Found Him! My 'Glass-Hearted' Ex is a Pop-Up Star - Chapter 1

United Kingdom, Wild Bar.

“Mm, ah.”

“Fu*k, that feels so good.”

Ying Ruo’s hand, which was just about to push the door open, shrank back timidly.

The lighting in the bar’s restroom was slightly brighter than the main floor, but it remained dim and hazy, heavily tinting the ink-black night seeping through the high rectangular windows.

Ying Ruo had originally intended to return the mop he had just used to its place; he was working a part-time job here today. However, at this moment, the restroom stall was filled with a medley of indescribable sounds, blocking his path.

It had to be said that soundproofing was poor everywhere in the UK. The people inside showed no restraint, providing a “Full English” auditory experience. It was, quite literally, crystal clear.

“Mmh, hurry, Daddy.”

Ying Ruo thought, “Why are they roleplaying? It is not even Halloween yet.”

“Hey Ruo, what are you doing standing here?”

Ying Ruo was visibly startled. His slender, pale fingers instinctively gripped the mop tighter as he whirled around in a panic.

He was striking, with a small face, fair skin, and beautiful round almond eyes framed by thick lashes. His waist was cinched narrow by his apron, making his entire silhouette appear lean and delicate. Asians often look younger than their age, and with the tips of his ears flushed pink, he looked even more tender, like a startled cat.

Standing behind him was Ian, the manager of the bar, a quintessentially French man with brown hair and gray eyes.

Ian asked, “Did you put the mop away?”

“Ah,” Ying Ruo smiled awkwardly. He desperately wanted to explain the situation inside to the manager, but for a moment, he struggled to organize his English. Finally, he stuttered euphemistically, “They are… clapping?”

He punctuated the words with three crisp claps of his hands.

As luck would have it, another suggestive, long moan drifted out from the stall.

Ian understood immediately but was unfazed. He patted Ying Ruo on the shoulder and said suggestively, “If you stay here any longer, they are going to invite you to join in.”

Ying Ruo was shocked. That would certainly not be necessary.

Ian was actually quite a nice guy. “Give that to me. It is about time; you can clock out now.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Ying Ruo thanked him hurriedly, handed the mop to Ian, and rushed back to the bar counter.

This was one of the busiest bar districts in London.

The British-style decor featured dark wood paneling and the rich scent of leather. The “chill” locals loved standing out on the street to drink. Currently, there were people everywhere, both inside and out.

Under normal circumstances, Ying Ruo would never have taken an under-the-table job like this. In fact, he should not even have been in the UK.

It sounded ridiculous, but Ying Ruo’s memory of this country only began the day before yesterday. He had opened his eyes in a hospital bed to find himself in far-off Great Britain.

It was a strange country, a strange environment, and a language that felt somewhat familiar but remained foreign in practice. Ying Ruo had even started fantasizing that he had transmigrated into a book or swapped souls with a foreigner.

As it turned out, the hospital provided a much more scientific answer: he had amnesia.

Amnesia was so melodramatic. This was ten thousand times more cliché than transmigrating into a book. At least book protagonists have the original owner’s memories to know the plot.

Through the clues left in his phone, Ying Ruo managed to piece together that he was an exchange student in the UK through a university project. He had a full scholarship plus a living stipend. Logically, life should have been quite easy.

But fate was cruel. Who could have guessed that medical fees at a British private hospital were astronomical?

When Ying Ruo held that medical bill, which was as light as a cicada’s wing, his body felt as heavy as if it had been filled with lead. Although the paper was covered in English, provided he had not forgotten basic common sense, he still recognized numbers.

There were four zeros after the total. It was ten thousand pounds.

Ten thousand pounds. Rounded off, that was nearly one hundred thousand RMB.

Terrified, his “Dumb English,” which was the product of the Chinese examination system, was forced into action. He rushed to find a nurse, speaking more English than he ever had in his life.

The explanation boiled down to this: a kind passerby saw him collapsed on the street and brought him to the hospital. But private hospitals in the UK do not accept standard insurance for such cases. Two nights of hospitalization cost £6,000, and consultations, blood tests, and scans added up to another £4,000.

He stayed for two days and suddenly lost one hundred thousand RMB. This was while Ying Ruo had no memory and was alone in a foreign country.

Ying Ruo thought, “Thank you. I am practically dead.”

It was a disastrous start. He wondered if he could just have amnesia again. Forget about adapting to life as an international student; whether Ying Ruo could even survive was now the question. Driven by life’s pressures, he was currently desperate for money. He had to work multiple jobs to see if, through extreme frugality, there was any hope of paying back that money.

“Here is today’s pay.”

Holding the £100 wage, Ying Ruo shed the happy tears of the working class. Although capitalism was detestable, he was grateful for the high hourly rate of £30 per hour.

Finishing work, Ying Ruo took off his apron and uniform and changed back into the college hoodie he had arrived in, which was a freebie from his enrollment.

The youth had a small frame. When he raised his arms to put on the hoodie, a flash of his strikingly white waist was revealed. The beautiful butterfly shoulder blades on his back protruded slightly. His thin, pale wrists pulled the hoodie down, quickly covering that narrow, thin midsection again.

It was a European size, so it did not fit well. It was wide and baggy, making him look incredibly well-behaved.

Ian looked at this “pretty boy” and let out a whistle. Before leaving, he did not forget to flirt. “Darling, perhaps you would like to go on a date with me? My technique is very good; I can make you very comfortable.”

“Hmm?” Fortunately, this French guy spoke quickly with an accent. Ying Ruo did not quite catch it and just gave a random reply. “Sorry, I have to go back and read literature.”

“Oh, what a pity,” Ian waved his hand. “You really do prefer Chinese men, do you not? I truly envy them for the feast they get to enjoy.”

If you miss one sentence of English, you miss them all. Ying Ruo was not yet used to the change in language environment. If he did not hear it clearly, he just ignored it, nodding and smiling while saying, “Mmhmm.”

After all, he really did have to go back and read literature. Not just read, he had to write a paper.

His Outlook inbox had been pinging for ages with emails from various professors, course notifications, and requests for essay topics. It was infuriating. Why did he still have to write papers even after losing his memory?

He had two essays due at the end of the term the week after next, he had to pay back his debt, and he had to work part-time. Heavens, was there any international student in the world more miserable than him?

“Though, that man over there has been watching you for several hours.”

Ying Ruo actually understood this sentence. Ian leaned in closer, lowered his head, and gestured toward a corner of the bar.

Ying Ruo looked over.

Sitting on a barstool near the entrance was a man. His broad shoulders and long legs seemed to take up the entire space, and he was silhouetted against the light from a wall mural.

He had an Asian face, black hair, and superior bone structure. He looked strikingly aggressive, perhaps with mixed-race genes. His aura was aloof and cold, and one could vaguely see his sturdy chest muscles.

His sleeves were rolled casually to his elbows. Those thick forearms moved his sharp wrist bones as he swirled his glass, the lines tightening and blue veins pulsing slightly under his tanned skin. He wore many studs in his ears.

“Looks Chinese. A strong ‘wolf-dog’ type. Is he your type?” Ian teased. “He has been looking at you with a burning gaze for a long time. He probably wants to come over and hit on you.”

Ying Ruo swallowed. He was one hundred percent certain he did not know this man.

Perhaps because he was indeed striking, or perhaps because the gaze fixed on him was truly too intense, Ying Ruo had actually noticed him quite a while ago.

Was he a friend he knew before the amnesia?

Ying Ruo could not help but look a few more times. The next second, their eyes met unexpectedly.

Only then did Ying Ruo realize the man’s eyes were not pure black; they were somewhat translucent, allowing one to clearly see the patterns in his pupils, filled with an intense coldness. His brow bone was high, making his eyes look deep.

However, at the moment of contact, the man seemed slightly startled. He then quickly turned his head away, using his glass to shield his face.

Ying Ruo thought, “What was that? That did not look like a friend. Could it be an enemy?”

A robber? A pervert? A stalker? Or was Ying Ruo a victim of some British-style bullying?

“My god. How terrifying.” This guy looked like a gang leader.

Ying Ruo put on his bag, clutching his £100, and said sheepishly, “I think I should probably leave now.”

He had heard that Chinese people in London were even more dangerous; it was better to stay away. After all, he still had to pay back money and submit assignments.

Ying Ruo said goodbye to Ian and walked quickly out of the bar.

London’s streets retained the weight of history, but at night, they inevitably felt a bit eerie. The streetlights formed dim, yellowish halos. The bar district was crowded and chaotic, but once he walked out, the surroundings felt swallowed by a thick silence, wrapped in night mist and eerily quiet.

Ying Ruo walked out of the more dangerous area, thinking things should be a bit better now. But before he could catch his breath, he suddenly realized someone was behind him.

It was the earring guy from the bar.

Ying Ruo wondered why he was following him.

Ying Ruo did not understand, but he quickened his pace. Then he saw the man behind him quicken his pace too.

“No way!”

Ying Ruo shivered. Ignoring everything else, he prepared to bolt. But before he could even start running, the man had already reached him. A broad palm clamped directly onto the youth’s thin shoulder.

“Hey.”

The man’s deep voice sounded from behind him. It was cold and clear, tinged with a detached, thin arrogance.

A huge shadow loomed over him. Duan Zhuyan was tall, nearly a head taller than Ying Ruo, and his silhouette in the shadows was blurred.

From such a close distance, he could only look down at the youth. His gaze swept the person from head to toe with an intense, predatory focus. Those rows of earrings were even more prominent in the light.

“What are you running for?”

Duan Zhuyan frowned, looking displeased. He gripped the slender shoulder and pulled him around. His eyes quickly scanned Ying Ruo’s entire body, and after confirming he was unharmed, he spoke coldly.

“What time is it? How long have you been in the UK that you have already forgotten how to spell the word ‘danger’?”

Ying Ruo was sweating bullets. “It is over. I am doomed. Is he threatening me?”

The youth did not speak. His face was pale, his shoulders were pinned by those large hands, and his ill-fitting hoodie was bunched upward by the grip, leaving his fair neck exposed and defenseless in Duan Zhuyan’s line of sight.

He unconsciously pursed his lips. His small, full lip was bitten red, making his beautiful face look somewhat pitiful.

Duan Zhuyan felt his heart soften immediately.

He bent down, leaning in to look Ying Ruo in the eye. After staring for a good while, he spoke hesitantly. “Are you really going to ignore me for this long?”

“If I do not come to find you, are you not going to come find me at all?”

“Do you just not know what to say to me? Is that why you pretended not to see me when you saw me at the bar?”

“You are wearing so little. If you catch a cold, it will be inconvenient to do a lot of things.”

“I also wanted to have a proper talk with you.”

Ying Ruo listened to this muddled speech, having no idea what he was talking about. How did this feel even harder to understand than English?

The more he heard, the more it sounded like bullying. His mind was only focused on the “threat” he had heard earlier and how to escape this dangerous situation.

Duan Zhuyan’s voice softened even more. “Babe.”

But before he could finish, Ying Ruo interrupted him softly.

“Um, I do not have any money.”

Duan Zhuyan was confused.

Ying Ruo wiped his sweat. His voice, terrified but trying to be brave, sounded soft as he talked to himself. “Actually, that is not it. I only have £100 right now, but I just got this wage. If you are going to rob me, can you at least let me hold it until it is warm before you take it? It is just that I am a bit short on money lately.”

Duan Zhuyan was even more confused.

Silence filled the air.

Ying Ruo did not know why, but he felt the atmosphere had become significantly more dangerous than before. Especially this man’s face; why did it seem even darker now?

After what felt like forever, Duan Zhuyan finally could not take it anymore.

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. Then, looking at Ying Ruo with utter exasperation, he spoke in a low voice, almost through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ying Ruo blinked at him. “Is this not bullying?”

Duan Zhuyan remained silent.

Ying Ruo asked, “A robbery then?”

Duan Zhuyan remained silent.

Ying Ruo asked, “Perverted stalker?”

Duan Zhuyan remained silent.

Duan Zhuyan looked like he had been hit by a pause button. He stared at Ying Ruo, a thousand words stuck in his throat. His face even flushed slightly with frustration. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence through the gaps in his teeth.

“Have you studied yourself stupid?”

Ying Ruo finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Great, as long as it is none of those.”

But before he could celebrate, the man’s next words hit him like a thunderbolt.

The London night was exceptionally quiet. The night breeze made Duan Zhuyan’s bright red ears stand out clearly.

He said, “I am your f*cking boyfriend.”