Deep in the Night - Chapter 11

The next morning, Gu Yuan sat in his room, stirring the mung bean and lily bulb hangover soup with a spoon. After a moment, he took a sip, utterly devoid of enthusiasm.

It was definitely not Fang Jin’s handiwork.

Last night, General Manager Gu had almost achieved the feat of making Assistant Fang cry for the second time. The reason it was “almost” rather than “actual” was that the browser successfully forced a quit at the last second, and the provocatively posed CG beauties finally vanished from the screen. But after all the turmoil that lasted until the wee hours, Fang Jin had no energy left to simmer hangover soup. He could only take a hot shower, rush to sleep, and by the latter half of the night, he predictably developed a fever.

Assistant Fang’s constitution—to develop a fever whenever emotionally agitated—was truly unique. After breakfast, Gu Yuan went to Fang Jin’s room to check on him, where he was startled to find that little Xiao Yao hadn’t left. The boy was sitting by the bedside, holding a cup of hot water, his face full of concern.

…Why is this person, who was drugged and then hosed down with cold water for half an hour, completely fine? Do fools really not catch colds?

Gu Yuan walked into the bedroom. Xiao Yao immediately jumped off the bed as if electrocuted, bowing nervously: “G-Good morning, Young Master Gu!”

Gu Yuan’s impassive gaze swept over his face, making the handsome youth instinctively shudder.

Fang Jin struggled to sit up, his pale face flushed scarlet from the fever, his voice completely hoarse: “I apologize, Mr. Gu. I won’t be able to attend today’s negotiation and meetings. You’ll have to…”

Gu Yuan opened the bedside drawer, pulled out a thermometer, and slapped it onto the bed.

“…” The scene was so familiar that Fang Jin silently put the thermometer in his mouth. Silence filled the room.

Gu Yuan stood by the bed with his arms crossed, looking down as he waited for the temperature reading. The hangover had barely affected him; his tailored shirt and custom suit were immaculately crisp. A genuine gold and silver ruby tie pin was clipped onto his black, subtly patterned tie. The discreet yet rich scent of men’s cologne wafted from his collar and cuffs, contrasting with his expressionless face and sharp gaze, forcing the other two into absolute silence.

A few minutes later, Fang Jin withdrew the mercury thermometer from his mouth. Gu Yuan reached for it, squinted, and held it up to the light.

38.5°C. Thankfully, it wasn’t serious enough to require a hospital visit.

“…Since you have a fever, rest well,” Gu Yuan said, setting the thermometer down. “Play fewer games, and stop distracting yourself.”

Fang Jin’s face was so red it seemed about to ignite: “I—”

Gu Yuan did not give him a chance to speak. He turned his head and gestured toward Xiao Yao, a look that was both threat and warning, before cutting Fang Jin off:

“I’m heading to the company. Make sure you recover quickly and come back to work.”

Xiao Yao instinctively retreated half a step, and Fang Jin quickly agreed.

General Manager Gu, like a monarch who had finished inspecting his territory, finally departed.

———

“…How can Young Master Gu be so heartless!” The moment the door clicked shut, Xiao Yao immediately burst out, indignant: “You’re burning up like this, and he still waited to check your temperature! Does he suspect you’re slacking off and faking illness?!”

“He just wanted to know the temperature, that’s all.”

“And he told you to hurry back to work as soon as you’re well enough!” Xiao Yao raged. “So what if he’s rich? Does that make him superior? Just because you’re good-tempered, he bullies you relentlessly?”

Fang Jin thought to himself, That’s just Gu Yuan’s personality, you can’t blame him. But how do you plan to survive in the entertainment industry with your thoughtless talk? Just by relying on your face?…

He sighed, looking at Xiao Yao’s sincere, indignant expression. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, eventually settling on: “You really need to be careful with what you say… in the future.”

Xiao Yao glanced at him, his cheeks flushing slightly for some unknown reason: “I’m just worried about you!”

He perched on the edge of the bed in a daze for a while. Fang Jin was wondering how to arrange for his manager to come and collect the boy when his mobile phone on the bedside table rang—it was an unknown number.

Fang Jin’s expression subtly changed. He instantly shot up, grabbed the phone, and swung his legs off the bed.

“Hey…” Xiao Yao exclaimed in surprise. But before he could take two steps to follow, Fang Jin was already striding toward the enclosed hotel balcony. He closed the sliding glass door behind him and simultaneously held up a finger to his lips, motioning for silence.

Xiao Yao dared not approach. He watched as Fang Jin turned his back to him and answered the call.

Fang Jin stood barefoot on the cool hotel balcony floor, answering cautiously: “Hello, Mr. Gu.”

This use of “Mr. Gu” was utterly different from his tone when addressing Gu Yuan. If Gu Yuan was a newly matured young wolf, whose menacing fangs and claws inspired fear and avoidance, then Gu Mingzong was the longtime sovereign who had already claimed the entire jungle as his domain. On the surface, he appeared calm and leisurely, but only when he stood up did one see the bloody white bones accumulated behind him.

A faint, familiar sound of breathing came over the line, mingling with the static of the current.

The apprehension and dread that had solidified over years of living under his shadow once again assaulted Fang Jin. He unconsciously tightened his grip on the phone, his fingernails turning an ashen white.

At the same moment, in the vast, spacious top-floor office of the skyscraper, Gu Mingzong stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, handing his phone to the Head of Security behind him, gesturing for him to speak.

“Hello, Assistant Fang.”

Like a suspended heart plummeting back into his chest, Fang Jin almost let out a gasp of relief:

“…Hello, yes.”

“Mr. Gu asked me to inform you,” the Head of Security’s voice was steady and respectful, betraying nothing unusual: “The guest in room XXX at the Jin Rui Hotel last night is the owner of XX Investment Company. He was not seriously injured by the fall, and this morning Mr. Gu already instructed us to handle the matter completely. I’m just letting you know not to worry.”

“…Thank you,” Fang Jin replied, trying to keep his tone calm and natural. “Thank you very much, Mr. Gu.”

The other end hung up.

Fang Jin stood on the balcony, his entire body suddenly relaxing. He gripped the railing to steady himself.

Gu Mingzong had resolved the situation.

How he resolved it, Fang Jin did not ask.

Since long ago, he had learned not to ask about anything. The secrets he had witnessed firsthand were enough for Gu Mingzong to silence him a hundred times over; there was truly no need to know more.

No one had a clearer, truer, or more brutal view of the inner workings than he did. Not even Gu Mingzong’s two biological sons had the chance to witness the bloody history at such close range.

When Fang Jin was first bought into the Gu family, they were in the most volatile and dangerous phase of whitewashing their dark dealings. Gu Mingzong treated him merely as a small pet for amusement, and why would one conceal anything from a kitten or puppy? Some things were simply seen. Later, as Fang Jin grew up, Gu Mingzong saw his potential as an assistant and second-in-command, and he didn’t just stop concealing certain methods; he semi-forcefully taught them.

In his early teens, Fang Jin felt nothing but withdrawal and fear, yet he was utterly powerless to leave the Gu family, which felt like an immense, terrifying entity. Later, he was sent to Germany for schooling. During one holiday, he was riding his bike alone on a trip to the countryside, looking at the vast sky and the empty fields, when the urge to escape suddenly arose again. Though he had considered it before, this was the first time he ever acted on it. He didn’t know where he found the courage.

He hastily packed his money and documents, discarded his SIM card, and didn’t even take a change of clothes before boarding a train out of Heidelberg. After numerous, aimless train changes, he arrived at a secluded rural town. He used stolen identification and cash to rent a room and began working black market jobs for cash payment at a fast-food restaurant, hoping to sneak back to China after the attention had died down.

The first few nights, he barricaded the door with the sofa and slept on it, spending most of the night wide awake. He knew Gu Mingzong’s methods too well; even a gust of wind rustling the window or a cat jumping onto the roof was enough to make him instantly jump up, ready to fight until daybreak.

However, the next two weeks were uneventful. He checked the newspapers and police websites daily, finding no reports about a missing exchange student.

When he finally felt the Gu family had not noticed their small fish had slipped away, he succumbed to the cumulative exhaustion of constant fear one night and fell into a deep sleep curled up on the sofa. The next morning, he woke up to find himself back in Heidelberg, lying in the bed of his usual apartment, dressed in pajamas. The furnishings were identical to when he had left two weeks prior.

He instinctively turned to the clock, and the blood instantly ran cold throughout his body.

—The clock in the corner of the room had stopped.

It was frozen at the exact moment he had left the apartment two weeks ago.

Gu Mingzong’s silent warning did not deter Fang Jin for long. Or perhaps, the timid, easily startled child, having tasted rebellion, suddenly found an endless courage for defiance.

He quickly planned a second escape, this one more thorough and discreet. He used pre-made fake documents from the start and spent two weeks using certain techniques to falsify the apartment door card entry records. He left during a lecture at school; everyone thought he was merely going to the restroom. A few hours later, he emerged from the platform in a border town near the Czech Republic, at the opposite end of Germany, taking off his sunglasses.

This time, he didn’t even look for work. He used only cash to stay in cheap, unregistered hostels, sleeping in large dorm rooms with eight beds. He avoided the internet and stayed inside every day, only watching the traffic and pedestrians outside his window. He held out for nearly a month this time, believing that with people constantly around him 24 hours a day, any risk had been minimized. However, early one morning, he woke up to find himself back in the Heidelberg apartment.

Silent and unseen, the twenty-something days of his escape felt like an illusory dream. The clock in the corner had once again stopped at the exact moment he had left.

Afterward, Fang Jin made several more escape attempts, all ending the same way.

By the end, his mental stress was immense. He knew that Gu Mingzong’s patience would eventually run out, yet he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop. He was like a gambler whose eyes were red from losing, unsure when his final chip would be placed. Losing again would mean total collapse, followed by the abyss of utter destruction.

All those who had opposed Gu Mingzong over the years—those who silently vanished without a trace, or those who lingered in some dark corner of the world, wishing for death—each of them could become his fate tomorrow.

However, Fang Jin’s struggle, like a trapped beast, did not last much longer. The final escape attempt was late at night. He fell asleep on a bus in the Czech countryside, only to wake and find the world outside the window pitch black. Inside the carriage, the light was still, pale, and stark. Gu Mingzong was sitting in the seat opposite him, reading a book.

Fang Jin knew he had lost his last chip. He sat up, leaning silently against the cold seat back.

“Why?” Gu Mingzong asked.

Fang Jin remained silent for a long time before replying: “I don’t want to die.”

An outsider might find this ridiculous. Gu Mingzong had raised him, sent him to school, and never mistreated him for years. He hadn’t even forced him to die when his eldest son’s life was in critical danger. Did he still need to worry about this today?

Yet, Fang Jin knew the knife hanging over his head had not been removed.

He was still the young scapegoat bought by the Gu family. Escaping once or twice didn’t mean he would escape every time. Before he came to Germany, Chi Wanru’s maneuver against Gu Yuan had nearly cost him his life. If there was a next time, God knows who Gu Mingzong would choose to protect.

In such a civilized society, among such a luxurious upper class, his life was nothing more than merchandise controlled by those in power.

Unexpectedly, Gu Mingzong was not angry, nor did he show any surprise: “You have a point. No one wants to die.”

He closed the book, his deep-set eyes focused on Fang Jin, and said: “—Let’s make a deal.”

Fang Jin looked back at him cautiously.

“You become my lover, and I will ensure your safety and survival. No one will dare harm a hair on your head. If I die, you can inherit a portion of my private assets and leave the Gu family immediately. I will arrange a discreet place for you to go in advance.”

“During this time, you are completely free. Your activities will have no restrictions. If you want to continue living in Germany, that’s fine. Any danger that befalls Gu Yuan is his own responsibility. If you don’t wish to, you won’t have to donate even a single drop of blood.”

“How does that sound?” Gu Mingzong asked. “Do you need time to consider?”

Fang Jin’s ears were ringing. His mind was blank for several minutes, his heart seeming to throb and constrict in his throat.

“What… what if I refuse?”

Gu Mingzong looked at him and pointed toward the window.

Fang Jin turned to the window. Through the deep darkness of the night, he finally saw that the bus was surrounded by many people, all uniformly dressed in black, standing silently and stiffly—he recognized them as Gu Mingzong’s private security detail, many of whom were hardened mercenaries recruited during the Gu family’s transition from the underworld.

“Fang Jin,” Gu Mingzong said. “If I were to take you from this place right now, bring you back to the Gu family, and ensure you never saw the light of day again for the rest of your life—until the moment you died—I am perfectly capable of doing that. But tonight, I am giving you a chance to choose your own future. Though if you choose to refuse, the rest of your time may not be designated by the word ‘future’.”

He pointed to his wrist watch for Fang Jin and said: “You have one minute to consider carefully, and then tell me your answer.”

Fang Jin sat motionless, his entire body feeling as if it were submerged in ice water. Dark, cold dread silently seeped from his bones into his vital organs.

Yet, Gu Mingzong sat across from him, his expression completely unthreatening, his eyes even looking peaceful.

The carriage was silent. The light reflected off the dusty floor and the old seats, casting a pale glow on the metal railings. Outside the window, the darkness was thick and boundless. In the far-off plain, a few distant searchlights flickered in the night.

“But…” Fang Jin said hoarsely, “What if, later, I regret it…”

At that moment, Fang Jin couldn’t articulate why he might regret it. He had grown up living under the constant fear of death; how to survive was a tangible question facing him every morning when he woke up. The sentimentalities of young love and the bittersweet emotions of youth were things he was isolated from, almost incomprehensible.

But he was indeed a tender youth, and to say he had no expectations for a beautiful future would be a lie.

Choosing compliance would solve the immediate life-or-death crisis, yet he dimly knew that agreeing immediately might lead to profound regret one day.

“That’s right, you are still young, after all.”

Gu Mingzong sighed almost imperceptibly, a hint of mild regret in his voice:

“Then, here is the solution: If a day comes when you regret it, we can sit down and renegotiate this deal once more… But it is only one chance, Fang Jin. Use it wisely. Save it for the day when you truly feel that regret.”

Fang Jin remained silent for a long time. In the pale light, his face was bloodless, his eyelashes casting deep shadows near the bridge of his nose.

“…I accept,” he finally said.

The sound seemed to dissipate into the air the moment it was uttered, yet it simultaneously transformed into invisible chains, tightly binding everything in the deepest part of the night.

Gu Mingzong stood up, then leaned down and pressed a kiss on Fang Jin’s forehead. He casually tossed the book he was reading to him:

“It’s a gift.”

It was a collection of poems by Yeats.

Gu Mingzong walked with one hand in his pocket and stepped decisively off the bus. A moment later, a bodyguard entered the bus, bowed slightly beside Fang Jin, and said politely, “It’s time to go—please.”

Fang Jin’s fingernails dug deep into the flesh of his palm. After a brief silence, he rose and followed the bodyguard off the solitary bus parked at the roadside in the deep night.

On the way back to Heidelberg that day, he opened the poetry collection. Perhaps because it had been frequently read, it fell open immediately to the most worn page—Yeats’ famous poem, “Ar.”

His indifferent gaze scanned the lines. The slick, coated paper of the hardcover edition was smooth, until a slight indentation appeared beneath a line in the middle, likely a mark made by a finger while reading:

Love is not a gift, but a prize to be won.

Fang Jin closed his eyes, shut the book, and gently tossed it aside.

Outside his window, the dim streetlights rapidly flew past. The motorcade drove along the highway toward Dresden on the German border, quickly blending into the nocturnal landscape that matched its color.