HIM Chapter 3: Regret
On the fourth floor of the Bo Corporation building, in Conference Room Two, the morning meeting was underway.
He Xizhou sat at the head of the table, dressed in a sharp suit, a pair of silver-rimmed frameless glasses resting on his handsome nose. He leaned back slightly in his chair, expressionless, listening as an employee gave a presentation.
An hour later, the meeting ended. He Xizhou finally picked up his phone and saw that his pinned contact—his mother—had sent him over a dozen messages.
Assistant Cheng stepped forward to pack up the laptop and documents. While He Xizhou skimmed through the messages, a thought seemed to strike him. He asked Xu Zhi, “Did you confirm the appointment with General Manager Li of Hangtai?”
Xu Zhi replied, “It’s scheduled. Tonight at six, at Qiu Yan Villa.”
He Xizhou’s eyes dropped back to his phone, where his mother continued to bombard him with texts:
“You should buy the new house in the East Third Ring Road. It's close to both your and Xiaoqin's studios.”
“Make sure you ask Xiaoqin for his opinion on the renovation. He might have preferences.”
“He’s a celebrity. Privacy is important.”
“Actually, maybe not the East Third Ring. It’s not convenient to come home from there…”
He Xizhou replied, “Mom, it’s just a business marriage.”
His mother responded instantly:
“So what if it is? Your father and I were a business marriage too. You build a life together. You and Xiaoqin have to live together for two years—what, you’re going to act like strangers the whole time?”
He Xizhou knew his mom’s mindset wasn’t easily changed. Smartly, he tried to end the conversation by talking about work—but then she sent him a WeChat contact card:
“This is Xiaoqin’s WeChat. You haven’t even added him, have you?”
He opened the contact card. The photo was one of Bo Qin’s professional shots—shirtless, a thin sapphire necklace around his slender, pale neck, his shoulder-length hair perfectly styled. His features were sharp and clear, his gaze calm as he faced the camera.
He Xizhou was once again struck by Bo Qin’s beauty. In terms of looks and physique, Bo Qin perfectly matched his aesthetic—his ideal type, really.
He thought for a moment and told Xu Zhi, “I want a detailed dossier on Bo Qin.”
Xu Zhi responded, a little confused. He’d worked as He Xizhou’s special assistant for six years and knew his boss’s habits well. He Xizhou rarely asked for detailed reports unless someone was of serious business importance. And honestly, the name Bo Qin didn’t ring any bells.
After leaving the elevator, Xu Zhi kept mulling it over. The name “Bo Qin” felt familiar. He asked Assistant Cheng, who was carrying a stack of documents and looking out the sixth-floor window. Cheng pointed at a massive watch ad across the street:
“That’s Bo Qin. Big-time celebrity. Been popular for years. Didn’t you sing one of his songs—‘Loose Ends’—at karaoke?”
In that instant, everything clicked for Xu Zhi.
Collecting Bo Qin’s information wasn’t hard. Xu Zhi had been He Xizhou’s assistant long enough to be efficient—he usually delivered crisp summaries. But this time, seeing how interesting Bo Qin’s background was, he took some extra time. An hour later, He Xizhou received an impressively thorough file—so detailed even a superfan would be impressed.
Inside the car, the air carried a faint, cool scent. He Xizhou loosened his tie with one hand. The light from his laptop cast a faint glow on his face, revealing a bit of fatigue he couldn’t hide.
After replying to a few emails, he closed the laptop. Then, recalling Bo Qin’s message from earlier that afternoon, he told Xu Zhi, “I want to renovate the villa in Fengjiang.”
Xu Zhi got ready to take notes on the renovation details—but after a while, He Xizhou still hadn’t said anything. Turning to look, he saw his boss frowning, lost in thought.
Then He Xizhou said, “Separate the living areas between the second and third floors. The third floor should have a professional music studio and dance room.”
Xu Zhi blinked.
What kind of requirements are these?
He stayed calm outwardly but thought:
Is my boss trying to keep a celebrity? Damn, I never would’ve guessed—he always looked so restrained and proper.
But He Xizhou, unaware of his assistant’s thoughts, added, “Hire a professional to set up the studio. Make sure the equipment is good—don’t just go for the most expensive stuff.”
Meaning: take it seriously, don’t just throw money at it.
Xu Zhi agreed, thinking,
Wow, he’s really putting effort into this.
Later that night, at Qiu Yan Villa—one of He Xizhou’s high-end properties—he arrived with Xu Zhi. The general manager came down personally to greet them.
He Xizhou had arranged a dinner meeting with GM Li of Hangtai. He’d heard about Li Yang’s style. Sure enough, when Li arrived, he brought a young male celebrity—slim, striking, and very polite—who poured drinks for everyone, smiling as he made small talk. He Xizhou glanced at him and thought:
Is this kid even legal?
Two hours later, the business part of dinner wrapped up. The room relaxed. The young celebrity lit a cigarette for Li Yang and someone joked,
“Nice eye candy.”
Li Yang casually placed a hand on the boy’s waist.
“He’s a dancer—real flexible.”
The room burst into knowing laughter.
Smoke filled the private room, mixing with the scent of expensive liquor. He Xizhou leaned back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, suit jacket off. He looked calm, almost distant, his sharp features half-hidden in the haze. His whole presence just felt different from everyone else’s.
Even though he wasn’t warm or overly sociable, he didn’t ruin the vibe either—always professional when it came to business.
Li Yang, clearly tipsy, gestured for the young star to pour He Xizhou another drink. The boy hesitated, making others anxious—would He Xizhou reject him and make things awkward?
But the moment passed. The conversation got more inappropriate, veering into crude jokes. The young celebrity whispered something in Li’s ear, then slipped out of the room.
After a few more rounds, He Xizhou clinked glasses with someone nearby and overheard:
“Honestly, I wanna date a celeb.”
“Like Li does? Groom one from scratch?”
“Nah, I want someone already famous. I’d love to meet Bo Qin.”
That name made He Xizhou glance up. The speaker was Kou Dong—he recognized the name. Youngest son of the Kou family.
Someone next to Kou Dong laughed,
“Meet him, huh? That’s putting it nicely.”
Kou shrugged,
“Did you see his New Year’s performance? My family sponsored that show. Damn, the way he danced—wild and cocky. And that face? Top-tier.”
Wang Yan, a film investor, chimed in,
“Bo Qin is something else. We worked with him once—he handled a dispute really well. Plus, he’s good-looking, talented, and has a crazy loyal fanbase. He’s been hot for years. His commercial value is off the charts. You guys just don’t know how much fans spend—if they’re happy, they’ll throw money like confetti.”
He Xizhou’s throat burned slightly—the liquor tonight was strong, and he hadn’t eaten much. Now, the emptiness in his stomach started to bother him.
The conversation had drifted to Bo Qin. He Xizhou thought about that detailed file from earlier.
Bo Qin was someone with ambition and control over his career. His albums, his acting roles—it was all carefully chosen. He Xizhou respected that. In any field, someone who dedicates themselves to excellence is worthy of admiration.
“Please,” someone scoffed. “How pure can he be? Wasn’t he backed by Xiao Chen back in the day? Without Tiancheng Entertainment, would he even be where he is?”
That guy continued with disdain,
“Xiao Chen was obsessed with Jiang’s youngest son. Bo Qin just looked like Jiang Rong, so Xiao Chen pushed him hard. But when Jiang Rong came back, they fell out and split, didn’t they?”
Kou Dong frowned. “Qian Neng, could you sound more gossipy? You’re like a damn tabloid.”
Qian Neng smirked. “Sorry if I shattered your fantasy. Bo Qin’s not as pure as he seems.”
“Clink!” He Xizhou set his glass down hard.
He looked up, calm but commanding.
“The villa just received a new batch of wine from my vineyard. I brought it tonight for everyone to try.”
Xu Zhi immediately left to fetch it.
The topic switch was abrupt and obvious. The room quieted—people glanced around, wondering if He Xizhou had some hidden connection to Bo Qin. But they all smiled and moved on.
Later, when He Xizhou got home, one light was still on. As he opened the door, a childish voice called out, “Uncle!”
He hummed in response, handed his jacket to Aunt Liu, then crouched to lift He Yueyue into his arms.
“Still awake?”
“I was waiting for you,” she said, hugging his neck.
His mom came out. “You’re back. Xiao Xu said your stomach wasn’t feeling great, so I made soup.”
That reminded him. He passed Yueyue to his sister, He Linglan.
“I smell like smoke and alcohol. Keep her away.”
Yueyue clung to him. “Uncle smells nice, not stinky.”
“Oh wow,” Linglan laughed. “You’ve got rose-colored glasses on for your uncle.”
After putting Yueyue to bed, He Linglan came downstairs. In the dining room, under their mother’s watchful eye, He Xizhou was drinking soup.
She sat beside him. “I go on vacation abroad, and suddenly you’re getting married.”
Their mother ladled out another bowl. “The engagement’s been set for years. It’s time. Bo Qin’s a good kid—give it a try.”
Linglan muttered, “The Bo family’s youngest suddenly steps into the spotlight just for this marriage.”
Their mom teased, “What, did you expect Bo Youzhao to marry Xizhou instead?”
Linglan snorted. “If it doesn’t work out, we can back out. Grandpa made that promise as a joke. It’s not even a big business move.”
“No need,” He Xizhou said as he sipped the soup. “It’s a profitable deal—why not do it?”
Their mother shot him a look. “Xiaoqin’s a great kid. You like men, don’t you? If you don’t try now, you’ll regret it.”
Linglan glanced at her brother, amused. “Bo Qin, huh? The name sounds familiar... oh!” She opened Weibo, searched Bo Qin’s profile, and lit up. “I’ve seen his show—Defenders of the Wind, I think.”
Their mom perked up. “Where can I watch it?”
“CCTV-1, around 8 p.m., I think. It’s past time now.” Linglan showed He Xizhou Bo Qin’s latest selfie. “He’s really handsome, Xizhou—your type, right?”
He Xizhou glanced at the photo—Bo Qin lying on a bed, smiling softly with downcast eyes, the lighting perfectly highlighting his features. The caption read: Goodnight.
He made no comment, just set down his spoon, wiped his hands, and said, “I’m flying to North America tomorrow. I might be gone a week. Don’t wait for me for dinner.”
“So soon? Can’t reschedule? I was going to invite Xiaoqin to dinner,” their mom said.
“I can’t. And Bo Qin’s busy too,” he said, pulling out his chair. “I’ll set the time with him and let you know.”
As he walked upstairs, his mom looked at his back and said, “Linglan, what do you think is going on in your brother’s head?”
Linglan followed Bo Qin on Weibo and sighed. “How should I know? He’s impossible to read... but damn, Bo Qin really is fine.”
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