Lin Ruohuai realized that the place where he had just buried his face was far more terrifying than any horror movie screen.
“I’m sorry, I was just too scared moments ago…”
As Lin Ruohuai spoke, he started to get up. But as soon as he moved, the skin where his scruff met his neck was gripped by a warm, large palm. It lifted him with a hint of disciplinary force; the heat and sweat from the tightly pressed palm felt intense.
Shen Qi’s voice had a distinct texture, one that seemed to sink into the skin and permeate the pores: “You actually watched it? And then you got scared.”
The lighting in the cinema’s seating area was dim. The hem of his knit sweater was lazily bunched up, and a shadow fell across his waist, hiding everything from view.
Lin Ruohuai’s eyes instinctively flickered toward Shen Qi’s lap. Before he could get a clear look, his neck was gripped and twisted back toward the large screen, forcing him to watch the protagonist screaming and running out of a bedroom in terror.
His pupils instantly contracted. His shoulders and neck pulled back in a wince, forcing Shen Qi’s fingertips to sink into the soft flesh of his cheek.
“It’s not a ghost. It’s man-made. Someone died; this film is primarily a suspense mystery.” From the very beginning, Shen Qi hadn’t been playing a supernatural horror movie at all.
Of course, this was entirely because the little coward hadn’t looked at the screen once.
Lin Ruohuai showed no signs of relaxing. People are scarier than ghosts, okay? Still, he followed Shen Qi’s lead and asked, “So the protagonist just found the body? Have they called the police yet?”
Shen Qi paused thoughtfully. “Not exactly ‘found the body’ in its entirety.”
Lin Ruohuai stared straight at him. “What do you mean?”
Shen Qi replied, “The protagonist didn’t pull out a whole corpse. He pulled out a human head. The cross-section was bloody, proving the death was recent. There was a sea of blood under the bed, yet the protagonist couldn’t smell a thing. Something is wrong with him, too.”
Scared into silence like a shivering quail, Lin Ruohuai said nothing: “…”
Only then did Shen Qi realize he was still holding Lin Ruohuai’s neck and the back of his head. He could feel the irregular breathing rhythm beneath the skin, a sign of extreme shock. Shen Qi let go. His palm was slightly damp, still carrying the lingering sensation of warm, delicate skin.
The boy wasn’t just pale; he was soft, elastic, and warm—like holding a little chick.
If he used just a bit too much force, he felt like he might crush him.
This included that small, protruding Adam’s apple. When his fingertips brushed against it, it felt fragile, like a piece of inlaid crystal—meant only to be admired, teased, and caressed.
Coming back to his senses, Lin Ruohuai wanted to drink something to distract himself, only to realize his bladder was about to explode. He tugged piteously at Shen Qi’s clothes, his shoulders slumped and his pale pupils shimmering: “Help me.”
Likely out of impatience, Shen Qi got back into his wheelchair and accompanied Lin Ruohuai to the restroom, waiting outside the door.
The sound of rushing water lasted quite a while; who knows how long he’d been holding it.
When Lin Ruohuai came out after washing his hands, he looked like his soul had been transcended. He pushed Shen Qi’s wheelchair, muttering to himself, “So much better…”
Shen Qi: “…”
The restroom was inside the cinema, so the way back wasn’t far. Once Shen Qi was helped back onto the sofa, he spoke in a cool tone laced with subtle mockery: “Do you need a teacher to walk you to the bathroom in college, too?”
Lin Ruohuai heard the jab and coaxed him guiltily: “Yeah, I need someone to go with me.”
Shen Qi: “…”
The movie was only an hour in, and the second half was the climax. Lin Ruohuai discovered that not only was he afraid of ghosts and the dark, but he was even more terrified of psychopathic killers. In his weakness, he could only press his back tightly against Shen Qi.
Gory scenes exploded on the screen, magnified and in-your-face. Shen Qi remained as steady as a rock, his peripheral vision catching Lin Ruohuai’s profile. He noticed the boy looked quiet, his eyelids half-closed, his lashes long, his mouth mumbling something.
Buddhist sutras? A mantra? God or Guanyin? Shen Qi nearly laughed.
Seeing Lin Ruohuai about to topple over, Shen Qi caught him to prevent him from crashing into his legs again. In that moment of proximity, the “whispers of light” reached his ears.
“A new storm has appeared, how can we remain stagnant? Crossing time and space with all our might, I will come to your side…”
The murmured singing grew softer until it vanished. Shen Qi glanced down; Lin Ruohuai had sung himself to sleep.
Leaning unconsciously against Shen Qi’s shoulder, the boy’s cheek was squished out of shape, looking utterly defenseless.
Does he trust me that much? Thinking of Lin Ruohuai’s role, such an intimate posture created a subtle psychological thrill. Shen Qi’s eyes darkened slightly, the reflected light from the screen making his features look cold and detached.
Without hesitation, he leaned back against the sofa. He glanced at his senseless left leg, where a fair, delicate arm now rested. It was an arm that had clearly never done hard labor, glowing with a soft luster from elbow to fingertip.
Shen Qi closed his eyes, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the boy’s arm.
…
The movie finally ended!
The cinema went dark, falling into a slumber of its own.
Daylight broke!
But the light couldn’t penetrate the room. Lin Ruohuai, possessing a biological clock from his transmigration, was used to rising with the roosters and sleeping later than dogs. He rubbed his eyes, realizing the place he was using as a pillow was rock hard. Once he saw what it was, his whole body froze, feeling like his end had come.
He looked up. Shen Qi was still fast asleep, his breathing shallow. Lin Ruohuai didn’t dare make any big movements. He rose cautiously, using the faint light to observe him. Shen Qi’s eyelashes are so long, and his lips aren’t too thin or too thick—they look quite kissable.
Wait, now wasn’t the time for that. How was he supposed to get Shen Qi back to his room to sleep?
Lin Ruohuai pulled out the Caretaker’s Guide.pdf. It stated that Shen Qi had difficulty sleeping and suffered from severe “morning rage.” Unless it was an emergency, no one was allowed on the top floor before the Young Master woke up.
“…”
Fine, he’d just let Shen Qi stay there. Lin Ruohuai stretched his neck as he stood up; he’d developed a stiff neck from sleeping, and Shen Qi probably wasn’t faring much better.
Having slept with his legs curled up all night, Lin Ruohuai’s legs felt weak. He accidentally tripped over the wheelchair but steadied it quickly. He shot a wary look at Shen Qi, who remained senseless, before his heart raced as he hurried away.
He hadn’t walked far when he saw the old butler strolling toward him. Lin Ruohuai’s eyes lit up: “Uncle Chen, good morning.”
Uncle Chen nodded slightly. “I noticed you weren’t in your room this morning, so I checked the surveillance…”
Lin Ruohuai waited for him to continue, but seeing the butler just staring at him, he answered, “Mr. Shen couldn’t sleep last night and asked me to go for a walk with him. I fell asleep while we were watching a movie.”
The old butler’s expression was a complex mix of doubt and hesitation. “And where did you sleep?”
Lin Ruohuai answered honestly and openly, “I was guarding the Young Master, of course. I didn’t sleep all night.”
The old butler opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together, looking like he wanted to say something but held back. Lin Ruohuai couldn’t take the scrutiny and gave a fawning smile: “Uncle Chen, I’ll go wash up and change my clothes first.”
Uncle Chen nodded and said warmly, “Go take a shower first. No need to rush to work.”
“Thank you, Uncle Chen.”
He bolted away like the wind.
Lin Ruohuai rushed back to his room to prepare his clothes and start the bathwater. As he passed the mirror, he stopped dead. He looked like a mess.
His hair was a bird’s nest, one cheek was red from being pressed against something, and his clothes—don’t even get him started—were wrinkled, his collar was gaping open to reveal his collarbones, and his pants didn’t look much better.
He remembered the way the old butler had looked at him. No wonder. I thought his expression was weird.
But then again, as long as the butler saw what Shen Qi looked like, he’d know they were innocent. There was no need to explain; explaining was just a cover-up. He was upright and honest—he didn’t “sleep” with him, so he didn’t sleep with him.
The door was locked. Lin Ruohuai emerged from the bathroom, deciding to wear his pale yellow work uniform today.
He ran into the butler again, who mentioned he had woken Shen Qi and sent him upstairs. Lin Ruohuai took the chance to ask, “Was Mr. Shen angry?”
Uncle Chen: “He was. He docked half a month’s bonus.”
Lin Ruohuai’s heart tightened. Feeling sheepish, he asked, “How much is that usually? Uncle Chen, I just want to know what I’m looking at.”
If it was less than what Xie Yusheng paid, he might as well quit. He was here to make money, not to do charity.
“One hundred and eighty thousand,” Uncle Chen said, seemingly unbothered. Technically, only the two of them were permanent staff; the others were outsourced.
Lin Ruohuai gasped: “…”
Today was a bit special. Doctors and nurses arrived for a check-up. The butler and Lin Ruohuai followed close behind. After showing them into the Young Master’s room, they waited at the door.
Uncle Chen: “When the Young Master is doing his physical therapy, no one is allowed near except for Dr. Wang and his team.”
“Understood.”
Lin Ruohuai made a mental note: Mr. Shen is self-conscious.
Uncle Chen instructed, “Dr. Wang will stay behind later to teach you some massage techniques.”
Lin Ruohuai translated this automatically: Time to start learning.
His probation period here was only fifteen days. Originally, Lin Ruohuai had a “take it or leave it” attitude, but once he saw that half a month’s bonus was 180,000, his heart felt warm.
Lin Ruohuai came from generations of farmers—the kind of family that qualified for poverty grants. In his mind, money was priority number one. Priority number two was leveling up his skills. You never know when they’ll come in handy.
He would leave this place one day, so he had to do everything he could to gain the most benefit for himself.
Besides, after the last two days, he felt his biggest role was being a “sleeping companion”…
Dr. Wang finished the exam and came out, looking professional in his white coat with a refined smile. “So this is the new little caregiver Mr. Shen hired? He looks like a minor.”
Lin Ruohuai: “…”
Uncle Chen gave a faint smile.
Dr. Wang walked over, carrying the distinct scent of a hospital. “Come, let me tell you. Mr. Shen’s legs haven’t moved in years, so muscle atrophy is a concern. They need to be massaged and moved regularly every day. I’m here to teach you that today.”
Seeing how familiar the doctor was, Lin Ruohuai didn’t act reserved. “Who usually does this?”
“Old Chen. We hired several caregivers before, but none lasted even fifteen days.” Dr. Wang turned to the butler for confirmation. “Right?”
Uncle Chen: “Not even ten days.”
Dr. Wang gave Lin Ruohuai’s head a meaningful pat. “I hope you can last a bit longer.”
Lin Ruohuai was confused. They made Shen Qi sound like a monster. In the two days they’d spent together, he thought the guy was a bit weird, but alright.
He didn’t ask out loud, keeping his thoughts to himself as he gave a polite laugh. “I hope so too.”
…
It was just a massage, something Lin Ruohuai was actually very good at. He had specifically learned it because his grandmother had bad joints. Whenever he had time, he would massage her to relieve the pain.
Since it was a skill he already knew, he didn’t put in too much effort, treating it like a review session while using Dr. Wang’s leg as his exam paper.
Dr. Wang was surprised. “You know how to do this?”
“I don’t.”
“You clearly do.”
Lin Ruohuai’s dimples showed. “I’m not very professional.”
“Oh ho, ‘not very professional.’ Are you afraid I’ll steal your secrets? Want to add me on WeChat?”
“…” That was a fast subject change!
Lin Ruohuai scanned his QR code. The verification went through, and the chat displayed three characters: Wang Yisen.
Dr. Wang said gloomily, “There’s no fate between us, it’s all me struggling to keep this going. You’re pinching me too hard, Xiao Huai.”
Lin Ruohuai immediately let go, smiling awkwardly. “Sorry.”
After the check-up, there were no major issues. The left leg still had no reaction, but the muscle tone was well-maintained, nutrition was sufficient, and his bodily functions were healthy.
There was no negativity in Shen Qi’s eyes; he seemed accustomed to the results regarding his left leg. “Where is he?”
Uncle Chen knew exactly who he meant. “He’s in the care room with Dr. Wang, learning massage techniques.”
The corners of Shen Qi’s mouth turned down. “Just the two of them in the room?”
“Yes.”
Shen Qi’s brow furrowed slightly as he twisted his ring. “From now on, one-on-one teaching sessions will be held in the open hall on the first floor.”
…
Dr. Wang was called away by Uncle Chen, leaving a video tutorial behind for Lin Ruohuai. He said if he mastered everything in it, it would be more than enough, and he’d check back later.
Lin Ruohuai was a fast learner and memorized it quickly. Afterward, he just kept rewatching the video while waiting for the doctor to return. He was so bored he started nodding off. As his head dropped, he suddenly locked eyes with Shen Qi through the crack in the door.
Deep, dark eyes were staring straight at him.
Lin Ruohuai’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately grabbed the remote, pretending he had been looking down to study a specific technique.
Shen Qi had no interest in pushing the door open. Instead, he let a sentence drift inside: “No need to put on a show in front of me.”
Meaning: You can’t fool me.
“…” Lin Ruohuai acted with the utmost seriousness. “Mr. Shen, please do not disturb my studies.”
Shen Qi ignored him and left the way he came, not lingering.
Lin Ruohuai felt suspicious. He put down the remote and poked his head out through the door. The hallway was empty. There was no one there.
Holy crap, did I just see a ghost?