei Changli watched as Yan Xu used a fingertip to wipe away the glistening drop of liquor hanging from his lip. Whether it was intentional or accidental, the man’s lips lightly brushed the rim of the glass where Wei Changli’s mouth had just been.