MCFEM C46

Chapter 46 – The Iris Beauty

Gu Qingxu had only come out to fetch something, but he happened to run into Xiao Huang hurrying downstairs with the cat in her arms.

“So late at night, what’s the rush?”

He seldom bothered about that ragdoll cat or its caretaker. For reasons unknown, the cat had never shown him the slightest affection.

But Xiao Huang’s guilty look was too obvious. If he hadn’t recognized her face, he might have called security.

“The young master’s tutor is here. I’m… avoiding them.” Xiao Huang gave a dry laugh, repeating herself, “Yes, avoiding.”

A probing look flickered across Gu Qingxu’s face.

He pressed further. “It’s just a tutor, isn’t it? What’s there to avoid? What exactly are they doing in there?”

“N-nothing, what else could they be doing? Studying, of course.” Xiao Huang tried desperately to cover for them, unwilling to reveal what she’d seen last time.

But she was no schemer. A straightforward girl who had come to work at the Gu estate straight after graduation, she had no experience in intrigue. Her fumbling only made things look worse.

From his throat, Gu Qingxu let out a cold laugh. “Good. Very good. So my words really mean nothing now, is that it?”

He waved his hand dismissively. Taking the cue, Xiao Huang scurried off with the cat.

Gu Qingxu glanced upstairs several times, then tamped down his temper and strode away, his footsteps echoing down the stairs.

—

Because it was winter, the room’s windows were tightly shut, the underfloor heating keeping the temperature pleasantly warm.

On the desk stood a slim-necked glass vase, holding a few pale purple blossoms. Their unique waxy fragrance filled the air.

“What kind of flower is that?” Song Yinxing asked without thinking.

“Iris.”

The answer explained the familiarity he’d felt.

In his previous life, not long after Gu Yang’s death, the Gu family’s perfume company had released a fragrance called Iris Beauty.

The formula must have been approved well in advance; even amid the Gu family’s chaos, it had launched without delay.

It was a classic chypre, anchored by oakmoss, the overall impression somber and shadowed with dampness. But in the heart notes, the iris bloomed—lush, moist, and soft.

Song Yinxing had once caught its scent while running an errand at the mall. Back then, it hadn’t struck him. But recalling it now, he belatedly realized that fragrance overlapped uncannily with Gu Yang’s presence.

Gu Yang sat with pen in hand, gaze unmoving on the book before him, though it was unclear whether he was focused at all.

Under the warm lamplight, the nape of his neck glowed snow-pale, delicate. With the windows shut and the air still, his ears, half-hidden beneath his hair, had flushed faintly, the thin skin so translucent it seemed one might glimpse the veins beneath.

Song Yinxing’s eyes lingered on him. When Gu Yang’s lashes trembled faintly, it was as if his own heart quivered in response.

Why was Gu Yang kind to him for no reason at all?

Was it because he had been so pitiful then?

But why, afterward, did he continue to draw near, time and again?

Was it pity?

Yet there were countless pitiable people in the world. Did his suffering truly deserve special notice?

As a teenager, Song Yinxing had believed himself the most unfortunate soul alive.

What should ordinary high school years have been like?

He should have, by his own effort, entered the city’s best school.

It was a little far, so he would have boarded, going home on weekends or every other week.

His parents would have given him regular allowance—not much, but enough. After topping up his meal card, he’d have had some left to buy supplies or, on weekends, share a meal with close friends.

Mostly, though, his focus would have been on study, undistracted, fighting for a bright future.

But that vision had vanished the moment he entered Guanli High.

He had to care for his ailing mother and immature younger brother. He had to keep his grades at the top to win scholarships to support the family. He had to live in constant fear of his degenerate father reappearing to shatter the fragile balance he maintained.

And beyond that, there was the suffocating oppression of Nie Ying.

Exhausted in body and mind, he would sit in the hospital, surrounded by the scent of disinfectant, machines beeping endlessly, the doctor explaining the next stage of treatment and its costs.

Looking at his mother lying on the bed, resentment he should never have felt would stir inside him.

If his life was destined to be like this, why had she brought him into the world at all?

That pain had ended abruptly when he missed the college entrance exam and his mother pulled out her oxygen tube, passing away.

What followed was a deeper, unending darkness.

So—he was not the most unfortunate child. His misery could always deepen further.

The intensity of memory brought a ringing to his ears.

It was a condition he had developed after dropping out, rooted not only in his body but in his mind.

The relentless tinnitus confused him. He couldn’t help but wonder if his rebirth was only a dream, an illusion he clung to.

With a small thud, Gu Yang tossed his pen aside. After staring at the problem for so long, he finally gave a lazy verdict: “Can’t solve a single one.”

He turned his head toward Song Yinxing, hoping perhaps to wheedle his way out of studying early.

But then he noticed something was wrong.

That expression—he couldn’t decipher it. But he could see how pale Song Yinxing’s face had become.

Just as he was about to ask, Song Yinxing suddenly pulled him into an embrace.

Like a drowning man clutching at driftwood in his final moments.

This boy—someone he had never known in his previous life—was now the anchor by which Song Yinxing distinguished dream from reality. The ringing in his ears slowly faded.

Gu Yang’s face froze in surprise. He had not anticipated such an embrace.

Physical closeness marked the closeness of bonds.

Held like this, he could feel the warmth of another’s body. From the point of contact, something within him seemed to stir awake.

A second piece of his gray world’s puzzle lit up.

His soul split into two—one part responding to Song Yinxing, the other detached, watching coldly from afar.

Tentatively, almost cautiously, he patted Song Yinxing’s hair. It was just like when, as a child, he had cried after falling badly, burying himself in a woman’s arms.

The embrace carried no hint of romance—only two wounded creatures trying to soothe each other’s hurts.

Song Yinxing closed his eyes.

He wondered: was Gu Yang holding him, or the imagined eighteen-year-old self that others’ words and his own impressions had pieced together?

Perhaps there was no difference.

But the human heart is never content.

As a child, before his family collapsed, his mother had once taken him to a museum.

There, behind glass, he had seen porcelain.

Light cast from below highlighted its peerless craftsmanship. Screens tracked temperature and humidity. Outside that curated environment, it could not survive. Its only purpose was to display its beauty and fragility.

He had loved it, yet even then he knew—it was not his to own or take away.

Slowly, Song Yinxing released the embrace, aware of his loss of composure. Turning his face aside, he said, “That’s enough for today.”

Gu Yang looked at him. In those damp eyes shimmered a fragile daze. Gu Yang leaned his head back against the wall, but his gaze never wavered.

The room felt warmer, blood vessels loosening, a blush creeping up the pale line of his elegant throat.

Song Yinxing dared not meet his eyes again. Packing his things, he murmured a goodbye and left.

Even after closing the door, he kept glancing back upstairs as he descended.

On the first floor, he unexpectedly encountered Gu Qingxu.

It was late, yet Gu Qingxu was not in his room but seated in the living room.

“I didn’t think you’d come again.” His tone was cool when he saw Song Yinxing. “So you really don’t take my words seriously.”

Song Yinxing hadn’t intended to answer, but what came out was: “That’s between him and me. Nothing to do with you.”

Almost a challenge.

Gu Qingxu drew a long, steady breath. He could feel an intruder trespassing on his territory.

He cast Song Yinxing a glance. “You’ll regret saying that.”

Song Yinxing frowned slightly. He knew better than to provoke Gu Qingxu—this man was no different from Nie Ying.

But some things couldn’t be avoided by hiding.

This time, he had to decide his fate.

—

The next day, Gu Qingxu visited the Nie household.

Nie Ying had been absent from school for some time; Gu Qingxu came in person.

They were all still just high schoolers. Such visits would not be overinterpreted.

Nie Ying’s complexion looked improved. What had happened to Nie Yunhua in the corporation hadn’t truly affected his quality of life.

But that didn’t mean he had come to terms with being the son of a maid. That truth was a thorn buried deep, ready to erupt at any time.

When he saw Gu Qingxu arrive, his expression was strange.

But Gu Qingxu looked as usual, even bringing a gift and asking politely after his well-being.

Nie Ying’s suspicion eased.

He had feared that Gu Qingxu had come to confront him about the thugs he’d sent after Gu Yang.

But no—Gu Qingxu wouldn’t bother with such trivialities.

No, the real sore spot was if anyone mentioned “maid.”

Gu Yang had not only mentioned it but rubbed it in his face repeatedly.

He had only wanted to teach him a small lesson.

Too bad the hired thugs had been useless. Not only had they failed, but they’d alerted everyone. Guanli High’s gates now even had extra security patrols.

But there was no point dwelling. These past days, he’d seen the coldness of others. Friends once close now rejected his invitations.

His circle had shrunk, filled with those far below him in standing. Their constant flattery grew tiresome.

Walking down the corridor, they encountered Madam Nie and her younger sister.

Madam Nie was coldly silent. Her sister, though, smiled politely.

But Nie Ying’s face darkened. Surely Gu Qingxu had heard rumors by now.

“That man’s only here to talk divorce with her, isn’t he?”

Gu Qingxu raised a brow—so it was true, then. The whispers hadn’t been groundless.

“Left our family in chaos, then walks away without a care. Truly heartless,” Nie Ying spat, collapsing onto the sofa, sneering yet still unwilling. “How could a woman be so cruel?”

Gu Qingxu only smiled faintly, admiring the ink painting on the wall, offering no reply.

Even birth parents might lack affection, let alone one raising another’s child.

Fu Rumei watched her nephew storm off, sighing. “Why go so far? After all, the child is innocent.”

Madam Nie’s voice was cold. “He carries that man’s blood. Just as vile as his father. Innocent? There is no such thing.”

Fu Rumei could only sigh, handing her sister a folder.

“Fortunately, the prenup was clear. Dividing assets is straightforward. The shares, the real estate, the cash—we’ll sort it in time.”

“But… are you sure it’s safe? Mother and Father said you should come home. This place still isn’t suitable…”

“It’s fine. Easier to handle things here. And they respect me more than ever now,” Madam Nie said calmly.

Fu Rumei glanced at her, unsettled. Ever since her public outburst, her sister carried a quiet madness that made people wary.

She knew her marriage had been unhappy. But her sister had never spoken. Now that she sought closure, it might be for the best.

“Madam, someone wishes to see you,” a servant reported.

“Who?”

The servant hesitated, then stepped closer to whisper, “The one you mentioned before.”

Madam Nie nodded. “Bring her in.”

Fu Rumei, surprised, asked, “Who?”

Her sister replied evenly, “The birth mother of that so-called innocent child.”

Fu Rumei started. “Sister, what are you thinking? That’s not right.”

But Madam Nie only said, “It’s fine.”

Fu Rumei fell silent. Even she didn’t dare oppose her now.

The woman who entered looked old and worn, though neat and tidy, her silver hair pulled back smoothly.

Madam Nie regarded her with a half-mocking smile.

That man truly would bed anything.

But then she checked herself.

Living here had made her lose perspective. Why blame this woman instead of the true culprit?

Fu Rumei flinched as her sister slapped herself suddenly.

The woman, misinterpreting it as intimidation, lowered her head in fear.

As if nothing had happened, Madam Nie said calmly, “What is it you want?”

The woman faltered. “I heard about recent events. Since the child already knows who his birth mother is, I wondered… if I might see him…”

She had carried him for ten months, endured the agony of birth. They said a mother’s bond was unbreakable. Now that the truth was out, her longing was uncontrollable.

Though forbidden to acknowledge him before, since it had been exposed—through no fault of her own—her heart yearned to meet him.

Madam Nie nodded. “Of course. I can arrange it right now.”

The woman froze, astonished at how easily she agreed.

“Thank you, truly, Madam. Even though you raised him…”

“No need. I have no such child.” Madam Nie cut her off coldly. “He’s here now. I’ll take you.”

—

In Nie Ying’s room, Gu Qingxu was subtly trying to steer the conversation toward Song Yinxing to stoke Nie Ying’s hostility. But Nie Ying was preoccupied with the new Lu family son who had ruined his last scheme.

Their idle chatter was interrupted by a knock.

Madam Nie entered.

Nie Ying’s eyes flickered, then hardened. Let’s see what trick she tried now.

But to his surprise, she was smiling, beckoning someone in.

“Ah Ying,” she said, “this is your birth mother. She’s here to see you. Go on, call her ‘Mom.’”

A thunderclap struck his mind. Nie Ying stared at the frail woman in disbelief.

Grinding his teeth, he glared at Madam Nie. “What nonsense is this? You must be mistaken.”

Madam Nie looked at the boy she had raised, her gaze as though on an enemy. Her smile was icy yet gentle, her words stabbing straight into his heart.

“How could I be mistaken? This was our family’s maid. She is, indeed, your birth mother.”

The woman lifted her head, eyes filled with tender love, gazing timidly at her son.

It was the gaze Nie Ying had always longed to receive.

But to him, in this moment, it was like plunging into hell.