Ming Zhifei crouched in the corner of the flower shop, looking at the white rose the owner had pointed out. It was a shop specializing in plants that Yang Jianzhen had found on an app that morning—the closest bonsai and nursery shop to the apartment. Even so, it had taken Ming Zhifei fifteen minutes on foot to get there. Being a bonsai shop, most of the inventory consisted of greenery like Buddhist pines and asparagus ferns; when he walked in, his eyes were met with a sea of green leaves, with almost no flowers in sight.
When he’d asked with some doubt if they sold white roses, the owner led him to a corner where a few flowering plants finally appeared.
The so-called white rose the owner indicated was small and frail, consisting only of a stem and leaves with no buds in sight.
“Does it bloom white?”
“Yes. Why would I lie to you?” The owner was a bit rude. He likely wasn’t thrilled about hosting such a shabby-looking retail customer first thing in the morning—one who seemed to know nothing and looked a bit eccentric.
Ming Zhifei truly couldn’t get used to Yang Jianzhen’s clothes. That day, he had gone out wearing the same outfit he’d worn all day yesterday. Whenever he wore Jianzhen’s clothes, he felt like everyone was staring at him as if he were a freak. He couldn’t stand those gazes, so that morning, despite the outfits Jianzhen had picked out for him, he’d insisted on his old clothes.
The most modest of Jianzhen’s clothes was the brown knit shirt from the day before, but it was a V-neck and hung loosely. Even without a sense of fashion, Ming Zhifei could tell it looked like women’s clothing; it felt bizarre on him. On someone like Yang Jianzhen—a natural clothes-horse with a dazzling presence—it looked great, but it didn’t suit a man like him.
Even though the shop owners’ attitudes weren’t great when he wore his old clothes, Ming Zhifei felt that was the “normal” state of things. When he’d gone out in Jianzhen’s clothes, the clerks and owners acted like different people—entirely too eager. That was the real weirdness.
His thoughts drifted again, so much so that he didn’t even hear the owner ask, “Do you want it or not?”
The weirdo crouching on the floor staring at a plant without responding made the owner a bit uneasy. He made an excuse to leave the corner, hoping this strange man in a mismatched Polo, slacks, and beach sandals would pick his item and leave quickly.
It wasn’t until his phone rang that Ming Zhifei snapped out of it. He pulled the phone from his pocket; the caller ID read: “Jianzhen.”
He was calling him. Ming Zhifei felt that strange, nameless fluttering in his heart again. Realizing he was actually smiling, he heard Jianzhen’s voice.
“Zhifei, didn’t you say you’d video call me? Are you at the shop?”
“I’m here.”
“Then hurry up and start the video.”
“I forgot… I don’t have much data on my phone.”
“No data?” Jianzhen’s voice sounded confused. “What kind of cheap plan are you on?”
“Twenty-nine yuan.”
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then, a soft voice asked, “Then why did you get me the 119 yuan plan?”
“You can’t go out. With more data, you can go online and have some fun at home,” Ming Zhifei said honestly. After winning the case yesterday, he felt he had a bit of money to spare, and that was one of the reasons. A young man like Jianzhen was different from someone his age; he should be able to find more joy on the internet.
“Okay. No video then. Just buy what looks right,” Jianzhen’s voice carried a smile, sounding buoyant.
“It’s a very small plant. It looks quite weak,” Ming Zhifei described the rose seedling.
“It’s fine. We’ll bring it back and take good care of it,” Jianzhen said over the phone.
“Will it live?”
“Of course. Trust me.”
“But it hasn’t bloomed. I don’t even know for sure if it’s white.”
“Ask the owner.”
“He says it is.”
“Then that’s the one. Bring it home. Come back soon.” Jianzhen paused, then added, “It’s a bit lonely with you out for so long. Plus, the broadband guy said he’s almost here. I’m afraid to open the door for him by myself.”
So, Yang Jianzhen really was afraid of being home alone. Ming Zhifei confirmed this from his blunt confession. He gradually revised his judgment: Jianzhen’s “fearless” act was likely just bravado to keep people from looking down on him. He wasn’t nearly as brave as he pretended to be.
After paying, Ming Zhifei sent a WeChat message to Jianzhen: [I’m heading back now. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.]
Jianzhen replied instantly: [Mhm mhm mhm, Zhifei, I’m waiting for you.]
When the technician from the mobile company arrived to install the broadband and TV, Yang Jianzhen hid in the bedroom with the door shut. Ming Zhifei handled the technician in the living room.
“Do you want an extra router in the bedroom?” the technician asked.
“Probably not necessary,” Ming Zhifei replied. It was just one extra room, and the main router was close enough that the signal should be fine. Since Jianzhen was hiding, it was better not to let the technician go inside.
After the technician left, Ming Zhifei knocked on the bedroom door. Jianzhen opened it and walked out. “Zhifei, come look at the rose.”
Ming Zhifei followed him to the balcony. The frail rose seedling had been placed next to the succulents; compared to the tiny succulents, it looked like a giant. Its leaves were covered in water droplets and the soil was damp. It looked much more spirited than it had in the shop.
“I’m going to grow it until it’s covered in flowers,” Jianzhen vowed.
“That’ll take a long time, won’t it?” Ming Zhifei said doubtfully. Based on his injuries, Jianzhen would be healed and gone in a month at most. It probably wouldn’t bloom that fast.
“Then don’t kick me out before it blooms, okay?” Jianzhen’s face was full of smiles.
Ming Zhifei wanted to say, You’ll be the one who wants to leave, but for some reason, the words didn’t come. He only offered a quiet “Mhm.”
Jianzhen watched Ming Zhifei staring at the rose, wondering what he was thinking. The man had gone out in those same old clothes again, refusing to wear his.
“Zhifei, go change into your pajamas. Give me those clothes so I can wash them. You’re not going out again, right?”
“There isn’t much food in the fridge. I should go buy some.”
“Just order from the online supermarket. Save yourself the trip.”
Ming Zhifei didn’t say a word. He simply turned and left the balcony for the living room. Yang Jianzhen stayed behind, sorting through the laundry—two sets of pajamas, the clothes he’d worn during the day, and soon, whatever Ming Zhifei would take off. Jianzhen thought to himself that if he had any money, he would buy Ming Zhifei some new clothes.
But his bank accounts had been bled dry. On the day he was beaten, they had forced him to transfer the remaining 1.1 million yuan in his accounts to the debt collectors, threatening to take his fingers if he refused. He was, in a very literal sense, penniless. If Ming Zhifei hadn’t taken him in, he wouldn’t even have a meal to look forward to.
Last year, when the company was thriving, he had reinvested every cent of profit into expansion. He was growing from five livestreaming groups to eight, which meant hiring more staff. Salaries, bonuses, platform traffic fees, rent, utilities, partner dividends—at its peak, his monthly overhead ran into the millions.
He’d poured all his capital in, but it wasn’t enough to sustain the trainee groups. Desperate for liquidity, he had gone through a friend to secure four million yuan in private loans. The interest was a staggering 35%—just a hair’s breadth away from being legally classified as usury. He had figured that once the new groups debuted, paying it back would be a matter of months. Then, everything started to crumble.
That private lending firm appeared legal on the surface, but they were local heavyweights with influence that extended into the shadows. Yang Jianzhen was certain someone was sabotaging him; the lenders had known he’d lost control of his company within twenty-four hours of it happening. Initially, his silver tongue had bought him a grace period, but once they discovered he still had a car and some cash, the collection methods turned violent.
Jianzhen picked up the spray bottle—another item Zhifei had bought for him—and misted the rose seedling. He wondered what Ming Zhifei was thinking. The man was clearly struggling financially, yet he was so generous.
In the past, anyone who spent money on Jianzhen wanted something in return. He’d always provided a fair exchange: emotional labor for clients, physical and emotional service for his ex-girlfriends, and hard-earned profit for his business partners. But Ming Zhifei wanted nothing. Not only did he want nothing, he gave without reservation, spending his meager funds like a fool. Years in society had taught Jianzhen that there was no such thing as a free lunch—even blood relatives could be cold. So why was this man being such an idiot?
As Jianzhen pondered this, his phone chimed. He pulled it out and stared in confusion. Ming Zhifei had just sent him a WeChat transfer.
Two thousand yuan.
“Is he insane?” The words escaped his lips. He thought of the ten thousand yuan in the drawer, and then the charcoal—which Jianzhen had risked a painful trip downstairs to throw away while Zhifei was at the flower shop.
Jianzhen dropped the spray bottle and limped into the living room on his crutch. Ming Zhifei was just setting his phone down.
“Why did you send me money?” Jianzhen asked. His own voice sounded shaky. His first thought wasn’t gratitude; it was: Unless this person has given up on living a long life, why would he keep giving away his last bits of money to someone else?
“I’m not very good at picking out groceries,” Ming Zhifei said, looking up with a hint of confusion. Jianzhen looked pale. “Now that you have a phone, you can order what we need online.”
“Why do you trust me so much? What if I just run away with it?” Jianzhen challenged.
“Run away? If you’re able to run, isn’t that a good thing? It would mean your leg is healed,” Ming Zhifei said with a gentle smile.
“Zhifei, are you this generous with everyone you’ve known for less than a month?” Jianzhen was losing his grip on the conversation. He couldn’t ask about the charcoal—he was terrified that bringing it up would remind Zhifei of the plan.
“Didn’t you say we have a bond forged in life and death?” Ming Zhifei countered.
Through their talks, Zhifei had learned that Jianzhen was an orphan whose only guardian, his grandfather, had died when he was eighteen. Since then, he’d survived on his own—selling parts of himself just to get by. When Ming Zhifei compared that to his own life at that age, he felt a profound sense of disparity. He used to think his parents’ strictness was a burden, but if they hadn’t supported him through his PhD, would he have been half as capable of surviving as this boy?
Ming Zhifei used Jianzhen’s own logic to justify himself. Usually, when he gave money to his ex-wife or parents, it was accepted as a given. No one had ever asked him for an explanation before.
“It’s not everyone. Aside from my parents and my ex-wife, I’ve never transferred money to anyone else,” Zhifei explained clumsily.
Jianzhen limped closer, standing over Ming Zhifei as the doctor sat on the sofa. Something about the way Zhifei looked up, trying so hard to explain his kindness, made Jianzhen’s chest ache.
Jianzhen reached out and slid Zhifei’s glasses off, setting them aside. He watched the doctor’s expression turn into one of startled helplessness. Jianzhen’s hand moved to cup Zhifei’s cheek. The doctor’s body went rigid.
“So, I’m at the same level as your ex-wife now, huh?”
Jianzhen watched as a crimson flush bloomed across Ming Zhifei’s face, even reaching the corners of his eyes.
“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” Zhifei stammered, his usual lack of words failing him entirely. “We’re living together, and you’re the one… doing the cooking. It’s just… you’re better at picking groceries than I am.”
Those beautiful, red lips looked a little dry. In his nervousness, Zhifei’s tongue flicked out to lick them. Jianzhen fought back a powerful, strange impulse and pulled his hand away.
“Come cook with me. I’m going to teach you,” Jianzhen said.