On How To Defeat Dr. Qing Leng Chapter 16

The night deepened. Pei Yan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the suburban villa, the cigarette between his fingers nearly burned down.

He hadn’t returned to his downtown apartment in a long time, not since Wen Yelan had stayed here.

He told himself he was missing the person by looking at the place, but Wen Yelan had left cleanly, leaving nothing behind for him. Pei Yan extinguished the cigarette and leaned back on the sofa, feeling exhausted.

After the matter was settled, Pei Yan felt anxious. Three or four days had passed, and Wen Yelan still hadn’t made a move—no thanks, not even a confrontation.

He realized that the tactics he used so successfully in the business world were like heavy punches hitting cotton when applied to Wen Yelan; not only did they fail to land, but they pushed the other person further away.

Just then, his phone rang unsuitably, shattering the suffocating silence. The screen displayed ‘Li Yu’.

Pei Yan frowned, intending to hang up, but his finger hovered for a moment before he answered, his tone clearly languid: “Speak.”

“Yo, Young Master Pei, judging by that sound, are you hatching eggs at home?” The background noise on Li Yu’s end was loud, mixing music and laughter: “Come out for a couple of drinks? The usual spot. We have some new models, both male and female, guaranteed to satisfy you.”

Pei Yan pinched the bridge of his nose, lacking interest: “No, I’m tired.”

“Tired? When did Young Master Pei ever associate with the word ‘tired’?” Li Yu chuckled, then lowered his voice, sounding like he was enjoying the drama: “Tell me, are you still heartbroken over your little doctor? Is it worth it? The Zhao Hua matter was handled beautifully, but it caused quite a stir. With his wife making a scene, his father-in-law is furious and determined to destroy him. Although that guy surnamed Zhao brought it upon himself, your move… that was ruthless.”

Pei Yan’s eyes chilled: “He asked for it.”

“Yes, yes, he asked for it,” Li Yu quickly agreed, though his tone remained frivolous: “But this whole ‘raging for the sake of a beauty’ thing has shocked us brothers. My old man doesn’t know the truth and thinks you’ve changed your ways. He keeps lecturing me, saying you’ve pulled back from the brink and returned to the right path.”

“Are you really that serious?”

A voice, Lin Mo’s, could vaguely be heard cutting in from the other end, sounding a bit smug: “I told you! Li Yu, you wouldn’t believe me! Our Young Master Pei is completely smitten this time, utterly and thoroughly! That look in his eyes on Mount Everest was off! I told you that scientist was different, but you wouldn’t believe me! And the Moonlight Foundation, tsk tsk, how sickeningly sweet!”

“Get lost!” Li Yu cursed with a laugh, then said to Pei Yan: “Hear that? Lin Mo’s turned into a prophet. So, how about it? Come out. We’ll help you mend your broken heart.”

“No time.” Pei Yan refused flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument: “You guys have fun. Don’t bother me.”

With that, he hung up before Li Yu could ramble further.

Pei Yan stared at the empty house, suddenly desperate to see Wen Yelan, or at least hear his voice, even if it was just to be cursed at.

Once this thought appeared, it grew like wildfire, becoming uncontrollable.

He barely hesitated, finding the number he had almost never dialed proactively, and pressed the call button.

Listening to the “beep—beep—” sound in his ear, Pei Yan’s heart rate became slightly erratic. He imagined countless possibilities—being hung up on immediately, being coldly rejected, or, still, no answer…

However, unexpectedly, the phone only rang a few times before it was picked up.

“…Hello?” Wen Yelan’s voice came through the line, carrying a slight hoarseness from having just finished work. Unlike his usual coolness, it had a soft sense of fatigue. The background was quiet; he could faintly hear the sound of turning book pages.

He actually answered. And his tone showed no obvious anger or repulsion.

Pei Yan’s throat bobbed. For a moment, all the skills he used to speak eloquently in the business world and navigate smoothly at banquets seemed to instantly evaporate. He was speechless. Silence spread across both ends of the line.

“…It’s me.” Pei Yan spoke dryly, his voice lower and raspier than he had anticipated.

“Mm.” Wen Yelan responded softly, his tone unreadable: “Is something wrong?”

His calmness made Pei Yan even more flustered. This wasn’t like Wen Yelan.

Pei Yan took a deep breath, deciding not to beat around the bush: “Regarding the project, did the Institute handle the follow-up smoothly?” He asked cautiously.

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds. Only shallow breathing proved the call was still connected. Then, Wen Yelan’s voice sounded again, still without much fluctuation: “Very smoothly. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Pei.”

“Mr. Pei” again. That deliberate form of address, pulling the distance between them to the extreme.

Pei Yan felt a wave of helplessness, and at the same time, a surge of irritation began to rise. He didn’t like Wen Yelan acting this way, as if he were trying to completely isolate him from his world.

“Wen Yelan,” Pei Yan’s voice deepened, carrying a trace of imperceptible anxiety: “You know that’s not what I want to hear.”

“Then what does Mr. Pei want to hear?” Wen Yelan countered, his tone finally carrying a hint of extremely faint, almost undetectable sarcasm: “Do you want to hear me thank you for going to such lengths for me, using this method to clear the obstacles in my path?”

Pei Yan’s heart tightened.

“Or do you want to hear me question why you used such… decisive means?” Wen Yelan’s voice dropped, carrying a complex weariness: “Pei Yan, I’m not stupid. The Moonlight Foundation, from the start, was prepared for me, wasn’t it?”

He finally asked. There was no hysteria, no angry accusation, just the calm statement of a fact, yet it made Pei Yan feel worse than any intense emotion.

Pei Yan remained silent, not immediately denying it. His silence was, in itself, an answer.

Wen Yelan quietly inhaled on the other end of the phone. The sound was faint, yet it felt like a needle pricking Pei Yan’s heart.

“I checked the foundation’s registration information, the time of establishment, shortly after the Mount Everest research team returned. The registered capital, the legal representative’s background… everything is too ‘clean,’ too coincidental.”

He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts, his voice carrying a barely noticeable tremor: “Pei Yan, you helped me, and I… perhaps I should be grateful. But this feeling of everything being arranged, this feeling of needing to rely on such… such uncompromising methods to reclaim what should have been mine, I’m scared.”

His words were restrained, but Pei Yan heard the underlying fear and resistance. That “uncompromising” nature stirred up some bad memories for Wen Yelan.

Pei Yan recalled his drunken muttering of “I don’t deserve it,” the cherished love letters used as proof, and his silence when mentioning his family… He vaguely touched upon the deep, past-rooted trauma hidden beneath the iceberg of Wen Yelan’s heart. And his actions this time had undoubtedly touched those unhealed wounds.

“I just wanted to help you.” Pei Yan’s voice was dry: “In the fastest, most effective way I could. I didn’t want to see you bullied by those people anymore, or see you hide away… suffering.” He spoke the last word with extreme difficulty.

“I know.” Wen Yelan’s voice was very soft, carrying a desolate sense of resignation: “I know you meant well. But Pei Yan, we are not from the same world. Your speed and effectiveness, in my world, could invite a devastating storm. I… I can’t handle it.”

Can’t handle it. Not unwilling, but unable to bear it.

Pei Yan’s heart felt tightly squeezed, a sour ache spreading through him. He could almost picture Wen Yelan right now: a slight frown, a pale face, those beautiful eyes filled with confusion and an almost instinctive panic, like a small animal cornered on a cliff, warily watching everyone who tried to approach, including him.

“I’m sorry.” Pei Yan apologized hoarsely. These three words were foreign and difficult for him, but they were sincere now: “I didn’t realize… I would scare you.”

Silence fell over the phone again. A long silence, leaving only the subtle sounds of their breathing transmitted through the current, heavy and oppressive.

Pei Yan gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles white. He had a strong premonition that if he didn’t say something now, if he let Wen Yelan hang up like this, they might truly be finished. That iceberg would refreeze, becoming thicker and more inaccessible than ever before.

“I want to see you.” Pei Yan blurted out, his tone carrying an earnestness, even a hint of desperation, that he hadn’t realized was there: “Wen Yelan, now. I want to see you.”

Wen Yelan seemed startled by his directness, his breathing hitching for a moment.

“…It’s too late.” He refused in a low voice, his tone evasive.

“I’ll send you the address.” Pei Yan didn’t give him a chance to refuse, his voice becoming forceful, carrying a sense of make-or-break resolve: “I’ll come to you, or I’ll pick you up. Choose one.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to see him immediately, confirm his existence, feel his warmth, even just looking at his cold face was better than this heart-wrenching uncertainty.

Having said that, Pei Yan hung up before Wen Yelan could respond, then quickly sent the location of the suburban villa. He stared at the screen, his heart pounding violently in his chest, like a prisoner awaiting judgment.

Time passed minute by minute, each second feeling extraordinarily long. Pei Yan paced back and forth in the empty living room. He lit a cigarette and then put it out, repeating the action several times before finally crumpling the pack in frustration and throwing it into the trash.

He kept looking at his phone, but the screen remained dark. Wen Yelan hadn’t replied, hadn’t refused, and hadn’t agreed.

Just as Pei Yan was about to give up, grabbing his car keys and preparing to rush straight to Wen Yelan’s small apartment, the phone screen finally lit up.

I’ll take a taxi over.

Pei Yan’s heart plummeted back into place, only to be immediately filled with a more turbulent mix of anticipation and anxiety.

He was coming.

……

The night was deep. A taxi stopped outside the villa’s wrought-iron gate.

The night wind carried the chill of late autumn, stirring the soft black hair on Wen Yelan’s forehead. He pulled his gray overcoat tighter around him.

He looked up at a brightly lit detached villa. The massive glass windows were like cold obsidian in the darkness, reflecting the sparse starlight. Completely different from his cramped, noisy little apartment, this place was luxurious, vast, and carried an aloofness that kept people at bay.

It was a microcosm of Pei Yan’s world.