Chapter 21: Honey, Goodnight

Tang Yan was lounging casually on the sofa in his room, sipping water, when he heard a sound. He picked up the phone without looking, and instantly a deep, sultry voice—laced with just the right amount of coquettishness—purred through the line: “Honey, I miss you.”

“Pfft!” Tang Yan choked mid-sip, spraying water all over the place. He coughed violently, caught off guard.

Hearing the cough, Li Chuzhe immediately worried. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Cough… no, wait—Li Chuzhe, what the hell are you doing? Did a donkey kick your brain?” Tang Yan managed between coughs, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“You’re mine, aren’t you? Trying to back out now?” Li Chuzhe replied with that familiar, infuriatingly smug tone.

Tang Yan cut in fast. “No, we’re only legally married!”

“Still my wife,” Li Chuzhe said, as if it were settled.

Tang Yan sighed, defeated. “Fine. What do you want? If nothing, I’m hanging up.”

A beat of silence. Then, softly, “Honey… I’m alone here.”

“Oh? And?”

“I’m coming home tomorrow. Won’t leave you lonely.”

The words hung in the air—soft, tender, but laced with something heavier: a quiet ache, a whisper of loneliness. Tang Yan froze. He had an important task scheduled for tomorrow. That idiot couldn’t show up and ruin everything.

“So… when exactly are you getting back?”

“When do you want me home, honey?”

“Didn’t I say—” Tang Yan started, but Li Chuzhe interrupted before he could finish.

“Whenever you want, sweetheart.”

Tang Yan gritted his teeth. *Focus. The mission comes first.* “How about six tonight? Perfect time to come home for dinner.”

“Perfect. Whatever you say, my queen.”

*Queen?* Tang Yan’s jaw clenched. One more “honey,” one more “sweetheart,” and he’d throw the phone across the room. “It’s late. Gotta go.”

“Wait.”

“What?” Tang Yan frowned, irritation thick in his voice.

Li Chuzhe’s voice dropped—low, warm, almost intimate. “Good night.”

That single phrase hit like an arrow from Cupid himself. No explosion. No fireworks. Just a quiet tremor beneath Tang Yan’s ribs. A ripple in still water.

He hung up. His earlobes tingled, flushed faintly. Muttered under his breath: “疯子.” (Crazy.)

But that whole night, both men slept deeply. For those who truly understand each other, two simple words—*good night*—can be better than any sleeping pill.

The next morning, Tang Yan met Song Xieling at the designated spot. Song Xieling glanced around. “Tang Yan… did you pick the right place? There’s no one here.”

“No people. But the medicine is here. Let’s head to your place.”

Without warning, Tang Yan pulled a leather briefcase from nowhere—plain, unremarkable, just like any office bag.

Song Xieling drove them straight to the Song family residence. The moment the parents saw her again—this same “Miss Su”—they exchanged glances and silently sealed their verdict: *This is our daughter-in-law.*

“Mom, Dad, I’ve booked a restaurant for you. Lunchtime’s almost here. Go enjoy yourselves,” Song Xieling said quickly, waving them off.

The couple smiled knowingly at the young pair. Song’s mother’s eyes crinkled with joy. “Alright, we’ll leave you two alone.”

Then, she grabbed Song Xieling by the arm and pulled him aside, whispering fiercely: “She’s a real princess from the Su family. Don’t mess around. Remember—condom. It’s in your nightstand.” She even giggled behind her hand, clearly delighted.

Song Xieling shot her a mortified look, shoving them toward the door. “Mom! Dad! Just go already!”

“Alright, alright,” they laughed, already fading down the hall—but their muffled chuckles still echoed through the foyer.

Tang Yan didn’t catch a word of it. To him, it was just another family joke. “Song Xieling, let’s go upstairs.”

“Mm-hmm.”

After dismissing all the staff, they climbed the stairs to the third floor—the forbidden level. The air grew colder, heavier.

“Be careful,” Song Xieling warned. “There’s a lot of medical equipment here.”

Tang Yan flipped on the light.

His breath caught.

The room was massive—overwhelming. Rows of complex machines lined the walls, wires snaking like veins. And in the center, lying motionless on a hospital bed, was one living thing: Song Xieling’s older brother.

Tang Yan stared. *Why keep a patient in a windowless, pitch-black room like this?* No natural light. Only sterile white walls, cold and endless.

“Song Xieling,” Tang Yan asked, voice tight. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Song Xieling sat beside the bed, shoulders slumped, face shadowed with grief. “Don’t worry, Tang Yan. This won’t interfere with your mission.”

If he said it so firmly, Tang Yan let it go.

He opened the case. Inside: a single clear vial of liquid—injectable. “Just inject it into the muscle. You do it?”

Song Xieling’s eyes lit up. He stood, hands trembling as he took the syringe. “Let me.”

The needle pierced the bicep of his brother’s arm. As the fluid entered, something shifted.

“Song Xieling,” Tang Yan said sharply. “Your brother’s reacting.”

“Really?” Song Xieling grabbed a device shaped like a smartphone, aimed it at his brother’s eyes.

“Brother… brother, can you hear me? Please wake up. Please…”

Less than half a minute passed.

Then—his eyes fluttered open.

They were sky blue. Stunning. Clear. As if the world had finally returned to him.

When he saw the device in Song Xieling’s hand, his pupils moved—slow, deliberate. A tear welled in the corner of his eye.

*Click.*

The sound of a lock disengaging.

Song Xieling exhaled—deep, long, like a weight had been lifted. His brother’s expression softened. His eyes closed again, peaceful, serene.

And then—chaos.

Alarms blared from every machine. Expensive, high-tech monitors screamed warnings. The system flashed: *Critical decline. Vital signs deteriorating.*

Song Xieling clutched his brother’s hand, fingers shaking. Sweat glistened on his forehead. His hair fell forward, obscuring his face. Tang Yan couldn’t see his expression—but he knew pain.

“Where’s my stuff?” Tang Yan asked, voice low.

“It’s already sent to you. Check your phone.”

Tang Yan pulled out his phone. A folder appeared—right there. Opened it.

Inside: all the data. All the proof.

The mission was complete.