Chapter 130: Separate Conversations (2)

Liang Qisheng followed Ling Ziheng upstairs in silence. He occasionally cast a furtive glance at Ling, only to find him completely unmoved, which only deepened his own sense of melancholy.

Ling Ziheng had already guessed most of what Liang wanted to say, especially after recalling Nan Yu’s vigilant expression earlier.

Opening the door, he gestured, "Sit."

Liang Qisheng sat on the sofa, stiff and visibly uncomfortable, loosening his collar. It was he who had asked for this talk, yet the atmosphere felt as if he were the one being summoned. "So," he began, "shall we talk?"

"Sure." Ling Ziheng took off his coat, sat opposite him, and rested his arm casually on the back of the sofa, his peach-blossom eyes fixed on Liang.

*Damn it,* Liang thought. *Stop trying to look so cool. You are handsome, sure, but I’m not bad myself.* He gathered his thoughts and said seriously, "The old man is pressuring me. I have to go back in a few days."

"Before I leave, I want to ask you—are you serious about Weiwei?" The question spilled out, and Liang felt a sudden relief; this thorn had been stuck in his heart for too long.

"I am." Ling Ziheng’s short, powerful answer followed immediately, without a hint of hesitation.

"Tell me the truth. Are you using Weiwei to draw the other side out? I know your situation is awkward. Since the Ling family moved to Country A, you’ve effectively separated from the Nameless Realm, and plus—"

"That is my own business," Ling Ziheng interrupted. He poured two glasses of martini, pushed one toward Liang, and looked up at the visibly tense man. "When I first started collaborating with Weiwei, it was indeed a show for them—making them believe I was helpless and clinging to the only straw I could find. But my sincerity toward her is not just about protecting her for now; it is for a lifetime."

Though the words were light, they shook Liang Qisheng to his core. If nothing else, Ling Ziheng never went back on his word.

"Fine, I believe you." Liang clinked his glass against Ling’s as a gesture of respect. "I have enough trouble of my own to deal with; I have no right to question yours. But knowing you are serious is enough. I’ve always known you aren't the type to use others ruthlessly, or you wouldn't have helped me."

Liang drained his glass. He knew Ling’s methods and the rumors in the Nameless Realm—that he was heartless and cruel—but Liang knew better. If he hadn't been pushed to the brink, Ling Ziheng would never have had to live such a difficult life.

"Asheng, thank you for your trust." It was rare for Ling to offer thanks. In all these years, Liang was his only friend, and while Ling wasn't good at expressing himself, he knew Liang was a brother worth having.

"Ling Ziheng, I like Weiwei. But I’m giving up—not because you’re my brother, but because I’m just not good enough for her." Liang turned his head, his eyes glistening with tears. As the sixth son of the Liang family, his talents were mediocre, his abilities average. He was the one his father looked down upon, and his mother was a woman who never sought to compete, oblivious to the schemes of the world.

His brothers were busy fighting over the family empire; he was just trying to survive.

"Asheng, since you cannot choose your birth, you must fight well. You have already done your best, and there will naturally be a different horizon for you—including the one you will love in the future." Ling’s tone was sincere. The simple truth that everyone has their own brilliance was something his friend had never grasped. Liang Qisheng’s kindness and optimism were innate; heaven had already blessed him with the best gifts—he just hadn't realized it yet.

Liang turned back, looking at the radiant man in disbelief. He had always compared himself to Ling, feeling as though they existed in different worlds.

The man before him was like a god—graceful, peerless, and top-tier in both appearance and ability. He had even been a genius in school, gifted with a photographic memory. But Liang had overlooked one thing: Ling Ziheng worked harder than anyone else.

Mozart once said, "People focus on my talent, but they never see my diligence."

Liang suddenly realized that whatever Ling did, he did it with absolute seriousness. Years ago, when he came to the entertainment industry in China to seek refuge, becoming a Best Actor wasn't easy. The ridicule, threats, and intimidation he endured were unimaginable, yet he never uttered a single word of complaint.

"Ziheng, I’ve realized you’re actually a man with a cold exterior and a warm heart. Most people miss that, but Weiwei sees it." Liang smiled bitterly. Seeing them together, he realized that someone as sharp as Lin Zhiwei had long since seen through Ling’s heart.

Ling Ziheng lowered his eyes and smiled at the mention of her name. "She naturally knows everything." Despite how his girl acted—sometimes unfocused, sometimes with an overactive imagination—she was, in fact, remarkably clear-headed. She just chose not to speak of it.

As if summoned, the doorbell rang. Lin Zhiwei pressed her ear to the door, trying to eavesdrop, but heard nothing.

When Ling opened the door and found her lurking, he said with a straight face, "Pei Xi said the food has arrived. She's been waiting for a while, and we didn't want to disturb you."

"Come in, we're done talking." Ling smiled and pulled her hand inside, wondering why she was so nervous.

"Young Master Liang, this meal isn't fancy enough, but we'll have a proper send-off dinner another day," Lin Zhiwei said, greeting Liang on the sofa.

"How did you know I was leaving?" Liang asked, stunned. It was uncanny—he had just been thinking about how sharp she was, and she had guessed it already.

"Oh, it's just logical deduction. Why else would you solemnly ask my dear for a private talk? You’re heading back, and there are things to settle, right?" She winked at her lover, looking for praise.

Ling Ziheng patted her head, dotingly helpless.

"Can you two stop showing off?" Nan Yu protested. He and Liang had been talking about them all night, and looking at Liang, he could tell he was just as fed up with the public displays of affection as he was.

"Come, come, I brought my stash of beer. Let’s have a little drink tonight to celebrate you two caring about my and my dear’s love life." Lin Zhiwei handed out beers to everyone.

"You can't drink."

The three men spoke in perfect unison.

"What?" Lin Zhiwei was startled. "Is my character now that of a lightweight who passes out after one cup?" she asked, her mouth twitching.

"You fainted last time, you nearly scared us to death!" Nan Yu snatched the beer from her hand, guarding it like contraband.

"Big brother, come on! That was an accident. The wine you brought was the problem!" Lin Zhiwei argued vigorously.

"Then why were we all fine after drinking it?" Nan Yu countered with irrefutable logic.

This time, Lin Zhiwei was speechless. Fair enough—everyone else had drunk it, yet she was the only one who collapsed. Admitting her own weakness, she accepted her fate, left staring down a bottle of Wangzai milk while the little cartoon character on the label stared right back.