Volume One, Chapter 15: What Are You Hiding From Me?

Unaware of it, within the next hour, the message he had sent to Yi Qian had already begun circulating among certain people. Although the Wen family wasn’t renowned in elite social circles, both Yi Qian and Wen Yang were infamous in their own ways. One was known for making enemies, the other for her beauty and romantic escapades.

News spread from the hospital where Yi Qian was receiving treatment all the way to Han Ting. After finishing overtime work, he rushed from one banquet to another, attending social engagements like clockwork.

“It’s explosive news. I heard not long ago that guy was still recklessly partying with schoolgirls at the club, and today, someone exposed that he got kicked right in the balls.”

“Is that for real?”

Han Ting was stepping out of a private room for some fresh air when he took the call. Hearing this, he was instantly sobered up.

“Absolutely true. I went with my wife for her prenatal checkup and happened to see it.”

“Which righteous hero would do such a thing?” Han Ting, eager for gossip, pulled out a cigarette and flicked his lighter open and shut.

The voice on the other end finally got to the point, raising the volume a few notches: “I overheard it in the examination room. Damn, it was Wen Yang who kicked him.”

Han Ting’s newly lit cigarette slipped from his fingers onto the floor.

“You’re telling me he got kicked by his own sister and still can’t behave?”

The other continued, chatting animatedly: “Right after the checkup, the guy was still at the hospital but already hired a bunch of thugs, saying they were going to skin Wen Yang alive…”

Han Ting’s attention was all ears; he almost forgot to stamp out the cigarette, doubting: “You’re sure? Kicked by Wen Yang?”

“Absolutely. Back when she was involved with Mr. Pei, I always felt she was no ordinary woman. When she broke it off with Pei, I knew she was ruthless.”

Han Ting had been somewhat of Wen Yang’s classmate. Their high schools were next door; they weren’t close, but he thought she was striking, with a quiet temperament and few troubles. He had a favorable impression of her.

But after Wen Yang started dating his buddy, he realized she was as stubborn as Pei Yan Chuan—wild when riled up. Yet no matter what, in his mind, she was that cold, radiant beauty, impossible to associate with kicking someone in such a way.

Imagining the scene, a certain part of him ached slightly. Frowning, he said, “Follow up and see for yourself. Don’t let it turn into a big mess.”

After hanging up and returning to the private room, a group of men in suits sat around a round table. Among them, Pei Yan Chuan stood out distinctly. His black, tousled short hair lazily brushed his brows. Having had some drinks, his fair skin was tinged with a hint of red.

Dressed in a mature black shirt and tie, he looked noble yet ageless, radiating a youthful energy rare among the middle-aged men present.

He sat to the right of the main seat, broad-shouldered and upright.

Today was supposed to be the launch and promotion event for the game their team had developed for a year. Though they sought favor from the senior figures present, he remained composed and unpretentious.

When the door opened, Pei Yan Chuan glanced over.

Han Ting touched his nose and sat back down beside him, still pondering the earlier call, hesitant to speak.

The general manager of Hengshi Media, Mr. Xu, noticed Han’s return and raised his glass with a flattering smile: “We just finalized the promotional plan for Guangyu with President Pei. I have a feeling this mobile game will be a huge hit. Han, you missed this drink earlier—you’ll have to make up for it.”

Han Ting appeared distracted, touching his nose again: “Then I’ll take you up on that, Mr. Xu.”

He stood and downed the drink in one gulp.

Pei Yan Chuan had sensed something off the moment Han arrived, his gaze lightly resting on him: “What’s wrong?”

“Stealing someone else’s cigarette? You’re taking the mood too seriously.”

Han Ting steadied his expression, pretending nothing was amiss, and leaned in slightly: “Nothing, just a bit tipsy.”

When Pei Yan Chuan first announced he was setting up his own company, everyone thought it was a fleeting distraction after a romantic setback.

Unexpectedly, he thrived—taking over most of the Pei Group’s business while founding Guangyu Technology.

A man functioning as two.

Now Guangyu had released multiple mobile games, gradually carving out a name in Xuan City.

Others believed his success was due to the Pei family’s backing, but only close brothers like Han Ting knew he was their pillar.

Every game was the result of countless all-nighters he endured. The business deals weren’t just struck over drinks.

Few knew the true controlling shareholder of Guangyu was the young master of the Pei family.

So why mention Wen Yang in front of such heavyweights?

Besides, in the afternoon call, Pei Yan Chuan himself said he’d no longer involve himself with Wen Yang’s affairs.

Convincing himself, Han Ting was about to start eating when his childhood friend called again. Han was torn—stepping out to answer wasn’t an option, nor was ignoring it.

He quickly glanced at Pei Yan Chuan and decided to mute the phone and stash it in his pocket.

Pei Yan Chuan rested his hand on the table’s edge, his long fingers tapping rhythmically.

“Not answering?” Pei Yan Chuan turned his head. “What are you hiding from me?”

Years of tacit understanding meant even if Han Ting tried to pretend, his guilt was obvious.

The vibrating phone in his pocket was impossible to ignore. He feigned calm, pulled it out, and held it to his ear.

“He’s hired a bunch of thugs to catch someone at Dark Night. I think Wen Yang’s in serious trouble.”

Han Ting frowned after hearing this. “Got it. You follow them and see. Stop anything from escalating. I’ll hang up now.”

Pei Yan Chuan studied his expression closely and asked, “What happened?”

At this point, Han Ting knew hiding was pointless.

Leaning close, he whispered every detail he had just learned.

Pei Yan Chuan was silent for several seconds, as though he hadn’t heard. He tugged at the tie around his neck and slowly leaned back in his chair.

His dark eyes were deep and unreadable, not uttering a word.

Could it be that the young master had truly given up on Wen Yang? If this had happened before, he’d have been up and pacing already.

“You said this afternoon you wouldn’t care about Wen Yang’s affairs anymore? That this has little to do with us? I wasn’t even planning to tell you,” Han Ting said quietly, testing the waters.

“Maybe those siblings are just messing around.”

Everyone at the table, all with keen insight, pretended not to notice their hushed conversation.

Pei Yan Chuan didn’t reply, only drained the wine in his glass, his Adam’s apple moving slightly.

Just as Han Ting relaxed and reached for his chopsticks again, Pei Yan Chuan stood up.

He grabbed the suit jacket hanging on the chair, his deep and magnetic voice cutting through the room: “Enough. I’m hosting—let’s all go to Dark Night for another round.”

It wasn’t a question; it was an order.

Han Ting froze for a moment, dropping his chopsticks onto the floor. Now, there was no way he would eat a single bite.