Chapter 60: Has the Sky Turned Upside Down?
Gu Yang had just been ruthlessly stepping on Nie Ying’s sore spots. When Gu Yuhui and Old Master Nie finished their conversation and turned around, he immediately shut his mouth as if nothing had happened, perfectly embodying the principle of “use and discard.” He shot Song Yinxing a sly wink.
Naturally, Gu Yuhui’s attention shifted to Song Yinxing. Smiling, he asked, “I don’t think I’ve seen this young man before. A friend of yours? Won’t you introduce him?”
His gaze was sharp. He could tell at a glance that this unfamiliar boy was clearly uncomfortable in such a setting. Though he tried his best to appear relaxed, there was still a faint stiffness in his posture.
Yet the suit he wore was expensive, the fabric carefully selected.
As soon as he spoke, several pairs of eyes turned toward Song Yinxing.
Among them was Nie Siyu’s, though he only spared a brief glance.
He was still immersed in the satisfaction of seeing Nie Runhua and his son stumble again. Not long ago, he had received an anonymous email; acting on its contents, he’d managed to make Nie Ying fall flat on his face.
He didn’t know who had sent it, but whoever was behind it clearly disliked Nie Ying as much as he did. The enemy of my enemy is my friend—he accepted the favor.
Song Yinxing, of course, would never be reckless enough to send evidence under his real name. Aside from knowing that in his previous life Nie Siyu had failed in a power struggle and been shipped off to Africa to “develop markets,” he didn’t truly understand the man. There was no way he’d tie himself to Nie Siyu just because of Nie Ying.
Likewise, he had no real connection with Gu Yuhui.
So when questioned, he simply lowered his head and remained silent.
Gu Yang had been thinking about how best to introduce him, but He Ming’an answered first.
“His name is Song Yinxing. He’s our classmate, also studying at Guanli,” He Ming’an said with a genial smile to Old Master Nie. “You mentioned wanting a lively birthday banquet and asked us young people to come. We were all together after school, so I brought him along.”
Old Master Nie’s stern face finally softened a little. “You remember my words well. More considerate than the ones in my own family.”
Nie Siyu and his father laughed awkwardly. They’d been too busy dealing with Nie Runhua these past few days to pay attention to anything else.
“Classmate Song is also our city’s top scorer in the high school entrance exam,” He Ming’an added. “He’s consistently ranked first in grade.”
Old Master Nie’s expression eased further. In his youth, he hadn’t had the opportunity to study, so he placed immense importance on education for his descendants. Unfortunately, none had lived up to expectations. The second branch’s two children had to be sent abroad with money to polish their résumés.
As for the eldest branch’s child—that was an even bigger headache.
Thinking of the mess he’d recently uncovered—Nie Ying forming cliques to bully classmates, and Nie Siyu not even pretending as he proudly laid out the evidence before him—Old Master Nie felt despair about the family’s future.
Against such a backdrop, He Ming’an—steady, tactful, composed—looked like a breath of fresh air.
Back then, He Yihong hadn’t exactly been upright either. His mistress had even brought an illegitimate son to the door. The matter remained unresolved, and that son had been stuffed into Guanli to study. Mrs. He had long since grown disheartened and stopped managing household affairs.
And yet the child had been raised so excellently.
Old Master Nie could only sigh—sometimes, whether descendants turn out well truly depends on fate.
He suppressed his thoughts and exchanged a few kind words with Song Yinxing.
Having understood the background, Gu Yuhui said nothing further. He merely smiled, casting a meaningful glance at the quiet Gu Yang beside him.
In his previous life, Song Yinxing had never met Old Master Nie. The only Nie he’d known during school was Nie Ying. Later, when he encountered Nie Ying again, he learned that Old Master Nie had already passed away.
From just a brief conversation, Song Yinxing formed the impression of a stern yet humane elder.
He couldn’t help thinking—if, back in high school, Old Master Nie had learned of Nie Ying’s bullying, or if he had lived a few years longer to witness Nie Ying’s increasingly lawless behavior, perhaps he would have intervened.
Would his tragedy have been avoided?
He quickly forced himself to stop indulging in hypotheticals.
With a self-mocking sigh, Song Yinxing wondered how weak he must be to think this way after only a few exchanged words.
Since being reborn, perhaps because the external pressure had lifted, his once-numb heart had gradually revived. Along with it came the tendency to overthink.
No.
He looked toward Gu Yang standing not far away.
He stared at him directly, forgetting even to disguise it.
The changes in his circumstances—and in his mindset—had all begun with Gu Yang.
Though there were minor ripples, the banquet ended smoothly.
They hadn’t arrived together, but Gu Yuhui was heading home as well. Gu Yang, somewhat unwilling, had no choice but to slide into the back seat.
He Ming’an kindly offered to send Song Yinxing home. After all, he had brought him—he might as well provide the full service.
Taking advantage of the privacy, Song Yinxing finally voiced his doubt. “Why did you bring me?”
“Wasn’t it good?” He Ming’an smiled. “You and A-Yang had a small misunderstanding, right? I was creating an opportunity for you to reconcile.”
It was true on the surface, yet the doubt remained.
Streetlights flickered across his face. That smile seemed like a mask.
Had he ever felt this way before?
Song Yinxing had always considered He Ming’an a warm-hearted person. Even with unfamiliar classmates, he’d lend a hand when he could.
“It’s so cold,” He Ming’an said lightly, elbow propped on the car door, gazing out despite the warm air inside. “Might actually snow this year.”
“The last time I saw snow was in primary school.”
Perhaps just to avoid awkward silence, he continued casually, “Remember? That year the snow was so heavy the roads closed. All schools in the city suspended classes.”
Song Yinxing remembered. Though he had no desire to reminisce, he responded politely.
He didn’t expect the next line.
“That was also the year I met A-Yang.”
As he spoke, a passing shadow obscured his expression.
Song Yinxing couldn’t see what face he wore when saying that—or why he brought it up.
Memories tugged at He Ming’an. He closed his eyes briefly, stopping himself from going further.
“We don’t have much time until graduation,” he continued. “With your grades, getting into Qingbei University shouldn’t be difficult. A-Yang will go abroad. Over time, your paths will diverge. Better to clear up misunderstandings sooner rather than later.”
At that, something sank heavily in Song Yinxing’s chest.
It felt like stepping off a cliff—an icy, needle-sharp dread piercing through him.
They studied in the same school. Gu Yang’s classroom was just upstairs. Running into him—or seeking him out—was easy.
He hadn’t even had time to think beyond that.
The memory of Gu Qingxu trying to pay him off resurfaced sharply.
Back then, he’d been so focused on resisting that he hadn’t truly considered the implications.
Now, with a few casual words, He Ming’an had laid it bare.
He tried to imagine a life without Gu Yang nearby—but every attempt plunged into darkness.
The car stopped at his apartment complex. Receiving no movement from the back seat, He Ming’an gave the driver a look. The driver stepped out and opened the door for Song Yinxing.
Only then did he snap back to himself. After saying goodbye, he went upstairs, dazed.
The apartment was pitch-black, devoid of warmth—something he was long accustomed to.
He turned on the lights and returned to his room.
He had obsessive-compulsive tendencies and mild cleanliness issues; everything had to be orderly.
The quilt he’d folded that morning lay square at the head of the bed. Beside it sat the small, neatly folded scarf Gu Yang had left behind.
He gently touched it.
He did nothing else—just sat motionless on the bed, hugging the scarf in the silent room. Beneath his restrained expression lay something suffocating.
A phone call shattered the stillness.
The moment he answered, wailing erupted.
“Brother! Brother—!”
Expressionless, Song Yinxing held the phone away.
“I got beaten up!” Song Zihan’s howl echoed.
“What happened?” Song Yinxing stiffened, finally pulled from his haze.
Between sobs, he managed to learn which hospital. Grabbing his coat, he rushed over.
It was worse than expected.
Song Zihan’s face was badly swollen, made more terrifying by the red antiseptic staining it. X-rays showed a mild fracture in his leg.
“How long until it heals?” Song Yinxing asked.
The doctor could only estimate—about two months.
“That’s fine,” Song Yinxing murmured calmly. “It’s late December. If you’re healed by March, with effort, the May PE entrance exam shouldn’t be affected.”
Song Zihan gaped. “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about that? Can you have some huma—”
He met his brother’s icy gaze and shut up instantly.
As the second son, he’d never had the courage to be alone with his brother. Those deep eyes were the most terrifying thing in his life.
“How did this happen?” Song Yinxing asked only after settling his concerns.
Why was that question second to the exam?
Internally screaming, Song Zihan obediently recounted: a group approached him, confirmed his identity—and his brother’s—then beat him up. Before leaving, they said it was the price for offending someone he shouldn’t have.
Song Zihan shot him a resentful look. Why should he suffer for his brother’s enemies?
But before he could negotiate compensation, Song Yinxing frowned. “Shouldn’t you have been in your dorm at night? Where did they catch you?”
Song Zihan froze.
He’d snuck out again—like the time he’d climbed the wall to visit an internet café.
Exhausted by his foolish younger brother, Song Yinxing focused instead on who was responsible.
Like lightning, Gu Qingxu’s silhouette flashed in his mind—along with the threat he’d once uttered:
“I’ll make you regret it.”
Was this retaliation for refusing to stay away from Gu Yang?
He said nothing further, only told Song Zihan to recover properly.
The next day, running on almost no sleep after tending to his brother’s constant whining, Song Yinxing’s aura was colder than ever.
Even classmates sensed it.
When a teacher asked him to fetch materials, he complied.
Stepping out, he nearly collided with Gu Yang coming down to refill water.
“The upstairs dispenser broke,” Gu Yang said, shaking his thermos.
Seeing him there, Song Yinxing felt strangely displaced—as if a day had passed in a blur. He stared.
Gu Yang waved a hand before his eyes. No reaction. He reached out to check his forehead. “No fever.”
“In broad daylight, what exactly are you two doing?”
Gu Qingxu’s voice cut in before he even arrived.
Seeing Song Yinxing’s exhausted state, a mocking smile appeared. He’d heard Song attended the Nie banquet—perhaps the country bumpkin couldn’t handle the disparity.
“You seem in a bad mood. Guess last night hit you hard,” Gu Qingxu said smoothly.
Song Yinxing looked at him, an inexplicable disgust rising—deeper than just anger over his brother.
The pressure inside him snowballed, pushing him to the brink. He barely heard what was being said.
For a fleeting second, he felt that if he had a knife, he’d stab without hesitation.
“Didn’t I say? We’re not from the same world.” Gu Qingxu turned to Gu Yang. “Why are you still clinging to him? You should be—”
Before he could finish, a sharp impact struck his right cheek.
His head snapped sideways, body staggering from the force.
Gu Qingxu stood frozen, clutching his face, staring at Song Yinxing in disbelief.
As if the heavens themselves had rebelled.
