Backed by Fang Jinshi’s enthusiastic recommendation, Gu Tuo sampled one of the artisanal cookies he had brought. True to the youth’s description, it was wonderfully crisp, buttery, and delicious.
Delighted by his favorable critique, Fang Jinshi leaned in closer, and the two happily polished off the rest of the treats together. Because the portion wasn’t overly large, it didn’t take long for them to empty the linen pouch.
Noticing a few cookie crumbs lingering at the corner of Fang Jinshi’s lips, Gu Tuo retrieved the clean handkerchief from his breast pocket and extended it toward him. “Wipe the right side of your face.”
Fang Jinshi felt his cheeks heat up slightly. On second thought, however, artisanal cookies were naturally flaky and prone to shedding; it would actually be stranger to eat them without dropping a few crumbs.
Fixing a close, searching look back onto Gu Tuo, he discovered that a tiny crumb was similarly clinging to the corner of the stern titan’s mouth.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “A single handkerchief can only be used by one person. Why don’t we just head to the back and wash our faces?”
Tucked behind the main storefront was a tiny partitioned room equipped with a functioning sink and a water line. A faucet was installed beneath the vanity, which was precisely where Fang Jinshi typically drew the water needed to keep his floral stock refreshed and hydrated.
Fang Jinshi insisted Gu Tuo use the sink first. Once the tycoon finished, he stepped up to the basin, cupping a handful of crisp, cool water to wash his own face.
Watching him shake his head to clear the stray water droplets clinging to his eyelashes and temples—looking exactly like a small, fluffy animal—Gu Tuo couldn’t help but find the display highly endearing.
Fang Jinshi turned around, only to catch a profound, soft amusement swirling within Gu Tuo’s eyes as the man watched him.
He blanked for a fraction of a second. Then, he heard Gu Tuo ask, “Do you require the handkerchief now?”
Abandoning any further polite hesitation, Fang Jinshi accepted the cloth, gently dabbing away the remaining water from his face.
The handkerchief had likely been kept close to Gu Tuo’s chest for a substantial period, for it carried a distinct trace of the man’s signature pine and cedar fragrance. Though the scent ran subtle, it possessed an inherently commanding, unyielding potency. Simply pressing the cloth against his skin, Fang Jinshi felt as though his entire frame had been subtly marked by the man’s presence.
It smelled incredible. He deeply appreciated it.
The two stepped out of the partition, the pleasant remnants of laughter still mapping across Fang Jinshi’s features as he conversed with Gu Tuo. Yet the literal next second, his expression underwent a sudden, violent transformation.
During the brief window they had spent washing their faces, the once-clear autumn sky had rapidly bruised into a heavy, suffocating blanket of black clouds. A sudden downpour had erupted.
The rain was falling with savage fury—acting entirely as though the heavens had been violently ripped open, cascading the full weight of the celestial rivers straight down to earth.
Fang Jinshi’s mind immediately flashed to the curated potted plants showcased on the outdoor patio. No matter how resilient their biological lifespan was, they could never survive being relentlessly battered by a torrential deluge of this scale.
Snatched by sudden panic, he yanked a spare umbrella from the stand by the door and bolted out into the raging storm, launching into a frantic race against the rain to rescue his blossoms.
Catching the sudden movement, Gu Tuo unfurled his own umbrella and swiftly tracked his steps, rushing out into the deluge to assist him.
The storm raged relentlessly, curtains of water crashing straight down to the pavement. Fang Jinshi’s field of vision was completely blurred by the rain, and his ears were filled with nothing but the deafening roar of the downpour.
Yet despite the sensory chaos, his senses didn’t miss the powerful silhouette navigating through the white sheet of water.
It was Mr. Gu.
Fang Jinshi cradled a heavy planter against his chest, the icy water pooling on the leaves quickly soaking into the front of his summer clothes. Completely oblivious to his own discomfort, he quickened his pace toward the man, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Mr. Gu! Head back inside!”
Even though they each held an umbrella, the sheer violence of the storm was staggering. The heavy torrents slamming against the fabric threatened to violently contort the frames. Neither of the two men standing beneath the shelters remained immune, their clothes heavily splattered by the bouncing rain.
Hearing his shout, Gu Tuo shifted his head to look at him.
He stated in a deep, booming tone, “I am helping you.”
It was not a request or an inquiry—it was an absolute, unyielding statement of fact. His protection left zero room for refusal.
For a rare fraction of a second, Fang Jinshi actually extracted a trace of a tyrannical corporate mogul’s absolute authority from Gu Tuo’s delivery. He had never anticipated that his first experience of this trait would transpire under a setting like this.
The rain water ran freezing cold, yet his heart felt intensely, beautifully warm.
As the two frantically salvaged the plants, the fury of the storm showed zero signs of waning. Fortunately, he had only displayed three or four large planters on the patio today; after making two rapid trips back and forth, the ground was effectively cleared.
Fang Jinshi plunged into the wall of water for a third time, targeting the twin hanging baskets of orchids suspended near the entrance of the storefront. To align beautifully with the height of the doorframe without disrupting the fluid movement of incoming guests, the baskets had been mounted at an exceptionally high angle.
Because the region had experienced sparse rainfall lately—interrupted only by the occasional light drizzle—Fang Jinshi had always managed to retrieve them comfortably, and had never encountered a single formatting issue. Yet standing amidst this raging downpour, tilting his head back while straining on his tip-toes to reach the high chains of the hanging planters, he finally grasped the monumental difficulty of the task.
He held his umbrella aloft with one hand while desperately straining his other arm to hook the basket. Hoisting the umbrella high caused his shoulder to throb with intense fatigue; lowering it even a fraction completely obstructed his vision. High, heavy drops of freezing rain seized upon every available gap, violently slamming straight against his face and collarbones. The impacts ran heavy and cold, leaving his skin aching and numb.
Caught dead in his logistical dilemma, he suddenly felt a powerful hand clamp securely onto the handle of his umbrella.
Fang Jinshi froze, blinking in sheer shock as he looked back. His cold lips passed a hair’s breadth away from brushing right against Gu Tuo’s chin.
“Unhook them,” Gu Tuo murmured, his voice dropping from right above him. “I’ve got the umbrella.”
Fang Jinshi didn’t hesitate for a single second. Snapping his head back around, he extended his arm straight toward the mounting chain. Straining twice, his fingers successfully unhooked the hanging basket from its bracket.
“Thank you, Mr. Gu.”
Cradling the lush plant against his chest, Fang Jinshi turned his head back to look at the tycoon.
Yet he discovered Gu Tuo was standing staggeringly close to him—so close that the absolute second he turned around, their breath seamlessly interlocked in the narrow space.
As it turned out, that sudden draft of intense heat cutting through the freezing air a moment ago hadn’t been a trick of his mind; it was the literal breath radiating from Mr. Gu’s lips. Fang Jinshi mused silently in his mind.
It wasn’t strange. It genuinely wasn’t strange at all.
Two grown men shoved beneath the narrow shelter of a single umbrella were mathematically forced to stand in close proximity. Under a torrential downpour of this magnitude, a single canopy could barely shield two frames; standing this close was completely standard protocol.
Yet, looking straight into Gu Tuo’s eyes, his internal composure still ungracefully fractured.
His heart rate accelerated at a frantic pace, acting entirely as though a wild rabbit had violently burrowed into his chest, thrashing its limbs around until his internal landscape was reduced to a chaotic, tangled mess.
This brand of emotional sensation wasn’t foreign to his system. The last individual who had managed to spark this erratic fluttering within his soul was Li Jin.
The sudden realization struck his consciousness like a bolt of cold lightning. Snapping out of his daze, Fang Jinshi frantically wrenched his eyes away from Gu Tuo’s gaze.
“Mr. Mr. Gu, let’s head inside!”
Amidst the thunderous roar of the storm, he caught the faint vibration of his own voice uttering a sentence, yet his cognitive focus was running so fragmented he couldn’t begin to process what syllables had actually left his lips.
Once they safely retreated back inside the florist, Fang Jinshi didn’t waste a single look on the salvaged plants, focusing his entire attention on scanning Gu Tuo from head to toe.
The man’s immaculate suit jacket was heavily soaked by the storm, massive water stains dark across his trousers, and even his hair hadn’t been spared—the clean strands at his temples damp and clustered into distinct, wet locks.
Despite his thoroughly disheveled state, the physical wreckage surprisingly washed away the rigid, austere aura that typically dictated his existence, lending him a hint of a rugged, rakish charm. He remained staggeringly attractive.
Fang Jinshi forced his erratic nerves back into alignment. “Mr. Gu, I am genuinely incredibly grateful to you today.” Time and time again, this man had expended maximum effort to stand by his side.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, his fingers locked onto the handkerchief Gu Tuo had given him earlier. He had originally intended to carry it back to the estate to have it thoroughly laundered and dried before returning it to the man, but it seemed the item was required ahead of schedule. “Go ahead and use this to dab away the water. I don’t keep actual towels stocked at the shop right now, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with this for now.”
Gu Tuo shot a single look at him.
The youth before him was completely disheveled, presenting a stark, absolute contrast to the pristine handkerchief neatly folded into a perfect square resting in his hand. He was holding the cloth aloft, quietly waiting for the tycoon to accept it. Those hands were exquisitely structured, the fingers long and slender, yet the skin carried a pale, translucent quality resembling cold jade, the tips faintly wrinkled from their immersion in the storm.
“You use it first,” Gu Tuo stated evenly.
“But.” Fang Jinshi noted, well aware that this tiny square of linen was nothing more than a drop in the bucket for the two of them. If he used it first, saturating the fibers with water and dirt, how on earth could Gu Tuo possibly utilize it afterward?
Before he could articulate his logical counterargument, a large hand settled firmly on top of his head.
Gu Tuo didn’t utter a single syllable. His absolute stance had been completely articulated through the sheer weight of that gesture.
What a bizarre thing to do, Fang Jinshi thought to himself.
Gu Tuo’s touch made him feel like a child, being gently patted on the head by a family elder with a dry, intensely warm palm.
Perhaps to a man like Mr. Gu, his existence was still permanently relegated to that of a fragile junior who required gentle accommodation and constant care.
After all, he had once been Li Jin’s boyfriend.