Thank you so much, nilvy2003reserve/Fun~Osh, for the ko-fi!!! :blobaww:

Although Zhu Ming hadn’t expected it to happen today, he understood that since they were both men, just kissing without doing anything else didn’t make much sense.

They had both reacted to each other before, and it had taken until today to reach this point. In fact, their progress was already quite slow.

And Xi Xianqing obviously wanted it too—because the green peac0ck by the bed was trembling like a sieve, its tail feathers fully fanned out as it twisted and turned in circles around the bedroom.

Zhu Ming actually enjoyed seeing Xi Xianqing feigned composure. His expression remained cold and arrogant, but the flush on his ears and the blatant reaction of his spiritual manifestation betrayed him completely.

The bedroom was very quiet, the atmosphere thick with intimacy. Xi Xianqing braced his arms on either side of Zhu Ming. After a moment, he shifted slightly, as if about to lean in.

Zhu Ming, with his collar hanging loose, curved his lips slightly. Just as he lowered his gaze to respond, he saw Xi Xianqing press his lips together briefly before deliberately turning his face away.

As if struggling to endure, Xi Xianqing took a deep breath. Then, restraining himself, he grabbed the nearby blanket and unceremoniously threw it over Zhu Ming.

And then… he wrapped Zhu Ming up?

Zhu Ming, now cocooned like a silkworm and unable to move, looked utterly baffled. “…What are you doing?”

Xi Xianqing straightened up, deliberately putting distance between them. Standing by the bed, he said, “I can’t sign for it yet.”

Zhu Ming wondered if there was something wrong with his ears. He found it both amusing and absurd. “Mr. Xiao Xi, you were the one who asked for the gift. My clothes are already stripped off like this and delivered to you—how can you refuse to accept it now?”

“What? Is it because you don’t like this gift, so you don’t want to sign for it?” He blinked as if feeling a little pitiful, his voice turning soft.

Xi Xianqing’s eyes darkened instantly. He took a deep breath as if struggling to restrain himself.

“I want it very much.” After a long time, he said rarely and straightforwardly.

“But I don’t want to obtain it this way. Maybe it’s just because too much has happened today, or perhaps you were moved by my own work, causing a temporary surge of emotions, which led you to half-heartedly decide to give me this gift.”

He didn’t look directly into Zhu Ming’s eyes as he spoke, enunciating each word carefully. “Right now, all I need is for you to rest, calm down, and think carefully about our relationship.”

When he said to think carefully about our relationship, his tone seemed to deepen slightly. A faint blush climbed up the side of his face, and he discreetly glanced at Zhu Ming.

“And then… consider whether you are truly willing—whether you genuinely want to give me this gift,” he said hoarsely.

Zhu Ming: “…”

He understood where Xi Xianqing was coming from, but given how far things had already progressed, it was hard to just snap out of it. “I get your reasoning, but you—”

Before he could finish, the bedroom lights suddenly dimmed. The next moment, he felt the mattress behind him sink slightly.

“No buts.”

The young man behind him cut him off coldly without explanation and unceremoniously pulled him into his arms, holding him firmly. “Close your eyes. Sleep. Get some proper rest now.”

Although Zhu Ming was baffled by Xi Xianqing’s actions—like opening a gift halfway only to shut the box again—wrapped in a thick blanket in the depths of winter, with the steady warmth from the man behind him, he slept more comfortably and peacefully than ever before.

Of course, when they woke up, they would have a lot to deal with.

The commotion in the auditorium had been far too sensational—after all, Qin Weisheng, driven by selfish motives, had invited numerous media outlets and even broadcasted the event live across all of Xi Star.

Online discussions surged like a tidal wave, quickly dividing into two major factions.

People in District Seven were busy eating melons, eagerly debating Qin Weisheng’s academic misconduct while also speculating whether the Chief Researcher position, now vacant after Ruan Min’s dismissal, would remain open for a year or if the next election would be held ahead of schedule.

Outside District Seven, netizens were focused on analyzing Xi Xianqing’s work—some were amazed by the flowing mercury mechanism inside the trophy, while others wondered whether the now-colorless piece could still be evaluated. Most passersby, however, fixated on the massive golden trophy that had changed color: was there really no way to restore it?

The news of Qin Weisheng’s imprisonment and investigation, on the other hand, didn’t spread widely. On one hand, Zhu Ming didn’t want anyone—especially Zhu Yingying—to know about it. On the other hand, K University was actively distancing itself from the incident, deliberately suppressing its impact on public opinion.

Unexpectedly, the police relayed information quickly—Qin Weisheng had voluntarily confessed to all his past crimes, detailing every aspect of hiring an assassin and orchestrating the car accident. His only request was to meet Zhu Ming in the detention center, even if just once.

But Zhu Ming refused. Whether it was a belated confession or a plea for forgiveness, he neither needed nor cared for it. Deep down, he knew he could never truly forgive this person.

Xi Xianqing was also busy—the final stage of the evaluation had arrived, and he, along with Xi Sen, was summoned back to the Xi Family estate for Old Master Xi’s final assessment.

Even though he wasn’t the one being tested, Zhu Ming, waiting at home for the results, found it even more nerve-wracking than waiting for his own exam scores back in school.

So, he decided to find something to do to distract himself. Following Xi Mufei’s guidance, he went to the storage room and retrieved the lab pod that had been left behind.

The small pod had been unused for months and had gathered quite a bit of dust. After all, its previous and only patient had already recovered, so it had naturally been left aside.

Zhu Ming cleaned out the expired reagents and medicines from the fridge. When he looked up again, he realized night had already fallen. Through the small window of the pod, he saw Ye Lu and Xi Xianqing standing in the garden, who should’ve just got off the car and arrived home.

Xi Xianqing had his back to him, so Zhu Ming couldn’t see his expression. But Ye Lu, facing him, had a subtle look on her face, making Zhu Ming’s heart suddenly sink.

The next second, Xi Xianqing turned his head, and their eyes met from a distance.

After exchanging a few words with Ye Lu, Xi Xianqing began walking toward Zhu Ming.

Zhu Ming couldn’t wait and immediately asked, “How was it? What did the Old Master say?”

Xi Xianqing parted his lips slightly, his expression growing somewhat complicated as if carefully considering how to phrase his words.

“Is it because the Old Master isn’t satisfied? Or does he think the damaged work doesn’t count? Or maybe he feels that since there was no official scorer…”

Zhu Ming had already imagined an entire dramatic scenario in his head. Rolling up his sleeves, he was about to rush out of the lab pod. “No. He doesn’t know the real story behind this. I’m going to explain it to him—”

“…” Xi Xianqing was genuinely impressed by his imagination. He grabbed Zhu Ming’s arm and sighed. “No, Grandfather knows what happened.”

“And he really likes the piece,” he added after a pause. “In fact… he’s never praised any of my works the way he did today.”

Zhu Ming’s breath hitched.

His heart had never experienced such drastic ups and downs in such a short time. Clutching his chest weakly, he asked, “Wait—this is clearly good news. Then why do you look like that?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t speak.

Five minutes later, Zhu Ming’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Dual representatives?”

“Yes.” Xi Xianqing let out a breath. “Grandfather said that, in fact, he had already decided on this… before the assessment even began.”

Both Xi Xianqing and Xi Sen were exceptionally talented, shining brilliantly in their respective fields. But they also had flaws in personality and decision-making. To outsiders, they had always been seen as equally matched rivals.

However, they didn’t necessarily have to be competitors. Instead of fixating on a winner and loser, they could share resources, collaborate, and move forward together. By jointly holding this position—maintaining healthy competition and a balanced dynamic—it would be a far better outcome than one person monopolizing the role while the other faded into obscurity.

When Xi Xianqing and Xi Sen heard Xi Jianfeng’s decision, they didn’t feel shocked, anger, or resentment. Instead, there was an indescribable sense of relief.

Not long ago, they had briefly experienced life as the representative—endless social engagements and business networking consumed nearly all of their time. Not only did it squeeze out space for their personal careers, but even focusing on drawing the assessment sketches became a luxury. Their daily rhythm was completely disrupted, time became a scarce commodity, and the important people and matters in their lives were inevitably neglected.

Though the idea of “dual representatives” sounded absurd, it wasn’t necessarily an unworthy experiment.

Regarding Old Master Xi’s decision, Zhu Ming found it somewhat reckless at first, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed strangely reasonable. He mused, “So, District Seven has no Chief now, while District Six’s next term has two. Isn’t that just a kind of energy conservation?”

Xi Xianqing remained silent for a moment before suddenly saying, “The Chief Researcher position in District Seven won’t remain vacant forever, will it?”

Zhu Ming was momentarily stunned, then quickly understood what he meant. He chuckled and shook his head. “I appreciate your high expectations for me, Mr. Xiao Xi, but I’m well aware that after being away from academia for so many years, I’d have to start from scratch, rebuilding everything from the ground up. The amount of effort it would take, and how slim the chances are… I’m not that unaware of my own limits ha.”

Xi Xianqing said nothing, just looked at Zhu Ming for a while.

Then, he took a few steps back, opened a small drawer under the corner of the lab pod, and pulled something out.

Zhu Ming was surprised. “Wait—this is my lab pod. Why do you seem more familiar with it than I am?”

Looking closely, he realized that what Xi Xianqing was holding wasn’t just anything—it was a velvet box.

It was fairly large, though one corner was dented as if it had suffered a heavy impact.

After the night market incident, Zhu Ming had developed an intense PTSD toward anything packaged too finely. Instinctively, he took a step back. “Hold on, what is that? Keep it away from me…”

“The birthday gift I prepared for you back then,” Xi Xianqing said flatly.

Of course, he didn’t mention that after their divorce, in a fit of anger, he had thrown both the gift and the lab pod into the storage room.

“This piece isn’t like traditional jewelry—it’s not something convenient for everyday wear.”

Xi Xianqing paused for a moment. “But for some reason, at the time, I… still really wanted to design it for you.”

He opened the box, and inside, lying quietly in the center, was… a crown.

The platinum crown had a sleek, semi-circular design. At its center, two yellow diamonds, exquisitely cut, were shaped like sly yet gentle fox eyes. The metal framework behind them outlined the graceful form of a fox, while the tail end of the crown was adorned with small, densely set diamonds, forming the soft, fluffy shape of a white fox’s tail.

“Back then, I wanted to tell you—despite missing your opportunity all those years ago.”

He took a deep breath, the tips of his ears turning slightly red again. Yet his deep green eyes remained steady, his expression growing even more striking and profound as he spoke with sincerity, “in the eyes of the patients you once healed, you are still an exceptional and responsible doctor.”

He lifted the crown and gently placed it atop Zhu Ming’s head, carefully adjusting its position. “Zhu Ming, you deserve to fight for this chance again.”

No stage lights, no applause from an auditorium—within the small confines of the lab pod, this was a coronation ceremony meant for them alone.

“Just like how you convinced me to complete the assessment back then—can you also promise me to try and fight for this position again?” he asked.

For a long moment, Zhu Ming’s eyelashes quivered. He sighed. “Tempting me with sweet words, good looks, and a sparkling crown all at once—you really aren’t leaving me any room to refuse ah.”

“Do you realize how much effort I’ll have to pour into the lab just because of this one short sentence from you?”

Zhu Ming sighed again, running his fingers lightly over the crown on his head. “I’ll have to travel across all of Xi Star, attend academic conferences, give lectures, campaign… go through that whole experience of burning time and energy like a race against life itself. Do you know how exhausting that is?”

Xi Xianqing gazed at him calmly. “But you like that feeling, don’t you?”

The white fox at their feet flicked its tail. Zhu Ming remained silent for a moment, then raised a hand to press against his chest. “…Stop talking. Seriously, stop talking.”

The fox’s tail thumped lightly against the floor. Zhu Ming lifted his hand, carefully tracing the outline of the crown on his head with his fingertips. He smiled slightly, tilting his face up to meet Xi Xianqing’s gaze. “I really like this gift.”

“By the way,” he said, “now that the assessment is over and everything has settled, I finally have an answer to the question you asked me before.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t respond, but the green peac0ck at his feet blinked its beady eyes and silently shuddered its tail feathers twice.

Lowering his gaze, Zhu Ming spoke softly. “Our relationship is hard to put into words. But the one thing I’m certain of is that we’re probably… not suited for dating.”

There was a trace of melancholy and helplessness in his expression. Xi Xianqing’s chest sank. “But—”

“Dating is a process where two people whose sentiments are mutual, gradually build their relationship—testing, adjusting, and figuring out whether they’re truly compatible.”

Zhu Ming’s eyes curved slightly. “But along the way, we’ve already come to understand each other deeply—our lives, careers, families, and future goals… There’s hardly anything left for us to figure out.”

“There’s no point in wasting more time, is there?” he asked lightly.

Xi Xianqing froze as if sensing what was coming next.

As Zhu Ming spoke, he lowered his head and reached behind his neck, undoing the clasp of his necklace.

With a soft smile, he hooked his index finger through the chain, letting the ring at its center sway gently. “So how about putting this ring back where it truly belongs?”

Xi Xianqing’s breath quickened uncontrollably, his chest rising and falling in silence.

After a long moment, his fingers trembled slightly as he reached out, taking the necklace from Zhu Ming’s hand. He removed the wedding ring, held it carefully between his fingers, and murmured in a low voice, “Okay.”

Outside the lab pod, the moonlight was bright and clear, casting a glow over Xi Xianqing’s deepening gaze. He stared at Zhu Ming’s face, lifted the ring in his hand, and was just about to speak. “Will you—”

But his words came to an abrupt halt. He realized that no matter how he phrased the crucial question, it would sound awkward—”Will you marry me again?” or “Let me marry you once more?” Neither felt quite right.

After a long pause, he finally raised his eyes again, locking onto Zhu Ming’s gaze, and rephrased, “Zhu Ming, will you be my attending physician forever?”

Zhu Ming’s eyes curved with amusement. He lifted his hand, extending it toward Xi Xianqing with ease.

“This difficult patient, I’m willing,” he said cheerfully.

This marriage proposal in the lab pod was not in the least bit romantic—not to mention the small space in the pod, the lab bench was still cluttered with expired reagents, and the entire scene was a chaotic mess.

But this agreement, tied to curing the disease—this bond that had begun under the name of doctor and patient—was precisely the foundation of their connection. It was meaningful, a serendipitous full circle.

Xi Xianqing lowered his gaze and slid the ring back onto Zhu Ming’s ring finger.

The white fox, now adorned with both a crown and a wedding ring, tilted his head playfully, a bright smile on his face. “Does it look good?”

Xi Xianqing let out a soft “mm,” paused briefly, then borrowed a phrase Zhu Ming often used: “Sparkly.”

Zhu Ming chuckled and leaned against the shelf holding the reagents, raising his hand to admire the blue diamond ring under the light. “Young Master Xi, rich and noble as ever—may I be so bold as to ask, which is more expensive? This little ring on my finger, the little hat on my head, or that fake bouquet you gave me the other day—”

A soft “click” cut him off mid-sentence.

The lab pod was suddenly plunged into complete darkness. Zhu Ming froze for a second before realizing—someone had turned off the incandescent light inside the pod.

For a moment, Zhu Ming was at a loss. “…Xi Xianqing?”

It was already late at night, the moonlight hazy and indistinct. The darkness carried an inexplicable sense of mystery, heightening every sensation.

Yet, Xi Xianqing remained silent. Zhu Ming, momentarily puzzled, carefully removed the crown from his head and set it on the lab bench. At the same time, he groped blindly along the wall, searching for the light switch.

But instead of finding the switch, his hand brushed against another long finger, cool to the touch—In the next second, his wrist was gently restrained by the person behind him, and he was pressed against the lab bench. At the same time, a firm arm circled his waist, holding him tightly in place.

Immediately afterward there was a fiery kiss, landing on the nape of his neck.

The skin on the back of his neck had always been sensitive. The itchy dampness made Zhu Ming’s breathing subtly shift. He had a vague premonition, but still, with a breathless chuckle, he asked knowingly, “…Mr. Xiao Xi, what exactly are we doing?”

The person behind him didn’t speak.

Their bodies were pressed together with no space between them. In the darkness, Zhu Ming’s pupils contracted slightly. He could distinctly feel it一what burned against him wasn’t just Xi Xianging’s breath, but something undeniable, something hot and rigid pressing against him from below…

“Not doing anything.”

After a long pause, he finally heard the low murmur from the young man behind him. “I just want to finally unwrap this gift I’ve been holding back from opening for far too long.”

Author’s notes:

A prim and overly reserved peac0ck in the tea room (tilts head arrogantly): I am a calm and principled person. I will only take that step with you once you have truly thought through our relationship.

The very second after officially confirming the relationship: Can’t wait to devour the little fox.