On How To Defeat Dr. Qing Leng Chapter 12

Chapter 12 These Dirty Deeds, I Will Handle

With a turn of the steering wheel, Pei Yan drove toward his own villa located in the suburbs, a place he usually didn’t frequent.

The car pulled into the empty underground garage, and even the sound of the tires scraping as they turned was jarringly loud. Wen Yelan, in the passenger seat, seemed disturbed by the noise, shifting restlessly and curling up tighter, like a snail trying to retreat into its shell.

The tear tracks on his face were still wet, catching the faint light in the dim car interior. His long, thick eyelashes were damp with tears, and the droplets trembled slightly, making him look exceptionally fragile.

Pei Yan turned off the engine but didn’t immediately get out. He turned his head and quietly watched Wen Yelan for a while. Only the sound of their light breathing remained in the car cabin.

A strange, soft, and aching emotion filled his chest.

He had seen Wen Yelan’s tough composure in the blizzards of Mount Everest, his rigorous confidence in academic settings, his aloof indifference that kept people at bay, and even the brief vulnerability he showed last time due to stomach pain and distress. But he had never seen him like this—completely defenseless, immersed in grief, crying like a lost child.

He reached out a hand. His fingertips paused just before touching Wen Yelan’s cheek, and he ultimately just gently brushed away the damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead by sweat and tears.

“Mmm…” Wen Yelan unconsciously rubbed against his cool fingertips in his sleep, letting out a muffled murmur.

Pei Yan’s heart felt as if it had been lightly tickled by a feather, a pleasant, tingling sensation. He withdrew his hand, unbuckled his seatbelt, and walked around to the passenger side, carefully lifting him out.

Wen Yelan was very light, seemingly thinner than he had been when he was drunk last time. Holding him, Pei Yan could clearly feel the contours of his shoulder blades and the line of his spine through the thin shirt fabric. Pei Yan pulled him closer, kicked the car door shut with his foot, and walked toward the private elevator that went straight to the top floor.

The elevator ascended smoothly. The mirrored walls reflected his figure holding Wen Yelan. Wen Yelan’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, his warm, alcohol-laced breath fanning his skin, which felt slightly ticklish. Pei Yan looked down and could see his flushed ear tips and faintly trembling eyelashes.

Wen Yelan seemed exhausted from crying. He didn’t struggle, didn’t resist, and offered no cold, prickly remarks; he simply leaned against him quietly.

But this very compliance made Pei Yan feel even worse. He knew this wasn’t Wen Yelan’s true state; the alcohol had merely numbed his taut nerves and hard shell, exposing the softest, most vulnerable part inside.

If he hadn’t come looking for him today… Pei Yan’s eyes darkened. He didn’t dare to think further.

Entering the apartment, the sensor lights automatically illuminated, casting a soft glow over the spacious living room. The dominant colors were black, white, and gray, the furniture lines were simple and sharp, and the massive floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the dazzling city nightscape. Everything showcased the owner’s taste, yet lacked the warmth of everyday life.

It was less a home and more a meticulously designed sanctuary.

Pei Yan carried Wen Yelan directly toward the master bedroom. Although he didn’t live here often, the place was regularly cleaned and fully equipped. He gently placed Wen Yelan on the large bed.

The moment his body touched the soft mattress, Wen Yelan seemed to stir slightly. He opened his swollen, hazy eyes. His gaze was unfocused and scattered. He looked at Pei Yan’s face, which was close by, for several seconds, as if he couldn’t recognize who he was, or perhaps was looking through him at something else entirely.

Then, without warning, large tears began to roll down from his red-rimmed eyes again, soaking the pillow as they slid down his hair. He made no sound, just wept silently. That kind of suppressed sorrow, seemingly seeping from the depths of his soul, was more heartbreaking than loud sobbing.

Pei Yan panicked. He knelt by the bed, feeling utterly helpless. He had never dealt with a situation like this. He was accustomed to flattery, favors, or the verbal sparring of business negotiations, but he didn’t know how to comfort someone who was crying so despairingly in front of him.

“Hey… Wen Yelan?” He tentatively called his name, his voice unconsciously soft. “Don’t cry… it’s okay, it’s all over…”

His comfort was weak and ineffective. Wen Yelan seemed unable to hear him, still immersed in his own world of grief. The tears flowed faster, and his body began to tremble slightly.

Pei Yan felt both anxious and pained. A surge of nameless anger, mixed with self-reproach, rose within him. He was angry at those who manipulated the rules and squeezed Wen Yelan out, angry at Wen Yelan’s stubborn refusal to fight back, only knowing how to torment himself, and even angrier at himself for having thought the matter was so simple before, failing to arrange things properly, which caused Wen Yelan this unnecessary suffering.

He reached out, wanting to wipe away his tears, but found he couldn’t dry them all. Finally, he just used his fingertip to very gently wipe the tear tracks from his cheek. The skin was burning hot and damp with tears.

“Don’t be afraid,” Pei Yan’s voice was low and hoarse, carrying a tenderness he hadn’t even realized was there. “I’m here. No one can bully you again.”

Whether the words had an effect or the full force of the alcohol finally hit him, Wen Yelan’s crying gradually subsided into small, suppressed sobs. He seemed to have exhausted all his strength. His eyes became hazy and unfocused again, and his body sank softly into the mattress.

Pei Yan sighed in relief and started to stand up to get a glass of water.

Just then, Wen Yelan suddenly reached out and blindly grabbed the lapel of Pei Yan’s shirt, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He buried his face in Pei Yan’s chest, like a small animal seeking a source of warmth, and mumbled indistinctly:

“Ge…” (Brother)

That single word, “Ge,” made Pei Yan freeze completely. His heart felt as if it had been violently struck by something. He thought… he thought Wen Yelan was calling him. In this state of extreme vulnerability, he had subconsciously acknowledged and relied on him.

He practically held his breath, cautiously wrapping his arm around Wen Yelan’s slender back, pulling him tighter into his embrace, and responding in a low voice, “Yes, I’m here.”

He waited for Wen Yelan to say something more, or at least, to feel a sense of security from the hug.

However, immediately afterward, he heard the person in his arms utter another name, softer, more muffled, thick with congestion and a crying tone:

“…Yu Ge…”

Pei Yan’s movement stopped completely, his arm around Wen Yelan frozen mid-air.

Yu Ge?

He wasn’t calling him.

The tenderness and stirring emotion that had surged up, nearly overwhelming him, receded as quickly as the tide, replaced by a wave of disappointment and a biting sense of confusion.

Who was Yu Ge?

Wen Yelan had never mentioned this person. A relative? A friend? Or… someone else more important? Why did he call out this name both times he was drunk and most helpless?

Pei Yan lowered his head, looking at Wen Yelan, who had closed his eyes again and whose breathing was becoming steady and deep, clearly having fallen into a deep sleep. His brows furrowed tightly.

Tear tracks still marked that face.

Pei Yan maintained the half-embrace posture, kneeling by the bed for a long time until his legs and feet went numb. The city lights outside the window gradually dimmed, leaving only scattered pinpoints of light.

Finally, he gently pried open Wen Yelan’s fingers clutching his shirt, tucked the cold hand under the covers, and carefully smoothed the blanket around him. He stood up, looking down at the sleeping man for a moment, his expression complex and hard to read.

Pei Yan exited the master bedroom, quietly closing the door. He walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and lit a cigarette. The scarlet glow of the tip flickered in the darkness, illuminating his sharply defined profile. His expression was one of unprecedented solemnity and… a hint of jealousy he was unwilling to admit even to himself.

He realized his understanding of Wen Yelan was far from sufficient. How many secrets and scars were hidden in the heart of this seemingly aloof and simple person? What role did that “Yu Ge” play in his life?

Amidst the swirling smoke, Pei Yan’s gaze gradually became sharp and resolute.

No matter who that “Yu Ge” was, and no matter what Wen Yelan had experienced in the past, now that he had entered his world, he belonged under his care. What Pei Yan set his sights on, he would never easily let go of.

He wouldn’t spare a single person or incident that had made Wen Yelan cry, feel wronged, or angry.

Especially that Zhao fellow and that woman named Fan Qingzhi.

He pulled out his phone, ignoring the late hour, and directly dialed his assistant’s number.

“Hello,” his voice was particularly cold and hard in the silent night. “Speed up the investigation I asked you to do earlier. I want a detailed report on all the illicit dealings between Zhao Hua and Fan Qingzhi regarding this project review by noon tomorrow. This includes, but is not limited to, private contact, benefit transfers, academic misconduct—don’t miss any clue.”

The person on the other end of the line was clearly surprised but immediately responded respectfully, “Yes, Young Master Pei.”

Hanging up the phone, Pei Yan extinguished the cigarette butt. He glanced back at the closed master bedroom door, a look of determined ambition flashing in his eyes.

Wen Yelan, you hold onto your integrity and principles, unwilling to dirty your hands. That’s fine.

These dirty deeds, I will handle.

…

So thirsty. When Wen Yelan woke up, he instinctively reached for the nightstand but found nothing.

He struggled to open his heavy eyelids, greeted by unfamiliar surroundings.

This wasn’t his familiar small apartment.

The ceiling lines were simple and modern, the chandelier was highly stylized, the mattress beneath him was soft yet supportive, and the dark gray velvet sheets felt delicate to the touch… Everything exuded a quiet luxury, completely different from his humble dwelling filled with books and sample models.

Wen Yelan was startled and bolted upright in bed. The movement triggered a headache, making him groan involuntarily.

Fragments of memory flooded his mind like a tide, chaotic and blurred: the jarring music in the bar, whiskey glass after glass, the uncontrollable sadness and anger… Then, Pei Yan’s appearance, taking him away from that place with suppressed fury… And after that, an embrace, firm and warm, carrying a reassuring strength that made him want to lean in…

Wen Yelan looked around. The room was large and sparsely furnished, with almost no decoration beyond the necessary furniture, yet every item was clearly expensive.

This was Pei Yan’s home.

This realization hit him like a bucket of cold water, instantly sobering him up significantly, followed by immense embarrassment and panic.

How did he end up here? What exactly did he do last night? And what did Pei Yan do?