One-way Access

Xia Wennan managed to locate a bank, and as luck would have it, his bank PIN was still his birthday. When he checked his balance at an ATM, he discovered that there was approximately 20,000 yuan on his card.

Xia Wennan couldn’t recall ever having that much money in his life. 

He took out his card after withdrawing 500 yuan in cash, but as he was about to depart, another thought occurred to him, and he returned to the bank counter and requested the teller to check all of the assets on his card. 

Xia Wennan’s assets turned out to amount far greater than the meager 20,000 yuan on his card. In addition to the 20,000 in his demand deposit, he had a total of three million yuan in other deposits and savings accounts under his name. There was also a housing mortgage, and he discovered the address of the commercial property he’d purchased by looking at the mortgage information. 

After leaving the bank, it took a long time before Xia Wennan regained his senses. On the one hand, he was astounded by the amount of money he found himself with, and on the other, he was perplexed. He clearly didn’t lack funds and had his own house, so why would he be living with Ming Luchuan?

He wanted to take a look at his house.

As Xia Wennan waited for the bus on the side of the road after verifying the route, he wondered if Ming Luchuan was telling the truth—was he truly in love with Ming Luchuan?

In the next second,  he shook his head and dismissed the thought. Just as he had told Ming Luchuan at the hospital, no matter what happened, a human would never fall in love with a chicken; there was no way that he, a male Beta of sound body and mind, could ever fall in love with a male Alpha.

The house Xia Wennan purchased wasn’t in the city centre, but rather in a well-developing part of town. There was a subway station and a large trade centre in the area, as well as a park encircling an artificial lake nearby. 

He didn’t have the house keys with him; he’d merely gone there for a look. Yet as it turns out, there were people living there. The occupants had no idea who he was and claimed to have rented the property through an agent. Xia Wennan thus headed to the rental agency, where he learnt that his apartment had been entrusted to the agency to rent out, and that he was paid 6,000 yuan per month in rent. 

After leaving the agency, Xia Wennan wandered towards the park, squatting under the shade of the lakeside trees and staring out at the water’s surface, lost in thought. He inwardly calculated whether he could pay off the mortgage with the money in his bank account, then return to his hometown and live in his old flat—would a monthly income of 6,000 yuan be enough for him to never work again for the rest of his life?

Xia Wennann felt a little happy as he reflected on this. He’d been a very capable person in those six years of memories he had no recollection of. Too bad that the only downside to this was that he was now left with that dreadful mess—Ming Luchuan. 

Since he’d learnt that he was quite wealthy, Xia Wennan ate lunch at a BBQ restaurant at the mall. 

Halfway through the meal, he received a WeChat message from his university classmate.

It was the university classmate he’d been closest to, Peng Li. Back then, they were not only roommates but also bunkmates, and they used to play basketball and games together all the time.   

Back in the day, male and female students each had two large dormitory blocks. In the larger dorm, Betas and Alphas shared living quarters based on their majors and year, while Omegas had the other dorm to themselves.

Xia Wennan majored in biochemistry. He’d been in a four-person dorm, and all of its occupants were Betas.

At this time, Xia Wennan sent a voice note to Peng Li while listening to the meat sizzle. 

Peng Li seemed slightly surprised, asking why Xia Wennan had suddenly contacted him first thing in the morning. 

Xia Wennan inquired about Peng Li’s recent whereabouts, and from Peng Li’s tone, he surmised that they’d never lost contact, but they also didn’t keep in touch very often. Peng Li seemed to find some of Xia Wennan’s questions a little odd, but he nevertheless answered each and every one. 

Peng Li wasn’t a native of the city. After graduating, he’d left the city and returned to his hometown. Out of the four people in their dorm, only Xia Wennan stayed in the city to pursue a graduate degree. 

“I went to grad school?” Xia Wennan’s shock was audible. 

Peng Li was startled. “Yeah, what’s wrong? Didn’t you go? Don’t tell me you flunked?” 

Xia Wennan said, “Oh, I probably went.” He hadn’t seen his grad certificate or degree lying around though. Perhaps they were kept in his safe. Shortly after, another thought occurred to him. “So, did you come to my wedding?”

“Huh?” This time, Peng Li’s tone was tinged with genuine astonishment. “You got married?”

Xia Wennan interjected, “No—I mean, will you come to my wedding if I get married?”

“Of course I will,” Peng Li replied. “You scared me there. I thought you got married and didn’t tell me. What’s the matter? Do you have anyone in mind right now?”

“No,” Xia Wennan denied, “it was just a hypothetical question.” He then exchanged a few more words with Peng Li before hanging up. 

The baking pan in front of him sizzled. The aroma of barbeque oil wafted through the air. But Xia Wennan’s mind lingered on the fact that… if even Peng Li didn’t know about his marriage, there was no chance his other classmates did either.

What kind of marriage was this if none of his closest classmates had been informed? Xia Wennan picked up a slice of lean pork belly fat and thought to himself: This means that I definitely didn’t marry him voluntarily.

In the afternoon, Xia Wennan made a trip to his school. 

He’d been at this school for far longer than he could remember, after four years of undergrad followed by graduate school, but it had changed dramatically and no longer resembled the school he remembered from his second year of university.

The dorm buildings were still standing, but the people who lived there were no longer the same.

It was possible that he’d gone to grad school, but he had no idea what he’d majored in and who his academic advisor had been, let alone his grad school classmates. He wished he could go back to that time in his life, but the past is the past, and things won’t remain unchanging just because his memories were frozen in time. Those he’d lost would forever be gone.

Digging his past back up was pointless. It was better to carefully plan for the future.

When Xia Wennan watched students pass by, he felt that he was still one of them, but when he accidentally caught sight of his reflection on a glass window on the side of the road, he became acutely aware that he was no longer one of them, just like the fact that his grandpa had died and would never return. 

He was drowning in misery.

He walked out of school and stood on the side of the road, watching the ebb and flow of traffic on the wide lane in front of him, for a while not knowing where to go.

The sun gradually moved westward, carrying the scorching summer heat, its golden yellow darkening into a burnt orange. Xia Wennan, who’d been standing under the shade of a tree, watched as the sun’s rays began to shift from his feet to his body. 

He sweated, all over his back, his clothes damp with it and sticking to his skin. But he remained where he was, motionless.

He’d always thought that he was a bit lazy. Since he was little, he’d only ever imagined that he’d find a decent but not overly taxing job after graduating and earn enough money so his grandpa could live—not necessarily lavishly—but a little better. He assumed that he’d marry, and that a Beta wife would be ideal, someone pretty but not stunningly beautiful. Just… an ordinary, but stable life. 

However, his life had been turned upside down. Although he couldn’t remember a thing, Ming Luchuan wasn’t the only reason that his life had devolved into shambles—it was most likely his own fault as well. He couldn’t comprehend why he’d made the choices he made, and he had no idea what to do with his life after this.

Xia Wennan sighed, then heard the ringing of his phone that interrupted his idle reflection about life. 

A capital “M” was displayed on the screen.

After he accepted the call, Ming Luchuan said, “I won’t be back for dinner tonight.” 

Xia Wennan glanced around. The fact that Ming Luchuan had originally planned to go home for dinner was news to him. “Okay, I’m not going back for dinner either,” he said. And with that, he hung up the phone.