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!