The "Honest" Beta Deceived Day and Night by a Twisted Obsessive - Chapter 25

 “Welcome to Hell.” 

The sky was a heavy, bruised grey. Tree branches swayed in the wind, and raindrops streaked across the windowpanes like falling stars.

Xie Ming lounged on the sofa, half-listening to his brother sending a voice note to someone, reminding them to take an umbrella because of the rain. Xie Ming didn’t think much of it and continued his game until he heard the reply from his brother’s phone.

His fingers froze on the screen. That voice. it sounded just like him.

No way.

Xie Ming couldn’t bridge the gap between Duan Huaijing and his brother. They didn’t even run in the same circles, and besides, Xie Yun wasn’t the type to steal. Xie Yun had always been a man of immense moral restraint, the unattainable pillar of the family. He, above all people, knew exactly what was right and what was wrong.

Stealing his own younger brother’s fiancé? It would be scandalous.

Xie Ming’s lip curled into a smirk, and he prepared to jump back into his game. But then, a stray memory hit him. He remembered a time when he and his friends were mocking Duan Huaijing, saying even someone like Xie Yun would never look at him. Xie Yun had happened to pass by at that moment.

He hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t confirmed it. He had simply dropped a single, heavy sentence: “That’s not necessarily true.”

The smile vanished from Xie Ming’s face. A dark, paranoid thought took root in his mind. His eyes narrowed, and he sent a message to Duan Huaijing:

Where are you?

****

Duan Huaijing didn’t know Xie Ming was at his brother’s house, nor did he know what the man was thinking. He was currently walking toward Xie Yun’s villa and didn’t reply immediately.

He clutched his umbrella, navigating the light rain while trying to avoid the mud. The cold wind only served to further tangle his already messy thoughts. Knowing Xie Ming wouldn’t be easily put off, he took a deep breath and typed back with forced patience:

At home.

The reply was instant: Send a photo.

The tone was imperial, as if he were checking in on a piece of property. Duan Huaijing’s brow furrowed. He had lied, but Xie Ming’s aggressive follow-up felt intrusive and oily. He quickly saved a generic photo from the internet and sent it over.

Xie Ming had never cared enough about Duan Huaijing to visit his flat, walking into such a place would have probably “soiled” the young master’s shoes. He figured Xie Ming was just having a fit of possessiveness and wouldn’t bother checking the image source.

A moment later: Understood.

Duan Huaijing locked his phone with a blank expression. Prick, he thought.

Standing at Xie Yun’s door, Duan Huaijing’s courage failed him. His hand hovered in the air, his fingers curling inward. He couldn’t describe his mood. Just days ago, he had fled this place in shame, yet here he was again.

The memory of their intimacy felt like a phantom heat crawling over his skin. He could almost smell the cedarwood pheromones again, that paradoxically cold scent that had wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

He shook the thought away. He was here for the Peace Knot. That was all.

He reached out to open the door, but it swung open on its own. Duan Huaijing froze, his hand still mid-air, and looked up.

Xie Yun stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the view of the interior.

“Big Brother?” Duan Huaijing called out after a long, silent beat.

“Mmhmm,” Xie Yun replied softly. His heavy gaze swept over Duan Huaijing. He’s lost weight.

Inside the house, the sounds of game combat and Xie Ming’s occasional swearing were audible. But to Xie Yun, the noise was muffled, as if an invisible barrier had been erected the moment Duan Huaijing appeared. In this moment, only the person in front of him had any color.

For a second, his restraint slipped. Greed leaked into his eyes—a dark, wet hunger. He looked at Duan Huaijing with the intensity of a drowning ghost reaching for a warm body.

Duan Huaijing swallowed hard. The air seemed to drop several degrees. Was the air conditioning too high? A bone-chilling cold seemed to touch the back of his neck and brush against his bare ankles. He shivered, rubbing his neck to generate some warmth.

Xie Yun shifted his gaze, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in and get out of the rain.”

He acted so nonchalant that Duan Huaijing wondered if he’d imagined the intensity from a moment ago. He nodded and stepped inside.

One step in, he heard Xie Ming’s voice. Duan Huaijing stopped dead, looking at Xie Yun in disbelief. Realizing his reaction was too telling, he looked away, but Xie Yun caught him.

“Why aren’t you coming in?” Xie Yun asked, his tone unreadable.

Duan Huaijing could hear Xie Ming clearly now. Terrified of being seen, he mouthed the words: No. I’ll just take it and go.

Xie Yun glanced at his brother, then back at Duan Huaijing. He said nothing but handed over the Peace Knot. As Duan Huaijing reached for it, Xie Yun’s finger lightly brushed his palm a sensation so faint it was like a tickle.

Duan Huaijing’s lashes flickered. Was that an accident?

He forced himself to ignore the strange feeling, took the charm, and left.

As soon as he stepped out, Xie Ming looked toward the door. He ignored his teammates’ shouting in his headset, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain back just enough to peek out.

Duan Huaijing walked away, his movements sure and familiar. He knew the layout of the estate now. But as he walked, he felt a burning gaze on the back of his head a predatory, starving look that felt like a wolf’s tongue licking his skin.

He rubbed the goosebumps on his arms and turned around. He saw the curtains fluttering in the wind.

No one.

A moment later, his phone chimed. It was Xie Ming: Come to Qiankun Building.

Duan Huaijing knew this couldn’t be good. Xie Ming didn’t do “kindness.” He sent back a lie: I have things to deal with at home.

The “typing” indicator flickered for a few seconds. Then: Come upstairs.

Duan Huaijing: I really can’t get away.

Xie Ming sent a voice note. Duan Huaijing hesitated, then played it. Xie Ming’s voice was accompanied by the sound of the wind. He let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Stop pretending. Do I really have to come down and fetch you?”

Xie Ming was here? Had he seen him?

Duan Huaijing looked up at the second floor of the Qiankun Building and saw a familiar figure waving him over. His mind went blank. Had Xie Ming seen him leaving Xie Yun’s house?

He walked upstairs with leaden legs. He tried to tell himself nothing had happened today, but he couldn’t forget the “unspoken things” he had shared with Xie Yun. He felt like a traitor.

When he entered the room, the first thing Xie Ming said was: “Are you seeing someone else?”

Duan Huaijing’s heart skipped a beat. He forced a smile. “No.”

Xie Ming sipped his drink, looking at him with a half-smile. “Is that so?” He wasn’t the idiot people took him for. He was a Xie, and he knew when he was being lied to. “I don’t tolerate betrayal. If you have some ‘ghost’ on the side, hide it well. Don’t let me find out.”

The phrasing struck a chord. Duan Huaijing’s expression changed. “Do you know about. the ‘Red Eyes’?”

Xie Ming blinked. “Pink eye? What are you on about?”

Duan Huaijing didn’t answer. His attention was caught by a man standing outside the window with an umbrella. The man tilted the umbrella back, revealing his face through the curtain of rain.

It was Xie Yun. He was wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, looking every bit the refined, mature businessman, but there was something “feral” about him as he stood there, watching them.

Duan Huaijing looked away, terrified. Everyone around him seemed insane.

“What red eyes?” Xie Ming asked again.

“Nothing. Just too much TV,” Duan Huaijing stammered, accidentally knocking over his drink. Both he and Xie Ming reached for the bottle at the same time. Their hands touched.

Xie Ming froze. Duan Huaijing’s hand is so soft.

Duan Huaijing didn’t notice. He wiped the table and noticed Xie Yun had vanished from the street below.

“Drink with me,” Xie Ming said, pushing a glass toward him. He didn’t take no for an answer, practically feeding him the alcohol.

A few rounds later, Xie Ming was slumped over the table, drunkenly trying to grab at Duan Huaijing. Duan Huaijing sighed and pushed him onto the sofa before heading to the restroom.

As he washed his hands, the lights flickered. The building was empty and silent now. The “hissing” of the electric lights felt like a bomb about to go off. His right eyelid twitched a bad omen.

He looked into the mirror. In the reflection of the long, dark hallway behind him, a door slowly creaked open.

The lights flickered again. A drop of water fell from his wet fringe. In the moment of darkness, the world went silent. When the lights came back on, he saw a figure in the mirror, standing right behind him.

The man’s face was hidden, just as before. He felt a familiar, sickening sense of violation, as if he were a piece of meat being toyed with by its owner.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Duan Huaijing gasped, his voice white with terror.

The “Eyes” had returned.

The man leaned down, his voice a feather-light whisper against Duan Huaijing’s ear.

“We meet again, baby. Welcome to Hell.”

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