Category: How To Use His Feathers (Page 2 of 7)

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Thank you so much, Yartizt & Mystic, for the ko-fis!!! :blobaww:

Enjoy the bonus chapters!

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District Seven had officially entered deep winter.

On the night of his official divorce from Xi Xianqing, Zhu Ming had a heartfelt conversation with Zhu Yingying in the living room—something they had never done before.

Zhu Yingying still found it hard to believe that the marriage had only been a contractual arrangement. At the same time, she began reflecting on her own actions. “If I hadn’t forced you to go on blind dates back then, would you have never gotten into a fake marriage? And then you wouldn’t have ended up with Xiao Xi…”

“No.” Zhu Ming shook his head. “I wasn’t particularly keen on blind dates, but I didn’t oppose them either. At the time, I wanted to get married mostly so that you would let me go and move on with your life.”

Zhu Yingying couldn’t say anything.

“But…” She gazed at the dining table in front of her, recalling the last dinner she had shared with Xi Xianqing. The little rabbit at her feet still drooped its ears. “Was there really not even a little bit of genuine emotion between you and Xiao Xi? Was it really just…”

She looked at the expression on Zhu Ming’s face. In the end, she swallowed the rest of her words, letting out a barely audible sigh instead.

Life gradually returned to normal. During this time, for the first time in his life, Zhu Ming actively followed the news.

Apart from the occasional discussion post speculating about the reasons for their divorce, everything was considered calm.

No news was the best news for Zhu Ming—it meant that at the very least, Xi Xianqing was undergoing his assessment steadily, without any unexpected incidents.

At first, Zhu Ming felt relieved, but soon after, an emptiness settled over him.

First was a physical emptiness—now that the contract had ended, his role as a private doctor had also come to an end. He returned to his stable, routine, yet monotonous daily schedule of live broadcast consultations.

Then came the psychological emptiness—Zhu Ming had a rough idea of its cause and knew that there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He understood that he needed to find something to distract himself, something to fill the void in every sense.

On a bright and sunny winter morning, Zhu Ming and Zhou Zhou appeared at the entrance of the Life Sciences Academy at K University.

Zhu Ming had given Qian Duo a heads-up in advance: “I can meet your mentor and take a quick tour of the lab, but don’t get your hopes up, and don’t make too much of a fuss.”

Qian Duo’s reply was filled with exclamation marks, almost covering the entire screen: “No problem!!! Professor Zhu!!! I’ll keep everything as simple as possible!!!”

The day before heading to K University, Zhu Ming made a somewhat immature and dangerous decision—he wanted to tour Qian Duo’s lab entirely on foot, in perfect health, fulfilling a small personal wish.

But his legs had only recently recovered. No matter how frequently he had been doing rehabilitation exercises, moving as freely as a normal person was still difficult. So, he called Zhou Zhou to be his physical crutch.

Now, standing in the hallway, Zhu Ming contemplatively stared at the red carpet stretching all the way to the lab entrance. “…This is what you call keeping things simple?”

Qian Duo let out a ‘hehe’. “My mentor insisted. I couldn’t stop him. This way, Professor Zhu.”

Qian Duo’s lab team wasn’t particularly large. His mentor, Liu Kuan, was a middle-aged man with a round belly and an honest, good-natured demeanor. His spiritual manifestation was an equally round capybara.

The two post-doctoral researchers had a bamboo rat and a beaver as their spiritual manifestation, while undergraduate Qian Duo’s spiritual manifestation was a guinea pig. The entire room was filled with rodent-type creatures, each one staring eagerly at Zhu Ming’s face.

At first glance, the team seemed like an odd bunch, but after the tour, Zhou Zhou couldn’t help but marvel, “Not to mention the other things, but the brands and models of these instruments… they’re really top-tier ah.”

Zhu Ming nodded thoughtfully. “Small, specialized teams often have fewer internal conflicts. As long as the team members are capable and the funding for equipment keeps up, they can sometimes rival the output of much larger groups.”

Liu Kuan, Qian Duo’s mentor, was a traditional District Seven researcher with a deep passion for scientific inquiry.

With great enthusiasm, Liu Kuan introduced his future plans to Zhu Ming. “Over the past few years, we’ve expanded from studying rodent-type spiritual manifestation abnormalities to broader fields. We’ve been steadily accumulating promising research topics, aiming to compete in the next Chief Researcher selection. Our goal is to win the position and prove to the world that even small research groups can achieve great things!”

Zhu Ming: “…You all really dare to dream ah.”

After the tour, Liu Kuan spoke with great tact. “If you were to join us, it would be our greatest honor. But if you don’t, we, we will—”

Behind him, the round capybara swayed unsteadily, making Zhu Ming feel as if Liu Kuan had originally wanted to say, ‘We’ll just die to show you.’

Liu Kuan sniffled and finally said, “We’ll keep working hard regardless.”

Zhu Ming almost wanted to laugh.

Though this lab had fewer people than some technicians employed by certain popular large groups, their passion for their field was undeniably genuine.

Of course, Zhu Ming didn’t actually believe in the big pie they drew, let alone something as far-fetched pie as the Chief Researcher election. But he did somewhat miss the feeling of throwing himself wholeheartedly into a field, focusing entirely on one thing with unwavering dedication.

“I need some time to think about it,” he said.

Liu Kuan and Qian Duo’s eyes lit up instantly. Their voices trembled with excitement as they hurriedly agreed.

Thus, despite Zhu Ming’s hundred refusals, they insisted on seeing him off when he left the lab.

Upon reaching the elevator, they found an “Under Maintenance” sign standing in front of the doors, which had been functioning just moments ago. With no other choice, they headed for the stairwell instead.

Although Zhu Ming’s legs had mostly recovered, he was still at a stage where he had to catch his breath every ten steps. Movements like going up and down stairs were still daunting challenges for him.

He had barely made it down two steps when he vaguely heard some noise from below—another group of people, seemingly also unable to take the elevator, was coming upstairs.

At first, Zhu Ming paid no attention, because he was struggling to get down the stairs with the help of Zhou Zhou as a human crutch and he was too focused on carefully watching his footing, lest he misstep and fall flat on his face—

But in the next instant, he felt Zhou Zhou’s grip on his arm suddenly tightened.

Zhu Ming furrowed his brows in pain and looked up, just about to ask what had gotten into this kid all of a sudden.

—But following Zhou Zhou’s dazed gaze, he abruptly locked eyes with a pair of familiar, deep, and indifferent dark green eyes.

Below the stairs, surrounded by a group of people, Xi Xianqing looked in Zhu Ming’s direction, his gaze dark and heavy.

Behind him, Ye Lu was holding a toolbox. Seeing Zhu Ming similarly surrounded by people on the stairs, she was momentarily startled.

A woman wearing a research institute badge stood beside Xi Xianqing, softly explaining something to him.

It was a long moment before Xi Xianqing finally gave a slight nod in response. But those eyes, dark as inkstone, remained fixed on Zhu Ming’s face with a detached gaze.

Zhu Ming’s expression didn’t change much. He tried to meet the gaze as calmly as possible—but he knew that if Zhou Zhou weren’t supporting him, even standing steadily right now would be a struggle.

One group wanted to go downstairs, the other was heading up. At this moment, they found themselves awkwardly meeting on the same flight of stairs.

After a long pause, Zhu Ming was the first to look away. He shifted slightly to the side, making way for them.

Xi Xianqing withdrew his gaze instantly as well, following the person leading him forward, brushing past Zhu Ming as they passed.

Not once did his eyes shift even the slightest bit in Zhu Ming’s direction.

Behind him, Ye Lu’s expression was somewhat complicated. She took the initiative to nod at Zhu Ming and called out, “Xiao Zhu.”

Zhu Ming lowered his gaze and nodded slightly, replying softly, “Aunt Ye.”

After passing by Zhu Ming, Xi Xianqing continued heading upstairs, and Ye Lu followed suit. It was only after a long while that Zhu Ming turned back around and, with Zhou Zhou’s support, resumed his descent.

Perhaps it was the difficulty of descending stairs, which required careful balance, or perhaps it was the unrest in Zhu Ming’s own heart—just as he lifted his leg to step down another stair, his knee suddenly buckled without a sound, and he stumbled slightly forward!

Zhou Zhou quickly grabbed him with a sharp pull, his voice nearly breaking in panic. “Zhu-ge, watch your step! Be careful!”

Liu Kuan and Qian Duo, who were descending behind Zhu Ming, were also terrified by the sight. Both instinctively reached out to support his shoulders. “Professor Zhu, watch out—”

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the stairwell. Tiny dust particles floated in the air, and in that instant, countless hands reached out toward Zhu Ming.

Qian Duo’s. Liu Kuan’s. Zhou Zhou’s.

—And a pair of long, strong hands with well-defined joints.

Zhu Ming steadied himself, breathing heavily. He was momentarily stunned, his gaze trailing upward from that unfamiliar yet familiar hand—inch by inch—until it finally landed on Xi Xianqing’s face.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Xi Xianqing, who had just brushed past him had, at some point, turned back. His brows were tightly furrowed, and at the moment Zhu Ming was about to fall, he had instinctively reached out his hand.

The moment he met Zhu Ming’s line of sight, Xi Xianqing’s body suddenly stiffened.

Almost instantly, he withdrew his hand, his movements rigid as he averted his gaze. Then, he turned away sharply, standing still for a brief moment with his back to Zhu Ming.

A few seconds later, Zhu Ming saw him lift his leg again and continue walking up the stairs without looking back.

The two groups slowly moved in opposite directions. The space around them opened up once more, and Liu Kuan’s slightly anxious voice sounded in Zhu Ming’s ear. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you, Professor Zhu?”

It took Zhu Ming a long moment to gather himself. He shook his head lightly and replied in a soft voice, “I’m fine.”

“Please take a short rest here first, both of you.”

Qu He led them into a conference room and said warmly, “Professor Qin’s meeting will be over shortly. He’ll come directly to see you then.”

Xi Xianqing stood at the door for a long time without responding. Qu He, slightly puzzled, asked again, “Mr. Xi?”

As if snapping out of distraction, Xi Xianqing finally replied, “Alright, thank you.”

Qu He bowed slightly and gently closed the door before leaving the conference room with the others.

Standing at the back, Ye Lu gazed at Xi Xianqing’s silent figure, shook her head, and let out a quiet sigh in her heart.

Right next to the conference room was a pantry room. Through the gaps in the blinds, a man and a woman could be vaguely seen standing at the entrance, brewing tea.

The wall’s soundproofing was mediocre, so their conversation carried over rather clearly.

A man sighed. “Unbelievable. Every day, from 9 a.m. to 11 p.m., not even a second to catch my breath… Maybe the only real break I’ll get is when I finally drop dead in this building.”

A concerned young woman’s voice followed, “What’s wrong, Senior? Don’t tell me… he denied your leave request again?”

The man let out a cold chuckle. “Of course. Our dear Professor Qin is a master of silent coercion—pressing a blade of gentle persuasion to your throat while he wrings every last bit of value out of you until you’re squeezed to the dregs.”

He sighed again. “Forget it. I’ll check on the experiment results later. If they’re decent, maybe I’ll try asking again… Aiya, this migraine of mine ah. If I don’t see a doctor soon, it’s going to torture me to death. I can’t even get a good night’s sleep anymore ah!”

“Should we ask Senior Ruan Min?”

The young woman hesitated. “I remember he’s really easy to talk to. He even covered two experiments for me before. He’s also on good terms with Professor Qin—maybe he can help you smooth things over and get your leave approved?”

“Ruan Min? As if his words are of any use.”

The man sounded like he had just heard something utterly ridiculous. “Sure, he’s got that shiny ‘Chief Researcher’ title, but everyone in this lab knows he’s just a pathetic puppet—nothing more than a tool for Qin Weisheng to fulfill his grand slam ambitions.”

Upon hearing this, not only did the girl outside the door fall silent, but even Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu inside the conference room were momentarily stunned.

“Carrying a title that doesn’t match his true capabilities, enduring the scorn of others every day, I’ve got to admire his endurance ah.”

The man let out a mocking laugh. “But isn’t he just lucky? Back then, the competition for the Chief position was full of geniuses, yet he didn’t even have to move a toe—his wonderful mentor took care of his rivals one by one for him.”

He took a sip of water and chuckled. “Aiya, and don’t even get me started on that perfect-score medical exam candidate from T University back in the day. You wouldn’t believe…”

Xi Xianqing’s shoulders shook violently and he raised his head violently.

“Senior, keep your voice down…” The girl hastily lowered her volume in alarm. “Did you forget what happened to that senior sister from next door who talked about reporting Professor Qin…”

The man seemed to recall something and let out a heavy sigh. “Ai, I know, I know. Forget it, I’ll skip lunch and finish processing that data first…”

Their voices gradually faded away.

Inside the conference room, Xi Xianqing’s pupils quivered, and a sharp ringing filled his eardrums. The moment he heard the phrase “T University medical exam perfect score,” it was as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice, forming jagged spikes that stabbed into his lungs, making each breath icy cold.

Two sudden knocks on the door shattered his thoughts.

After a brief pause, Xi Xianqing steadied his voice, suppressing the tremor beneath it. “…Come in.”

The door swung open from the outside, revealing Qin Weisheng’s face, wearing a faintly apologetic expression.

“Apologies ah, Mr. Xiao Xi, I ran into a few students on my way here and got caught up answering their questions—hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?” he asked.

His face was refined and scholarly, with a warm smile, his words polished and courteous.

“The soundproofing in this conference room has always been poor. With students coming and going, it’s not quite appropriate.”

As he spoke, he smiled and pushed the door open. “If it’s convenient, let’s move to my office for a more private discussion.”

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Author’s notes:

Hello, everyone!

I know that some people enjoy a bit of sourness in a story, while others prefer pure sweetness. Stepping out of my comfort zone of writing only fluffy content took a lot of courage for me. Both of my babies have their flaws and emotional knots to untangle, and they both need to grow. No matter what, I truly appreciate everyone who has read this far. ^_^

That being said! Please refrain from mentioning unrelated characters from other works in the comments or comparing them to mine ha. (Doing so feels a bit disrespectful to both me and the characters I’ve written.) If I see such comments, I will delete them. Thank you for understanding.

And finally—can I get some little starfish? Hehe!

Thank you very much, Yartizt, for the ko-fi! :blobaww:

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In past memories, the first person to bring up the word “divorce” was actually Xi Xianqing.

At the time, after Zhu Ming used his spiritual energy to help Dish Soap fan out its tail by hand, Xi Xianqing threatened him with divorce and forbade him from doing it again. He believed Zhu Ming needed this marriage more then.

At this moment, as if his brain had suddenly crashed, Xi Xianqing stared at Zhu Ming’s face, unable to comprehend a single word coming from his mouth.

Was it because he had been too busy lately?

Or was it because he didn’t accompany him to rehab that day?

“Did you see that news?”

Realizing something, Xi Xianqing took out his phone, intending to show Zhu Ming his chat history with Lu Zhihe. “It’s not what you think, it’s—”

“I know there’s nothing between you two. In fact, you have no obligation to explain anything to me.”

Zhu Ming shook his head, his tone calm yet firm as he interrupted him. “I just realized that I don’t want to keep deceiving my aunt under this agreement.”

“Let’s part on good terms, okay?” he asked.

Xi Xianqing’s mind was in chaos. He stared at Zhu Ming’s face and instinctively blurted out, “…No.”

Zhu Ming quietly looked at him.

He knew Xi Xianqing too well—or rather, Xi Xianqing was simply too easy to understand. So, meeting his gaze, Zhu Ming only asked softly, “Why?”

As expected, Xi Xianqing froze.

He clearly hadn’t expected Zhu Ming to ask him that, nor had he thought through the answer.

“Because bringing up divorce so suddenly is very irresponsible.”

Breathing became heavy as Xi Xianqing struggled to maintain his composure while facing off against Zhu Ming. Nearly speaking in a panic, he said, “For example, my illness—you haven’t cured me yet. That’s your responsibility, and besides…”

He was still trying to bind Zhu Ming with the word “responsibility,” but this time, Zhu Ming simply shook his head. “I’ve already found the cure for you.”

Xi Xianqing: “But—”

“Yes, you want to say that the cure’s effects are unstable. But we both know that it’s just a matter of dosage.”

Zhu Ming looked at him and said softly, “You only need enough psychological, emotional, and physiological fluctuations to temporarily regain your ability to fan out your tail. That is the cure. That is the answer.”

“But Xi Xianqing, these things—this emotional value—shouldn’t be something you ask a doctor for. They should come from a partner.”

Zhu Ming looked at his face and shook his head. “This vague and ambiguous method of treatment—should that really be a doctor’s duty? I don’t think so.”

His words were too blunt, yet they hit the nail on the head.

Xi Xianqing froze as if something had hit him, his chest heaving violently.

Zhu Ming knew that this was the moment.

He lowered his eyes, reached for the end of the table, and took out a prepared folder, extracting two thin sheets of paper.

The instant Xi Xianqing saw the contents of the papers, his pupils trembled violently. He stared at Zhu Ming’s profile in disbelief.

Zhu Ming: “Sign it. We—”

Before he could finish, his voice was abruptly cut off in pain as Xi Xianqing suddenly grabbed his wrist. The thin sheets slipped from his grasp, fluttering weightlessly in the air, drifting to the ground like the snow falling outside the pavilion.

“So this marriage was nothing more than a performance for your aunt, was it?”

Xi Xianqing couldn’t control the tremor in his voice. His gaze darkened as he stared at Zhu Ming’s face, gritting his teeth. “Zhu Ming, all this time, have you really not felt even a little—”

Zhu Ming’s wrist ached from his grip, and he staggered back a step.

His legs had only recently recovered, and just standing through this conversation was already exhausting. He had forced himself to hold on until now, purely to bring this agreement to a dignified end.

The earlier exchange had drained all his strength. The moment Xi Xianqing suddenly grabbed his wrist, Zhu Ming lost his balance entirely, stumbling backward and falling back into the wheelchair behind him.

Only then did a crack finally appear in his expression.

Zhu Ming closed his eyes briefly, adjusted his breathing, and when he opened them again, his face had returned to calm. “What else could it have been?”

“To me, this was always a mutual agreement, not a marriage,” he said.

Xi Xianqing said nothing.

Those beautiful eyes, as flawless as the finest jade, had already flickered through confusion, shock, and anger. Now, Zhu Ming watched as they settled completely into a cold, lifeless stillness.

The snow was falling heavier. The chill slowly crept up Zhu Ming’s fingertips.

“Of course, failing to find the root cause of your illness was my negligence.”

After a long silence, Zhu Ming’s lips moved slightly. “As compensation, I’m willing to return the lab pod to you, or reimburse you—”

“No need.” He heard Xi Xianqing interrupt indifferently. “Keep it.”

At last, Xi Xianqing let go of Zhu Ming’s wrist, straightened up, and took a few cold steps back.

Zhu Ming suddenly felt completely drained. He averted his gaze, forcing a weak curve to his lips. ”Alright.”

Xi Xianqing continued staring at Zhu Ming’s face, as if trying to see through him. Word by word, he said, “But the ring, give it back to me.”

Zhu Ming’s body trembled slightly.

Only after a long time did he softly say, “Yes.”

This wedding ring, inlaid with a small blue diamond—though hastily modified by Xi Xianqing at the time—had never once been taken off by either of them since the agreement began.

Zhu Ming lowered his head, curling his fingers as he slowly tugged the ring toward his fingertip bit by bit.

Having worn it for so long, the band was slightly stuck at his knuckle, making it difficult to remove. He applied more force, and only then did the ring begin to loosen slightly.

Xi Xianqing watched his every move with a calm gaze.

Just as the small ring was about to slip past Zhu Ming’s fingertip, Xi Xianqing suddenly said in a hoarse voice, “…Enough.”

Zhu Ming’s hand slightly stalled.

His Adam’s apple moved, and Xi Xianqing turned his face away as if unable to bear the sight any longer. “It was just a meaningless prop from the start. I don’t need it, and I don’t care about it.”

The finely cut, delicate diamond pressed into his palm, but Zhu Ming remained silent.

Xi Xianqing finally bent down, picked up the scattered divorce papers from the ground.

He swiftly scrawled his signature. Then, without hesitation, he tossed both the papers and pen in front of Zhu Ming before turning around, heading straight for the garden exit without looking back.

As they passed each other, Zhu Ming spoke softly, “Tomorrow morning at ten—see you at the Civil Affairs Bureau.”

Xi Xianqing’s footsteps seemed to falter.

He stood in the heavy snow, nearly swallowed by the thick darkness of the night. He neither spoke nor turned back. After a long pause, he lifted his foot again and walked toward the villa’s interior.

The snowfall in District Seven lasted an entire week.

It was soon followed by a massive blizzard of the highest severity, shutting down numerous roads and prompting universities to announce temporary suspension of classes. Most residents were stranded at home.

Amid this dull, drowsy snow season, a shocking piece of news suddenly exploded across the trending lists—media reports stated that Xi Xianqing, grandson of the District Six representative and likely his successor, had officially announced his divorce from his District Seven partner, whom he had married in a flash wedding less than a year ago.

Unsurprisingly, the news sparked heated discussions among netizens.

“Did I lose my memory? Weren’t they still passionately kissing at Old Master Xi’s birthday banquet not long ago? I even saved the GIF (because these two are just too stunning together). How could this happen so suddenly?”

“I knew from the start that this marriage wouldn’t last… People from District Six and District Seven are from completely different worlds. Maybe love could keep things sweet for a while before marriage, but after tying the knot, differences in three views and personality would become unbearable. Neither side would want to compromise.”

“I heard some insider gossip ah. Apparently, Zhu Ming missed the District Seven Chief selection back then due to his car accident, and he wasn’t happy about Xi Xianqing creating works for the current Chief. That caused growing tension between them, eventually leading to the divorce…”

No one knew why they divorced so abruptly, just as no one had known how they fell in love or how they had so hastily entered into marriage

This trending topic dominated the internet for an entire week. But as the blizzard subsided and the weather in District Seven gradually warmed, the news faded from public attention.

Inside the darkened bedroom in District Six, Xi Xianqing was lying on the bed.

On the day they went to the Civil Affairs Bureau to finalize the divorce, neither of them was late.

Zhu Ming had looked calm, so Xi Xianqing had controlled his own expression as well, trying to appear even more composed and indifferent toward their marriage than him.

Both of them were so tense that they didn’t even say a complete sentence. So on the surface, although they hadn’t parted on particularly good terms, they at least didn’t make too much of a mess.

But Xi Xianqing was far from as calm as he appeared on the surface.

Shock, confusion, anger—these chaotic emotions filled his chest. After returning home and staring at that small divorce certificate, all these tangled feelings mixed together violently, ultimately blending into an endless void.

A void so profound that it left Xi Xianqing disoriented.

Why did it feel like something was gripping his heart so tightly that breathing became difficult, as if even his blood had stopped flowing?

In the dimly lit room, Xi Xianqing closed his weary eyes. His thoughts drifted back to that afternoon when he had been summoned to the mansion and reprimanded by Xi Jianfeng.

At the time, the evidence had been overwhelming, leaving no room for rebuttal.

—Xi Xianqing’s past medical records in District Seven, Zhu Ming’s research and consultation topics, the confession from Li Shun, the manager of the District Two resort, and even the recorded conversations from the District Four game.

Even though they had been walking on thin ice, treading cautiously at every step, in the eyes of those who were watching closely, their actions had still been full of flaws.

“Do you have any idea how many eyes are on you?”

Xi Jianfeng spoke in a cold, severe voice. “Do you know how much of an impact it would have had on your assessment and your future if I hadn’t stopped Xi Hongming from leaking this information to the media?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything.

“I know you’ve always held yourself to extreme standards, never willing to reveal even the slightest flaw in front of others.”

Xi Jianfeng exhaled sharply. “But, Xianqing, presenting a so-called perfect image by hiding your flaws through lies and deception—manipulating your entire life and love just to secure this position—is this really what you want?!”

“But Grandfather, if I didn’t use lies to hide them,” Xi Xianqing finally spoke after a long silence, “then perhaps from the very beginning, I wouldn’t have even had the chance to compete for this position.”

It was rare for him to speak so bluntly. Xi Jianfeng slammed the table in fury. “So you still stubbornly believe you did nothing wrong, is that it?!”

The jade bowl filled with fish food tipped over, and the room fell into absolute silence. The only sound was the tiny pellets scattering and rolling across the floor. Xi Xianqing stood straight, but he remained silent.

“I know that over the years, Xi Hongming has always been looking for your weaknesses. Things haven’t been easy for you two.”

After a long pause, Xi Jianfeng closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Precisely because of this—your talent, along with the debt I owe you and Mufei… I have always intended to cultivate you for this position.”

“But above all, you must first be yourself. And your partner should be someone who shares a common language with you, someone who can support you, someone you truly love.”

He opened his eyes and locked his gaze onto Xi Xianqing’s. “Not someone whose life path is completely different from yours, whom you entangle with for your own gain. That doesn’t just hurt you—it misleads them too.”

Xi Xianqing’s chest rose and fell in silence.

“You disappoint me too much, Xianqing.”

With exhaustion in his voice, Xi Jianfeng turned his back to him and rubbed his temples. “If you still want to compete for the position of representative, then before this assessment ends, divorce that child from District Seven as soon as possible.”

Xi Xianqing’s body suddenly shook.

His mind was in chaos, and his reason told Xi Xianqing: You have worked for this position for so many years. The only thing you need to do now is obey every word Xi Jianfeng says.

But as if possessed by something beyond his control, he looked at Xi Jianfeng’s back, his lips trembling, and blurted out, “Zhu Ming and I, it’s not just because of the agreement that…”

Xi Jianfeng frowned and looked back at him, “What?”

Xi Xianqing opened his mouth but couldn’t make a sound.

Because he himself didn’t know the answer.

If it wasn’t just because of the marriage agreement, then what was it?

They had indeed come this far because they each had something to gain. Every kiss, every moment of intimacy with Zhu Ming had always been under the guise of medication. Their relationship was so ambiguous that even Xi Xianqing himself had no definitive answer.

Xi Jianfeng studied his face closely, as if he had seen through something. “What exactly do you feel for that child?”

Xi Xianqing’s mind was blank. “I… don’t know.”

“Have you truly looked into your own heart?”

Xi Jianfeng didn’t give him time to think. Instead, he pressed further. “And that child—does he feel the same for you?”

Seeing Xi Xianqing stand there in a daze, Xi Jianfeng remained silent for a long time before finally shaking his head with a sigh.

“I won’t punish you. I’ll continue allowing you and Xi Sen to access my network and resources so that you can gradually understand what this position truly entails.”

Xi Jianfeng waved a weary hand, as if too exhausted to continue. “But I also want you to reflect on the meaning of this marriage. Because in my eyes, it was a transaction, an agreement—perhaps even a weakness others could exploit against you. But it was never a real marriage.”

“And this isn’t just for yourself—it’s also for that child from District Seven.”

With another sigh, he said, “Xianqing, you need to learn to face your own heart.”

At that time, Xi Xianqing’s thoughts were tangled and chaotic. His instinct was to avoid thinking about it.

Because keeping things in the realm of a patient-doctor dynamic with Zhu Ming, where they simply took and administered medicine, was within his comfort zone. Maintaining it as such seemed perfectly fine to him. He had no desire to decipher the emotions that were neither clear nor well-defined.

It just occurred to him that he might need some more time and might be able to figure out his relationship with Zhu Ming.

What he didn’t expect was that Zhu Ming didn’t give him the time and opportunity to think.

Zhu Ming was far smarter than him, far calmer, and far more aware of the value and meaning of their marriage. Back when he had agreed to the marriage, it had been without hesitation—just as now, when he was ending it, he did so with equal decisiveness.

On that snowy night of the birthday banquet, the moment Zhu Ming uttered the words “divorce,” Xi Xianqing felt that all the struggles and hesitations he had gone through in recent times were utterly ridiculous. At the same time, he also found Zhu Ming to be unbelievably indifferent and selfish.

If Zhu Ming didn’t care about this marriage, then neither did he.

The divorce certificate was carelessly thrown into a desk drawer, the birthday gift that had never been delivered was tossed into a corner, and all the books and personal belongings Zhu Ming had left behind were sent straight to storage.

Anything related to Zhu Ming—Xi Xianqing ruthlessly and efficiently erased from his life.

But he suddenly felt very empty.

Even with the house full of servants, even with Xi Mufei and Ye Lu constantly watching him with worried and concerned eyes, the home still felt empty. The bedroom felt empty. Everywhere felt empty.

Empty to the point of suffocating silence. Empty to the point of not being able to calm down, where only his own heartbeat pounded so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t sleep.

It was as if something in his heart had been abruptly hollowed out.

On Tuesday, as scheduled, Yang Jiahe came to visit Xi Xianqing.

She naturally also saw the news of their divorce. But unlike the netizens who made baseless speculations flooding the internet, she had actually spoken with the two of them over the phone in District Four just a short while ago—which made the sudden change all the more shocking to her.

Back then, she had thought their interactions were relaxed and harmonious, sometimes even tinged with playful banter. Yet, in the span of just a month, things had completely turned to this scene.

And the moment she laid eyes on Xi Xianqing, her heart clenched with alarm. “You… are you okay?”

Xi Xianqing had always been meticulous about his appearance, especially when meeting with outsiders—he took great care with his attire and demeanor.

But at this moment, the young man sitting in the center of the studio had the collar of his shirt loosely open, messy strands of hair falling over his brows, his face pale. Deep in his eyes, exhaustion and fatigue were impossible to hide.

The green peac0ck curled up lifelessly under the desk, its head drooping listlessly, and its long, beautiful tail feathers sprawled limply on the floor.

Yang Jiahe understood her student’s temperament and chose to change the subject proactively. “Let me take a look at your first draft.”

After a long silence, she heard Xi Xianqing say, “…There is no first draft.”

Yang Jiahe didn’t react, “What?”

Only then did she notice that although Xi Xianqing was holding a pen, all the scattered papers in front of him were completely blank.

“Teacher Yang.” She saw the young man before her lift his eyes to her, looking dazed, perhaps even a little lost. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I… I think I can’t draw anything anymore.”

---

Author’s Notes:

The great peac0ck tasting the bitterness of love for the first time—learn to face your own heart 🙂

On the way home by taxi, the first snowfall of the year in District Seven began to drift down from the sky.

Half of District Seven was covered by snow-capped mountains, and winter snowfall was nothing unusual. Yet, as Zhu Ming watched the delicate, glistening flakes swirl and float down, he felt an inexplicable sense of estrangement, as if it were a lifetime ago.

In that virtual bar within the District Four game, Zhu Ming had once told Xi Xianqing that he had only two bottom lines in life.

One, he only wanted to do what he liked. Two, he would never become a burden to others.

Zhu Ming had always seen himself clearly.

He was never someone who avoided facing his own heart. He knew that perhaps from the moment he agreed to that absurd medication agreement, he had already stepped beyond his role as a doctor. It wasn’t just about fulfilling a physician’s duty—more than that, it was about satisfying his own instincts.

Zhu Ming also saw Xi Xianqing clearly.

Every time he averted his gaze, lifted his chin slightly; every time he hesitated, spoke stubbornly, said one thing but meant another; every time their eyes met, lips touched, and the tips of his ears turned red—Zhu Ming understood the meaning behind all of Xi Xianqing’s fluctuating expressions.

Because sometimes, he understood Xi Xianqing even better than Xi Xianqing understood himself.

So just like now, he could clearly see the struggle in Xi Xianqing’s eyes.

Treatment could be an excuse for intimacy, and medication could be a shield for kissing. He could allow himself to indulge in it temporarily, but this doctor-patient relationship, entangled in a fake marriage, would have to be sorted out sooner or later.

Xi Xianqing found it difficult to make a choice because he had to balance this marriage with the goal he had pursued for years. Zhu Ming understood his dilemma—because once upon a time, he had stood just a step away from a similar crossroads.

So Zhu Ming wanted to help him make a choice.

When he arrived back at the villa, he saw Zhu Yingying directing the servants, arranging decorations for the evening garden party.

The first snowfall came suddenly. Zhu Yingying stood in the garden, holding an umbrella, directing the workers to set up a small canopy in the center. She also reminded them to place the custom-made flowers near the heaters to ensure the overall aesthetic harmony.

She had always enjoyed arranging lively gatherings, and the little rabbit happily wiggled its butt around at her feet.

Zhu Ming clearly saw the excitement in her eyes, and the corners of his lips curled up slightly in response.

But immediately afterward, that smile faded a little.

After giving her instructions, Zhu Yingying clapped her hands in satisfaction. When she turned her head, she happened to see Zhu Ming at the entrance. “Oh, you’re back? Come and see how my setup looks. Do you think this corner needs more small night lights? And here…”

Zhu Ming was silent for a moment, then raised a smile at her.

“Aunt,” he said, “there’s something I want to confess to you.”

–

Xi Xianqing opened his eyes.

After a few consecutive days chaotic schedules and muddled thoughts, combined with back-to-back social engagements, had left him with barely any proper sleep.

His temples throbbed painfully. He glanced at the button on his phone, closed his eyes briefly, then forced himself to sit up despite his exhaustion.

Unlocking his phone, he received a message.

At last night’s banquet, Xi Jianfeng had introduced him and Xi Sen to many founders of high-end fashion and jewelry families from District Six—undoubtedly the most elite connections and resources in the entire district.

Amidst the clinking of glasses, Xi Sen had nodded at Xi Xianqing, a tacit understanding passing between their gazes.

Xi Jianfeng was getting old. And precisely because he was aware of this, he had begun gradually handing over his power, resources, and network to them.

Now, the message Xi Xianqing received was from a woman named Lu Zhihe—one of the people he had met that night, and the heir of a century-old luxury leather goods family.

The rebellious young woman had been brought to the banquet by her father. She had casually chatted with Xi Xianqing at the time—but he didn’t have much of an impression of her. He only remembered having a drink on the balcony, learning about her independent fashion brand, and hearing about how her parents were pressuring her to marry, which strengthened her resolve to break free from her family’s constraints.

“Mr. Xi, I’m really sorry.”

Lu Zhihe’s message read: “The news was posted without my consent by someone on my team. They said it was to create buzz for my next season’s ready-to-wear launch. I’ve already told them to take it down.”

Xi Xianqing’s heart sank.

He clicked on the news she mentioned. The moment he saw the headline, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the throbbing pain in his temples grow even more unbearable.

Opening his eyes again, he instinctively scrolled to Zhu Ming’s chat window—only to find that there was no new message notification—Zhu Ming hadn’t messaged him at all.

Perhaps he hadn’t seen the news. With that thought, Xi Xianqing let out a small breath of relief.

A knock sounded at the door, and Xi Xianqing opened it.

Seeing that he wasn’t fully dressed yet, Xi Mufei, wearing a delicate party dress, signed her dissatisfaction: “Hurry up and get ready. We should be leaving now, or my cake won’t be fresh anymore.”

Xi Xianqing said, “Got it.”

For the past few days, Xi Xianqing had been stretched thin between social obligations and assessments. But in the end, he had managed to carve out this evening despite his packed schedule.

After freshening up and getting dressed, he pulled open the nightstand drawer, took out a small rectangular velvet box, examined it for a moment, then finally slipped it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

By the time he arrived at Zhu Yingying’s house, it was already evening in District Seven.

The light snowfall hadn’t stopped; in fact, it seemed to be thickening into a heavier snowstorm. A thin layer of white had settled over the ground.

Zhu Yingying stood at the garden entrance, her nose and eyes slightly red—perhaps from the cold.

The moment she saw Xi Xianqing and Xi Mufei at the entrance, there was a fleeting trace of melancholy and distraction in her expression. But in the end, she simply lifted the corners of her lips and greeted them with a bright smile.

She took their hands and led them into the small canopy at the center of the garden. “Come in quickly. I personally cooked most of the dishes today, so you have to support me.”

Although the garden was covered in snow, the heaters provided a steady warmth. The aroma of food filled the air inside the canopy, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers. The tableware was exquisite, the candlelight flickered gently—everything was arranged to feel warm and cozy.

Zhu Ming sat at the dining table, chatting with a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp eyebrows. Behind the man stood a solemn-looking Arctic wolf.

“This is Uncle Chen.”

Zhu Ming introduced them. “My aunt’s boyfriend. He just arrived from District One.”

The District One officer, Chen Cheng, stood up with a hearty smile, shook their hands, and exchanged a few pleasantries.

A small party with not many people, but because they were all acquaintances, the atmosphere was very relaxed.

Chen Cheng’s Arctic wolf stood gently beside Zhu Yingying’s lop-eared rabbit as he recounted how he and Zhu Yingying had first met years ago, how he had pursued her for so long without success, and how only recently he had finally won her over.

Zhu Ming rested his cheeks and listened with a smile in his eyes.

Though Xi Mufei couldn’t hear the story, she was still curious and eager for gossip. So Xi Xianqing sat beside her, translating everything into sign language.

However, the key figure in the story, Zhu Yingying, seemed distracted the entire time.

It wasn’t until everyone’s eyes turned toward her that she hurriedly smiled. “Why don’t we… have some of Mufei’s cake now?”

Having practiced with Zhu Ming the first time, Xi Mufei’s cake today was not only visually appealing but also fragrant and inviting. Even before anyone tasted it, it had already received unanimous praise.

The candles were inserted and lit. Zhu Ming smiled, closed his eyes, and made a wish.

He must have had many wishes he wanted to come true, as it took him a while before he finally opened his eyes again, lowered his lashes, and lightly blew out the candles.

After the cake was shared, Zhu Yingying glanced at Zhu Ming and suddenly said she wanted the recipe.

Xi Mufei immediately beamed and offered to write it down for her by hand.

The two of them stood up together and went inside the villa to find paper and a pen. Watching the heavy snowfall outside the canopy, Chen Cheng sighed, picked up the umbrella beside him, and got up to follow them.

Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing were left in the garden.

It had been almost a week since they had sat down like this and talked alone.

The snow continued to fall, and for a few seconds, the air was completely silent. Xi Xianqing hesitated, then slowly reached for the inner pocket of his suit jacket—

“Xi Xianqing.”

In the next instant, Zhu Ming suddenly spoke, “There’s something I want to say to you.”

The snow was still falling. Warm, amber-colored fairy lights decorated the canopy, and the fragrant scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air.

During dinner, Zhu Ming had drunk some fruit wine, and his cheeks carried a faint blush. His eyes shimmered with a gentle, misty light, soft and beautiful.

He was smiling at Xi Xianqing, his expression warmer and brighter than the flickering candlelight on the table. And so, Xi Xianqing’s heart softened along with it.

He withdrew his hand, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer before taking out the gift. Appearing composed, he asked, “What is it?”

Zhu Ming was quiet for a moment before saying, “Can you stand up and take a few steps back?”

Confused, Xi Xianqing stood up and stepped back.

—The next second, Zhu Ming lowered his head, resting one hand on the edge of the table for support. Struggling slightly, his body trembled as he pushed himself up from the wheelchair to stand.

Xi Xianqing’s pupils trembled sharply, and he instinctively raised a hand to support him.

But Zhu Ming, panting slightly, waved him off, signaling that Xi Xianqing didn’t need to come over.

Though he had managed to stand, his leg muscles were still weak, and his knees trembled uncontrollably. It took him a long moment before he barely steadied himself.

—Then, he took a step forward, his movements shaky and labored.

Another step. Then a third…

Just like that, he walked, step by step, until he stood right in front of Xi Xianqing.

Xi Xianqing’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at Zhu Ming’s legs in disbelief.

“When did you—”

His voice was filled with unconcealed joy, but he quickly caught himself. “Was it during your last rehab session…? Why didn’t you tell me back then?”

Even those few steps had left Zhu Ming a little breathless. He leaned against the edge of the table for support, catching his breath before lowering his gaze and smiling. “Because I wanted you to see it with your own eyes.”

He struggled to stand up straight and met Xi Xianqing’s gaze. “So? My first time standing without any machine assistance—impressive, right?”

Xi Xianqing forced his expression to remain neutral. ”…It’s alright. I already saw you stand once in the game before.”

Zhu Ming let out a soft chuckle. “Still as stubborn as ever.”

Outside the canopy, the snowfall grew heavier.

“Xi Xianqing.”

He lowered his head slightly, looking at his own legs as he called out Xi Xianqing’s name. “All this time, I’ve been wanting to say thank you.”

His tone was solemn and serious.

Xi Xianqing felt an uncontrollable tug in his chest. After a long pause, he finally said, “Your rehabilitation is your own achievement. The person you should be thanking most is yourself, for your persistence.”

However Zhu Ming shook his head.

“This thank you isn’t just for the rehabilitation.”

He lifted his gaze, looking into Xi Xianqing’s face. “During the time I spent in this marriage agreement with you, being your private doctor, I did many things I was once unable to do—or never even thought of trying.”

“These experiences, these memories—each and every one of them is worth a thank you.” He said.

His eyes drifted toward the villa in the distance, where Zhu Yingying stood, with Chen Cheng behind her. Zhu Ming smiled slightly. “Most importantly, my aunt now has her own life. She’s no longer tied down because of me. That’s something I… never even dared to imagine before.”

He was reminiscing, but it also felt like he was expressing gratitude. His voice was gentle yet polite.

Yet an inexplicable sense of alienation spread through Xi Xianqing’s chest.

Because Zhu Ming’s words sounded strangely… like a farewell.

It felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around his heart. Xi Xianqing stared at Zhu Ming intently and spoke in a hoarse voice, “You…”

“It’s just that during this period of time, I can’t help but wonder again if I’m being too selfish.”

Zhu Ming’s gaze shifted into the distance as he shook his head. “Because this agreement was inherently immature. A marriage built on a lie is bound to end one day, isn’t it?”

“Even if our intentions were good, even if we both had our reasons, but when the agreement ends, or when all the lies and secrets hidden within it are exposed—won’t that only bring disappointment and pain to the people I love and those who love me?” He asked.

Xi Xianqing’s mind went completely blank.

His voice was so dry it didn’t even feel like it came from his own throat. He stared at Zhu Ming in confusion. “You… What do you mean?”

The night was quiet, the snowfall silent. Zhu Ming remained still for a long time before his eyelashes trembled slightly.

“What I mean is that I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

After a brief pause, he turned his face, calmly meeting Xi Xianqing’s eyes. “I told my aunt about our marriage arrangement.”

“Xi Xianqing,” he said, ”Let’s divorce.”

---

Author’s Notes:

Divorce isn’t a separation—it’s about understanding one’s true feelings and embracing a genuine new beginning oh >_<

Thank you very much, diabolomenth & MoonSun, for the ko-fi!!! :blobaww:

---

Zhu Ming made an unprecedented breakthrough in his recovery at the rehabilitation center in District Seven.

He had been coming more frequently lately and had responded exceptionally well to the new medication. This time, after removing the exoskeleton device, with the support of his therapist and the handrails, he managed to walk a few paces—albeit with great difficulty and staggering steps.

Though he wobbled precariously and barely made it two steps before losing balance and sinking back into his wheelchair… he had, in fact, walked.

The entire rehabilitation center erupted in applause. Even Dr. Wu’s eyes turned slightly red—she had been Zhu Ming’s attending physician when he had his car accident, and more than anyone else present, she understood just how much this moment meant to him.

Everyone was sincerely happy for him.

Naturally, Zhu Ming felt the same. Overjoyed, he instinctively turned around, wanting to share this moment with the person who was always standing behind him—only to see the empty far end of the hospital corridor.

He froze for a moment before remembering that he had come alone today.

It was a long time before he turned back around and, with the help of his therapist, sat down on the hospital bed again.

He fumbled for his phone in his pocket, eager to share the news with Xi Xianqing. After a brief hesitation, he took a photo of the exoskeleton device and sent it over.

Caption: “Mission accomplished~”

The corners of Zhu Ming’s mouth lifted slightly.

He decided to hold onto this surprise for a bit longer. While he was home for the next couple of days, he would secretly practice walking a little more—perhaps he could make his steps look steadier, more natural.

That way, the next time Xi Xianqing accompanied him to rehab, Zhu Ming could walk confidently in front of him, recreating today’s moment of surprise.

Seeing Zhu Ming’s progress, Dr. Wu slightly increased his medication dosage. Zhu Ming took another picture—this time of the IV bag—and sent it over as proof that he was diligently following his treatment.

Xi Xianqing still hadn’t replied.

Zhu Ming yawned and curled up on the hospital bed with the white fox, zoning out for a while.

As the medication slowly spread through his bloodstream, he closed his eyes slightly and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, there was still about half a bag of medicine left to be infused. Looking out the window, he saw that dusk had fallen. The dried branches and leaves of the trees were framed within a small square of glass.

For a brief moment, an indescribable sense of loneliness washed over him.

Xi Xianqing had never been a talkative person. Whenever he accompanied Zhu Ming for his IV treatments, he would simply sit quietly beside him, reading a book, or occasionally stand up to check the drip rate and progress.

Zhu Ming had repeatedly told Xi Xianqing that he didn’t need to come with him, thinking it was pointless for him to just sit there and wait.

Yet, without realizing it, he had grown accustomed to that silent companionship. Now that Xi Xianqing hadn’t come this time, the one who felt unsettled… turned out to be Zhu Ming himself.

After leaving the rehabilitation center, he took a taxi to Xi Xianqing’s home in District Six.

Before Xi Xianqing officially began his District Seven assessment, he had given Zhu Ming a key, firmly insisting that every Monday and Tuesday, Zhu Ming had to stay in District Six for two days.

According to Xi Xianqing at that time, the purpose of these two days was mainly to: discuss the District Seven assessment, fulfill his duties as Zhu Ming’s attending physician, and test medications.

The moment Zhu Ming opened the door, a wave of burnt odor hit him, making his vision go dark for a second.

At the kitchen island, Xi Mufei stood wearing oven mitts, a white peac0ck at her feet, staring at an unidentifiable blackened object on a plate with a deep frown.

The servants looked as if they wanted to say something but held back, quietly opening windows to air out the room.

As soon as Xi Mufei saw Zhu Ming, she flinched slightly, hastily trying to hide the mysterious black lump behind her.

But Zhu Ming, sharp-eyed, had already locked onto the plate in her hands. With a thoughtful expression, he mouthed: “What is that?”

Xi Mufei stuck out her tongue at him, took off her gloves, and picked up the light screen to write: “I’m practicing making a birthday cake. Next week, I’ll make one for you to eat >_<～”

“Birthday cake?”

Zhu Ming was momentarily stunned before remembering that Zhu Yingying had indeed mentioned throwing him a birthday party. He hadn’t expected her to be this efficient in sending out invitations.

He took the electronic pen and replied: “No need to go through all this trouble. We can just buy one from a shop when the time comes.”

Xi Mufei shook her head and continued writing: “A homemade one is more reassuring to eat, plus it carries my thoughts and blessings. You have to wait until I master it~”

She patted her chest confidently and looked at Zhu Ming with a proud expression.

Zhu Ming stared at the words for a long time without speaking.

After a while, he lifted his eyes, picked up the pen, and smiled as he wrote: “I’ll make it with you.”

Unlike her brother, Xi Mufei had the classic free-spirited artist temperament—she was an absolute disaster in the kitchen, tossing flour and cream into the mix purely by intuition.

Zhu Ming had the distinct feeling that if she had been born in District Seven and attempted basic experiments, she might have blown up an entire research institute. He had to constantly be next to her and salvage the situation, barely managing to produce a bowl of cake batter that looked somewhat normal.

Once the batter was in the oven, they began cleaning up the kitchen. It was then that Xi Xianqing returned home.

Perhaps it was because it was already dark, or perhaps it was just Zhu Ming’s imagination, but the moment the door opened, Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu stood side by side at the entrance, an inexplicable heaviness lingering between them.

Especially Ye Lu—when she saw Zhu Ming, a complicated expression flashed across her face. But she quickly lowered her gaze and looked away.

Xi Xianqing’s face remained expressionless. He simply took off his coat and used sign language to ask Xi Mufei something, which was likely just a routine conversation.

After receiving Xi Mufei’s answer, Xi Xianqing nodded.

Watching Xi Mufei eagerly return to the kitchen to check the oven temperature, Xi Xianqing shifted his gaze and met Zhu Ming’s eyes.

Zhu Ming smiled. “You’re back?”

Xi Xianqing gave a quiet “Mm” and glanced at the flour on Zhu Ming’s cheek, raising a hand to point at it.

He asked, “What are you two doing?”

“A cake. It’ll be ready soon, you should try some later.”

Zhu Ming lowered his head, blindly rubbing at his face with his hand. He asked as he wiped, “Did I wipe it off?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything for a long time.

When Zhu Ming looked up again, he found Xi Xianqing standing in the shadows of the living room, his expression dark and deep—gaze fixed on him yet somewhat absent, as if lost in thought. Thus, he didn’t respond after a long time.

Zhu Ming hesitated. “What’s wrong?”

Xi Xianqing remained silent.

The next moment, Zhu Ming felt something dry brush against his cheek.

—It was Xi Xianqing who raised his hand and gently helped him wipe off the flour on his cheeks.

Then, he lowered his hand and looked away. “I’m going back to the study to work on some sketches.”

The warmth from his fingertips still lingered on Zhu Ming’s cheek. After a long moment, Zhu Ming came back to his senses and responded, “Okay.”

The test cake was a success—golden and fluffy, its texture mouthwatering. Overjoyed, Xi Mufei cut two slices and urged Zhu Ming to bring some to Xi Xianqing in the study.

Balancing the plate on his lap, Zhu Ming carefully maneuvered his wheelchair into the room. Xi Xianqing was sitting at his desk, his gaze lowered, staring blankly at the empty sheet of draft paper in front of him.

He didn’t even notice Zhu Ming entering the study until the porcelain plate with the cake was placed on the table with a crisp “clink”—only then did he belatedly lift his gaze.

Zhu Ming set a fork beside the plate and casually asked, “What did the old man want from you?”

After a long time, Xi Xianqing replied, “Just some matters regarding the assessment.”

Zhu Ming was slightly taken aback. “Just the assessment? Then why did he call you away so urgently?”

Xi Xianqing fell silent for a moment, “While completing my work for District Four, I collaborated with a designer from a prestigious watchmaking family. To ensure the fairness of the assessment, my Grandfather wanted to confirm the specifics of the design process and determine how much of the work I completed independently.”

The logic was sound, and his gaze didn’t waver.

The only problem was that his response was too smooth—so polished that it felt like he had rehearsed it countless times, down to the precise moments where he paused for breath.

This instead caused Zhu Ming to be stunned for a moment.

He stared at Xi Xianqing’s face for a moment, “I see.”

Xi Xianqing nodded, as if naturally steering the conversation elsewhere. “What made you decide to bake a cake all of a sudden?”

Zhu Ming was silent for a moment before smiling slightly and going along with the change of topic. “It’s my birthday next week. My aunt wants to throw a party in the garden—she’s probably already told you about it.”

Remembering something, Zhu Ming added, “But if you’re too busy with the assessment, you don’t necessarily have to come—”

“I’ll be there.” Xi Xianqing interrupted him.

Zhu Ming’s eyes curved slightly. “Alright.”

The air grew quiet. Zhu Ming hesitated, debating whether to ask about his meeting with the District Seven Chief today. He suddenly heard the person in front of him call his name. “Zhu Ming.”

Lifting his gaze, Xi Xianqing’s lips moved slightly, and the emerald hue in his eyes darkened, as if he were suppressing some emotion.

Zhu Ming asked, “What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing.”

After a brief pause, Xi Xianqing spoke. “Tomorrow, Grandfather wants me and Xi Sen to attend a banquet. Many of the attendees are his old friends and trusted associates, so I might be back very late.”

“Busy man ah.”

Zhu Ming teased, “Ribbon-cutting ceremonies, banquets; the old man seems especially fond of you lately. That representative position is practically within reach.”

Xi Xianqing, however, remained silent for a long time.

Zhu Ming’s brow twitched slightly. Realizing that his half-joking remark might not have been appropriate, he cleared his throat. “Uh, you’ve had a long day. Get some rest.”

A moment later, he heard Xi Xianqing give a “mm” and said, “Goodnight.”

Tan Yu had once said something—perhaps a bit of a stereotype, but not entirely without truth.

That was: People from District Six aren’t good at lying.

Zhu Ming vaguely felt that something was wrong.

He could tell that Xi Xianqing was hiding something from him. Maybe the District Seven assessment meeting hadn’t gone well, or maybe something had happened during his conversation with Old Master Xi that afternoon.

But he hadn’t pressed the issue just now.

First, because Xi Xianqing had been running around all day—there was no urgency to sort this out tonight. Second, because he knew Xi Xianqing well. If pushed too hard, he wouldn’t say anything at all. But when he truly needed to talk, he would open up on his own.

What Zhu Ming hadn’t expected was that, in the days to come, Xi Xianqing would become so busy that he wouldn’t be able to spare even a moment.

This was only the first week of the District Seven assessment, yet almost every day, Xi Xianqing had different events, banquets, and dinners to attend, often returning home late at night.

Zhu Ming knew that his current schedule was probably just the beginning. If he successfully secured the representative position after the assessment, he would only be facing even more relentless engagements.

Zhu Ming has rarely had such a free time.

Rehabilitation alone, live broadcasting medical consultations, taking care of his own daily life—he seemed to have returned to his previous routine. It was calm and repetitive, neither particularly bad nor particularly interesting.

The night before his birthday, he streamed until the early hours.

When he woke up the next morning, his phone screen was flooded with messages from Zhou Zhou, all sent at midnight.

Just as he was wondering what had gotten into the kid, a knock came at the door. Immediately after, Zhu Yingying pushed it open slightly and poked her head in. “You’re awake?”

Zhu Ming hummed in response. She hesitated for a moment before asking, “You’ve been staying home a lot lately. Aren’t you and Xiao Xi supposed to be on your honeymoon?”

Zhu Ming couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, you can’t be on a honeymoon every day. Can’t I spend some time at home with you?”

“…Well, that’s true.”

Zhu Yingying’s mouth opened slightly, but then, out of nowhere, she asked, “You and Xiao Xi… are you two doing okay lately?”

Zhu Ming was puzzled. “Why?”

At her feet, the little rabbit’s ears drooped slightly. After a long pause, she blurted out an awkward, “Oh, nothing. Just asking. So… so for your birthday today, he and his sister are still coming over to celebrate with us, right?”

Zhu Ming was momentarily stunned. “Yes ya, he already promised he’d be here.”

Zhu Yingying studied his face for a moment, then suddenly grinned. “Oh, oh, I just… just wanted to confirm the number of guests so the kitchen can prepare accordingly.”

Yet at her feet, the little rabbit’s ears remained drooped, listless and dispirited.

Zhu Yingying turned around and quietly shut the door.

Zhu Ming sat on the bed in a daze for a while before reopening his phone and clicking on Zhou Zhou’s messages. His fingers suddenly froze.

He had never been one to follow the news. Most of the time, it was only thanks to Zhou Zhou forwarding him a few trending headlines that he could barely keep up with what was happening in the world.

“The Young Master of the Xi Family and the Talented Heiress of the Lu Family from District Six Spotted in an Intimate Balcony Meeting at a Hotel. The Newlywed Genius Husband of District Seven—Does The Two Seemed To Be In Harmony But Have Underlying Disagreement?”

Despite the dramatic headline about a hotel rendezvous, the accompanying photo was actually from a banquet. Amidst the clinking of glasses, the camera had captured a moment on the balcony of the two people.

A young woman, elegant and dressed in a soft yellow chiffon gown, held a wine glass in her delicate, fair hand, smiling as she talked about something. Beside her stood a tall and strikingly handsome young man, his sharp profile partially veiled by shadows, his eyes downcast as he listened in quiet contemplation.

It was a perfectly ordinary exchange, but framed by the camera, the backdrop of the night sky, and the warm glow of the banquet lights, the image had an unmistakably intimate feel—two beautiful people standing side by side, exuding a sense of quiet connection.

Even though the young man’s face was partially obscured by the dim lighting, Zhu Ming recognized Xi Xianqing’s face at a glance.

In District Six, Ye Lu stood in the study, methodically organizing the raw gemstones in the safe.

After a moment, she turned around and glanced at the drafting table. The sketches on the paper were sparse and chaotic—just a few hastily scribbled lines, revealing the distracted state of mind of the person who had drawn them.

Ye Lu sighed silently

But when she looked up, she was met with an unexpected sight. Outside the door, seated in a wheelchair, was someone she had never expected to see.

“Xiao Zhu…?”

Ye Lu swiftly adjusted her expression, hiding disorderly sketches behind her. She put on a polite smile. “You’re here so early today? Xianqing is still asleep—”

“No.” Zhu Ming gently interrupted him, “I came to see you, Aunt Ye.”

Ye Lu was stunned.

Zhu Ming said nothing. He simply unlocked his phone, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Ye Lu.

Ye Lu focused on the screen for a moment, and her expression suddenly changed. “It’s not like that. I was there that night too—I can vouch for Xianqing. He didn’t—”

“I know.”

Zhu Ming shook his head. “All the banquets and social events this past week were arranged for him by Old Master Xi. Just normal pleasantries and negotiations. Of course, I’m well aware that nothing happened between them.”

“But I also know that on the afternoon he was summoned by Old Master Xi for questioning, something else must have happened.”

He looked straight into Ye Lu’s eyes, “Right?”

His dark eyes were calm and gentle, yet they held a clarity and sharpness that seemed to see through everything.

In her younger years, Ye Lu had followed and assisted Xi Jianfeng, meeting many influential figures in both business and politics. It was rare for her to feel so exposed under the gaze of someone from a younger generation.

She realized that she couldn’t hide it from him at all.

“I don’t know the specifics, because the Old Master didn’t let me sit in that day.”

Ye Lu shook her head and gave a bitter smile. “It’s just that I… have never seen him that angry before.”

Zhu Ming’s body tensed slightly. “Did he—”

Ye Lu looked at Zhu Ming’s face for a long time before sighing and nodding her head.

“Yes,” she said. “He found out about Xianqing’s spiritual manifestation problem and he also knows… about your marriage agreement.”

Zhu Ming’s hands silently tightened around the wheelchair’s armrests. “…How is that possible?”

“Xi Xianqing’s past medical consultation records from District Seven Hospital were retrieved by Xi Hongming through various means.”

Ye Lu took a deep breath. “Xi Hongming also studied your previous research topics and discovered they happened to focus on spiritual manifestation abnormalities. Adding to that, someone from District Two testified that you and Xi Xianqing had been sleeping in separate rooms since your wedding, and your marriage itself was rushed… The Old Master is no fool.”

“The Old Master values honesty and integrity in his descendants above all else. In the past, the family had members involved in academic fraud and plagiarism scandals, and he has always been extremely fed up by such things.”

Ye Lu shook her head. “Let alone something as significant as marriage… when it comes to Xiangqing.”

Zhu Ming’s fingertips gradually turned cold, and his breath became subtly unsteady.

“We both know what this position and this condition mean for Xianqing,” she said. “But in the Old Master’s eyes, it only seems like he is obsessively ambitious about becoming the representative and willing to go to any lengths to hide his physical shortcomings.”

“It’s reasonable to say that it’s even possible for him to be disqualified from the assessment outright.” Ye Lu gave a bitter smile, raising a hand to rub her temples.

Zhu Ming took a deep breath, trying to maintain a clear train of thought. “But if the Old Master was truly furious, why would he still be giving Xianqing opportunities to expand his connections these past two days, taking him to attend all these events so frequently?”

“I don’t know. Xianqing didn’t tell me much after he came out that day either.”

Ye Lu’s expression carried a trace of confusion. “Maybe he still sees Xianqing as different from those other spoiled and morally corrupt children. The only fortunate thing is that he kept his eligibility for the assessment, but…”

She looked at Zhu Ming as if she couldn’t bear it. Her lips parted slightly, as if the words she was about to say were too difficult to speak.

Zhu Ming already had a vague idea of what was coming.

He calmly met Ye Lu’s eyes and said, “Aunt Ye, please go ahead.”

Ye Lu let out a quiet breath.

At the time, Ye Lu had been standing outside the door, faintly hearing Xi Jianfeng’s furious reprimands from within the room, her heart hanging in suspense.

Not long after, the sound of something shattering came from inside, followed by several heavy thuds. The servants outside exchanged uncertain glances, realizing that Xi Jianfeng had truly lost his temper this time.

Xi Xianqing was stubborn and proud. Fearing that something irreversible might happen, Ye Lu decided that even at the risk of being scolded, she had to go in and take a look.

With her hand attached to the door, Ye Lu pushed open a tiny crack.

She vaguely saw Xi Xianqing standing with his head slightly lowered, his back to her, making it difficult to discern his expression.

Xi Jianfeng sat behind his desk, his brows tightly furrowed as he rubbing the agarwood prayer beads in his hand. After a long silence, he let out a heavy sigh.

“…Xianqing.”

She heard Xi Jianfeng say in a deep voice, “If you still want to compete for the position of representative, then before this assessment ends, divorce that child from District Seven as soon as possible.”

---

Author’s Notes:

(>﹏<)

Thank you very much, diabolomenth & MoonSun, for the ko-fi!!! :blobaww:

---

From the beginning, when District Two avoided mentioning Shen Ying, to later, when Tan Yu and Feng Jiachi from District Four would start fighting the moment they met, Xi Xianqing thought he had seen quite a lot along the way.

He never expected that, at this final stage, he would encounter a situation where someone directly requested… to transfer his work to someone else.

Even Ye Lu behind him looked somewhat surprised.

“Forgive me but I won’t be able to grant your request.”

Xi Xianqing frowned. “The family’s requirement for the assessment is that the work must be created based on the preferences and wishes of the current representative. So I cannot make this piece for someone else.”

Ruan Min’s lips moved slightly, and his fingers, gripping the hem of his clothes, turned faintly pale from the pressure.

After a long pause, he suddenly said dryly, “Then what if I say that my wish is for you to make sure this piece is given to someone else?”

Xi Xianqing: “…?”

“I know this assessment is very important to you. Regardless of the final outcome, I will give you the highest possible evaluation in front of Mr. Old Xi.”

With something close to earnestness, Ruan Min lifted his head and promised Xi Xianqing, “I just… just hope you absolutely don’t make it for me.”

For a moment, Xi Xianqing couldn’t form a complete sentence.

Since the establishment of Xi Xianqing’s private studio, there have always been high-profile clients who took the initiative to reach out to his team. Cooperation was only confirmed after multiple rounds of screening and communication. Given the lengthy refinement process, even the most prestigious clients often had to wait in line.

This was the first time he had actively sought to create a piece for someone, but was pushed outside by the other party as if he couldn’t avoid it. The experience was nothing short of novel.

But Xi Xianqing still maintained his composure. “If Mr. Ruan insists, then I cannot force the matter.”

Ruan Min’s shoulders visibly relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted.

Xi Xianqing paused, his brows tightly furrowed. “But if this piece is to be given to your mentor, then I will need to discuss the details of the work with him in the future.”

After a long silence, Ruan Min softly responded with a soft “Mm.”

“I understand.” He stood up, “I’ll take you to him.”

Leaving the meeting room, they walked through the corridor.

Along the way, they encountered quite a few people, most of whom were staff and scholars dressed in lab coats. They likely recognized Xi Xianqing from the news or had been informed of his identity in advance.

As a result, when they met his gaze, they either greeted him politely or nodded respectfully.

However, their attitude toward Ruan Min… was rather strange.

The ones who greeted him were extremely few. Most only glanced at him before brushing past as if he didn’t exist. Some even averted their gaze the moment they saw him, deliberately choosing to ignore his presence.

Xi Xianqing’s brows furrowed slightly.

Even if not to the extent of bowing and hailing, wasn’t basic social courtesy the least he should receive as the chief of a district… Was this truly the way he ought to be treated?

Yet, Ruan Min kept his head down and eyes lowered, appearing numb to it all, as if he had long grown accustomed to such treatment.

Leading Xi Xianqing, he stopped in front of an office door that was hidden.

Ruan Min briefly closed his eyes, exhaled lightly, then raised his hand and knocked.

Immediately afterward, he heard a low “Come in.”

Ruan Min hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open and called out, “Professor Qin.”

Behind the desk, a middle-aged man set down the holographic screen in his hand and looked in their direction.

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the streaks of gray in his hair bore the marks of time and age, yet his features remained sharp and distinguished.

What was even rarer was that, unlike the rigid and old-fashioned image often associated with professors, his eyes carried a hint of warmth. His demeanor was refined and gentle, exuding a very rare intellect and kindness.

But for some reason, the moment he laid eyes on that face, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over Xi Xianqing.

People are always struck by certain faces in ways they cannot explain. Xi Xianqing’s eyelids jumped slightly, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was so strange about it.

“Professor.”

Ruan Min’s voice sounded remarkably calm. “This is Mr. Xi Xianqing, the grandson of Mr. Old Xi, the representative of District Six. Mr. Xi, this is my mentor, Professor Qin Weisheng.”

Suppressing the odd feeling in his chest, Xi Xianqing extended his hand. “Professor Qin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The last time I met Mr. Old Xi was when he visited K University for a guest lecture. I was fortunate enough to have a brief conversation with him.”

Qin Weisheng looked slightly surprised as he stood up and shook Xi Xianqing’s hand. “I didn’t expect his grandson to have grown into such an outstanding young man. It’s truly a pleasure, Mr. Xiao Xi.”

“But what brings… you two to me?” he asked with a puzzled smile.

“Mr. Xi is here in District Seven for the election assessment and will be custom-designing a piece for the chief.”

Ruan Min took a deep breath. “This rare and deeply meaningful opportunity, I want… to give it to you, Professor.”

The air fell silent for a moment.

“Ruan Min, you child…”

Qin Weisheng looked astonished for a moment, then shook his head and gently advised, “I know you’re a child who understands things, but since he’s here to create a piece for you, just speak with him openly. Why push it onto an old man like me?”

Ruan Min pulled out a somewhat awkward smile. “But… without all these years of your guidance, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

Qin Weisheng studied Ruan Min’s face for a moment.

After a brief silence, he sighed with a faint smile, as if in resignation. “You ah… you’ve always been too tense. Why put yourself through this?”

Ruan Min’s body swayed slightly, and he slightly gritted his teeth. “Professor, please accept it.”

“All right, all right, I’ll accept your sentiment for now.”

Qin Weisheng stood up with a hint of helplessness and turned to Xi Xianqing. “Mr. Xiao Xi, I apologize. My student is excellent in every way, except that he’s always been too thin-skinned…”

“I’m afraid this has affected your assessment and caused you some trouble,” he said.

Xi Xianqing shifted his gaze away from the bookshelf beside him. “Not at all.”

Maintaining his professionalism as much as possible, he looked at Ruan Min. “Dr. Ruan Min, I just need to confirm one last time—once the decision is made, the final ownership of this piece cannot be changed. Are you certain?”

His words served as both a confirmation and a final opportunity for Ruan Min to reconsider.

Qin Weisheng said nothing, only smiling as he turned his questioning gaze to Ruan Min.

Ruan Min kept his eyes lowered, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the floor. After a long silence, he finally said, “…Yes. Just communicate with the Professor directly. Sorry for the trouble.”

Xi Xianqing stared at his profile but remained silent.

Qin Weisheng sighed, as if there was nothing more he could do, then picked up the notebook on his desk. “Mr. Xiao Xi, unfortunately, I have a meeting in a little while.”

“So, we may have to discuss the timing at a later date,” he said warmly. “For now, why don’t I walk you out and give you a tour of our laboratory on the way?”

Xi Xianqing said after a long time, “Good.”

Qin Weisheng picked up the documents and stood up, gesturing politely for him to proceed.

As they stepped out, Xi Xianqing once again turned his head toward the bookshelf beside him.

In truth, from the moment he entered the room, his gaze had been involuntarily drawn to this wooden bookshelf—not for any particular reason, but simply because its overall impression felt… odd.

Because there was not a single book on this bookshelf.

Instead, it was tightly packed with certificates, medals, and trophies—arranged with no sense of aesthetics, crammed together with barely any gaps between them. In this not-so-spacious office, they formed a towering, oppressive wall of honors, an impenetrable display of cold, metallic achievements.

There was only honor.

Though Xi Xianqing wasn’t a scholar, even in his own workspace, his bookshelves held at least a few essential reference books. As for awards, while he did display one or two, he would never stack them up in such an overwhelming manner—especially not in an office, a place where people came and went daily.

It was as if… it existed to showcase one’s accomplishments to the world.

This subtle feeling let XI Xianqing glance back once more even after leaving the office.

Just before the door fully closed, he caught a glimpse of a faint yellow color behind Qin Weisheng’s desk—seemingly a potted plant bearing some kind of fruit.

But just as he was about to see more clearly, the door shut with a crisp “click.”

Standing outside, Qin Weisheng smiled at Xi Xianqing and said, “This way, let me show you around.”

If the earlier conversation had only made Xi Xianqing feel that something was slightly off—

Then, following Qin Weisheng through the laboratory and out of the research institute, the overall atmosphere could only be described as unsettling.

Everyone they encountered along the way, without exception, took the initiative to stop in their tracks—some warmly and eagerly, others with reverence—as they greeted Qin Weisheng.

Qin Weisheng responded with composed smiles, nodding in acknowledgment one by one.

When passing by students conducting experiments, Qin Weisheng would pause to provide kind and patient guidance. The students, overwhelmed with gratitude, hurriedly took notes, creating a seemingly harmonious scene.

Their attitude toward Qin Weisheng was a mix of admiration and fear, coupled with an earnest desire to please him.

Ruan Min, trailing behind, kept his head slightly lowered the entire time, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

The research institute’s architecture felt oppressively rigid, and after a day filled with strange interactions, both Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu finally exhaled in relief the moment they got into the car.

“This Mr. Ruan… is rather strange.”

Even Ye Lu couldn’t help but remark, “If anything, it’s his mentor who seems to receive the treatment one would expect for a chief.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t respond.

His phone vibrated in his pocket—it was a message from Zhu Ming: “Is it over?”

This afternoon was Zhu Ming’s rehabilitation session.

As soon as Xi Xianqing replied with a simple “Mm.”, Zhu Ming immediately sent over the location of a restaurant near the hospital.

Just as the driver pulled up, Xi Xianqing spotted Zhu Ming sitting by the window of a fast-food restaurant, side by side with the white fox.

The weather in District Seven had been getting colder these past two days, signaling the arrival of winter.

Zhu Ming had wrapped himself in a fluffy white scarf for warmth, with even the tip of his chin tucked behind it.

He was bundled up as if bracing for the harshest winter, yet he was biting down on the spoon of a sundae, eyes half-closed in satisfaction as he tilted his head up, watching the birds perched on the tree branches outside.

Sunlight refracted through the glass, casting a glow on Zhu Ming’s face. As his eyelashes fluttered, they traced a small, fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyelids.

The restless frustration that had plagued Xi Xianqing all morning suddenly quieted.

He stood by the car door, watching in silence for a while. Then, following Zhu Ming’s gaze, he too looked up at the birds on the tree.

A moment later, the birds spread their wings and flew away. When Xi Xianqing lowered his gaze, he realized that through the window, Zhu Ming had already turned his attention to him at some point.

With a spoon in his mouth, Zhu Ming’s eyes curved in a smile as he waved at him.

The moment Xi Xianqing stepped into the fast-food restaurant, Zhu Ming studied his face while holding his sundae cup, then grinned. “The meeting didn’t go too well, did it?”

Before coming in, Xi Xianqing had deliberately adjusted his expression to appear composed and in control, yet he hadn’t expected to be seen through at a glance. “How did you—”

“You did a pretty good job this time.”

Zhu Ming smirked and pointed at his brow. “But right here, it’s already tied into a dead knot.”

“Alright, you can rant all you want during my rehab session later.”

He pushed the tray toward Xi Xianqing. “For now, change your mood and have something to eat. Here, want a bite of my fries?”

Xi Xianqing eyed the high-fat, high-calorie fast food in front of him. Before he could voice his disapproval, Zhu Ming picked up a fry, dipped it into his sundae, and held it up to his mouth with a bright smile. “Come on, my exclusive way of eating—hot and cold. Try it.”

Xi Xianqing frowned, instinctively leaning back in resistance. But Zhu Ming only grinned wider and brought the fry even closer.

In the end, Xi Xianqing could only lower his head, half-doubtful, and take a bite of the bizarre combination of ice cream and fries.

“How’s it?”

“Not good.”

“Then do you want more?”

“…Mm.”

The corners of Zhu Ming’s lips twitched as he lowered his head, using a fry to scoop up the last bit of ice cream from the cup. Just then, Xi Xianqing’s phone vibrated beside him.

Xi Xianqing glanced down and answered the call.

Zhu Ming held up the fry, waited for two seconds, then watched as the ice cream slowly melted and dripped down. Finally, he mouthed, “If you don’t eat it, I’m having it myself.”

Xi Xianqing paused.

In the end, while still holding his phone, he reached out, grabbed Zhu Ming’s wrist, and lowered his head to bite the fry.

A moment later, he let go with a composed expression, chewing as he gave a vague “Mm” to the person on the other end of the call.

Zhu Ming lowered his head and smiled, wiped his hands, and then heard Xi Xianqing ask, “Right now?”

Zhu Ming blinked and turned to look at him, only to see that Xi Xianqing’s barely relaxed brows had furrowed again. After a long silence, he said, “Got it.”

Putting down his phone, he met Zhu Ming’s gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “Aunt Ye said Grandfather suddenly needs to see me for something urgent.”

Zhu Ming paused. “Urgent? Did she say what it was about?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t give details.” Xi Xianqing hesitated. “It might be related to the assessment. I haven’t seen Grandfather since returning from District Four, but…”

He didn’t say any more, but instead looked at Zhu Ming’s leg.

Only then did Zhu Ming snap out of it and flash him a lighthearted smile. “It’s fine, just one rehab session.”

Xi Xianqing still didn’t say anything.

“Can you have a little faith in me?”

Zhu Ming sighed. “I’ve made so much progress in rehab these past sessions. I’ll take it seriously this time—I really won’t skip it again.”

“Then you have to send me photos.” Xi Xianqing seemed slightly relieved, but his brows were still furrowed. “The rehab process, the IV treatment—send me everything. I’ll check.”

“Yes, Teacher Xi, I’ll make sure to complete my assignments.” Zhu Ming’s eyes curved in a smile. “You still have a bit of a drive back to District Six. Don’t delay too long, go now.”

Xi Xianqing let out a soft “Mm.” and finally stood up.

Zhu Ming watched him get into the car.

Then, lowering his eyes, he stared blankly at the now-melted ice cream in his sundae cup for a while.

“Let’s go.” After a long pause, he straightened up and spoke lightly to the white fox sleeping on his lap. “Looks like it’s just the two of us again today.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t visit the Xi Family estate often.

The so-called estate was the old man’s, Xi Jianfeng, residence. The old man preferring peace and quiet, had chosen not to live in District Six’s bustling elite neighborhood. Instead, he had built a secluded private residence beside a lake with excellent feng shui.

With many children and grandchildren, most family gatherings were held at restaurants or hotels in District Six. Unless it was an important holiday where they needed to pay a visit or Xi Jianfeng specifically requested a meeting, his children’s visits to the estate were rare.

A servant silently pulled back the screen and guided Xi Xianqing toward the study.

Stepping inside, Xi Xianqing called out, “Grandfather.”

Xi Jianfeng stood by a large blue-and-white porcelain vat, watching several Ranchu goldfish swim inside.

In his hand was an intricately carved jade bowl filled with fish food. His expression was unreadable, and a white crane stood silently behind him.

He glanced up at Xi Xianqing without a word, simply grabbing a small handful of fish food and scattering it onto the water’s surface.

With just a glance, Xi Xianqing’s heart suddenly sank.

“Ye Lu, step out first.” Xi Jianfeng turned his back, not looking at Xi Xianqing’s face. “Close the door.”

Ye Heron’s complexion changed as she looked towards Xi Xianqing.

But in the end, she could only lower her eyes, respond softly, and leave the room, closing the door behind her.

The room fell into cold silence once more.

There were only a few pellets of fish food in the tank, yet seven or eight fish darted frantically to the surface, competing for them. Ripples spread, accompanied by faint, brief splashes.

“Xianqing.”

Xi Jianfeng gazed down at the fish in the tank, his tone steady and devoid of much emotion. “Among the Xi Family’s teachings, which virtue do I value most in my children? Do you still remember?”

The fish food was snatched away in an instant. The ripples on the water gradually faded, leaving the surface calm again.

A subtle chill crept into his heart. After a long pause, Xi Xianqing answered, appearing calm, “…Honesty.”

Xi Jianfeng said nothing. He merely placed the jade food bowl onto the mahogany table beside him with a dull thud, a sound that seemed to send an invisible tremor through one’s heart.

Lifting his eyelids, he looked at Xi Xianqing’s face and asked faintly, “Then do you think you have lived up to it?”

Thank you very much, diabolomenth & MoonSun, for the ko-fi!!! :blobaww:

---

Zhu Yingying had gone out on a date today, but there were still quite a few servants at home.

So this time, Zhu Ming chose to use the medicine in his bedroom.

Once the door was closed and locked, the mental proton particles coalesced at Xi Xianqing’s feet, forming into a green peac0ck.

Dish Soap flicked its delicate tail feathers, twisted its neck, and curiously examined its new surroundings.

Meanwhile, Zhu Ming began contemplating how to take the medication, where to take it, and how much to take.

The first thing was how to take it.

Zhu Ming looked Xi Xianqing up and down. “Take off your expensive coat first. I can’t afford to compensate you if it gets all wrinkled.”

Xi Xianqing took off his coat expressionlessly.

Next was the location.

Zhu Ming glanced around the room, falling into deep thought. “The bathroom is out. Last time, that marble sink nearly threw my waist out.”

Xi Xianqing slowly unbuttoned his suit.

“How about on this small sofa?”

Zhu Ming was still pondering. “Oh, right, the study works too. There’s a longer, comfier sofa there…”

His words abruptly changed tone—because in the next moment, Xi Xianqing directly lifted him from the wheelchair, strode over to the bed, and swiftly placed him in the center of the mattress.

He then sat down at the edge of the bed himself and said flatly, “Isn’t this settled now?”

Zhu Ming mused for a moment. “You know, you really have a point.”

The bed’s softness and spaciousness were unparalleled. It brought them to the same level, making it an unexpectedly ideal spot for taking the medication.

Everything was ready, so they began to use the medicine.

Zhu Ming sat half-upright on the bed, lowering his gaze. Xi Xianqing sat at the edge, one hand propped beside Zhu Ming, leaning in closer.

Xi Xianqing had a quirk when taking medication—he would never take the first bite.

—Even though he was the one who would be attending the ribbon-cutting ceremony soon, the one who truly needed the medication.

The two remained still for a moment before Zhu Ming let out a quiet sigh, cupped Xi Xianqing’s face, and pressed his lips against his.

Xi Xianqing narrowed his eyes slightly, as if satisfied, then began to respond, gradually taking control.

Having just come in from outside, Xi Xianqing’s lips were thin and slightly cool. In contrast, Zhu Ming’s were soft, moist, and warmer.

The collision of warmth and coolness made them both pause for a brief second.

Then Xi Xianqing pressed Zhu Ming’s shoulder against the headboard and kissed him again.

Strangely enough, when it came to kissing—or rather, taking medication—Xi Xianqing always started with an air of reserved superiority, only to ease into it effortlessly moments later, enjoying it without reservation.

Zhu Ming, on the other hand… found it increasingly difficult to remain unaffected.

Rather, it is better to say that after the establishment of this “medication agreement”, Xi Xianqing had convinced himself with the excuse of “I’m just here to activate the tails,” allowing him to take as he pleased, justified and unbothered.

As for Zhu Ming, he was essentially a practitioner of medicine, the more level-headed party.

It was like sinking a fatigued body into perfectly warm water after a long day. Zhu Ming had to constantly remind himself not to close his eyes and indulge in it.

Because from beginning to end, he had never been able to completely separate “kissing” from “medication.”

Rationality told him he was treating an illness, but no one knew better than him just how absurd this form of treatment truly was.

The most fundamental physiological instincts were still impossible to suppress—every time their lips and teeth intertwined, the tremor at the tip of the tongue sent a faint tingling sensation through the scalp. And yet, rationality still fought against instinct, constantly reminding him not to fall too deep.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pricked his lips. Zhu Ming looked up to see the handsome young man straightening his posture, gazing at him with evident displeasure. “You’re distracted.”

Zhu Ming returned to his senses.

Panting slightly, he glanced toward the green peac0ck at the bedside, which was staring at them with its beady eyes, its tail completely motionless. Zhu Ming averted his gaze and looked up.

“The main issue is that you’re not trying hard enough, Mr. Xi,” he said with a smile, raising his hand to lightly pat Xi Xianqing’s face.

Facts proved that the only person who suffered was himself if he tried to be a smart-ass during the medication process.

The phrase “not trying hard enough” was far too effective as provocation—before Zhu Ming could react, his chin was grasped, his jaw pried open, and his breath drowned in an onslaught as relentless as the tide.

At first, Zhu Ming still tried to maintain some level of restraint in handling this intense dose. But soon, he broke the pot, with a hand tugging on the back of Xi Xianqing’s head, tilting his own face up, and responding with equal intensity.

—Fighting against instinct was foolish. To hell with it—might as well enjoy it.

This was, without a doubt, the most intense medication they had ever had. Zhu Ming’s sweater had ridden up slightly with their movements, exposing a slender stretch of his waist, while Xi Xianqing’s shirt collar had come undone. During the exchange, their breaths mingled as they gasped against each other’s lips, both momentarily dazed.

As a result, the green peac0ck beside them had already fanned out its tail, shaking its butt while pacing circles around the bedroom multiple times—yet neither of them had even noticed.

It wasn’t until Zhu Ming felt movement from another part of Xi Xianqing’s body that he pressed a hand against his chest, panting slightly as he said, “It seems today’s medication might be a little too effective ah.”

Xi Xianqing stiffened. Lowering his gaze for a split second, his neck instantly flushed red.

His lips moved slightly, but after a long pause, he could only retort in a cold voice, his face still flushed, “Aren’t you the same?”

“What’s wrong? I happen to be the luckiest kind of spinal cord injury case—aside from not being able to walk, I haven’t lost any other functions. You should be happy for me.”

They were both men, after all. Zhu Ming’s expression remained calm, his eyes glistening faintly as his smile deepened. He glanced at the bathroom nearby, then leaned in to whisper against Xi Xianqing’s ear, “Do you want to… move somewhere else for a bit?”

Xi Xianqing’s lips moved slightly.

“But,” Zhu Ming continued, his warm breath brushing against Xi Xianqing’s ear, as if it could scald the skin there, “are we settling this alone or together?”

Xi Xianqing’s pupils trembled again.

He met Zhu Ming’s gaze with an almost forced composure and said, “…I’m in a hurry.”

Zhu Ming nodded in understanding, hooked an arm around Xi Xianqing’s neck, and whispered, “Then let’s go.”

Outside the window, the rain continued to fall, pattering softly and lingeringly against the sill.

The bathroom door closed.

Outside the door, the white fox curled into a ball, tilting its head slightly, its eyes narrowing in comfort and pleasure

The green peac0ck, still displaying its tail feathers, strutted over with an air of arrogance in front of the white fox. Its plumage trembled in a quick burst before it lowered its head and gently pecked at the fox’s body.

The tip of the white fox’s tail curled affectionately around the peac0ck’s leg. After a brief moment, it lifted its face and rubbed its damp nose intimately against the peac0ck’s neck.

The rain gradually eased. Trails of water meandered down the bedroom window, leaving behind a delicate, winding pattern.

After an unknown amount of time, the bathroom door was reopened.

Xi Xianqing carried Zhu Ming out and placed the person back on the bed. Neither of them spoke, their eyes avoiding each other, but their breathing remained equally unsteady.

Zhu Ming adjusted the hem of his disheveled sweater, silently steadying his breath before finally lifting his gaze to the person beside him.

He pondered for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly as if uncertain. “Uh, your belt buckle seems to be…”

Xi Xianqing suddenly stiffened, turning his back in an instant and lowered his head to fix it.

Zhu Ming exhaled wordlessly and averted his gaze, turning instead to the green peac0ck beside him. The bird was trembling wildly, tail feathers fanned out in full display as it strutted back and forth, shaking its butt.

“…How can it be shaking like that?”

Half-lying on the bed with his face propped up in his hand, Zhu Ming observed it for a moment before hesitating. “Mr. Xiao Xi, just how long has it been since you—”

Xi Xianqing turned back and shot him a glare, the flush on his neck still lingering. “You’re not any better.”

“Fair enough.”

Zhu Ming lazily curled up on the bed and made a “stop” gesture. “You better calm yourself down—don’t forget, you have a ribbon-cutting ceremony to attend soon.”

The sound of rain gradually faded, and silence settled between them.

Zhu Ming lazily buried his face in the pillow, his shirt unbuttoned in disarray, staring blankly at the raindrops tracing paths down the window. On the other side, Xi Xianqing had already fastened every button on his shirt and suit with meticulous precision, regaining the composed and dignified demeanor he had upon entering.

Yet, instead of leaving immediately, he suddenly asked, “I have something to ask you.”

Zhu Ming, still hugging his pillow, tilted his face up in confusion. “Hm?”

Xi Xianqing walked over to the bed and studied his face for a moment. “Have you ever considered that the car accident you had back then… might not have been an accident?”

Zhu Ming’s eyelashes lightly trembled.

He remained quiet for a moment before pushing himself up to sit. “What makes you ask that all of a sudden?”

After a long pause, Xi Xianqing said, “It just feels that the timing was a little too coincidental.”

“I did think of this back then.”

Zhu Ming smiled faintly. “But in the end, the police investigation concluded that it was an accident. The truck driver who hit us was fatigued from driving, and he lost his life in the crash.”

Xi Xianqing frowned. “But—”

“I understand what you mean. The biggest beneficiary of the accident would naturally be the other candidates who were competing with me at the time. And the most direct one is the current Chief.”

Zhu Ming sighed helplessly. “To be honest, too many people have reasons to hate me. Trying to rule them out one by one… would be nearly impossible.”

“As for the current Chief… I don’t think it was him.” As if recalling something, Zhu Ming shook his head. “When you meet him in person, maybe you’ll understand what I mean.”

Xi Xianqing furrowed his brows, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to press further.

However, seeing Zhu Ming’s relaxed demeanor, as if he had long come to terms with everything, Xi Xianqing felt that he was only rubbing salt into his wounds by bringing it up repeatedly now.

He ultimately didn’t open this mouth again.

Meanwhile, online discussions about the District Six representative selection had grown increasingly heated over the past few days.

People jokingly referred to District Six as the “Inner Courtyard Battle Zone,” yet they couldn’t help but be drawn to this unique and highly publicized competitive selection process. The representative of District Three was a renowned skiing athlete. Not long ago, Xi Sen had showcased her assessment submission on social media—a ski suit that perfectly balanced visual aesthetics and functionality.

Her promotional approach was also clever. She partnered with a fashion brand to launch a collaborative collection, selling the design both online and in physical stores. The collection sold out instantly on the night of its release.

Xi Xianqing, who had always maintained a low profile, had also started attending events more frequently. He openly displayed his spiritual manifestation, leading many to speculate that he was deliberately boosting public approval and fully committing to the final election.

Half a month later, the journey to District Seven officially began.

As the intellectual powerhouse of Xi Star, District Seven specialized in fields such as natural sciences, medicine, and industry. While other districts were known for their culinary specialties, games, and handicrafts, District Seven’s most renowned industry was—tutoring schools.

District Seven symbolized rigor, meticulousness, and precision, while District Six stood for creativity, freedom, and boundless imagination. Though not entirely oppositional in ideology, the two districts carried significant differences in stereotype.

At least before meeting Zhu Ming, District Seven was largely unfamiliar territory to Xi Xianqing.

So, before their departure, Zhu Ming still gave Xi Xianqing a brief crash course.

“K University, T University, and U University—these three institutions are the lifelong goals of every child born in District Seven.”

Zhu Ming picked up three tangerines from the table and arranged them in a triangular formation. “There is an antagonistic relationship between universities. The different fields within the university also look down on each other. Even if there are different groups within the same field, their relationship is full of fighting and scheming against each other.”

“In short, competition is everywhere, and so is the chain of academic disdain.”

Zhu Ming was merciless in critiquing his own district. Without hesitation, he peeled one of the tangerines. “District Seven is a place of pure pragmatism and ruthless reality.”

“The position of Chief is one in ten thousand. The requirements are naturally high.”

He separated a single tangerine segment and balanced it atop the whole fruit. “A candidate must have a spotless academic record, must not publicly support controversial topics la, and must pass multiple rounds of scrutiny. Their research, academic contributions, and presentations will be evaluated, culminating in a final public election speech. Each stage is essential.”

Xi Xianqing looked at him. “Then you, at what stage did it happen…”

Zhu Ming bit into a piece of tangerine and replied with a casual smile, “Right before the final election speech.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything.

“Looking back, so many people are obsessed with that title, yet there’s only one position. Countless individuals are destined to fall short.”

Zhu Ming blinked and placed the peeled tangerine near Xi Xianqing’s hand. “But life itself is just a collection of regrets, isn’t it?”

The fresh citrus scent still lingered faintly on the tip of his nose. With Ye Lu’s reminder ringing in his ears, it pulled him back to the present. He lifted his gaze toward the building before them.

The minimalist geometric lines and the deep, structured interior of the building embodied a philosophy of rationality and precision. It had completely discarded all decorative elements.

At a glance, it only looked like a cold, imposing structure that evoked a sense of suppression—this was K University that Zhu Ming talked about.

K University’s research buildings had been designed in part by a young Xi Jianfeng. Given the ongoing secret rivalry among universities, Xi Xianqing’s arrival for this assessment was something K University took seriously. They had meticulously prepared, ready to leverage his presence for a wave of publicity.

“Mr. Xi, I am Qu He, the current head of K University’s Life Sciences Academy.”

A middle-aged woman dressed in a professional suit, her hair neatly coiled into a bun, greeted him. Her spiritual manifestation—an intricately layered lotus flower—rested around her waist. With a polite smile, she continued, “Mr. Old Xi Jianfeng has already communicated the details of your assessment with me. I will be overseeing your visit from start to finish.”

Xi Xianqing gave a slight nod. “I have troubled you..”

Qu He patiently introduced the various research groups within the institution, detailing the layout and structure of the laboratories. Eventually, she led them toward an area labeled “Spiritual Manifestation Abnormalities Research Institute.”

Inside, various complex instruments humming in operation, researchers focused at their stations, rows of reagent boxes and solution bottles systematically arranged on shelves. The entire space exuded a quiet and orderly manner.

None of this was unfamiliar to Xi Xianqing. After all, the lab pod Zhu Ming frequently used was essentially a scaled-down version of this environment.

They moved past the rows of lab benches and reagent storage before Qu He finally stopped and introduced, “This is Dr. Ruan Min.”

At the first sight of District Seven’s Chief representative, Xi Xianqing immediately understood what Zhu Ming had meant when he said, “You’ll understand once you see him.”

Whether it was Shen Ying, Feng Jiachi, or Tan Yu, despite their vastly different life experiences, all those who were able to hold the position of district representative were the absolute best in their respective fields.

—This meant that in the domain they loved, they were unquestionably confident.

The young man in front of him was somewhat short and taciturn. At the first sight of Xi Xianqing, however, his gaze shifted into the distance, evasively lowering his head again.

Xi Xianqing remained silent for a moment before extending his hand. “Mr. Ruan, hello.”

The hair on Ruan Min’s forehead nearly covered his eyes. He didn’t look directly at Xi Xianqing’s face. Upon hearing the greeting, he gave a small nod.

He removed his gloves and, as if feeling a bit uneasy, wiped his hand on his white coat before shaking Xi Xianqing’s hand. He said softly, “Mr. Xi, pleasure to meet you.”

His spiritual manifestation was a rather petite sika deer. Its round black eyes seemed covered in mist as it timidly curled up beneath the lab bench.

Its owner also kept his head down, never meeting Xi Xianqing’s eyes.

Xi Xianqing wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but he caught a fleeting, complex expression in Qu He’s eyes—something between sympathy and a deep, unspoken sorrow.

Her expression quickly returned to calm as she gestured behind her. “The conference room is ready over there. Please follow me.”

Inside the conference room, Qu He pulled the door close behind her and left.

Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu sat on one side of the long table. Ruan Min, head lowered, sat on the other side. The air fell into an unbearably cold awkward silence.

In fact, before this meeting even began, Xi Xianqing had already anticipated that their first conversation wouldn’t go smoothly.

The most straightforward reason was that researchers wore lab coats and gloves every day—jewelry and accessories were simply unnecessary in their daily lives.

Fortunately, jewelry wasn’t limited to personal adornments—decorative pieces, ornaments, and display items all offered plenty of creative possibilities. Xi Xianqing had already prepared several alternative plans in advance.

What he hadn’t expected was that Ruan Min would be the first to speak.

“Mr. Xi, thank you for personally coming all the way from District Six to make a piece for me.”

Even in the extremely silent conference room, Ruan Min’s voice still sounded faint, almost like a murmur. “But before we begin, I have a request. I’m not sure if you would consider it?”

Xi Xianqing paused. “Go ahead.”

Ruan Min’s fingers mechanically rubbed the edge of his coat. His eyes remained slightly downcast, and under the harsh, cold light of the incandescent lamps, his face appeared unnaturally pale.

“I hope you can make this piece for someone else.”

After a moment, he lifted his head and, somewhat hesitantly, added, “He is… my mentor.”

---

Author’s Notes:

Hello everyone, this story officially enters its mid-to-late stage starting from District Seven.

As a hundred million fragile author with rather limited writing skills, I’d like to give a friendly reminder that things might get a little sour ahead. But don’t worry, the overall tone will still be sweet ha!

Thank you very much, Roz, for the ko-fi! :blobaww:

---

From a young age, Zhu Ming had always considered himself quite adept at handling social situations.

But at this moment, even he had to admit that this dinner was somewhat awkward.

The housekeeper walked into the dining room carrying three bowls of appetizer soup, only to see four people seated at the table. She was momentarily stunned before quickly turning to Zhu Yingying and apologizing, “Sister Ying, I’m sorry. I remember being told that there would only be three people dining tonight, so when I was preparing—”

Qian Duo hurriedly waved his hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I was the one who intruded unexpectedly. You all go ahead and drink.”

Xi Xianqing spoke calmly, “I was the one who joined later. You all can have it.”

Qian Duo was terrified, “No, I’m an outsider here. Mr. Xi, you should have it.”

Xi Xianqing frowned slightly, about to say something, but Zhu Ming couldn’t stand it anymore. He simply took one of the bowls and placed it in front of Qian Duo with a loud “thud.” “Xiao Qian, you’re the guest. You have to drink this soup.”

Qian Duo stammered out his thanks, while the guinea pig beside him shrank back, trembling slightly.

Xi Xianqing said nothing, but his jaw subtly tensed.

Zhu Ming opened his own bowl of soup and pushed it toward Xi Xianqing. “Here, we can just share one and be done with it.”

Xi Xianqing glanced at it and raised his chin slightly. “I won’t—”

Zhu Ming smiled faintly, already anticipating his response. “If you don’t want to drink it, you don’t have to. But if you do, just drink mine. What’s mine is yours, okay?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t speak again.

In any case, he ended up drinking without a sip.

After the meal, with drinks and food settling in, Zhu Yingying couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer. The little rabbit at her feet hopped around. “I heard from Xiao Qian that you two ran into each other while on vacation in District Two?”

“Yes. Our lab mentor had always hoped to collaborate with Professor Zhu, but after not receiving a response to our inquiries, we assumed it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Qian Duo’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Zhu Ming eagerly. “I never thought I’d actually get the chance to meet you.”

Zhu Ming, who had deliberately ignored the previous contact, let out an awkward chuckle. “Well, mainly because we had been planning to spend the year on our honeymoon outside, so I really didn’t have much time to check my emails…”

“I understand, no pressure at all.”

Qian Duo waved his hand. After hesitating for a moment, he couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lighting up again, “Then after this year-long honeymoon, what’s next? Do you have any plans?”

After one year?

Both Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing froze for a moment. That was a question they had never really considered.

From District Two to District Four, and now finally to District Seven—without realizing it, their journey was gradually nearing its end.

“They call it a year-long honeymoon, but actually, Xiao Xi has been undergoing an assessment, so the two of them haven’t exactly had much free time.”

Seeing that neither of them responded, Zhu Yingying, who doesn’t know the full story, took the initiative to explain, “Once they wrap things up this year, they’ll finally be able to relax. By then, Zhu Ming, this kid, will have some time to think about his own matters.”

Qian Duo nodded in sudden understanding. “I see, no rush, no rush.”

To outsiders, the end of Xi Xianqing’s assessment would mark the true beginning of their marriage.

But they didn’t know that their agreement had only been for a year. For Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing, once the assessment ended, so would the marriage.

Zhu Ming snapped back to the present and smiled at Qian Duo. “Qian Duo, let’s take a walk in the garden and chat about your lab and future plans, alright?”

The guinea pig’s butt trembled slightly, while Qian Duo, barely able to contain his excitement, replied, “Okay.”

The little rabbit at Zhu Yingying’s feet twitched its ears, but she remained nonchalant. “You two go ahead. I’ll ah, take Xiao Xi to see my little darlings.”

As she spoke, she enthusiastically pulled Xi Xianqing over to the other side of the living room. “Xiao Xi, come take a look at this little orange tree I’m growing.”

Zhu Ming and Qian Duo’s figures gradually disappeared toward the garden. Xi Xianqing withdrew his gaze and turned to the plant before him.

If Zhu Yingying hadn’t mentioned it beforehand, Xi Xianqing wouldn’t have even recognized it as an orange tree. Its fruit was irregularly shaped, with strange, jagged protrusions. The skin was rough, a mix of greenish and orange hues.

It was so ugly that Xi Xianqing couldn’t come up with a single appropriate compliment. All he could say was, “…It’s growing well.”

“This one ya, was left behind by Zhu Ming’s mother back then. She said it was a rare variety called Thousand-Star Tangerine, but I really don’t see the appeal.”

Zhu Yingying tossed a handful of hay into the rabbit’s enclosure. “My sister ah, never told me how to care for it, so I’ve barely managed to keep it alive. But this year, it suddenly bore so many fruits. Would you say that’s a good sign?”

“Dr. Wu called me two days ago about his rehab.”

She straightened up and looked at Xi Xianqing’s face, “Xiao Xi, I really… don’t have the words to express my gratitude to you.”

Xi Xianqing shook his head. “I was just accompanying him. He got through rehab on his own.”

“You don’t understand. That child… he always wants people to see the carefree side of him.”

Zhu Yingying studied his expression. “For something such as rehabilitation, the fact that he let you accompany him means you’ve already made your way into his heart. Even I couldn’t do that.”

Xi Xianqing was momentarily stunned.

“Oh, right. His birthday is on the fifth of next month.”

The little rabbit at her feet perked up its ears. Zhu Yingying clapped her hands and said, “Xiao Xi, bring your sister along. Let’s have a proper family gathering—a little party in the garden. What do you think ah…”

In the garden, Zhu Ming didn’t drag things out any further. Instead, he chose to speak openly and honestly with Qian Duo.

“Qian Duo, the reason my aunt invited you here is because she still holds onto a sliver of hope that I might return to the Academy as a professor.”

Zhu Ming looked at the young man before him, his voice gentle yet firm. “But I need to make my feelings clear to you—I won’t be going back.”

Qian Duo mumbled. “But our lab recently acquired a lot of new equipment—”

Zhu Ming knew this kid wouldn’t give up easily, so he decided to be even more straightforward. “No matter how much funding your lab has, it’s still an established team. If I were to join, I’d inevitably have to compromise my interests and research direction to fit in with you all.”

“I can’t do that.” He looked at Qian Duo and smiled. “Because right now, I enjoy having control over my own life.”

“We haven’t been solely focusing on mental anomalies in rodent-type spiritual manifestation in recent years. We’ve expanded into different spiritual manifestation types, which overlaps with your research interests ya.”

Qian Duo sniffled. “My mentor also asked me to tell you that as long as you’re willing, the lab will prioritize your research direction. In other words, the entire team will revolve around you.”

At this, Zhu Ming couldn’t hold back anymore. “…Is your mentor crazy?”

Qian Duo’s eyes welled up with tears. “Because without those groundbreaking papers a few years ago, my mentor wouldn’t have become a lead researcher, and our lab wouldn’t even exist ah!”

“I know asking this is extremely presumptuous.”

He looked at Zhu Ming and softly asked, “You’re still so young don’t… don’t you want to try for the next Chief Researcher position?”

Zhu Ming’s body tensed slightly.

“You should go, Qian Duo.” After a long time, he lifted his gaze and gave a calm, faint smile. “I’ll reply to your mentor’s email.”

He didn’t say whether he would refuse or agree.

Qian Duo was momentarily stunned. Though he looked hesitant, he knew better than to press further. Bowing slightly, he turned and left the garden.

Sitting alone in the garden, Zhu Ming stared into the distance.

Winter was approaching. The rose bushes no longer held the lush vibrancy of summer. A cold wind swept through, making the withered stems tremble as their leaves rustled.

Zhu Ming was only wearing a thin shirt, which wasn’t much. Just as he was about to maneuver his wheelchair to turn back, a sudden weight settled on his shoulders.

He reached up and touched it—it was a coat. Turning his head, he saw Xi Xianqing standing behind him. He smiled slightly. “Eavesdropping isn’t exactly a virtue, Mr. Xiao Xi.”

Xi Xianqing said nothing, simply watching him with an unreadable expression.

Zhu Ming tilted his head, studying his face. “What? Are you mad?”

“There was no eavesdropping, nor was I angry.”

Xi Xianqing denied it calmly. “I just think that if you were going to refuse, you should have done so more decisively instead of giving a vague response like ‘I’ll reply to your mentor’s email.’”

Zhu Ming’s lips twitched slightly.

“Since you’re not mad right now,” Zhu Ming said casually, smoothly changing the subject, “then it’s the perfect time for me to tell you something that will probably make you mad.”

Xi Xianqing: “…?”

“It might be a little early, but I don’t think I should keep delaying it. Otherwise, it’ll affect your assessment even more.”

Zhu Ming lowered his head, contemplating for a moment. “In just under half a month, you’ll be resuming your assessment in District Seven, right?”

Xi Xianqing’s brows moved slightly. “Yes.”

Zhu Ming nodded and said, “This time, I may not be able to go with you.”

Xi Xianqing’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

For a brief moment, he even thought Zhu Ming was joking. But there was no trace of his usual teasing or mischievous smile in his eyes.

He was serious—calmly and deliberately stating his decision.

After a long time, Xi Xianqing asked, “Why?”

Zhu Ming smiled at him, “You know why.”

Xi Xianqing said nothing.

“I’ll still be in District Seven, it’s just that I won’t be accompanying you to the universities or attending those visits and meetings like before.”

He gestured with his fingers, mimicking quotation marks. “After all, you and I are somewhat of ‘notable figures’ in District Seven. There are people and events from the past… that I simply don’t have the energy or patience to face.”

A part of Xi Xianqing’s rational mind could understand Zhu Ming’s choice.

But another part of him couldn’t help but recall the scene of Zhu Ming standing side by side with Qian Duo just moments ago. It compelled him to speak, his voice hoarse. “You don’t want to go with me—because you don’t want to face those people from the past…”

He paused, turned his face away, and asked coldly, “…Or because there’s someone new you’d rather meet?”

Here we go again.

Zhu Ming sighed silently in his heart and responded gently, “And even if I did want to meet someone new, what’s wrong with that?”

Xi Xianqing replied without hesitation, “But you’re my private doctor.”

“So my only responsibility is to treat you.” The soft glow of the garden’s night lights cast a warm, ambiguous atmosphere. Zhu Ming’s tone was just as gentle. “But haven’t I already found the cure for you?”

“Even if I want to make some plans for my own future, what’s wrong with that?” he asked.

Future.

The weight of that word pressed heavily on Xi Xianqing’s heart, so much so that he couldn’t find a rebuttal. It took him a long time before he finally forced out, “But the cure you found… its effects are unstable, aren’t they?”

Zhu Ming didn’t respond. He simply stared at him in silence.

Xi Xianqing’s chest rose and fell noiselessly as he finally realized that his words had been completely illogical—he was being irrational.

Taking a step back and turning around, he left the garden on his own.

They had fought before, had cold wars before, but this time was different—a strange new experience.

There was no direct confrontation. From beginning to end, Zhu Ming’s tone had been calm and gentle. And this time, every word he spoke was something Xi Xianqing simply could not refute.

Because Zhu Ming mentioned their future.

Since that night at the banquet, when he had been humiliated alongside Xi Mufei, Xi Xianqing had meticulously and calmly planned every step of his future, never allowing himself to make a mistake.

—The youngest jewelry designer whose work had been permanently collected by the Xi Star Museum. An artist whose very first piece had been showcased at an auction under his own name. Xi Jianfeng’s most valued grandson, and the future representative of District Six.

And the future he shared with Zhu Ming was just as certain—because their agreement would end after the final assessment.

Yet, after spending a full week back in District Six, Xi Xianqing realized something. He couldn’t picture a future without Zhu Ming.

Even just one examination without Zhu Ming’s company had already caused him to feel distraught.

“Xianqing.” Ye Lu knocked on the door. “Madam Xu is downstairs. She’s here to discuss the redesign of the necklace.”

Xi Xianqing came back to his senses.

“Aunt Ye.”

As if recalling something, he spoke in a deep voice, “Go and check… the details of Zhu Ming’s accident back then.”

After a pause, he frowned and added, “As well as whether he… had any conflicts with anyone before the Chief candidacy that year.”

The past few days hadn’t been particularly smooth for Zhu Ming either.

The reason he chose not to accompany Xi Xianqing to District Seven was simple—at the end of the day, he still had a heart.

Xi Xianqing’s assessment in District Seven meant he would be digging into the life and past of the current Chief, ultimately creating a piece that told their story.

Although the light boat had already crossed the ten thousand mountains,¹Though time had passed. and Zhu Ming had long since moved on, he wasn’t so magnanimous as to stand by and watch with indifference.

Besides, his original duty was only to be a private doctor. Nothing more.

However, after expressing his decision not to accompany Xi Xianqing, Zhu Ming found that he didn’t feel any sense of relief.

The assessment might have been Xi Xianqing’s matter, but after everything they had been through, Zhu Ming had already come to see it as a part of his own life as well.

And precisely because he had once brushed past the most pivotal opportunity of his life, he wanted Xi Xianqing to seize everything that belonged to him.

After a week of hesitation, Zhu Ming finally decided to take the initiative and contact Xi Xianqing.

But before he could even dial the number, the doorbell rang.

The temperature in District Seven had been dropping these past two days, and today, a heavy rain had fallen—a transition between late autumn and early winter.

The moment he opened the door, Zhu Ming squinted slightly as the cold wind hit his face.

The air was damp. He lifted his gaze and saw Xi Xianqing standing quietly in the pouring rain, holding a black umbrella.

He was dressed in a black overcoat, his features sharp and strikingly cold as he stood at the door, gazing at Zhu Ming with an unreadable expression.

The hand holding the umbrella had distinct, slender knuckles, and faintly visible on his finger was the wedding ring, catching the light in a clear, shimmering blue.

“There are only three things I’m here for today,” he heard Xi Xianqing say.

Zhu Ming almost wanted to point out that the phrase “only” and “three things” was somewhat contradictory.

However, in the next instant, Xi Xianqing coldly raised his hand, and what he held up in front of Zhu Ming was an exquisitely packaged paper bag with a vaguely sweet scent.

“First, my sister asked me to bring this for you and your aunt,” he said.

Zhu Ming was stunned and took the paper bag. He opened it to find it filled with small cookies, all in oddly twisted shapes.

“Second,” Xi Xianqing didn’t look at Zhu Ming’s face, “I have something to discuss with you about the assessment in District Seven.”

“I also have something I want to say to you.”

Placing the bag of cookies on his lap, Zhu Ming tilted his head up and spoke first. “After thinking it over, I realized that other people’s opinions have never been something I cared about. So this time, I’m willing to go with you.”

“As for Qian Duo’s lab, I never planned on joining in the first place.” He said.

Xi Xianqing glanced at him and shook his head. “No. This time, I want to complete the assessment on my own.”

Zhu Ming thought he was still sulking, but before he could say anything, Xi Xianqing added, “Besides, I think you should at least take a look at Qian Duo’s lab to see the environment before deciding whether to reject his mentor’s invitation.”

Zhu Ming froze, finally sensing that Xi Xianqing was being serious. “Why… did you suddenly change your mind?”

The rain continued to patter softly, and after a long pause, Xi Xianqing said, “I just think that with your abilities, staying confined in that little lab pod would be a waste of your talent.”

Zhu Ming’s heart quietly trembled.

He saw Xi Xianqing turn his face away again, his voice somewhat muffled. “Although even now, you still haven’t completely cured me.”

“Third, tonight, I’ve been invited to attend the opening ceremony of a new store owned by a century-old jewelry family.”

He said, “The inviter is an old friend of my grandfather’s—ultimately, still a senior figure.”

Zhu Ming didn’t understand why he was voluntarily reporting his schedule. After a brief moment of surprise, he smiled. “If a senior takes the initiative to invite a junior to such an event… it means your grandfather’s connections hold you in high regard.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t deny it.

“There will be a group photo at the event,” he said. “As a courtesy, it would be more appropriate to show my spiritual manifestation.”

Zhu Ming finally caught on. “So…”

Xi Xianqing closed the umbrella in his hand.

Raindrops slid off the edge of the umbrella, seeping into the steps and leaving behind deep, dark water stains.

The hem of his trench coat lifted slightly in the wind. He walked up the steps one by one until he stood directly in front of Zhu Ming, his deep green eyes calm yet firm as they met Zhu Ming’s gaze.

“So, I’m here to get my medicine,” he said.

---

Author’s Notes:

Qing, treating medicine like a daily snack.

Although they had only kissed three times, Zhu Ming meticulously recorded every detail of each kiss—the location, duration, and the differences in Dish Soap’s display behavior.

This was to ensure that if any anomalies occurred in the display later on, he would have enough data samples for analysis.

And he did find a very small pattern.

That is, as the number of kisses increased, Dish Soap’s display speed and efficiency seemed to weaken.

For instance, their first accidental kiss at the c0cktail party had an impressive effect that lasted well into the next afternoon, allowing the green peac0ck to fan out its tail in the garden with remarkable smoothness.

However, after their second kiss upon exiting the game, Dish Soap’s display wilted midway, showing signs of lag and mild lethargy—far less seamless than the first time.

The third time at the zoo had been relatively smooth, but in hindsight, Zhu Ming had been startled and had bitten Xi Xianqing. In terms of sensory stimulation, that experience was significantly more intense than the previous two.

This led Zhu Ming to a hypothesis about medicine resistance.

“In simpler terms,” Zhu Ming pointed at the green peac0ck curled up weakly in the bathtub, “it may no longer be satisfied with the physiological stimulation of a mere lip-to-lip touch.”

Xi Xianqing’s eyebrows twitched, “What should we do then?”

“Increase the dosage, or perhaps change the medicine.”

Zhu Ming said, “Given that your current situation is rather urgent, developing a new medicine isn’t realistic. My current suggestion is the former.”

Their previous kisses had all been nothing more than the simplest lip-to-lip. Xi Xianqing wasn’t foolish—he understood what “increasing the dosage” implied.

After a moment of seemingly calm silence, Xi Xianqing said, “Then… I’ll follow your lead.”

Zhu Ming sighed softly, lifted a hand to brush aside a strand of hair from Xi Xianqing’s forehead, and said in a gentle voice, “The medicine is right here. Take as much dosage as you need.”

Xi Xianging narrowed his eyes slightly—he actually somewhat enjoyed the feeling of Zhu Ming touching his hair.

But after hearing the entire sentence, he quickly schooled his expression, looking at Zhu Ming with a proud gaze. “How am I supposed to know how much to increase the dosage?”

“If you don’t know, then I do.”

“But you’re the doctor.”

To put it bluntly, neither of them wanted to make the first move because they both understood that what they were about to do was, to some extent, crossing a line.

Zhu Ming let out a sigh, as if utterly resigned. Knowing that time was running out, he didn’t hesitate any longer. He reached up, grabbed Xi Xianqing’s tie, and pulled him in, pressing his lips against his once more.

He hooked the tip of his wet, soft tongue lightly over Xi Xianqing’s lips, a fleeting touch like a dragonfly skimming the water.

Xi Xianqing’s body abruptly trembled for a moment. His expression didn’t change much, but after a moment, his teeth parted ever so slightly, as if welcoming whatever Zhu Ming intended to do next.

However, Zhu Ming’s next move was—no move at all. He stopped, pulling back just enough distance between them, and said softly, “Just like that. Increase the dosage bit by bit. Got it?”

It was as if he had held the medicine and fed it to Xi Xianqing’s lips, just dipping his lips into it, only to suddenly pull the spoon away and place it in Xi Xianqing’s own hands, telling him to take it himself.

Xi Xianqing coldly stared at his face.

The distance between the two was close, Zhu Ming curved his eyes slightly, tilting his head with an innocent expression. “Mr. Xiao Xi, you’re the one who needs the plumes to open. I can’t be the one hand-feeding you the medicine every time—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence because this particularly bad-tempered patient had already lowered his head to take the medicine himself.

At first, there was a trace of triumphant mischief in Zhu Ming’s gaze, but the moment his chin was gripped and tilted upward, his teeth pried open by Xi Xianging’s unceremonious tongue一he suddenly found it hard to keep smiling.

This was retaliation.

Unlike the previous lip-to-lip kisses, this time, it was a full-on entanglement of lips and teeth, carried out with an unreasonably aggressive sense of revenge—Zhu Ming’s body instinctively leaned back, and his back collided heavily with the cold mirror.

Xi Xianqing’s kiss was reckless, inexperienced, and completely unstructured, making it difficult for Zhu Ming to respond properly.

The rustling of fabric, the mingling of chaotic breaths—he felt a faint dizziness creeping in, knowing it was a sign of oxygen deprivation from not being able to breathe.

He pressed his hand against Xi Xianqing’s chest, trying to create some distance.

Xi Xianqing’s response was to firmly grip his wrist, pulling both of Zhu Ming’s hands back, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

—Breathing became increasingly difficult. Zhu Ming was reaching his limit. His hands were restrained, leaving him with no choice but to instinctively lift his leg and kick Xi Xianqing in the stomach.

Then Zhu Ming suddenly froze.

Xi Xianqing, too engrossed in drinking his medicine, didn’t notice anything amiss. He merely furrowed his brows in displeasure after being kicked.

If Zhu Ming used his hands, Xi Xianqing would grab his wrists and pull them back. If Zhu Ming used his legs, then Xi Xianqing would simply grip his thigh directly.

In short, after giving the kiss a successful conclusion, Xi Xianqing straightened up.

Only then did he realize what had just happened. He released his hand from Zhu Ming’s leg and asked, saying in shock, “Just now did your leg—”

Zhu Ming, nearly slumped against the sink, was too weak to form a coherent sentence.

He gasped for breath, staring blankly at the bathroom ceiling, his eyes somewhat unfocused. After a long pause, he finally managed to speak with difficulty. “You… You’re pretty damn strong ah, Xi Xianqing…”

His voice was unbearably hoarse. Xi Xianqing felt his ears burning as he reached out to pull Zhu Ming up.

Zhu Ming rested his forehead lightly against Xi Xianqing’s chest, catching his breath for a long while before finally lifting his head. “I definitely kicked you just now. And I think… I kicked you pretty hard.”

After a long pause, Xi Xianqing replied dryly, “After going back, you should immediately go to the hospital for rehab.”

Zhu Ming let out a soft “mm.” His forehead was messy with stray strands of hair, his lips soft and slightly reddened, and the lingering sheen in his eyes was both dazzling and clear.

His eyelashes fluttered slightly, as if he were staring at his own legs—or perhaps, still struggling to process everything that had just happened.

Xi Xianqing was momentarily dazed. He forcibly averted his gaze, but then caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror behind Zhu Ming.

—More precisely, a face that looked… reluctant to part.

Xi Xianqing’s pupils contracted sharply. He took a silent step back.

Neither of them dared to look at each other directly.

After a long pause, Zhu Ming finally raised his head and glanced over Xi Xianqing’s shoulder toward the bathtub, smiling. “See? Increasing the dosage really did work.”

Following his gaze, Xi Xianqing finally noticed the green peac0ck standing proudly at the edge of the tub, its tail fully fanned out without anyone knowing when it had happened.

As its owner looked over, the peac0ck blinked its beady eyes, perked up its butt, and began spinning in a flawless 360-degree turn.

Xi Xianqing withdrew his gaze after a long moment. “…I should get going.”

Zhu Ming nodded and raised his hand. “Come here for a second.”

Xi Xianqing looked at him and stepped forward. Zhu Ming buttoned the top two undone buttons of his shirt and adjusted the position of his tie.

Zhu Ming smiled and lowered his hand, saying, “Go ahead.”

Xi Xianqing’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

In the end, he didn’t meet Zhu Ming’s gaze. He simply gave a somewhat hurried nod, turned around, grabbed the suit jacket dr4p3d over the edge of the bathtub, and strode out of the bathroom.

The bathroom door was closed and Zhu Ming stood there in a daze for a moment before letting out a breath.

After an unknown amount of time, he raised his hand and touched his slightly burning cheeks with the back of his hand. A moment later, he turned his face slightly, staring straight into the mirror.

“…Zhu Ming,” he murmured his own name. “What exactly are you trying to cure now?”

After three months, Xi Xianqing’s social media account updated again.

The post, just like when he had gone to District Two for his assessment, contained three photos with no accompanying caption.

The first two images were relatively casual: one showed a bright yellow robot holding two trays of teriyaki rice, while the other featured two gaming pods and a bookshelf packed with game discs.

But the final image was a completed piece from his recent work in District Four.

This piece quickly sparked heated discussions among the fashion and jewelry circles in District Six—because Xi Xianqing had stepped into a field he had rarely ventured into before: a pair of wristwatches.

The watches were a matching couple’s design, both made of 18k white gold, with round-cut diamonds encrusting the bezels—nothing particularly groundbreaking at first glance.

But the true highlight lay in the romantic storytelling of the watch dials.

The dials featured an enamel micro-painting. The one for Tan Yu with its mother-of-pearl dial, outlines a street in the light blue sky, with a red-brick pub on the side. A wooden sign hung on the door.

The one designed for Feng Jiachi, on the other hand, featured deep sapphire and black spinel to depict the night sky. Below, an enamel micro-painting outlined a streetlamp and a road, with a small, humble food stall on the far left, shrouded in the hazy, warm glow of cooking smoke.

—This detail became the most controversial place for outsiders. Some people argued that the miniature architectural paintings were nothing more than Xi Xianqing showing off his skills, making the design overly intricate and inconsistent with the refined aesthetic of luxury timepieces.

But keen-eyed observers speculated that these two locations were personally significant to the two representatives of District Four.

Their suspicions were reinforced when media cameras captured the exact moment the watches were unveiled at the gala—Tan Yu and Feng Jiachi both looked up simultaneously and exchanged a knowing smile.

Yet the true highlight of the design was in the watch hands—Instead of traditional hands, the minute hand took the form of a Tibetan mastiff crafted from black onyx, while the hour hand was a Maine cat cut from white opal.

Abandoning the conventional timekeeping module, Xi Xianqing’s team collaborated with a century-old watchmaker in District Six to develop a double retrograde mechanism, meticulously orchestrating the movement of the cat and dog across the dial.

Every night at precisely midnight, the Maine cat and the Tibetan mastiff would briefly meet at the center of the road—only to part ways again after a minute.

Each encounter was a carefully engineered moment, painstakingly designed by the creators and artisans.

Day after day, night after night, as time flowed on, they would always reunite at the starting point.

During the group photo session at the reception where the finished product was finally displayed, the media also finally captured Xi Xianqing’s spiritual manifestation with their cameras.

The green peac0ck’s dark green-scaled neck shimmered under the lights, its magnificent tail fully fanned out as it preened and strutted proudly in front of the flashing cameras—an unmistakable sign of its owner’s excellent mood.

No matter what, Xi Xianqing’s journey in District Four had ultimately concluded on a perfect note.

The first thing Xi Xianqing did upon leaving District Four was not anything else but to drag Zhu Ming straight to the rehabilitation clinic in District Seven—where he underwent a thorough rehabilitation.

It was also during this rehabilitation session that they realized Zhu Ming’s legs’ recovery had progressed far beyond the single kick he had managed in the bathroom.

With the exoskeleton device strapped on at the clinic, Zhu Ming was able to walk independently for an extended period without any assistance from Xi Xianqing.

Even without the machine’s support, he could use the rehabilitation area’s handrails to barely manage standing on his own for a while.

This indicated significant recovery in both his spinal nerves and leg muscles. Although he was still some distance away from walking normally, for Zhu Ming, this progress was something he hadn’t even dared to dream of before.

Dr. Wu was equally astonished by his improvement. “It’s really strange—this medication is effective, but most patients don’t recover as quickly as you.”

Zhu Ming chuckled. “Maybe it’s because I’ve been traveling a lot lately. In a good mood, good health naturally followed suit.”

Dr. Wu shook his head with a smile. “I’ll slightly increase your dosage this time. Try to come in at least once a week for treatment. But aren’t you traveling again soon? With that frequency…”

“No problem.”

This time, Xi Xianqing answered for him from behind. “He’ll be spending most of his time in District Six and District Seven from now on. It’ll be easy for him to get here.”

Zhu Ming innocently shrugged towards Dr. Wu.

After the infusion, Xi Xianqing took Zhu Ming home.

As they moved along the garden path toward the villa’s entrance, Zhu Ming said, “If my sessions are this frequent, you don’t have to accompany me every time. I’m at least an independent adult …”

Xi Xianqing’s response was immediate. “Not happening.”

“Very overbearing ah.”

Stopping his wheelchair in front of the house, Zhu Ming smiled. “Alright, I’m home.”

Xi Xianqing let out a “hmm”.

It was somewhat strange—after spending the past two months holed up in District Four, they had grown used to casually ordering food, watching TV together, and sharing a bed while fighting over a single blanket.

Now, for the first time in two months, neither took the initiative to say goodbye.

Zhu Ming quietly looked at Xi Xianqing’s face for a moment. “So? Want to stay for dinner? My aunt has been wanting to meet you.”

Xi Xianqing seemed hesitant for a moment but ultimately shook his head. “Next time. I need to go home and check on my sister first.”

Zhu Ming wasn’t particularly surprised. He nodded while rummaging through his pocket for the keys, casually teasing, “Is it because you’re not dressed formally enough today and didn’t bring a gift?”

Xi Xianqing shot him a glare. “Proper etiquette is necessary when visiting someone’s home.”

The next second, the villa’s door was pulled open from the inside.

“Ai? It really is you guys ah. Weren’t you supposed to come back in a couple of days?”

Zhu Yingying peeked her head out from behind the door, delighted. “I thought I heard voices outside. Come in, come in!”

Xi Xianqing was about to decline, but when his gaze fell on the living room, his expression darkened slightly.

Because he saw a round, plump guinea pig spiritual manifestation.

And on the sofa sat a young man with glasses and a slightly youthful face.

It was a somewhat familiar face.

Zhu Ming was also momentarily stunned before realizing—this was the District Seven university student who had clung to his arm by the pool at the District Two resort, enthusiastically trying to sell him on something.

“Oh right.”

Zhu Yingying gestured behind her and introduced, “My company held a promotional event at K University’s research institute today, and I happened to meet this young man named Qian Duo. We really hit it off, so I invited him over for a visit.”

“This young man says he’s met you before—he really worships you.”

She leaned closer to Zhu Ming’s ear and lowered her voice. “Their lab has plenty of funding. They bought a whole bunch of antibodies from our company on the spot. Go have a chat with him.”

Deep down, Zhu Yingying still believed that Zhu Ming had compromised his career and passion because of his legs, so she found it hard to turn away anyone who admired him academically.

The moment Qian Duo saw Zhu Ming, his eyes lit up, and he eagerly walked over, his guinea pig bouncing at his feet. “Zhu-ge, long time no see!”

Even though he felt utterly helpless, Zhu Ming could only extend his hand and force a dry smile. “…It hasn’t really been that long.”

“Xiao Xi, since you rarely come over, why don’t you stay for dinner?”

On the other side, Zhu Yingying tugged on Xi Xianqing’s arm, then looked behind her with a bit of hesitation. “Mainly, I didn’t know you’d be coming today, so I invited Xiao Qian over… If you don’t mind, why not stay?”

Zhu Ming quickly stepped in to help him decline. “He’s having dinner with his sister at home, so don’t force him to stay, Aunt—”

Before he could finish speaking, a sudden “clack” interrupted him—the sound of the door closing behind him.

Zhu Ming turned his head in confusion.

He saw Xi Xianqing’s long legs stride inside with a composed expression.

Without looking at Zhu Ming, he casually took off his coat and said in an even, unruffled tone, “In that case, I’ll be imposing on you tonight.”

---

Sister who is home alone at the moment : ^_^?

The watch design in this chapter was inspired by VCA’s Pont des Amoureux series.

The moment the words “getting beauty treatments” came out of Feng Jiachi’s mouth, the room instantly plunged into an icy silence.

Zhu Ming silently raised his hand to cover his mouth, while Xi Xianqing, leaning against the doorframe, rubbed his temples.

Feng Jiachi looked utterly devastated, his face flushed red. He held the towel wrapped around his chest with both hands, while the Tibetan mastiff behind him wagged its tail furiously in what seemed like shared shame and indignation.

Tan Yu was clearly shaken by this revelation as well. However, his gaze fell on the towel wrapped around Feng Jiachi’s upper body, leaving him skeptical. “But if you were getting beauty treatments, why are you not wearing clothes?”

Feng Jiachi’s gaze flickered, his voice barely audible. “Because I was planning to fix the wrinkles on my neck today. Taking off my top makes it easier for them to administer the injections ah.”

“But look, my pants are still on ah!”

He was so aggrieved that he went up to his hands and uncovered the bath towel in full view, “Not a single buckle on my belt is undone ah! Tan Yu, see for yourself—”

Tan Yu’s face flushed silently red, and he gritted his teeth to stop him. “Put that down right now!”

Feng Jiachi sniffled and withdrew his hand reluctantly.

“If you were getting beauty treatments, why didn’t you go to a proper clinic? Why do it in a villa instead?”

Still struggling to process the absurdity, Tan Yu suddenly realized something else. “Wait a minute, Feng Jiachi, you’re 37. Why are you even getting beauty treatments? Did they inject something into your brain?”

“Because places like beauty institutions are crowded ah.”

Feng Jiachi argued confidently. “I’m at least the representative of District Four. It’d be terrible if people saw me frequenting cosmetic clinics ah.”

“And compared to Districts Six and Seven, the medical beauty conditions in District Four are subpar. They’re unsanitary, the equipment isn’t up-to-date. But in this villa, I’ve got top-notch devices I sourced through my connections—reserved only for my own use.”

He reasoned methodically, “Whenever I feel like it, I can just come here. No appointments, no waiting in line ah.”

Tan Yu still found it hard to believe and looked at the few young women standing outside the door. “You’re getting beauty treatments, but you need this many people?”

“Each has their own specialty. Some are experts in optical treatments, some specialize in anti-aging, and some handle injections ah.”

Feng Jiachi explained, though his voice gradually grew weaker as he spoke. “I-I just thought I’d start maintenance early. You know, a man’s prime doesn’t last very long—”

Tan Yu didn’t give him a chance to make excuses and coldly interrupted, “Then why did you hide it from me?”

The question hit the mark. Feng Jiachi, who had just been arguing so eloquently, suddenly fell silent.

“Why… Don’t you know the answer in your heart better than I do?”

After a long pause, he forced out a smile, muttering as if talking to himself, “Do you have to ask, knowing full well what it is? Do I really have to say it in front of everyone? Can’t you leave me even a shred of dignity?”

Tan Yu frowned. “What the hell are you babbling about? You—”

Feng Jiachi interrupted him, brimming with indignation, “Because you’ve only ever liked my face ah!”

Tan Yu’s expression instantly went blank.

“For the past six months, you’ve avoided even letting me touch you! You dodge me whenever I try to kiss you!”

The more Feng Jiachi said, the more fired up he became, his confidence building. “I asked why you’re avoiding me. You coldly said it’s nothing. Isn’t it just that you’ve grown tired of my looks and my body?”

“You think I can’t tell?”

He sniffled, “I know I’m getting old. I know I’m not as young and handsome as I used to be, but I can’t do anything about my age ah. I’m just trying my best to save it, but I can’t turn back time ah…”

“Feng Jiachi, could you get your facts straight for once?”

Tan Yu sneered. “Half a year ago, do you have any idea how severe my cold was? If I went out of my way to make out with you and gotten intimate with you back then, and you ended up sick too, who would’ve taken care of the company and the project?”

Feng Jiachi was stunned for a moment.

Then, raising his voice in frustration, he retorted, “D-Don’t give me that! You didn’t let me make out even after you got over your cold later!”

Seeing the tension between the two escalate again, Zhu Ming quietly pulled on Tan Yu’s arm, while Xi Xianqing stepped in front of the potted plant on the nearby table.

Tan Yu looked exasperated. “After my cold, I wouldn’t let you near because that was when I realized you’d started lying to me and frequently sneaking off to this villa. I thought you were—”

Both of them were eerily silent for a split second, realizing exactly where this mishap had started.

Feng Jiachi’s body gave an almost imperceptible shudder. “So every time I secretly got beauty treatments, you thought I was cheating on you… which is why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder?”

Tan Yu closed his eyes. “…Yes, because I found you disgusting.”

Feng Jiachi opened his mouth, utterly dumbfounded. “Wait—if you thought something was wrong, why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

Tan Yu sneered. “Did you tell me about the beauty treatments?”

Feng Jiachi was choked speechless.

“Feng Jiachi, if I only liked your face back then, do you think I would’ve turned down my offer from the District Seven Research Institute to start from scratch with a penniless guy like you?”

Tan Yu was so furious his voice trembled, and even the Maine cat at his feet arched its back, fur standing on end in anger. “If I thought the current you had no charm, would I have spent the past three sleepless months suspecting you of cheating? Would I be taking antidepressants every day? Wouldn’t I just find someone younger and better looking than you to date?”

Feng Jiachi, still baffled by the earlier part, was suddenly hit by the last sentence. Instantly enraged, he roared, “You try going after another guy and see what happens!”

Tan Yu raised his hand to cover his face, breathing heavily without saying another word.

Feng Jiachi stared straight at him for a while before suddenly grinning and chuckling, “Hehe.”

Tan Yu was startled and frowned. “Are you out of your mind?”

“So, Tan Yu, you thought I was cheating on you… and that’s why you brought up divorce?”

The Tibetan mastiff at his feet wagged its tail enthusiastically. Feng Jiachi, as if he couldn’t believe it, said, “So you’re not tired of me as a person? Look at the mess this has caused…”

He pondered for a moment, then his grin widened. “And just now, were you kind of confessing your feelings to me ah?”

Tan Yu paused, shooting him a cold glare.

Perhaps feeling the absurdity of this conversation was too much, Tan Yu could no longer control his emotions. He turned and headed for the door.

Feng Jiachi, who originally had a smug look on his face that was hard to hide, froze for a moment at this sight. “Where are you going?”

Feng Jiachi picked up a nearby coat, strode forward in a few steps, and grabbed Tan Yu’s arm.

Tan Yu didn’t speak, furiously shook off his hand, and continued toward the door. Feng Jiachi let out a lazy chuckle, slung the coat over one shoulder, and, without hesitation, swept Tan Yu up into his arms!

Tan Yu was startled. “What are you doing?!”

Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing watched as Tan Yu was carried out the door. “…?”

Though they couldn’t see the figures, Tan Yu’s furious and embarrassed voice could be heard from the hallway: “Feng Jiachi, put me down, you—”

His voice abruptly cut off, leaving plenty to the imagination.

A moment later, Feng Jiachi’s soft laughter and a muffled sentence as he coaxed—“I didn’t know you could be so jealous”—could be faintly heard in the corridor, growing distant until it disappeared.

The room fell into absolute silence, leaving only Xi Xianqing and Zhu Ming behind.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds. Xi Xianqing pursed his lips, just about to say something when Zhu Ming, seemingly deep in thought, waved him over. “Come here for a moment.”

Xi Xianqing walked forward without knowing why. Zhu Ming said nothing, merely tilted his head up along with the white fox resting on his lap and stared intently at Xi Xianqing’s face.

Xi Xianqing felt extremely uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “What are you doing?”

Zhu Ming’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m looking for injection marks on your youthful and handsome face… but it seems I can’t find any.”

Xi Xianqing froze, then widened his eyes in shock. Covering his cheeks with one hand, he protested angrily, “I was only accompanying Feng Jiachi here. I didn’t have anything done!”

Zhu Ming sighed with faint disappointment, then turned his attention to the nearby medicine cabinet. “Still, you have to admit, the manufacturers of this collagen and hyaluronic acid are reputable. Let me see if they have something I need—hey, why are you pushing my wheelchair, Xi Xianqing?”

“…Going home.”

A week later, LotusX Group’s official social media account announced that the group’s two CEOs, Tan Yu and Feng Jiachi, would be taking an indefinite leave of absence, with their respective projects handed over to senior team leaders for management.

The pair, known publicly as both an exemplary couple and workaholics, had maintained exceptional productivity since the company’s inception. Even after being elected District Four representatives, they never let their workload slide.

The sudden joint leave sparked widespread speculation from the outside: some claimed it was a case of “lonely at the top,” with years of accumulated stress leaving the pair mentally exhausted. Others suggested a marital crisis, perhaps an irreparable rift in their relationship.

However, LotusX’s official account quickly debunked these rumors by sharing a photo of the two vacationing together at a coastal spot in District Two—quite literally “on holiday.”

The photo showed Feng Jiachi grinning broadly in matching beach shirts with a visibly exasperated Tan Yu. The caption read: “Two new friends we met recommended a bakery here in District Two—absolutely delicious~”

And so the initial rumors collapsed.

Most couples could endure hardships together in their youth, but once they achieved success and fame, they often forget that relationships also required careful maintenance. A single lapse in communication could gradually lead to a growing estrangement.

By the time minor gaps turned into irreparable chasms, it would already be too late.

Thus, when Tan Yu proposed a trip with Feng Jiachi to District Two, both Xi Xianqing and Zhu Ming expressed their understanding.

As a result, the third meeting regarding this evaluation was conducted entirely online via Bang Bang’s light screen. Fortunately, District Four’s internet was highly reliable, and they were able to finalize details about the project and its dimensions without any loss of efficiency compared to in-person discussions.

While the real couple was busy mending their relationship, the fake lovebirds enjoyed a rare period of peace that could even be described as warm and harmonious.

For the most part, Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing continued to keep out of each other’s way—Xi Xianqing would collaborate with the craftsmen in the study to discuss project details, while Zhu Ming stayed in the living room, returning to his old profession by hosting live broadcast to offer medical consultations.

By the time Xi Xianqing wrapped up his meetings, Zhu Ming’s live broadcast almost finished as well.

The two of them would then turn on the TV, have dinner delivered by Bang Bang, and continue their respective tasks afterward. Occasionally, when they had free time, they would head to the guest room’s gaming pod to play games.

Inspiration was unpredictable, so Xi Xianqing sometimes worked through the night, falling asleep at his desk when he could no longer keep his eyes open.

When Zhu Ming peeked into the study and found him asleep, he would quietly help tidy up the scattered stacks of cardboard and tracing paper, then use Bang Bang to order a cup of hot milk, leaving it by his hand.

When Xi Xianqing woke up and noticed the milk, his expression remained calm, but the tail feathers of the green peac0ck at his feet couldn’t help but twitch repeatedly.

After finishing the milk and stepping out of the study, he often found the TV playing some dog-blooded dramas about wealthy families. Meanwhile, Zhu Ming, curled up on the sofa with the white fox, would be sound asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful.

Standing by the sofa, Xi Xianqing would silently watch Zhu Ming’s face for a while before letting out a soft sigh. Then, he would switch off the TV, bend down to carry him back to the bedroom, and close the door behind them.

The day for the finished product exhibition and final group photo arrived quickly.

This time, Xi Xianqing’s work wasn’t conventional jewelry. He had spent considerable time refining it with District Six’s local craftsmen, repeatedly consulting with Yang Jiahe and making adjustments. The end result was satisfactory.

As a prominent company, LotusX’s publicity and development department was also very hard working. They were eager to take advantage of Xi Xianqing’s reputation in District Six to expand its influence beyond District Four. They arranged a public c0cktail party on the evening of the product’s unveiling.

The reception was held in the lobby of LotusX’s headquarters. The event schedule—from the product display to sharing its inspiration, the final fitting, and the group photo session—was meticulously planned. Xi Xianqing had even participated in a rehearsal beforehand to ensure everything went smoothly.

An hour before the reception began, Nova arrived at Xi Xianqing’s hotel and knocked on his door.

The one who opened the door was Xi Xianqing.

Nova adjusted her glasses. “Mr. Xi, the car is ready downstairs. We’re scheduled to leave for the venue in 30 minutes. Is there any change to your itinerary?”

Xi Xianqing was dressed in a tailored smoke-gray suit, but Nova noticed his shirt collar was slightly disheveled, with the top two buttons undone. His tie knot was also a little loose.

His voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke. “No.”

Although Nova felt puzzled, she kept her expression neutral and gave a slight bow. “Understood. Our team will wait for you downstairs. Please take your time to prepare.”

Xi Xianqing nodded and closed the door.

He stood still for a second, took a deep breath, and then turned to the master bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, he found Zhu Ming sitting on the marble countertop, silently staring at the bathtub before him.

In the bathtub, the green peac0ck was curled up, perched with its elongated tail feathers dr4p3d quietly behind it, nearly filling the entire space of the tub.

The moment Xi Xianqing stepped into the bathroom, Zhu Ming looked up and said three words: “So, what now?”

Xi Xianqing tugged at his collar with frustration and avoided his gaze. “You’re asking me?”

Zhu Ming fell silent again.

The bathroom was small, and the air seemed almost stifling. Xi Xianqing stared at the green peac0ck in the tub with mounting irritation. “Why did it work the previous times, but not this time?”

Zhu Ming was evidently just as overwhelmed. “Don’t make noise, I’m thinking.”

After a long pause, he exhaled deeply and turned to Xi Xianqing. “Let’s try again.”

Perhaps because they had already tried far more than just once this evening—and with the clock ticking down—they didn’t hesitate or argue further. Xi Xianqing gave a nod, and they moved into action.

The two of them got right down to business–

Zhu Ming ran his fingers through Xi Xianqing’s hair, tilting his face slightly upward; Xi Xianqing cupped Zhu Ming’s cheek with one hand, his gaze lowering. As they leaned closer to one another, their lips met in a searing, lingering kiss.

Their lips brushed briefly, pressing together before parting. Their noses almost touched, and their breathing was noticeably quickened. Forcing themselves to calm down, they both turned back to the large peac0ck curled in the bathtub.

Dish Soap twitched its tail feathers and shifted its position but otherwise stayed entirely still, its plumes unmoving.

Zhu Ming was beyond exasperated. “Xi Xianqing, are you even trying?”

The skin below the root of Xi Xianqing’s ear diffused a red color. His voice was hoarse with disbelief, “It used to work the moment I thought about it. I don’t know why, today of all days…”

He couldn’t speak.

“I initially thought three samples would be enough. The zoo trial went perfectly fine, and now it decides to stop working at the most critical moment.”

Zhu Ming exhaled. “What time is it now? When are you heading to the banquet for the group photo?”

“Nova just said we’re leaving in half an hour,” Xi Xianqing replied hoarsely.

Zhu Ming murmured, “We’re doomed. It’s too late to fix it with bare hands.”

Xi Xianqing frowned. “Can you stop thinking about those crooked ideas?”

Zhu Ming chuckled and pointed to the green peac0ck sitting motionless at his feet. “Then what do you suggest?”

Xi Xianqing remained silent for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll just try again.”

Zhu Ming couldn’t think of a better idea either. He gave a faint “Mm,” then placed his hand back on Xi Xianqing’s shoulder.

Xi Xianqing rested his arm on the sink beside him, leaning forward slightly. Their noses were just a breath apart, and their lips were about to touch—

Zhu Ming suddenly extended his index finger, pressing it against Xi Xianqing’s chin.

The atmosphere and emotions had built up perfectly, only to be abruptly halted at this critical moment. Xi Xianqing furrowed his brow and raised his eyes in mild displeasure. “What are you doing?”

Zhu Ming didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at Xi Xianqing’s face for a while, seemingly in a daze.

“I was thinking about the reason why today’s medicine didn’t work.”

As if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, he looked into Xi Xianqing’s eyes with a thoughtful expression. “Could it be that you’ve developed a medicine resistance? That the previous dosage… is no longer enough?”

---

Author’s Notes:

Aiya, what should we do then?

[Research Subject]: Dish Soap.

[Current Observed Fluctuations]: Temporary recovery of spiritual power, autonomous control of tail feathers restored, ability to display tail regained, with a maximum recovery duration of 23 hours and 30 minutes.

[Medication Usage]: No external drug intervention.

[Cause of Fluctuation]: Kissing. (Details of the three instances are as follows…)

[Future Research Direction]: Continue observation based on current findings to extend the duration of tail display.

Zhu Ming closed the light screen in his hand.

For now, the issue of displaying the tail had a somewhat reliable temporary solution. Although uncertainties remained, Zhu Ming could finally breathe a little easier, and his work and rest had improved significantly.

Feeling a bit hungry, he planned to order a bowl of wonton noodles using Bang Bang—this little guy was practically a gadget designed to make people completely reliant and lazy.

However, after searching the living room for a while, he couldn’t find Bang Bang. Instead, he ran into Xi Xianqing, who had just come to the living room to get some water.

Zhu Ming asked, “Have you seen Bang Bang?”

“I’m using it,” Xi Xianqing glanced at him, paused, “Do you want to join?”

Zhu Ming: “…Join what?”

Following Xi Xianqing back to the study, Zhu Ming saw that Bang Bang’s screen was lit up, displaying a real-time video call with Yang Jiahe’s face on it.

Yang Jiahe smiled and waved at him. Zhu Ming quickly realized that Xi Xianqing was actively inviting him to join his meeting with Yang Jiahe.

He looked at Xi Xianqing in surprise. “Yi? I’m allowed to join today even though I’m a layman who knows nothing about design?”

Yang Jiahe on the other end of the video, “Pfft—”

Xi Xianqing’s expression shifted. “…I was just being polite by inviting you to listen in. Join if you want or don’t.”

“I’m more than happy to.” Zhu Ming grinned and extended his hand. “But, uh… can I borrow the light screen to order some noodles first?”

So while Xi Xianqing and Yang Jiahe discussed craftsmanship and techniques, Zhu Ming sat beside them, biting into the greens in his wonton noodles, listening with great interest.

At first, it was about bezel setting, flush setting, and channel setting.

Then, it moved on to cloisonné enamel, miniature enamel, and grand feu enamel…

In any case, when he opened his eyes again, Zhu Ming felt like he had never slept so comfortably in his life.

He sat up and wiped the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, got a bit of carbon monoxide dizziness.”

“Alright, alright, let’s call it a day.”

On the other end of the call, Yang Jiahe was also struggling to stay awake. “But seriously, aren’t you overdoing the contingency plans this time? There’s still plenty of time, but you should focus on refining one or two of them ah.”

“Given their current relationship… I had to make two preparations.”

Xi Xianqing raised a hand to rub his temples. “If they divorce, the designs will align with their individual careers—solo pieces. If they stay together, it’ll focus on their relationship—a dual-themed project.”

As an eager melon eater,¹Gossiper Yang Jiahe was curious. “There’s not even a whisper of this outside—everyone’s still singing praises about their perfect love. Why would they be heading for a divorce? Whose fault is it?”

For a brief moment, the air went still. Xi Xianqing cast an unreadable glance at the person beside him. “Who knows? Maybe, as time passes, one of them just… stopped feeling anything new for the other.”

Zhu Ming lazily yawned, holding his empty noodle bowl as he maneuvered his wheelchair toward the door. “Or maybe one of them committed an unforgivable mistake. Who knows?”

“What you two said…” Yang Jiahe pondered for a moment and nodded. “You both make some valid points.”

Given the potential risks, the second meeting was once again held separately.

Xi Xianqing and Feng Jiachi met this time at the LotusX headquarters office.

Xi Xianqing presented some initial design concepts, had Feng Jiachi try on a few pieces of jewelry, and took measurements of his wrist and ring sizes—data that might be useful later.

As Feng Jiachi cooperated, he couldn’t help but express his thoughts on the situation. “Back in the day, Old Master Xi would occasionally come to our school to give lectures. Everyone would fight to attend his architecture seminars—the auditorium would be packed beyond capacity.”

“I was just a university student then. If someone had told me that in a few years, I’d become District Four’s representative and be casually chatting with Old Master Xi’s own grandson, I’d have thought they were dreaming.”

He clicked his tongue. “Back then, I was just aimlessly sketching, never expecting to find a field I loved so much in District Four, to meet a like-minded team, to get to know Tan Yu, and then…”

His mood had been relatively upbeat—until he mentioned “Tan Yu.”

As soon as the name left his lips, it was as if all his energy drained away. His voice grew quieter and quieter, and even the massive Tibetan mastiff beside him slowly curled up, its tail drooping.

Xi Xianqing let out a soft sigh and set down the measuring tape. “How are things between you two lately?”

“How else?”

Feng Jiachi turned his face away irritably. He almost reached into his pocket for a cigarette but stopped himself at the last moment. “He hasn’t mentioned divorce these past two days, but I know him—the quieter he gets, the more he’s holding something big in… Forget it, let’s not talk about it.”

Seeing Xi Xianqing’s face, something came to his mind. “Oh right, did you use that face mask I gave you last time? How was it?”

Xi Xianqing paused for a moment. “Not bad.”

Feng Jiachi raised an eyebrow smugly. “Of course. Oh, by the way, are you free tonight?”

“I’m taking you to a great place.” He hooked an arm around Xi Xianqing’s neck and lowered his voice. “But this place is a little unusual ah. You have to promise me, no matter what, you must keep it a secret—not even from your partner ha…”

Zhu Ming and Tan Yu met at an elegant tea house this time, and the meeting went smoothly.

Xi Xianqing had suggested that Ye Lu accompany Zhu Ming to assist with Tan Yu’s jewelry fitting, but Zhu Ming declined, stating that he alone was an entire army.

Now, wearing gloves, he carefully searched through the safe. “Hold on a sec ha, I remember he told me to let you try on a sparkly white stone, a sparkly blue stone, and a half-green, not-quite-yellow one… Ah, got them all. Let’s try them first, and I’ll take some pictures.”

Last time, Tan Yu had only mentioned Feng Jiachi’s infidelity without going into details, and Zhu Ming understood that he didn’t want to talk about it.

So this time, Zhu Ming didn’t ask any further questions either. Instead, as he helped Tan Yu try on the jewelry, he simply listened to him talk about the journey of building his company.

“When our first one launched, I didn’t even want to stop to breathe. I just wanted to create more, better pieces, to show the world what we were capable of.”

As he recalled the past, the usually indifferent eyes behind Tan Yu’s glasses softened slightly. “But now, all I want is to take a long vacation.”

“But sitting in this position now, stopping isn’t something I can just decide to do anymore.”

His gaze drifted toward the window as he murmured, “Time is the most valuable cost. We spent all of it on our careers, leaving less and less… to communicate and be with each other.”

Meeting Zhu Ming’s eyes, Tan Yu seemed to remember something and smiled. “Sorry, I never finished my story last time and left you hanging for so long.”

Zhu Ming shook his head. “If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t force yourself.”

“It’s not that I can’t talk about it.” Tan Yu lowered his eyes. “About half a year ago, I started noticing that he was going out alone more often, using business dinners or catching up with friends as an excuse.”

“At first, I didn’t think much of it, but as the frequency increased, I started finding it really odd.”

Tan Yu said, “Because, as you know, people from District Six are terrible at lying.”

Zhu Ming: “…Indeed.”

“I didn’t initially suspect cheating. I even asked him what he’d been up to. Honestly, even if he had made a mistake, if he had been honest about it, this marriage wouldn’t necessarily have to end.”

Tan Yu pressed his palm against his forehead. “But he kept avoiding my gaze, brushing me off with clumsy excuses. And I started noticing something else… Lately, he’s been more obsessed with his appearance than ever, putting more and more effort into how he looks.”

“So, a while ago, I hired a private investigator. Turns out, for the past six months, he’s been frequently visiting a villa in the suburbs.”

Tan Yu exhaled lightly. “Inside that villa, different young women have been coming and going.”

Zhu Ming took a silent, sharp breath. “That really does sound…”

It sounded like undeniable proof.

Tan Yu let out a soft chuckle. “At first, I didn’t want to take it as far as catching him in the act, because I knew—if I saw it with my own eyes, I’d be haunted by that scene for the rest of my life.”

“So I just wanted a divorce, to end things with some dignity—for both of us and for the company.”

He pressed his fingers against his temple and said quietly, “But now, I regret it. I can’t just end it like this. I need to see it with my own eyes before I can truly let go.”

“Because I owe it to the Tan Yu who chose him ten years ago,” he said.

His phone vibrated. Tan Yu glanced down at the message on the screen. After a long pause, he closed his eyes.

He let out a breath, one that sounded like a mix of deep disappointment and exhaustion. “The private investigator just told me—he’s driving to that villa again.”

Zhu Ming’s breath hitched slightly. “Mr. Tan, you…”

“Mr. Zhu.” Tan Yu rolled up his sleeves and stood up. “I have a feeling tonight’s going to get ugly.”

His expression remained calm. “This might be a bit difficult to say, but since this will likely end with calling the police, would it be too much to ask you to come with me?”

Feng Jiachi’s secret villa was located in a secluded, remote area of District Four, and the drive alone took nearly an hour.

By the time they arrived, it was already evening. Standing before the villa’s entrance, Tan Yu slowly raised his hand, but just before touching the doorbell, he hesitated and curled his fingers back down.

Zhu Ming knew he was still wavering, so he pressed the doorbell for him and said, “I’ll do it.”

The moment the intercom was connected, a young woman’s voice came through, “Who is it?”

Zhu Ming saw Tan Yu’s body sway slightly.

Zhu Ming exhaled, “Express delivery.”

Sure enough, the door was opened by a young girl.

When she saw Zhu Ming sitting in his wheelchair, empty-handed, she froze for a moment.

Then her gaze shifted past him to Tan Yu, and her pupils widened abruptly as she took a step back. “You’re… you’re President Tan?”

The moment he saw the girl, Tan Yu closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, all that remained in them was an icy coldness, like frost and snow. He stepped straight into the villa, and asked in a cold voice. “Where is Feng Jiachi?”

“You can’t come in, you—”

Realizing she couldn’t stop Tan Yu at all, the girl turned back toward the villa’s interior, shouting anxiously, “You guys, go tell President Feng! President Tan found his way here and came!”

At her words, Zhu Ming and Tan Yu suddenly realized that the girl who had opened the door wasn’t the only one in the house.

In the back of the living room, four or five other young girls gathered, looking at them with expressions ranging from confusion to fear.

Tan Yu laughed in anger. “Feng Jiachi… you really are capable.”

His face darkened as he strode further into the villa, repeating his question to the girls, “Where is Feng Jiachi?”

The young women stammered, unable to form a coherent answer.

Tan Yu nodded, no longer wasting words. He started opening doors one by one, searching for the person himself.

The girls shrieked—“You can’t go in!”, “President Feng really isn’t here!”, “We don’t even know who President Feng is!”—while a series of spiritual manifestations flitted chaotically behind them, making the scene all the more chaotic.

Not only had Tan Yu completely lost control of his emotions, but even Zhu Ming was stunned by the sheer mess of it all. He had assumed Feng Jiachi was just another guy who puts on airs with a messy private life.

However, as he scrutinized the young women more closely, Zhu Ming vaguely felt that something felt off.

—Because they were all wearing identical outfits. The design was comfortable and practical, almost like a uniform issued by an institution, and it wasn’t overly revealing.

However, before he could think any further, he looked up and came face-to-face with someone stepping out from around the corner.

This time, it was Zhu Ming’s turn to be shocked. “…Xi Xianqing?”

Xi Xianqing froze as well. “Why are you here?”

Zhu Ming found it completely absurd. “You’re asking me? Why are you here?”

Xi Xianqing’s expression shifted from shock to a slight furrow of his brows, and then to a mild look of confusion as he noticed Zhu Ming’s accusatory tone.

His gaze swept past Zhu Ming to Tan Yu, whose face became unpleasant beyond recognition, and to the trembling young women behind them. His pupils contracted sharply as he realized what they must be thinking. “It’s not—”

Tan Yu cut straight to the point. “Where’s Feng Jiachi?”

“He’s…” Xi Xianqing pointed toward a room behind him, his expression impossibly complicated. After a long, exasperated sigh, he said, “I’ll tell him to come out and explain himself.”

Xi Xianqing entered the room behind him.

A few minutes later, Feng Jiachi rushed out, wearing nothing but a bath towel around his upper body.

The moment he saw Tan Yu, his eyes flickered between shock and guilt, his face carrying an expression that could only be described as “I’m screwed.”

And then, as if he was determined to pour oil on the fire, the first thing out of his mouth was: “Tan Yu, let me explain—”

“You do need to explain yourself, Feng Jiachi.”

Tan Yu’s expression was calm, but there was an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice. “This villa, the girls outside, and the clothes that have mysteriously disappeared from your body—what exactly is the reason for all this?”

“Of course, if you don’t want to explain, that’s fine too. I’ve already prepared the divorce papers; they’re in the car. If you sign them right now, I’ll leave immediately and never bother you again in this life,” he said.

At first, Feng Jiachi still looked somewhat guilty and embarrassed.

But the moment he heard the words “divorce papers,” his expression twisted into rage. “Divorce papers?! I say you haven’t been mentioning it in the past two days. So that’s what you’ve been planning, huh? Tan Yu, in the end, you have it in your heart—”

Xi Xianqing, arms crossed, had reached his limit. “So, President Feng, would you care to explain the current situation first?”

Feng Jiachi froze, his face flushing red. After a long moment, he squeezed out a barely audible response through clenched teeth: “You also know, in a situation like this… how am I supposed to explain it?”

Something flickered in Xi Xianqing’s eyes. His expression turned complicated for a brief moment.

But when his gaze landed on Zhu Ming, standing beside Tan Yu, his expression instantly regain firmness. His voice was slightly cold. “If you won’t say it yourself, then I’ll say it for you.”

Feng Jiachi was sad and indignant. “Alright, alright! I’ll talk, okay?!”

He stared at Tan Yu’s face for a few seconds, took a couple of deep breaths, then clenched his teeth and swung open the door behind him. “Just come in and see for yourselves.”

The curtains in the room were tightly drawn, the light was dim. Soft, soothing music played in the background.

The moment Tan Yu and Zhu Ming stepped inside, they both froze in place.

They first saw a bed.

But it wasn’t a regular bed for sleeping. Instead, it resembled the kind used in clinics where the back could be adjusted and be used for receiving some kinds of treatment.

Next to the bed stood a young woman wearing gloves, her expression startled. Around her were several high-tech, intricately wired white machines. To the right was a massive storage cabinet filled with neatly arranged boxes of injectable medications.

Zhu Ming narrowed his eyes and scanned one of the boxes, reading the label: Human-Derived Type III Collagen.

A realization struck him like lightning. He whipped his head toward Xi Xianqing at the door, mouthing: No way…?

Xi Xianqing, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, nodding to him with a faint expression.

Meanwhile, Tan Yu silently fixed his gaze on a large, wheeled white device labeled: BB Photon Skin Rejuvenation Equipment—60th Gen Intense Pulsed Light Technology.

“Feng Jiachi.”

Tan Yu took a step back, raising a hand to his forehead. His shoulders slumped, as if utterly drained. “So this is what you’ve been sneaking off… to do every day?”

Feng Jiachi didn’t say anything.

Tan Yu stared at him, his eyes faintly red at the corners. After a long silence, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice, “Did you know that I-I always thought you were…”

He didn’t continue.

“Thought I was doing what?”

Feng Jiachi hesitated slightly as he repeated the question, still not fully processing it. A moment later, his eyes widened in shock, nearly failing to keep his towel in place. “How can it be!”

Behind him, the Tibetan mastiff bared its teeth in fury, its tail lashing wildly. Feng Jiachi practically roared in his own defense, “How could you think of me like that! Tan Yu, I would never do such a thing in my life!”

“I-I was just—” He panted heavily, staring intently at Tan Yu’s face. After a moment, he lowered his head, the force in his voice gradually fading. “I was just secretly getting beauty treatments all this time ah…”

---

Author’s notes:

The little bird, fox, cat, dog, and 芥菜糊糊,²The author’s name in the site. Jie Jie: I was thinking whether I should add this part since it wasn’t really related to the chapter but I already translated it so XD wishes everyone a Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!