MCFEM C60

Chapter 60 – Truly Defiant of Heaven

Gu Yang had just been ruthlessly striking Nie Ying’s weak points. When Gu Yuhui and Old Master Nie finished their conversation and turned back around, he shut his mouth as though nothing had happened, perfectly embodying a use-and-dispose principle. His gaze was sly as he winked mischievously at Song Yixing.

Naturally, Gu Yuhui’s attention shifted onto Song Yixing. Smiling, he asked, “I don’t believe I’ve seen this young man before. Is he your friend? Won’t you introduce him to me?”

His eyes were sharp, immediately discerning that this unfamiliar boy clearly wasn’t used to this kind of occasion. Despite his efforts to appear at ease, his posture remained faintly tense.

Yet the suit he wore was of no small value, the fabric of exceptional quality.

At his words, several gazes in the room turned toward Song Yixing.

Among them was Nie Siyu’s, though he only spared an extra glance. He was still savoring the joy of seeing Nie Yunhua and his son suffer another blow. Earlier, he had received an anonymous email whose contents had dealt Nie Ying such a heavy setback.

He didn’t know who sent it, but surely the sender also despised Nie Ying. The enemy of one’s enemy was a friend, and he gladly accepted the favor.

Song Yixing, of course, was not reckless enough to attach his name to the evidence. Beyond knowing that in his previous life Nie Siyu had failed in his power struggle and been banished to Africa to “develop markets,” he did not know much about him. He certainly wasn’t about to tie himself to the man just because of Nie Ying.

Similarly, he had no connection to Gu Yuhui.

So when faced with the inquiry, he merely lowered his gaze and remained silent.

Gu Yang was still pondering how to introduce him when He Ming’an spoke first.

“His name is Song Yixing, our classmate, also a student at Guanli,” He Ming’an said with his habitual smile to Old Master Nie. “You mentioned wanting your birthday banquet lively, full of young people. Since school let out and we were all together, I brought Song along.”

Old Master Nie’s stern face finally softened into a smile. “At least you remember my words well—more considerate than the ones in my own household.”

At that, Nie Siyu and his father both gave sheepish smiles. They had been so busy undermining Nie Yunhua these past few days that they had neglected everything else.

“Song is also the top scorer in our city’s high school entrance exam, and he’s remained number one in his grade,” He Ming’an added.

Hearing that, Old Master Nie’s expression grew still gentler. In his youth, he’d lacked the chance to study, so he placed great emphasis on the education of his descendants. Unfortunately, none had proven promising. Nie Yunhua’s two sons had been shipped abroad with money, and as for his elder son’s child—well, that one was a weight all his own.

Thinking of Nie Ying’s gang bullying at school, and of how smug Nie Siyu had looked when brandishing that pile of evidence, Old Master Nie could only feel despair about his family’s future.

In contrast, He Ming’an—speaking and acting with prudence and composure—stood out like a refreshing stream.

He Yihong had hardly been blameless in his day, with mistresses and illegitimate children causing chaos at his doorstep. That illegitimate child had even been shoved into Guanli to study. His wife had grown disheartened and withdrawn from managing the household.

And yet the child had still been raised into someone this outstanding.

Old Master Nie could only sigh: whether descendants turned out worthy or worthless, sometimes it was all up to fate.

Suppressing his thoughts, he greeted Song Yixing with kindly warmth.

Now that Gu Yuhui understood his background, he said nothing further, only smiled with a glance filled with subtle meaning at the quiet Gu Yang beside him.

In his previous life, Song Yixing had never met Old Master Nie. The only Nie he had ever dealt with at school was Nie Ying. Later, he had learned from Nie Ying himself that the old man had passed away.

Just a few words now gave him the impression of a stern, forceful yet not inhuman elder.

He couldn’t help but wonder—if, back in high school, Old Master Nie had learned of Nie Ying’s bullying, or if he had simply lived a few more years to see his grandson’s lawlessness—would he have stepped in to stop him?

Would that have spared him from tragedy?

But he forced himself to abandon such thoughts.

A self-mocking sigh echoed in his heart.

Just a few sentences, and he was already this shaken. How weak had he become?

Since his rebirth, perhaps because the external pressure had lessened, his once-numb mentality had begun to thaw—and with it came an excess of reflection.

No.

His gaze landed on Gu Yang, standing not far away.

He stared at him straight on, forgetting even to disguise it.

All his changes—his circumstances, his mentality—were because of Gu Yang.

Though there had been some bumps, the banquet at last ended peacefully enough.

Although they hadn’t come together, Gu Yuhui was also going home that night. Gu Yang, though reluctant, silently slipped into the back seat.

He Ming’an, kindly as ever, offered to take Song Yixing home, since he had been the one to bring him along in the first place. It was only proper to provide full service.

Taking advantage of the moment with no one else around, Song Yixing couldn’t hold back his question: “Why did you bring me here?”

“Why not?” He Ming’an smiled. “You and A-Yang had a little misunderstanding, didn’t you? I was helping create a chance for you two to make up.”

Though his words were true, Song Yixing’s doubts were far from dispelled.

Outside, shifting light and shadow streamed past, but that smiling face before him seemed cloaked in a false mask.

Had he ever felt this way before?

He had always thought of He Ming’an as kindhearted, always willing to help—even unfamiliar classmates—whenever they were in trouble.

“So cold tonight.” Propping an elbow on the car door, chin in hand, He Ming’an gazed out the window, though the car was warm inside. “It really does look like it might snow this year.”

“The last time I saw snow was back in elementary school.”

His tone was casual, as if only to ease any awkward silence. “Do you remember? The snow was so heavy the roads closed, schools citywide all shut down.”

Song Yixing did recall, though he had little desire for such memories. Out of courtesy, he simply answered, “I remember.”

What he didn’t expect was He Ming’an’s next line, cutting in without warning: “That was the year I met A-Yang.”

As he spoke, the darkness outside cast his face in shadow, obscuring his expression.

Song Yixing couldn’t discern what look he wore, nor why he had suddenly mentioned it.

Memories stirred unbidden. He Ming’an shut his eyes briefly, forcing himself not to recall further.

“Not much time left until graduation,” he went on. “With your grades, Qingbei University should be within reach. A-Yang will be studying abroad. Slowly, you’ll see less and less of each other. So it’s better to clear up misunderstandings early.”

At those words, Song Yixing’s heart suddenly plummeted.

It was like stepping off a cliff, needles of cold terror piercing him all over.

They went to the same school. Gu Yang’s classroom was only one floor above. Meeting by chance—or deliberately—was never a problem.

He had never thought further.

That day when Gu Qingxu tried to buy him off to leave Gu Yang’s side—he had rejected it with all his being, but never thought deeply about the truth in his words.

And now, with quiet ease, He Ming’an laid it bare.

He tried to imagine life without Gu Yang nearby, but every such vision plunged into darkness.

The car stopped outside his apartment complex. When he didn’t move, He Ming’an gave the driver a look. The driver immediately got out and opened the door for him.

At last, Song Yixing shook free of his thoughts. He muttered a goodbye and stepped out, wandering upstairs in a daze.

Inside, the apartment was pitch dark, lifeless. He was long accustomed to it.

He shut the door, turned on the lights, and walked back to his room.

His compulsive neatness demanded everything be in order.

The quilt he had folded that morning sat square at the head of his bed. Beside it, a small cube—Gu Yang’s scarf, left behind.

He touched it lightly.

Doing nothing else, he sat motionless at the bed’s edge, clutching it. In the empty room, his cold, restrained expression carried a stifling pressure.

Until a phone call shattered his trance.

The moment he answered, a wailing shriek erupted: “Bro! Bro—!”

Expressionless, Song Yixing held the phone away.

“I got beat up!” Song Zihan’s cries echoed, thunderous, through the receiver.

“What happened?” Song Yixing frowned, finally shaken free of his haze.

Song Zihan only wailed, incoherent. After pressing, Song Yixing learned which hospital and threw on a coat to rush over.

The situation was worse than he’d thought.

Song Zihan had been badly battered, half his face swollen, red medicine making it look worse. By the time Song Yixing arrived, an X-ray showed a slight leg fracture.

“How long will it take to heal?” he asked the doctor.

No precise answer, only roughly two months.

“That’s fine.” Song Yixing’s voice was low. “It’s late December. If it heals by March, you should still make the physical test in May.”

Song Zihan’s eyes bulged. “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about that? Don’t you have any—”

Before he could finish, he met his brother’s frosty gaze and fell silent instantly.

As the family’s second son, he had never dared be alone with his elder brother. Those deep eyes had always terrified him.

“By the way, how did this happen?” Only after solving the practical worry did Song Yixing ask.

Why was that second to the exam?

Song Zihan raged inside, but facing his brother’s unnerving calm—and the weight of bloodline dominance—he could only answer obediently.

“I was sitting there fine when a bunch of people showed up. The leader asked if I was Song Zihan, if my brother was Song Yixing. When I said yes, they beat me. Afterward, they said this was the price of offending the wrong person.”

His eyes turned aggrieved on Song Yixing. Why did he have to suffer for his brother’s enemies?

Still, since he had suffered, he planned to at least extort some sympathy. He had been crafting his plea when Song Yixing frowned.

“Late at night, why weren’t you in the dorm? Where did these punks get to you?”

Song Zihan froze, words dying in his throat.

One look was enough for Song Yixing to guess. The boy had past offenses—sneaking out to internet cafés after lights-out.

For such a foolish younger brother, all he felt was weary. But now wasn’t the time. The real question was who had ordered it.

In a flash, Gu Qingxu’s silhouette came to mind, along with his earlier threat:

“I’ll make you regret it.”

Was this his retaliation for not leaving Gu Yang’s side?

The weight in his chest pressed heavier. Yet he said nothing more, only told his brother to heal well.

The next day at school, after a night with little sleep and endless tending to his whining brother, he arrived grim and sharp, his icy aura thicker than ever.

Classmates glanced at him, whispering.

The teacher soon asked him to collect some materials.

Taking a deep breath, he rose and walked out—just as Gu Yang came down with a thermos.

“The upstairs water dispenser broke,” Gu Yang explained, shaking it.

Seeing him there, Song Yixing felt dazed, like meeting across days. He stared blankly.

Seeing his trance, Gu Yang waved a hand before his eyes, then touched his forehead. “No fever.”

“In broad daylight, what are you two doing here?”

Gu Qingxu’s voice cut in like a blade.

Seeing Song Yixing’s worn look, his lips curled in scorn.

He had heard from classmates about last night’s Nie banquet. He figured this bumpkin was reeling from the gap between worlds, spiraling into emo.

“You look terrible. Guess last night really hit you hard,” he said, smiling.

Song Yixing gazed back, heavy and dark. For some reason, just looking at his face now filled him with loathing—not only for his brother’s injury, but far, far more.

The suffocating emotions built like a snowball, forcing him to the brink. He barely heard the man’s babble.

For a moment, he thought—give him a knife, and he’d plunge it in without hesitation.

“I told you before—we’re not from the same world.” Turning, Gu Qingxu addressed Gu Yang. “Why are you still clinging to him? Hurry and—”

His words cut off as a violent blow slammed into his right cheek. His head snapped sideways, body staggering back under the force.

Stunned, Gu Qingxu clutched his face, staring at Song Yixing in disbelief—like the very heavens had been overturned.