Kapitel 22: Unplanned

Jiang Yanxu stood frozen as Yan An walked away, his lips slightly parted, eyes locked onto the fading figure in the distance. The encounter had been too sudden, too unplanned. A moment ago, Yan An had been nothing but a memory. Now, he was a reality Jiang Yanxu wasn't ready to face.

Beside him, Wen Haoyi's expression remained unreadable. His face brightened with an easy smile, but beneath it lay a concealed layer of mystery. A smirk flickered at the corners of his lips, vanishing just as quickly as it appeared.

"Well, well," Wen Haoyi mused, glancing at Jiang Yanxu. "Didn't think we'd run into Yan An today. What a coincidence, huh? Maybe we should invite him to lunch—" He suddenly chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, forget it. Stupid idea."

Jiang Yanxu ignored his chatter. His voice was low and deliberate when he finally spoke. "What exactly does it mean?"

Wen Haoyi blinked at him. "What does what mean?"

"You're not stupid enough to pretend you don't know my question," Jiang Yanxu said, his voice devoid of warmth.

A faint shudder ran through Wen Haoyi. Jiang Yanxu's apathy carried a weight that made the air feel heavier. But Wen Haoyi played along, tilting his head with feigned confusion. "Still not getting it. If you want an answer, you should be clearer." He scoffed, his frustration sounding a little too genuine. "Damn it, now you're making me even more confused."

It was a lie, of course. Wen Haoyi understood exactly what Jiang Yanxu was implying. He had known from the beginning. He had orchestrated this moment, after all. Yet, playing the fool was a game he enjoyed—though he knew it was useless against someone like Jiang Yanxu.

He shifted his attention to a nearby painting, pretending to admire the intricate brushstrokes. But the weight of Jiang Yanxu's stare burned through his act.

"Is this your real intention?" Jiang Yanxu's voice was even, emotionless.

In an instant, Wen Haoyi's mask slipped. His relaxed facade cracked, revealing a sharper, more calculating edge. His eyes darkened as he turned to Jiang Yanxu, his voice lowering into something dangerously smooth.

"What exactly are you implying? Say it outright."

It was a challenge.

Jiang Yanxu didn't hesitate. "Did you plan this?" His fingers curled into a fist, but he kept his voice controlled. "Did you bring me here on purpose just to make me see him?"

Wen Haoyi didn't flinch. His expression didn't waver. Instead, a smirk ghosted over his lips.

"That's right," he admitted easily. "But it wasn't exactly according to plan. Originally, I was going to invite him to lunch—give you two a nice little reunion. But, well …" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Looks like fate beat me to it."

Jiang Yanxu clenched his jaw. "Why?"

Wen Haoyi's smirk widened, taking on a crueler edge. "Just making sure you won't regret throwing him away a second time," he said lightly, as if it were a casual remark.

Jiang Yanxu had expected this. The confirmation didn't surprise him. He inhaled deeply, loosening his fist, forcing his shoulders to relax. "It doesn't matter. You already knew my answer before, didn't you?"

"Heh." Wen Haoyi's laughter was soft but sharp. "Yeah. I suppose I was being naive. I shouldn't have wasted my time confirming what I already knew."

Jiang Yanxu didn't respond. His gaze flickered toward the painting in front of them—a delicate portrayal of a woman, frozen in time. His face remained unreadable, but deep within, something unsettled shifted.

Wen Haoyi was obsessed with Yan An.

The realization hit Jiang Yanxu with a force he didn't want to acknowledge. It had been obvious all along, but now, standing here, it felt undeniable.

And he didn't like it.

His mind drifted to the past—to the moment he had first heard of their so-called relationship. He had wondered then what kind of tricks Wen Haoyi had pulled to make Yan An accept him.

Now, he was starting to wonder again.

Wen Haoyi, meanwhile, was watching him carefully. Jiang Yanxu's face was cold as always, but there was something beneath the surface—something Wen Haoyi couldn't quite grasp.

To break the silence, Wen Haoyi suddenly said, "Anyway, it's lunchtime. I know a great cafe. My colleague owns it. The food's fantastic—I'll even treat you."

Jiang Yanxu didn't even look at him. "No."

Wen Haoyi scratched the back of his head. The blunt rejection left an awkward silence hanging between them. Jiang Yanxu had been in a bad mood ever since the cruise, but now, it was worse.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

The plan had been simple: get Jiang Yanxu and Yan An in the same place, watch the interaction, confirm the truth. If Jiang Yanxu really didn't care, then Wen Haoyi would know for sure.

But it had all gone off-track.

Before Wen Haoyi could figure out his next move, Jiang Yanxu muttered, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

The words were quiet, but Wen Haoyi caught them instantly. His brows lifted in curiosity. "Leaving? Where?"

"Home."

For a moment, Wen Haoyi just stared. Then he let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You're serious? I thought you were just bullshitting before."

Jiang Yanxu's gaze remained steady. "I meant it."

The air between them grew heavier. For the first time, Wen Haoyi felt a sliver of uncertainty. He exhaled, then asked, "Alone?"

"Yeah."

Wen Huiyi clicked his tongue. "And what about Xinren? You really think he won't throw a fit and try to stop you? You're leaving him behind just like that?"

Jiang Yanxu fell silent. He had already considered this. He needed a reason—one strong enough to get away.

Wen Haoyi studied him, his smirk fading slightly. Something about this didn't add up. Jiang Yanxu was too methodical to make sudden decisions. If it was just business, then why leave Xinren behind?

Still, he decided not to push further. There would be time for that later. For now, he simply shrugged. "You do realize he'll make our lives hell when he finds out, right?"

He said it lightly, almost teasing, but there was an undertone of something else—something unspoken.

Jiang Yanxu didn't respond. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the complexity of his own decisions.

And just like that, the conversation ended—not with closure, but with more unanswered questions.

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