MCFEM C61

Chapter 61 – Impure Intentions

No one came to his aid. Gu Qingxu steadied himself with a trembling hand upon the railing, swaying as he pushed himself upright once more. Only after casting a furtive glance around and confirming that no eyes had borne witness to his disgrace did he exhale in relief.

Gu Yang uttered a soft “ah,” glancing first at Gu Qingxu, then at Song Yixing, yet made no move to step forward.

“Did you not see me struck?” Gu Qingxu’s fury spilled forth. “You stand there like some idle lordling—would it so exhaust you to move a step and lend me a hand? Song Yixing, what madness possesses you?”

Song Yixing regarded him with a face of stone, eyes black as pitch and stripped of light, so dark they chilled the marrow.

“What has he done to you?” Gu Yang inquired, curiosity alight in his gaze. It was the first time he had beheld such a countenance on Song Yixing.

From this vessel emanated a fury, an unvarnished malice that pressed against the spirit. Perhaps malice itself was a kind of power.

Gu Yang’s hand moved almost of its own accord to press against his own breast, feeling that strange resonance.

“He…” Song Yixing’s lips twitched, his brow furrowed, his face bleak with cold rage. A surge of emotion threatened to rise like bile, making him sick to his stomach.

The figure before him could as easily have been Gu Qingxu, or Nie Ying, or even Ding Ziyu.

Yet all he said was, “Last night my younger brother was beaten on his account, and lies in hospital still.”

Gu Yang had not yet spoken when Gu Qingxu’s face twisted in incredulity. “Ha? Song Yixing, are you deranged? I was not even in Jiangcheng last night. Do you think me capable of striking cattle from afar?”

“And who is this brother of yours? Some nobody. Why would I stoop to waste my time thrashing him? Do you know what my time is worth?”

His words rang with heedless arrogance, yet Song Yixing’s eyes grew colder still. “You hired street ruffians. What has your presence in Jiangcheng to do with it?”

“Was it not you who said, ‘I shall make you regret it’?”

“I?” Gu Qingxu jabbed a trembling finger at himself, his fury making it quiver. “I am no Nie Ying, no thug with underworld ties. What means have I to summon hooligans?”

Song Yixing faltered. The realization struck swift and sharp: his assumption had been poisoned by Gu Qingxu’s prior threat. In truth, such brutish tactics bore far more the stench of Nie Ying’s hand.

But Gu Yang’s eyes narrowed, suspicion dawning. He recalled He Ming’an’s words—that Gu Qingxu had indeed been pressing Song Yixing in secret. “Yet did you not say you would make him regret it?”

“Aye, I did mean to seize a chance to give him a warning.” Gu Qingxu laughed bitterly, incensed that Gu Yang should side with Song Yixing in questioning him. He cast aside all pretense. “But I have not yet found the leisure to act, have I?”

“These past days the subsidiary companies swarm with audits and examinations. Add to that my schoolwork—do you think I am so idle?”

His cheek still throbbed with heat from the blow, his anger surging anew. “You need only spend coin. I must weigh a thousand matters.”

Gu Yang’s expression creased with faint displeasure, as if the words themselves were tiresome.

He had never demanded so much of Gu Qingxu. It was the youth himself who had seized the burdens, and now he railed like some aggrieved servant, as though Gu Yang were some heartless master.

After all, the coin spent was Gu Yuhui’s, not Gu Qingxu’s.

Song Yixing closed his eyes, realization crashing over him. In a low voice he murmured to Gu Yang, “Forgive me.”

Whatever the cause, Gu Qingxu was Gu Yang’s brother, and his own hand had been too hasty.

Gu Yang shook his head, answering lightly, “It is nothing.”

Nothing? Gu Qingxu’s heart burned with indignation. I was the one struck, and yet he apologizes to you, and you presume to forgive him in my stead?

Was he some wretch so cheap that his pain could be bartered thus?

And to think this blow had been landed in Nie Ying’s stead—it galled him beyond measure. He would not let it pass.

“To raise your hand within the school grounds—you are bold indeed.” At last, with his temper leashed, Gu Qingxu spoke with icy deliberation. “Were I to report you, your scholarship this term would surely vanish.”

The words pierced like a blade. That scholarship was dear to Song Yixing beyond reckoning.

Yet he betrayed no panic, waiting to see where Gu Qingxu’s gambit would lead.

But before the boy could speak again, a cold hand cupped his cheek.

Gu Yang tilted his chin, examining the faint welt upon his face.

Gu Qingxu froze, rigid as stone.

“The skin is unbroken. The swelling shall fade in two days’ time,” Gu Yang pronounced calmly. “Let it rest.”

Gu Qingxu stared at him, expression flickering with dark currents, then gave a cold laugh and turned on his heel.

Song Yixing lowered his gaze, watching his retreating back, and once more murmured to Gu Yang, “Forgive me. I was too rash. I struck without grasping the truth, and so placed you in an awkward position.”

Unexpectedly, Gu Yang set his hand gently upon his chest. Song Yixing stiffened, scarcely daring to move.

“You look upon Gu Qingxu with great distaste?” Gu Yang asked softly. Something felt amiss—for should Song Yixing’s loathing run so deep, when the trials of the tale had not yet befallen him?

He wrestled with the thought, as though a patient long bed-bound were struggling even to swallow.

“I… I bear him no great grudge,” Song Yixing whispered, eyes closed. “Only when it touches my brother, I lose myself.”

In his past life, after expulsion and his mother’s death, it was his brother who had kept him from despair. His own path had collapsed, but at the very least, he could strive for his brother’s future.

It had become his lifeline. He had labored day and night, denying himself all comforts, pouring every coin into his brother’s education.

Even when poor grades forced a repeat year, and then a private college, he bore the cost. It became obsession.

So when he learned of his brother’s debts from gambling, all that long-sustained spirit collapsed.

He had looked at his brother’s pale, guilty face and seen instead the father who had ruined him, and at Nie Ying’s gloating countenance holding debt notes with no concealment.

The nausea had consumed him, the acid rising in his throat, the impulse to retch away all his being.

“You can never escape,” the demon’s voice had whispered.

It was his final memory before the end.

It was also the end of The Domineering Young Master’s Endless Pursuit of Love.

Gu Yang turned the final page of that book.

And in continuous reading, its conclusion struck him anew with absurdity.

It was preposterous beyond words.

Could such an ending even be conceived by human imagination?

Nothing but coercion and cruelty, without a single trace of love.

Not a trace.

Gu Yang had never known love himself; all he understood was drawn from his mother.

To love was to be filled with thoughts of one alone.

To see them was to feel one’s heart leap with joy.

To be with them was to have one’s pulse quicken and warmth flood the body.

And in the end, naturally, hands would entwine in the harmony of life.

But none of this had ever been written.

“Your heart beats so swiftly.”

Gu Yang’s hand yet rested upon his chest. He spoke solemnly.

That steady rhythm thudded against his palm, the sound of life itself.

Song Yixing caught his wrist, his gaze dark with storm and shadow, but when it fell upon Gu Yang, it softened into harmless rain.

“My display just now must have been shameful.”

To lose control, to strike without cause—it was inexcusable. Surely Gu Yang could feel nothing but disdain.

“No,” Gu Yang whispered, lowering his head, voice as soft as breath. “I liked it.”

—

Gu Qingxu walked away with thunder in his chest.

He had forgotten his original errand. With such a face, how could he return as though nothing had occurred?

He would skip class and go home.

But before he reached the gate, he turned a corner and met He Ming’an.

“Why, is this not young Master Gu? However did you end up so?” He Ming’an greeted him with a smiling voice, tinged with surprise.

Oft it is that those one least wishes to meet appear most swiftly. Gu Qingxu sneered, unwilling to show weakness, and said plainly, “Why, who else? That Song Yixing you spent a fortune to recruit struck me.”

“Amusing, is it not? Our funds feed these so-called special admits, and yet they dare strike out. Tell me, what will the paying students think?”

Pointing at his bruised cheek, he twisted his shame into a weapon, hoping to shift the burden to He Ming’an.

The smile on He Ming’an’s face stilled for a beat, then he said carelessly, “Since you have said as much, naturally I must give you an answer.”

Only then did Gu Qingxu notice the camera in his hand.

On its screen, the scene of Song Yixing’s blow was plain as day.

To ask while knowing—mockery itself.

Grinding his molars, Gu Qingxu glared.

He Ming’an plucked out the memory card, holding it lightly between two fingers. “I shall deliver this to the school board. With the principal, parent representatives, and the student council to judge the matter, shall that suffice? We might even make it public at assembly, lest other students—”

Before he could finish, Gu Qingxu snatched the card, dashed it to the ground, and crushed it beneath his heel until naught remained but shards.

The wretch—was it not shame enough, that he must trumpet it from the rooftops?

Looking down at the fragments, He Ming’an’s smile returned. “By doing so, you tacitly agree to let the matter rest.”

Gu Qingxu sneered. “As though I need you to uphold my justice.”

“Do you not trail after Gu Yang daily?” He Ming’an added mildly. “Yet of late, I see him with that Song more often than with you.”

“Who Gu Yang chooses to be with is his own freedom. Why should I meddle?” He Ming’an’s tone was smooth. “We have known each other for many years. If I were forever suspicious, would that not be absurd?”

Gu Qingxu could not abide that superior air, as though he were the elder claiming precedence. He had since inquired: when he entered the Gu household, He Ming’an and Gu Yang had known each other scarcely a week.

And yet just before that, a most scandalous tale had erupted from the He family.

The ties between the He and Gu clans had never been particularly close.

It was He Ming’an who had first extended the olive branch, to the silent Gu Yang who lingered at the banquet’s edge.

So was it not perfectly reasonable to suspect his motives impure?