CHAPTER 58 – Ashes of the Night
The washroom was silent except for the sound of rushing water. Yichen braced both hands against the sink, leaning forward as cold water splashed over his face, down his neck, dripping from his chin in uneven trails. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, pale and drawn, dark hair clinging to damp skin.
But no matter how long he scrubbed, how furiously he let the water run, he could not erase the marks. They were everywhere — scattered across his chest, his throat, the curve of his shoulders, even along his thighs. Dark red, purple, proof of a night that should never have happened.
His brows furrowed sharply as his fingertips brushed over them. The sting of tenderness only dragged the memories closer. Andre's mouth pressing there. His voice, rough with demand. The relentless force of his body claiming what should not have been his to claim.
Yichen squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away from the mirror. He washed again, lower this time, lingering far longer, almost desperately. That place — sore, raw, used until he lost count of how many times. Even hours of cleansing left the phantom sensation lodged deep inside him, a reminder that water alone could not cleanse the truth of what had happened.
By the time he emerged from the washroom, steam clinging faintly to his skin, he already felt exhausted again. He dressed meticulously, layer upon layer, making sure no trace of last night's brutality was visible. His tie sat tight against his throat, covering the marks. His cuffs were buttoned carefully. To the outside world, he looked no different from the composed Zhen Yichen they all knew.
But he knew.
And as he sat briefly on the edge of the bed, staring at the rumpled sheets, his expression hardened. He could not go home. Not like this. Not when Celia would be there, smiling, welcoming him in her warmth, when he still carried the taste of her son's possession on his skin.
He clenched his jaw. She can never know.
His body had betrayed him. No matter how much he had resisted, no matter how many times his pride snarled inside him, he had yielded. Not just once — but again and again, until the night blurred into hours of forbidden ecstasy. He could tell himself it was Andre's anger, Andre's revenge for the threats and the disdain he had shown before. He could tell himself he had been trapped, dragged into it.
But in the mirror of truth, he had wanted. He had groaned. He had reached back. His body had pursued pleasure even as his mind screamed it was wrong.
The shame twisted in his chest like a knife. And yet, buried beneath it, there was something more dangerous. A craving. A pulse that had not faded even after morning broke.
Yichen forced himself to his feet. No. It cannot be that. It cannot.
He picked up his phone and made a quick call. The driver would meet him downstairs immediately. He would not go home. Not to Celia. Not with this sin clinging to him. Instead, he would head to one of his private villas — a place where no one asked questions, where he could bury the night beneath silence.
When the elevator doors opened, the cool lobby air struck his skin. His driver was already waiting by the car, straight-backed, polite as ever. Without a word, Yichen stepped inside, his movements precise, controlled. He gave no hint of the chaos that still churned inside him.
As the car pulled away, he leaned back against the seat, eyes shut briefly. His body still ached, his throat still dry. Even though he had forced himself to sleep until noon, exhaustion clung heavy to his bones. But there was no time to indulge it — not today.
By three o'clock, there was a meeting scheduled at the office. Work did not wait for personal ruin. And so he pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his temple, steadying himself. Whatever had happened last night would be buried. Andre would regret it. And so would he.
At least, that was what he told himself.
At the Small Apartment
The weekend sun filtered through thin curtains, casting muted light over the small apartment. Normally by noon he would have been outside, laughing with friends, killing time around campus. But today, he stayed home. His friends had asked, and he told them he wasn't feeling well. That was only half the truth. The real reason was harder to explain — a strange heaviness that had settled on him since last night.
Andre hadn't returned until late. Ge Lin had half expected it, but when he heard the lock click after midnight, a sinking unease grew in his chest.
He had called a supplier the night before, casually, pretending it was about something else. And the supplier had confirmed it: Andre had bought that thing. Not for himself — Andre never touched it. Which meant… he had used it on someone else.
But who?
And why?
Now, sitting on the small couch in his lounge wear, the television playing some mindless program, Ge Lin barely heard a word of it. His eyes flicked to the door every few minutes, his mind circling the same questions like a trap.
Was it the Yi… person? Could it really be him?
The sound of a key turning snapped him out of his spiral.
Click.
The door opened, and Andre walked in.
Ge Lin's eyes lifted immediately, searching. Andre looked… normal. His stride calm, his face composed, his shirt buttoned neatly. No sign of disarray, no trace of guilt. But something about him was colder, sharper, as if he carried an invisible frost with him.
Andre glanced at him only once, expression unreadable, before turning toward his room.
"Uhm… An de…" Ge Lin's voice broke the silence, hesitant.
Andre paused mid-step, his back still facing him.
"I… I was going to make lunch. Should I make some for you too?" Ge Lin asked carefully, his tone lowered, almost cautious, as though afraid a wrong word might set something off.
Andre's reply was flat, his voice cold enough to chill the room. "No. Don't disturb me. Don't knock on my door until evening."
The finality in his tone left no room for negotiation.
Ge Lin swallowed hard, forcing a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Okay."
Andre moved again, disappearing into his room. The lock clicked shut a moment later.
The apartment fell silent once more.
Ge Lin sat still, the fake smile fading. A bitterness curled inside him. He had always known Andre carried darkness, but this was different. Harder. As though he had stepped deeper into something Ge Lin couldn't see.
He stared at the closed door, his mind restless. Why is he colder than before? What happened last night?
His thoughts circled back to the supplier, to the confirmation that Andre had bought that drug. Did he use it again? Or… did he use it on someone else?
The unease thickened, twisting into suspicion. He thought of a name. The one Andre had been circling around these past weeks, the one he had spoken of with quiet venom.
"Could it be… Yi?" Ge Lin whispered under his breath, his gaze narrowing on the door.
The thought chilled him. And yet, it would not leave.