Chapter 8: The Veil of Maya (8)

July 13th was a Saturday, and the 14th was a Sunday. If one were to schedule a meeting, tomorrow would be a perfect day.

However, when Wen Mingwei proposed, "Let me treat you to a meal tomorrow," Tan Zhao realized a beat too late that he had been far too accommodating. He changed his tune, saying, "That’s not right, is it, Wen Mingwei?"

The young master’s mood shifted faster than the turning of a page. "Why should you get to see me just because you want to? Does that align with our current relationship?"

Because friends were urging him, Tan Zhao returned to the crowd with his phone in hand—they weren't at a nightclub, but hosting a party at a friend's villa. The people around him were mostly acquaintances from the same social circle, though there were a few strangers as well.

He ignored Li Yue, who had leaned in out of curiosity, and typed to Wen Mingwei: "We just saw each other today, and you want to see me again tomorrow? Are you really that incapable of being apart from me?"

Li Yue, unaware of the developments between them, stared at the screen, completely petrified.

Amidst this stunned gaze, the young master began to put on airs: "Let's pick another time. My schedule is packed these next two days. Let's have dinner on Tuesday instead."

What Wen Mingwei replied, Li Yue didn't quite catch. Tan Zhao had already stowed his phone away; judging by the speed at which the screen went dark, Tan Zhao probably hadn't read it himself either. Yet, he sat back into the sofa with a cold, aloof expression, picked up his drink, and took a sip, as if he didn't care at all what Wen Mingwei had replied and had no need to see it.

Li Yue: "..."

"What the hell? What's going on?"

It took Li Yue half a minute of dull shock to let out a soul-searching question: "Did you and Brother Mingwei get together behind my back?"

In the villa’s grand living room, a rock band was performing. Several people on the opposite sofa were singing along at the top of their lungs. Annoyed by the caterwauling, Tan Zhao frowned and remarked, "Who picked this song? It’s awful." Then, looking at his friend as if nothing had happened, he added dismissively, "No. He’s pursuing me, and I haven’t decided to agree yet."

Li Yue: "..."

If Gu Jing was the person who understood Wen Mingwei best, then Li Yue was the person who understood Tan Zhao best.

Since they were children, they had been surrounded by countless friends—clever, cute, beautiful, handsome, powerful, and empathetic; they lacked nothing. Yet, Tan Zhao was always the most popular among them, even though he had the worst temper and never gave anyone a pleasant look.

The strange thing was, the worse his expression became, the more people scrambled to please him. Li Yue could not comprehend it at all. Even more incomprehensible was how someone like Wen Mingwei—a figure as ethereal as a celestial being—could be just like any other mortal, blinded by this foul-tempered, prince-syndrome-afflicted man.

Tan Zhao guessed he was cursing him internally and called him out on the spot: "What’s with that expression? Don't be so jealous."

"Tsk, I’m just heartbroken at the loss of a male god," Li Yue lamented bitterly. "Looks like I’ll have to find a new target. I wonder if his brother-in-law would still be willing to help... sigh."

Tan Zhao ignored him and looked down at his phone.

Wen Mingwei had replied: "Fine, Tuesday works too."

—A few simple words, perhaps a bit too plain.

Tan Zhao asked, as if looking for a flaw: "What are you going to treat me to on Tuesday? I’m very picky, you know?"

After the message was sent, Wen Mingwei didn't ask "What do you like to eat?" Instead, he unexpectedly pasted a menu directly, clearly prepared in advance: "How about these?"

"..." Tan Zhao paused, skimming through it.

Ten dishes. A bit much for two people. By the standards of a date dinner, the menu wasn't particularly refined; it featured dishes from various regions, the styles were inconsistent, and the plating wouldn't be elegant, which would inevitably affect the atmosphere.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that these ten dishes happened to be exactly what Tan Zhao liked to eat. It was all a bit too coincidental.

Tan Zhao asked suspiciously: "Wen Mingwei, how did you know what I like?"

A line of text appeared on the screen. Wen Mingwei said: "Because I have liked you for a long time."

"..."

Texting had a natural disadvantage; one couldn't hear the voice or see the eyes, leaving one to rely on imagination to guess the expression on Wen Mingwei’s face.

Tan Zhao recalled how Wen Mingwei had said at the shooting range, "I’ve been secretly in love with you for a long time." When he had casually asked when it started, he hadn't answered.

Tan Zhao couldn't help but press: "How long is 'a long time'? Half a year? A year? Two years? No way, right?"

Wen Mingwei was being mysterious, replying only with two words: "Guess."

Tan Zhao: "..."

"I’m not curious," Tan Zhao said stiffly. "Keep it to yourself if you want."

With that, Tan Zhao tossed his phone into the corner of the sofa and noticed he was alone—Li Yue had wandered off at some point.

Soon, however, Li Yue returned with a plate of food and a drink, a piece of watermelon hanging from his mouth.

Tan Zhao looked around listlessly. Some people were singing, some were dancing awkwardly, some were drinking, and others were huddled together kissing. He retracted his gaze with a lack of interest, thinking to himself that he didn't know what was wrong with tonight, but he found this group incredibly boring; there wasn't a single interesting person in sight.

Tan Zhao picked up his phone again.

Just then, Li Yue placed his things on the table, tossed the watermelon rind into the trash, and suddenly, as if remembering something, slapped his forehead hard and said, "Damn, I almost forgot."

"What?" Tan Zhao asked, baffled.

Li Yue was being secretive, lowering his voice: "That time at the bar on my birthday, didn't you leave with Brother Mingwei?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"After you two left, the more I thought about it, the more curious I became. I couldn't help but feel that Brother Mingwei wasn't just some simple person, so when I got home, I couldn't help but ask my dad about him."

Li Yue might have had a talent for telling suspense stories; his tone was eerie, as if Wen Mingwei were a ghost.

"How did you ask?" Tan Zhao inquired.

"I just asked my dad if he knew a man named Wen Mingwei," Li Yue said. "My dad’s expression changed, and he said he knew him, but didn't know him well."

"And then?"

"He told me to stay away from Wen Mingwei and not to go around asking about things, lest I bring trouble upon myself."

"..."

Li Yue lowered his voice even further, as if fearing a vengeful spirit: "So I started to wonder, is Brother Mingwei really from *that* Wen family? Otherwise, what was my dad so wary of?"

"He is," Tan Zhao didn't think there was any need to hide it. "He is from that Wen family. Is there a problem?"

"...Holy shit," Li Yue’s eyes widened. "Really?"

After digesting this for a few seconds, he added, "And you still dare to let him pursue you?"

Tan Zhao was speechless: "Why wouldn't I dare? He’s not a monster; he won't eat people. Can you stop being so jumpy?"

Li Yue choked: "Brother, since you know his identity, how can you not realize the gravity of the situation? The entire Wen family either died, fled, or is in prison. They are all dangerous criminals..."

Tan Zhao already felt the place was noisy, and Li Yue’s rambling made it worse. Suppressing his temper, he darkened his face and said, "But Wen Mingwei is doing just fine now, and he runs a company. Doesn't that prove he’s innocent and never participated in those past events?"

"..."

Although he had a gut feeling that things weren't that simple, what Tan Zhao said made sense, and Li Yue was momentarily stumped.

Looking at the young master, the face that rarely smiled was now full of anger, as if someone he deeply valued had been slandered and discriminated against, and he felt deeply offended.

Li Yue’s gossip radar immediately began to ping: "Oh my, young master, have you finally had a change of heart?"

"…Get lost." Tan Zhao spat out the words, his expression still icy, and stood up to leave.

Li Yue hurriedly asked: "Where are you going?"

"To the hospital to keep my grandfather company." Mentioning his grandfather, Tan Zhao’s mood dipped.

Li Yue consoled him: "Didn't they say he’s getting better? He should be out soon, don't worry."

Tan Zhao acknowledged this with a wave of his hand and left without looking back.

**

Before Tuesday arrived, Xijing experienced two consecutive days of rain.

Since Saturday night, Wen Mingwei hadn't stepped foot outside his front door.

Every morning after breakfast, he would go to his study to read, paint, or copy scriptures until it was time for bed.

He didn't go out, and he rarely had visitors.

Those who would visit Wen Mingwei, aside from the exceptionally rare Marshal Zheng Heyuan, the occasional obsequious council member, and Dr. Oda, who came for routine medicine testing, were limited to one person: Wen Mingwei’s nominal younger sister, Jian Xinning.

Jian Xinning carried the surname Jian; her background required no further introduction—everyone around Wen Mingwei knew it clearly.

But Jian Xinning’s identity was more than just a "younger sister." She was the proxy who currently managed all the companies under Wen Mingwei’s name, as well as some sensitive business matters that weren't meant for the light of day.

Like Gu Jing, despite being a pivotal figure around Wen Mingwei, she was always respectful and never dared to show the slightest negligence.

This sense of awe was a consensus among all who had participated in the internal strife of the Wen family back then; no matter how gentle or "indifferent to the world" Wen Mingwei had become since, it could not alter the profound impression he had left on them.

Jian Xinning arrived on Tuesday afternoon.

Her primary purpose for visiting was to report on recent work, take the opportunity to check on Wen Mingwei’s health, help organize the books scattered in his study, and replace the wilting flowers in the vase with fresh ones.

Then, like a true younger sister, she called to Wen Mingwei: "Brother, are we having dinner together tonight?"

"I have a guest, maybe next time," Wen Mingwei said. "You’ve worked hard lately. Get some good rest when you have time; don't put too much pressure on yourself."

Jian Xinning quickly replied: "It’s nothing, my pressure is not even half of yours..."

Wen Mingwei smiled. Today, he had his long hair tied back and wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. As he flipped through a book at his desk, he occasionally adjusted the frames, which were sliding slightly—clearly, the lenses were prescription.

But Jian Xinning remembered that Wen Mingwei had excellent vision; he was not nearsighted.

It was likely that he had been using some kind of medicine lately, intentionally or unintentionally affecting his eyesight.

Jian Xinning hesitated, suppressing the bitterness and worry in her heart, and forced a smile: "Then I’ll be going, Brother. I’ll come back to have dinner with you another time."

"Mm," Wen Mingwei responded, then suddenly said, "Next month, you will accompany me back to Xinzhou. Remember to arrange your schedule."

"...I understand."

Jian Xinning nodded and turned to head downstairs.

She was practically the co-owner of this villa. The housekeeper saw her off to the door with great diligence, helping to open the car door with more enthusiasm than he showed any other visitor.

As Jian Xinning sat in the car, adjusting her coiled hair, she asked in a low voice: "Who is my brother meeting tonight?"

The housekeeper provided Tan Zhao’s name.

Jian Xinning went silent for a moment. Just as she was about to say something, a red supercar suddenly sped toward them, tearing across the wide driveway through the garden and coming to an imposing stop in front of the villa’s gate.

—Tan Zhao had arrived right on time.

The housekeeper hurried to bid Jian Xinning farewell and stepped forward to greet this distinguished guest who required even more careful handling.

Tan Zhao responded lazily, not sparing the housekeeper a single glance, much less noticing the strange woman—who bore a subtle, haunting resemblance to him—not far away.