Thank you very much, Roz, for the Ko-fi! :googleredheart:

The tea room’s décor exuded an elegant Zen aesthetic. The five-needle pine bonsai on the table was meticulously trimmed, and the delicate tea snacks were served in lacquered wooden boxes.

Xi Xianqing lowered his eyes and raised his hand, pouring tea—recently brought back from District Two—into Cen Zhuo’s cup.

“Spending every day in a company as cold as a showroom, I haven’t been back to District Six in ages. Home really is the most comfortable place ah.”

The koala beside him began to nod off. Cen Zhuo sighed, “The last time we met, we had just graduated. All I remember was the cold-hearted and aloof Young Master Xiao Xi, constantly rejecting love letters. Back then, I even joked that you were destined to live alone forever.”

“And now, look at me—I’ve become the epitome of a corporate slave, and not a single peach blossom has ever bloomed on me.”1]Means he never had any romance in his life.

Cen Zhuo glanced around, a wistful expression on his face. “Our Young Master Xi here got into a relationship and even married in a flash—taking a pure and wholesome love story route I never saw coming.”

This person’s slick-talking habit hadn’t changed since their school days. Xi Xianqing, expressionless, pushed a teacup toward him. “…Enough already.”

“What’s wrong? I’m just being honest ah.”

Cen Zhuo’s grin grew more mischievous as he leaned in closer. “The first thing I saw in the news today was you. The way you kissed… tsk, tsk, tsk. A beauty in your arms and deep affection all around ah.”

Xi Xianqing had anticipated this and didn’t bother trying to dodge the topic. He coldly changed the subject. “How’s work going for you these days?”

“Just average. I’m in UI design, so there are plenty of stressful moments that makes you bald, but the overall prospects for our projects are good, and the revenue is pretty stable.”

Cen Zhuo smacked his lips in mild disappointment. Beside him, the koala listlessly tilted its head. “As for my two bosses, they’re ridiculously stable—been married for years, and their relationship is still like a honeymoon phase…”

“Aiya, how come the whole world is in pairs.”

He hatefully slammed the table, causing his teacup to wobble. “When is my perfect love story going to fall into my head ah?”

Xi Xianqing felt that this person was probably in heat: “…”

Both of them were born and raised in District Six. Xi Xianqing, because of his family’s status, pursued an extravagant and expensive field suited to his identity—jewelry design.

Cen Zhuo’s situation was different. His parents were businessmen, and his family was simple. From a young age, he yearned for the world beyond District Six, so he studied game design and joined a gaming technology company in District Four after graduation.

The core value of District Four was “Recreation,” but the scope of this “Recreation” was incredibly broad.

Unlike District Two, which focused on a single concept of leisure centered around food and vacationing, District Four’s idea of recreation was far more complex. It emphasized discovering the meaning of life, living to the fullest, and pushing the limits of one’s existence.

Thus, this so-called “recreation” meant that District Four boasted Xi Star’s largest-scale amusement park and its largest animation production company.

But it also meant that District Four housed Xi Star’s largest gambling and nightclub industries, representing the unspeakable forbidden pleasures of adults.

In short, it was both a captivating and dangerous district.

There was an old saying on Xi Star: the ideal life was to have a pair of parents from District Seven, date someone from District Six, roam District Four in one’s youth, and retire in District Two for a life of leisure.

Though this was a stereotype-laden joke, it highlighted the distinct characteristics of each district.

Of course, amusement parks and nightclubs were extreme examples. District Four also offered many normal forms of entertainment.

One of the most notable was video games, a medium that allowed young people to efficiently gain joy and energy, and interact across districts without leaving their homes.

Today’s gathering with Cen Zhuo wasn’t just a casual meetup. He now worked for LotusX, the most famous gaming technology company in District Four.

And as it happened, Cen Zhuo’s boss was the current representative of District Four—a key figure Xi Xianqing would have to interact with for his next assessment.

What made LotusX Technology Company unique was that it was founded from scratch by a married couple who had been together for many years. As a result, District Four’s current representatives were not one person, but two.

Although Xi Xianqing wasn’t particularly interested in gaming technology, a few of this company’s games were really out of the loop. The company’s collaborations, sponsorships, and advertisements had extensive reach. Thus, he more or less heard of it.

He listened as Cen Zhuo vented about his work. The topics ranged from the shady tactics of rival project teams in the business world to what was served at their company’s afternoon tea breaks. Overall, the work environment sounded fairly ordinary and routine.

The personalities of the two representatives also seemed pleasant, which put Xi Xianqing at ease.

“Alright la, I know you’re a busy man.”

After eating refreshments for almost an hour, the koala, now rubbing its round belly, looked satisfied. Not planning to linger any longer, Cen Zhuo added, “Let’s catch up again sometime.”

Xi Xianqing nodded and walked him to the entrance of the estate.

While waiting for his ride, Cen Zhuo glanced back, suddenly raising his voice with interest. “Hey, is that your lover in the garden?”

Turning around, Xi Xianqing indeed saw a figure in a wheelchair by the front door of the villa.

Zhu Ming had a white fox resting on his lap. The man and the fox both gazed in their direction.

Xi Xianqing replied, “…Yes.””

“Aiya, I understand everything.”

Cen Zhuo made a knowing face, full of exaggerated winks, as if saying, “Ah, the daily life of a couple—I understand it all.” He added playfully, “We’ve talked about enough for today. If you have any questions about District Four, just message me anytime.”

In Cen Zhuo’s eyes as the outsider, Zhu Ming was like a newlywed who was looking forward to his lover’s return, sitting by the villa’s door with expectant eyes, waiting for Xi Xianqing.

But when Xi Xianqing looked closer, he noticed that Zhu Ming was holding a light screen in one hand, his brows slightly furrowed. It became clear that things might not be as simple as they seemed on the surface.

Xi Xianqing steadied himself, “Let me see you off to your car.”

Cen Zhuo patted him on the shoulder, his expression suggestive. “Hurry back. Don’t keep him waiting too long.”

After watching Cen Zhuo leave in the car, Xi Xianqing exhaled a breath.

He stood there for a moment, closing his eyes to adjust his expression, before he turned around and walked toward the person waiting at the villa entrance, his face calm and composed.

As he approached, he noticed Zhu Ming seemed lost in thought, staring at the light screen in his hand.

The light screen was lit, displaying a page Zhu Ming often used to document Dish Soap’s behavior.

Xi Xianqing vaguely saw numerous things scratched out in messy strokes, as if Zhu Ming’s previous thoughts and concepts had been abruptly overturned by something new.

He sensed that Zhu Ming’s state seemed off and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Only then did Zhu Ming raise his eyes.

He stared at Xi Xianqing’s face for a long time, as though caught between deep thought and complete blankness. After a moment, he spoke, “Can you… hand me the sensor gloves?”

Since Zhu Ming had impulsively used his spiritual energy to break open Dish Soap’s feathers last time, the sensor gloves had been kept in Xi Xianqing’s possession.

Xi Xianqing gave an “en” and went into the living room. He retrieved the gloves and handed them to Zhu Ming.

Zhu Ming put on the gloves, lowering his gaze as though contemplating something. After a long pause, his eyes refocused on Xi Xianqing’s face. “Can you release Dish Soap now?”

Xi Xianqing was stunned, “Yes.”

As the psychoplasmic particles slowly condensed, the green peac0ck, with its slender tail feathers trailing behind, quietly appeared at his feet.

Zhu Ming maneuvered his wheelchair to the back of the green peac0ck. He bent down, his hands moving over Dish Soap’s tail feathers and butt silently.

The white fox, which usually lazed on his lap in a deep sleep, jumped down this time. Its ears perked up alertly as it circled the green peac0ck, pacing back and forth, inspecting and observing.

Dish Soap pecked at the feathers on its chest a couple of times before raising its head. It noticed it was surrounded by a man and a fox and blinked its small round eyes in confusion, looking to its master for help.

Xi Xianqing didn’t hold back and asked, “What are you doing?”

Zhu Ming snapped out of his trance after a long while. He straightened up and said, “Now, try controlling your spiritual energy and manipulate Dish Soap’s tail feathers.”

Xi Xianqing assumed Zhu Ming had come up with some random whimsical idea. Although it felt strange, he didn’t argue and tried adjusting his spiritual energy.

Dish Soap blinked but showed no movement in its tail feathers.

Zhu Ming muttered, “… No reaction.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

Zhu Ming’s cryptic behavior unsettled Xi Xianqing, his expression turning slightly cold. “You know I’ve never been able to—”

“No, you can.” Zhu Ming interrupted, raising his head to fix his gaze on Xi Xianqing. “And you just did.”

“I was upstairs earlier. I saw it with my own eyes,” Zhu Ming said, taking a deep breath. He pointed his pen at the green peac0ck on the ground. “It spread its tail feathers.”

Xi Xianqing stiffened. “…What?”

“It’s absolutely true. And it did it of its own will.”

Zhu Ming picked up one of Dish Soap’s tail feathers, examined it for a moment, then released it with a bewildered expression. “You didn’t notice it because you’d just finished chatting with your friend in the garden. It was standing behind you and suddenly spread its feathers wide.”

“Not only did it spread its feathers, but it lasted a full ten seconds—until you put it away.”

Xi Xianqing stared at the green peac0ck at his feet, his voice hoarse. “Are you sure… you didn’t see it wrong?”

“I’m sure. I may be lame, but I’m not blind.”

Zhu Ming replied bluntly, biting the end of his pen. He whispered to himself, “You also haven’t been taking your medication lately. I’m starting to wonder if my entire line of thinking has been wrong all along.”

The room fell into a deep silence. The weight of this shocking revelation was hard for either of them to process.

A few seconds later, Zhu Ming seemed to recall something. He abruptly raised his head and grabbed Xi Xianqing’s sleeve. “When you were walking in the garden earlier, what were you thinking about?”

Xi Xianqing’s jawline tightened sharply

After a brief pause, he replied irritably, “Walking is just walking. How am I supposed to remember what I was thinking?”

Zhu Ming realized his question was unreasonable and let go of Xi Xianqing’s sleeve with a sigh of frustration.

At the same time, he became acutely aware that there had to have been a variable in the time between his drunken stupor the previous night and Dish Soap’s display of its feathers.

A variable that had never existed before in Xi Xianqing’s life—something that unconsciously triggered an emotional fluctuation strong enough to affect his spiritual energy, which in turn caused Dish Soap to spread its tail feathers.

After a pause, Zhu Ming’s questions spilled out in rapid succession. “After I got drunk last night, did you do anything you don’t normally do? Eat anything out of the ordinary?”

His voice betrayed his growing excitement as he pressed further. “Did you drink alcohol? Watch something stimulating? Or during any interaction, did you experience any intense emotional swings?”

Xi Xianqing: “…”

To uncover the variable, there were no shortcuts—only the simplest and clumsy way: examining and eliminating each potential factor one by one.

They returned to the living room. Zhu Ming recorded notes on the light screen while Xi Xianqing sat on the sofa, as if being interrogated as a prisoner.

“Diet, sleep, medication—nothing’s changed compared to before.”

Ten minutes later, Zhu Ming was clutching his hair, muttering, “Why would this happen… And why could it work briefly just now, but not anymore?”

Xi Xianqing stared at Dish Soap by his feet, its tail feathers utterly motionless. Unable to help himself, he asked Zhu Ming again, “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t see it wrong?”

Zhu Ming’s gaze remained fixed on the light screen, his tone resolute. “I’m sure.”

Xi Xianqing fell silent.

All the suspicious factors listed on the screen had already been eliminated.

Zhu Ming doodled aimlessly on the light screen, his pen pressing so hard it seemed as though it might puncture the surface.

Variable.

The variable that hadn’t appeared before last night.

The tip of his pen froze, and it suddenly occurred to him that there was indeed another variable that had never been considered by him.

And judging by the current results, it was a variable that was… painfully obvious.

The white fox’s swishing tail stilled. Zhu Ming remained quiet for a moment before lifting his gaze to the person sitting on the sofa across from him.

Xi Xianqing noticed his line of sight and turned his face.

Their eyes met for a long moment. Zhu Ming, usually straightforward and unreserved, was uncharacteristically shy for a few seconds.

“You tell me,” Zhu Ming adjusted his breathing, lips pressed together as he cautiously began, “could it be… because of the little kiss I gave you last night?”

Xi Xianqing’s pupils constricted sharply, cutting him off almost instantly. “Impossible.”

The living room was quiet again.

To be honest, even Zhu Ming thought the idea was absurd the moment it crossed his mind.

But when all other possibilities had been eliminated, no matter how outlandish or improbable the remaining one seemed, it could only be the correct answer.

Zhu Ming stared at Xi Xianqing’s tense profile for a while.

Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind—just before Dish Soap opened its feathers, he recalled Xi Xianqing in the garden, distracted and raising a hand to… gently touch his lips.

Zhu Ming’s breathing quickened.

“This isn’t the time for stubbornness. Whether or not your condition can be cured might hinge on this answer. So I hope you can treat me as a doctor—respond honestly and seriously.”

Zhu Ming said, his gaze fixed intently on Xi Xianqing. “In the garden earlier… were you thinking about that moment last night, when I forcibly kissed you?”

A flush spread over Xi Xianqing’s ears as he glared toward Zhu Ming. “I—”

He could have said “I didn’t” or “I forgot”.

But as he met Zhu Ming’s clear, dark eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbed silently. The words stopped in his throat. He managed to say “I” but failed to finish the sentence.

His chest rose and fell, Zhu Ming saw him turn away his face after a moment.

Zhu Ming’s heartbeat silently skipped a beat, for he understood—this was Xi Xianqing’s way of saying “yes.”

He stared blankly at the light screen in his hands, displaying the results of every medication and experiment he had tested on Dish Soap. For the first time in his life, the entirety of his twenty-plus years of medical knowledge felt absurdly useless.

Countless meticulously developed medications had failed to work, and yet, the thing that finally caused Dish Soap to react… was an accidental kiss?

How could it be?

He forced himself to calm down, adopting the detached, analytical mindset of a doctor to rationalize it all. After all, he wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe that Xi Xianqing’s breakthrough had anything to do with him personally.

But now, one thing was certain: the event of Dish Soap opening its tail feathers… was undeniably connected to the act of kissing.

His pen hovered over the light screen as a realization began to dawn on him.

At that time, when Xi Xianqing first sought him out for help, he had explained that most of the top clinics in District Seven were already at their wits’ end with his symptoms.

So at that time Zhu Ming’s thinking also followed into a narrow misunderstanding, that is, Dish Soap’s issue stemmed from a pathological problem.

But what if… the inability to open its feathers wasn’t caused by a pathological condition, but rather a physiological or psychological one?

Zhu Ming had overlooked a glaringly obvious possibility—that is, the natural instinct of the peac0ck hasn’t been taken into account.

There were two possible reasons why the peac0ck spiritual manifestation couldn’t fan its tail—one was due to congenital or pathological defects, while the other was… it might have never triggered its mating instincts.

Or perhaps it was a combination of both. Zhu Ming had previously focused on researching medications to address the former, but the results had always been unsatisfactory. Now, however, it seemed the latter might be the real issue.

“Xi Xianqing.” Zhu Ming gently called out his name.

He noticed Xi Xianqing’s body subtly tremble.

Countless ways of phrasing the question cycled through Zhu Ming’s mind over and over again. Finally, he pressed his lips together, softened his voice, and tentatively asked, “Last night… was that your first kiss?”

He knew such questions already crossed a boundary and understood Xi Xianqing’s personality well enough to anticipate the person’s likely reaction.

As expected, Xi Xianqing’s ears turned an even deeper shade of red as if he had heard something utterly absurd. His pupils trembled slightly, and he practically ground his teeth as he looked at Zhu Ming. “Zhu Ming, you—”

“I know this question is a bit personal. You don’t have to answer ha.”

Before Xi Xianqing could erupt in fury, Zhu Ming swiftly changed tactics. “But for what it’s worth, last night was my first time kissing anyone.”

Xi Xianqing’s expression changed slightly.

He stared at Zhu Ming for a long time in silence, his lips twitching slightly before he asked, “…Really?”

Author’s Note:

Feeling secretly pleased again, Qing