Chapter 39: The Elite Hate Being Fooled

The photo showed the dim hallway of an apartment building. A couple, both wearing masks, walked side by side toward the exit, bags of groceries in their hands.

The woman in the mask was unmistakably Nan Xiao. She was turned slightly toward the man beside her, laughing softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth.

The man was tall, wearing a black baseball cap and a mask. Xie Chengyu couldn’t see his face clearly—only that he stood unnervingly close to Nan Xiao. And besides the groceries in his hand, there was something else: a bag slung over his shoulder.

Xie Chengyu’s long fingers lifted slightly, zooming in on the image.

His breath caught.

That bag—the one the man wore—was exactly the same one Zhou Wen had delivered to Nan Xiao that morning.

A strange, indescribable feeling welled up inside him.

So… it wasn’t meant for him?

Slowly, Xie Chengyu stood, his brow furrowed so tightly it looked carved from stone.

He stared at the man’s profile in the photo, then slammed the phone down onto the desk, trying desperately to push back the storm of thoughts swirling in his head.

It was only 4:30 PM—dinner time hadn’t even arrived yet. He decided to keep working.

His marriage to Nan Xiao was just a business arrangement. Just as he could have Xu Ruoxin, she could have anyone. Who she spent time with didn’t matter. So why did the sight of that photo twist something deep inside him?

Was it pride? Male ego?

Xie Chengyu rubbed his temples, unable to focus on the documents anymore.

He shut down his computer, grabbed his car keys and phone, and left the office.

…

Just after leaving the film set that afternoon, Xiao Zekai had practically shoved himself into her path, insisting they eat hot pot together.

Seeing the way he clutched his stomach and groaned dramatically, Nan Xiao sighed in resignation. She ended up dragging him to the market to buy ingredients, then headed home together.

Around five o’clock, Nan Xiao laid out the bowls and chopsticks. Just then, Xiao Zekai brought in the freshly washed vegetables.

The water in the pot began to bubble furiously. Nan Xiao called out to him, “Sit down,” and they started eating.

“Hey,” Xiao Zekai suddenly said between bites of lamb roll, “isn’t Nan Fengguo having a birthday soon?”

“Are you going back this year?” he asked.

Hearing the name, Nan Xiao’s expression cooled slightly. “Depends.”

Xiao Zekai ruffled her hair. “If you want to go, go. If not, don’t. No pressure.”

“If he gives you trouble,” he added, “just call me. I’ll come kick his ass for you.”

Nan Xiao burst out laughing. “Good. With you watching my back, I’m totally safe.”

Xiao Zekai stared at her bright smile—and froze.

A few seconds later, he started coughing violently. Nan Xiao rushed over, pouring him a glass of water. “What’s wrong? You’re a grown man—how can you choke like that?”

Xiao Zekai’s face turned red as he gulped down several mouthfuls before regaining control.

He fixed his gaze on her face. “You’re too damn beautiful. Have you ever thought about breaking into showbiz?”

“No, no, no,” she said quickly. “Not a chance.”

She’d worked on enough sets over the years to know exactly how grueling acting could be—not just the long hours or the physical demands, but the under-the-table deals, the favors traded in dark corners. She wasn’t interested in any of it.

Xiao Zekai, thinking about the murky world of entertainment, agreed. “Then stick with writing. Honestly, you still look kind of like your younger self—just… grown up now.”

When she was ten, Nan Xiao had been disfigured. Before that, she’d been a little princess, radiant and untouched. Back then, Xiao Zekai had fought more than a few older kids just to protect her from neighborhood bullies.

Memories of those days warmed her heart. She reached across the table and placed a generous helping of beef tripe—his favorite—onto his plate.

Just then, Xiao Zekai’s agent called. An emergency event needed him. He hung up with a sigh, packed up quickly, and left. Nan Xiao was left alone to finish her meal.

Less than a minute later, the doorbell rang.

She assumed it was Xiao Zekai returning—until she peered through the peephole.

There, standing outside, was Xie Chengyu.

Her breath stopped.

How did he find her? When had he learned where she lived?

*Knock knock knock.*

“Nan Xiao. Open up.”

Peering through the peephole, someone naturally blocks the light from inside. That’s why Xie Chengyu spoke—he knew someone was home.

Nan Xiao straightened instantly. “One sec!” she called out, rushed back to put on her mask, then hurried to open the door.

“You’re eating?” Xie Chengyu stepped in, eyes landing on the bubbling hot pot, then on the two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks on the table. His expression darkened. “Who are you eating with?”

“Lin Yan.”

Without hesitation, she blurted it out.

Xie Chengyu glanced around. The apartment was a single bedroom, one living space. The bedroom door faced him directly—he could see it was empty. The kitchen and bathroom showed no signs of recent use.

He turned back. “Where is Lin Yan now?”

“She left,” Nan Xiao said. “She came in the middle of dinner, had some urgent thing, and left right away.”

Xie Chengyu nodded once.

At that moment, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Lì Jǐngtíng’s name flashed.

He answered. “What?”

“Chengyu,” came the voice on the other end.

The quiet room made it easy to hear every word.

“I’m out shopping with Lin Yan. The brand you like just launched a new watch this month. We saw it and snapped a pic. I’ll send it to you—take a look. Which one do you want?”

Xie Chengyu gave Nan Xiao a cold glance.

Even with the mask, she couldn’t hide the shock in her eyes.

Feeling his stare, the shock melted into embarrassment.

She dropped her head instantly, wishing she could vanish into the floor.

Xie Chengyu turned away, voice flat. “When did you two leave?”

“Midday,” Lì Jǐngtíng replied. “Why?”

Another glance at Nan Xiao—her head nearly touching her chest, her cheeks burning.

Xie Chengyu said simply, “Nothing.” Then he ended the call.

He turned back to her.

Nan Xiao’s fingers twisted together, knuckles white. Her mind raced—what could she say? She didn’t lie often. This was her first real attempt, and she’d been caught red-handed. It was mortifying.

“Why lie to me?” Xie Chengyu’s voice cut through the silence.

Calm. Even. But beneath it, something dangerous simmered.

She knew he didn’t care about her. Not really. But as a man used to control, used to being obeyed—being deceived? That was unacceptable.

And now, he knew.