Don't Give Your Heart to Your Nemesis - Chapter 3

The body search lasted for two minutes. In the end, Yan Ruixing snatched away the cigarettes and the lighter, not even sparing the one in Wen Xiaomian’s mouth.

He approached without a word and left just as silently.

The elevator arrived at the eighth floor. Wen Xiaomian stared at the empty hallway before looking down at himself.

His tie was pulled crooked, three buttons were undone, and his shirt was halfway untucked, looking wrinkled and messy on his body. Yan Ruixing kept himself so tidy, yet he made such a mess of Wen Xiaomian. He really had not changed at all.

When Wen Xiaomian got into the car looking disheveled, his assistant, Guo Hao, was terrified. “Boss, what happened to you?”

Wen Xiaomian asked him for a cigarette and held it in his mouth unlit. “I was felt up.”

The moment the words were spoken, Guo Hao’s brain began spinning at high speed, with the Detective Conan background music echoing in his ears.

Judging by the boss’s expression, he was frustrated, perhaps even angry. However, as a qualified assistant, one must not only observe facial expressions but also see through the surface to the essence.

Through the boss’s expression, movements, and demeanor—through the unkempt shirt and tie, and that 0.287-millimeter pixel lift at the corner of his mouth that carried a trace of undetectable self-satisfaction and lingering interest—Guo Hao drew a conclusion.

The boss was touched, but the boss is happy!

Guo Hao cleared his throat. “Boss, although I should not say this, I feel this is your fault.”

Wen Xiaomian frowned, displeased. This was the precursor to a bonus deduction.

Guo Hao spoke calmly, “Out of a global population of 8.2 billion, why did he only touch you? It must be because your figure is too charming and your physique is too beautiful! Your chest, abs, biceps, deltoids, lats, and V-line must have made him lose himself!”

“Boss, you can make money, you love fitness, you are handsome, you know how to fight, and you are incredible at racing! Even a man cannot resist your charm!”

“He must like you too much, admire you too much, and be too obsessed with you. His feelings for you are like a surging river, continuous and unending.”

Wen Xiaomian pulled the medicine from his pocket, toying with the box while listening to the nonsense. Once the other man’s throat was dry and he could no longer make up stories, Wen Xiaomian said, “Your bonus for this month is increased by eight hundred.”

“Thank you, Boss!”

Guo Hao started the car and drove toward the Wen family’s old estate. Wen Xiaomian habitually massaged his forehead, only then realizing his head no longer ached. This was because he had taken the medicine.

Before this, he had been miserable all day. During the social engagement, he had even experienced intermittent deafness. To avoid being noticed, Wen Xiaomian could only identify content through lip-reading. If he truly could not understand, he used drinking as a substitute.

With his head finally clear, and mixed with the alcohol, Wen Xiaomian felt drowsy. He had only been asleep for five minutes when a call came in.

Wen Xiaomian answered with his eyes closed. “Speak.”

“Young Mr. Wen, I have contacted an expert from Singapore. He will arrive tomorrow afternoon and come personally to the estate.”

“Understood.”

After a few seconds of silence, Director Ren said, “Young Mr. Wen, actually, Dr. Yan is an absolute authority domestically. Are you really not going to consider him?”

Wen Xiaomian held the phone in his right hand while his left hand kept stroking the medicine box. “I am not considering it.”

Jinyue Prefecture, Building 3, 8th Floor

From the moment Yan Ruixing rushed out the door to perform the body search until he returned to his room, his mind had been blank. The process was too practiced; he had completed it with fluid precision.

Back then, the First Middle School where Yan Ruixing studied was a famous local school. Most students were honest and well-behaved. Only Wen Xiaomian was a rare anomaly and one of the few who required body searches.

Yan Ruixing threw the cigarettes into the trash and took the lighter to his study. The bottom drawer had not been opened for years. Yan Ruixing pulled out a box filled to the brim with lighters, all belonging to Wen Xiaomian.

During two years of middle school and three years of high school, Yan Ruixing confiscated an average of two per week. In extreme cases, he would take three in a single day.

These lighters were all luxury brands, many of them limited editions. Out of habit, Yan Ruixing took a photo to search the prices on the official website. He raised an eyebrow, then frowned.

Muttering the word “playboy,” Yan Ruixing placed the newly confiscated lighter into the box and shoved it back into the drawer. He had originally intended to return such expensive items after graduation, but he missed the opportunity once. Nearly ten years had passed, and he never found another chance.

The drawer was closed and then opened again. Driven by a sudden impulse, Yan Ruixing took out the latest lighter and brought it to his nose to sniff it. Besides the scent of tobacco, there was a faint fragrance. It was the scent of Wen Xiaomian. It was a special, indescribable scent.

Opening his phone, Yan Ruixing checked the MRI report he had secretly copied and stayed awake all night.

Meanwhile, at the Wen family estate, it was the most comfortable night of sleep Wen Xiaomian had experienced in ages. There was no throbbing pain throughout the night, nor any nausea or dizziness. Unfortunately, his family would not give him any peace.

His parents, who were vacationing in Italy, returned to the country overnight upon hearing the news of his diagnosis and rushed into the bedroom. Muffled under his quilt, Wen Xiaomian listened to his parents and grandfather take turns feeling sorry for him. For a while they were bitter, then sorrowful. They cried and laughed, and they even wanted to frame his MRI report in gold and hang it up, debating fiercely whether to hang it at the front door or on top of his grandfather’s head.

Once they had made enough of a fuss, they dragged him up to meet the doctors. Dazed, Wen Xiaomian looked at the old men who had traveled thousands of miles to see him. He felt as if he were stuck in a senior citizen’s matchmaking market, fearing they would first ask if he minded someone who disliked bathing, had no medical insurance, and was old and withered.

For the following week, practitioners of Chinese medicine, Western medicine, and even barefoot doctors—from domestic to international—nearly turned the world upside down. The doctors would enter full of fighting spirit, only to wipe away sweat and return the MRI scans. They either suggested conservative treatment or tremblingly said, “Young Mr. Wen, we wish you peace.”

The surgery was incredibly difficult and the condition was excessively rare. Given his family background, even with a massive reward, those who dared to accept the task were few and far between. They were not performing surgery; they were taking walking piles of currency and gold bars, dumping them into the ocean, and then circling the Pacific three hundred times.

With current medical technology, even if the neuroma were successfully stripped, no one could guarantee the preservation of the facial nerves. Yet, Wen Xiaomian’s specific requirement was to save his face. Since a surgical plan was unfeasible, various doctors offered conservative options that could extend his life by ten years at most.

After dinner, there was a knock on the bedroom door. Mr. Wen stood at the entrance. “Are you not asleep yet?”

Wen Xiaomian glanced at the time. “It is currently 21:11 Beijing time.”

Mr. Wen sat on the edge of the bed. “Did the doctor not tell you to sleep early?”

“I do not even listen to you. Why would I listen to them?”

Mr. Wen choked on his words. “You brat.”

“Say what you want to say.” Wen Xiaomian pushed open the window and took out a cigarette, about to light it. “Do not play the deep father and son bond game with me.”

Mr. Wen snatched the cigarette and the lighter. “Smoke less. Girls do not like that.”

“I only have half a life left, and you are still waiting for me to carry on the family line?”

“You dabble in everything, so why have I not seen you dabble in women?” Mr. Wen asked. “Other families’ young masters become fathers in their teens. You are in your twenties and act like you have seen through the mortal world.”

Without a cigarette to smoke, Wen Xiaomian felt a bit restless and unwrapped a piece of gum. “What is so fun about having children?”

“You do not like men, do you?”

“Your son’s days are numbered. Please hope for some positive, sunny, and constructive energy for me.”

Mr. Wen chuckled. “It seems the decision to transfer you to a public school back then was correct. You did not pick up any bad habits.”

Most wealthy children in the business world attended international schools and went abroad for high school or university to gain prestige before returning to inherit the family business. Initially, this was Wen Xiaomian’s path as well. He hung out with the rich young master crowd, living a life of luxury. In his second year of middle school, his parents painfully decided to transfer him to Dongyu First Middle School to be strictly managed as an ordinary student and wash away his young master air.

Mr. Wen reminisced, “You caused quite a bit of trouble for the school during those years.”

“Why do you not mention that, thanks to me, the school found its way to riches?”

On Wen Xiaomian’s first day at the school, he arrived with silver dyed hair, refused to wear his uniform, and swaggered around. The school could not stop him because the moment he arrived, the Wen family donated a building. Sending books and funds became a regular occurrence. In five years, everything from large equipment to small brooms and mops was replaced several times over.

With such a benefactor, the principal’s face was twisted with smiles. Although Wen Xiaomian did plenty of annoying things, his personality was good, he was generous, and he did not use his wealth or power to bully his classmates. Within two weeks, he had become one of the gang.

Of course, there was always an exception. For five years, there was still one person who disliked him from the inside out, in every word and gesture.

“I remember back then, the class monitor in your class was always very strict with you. What was the name again?” As Mr. Wen spoke, he turned to look for the name on the class ranking list posted by the bed. He scanned up and down several times. Seeing that his father still had not found it, Wen Xiaomian propped up his chin. “The first one.”

Mr. Wen’s gaze moved up. “Yan Ruixing?”

Wen Xiaomian gave a casual “Yes.”

“The two of your names are quite a match.”

“Your son is not dead yet. Could you please not act like a Living Yama?”

If Yan Ruixing heard those words, he would pull out a scalpel and chase Wen Xiaomian and his father thirty eight laps around the First Middle School playground. After finishing the thirty eight stabs, he would add six more to make it a lucky number.

Mr. Wen looked closely at Yan Ruixing’s final grades for the second year of middle school.

Math: 100, Chinese: 94, English: 99, Physics: 100, Biology: 100, Politics: 98, History: 96, Geography: 99.

First in the class, first in the grade. Mr. Wen flipped through several pages and finally found his son’s grades on the last line.

Math: 1, Chinese: 1, English: 1, Physics: 1, Biology: 1, Politics: 1, History: 1, Geography: 1.

Such deliberate and bizarre scores. Aside from providing a sliver of comfort to someone with obsessive compulsive disorder, they provided no sense of pleasure.

“You turned in a blank paper again?” Mr. Wen reasonably suspected that this one point was a mark given by the teacher for his son writing his own name.

“No, I wrote every single word.”

Mr. Wen complained, “You could get a higher score just by scribbling with your eyes closed.”

Wen Xiaomian was actually quite proud. “Being first is so boring. Writing every question and still managing to get this score, that is true skill.”

Mr. Wen came over to feel his forehead. “Could it be that your acoustic neuroma is a complication? Was your brain failing even as a child?”

Wen Xiaomian pulled his father’s hand away. “It was to spite Yan Ruixing.”

“Why on earth would you want to spite the monitor?”

“When he is unhappy, I am happy.”

“Are you not being childish?”

“I was only fourteen then. If I was not childish, who was?”

During that period, the school was selecting excellent classes, and final grades influenced the evaluation. As the class monitor, Yan Ruixing had a strong sense of responsibility and honor. He spontaneously kept everyone after school for tutoring, spelling tests, and memorizing formulas.

For the sake of collective honor, Wen Xiaomian was also forced to stay. Having nowhere to vent two months of suppressed anger, he deliberately scored one point. He met the expectations of no one and caused the class to miss out on the Excellent Class title.

Mr. Wen could not understand it. He could not figure out how his son, who had a normal intelligence quotient and was healthy back then, could be so hateful. After pondering for a few minutes, Mr. Wen had a flash of inspiration and a sudden realization. “Oh, I get it now!”

“You had a crush on the monitor!”