The words had barely fallen when Pei Che’s pupils constricted sharply. The previously flawless, ice-cold surface of his eyes suddenly fractured.
Min Zhuozhou tilted his head slightly, seemingly oblivious to Pei Che’s frozen expression. A faint, wry smile touched his lips. “Mr. Pei, I’m actually a little curious. When exactly will you get tired of me?”
“Zhuozhou…”
Pei Che’s pupils reflected Min Zhuozhou’s elegant, composed features. Every line of his face, the deliberate curve of his smile, the taut set of his jaw, was like a slender, unbreakable cord tightening silently around Pei Che’s throat.
“Perhaps I should feel honored? After all, you’ve slept with me for five years and still haven’t had enough.”
Min Zhuozhou narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to bring this up, but the man who had always been so proud and reserved had snapped last night, tearing through their carefully maintained facade. Min Zhuozhou admitted to himself that the words felt like a thin blade slicing into his own pride, leaving a sharp, lingering ache.
For a moment, Pei Che’s mind went blank. The analytical system he prided himself on malfunctioned like a broken machine, emitting a harsh zzzt of static electricity. Sparks flew from the faulty connection, searing through his entire nervous system.
Perhaps it was because of the night’s emotional exhaustion, but Min Zhuozhou felt no relief after throwing out the question. Only weariness remained. He stopped meeting Pei Che’s gaze, a look that seemed poised to devour him, and instead pulled the quilt around himself as he leaned against the bed’s upholstered headboard, lowering his head to eat the steamed bun in silence.
“I was… just saying that in anger.”
After a long, agonizingly slow cooldown, Pei Che’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. This was the closest thing to an “apology” he could muster from his dismal track record of emotional exchanges.
The “gentle words” that flowed so naturally from Min Zhuozhou’s lips were like a bug in Pei Che’s linguistic system, something he simply didn’t know how to process. Feeling his own words fall woefully short, he could only stand awkwardly by the bed, like a child who had done something wrong but couldn’t find a way to fix it, stubbornly clashing with Min Zhuozhou in his own twisted way.
Min Zhuozhou remained silent. He slowly chewed and swallowed the sweet, perfectly textured red bean paste, his distant and unapproachable demeanor creating an invisible barrier against Pei Che’s every move. The morning light fell upon his slender, well-defined collarbone, highlighting a faint red bite mark, a vivid reminder of last night’s damp and desperate entanglement.
Pei Che’s throat tightened. He hadn’t realized how much the man reclining on the bed captivated him. An indescribable sense of weightlessness left him floating in a haze of unidentifiable thoughts, yet he was tethered by a sharp alertness, the feeling of things spiraling out of control. This tension ultimately transmuted into a fierce, blade-like hostility that radiated from his cold, imposing aura.
In the nearly awkward silence, Min Zhuozhou devoted a sliver of his attention to replaying the sequence of their argument from the previous night, analyzing how the fuse of their conflict had been lit. He detested these kinds of fights or cold wars that drained both parties’ energy and emotions, preferring to solve problems instead. So, he began to trace the conflict back to its origin, his thoughts returning to the wisp of sandalwood incense Pei Che had brought him late that night.
No… perhaps the seeds of conflict had been sown much earlier, perhaps the moment Pei Che had left in the dead of night.
The initial disappointment and awkwardness had been buried under the more intense emotions that followed. Now, Min Zhuozhou found himself much calmer than he had been the night before, yet the memory still felt like a bone stuck in his throat, a lingering ache that seemed to outweigh Pei Che’s subsequent verbal abuse and groping.
“I wasn’t in my right mind then. Please don’t take it to heart.”
After a long silence, Pei Che finally seemed unable to hold his ground any longer. Though he still believed that without the phrase “let’s part on good terms” preceding it, he would never have spoken such hurtful words without restraint, he also didn’t want Min Zhuozhou to actually take his reckless words to heart.
Min Zhuozhou leaned quietly against the side of the bed, counting his breaths second by second. Finally, considering that Pei Che had helped him out of a jam yesterday and had even remembered to buy him a breakfast he liked today, he gave them both some room for reconciliation. “Can I ask you a question then?”
At the sound of his voice, Pei Che’s eyes flickered, and he then gave a reserved “Mm.”
Min Zhuozhou turned his gaze calmly to the other man’s face, seeing the morning light trace a halo around this young, handsome man, and also seeing a trace of regret hidden in those ever-so-cold pupils. His tone finally softened a little. “Where did the scent of perfume on you yesterday come from?”
Pei Che froze, unable to speak for a moment.
A hint of irony flashed in Min Zhuozhou’s eyes. He had nothing to say to this completely expected “answer” and let out a slightly mocking scoff, turning his head away coldly once again.
“I went to see a patient,” Pei Che said, taking a deep breath. “The scent in the hospital room was sandalwood incense, not perfume. I didn’t touch anyone.”
Min Zhuozhou’s eyelashes trembled. “A patient?”
“Yes. A car accident from years ago; I was the one who caused it. He’s had a blood clot pressing on his nerves ever since. I heard his condition had worsened last night, so I rushed over. In the future…” Pei Che paused, then grasped Min Zhuozhou’s hand on the blanket, squeezing his palm. “In the future, I’ll check in with you first.”
Hearing this, Min Zhuozhou felt a sudden emptiness in his chest. Pei Che had always been a steady driver these past five years, rarely even getting a scratch. To think he’d been in such a major accident… But he knew Pei Che; he knew that even if he chose not to answer, he would never fabricate a story about a car accident victim to deceive him.
If this was true… then his recent irritability, his preconceived notions about Ji Subai, and his wild imaginings were absolutely groundless. The thought made Min Zhuozhou’s cheeks flush even hotter, already burning from his low-grade fever. An image of himself as a resentful wealthy husband, a man who did nothing but dwell on baseless suspicions, flashed through his mind, leaving him thoroughly disgusted with himself.
After a long silence, Min Zhuozhou raised his eyes to meet Pei Che’s gaze and let out a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“Did you give me time to explain?” Pei Che recalled the starkly clear words “let’s end this amicably,” and tightened his grip on Min Zhuozhou’s hand.
Min Zhuozhou didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled his fingers around Pei Che’s wrist in a gentle, silent response. He raised Pei Che’s hand to his lips and kissed it, his movements and tone tinged with a faint weariness, even his teasing barely audible: “So, is this the reason you worked me to death yesterday?”
Pei Che froze. The words acted like a floodgate opening, and he suddenly leaned in to embrace Min Zhuozhou, kissing him between the eyebrows as if he were a precious piece of porcelain. The apology he’d been too stubborn to offer all morning finally slipped out: “I know I was wrong.”
It was as if a lock had been turned. Pei Che leaned close to Min Zhuozhou’s ear, whispering “I’m sorry” several times.
This rare display of vulnerability left Min Zhuozhou stunned. Pei Che’s usual demeanor always made him forget the man was several years younger. The “flower on a high peak” only ever revealed a glimpse of his precious “younger man” charm in the rarest, most fleeting moments, warmth breaking through the ice, then spilling over his proud fingertips.
He had to admit that for the past five years, he had been utterly captivated by this kind of youthful aura, one steeped in aloof pride and aristocratic grace.
After a night of tossing and turning, the sleepiness Tang Liu had chased away from him began to return. Min Zhuozhou put his half-eaten steamed bun back into its bag and took the initiative to wrap his arms around Pei Che’s neck. His voice, though slightly hoarse, still carried an air of elegance: “I’ll give you a chance. Let’s see how you perform.”
“What for?” Pei Che asked.
“Sleep with me,” Min Zhuozhou said, his gaze hazy as he lowered his voice. “If I get some good rest, maybe I won’t be angry anymore.”
Pei Che stared into Min Zhuozhou’s eyes, then suddenly leaned in to kiss him. “Alright,” he replied, his voice low and husky.
The blackout curtains completely shut out the vast daylight, leaving the room dim and tranquil. A warm, soft duvet formed a small nest that could only hold the two of them. Later, neither knew who had reached out to embrace the other first; they simply slept soundly, locked in each other’s arms.
Min Zhuozhou sank into a deep sleep, but in the end, he still failed to learn from Pei Che about who the so-called “patient” actually was.
After the storm passed, Min Zhuozhou’s life returned to normal.
The posts Guo Ailin had used to cause a scene downstairs were completely scrubbed from the internet by Pei Corporation, barely making a ripple online. Meanwhile, after a period of preparation, the variety show Children’s Hearts Towards the Distance finally aired its first live broadcast.
The “departure point” for the variety show’s first episode was set at the city’s Forest Zoo. Min Zhuozhou had reviewed the production team’s basic itinerary in advance. It struck a good balance between ensuring the children’s safety and maximizing the show’s entertainment value and meme potential, definitely a strong selling point.
The guests had already met previously. Arriving early in the morning, they settled in with a relaxed atmosphere. Leading the little ones, who were reuniting for the first time, they stepped into the “temporary wooden cabin” at the zoo and took their seats on the child-friendly stump chairs.
The production team had invested considerable effort in camera placement, ensuring that the live stream’s various angles didn’t overlap awkwardly and could track each person individually. To prevent fan wars, they had even set up separate “fancams” for each group.
Thanks to the highly effective pre-show promotion and the buzz generated by top stars Min Zhuozhou and Ji Subai, whose names had trended on Weibo for days, the live stream’s popularity skyrocketed the moment it went live. Netizens from all over the country flooded in, and the comment section instantly exploded.
Ahhh, it’s finally live! Watching handsome men take care of kids is so good for my eyes!!
I’m calling the production team “Cyber Bodhisattvas”; they’ve granted me six new biases in an instant!
Whoa, I’d advise the person above to be careful about “climbing walls.” If you stan both Min and Ji, you’ll get torn apart by both fanbases…
Exactly! The separate streams are already fighting. The show’s staff should give the moderators more chicken drumsticks. It’s barely started, and my eyes are already tired from the arguing.
Ah, is it that serious? What does the United Nations have to say about this?
This is the main stream for the whole show. Can the fans of individual guests go to their fancams to discuss?
The bullet comments quickly veered off-topic, focusing on the recent drama between Min Zhuozhou and Ji Subai. Fans from both sides flooded in, ready to fight a virtual battle. The official explanation had long since clarified that the issue was just a “scripting error,” but few were willing to buy into such a vague and obviously concocted excuse.
Fortunately, the production team was well-prepared. They had a dedicated comment moderation team, and while the livestream chat was lively, it remained under control. The six pairs of guests followed the staff’s instructions, introducing themselves and explaining why they joined the variety show in the order they drew lots. Ji Subai drew the first lot, while Min Zhuozhou was the grand finale.
“Hello everyone! I’m Ji Subai, and this is my little partner, Nannan. We’re so happy to participate in Children’s Hearts Towards the Distance. We hope we can all rediscover our inner child and find happiness together~.”
Ji Subai set the tone with a poised and graceful introduction, greeting the viewers with a bright smile. The comment section instantly exploded with a barrage of messages: Subai is so handsome!Ahhh, I’m dead! What a stunning beauty!
The other four pairs of guests followed suit, with each senior guest introducing their junior partner. However, when it was Min Zhuozhou’s turn to step forward, the number of online comments on the LED screen suddenly began to skyrocket, jumping an entire order of magnitude in an explosive surge.
Min Zhuozhou had deliberately saved himself for last, but for a fleeting moment, his brow furrowed. The overwhelming wave of attention felt strangely ominous.
Then, he saw the contents of the comments flooding the screen in a frenzied scroll:
Why is there no complete explanation for the plagiarism incident?
Is there any place for a disgraced artist on a variety show? Why is the production team ignoring the calls to replace him?
Boycott plagiarism! Plagiarism is shameful! We demand the production team replace him!
One Super Chat after another stood out sharply against the continuously scrolling comments. The moderators, who were supposed to be controlling the chat, seemed to have collectively gone on strike, leaving the comments unchecked. Even the previously mild comments were now being swayed by the tide of outrage.
Min Zhuozhou’s expression remained unchanged. He lifted his gaze, meeting the eyes of Director Zhao Tongyan, who sat behind the camera. He caught the faint, mocking smile on the director’s lips.
He did this on purpose.
Min Zhuozhou’s eyes turned cold. He understood that this was a deliberate act of revenge, designed to ignite a new wave of public fury.