The Third Year After The Breakup, He Knelt and Begged to Get Back Together - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Qi Mingfeng, Don’t Push Your Luck…

He Xian didn’t know what was wrong with himself.

The thought of Qi Mingfeng being able to sleep soundly in that villa made him uncomfortable.

Seeing Qi Mingfeng argue with him without yielding an inch also made him uncomfortable.

And when he saw Qi Mingfeng lying in the hospital with a face as pale as death, that discomfort reached its peak.

He realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want Qi Mingfeng to be happy.

He just wanted Qi Mingfeng’s happiness to be something he provided.

He Xian spoke in a low voice: “Considering the circumstances and the fact that you are sick, I can choose not to hold the fact that you deceived me against you.”

Qi Mingfeng: “And so?”

He Xian: “So… so, I haven’t closed my eyes for two days and one night. Can you please be honest for once and let me get some peaceful sleep?”

The bedroom curtains were not drawn. He Xian lived on a high floor; looking out from Qi Mingfeng’s perspective, one could only see an endless night. Occasionally, a few stars dotted the darkness, but they were so tiny that one might mistake them for illusions caused by blurred vision.

Perhaps because he had been silent for too long, He Xian added: “Whatever conditions you have, whatever things you want, whatever you want to do, I can agree to them.”

Qi Mingfeng said without hesitation: “Divorce.”

“Qi Mingfeng!” He Xian threw back the covers and sat up, glaring at him almost exasperatedly. “How can you be so stubborn? I’m not even holding it against you anymore. Would it kill you to be a little magnanimous?!”

Being magnanimous wouldn’t kill him.

But it would take away something more important than his life.

Qi Mingfeng closed his eyes.

“No, I was never a very magnanimous person.”

Given He Xian’s pride, although he hadn’t apologized directly or stated anything clearly, speaking to this extent was his limit.

After being rebuffed several times, He Xian didn’t speak again.

In the quiet room, only He Xian’s slightly hurried breathing from anger could be heard.

After a long while, there was a rustling sound from behind; He Xian had also lain down.

The night passed in silence.

…

The next morning, Qi Mingfeng woke up at 5:30 as usual.

He no longer needed to work as hard as before to earn money. He Xian controlled all his receiving accounts and could transfer money away at any time.

If he had money sent to someone else’s account, He Xian would find a way to transfer that too if he found out.

Before the engagement, he had prepared to vanish from the internet. He cleared the remaining orders on his streaming account and said goodbye to everyone with an excuse.

Actually, he didn’t like that kind of work. It wasn’t that he looked down on it, but it simply wasn’t as happy as singing songs he truly liked.

After thinking for a moment, Qi Mingfeng decided to sleep a bit longer.

The doctor said he needed more sleep; he had to nurse his body back to health so he could do the things he loved in the future.

Although he didn’t sleep deeply, he dozed for over an hour and woke up at 7:00.

Unable to sleep any longer, he tossed back the quilt and got out of bed.

As soon as he moved, He Xian woke up too.

Qi Mingfeng didn’t look back, going about his business of washing up and eating breakfast.

He had no interaction with He Xian throughout the process.

Between them, it seemed there was nothing left to say except for arguments.

After eating, Qi Mingfeng went to change clothes.

He was looking forward to today. Zhou Zhixi said he would bring some unreleased songs for him to listen to.

Zhou Zhixi was top-tier at writing lyrics and melodies, and his style was versatile. There were many songs he liked very much, but because of He Xian, he never had the chance to collaborate. He still brooded over the collaboration he missed over two years ago.

He Xian saw him going to the walk-in closet to change: “Your illness requires rest. Where are you running off to again?”

“Zhixi said he has a few new songs; I’m going to listen to them.” Qi Mingfeng didn’t hide it; anyway, if He Xian wanted to check, it was just a matter of a phone call.

He Xian’s brow furrowed into a deep ‘V’: “Zhou Zhixi’s studio is on the verge of dissolving. If you want to release a single or an album, I can find a professional team for you.”

Qi Mingfeng adjusted his collar in front of the mirror and said casually: “I just want to find something to do.”

He Xian: “You just have to be with Zhou Zhixi, don’t you?”

Qi Mingfeng turned around and said to He Xian without backing down: “Who I am with is my freedom. In the future, there will be a Wu Zhixi and a Zheng Zhixi. You can choose to separate from me, or, of course, you can choose to break my legs.”

The veins on He Xian’s forehead bulged: “Qi Mingfeng, can’t you speak properly?!”

Qi Mingfeng: “I’ve finished speaking.”

He stepped past He Xian, intending to leave.

Unsurprisingly, he was blocked by He Xian again.

He Xian had been annoyed by Zhou Zhixi since two years ago, even before Qi Mingfeng and Zhou Zhixi knew each other.

As the two most dazzling new stars of the same period, both with superior looks, they were inevitably discussed together and even “shipped” by fans.

Phrases like “The Two Kings Never Meet,” “Close Private Friends,” and “Waiting for the Collaboration of the Century” were common.

At that time, his relationship with Qi Mingfeng was stable, and though he didn’t like seeing those things, he didn’t make an issue of it.

Who knew that Qi Mingfeng would actually run into Zhou Zhixi during a multi-artist concert and become fast friends at first sight.

That time, He Xian had rarely found time to support Qi Mingfeng. He waited backstage for a long time without seeing him return. When he went to look, Qi Mingfeng was chatting passionately with Zhou Zhixi—whom he’d just met—as if nothing else in the world existed.

After that, Zhou Zhixi proactively created a song tailored specifically for Qi Mingfeng, and Qi Mingfeng insisted on collaborating with Zhou Zhixi despite his objections.

Calling each other “Senior” and “Junior.”

What a “meeting late” pair they were.

They had countless arguments because of this. Two years later, He Xian thought he could have some peace, but Zhou Zhixi had reappeared like a lingering ghost.

He Xian wished he could tear Zhou Zhixi apart. How could he be willing to let Qi Mingfeng run off to spend time with him?

“Please move. I’m going to be late.”

Qi Mingfeng urged expressionlessly.

He Xian ground his molars.

He had told Qi Mingfeng yesterday that he would agree to whatever he wanted or however he wanted things to be; he couldn’t slap his own face the very next day.

Anyway, that guy surnamed Zhou didn’t look like he had those kinds of intentions toward Qi Mingfeng, and Qi Mingfeng was certainly not interested in someone younger.

He Xian painfully did some psychological construction for himself and spoke: “Fine. Go if you want to go, but come home on time.”

Qi Mingfeng looked at He Xian in surprise.

Even though he was prepared to go out even if He Xian didn’t agree—setting aside time specifically to argue—he hadn’t expected He Xian to back down as if he were possessed.

Seeing Qi Mingfeng’s gaze, a strange trace of happiness surfaced in He Xian’s heart. He tilted his chin up slightly: “I said I would agree to anything you wanted.”

Qi Mingfeng: “Divorce?”

He Xian’s face darkened instantly: “Qi Mingfeng, are you looking for trouble?”

Qi Mingfeng coughed lightly and didn’t argue further.

Seeing Qi Mingfeng stop obediently and his expression become less cold, He Xian’s mood improved accordingly.

This is how it should be.

What family lives by arguing every day?

Qi Mingfeng: “Then I’m going. I might not be back until tonight.”

“Wait,” He Xian said suddenly.

He knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Qi Mingfeng: “What else?”

He Xian fished two familiar boxes out of a drawer in the closet: “Put them on.”

The boxes were opened, revealing the two rings He Xian had personally made.

Qi Mingfeng “snapped” the boxes shut.

He Xian took a deep breath: “Qi Mingfeng, don’t push your luck.”

Qi Mingfeng said calmly: “It’s meaningless.”

He Xian: “Then don’t go. I can’t break your legs, but I have ten thousand ways to keep you from leaving the house.”

Qi Mingfeng’s hands at his sides clenched into fists.

He knew He Xian meant what he said.

Looking at that exquisite metal band, Qi Mingfeng’s heart was a tangle of emotions.

What was the point?

Apart from torturing each other, what was left between them?

Qi Mingfeng took a deep look at He Xian: “Are you sure you want to give this to me?”

Seeing him waver, He Xian took the ring out directly and put it on him with the same refusal to take “no” for an answer as the first time he gifted it: “There is no logic in taking back something given to someone else.”

Qi Mingfeng withdrew his hand: “Fine.”

He bypassed He Xian and strode out of the house.

…

The time reserved for arguing went unused, and Qi Mingfeng arrived at the villa earlier than planned.

It wasn’t until he entered the door that his mood gradually improved.

The house his teacher left him seemed to have become a musical base for him and his junior.

It was quite nice.

Close to 9:00 AM, the villa doorbell rang.

Qi Mingfeng opened the door. Zhou Zhixi was wearing a sun hat, his long-sleeved shirt wide open to reveal a light-colored short-sleeved T-shirt underneath, paired with washed-out loose jeans. Despite not showing much skin, smooth and beautiful muscle lines were faintly visible. Especially when he smiled, showing white teeth, the wantonness of youth almost overflowed.

“Senior, we meet again.”

Qi Mingfeng made way: “Come in quickly. Why are you wearing so much in this heat? Drink some water first.”

“Thanks, Senior. I’m afraid of the sun,” Zhou Zhixi sat on the sofa and pulled a notebook out of his bag. “Come, come, I can’t wait for you to try my songs. Didn’t you say you can’t sing intense ones consecutively? There are many soothing ones here. If you like any, we’ll release a single!”

Qi Mingfeng was equally impatient; he had waited a long time for this day too.

He clicked on the folder Zhou Zhixi pointed out and played one of them at random. A smooth melody drifted through the living room.

It really sounded beautiful.

He listened to several in a row, and his excitement grew.

With his eye for music, if these songs Zhou Zhixi wrote were given to a good singer, the play count would surely be staggering.

He couldn’t help saying: “You have so many good songs hidden away. Why haven’t you found someone to sing them?”

Zhou Zhixi sipped the fruit tea he brought, not caring much: “I’m very picky. If a singer can’t interpret my work well, I’d rather let it rot in the ground than give it to them.”

Zhou Zhixi was very proud in this matter.

But his ability matched that pride.

Although Qi Mingfeng wasn’t the creative type, as a fellow singer taught by the same teacher, he understood Zhou Zhixi’s thoughts very well.

Zhou Zhixi was eager to try: “Shall we go to the second floor and try them out?”

Qi Mingfeng: “Okay.”

They went through song after song, with Qi Mingfeng mainly singing and Zhou Zhixi playing.

Sometimes the two felt a part could be improved, so they would stop to discuss it together. This was their first time collaborating on brand-new tracks, yet many of their ideas coincided perfectly.

Qi Mingfeng loved this feeling.

Or perhaps no singer didn’t love this feeling.

This atmosphere lasted until Qi Mingfeng selected “You Have Not Spoken.”

The other songs were beautiful too, but this one left him stunned.

Qi Mingfeng: “Let’s try this one.”

He received no response. He turned his head and found Zhou Zhixi’s expression was somewhat troubled.