Chapter 32: Soul (2)

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If the absurd moments in Tan Zhao’s life were ranked, “catching Wen Mingwei kissing a man who looked extraordinarily like him” would unquestionably take first place.

Several hours earlier, Tan Zhao had received a private email on his way back to Xijing.

The email contained two photographs and an address.

The photographs showed Wen Mingwei with another man. There was nothing overtly suggestive in their poses, yet intimacy permeated every detail.

At a glance, Tan Zhao recognized the man as the person whose face had not been shown in the anonymous package before—the object of Wen Mingwei’s unrequited love all those years ago.

The man had a familiar face.

Tan Zhao stared at the photographs for two or three minutes before realizing that the familiarity came from the man’s resemblance to himself.

The shock that seized him in that instant was no less intense than when he had received the call informing him that his grandfather was critically ill. But Tan Zhao immediately suppressed it. Someone was trying to sow discord between him and Wen Mingwei. He could not be tricked by two photographs so easily.

Not to mention that photographs could easily be fabricated with modern technology. Even if that man came before him in person, what difference would it make?

Cosmetic surgery and facial disguise technology were highly advanced these days, and crimes involving altered appearances were constantly surfacing. Knowing that Wen Mingwei loved Tan Zhao, the man had imitated his appearance. What was he hoping to destroy, or reclaim? It was absurdly delusional.

Tan Zhao calmly scrolled past the photographs and saw an address.

Beneath it was a line of text: “Five o’clock this afternoon. If you want to know the truth, come here and see it with your own eyes.”

Sender: Jian Qingzheng.

…Jian Qingzheng?

Tan Zhao hesitated, then decided to ignore it. He would go to the company as planned and talk to Wen Mingwei when he returned home that evening.

He had wanted to surprise Wen Mingwei, so he had told him, “I have to work overtime. I’ll be home very late.”

Yet once a seed of suspicion had been planted, it was like a thorn lodged in his heart, causing trouble until it was pulled out.

After much hesitation, Tan Zhao finally gave in and decided to visit the place himself to see what was going on and put his mind at ease.

He had not even gotten out of the car when he saw Wen Mingwei’s vehicle.

Since Wen Mingwei was inside, Tan Zhao had even less reason not to enter.

Without the slightest hesitation, he parked and walked through the gate. He crossed the courtyard and reached the sitting room. Until that moment, he had not imagined the worst. He trusted Wen Mingwei.

So when he saw Wen Mingwei pinned against the door and kissed by that man, his first reaction was anger. How dare anyone lay hands on Wen Mingwei? What was Gu Jing doing? Was he dead?

—Gu Jing was not only alive; he also tried to stop him.

Tan Zhao kicked the other man away. In his panic, he had no time to consider cause and effect. He charged into the sitting room, and then he saw clearly: Wen Mingwei was willing.

His eyes were even half closed, as though he were waiting for the man’s kiss to fall. His expression was intoxicated, exactly as it had been during every kiss they had shared before.

The most absurd nightmare could go no further. In a fury, Tan Zhao wanted to ask, “What are you doing? Didn’t you know I would be angry?”

Yet Wen Mingwei showed no alarm at all. He turned to look at Tan Zhao with faint bewilderment, as though he had been immersed in some supreme pleasure and suddenly interrupted. It was as if Tan Zhao were the uninvited one, the person in the wrong.

“Wen Mingwei!”

Tan Zhao clenched his trembling fists and rushed forward, wrenching the two apart.

Wen Mingwei stumbled violently when he was pulled away. As for the other man—only when Tan Zhao seized his arm did he realize that the flesh felt hard, unlike that of a living person.

Tan Zhao froze. His thoughts were a tangled mess, but whatever else might be true, he needed an explanation.

“Speak.” He roughly dragged Wen Mingwei in front of him. “What is going on?”

As unruffled as ever, Wen Mingwei slowly raised his head from beneath his long hair and glanced at him. His face still bore the marks of having been kissed by another man. Though nearly invisible, they were so stark and piercing that they could not be ignored.

“Tell him, Mingwei.”

The man who looked like Tan Zhao, the “person” called Jian Qingzheng, suddenly spoke.

“Tell Tan Zhao that he is only a substitute. The one you truly love is me.”

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“‘A substitute’?” Tan Zhao turned sharply, unable to understand.

But panic, preceding reason, crept densely through his heart and momentarily overwhelmed his anger.

Wen Mingwei refused to explain. Faced with two similar faces—one furious, wounded, and bewildered, the other confident and waiting for him to deliver judgment—he stood caught between them, his body pulled in opposite directions.

He seemed unable to move. Whichever way he leaned, he would hurt the other.

Tan Zhao found it utterly intolerable. He could not bear even a second of hesitation from Wen Mingwei. Yet Wen Mingwei barely hesitated before breaking free of Tan Zhao and walking toward “Jian Qingzheng.”

Then, perhaps intending to continue the unfinished kiss, he voluntarily wrapped his arms around “Jian Qingzheng’s” waist, slipping one hand beneath the other’s shirt to embrace his back intimately.

For an instant, Tan Zhao wanted to kill someone.

But before he could act, “Jian Qingzheng’s” pupils suddenly widened in delight, and he let out a pained groan.

A knife sliced through the skin of his back and cruelly pulled out several wires.

It was the knife Wen Mingwei had concealed in his sleeve, driven straight into the core of the android’s body, its most vulnerable point.

Sparks raced up the blade as electricity crackled.

The android’s alarm system activated. Every android was equipped with one, presumably to ensure that its owner would know if it were attacked. But this android’s alarm made no sound. Blue light appeared in its silent eyes, and tears poured down like rain.

“Mingwei…”

Like Jian Qingzheng himself, it accused him sorrowfully: “You are so cruel.”

Yet it still did not dodge.

Only when another merciless stab pierced its body did the chip-filled core tissue emit a crisp cracking sound. Wen Mingwei supported the android’s “dying” body. No one noticed the tremor in his hand as he said in a voice cold beyond measure, “Are you still refusing to show yourself?”

He addressed the person behind it.

“You’re watching, aren’t you? How much effort did it take you to build an android of this caliber? All so you could send it to me and let me stab it? Hiding your head and showing your tail—you’re a useless coward.”

“…”

The android’s barely upright body suddenly straightened, as if revived by a final surge of life.

“Wen. Ming. Wei.”

It changed its voice. It was no longer Jian Qingzheng, but another distant figure from memory.

“You dare call me a coward? You counterfeit! You wretch!”

“…It really is you.”

“Hah? It really is me? What are you pretending for, acting as though you know and control everything? You must have been terrified to see me come back to life, weren’t you, my dear little brother?”

Wen Mingwei remained expressionless as he watched the android become possessed by Wen Mingzhe. Wearing a gentle, mild face but exuding an entirely different presence, it gave a strange laugh and said, “The android is a fake, Tan Zhao is a substitute, and you are a counterfeit. The three of you were made for one another! No, wait—one and a half couples! Hahaha…”

It staggered around Wen Mingwei mockingly. Before it had taken two steps, Wen Mingwei seized it by the neck. The blade of his knife entered its mouth and severed its throat.

That was how cleanly he had killed Wen Mingzhe all those years ago.

Unfortunately, Wen Mingzhe had not died.

For the moment, Wen Mingwei could not recall how the man had been rescued. Jian Qingzheng had met with disaster on the same day, and Wen Mingwei had been consumed by grief, unable to spare any attention for anything else. It was not impossible that someone had taken advantage of the opening.

“Gu Jing!” Wen Mingwei said impatiently. “Deal with it and bring it back for examination.”

When he turned around, he suddenly met Tan Zhao’s icy gaze.

The entire scene had lasted no more than five minutes, yet it felt as long as a century.

Wen Mingwei had left Tan Zhao standing aside, offering neither explanation nor comfort. He had allowed all of Tan Zhao’s anger, hurt, and bewilderment to dry up, leaving only a heavy silence.

“We’ll talk when we get home.”

Wen Mingwei reached for his hand. Tan Zhao knocked it away, but he did not refuse to go home with him. Gu Jing drove separately to deal with the android. They took another car.

From the moment they got in, the journey was steeped in silence, as though nothing more needed to be said. They understood everything already.

The joy of reuniting after a brief separation had vanished without a trace.

The souvenir Tan Zhao had brought back from Renzhou still sat in the back seat, never having been given to him.

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It was a crystal ornament, clear and translucent. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it. Tan Zhao had simply thought of giving it to Wen Mingwei when he saw it, certain that Wen Mingwei would like it.

But he had never expected that, all of a sudden—

Tan Zhao slammed on the brakes and pulled over by the roadside in the countryside.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon, leaving the edge of the sky awash in brilliant crimson evening clouds.

Wen Mingwei sat with his head bowed, silently fiddling with the knife in his hand. When Tan Zhao stopped the car, he looked up and gave him an expression that seemed equally helpless.

Tan Zhao’s throat tightened. He knew he should not let himself be deceived again, yet he simply could not believe that all the tenderness and affection of the past several days had been a lie. Gripping the steering wheel, he said hoarsely, “I’ll give you one chance to explain.”

“I’m sorry,” Wen Mingwei said.

“Is that an admission?” Tan Zhao could not understand his attitude. “What exactly is your relationship with Jian Qingzheng? Where is the real Jian Qingzheng? What is the android? What does ‘substitute’ mean? Do I look like him?”

“…”

“Wen Mingwei, shouldn’t you explain all of this in detail?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Then take your time and tell it!” Tan Zhao’s voice rose, and he struck the steering wheel in agitation.

Outside the window, birds flew low across the sky. Their mournful cries cut through the heavy dusk before vanishing without a trace.

If he could, Tan Zhao wanted to be like one of those birds—give a brief farewell and fly away, refusing to show Wen Mingwei any kindness. He did not need to. He was the one who was loved. Wen Mingwei should be the one chasing after him and apologizing.

But there was one possibility.

Perhaps… he was not the one being loved.

“Are you still not going to explain? How long are you going to make me wait?”

Every second was agony. Tan Zhao wanted to maintain his dignity, but he could not.

“Wen Mingwei, can you tell me whether all of this was deliberately arranged by you? Because I treated you too poorly? Because I wasn’t a good enough boyfriend? So you wanted to torment me—”

“…”

“I really will get angry. Do you know that?”

“I’m sorry.”

Wen Mingwei repeated what he had said before. “It’s difficult to explain. They’re all things from the past. When I first approached you, I did have other intentions, but…”

Tan Zhao cut him off. “Other intentions? You treated me as a substitute?”

Wen Mingwei paused. When he lowered his head, his long hair fell forward and hid his expression. Tan Zhao brushed it aside, seized his chin, and forced him to look up.

“Look at me and explain yourself.”

“…I suppose that’s true.”

He actually admitted it.

“That was a long time ago. Six years ago. I was afraid you would mind, so I never told you. So much time has passed, and now I really do love you. Can we… not dredge up the past?”

Tan Zhao studied him coldly. “Do you think I believe you?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Which part was a lie?”

“…”

“Which of the things you said to me before were lies? If you were me, could you tell the difference?”

Wen Mingwei fell silent. Tan Zhao’s fingers pressed a bright red mark into his jaw.

He simply looked at Tan Zhao in silence, making no sound and showing little expression. Anyone else would have been unable to detect the slightest weakness in that cold face. Given his position and temperament, he could not possibly be the weaker one.

Yet Tan Zhao was bewitched. He always thought Wen Mingwei was pitiful and endearing, so deeply devoted and willing to abase himself for love, allowing Tan Zhao to manipulate him at will, giving him anything he asked for.