Don't Give Your Heart to Your Nemesis - Chapter 11

Relying on Wen Xiaomian’s “big surprise gift,” Yan Ruixing blacklisted all of Wen’s social media contacts and ignored him for an entire week.

The days without the “dog” harassing him were happy and peaceful.

Sang Han returned from her trip. After work, the two met for a meal in the cafeteria. Sang Han was relentless, with Wen Xiaomian’s name never leaving her lips.

“Hey, hey, hey, give me some tea,” Sang Han said as she put a chicken wing on his plate. “How many people did Kian Wen date when he was in school?”

Whenever he heard that name, Yan Ruixing felt a flare of nameless anger burn from his chest through his entire body. “How should I know?”

“You were classmates for five years. It is too fake to say you do not know.” Sang Han added a chicken leg to his plate. “Tell me.”

Yan Ruixing rinsed the sauce off the surface of the chicken wing before eating it. “He did not date in school. As for whether he dated anyone outside of school, I would not know.”

“No way! Is he really that pure?”

Sang Han had read the gossip news. Paparazzi had followed Kian Wen for over half a year and failed to find a single scandal or dating partner.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You would think with a face like a playboy’s, he would be doing scandalous things, yet he acts like a pure youth.”

Yan Ruixing lowered his head to eat, treating her words like the wind passing his ears.

Sang Han sighed to herself. “Think about it. He is handsome, rich, a great racer, and he does not mess around. Does a man like that really exist?”

Yan Ruixing could not see any of those merits. He bit the tip of his chopsticks, his teeth itching with lingering resentment. “Is this not the same person you called a massive idiot before?”

“I was blind back then,” Sang Han said with a blink. “Now I realize the gravity of my sins. I officially apologize to Kian Wen and beg for his forgiveness!”

“Your values follow your eyes.” Yan Ruixing could not empathize and wanted to roll his eyes. “He is not a good person. You should lose those filters.”

Sang Han did not listen. Her mind was filled with memories of her shouting matches with Kian Wen. Although the process was unpleasant, they had at least made contact. Back then, Kian Wen hated her and she hated him even more, so could that not be considered a mutual pursuit between an idol and a fan?

“Wait, that is not right! Oh my god!”

Yan Ruixing looked up. “What now?”

Sang Han counted on her fingers, piecing it together slowly. “Look, you were classmates for five years, spending every day together. Since starting university, every time he gets drunk, he calls you.”

“He… he wouldn’t…” Sang Han’s eyes widened like traffic lights as she scanned Yan Ruixing. “Have a secret crush on you, would he?”

“No, he does not.”

“Then why is your face red?”

Yan Ruixing looked up, his tone cold as a winter wind. “Look closer. Whose face is red?”

Yan Ruixing’s face remained pale, but his neck was flushed with a heat that would not dissipate.

“Did nothing really happen between you two?”

“He hates me, and I do not like him,” Yan Ruixing spoke without changing his expression. “So, no.”

Sang Han: “…”

If nothing happened, why is your neck red?

Realizing she could not talk to someone so stubborn, Sang Han changed the subject. She asked in a low voice, “Does he know about your illness?”

“I told him. He does not believe it.”

“Why not?”

“I have tricked him with similar lies many times.”

“Why would you trick him?”

Many years had passed, and there were various reasons and motives. Yan Ruixing was too lazy to think about it. “I forgot.”

“Fine, fine. If you do not want to say it, don’t,” Sang Han said as she waved her hand. “But you two really are a pair of ill-fated lovers.”

Before the last word could land, Sang Han was warned by a look as sharp as an ice blade. She quickly changed her tune. “Anyway, Kian Wen is so pitiful. Given his current situation, I guess he cannot participate in the championship race next week, right?”

“His three-year winning streak is about to be broken.”

“He even promised we would see him for a fourth year.”

“The fan club is going to be heartbroken.”

Yan Ruixing asked, “Does he participate every year?”

“He goes to international races occasionally, but he has never missed a domestic one.”

A sense of foreboding washed over him. Yan Ruixing swiped his phone, found Wen Xiaomian’s location, and stood up abruptly. “I have something to do. You eat first.”

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Wait, what happened?”

Ignoring everything else, Yan Ruixing rushed toward the location.

As he pushed his car to its speed limit, Yan Ruixing’s spine felt as cold as if an ice brick were pressed against it. He wished his steering wheel could turn into a whip. All the strange behavior from the past few days now had an answer.

Why Wen Xiaomian had sent a gift to disgust him, why he had stopped after doing it only once, and why he had seemingly vanished from the earth for a week.

He had intentionally made Yan Ruixing angry, annoyed, and disgusted, hating him so much that he would not want to see anything related to him. This was to ensure he could successfully participate in the F1 race.

Everything was a conspiracy.

Late spring dusk, at the F1 track.

Wen Xiaomian held the steering wheel as he crossed the finish line. An out-of-place figure stood by the side of the road. He glanced at his wristband, which had been vibrating with “anger” for half an hour, and cursed under his breath. “I knew he would not be that easy to get rid of.”

The haunting spirit would not leave.

Wen Xiaomian wore a red and white racing suit. Beneath the unzipped collar was a black fireproof shirt. His tall figure was upright and imposing, and his unruly nature was concealed under black gloves. Looking into his eyes through the visor, there was a sharp, cold sense of the forbidden.

The moment he took off his helmet, Wen Xiaomian returned to his lazy self. The messy ends of his hair fluttered in his vision, and his face was written with impatience.

“It has only been a few days. Do you miss me again?”

Yan Ruixing’s perennial iceberg face formed a sharp contrast with Wen Xiaomian’s utter lack of concern.

He did not want to hear Wen Xiaomian’s nonsense; he only wanted to provide his scientific facts. “An acoustic neuroma can compress the vestibular nerve, and racing produces extreme force during high-speed cornering and sudden braking.”

“Stop, stop,” Wen Xiaomian said while making a “time-out” gesture. “Do not bring up that useless stuff. I do not understand it, and I am too lazy to listen.”

Yan Ruixing could not empathize with Wen’s “life is a game” attitude. Anger sank into his heart like a lead weight. “In your current condition, forcing yourself to race is extremely dangerous.”

“Why? Will I just drop dead if I race?” Wen Xiaomian spoke nonchalantly.

All risks were probabilities; Yan Ruixing could not argue with that.

“Is there anything else?” Wen Xiaomian asked as he put his helmet back on, trying to dismiss him. “If not, go home early, drink tea, read the newspaper, and write your daily schedule.”

Yan Ruixing stepped forward, blocking the car door. “I did not come here today to stop you.”

“Then what? Do you want to fight again?” Wen Xiaomian leaned down slightly and whispered into his ear. “Or… do you want to go to bed?”

Yan Ruixing certainly knew his goal. Wen spoke disgusting words and intentionally leaned close, even trying to blow air onto his neck, all to make him angry so that Yan would not harass him before the race.

The conspiracy would not succeed. Yan Ruixing countered by forcibly pulling off Wen Xiaomian’s helmet. He knew that no matter what he said, he could not talk Wen Xiaomian out of it.

Wen Xiaomian never truly cared about the facts or the “threats” of high pre-operative risk, intra-operative danger, and unpredictable post-operative outcomes. If he feared death, he would never have agreed to the surgery.

Furthermore, Wen Xiaomian never truly trusted him, nor did he expect the surgery to be a success.

Wen Xiaomian treated life like a game, but Yan Ruixing was serious and determined. “I am here today to help you with the race.”

“And the price?” Wen Xiaomian was not so easily dismissed. He did not believe Yan Ruixing would be so understanding.

Yan Ruixing’s gaze remained fixed on him. If he could, he would have tied Wen Xiaomian up and locked him away. “To ensure a smooth race and prevent accidents, you need to cooperate with me for medical monitoring during this period.”

Wen Xiaomian asked, “Specifically?”

“Under my arrangement, we will carry out monitoring and training that balances the race with post-operative preparation. This includes, but is not limited to, brainwave monitoring during the day, at night, and under extreme conditions.”

“Daily? Nightly?” Wen Xiaomian asked in a tone that was dismissive, lazy, and punchable. “Doctor Yan, you might as well just invite me to live at your house.”

“Fine,” Yan Ruixing agreed so suddenly that it was startling.

Wen Xiaomian: “…”

“What is wrong? Are you unwilling?” Yan Ruixing asked as he pressed him. “Or are you afraid?”

“Inviting me to live at your house… do you know what that is called?” Wen Xiaomian asked, trying to disgust him. “It is called cohabitation.”

Yan Ruixing stood his ground, his expression not changing in the slightest. “So what? Is President Wen afraid of cohabiting with me?”

“I am not.” Wen Xiaomian lowered his gaze, glancing at Yan’s collar. “In fact, I am very much looking forward to it.”

Yan Ruixing’s expression remained unchanged as he accepted the “threat.”

“Go back and get a room ready for me then,” Wen Xiaomian said as he snatched his helmet back. “Oh, right. Make sure the bed is not too soft. I am afraid it will be inconvenient when it is time for exercise.”

“No problem.” Yan Ruixing grabbed him by the collar and leaned in to whisper a provocation into his ear. “By ten o’clock at the latest, I want to hear you knocking on my door.”