The next morning, Su Xingque—who had spent the entire night revising proposals in his study—came downstairs for breakfast right on time.
The night before, the butler had rushed to the study the moment he heard the commotion. After ordering the staff to clean up the mess, he took Shen Zhu downstairs to dress his wound.
When Shen Zhu had initially offered to bring the coffee upstairs, the butler was genuinely pleased. He figured the young master wanted to get along with Su Xingque, and he was more than happy to play matchmaker.
He hadn’t expected it to backfire so spectacularly.
Now, the butler finally accepted the reality: Su Xingque had absolutely no intention of letting this marriage of convenience turn into anything real. Drawing on his years of experience, he began searching for a comfortable middle ground—one that wouldn’t cross Su Xingque, but also wouldn’t leave Shen Zhu suffering.
Before breakfast was served that morning, he made a point of delivering a separate portion of breakfast directly to the guest bedroom. This ensured Shen Zhu wouldn’t go hungry just because he couldn’t be in the same room as Su Xingque.
As was the routine, breakfast was accompanied by the financial news. Exhausted from pulling an all-nighter, Su Xingque’s processing speed was sluggish. Listening to the female anchor’s monotonous cadence, he found it difficult to focus.
He picked up his coffee and took a sip. His hand paused slightly as he pulled the cup from his lips. He looked down at the liquid, his brow furrowing.
“The maid who usually prepares your coffee and tea is on maternity leave,” the butler spoke up proactively. “I’m already looking for a replacement.”
“Make it quick.” Su Xingque set the cup down and didn’t touch the coffee again for the rest of his meal.
Half an hour later, the financial news ended right on schedule. Su Xingque walked out the door to the outro music.
Upstairs, Shen Zhu, who had been idling in his room, heard the front door close and poked his head out to peer downstairs.
“The master has left for the company,” the butler said with a warm smile.
Shen Zhu nodded. He brought his used dishes downstairs, only to be held down by the butler to have his bandage changed.
The burn was mostly concentrated on the back of his hand and wrist. Fortunately, because it was early spring and the weather was cool, the wound wouldn’t take long to heal once it was disinfected, treated, and wrapped in gauze.
Fearing Shen Zhu would get bored staying at home all day, the butler asked if he wanted to join him in interviewing new baristas.
“Didn’t you make the coffee for him yesterday?” Shen Zhu asked, recalling the night before.
“That was only because our usual barista is on maternity leave,” the butler explained as he tied off the gauze on Shen Zhu’s wrist. “The master needs to maintain extreme focus when he works, so he has exceptionally high standards for his coffee and tea. On top of that, his tastes are very particular. It takes a lot of screening to find the right person.”
Shen Zhu listened quietly, thought it over for a moment, and tilted his head up. “Could I try learning how to make it?”
Given Su Xingque’s blatant distaste for Shen Zhu, the butler hesitated to answer. He carefully rehearsed his words in his head, trying to find a way to dissuade the young master without hurting his feelings.
But Shen Zhu had spent enough time in nightclubs to be highly perceptive. He immediately spoke up to ease the butler’s worries: “I know he doesn’t really like me.”
“But I still want to do something for him.”
When Su Xingque returned home from work that evening, this was the scene that greeted him:
A figure with a bandaged right hand stood with his back to the kitchen door, clumsily fiddling with the lever of the espresso machine. Every now and then, he would turn to whisper something to the butler, his face full of confusion—a look that was, admittedly, somewhat cute.
Su Xingque intentionally heavy-stepped his entry.
The person who had been about to froth milk spun around instantly, looking like a bird startled by a shotgun on a branch, ready to flap its wings and flee.
Shen Zhu hastily set down the cup. With his head hung low, he started walking toward the guest bedroom. As he passed Su Xingque, he held his breath. After a moment of hesitation, he stopped.
“I, I didn’t mean to, sir,” Shen Zhu said, crossing his hands in front of him, deliberately placing the bandaged one on top.
“I wanted to learn how to make coffee, but I’m too clumsy. I was learning so slowly.”
“And I lost track of time.”
A scoff came from above him. Su Xingque seemed to accept his explanation.
“Is there anything you can do?” Su Xingque sneered, seemingly forgetting his own notoriously picky palate that even professional baristas struggled to satisfy. He mocked, “You’re so stupid you can only exist as a useless freeloader in this house.”
Shen Zhu lowered his head to hide the fact that he was biting his lip, keeping a tight rein on his urge to throw a fist at Su Xingque’s smug face.
The biggest joke of the year: Him, Shen Zhu, a useless freeloader.
After reciting the mantra “money is hard to earn, swallow your pride” ten times in his head, Shen Zhu squeezed out a delicate, strained voice. “I’m willing to learn for you, sir.”
“I told you, I’ll become the person you like.”
The corner of Su Xingque’s mouth twitched. He reached out and pinched Shen Zhu’s chin, forcing the shorter man to look up at him.
“I like you—”
“To stay out of my sight.”
An unmistakable wave of anger rolled off Su Xingque as he spoke.
At that moment, Shen Zhu was genuinely intimidated.
But his reflexes were sharp. Capitalizing on his actual shock, he widened his eyes and met Su Xingque’s icy stare. His eyelashes fluttered slightly, instantly summoning a few unshed tears to cling to the corners of his eyes.
In the next second, he struggled out of Su Xingque’s firm grip and stumbled upstairs, looking as though he was fleeing in utter, humiliated defeat.
When is this acting gig going to end?
Once the door to the guest room clicked shut, Shen Zhu collapsed onto the bed, using his uninjured left hand to gently rub his dry eyes.
He had only been married for a few days, and he’d already gotten sick, sustained an injury, and nearly cried himself blind.
Yet, his progress stood at a flat zero.
Su Xingque was still acting like a tyrant, treating him like the plague whenever they crossed paths.
Is it because my imitation of Bai Que isn’t accurate enough? Shen Zhu rolled over, biting his nail as he pondered.
That shouldn’t be it. Every single one of his actions leaned toward being fragile and adorable. Even his physical weakness—something he couldn’t easily fake—had been perfectly established through sheer coincidence.
Is it because Su Xingque still hasn’t forgotten Bai Que?
But if that were the case, shouldn’t Su Xingque be more inclined to treat him as a substitute? Even if he didn’t treat him well, he should have been easily swayed by now.
Why was everything such a mess?
Deeply believing that every day spent not making money is a day spent losing it, the little money-grubber was completely baffled. He began to re-evaluate the feasibility of using this marriage to secure his fortune.
Before he could reach a conclusion, however, exhaustion caught up with him.
The night before, between trying to find an opportunity to get close to Su Xingque and getting burned while trying to play the dutiful partner, he hadn’t crawled into bed until nearly two in the morning. Having woken up early and stood in the kitchen all day trying to learn how to make coffee, his body was utterly spent.
He fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
Because of this, when the butler knocked on the door several times out of concern that Shen Zhu had skipped dinner, he received no response.
Perhaps the final knock was a bit too loud, because it caught the attention of Su Xingque, who had come downstairs to get a drink. As the butler turned around to leave, he saw his young master standing on the landing between the second and third floors, cup in hand, staring darkly at the door of the guest bedroom.
Su Xingque had intended to ignore the commotion. Yet, for some reason, the image of Shen Zhu staring back at him with red, tear-rimmed eyes both last night and tonight flashed through his mind, pinning his feet to the floor.