MCFEM C51

Chapter 51 – He Pressed His Face into Gu Yang’s Scarf…

Gu Yang had never seen his father, nor could he glean a single word about him from anyone else in this villa.

Whenever he asked, everyone would unanimously lower their heads, wearing expressions of secrecy and evasion.

The only one willing to share was his mother.

That gentle, beautiful woman would sit him on her lap on sunny afternoons, and with a dreamy, faraway look, she would softly recount the story of their encounter.

Again and again. Over and over.

Her forehead would rest against his, warm sunlight streaming through the glass, white gauzy curtains stirring in the breeze, scattering bits of light across the room.

It was truly beautiful—like a dream filled with endless bubbles and rainbows, repeating itself over and over.

Once again, he heard about the time the two had skipped class to go on a date.

Which café they went to, what they ordered together, how many euros it cost in the end.

As she spoke, her hands shifted from steadying his body to holding him close, and warmth and dampness spread onto his shoulder.

Rain fell into his world, washing away bubbles and rainbows, stripping the dream back down to reality.

New scars marked the woman’s wrists—dark scabs overlaying the crisscross of older wounds beneath.

That too became an unspeakable secret. This time, not just everyone else, but even his mother herself closed her lips to silence.

He couldn’t understand what it all meant. Once, he had held a dinner knife against his own hand. The nanny, who came in just then, saw him.

He would never forget the fear in her eyes—shock mixed with dawning realization, looking at him as though she were seeing someone else, emotions so complicated they engulfed him. The knife clattered to the floor.

No one ever found out about that day. In this household, the nanny was the one who interacted with him most.

She chose his clothes when he went out, supervised his meals at dinnertime, took him out when she had free time, and brought him to the hospital when he was sick.

And every afternoon, he would walk into his mother’s bedroom.

His mother was responsible for loving him. The nanny was responsible for caring for him.

He thought that was how all families in the world functioned.

Once, he attended a family gathering, brought there by Gu Yuhui.

Since it was a family gathering, there were naturally children, fathers, and mothers.

He played happily with the other kids, while the adults chatted among themselves.

When one child tripped and fell, crying on the spot, a short-haired woman hurried over with concern, scooping the child up and soothing them softly.

The adults teased lightly at the scene, while the short-haired woman’s husband laughed, saying their child was spoiled and wouldn’t get up without coaxing.

The atmosphere at the gathering was warm and harmonious.

“He’s such a little crybaby, isn’t he?” Perhaps noticing his gaze, the boy beside him whispered into his ear, his eyes narrowing mischievously as he smiled.

That wasn’t it. He simply didn’t understand. So, confused, he asked, “Isn’t that the nanny’s job?”

The boy’s smile faded, surprise flickering in his eyes.

Gu Yang stared fixedly at the crying child and the short-haired woman who soothed him with such tender patience.

At that moment, Gu Yuhui, who had just finished a phone call outside, came back with a dark expression. Without a word, he scooped Gu Yang up and apologized to the others, saying they had to leave early.

The car ride back was fast, and Gu Yuhui’s face never softened.

Back at the villa, he carried Gu Yang upstairs in silence, stopping before a certain room.

But after standing there for a long time, he only sighed heavily, set him down, and gently told him to go inside.

Opening the door, Gu Yang stepped into darkness lit only by the cold moonlight.

A woman sat in a wicker chair, wearing only a white robe, a blanket draped over her knees. The chair creaked as it rocked in the silent room.

She turned her head, her face strikingly beautiful in the moonlight, smiling as she beckoned him closer. A ring of bluish-purple marks encircled her neck.

Tonight’s story was no longer about her first meeting with his father.

Instead, she told him of her own parents.

Her voice was soft, secretive; he listened quietly.

It was still a story of romance and longing.

Her voice grew smaller and smaller, fainter and fainter, even her warmth fading away. The light and shadows receded like the tide, shattering into fragments, leaving only her final words lingering in his ears:

“I saw them, hand in hand, swinging from their necks like on a swing…”

Gu Yang slowly opened his eyes, his expression dazed, not sure how long he had been asleep.

A camera lens zoomed steadily in on him.

On the monitor, his face was magnified in sharp detail. He wasn’t just another pretty face like those found everywhere in the entertainment industry. His bone structure itself was exquisite, the interplay of light and shadow naturally carving out defined, three-dimensional features.

As his eyes opened, his expression carried an indescribable fragility and confusion—like the crystalline fracture revealed when glass shatters.

The camera pushed even closer, focusing on the arch of his brow, the sweep of thick lashes, the pallor of his cheeks, the slight press of his lips, capturing it all in lingering close-ups.

The prolonged stare of the lens made him uncomfortable. His brows knitted, his face chilled with indifference and weariness. At last, his eyes lifted, expression blank, staring straight into the camera.

He Ming’an stepped in front of the lens, giving the cameraman a sharp look of warning.

The cameraman snapped out of his trance.

Cheng Zishi noticed the problem then. Rising to check the camera, he murmured a few instructions to the cameraman, then walked over to Gu Yang. “Sorry, I’ll make sure that footage is deleted. I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

Gu Yang said nothing. The irritation that had flared a moment ago slipped away without a trace—like raindrops sliding off a raincoat, leaving no mark behind.

He lowered his face back into his arms.

Cheng Zishi sighed quietly, his eyes flicking over to Lu Ran.

Compared to the sour look he had worn days ago, Lu Ran now looked like he had grudgingly adapted to the presence of the cameras.

In front, Lu Ji got up and walked out. Seeing this, Cheng Zishi casually followed.

“What is it?”

Before he had even taken more than a few steps, Lu Ji had already turned and asked.

Straightforward indeed. But Cheng Zishi was much the same, so he came right out with it: “You don’t like Lu Ran either, do you?”

“That usurping fake young master—he stole your identity, lived in your place for all those years, enjoyed every luxury meant for you. And now he has the shameless gall to pretend nothing ever happened, continuing to share this life with you.”

At first, Cheng Zishi had only meant to summarize, but the more he spoke, the angrier he became, until he was sneering outright. “Truly despicable.”

Lu Ji stared at him in surprise.

In all this time, it was the first time anyone had voiced such a thought about his circumstances.

Indeed, outside the Lu family, most people were still normal.

But still cautious, he asked, “Why are you saying this?”

Since the words were already out, Cheng Zishi was blunt. “When it comes to dealing with Lu Ran, I can lend you a hand.”

“Why?” Lu Ji frowned. He knew Cheng Zishi was signed under a Lu family entertainment company.

Though he had already begun his moves against Lu Ran, outsiders knew nothing of it.

For Cheng Zishi, who had nothing to do with it, siding wrongly could mean trouble.

“I overheard something from Gu Yang. Lu Ran will ruin me sooner or later, so I’d rather strike first.”

If Lu Ran had truly been the Lu family’s son, maybe he would have had to swallow the insult. But since he was fake—deliberately swapped in at birth—then things were much simpler.

At the mention of Gu Yang, Lu Ji’s guard wavered a little. Still, he did not open up in return. Calmly, he asked, “And how do you plan to do that?”

Cheng Zishi pointed at the cameras in the classroom, his lips curving in a sharp smile. “Public opinion is a powerful thing.”

—

Nie Ying sat in a small restaurant, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

His eyes were cold and sullen, cigarette butts scattered across the table—he had been waiting a long time.

People cast wary glances his way, but no one dared confront him. Even the staff only simmered with silent resentment.

With that look, even passing dogs might get kicked.

Just as his patience ran dry, the one he waited for finally arrived—late.

Nie Ying’s gaze fell frostily on the somewhat aged woman.

His so-called biological mother, Hu Xian.

“You were the one who asked to meet me, and yet you have the nerve to keep me waiting?”

Hu Xian lowered her head in embarrassment, saying nothing. In truth, she wasn’t late at all, but she dared not argue, afraid to anger him and ruin this fragile chance at meeting.

Nie Ying only wanted an excuse to vent. He didn’t plan to storm off.

Finished disdaining her, he began to scorn the place itself.

“So you wanted to have a meal with me? And this is the dump you picked? It’s so shabby I’ve lost my appetite.”

His disdainful eyes swept the restaurant.

Plastic tabletops, voices chattering from every direction. It was appalling.

Hu Xian looked up, shocked. She hadn’t expected him to speak so loudly, so cruelly.

This child—wasn’t he the Nie family’s eldest young master?

Nearby diners gripped their chopsticks in anger.

What, were they worthless now? Eating a simple meal here, only to be insulted?

They felt like extras in some melodramatic, trashy soap opera.

Nie Ying, naturally, wasn’t about to dine in such a crowd.

Too many eyes—if anyone saw and spread it, he’d really be branded the housekeeper’s son.

He must have gone mad to even agree to come.

He raised his voice, calling for the owner.

The owner cursed inwardly. He had already overheard the racket earlier but had chosen to let it slide. Now he had no choice.

Putting on a smile, he came over. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Get us a private room.”

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s dinnertime. The private rooms are all large round tables, not very convenient for just two.” The owner spoke carefully.

Nie Ying couldn’t be bothered. With a cold laugh, he pulled out a wad of cash and flung it in the owner’s face.

“Then book the whole place. Is this enough?”

The owner blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t seen that much cash in ages.

For a man running a small business, it was no small amount. He had no reason not to take it. But bending down to scoop money off the floor was another matter—it felt like breaking his own back.

Taking a deep breath, the owner said:

“Please, right this way, sirs.” He softened his tone, leading Nie Ying and Hu Xian to a private booth, while signaling staff to gather the cash and stash it in the register.

The other diners, chopsticks still in hand, watched like it was a show.

Some thought this must be a film crew shooting some cheesy drama, and a few even started looking for cameras. Others had already been secretly recording on their phones since Nie Ying’s first words.

Once inside, Nie Ying finally felt calmer. Stretching out, he tossed the menu to Hu Xian.

She took it, struggling for a long time before murmuring, “How could you speak that way out there? So many people eating, and you dragged them all in.”

Nie Ying hadn’t expected this meek woman to lecture him. He cast her a sidelong glance.

She flinched under his eyes, knowing she had no right, yet she couldn’t help worrying. If he acted like this in society, what then?

“What can they do to me?” Nie Ying sneered. “Even if I beat them up, all it’d cost is some medical bills.”

The words were beyond Hu Xian’s comprehension. She was left speechless.

Seeing her like that only stoked his irritation.

Ever since his true parentage had been exposed, a sense of dissonance gnawed at him.

He shouldn’t be living like this.

He should be living as before—carefree, with a crowd at his beck and call, always some entertainment at hand.

Where had it all gone wrong?

…

Song Yinxing lay in his bed, brows furrowed, trapped in a nightmare.

Once again, he dreamed of the past.

After painstakingly gathering evidence of Nie Ying and his gang’s bullying—not only his own case, but those of many others, even finding people willing to testify—he had compiled it all and submitted it to the school.

But the justice he expected never came.

Instead, he was shoved into a storage room.

Hands held him down, fists slammed into his stomach until he doubled over. Laughter rang as his carefully written report was torn to shreds and stuffed into his mouth, washed down with filthy water.

His last trace of hope was obliterated. And that was only the beginning.

He heard their jeering voices, words crashing against his eardrums.

“Brother Nie, I brought something good today—perfect for our top student.”

“Isn’t that a curling iron? The girls in class all use those. What, you planning to style his hair?”

“You’ve never felt how nasty this thing is. Last time I grabbed the wrong end, it burned two blisters on me. I borrowed it this time—let’s see how Song the genius likes it.”

He watched helplessly as the curling iron was plugged in and heated, the air rippling with heat haze. His heart pounded, his pupils dilated. Around him, the boys laughed louder, their faces twisted into monstrous shapes.

When the hot plate drew close, pain seared through his soul. Song Yinxing woke with a jolt.

He gasped for breath, sweat soaking his back, his body still stiff, unable to break free of the nightmare.

Only after a long while did he sit up mechanically, the chill in his bones refusing to fade.

This was his home, yet it felt utterly foreign, the surroundings distorted in his vision until they were unrecognizable.

Dazed, his hand brushed something soft and fuzzy.

Gu Yang’s scarf—left behind when he had visited. He had planned to return it someday.

He looked at it, then slowly pressed his face into it.

The scarf carried a faint scent—not artificial fragrance, but something natural. He had smelled it before, at Gu Yang’s neck when he embraced him.

His heart, which had been racing, finally calmed under that indescribable comfort.