Although Wen Muyan was stunned, the guards stationed throughout the villa were not. They immediately noticed the disturbance, sounded the alarm, and quickly surrounded him.

Originally, the script had planned for Wen Muyan to interrupt Xiao Han’s revenge on Zhuo Fan, then escape after failing. But the situation before him… Something felt off.
Was Xiao Han’s so-called "revenge" really just pulling underwear over Zhuo Fan’s head?

“Xiao Han, you… immediately let go of Zhuo Fan!” Snapping back to his senses at the sound of the alarm, Wen Muyan rushed forward and grabbed Xiao Han’s wrist, trying to pull him away.

Xiao Han was ready. With a twist of his arm, he flung Wen Muyan aside, then grabbed his shoulder with the other hand. Between punches and grapples, the two men quickly found themselves locked in a full-blown fight—on the bed.

(What? You ask why they suddenly knew martial arts?
Well, the script already specified they were gangsters. Of course they had to know how to fight.)

“Which McDonald’s were you talking about earlier?” Momentarily gaining the upper hand, Wen Muyan pushed Xiao Han toward the foot of the bed and lowered his voice.

Raising his leg, Xiao Han kicked back hard, breaking free. He stood up, smirking. “What do you think, His Royal Highness Prince Wen?”

“!”
Wen Muyan’s surprise flashed across his face. His excitement was impossible to hide. “You too—”

He couldn't finish the sentence. The guards were already flooding into the room, weapons raised. This was no time to talk.

Wen Muyan gave Xiao Han one last intense look—an unspoken message burning between them—then smashed a window and fled into the night, leaving behind a final threat: "If you dare touch a strand of Zhuo Fan's hair, I'll kill you!"

"Ah."
Xiao Han stood in front of the broken window, watching Wen Muyan disappear into the darkness with the guards in hot pursuit.

He didn’t give any orders to stop them until Wen Muyan's figure had long vanished into the shadows.

After a while, Xiao Han returned to his office. Xian Fu, looking both confused and concerned, came to report that they had lost Wen Muyan.

“I see.” Xiao Han nodded calmly. Sitting down on the sofa, he crossed his legs, picked up a cup of tea, and casually flipped through the newspaper in his hand.

Xian Fu hesitated, then asked, surprised, "Young master... do you know that man?"

"It’s Wen Muyan," Xiao Han replied, looking up briefly from the newspaper with a faint smile. "The one I asked you to investigate this morning."

"So that's it. I had been neglecting this matter... I’ll have a report ready for you tomorrow." Xian Fu bowed deeply, then asked cautiously, "Regarding Zhuo Fan, should we increase the number of men to ensure his safety?"

“There’s no need,” Xiao Han said, shaking his head lightly. "In fact, take one man away. Just leave one person to watch him."

“?”
Xian Fu was speechless for a moment, then quickly reasoned that the young master must be setting a trap—luring the enemy into thinking they had a chance.
Ah yes, that must be it!
With admiration in his heart, Xian Fu thought: As expected, the young master is brilliant and farsighted!

Xiao Han thought for a moment, then added, "If you find out he’s coming back, don’t act immediately. Let me know right away."

“Yes, young master.”

*

The next day, when Xiao Han entered Zhuo Fan’s room, he found that Zhuo Fan was already awake.
Fully dressed, he was curled up in a corner of the bed, staring at him with a look of wary confusion—tinged with something more complicated.

In truth, Xiao Han had been quite curious: What kind of expression would Zhuo Fan wear upon waking up to find himself wearing nothing but a pair of underwear on his head?

Unfortunately, he was destined never to find out.

Regardless, the script only required that he seek revenge on Zhuo Fan; it didn’t specify how. Following the usual trends, it should have involved further humiliation. But since the instructions were so vague—why not avoid unnecessary trouble?

Even if the mental irritation sometimes pushed him toward darker impulses, he neither had the time nor the patience for it.

"You…" Zhuo Fan frowned, struggling with himself before finally asking, "Yesterday… why didn’t you…"

He trailed off, unable to finish. Still, there was a trace of something like hope in his voice. "Why didn’t you do anything?"

Xiao Han curled his lips in disdain, his voice ice-cold: "Your old flame suddenly showed up to save you. It ruined my appetite."

"What are you talking about?" Zhuo Fan’s brows knitted tighter.
He stared at Xiao Han, confusion clouding his face. "Who are you talking about?"

"Who else could it be?" Xiao Han snorted, flipping through a document he had brought with him.

He picked a page at random and read aloud: "Old Mister Zhuo once secretly collected a group of individuals, training them fiercely to strengthen his son’s future position. After pitting them against each other, the last man standing became his successor’s right-hand man. This individual is extraordinarily capable, determined, and unwaveringly loyal to the Zhuo family. After the Zhuo family's downfall, everything collapsed—except for this man, whose fate remained unknown."

Xiao Han’s gaze lifted, pinning Zhuo Fan under its weight. "Zhuo Fan, what do you think? Who do you suppose that man is?"

With every word spoken, Zhuo Fan's face grew paler. Finally, trembling, he asked, "What… what did you do to Muyan?"

Xiao Han didn't answer. He merely stared at Zhuo Fan mockingly, lips curved in a cold smile.

Despair washed over Zhuo Fan's face. He closed his eyes tightly, as if struggling with himself.

After what felt like an eternity, he reopened them. Gone was the confusion. His eyes were empty now—stripped of hope, stripped of life.

Again.
Seeing that hollow look, Xiao Han instinctively felt it would be best not to press him further.

Zhuo Fan inhaled deeply, visibly steeling himself. His voice, when it came, was low but unwavering: "Since, in your mind, I am the one who caused Liang Chenli’s death… Then direct your revenge at me. I will bear all the humiliation you have in mind. But I beg you—do not turn your anger against Muyan because of me. He is my friend. He is innocent. He only wants to protect me."

Zhuo Fan, his heart steeled, began undressing himself before lying down stiffly on the bed.
Frowning, he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, as if he had just trampled his own dignity and was preparing for inevitable humiliation.

Hey, hey, brother, don't do that.
Who would actually want to do anything to you? Do you think you're Helen of Troy or something?
What man in the world would look at you and still want to fuck you?

Xiao Han resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Get dressed quickly. I'm really not interested in your little ribs!

Honestly, the logic of this script was ridiculous.
A normal man seeking revenge—shouldn’t he destroy his enemy's company, ruin his reputation, publicly humiliate him until he became a pariah hated by everyone? Shouldn’t he force him to kneel down and beg for mercy—or simply wipe out his entire family?

But here?
If a cheap bottom liked a scumbag top, sure, maybe he'd try to seduce him. But after the top started taking revenge, "forcing himself" on the bottom? Seriously?

Forcing himself, my fucking ass!

He had heard of hate being born from love, but never of love being born from hate.
And of course, according to the script’s logic, that bastard top would later regret everything—falling head over heels for the man who had supposedly killed his ex-lover.
Then he'd blame himself for hurting the bottom and even forget that the bottom had killed his lover—all because the bottom loved him so much he was driven by jealousy!

Wasn’t he even worse than a scumbag?
He was a completely twisted top, right?

So thought Xiao Han, feeling a surge of infinite sympathy for the now invisible and forgotten Liang Chenli. If Liang Chenli’s spirit ever found out that his beloved had fallen for the person who killed him, walking hand-in-hand down the path of true love… Wouldn’t he rise from his grave just to die of anger all over again?

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door—Xian Fu's voice followed: “Young Master, that person is back. He insists on seeing you.”

With a sigh of relief, Xiao Han immediately turned and left the room.

Zhuo Fan, who had been lying on the bed like a corpse, suddenly sprang to life. He rushed forward and grabbed Xiao Han’s waist with desperate force. "Xiao Han, I beg you, don't hurt Muyan! I’ve already promised you—you can do whatever you want to me. Isn't that enough? I know you hate me to the bone, but don’t hurt him because of me!"

This guy’s talent for self-deception was truly off the charts!

Xiao Han took a deep breath, pried Zhuo Fan’s arms off him with force, then turned and shouted,
“Go to hell!”

With a resounding slap, he sent Zhuo Fan crashing into the wall.

As soon as he walked out of the room, he ordered Xian Fu coldly, "Keep an eye on that lunatic. No matter how much he makes a fuss, just ignore him."

In the living room, two groups of guards had Wen Muyan surrounded. One group was clearly visible, standing at attention, while the other remained hidden in the shadows. After all, they had let this important target break into the villa just the day before, only to fail to capture him—an utter humiliation for the security team.

If the young master hadn’t personally ordered that no harm was to come to this man, they would have already tied him up and painted him anew.

Despite being the center of so many sharp gazes, Wen Muyan remained calm. Dressed in a black coat, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, he looked up the moment Xiao Han appeared on the stairs.

Their gazes met. Wen Muyan’s eyes shone with an indecipherable brilliance.

"You’re Wen Muyan?" Xiao Han’s voice echoed coldly through the hall as he stopped at the top of the stairs, one hand resting lazily on the banister. He looked down at him, haughtily, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

"Indeed." Wen Muyan met his gaze without flinching.

Around them, everyone held their breath, silently watching the confrontation unfolding between the two men.

The plot moved forward, relentless.

Xiao Han was silent for a moment, then let out a cold chuckle. "You’ve got guts. You dare to come here—do you really think I won't shoot you?"

"You won't," Wen Muyan replied, shaking his head slightly. "This time, I came through your main gate, under the watchful eyes of many witnesses. Naturally, they expect me to come out alive."

Then he calmly made his request: "Let me see Zhuo Fan. In exchange, I will reveal to you some of the secret societies the Zhuo family had hidden. Old Mister Zhuo never had the chance to tell Zhuo Fan about them. Only I have that information."

Xiao Han narrowed his eyes, his smile dripping with sarcasm. "Why should I believe you?"

As if he had anticipated the question, Wen Muyan answered coolly, "I can take you to one of them. Right now."

Xiao Han immediately responded, voice sharp: "Take us there."

No one in the room seemed to notice any tension other than the overt hostility crackling between the two men.
Without hesitation, Wen Muyan and Xiao Han got into the same car, three additional vehicles tailing closely behind.

Inside the car, a thick curtain separated the front and back seats, blocking sight and sound, creating an isolated cocoon.

As they sat across from each other, their eyes met once again. They stared at each other for three endless minutes, neither willing to speak first, as if engaged in a silent duel where the first to blink would lose.

Finally, just as Wen Muyan’s dry eyes were about to betray him, Xiao Han tilted his head slightly and asked in a low voice, "The Heavenly King covers the tiger?"

"..."
Wen Muyan stared at him, visibly caught off guard. But after a beat, he replied just as softly,

"Chicken stewed with mushrooms."

Xiao Han exhaled deeply, then placed a firm hand on Wen Muyan’s shoulder. "Comrade!" he called out, his voice filled with fervor.

Moved despite himself, Wen Muyan grasped Xiao Han’s hand and held it tightly in both of his own.
"Buddy!" he murmured, his voice trembling slightly with emotion.

The two men simultaneously released their grip, then threw themselves into a brotherly embrace.
Xiao Han gave him a solid, manly slap on the back and declared passionately,

"You’re not fighting alone!"

For a moment, Wen Muyan looked visibly troubled, his eyes shimmering with an intense, almost overwhelming emotion.
But a treacherous tear rolling down his cheek? No, of course not.

 

Translator : DarNan