White steam billowed in the kitchen as Xie Guan skillfully chopped vegetables and tossed them into the pot. As he stir-fried and flipped the wok, he even had the presence of mind to check on Huo Mingjun. “Hungry? It'll be ready soon. You should wait outside. The kitchen is full of oily smoke, you might choke.”

He was wearing a loose homewear T-shirt with an apron tied slackly around his waist. Huo Mingjun couldn't tell if it was his imagination, but he felt that Xie Guan's posture was somewhat different than before. It seemed more upright, and the way he stood before the stove, stir-frying, was a picture of effortless grace.

A corner of a medicinal plaster patch was showing below the collar on his back. Huo Mingjun lingered at the doorway, unwilling to leave, and asked, “What's wrong with your shoulder? Are you injured?”

“It's a long story,” Xie Guan chuckled, nonchalantly turning down the heat on a bubbling clay pot on another burner. “I'll tell you in a bit.”

Once his hands were busy, he no longer had time to maintain his usual respectful attitude towards Huo Mingjun. He briefly categorized him as “one of his own,” his tone filled with a perfunctory indulgence, as if dealing with a little tagalong. When pestered, he would just offer a bit of careless coaxing.

The atmosphere in the small kitchen softened for a moment.

Huo Mingjun, for once, didn't insist further and retreated to the living room to wait for the meal. He felt this was simply absurd in his heart, but his body seemed to have already fallen into the gentle trap woven from domesticity and simplicity.

Zhong Heguang's pointed questions surfaced in his mind again. That bizarre conjecture flashed through his head, and Huo Mingjun had to admit that even though he had refuted Zhong Heguang at the time, the conjecture had ultimately planted a seed of doubt in his heart.

It had seized upon the last shred of hope Huo Mingjun had clung to for ten years. Forget about eradicating it; even a slight touch would cause the earth to crack and mountains to collapse.

Before long, Xie Guan poked his head out of the kitchen and shouted, “Dinner's ready!”

Huo Mingjun's train of thought was interrupted. He got up to wash his hands. Xie Guan set up the folding dining table, laying out six dishes and a soup, filling the entire surface.

Huo Mingjun was taken aback when he came out of the washroom. “How many people did you invite today?”

Xie Guan set down a tureen of shrimp paste and mushroom soup, untied his apron, and hung it behind the door. “Hey, overwhelmed already? I thought you'd have to flip through name plates every day to decide what to eat for lunch.”

“Read fewer silly novels,” Huo Mingjun said as he ladled a bowl of soup for him. “I didn't realize you were such a good cook.”

“It's nothing, practice makes perfect.”

Xie Guan placed the chopsticks by his hand and took the soup from Huo Mingjun. Their division of labor was clear and their coordination was perfect. Although they had only eaten together a few times, they were as familiar as if they had lived together.

How could there be two complete strangers in the world who shared such a natural and perfect rapport?

From this meal, it was clear that Xie Guan was genuinely grateful to him. Aside from two simple, home-style vegetable dishes, the rest were all time-consuming and skill-testing recipes. There were even two carved carrot flowers on the edge of the Squirrel-shaped Mandarin Fish plate, a presentation so exquisite it seemed completely out of place in this setting.

Huo Mingjun picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks. Although Xie Guan was confident in his cooking skills, he inexplicably found himself anticipating his comment. “How is it?”

Huo Mingjun slowly and methodically scooped up a spoonful of Crab Roe Lion's Head meatballs. “If you became a chef, you'd definitely be doing better than you are now.”

Xie Guan: “Hahaha, thanks for the compliment.”

Huo Mingjun: “I'm saying you're doing poorly now.”

Xie Guan: “……”

“Alright, I know you're doing well, successful in your career and you can cook too,” Huo Mingjun said, quitting while he was ahead and placating him. “I heard you just landed a new show?”

“‘Successful in your career,’ those four words coming from you sound especially like sarcasm,” Xie Guan said, glumly shoveling a mouthful of rice. “The new show… it's a tearful story. Weren't you asking about my shoulder earlier? I'm learning Tai Chi from a teacher for the role. We've recently started sparring, and I get my ass kicked by the professionals every day. Those bastards usually look all proper and ethereal, but they're ruthless when it comes to sparring. If I hadn't been looking forward to this meal with you, I would've gone straight to the emergency room at the People's Hospital.”

“You're something of a public figure, watch your language,” Huo Mingjun was amused but couldn't help feeling a little worried. “It's just for a performance, is it necessary to be so strict?”

Huo Mingjun was clearly a very strict person, both with others and with himself. Xie Guan raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised that he would say such a thing, and blurted out some nonsense, “Maybe the old master saw my unique bone structure and realized I'm a natural-born martial arts prodigy, so he wants to take me as his final disciple.”

“……” Huo Mingjun sighed. “Looks like they've been going too easy on you.”

Xie Guan suppressed a laugh. “I'm already twenty-five, long past the age for learning martial arts. The old man just has an occupational hazard; he can't stand flashy but impractical moves and just wants to correct my bad habits.”

The spoon in Huo Mingjun's hand wavered, tapping lightly against the rim of the bowl.

He barely managed to suppress his surprise, asking with a nonchalant expression, “Twenty-five? Weren't you born in '92?”

Twenty-five years old… This age was too much of a coincidence.

Xie Guan didn't notice his reaction and was too busy regretting his loose tongue. He gave a dry laugh. “Sorry, I let it slip.”

“The birthday on my ID card makes me younger than my actual age. When I signed with my company, I had a baby face, so my manager had me knock two years off my age. I guess they thought being younger would make it easier to get famous… a pity that man proposes, God disposes. Changing it was useless, I'm still not famous.”

“You really can't tell,” Huo Mingjun nodded. “Do you take after your father or your mother in looks?”

“Neither, really,” Xie Guan said. “They both look old for their age. Maybe by the time it got to me, God had a change of heart and my genes mutated.”

Huo Mingjun's heart skipped a beat again.

He subtly steered the conversation toward Xie Guan's childhood and family. How could Xie Guan be a match for such an old fox? He was led by the nose in minutes, quickly revealing everything about his background.

“I don't remember much about my childhood,” he said, recalling with his chin in his hand. “My dad said I was a real brat when I was little, running wild in the mountains and rivers, causing trouble. One day, while climbing a wall to steal apricots from someone's yard, my foot slipped. I fell off the wall and was knocked unconscious. I might have had a concussion. When I woke up, I couldn't even speak, which scared my family half to death. Later, we found an old traditional Chinese doctor in town who gave me acupuncture for a while, and I slowly learned to speak again. But after my aphasia was cured, I didn't remember much about the past.”

Huo Mingjun: “Amnesia?”

“Not completely,” Xie Guan thought for a moment. “To be precise, it's rather vague. Sometimes I dream about bits and pieces. Anyway, it doesn't affect my daily life, so I never bothered with it.”

Huo Mingjun had come to this meeting with the intention of testing the waters, but he never expected things to become more and more baffling. His initial judgment of Xie Guan had been almost completely overturned in this conversation, and new points of suspicion emerged one after another.

He casually started a new topic of conversation, thinking to himself that it seemed it was time to let Zhong Heguang come back to work.

Xie Guan's cooking skills were indeed not bad. Huo Mingjun's stomach was in knots throughout the meal, his attention completely off the food, yet he somehow ate more than usual.

According to Xie Guan himself, after graduating from high school, he was a chef's apprentice for a while, which really meant being a kitchen hand who did all sorts of odd jobs. He never got a turn at the stove, so he would just stand to the side, observing and taking notes, then practice on his own when he got back. Although he later left the profession, he never lost his excellent cooking skills.

From this, one could see that he was actually a very capable learner. Cooking, martial arts, acting—he had never received any professional training in these areas. He relied entirely on his own observation and imitation, yet he managed to do a decent job, and was even constantly improving.

Only he himself knew how much he had suffered, how much blood and sweat he had shed behind the scenes.

He was like a tuft of wild grass, born of heaven and earth. As long as he caught a wisp of spring breeze, he could sprout anew from the dust and ashes of hardship.

“I have things to do this afternoon, I'm leaving now.”

Huo Mingjun took his trench coat from the coat rack. Xie Guan saw him to the door and said half-jokingly, “Thank you for gracing me with your presence today, Boss Huo. Please come again.”

Huo Mingjun smiled and gestured for him to stay. “Your sincerity is more than enough. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Xie Guan waved, watched his figure disappear around the bend in the staircase, then turned and closed the door.

If he had been more observant, he would have noticed the contemplation and suspicion in Huo Mingjun's eyes before he left. It was the first soft clap of thunder before a coming storm, one that would reverberate through the countless upheavals and tempests to come.

The driver was already waiting outside the residential complex. Huo Mingjun got in the car and made his first call to Zhong Heguang.

“I'll send you the Cheng Family's address from back then. Go to H Province, find his parents, and bring them back. I will arrange for them to meet Xie Guan.”

Zhong Heguang hadn't expected such an explosive start. His right hand trembled violently, almost dropping his phone, and the thought in his mind blurted out, “You suspect that what Second Master Huo saw back then… wasn't Cheng Sheng?”

This unfamiliar name was like a spell, breaking the seal branded by time the moment it was spoken. Old memories, no longer held back, instantly overwhelmed his past and present lives like a tsunami.

The sound of that night's downpour, like a hallucination, once again rang in his ears.

Huo Mingjun closed his eyes. “No matter what I suspect, once they meet, these questions will naturally be answered.”

Ten years had passed; the past should have long been settled. But Huo Mingjun's decision was tantamount to overturning the existing conclusions and reopening a tomb that had been sealed for ages.

For him, this was not just an investment of manpower and resources, but also a huge psychological barrier to overcome. Huo Mingjun had been extremely cautious, only making up his mind now not because of Zhong Heguang's fleeting conjecture, but because the droplets of doubt that had accumulated since meeting Xie Guan had finally undergone a qualitative change today.

The first time he felt doubt was when he got a clear look at Xie Guan's face. It was an eighty percent match to Cheng Sheng's, but it lacked the most crucial detail—the person he was looking for had a small, distinct mole under his eye.

At that time, the age Xie Guan gave didn't match Cheng Sheng's either, and an investigation into his family background revealed no gaps, so Huo Mingjun concluded that he merely had a similar face.

The second time was on the last night at the hotel in Hong Kong, when Xie Guan unconsciously made a gesture as if listening to a heartbeat. That moment was like a reenactment of the scene from ten years ago; Xie Guan's action was identical to Cheng Sheng's back then, shocking Huo Mingjun to the point of near distraction.

The third time was today, when Xie Guan admitted his real age with his own lips. And his family background and personal experiences, upon closer scrutiny of the details, didn't seem so airtight after all.

“But, Boss,” Zhong Heguang said hesitantly, “if Xie Guan finds out about this…”

His pale and ruthless profile was reflected in the car window. Huo Mingjun cut him off indifferently, “It doesn't matter. Just do as I say. If it's not him, then it's a good chance for me to give up completely and put this matter to rest for good.”

Zhong Heguang was left speechless and could only murmur his assent before hanging up the phone.

Outside the window, traffic flowed like water. Huo Mingjun sat in silence, the pad of his finger gently caressing the cool casing of his phone. After a moment of thought, he dialed a second number.

“Second Uncle, it's me. I have some old matters I'd like you to help me recall. If it's convenient, how about we meet tonight?”

The phone on the desk buzzed, and a line of text with an address appeared on the screen.

Zhong Heguang suddenly regretted having so bluntly told Huo Mingjun that he was “repaying his debt of gratitude to Xie Guan.” It had precisely hit Huo Mingjun's sore spot. If their guess was wrong, Huo Mingjun, in order to correct his own mistake, clearly intended to make a clean break with Xie Guan.

But the most innocent person in this matter was Xie Guan.

Initially, Huo Mingjun had noticed him, and even frequently looked out for him, only because of his face, which strongly resembled someone from his past. Now, as their friendship deepened, Huo Mingjun came to understand what kind of person he was, and his opinion of “Xie Guan” the person gradually changed.

But it was only a “change of opinion” and nothing more.

From beginning to end, he had been treated by Huo Mingjun as a substitute for transferred affections. If not for this face, no matter how hard Xie Guan worked or how moving his experiences were, as long as he didn't stand at a height comparable to Huo Mingjun, Huo Mingjun would never have given him a second glance.

The young head of the Hengrui Group had seized power from his father's generation not through kindness, compassion, or mercy, but through an iron fist, tyranny, and ruthlessness.

These were not positive traits, but through years of battles and struggles, both veiled and overt, they had gradually become an inseparable part of his personality.

He viewed all emotions as flowers in a mirror or the moon in the water—illusory. Whether it was blood ties or social relationships, he only clung with an almost pathological obsession to the life-saving grace he had received back then, guarding it secretively and unable to tolerate any doubt. Xie Guan's appearance had cast a cloud of suspicion over the “clear” facts he had long held onto, so he was determined to uncover the truth at any cost, even personally stepping in, deliberately contacting Xie Guan to pry out information about his life and past.

Now, after long deliberation, he finally gritted his teeth and tore open the old wound, just to part the clouds and mist with his own hands.

As for how Xie Guan would feel after learning the truth, what it would be like when the “why” hidden in his heart was finally answered, when he realized that his deep gratitude and appreciation had been misplaced… none of this was within Huo Mingjun's scope of consideration.