The real young master thought he was hated by everyone

Translation:

Bai Ruan rarely felt as good as he did now. From a month ago, or perhaps even earlier one morning, he had already started preparing for today’s meeting.

He had prepared two gifts for his “cousin.” One was a game the other liked, a hard-to-find vinyl record, and a bouquet of baby’s breath mixed with white daisies. He remembered that, unlike roses or lilies, his cousin preferred those small, not particularly beautiful flowers.

As for the other gift, he had spent even more time on it to ensure it was shocking enough. That gift primarily concerned Lin Mo, his current boyfriend in name.

It included records of him being bullied in elementary school for not fitting in; there were also images of him being called a “sissy” and getting cornered in the bathroom during middle school.

Although there was less to dig up from high school, and it was harder to find information, he still managed to get a few unnamed chat logs.

Lin Mo’s past experiences, combined with a story detailing how he broke Xue Ce’s leg—not out of warmth or coincidence, but of deliberate intent and manipulation—would surely elicit a delightful, surprising reaction when the recipient got the gift.

Bai Ruan actually detested Lin Mo, both in terms of personality and in other aspects.

Even when playing the role of “boyfriend,” aside from the necessary hints and prompts, he wouldn’t even look at the messages. Instead, he would toss the phone to his assistant, leaving it to them to deal with.

But he had no choice. He had to pick him as his breakthrough point.

He knew how his dear cousin was always overflowing with sympathy, always finding someone to pity, and Lin Mo just happened to fall within his realm of concern.

Since he couldn’t obtain his cousin’s pity himself, he found someone else who could—Lin Mo. What Lin Mo thought or how he would react when he discovered the truth was never part of Bai Ruan’s concern.

That would be a problem for the gift recipient to agonize over.

He only needed to ensure one thing—that Lin Mo was completely in his grasp, influenced by just a few simple words, driven into a frenzy, and pulled into the mire by the shadows of his past.

He implied that Lin Mo was worthless and might as well disappear, and he truly did seem willing to give up his life.

With a smile, Bai Ruan sat at the restaurant seat he had reserved long in advance, already anticipating what was to come with a rare sense of relaxed pleasure. He indulged his boyfriend’s chatter, listening to him talk about how the professor was in the recent class, and how his roommate—his dear cousin—had suddenly taken a leave of absence.

In the midst of this, Bai Ruan found himself humming a song he had recently enjoyed.

He had researched Li Heng’s interests, and it turned out that the song he was humming was one his cousin liked, too.

However, even amidst this delight, he felt a faint bitterness.

In his view, Li Heng had taken leave to meet him, to prevent him from doing something to Lin Mo. This only confirmed that Li Heng considered Lin Mo very important.

But how could someone like Lin Mo be worth such care and concern?

Indeed, after achieving his goal, Bai Ruan planned to discard him, who would have outlived his usefulness.

He absentmindedly wondered which gift he should present first.

It didn’t really matter—whether the first gift was rejected, the recipient would definitely accept the little trinkets with distress and even shock when he revealed the second.

And if he presented the second gift first, he wouldn’t face any initial rejection, but the charming reaction he liked so much would appear too early, reducing the element of surprise.

Beyond the gifts, there was also today’s lunch.

Bai Ruan suspected that, if he didn’t point it out, his dull cousin might never notice that everything was exactly to his taste.

He hadn’t noticed last night, after all.

With a slight pressure from his tongue against his canine teeth, he recalled last night and felt a sudden itch.

Those supposedly covert investigations and observations had been like feathers, tickling his already limited patience to its breaking point.

He had initially planned to keep Lin Mo dangling a bit longer, to advance gradually, but after last night, he found himself unable to wait any longer.

He had a lot of patience—just not when it came to Li Heng, his dear cousin. Or rather, the cousin who had come so close to becoming his “brother.”

It was as if fate had gone slightly off track, but it was still within bearable limits.

Bai Ruan had always liked those who lacked aggression, whose looks and personality matched perfectly with his tastes.

It reminded him of the little white dog from the orphanage.

No matter how he treated the dog, as long as he held a bone and beckoned, the little dog would wag its tail and happily approach him. After forming the habit, he didn’t even need the bone anymore; just beckoning was enough.

Maybe it was because humans were different from little white dogs, or maybe it was because he had only seen the dog and hadn’t truly experienced it—whatever the case, he found himself even more fascinated by someone who, despite despising and fearing him, would muster the courage to resist him.

He was even more eager to possess this person.

To make him even more fearful yet incapable of refusal, whether panicked or anxious, all emotions under his tight control, all bestowed by him.

Rather than smiles, Bai Ruan preferred to see his cousin cry—grieving with tears, so pathetically vulnerable, yet having no one else to turn to for support except him.

Perhaps his affection was not in line with the conventional definition, but that was how Bai Ruan’s love worked.

The mere thought of his cousin becoming the person he had “seen” sent a shuddering thrill of excitement through him.

Only a few minutes had passed since receiving the message, but he was already impatient.

He took a deep breath, and though to the other guests it seemed as though he had done nothing, he had actually glanced at the restaurant entrance countless times, listening to the footsteps of other patrons, trying to determine if the person he was waiting for had arrived.

Impatience got the better of him. He decided that, when they met, he would present his second gift first.

If he had booked the entire restaurant, no one would disturb them.

He had considered it when he made the reservation but ultimately decided against it. A lack of other patrons meant he could be bolder, but it would also deprive him of certain pleasures.

The person he invited didn’t really know him, but he knew that person very well.

He knew that if there were other patrons around, if this was still a semi-public space, his dear cousin would be more restrained, holding back out of consideration for others.

And he liked watching him restrain himself, trying not to inconvenience those around him.

While waiting, he maintained a polite smile and asked the server for paper and a pen, beginning to sketch on the clean sheet.

Though he had never formally studied sketching, thanks to what he had “seen”—or perhaps what another version of him had learned—he moved his pen with practiced ease, betraying none of the hesitations of a beginner.

His expression was gentle, even with a hint of tenderness and affection, as he drew a small portrait, carefully slipping the paper into the bouquet he had brought.

Once he took care of the loose ends, he planned to formally study art—even if he didn’t particularly enjoy it.

The moment a tall, upright figure sat down in front of him, he snapped out of his playful reverie, his expression instantly shifting to one of disdain and displeasure.

His bubble of joy had been burst.

“Where’s Heng?” he asked, irritation seeping into his tone.

He was so disinterested that he didn’t even bother to say Xie Duzhi’s name. “Is he in your car?”

“Do you think I’d let him come?” Xie Duzhi asked calmly in response, polite enough to greet him.

“Bai Ruan, it’s been a while.”

A cold snort was the only answer he received.

Bai Ruan had no interest in seeing Xie Duzhi. Even though his goal had previously been to make him lose everything, now, Xie Duzhi was just an obstacle—a simple one at that.

Nobody likes obstacles, and Bai Ruan was no exception.

If Xie Duzhi stayed out of his way, if he didn’t interfere with his plans, Bai Ruan could pretend the man didn’t even exist.

But Xie Duzhi had come instead of the person he really wanted to see.

And suddenly, the discrepancies Bai Ruan had been deliberately ignoring became intolerable, a thorn in his throat, making him want to correct his “mistake” immediately.

If it wasn’t for this nuisance standing in front of him, he should be “Xie Duzhi.”

That’s what he thought.

Although Xie Duzhi was already named Xie Duzhi—even had the Xie family name. But after experiencing that dream—more accurately, after he had lived through that experience—he found a way to persuade Mrs. Xie to change his name.

“Think, and then act”—compared to “Xie Ruan,” “Duzhi” was much more fitting, a name that made him sound more like family.

There was a reason he hated Xie Duzhi before, and he hated him even more now.

“You seem surprised that I’m the one who came.”

Ignoring Bai Ruan’s reaction, Xie Duzhi’s tone remained even, without a hint of apology. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“What exactly were you planning?” he asked Bai Ruan, glancing at the gifts placed on the seat beside him. His brows furrowed ever so slightly.

He hadn’t expected to see flowers, or anything that Li Heng would clearly like.

It didn’t make sense.

Even if Bai Ruan had hired someone to investigate, there was no way he could have gotten this far.

The information Xie Duzhi had gathered didn’t include these details.

What kind of flowers he liked, his preferred music… those were things he had discovered gradually in the course of interacting with him.

Li Heng wasn’t the kind of person who would make his preferences obvious.

Could his roommates have told Bai Ruan about it?

Based on Lin Mo’s observation skills, Xie Duzhi thought that was unlikely.

Without betraying his thoughts, he mentally noted the inconsistency and continued to probe the person across from him. “I’m guessing you planned to tell him about Lin Mo’s past, about how pitiful he was—”

“And how important you are to Lin Mo now. So important you can easily control his life and death.”

“What does it matter to you?” Bai Ruan sneered. “Don’t you think you’re overstepping?”

“You’re not my target, and I’m not the least bit interested in you right now. I’m not planning to play any stupid games where I turn you into a hated, ruined figure.”

He laid it all out, dismissing Xie Duzhi’s concern as unnecessary.

This had nothing to do with Xie Duzhi at all.

“Influencing Heng’s roommate to affect him, and then doing something to you—I guess that’s what you thought, right? Sorry to disappoint you, but you don’t even qualify as my ultimate goal.”

His words were blunt, stripping away any pretense or disguise. He grabbed the gifts he had prepared, stood up decisively, and prepared to leave the restaurant.

If he stayed any longer, he might be unable to resist tearing Xie Duzhi’s face apart or branding the word “impostor” across it.

That would be like stirring the grass and alerting the snake—too reckless.

He didn’t want his true face exposed because of some trivial matter before he even got close to Li Heng.

He wanted to take it slower, more methodically.

“Oh? I thought you were scared.” Xie Duzhi didn’t stop him. “After all, you never managed to beat me at the orphanage, let alone now.”

“I have the entire Xie family behind me. But the Bai family—”

Xie Duzhi paused here. “It seems like you and Mrs. Bai Wei are just in a mutually beneficial relationship. She wouldn’t risk a direct confrontation with me just to protect you.”

The Xie family had been steadily growing in strength over the years, while the Bai family’s industries seemed to be declining. If it came to a head-to-head clash, their odds weren’t great.

Besides, Xie Duzhi had his own company.

“Bai Ruan, are you just trying to come up with excuses for your inevitable failure?”

Just before the other figure walked away, Xie Duzhi taunted with a sneer.

He was deliberately provoking him, knowing he would rise to the bait.

Bai Ruan looked down on everyone except himself, and it was impossible for him to remain calm in the face of such high-and-mighty disdain from a former loser.

He sat back down, sneering. “Are you scared I’ll go straight to Li Heng’s school once I leave?”

Xie Duzhi didn’t answer, instead rejecting Bai Ruan’s earlier words.

“Bai Ruan, you’ve made a crucial mistake.”

He tapped the table a few times, speaking slowly and evenly. “I’m not here because I’m worried you’ll do something that might affect me.”

“I don’t see you as a threat—never have, never will. Not in the past, not now, and not in the future. You should’ve realized that by now.”

Otherwise, why hadn’t Bai Ruan dared to face him openly for more than ten years, not even making petty moves behind his back?

“The only reason I’m here instead of Heng is simple.”

Xie Duzhi’s expression was calm; you wouldn’t even notice he’d emphasized his brother’s nickname unless you were paying attention.

But Bai Ruan heard it.

He clenched his fists unconsciously, feeling that this person had never seemed so obnoxious.

So obnoxious that every extra second he spent here made the rage inside him flare up uncontrollably.

Xie Duzhi continued, “Your behavior makes him uncomfortable. You’re a disruption to his peace.”

“I’m here to warn you to stay away from him—from now on, as far away as possible.”

“Are you joking?” Bai Ruan interrupted, his voice almost grinding through his teeth.

—Absurd, laughable, utterly ridiculous.

When had the Xie Duzhi he knew ever meddled in such unnecessary affairs?

This machine-like man, who cared about nothing unrelated to himself, actually spouting this kind of nonsense?

“…Do you think I don’t know your true nature?”

Bai Ruan let out a cold laugh. “Don’t you think anyone else would sound more sincere saying those words than you?”

He avoided using “Xie Duzhi’s” name—calling it out felt strange since he felt he had as much right to it as the person in front of him.

But if he was a monster in human guise, exploiting others for his own amusement, he thought that Xie Duzhi wasn’t much different at heart.

The difference was that For Duzhi preferred to cloak his indifference in the guise of moral superiority.

Bai Ruan had tried to draw him in before, knowing they were essentially the same. The only difference was that Xie Duzhi seemed to prefer replacing any other emotion with coldness, using so-called morality as a fig leaf.

“Bai Ruan, you only think you know me.”

Xie Duzhi was unfazed and questioned back, “And why shouldn’t I be here, saying what I just said?”

In fact, he had been troubled by a question from the beginning—

Why, when they’d had so little interaction, did Bai Ruan seem so obsessed with Li Heng?

“I’m his brother,” he said, watching Bai Ruan’s reaction. “Emotionally and logically, it’s my job to care about him, to protect him, to get rid of anything that makes him uncomfortable.”

“But you, Bai Ruan—what right do you have to question me?”

Xie Duzhi’s gaze lingered on the bouquet of daisies with a tiny sketch portrait nestled inside.

Bai Ruan’s drawing style was unique, the kind he’d only seen in Xie Sizhi’s studio.

The sketch showed someone crying, yet the mood it conveyed—or what the artist had intended to convey—was oddly light. The lines were delicate and carefree, almost as if Bai Ruan had enjoyed drawing it.

A possibility flashed through Xie Duzhi’s mind, too quickly for him to grasp.

“What kind of right could I have?” Bai Ruan’s retort came with a mocking smile. “I just can’t stand your hypocrisy.”

“Oh, but what does that have to do with me?” Xie Duzhi was still undisturbed, speaking slowly as he extended a hand, almost like a teacher reprimanding a pupil. “The problem isn’t me, Bai Ruan.”

“I don’t think you’re even aware of the true issue.”

His demeanor was as if he hadn’t just lightly questioned the other moments ago. “I’m not here to negotiate, just to warn you while informing you of this matter.”

“I know your biggest reliance is the Bai family, and besides that, you have some connections you’ve built yourself.”

But those connections don’t have much influence on the bigger picture—the Bai family is the main support behind Bai Ruan’s arrogance.

“I’m going to target the Bai family and your friends to ensure you don’t waste your energy where it doesn’t belong. No need to thank me.”

Bai Ruan’s pupils trembled violently, and he almost blurted out, “Are you crazy?”

Having the power to do it was one thing, but doing it without regard for cost and losses was another.

As a typical businessman, how could Xie Duzhi possibly go that far?

But then he realized—the other man was clearly serious.

Xie Duzhi started listing, with a calm and almost indifferent tone, the various companies under the Bai family’s name, even reciting details about their operations in the first half of the year.

Were they profitable or not, was the cash flow stable, how was the capital chain holding up…

Everything he mentioned was almost exactly in line with what Bai Ruan knew to be true.

“You…!”

Xie Duzhi raised his eyes slightly, “Did you really think I’d come here to warn you without any preparation?”

When dealing with a snake, you must strike its seven-inch weakness. He had already asked Xie Sizhi to help him investigate the Bai family’s situation beforehand.

Even without meeting Bai Ruan, Xie Duzhi had planned to make this move.

The invitation from Bai Ruan merely brought it to the forefront, allowing it to serve as a warning and a deterrent.

“What makes you think there will be a third time for this kind of provocation?”

Bai Ruan didn’t answer.

He stared at Xie Duzhi with a strange expression, and after a long while, realization seemed to hit him hard. His gaze tightened.

Xie Duzhi was never the type to protect his brother so fiercely.

But if that were the case, if he had developed a feeling that shouldn’t exist—then all the oddities and changes would make perfect sense.

“Xie Duzhi, I despise you. You actually feel—”

“Oh?” Xie Duzhi interrupted before he could voice a certain fact.

The young man raised an eyebrow slightly.

“—More than that, I’m curious as to why, since we started talking, you’ve been avoiding saying my name, Bai Ruan?”

Except for just now, throughout their conversation, Bai Ruan had consistently replaced “Xie Duzhi” with “you.”

This made some of his statements mismatched with the emotions he was conveying while speaking.