Did My Wife Break Up With Me Today? - Chapter 104

Chapter 104: Side CP — He Yunxiao x Zhou Mujun

Zhou Mujun had unilaterally decided to break off his friendship with Xu Jingmo. How could that guy betray him at such a critical moment! It made coming home feel like a stealth mission, for fear of actually running into He Yunxiao.

In truth, he never thought He Yunxiao would contact him again. That is, until last month when he received a call from a strange number. Since the number was almost entirely composed of 1s and 3s, he had mentally hallucinated a “bankrupt CEO turns delivery boy” web-drama plot, answering the phone slowly: “Delivery? Just leave it at the door.”

But there was no sound on the other end.

“Hello?” Zhou Mujun couldn’t help but feel puzzled.

Finally, a low, raspy male voice came through the receiver: “Zhou Mujun, it’s me.”

So strange. Yet so familiar.

Zhou Mujun hung up the phone almost reflexively. He didn’t even know what he was afraid of. Clearly, the debt he owed He Yunxiao had been paid in full. He had no reason to feel inferior anymore. But upon hearing that male voice, he still lost his composure instantly.

He Yunxiao. He really was back in the country. And he really… still remembered him? He was even coming to find him?

Zhou Mujun was incredibly annoyed, but he didn’t know who to talk to about it. Xu Jingmo, once in a relationship, was like he had a collar around his neck; he didn’t even need Chen Kongqing to pull it, he just wanted to be stuck to the guy 24 hours a day. As for others… he didn’t feel like talking about it, so he told no one.

Fortunately, aside from that mysterious phone call, there had been no news of He Yunxiao. If it weren’t for Xu Jingmo suddenly mentioning that he’d given He Yunxiao his address, he would have thought the episode was over.

It was the weekend, and he happened to be off work. A few regular drinking buddies invited him out, but Zhou Mujun had a cold—not serious, just a sore throat—and he didn’t have the energy for drinks. He declined and stayed home to rest.

In the past two years, he had finally saved enough to buy this apartment. It wasn’t small, and living alone made it feel a bit empty. But he liked that sense of space. After years of dorms and communal kitchens, he loved this open-plan flat.

He turned on the LCD TV, flipping through channels aimlessly. Life is strange like that; a random click, a random channel, and the screen displayed a news headline: The He Group recently announced that Chairman He Jiating is critically ill, and preparations are underway to elect a new director… The footage showed the towering high-tech skyscraper of the He Group headquarters. Zhou Mujun watched the screen, his grip tightening on the remote. A few seconds later, he couldn’t help but search the keywords online. The news was a chaotic mess of truth and lies. He didn’t know what was real. However, He Yunxiao’s name hadn’t been exposed to the public eye yet.

Zhou Mujun breathed a sigh of relief. Then he thought, what am I worried about? What is there to worry about? He shook his head self-deprecatingly, grabbed a blanket, and prepared to take a leisurely afternoon nap.

It was autumn, and the day was overcast. The light outside the window was gray and oppressive. This kind of afternoon was perfect for sleeping. Accompanied by the standard broadcasting voice on the news, Zhou Mujun drifted into a deep slumber.

He had only intended to nap, but when he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. He rolled over in the soft blanket, opening his blurred eyes. The digital clock on the table read 18:00.

He rubbed his temples and struggled to get up from the sofa. His cold must have worsened; he felt dizzy as soon as he sat up. He waited a while, then got up with the blanket draped over him to make some cold medicine. The kettle on the island was bubbling, not yet boiled. Zhou Mujun stared blankly at the glass kettle, his mind empty, unable to think of anything.

Ding-dong.

The crisp sound of the doorbell rang out. Zhou Mujun yawned, wondering who it could be. He had many friends, but almost none close enough to show up at his door—especially at this hour.

He guessed it might be a delivery. He’d recently become obsessed with building blocks, so it was likely his latest set. He walked to the door with the blanket over him and opened it a crack: “Just leave the delivery at the door.”

He didn’t realize until he spoke—his voice was incredibly raspy.

There was no movement outside. It was as if no one was there. Annoyed, Zhou Mujun pushed the door wider. His eyes, stinging from the fever, looked out.

There was someone there. Someone with a familiar face but a foreign expression.

It was He Yunxiao.

The man was dressed in a suit and leather shoes, with a cashmere overcoat on top. He just stood there. His “peach blossom” eyes slowly looked up, staring expressionlessly at Zhou Mujun.

Zhou Mujun’s hair was a mess, and he was draped in that random blanket. His nose and eyes were rimmed with red. It wasn’t hard to tell he had a fever.

He Yunxiao’s face remained expressionless as he stood his ground. Zhou Mujun gripped the doorknob, unable to find an expression or words. After a few seconds of deadlock, he decided the best solution was to close the door.

So, he did. He started to pull the door shut. Suddenly, the hand he had on the knob was covered by a scorching palm. Before Zhou Mujun could react, He Yunxiao stepped grandly across the threshold.

He Yunxiao was half a head taller than him. After all these years, he had filled out significantly. The closer he got, the more Mujun felt he was no match for him. But this was his house!

Empowered by that thought, he pulled his hand back and met He Yunxiao’s gaze: “This is my home. Please get out.”

He Yunxiao’s eyes remained icy, devoid of any emotional change. Zhou Mujun felt unsettled by the stare, pushing at him: “Get out.”

But with his throat aching and his nose stuffed, he had no strength. Unsurprisingly, He Yunxiao didn’t budge; he even casually closed the door behind him.

In the enclosed space, there were only the two of them.

Zhou Mujun: “…”

He turned and walked inside. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

He Yunxiao spoke behind him, his voice haunting: “If you want me to lock you up, then call them.”

Zhou Mujun’s pupils shrank. He never expected the first thing He Yunxiao would say to him after all these years was that he would lock him up. He clenched his fists and scoffed: “Ridiculous.”

“You can think that. I can also do it.” He Yunxiao walked slowly toward the person whose back was turned to him. Zhou Mujun felt his back enveloped by a damp, chilly aura.

He bit his lip and turned around, feigning composure. He knew He Yunxiao was different now. Very different.

“What do you actually want?” Zhou Mujun demanded, wary.

He Yunxiao still wore that icy expression. The water on the island was boiling now, making a bubbling sound, steam rising from the spout toward the ceiling. Yet Zhou Mujun felt a chill throughout his body.

“I’ve come to get something back from you,” He Yunxiao said flatly.

Zhou Mujun frowned. “I already paid your family back the money.”

“I’m not talking about money.” He Yunxiao’s tone grew colder; every word felt like a sharp blade. He took another step toward him. The distance between them compressed. Zhou Mujun instinctively recoiled, sensing danger, and backed away until he hit the glass window. No way out.

He Yunxiao was like a wall, trapping him: “Zhou Mujun, you owe me six years.”

Zhou Mujun clutched his blanket, his nerves stretched to the limit. Whether from stress or fever, his legs felt like they were about to give way. Suddenly, He Yunxiao’s hand reached out—no room for negotiation, no chance for resistance—and pulled him into an embrace, pressing him down onto the sofa.

Zhou Mujun’s brow furrowed tightly as he raised a hand to slap He Yunxiao’s face. He Yunxiao tilted his head slightly, dodging it, then got up and walked to the kitchen island.

Zhou Mujun didn’t understand. He watched He Yunxiao, perplexed. He saw the man tear open a packet of cold medicine, pour it into a glass, and add scalding water. After stirring, he added some room-temperature water to adjust the heat. Then, the dark cup of medicine was presented to Zhou Mujun.

He Yunxiao held the glass commandingly: “Drink it.”

Zhou Mujun turned his head away, unimpressed.

“What, do I have to feed you?” He Yunxiao sat down beside him without ceremony. The sofa dipped. He brought the glass to Mujun’s lips, his eyes fixed on the other’s mouth.

Zhou Mujun gritted his teeth, took the glass, and downed it in one go. The medicine was incredibly bitter—perhaps his sense of taste was off, but it was the bitterest thing he’d ever had. To avoid being laughed at, he forced himself to maintain a neutral expression. He set the empty glass on the coffee table with a sharp clink.

He Yunxiao didn’t look at him, scanning the room instead. “This place is too remote. Move in with me.”

“?” Zhou Mujun’s brow hadn’t relaxed once. “What are you saying?”

“Is it hard to understand? Move to my place.” He Yunxiao stated it so plainly.

Zhou Mujun gritted his teeth and glared: “If you’re sick, go to a hospital. Don’t go crazy in my house.”

He Yunxiao wasn’t provoked. “My place is closer to the hospital where you work. It’s more convenient for you.”

“…” Zhou Mujun ripped off the blanket and shouted, “He Yunxiao, what do you actually want?!”

“Didn’t I say? You owe me six years. I’m here for repayment.” He Yunxiao turned his eyes to meet his, his voice still flat and calm. The calmer he was, the more he seemed like a madman.

“What do I owe you?” Zhou Mujun was furious. “Whatever I owed you was paid off long ago!”