ADTCP Ch51

The March night still carried a chill, the warmth and brightness of the day long gone. The bedroom window hadn’t been shut properly, and cold wind slipped through the crack, whipping the curtain and making it slap against the sill with a loud bang, bang. Shadows of swaying trees stretched across the wall, looking like ghosts ready to break in at any moment, spine-chilling.

The air seemed frozen. Tao Zhen felt an inexplicable throb of unease. After a moment, he leaned closer to Zhu Wensheng and forced a smile:
“I know… seeing Xia Xia and Jiang Shan fall apart like that made you worry the same might happen to us, right?”

All couples in love harbor such fears. Maybe it’s because their happiness feels so precious that they can’t help imagining what it would be like to lose it.

Especially now, with friends serving as cautionary tales, Zhu Wensheng’s thoughts were only natural.

Tao Zhen himself had just put himself in Tong Xia’s shoes, sharing her pain, her fragility. He knew exactly how much it hurt.

He thought for a moment, then raised his hand to caress Zhu Wensheng’s cheek, comforting him: “Ah-Sheng, you’re mine. Let’s not think about these ‘what-ifs’…”

Before he could finish, a rough, calloused palm pressed over his hand.
Zhu Wensheng leaned in, the faint scent of medicated balm mixed with woodsy undertones enveloping him. In the silence of the night, his low voice stirred ripples: “What if… I really am like her?”

It was the third time he asked. He seemed obsessed with an answer.

Tao Zhen fell silent, sinking into thought.

Memories of the day flickered like a film reel. Tong Xia’s tear-streaked face replayed in his mind. Sweet, bitter, sour, emotions tangled.

If the one deceiving him was Zhu Wensheng… if “just messing around” came from his lips, would he explain? Not explain? Would Tao Zhen forgive, or not forgive? Even he, who always claimed he could, suddenly couldn’t find an answer.

After a long pause, he finally spoke: “Actually…”

Zhu Wensheng lifted his eyes.

Tao Zhen pressed his lips together and said seriously: “…I really hate being lied to.”

When he was a kid, he’d lend his favorite toy to a classmate, only to be told it was lost. He pretended it was fine, until he saw it later in another kid’s house.

When he came to a strange city for college, he thought he’d made friends. Even when they left him with the bill, thousands at a time, he laughed it off. But later he found out they mocked him behind his back, treating him like an ATM…

Yes, Tao Zhen didn’t care about many things. But that didn’t mean he liked being made into a clown for others’ amusement.

The air went still. Zhu Wensheng’s body stiffened.

At last his lashes trembled. He gently rubbed Tao Zhen’s soft hand and said quietly: “…I understand.”

The boy’s words shattered his last shred of wishful thinking.

It felt like stepping into the octagon only to take a direct hit and collapse, consciousness fading as the referee’s count rang out and the crowd roared. His heart felt shredded, like blood would spurt from his throat.

If he didn’t confess soon, he might never get back up.

“All right, it’s late. You go wash up, I’ll order some food, then check on Xia Xia…” Tao Zhen still worried about the girl. He smiled faintly, pulled his hand back, and stood.
Zhu Wensheng nearly called him back, but after a pause swallowed the words: “Okay.”

Now wasn’t the right time.

Tao Zhen had just witnessed Xia Xia and Jiang Shan’s broken love. He couldn’t bear to make Tao Zhen live through the same immediately after.

***

Outside, Tong Xia and Jiang Shan spoke for a long time. Matters of the heart are never simple, hard to cut clean.

Tao Zhen wanted to bring them in for food, but they were caught up in their talk, moods tangled. Jiang Shan thanked him and left with Tong Xia, without even a sip of water.

Knowing it was for Tong Xia to decide, Tao Zhen didn’t stop her. He only stood at the doorway, holding a bowl like a lonely old man, until Zhu Wensheng tugged him back inside.

They’d been running around for Tong Xia all afternoon without rest, and tomorrow wasn’t a holiday. So after a quick bite and a wash, they went straight to bed.

The next morning,

The alarm went off right on time. Having barely slept through the night, Tao Zhen groggily climbed out of bed. Turning his head, he met Zhu Wensheng’s eyes, dark circles under both of theirs. Two pandas stared at each other, and both couldn’t help but laugh.

The heaviness weighing on Tao Zhen’s heart for hours finally eased. Tears welled in his smiling eyes as he blinked. “Jet lag?”

Zhu Wensheng raised a brow. “Mm. Looks like you haven’t adjusted your jet lag either.”

Morning time was short, so they didn’t chat long. They washed up quickly, ate breakfast, and headed off in different directions. Tao Zhen, stuck with a heavy course load this semester, trudged miserably off to his 8 a.m. class.

Zhu Wensheng, free of morning lectures, sent Zhao Zhao a quick message before heading to the club to clock in right on schedule. Having just finished a championship match, and with a long road ahead before signing on with the UFC, his training these days was mainly about maintaining fitness, not overly intense.

But the coach and sparring partners quickly noticed something was wrong. For a man supposedly just keeping up his stamina, Zhu Wensheng was striking as if he meant to kill, like he’d be stepping into the ring any moment, ready for battle.

One sparring partner lasted a short while before crying uncle and fleeing, soon replaced by another. Judging from the pace, Zhu Wensheng was about to thrash his way through every sparring partner in the gym. Finally, the physical therapist had enough and forcibly dragged him down to check his arm.

Only then did Zhu Wensheng pause, chest heaving, muscles pumped, sweat rolling down his jaw to the floor. It was as though only by exhausting himself this way could he vent the restlessness burning inside.

That was when Zhao Zhao arrived. He strolled in carrying a bag of fried chicken, flaunting it in front of a group of guys on strict diets, basking in the looks that practically wanted to rip him apart. Grinning, he plopped down on a camping chair to the side, waving:

“Can’t we meet somewhere else next time? Every time it’s this club of yours, I feel like a respawning NPC on loop…”

Zhu Wensheng didn’t reply right away. He just glanced at him, the meaning clear enough: Zhao Zhao’s idea of “somewhere else” was some seedy place for an all-nighter.

“Fine, fine, I’ve got nothing better to do anyway. To risk my life keeping company with a gentleman; even Huai Min has not yet slept…” Zhao Zhao grumbled as he stuffed a piece of fried chicken into his mouth. Muffled, he asked, “So, why did you think of calling me out today?”

Zhu Wensheng signaled the therapist to stop the massage and quietly walked over to sit beside him. “There’s something I want to ask your advice on. You probably have more experience than me.”

Zhao Zhao choked, hurriedly swallowed the chicken, and instantly perked up, grinning in disbelief: “You? Asking me for advice?! Quick, quick, quick, tell me, let me enjoy this moment.”

Zhu Wensheng might have been rebellious in his fighting career, but for years he’d been the poster child that parents praised: smart, good-looking, self-disciplined… Even Zhao Zhao’s parents often scolded him, tugging his ears, “Why can’t you learn from Zhu Wensheng? He trains all day, and you just fool around.” He could hardly imagine Zhu Wensheng needing his help.

Zhu Wensheng lowered his eyes, and after a few seconds finally spoke: “A friend of Tao Zhen’s… found out their partner had been lying to them for a long time. Last night, everything exploded, and now they might break up.”

“I don’t want to break up with Tao Zhen, so I want to confess my real identity to him early,” Zhu Wensheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice slightly hoarse. “But I don’t know… how to start.”

Zhao Zhao’s smile froze. “…Ah?”

Damn. He should’ve guessed it was about this.

The only thing that could make Zhu Wensheng look like this was his “sugar daddy” Tao Zhen.

Back then, he’d rather pretend to be poor than risk the relationship collapsing. But pretending to be poor was like drinking poison to quench thirst, the moment the truth came out, it’d be like swallowing venom. Tao Zhen’s friend had just proven that.

And yet, Zhu Wensheng didn’t want to “die.” He didn’t want to break up. That was the real problem.

“…All right, let me think, let me think.”

Zhao Zhao set aside his food, wiping his greasy hands a bit too roughly. “Damn, sure, I’ve dated more than you, but mine always ended clean. No drama!”

“Still, in my experience, if you throw enough money at them, people usually don’t complain. With your status, if it comes out, shouldn’t he be happy?!” Gradually convincing himself, Zhao Zhao slapped his thigh. “It’s like scratching a ten-yuan lottery ticket and finding five million underneath. Shouldn’t that be a good surprise?”

Zhu Wensheng was quiet for a while, lashes trembling, before murmuring: “But he said… he doesn’t like my money.”

“…?”

There are really people in this world who don’t like money?

After grumbling inwardly, Zhao Zhao gave a dry laugh. “Is that so? Well, I like it just fine. …Let me think again.”

“How about this: you’ve got that Z Era boss account, right? Use it to test him a bit, drop hints about who you really are. Two-pronged approach, better than blurting it all out at once…”

It sounded plausible. Zhu Wensheng considered for a moment. “Specifically, how would I hint?”

“Easy!” Zhao Zhao snapped his fingers, excited. “From the boss account, ask him: ‘Do you like your boyfriend? Would you still like him no matter what he became? What if he turned out to be rich, would you be happy?’ Then: ‘Actually, I have a secret. I’ve always liked you, just like him. Because, I am your boyfriend.’”

Zhu Wensheng’s brow twitched. He cut him off: “That sounds like a creep harassing him.”

Zhao Zhao, mid-flow, blew up: “Where the hell do you see a creep in that?! That’s just you slapping a green hat on your own head!”

“….”

Expression calm, Zhu Wensheng leaned back, interlaced his fingers, the joints cracking sharply.

“Wait, wait! I’ve got one last idea.”

“Say you’ve spent years out there not knowing your real identity, only recently acknowledged back into the Zhu family. The fake young master who took your place mistreated you, so you endured in silence. Now you’ve finally dealt with it all, and can stand proudly by his side…”

Zhu Wensheng rose, clearly about to show him the door.

Zhao Zhao clung stubbornly to the stool. Scratching his head in frustration, he looked more desperate than Zhu Wensheng: “None of this works, so what are you going to do? You can only tell him the truth, every bit of it!”

“If he accepts, great. If he doesn’t, then you break up. That’s how relationships work! Don’t tell me, you can’t live without him?!”

The hand gripping Zhao Zhao’s chair suddenly let go. Zhu Wensheng lowered his gaze.

Zhao Zhao thought he’d finally knocked sense into him, but when he lifted his head, he met eyes dark and brooding, nearly obsessive.

“Yes.”

Zhu Wensheng said.

He really couldn’t live without Tao Zhen.

As long as it meant staying with him, he’d do anything.

The air went still for several seconds. Even Zhao Zhao was stunned, he knew Zhu Wensheng wasn’t joking.

After a moment, he rubbed his brow, awkward, patting his friend’s wrist. “…All right, all right, I get it.”

“I know you love him. Let’s call your sister over later, she and I can help you think this through properly…”

Zhu Wensheng closed his eyes and gave a quiet “Mm,” sitting back down.
Before Zhao Zhao could go call Li Min, Zhu suddenly said: “Wait. Give me your phone.”

Zhao Zhao blinked, baffled, but handed it over anyway, trusting their years of friendship.
Zhu Wensheng unlocked it with face recognition, flipped through the home screen, deleted all the video and novel apps, then tossed it back, speaking coolly: “Done.”

Zhao Zhao: “…”

Damn it!
***

Meanwhile, Tao Zhen spent his whole 8 a.m. class distracted, chatting on his phone with Gu Xingzhou.
They first discussed what to buy to cheer Tong Xia up, then whether she might reconcile with Jiang Shan… In the end, Gu Xingzhou sighed and turned the topic back to Tao Zhen:

【If you ask me, Xia Xia going through all that heartbreak, it’d be easier to just do what you did, find a pretty boy to keep.】

Tao Zhen stiffened, quickly typing:
【Why? That’s not good at all. When I first kept Ah Sheng, didn’t you all say my dad would beat me bloody for it, and even suspected Ah Sheng was setting me up?】

Gu Xingzhou replied with a long sigh and rapid-fire messages:

【Ah, you don’t get it, Zhenbao. There’s a saying: times change. I only now realize sincerity is out of style, money’s what matters.】

【Look at Xia Xia. She got hurt because she hoped for real love. If she had spent money from the start, knowing Jiang Shan had motives, wouldn’t she have been more guarded? Would she still have given so much genuine love to a liar?】

【That’s the good thing about keeping someone: the moment they deceive you, you can throw them out. Goodbye means goodbye, on to the next, even sweeter one!】

Tao Zhen read carefully, fingers curling, brows drawing tight, a pang in his chest.

It sounded reasonable on the surface, but it made him feel blocked, uncomfortable.
Why should giving someone money from the start make him guarded? Why couldn’t he love sincerely? And what did it mean, “throw them out, on to the next”?

【Xingzhou, I don’t think it works like that. Sometimes people have no choice but to have ‘motives.’ That’s life. Relationships still need sincerity. Even keeping someone, you can still give real love.】

【Gu Xingzhou: ? Hold up, Zhenbao, are you serious? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for him. Don’t forget, you and Zhu Wensheng are in a kept relationship! He’s with you for the money!!】

The words pricked like a needle, small but sharp.

Tao Zhen froze, then after a long pause typed:
【Maybe. But I just feel that, even if Ah-Sheng started with money in mind, even if our beginning wasn’t pure… later on, he’s been serious with me.】

【Gu Xingzhou: Aaaaaah!! I hate love! I’m shaving my head, I’m becoming a monk!!】

【Gu Xingzhou: Tao Zhen, you idiot, if this goes on you’re doomed!!】

Tao Zhen blinked, about to ask why he was “doomed,” when a knock landed on his desk. Following the hand upward, he met the teacher’s less-than-pleased face.
“Tao Zhen, were you listening to what I just said?”

Normally in university, teachers didn’t care if students listened. But in exams or important announcements, they’d walk around to keep people focused.

This was one of those times. Tao Zhen knew he’d been caught daydreaming. He straightened immediately, shoved his phone into his desk, and sat up properly, contrite: “Sorry, teacher, I was distracted…”

Given his polite attitude, the teacher didn’t press further. Raising his voice, he addressed the class:
“Everyone, look at the board. This is crucial, it concerns whether or not you’ll get your diplomas!”

“As the International Department of Nancheng University, we’re different from ordinary joint programs. We use the flexible 2+2 policy. That means by sophomore year, you can go abroad early…”

The teacher returned to the podium. Jia Jia, seated in front, let out a sigh of relief, then turned back cautiously. “Zhenbao, I saw him walking down, I didn’t think it was to call you out… hey, what’s wrong?”

Tao Zhen sat there stunned.

On the screen, the words “study abroad,” “major,” “diploma” were highlighted in bright red. They burned into his mind, searing, filling him with dread and resistance.

“Oh, you were looking at that?” Jia Jia followed his gaze to the PPT, then back again, whispering excitedly. “Zhenbao, are you planning to go abroad this summer? Or next year? I haven’t decided yet, maybe we can go together…”

Still staring at the podium, Tao Zhen muttered after a long pause: “…But I, I don’t want to go.”

Jia Jia froze, then couldn’t help laughing.

“Zhenbao, are you crazy? How can you not go? Without going abroad, you won’t get a diploma in this program…”

It was true. In their department, no study abroad meant no diploma.

But if not for failing the art entrance exam, despairing, and Tao Dajun pulling strings with money to get him into Nancheng University, he’d never have chosen this major.

Economics. Dry, lifeless economics, completely unrelated to music.

Classes were boring. He barely learned anything, cramming desperately before exams, only to forget it all after. Like drawing water with a sieve.

In the past, he might have gone along with the crowd, finish the term, pick a date to study abroad, muddle through four years, family money to back him.

But now, he didn’t want that anymore.

“…Jia Jia, I don’t want to study abroad. I don’t want to keep this major either.”

The teacher was still lecturing, but Jia Jia turned, worried. Tao Zhen pressed his lips, speaking with unprecedented determination:

“I want to study music. And I mean it.”