Several of the Sang family’s aunties were trembling in the living room, their mouths gagged and their hands and feet bound.
Seeing Gong Ze, they shook their heads desperately, urging him to call the police, signaling with their eyes that there was danger upstairs.
Gong Ze went over, untied them, and told them to leave the house.
“How can we do that? That man is holding a knife! And Young Master Sang is still upstairs — we have to call the police!”
“Trust me.”
Gong Ze didn’t explain further. He simply told them, “Actually, that’s a friend of mine. He’s playing a joke. I’ll handle it. You go now.”
The aunties exchanged uncertain glances. Perhaps years of obedience to their employer had become a habit. They left the Sang residence, still doubtful.
After doing this, Gong Ze continued upstairs.
The system, which had been shocked into silence by the zeroed affection and forgiveness scores, finally reacted. Terrified, it flew in front of Gong Ze.
[Host, you can’t go upstairs! You know perfectly well that Sang You’s affection and forgiveness scores went to zero because—]
“Yes, I understand.”
But Gong Ze still went up.
He hadn’t even let the aunties call the police, because he had long foreseen this very ending.
[Host, we can start over! I believe that even if it’s a dead-end, if you really put your mind to it, it’ll definitely work out!]
The system tried to convince him.
Gong Ze didn’t speak. He simply raised his hand, patted it, rubbed its smooth little head, and then walked past it up the stairs.
[Host…]
Watching the man’s retreating figure, the system’s nose stung with a pang of sadness.
On the other side, Gong Ze pushed open the door to Sang You’s bedroom.
Qin Chuan — whom he hadn’t seen in a while — had turned into a vagrant, disheveled and wretched. He held a knife, his arm wrapped around the young master’s neck. Gong Ze glanced at Sang You’s pale, bloodless face, then at Qin Chuan’s bloodshot eyes. Taking in the scene before him, he curled the corner of his mouth.
Should I say, as expected?
But his smile only enraged Qin Chuan.
Having spent these past days hiding like a rat in the sewers, more miserable than a mouse, Qin Chuan gnashed his teeth and roared at Gong Ze, bloodlust in his eyes: “Gong Ze, you bitch!”
“All of this was your doing! Yan Liben was just your dog! You killed my father, and you tried to kill me!”
What made it even more humiliating for Qin Chuan was that he had seen the hotel surveillance footage.
All along, he had thought it was Gong Ze making love to him. But in reality — it had been Yan Liben!
The moment he saw the video, Qin Chuan felt worse than death.
He wanted to vomit. He burned with venomous hatred, wishing he could tear Gong Ze apart with a thousand cuts.
Gong Ze’s tense demeanor relaxed into laziness. Nonchalantly, the man pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and under the watchful eyes of Qin Chuan and Sang You, placed one between his lips and lit it.
Taking a drag, Gong Ze ran a hand through his hair and leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture askew.
“I’m not denying it.” One hand in his pocket, the other toying with a Zippo lighter, he raised an eyebrow at Qin Chuan. “I did all of this. You came here to get revenge on me. But do you really think you can manage it?”
Seeing his leisurely movements, Qin Chuan’s eyes nearly split with rage. He pressed the knife closer to Sang You’s throat. “I can’t manage it? Heh — Gong Ze! Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill him?!”
“If you don’t want him dead, you’d better cuff your own hands and feet with the handcuffs on that table. Otherwise, I really will do it—”
Gong Ze bit his cigarette and narrowed his eyes at the pathetic Qin Chuan.
Just then, Sang You looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “A Ze, save me.”
Seeing his plea, Gong Ze’s expression finally changed.
His gaze met Sang You’s, as if trying to see through the young master’s heart — or perhaps as if he were grieving. He looked at his young master and smiled. “And what about you, baby? What’s your opinion?”
Sang You: “…”
After a long silence, Sang You’s voice was as rough as if rubbed with gravel. Hoarsely, he said, “It’s probably best that we cooperate for now.”
“I see.”
Gong Ze was still smiling, but the light in his eyes had dimmed.
He stared unblinkingly at his young master. In his pupils were a squeezed-out tenderness and a trace of sorrow. He walked slowly to the desk where the handcuffs lay and locked his own hands and feet.
No matter how Qin Chuan howled and urged him to hurry, Gong Ze’s movements remained slow.
For ten minutes, his gaze never left his young master.
But the young master showed signs of struggling — yet never once opened his mouth to say “stop.”
So Gong Ze’s eyes gradually dimmed. Finally, he lowered his head and shook it with a bitter smile, fastening the last end of the handcuffs around his own left wrist.
Upon seeing this, Qin Chuan could barely contain himself. He released Sang You and lunged forward, punching Gong Ze in the face and knocking him down.
Then came a relentless flurry of punches and kicks.
Gong Ze curled his body to protect his head and internal organs.
His cheekbone stung. The handle of the knife slammed viciously against his head. The inside of his mouth was cut open by his own teeth and Qin Chuan’s fists, and blood was seeping out. His abdomen took several kicks.
His spleen was probably ruptured. At least one rib and his left leg were definitely broken.
Gong Ze counted each blow that landed on him — one, two, three…
[Host, fight back! If this continues, you’re going to be beaten to death!] The little golden ball wailed.
Gong Ze wanted to say he had a limit.
He knew how many more hits he could take before he died. He must look truly pathetic right now — the system was almost in tears. But why?
Gong Ze wondered.
Why hadn’t he heard his young master shout “stop” yet?
Why hadn’t he heard Sang You waver, hadn’t heard him call his name?
Perhaps even a pervert has his pride.
The more critical the moment, the worse his temper becomes.
Gong Ze decided not to get up until Sang You called out to him.
So more wounds appeared on Gong Ze’s body. Furious and blind with rage, Qin Chuan finally raised the knife and began slashing wildly at Gong Ze’s shoulder, stabbing repeatedly.
Deep, crimson gashes opened between the flesh, and blood gushed out in torrents.
Qin Chuan felt a savage satisfaction: “Gong Ze, look at you now! I’m going to make you feel the pain I’ve suffered all these days! If it weren’t for you, my father wouldn’t have died!”
“You think you’re infallible? You think your revenge succeeded? Bet you didn’t see this coming — I’m still alive! And I’m going to kill you!”
He grabbed Gong Ze’s hair, pulling his head back, and raised the knife to slash that face.
That damned face that had bewitched him!
Qin Chuan thought venomously.
Sang You watched the spilling red from the sidelines. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he whispered in a trembling voice, “Stop…”
“Stop…”
Then his trembling mutter turned into a scream: “Enough! Stop!”
“A Ze!”
The man who had seemed resigned to be Qin Chuan’s victim — who was being held up by the hair — suddenly seized Qin Chuan’s wrist.
In Qin Chuan’s stunned, panicked eyes, Gong Ze — blood streaming down his forehead, covering one eye — grinned at him.
“Your punches are too weak, you dumb shit.”
Then he slammed his head into Qin Chuan’s nose.
“Ah—”
Blood spurted from Qin Chuan’s nose.
Screaming, he clutched his face. The knife fell to the floor.
Before he could retrieve it, Gong Ze had already picked it up and, without hesitation, plunged it into his neck.
The moment Gong Ze pulled the knife back, he avoided the spray of blood. He watched as Qin Chuan fell to the ground, clutching his neck — as if he couldn’t understand why he had lost so suddenly.
His body twitched on the floor. His wide, resentful eyes turned to Sang You — and then he suddenly smiled.
“Gong… Ze…”
His ruined throat made a rattling sound.
Qin Chuan stared at Gong Ze and spat out one last, twisted smile: “You won’t… get a good ending… you…”
Before he could finish, he was dead.
Gong Ze was unlocking his handcuffs when a figure suddenly threw itself into his arms. Along with a soft “thud,” Gong Ze stumbled back two steps.
He slowly looked down.
Around the box cutter embedded in his abdomen, pain and blood were seeping out together.
Gong Ze was silent.
After a few quiet seconds, he helplessly raised his hands — avoiding the handcuffs — and gently stroked Sang You’s hair. His lowered gaze was as tender as ever.
“Couldn’t you have waited? At least until I got these handcuffs off. So I could catch you properly.”
“I promised you — if I ever hurt you, even if you came to kill me, I would stand still and let you. My little young master — why couldn’t you trust me?”
Sang You looked up, his face twisted with hatred.
“You killed my parents!”
“You lied to me! You lied, you lied, you lied——”
You said you didn’t kill them. You said you loved me more than anything. You said you would find the murderer. You said you would propose to me when I turned 22.
Sang You’s hand holding the knife kept pushing forward. Gong Ze’s blood stained his hands red.
His world was already destroyed.
Sang You didn’t understand.
“Why does every bad thing have to happen to me… Why did the person who killed my parents have to be the one I love most…”
His beautiful eyes were hollow as he asked Gong Ze, “So my parents, who were so good to me, were murderers. So the happiness and wealth I enjoyed — that’s how it all came to me? Then what am I? A murderer’s child?”
“I’m not a good person either! I’m guilty too! I’m also a murderer!”
Sang You screamed.
But then, suddenly, he smiled.
As if reverting to his normal self, Sang You leaned softly against Gong Ze’s chest, clinging to him like a wronged child. With a sweet smile, he said, “A Ze, let’s die together. If we both die, it’ll all be over.”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“A Ze, I am my parents’ child. If I forgive you, I can’t forgive myself. I’m sorry, A Ze… But my parents did wrong you… So I will die with you.”
“…”
Gong Ze looked silently at the young master, whose face was streaked with tears. He gently wiped his face, avoiding the handcuffs.
As if the fatal wound in his abdomen wasn’t about to take his life.
He held his young master close, closed his eyes, then opened them again. In his pupils was a clear, sorrowful clarity.
“Alright.”
He agreed.
Kissing the top of the young master’s head, Gong Ze coaxed him softly. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have overthought things. I should have taken you with me.”
No matter how he calculated it, what he left behind for Sang You would only be pain. He would be left alone. He was wrong.
Hearing this, Sang You’s expression was one of relief and happiness.
His mind had clearly deteriorated under too much trauma. Perhaps he had already forgotten what he said earlier.
Gong Ze rubbed his thumb against Sang You’s soft cheek. Suddenly, his vision went black. He stumbled, twice, before regaining his balance.
He knew — his time was almost up.
So Gong Ze kissed Sang You’s eyelids and said dotingly, “But before we go together, there’s one more thing we need.”
He carried the barely conscious Sang You to the study.
Blood dripped from his body, splattering onto the floor.
The pain made Gong Ze’s face pale. Cold sweat soaked his temples.
Sitting down in the chair he always used, Gong Ze opened the drawer and took out the ring box he had prepared long ago. He slipped the ring onto the young master’s ring finger.
“I promise you… In life or in death, I will always be with you.”
He kissed the young master’s finger softly.
Gong Ze’s breathing grew labored. He looked at Sang You, whose eyes were empty. Then, to the sound of the system’s sobs, he pulled the box cutter from his abdomen. In his final moment, he pressed it against Sang You’s chest — the young master who was leaning trustingly against his shoulder, his gaze pure and dazed.
Gong Ze smiled and raised the box cutter.
“Goodnight, my little young master.”
“Goodnight, A Ze.”
Sang You said softly.
…
…
“Shhh——”
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