Chapter 52– Wine and Poison
In a standard room at the XXX Hotel, Andre sat slouched on the single arm chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. The dim lamp cast a low amber glow across the room, throwing sharp shadows across his sharp features. The phone call with Yichen replayed in his mind, a flash of something flashes ina his eyes . He had told him the location deliberately, certain Yichen would come.
After the call, Andre had dialed the number Ge Lin had sent him. The transaction had been quick, almost too easy. The man was already nearby—at the same bar. A brief exchange, a transfer of money, and the small package was his. He had slipped it into his pocket and walked away without hesitation.
Now, hours later, the small white pills lay in his palm, catching the dim light. He turned them over between his fingers, his eyes unreadable, darkened silver gleaming with a dangerous glint.
He booked a standard room—nothing lavish, nothing suspicious. A student couldn't afford extravagance, and Andre knew appearances mattered. He wanted this night to look ordinary, to look harmless. He had even ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses, setting them carefully on the small table as if preparing for a casual meeting.
But the second glass had a purpose.
He poured himself drink after drink, swallowing down the burn until half the bottle was gone. It dulled nothing. If anything, it sharpened the fire simmering inside him.
I don't know what tonight will bring, he thought, watching the pills glint against his skin. But I know I must do it. Tonight.
…
Thirty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.
Andre lifted his head, lips twitching faintly. Right on time.
A glance at the clock told him it was 10:50 p.m. He had deliberately chosen a hotel far from the house, but Yichen had still come quickly. That alone revealed more than the man would ever admit.
Andre rose, smoothed a hand through his hair, and walked to the door. He opened it calmly, his silver eyes colliding with the tall figure waiting outside.
Zhen Yichen.
He was dressed simply—white shirt, black pants. No suit jacket, no tie, stripped of his usual sharp corporate armor. He looked almost casual, though even now, elegance clung to him like a second skin. Draped over one arm was a black jacket. Andre's jacket. The sight of it made Andre to think. 'He even brought it back to me'.
Yichen's face was composed, as it always was, the expression of a man who never let the world see his cracks. But Andre knew better. He had glimpsed that hidden side once before. And tonight….
Without a word, Andre stepped aside, opening the door wider. A silent invitation.
Yichen studied him for a beat. The young man's hair was slightly disheveled, evidence of restless fingers raking through it. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… they gleamed too dark, too intent.
Yichen entered, his steps unhurried, measured. His back faced Andre as he said evenly, "We need to talk."
Andre's hand slid to the door, quietly turning the lock. The click echoed softly in the silence. The keys slipped smoothly into his pocket. His movements were casual, but his aura radiated something colder, sharper.
Danger.
Andre walked back to the sofa, his tall figure passing Yichen with quiet dominance. He sat down, draping an arm lazily along the backrest. His silver eyes, darker than mercury, fixed on Yichen with the sharpness of a predator.
At eighteen after few months of not seeing the young man, Andre was already taller than Yichen, his frame broader, his aura heavier. Sitting there, calm and poised, he exuded a force that unsettled even Yichen.
For the first time in years—not since his youth, not even when his grandfather had unmasked his lies—Zhen Yichen felt a trace of fear. His chest tightened, his body stiffened. But his face revealed nothing.
"Oh?" Andre's voice was calm, smooth as glass. "Then please, sit down, Mr. Zhen Yichen."
He gestured toward the other armchair.
Yichen hesitated, his sharp gaze scanning the boy. He was thinking, how the boy as changed so much in the pace of just five months. But finally, he lowered himself into the seat opposite.
…..
For a long moment, silence reigned. Two minutes stretched like hours, their eyes occasionally meeting, clashing in silence.
Finally, Yichen broke it. "Andre, I'm sorry you had to find out like this. But the truth had to come out. Your mother insisted on telling you, even from the beginning. It was I who opposed it… thinking secrecy would make the marriage more convincing."
Andre said nothing. His eyes were distant, fixed somewhere beyond the room. He gave nothing away.
Yichen pressed on, his voice calm, deliberate. "Your mother and I are friends. At that time, I was under immense pressure from my family to marry. They wanted me tied to a business partner's daughter. But I… I couldn't. I wasn't going to trap an innocent woman. So I confided in your mother. I told her my truth—that I'm not into women. I asked her to help me. To act as my wife. To bring you here with her."
"...."
He exhaled softly. "She wanted to tell you. She argued with me about it. But I refused. I thought keeping you in the dark would make the lie stronger, protect us all. That was my mistake. Not hers. She doesn't deserve your anger. If you're angry at anyone, be angry at me."
Still, Andre said nothing. His stillness was more terrifying than any outburst could have been.
The silence pressed in again.
Andre rose, his movements unhurried, and walked to the side table near the bed. He lifted the wine bottle, filling two glasses—his and the empty one.
Yichen's brows drew together faintly. 'Wine?. Andre drinks?. When had this boy started?.' He had always imagined Andre as restrained, disciplined, disdainful of indulgence, even though that night he acted unusually, he still believe it was pent up emotion. Yet here he was, casually pouring alcohol like it was second nature. The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
At least it was wine, not something harder. Still, his mind spun. Why pour two glasses? Does he intend to offer me one? After everything that's happened?
Andre returned to his seat with both glasses in hand. His voice was smooth, almost polite. "Mr. Zhen," he said evenly, extending one of the filled glasses, "have a drink with me."
The wine glinted red in the low light, the glass trembling faintly in Andre's steady grip.
Yichen looked at it, then at Andre's face. His heart gave the faintest, untraceable tremor.
The young man's silver eyes gleamed darkly, unreadable yet brimming with something dangerous.
Something that promised tonight would be anything but ordinary.