He Waited for Concern That Never Came

Qi Xin felt that Ye Zhiqiu was a demon.

Arrogant, rude, selfish, and utterly devoid of respect for others.

After returning from the Hunan restaurant, he lay in bed for a full three days.
The chill and the stimulation of the spicy food left him vomiting and suffering from diarrhea, running a high fever that wouldn’t break. His mouth was even worse off, becoming riddled with ulcers from internal heat, making even a sip of water agonizing.

The thought of Ye Zhiqiu not only eating comfortably and contentedly right in front of him but also adding a junior’s contact information fueled the anger in Qi Xin’s heart, making it surge uncontrollably.

This was simply too much to bear!

Qi Xin couldn’t remember the last time he had suffered like this.
When getting an IV drip at the hospital, watching the nurse insert the needle into his vein, he nearly called Tao Ruoqing right then to vent all the hostility in his heart.
This assignment? Whoever the hell wanted to do it could have it.

But as the icy medication flowed into his veins, he calmed down again.

He did make the call, but his words were extremely tactful.
Thankfully, Tao Ruoqing knew he had been wronged. Besides verbal comfort, she also increased the promised investment, making him feel somewhat better.

After hanging up, Qi Xin closed his eyes to calm his emotions.
Yet, it seemed Ye Zhiqiu wasn’t planning to let him off.

His smiling eyes, and those beautifully shaped, pink, moist lips tinged with a thin sheen of oil, kept flashing before his eyes incessantly. Even his towering rage was reduced to smoldering embers.

Tao Ruoqing’s words from earlier echoed in his ears again.

“Don’t think showing weakness or playing the victim is unbecoming,” Tao Ruoqing had said. “On the contrary, they are precisely the best tools to advance emotional progress.”

Picking up his phone again, Qi Xin started texting Ye Zhiqiu, pitifully describing how severely ill he was.
Then, he posted a photo of himself getting an IV on his social media feed.

If Ye Zhiqiu saw it and felt even a trace of soft-heartedness, Qi Xin would have a way to salvage the face he lost at the Hunan restaurant.

Unfortunately, he waited and waited.
The IV bag above his head had already drained more than half. His social media post received countless expressions of concern and greetings, but Ye Zhiqiu alone showed no reaction whatsoever.

Anxiety and unease gradually spread. Qi Xin could no longer sit still. He sat up and directly dialed the number.

The other side answered surprisingly quickly.

“Two cups,” accompanied by soft background music, the young man’s clear, pleasant voice came through, sounding slightly distant. “One with extra sugar.”

Qi Xin froze. After a moment, he realized Ye Zhiqiu wasn’t even talking to him.

“You’re having coffee with someone?” Qi Xin asked in disbelief.
Here he was, suffering in agony on a hospital bed, and Ye Zhiqiu, meanwhile, had already gone off to hang out with “someone else.”

“Mhm,” the youth’s light voice was calm and unruffled, responding extremely faintly.

“With who?” Qi Xin asked, anger surging again and making him lose his composure. “Your friends?”

The other side fell silent.
Only the faint sound of music came through the receiver—very soft, normally soothing, but for some reason, it made Qi Xin increasingly uneasy.

Just as he tried to suppress his emotions to apologize, the other side hung up without a word.

Qi Xin: “…”

It seemed Ye Zhiqiu couldn’t even be bothered to say something like, “Who are you to me? What right do you have to ask who I’m with?”

Like a petrified statue, Qi Xin remained frozen in place, only his chest rising and falling violently.
The phone in his hand was clenched so tightly it was almost crushed, his knuckles turning pale from the force.

From beginning to end, Ye Zhiqiu had only uttered one word: “Mhm.”
One single “Mhm”…

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that.
Only when the muscles in his back felt like they were about to snap did the phone ring again, piercing the quiet room.

Qi Xin jolted in surprise.

It must be Ye Zhiqiu, having seen his illness message and calling back.

So excited he didn’t even check the caller ID, Qi Xin quickly answered. “Xiao Qiu.”

The other side was quiet for a moment before Jiang Nan’s voice came through.
“Were you waiting for Ye Zhiqiu’s call?”

Qi Xin: “…”

“No,” his fever-induced headache throbbed even worse now. “I… I just had an argument with him. Thought he was calling back to apologize.”

For some reason, even though he had yearned for Jiang Nan day and night for so many years, at this moment, receiving Jiang Nan’s call didn’t bring him much joy.

Even…

Even because the caller wasn’t Ye Zhiqiu, he felt a faint, almost imperceptible disappointment.

“You’re sick, and he still argued with you?” Jiang Nan found it unbelievable. “No upbringing is just no upbringing.”

That sentence really stabbed straight into Qi Xin’s sore spot. Hearing it, he couldn’t help but sigh.

“Which hospital are you at?” Jiang Nan asked again.

“Are you coming to see me?” Qi Xin gave a bitter smile, testing the waters half-jokingly, half-seriously.

Saying “coming to see me” made him think of Ye Zhiqiu again.
Maybe Ye Zhiqiu really hadn’t seen the message yet.
If he saw it later, perhaps he would soften like Jiang Nan and come visit.

“We’re friends,” Jiang Nan’s reply was watertight. “It’s only right.”

* * * *

At the same time, Ye Zhiqiu had just picked up a sugar cube and indifferently dropped it into his cup.

He had, of course, seen Qi Xin’s message—but that was all. Just seen it.

A cold and fever? What’s that?
This was only the beginning.

In his past life, Qi Xin had “accidentally” locked him out. No phone, no keys—he had curled up in thin pajamas in the freezing winter night, waiting for him for most of the night.
When Qi Xin finally returned from meeting Jiang Nan, all he did was scold him for not preparing a late-night snack.

That time, he fell seriously ill and from then on became extremely afraid of the cold.
Yet during his high-fever delirium, Qi Xin hadn’t even entered their home. Later, every winter, Qi Xin would even mock him for wearing too much, saying his fashion sense had long since died.

With Tao Ruoqing and her sons, he still needed to put on an act.
But with Qi Xin…

Hmph.

Didn’t he have strong self-esteem?

Ye Zhiqiu would make him consume himself with internal conflict, rage, unwillingness, and humiliation—yet still force him to grind down his own edges and lower his pride for the sake of those interests.

Just like the tactics Qi Xin had used on him in his past life.

Wasn’t it fascinating?

The crisp chime of wind bells announced the arrival of Lan Hua’s tall figure at the café entrance.
Ye Zhiqiu stood up and waved, watching Lan Hua walk over.

“Have you eaten?” Lan Hua asked. “If not, I’ll take you to the KFC next door.”

He had come from a meeting at the education bureau today and had already eaten a working lunch.

For some reason, Ye Zhiqiu felt the illusion that his uncle still treated him like a child who needed coaxing.

The coldness in his eyes gradually dissipated. Ye Zhiqiu smiled faintly.
“I’ve eaten,” he said.

The winter sunlight streamed through the window, falling on half of the youth’s snow-white profile. His dense, long lashes and light brown eyes were rendered nearly translucent by the light.
Pure, clean, and gentle.

He looked almost as if he had been molded from his mother.

Lan Hua froze.

It had been so long since he had seen Ye Zhiqiu like this.
Or perhaps… he had never seen him like this at all.

Although they were uncle and nephew, Ye Zhiqiu had never been close to him. When they met occasionally during childhood, there was always a sense of distance. As he grew older, it turned into hostility.

“Sit,” Lan Hua said, taking his seat and falling silent for a moment.

“Uncle,” Ye Zhiqiu pushed the other cup of coffee toward him. “I remember you ordered a latte last time we met. The lattes here are pretty good. Try it.”

Lan Hua silently picked up the cup and took a sip. After a moment, he nodded.
“It is good.”

For a moment, uncle and nephew looked into each other’s eyes.

All those immature behaviors from the past, those warped notions of family drilled into him…
Ye Zhiqiu knew that even an apology wouldn’t be enough to earn forgiveness.

Still, he looked sincerely at Lan Hua.
“I’m sorry, Uncle.”

No need to explain the reasons. No need to make excuses. In this moment, they both understood.

The light in Lan Hua’s eyes dimmed slightly. Looking at the young man before him, he couldn’t help but think of Lan Yue from years past.

“Sorry, brother,” Lan Yue had also said to him like this when she decided to marry Ye Hongxian right after graduating from university.

Their parents had passed early. He had raised Lan Yue by himself; they depended on each other.
So when his sister said sorry, he couldn’t blame her. He was only worried about her marrying far from home, alone, with no one to back her up if she was wronged.

Now, facing Ye Zhiqiu, facing this face so identical to his sister’s, no matter how much cold disappointment he had felt before, at this moment, it all dissolved into a sigh as light as smoke.

“I never blamed you,” he said.
Your uncle just felt somewhat powerless back then.

Two people, eleven words—yet enough to completely dissolve the past.

Ye Zhiqiu pressed his lips together, his eyes subtly heating up.

In everyone’s eyes, he had parents and brothers who treated him well.
But only he knew that the person before him was his only true family.

With him, he didn’t need to pretend, didn’t need to act. He could say whatever was on his mind without worrying about a betrayal that could come at any time.

“Uncle,” Ye Zhiqiu suppressed his emotions and got straight to the point. “About my mother back then… how much do you know?”

“Why are you suddenly asking about your mother?” Lan Hua was somewhat surprised.
Over the years, Ye Zhiqiu rarely mentioned his birth mother. He had always been closer to his stepmother, Tao Ruoqing.

“I just feel some things might not be as I originally thought,” Ye Zhiqiu paused. “Especially Ye Zhixia’s age…”

Ye Zhixia was only eight months younger than Ye Zhiqiu.
The family’s explanation, both internally and externally, was that Tao Ruoqing had a difficult pregnancy, leading to a premature birth.

Ye Zhiqiu had never doubted it before.

Not because he trusted Ye Hongxian, who constantly had affairs, but because he trusted Tao Ruoqing deeply.

But now, he clearly saw Tao Ruoqing’s true face behind the mask.
Based on his understanding of her and Ye Hongxian, he was almost certain the two had already been involved while his mother was still alive.

And Ye Zhixia was naturally not a premature baby.

There was another point that troubled him deeply: since childhood, Tao Ruoqing had told him she visited his mother during her postpartum depression.

“She said back then,” Tao Ruoqing had once told him with a smile, “that she had no other wishes in life, only that you be healthy and happy, and that in the future you could do whatever you wanted without worries.”

This was also one of the reasons Tao Ruoqing indulged him so much.

But if Tao Ruoqing was already pregnant when she visited Lan Yue, or if Lan Yue never even said those words…

Ye Zhiqiu dared not imagine what role she played in his mother’s suicide.

And to use a deceased mother to emotionally manipulate her most beloved child was not just hateful—it was outright vicious.

“Regarding what you said, I thought about it all back then,” Lan Hua said. “But your mother always reported only good news, never the bad. And at the time, I was new here, unfamiliar with everything. I secretly investigated for a while but found nothing. However…”

He paused, then added, “When you were born, I specifically took leave to come take care of your mother. At that time, she was like other new mothers, completely immersed in her new role in life. There was nothing abnormal.”

That was why he had been so shocked and pained upon hearing the news of Lan Yue’s suicide.
He quickly applied for a transfer away from Taicheng, hoping to be nearby to care for Ye Zhiqiu.

Unfortunately, things did not go as he wished.
Tao Ruoqing was very guarded against him, and because of that, Ye Zhiqiu did not grow close to or trust him.

“It’s been so long. If we couldn’t find evidence back then, it’s even more impossible now,” Lan Hua sighed. “If your mother were still here, she wouldn’t want you trapped by hatred or stuck in a dead end.”

The sunlight outside the window was dazzling, yet it couldn’t illuminate all the darkness in this world.

Since that was the case, Lan Hua hoped Ye Zhiqiu could live a simple, happy life like other ordinary young people, not tormenting himself by being bound to the past.

Ye Zhiqiu quietly lowered his gaze, feeling the silky sweetness of the coffee instantly fill his mouth, slightly suppressing the rich bitterness in his heart.

“I understand,” he said.

His uncle had already worried far too much for him, even moving away from his hometown to live here for his sake. He didn’t want him to continue fretting over him.

But how could such hatred ever be set aside?

Not just his mother—but himself as well.

The blood-deep hatred of mother and son—if it could be let go so easily, wouldn’t that be letting the villains off far too lightly?

In his past life, if nothing unexpected happened, the Ye family business would inevitably fall into the hands of Ye Zheng and Ye Zhixia. Tao Ruoqing would be the biggest winner.
Ye Zhixia and Gao Wenye’s entertainment company would rake in money daily, loving and happy.
Tang Le, relying on them, would become a well-known stylist and find his own good match.
As for Qi Xin and Jiang Nan, they would achieve their happy ending…

Why?

Why did all the villains get to reap happiness, while the innocent victims could only be crushed beneath their feet, blood flowing everywhere, unnoticed?

If heaven could not seek justice for the victims, then he would become his own heaven—ensuring that the wicked would reap what they sow.