Tonight, the villa at Xishan No. 1 remained as quiet as a painting.
The sound of the Maybach pulling into the garage brought the scene to life.
Sheng Mingzhi was mostly sober by the time he got out of the car. Having spent the entire ride charging his phone and scrolling through Weibo, he had consumed every bit of drama regarding Qiao Yan and Huo Yuzhe. The more he read, the more energized he felt.
He even felt that some of the marketing accounts hadn’t leaked enough details. He felt he could make an anonymous submission and vividly describe the scene of catching them in the act today.
But then he remembered Xiao Wang’s increasingly thinning hair and the fact that his manager was still single and at a prime age. Sheng Mingzhi decided to show some mercy for once and abandoned the plan.
Thus, until Lu Jiayan got out of the car, Sheng Mingzhi was still immersed in the “tea,” failing to react to his surroundings.
Sheng Mingzhi blinked, put down his phone, and saw only Lu Jiayan’s back. It wasn’t the first time Lu Jiayan had walked off first, but this time, the departure felt strange.
Sheng Mingzhi was somewhat taken aback, staring blankly for a good two seconds. Then, it finally registered—Lu Jiayan had been exceptionally silent the entire way?
He had expected that, given the way the “dog-man” had acted out while drunk in the villa last time, there would be no shortage of cold mockery and sarcasm in the car. Instead, nothing happened.
Used to Lu Jiayan’s sharp tongue, Sheng Mingzhi felt like he had thrown a punch into a bale of cotton.
Muttering under his breath, Sheng Mingzhi followed him out of the car. The Maybach was parked directly in the underground garage of Xishan No. 1, which had an elevator leading straight to the living room.
Lu Jiayan was behaving extremely abnormally. After getting out of the car, he entered the elevator without even waiting for Sheng Mingzhi. If you missed it once, you had to wait another three minutes.
Being left behind, Sheng Mingzhi was once again dazed. Shortly after, a surge of nameless anger flared up. The residual alcohol in his system ignited, and the sound of him slamming the door upstairs was louder than a thunderclap.
He thought this prankish behavior would catch Lu Jiayan’s attention. The man loved acting like his father so much; at the very least, he should have scolded him for slamming doors.
But there was nothing.
Lu Jiayan remained silent, a complete departure from his usual state.
Walking upstairs, Sheng Mingzhi could only see Lu Jiayan’s profile. He seemed to have a dark expression, and the usual smile was absent from his peach-blossom eyes.
In this moment, it felt as if they had returned to when they first married. Lu Jiayan was distant and noble, as inaccessible as if separated by a pane of glass.
Upon reaching the second floor, Lu Jiayan entered his bedroom. From the moment they left the car to entering the house, there hadn’t been a single word of communication.
Lu Jiayan’s abnormality weighed on Sheng Mingzhi’s mind.
Logically speaking, they had only been married for three years; they were still four years away from the “seven-year itch.” Had Lu Jiayan reached his limit with this marriage already?
Then again, both of them seemed indifferent toward this marriage, so the concept of a seven-year itch didn’t really apply.
Sheng Mingzhi tossed and turned, feeling a subtle discomfort. Since Lu Jiayan returned to the country, their relationship had improved significantly. This sudden coldness made the pampered “little ancestor” feel neglected and frustrated.
The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became.
Why should Lu Jiayan be the one to give him the cold shoulder? Even if there was to be a fight, Sheng Mingzhi should be the one acting cold. It felt as if whoever turned their back first in this plastic relationship won a point. Yet, in matters of the heart, winners and losers are often the ultimate taboo.
Sheng Mingzhi lay in bed sulking, eventually falling into a heavy, alcohol-induced slumber.
For some reason, he dreamed of his student days.
When Sheng Mingzhi was a high school freshman, Lu Jiayan was already a senior in college.
During the first semester of that senior year, Lu Jiayan’s alma mater, Beijing University, changed locations from the city center to the suburbs and celebrated its centennial anniversary. Sheng Xue (Sheng Mingzhi’s older brother) and Lu Jiayan had applied for the same major and, by some twist of fate, ended up in the same dorm room.
Because of this, Sheng Xue had spent four years in a state of madness. The main reason was that Lu Jiayan was more handsome than him. Back in high school, Lu Jiayan had utterly outshined him, serving as the “School Grass” for three years, which Sheng Xue held a deep grudge over.
Entering university, Sheng Xue thought his spring had finally arrived. Instead, he ended up in the same major and dorm as Lu Jiayan. Both studied finance, and Sheng Xue failed to become the School Grass or even the “Department Grass.” In four years of university, he hadn’t had a single girlfriend. He was practically on the verge of premature menopause.
Yunjing wasn’t impossibly large, but the drive from the east suburbs to the west took four hours. The Sheng residence was in the city center, while Beijing University was in the east suburbs—a two-hour drive. Even with those two hours, Sheng Xu found it too far and bought an apartment near the school, rarely returning home.
Naturally, the number of times Sheng Mingzhi saw him was few and far between, and he hadn’t seen Lu Jiayan for the entire first semester of his freshman year.
The next time he saw Lu Jiayan was during the Beijing University centennial celebration. Sheng Mingzhi had signed up for the university’s winter camp and was dumped onto his brother like a burden by their father.
He remembered that day clearly. Sheng Xue had driven to pick him up, but Sheng Mingzhi, complaining about having too many things, refused to come down from the third floor of the villa, demanding Sheng Xue come up and help him move his luggage.
When Sheng Xue saw the photo of two or three large suitcases on WeChat, he replied with a single question mark. His brother’s question mark usually meant: Are you mentally ill?
The brothers had a shouting match over voice messages. In the end, Sheng Mingzhi emerged victorious. Unable to win the argument, Sheng Xu grumbled as he walked up from the car.
Sheng Mingzhi leaned against the doorframe with a triumphant, condescending look, ready to look down on his brother. To his surprise, Lu Jiayan had come home with Sheng Xue.
Four months since they last met, Lu Jiayan’s hair was a bit longer. He wore a thin black trench coat; he was broad-shouldered and long-legged. Those peach-blossom eyes tilted up slightly and crashed straight into Sheng Mingzhi’s gaze.
He was stunned and blurted out: “Brother Jiayan…”
Before Lu Jiayan could answer, Sheng Xue’s sarcastic voice rang in his ear: “Who are you greeting first? Do you see your biological brother? Who is the one tirelessly coming up to move your luggage? Do you have a conscience?”
Sheng Mingzhi snapped out of it, feeling a bit embarrassed by Sheng Xue’s words. Since Lu Jiayan was with his brother, the shameless way he had been arguing on the phone must have been heard. The teenager felt an unprecedented level of humiliation.
However, since Sheng Xue was acting like a total cynic, Sheng Mingzhi wasn’t about to back down: “It’s normal for me to see him first. In a crowd, everyone sees the handsome guy first.”
He thought about it and felt the reason wasn’t strong enough, so he added a barb: “And theoretically, one’s gaze always lands on the tall person first. You’re too short; it’s normal that I didn’t see you.”
He looked perfectly justified.
Sheng Xue was laughed out of anger: “Am I not handsome?”
Sheng Mingzhi hesitated. “Not really. Average? Just a public face? An ordinary man?”
Sheng Xue let out a “Ha” and continued to nitpick: “And how am I short? Could I be shorter than an ‘elevator-shoes’ shorty like you?”
This hit Sheng Mingzhi’s sore spot. He raised his voice: “How am I short? I’m fifteen and 170cm—that’s already very tall! And I’m young, I can still grow. You’re so old; can’t you be a little kinder? Why are you so competitive? Don’t bully a child just because you can’t compete with your peers.”
“Fine.” Sheng Xue gave him a thumbs up and said coldly, “Then let your tall and handsome Brother Jiayan move your things. Your Royal Highness’s items are too noble for an ordinary man like me.”
Sheng Mingzhi: “…”
After saying that, Sheng Xue actually went on strike. He turned on the bedroom TV, crossed his legs, and leisurely watched a movie.
Sheng Mingzhi was left standing there in extreme awkwardness. He glanced at Lu Jiayan, who seemed to be replying to messages on WeChat and wasn’t looking at him. Now that he was in university, Lu Jiayan probably had even more friends. Sheng Mingzhi knew he was very popular in high school, and the only person he and Lu Jiayan both knew was his brother.
He finally remembered to greet Lu Jiayan properly, racking his brain for a few words: “Brother Jiayan, long time no see.”
Lu Jiayan glanced at him between messages and nodded, his coldness perfectly measured. Then, the air turned awkward.
Sheng Mingzhi felt a hollow sensation in his chest. After four months, it felt like he and Lu Jiayan had become even more like strangers. He hesitated; he wasn’t thick-skinned enough to ask an outsider to help move his things.
After a long silence, Sheng Mingzhi stubbornly ignored Sheng Xue and picked up the luggage himself.
Suddenly, the weight in his hand vanished as Lu Jiayan took it from him. Sheng Mingzhi felt his fingers curl instinctively. He was quite rude to Sheng Xue, but he had a strange sense of respect for Lu Jiayan. Perhaps because the man was always clear and cold, like a flower on a high mountain—worlds apart from his brother, who was like a flamboyant, loud trumpet flower.
Sheng Mingzhi spoke tentatively: “Brother Jiayan, I can do it myself.”
“How could I let that happen?” Lu Jiayan’s voice was cool. He had put away his phone and chuckled softly. “If I didn’t help you move your things, wouldn’t your praise have been for nothing?”
He paused and added, “We adults don’t take advantage of children.”
Sheng Mingzhi was mortified by being called a “child.” Lowering his head, his gaze accidentally landed on Lu Jiayan’s wrist. He was wearing a thin hair tie with a small strawberry charm attached. His gaze froze for a moment.
The dream ended abruptly, and Sheng Mingzhi woke up with a start.
The Lu Jiayan in the dream retained the cold temperament of his youth, which Sheng Mingzhi still remembered vividly after all these years. This proved the saying “birds of a feather flock together.” Lu Jiayan had spent too much time with his brother, which was why he had become increasingly sharp-tongued, accurately stepping on the “fox tail” Sheng Mingzhi flared out every time.
He woke up incredibly thirsty. Checking the time, he had only slept for half an hour. Since he had drunk too much earlier, his glass was empty, so he put on his slippers and went downstairs for water.
At the kitchen island, he hesitated, then opened the fridge and mixed a glass of honey water.
For some reason, the Lu Jiayan from his dream merged with the Lu Jiayan from tonight. Sheng Mingzhi suddenly realized that although his “cheap” commercial-marriage husband was arrogant, sharp-tongued, and snarky, he had actually helped him a lot. From childhood to now, Lu Jiayan’s tenderness seemed hidden beneath layers of emotion—steady, quiet, and hard to detect. Taking down the hot searches and blocking the drinks tonight were examples of this.
Recalling Lu Jiayan’s expression when he walked upstairs earlier, Sheng Mingzhi felt a bit guilty. Lu Jiayan did seem quite unwell.
After much hesitation, he placed the honey water on a tray and knocked on Lu Jiayan’s bedroom door. Surprisingly, Lu Jiayan hadn’t locked it. At the first knock, the door swung open.
The room was pitch black; not even a night light was on. Sheng Mingzhi blinked, not expecting Lu Jiayan to be asleep so early. His slight night blindness made navigating the darkness difficult.
He whispered, “Brother Jiayan. Are you asleep?”
Only the sound of breathing answered him.
If Sheng Mingzhi’s hearing were sharper at this moment, he would have noticed how abnormal that breathing was. It wasn’t the shallow breath of someone in a deep sleep. It was heavy, labored, and thick with a suppressed, weary desire.
Using the faint light from his phone, Sheng Mingzhi managed to reach the bedside. He half-knelt on the floor, placed the honey water on the nightstand, and hesitated. “Lu Jiayan, are you feeling unwell? I made you some honey water; it’s on the nightstand.”
After speaking, he felt he was being a bit too attentive. He quickly added, “Drink it or not, it’s up to you. I’m leaving.”
He said he was leaving, but his feet felt glued to the floor. I’ve deigned to bring him water and offered him a way out; why is this dog-man still ignoring me?!
Sheng Mingzhi sulked, remembering his dream. For some reason, he just wanted Lu Jiayan to acknowledge him.
Sheng Mingzhi reached out to nudge him, but before he could touch him, his wrist was suddenly seized by Lu Jiayan. The man sat up abruptly, startling Sheng Mingzhi and causing him to stumble against the side of the bed.
Sheng Mingzhi suddenly realized that Lu Jiayan’s palm was terrifyingly hot.
After a few seconds of silence in the dark, he regained his senses. “Why are you so hot? Do you have a fever?”
Sheng Mingzhi thought of the night Lu Jiayan had stomach issues. He hesitated for a moment. “Is your stomach bothering you?” That night, he’d had a slight fever as well.
Sheng Mingzhi instinctively reached for Lu Jiayan’s forehead, but his arm was pinned down again. Both of his hands were pressed down, and by reflex, Sheng Mingzhi leaned forward, nearly falling into Lu Jiayan’s arms.
The distance was closer than ever, far exceeding the safety zone in Sheng Mingzhi’s heart. Even as slow as he was, he could tell something was wrong.
He froze for several seconds and whispered, “What’s wrong with you?”
The silence seemed to dissolve in the darkness. Only after Sheng Mingzhi could hear nothing but his own heartbeat did Lu Jiayan speak. His voice was lower and rasper than ever before.
“I’m fine. Just had too much to drink.”
Too much to drink?
Who are you kidding? You only had that one glass. How could you be in this state?
Sheng Mingzhi was about to complain when a thought struck him. In that instant, his brain was hit by a metaphorical bolt of lightning.
He had been in the entertainment industry for three years; even if he hadn’t experienced everything, he had seen enough to know how things worked. He wasn’t that dense. Lu Jiayan had only one drink tonight, and his current reaction was completely different from being drunk. He had seen plenty of shady things in the industry and heard of similar cases. But Sheng Mingzhi had never imagined that being drugged could happen to Lu Jiayan.
In an instant, Sheng Mingzhi’s mind went blank. All of Lu Jiayan’s strange reactions tonight were explained. There was something wrong with that glass of wine he drank on his behalf.
Lu Jiayan seemed to guess the realization from Sheng Mingzhi’s reaction. The man exhaled heavily. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”
Sheng Mingzhi felt as if his soul had been sucked out. Only his body remained, numbly following Lu Jiayan’s instructions. He stood up from the bed in a panic, accidentally knocking over the water glass on the nightstand. The sticky honey water spilled all over the floor. The air suddenly turned thick, filled with an overly cloying sweetness.
Sheng Mingzhi turned to leave, but at his first step, he realized Lu Jiayan hadn’t let go of his hand. Momentum caused him to fall back onto the bed unexpectedly. He felt the grip on his wrist tighten, almost to the point of pain.
The “male fox spirit” who had just grandly told him to go to sleep was now leaning lazily against the headboard, his gaze locked firmly onto him.
After a long pause, Sheng Mingzhi saw the suppressed desire in Lu Jiayan’s peach-blossom eyes. The man sighed softly. “Little heartless one. For whom did I drink that glass?”
Sheng Mingzhi felt so stiff he couldn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t hear anything.
In the darkness, Lu Jiayan’s voice was indescribably beguiling, soft and light, almost like he was acting spoiled. “Are you really planning to go back to your room to sleep?”
He paused, his tone turning slightly playful as he dropped a nonchalant hint:
“Sleeping here is also legal.”