Ji Enyi was sent away alone. Zhou Wenbai stayed behind to handle the aftermath. Ji Tan had been brought over by Zhou She, and he was the one who took him back. As soon as Ji Tan got into the car, he took off his thick coat and slumped wearily against the seat.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Zhou She glanced at Ji Tan in the passenger seat. Clear light beams filtered through the car window, casting a faint golden hue over Ji Tan’s curled eyelashes, making them look like butterfly wings resting on a flower branch.
Ji Tan looked out the window, lost in thought or perhaps just blankly staring. “No.”
“Are you really going to marry Zhou Wenbai?” 523 popped up in his mind.
As a missioner, Ji Tan could only guide the story. Forcing things was not an option; the investors would not allow it. Ji Tan could only manage to make the protagonist fall in love with those around him, sparking the protagonist’s desire to find someone to spend his life with. This was already the limit of what the investors would tolerate; Ji Tan could not interfere further. The plan had been set from the beginning, and Ji Tan had completed the majority of it; he could not just give up now.
“We will see,” Ji Tan replied to the system. It was possible Zhong Peiyi might accept him marrying Zhou Wenbai, since, in her eyes, he was already a sinful murderer. If she could agree to him marrying her pure and clean eldest son, then things would be much easier to solve on Zhou She’s side.
As Ji Tan’s mind wandered, a warm sensation covered his forehead. He snapped out of it, realizing Zhou She had reached across from the driver’s seat while waiting at a red light to check his temperature. Ji Tan met Zhou She’s deep, dark eyes and fluttered his long lashes. “What is wrong?”
Just checking if you have been scared into having another fever by me again.
Zhou She withdrew his hand. “You seem very listless.”
Ji Tan shrank into his seat, his voice muffled. “I have been in the car for too long; I feel terrible.”
Hearing this, Zhou She lowered the back of the passenger seat. “Sleep for a while.”
Ji Tan was not particularly sleepy, but as his body swayed slightly with the movement of the car, drowsiness began to set in amidst the bumps. Ji Tan had classes in the afternoon, and Zhou She dropped him off at the university gate.
“We are here.” Zhou She stopped the car and raised his voice slightly to wake the sleeping person. “Ji Tan?”
Ji Tan opened his eyes in a daze. It took a while for his clear, glass-like pupils to focus. He moved instinctively, and the thin blanket that had covered him slid off. Zhou She leaned over to pick it up and tossed it into the back seat. Zhou She raised the back of the seat, but Ji Tan lingered in the car, refusing to get out.
“Still feeling unwell? Take a half-day off, and I will take you home to get some rest,” Zhou She suggested.
Ji Tan shook his head without a second thought. “No, Mom does not allow me to skip classes.”
Zhou She watched as Ji Tan rolled down the window to let the cold wind in and rubbed his face vigorously to physically wake himself up, his brow furrowing. Ji Tan unbuckled his seat belt, opened the door, and turned his head to see Zhou She staring at him with an unreadable expression. He grabbed Zhou She’s right hand from the center console and pressed it against his forehead. “I do not feel unwell.”
Zhou She’s palm was gripped by Ji Tan’s soft fingers, and a lingering sense of itchiness suddenly emerged. The warmth from Ji Tan’s forehead constantly teased the sensitive nerve endings on Zhou She’s fingertips. Zhou She’s fingertips curled slightly as he broke free from Ji Tan’s soft palm. “As long as you are fine.”
Ji Tan closed the door and leaned over the window to ask, “Are you still picking me up tonight to take me to your place?”
When Zhou She usually picked him up, Ji Tan never asked such questions. He was likely asking because Zhou Wenbai was back. With Zhou Wenbai back, his role as a live-in nanny was becoming redundant and bothersome. Thinking of this, Zhou She shifted his gaze away from Ji Tan’s bright, curious face, his lips pressing down. “Do you want to see Zhou Wenbai? I will notify him.”
Zhou She ended the topic in just a few words, his tone cold, hard, and exceptionally distant. Ji Tan was so stunned by Zhou She’s sudden change in attitude that he forgot what he wanted to say; he just opened his mouth and gave a dry “Oh.” Zhou She glanced at Ji Tan one last time, seemingly waiting for himself to leave. Zhou She’s jawline tightened; he rolled up the window and drove away.
Ji Tan walked into the school and only remembered what he wanted to say to Zhou She when he ran into Ji Yunxin.
“If you force the protagonist’s emotional line, you will be forcibly expelled from the game,” 523 warned. This included, but was not limited to, setting the protagonist up on dates, speaking well of others in front of the protagonist, creating opportunities for the protagonist to meet others, and drugging the protagonist. The haunted house visit last time was already testing the boundaries. He could not do it a second time.
Ji Tan knew this, and he had no intention of doing it again. “I just wanted to ask him if he could make crucian carp soup tonight. We ate at the Ji house yesterday, and I did not get to eat the carp he bought.”
523: “Missioner, do not covet material pleasures; focus on the mission.”
523 was a robot Ji Tan had bought to assist him in completing tasks. Everything came second to the mission, even treating the missioner as a tool, which suited Ji Tan perfectly. Ji Tan approved of 523’s efficiency-first style and had never disagreed with it. Ji Tan was silent for a rare moment, then could not help but say, “His cooking is really delicious; you should try it.”
523: …
“Tan Tan.” Ji Yunxin hurried over when he saw Ji Tan. “Do you know what happened to Enyi? Why did he suddenly have an episode?”
Ji Tan’s gaze was calm, his tone indifferent. “I do not know.” He looked as though he did not want to talk about it.
Ji Yunxin’s eyes flickered. “Tan Tan, why did you push the four-year-old Ji Enyi down the stairs when you were six?”
Was it really because of Cheng Jiayan, because his remarried mother had given birth to a second child, and he was jealous and wanted him to disappear so he could get the motherly love he never had before? Perhaps not only Ji Shixi and Cheng Jiayan thought so, but Ji Shixin had also yielded because of this event and decided to send Ji Tan to be raised by Ji Yuan. Ji Enyi did not seem to think so, but his attitude had always been strange.
“I did not push him.” Ji Tan pouted, unhappy about being slandered by Ji Yunxin.
“If you did not push him, the person you pushed was me,” Ji Yunxin said, following Ji Tan’s lead. “But the person you wanted to push was him.”
Ji Tan fell silent again.
Ji Yunxin sighed deeply. “If you were jealous of Ji Enyi getting Cheng Jiayan’s love and hurt him, what about this time? Ji Enyi had an episode to protect you. Tan Tan, do you not have any kindness as an older brother toward him?”
“I do not like him.” Ji Tan frowned and took a step back, looking up at Ji Yunxin. “If it were not for you always protecting Ji Enyi, I would not have pushed you down because I was worried you would stop me. I would have pushed Ji Enyi down directly.”
Hearing Ji Tan’s willful, cold-hearted words, Ji Yunxin, as the older brother who had always protected his younger brother, should have been angry and corrected Ji Tan’s twisted values. Yet, Ji Yunxin froze. “Because of me? Because I was protecting Ji Enyi?”
Ji Tan felt Ji Yunxin’s tone was strange, so he gave him a look of even greater confusion.
“Move aside, I still have classes.” Ji Tan walked around the slightly distracted Ji Yunxin.
Ji Yunxin instinctively called Ji Tan back, his gentle and handsome brows filled with memories. “Tan Tan, I remember you loved to play with me when you were young.”
Ji Tan thought about it; if bullying Ji Yunxin frequently counted, he certainly did like to be around Ji Yunxin when he was young. It was just that Ji Tan knew now that many of his behaviors at that time were wrong. Ji Tan did not know how Ji Yunxin had come to this conclusion, and he did not want to admit to the bad things he had done to Ji Yunxin. “I do not think so.”
Ji Yunxin’s gaze trembled. Seeing that Ji Tan was in a hurry to go to class, he did not say much. “Then I will go to the hospital to see Enyi.”
Ji Tan gave a perfunctory nod.
After Ji Tan finished his classes, it was Zhou Wenbai who came to pick him up in the evening.
“Zhou She said you missed me?” Zhou Wenbai did not believe Zhou She. Ji Tan never thought of anyone; sending a message to say hello was already the absolute maximum.
Ji Tan climbed up the pole, nodding repeatedly. Zhou Wenbai smiled; he was happy that Ji Tan was coaxing him.
“Dr. Zhou, let us go back and eat quickly.” Ji Tan grabbed Zhou Wenbai’s arm, his amber eyes shimmering with sugary sweetness. “Zhou She made crucian carp soup; it will be cold if we wait.”
Zhou Wenbai raised an eyebrow, looking at Ji Tan’s greedy cat-like appearance. “How do you know Zhou She is making crucian carp soup tonight?”
“He bought it yesterday,” Ji Tan said with logic. “If he does not cook it, it will spoil.”
“Alright.” Zhou Wenbai had intended to take Ji Tan out, but Zhou She’s cooking had hooked Ji Tan’s stomach. He stroked Ji Tan’s head. “Do not worry, we will be there soon.”
Ji Tan could not wait for Zhou Wenbai to park the car and unbuckled his seat belt.
Zhou Wenbai was helpless. “Just how delicious is Zhou She’s cooking to get you this obsessed?”
Ji Tan curved his eyes and deliberately flattered him, “Not as delicious as yours, Dr. Zhou.”
“Smooth talker.” Zhou Wenbai had never seen Ji Tan be this enthusiastic about his own cooking, laughing as he scolded him.
Ji Tan was in a hurry; as soon as they went inside, he let go of Zhou Wenbai’s hand and ran toward the kitchen. Zhou She, who was turning around with a dish, was startled by Ji Tan’s sudden appearance.
“Careful.” Zhou She avoided Ji Tan, not letting the hot soup splash onto him.
Ji Tan followed Zhou She step by step, looked around, and asked the cook in a low voice, “Why is it not crucian carp soup?”
Zhou She had cooked three dishes and one soup for himself: cola chicken wings, stir-fried broccoli, cold cucumber, and a tomato and egg soup. It was not necessary for one person to eat anything too complicated. Seaweed and egg soup was the easiest to make.
Zhou She put down the soup and understood what Ji Tan meant. “Are you eating here?”
Ji Tan nodded and blinked; where else would he eat if not here? Zhou She glanced at Zhou Wenbai not far away, took off his apron, and lowered his eyes. “I got off work late; I did not have time.”
Ji Tan did not accept this reason. “You do not have to pick me up, why did you not have time?”
Zhou She suddenly looked up, his gaze fixing on Ji Tan’s unhappy little face, then quickly looked away. “I will cook it for you tomorrow.” Zhou She replied calmly, then went to the kitchen to take out two more bowls and rice. Zhou She had not prepared much; it was barely enough for three. Ji Tan ate the most. Stir-fried pork with peppers, broccoli, cucumber—Ji Tan ate a lot of everything.
“If it is spicy, eat less.” Zhou Wenbai pushed a bowl of seaweed and egg soup to Ji Tan’s side, and tapped Ji Tan’s lips, which were red and swollen from the spice, with his knuckles. Ji Tan took a sip from the edge of the bowl; the seaweed was like hair. It turned out that even Zhou She’s excellent cooking skills could not save the fundamental nature of the vegetables. Ji Tan stopped after one sip and only drank water after being burned by the spice.
After dinner, Zhou Wenbai stopped Ji Tan from washing the dishes and rubbed his round little tummy. “Tuan Tuan is carrying a little baby and washing dishes? Is that not too hard?”
Ji Tan swatted Zhou Wenbai’s hand away, his ears turning red from embarrassment. Zhou Wenbai pinched Ji Tan’s hot earlobe with amusement and stopped teasing him. “Go sit and let it settle; I will clean up.”
Zhou She also withdrew his gaze from Ji Tan’s faintly visible, protruding little belly and rested it on Zhou Wenbai’s tired eyes under the lights. Zhou Wenbai had rushed back overnight; after finishing the Zhou family affairs, he had rushed to the school to pick up Ji Tan without even a moment of rest.
“I will do it.” Zhou She stopped Zhou Wenbai’s movements. “You go get some rest.”
Zhou Wenbai did not decline and went upstairs to wash up. When Zhou She finished the dishes and was ready to ask Zhou Wenbai which room he would be staying in tonight, he heard Zhou Wenbai’s voice.
“I will stay with Tuan Tuan, alright?” Zhou Wenbai held Ji Tan, who was stuffed, on his lap and rubbed his stomach to help digest. Ji Tan leaned against Zhou Wenbai’s arm, not minding at all, and said generously, “I will give Dr. Zhou half the bed to sleep in.”
“Thank you so much, Tuan Tuan.” Zhou Wenbai’s eyes filled with smiles as he kissed Ji Tan’s fair, tender cheek; he really liked Ji Tan’s concessions toward him. There was a faint sound at the door, and Zhou Wenbai squinted his eyes. Ji Tan had not heard it and tilted his head. “Are we sleeping together tonight?”
The smile in Zhou Wenbai’s eyes deepened as he swept a glance at Ji Tan’s clear pupils and shook his head. “Let us sleep together later. I am too tired today; I am afraid my snoring will disturb Tuan Tuan’s rest.” There would be plenty of time in the future.
Zhou Wenbai left Ji Tan in the room and went out, unsurprisingly catching a glimpse of Zhou She’s back as he left.
“What are you holding?” Zhou Wenbai caught the corner of the cloth in Zhou She’s hand.
Zhou She turned around and held up the prepared four-piece bedding set to show him, his cold, indifferent brows lowered. “Do you still need it?”
Zhou Wenbai walked forward a few steps and naturally took the sheets and quilt cover from Zhou She’s hand. “I need them.”
“Which room?” Zhou Wenbai asked. Zhou She’s palms were empty, and the heavy object disappeared without a trace in an instant.
“As you wish.”
There were no more rooms on the second floor; Zhou Wenbai had to stay on the third floor. Zhou She watched the back of Zhou Wenbai as he went upstairs and disappeared around the corner before heading down the stairs.
Ten minutes later, Zhou She stared blankly at the boiling white fish soup in the casserole, silently pressing his lips together. No one could avoid drinking the soup he had brewed. If they did not drink it, they would have to make up for it.