ABSML Chapter 59: A League of Its Own
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Halfway through the call, a sudden, hysterical shout rang out.
Amid the chaos, Chen Zhan vaguely heard his own name.
“I’ll call you back later,” he said hastily and hung up. Then he stopped someone who was heading for the door. “What’s going on?”
The person looked completely confused. “No idea.”
They walked out together, but as soon as they left the area, all they saw were corridors and private rooms.
After standing there for a moment, not knowing where to go, Chen Zhan turned around, ready to head back.
Ding—
As the elevator doors opened, Fang Jun came charging out, far from his usual composed and elegant self.
Before Chen Zhan could react, Fang Jun grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “You played me!”
There were security guards stationed on every floor of the club, and they quickly stepped in to separate the two. “Sir, please calm down.”
Chen Zhan straightened his clothes and looked at him seriously. “I don’t like being touched.”
Sensing the tension, the guards stood between them.
Fang Jun’s voice was hoarse, his expression full of rage, as if he were about to go berserk. He had long sensed something off about the atmosphere in the club these past few days. After giving it some thought, he’d asked someone to check the surveillance footage.
The audio was mostly drowned out by the gym’s energetic music, but every time he left, the people who made things difficult for him would talk to Chen Zhan. Worse, every time someone spoke to Chen Zhan, multiple gazes would zero in on them… Piece by piece, it all added up—it was clear he’d been made a fool of!
Fang Jun stared hard at Chen Zhan. “Need me to show you the surveillance footage?”
Chen Zhan was, in fact, innocent. He had known others were up to something, but his plan had been to let things play out naturally.
At this point, no amount of explaining would sound like anything but an excuse. Calmly, he said, “You brought this on yourself.”
That line practically poured fuel on a fire already burning.
A girl who had been standing at a safe distance watching the drama couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped forward to defend him. “Exactly! You’re the villain—why should he have to play the saint for you?”
Chen Zhan looked at her, confused. “The saint?”
The girl turned back. “The Virgin Mary.”
“…”
“You… you all…” Fang Jun’s furious gaze swept from Chen Zhan to the people inside the gym. The ones who’d been watching him all quickly averted their eyes. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but his face turned beet red—and the next second, he collapsed backward in a dead faint.
The sudden turn of events caught everyone off guard. Chen Zhan was the first to react, reaching out to grab him and cushion the fall.
Someone pressed hard on Fang Jun’s philtrum as sweat beaded on his forehead. After a moment, he slowly came to.
The girl had already called an ambulance.
When the stretcher arrived, Fang Jun was still too weak to move. With trembling lips, he muttered, “Take it away… I’m not sick!”
The conversation was cut off before it could finish, as Fang Jun was unceremoniously wheeled away.
To be on the safe side, Chen Zhan followed to the hospital. On the way there, he repeated several times, “I had to pay for your medical expenses up front. Don’t forget to pay me back later.”
·
The sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air.
A trip to the hospital naturally came with a slew of tests. Sitting on a bench, Chen Zhan let out a long sigh.
Meanwhile, Yin Ronglan, still waiting on a call, grew anxious at the lack of news and called back. Upon hearing Chen Zhan was at the hospital, he rushed over.
“How did things get this out of hand?”
Chen Zhan replied helplessly, “He just had a CT scan. They said it was a stroke triggered by excessive anger.”
Yin Ronglan’s expression turned complex. “Cerebral infarction?”
Chen Zhan rubbed his brow. “I didn’t check the details too closely. He’s probably going to need a long rest.”
They exchanged a glance and fell into silence.
Yin Ronglan searched for nearby restaurants. “Let’s go eat something first.”
Chen Zhan wasn’t really hungry, but figured Yin Ronglan probably hadn’t eaten either, so he nodded.
There weren’t many decent restaurants near the hospital. Chen Zhan ordered egg fried rice, which tasted like bland paste.
Yin Ronglan caught his expression and chuckled. “Well, at least the Fang Jun issue is on pause for now.”
Chen Zhan analyzed the situation rationally. “Normally, when the young one’s been knocked down, the elder will show up next.” He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “I’m all alone—how can I compete with them?”
The sudden change in tone caught Yin Ronglan off guard and nearly made him choke. He grabbed a napkin and coughed several times, then gave Chen Zhan a long, deep look.
Chen Zhan just laughed, unapologetically.
Yin Ronglan, returning to the matter at hand, said, “It’s not your fault anyway.”
Chen Zhan replied, “Bullies pick on the weak.”
Yin Ronglan said coolly, “Then let them go sell dried persimmons.”
When Chen Zhan looked up, he saw a smile in Yin Ronglan’s eyes—and couldn’t quite tell if he was joking.
Honestly, Chen Zhan wasn’t worried whether the Sun family would come after him. One brother drugged people, the other tried to entrap them—their upbringing spoke volumes. He preferred it if they came at him openly rather than scheming behind his back.
Chen Zhan was usually a very clean eater, but this bowl of fried rice tested his moral limits.
A third of the way in, he gave up and shook his head. “I’m full.”
Yin Ronglan, even pickier than him, had barely touched his food. “Got any plans this afternoon? I’ll give you a ride.”
Chen Zhan replied, “Heading back to the hospital first.”
Yin Ronglan raised an eyebrow. “Repaying evil with kindness?”
Chen Zhan pulled out the receipt from his pocket. “To get back the 800 yuan I paid.”
Yin Ronglan paused, then nodded. “Fair enough.”
In the hospital room, even the half-wilted plants looked healthier than Fang Jun did.
A woman sat beside the bed, holding Fang Jun’s hand. She turned to look when she felt his already-cold hand tremble—and saw the door had been quietly pushed open.
Her long eyebrows, already sharp with makeup, arched even higher in fury. “You still dare show your face!”
She had a very vivid impression of Chen Zhan—after all, he’d sent both her sons to the hospital.
Chen Zhan calculated the likelihood of getting his money back from someone mid-rage.
“Mom, can you step out for a moment?” Fang Jun’s lips were still numb as he spoke. “I want to talk to him alone.”
Unwilling but unable to defy her son, she cast a final venomous glare at Chen Zhan and reluctantly left. She happened to catch sight of Yin Ronglan waiting at the corner, and the fire in her eyes dimmed noticeably.
Inside the room, Chen Zhan got straight to the point and held out his hand. “800 yuan. We’re square.”
Fang Jun didn’t immediately respond with his usual barbed words. He stared at Chen Zhan for a long while, eyes cold. Finally, he said darkly, “I won’t let you off.”
Chen Zhan said nothing.
“You think writing a few novels makes you someone important?” Fang Jun’s voice was tight with unspent rage. “I’ve got money, looks, and a powerful family. And you? What do you have?”
Chen Zhan replied coolly, “I have a system.”
That killed the conversation right there.
Fang Jun, of course, didn’t believe a word of it. To him, Chen Zhan was just some delusional writer lost in his own fantasy world.
Chen Zhan stuck to his goal and asked again for the payment.
The receipt was right there—undeniable. Fang Jun was about to scan the code and transfer the money, when he suddenly remembered something from Chen Zhan’s writing… how a character once resented someone for not returning a measly 100 yuan in change for years. If he was going to be petty, then Fang Jun should go even further.
He dragged himself off the bed with difficulty, pulled out his wallet, and tossed double the amount—1,600 yuan—onto the table. “Take it and get lost.”
The gesture was so grand Chen Zhan momentarily considered playing along—perhaps running out dramatically in shame and indignation.
But he’d been forced to act too much lately and wasn’t in the mood for theatrics. In the end, he simply pocketed the money and left in silence.
On the way back, Yin Ronglan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Seeing none of the satisfaction he’d expected, he asked, “Still troubled?”
“Not exactly.” Chen Zhan smiled. “It’s just that I’ve got a live interview coming up that I can’t wriggle out of.”
The wine he was endorsing was about to hit the market. The vineyard’s owner had arranged a talk show appearance to boost publicity.
Yin Ronglan had a rough idea of where Chen Zhan’s aversion to lifestyle interviews came from—after he’d once been caught on camera chasing down a fugitive, the footage had stayed on trending for nearly half a month. After thinking for a bit, he offered some half-decent encouragement: “Fall where you may, get back up from there.”
·
Regardless of how he felt inside, the interview arrived as scheduled two days later.
In a tiny room that could be taken in with a single glance, the host immediately homed in on key topics: why hadn’t Chen Zhan bought a new home after becoming successful?
Chen Zhan’s answer was nothing new: “Not enough money.”
Interviews needed eye-catching soundbites, and personal matters were always prime material.
The host, still relatively tactful, asked, “After achieving some success in your career, have you thought about your personal life?”
Chen Zhan shook his head.
The host, clearly experienced, began to cast a wider net: “How would you define a ‘straight man’?”
“Too blunt,” Chen Zhan replied.
With a laugh, the host followed up, “What’s the most ‘straight guy’ gift you’ve ever given to a woman?”
“All pretty normal,” Chen Zhan paused thoughtfully. “Though I have received something rather unique.”
The host finally breathed a small sigh of relief—she’d thought this was going to remain a painfully dull segment.
Since it was a live broadcast, viewer comments were streaming in real-time across the screen:
“Feel bad for the host.”
“This guy’s a certified conversation killer.”
“+1.”
Chen Zhan dragged a large cardboard box out from the bedroom. Just as he was about to open it, the host stopped him. “How about we make this interactive?”
Chen Zhan looked up at her.
She smiled. “Let the audience guess what’s inside. First one to get it right wins a red envelope.”
Chen Zhan nodded in agreement.
The comment section immediately exploded with guesses: umbrella, shoes, giant plushie… a wild mix.
Three minutes passed, and Chen Zhan still hadn’t said anything. The host’s smile started to stiffen. “Still no correct answer?”
Viewers began doubting him, asking if he’d missed a correct one.
Chen Zhan replied confidently, “Definitely not.”
With the audience growing restless, the host let out an awkward chuckle. “Alright, let’s just open it.”
The camera zoomed in as Chen Zhan calmly opened the box. Inside was a thick stack of papers. “There are names on the front—privacy concerns, so I can’t show them directly.”
The host was momentarily speechless.
Chen Zhan covered the names and just held up the edge of the stack to show the sheer thickness. It was clear these were countless certificates of merit.
“When my friend gave me this, he said he wanted to offer me all of his honors.”
The room fell into a moment of stunned silence, while the comment section completely lit up:
[Fluffy]: I’m seriously starting to think this friend is that rumored dream guy!
[Qi]: Suddenly forgiving my boyfriend for giving me an engraved crystal globe.
[Gu Caesar]: I’ve learned something. I’m totally stealing this idea!!
[BrownSugar+Ginger]: Buddy above, first you need to have that many certificates...
The host’s smile at this point was pure professional endurance. “That’s… one of the most original gifts I’ve ever seen.”
Chen Zhan resealed the box and muttered, “Hard to store though. Easy for cockroaches to crawl in.”
“……”
Author’s note:
Chen Zhan: Why did you give me all these?
Yin Ronglan: Proof.
Chen Zhan: Proof of what?
Yin Ronglan: That once... I was a king.
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Is this series dropped on this website? Or just available on ko-fi...
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