MCFEM C59

Chapter 59 – Nie Ying Lost His Cool Again

The cupboard wasn’t very big; they had to crouch to fit inside. Song Yixing’s frame was slightly larger than Gu Yang’s, making it look as though Gu Yang was caged within his arms.

Gu Yang’s expression clearly froze for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected Song Yixing’s action.

His knee pressed against Song Yixing’s body. In this half-kneeling position, the lines from his shirt stays were drawn tight, and Song Yixing could feel the weight of his entire body slanting against him.

His ears were cold, the fabric of his suit was cold, and the hands pressed against his own were also cold.

Yet Song Yixing felt as though he were trapped in a porcelain jar being simmered over charcoal—hotter and hotter, burning more with every second.

Those dark gray eyes still stared straight at him. Each blink dropped a lash against his thumb like a butterfly alighting softly, the iris like strange patterns painted on the wings.

It was hard for Song Yixing to read the emotion there. The eyes, faintly wet, seemed unfocused—gazing at him, yet also at something much farther away.

That pale neck lay utterly exposed before his eyes, defenseless.

Song Yixing had woken countless times from tangled nightmares, each leaving him shaken, unable to tell if he was still dreaming or awake.

He had clutched the scarf Gu Yang left behind, using it as a makeshift balm.

His breathing grew heavier and thicker. His gaze in the darkness stuck fast. Slowly, he drew the hand covering Gu Yang’s ear toward himself, closing the distance further still.

Then, lowering his head, Song Yixing pressed his forehead against Gu Yang’s shoulder.

The lightest weight touched his shoulder—an electric shiver running through him.

In that moment, Song Yixing revealed a piece of his fragility. The feeling was utterly new.

Gu Yang knew everything about his misfortune and darkness. He was the only one in this world who did.

And only now did that fact etch itself sharply and clearly in his mind.

“The words I wanted to tell you that day, I never finished.” Song Yixing’s voice was a whisper. “I keep dreaming the same nightmare—Nie Ying and his gang bullying me. I’m helpless, powerless to resist. The dream goes on and on, until it feels like I’ve lived through an entire lifetime.”

“That’s why I decided to strike first.”

There was a saying, wasn’t there, about people glimpsing themselves in parallel worlds—something about quantum entanglement, though he couldn’t quite recall the exact term.

Gu Yang didn’t question him. He stayed silent. Outside, the filthy jeering went on, loud enough to cover their voices.

“A secret for a secret.”

Gu Yang’s lips moved lightly. “So now it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

That hadn’t been Song Yixing’s intention. But his heart soared to the skies, waiting in near-anticipation for Gu Yang’s next words, hoping to glimpse something in his fragments.

The pause stretched endlessly—until at last, Gu Yang spoke again, softly.

“Xie Wu’s brother is into married women.”

“…”

The sticky mood shattered instantly. Song Yixing slowly lifted his head, still dazed.

If this were a comic, three giant question marks would be hanging above him.

Seeing the awkward, stifled look on his face, Gu Yang’s gloomy mood suddenly lifted. He barely suppressed his laughter, his body trembling with the effort.

Song Yixing could only assume he was being toyed with again.

“His new fling,” Gu Yang continued after holding back a chuckle, “is that little fourth mistress I told you about before.”

The dead memories pounced on him, unbidden. He remembered the hotel job, when he had seen those adulterers together—the man’s current wife once a mistress, the woman her sister, now angling for status as “mistress number four.”

Gu Yang even thought of telling him the gossip about the fourth mistress’s child. Back then, when he and Gu Yang weren’t familiar, he had run away to avoid trouble.

Since the mood was already broken, Song Yixing decided to give up caring. The truth about that child had long haunted him.

But just as he was about to ask, the chime of a text message rang out.

Because of possible emergencies from the hospital, Song Yixing never kept his phone on silent. Normally that was fine. Here, though, the sound was anything but appropriate.

Nie Ying, mid-rant, stopped cold. “Whose phone was that?”

His lackeys glanced at one another. Their text tones were all default Apple chimes. Clearly, it hadn’t been any of them.

“Sounded like it came from over there.” One of the sharper ones pointed toward the wall.

Song Yixing’s chest tightened. He glanced at Gu Yang with guilt, mouthing sorry.

The chatter outside continued, but Gu Yang wasn’t listening. He pushed the cupboard door open from within.

Hiding until they were found would be far more annoying. Better to step out first.

Nie Ying had only assumed someone left a phone inside. But his eyes widened as he watched Gu Yang crawl out of the cupboard.

“Why the hell are you in there?” he demanded.

“Oh, me?” Gu Yang drawled lazily. “I’d never climbed into a cupboard before. Thought I’d try it.”

Nie Ying found it absurd. He was about to sneer when—

Song Yixing emerged too.

Of course he wouldn’t let Gu Yang stand outside alone and take the fire.

Nie Ying stared, stunned, watching two living people crawl out of such a small space. “What the hell were you two doing in there?”

Gu Yang shot back instead, “What were you just doing out here?”

Nie Ying had been insulting them both. His cronies shuffled, embarrassed, knowing the targets had overheard.

But Nie Ying didn’t have a shred of shame. He raised his brow, utterly brazen.

“You heard me, didn’t you? If you didn’t catch it, I’ll say it again.”

“Your gambling-addict father and your sickly mother. Honestly, I thought I’d curse you in private—but you even came to listen for yourself. You really are a worthless dog.”

His lackeys chuckled along, egging him on.

Song Yixing fixed him with an icy stare.

“What? Did I say something wrong? Then by all means, Scholar Song, correct me.” Nie Ying’s smirk was pure arrogance. He knew Song Yixing couldn’t touch him.

“Nie Ying.”

Gu Yang’s soft voice cut in.

Nie Ying twitched and instinctively looked over.

“Do you really care so much about being the housemaid’s son? Why else are you always obsessed with other people’s parents?”

This time, Gu Yang’s expression carried a touch of pity, even sympathy. And once again, Nie Ying’s defenses crumbled.

That line had been used to death—but damn it, it worked too well.

Nie Ying knocked a chair over, roaring like an enraged beast. “Shut up!”

His shout rattled the doors, echoing down the hallway. Guests on their way to the garden for fireworks froze in surprise.

“Where did that come from?”

“Sounds like Third Young Master’s voice…”

His lackeys rushed to calm him, terrified he’d snap. “Nie bro, today’s your grandfather’s birthday banquet. Don’t make a scene.”

Nie Ying forced his breathing steady. He wasn’t stupid—he knew to endure.

But fate wasn’t on his side. The door swung open from outside, and a crowd pushed in to see.

Old Master Nie coughed lightly.

The onlookers drew back at once.

Aside from the overturned chair, the room was intact.

The old man’s face softened slightly. At least his grandson hadn’t gone completely wild.

No disaster. He wasn’t about to let his birthday feast be ruined. Smiling, he said kindly, “Isn’t this Gu Yuhui’s nephew? What are you all chatting about here?”

He meant to smooth it over quickly. But then Gu Yang’s gaze swept the crowd and landed on Gu Yuhui.

Expressionless, he tugged on his uncle’s sleeve and pointed at Nie Ying. “He just tried to hit me.”

The words landed like a hammer.

Nie Ying’s eyes bulged. He whipped toward his grandfather to protest. “I didn’t!”

Goddamn it. He had just restrained himself—and Gu Yang dared to slander him.

Gu Yuhui looked down at Gu Yang, a faint smile flickering.

Nie Yunhua’s face was black as ink.

He had poured everything into this 80th birthday feast, painstakingly coaxing his father into good humor. Now his useless son had ruined it.

He shot Nie Ying a glare sharp as a blade before forcing a smile at Gu Yuhui. “Youngsters bicker, say things they shouldn’t. No need for us elders to take it seriously.”

Gu Yuhui smiled thinly.

“If I’m not mistaken, A-Ying is already eighteen. Our little Yang is nearly grown as well. Hardly children anymore.”

Nie Yunhua’s smile froze, unease creeping into his face.

The remark was a direct slap, but Gu Yuhui didn’t care.

He had inherited the Gu family early, with no one above to hold him back. Nie Yunhua, though his peer, was still his father’s errand boy—and with recent scandals dragging him down, he was beneath him now.

“Look here—the chair’s split clean in half. Strong temper,” Gu Yuhui chuckled, then glanced at Gu Yang. “Did that scare you?”

Gu Yang nodded.

His smile deepened.

He already knew what had happened. But he always indulged Gu Yang—and he was willing to back him up.

“Uncle Nie, we truly came to celebrate your birthday. Didn’t expect such a ruckus,” Gu Yuhui said smoothly, turning to the old man.

Old Master Nie’s face was like stone. “All the fault of my wayward grandson. I’ll have him sent home to reflect.”

“Grandpa!” Under his father’s ever-darkening glare, Nie Ying cried out, nudging his cronies desperately.

They groaned inwardly. This was no place for them—but they couldn’t risk his wrath later. One stammered, “We can vouch—Nie bro didn’t try to hit anyone…”

Gu Yang’s voice was cool. “Aren’t you all in the same gang? You ganged up to bully us.”

That accusation was dangerous. With Gu and Nie family heads watching, panic shot through them. One blurted, “Gu Yang, don’t twist it! Nie bro only called you a bastard—we didn’t say a word.”

At that, the smile faded from Gu Yuhui’s face, his displeasure plain.

Old Master Nie caught it immediately. His birthday banquet had already soured—he couldn’t let this go further. His expression darkened. “How could my Nie family raise such a child?”

“Second Son, you must reflect as well. Take your boy home. No need to show your face at the company for now.”

“Father!” Nie Yunhua’s face drained of color. If barred from the company, he would fall further behind. The forces watching would surely swing to his brother’s side.

“You’ll call me Father for nothing. Go home and think it over!”

The old man’s voice was sharp as a whip.

The outcome was decided.

Nie Yunhua had schemed to hide his son away, avoiding trouble—but instead, disaster had struck.

He glared at Nie Ying like an enemy, shoving him toward the door.

Nie Ying bit down hard, his lips nearly bleeding. Rage blazing, he cast a last hateful glance at Gu Yang—the one who had caused it all.

But Gu Yang only mouthed at him, clear as day:

“Housemaid’s son, housemaid’s son, housemaid’s son.”

The words lodged in his chest like a stone. His face turned ashen. His steps faltered, staggering, nearly pitching forward onto the floor.