The Real Young Master is Entangled by the Paranoid Fake Young Master - Chapter 3

A gift?!

Zhaoqing suddenly realized that, with his personality before the rebirth, he would have foolishly tried to show kindness to Song Yuening the moment they met.

It’s over, he thought. That gift, I’ve actually already given it to him.

Zhaoqing was both angry and anxious. He didn’t need to look to know that when Song Yuening received the gift, his eyes must have been filled with hidden disdain. Only the Zhaoqing of his past life would have been blind enough to miss such malice.

Zhaoqing instinctively looked at Song Yuening beside him, only to see a small parcel clutched in the sleeping boy’s arms. He held it tightly, as if it were something precious.

Zhaoqing stared at the inconspicuous little package in disbelief. He had expected Yuening to toss it aside the moment he received it, yet here was this “noble” youth holding it like a treasure.

Has Song Yuening’s acting become even more convincing in this life?

Zhaoqing wasn’t sure what to feel, but the situation was spiraling in an unexpected direction. He feared that even with rebirth, he might still head toward that same tragic end. His irritability grew.

Yuening’s abnormal behavior didn’t put Zhaoqing at ease; quite the opposite—his memories of the past life were so horrific that he viewed Yuening’s current actions as merely the calm before a storm.

Looking at Yuening’s angelic sleeping face, Zhaoqing sneered inwardly. In this life, he had no intention of playing nice or suffering in silence for the Song family. He had been too stupid before, thinking that constant concessions would earn him the family affection he craved, or that his care and accommodation would lead Yuening to truly accept him.

Now, looking at that poorly wrapped package, his suppressed resentment from his past life boiled over. He took a deep breath and, with a quick motion, yanked the parcel from Yuening’s arms.

At the same time, feeling his arms go empty, Song Yuening slowly opened his eyes, looking drowsy and confused. Zhaoqing didn’t care whether he was fully awake or not. He had decided to burn his bridges with the Songs here and now. He said coldly:

“Stop the car!”

“Zhao-zhao!” Yuening’s voice rang out simultaneously.

Zhaoqing froze. He had never heard this nickname before. Even in his past life, when Yuening pretended to be friendly, he had only ever called him “Zhaoqing.”

Did he sleep his brains into a stupor? Zhaoqing wondered, bewildered.

Seeing Zhaoqing in a daze, Yuening moved quickly, lunging forward to pin Zhaoqing back while reaching out to snatch the parcel back. He clutched it to his chest, terrified it would be taken again.

This sudden tug-of-war nearly made Zhaoqing laugh from rage. This man was absurd beyond words. In the past life, he had accepted the gift graciously only to throw it away behind Zhaoqing’s back. Now that Zhaoqing didn’t want him to have it, his possessiveness was suddenly through the roof.

Zhaoqing seriously suspected that Yuening was simply sick the kind of person who only wanted what belonged to others because “stolen fruit tastes the sweetest.”

But just as he was gathering a hundred vicious curses in his head, he felt a pair of arms pull him into a firm embrace. Suddenly, the scent of Zhaoqing’s cheap soap mingled with the faint, medicinal fragrance clinging to Yuening.

Zhaoqing’s face was pressed against Yuening’s chest; he could hear every heavy thud of the boy’s heart. To Zhaoqing, this posture was an insult. He took a few deep breaths, but his patience finally snapped. He shoved Yuening away with explosive force. Caught off guard, Yuening hit the car door with a resounding thud.

The sound nearly made Lin Qi’s heart stop. Young Master Yuening was delicate and precious. Once, a new servant had been so distracted by Yuening’s looks that they spilled tea on his hand; those long, piano-playing fingers had turned bright red instantly, and the servant was gone the next day.

Seeing the “real” young master being so rude, Lin Qi expected Yuening to explode. Yuening’s anger never sat on the surface; he always appeared calm and harmless, and those who offended him usually vanished before they even realized they were in trouble.

Lin Qi knew his master’s true nature, which was why he served him with such extreme caution. He expected this “wild and ignorant” boy to be crushed by Yuening soon, beginning a life of misery.

But in the next second, something happened that left Lin Qi utterly floored.

Zhaoqing sensed it too. He looked at Yuening, whom he had shoved so mercilessly. The boy wasn’t angry. He didn’t look at Zhaoqing with the high-and-mighty disdain of their past meeting. Instead, he stared at Zhaoqing and began to laugh.

It was a soft laugh, but it made Zhaoqing’s skin crawl.

When Yuening clutched his chest, Zhaoqing thought he was going to fake an illness to get him punished. Instead, the boy leaned in again with reckless abandon, grabbing Zhaoqing’s hand and pressing it hard against his own heart, as if forcing Zhaoqing to feel the rhythm.

“Hear that? It’s beating for you,” Yuening said.

Zhaoqing watched as Yuening’s breathing grew ragged. A strange, beautiful light danced in the boy’s eyes as he stared at Zhaoqing, his gaze lingering obsessively over every inch of his face.

Zhaoqing was mesmerized by this “sick” version of Yuening. It was worlds apart from the “hypocritical gentleman” of his memories the frail, cold, but “kind” boy he first met. This was the dangerous, morbid, and sharp version of Yuening that had emerged only after he took power at DK. Back then, Yuening would look at him with these same inscrutable eyes not like he was looking at an enemy, but like he was looking at a piece of prey he was about to bring home.

His own private prey.

Yuening’s cold hands slowly let go of Zhaoqing’s hand, only to move up and cup his face. Zhaoqing recoiled from the bizarre intimacy. They could be strangers, enemies, winners, or losers but they could never be close. That was a fundamental error.

“You…” Zhaoqing started to speak, but Yuening cut him off in a haunting whisper.

“Zhao-zhao, don’t leave me this time.”

His eyes were full of longing, but to Zhaoqing, he looked like a demon from hell trying to devour him.

Though Zhaoqing didn’t want to be Yuening’s mortal enemy if he could help it, it didn’t mean he would accept this blatant harassment. A terrible premonition filled his heart. Panicked, he tried to push him away again. Whether the boy had a heart attack or died on the spot was no concern of his; he just wanted to escape that gaze.

“Zhao-zhao, what’s wrong? Are you having a nightmare?” Yuening asked, seizing the initiative.

Zhaoqing’s face grew darker, his voice squeezed out from between his teeth. “Who gave you permission to call me that?”

Yuening wasn’t bothered. He tilted his head innocently, looking puzzled, as if coaxing a child. “But Zhao-zhao, you agreed to let me call you that when we got in the car.”

How many embarrassing things did I do before I woke up? Zhaoqing thought, his expression becoming pained.

Yuening pressed his advantage. “You even gave me a gift and said we should get along.” As he spoke, the light in his exquisite eyes dimmed, and he seemed to wither, appearing heartbroken by Zhaoqing’s sudden coldness.

Even after knowing Yuening for years, Zhaoqing had to hand it to him, his acting skills were top-tier.

Yuening wallowed in his “sorrow” for a moment, but seeing no comfort from Zhaoqing, he continued shamelessly: “Zhao-zhao, that shove hurt a bit. If I could just hug you again, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Zhaoqing’s worldview was once again shattered by Yuening’s shamelessness. This must be a trick to stop me from taking back the gift. He’ll do anything to disgust me! Zhaoqing thought furiously.

In the past life, this dog-like person had stolen everything Zhaoqing ever touched. Would he eventually try to steal the bones Zhaoqing had already gnawed on just to have a lick?

In the previous timeline, Yuening clearly looked down on Xie Chengxuan, the scumbag ex-boyfriend, giving him the cold shoulder at every turn. But the moment Xie Chengxuan became Zhaoqing’s boyfriend, Yuening suddenly became civil to him. That shift in attitude gave the dejected Xie Chengxuan a spark of hope.

It was the same with the Song family shares, Yuening didn’t even want them, yet because Zhaoqing had poured his heart into the company, Yuening had to interfere, leading to Fang Yang’s brutal death.

Zhaoqing thought, Is, simply entering the Song family so unforgivable? Is that why he’s targeted me for all these years?

Old and new grudges flared up. Zhaoqing’s face went cold as he decided to play the “thug” he was raised to be. He lunged forward, snatched the parcel back with a sneer, and said:

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not giving this to you anymore.”

“But Zhao-zhao, you already gave it to me. You can’t take it back,” Yuening said, sounding both stubborn and aggrieved. But he saw the fear in Zhaoqing’s eyes and swallowed his next words: because I will take every word you say as truth, even if you are lying to me.

Zhaoqing, however, wasn’t one of Yuening’s “simps.” He wouldn’t fall for it.

“So what? I was raised by a gambler; being a backstabber is second nature to me,” Zhaoqing said, throwing caution to the wind. “A young master like you wouldn’t value a gift from a ‘vulgar low-life’ anyway. Song Yuening, why bother? Stop acting. Don’t you find yourself ridiculous? You clearly hate me, yet you’re pretending to be friendly. It makes me want to vomit. You hypocrite!”

Saying the words he had suppressed for a lifetime felt exhilarating. He wondered why he hadn’t said them sooner in his past life.

“I do want it. Truly. Can you please give it back to me?”

Yuening watched Zhaoqing’s absolute refusal, and his gaze turned complex. Yet, he continued to shamelessly reach for the parcel. Zhaoqing, fearing Yuening would touch him again, backed away as far as he could.

Thinking about the hours he had spent knitting those gloves, Zhaoqing couldn’t stand the thought of them going to this “dog.” He rolled down the window and threatened:

“Song Yuening, you don’t deserve this. I’d rather throw my gift away than let you have a single piece of it.”

“Oh! Young Master Zhaoqing, please don’t!” Lin Qi tried to intervene. “Young Master Yuening likes you and wants to be close. What’s wrong? You were so happy earlier, asking me so many questions about him, are you just shy now that he’s here?”

Zhaoqing didn’t want to deal with them anymore. He suddenly understood. Yuening simply hated him because he threatened his status.

Fine. Then I just won’t enter the Song house this time. It was that simple.

Cut the ties now, or be haunted forever.

Zhaoqing remembered his adoptive father’s face before he died. Chen Wan had said someone paid for his life. Who wanted him dead so badly? He had nothing left; there was no reason to kill him unless it was out of pure spite or because he still posed a threat the mastermind was afraid of.

Zhaoqing couldn’t be sure if Yuening was the killer, but he was certainly involved. He remembered the invitation to Puyue Temple in the past life, it was signed by Song Yuening. The messenger had told him he’d find out Yuening’s “true identity” and his “true purpose” for returning to the Songs. Zhaoqing hadn’t fully believed it, but he knew Yuening had returned to the country as the head of DK with a deep grudge against the Songs.

Zhaoqing had warned Song Zhiyuan many times, but Zhiyuan refused to believe Yuening would hurt the family. He thought Yuening was just targeting Zhaoqing and that the rest of them would be safe under Yuening’s shadow. But Zhaoqing knew it wouldn’t end there.

To find the truth, he had dragged his dying body to the temple. He had nothing left to lose. But he had failed, he found only the key to hell and died with nothing.

This rebirth was a gift. Life was precious, and he wanted to live. He ignored Lin Qi and told the driver again:

“STOP THE CAR!”

“Wha… what?” The driver was confused.

“I said, STOP THE CAR.”

The driver, caught between Zhaoqing’s command and Lin Qi’s frantic signals to keep going, slowed down but didn’t stop on the narrow, wooded road.

Zhaoqing realized they wouldn’t listen. But it didn’t matter. At this speed, jumping was a piece of cake for someone who grew up fighting and jumping out of windows. Luckily, the driver had forgotten to lock the doors.

He was finally going to leave the suffocating Song family. Even if the adoption wasn’t legally dissolved, he didn’t care. If they couldn’t find him, what did the status matter?

I’d rather die again than go back there, Zhaoqing thought. He turned to Yuening with a provocative smirk.

“Song Yuening, I’ve changed my mind. You can have that ‘ghost’ of a Song family to yourself. We’re done!”

Zhaoqing threw out the words and opened the door. But Yuening was faster. With a strength that looked like he was fighting for his life, Yuening lunged and shoved Zhaoqing out of the car. He didn’t hold back at all.

Zhaoqing, not expecting the move, cursed as he hit the ground. That brat is so sinister! All that acting just to shove me out so I’d fall to my death!

He ignored the sharp pain in his ankle and tried to scramble up. But in the next second, a series of explosive crashes rang out. The air was instantly filled with the acrid smell of smoke and gasoline.

Zhaoqing stood up, clinging to the guardrail, utterly stunned. Terrifying memories flooded back.

On this narrow one-way road, a flashy silver sports car had been speeding in the wrong direction. It slammed head-on into the sedan Zhaoqing had just been in, flipping it over. The car crashed into the trees on the left, specifically on the side where Song Yuening was sitting. The metal was practically flattened.

Zhaoqing watched, frozen, as the driver’s head rolled to his feet.

In the sports car, two women in heavy makeup were slumped in their seats, seemingly dead. But from behind their bodies, the perpetrator crawled out. He had used the women’s bodies as a human shield to survive the impact.

The man was frantic, his mind seemingly scrambled by shock or drugs. He was covered in blood, but he refused to look at the carnage he had caused.

When Zhaoqing saw the man’s face, his blood ran cold.

Xie Qianze! It was him!

The same accident. The same killer. In the past life, the victim was Fang Yang thirteen years later. In this life, the victim was Song Yuening, right here, right now.

Zhaoqing’s legs moved on their own, sprinting toward the wreckage of the car he had just escaped.

He hadn’t been able to save Fang Yang last time. But this time? Could he save someone this time, even if that person was his most hated rival?