Chapter Eleven
Yi Xiaoyu sat on the sofa, with Scallion resting lazily at his feet, its chin propped on his shoe, gazing intently at Wen Ming who stood before them. If Wen Ming so much as took a step forward, Scallion would immediately stiffen, bare its fangs, and let out a low warning growl.
Scallion was massive—enough to make anyone instinctively tremble. Wen Ming eyed the hulking husky at Yi Xiaoyu's feet, desperate to step forward and question him, but restrained himself.
A scorching ache gripped Wen Ming’s entire body. He stared at Yi Xiaoyu’s indifferent face, feeling as though electric currents were lashing his nerves.
He was married…
He had actually gotten married…
“Xiaoyu…” Wen Ming asked in a low voice, “Did you get married at the same time you sent me that photo?”
Yi Xiaoyu continued to stroke Scallion’s head, bowing his head slightly so his bangs shadowed his eyes. “Yes. The day after you left, I went to get the certificate. If you have questions, ask them now. Make it quick, though—my partner will be out soon, and we’re going to the hot springs together.”
“Xiaoyu!” Wen Ming suddenly shouted, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. He stared at Yi Xiaoyu as if trying to bore a hole through him.
How could he say these things so casually?
How could he treat him like a stranger?
Did those seven years of loving each other truly mean nothing to him?
Yi Xiaoyu, seeing that Wen Ming remained silent, finally looked up. In that moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of tears in Wen Ming’s eyes.
He instinctively averted his gaze back to Scallion, feeling a sharp pain pierce his heart.
Just then, Yu Yige emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a bathrobe and toweling off his damp hair. He was about to complain about his ordeal in the bathroom when he spotted Wen Ming standing in the living room.
Wen Ming was tall and handsome, impeccably dressed, exuding the air of a refined gentleman. The composure between his brows lent him a keen intelligence.
Yu Yige had never liked these elegant, scholarly types; he moved in different circles and never bothered with men like this. They disdained his rough-and-tumble ways, and he couldn’t care less about their perpetual airs and suits.
Except, of course, for his own partner.
Yu Yige glanced at Wen Ming, then turned to Yi Xiaoyu. “Xiaoyu, this is…?”
At the sound of Yu Yige’s voice, Wen Ming immediately recognized him—it was the same coarse, abrasive man who’d answered the phone that day.
Realizing this man was Yi Xiaoyu’s partner made Wen Ming’s expression even grimmer.
“My old classmate,” Yi Xiaoyu said. “Wen Ming—he’s been studying design abroad these past two years, just recently returned.”
Wen Ming?
Yu Yige felt as if the familiar name crashed into his mind. Without thinking, he blurted, “Wen for culture, Ming for memory?”
Wen Ming nearly crushed the air in his palm, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Yes, we spoke on Xiaoyu’s phone.”
Yu Yige felt as if he’d been electrocuted; his blood surged to a fever pitch. He’d never experienced such a sensation—the wild alarm of a threatened territory, every cell in his body screaming.
When he’d learned of this rival’s existence, he’d imagined greeting him politely, projecting magnanimity—after all, pettiness is contemptible. But now, confronted with reality, he found he couldn’t muster even basic composure.
He was terrified this man, who seemed to belong to Yi Xiaoyu’s world, would steal his heart away.
Yu Yige glared at Wen Ming, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles cracked, as if something explosive was imminent.
Oblivious to Yu Yige’s agitation, Wen Ming had regained his calm. He gazed at Yi Xiaoyu with gentle eyes and said softly, “A flash marriage of two years—can it erase the seven years I spent with you? I’ve always believed that, in your heart, no one could replace me.”
Seven years by his side gave Wen Ming the confidence to say such words.
At his words, Yi Xiaoyu stiffened.
Wen Ming gave Yu Yige a final glance—saying nothing, offering only a cold, indifferent smile before turning to leave.
The living room was left with only Yu Yige and Yi Xiaoyu.
A few seconds later, Yu Yige unclenched his fists and, not bothering to change out of his bathrobe, strode toward the door. “I’ll see him downstairs.”
Yi Xiaoyu seemed to realize something, standing abruptly and calling after him, “Don’t lay a hand on him.”
He knew all too well what a violent brute this man could be—the mayor’s nephew he’d put in the hospital still hadn’t recovered.
Yu Yige’s voice drifted back from the entryway. “Got it, darling.”
As the elevator doors began to close, Yu Yige rushed in, prying them open and squeezing inside. Curling his lips, he said to Wen Ming, “I’ll walk you out.”
The doors slid shut and the elevator began its slow descent.
The temperature outside was near freezing, and even inside the elevator, the chill was biting. Yu Yige stood there in only a bathrobe, goosebumps rising, but the fire raging in his heart was enough to keep his mind ablaze.
Wen Ming spared Yu Yige only a cold glance when he entered, then stared straight ahead, expressionless, completely ignoring him.
Yu Yige could sense the contempt in Wen Ming’s frosty gaze, but he didn’t mind—this type of man was from a world apart, and it wasn’t worth quibbling.
But when it came to his partner, no detail was too trivial.
He had to assert his claim on Yi Xiaoyu.
No force in the world could change that.
Standing tall in his bathrobe, legs exposed, Yu Yige maintained his composure. He stood beside Wen Ming, staring ahead, and said conversationally, “Don’t come here again. Showing up after breaking up, with such shamelessness, doesn’t suit your status. Besides, Xiaoyu is married now.”
Wen Ming’s face remained impassive, though his fists tightened at his sides. His voice was cool and clear: “Do you know what Xiaoyu’s favorite pet is?”
Yu Yige hesitated for a moment, cursing inwardly.
He, of all people, didn’t need anyone to tell him his partner’s likes and dislikes. What a joke.
“Dogs.”
He’d seen how Yi Xiaoyu doted on Scallion—this answer came instantly.
“And his favorite food?” Wen Ming asked.
Yu Yige faltered. That… he’d never really paid attention.
“Um, it’s…”
Wen Ming sneered. “You don’t even know these basic things about his daily life—how many of his other interests do you know?”
Yu Yige was no longer as composed as before. “Quit acting all high and mighty—you think you’re so important to Xiaoyu?”
“That dog—it’s yours, isn’t it?”
“So what if it is?”
Wen Ming turned to look at him. “Did you know Xiaoyu actually dislikes dogs?”
“What… what?”
“His favorite pet is a cat.”
——
Yi Xiaoyu, having finished cleaning the kitchen, crouched in front of Scallion, fastening its collar. Scallion wagged its tail and, seizing a moment of inattention, licked Yi Xiaoyu’s face twice, mouth spread in a grin of pure delight.
Clipping on the collar, Yi Xiaoyu rubbed Scallion’s furry head, unable to help laughing. “Just as much a rascal as your dad.”
“Awoo, awoo!” Scallion pawed at him, barking with exuberance.
At that moment, Yu Yige pushed open the door and entered.
Yi Xiaoyu had just stood up when Yu Yige strode over and enveloped him in a fierce hug.
“What’s gotten into you, fatty? What are you up to now?”
Yu Yige shook his head. “Nothing. I just wanted to hold you.”
(Ha-Qian: Sigh, boss, you were utterly defeated before your love rival. Why didn’t you throw a punch?!)