Chapter 28
After Fang Jing Yao got home and saw that Long Yu hadn’t returned yet, he turned on his computer and secretly started downloading the videos.
His phone rang—it was Long Yu, calling to say he had to work overtime and wouldn’t come back for lunch. Fang Jing Yao asked, “Then what do you want for dinner? I’ll run to the supermarket.”
Long Yu chuckled over the line, naming a couple of vegetables. He sounded like he was walking as he spoke. Fang Jing Yao jotted it down and asked, “Anything else? Should I get some fish today?”
He heard a soft click on the other end, like a door closing, and then the background grew quiet. Long Yu’s low voice came through the receiver: “No need for fish. I just… kind of miss you.”
Fang Jing Yao’s ears burned. He grinned and said, “Me too. It feels strange when you’re not home at noon.”
Long Yu paused for a moment. Fang Jing Yao quickly added, “I’m just teasing you. Get back to work—I’ll wait for you tonight.”
Long Yu murmured an assent, but before they could say much more, a nurse knocked on his office door calling for him, and he hung up in a hurry.
Fang Jing Yao, satisfied and smiling, was just putting his phone down when it rang again. Still grinning, he answered, “What, you actually found time to come home after all—?”
“Jing Yao, it’s me… Luo Yi.”
The faint smile on Fang Jing Yao’s lips froze in place, his expression looking a little forced.
Luo Yi said over the phone, “I know you don’t want to see me right now, but there’s something I really want to tell you.”
Fang Jing Yao was silent for a moment, then said, “Fine. I’ve got something to say too. Let’s get everything out once and for all—it’s better that way.”
Luo Yi asked him to meet at a café. After thinking for a while, Fang Jing Yao went to his study, took out a file folder, and finally left the house.
When he entered the café, it didn’t take him long to spot Luo Yi. Luo Yi had changed clothes since the morning, looking much more casual now. He was sitting there flipping through a magazine. Seeing Fang Jing Yao, he pointed at the seat across from him. “You’re here—sit down.”
Fang Jing Yao said, “No need. Just say what you came to say. I have to go home.”
Luo Yi leaned lazily against the sofa, one arm draped over the backrest, smiling. “Go home to take care of Zhuo Yifan? No offense, but you’re spoiling him too much. You’re so good to him that even I’m starting to get jealous. He’s grown up, you know—he should learn to adapt to society on his own. Actually, I think he’s even better at adapting than you. He’s more capable than you in some ways.”
Fang Jing Yao, however, instinctively took Zhuo Yifan’s side. He frowned. “No matter what, this was your fault. You took his things—of course he’d be upset.”
Luo Yi shrugged. “I know. I’ll compensate him—both his share and yours.”
Fang Jing Yao frowned. “What do you mean?”
Luo Yi looked up at him, surprised. “You don’t know? He sued me again last week. The efficiency’s much higher than last time.”
Fang Jing Yao only knew about the huge scandal that blew up on Weibo. He really hadn’t known Zhuo Yifan had filed a second lawsuit. Luo Yi could tell from his expression that he was unaware, so he sighed. “Sit down and talk. There’s quite a bit to go over. Even if you’ve decided to back out completely this time, I won’t take advantage of you. What’s yours will still be yours.”
Fang Jing Yao pressed his lips together and sat down.
The situation was, in fact, simple enough. The first lawsuit Zhuo Yifan filed had been against Luo Yi and their studio. The second, filed quietly and far more viciously, was against the platform itself. Unfortunately for Luo Yi, that platform was in the middle of a crucial funding round. Naturally, they chose to protect themselves and dropped Luo Yi, issuing an immediate notice to remove all his works—problematic or not. Luo Yi was now frantic, and several film companies he’d been negotiating with had started to waver. There were plenty of creators like him in the same genre; investing in any of them would do. Once copyright disputes were involved, promotion became a nightmare.
What Zhuo Yifan did would have taken others months to make effective—but he’d used Long Yu’s connections. The Long family’s legal team was ruthless; once they bit down on a case, they never let go until someone took responsibility.
Now Luo Yi’s projects were all on hold, with enormous compensation claims pending. Clearly, this was orchestrated by professionals.
While explaining, Luo Yi couldn’t help but test the waters. He didn’t really believe Fang Jing Yao would be behind something so ruthless, but cornered as he was, suspicion crept in.
Fang Jing Yao quickly lost patience when the conversation turned to business. He lowered his head and texted Zhuo Yifan. Zhuo Yifan, ever the skilled actor, didn’t reveal a thing—he didn’t even admit it was his doing. He simply replied:
“I don’t really know. Maybe my dad did it? You know he just opened a mine and has more money than he can spend. Heard I was being bullied, so he helped me vent some anger!”
Fang Jing Yao: “…”
Reasonable and convincing—my ass!
He’d thought of Long Yu too, but it didn’t feel right to ask directly. After hesitating for a long time, he sent a generic “Take care of yourself and drink more water” kind of message. Long Yu replied much later—with a simple smile emoji, the polite “hehe.” Fang Jing Yao chuckled. He figured Long Yu probably didn’t realize that “hehe” was sarcastic online, so he sent back a big grinning emoji.
Luo Yi had been talking for quite a while, but Fang Jing Yao hadn’t responded. Frowning, Luo Yi asked, “Jing Yao, are you even listening to me?”
“Mm,” Fang Jing Yao answered perfunctorily.
“So,” Luo Yi went on, “the studio’s in a critical situation right now. One small mistake and all our years of work could go to waste. We need to—”
Fang Jing Yao pocketed his phone, looked at him, and said, “I think you should start by apologizing to Zhuo Yifan—and to me.”
Luo Yi froze. “What?”
“I’ve always felt,” Fang Jing Yao said quietly, “that you owe me an apology.”
Luo Yi pressed his lips together, wanting to argue, but Fang Jing Yao cut him off. “You didn’t care about the studio this much in the beginning. You know perfectly well why we fell out.”
“Jing Yao—” Luo Yi started anxiously.
But Fang Jing Yao didn’t let him finish. “When Yifan first came to us, your first reaction was to push the blame onto a ‘studio decision,’ hiding your own part in it.”
Luo Yi’s expression darkened. “So what, you want me to publicly apologize? Zhuo Yifan stirred this up on purpose—he’s targeting me.”
Fang Jing Yao gave a small, incredulous laugh. Looking at Luo Yi, he suddenly found him unfamiliar. After studying him for a moment, he said softly, “You made a mistake, and you still refuse to take responsibility?”
Luo Yi frowned. The studio’s daily operations were mostly under his control; Fang Jing Yao did more of the art but wasn’t as familiar with the business side. Growing impatient, Luo Yi sighed and said, “You don’t understand—there’s too much involved here.”
Fang Jing Yao smiled faintly, his gaze clear. “No. You just care too much.”
Luo Yi’s tone hardened. “So what, you think being like you is right? No ambition? No drive to do better? You’re content to stay small?”
Fang Jing Yao shook his head. “Luo Yi, we’re not walking the same path anymore. When I wanted to start the studio with you, it was because I still had that youthful passion burning in me. Now, I think I was wrong. What Yifan’s doing is his own choice—I have no right to interfere. As for me, I’ll do as I said in my statement: I’m leaving. You can go your way; I’ll live mine.”
He slid the file folder across the table. “These are the continuation drafts for our comic. I’ve drawn everything I could think of—you can use them.”
Luo Yi had never imagined Fang Jing Yao would dismiss him so bluntly. At first, he was furious—angry at Jing Yao for giving up so easily—but when the file folder slid over, his feelings grew complicated. It was thick, and even touching it made his fingertips burn. He opened it—inside were pages of their serialized comic. The lines weren’t as refined, but the sheer volume made it clear Fang Jing Yao had spent all his recent time working on it.
Fang Jing Yao rubbed his nose. “When we started this a few years ago, we agreed to take turns drawing. I never expected it to run this long. You came up with most of the story—you put in as much as I did. These are the continuation scenes for the character I was responsible for. I’ve always wanted to finish this part of the story. Once he exits, I can step away too.”
The next part of the story was about a man—the second protagonist of the book, a fan favorite. He was a general guarding an ancient kingdom. Tall and imposing, his face was marred by a scar that slashed through one eye and down his right cheek—once handsome, now fearsome.
He stood before the palace gates. Inside, his beloved princess was being wed. With his massive sword in hand, he sat casually on the stone steps. Alone—but as imposing as an army of thousands. No one dared approach.
Even when enemies attacked, even under a rain of arrows and blades—he never retreated a single step.
He died as promised, defending the city to the very end.
The general had immense strength and unmatched skill. He could have had countless futures—if he’d left, he might have earned even greater glory. But he set a death trap for himself instead, guarding that one pure feeling in his heart until his last breath.
That love had never changed. When its owner died, it died too.
Luo Yi stared at the drawings for a long time, feeling something inside him crumble. What he’d been clinging to all this time suddenly seemed meaningless. The plans he’d made before coming here—all of it now felt worthless.
If it weren’t for the folder in his hands, he might’ve given up completely. But with it, he couldn’t bear to let Fang Jing Yao walk out of his life like this.
He suddenly reached out, grabbing Fang Jing Yao’s arm, and looked up with rare softness in his eyes. “Jing Yao, give me another chance. This time I’m ready. Let’s try again, okay?”
If this had happened earlier, Fang Jing Yao might have been overwhelmed with happiness. But now, his heart was calm—without a single ripple. He gently pulled his arm free and said quietly, “No need. I’ve found someone I can spend my life with.”
Luo Yi narrowed his eyes. “That man who picked you up at the hotel this morning?”
“No.”
“Then—Zhuo Yifan? Or that guy who sent you flowers at the last party—”
“Neither. You don’t know him. I met him recently on a blind date,” Fang Jing Yao interrupted.
Luo Yi’s face twisted in disbelief. “What—blind date? Don’t joke with me. Blind dates never work. How could you fall for someone after just one?”
“How would I know?” Fang Jing Yao snapped impatiently. “I’ve never been in love before! How was I supposed to know I’d get addicted so fast after meeting him?”
Luo Yi panicked and said, “Jing Yao, don’t be like this. This is too ridiculous — how long have you even known each other? You’re not the kind of person to act so impulsively.”
Fang Jing Yao replied, “I know what kind of person I am — and you know what kind of person you are.”
Then Fang Jing Yao got up and left, leaving Luo Yi standing there alone.
Luo Yi clutched the sketch in his hands, eyes turning red. Unwilling to give up, he stood and chased after him. It was already growing dark outside. He ran out, looked around anxiously, and finally spotted Fang Jing Yao standing under a tree across the street. Just as he was about to cross over, a car pulled up in front of Fang Jing Yao.
Luo Yi watched as Fang Jing Yao leaned down to the car window, chatting and laughing with the person inside for a few moments. Then, he took a paper bag from them, bit into a croissant, and got into the car, sitting beside the driver.
Across the street, Luo Yi stood there watching. The night deepened; though only a few meters separated them, it felt like an uncrossable gulf — they were no longer who they once were.
Fang Jing Yao was unaware of all this. He’d been messaging Long Yu back and forth for a while — if not for that, he wouldn’t have caught a ride home with him after work.
Long Yu glanced at him. “You didn’t eat earlier?”
Fang Jing Yao chewed on his croissant — still warm, flaky, and fragrant. “Didn’t eat,” he said, nodding. “I was just listening to him talk.”
Long Yu, for once, seemed curious. “Who was it?”
“An old coworker,” Fang said. “Luo Yi.”
Long Yu noted the choice of words, went quiet for a bit, then asked, “And what did he talk to you about?”
“Something about financing, teams, project managers — too many names, I didn’t even remember them. Nothing to do with me,” Fang replied, licking his fingers before reaching for another croissant. “Oh, and he said Yifan sued him again last week.”
Long Yu didn’t respond.
At the red light, Fang Jing Yao grinned, holding out a piece of the croissant to him. “Dr. Long, I know how capable Yifan is. Were you involved in this one?”
Long Yu took a bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed before saying, “He did come to consult me.”
“Oh?” Fang Jing Yao raised an eyebrow.
Long Yu adjusted his glasses, choosing his words carefully. “I gave him some… appropriate advice.”
Fang Jing Yao chuckled a few times.
“You’re not mad?” Long Yu asked.
“Mad about what?” Fang smiled. “You both stood up for me — what kind of idiot would I be to get angry about that?”
Long Yu hesitated. “Yifan said… you’re different to him.”
Fang reached over, intertwined their fingers, and laughed softly. “Of course not. I almost didn’t want to bring it up, but after seeing you, I figured — what’s there to hide? You ask, I answer.”
Long Yu’s heart softened, and he smiled too. “Then tell me, Mr. Fang — what kind of person am I to you?”
Fang Jing Yao lifted Long Yu’s hand and kissed the back of it. “The most special one — the one I like best, of course.”
