Deep in the Night - Chapter 18

Fang Jin’s mind was blank, and his entire body was rigidly motionless.

“I saw that your place was quite messy, probably because you’re too busy with work to clean up, so I helped you tidy a bit,” Gu Mingzong said with a smile. “—What’s wrong?”

Fang Jin met his gaze. Gu Mingzong’s eyes held a slight smile, seemingly genuinely curious about what was wrong with him.

—However, Fang Jin knew that a man like Gu Mingzong would not show the slightest hint even before taking a life.

Time passed second by second. The brief seconds felt like infinitely stretched slow-motion in a movie, with even the air solidifying under immense pressure. Gu Mingzong was still waiting for his answer, maintaining his relaxed posture without the slightest change, yet a cold sweat was breaking out on Fang Jin’s back.

He knew this was his last chance.

How should he answer?

How should he answer to appease Gu Mingzong’s suspicion and wrath?

“Actually, this matter…”

Fang Jin spoke a few words, then cut himself off, a vague yet crucial thought flashing through his mind.

—Does Gu Mingzong really want to know the details of the matter itself?

Is he the kind of person who, once he grasps a clue, directly confronts someone and demands an answer instead of secretly tracing the lead to investigate all the inside stories first?

No.

The highest probability was that Gu Mingzong already knew everything. In that case, what he was here for was not an answer, but an attitude.

Answer and attitude are two completely different things. What has been done cannot be changed, but the motive can be explained in many ways. If he were Gu Mingzong, with all the inside information in hand, why would he specifically come here to ask?

In other words, what kind of attitude did he want to see demonstrated by Fang Jin regarding the Mingda Shipping bankruptcy crisis, and even the brutal power struggle within the Gu family in the coming years?

In a flash of lightning, Fang Jin grasped the most crucial point, though outwardly, he only paused for half a second.

“…The apartment is indeed a bit messy. I didn’t expect you to visit… But I hope you didn’t see that item.”

Fang Jin paused, walked directly through the living room towards the bedroom, and approached the nightstand.

His movements were composed. No one would have known that as he pulled open the drawer, his arm muscles were slightly trembling from extreme tension.

“I bought this before at an antique shop. It was just for the good fortune, not anything valuable. I was planning to have someone polish it before giving it to you, but since you may have already seen it, I won’t hide it any longer.”

Fang Jin walked back to the living room, stood before Gu Mingzong, and calmly held out his hand.

—His palm was holding a piece of black velvet cloth. On the cloth lay a translucent, vibrant green jade thumb ring, which, upon closer inspection, was two jade rings, one large and one small, nested together. The carving was incredibly smooth and delicate, with intricate patterns. When joined perfectly, they formed four complete characters on the surface.

“Two hearts aligned (Èr Rén Píng Xīn),” Gu Mingzong slowly read, a look of keen interest appearing in his eyes.

“The antique shop assistant said this jade quality isn’t the best, but its value lies in its age and carving. In ancient times, siblings or couples wore a pair of these rings, representing that their hearts were completely united. I saw it had lost its luster from sitting in the shop for too long, so I wanted to have it polished, but if one wears it and handles it often, it should regain its vitality quickly.”

Fang Jin skirted the coffee table and knelt on the carpet in front of the sofa, his long, pale hand holding the pair of jade rings.

The corner of his eye could actually glimpse the Vertu phone on the coffee table, but his gaze did not shift at all. He looked steadily at Gu Mingzong, his eyes calm and collected.

The living room fell silent. After a long while, Gu Mingzong seemed to find the matter interesting. He finally picked up the rings to examine them, took the larger outer ring in his hand, and casually tossed the smaller one back to Fang Jin:

“I knew what I said the other day was right.”

He paused, then smiled in response to Fang Jin’s inquiring gaze: “—I said that compared to Gu Yuan and Gu Yang, you resemble me more.”

Fang Jin didn’t know how to respond to that; he was slightly stunned.

Gu Mingzong, however, didn’t seem to mind. He suddenly changed the subject, asking with a smile, “Since you know about wearing this kind of pair-ring in the southern coastal region, do you know how they train a hawk by keeping it awake in the North?”

“…” Fang Jin shook his head.

“Training a hawk by keeping it awake (áo yīng) is related to ancient hunting. It involves selecting a young hawk with exceptional potential, feeding it until it’s plump, then tethering it on a rope and keeping it awake for entire days. When the young hawk is extremely tired, it will fall off the rope. At that point, it must be splashed with cold water and fed salt water, exhausting the hawk until it’s skin and bones. Then, its eyes are covered, and it is fed meat. At this stage, its wild nature will be completely ground away, and it will be instinctively close and subservient to its owner.”

“The two most important points during this period are: first, the owner cannot soften their heart. Once they do, all previous effort is wasted; second, you must choose the right young hawk from the very beginning. If you choose the wrong one, no amount of ‘keeping it awake’ will turn it into a swift and powerful hunting hawk…”

Gu Mingzong paused, seemingly pondering something. A moment later, he tapped Fang Jin’s cheek with amusement:

“Why am I telling you all this? You’ll understand later.”

Fang Jin looked at him, and a chill suddenly rose in his heart.

He knew Gu Mingzong’s words meant he was temporarily spared—even if this page hadn’t been fully turned, the most dangerous moment had been safely navigated. However, for some reason, Gu Mingzong’s subsequent words stirred a more subtle, deeper unease within him.

It was a vague conjecture, one he dared not dwell on.

He intuitively felt that if he explored the deeper meaning behind these words, the truth would be the opposite of what he wished to believe.

“Next time, though, be careful about cleaning up. Don’t leave things just anywhere in the house.”

Gu Mingzong slipped the jade thumb ring onto his hand, casually picked up Fang Jin’s Vertu phone from the coffee table, and, as if grasping a crumpled piece of used waste paper, lightly tossed it away with a flick of his wrist.

The phone arced through the air, crossed the living room, and thunk! landed heavily in the trash can by the kitchen door.

“Throw away what should be thrown away,” he said concisely. “Too many old things are not good for you.”

Gu Mingzong stood up. Fang Jin immediately stood up as well. He felt dizzy from squatting for so long but instantly composed himself and said steadily, “Yes, I will certainly remember next time.”

Gu Mingzong looked down at him, his gaze moving from Fang Jin’s lowered eyelashes to his graceful chin and neck. After a moment, he reached out and gently tucked the strands of hair that were swept across his ear behind his earlobe.

—

Meanwhile, at the private hospital, Gu Yuan slammed a report onto the desk: “—Lu Wenlei is dead?”

“Y-yes, Young Master Gu.” The bodyguard’s voice was almost unnervingly stiff: “He was fine last night when you left. This morning, he suddenly went into heart failure. We immediately called the doctor, but he couldn’t be resuscitated and…”

“What caused the heart failure? Did Lu Wenlei have high blood pressure or heart disease?”

The attending physician tried to maintain composure in the office surrounded by bodyguards, but his voice trembled as he spoke: “Y-yes… he had a minor heart condition. We found it during the admission examination. The preliminary finding is heart failure caused by a sudden heart attack this morning. The specific cause requires further autopsy…”

Gu Yuan sat behind the large doctor’s desk. The initial shock quickly passed, replaced by a chilling grimness.

“Check the medical records. I want a detailed list of everyone who entered the ward, what medications were used, and who contacted the patient from midnight to this morning. Also, tell your director to pull up the ward security footage now.”

He paused, and said coldly:

“Perform an autopsy immediately. I want a definite cause of death!”

Lu Wenlei’s death was full of suspicion. A patient who was only hospitalized for observation for a concussion, and was recovering well last night, how could he suddenly suffer a fatal heart attack a few hours later?

It was even more impossible for it to be an aftereffect of Gu Yuan’s flying knife—the man had woken up, meaning the back of his head wasn’t fatally injured. Gu Yuan hadn’t trained in the “acupuncture point-striking” skills of wuxia novels; how could he have killed the man several days later?

Gu Yuan personally sat in the director’s office and reviewed the footage frame by frame. However, from the time they left the hospital at midnight until the death was discovered in the morning, no one other than the bodyguards had entered the ward. The two bodyguards were confidantes personally promoted by Gu Yuan. They behaved correctly in the footage, showing no unusual movements and had not directly touched Lu Wenlei himself.

Was he really struck by a sudden heart attack? Just purely bad luck?

Gu Yuan’s handsome brows were tightly furrowed, his expression deeply gloomy. The director and the attending physician stood by, afraid to speak.

“When will the autopsy report be ready?”

“W-we invited an expert to assist with the autopsy. We can definitely have it by the day after tomorrow at the latest…”

“Bring the autopsy results to my desk by tomorrow morning.” Gu Yuan stood up, his tone flat and unyielding: “If you fail to deliver it, this hospital might continue to operate as usual, but you, as the director, will definitely not have your job anymore. Understand?”

The director shivered and hurriedly nodded: “Y-yes, tomorrow morning. The results will definitely be out tomorrow!”

Gu Yuan ignored him and strode out of the director’s office, walking down the long hospital corridor with his bodyguards.

It was noon. Sunlight spilled onto the balcony at the end of the corridor. The variegated tree shadows were blurry in the light and shadow. As the group waited in front of the elevator, Gu Yuan’s gaze was drawn to the balcony. His expression was distant, lost in thought. After a while, he suddenly asked: “—Where is Fang Jin?”

His subordinates looked at each other. Gu Yuan then said, “Call him.”

The bodyguard immediately pulled out his phone.

The group exited the hospital gates. The street was bustling with traffic and noise. Gu Yuan looked at the coming and going crowds, a strange feeling suddenly rising in his heart—a few hours ago, this place was silent in the deep night, the hospital garden behind them was full of the scent of plants, the moonlight shone on the terrace, and Fang Jin, urgently seeking reliance, tightly held his hands.

A part of his mind seemed to linger on that moment of tangled breathing, intimate and lingering, refusing to leave.

After making seven or eight consecutive calls, the bodyguard behind him finally gave up the effort, lowering his head cautiously: “Young Master, the… the calls are not being answered. We can’t reach Assistant Fang…”

Gu Yuan closed his eyes, then opened them again after a moment, saying without turning around:

“It’s fine. We’ll stop by his place on the way.”

—

Fang Jin’s home was not far from the hospital. To be precise, it was located between the hospital and the company, so driving there wasn’t a detour.

Soon, the car stopped downstairs at his hotel-style apartment building. Gu Yuan made another call, but it still went unanswered.

This was quite abnormal, as not answering the phone was rare for Fang Jin. He might be dealing with an urgent matter, or he might not be at home at all, contrary to what he said when he asked for leave. In any case, there was a high possibility he wasn’t home, so a visit might be useless.

Gu Yuan hesitated for a moment in the elevator, suddenly realizing that, as the boss, arriving unannounced at his assistant’s home was quite inappropriate.

However, since he was already here, a strange, indefinable impulse subtly stimulated his brain, making him deeply want to see Fang Jin.

He thought that half a day of leave was enough for Fang Jin. Assistant Fang should be by his side all day. What kind of way was it to be gone for half a day and not even show his face?

Even if he truly wasn’t home, it didn’t matter. At least knocking on the door and confirming it would set his mind at ease.

The elevator door dinged open. There were only two apartments on this floor. Gu Yuan had been here when he stayed overnight during late work hours before, and he knew it was the door on the left. He walked over and knocked directly:

“Fang Jin? Fang Jin, are you there?”

There was no answer from inside. Gu Yuan pressed the doorbell again, but still, there was no movement after a long wait.

He really isn’t home.

Gu Yuan sighed, suppressing a strange sense of disappointment. As he turned to leave, he casually twisted the doorknob—a casual twist, yet the door clicked open on its own! It turned out it hadn’t been locked at all!

What’s going on?

Gu Yuan was surprised, but after hesitating for a few seconds, his curiosity got the better of him. He finally pushed the door open and walked in: “Fang Jin! It’s me, are you here?”

The living room was neat and tidy. The beige chairs and furniture, pale gold curtains, and light-colored wool rug matched perfectly. Connected to the open kitchen, the layout was small but orderly, with only two sofa cushions casually tossed onto the rug. A corridor behind the living room led to the bedrooms, study, and bathroom. The doors were all slightly ajar, except for the bedroom door, which was tightly closed.

“Fang Jin?”

Gu Yuan took a few steps inside and suddenly heard something.

He violently looked towards the bedroom, instantly thinking he had misheard. But then the sound came again, clearer and more distinct than before—

It was suppressed panting and moaning.

Just a few hours ago, that sound had appeared in his chaotic, feverish dream—panic, struggle, and collapse—making his blood surge and his desire uncontrollable. A few hours later, that sound was genuinely emerging from behind a closed door, so rapid and trembling, even more maddening than in the dream.

Yes, he hadn’t misheard. It was Fang Jin.

—It was the sound of Fang Jin’s panting indeed.