Chapter 74: Where Is Zhao Yu?

Chapter 74: Where Is Zhao Yu

The electronic keyboard Chen Xitong rented was delivered to the door. Zhao Yu helped him move it over to the window. As the sheer curtain swayed in the breeze, a gentle, melodious piano melody drifted through the room.

Zhao Yu sat on the sofa, flipping through the anatomy book, listening to Chen Xitong play.

The piece was Schumann's "Träumerei," its melody achingly tender, the ending floating in midair with a hazy tone that felt dreamlike, like turning to a page of beautiful memories.

Zhao Yu stopped turning the pages and propped his head on his hand to listen to him play. He'd known since they were kids that Chen Xitong was talented. Whenever Chen Xitong won awards in children's competitions, he would feel so proud and say to the kids around him, "Impressive, right? That's my little brother."

People would always say, "Anyone can see that. You two look exactly alike."

Thinking of this, a smile crept onto Zhao Yu's face.

"Brother, what are you smiling at?" Chen Xitong asked.

"Nothing." Zhao Yu leaned back on the sofa, holding the book up high as he turned a page.

After finishing the piece, Chen Xitong glanced at the chef bear figurine on the fridge diagonally across from him, feeling as if it were staring at him, so he got up to turn the bear around.

"Leave it alone," Zhao Yu said.

Chen Xitong pulled his hand back sheepishly.

Zhao Yu closed the book, eyes shut as if lost in thought. After a long moment, he got up and walked into the kitchen, rummaging through the knife block to pick out a short-bladed knife—the blade shorter than his palm, with a narrow body.

He also took an apple from the fridge. Chen Xitong was just walking to the kitchen entrance when he suddenly saw Zhao Yu grip the knife and stab it straight down into the top of the apple. The sharp blade sank into the fruit in an instant, and the motion made Chen Xitong stop in his tracks.

But Zhao Yu immediately cracked it apart with both hands, splitting the apple in two and handing one half to Chen Xitong.

"Brother, why do you cut apples like that? You startled me." Chen Xitong took the apple, looking at the flat cut mark in the middle.

"Is there a difference between cutting vertically and horizontally?" Zhao Yu took a bite of his apple, lost in thought for a moment, then said, "Tomorrow, distract the bodyguard. I've got something to do."

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

"Personal business."

"Can't you at least tell me?"

"You'll know when the time comes."

Since he said that, Chen Xitong had no choice but to nod and stop pressing, though somehow, a knot of unease settled in his stomach.

...

The fifty-first floor of Tuotu housed the executive office, with an excellent view—on clear days, you could even see the giant sign of Yatai Restaurant across the river.

Gu Hansheng had made the jump from general manager to president in less than a year. The old man had handed over all of Tuotu's Asia operations to him, with the European division also being transitioned to him.

Today, there was a visitor in the president's office, though this "visitor" shifted restlessly in his seat, his pudgy face fixed with a smile, repeatedly picking up the paper cup in front of him to drink water and mask his awkwardness.

Gu Hansheng lounged on the sofa, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a solid, muscular forearm. His suit jacket hung over the back of the president's chair, the gold cufflinks on the sleeves glinting in the sunlight.

The moment Fatty looked up, he met those cold, deep eyes that made his blood run cold.

"Mr. Gu, this business has its rules too." Fatty wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and continued, "If I leak a client's information to you, how am I supposed to stay in this business afterward?"

Gu Hansheng gave a dry laugh, the smile not reaching his eyes: "A paparazzo daring to call himself a detective—do you want to be blacklisted from the industry, or do you want to vanish from this city?"

The fat detective wiped the cold sweat from his forehead again. Of course, he wanted neither, but of two evils, he chose the lesser. After sitting for an hour in this oppressive office, he finally cracked: "Fine, I'll talk. I'll tell you everything. I was hired by a college student named Chen Xitong to find Zhao Lianfeng. Everything I did was on Chen Xitong's orders."

Hearing this answer, Gu Hansheng's expression darkened instantly: "Everything—what exactly? Spell it out for me."

"Just telling Zhao Lianfeng about his son Zhao Yu being back in the country, and your relationship with Zhao Yu. Your phone number was also given to me by Chen Xitong, and I passed it to him. Earlier, he had me follow and secretly photograph Zhao Yu... that's it."

The fat detective said "that's it," but to Gu Hansheng's ears, it was already more than enough to seal someone's fate.

To investigate the reason for Zhao Lianfeng's return to the country, he had grabbed this detective, but never in a million years did he expect Chen Xitong to be implicated. Why would Chen Xitong do this? Didn't he know what kind of man Zhao Lianfeng was?

No, there's no way he didn't know—what he did was aimed squarely at Zhao Yu.

Gu Hansheng irritably tugged at his collar, looking at the gold cufflinks on his suit, feeling like he'd been blindsided.

Because of that encounter years ago, he'd always seen Chen Xitong through rose-colored glasses. He believed Chen Xitong was a guileless, very simple person, and he'd let that belief blind him.

Gu Hansheng grabbed his coat and stood up to leave, asking the bodyguard for Zhao Yu's location.

Chen Xitong pulled his cap low as he walked into the mall, wandering around a few times before sitting down in an empty sushi restaurant. Sure enough, the bodyguard had mistaken him for Zhao Yu and followed him into the mall.

The chef behind the counter was slicing tuna, the knife splitting the fish into neat pieces, selecting one piece and placing it on the plate in front of Chen Xitong.

Chen Xitong had no appetite. He picked up the tuna sashimi with chopsticks, then set it back down, staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling window.

What did Zhao Yu want to do after leading the bodyguard away? Wasn't it better to have a bodyguard around for protection?

He had left at two o'clock. Zhao Yu told him not to come back before four, and it was already past three. He checked the time, feeling restless, and decided to head back in ten more minutes—kill some time on the way and arrive home around four.

After fidgeting for a while, he was about to get up when he suddenly saw Gu Hansheng walking toward him. He froze, sat back down, and pulled his cap lower to hide his face.

Gu Hansheng didn't immediately notice anything wrong. He stepped forward and placed a stack of photos in front of him, saying, "Zhao Lianfeng was brought back to the country by someone—it's a deliberate setup targeting you. The person you need to guard against isn't just him."

Chen Xitong looked at the photos—they were all candid shots of Zhao Yu taken by the fat detective. He hadn't expected Gu Hansheng to have investigated this deeply. The color drained from Chen Xitong's face, yet he held onto a last shred of hope and asked, "Who?"

"Chen Xitong." The moment Gu Hansheng uttered the name, a swirl of emotions churned inside him.

Because his heart had favored Chen Xitong, he had turned a blind eye to things he should have noticed. It wasn't until today that he finally understood clearly—Chen Xitong was not so innocent.

Chen Xitong's face went even paler.

Gu Hansheng already knew, and he would tell Zhao Yu. He was done for—his relationship with Zhao Yu was completely over.

His brother had already forgiven him once. Would he forgive him a second time? Especially for something so low?

Gu Hansheng looked at the half-face visible beneath the cap brim. The lips seemed to be trembling, and the skin was pale and sickly, as if terrified.

Zhao Yu didn't even fear Zhao Lianfeng—so why would he be afraid of Chen Xitong?

During their time together, Gu Hansheng hadn't known Zhao Yu very well, but after they went their separate ways, he understood him more and more—Zhao Yu wouldn't show such weakness in front of him.

Gu Hansheng pushed up the cap brim. The moment he saw the face, even though they looked so alike, Gu Hansheng instantly recognized that it wasn't Zhao Yu.

He would never make the mistake of confusing them again, because Zhao Yu's expression, movements, aura, and gaze were all burned into his memory—even the finest details were crystal clear, and there was no way he could be wrong.

"Why you?" Gu Hansheng frowned. "Where is Zhao Yu?"

Chen Xitong had led the bodyguard all the way here, but in front of Gu Hansheng, he didn't even last a minute.

He lowered his head, scooping the photos up one by one, and said in a low voice, "My brother asked me to get the bodyguard out of the way... Mr. Gu, can you not tell my brother about this? I finally patched things up with him..."

Just as he moved to take the photos, Gu Hansheng suddenly pressed down on one corner of a photo, studying his face: "Why did you do this?"

Chen Xitong fell silent for a moment, then suddenly heard a startled cry. He glanced up and saw that a waiter had cut his hand while slicing fruit, blood seeping down the blade and dripping onto an apple.

The waiter hastily threw the apple into the trash and ducked into the back room, but the knife remained on the counter, a faint smear of blood on the blade.

A thought suddenly hit him—the way Zhao Yu had taken his time picking out a knife. Did he really need that long to choose one just to cut an apple? What exactly was he planning by sending the bodyguard away?

It hit Chen Xitong like an electric shock. He sprang to his feet, knocking the whole stack of photos to the floor. They scattered everywhere, countless images of Zhao Yu's face overlapping before his eyes.

"Damn it..." he whispered, his face going pale, "My brother might be targeting Zhao Lianfeng!"

Gu Hansheng's expression darkened instantly: "Where is he?"

...

After Chen Xitong left, Zhao Yu took out a few apples and pears from the refrigerator, washed them clean, and arranged them in a fruit bowl on the coffee table.

He liked to keep the house spotless on his days off, watering the potted plants on the balcony, opening the windows for some fresh air, watching the sunlight creep across the floor, time drifting by—everything calm.

To be honest, he didn't want Zhao Lianfeng to set foot in his home even half a step; the thought of it disgusted him. But he'd put up with it long enough.

After following Zhao Lianfeng to America as a child, he had resented Chen Li for neglecting him, resented the people around who watched Zhao Lianfeng's violence against him without ever intervening, resented the teachers who turned a blind eye to his pleas for help, and resented the neighbors who called him pitiful yet looked on coldly.

Later, he realized that blaming anyone was useless—no one had an obligation to help him.

By the time he was eleven or twelve, he understood that rather than begging others for a helping hand, it was better to face reality alone.

At that moment, he suddenly recalled the image of Zhao Lianfeng kneeling on the ground begging for mercy when the police came to arrest him. That day, the unshakable authority Zhao Lianfeng had over him crumbled completely.

He saw the man who had beaten him since childhood, who was so terrifying he haunted his nightmares, kneeling and crying like a child that day—weak, pitiful, hands clasped together desperately pleading with the police to let him off, yet pinned to the ground and unable to move. When he stood, his legs were so weak he had to be supported to walk out.

He placed the short-bladed knife beside the fruit bowl, his expression eerily calm.

Once an abuser reveals his weakness, he no longer seems so fearsome. What's truly terrifying is the lingering, inescapable pain of those memories.

He wasn't about to let Zhao Lianfeng destroy his life.

A knock pounded on the door. Zhao Yu rose, and the moment he pulled it open, a pair of venomous eyes appeared before him.