He Held My Chin and Asked—Who Dared Hurt You?

Ye Zhiqiu had been getting injured rather frequently lately.

So when he arrived at school that morning, he drew quite a few concerned inquiries.

Even his major-course professor couldn’t resist teasing him.

“What’s wrong, Ye Zhiqiu?” The old professor held rolled-up papers, tapping them against his palm. “Been getting in someone’s way romantically lately? They’re targeting your face pretty ruthlessly.”

Laughter and good-natured teasing erupted in the classroom.

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

Funny enough, the old professor had accidentally hit the nail on the head.

“Was it really Ye Zhixia?” Tang Le asked quietly. “Isn’t that going too far?”

“Yeah. Would you beat up your own brother over a man?” Ye Zhiqiu grimaced. “Ye Zhixia’s not even my real brother.”

Tang Le tilted his head, laughing at his childish remark.

“Shaojun and Baobao are coming at noon,” Tang Le said. “Gotta eat lunch before heading to the company, right?”

“Mm.” Ye Zhiqiu nodded. “Craving clay pot.”

* * * *

After a peaceful morning of classes, Ye Zhiqiu was about to pack up when Qi Xin’s message arrived right on time.

[Xiaoqiu, I’m waiting for you at the school gate.]

Ye Zhiqiu tossed his book onto the desk in irritation. It landed with a thud.

“What’s wrong?” Tang Le jumped.

“Qi Xin’s here again.” Ye Zhiqiu pouted.

“Then…” Tang Le hesitated. “I’ll head to the clay pot place first, grab a table, and meet up with Baobao and them. You two can come over later?”

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t answer, just nodded listlessly.

After Tang Le left with his backpack, Ye Zhiqiu sat for a while longer before finally packing up and heading out.

The weather was nice.

Though mornings and evenings were freezing, the midday sun felt warm and comfortable on the skin.

Ye Zhiqiu strolled slowly to the gate.

In the distance, he spotted Qi Xin standing outside, looking around.

Even though his message acted like nothing had happened between them, Qi Xin was actually pretty nervous.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared to only send a text instead of calling.

If Ye Zhiqiu had answered the phone and immediately rejected him, he’d have no reason to be here waiting.

But a text—even without a reply—let him wait at the gate and gamble on a chance.

Spotting Ye Zhiqiu, Qi Xin’s heart leaped.

He started to rush forward, but meeting Ye Zhiqiu’s eyes made him freeze, guilty.

Ye Zhiqiu’s gaze was both annoyed and impatient.

So much so that Qi Xin’s mind went blank for a moment before belatedly noticing the injury on his face.

Forgetting everything else, he hurried over.

Instinctively, he reached for Ye Zhiqiu’s cheek.

Ye Zhiqiu with a cold expression dodged.

“How’d you get hurt again?” Qi Xin asked, bending down. “Does it still hurt?”

“None of your business.” Ye Zhiqiu’s tone was ice cold.

“Xiaoqiu…” Qi Xin’s voice was full of sadness and helplessness.

Carefully, he offered the insulated container. “I made steamed fish with chopped chili so many times. Finally got it to taste almost as good as the restaurant’s. Want to try?”

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t take it.

Without a word, he turned and led him back to the lakeside pavilion.

“Xiaoqiu.” Qi Xin called again, humbly.

Even he didn’t notice that his sharp, sensitive pride was slowly being ground down in front of Ye Zhiqiu.

“Don’t call me.” Ye Zhiqiu shoved his phone in his face, his gaze intensely aggressive. “Explain this.”

Qi Xin: “…”

He looked down.

On the screen was a hand holding a wine glass.

It looked familiar instantly.

Only when he saw Jiang Nan’s Moments name and the date did he suddenly realize.

It was his hand.

And Ye Zhiqiu was showing him a screenshot of Jiang Nan’s Moments.

Qi Xin: “…”

He scrolled through Jiang Nan’s feed once or twice daily.

It had become a habit etched into his DNA—as natural as eating or drinking.

But he’d never seen this particular post on his screen.

There was only one explanation. Either Jiang Nan deliberately blocked him, or it was set to “Visible Only to Ye Zhiqiu.”

A feeling of being brutally stabbed in the back hit him.

Qi Xin froze.

He was stunned that Jiang Nan—who he thought of as pure and elegant—would do something like this.

At the same time, it happened so fast he couldn’t think how to explain.

Silently, Qi Xin unscrewed the container and laid out the dishes one by one.

Steamed fish with chopped chili. Spicy chicken. Shrimp with tofu.

“Eat first.” He heard his own voice.

Then came a clatter.

The fish, drenched in chili oil, was swept to the ground by Ye Zhiqiu.

Oil splattered everywhere.

The sudden commotion drew stares from students in the distance, all craning to see.

Qi Xin felt the humiliation of public execution.

“You think I don’t understand?” Ye Zhiqiu’s tone was mocking. “Still need explaining? That night, you two were practically strangers. The next day, ‘some things need no words.’ Don’t tell me you weren’t already connected.”

The young man’s wounds crisscrossed in the sunlight.

When his face hardened, there was not only natural cold sharpness but also a touch of hostile viciousness.

“We did have dinner together.” Qi Xin gritted his teeth, scrambling for words. “You were angry the night before. I was upset and didn’t know how to fix things. When an alum reached out, I went.”

He paused, then added, “I didn’t expect Jiang Nan to post that.”

“‘Some things need no words.'” Ye Zhiqiu was unmoved. “What, haven’t reached the telepathy stage yet?”

“Xiaoqiu…” Qi Xin wanted to swear on his life. “I genuinely didn’t know. I don’t even know when he took that photo.”

Ye Zhiqiu looked down, saying nothing.

Wind rustled the withered lotuses.

Qi Xin felt terribly cold.

“Go.” Ye Zhiqiu suddenly sighed deeply. “Go to the security booth, grab some tools, and clean this up.”

“But you…” Qi Xin didn’t dare leave, afraid that if he did, he’d never see Ye Zhiqiu again.

At this moment, deep down, he began blaming Jiang Nan like never before.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave. I just need to sort out my thoughts alone.” Ye Zhiqiu didn’t look at him, staring at his feet.

Qi Xin hesitated another moment, then turned and rushed toward the gate.

* * * *

Qi Xin returned quickly.

One hand clutched a broom and mop, the other a bucket.

Haggard. Pathetic.

But when he saw Ye Zhiqiu still waiting there, a smile crept into his eyes.

Ye Zhiqiu hadn’t left. Ye Zhiqiu was still waiting for him.

Qi Xin bent over and cleaned up the mess.

Only then did he straighten.

“The food’s cold,” he said. “Want to go out and get something?”

“No.” Ye Zhiqiu looked up.

The coldness had faded from his face, leaving only a trace of weariness and helplessness in his eyes.

“I’m tired, Qi Xin.” Ye Zhiqiu suddenly said. “Maybe we should just call it quits.”

Qi Xin stood there for a long moment before slowly approaching.

He silently packed up the cold dishes.

There was no light in his eyes.

Ye Zhiqiu straightened and reached for his backpack.

The moment his fingers touched the strap, his wrist was grabbed.

“I don’t mind,” Qi Xin suddenly looked up.

“This isn’t something one person decides.” Ye Zhiqiu’s tone was very calm. “Qi Xin, please respect me.”

“Whatever I did wrong, I can fix it. You don’t like Jiang Nan? I’ll never contact him again.” Qi Xin struggled to speak. “But you can’t just walk away like this. It’s not fair to me.”

“And this is fair to me?” Ye Zhiqiu countered. “You gave Jiang Nan the chance to humiliate me. Strangers one day, ‘some things need no words’ the next. Know what those words were? They were slapping me in the face.”

“I was wrong, Xiaoqiu. I promise.” Qi Xin grabbed Ye Zhiqiu’s sleeve, refusing to let go. “I’ll never contact him again.”

At the clay pot place, Li Shaojun, Jin Baobao, and Tang Le were already eating.

Li Shaojun had ordered Ye Zhiqiu’s favorite beef clay pot, adding extra chewy beef balls. It had been cooling for a while and was now perfect to eat.

Knowing Qi Xin was also around, just in case, they’d ordered for him too.

Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun had originally come because of Ye Zhiqiu’s injuries.

But after learning Qi Xin had shown up, neither asked about his face.

They just looked at him, making faces, wanting to speak but holding back.

“Ha…” Ye Zhiqiu. “Haha…”

“What?” Tang Le looked from one to the other, confused.

“Nothing.” Remembering Ye Zhiqiu’s request for secrecy, they spoke in unison.

Tang Le hadn’t mentioned contacting Yu Renzhi today.

But Ye Zhiqiu had already turned that down on his behalf.

And though disappointing, Tang Le hadn’t actually done anything terrible…

Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun, despite their earlier annoyance, said nothing.

“Oh.” Tang Le smiled, handing Ye Zhiqiu utensils as attentively as always. “What, Qi Xin didn’t come?”

“He went home.” Ye Zhiqiu said, feeling Jin Baobao kick him three times under the table.

Helpless, he sent a message to their small group chat.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: With my legendary good looks, don’t I deserve to take my time picking a lifelong partner?]

They replied quickly.

[Prosperity: You do. But don’t forget Tang Le knows Yu Renzhi. If he lets it slip that you’re still tangled up with Qi Xin, Yu Renzhi will definitely tell President Qin. Don’t capsize.]

[Li Shao: You do. But comparing Qi Xin and Qin Jianhe? Are you blind?]

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

He pocketed his phone and didn’t reply.

* * * *

The two had afternoon classes, so after eating, they headed back to school.

Ye Zhiqiu drove to VIA.

They parted at the clay pot shop entrance.

When the group dispersed, only Tang Le remained.

But he didn’t go back to school.

Instead, he hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of the hotel where he’d met Ye Zhixia before.

Yesterday, Yu Renzhi had called him back.

Given Yu Renzhi’s status, he’d been confident he’d get the position.

But unexpectedly, Q.L. had still refused.

Confused and frustrated, Tang Le had to accept it.

Nothing he could do. The gap was too wide. Struggling wouldn’t change anything.

He’d been used to that feeling since childhood.

But fate hadn’t abandoned him. Now, Gao Wenye was another path.

He’d learned from Ye Zhiqiu that Ye Zhixia was home for a couple of days. He decided to try his luck at the hotel.

No matter how busy, Gao Wenye had to come back to rest.

* * * *

At the same time, Meng Da walked into Qin Jianhe’s office, tablet in hand.

“President Qin, did you see VIA’s new product launch last night?”

Qin Jianhe had. He didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow.

“Xiao Ye is really something.” Meng Da was extremely excited. He pushed the tablet toward Qin Jianhe. “Look at these new products. They’re selling like crazy. Not just beautiful and aesthetic—the artistry is strong. Even on a runway, they’d stand out.”

Qin Jianhe said nothing, just looked down quietly for a moment.

Meng Da had been very thorough, compiling all of Ye Zhiqiu’s work.

Patterns, styles, materials, elements, prices, sales figures… clear at a glance.

Qin Jianhe scrolled down, then looked up.

“But he’s already signed with VIA.”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.” Meng Da said. “When his contract with VIA ends at year’s end, whatever terms he asks from us, I hope you’ll agree. Talent like this—the last person I saw with it was President Nie.”

President Nie was Nie Fengjun, Qin Jianhe’s mother.

Qin Jianhe said nothing.

But he unconsciously remembered the joy in that person’s voice when he learned he could meet Zhang Wenyuan.

He probably had more idealized career plans. Meng Da’s wishful thinking might ultimately be misplaced.

Thinking of being misplaced, he inexplicably remembered the car yesterday, the phone call, asking Tao Ruoqing which was better—the “butler’s grandson” or Qi Xin.

“We’ll see.” He said flatly, handing the tablet back. “But his designs are indeed exquisite. Elegant and innovative. His use of various elements seems effortless, with frequent flashes of genius…”

He paused. “The design department could hold a meeting on this. Reverse-engineer his thought process to learn from his strengths and avoid weaknesses.”

* * * *

That afternoon, Ye Zhiqiu was run off his feet.

But fortunately, learning they could collaborate with Meilan, Sun Wei was willing to accept almost any terms.

Meilan was an established domestic clothing brand.

Though its positioning wasn’t as high as Q.L.’s, its style and quality were excellent, and its influence cannot be underestimated.

And Ye Zhiqiu’s senior, Luo Wangzhou, was Meilan’s current design director.

Unlike Jiang Nan’s inflated title, this one had real substance.

Similarly, as fashion brands, the Jiang family’s various labels were utterly unimpressive next to Meilan.

Collaborating with Meilan—Sun Wei wouldn’t have dared dream of it, not even in VIA’s heyday, let alone now.

The two brands were on completely different levels—positioning, fame, scale.

Knowing they were drawn to Ye Zhiqiu’s designs, Sun Wei was extremely grateful.

“Sister Sun, don’t thank me yet.” Ye Zhiqiu rubbed his temples, being honest. “You’ve probably noticed Jiang Nan’s been hostile toward me.”

“Something to do with that Mr. Qi?” Sun Wei asked.

Ye Zhiqiu neither confirmed nor denied, just smiled faintly.

“More or less. Over a man.”

He said “over a man” with a slight dismissiveness.

“So from the moment Jinqi approached VIA for collaboration, I was already wary. But this was an opportunity for VIA. I couldn’t let my suspicions stop you from taking it.” Ye Zhiqiu continued. “So I deliberately asked my professor to contact my senior. Thankfully, my senior came through and made this cooperation happen.”

They both understood.

Once VIA partnered with Meilan, whatever petty tricks Jiang Nan pulled would be meaningless.

But even so, Sun Wei was deeply grateful.

Back in the day, she’d mismanaged and lost many excellent designers. Now, she valued talent more than anyone.

“Xiao Ye.” Sun Wei was a bit emotional. “You’re so young. How are you so thorough?”

“Because I’m cowardly?” Ye Zhiqiu laughed. “VIA reached out to me when I needed it. I’ve always been grateful. I wouldn’t dare let my personal issues hurt the company.”

“Don’t make it sound like VIA was your only choice.” Sun Wei laughed at that. “I know plenty of domestic and international companies want you. Most of them are much better than VIA.”

“But.” Sun Wei smiled again. “I know VIA can’t keep you forever. But wherever you go, Sister Sun believes your name will one day be known everywhere.”

Ye Zhiqiu smiled.

Even he hadn’t thought about that. And he wasn’t sure.

In his past life, he never got the chance to show all his talent. It just… stopped.

“Thanks.” After a long silence, he said.

His phone rang.

Ye Zhiqiu checked the time.

It was already well past quitting time.

Qin Jianhe was here to pick him up.

* * * *

Ye Zhiqiu hurried downstairs.

When he reached Qin Jianhe’s car, he remembered something.

He took the little clip from his hair, bent over, and checked the rearview mirror, fussing with his hair.

It was getting long, falling into his eyes when he looked down. He’d borrowed a clip somewhere and stuck it on top, then completely forgotten.

“You really have no self-image issues around me, do you?” After he’d fixed his hair and got in, Qin Jianhe commented, neither warm nor cold.

One hand rested casually on the steering wheel.

His gaze swept over Ye Zhiqiu’s injured cheek.

Probably because he was meeting the professor, the young man had dressed very obediently.

A casual set made him look even younger.

But obedient clothes didn’t help. A kid his age, with a face like that, made people think of “rebellious.”

“I have no self-image issues around anyone.” Ye Zhiqiu said. “Except Professor Zhang Wenyuan.”

“Tsk.” Qin Jianhe murmured.

Then he leaned slightly, reached out, and tilted Ye Zhiqiu’s chin, turning his injured cheek toward him.

“Who did this?” he asked, his brow faintly furrowing.

“First my brother. Then my father.” Ye Zhiqiu’s petal-like lips moved slightly, his words muffled by the grip on his chin.

“You’re this unpopular at home?” Qin Jianhe looked down at him, his gaze unconsciously drifting to the tiny mole on his nose, then to his cherry-red lips.

“Why’d they hit you?” he asked.

At this, Ye Zhiqiu slapped away the hand holding his chin.

His cheeks visibly puffed.

Then he covered his injured cheek and muttered, “Because I’m unpopular. You just said so yourself.”

Qin Jianhe looked down at him.

A faint, scattered smile slowly surfaced in his eyes.

“Don’t be mad,” he said, his voice slightly low.

Using that voice—so beautiful it made Ye Zhiqiu’s ears tingle—he called him,

“Professor Ye.”