Chapter Eleven: How Are You Any Different from the Traitor Cao? (Happy Holidays)
Sitting at the dining table, Ye Yan felt an overwhelming sense of ease and comfort, so much so that even the bruised and battered little rascal, Lu Liang, sitting across from him seemed much more pleasant to the eye. Had it been simply a matter of providing refuge, Ye Yan would have turned a blind eye, pretending not to see the person, too lazy to ask more. An extra pair of chopsticks was no trouble; the people at the company wouldn’t fall out with him over something so trivial. Some things were understood by all—an unspoken agreement among adults, a silent mutual understanding.
Yet, despite this, whenever a male visitor arrived at the door, Ye Yan's temper flared with intensity. Although Summer He’s reputation outside was terrible, branded as a heartless knife, and accused of indulging in every vice—a femme fatale without redemption—Ye Yan knew better. The Summer He he saw was far from what others described. What outsiders witnessed was nothing of consequence, merely the most superficial layer of her many disguises, and not worth discussing at all.
Some things, once branded upon you, are impossible to escape. These innate abilities are both blessings and burdens. Just as you can never abandon your parents, your wife and children, or even the most inconspicuous scar or mark on your body—they belong to you, always. You must learn to live with them, to master them, to accept them, even if the process is painful; there is no other way. But some people wear their masks so long that others mistake the disguise for the truth. Summer He was one such person.
So Ye Yan always respected her decisions, offering only advice and rarely interfering. Summer He herself was fairly measured; she rarely brought others for refuge—only three times, counting the little troublemaker in front of him now. Kou Mei, Shen Chong, Lu Liang... and perhaps one stray cat Summer He once picked up—a tomcat.
Ye Yan remembered clearly. Kou Mei was the least eventful, eliciting the mildest response from him. Shen Chong and Lu Liang, on the other hand, received a more dramatic reaction: Ye Yan’s professional team gave them a thorough beating, then pointed to the small mound in the backyard, imparting some wisdom about the rules of the house.
Old sayings about friends from afar, the road may be long, but trespassers shall be punished. Since you’re here, settle in. It left Shen Chong with psychological scars; ever since, he kept a safe distance from Summer He, terrified that Ye Yan might hold a grudge, ambush him, stuff him in a sack, seal him in cement, and bury him in the yard.
Of course, the worst off was the tomcat. Because he got too close to Summer He, Ye Yan took him for neutering the next day. From then on,
Life was just not worth it.
...
“I’m full,” Ye Yan said, setting down his chopsticks. He stood, poured himself a glass of hot water, poured another for Summer He, then tapped his glass and said slowly, “You’ll stay upstairs.”
“Okay,” mumbled Lu Liang, head down and too nervous to breathe.
“No coming downstairs without my permission.”
“Alright.”
“And wash the dishes later.”
“This…” Lu Liang’s face froze. He could understand the previous conditions; after all, he was here to hide, and it was best to keep a low profile. But he was from the All-Ability faction, a fierce member—what did washing dishes have to do with him?
Lu Liang was deeply dissatisfied, and wanted nothing more than to flip the table right then and there. Yet, before he could speak, a dangerous gaze fell upon him.
“Is there a problem?” Ye Yan, seated at the head of the table, silently pulled out the Soul Hammer.
Seeing that big, dark, ominous object, Lu Liang’s face turned green. He hurriedly replied, “No... no problem at all, how could I have a problem? You know, I love doing housework.”
“Good, then you can clean the room as well,” Ye Yan said casually.
Lu Liang: “…”
Ye Yan stretched lazily, a little disappointed as he put away his prized possession. Lu Liang’s submissive demeanor made Ye Yan feel almost embarrassed; he wanted an excuse to teach him a lesson, but had no opportunity.
...
After a shower and changing into pajamas, Ye Yan cracked open a soda, settled on the sofa, happily turned on the TV, and picked up his phone for some relaxation.
“So that’s why it’s so quiet,” he murmured. Discovering his phone was off, he realized it wasn’t due to low battery, but because he’d switched it off deliberately before his fight with Ding Zhi’an.
Turning it on—
Then came a barrage of notifications: ‘ding ding ding ding ding——’
Ye Yan felt his phone vibrate wildly, messages flooding the screen.
Wang Ye: “Damn, damn, how’s the fight going? Did you lose or win? Damn, you actually beat Ding Zhi’an!”
Wang Ye: “Respect, respect.”
Wang Ye: Minion Brotherhood · jpg
Chen Duo: “Teacher, are you hurt? Worried.jpg”
Tao Tao: “You scumbag, you didn’t get killed by Ding Zhi’an? Such a disappointment.”
Tang Wenlong: “Brother Ye, impressive/thumbs up”
“…”
Messages bounced across the screen, mixed with countless news alerts.
Ye Yan glanced at one.
[Shocking: All-Ability’s top fighter Ding Zhi’an did this to a man at midnight…]
[Ding Zhi’an’s defeat may turn two heroes into three. What waves will this create in the world of the extraordinary…]
“…”
“Oh, come on…” Ye Yan’s forehead creased in exasperation. “This editor is a genius. After the new year, they should go work at UC News.”
After thinking for a moment, Ye Yan replied to Wang Ye, “Of course, who do you think I am?”
To Chen Duo: “Good girl, Duo’er. How’s your latest mission? Come hang out when you have time.”
To Tao Tao: “Miss Chanel, I never wronged you, so mind your own business.”
“…”
He replied to each one in turn.
Ye Yan noticed a red dot in his contacts, indicating a new request. He clicked in—it was a new contact.
Upon opening, Ye Yan’s expression turned odd.
“Add me, big brother. I’m your little sister.”
He clicked the profile photo: nothing there, just a solid yellow square.
Ye Yan: “…”
After a moment’s thought, he declined the request, writing as his reason: ‘I prefer mature women.’
Done, he closed the window, and checked another incoming request.
This one was much more normal—no strange description, the profile showed a girl with a bun hairstyle, rough linen clothes, pale skin, prominent blush, looking a bit like a zombie, or a robot.
Ye Yan accepted the request.
Just then, Feng Shayen, whose nickname was ‘Free Girl,’ sent a stream of messages.
“Yaya tried to add you—why did you refuse?”
“She wants to know if you’re coming to the office tomorrow.”
“You told her you like mature women.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“No wonder, I always thought your gaze at Nana was odd. Turns out you like that type.”
“…”
At last, she sent a picture:
How are you any different from Cao Cao.jpg