The Real Young Master is Entangled by the Paranoid Fake Young Master - Chapter 23

When Zhaoqing woke the next day, his body felt heavy with an inexplicable exhaustion. Despite having fallen into a deep slumber the night before, the fatigue clinging to his limbs remained stubbornly unshakeable.

This is cursed. Could it be sleep paralysis?

Zhaoqing scanned the room but found nothing unusual. However, he wasn’t convinced; his sixth sense made him suspicious of every shadow. When he noticed the balcony door was standing open, his doubts solidified into certainty.

Could someone have climbed up the balcony last night?!

At the thought, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He rushed to the balcony, but found no footprints.

Was the wind really strong enough to blow it open?

Searching to no avail, he was forced to drop the matter. He failed to notice that on the other side of his seemingly smooth bedsheets, a faint, bitter scent of medicinal herbs lingered.

Perhaps because of the rain the night before, the weather was exceptionally fine.

Zhaoqing was about to leave the balcony when a casual glance downward revealed that the glass conservatory in the courtyard had already been completed. Through the glass, he could see new transplants buds that had yet to bloom.

He couldn’t help but stop and stare. He had to admit, Song Yuening’s aesthetic was impeccable. The flower room looked like a high-end crystal ball he had once seen in a luxury shop window.

He had always remembered that beautiful crystal ball; inside were delicate snowflakes and a deep red villa, with two small figures dancing outside. At the time, his life was so pinched that he couldn’t afford even the cheapest candy, let alone an expensive trinket.

But now, that “crystal ball” had taken up residence right under his window in the most prominent place he could see.

He hated everything about the Song family, yet this glass conservatory was unexpectedly to his liking.

By the time Zhaoqing was dressed and downstairs, Song Lili was sitting on the sofa, her face grave as she watched the news. Despite being just a young girl, she wore a stern expression. Seeing her furrowed brows and attempt at maturity, Zhaoqing found it quite endearing.

As expected of my sister, he thought with a bit of internal pride. He was about to go over and pinch her cheek when his gaze froze on the television.

A massive headline flashed across the screen: “Serial Explosions Occur in Sports Car Last Night; Male Deceased Suspected to be Xie Qianze, Only Son of Xie Tao.”

Somehow, word had leaked out. In a single morning, dozens of media outlets across the city had caught wind of it. They were rushing to the scene, the Xie ancestral home, and the Xie Corporation building, desperate for the front-page scoop.

Zhaoqing stood behind the sofa. Although the final images were pixelated, one could see the wreckage of the car nestled in the woods, burned to a hollow skeleton. A male corpse was faintly visible in the driver’s seat.

Zhaoqing suddenly shuddered. He remembered Song Yuening’s volatile emotions and the water stains on his clothes the previous night. A man who paid such meticulous attention to his image, why were his clothes stained that night?

What did Song Yuening do last night?

Zhaoqing didn’t dare think further. He couldn’t be certain if this was Yuening’s doing, but he knew that since Xie Qianze had dared to provoke him, his end wouldn’t be pretty. At the very least, this “accident” was likely connected to him. Had Zhaoqing not risked his life to save Yuening in that previous car accident, Yuening’s death would have looked exactly like Xie Qianze’s now.

A serial explosion. A charred corpse.

It felt as though a mysterious force was correcting everything back to its “proper” place and that force belonged to the “Chosen One,” Song Yuening.

Zhaoqing felt a lingering fear toward Yuening’s methods. He began to feel an underlying unease not for Xie Qianze, as Yuening would have ensured his tracks were seamless, but because this life’s Yuening was revealing his bloodthirsty and cruel nature much earlier. He was becoming more afraid of him.

Seeing Zhaoqing’s fingers clench tightly, Song Lili assumed he was frightened by the news and quickly explained.

“Brother, don’t be scared. This Xie Qianze brought it on himself!” Somewhere along the way, her way of addressing him had become affectionate.

“My best friend’s grandmother is cousins with Old Madam Xie. I heard a bit of gossip… they say Xie Qianze was… driving under the influence of drugs.”

“The Xies were too lenient with him. He caused such a disaster before, and our family didn’t press charges because of our relationship, wanting to give him a chance to reform. Who knew he’d be so unrepentant? Now he’s thrown his life away. He deserves it!”

As Lili prattled on, Zhaoqing realized why the Xies hadn’t requested an autopsy. They likely knew about his history of drug use. They were guilty, so they treated this as a self-inflicted tragedy. Furthermore, the body was burned beyond recognition, the skull cracked; a public investigation would only tank Xie Corporation’s stocks.

Whether it was truly a drug-induced accident or a setup, Zhaoqing no longer cared. In this life, Xie Qianze was dead, which meant Fang Yang might actually live.

At that thought, Zhaoqing’s mood brightened. He was selfish to the core; he didn’t care about others, only those he valued.

The three million had already been successfully transferred to Fang Yang’s account. Their meeting had been a triumph. Fang Yang had been stunned by Zhaoqing’s business insights and predictions of future trends. He finally understood the meaning of “regretting not meeting sooner.” Fang Yang was now fired up with ambition, no longer fearing his family’s shadows.

“Brother, come back to earth,” Lili laughed, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

“I’m listening,” Zhaoqing smiled, his thoughts returning.

Lili saw his mood was a bit low and quickly changed the subject, her eyes sparkling.

“Let’s not talk about Xie Qianze. I have good news for you! The thing you asked me about before? It’s a success! You can go to High School A now. See? Aren’t I amazing?”

Zhaoqing hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly. He ruffled Lili’s hair, his heart swelling with a joy that felt like a caged bird finally tasting the sky. Fang Yang’s project, his own school, Xie Qianze’s end everything seemed to be getting better.

Soon, Zhaoqing passed the transfer exams and interviews for High School A and successfully transferred into his first year.

On his first morning, no one prepared breakfast or drove him to school. He didn’t mind; taking the bus worked just fine. He didn’t run into Yuening, who had been following him lately, but he did encounter Song Zhiyuan, who threw a sarcastic comment his way about “degenerating” by leaving High School No. 1.

Zhaoqing ignored the power-hungry man and even made sure to bump his shoulder as he walked past.

The sun was shining as Zhaoqing sat on the bus, watching the Song villa recede into the distance. He was eager to escape that suffocating mansion. Even if he still had to return at night, he no longer had to spend his days staring at the Song family.

After his self-introduction in class, the teacher assigned him a seat next to a boy with glasses. The boy, Zhao Yi, seemed exceptionally quiet not the social type. They exchanged names and nothing more.

Due to the psychological shadows of his past life, Zhaoqing felt uncertain about how to interact with a new seatmate. He had forgotten what boys this age liked, and he couldn’t exactly act like a carefree teenager.

During geography class a subject he had always struggled with a problem on the blackboard stumped him. As he tapped his head in frustration, a voice startled him.

“The answer is A.”

He looked down to see a hand holding a piece of scratch paper with a detailed explanation. He turned in surprise to see his serious, silent seatmate staring at him. There was no disdain in Zhao Yi’s eyes—just a calm willingness to help.

At that moment, Zhaoqing felt a wave of relief.

Everything is different.

In this life, he wasn’t at High School No. 1. He wouldn’t meet Fu Lansheng and the others. He wouldn’t encounter the classmates who looked down on him. He didn’t have to guess if people liked him or worry about books disappearing or ink being poured on his desk.

The scars hadn’t vanished; he had just hidden them. But Zhao Yi’s simple act of kindness made him realize that after two lifetimes, he could finally start to heal. The teachers here were kind, the students friendly.

He was finally satisfied with his life.