4 Insomnia

Page 1/3

Xie Guilan’s eyes remained cold and gloomy, yet there was finally a flicker of confusion. He was injured, and having Cen Wu make him stay up late to do homework was, indeed, a form of punishment. But compared to what Cen Wu had made him endure before, this was nothing.

Cen Wu’s cheeks were pale as snow, beads of sweat glistening lightly. His eyes were misty and cautious as he glanced up at Xie Guilan, then quickly looked away, his trembling eyelashes like a startled sparrow.

Xie Guilan had to admit, he always felt Cen Wu was different tonight from before. But he knew better than anyone that no matter how weak and innocent the façade, beneath it lay intense darkness.

Since he was taken in by the Xie family at seven, it had been ten years. This person had ruined his winter coat, packed snow into his boots, and made him feed horses in the stable like that. He locked him in a dark attic during illness until someone found him and reluctantly let him out. Tonight, he even forced him to kneel, whipped him publicly with a riding crop, and trampled on him.

…And now he was making him do homework?

Xie Guilan stared coldly at Cen Wu, unable to guess what humiliation Cen Wu had planned this time. But he was too lazy to think it through. He picked up the exercise books and headed to the corridor to work.

Cen Wu had a fiery and reckless temperament; who knew if he might suddenly lose control in the middle of the night and find it disgusting to have him in his bedroom?

Xie Guilan stood, but his injuries were severe, and after kneeling through a storm for half the night, his head grew heavy and darkened. Suddenly, his body lost control and collapsed.

!!!

Cen Wu instinctively reached out to catch him, but Xie Guilan was well over half a head taller, nearly 1.9 meters, and despite his slenderness, he was overwhelmingly heavy.

This is it.

Cen Wu thought.

“Master!” Just as Cen Wu tightened his arms to hold Xie Guilan, bracing for his own head to hit the floor hard, the old butler appeared and scooped him up.

The old servant had arrived.

His arms were steady and reassuring; worry creased his aged face. “Are you alright?”

Cen Wu: “...”

Cen Wu: “I’m fine.”

The butler then gently set Xie Guilan on the bed and brought clean clothes for him to change into.

He had intended to take Xie Guilan to the guest room, but Cen Wu followed anxiously, his fingers clutching at Xie Guilan’s jacket, clearly unwilling to let him be taken away.

The original master was well-behaved before his parents, so the butler didn’t know how cruel and violent this young master was outside. Not just bad-tempered, but deeply hostile; all he knew was that the relationship between Cen Wu and Xie Guilan was strained.

But as the butler for the Cen family, his loyalty lay with them. If Cen Wu wanted Xie Guilan to stay, then so be it.

Cen Wu was indeed nervous, his calves trembling slightly. He realized that even if Xie Guilan hadn’t acted, once the truth about the real and fake young masters came out, anyone from the Cen family could easily finish him off.

A national-level butler’s record was verifiable—snuffing out a weakling like him would be effortless.

It would never get better.

Cen Wu dared not think further. He went to fetch Doctor Lu, and by the time they returned, the butler had already changed Xie Guilan’s clothes.

Only the original master’s elder brother was close in height to Xie Guilan, but at seventeen or eighteen, Xie Guilan’s slim youth made the shirt hang loose and empty on his frame.

“Start an IV drip first,” Doctor Lu re-examined Xie Guilan and found no major issues, though he had suddenly developed a high fever. “The rest can wait until the fever subsides. As long as the wounds don’t get infected, it’s fine.”

Page 2/3

Xie Guilan’s complexion was icy pale, now flushed unnaturally red; his usually pale lips burned a deep crimson.

“Master, it’s very late. You should go to sleep,” the butler coaxed Cen Wu. “I’ll take care of Young Master Xie.”

In his previous life, Cen Wu was a director—not poor—but he never got used to ordering servants around.

Besides, he was the youngest in the family, and since Xie Guilan was brought in by him, he felt too embarrassed to ask for help.

“I… I’ll stay,” Cen Wu hurriedly said. “Uncle Zhang, you all should go to sleep. Doctor Lu, you should rest too.”

He knew how to change IV bags and remove needles; being summoned suddenly at one in the morning made him uneasy.

The original master was abrasive and hated being contradicted. The butler was uneasy but knew he was dealing with a formidable character and reluctantly agreed.

“Master,” the butler reminded him, “Doctor Lu and I will be in the guest room downstairs tonight. If anything happens, we’ll come immediately.”

Fearing to anger Cen Wu, the remaining servants left promptly, even helping to close the door behind them.

“...”

Cen Wu waited silently for a few minutes until he was sure everyone was gone. He rubbed his stiff cheeks and finally released the tension that had gripped him all night.

Even the corners of his lips involuntarily turned up.

No! One! Left!

Only Xie Guilan remained, unconscious and, though it sounded impolite, almost lifeless.

If not for the fear that Xie Guilan might suddenly wake and socially embarrass him into leaving this earth, Cen Wu would have happily rolled around on the bed—after all, it was outrageously spacious.

He tucked Xie Guilan’s covers, took out his phone, and lay down beside the bed, beginning to enjoy a rare moment of solitude despite his social anxiety.

Earlier, the butler had messaged the original master’s older brother to borrow clothes, and Cen Wu hadn’t thanked him yet.

Making the best of the situation, Cen Wu planned to care for the male lead as best as he could without offending Xie Shangjing.

Of course, he didn’t dare offend any of the Cen family.

He would play it safe for now, and once Xie Guilan disliked him less, he’d try to expose the fake and true young master. Then, when Xie Guilan returned home, he would run away, and everyone’s future would be bright.

But as soon as he powered on his phone, dozens of messages popped up, vibrating his palm to numbness.

“...”

The dead social anxiety attacked again.

Cen Wu felt like he was holding a hot potato. After a few minutes, he nervously tapped the top chat box—and was immediately hit in the face by a photo of abs.

???

Cen Wu had a bad feeling. He clicked through one by one. As expected, almost all were messages sent to the original master showing off chest and abdominal muscles, along with gym atmosphere shots.

Cen Wu: “...”

Bro, you—

Cen Wu was a director. Despite his social anxiety, he had over three thousand friends—actors, crew members, investors, and film reviewers.

But the original master had six thousand friends, over a thousand of whom were grouped separately under the label “Fish Pond.”

Opening the group, Cen Wu scrolled through notes mostly saying things like “Brother So-and-So.”

The chat content included but was not limited to:

Page 3/3

“Brother, look at these abs.”

“The moonlight is beautiful tonight, did you see it? Little Wu, do you miss me? I miss you a lot.”

“Chest muscles are a bit small, keep training.”

“Don’t mind me, go play with Young Master Xie. I’ll always be here waiting for you. Can I invite you to dinner tomorrow night?”

“...”

What a cross-server chat.

Although Xie Shangjing liked the original master, he was never short of people around him—men and women alike, recently even dating a popular high school senior.

He had his own love life but forbade the original master from dating. The original master was no pushover. The Cen and Xie families were equally powerful. If the Cen family never discovered he was a fake, why should he endure Xie Shangjing?

These people were acquaintances from parties and bars, added as friends for flirtatious banter.

But he was too cowardly to test Xie Shangjing’s limits. Any extra contact—forget the bedroom stuff—even holding hands could get him into trouble.

Of course, life was more important.

Cen Wu scrolled through the original master’s circle of friends again and was instantly overwhelmed by a flood of chest and abdominal muscle photos.

Nobody knew how many people the original master had added. Everyone thought they were one of the special few. The Cen family’s power was immense, and being close to the original master saved a lifetime of detours, so everyone posted enthusiastically.

Admittedly, the original master had many flaws, but his taste was good. None of those muscles looked overtrained; they were symmetrical, with restrained yet sexy lines.

And the photography was excellent—the gym’s dim, cold lighting highlighted broad shoulders and narrow waist, making the shark line stand out vividly.

Cen Wu: “...”

How strange. One more look.

He lay there, looking at abs, chest muscles, back muscles—all handsome men without showing faces. But even the best bodies became greasy after too long. He still thought of Xie Guilan’s IV bag. When he changed it, looking down at Xie Guilan’s closed eyes and still cold, handsome face, he felt cleansed.

He looked at the abs for a while, then glanced up at Xie Guilan.

Xie Guilan was sensitive to others’ gazes. When Cen Wu stared, he furrowed his brows slightly in his sleep but was too exhausted to fully awaken.

Xie’s father had a notorious romantic history that Cen Wu preferred not to comment on, but Xie Guilan had nothing to do with it.

It took only minutes to abduct a child who didn’t belong, but Xie Guilan’s road home was measured in a lifetime.

At this thought, Cen Wu’s expression softened with a fatherly tenderness. Seeing Xie Guilan’s troubled frown and restless sleep, he reached out to pat the blanket.

Xie Guilan vaguely sensed someone caring for him; those palms were soft, gentle in pressure. The medicine from earlier was taking effect; his eyelids grew heavier.

Cen Wu fell into a strange cycle: look at abs, then at Xie Guilan; Xie Guilan woke for some unknown reason, so he patted him again; then back to the abs, then Xie Guilan, then…

In between, he had to check the IV bag, change the medicine, and fuss over Xie Guilan until past three in the morning. His eyes began to glaze over.

Cen Wu: “...”

So tired.

The original story never mentioned the male lead had insomnia.