The "Honest" Beta Deceived Day and Night by a Twisted Obsessive - Chapter 29

A Study in Extreme Possessiveness and Control.

“Duan Huaijing?”

“Duan Huaijing, what’s wrong?”

It took several calls from his colleague before Duan Huaijing finally snapped back to reality. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

He shook his head, though he still looked dazed. His colleague offered a few polite words of concern before moving on. A few seconds later, Duan Huaijing let out a long, heavy breath. He was thinking about the annulment of his engagement, and he was thinking about that night when Xie Yun had entered his room and left behind something on his skin that couldn’t even be called a kiss.

Whatever it was, it was a sign. He could no longer stay at the Xie residence.

Since that night, he had been going out of his way to avoid Xie Yun. The house was only so big, but when one person is determined to hide, a confrontation becomes difficult. Perhaps Xie Yun had sensed something, as he began returning home less frequently, giving Duan Huaijing the space to breathe. By unspoken agreement, they began to act like strangers. Everything seemed to have returned to its proper track.

With a heavy heart, he used the office printer to run off several copies of the annulment contract. He printed extras, fearing that if Xie Ming had one of his fits, he would simply tear the document to shreds.

When it came to the engagement, Old Madame Xie held the ultimate authority. Duan Huaijing knew her kindness toward him was purely out of gratitude for his father’s sacrifice; in her heart, she still desired a match for Xie Ming that provided political or financial leverage. To her, Duan Huaijing was merely “obedient” and “easy to control.”

Thus, the Old Madame became his first port of call.

The housekeeper mentioned that the Old Madame had been in low spirits lately a common occurrence with age, she said, where the passing of time brings a certain melancholy.

Duan Huaijing nodded, offered a soft “thank you,” and pushed open the door to her room.

Old Madame Xie sat with a cloth in hand, her reading glasses lending her an air of refined elegance. She was dusting a memorial portrait, her expression distant, as if lost in a deep memory.

Duan Huaijing approached slowly. “Grandmother?”

She looked up, her movements pausing. It took a few seconds for her to register him. “Ah, Xiao Duan.”

Almost instantly, Duan Huaijing felt her emotions shift and reset. Though her expression remained the same, the warmth vanished, replaced by a distant politeness, the way one reacts when woken from a dream by a stranger.

Duan Huaijing pretended not to notice. He handed her the contract. “I’ve had a lawyer look this over; it’s all in order. You can have your own people check it when you have the time.”

Something in his words struck a chord in her. Her eyes grew glassy, staring through him at someone else entirely. “Annul the engagement?” she whispered.

Thinking she hadn’t heard, he repeated himself.

The Old Madame’s face crumpled with sorrow. Her gaze shifted, her eyes welling with tears as she reached out a trembling hand to touch his face. Duan Huaijing instinctively wanted to flinch but forced himself to stay still.

“She is your aunt by marriage. why can’t you understand?” she murmured nonsensically.

Duan Huaijing blinked. She had clearly mistaken him for someone else. “Old Madame Xie?”

Her pupils finally focused. Seeing who was actually in front of her, she nodded dejectedly, as if she had been hoping for a response to her previous words. Seeing her state, Duan Huaijing helped her to the sofa and poured her a glass of water.

She took it and looked at him. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

He had come for the engagement, but he found himself nodding as if under a spell.

The Old Madame clutched the cup, her eyes fixed on a point in the air as if the past were replaying before her. “I called him back that day to meet everyone. His uncle was getting married, after all. Who knew that the moment he saw his ‘aunt,’ he would go mad, demanding the engagement be broken?”

“It was only later that I found out she was his first love. They had a history. I was the one who forced them apart when they were in university.”

“But the wedding was imminent. Neither the uncle nor the bride objected. I found several girls of a similar age to him, hoping he would move on. It seemed to work; he stopped making a fuss. But then, the day before the wedding, he and the bride vanished.”

Duan Huaijing found the double disappearance suspicious. “And then?”

She let out a long sigh. “Then we found out he had locked her away. They had even managed to register a marriage and perform their own secret ceremony.”

Immersed in her world, she began addressing Duan Huaijing as “you,” as if he were that man—the emotional prisoner.

Duan Huaijing realized he was hearing secrets that had been buried for decades. The more he heard, the more dangerous it would be once she regained her clarity. He had a vague idea of who the man was and didn’t press further. After he calmed her down, she lay weakly on the sofa, muttering that the Xies owed him and he should ask for whatever he wanted.

She agreed to the annulment but told him he must also speak with Xie Ming.

As he rose to leave, Duan Huaijing caught a glimpse of the portrait. The man in the photo bore a striking resemblance to both Xie Yun and Xie Ming. The man she was talking about must have been Xie Yun’s father.

Duan Huaijing closed the door softly. The housekeeper approached with a cup of ginger tea. “The Old Madame didn’t say anything.  unusual, did she?”

His face was obscured by the rising steam. He blinked rapidly and shook his head. “No.”

The housekeeper sighed in relief. “That’s good. Today is the anniversary of ‘that person’s’ death. She’s never truly moved on.” The way she avoided the name showed how taboo the subject was.

Duan Huaijing remained silent. So, the man who stole his own aunt and locked her up was Xie Yun’s father?

Thinking of the bite mark on his neck, a dangerous thought surfaced: Like father, like son.

As he left the Xie estate with the remaining contracts, his phone rang. It was his mother. He stared at the road, kicking a loose stone. He answered.

“Hello?”

Had her failure to get money a few days ago brought her back for more?

“How much do you have left? Transfer it to the old card,” she demanded, her tone as harsh as a debt collector’s.

Duan Huaijing walked with his head down. He was dressed thinly, and the biting wind seemed to cut right through him. “I really have no money,” he said, his voice muffled by his collar.

“No money? Then how can you afford to keep that old hag in the hospital, eh?” she shrieked. “Do you know how much a hospital bed costs per day? Your grandmother is at that age, how many years does she have left anyway? Why waste money on someone who’s practically dead? You’re a fool who can’t do basic maths.”

A nerve snapped inside Duan Huaijing. He froze, his phone gripped so tight the veins on his hand bulged. His eyes turned bloodshot. “My grandmother will live to be a hundred!” he hissed.

Mother Duan didn’t want to waste time on that topic. “If you don’t have money, go get it from Xie Ming. Isn’t he your fiancé? Once you’re married, his money is yours. Asking for a bit now won’t hurt.”

He unconsciously crumpled the contract in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he blinked back tears, set his phone to silent, and crouched down to smooth out the creases in the paper. The call was still active; she was likely still screaming.

The wind was relentless, freezing his hands. Even if his family saw him as an ATM, even if Xie Ming insulted him, even if the world looked down on him, he didn’t believe he was inferior. Once this engagement was gone, he would be free. He would take his grandmother and live a quiet, stable life.

A family of three walked past—a daughter skipping with a toy wand while her parents watched her, smiling.

“Where does our little Yuan want to go for her birthday?”

“To the forest to find the bears!”

The mother chuckled, glancing at the father. “You’re a bad influence. She’s in Year One now; she can’t play every day.”

The little girl saw Duan Huaijing crouching by the road. She hesitated, then walked over and offered him a sweet from her pocket. “Have a sweet, big brother.”

The mother, noticing his thin clothes, asked kindly, “Why are you out in so little? Young people shouldn’t take their health for granted. We live just up there, why don’t you come in and warm up?”

Duan Huaijing had been rubbing the paper together to drown out the sound of their “happy family” atmosphere, trying to hide his embarrassment and his fragile pride. He looked at the sweet. It was a brand he had never seen before.

“No, thank you.” His voice was unreadable. The family eventually fell silent and led the child away.

The world felt empty again. Their voices faded, retreating back into a world that felt like it belonged to a different species. It was as if the universe were mocking him, showing him exactly what he was denied.

To an outsider, that family was the picture of happiness. To Duan Huaijing, it felt “fake.” He didn’t know what a normal relationship looked like; his only frame of reference was the distorted love of the “Eye.” He looked at the sweet on the ground. Like a brand he didn’t recognize, he assumed it was just as low-quality as everything else he’d been given in life.

He picked it up and threw it into the bin. Charity? I don’t need it. Aside from his grandmother, no one would ever love him unconditionally.

He saw the phone was still connected. Without turning on the speaker, he said into the mic, “I’ve broken off the engagement with Xie Ming. We won’t be in touch again.” Then he hung up.

A flood of messages from his mother followed. He stared at them, feeling a dark, petty sense of satisfaction. His outburst had been driven by pure spite. He couldn’t stand the thought of her winning, of her living off his blood while he nursed his wounds alone.

He hated how his family used him, he hated his own indecisiveness, and he hated that part of him that still craved a mother’s love. He felt pathetic. But instead of admitting it, his pain twisted into an extreme thought: As long as you’re unhappy, I’m happy. If he could make her scream with rage, it was a victory.

****

Duan Huaijing found out where Xie Ming was from a social media post. He dropped the signed contracts at his flat and headed back into the cold.

The club was a blur of neon lights and loud music. Xie Ming was in his element, a beautiful woman on each arm, sipping expensive imported wine. He was the quintessential spoiled playboy.

When Duan Huaijing stood before him, he looked like a white rabbit trying to act brave. Xie Ming looked up and lazily gestured for someone to make room. One of the women glared at Duan Huaijing as she was shooed away, but he didn’t even look at her.

“Don’t bother,” Duan Huaijing said, staring at the floor. “I’m only here to deliver a message.”

Xie Ming ate a grape offered by one of the girls, his body swaying to the beat. “Is the message ‘stop playing and come home,’ or ‘can I join in’?” He tilted his head, a wicked glint in his eye. “Actually, I’ve never tried a foursome before.”

Duan Huaijing felt a wave of nausea. “Our engagement is over.”

Xie Ming froze. “What?”

Duan Huaijing met his eyes, his gaze filled with cold indifference. “I said, the engagement is annulled.”

Xie Ming stared at him, realizing he wasn’t joking. He stood up, ignoring the women, and walked toward Duan Huaijing. His face was dark. “Annulled? That’s a good one.” He shouted to the room, “If anyone’s breaking it off, it’ll be me! You came all this way just to play hard to get? That trick doesn’t work on me.”

Duan Huaijing turned to leave. “Think what you want.”

Xie Ming licked his teeth. “You’re breaking it off to be with my brother, aren’t you?” He thought of how his brother treated Duan Huaijing, giving him everything while others got nothing. “You think I’m sick? Do you think my brother is ‘normal’?”

“He’s a total lunatic! When we were kids, we both liked the same dog. Because the dog liked me more, he turned it into a taxidermy specimen. Oh, he still keeps it in his room. Does that sound normal to you?”

While Xie Ming was openly wild, Xie Yun had been raised as the heir, repressed by rules and morality. When that pressure finally snapped, the obsession was far more dangerous.

Duan Huaijing kept his back to him. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Am I?” Xie Ming shrugged. “Deep down, you know I’m right. And you know I’m a much better choice for a husband than he is.”

The crowd watched the drama unfold, some looking at Duan Huaijing with envy, as if being engaged to the second Xie son was a dream come true.

“Old Madame Xie has already agreed and signed the papers,” Duan Huaijing said. “Believe it or not.”

Xie Ming narrowed his eyes. Since when did Duan Huaijing have such a spine? He used to be so timid. This new fire was interesting; it made him want to conquer him even more. For the first time, he regretted the idea of letting him go.

“Hold him down,” Xie Ming commanded.

Duan Huaijing tried to bolt, but he was grabbed and shoved onto the sofa. Xie Ming rolled up his sleeves. “The engagement isn’t a rush. I can go beg Grandmother. You’re just acting out, aren’t you?”

Duan Huaijing didn’t give in. He looked up and gave a provocative smile. “It’s already over.”

He was done pretending. After today, they would be nothing to each other.

Xie Ming’s violent streak flared. He grabbed a beer bottle, popped the cap with his teeth, and clamped a hand over Duan Huaijing’s mouth, forcing the alcohol down his throat. Duan Huaijing struggled violently, the beer soaking into his shirt and clinging to his skin.

He was like a fish on a chopping board. Xie Ming stood over him, triumphant. Duan Huaijing realized then that if he hadn’t escaped now, Xie Ming might have eventually killed him and found a way to call it self-defence. Power and money in this world, they were absolute.

Xie Ming swept the remaining bottles off the table and shouted to the room, “I, Xie Ming, won’t marry anyone but him!”

The room erupted in cheers. Xie Ming smirked at Duan Huaijing’s helplessness.

Suddenly, the room plunged into total darkness.

“What’s happening?”

“Power cut?”

The music continued eerily, but the lights were dead. People took the darkness as part of the fun. In that split second of blackness, Duan Huaijing found a surge of strength. He wrenched himself free, felt around on the floor for a bottle and mimicking Xie Ming, smashed it over the man’s head.

He wasn’t going to endure it anymore. An eye for an eye. His cowardice was a mask; his true self was ruthless when given the chance.

Xie Ming screamed and tried to run, but Duan Huaijing pursued him like a demon from hell.

“Blood! It’s blood!”

“Torches! Turn on your phone lights!”

A minute later, Xie Ming was curled on the floor, his back drenched in blood. When someone finally turned on a light, they froze in horror. Duan Huaijing stood in the shadows, blood dripping from the broken bottle in his hand. He tossed it aside and wiped his fingers.

His adrenaline was surging, his fingers tingling with the thrill of release. I’ve spent too much time with the ‘Eye,’ he thought. Our methods are becoming the same.

He prepared to slip away before the lights fully returned, but a hand grabbed his wrist and dragged him into a side room.

“Who is it?” he gasped, his heart racing. Then, he smelled a familiar scent. He reached out in the dark, his hand traveling up the person’s arm. It was the “Eye.”

“Did you guess it was me?” the voice whispered.

Duan Huaijing didn’t answer. “Did you cut the power?”

The “Eye” took some tissues and began meticulously cleaning the blood and grime from Duan Huaijing’s hands. “Yes.”

“Are you stalking me?”

“Yes,” the “Eye” admitted candidly.

Duan Huaijing was speechless. With a normal person, he would have asked why, but with the “Eye,” this was normal. “We’re done,” Duan Huaijing finally said.

The “Eye” gripped his hand tighter. “Impossible.”

“Why didn’t you help me when they were pouring drinks down my throat?” Duan Huaijing challenged.

“I arrived late,” the “Eye” said patiently. He leaned in and kissed the corner of Duan Huaijing’s mouth, the mask feeling cold against his skin. “It won’t happen again.”

In the VIP suite upstairs, four or five men were kneeling. Xie Ming lay half-dead on the floor; no one dared take him to the hospital because the man standing with his back to them was more terrifying than the Grim Reaper.

One of the men who had held Duan Huaijing down was shaking like a leaf. “President Xie, please! We were just following orders!”

Xie Yun’s eyes were pitch black. He held a cigarette, his expression obscured by smoke. “Does it hurt?” he asked softly.

The men stammered out “yes” and “no,” thinking he was talking to them. Xie Yun laughed coldly. He was thinking of the invisible wounds Duan Huaijing had carried for years—the shackles that had made every step a misery. Duan Huaijing never complained, because he knew his pain would only hurt those who cared for him.

Seeing Duan Huaijing fight back with that bottle had broken Xie Yun’s heart. It was years of repressed agony, finally finding an outlet.

Xie Yun looked at one of the kneeling men. “Come here.”

The man crawled over, sobbing. “Open your mouth,” Xie Yun commanded. The man obeyed, and Xie Yun flicked his cigarette ash into the man’s mouth, extinguishing the cherry against his tongue.

“He begged you too,” Xie Yun said. “Did you let him go?”

Xie Yun kicked the man aside and picked up a small knife. He crouched before another man and, without blinking, severed several of his fingers. Blood sprayed across Xie Yun’s face, making him look like a monster.

He moved to the next person. And the next. These men had used their power to bully; now they were facing someone with absolute power.

He turned to the unconscious Xie Ming. He didn’t take his fingers, he needed the man’s fingerprints for certain contracts but he broke both of Xie Ming’s legs, ensuring he would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. He froze his brother’s bank accounts and arranged for him to be exiled from the city for years.

“When he wakes up,” Xie Yun said casually to the survivors, “tell him I did it.”

He cleaned himself up, ensuring there wasn’t a speck of blood left on him before returning to the room where Duan Huaijing was. He didn’t want Duan Huaijing to smell the blood.

When the door opened, Duan Huaijing was surprised to see him unharmed. “They didn’t beat you to death?”

The “Eye” slipped inside. “Are you disappointed?”

“One of them was the brother of the head of the Xie Group,” Duan Huaijing said. “You’re in for it now.”

“Are you worried about me?”

“I’m worried about why you aren’t dead yet,” Duan Huaijing sneered.

The “Eye” ignored the insult. “If I die, it’ll be from the pleasure of being with you.” His obsession was suffocating. He pressed Duan Huaijing into the sofa, burying his face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent.

The affection turned frantic, a desperate attempt to prove something. Duan Huaijing was forced to endure it until his midnight alarm went off.

“Our deal is over,” Duan Huaijing said, pushing him away. He smoothed his clothes, his eyes cold and calm. “I returned the money to you this afternoon.”

His coldness was like a blade, cutting through the intimacy they had just shared. He had been acting; the “Eye” was the only one who had fallen for it.

“We’re even,” Duan Huaijing said, walking past him.

Suddenly, his wrist was seized with a grip that threatened to break bones. He turned back, annoyed. “What do you?”

Before he could finish, he was yanked back onto the sofa. Xie Yun stared at him, his eyes like those of a caged predator finally breaking free.

“Even?”

“You want me to die, don’t you?”

“Hmm? You want me dead?”

“Babe.  then shall I just go and die?”

His voice was a low, desperate growl. The snake had escaped its cage.

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