Chapter 26: Dionysus (6)

Some people enjoy using their initials as a codename. Li Yue, for instance, has a particular fondness for "ly"—it appears on his custom-made clothing, the paint job on his car, and even his online screen names.

Tan Zhao, however, has no such habit.

The first time he noticed a "z" was when Wen Mingwei gave him a piece of jade, telling him that the natural marking on it was his name.

—zhao, z.

Only a fool would believe such a far-fetched, romantic explanation. Isn't that why they say people in love lose their intelligence?

But since Wen Mingwei was willing to be a fool for his sake, he could, at the very least, show him the courtesy of being touched and keep the jade safe.

But today, this photograph was clearly not sent by Wen Mingwei.

Besides Wen Mingwei, who else would use "z" to refer to him?

Or perhaps it wasn't referring to him at all.

The content of the photo had nothing to do with him.

The two people in the picture were traveling by the sea, sharing the same sunset. One was taking the initiative to hold hands, and even from their backs, it was clear that their full attention was on each other. It was an atmosphere thick with romance, definitely not that of ordinary friends.

Hadn't Wen Mingwei claimed he had never been in a relationship?

"..." Tan Zhao looked at the courier slip again; the sender was anonymous.

With a cold face, he shoved the photo back into the envelope, tucked it into his laptop bag, and headed home after work.

Throughout the drive, the more Tan Zhao thought about it, the more irritated he became. While waiting at a red light, he took the photo out to look at it repeatedly. The more he stared, the more he hated Wen Mingwei’s smiling expression—especially the way his eyes curved slightly, his eyelashes catching the golden light of the sunset, overflowing with a happiness that spilled right out of the frame. How could anyone look at that and call them "ordinary friends"?

But the other man...

Tan Zhao sneered, thinking to himself that this man was likely the one who sent the photo.

What was the point? Was a jilted ex-lover feeling bitter and trying to drive a wedge between them?

The tactic was far too clumsy; no wonder he’d been dumped.

Tan Zhao arrived home, his anger simmering. He parked his car carelessly and took his laptop inside.

It was sunset, and the pale golden light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing Wen Mingwei, who was sitting in the living room reading a book, in a soft glow.

Wen Mingwei was wearing a beige top today, his lower half obscured by the coffee table. His long hair was half-tied, though not very neatly, as if he’d taken a nap in that style and hadn't bothered to redo it since waking up. He radiated an air of ease and tranquility.

Catching sight of Tan Zhao in his peripheral vision, he looked up and greeted him: "You're back?"

Tan Zhao didn't answer. He shot him a glance, set his laptop on the coffee table, and stood there, looking down at him without sitting or speaking.

"What's wrong?" Wen Mingwei asked with a smile. "Who’s upset our young master today?"

Tan Zhao was silent for a moment. He had gained a lot of experience lately, so he managed to keep his composure on the surface. He didn't mention the photo, instead demanding, "Wen Mingwei, you remember our 'Nineteen Rules,' don't you?"

"Hmm? I do."

"Good. Then why didn't you come clean? You lied to me."

Wen Mingwei blinked. "What did I lie about?"

Seeing him still playing coy, Tan Zhao lost his patience. He pulled the envelope from his laptop bag, slapped the photo onto the coffee table, and said with a dark face, "What is this?"

"..."

Wen Mingwei set his book aside and picked up the photo to take a look.

Tan Zhao hadn't expected to be this angry. In reality, it wasn't a major issue; the photo showed Wen Mingwei in a relationship from years ago, not the current Wen Mingwei cheating behind his back. It wasn't that serious.

Yet, he was burning with rage, annoyed and unhappy.

He stared intently at Wen Mingwei’s expression, trying to find a trace of guilt to justify his own anger and make it feel reasonable.

But Wen Mingwei’s expression wasn't one of guilt. He was stunned for a few seconds, his face showing a subtle reaction, before he finally looked up and asked, "Where did this photo come from?"

"An anonymous package," Tan Zhao said. "It was sent to my office reception, addressed specifically to me. Aren't you going to explain? Who is this man? Your ex-boyfriend?"

"..."

"Didn't you say you'd never been in a relationship? Why would ordinary friends hold hands? Do you smile at all your male friends like that? Are you afraid they won't fall for you?"

Wen Mingwei: "..."

"Speak," Tan Zhao taunted. "Can't explain? Can't come up with an excuse on the spot?"

He sat down beside Wen Mingwei and pushed him into the sofa. He hadn't changed out of his suit yet, and the tight tie made him feel even more agitated, so he pulled it off with a sharp tug. Judging by his expression, he clearly felt the tie was too short; otherwise, his next move might have been to tie Wen Mingwei up.

"You've stifled me before I could say a single word."

Wen Mingwei managed to carve out some breathing room from his embrace. "Why are you so sour?"

"Who's sour? You're the one who lied, yet you won't let me be angry?"

"...I really haven't been in a relationship."

Wen Mingwei sighed. "Did you forget? I told you before, I once had a secret crush on someone—a good friend of mine. That’s him."

Tan Zhao paused, remembering that something like that had indeed been mentioned.

It was a long time ago at the shooting range, when Wen Mingwei had confessed his feelings and revealed his romantic history.

But the impact of plain words was completely different from a vivid photograph. Tan Zhao hadn't taken it to heart back then, but now, the scene in the photo felt like an eyesore. He couldn't even imagine what kind of feelings Wen Mingwei had harbored while silently pining for that man for so many years.

Did he give the other party hints?

Was he happy over occasional intimate contact?

Did he secretly fantasize about being together?

Did he even look at that man with the same obsessed gaze he used when pursuing him?

"...You really are a romantic fool."

Tan Zhao was fuming at his own imagination. He retorted coldly, "Is it because your career has been too smooth, and no one can threaten you, that you’re so fond of being the one who does the chasing in relationships?"

It was a harsh thing to say, but Wen Mingwei didn't react. It was only Tan Zhao who ended up infuriated.

"Don't be like this." Wen Mingwei suddenly leaned in to kiss him. A gentle kiss landed on the bridge of his nose, but when he tried to move down to his lips, Tan Zhao pushed him away.

"What?" Wen Mingwei gave a forgiving smile and tried to kiss him again, only to be pushed away once more.

"Can't you handle him?" Tan Zhao pointed at the photo. "Doesn't he dislike you? Who sent this package?"

Sensing the implication behind Tan Zhao's words, Wen Mingwei said, "It's not what you think. He didn't send it."

"How do you know?"

"..."

Wen Mingwei fell silent, offering no explanation. "In any case, I'll have someone investigate it. Don't overthink it."

"Oh, is that all?" Tan Zhao remained cold, his terrible mood showing no signs of improvement.

Wen Mingwei grabbed his chin and forced a kiss. "Are you better now?"

"No."

"..."

The young master’s jealousy was endless.

Wen Mingwei, feeling helpless, pressed his palms against Tan Zhao's temples, smoothing them out as if grooming a small animal. He rubbed them firmly, kissing him as he did so, gently yet firmly helping him dissolve his negative emotions. Only when Tan Zhao’s expression softened did he slowly pull away from his lips and ask again, "Are you better now?"

Tan Zhao turned his head away. "Don't let it happen again."

"That's not something I can control."

Wen Mingwei sat up slightly on the sofa, his eyes darkening. "There aren't many people who would have my photos. The Marshal is one of them."

"..."

Tan Zhao realized what he meant. "You mean the Marshal knows we're working together and is intentionally trying to stir up trouble?"

Wen Mingwei didn't confirm or deny.

"Really?" Tan Zhao couldn't understand. "The person in the photo isn't your ex-boyfriend, and even if he were, I wouldn't fall out with you over something like this..."

The young master, who had just fallen out with him, felt a bit guilty and lowered his voice. "Is the Marshal really that childish?"

Yes, was the Marshal truly that childish?

In Wen Mingwei's estimation, the Marshal was a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, but his methods were rarely this low-level.

Furthermore, leaking "dirt" on each other wouldn't benefit the Marshal.

Even if they stood on opposing sides, they shared a bottom line that neither would easily cross—it was a tacit understanding formed over many years.

The only reason Wen Mingwei suspected the Marshal was because there were no other reasonable candidates.

Many people knew about his past with Jian Qingzheng, but very few could get their hands on this photo.

—It was even the original, with the letter "z" on the back written in his own hand back then.

To find the source, he would have to figure out how this photo went missing.

Unfortunately, when Jian Qingzheng passed away, Wen Mingwei had lost the love of his life while facing immense political pressure; it was no exaggeration to say he was on the brink of life and death.

For those four or five full months, Wen Mingwei had to put on a performance of breaking down for the Marshal while simultaneously suppressing his own grief to carve out a path to survival.

He had never been to Jian Qingzheng’s home while he was alive; his belongings had been packed up by Jian Xinning. The photo hadn't been among the possessions at the time, and he hadn't been in the right state of mind to notice if any were missing from the albums.

After dinner, Wen Mingwei pondered for a while longer but still had no clues about the anonymous sender.

He sent Gu Jing to investigate and, at the same time, called the Marshal to probe for information.

Just as he expected, the Marshal didn't catch on to what he was probing and seemed completely unaware of the package. However, he did express strong opinions about his partnership with Tan Zhao, subtly criticizing him for letting emotions dictate his choices, and claiming that Tan Zhao was incompetent and would inevitably drag him down.

Wen Mingwei had achieved his goal; he had no desire to explain further and hung up after a few perfunctory words.

He hadn't avoided Tan Zhao while making the call, though there was a distance between the dining room and the living room, and the latter couldn't hear their conversation clearly.

Seeing him hang up, Tan Zhao walked over. Traces of his jealousy still lingered, but he was far more generous than before and even took the initiative to comfort him. "If you can't find out, then forget it. It's not a big deal."

Tan Zhao said, "People who play such low-level tricks from the shadows get excited the more you pay attention to them. If you ignore them, nothing will happen."

"Mm, I know."

"Although I have a bit of a temper," Tan Zhao held his wrist, "even if there are new photos tomorrow, the most I'll do is argue with you for a bit. I won't fall for anyone else's tricks. You have to trust me, okay? Don't be so tense."

"I'm not tense," Wen Mingwei smiled. "I'm just worried that you'll get hurt because of photos like this."

"How could I get hurt?"

Tan Zhao's tone was incredibly cool. "Don't think of yourself as too important, Wen Mingwei. When I'm in a relationship, I'm very independent and find it easy to pull away. You'll have to find a way to tie me down."

Wen Mingwei: "..."

After the young master finished his "declaration of independence," his hand, which was gripping Wen Mingwei's wrist, slid down to interlock their fingers.

"You're free tomorrow, right? I want to go on a date."