Chapter 57: I Want to Invite You to Come Along
“What secret of mine do you want?” Gu Yang heard himself ask slowly.
Song Yinxing saw the person in front of him take a step back. His gaze was sharper than ever before, the hostility in his expression unmistakable—yet it carried no real sense of oppression. It was like a young beast whose territory had been invaded, baring its claws and fangs while bluffing bravely.
“You already told me last time,” Song Yinxing hadn’t expected such strong resistance and hurried to explain. “When I was tutoring at your house, you said… about your mother…”
His words cut off abruptly.
He forcibly swallowed the rest.
What expression had Gu Yang worn when he told him that back then?
He had been propping up his face with one hand, smiling. His gaze unfocused and drifting, a dangerous fervor radiating from him.
But the Gu Yang now looked lost and at a loss. He didn’t stay even a second longer—like a startled animal, he turned and left without looking back.
Song Yinxing instinctively reached out to grab him, but when his fingers brushed the sleeve, they curled back.
In the end, he could only watch as Gu Yang ran up the stairs.
He closed his eyes, slowly calming the sour ache in his chest.
“You know Gu Yang from Class Eleven?” a cool voice came from behind him.
Song Yinxing turned around.
His mind was still filled with what had just happened, the cold detachment around him even stronger. But when he looked at the girl who had spoken to him, there was a fleeting flicker in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Xia Chun caught that micro-expression keenly and asked lightly.
He was wearing a black-and-white ski jacket, the high collar zipped up to cover most of his face. Only his eyes were visible—still as an ancient well.
“…Nothing.” Song Yinxing lowered his gaze. “I was just thinking about something else.”
“Did you argue?” When Xia Chun came out, Gu Yang had already left, but he didn’t care that the question might sound like eavesdropping.
“No. I was just too impatient.” Song Yinxing shook his head self-mockingly.
He fell silent again. Xia Chun stood beside him, hands in his pockets. After a long pause, he spoke slowly.
“I’ve heard he’s come to see you many times. You two must be close.”
“…Yeah.” Song Yinxing hesitated before finally forcing the word out of his throat.
In truth, he didn’t know whether he held any importance in Gu Yang’s heart.
He was only ever the one being saved—never the one who could give anything back.
And this impulsive attempt to step forward had only backfired.
“A misunderstanding isn’t scary. What’s scary is being too timid to pull the thorn out. The longer it stays, the deeper it buries itself, until the wound can never truly heal.”
Xia Chun looked outside.
It was raining. Raindrops streaked across his reflection in the window.
“What about you?” Song Yinxing suddenly asked. “Is there someone in Class Eleven you care about? You never pay attention to this sort of thing.”
In his vision, the enclosed corridor outside blurred into an empty rooftop.
Xia Chun still stood with his back turned. The wind lifted his hair; the tangled strands couldn’t conceal that lifeless stillness.
Then the figure tipped forward and fell.
A dull thud echoed from below.
That was the second heavy sound in his memory.
In their final year of high school, the rooftop of the teaching building had seemed cursed—two students had jumped in succession.
The first student was insignificant. His death was like a pebble dropped into a pond—ripples for a moment, then silence. No trace left behind.
The second student caused a tidal wave, placing the once well-regarded Guanli High School directly under public scrutiny.
Back then, he stood silently among the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw He Ming’an pushing through the people ahead. The wail of an ambulance siren had already sounded. The person on the ground still clung to a thread of life, a blood-soaked hand grabbing He Ming’an’s sleeve.
That boy who always smiled had knelt down expressionlessly.
The person on the ground convulsed uncontrollably in pain, blood pooling beneath him. Through the mess of hair, pale lips trembled, trying to say something.
A simple syllable, repeated again and again.
“Nothing,” Xia Chun said.
He adjusted his hair in the window’s reflection, then turned and walked back to the classroom.
—
“What’s with him?” Yu Bai poked Xie Wu and gestured with his chin toward the back.
“Who knows.” Xie Wu shook his head. “He’s been like that since he came back.”
Dark clouds seemed to hang over Gu Yang’s face, as if thunder might strike at any moment.
“Did you argue?” He Ming’an turned around with a smile. “You went downstairs to see Xiao Song just now, right? What were you talking about?”
“A true warrior faces difficulties head-on,” Xie Wu said with admiration.
“I feel like the class monitor has already compiled a full Gu Yang User Manual in his head,” Yu Bai added solemnly.
“Childhood friends really are different,” Ying Jiayi chimed in.
“Come to think of it, how many years have the class monitor and Gu Yang known each other?” Yu Bai grew curious at the phrase and couldn’t resist asking. “I just know they’re close.”
“They met in elementary school, I think. After advancing, they were still classmates in Guanli’s middle school division,” Ying Jiayi wasn’t entirely sure. “Anyway, it’s been many years.”
“That’s a long time,” Yu Bai sighed. “Gu Yang doesn’t look like the type who maintains long-term relationships. But if it’s the class monitor, I guess that’s not surprising. He’s genuinely a good guy.”
Ying Jiayi didn’t immediately agree.
She didn’t deny that He Ming’an was reliable and kind. But after spending time together, she could also sense that he wasn’t as warm inside as he appeared.
He stepped in when needed, but never truly opened his heart to anyone.
Of course, that wasn’t something to criticize.
She was just curious—what kind of mindset made someone like He Ming’an continuously take the initiative to maintain a relationship with Gu Yang?
Gu Yang stared silently at He Ming’an, lips pressed thin, clearly unhappy.
He Ming’an let him look.
In this silent tug-of-war, Gu Yang was the first to give in.
Like he had no bones, he collapsed onto his desk and buried his head in his arms.
“Xiao Song doesn’t look like someone who’d argue with you,” He Ming’an persisted gently. “He’s like a sealed jar—hardly says anything. Was there some misunderstanding?”
“We didn’t argue…” Gu Yang murmured.
The rain outside grew heavier.
Heavy drops pounded down, but the window blocked them, making them feel unreal.
Without the window, the rain would soak clothes, and the howling wind would quickly steal body heat.
So if anyone tried to open that window, he would definitely stop them.
Gu Yang’s eyes drooped lazily. His long, thick lashes curved softly, making him look like a quiet painting.
“If there’s a misunderstanding, clear it up early,” He Ming’an said, unexpectedly sounding wistful.
Gu Yang lifted his eyes to look at him.
Even after seeing those gray eyes thousands of times, being looked at like that still made He Ming’an’s heart skip a beat.
What was he expecting?
Everyone else in class avoided it, not one person thinking this was a good thing.
The smile on He Ming’an’s face slowly faded.
The dismissal bell rang.
“School’s out,” Gu Yang said softly.
“…”
He Ming’an’s smile returned. “Mm. Let’s head back.”
After parting at the school gate, He Ming’an didn’t go home. Instead, he went to his family’s company headquarters.
Since he had already begun getting involved in company affairs, he came by occasionally. Most employees recognized him and greeted him as “Young President He.”
Unlike other wealthy families with messy inheritance disputes, the He family structure was simple and clear. He Ming’an was unquestionably the next heir.
“Have you heard about the Lu family lately? That fake young master got kicked out,” Employee A whispered at his desk.
“Finally? I’ve been following that drama through a friend at Tianchen Entertainment. It was so frustrating in the middle. At least it ended well,” Employee B sighed.
“You have no idea how outrageous that fake young master was. When the real young master returned, they still let him stay. But since the real one was older, he became Second Young Master, and the fake one got demoted to Third.”
“And guess what? Every time someone called him Third Young Master at the company, he’d lose his temper and make things difficult. Like anyone owed him something. Work’s already annoying enough.”
“The more you lack something, the more you fear it,” Employee A snorted. “Our group is way better. The boss’s family structure is crystal clear. Young President He’s nice—always smiling, never makes things hard.”
“Exactly.” Employee B nodded vigorously. “Last time my supervisor told me to mass-send a message to everyone. I accidentally sent it all to Young President He.”
“Thousands of messages bombarded his phone during a meeting. It lagged so badly it froze. I thought I was done for. But he just sent back a smiley emoticon and told me to be careful next time.”
Employee A was shocked. “If he inherits the company, our future’s bright. We could probably work here until retirement.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Employee C, who had been quietly coding, looked up. “The He family isn’t that simple…”
Gossip was irresistible.
“What? What?” the other two leaned in eagerly.
“It’s from years ago. You joined later, so you might not know. President He actually has a—”
He froze mid-sentence.
The other two urged him on. Employee B even called loudly, “Has a what?”
Employee A sensed something wrong and slowly turned around.
Behind the glass door stood He Ming’an, smiling with narrowed eyes as he watched them.
The three employees: “……”
“Still working this late? That’s hard work. Carry on—don’t mind me.”
With that, He Ming’an waved and walked away.
The assistant hurried after him, sweating. “Young President He, those employees were speaking carelessly. I’ll reprimand them and deduct their performance pay.”
He was an old employee and knew enough of the past to understand that for both President He and Young President He, that topic was taboo.
He Ming’an paused, then continued walking as if nothing had happened. “They’re here this late—probably working overtime. Don’t bully them. And approve their overtime pay properly, understood?”
The assistant had only been testing the waters and quickly nodded.
“President He left earlier for a social engagement,” he added.
He Ming’an didn’t care. He hadn’t come to see his father anyway—and not seeing him wasn’t a bad thing.
He sat in the office chair and began reviewing the documents his assistant had prepared.
At some point, he received a call.
It was from President He. After hearing from the assistant that his son was at the company, he called during a break to check in—and reminded him not to forget Old Master Nie’s eightieth birthday banquet.
The invitation had arrived long ago, the gift already prepared. Only when reminded did He Ming’an realize it was tomorrow.
Thinking of today’s events, he hung up and dialed another number.
He called Song Yinxing, retrieving the number directly from the Wanyin app.
After it connected, he greeted him with a smile.
Song Yinxing seemed surprised by the call. After a few seconds of silence, he finally asked what it was about.
“Nothing much. Tomorrow is Old Master Nie’s eightieth birthday—Nie Ying’s grandfather,” He Ming’an clarified in case he didn’t recognize the name.
“Gu Yang will be there too. So I’d like to invite you to come with me. How about it?”
As he said this, the smile on He Ming’an’s face deepened—carrying an indescribable meaning.
