Pretentiousness is Healthier
Even after leaving the seafood shop, Jiang Zhuoye’s mind was still lingering on Bo Yun’s words: childish, ridiculous, carefree.
Standing under the dim streetlights, he thought Bo Yun’s taste was certainly unique.
But these words sounded somewhat familiar; he remembered Bo Yun using similar words to mock him before.
Jiang Zhuoye felt a little amused, but then reminded himself his “first love” was someone he only knew online, unwilling to even meet him.
He wasn’t any better.
And immediately, the smile disappeared.
Bo Yun finished paying and went to bring the car over, stopping in front of Jiang Zhuoye.
It had started to rain lightly, tiny droplets dotted the car windows. Jiang Zhuoye yawned as he got in—the clock was nearing 2 a.m., and he was genuinely tired.
Once inside, he didn’t talk much, casually browsing Bo Yun’s music library and picking a song he liked.
On the way, he hummed softly along, cheeks tinged pink, looking utterly content.
Back home, they shared a bed again. Jiang Zhuoye didn’t hesitate this time.
He rolled around under the covers, then peeked out to look at Bo Yun.
Bo Yun was applying ointment to his wrist, slightly twisted from recent martial combat practice.
“What are you looking at?”
Even though he hadn’t looked directly at Jiang Zhuoye, he sensed Jiang Zhuoye’s gaze.
Jiang Zhuoye puffed his cheeks, blew a strand of hair away from his eyes, and said: “Next date, I want to go rock climbing.”
Bo Yun glanced at him: “Did I let you choose the activity?”
Of course not.
But Jiang Zhuoye smiled sweetly, confidently: “I’ll be going anyway.”
He didn’t wait for Bo Yun’s response. Knowing Bo Yun wasn’t planning to work in bed that night, Jiang Zhuoye reached out and snapped off the main light switch in the room.
The room instantly plunged into darkness.
“Good night.”
He declared, closing his eyes first.
Bo Yun sat in the pitch black, reaching out into nothing, only the scent of ointment lingering in the air.
His mind kept echoing one phrase: Three days without a fight, and the roof will be lifted.
Even so, their second date was indeed on a cliff.
This was Jiang Zhuoye’s strong suit.
He didn’t choose a rock climbing club, nor a rare private route, but an outdoor cliff with a long-established route, relatively safe.
Jiang Zhuoye, secured by ropes, though usually looking unreliable, had all his safety gear properly in place. Agile as a gazelle, he easily climbed to the top.
Bo Yun lagged a few meters behind but quickly reached the top.
“Yay~”
Jiang Zhuoye made a victory sign at Bo Yun, circled the area, then rested in place, opening a sports drink and half-jokingly said: “I’m faster than you. Admit it?”
Bo Yun was stretching his wrist. The slight twist was healed, but caution was still needed for outdoor climbing. He didn’t tell Jiang Zhuoye.
Amused, he watched Jiang Zhuoye and thought: who said this was a competition?
Still, he nodded perfunctorily: “Yeah, okay.”
Lame.
So clearly not serious, treating him like a child. Jiang Zhuoye scoffed, uninterested in Bo Yun, turning to chat with others at the summit.
Many people had come to climb this route. Others, around Jiang Zhuoye’s age, also reached the top. Exhausted, but happy, they took photos together, even making childish heart signs in the pictures.
After the instant photos developed, Jiang Zhuoye got one, put it in his bag, then looked at Bo Yun, hesitating for a moment.
Over the years, they hardly had photos together. If any, maybe a few forced shots during New Year’s with family, or staged magazine covers for their wedding.
But this was a date—surely they should leave some evidence, to prove they were following the pre-marriage agreement.
Jiang Zhuoye pondered, while Bo Yun rested, preparing to descend.
He looked back at Jiang Zhuoye: “What’s up?”
Jiang Zhuoye hesitated for two seconds, then asked: “Do you want to take a photo to remember this?”
Bo Yun looked slightly surprised. Jiang Zhuoye immediately added: “We should have some proof we went on a date, in case your grandfather asks later. Otherwise, we can’t prove we went out together.”
Fair enough.
Bo Yun didn’t speak, thought for two seconds, then pulled out his phone and asked: “Where should we take it?”
Jiang Zhuoye didn’t care. He pointed to a rock: “Here. The light’s better.”
Bo Yun positioned himself.
Compared to Jiang Zhuoye’s earlier photos with his peers, this felt awkward.
He stood upright, poised like a pine tree. He was casual, holding the selfie stick, adjusting angles quickly. Snap.
“Done.”
Jiang Zhuoye said, swiftly putting away the stick.
Bo Yun hadn’t even reacted yet, his face showing rare sluggishness: “Already done?”
“What else?”
Jiang Zhuoye looked at him curiously: “A photo takes just a few seconds.”
They weren’t tourists dressed up for a photo, just capturing a moment on the mountain.
They were just two “contracted partners” fulfilling an agreement—leaving proof of it here. As long as the photo clearly showed their faces, that was enough.
Bo Yun glanced at him a few times, then didn’t speak again. He picked up his bag and said to him: “Let’s head down the mountain.”
But for some reason, on the way down, Jiang Zhuoye felt that Bo Yun’s mood wasn’t very good.
…..
A few days after this second date, Jiang Zhuoye returned to school.
Their university started later, in mid-September, and sitting in class again felt almost like a lifetime had passed.
Seeing the classmates around him laughing and chatting, faces full of youth, he even felt a little worn by life.
Who would have thought?
He’d only gone back for a summer break, and yet somehow, he had already resolved a major life event.
He could sense faint, scattered gazes on him.
He had some internet fame, and at school he wasn’t exactly low-profile: energetic, generous, excelling in academics and sports. Naturally, he stood out.
Not exaggerating, he had enough popularity to form a student council on his own.
News of his marriage to Bo Yun even made trending headlines, so plenty of people had seen it.
Now, while the teacher lectured on securities investment analysis, most students were distracted, barely paying attention.
When class ended, Jiang Zhuoye grabbed his books to leave for the next class.
Before he could even exit the classroom, someone grabbed his shoulder from behind.
He turned to see the vice president of the school’s football club, someone he was on fairly good terms with. They were in the same department and interacted fairly often.
The vice president’s arm pressed against him, blocking him from leaving.
“What’s up?” Jiang Zhuoye squinted, propping one arm against the vice president’s stomach to push him back: “Even between guys, there’s a limit. Don’t touch me—you’re all sweaty. Don’t rub off on me.”
He lifted his chin slightly, projecting a smug air. Lips red, teeth white, smiling faintly—it made him seem like a precious cat, looking down on humans from above, making it hard to dislike him.
The vice president looked a bit embarrassed under that gaze.
He cleared his throat. Standing at the doorway with Jiang Zhuoye, he knew plenty of people were watching.
But he couldn’t care about that. He scrutinized Jiang Zhuoye’s expression, remembering the pen caps several girls had poked him with earlier, insisting he get the truth.
He rubbed his nose, skipping subtlety, and asked directly: “Zhuoye, did you really get married over the summer?”
He looked a little flustered, then added: “I just saw a news article. The photo looked like you, but maybe it’s just someone with the same name?”
Jiang Zhuoye couldn’t help but laugh.
“Same name? That’s impressive you thought of that.”
He rested his book on the desk. Even though class was over, the classroom was still nearly full.
He knew plenty of people were listening for gossip.
The school had many who liked him, and naturally, quite a few who didn’t.
He said lightly: “Yes, I got married. You all saw it, didn’t you? To my childhood friend.”
When those words fell, anyone still holding onto the tiniest hope truly gave up.
The classroom filled with subtle gasps and silent pauses.
Jiang Zhuoye stood at the door, his white shirt almost glowing in the sunlight.
He slightly lifted his lips, amused as the vice president seemed flustered, unable to process his bluntness.
“Th-then… that’s great…”
The vice president scratched his head, unsure what to say. After a long pause, he finally said: “Uh… well, I… wish you a happy life.”
Jiang Zhuoye genuinely laughed.
He thought: luckily, his classmates could keep it in, or perhaps they weren’t close enough to dare call him directly.
He waved it off, not engaging further with the vice president, and picked up his book.
“I’m heading off. Next class is with Mr. Zhou; can’t be late. He’ll deduct points for attendance.”
With that, he left without looking back.
After he left, the classroom seemed to erupt in uncontrollable wailing.
“Seriously, are there no straight men left? Why does it have to be Jiang Zhuoye!”
A girl in a blue dress in the front row slammed her desk in frustration, her anger at odds with her gentle appearance: “He doesn’t even look gay! Why did he marry a man?”
Her friend peeled an orange, popped a slice into her mouth, eyes full of pity: “Which part of him looks straight to you? Liking football doesn’t automatically make someone straight, okay? You’re way too easy to fool.”
The blue-dress girl slammed the desk again, but with the orange in her mouth, she couldn’t speak.
Jiang Zhuoye didn’t yet know how his classmates were gossiping behind his back.
In fact, in the school’s gossip groups, his wedding photos, interviews, and everyday school photos were already everywhere.
Though it was heartbreaking that a school heartthrob married, it didn’t stop his sports photos from being sold for 800 a piece.
Because he was married—and to a man—it even attracted more gay admirers to compete.
“What if he gets divorced?”
These people argued confidently. “Besides, I’m just admiring. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker.”
Most people didn’t believe it.
Some went straight for the jugular. “If you want to steal him, you’d better have the ability first. Look at his husband—the CEO of Boyue Group, young, handsome, and rich. If I were Jiang Zhuoye, I’d eat two extra bowls of rice every day just looking at that face. You think you can pry that away?”
A bunch of metaphorical bombs were thrown in reply.
But soon someone raised the ultimate question: “Wait—how are you so sure Jiang Zhuoye is the bottom?”
The reply came with three words: “Based on experience.”
After a while, the same person slowly added, “And for some reason, I think Jiang Zhuoye’s husband is kind of… perverted.”
Jiang Zhuoye sat in the classroom of Building Two, his textbook open casually.
Though the teacher was strict with roll call, the class atmosphere wasn’t too serious.
So he calmly played on his phone.
Thinking about his classmates’ probing glances and gossipy expressions, he coolly decided to tease Bo Yun.
[“You just damaged my reputation again.”]
Bo Yun was on a short break; his phone vibrated and he saw it was Jiang Zhuoye.
He raised an eyebrow: [“Why?”]
Jiang Zhuoye replied instantly: [“My classmates know I’m married. They’ve been staring at me like I’m a monkey in a zoo. Someone even took my photo—I suspect they want to sell it to a magazine.”]
This was pure nonsense.
His marriage to Bo Yun was already public and trending, and the news coverage had been arranged by the Jiang family.
But Jiang Zhuoye felt justified: [“I had such a good reputation at school. Girls would hit me up all the time. Now that I’m married, no one talks to me anymore.”]
Bo Yun smirked. He didn’t doubt Jiang Zhuoye’s charm one bit.
But he asked calmly: [“So?”]
[“So, it’s all your fault.”]
Jiang Zhuoye replied quickly.
During the break between major classes, he sent this as a voice message. His young, clear voice came through the phone, the ending of the sentence teasingly playful.
Feeling a bit mischievous, he added: “You bastard.”
Bo Yun was in the middle of a meeting and got cursed out for no reason, feeling extremely innocent.
But hearing Jiang Zhuoye’s cheerful tone, he lowered his gaze and didn’t bother arguing.
“I won’t compensate you either. Give it up.”
He replied calmly.
His secretary reminded him to prepare for the meeting. He nodded, then said into the phone: “But next week I can go racing with you.”
“All right, I have to start the meeting. Stop causing trouble. The driver will pick you up tonight, we’ll go to CM for dinner.”
Bo Yun ended the conversation.
Hearing that, Jiang Zhuoye pouted, bored, and tossed his phone aside.
He circled a few points in his book for the upcoming final exam.
He glanced at his phone: September 23. It had been three months since marrying Bo Yun.
At first, he married Bo Yun with the mindset of a heroic sacrifice, seeing the generous allowance as worth it.
But actually getting married wasn’t as earth-shattering as he expected.
Even at a recent gathering with Fang Chen and others, he said the same, almost dropping jaws.
He and Bo Yun did often argue—sometimes over major things, like the incident on the island involving Chloe and Leo, sometimes over small things, like eating snacks in Bo Yun’s bed and getting caught.
Or messing up Bo Yun’s vinyl record collection.
Feeding the top-tier red-and-white koi in Bo Yun’s care, nearly causing them to flip over.
Accidentally breaking Bo Yun’s inkstone, and arrogantly offering to replace it, only to find it was carved by Bo Yun himself…
All this.
Jiang Zhuoye’s face darkened. On reflection, it seemed like he was always picking fights.
But in all fairness, though he disliked Bo Yun, he never did it on purpose.
Yet Bo Yun didn’t let him off either. Every mistake he made was recorded in a plain black notebook. Once he hit a hundred, it would be sent to the Jiang family as a “gift.”
“Your parents told me to take care of you these three years, but also said you’re mischievous. If you cause too much trouble, your parents will personally come to discipline you.”
Bo Yun, with a polite yet icy smile: “I think Aunt Liang and Uncle Jiang would carry it out. What do you think?”
Jiang Zhuoye stayed silent, scowling.
Even now, thinking back, he still considered Bo Yun petty.
That broken inkstone was pitch-black and ugly. He had deliberately picked a much prettier one to return to Bo Yun, but Bo Yun gave him a sarcastic sideways glance and tossed it into the cabinet right in front of him, clearly not planning to use it.
But aside from that, it wasn’t as if he and Bo Yun were living in constant hatred and resentment.
Marrying Bo Yun hadn’t turned out to be as terrifying as he’d imagined. After the initial adjustment period, Bo Yun now allowed him to eat crumb-free food in bed.
When they had to have dinner together once a week, Bo Yun would also remember his tastes.
When they went on dates, they were basically arranged according to his preferences.
Last week, he’d caught a bit of a cold. His face was flushed and his head felt dizzy. Bo Yun was the first to notice, came over to take his temperature, and fed him medicine.
Jiang Zhuoye rotated the fountain pen in his hand.
To be honest, he was quite surprised. Even though Bo Yun always wore a stiff, expressionless face and showed no obvious tenderness, the way he fed him water that day was extremely gentle.
So much so that Jiang Zhuoye was so shocked he even forgot to refuse.
The teacher on the podium was still speaking passionately.
Absent-mindedly, Jiang Zhuoye used his pen to jot down another key point.
He thought that if Bo Yun had treated him like this earlier, they wouldn’t have been at each other’s throats for so many years.
But then again…
He lowered his eyes and looked at the page in front of him. He thought that the current Bo Yun was probably just the “limited edition newlywed version,” afraid that he wouldn’t adapt to married life and would rebel, so he was forcing out a bit of gentleness.
Once enough time passed, even if Bo Yun wanted to pretend, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up.
But whatever.
Jiang Zhuoye thought indifferently: just take it one day at a time. At least for now, this marriage of his could genuinely be called harmless and non-toxic.
As he thought this, he picked up his phone and made a note in his calendar for the day he was supposed to go on a date with Bo Yun.
But at that moment, he had no idea that during their next racing date, something would happen that would make him want to smash straight into a wall in regret.
It would completely shatter his judgment that this marriage was “harmless.”