Qin Mu’s empty hand dropped back down. He spoke coolly, “If Mr. Shen doesn’t want to lend it to me, you can just say so.”
When he grew serious, there was a kind of cold, sharp aura about him—like a blade unsheathed, glinting with the chill of snow and moonlight.
“‘Mr. Shen’.” The man rolled the name over his tongue with amusement, lips curling into a teasing smile. “First time I’ve heard you call me that. Feels… fresh.”
Qin Mu was thoroughly exhausted after all the torment had happened today, and now being toyed with like this only stoked his frustration. He couldn’t help the sarcasm, “Your hospitality is just as fresh, I must say.”
“So you’ve already decided you’re a guest here?” the man said, half-laughing.
“I had no intention of imposing,” Qin Mu replied. “You were the one who took the initiative to bring me here.”
The man let out a short laugh. “Are all lawyers this unreasonable? Instead of thinking how to repay a life-saving favor, you’re too busy acting like I’ve sullied your reputation—desperate to draw a line and keep your distance.”
The ‘petty’ Lawyer Qin, choosing to go all in, nitpicked the wording and argued back,
They weren’t trying to kill me. Calling it a life-saving favor is a bit of a stretch.”
“All right then,” the other man said, magnanimously conceding a little, “even if I’m not your savior—shouldn’t old lovers at least greet each other with a bit less… formality?”
Those three sudden words—old lovers—caught Qin Mu off guard. His ears burned uncontrollably. After a pause, he said, “Did you bring me here just to reminisce?”
“What, not in the mood?” The man studied him, his gaze intense and simmering, trailing across Qin Mu’s face until it landed on the small cut near his eye.
“You’re hurt…” He raised a hand to touch the corner of Qin Mu’s glasses, but was immediately caught mid-motion.
Tension flared, turning the whole reception room heavy with static.
Qin Mu stood motionless, eyes holding a clear warning. But the man ignored it, stepping closer provocatively. The grip on his wrist tightened sharply, but he just smiled more.
The distance at this moment exceeded the limit of being strangers, and the invisible sense of oppression that followed made Qin Mu tense up. He hated this out-of-control feeling, and even more, he didn’t want to show weakness in such a tug-of-war. However, the person in front of him, the relative posture, the voice of the person speaking… was like raindrops falling into the deep well of memory, rippling across its surface and loosening a long-buried seal at the bottom, threatening to wake some ancient beast from sleep.
Qin Mu didn’t want to keep entangling like this. Wearily, he let go and lowered his gaze as the man took the glasses from his nose. A moment later, the man’s fingertips lightly brushed the scr4p3 at the corner of his eye, leaving behind a warm and lingering touch.
Qin Mu let out a soft sigh, helplessly murmuring—
“…Shen Liu.”
“Not calling me Mr. Shen anymore?” Shen Liu teased.
“I’m tired.” Qin Mu closed his eyes briefly and said, “Can I borrow your phone now?”
“Of course,” Shen Liu replied, but showed no intention of actually handing it over.
Left with no choice, Qin Mu reached into the pocket of his robe. “Password?” he asked.
Shen Liu looked at him, amusement playing in his eyes, but said nothing.
They locked eyes for two seconds, and Qin Mu’s brow twitched slightly. His fingers, as if bewitched, drifted over the keypad to tap out the digits 3-1-4-1-5, but hesitated just above the 9, faltering at the last step. The little device suddenly felt like a scorching hot potato—impossible to hold, yet too dangerous to let go. He could only bite the bullet and carry on.
The moment his fingertip touched 9, the lock screen vanished.
And in that instant, it felt like something else had also unlocked. They scrambled up from the depths of memory, one after another, revealing hazy outlines—a dusky evening, the library, a young man holding a Calculus textbook…
Qin Mu pressed his lips into a tight line, forcing his emotions into check, pretending nothing had happened as he dialed Gangzi’s number. When he heard the ‘The number you’ve dialed is powered off’ message, he looked up at Shen Liu.
The man was leaning lazily against the sofa, peeling an orange. “Need him to warm your bed?” he asked.
“He’s a bodyguard,” Qin Mu replied.
Shen Liu scoffed. “A bodyguard who lost you right under his nose? I thought that second son of the Chu family might be somewhat useful, but turns out he couldn’t persuade you and sent over a damn fool to embarrass himself.”
His words were sharp, but his hands worked with practiced ease, stripping the white pith from the orange slices as if the cruelty in his voice was nothing out of the ordinary.
Qin Mu frowned. “Where is Gangzi?”
“Chopped off his pinky and tossed it in Wanan Lake.” Seeing Qin Mu’s expression shift, Shen Liu smiled. “Relax, I’m kidding. Why so nervous? I had him packed up and sent back. He’s probably on a plane dreaming his little dreams right about now.”
He took back the phone and stuffed the peeled orange into Qin Mu’s hand. “I’ve already sent word to Second Young Master Chu—no need for you to worry. Come on, you’re a guest from afar. Let me play the gracious host.”
Qin Mu glanced down at the thoroughly peeled orange, popped a segment into his mouth. It was sweet and juicy, surprisingly good.
Shen Liu led him up to the fourth floor. The guest room arranged for him was a three-room suite, elegantly decorated, complete with a few oil paintings from renowned artists. Two maids came in quietly, one carrying a tray of food and the other a stack of clean clothes. They set things in place with soft movements, then exited without a word.
Shen Liu used a spoon to stir the steaming small clay pot and said, “It’s still hot. Go take a shower first—you look like you just crawled out of a mine.”
Qin Mu nodded and headed into the bathroom, washing off the layer of dirt and dust. He hadn’t sustained any major injuries—just some bruising around his ribs and lower back, along with scr4p3s on his spine, elbow, and the corner of his eye. Just as he was checking the wounds in the mirror when the bathroom door opened.
Shen Liu came in, completely at ease, carrying a small first-aid kit, and said, “I’ll put some medicine on for you.”
Qin Mu: “…”
He remembered locking the door from the inside.
“Oh, the lock’s broken,” Shen Liu lied without batting an eye, bringing over a pair of tweezers holding an alcohol swab.
Completely naked, Qin Mu looked at him without expression. “As the host, the least you could do is respect your guest’s basic right to privacy.”
Shen Liu’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “As the host, the only thing I brought in wasn’t just a first-aid kit.”
Qin Mu was momentarily silenced by the remark. He knew arguing further would only make things more awkward, so he shot him a look and reached for the bathrobe hanging on the rack.
“Put that on after the medicine,” Shen Liu said, catching his hand. But when Qin Mu swept him a cold glance, he immediately let go. Shen Liu raised his hands as if to show he meant no harm. “I’m just here to help apply some medicine. My intentions are pure, I swear. I won’t lay a finger on you.”
Seeing that Qin Mu still didn’t move, he chuckled, “If you’re shy, I can close my eyes?”
Qin Mu stared at him blankly for a moment, then finally gave in with a sigh of resignation and slipped off the robe.
The alcohol stung like hell on the wounds, but he remained stoically silent, as if he didn’t feel a thing. Shen Liu’s hands were gentle and careful. After disinfecting the abrasions, he rubbed medicinal oil into the bruises.
Just as he’d promised—he didn’t cross any lines the entire time. By the time Qin Mu came out of the bathroom with his robe tied, the millet porridge had been served.
He was already starving and devoured two bowls in a flash. Shen Liu was tempted by the sight and joined in, having a bowl himself.
After dinner, they sat in quiet silence for a while.
Qin Mu finally said, “Thank you.”
But Shen Liu didn’t respond with equal formality. He leaned lazily back against the soft cushions and teased, “That’s all? Just a thank-you? Nothing else you want to say to me? Like… you’re scared to sleep alone and want me to stay over or something?”
Qin Mu was quiet for a moment. “I do have a question.”
It seemed Shen Liu had already guessed what he was about to ask. He gave the answer before Qin Mu could even speak. “Yes, the ‘Shen’ in Shen Liu is that Shen. The bastard who broke my leg back then? Shen Lan. My father. Anything else you want to ask?”
Qin Mu had suspected as much. Now that it was confirmed, he didn’t seem all that surprised. He shook his head. “No more questions.”
After the maids came to clear the dishes, Shen Liu finally stood and said lazily, “Get some sleep. Good night.”
The room fell quiet. Qin Mu rubbed his brow tiredly. As he turned, he caught sight of a phone placed by the pillow.
It was his phone. Clearly it had already been retrieved, but the man had deliberately withheld it, forcing him to lower himself to ask for it. When Shen Liu decided to be difficult, he really knew how to get under his skin.
He unlocked it with his fingerprint, and several WeChat messages popped up. All from someone named ‘Call me gege and I’ll give you candy’.
Qin Mu’s WeChat contacts were mostly work-related: partners, clients—all neatly labelled with real names, job titles, and project details, organised into categorised groups.
Who the hell was this person?
Message one.
Call me gege and I’ll give you candy:
Lawyer Qin sure is sentimental. Still using the same old password after all this time.
Message two.
Call me gege and I’ll give you candy:
For your safety, I installed a tracking app on your phone. Just letting you know upfront—don’t accuse me of violating your privacy.
Don’t even think about deleting it—you can’t.
Message three.
Call me gege and I’ll give you candy:
Go to bed early. Thinking too much and staying up late both age you faster.
Well, even if he only used his toes to guess, he would know exactly who it was. Qin Mu fought the overwhelming urge to chuck his phone out the window, then lay down on the bed. He thought that after such an exhausting day, he would fall asleep quickly—but his mind had other plans. It broke free and wandered off without reins, drifting deeper and deeper into the canyon of memories.
314159.
The first six digits of π.
Also the password he had been using since his youth.
The time roared in reverse like a surging tide. A nervous and timid young man climbed the winding staircase, walked past rows of neatly aligned bookshelves, and found the person he’d been searching for by the window. Gathering every ounce of courage, he asked—
“What am I to you?”
“π.”
“…What?”
“In every circle hides a mischievous and fascinating infinite, non-repeating decimal. It’s an intrinsic constant, yet nearly impossible to calculate with precision. It demands endless deduction and contemplation… just like someone you secretly hold in your heart.”
The scene gradually came into focus, emerging from a blur of muted colors.
Outside the window, crimson clouds shimmered with golden light. That profile bathed in soft glow, the yellowed pages of a book in hand, a heartbeat spiraling out of control, the clean scent of a school uniform, and lips—warm, soft, and slightly damp…
Everything he once thought forgotten came alive again through the smallest details. That dazzling, dreamlike twilight from years ago returned, like a watercolour painting redrawn and recoloured—every stroke lush and vivid, tracing out a young, tender, yet unforgettable love.
Shen Liu.
Qin Mu opened his eyes with a faint look of irritation, staring blankly at the wall lamp for a while.
The memories and the person he had carefully locked away in a high shelf of his mind had broken loose, stirring up chaos in his heart and thoughts, making it impossible to sleep.
It was all just too much.
He made up his mind to leave first thing in the morning. But before he left, he had to find his luggage. It contained many essential documents related to the Baolijian case. Since his phone was back, it meant Shen Liu had already sent someone to the hotel. Given his style of doing things, he had probably searched every corner, rolled up the carpet, and brought the luggage back too. Shen Liu just didn’t feel like handing it over to him so easily.
Trying to force him to beg again?
Qin Mu shut his eyes and let out a heavy, muffled sigh.
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