The small living room was permeated with the scent of ink mixed with a faint aroma of incense, like a mysterious scent hidden in the depths of the far sea—intimately familiar.
Lin Ruohuai had been drifting in and out of sleep for an unknown amount of time. He couldn’t even open his eyes, and his posture had left his limbs stiff. He mumbled a few times into the pillow, turned over, and upon opening his eyes, collided with the other man’s gaze. His pupils constricted instantly.
Shen Qi sat there composedly, his long eyelashes casting shadows, watching him without moving a muscle.
The background was a blur of black; sitting in his wheelchair, Shen Qi seemed to merge with the night. His eyelids were low, his gaze peering out gloomily from the dark crevices.
“Finally decided to wake up?”
His voice was somber and very hoarse.
Lin Ruohuai’s fingertips trembled slightly. He licked the corner of his mouth and found he hadn’t drooled: “Sorry, I didn’t bring my phone so I was bored and accidentally fell asleep. Why are you so late, Mr. Shen? I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
His tone rose slightly at the end; he was explaining seriously, but also very seriously shifting the blame.
Shen Qi’s eyes, darker than a normal person’s, stared at him. He looked with confusion at the blocks of words coming out of the opening and closing mouth; combined together, they were truly difficult to comprehend.
Who is he to me? Did I ask him to wait? Didn’t he come here on his own, and now he’s blaming me?
Oh, right. He’s my personal caregiver. I recruited him myself.
Though Lin Ruohuai’s eyes were bright, they were hollow with the grogginess of sleep. He sat up dazed, one side of his face marked with red sleep lines. The back of his neck was damp and hot from sweating quite a bit.
Shen Qi said casually, “You sweated. You’re stinky.”
Lin Ruohuai froze. He pulled at his collar and bent his head down to sniff himself: “No, no. I’m still fragrant.”
“I don’t smell it,” Shen Qi uttered three words so quietly they were almost hidden in the deep night.
Lin Ruohuai didn’t hear him. He moved his numbed ankles and grabbed a pillow to push the wheelchair: “It’s almost two o’clock. I’ll push you back to the room to rest.”
After a moment, Lin Ruohuai muttered to himself, “Why is it so hard to push? Did you lock the wheels again? Why do you like locking yourself in place so much? If there’s an emergency, it’ll be too late to leave.”
“Wait, I shouldn’t say that… but next time, don’t lock the wheels if there’s nothing going on.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Ruohuai’s scalp tingled. He realized Shen Qi might have been staring at him by the sofa for a long time. Thinking about that scene felt scarier than a ghost story.
“Can you hold the pillow for me? It’s hard to push while holding things.” Lin Ruohuai let go and placed it on Shen Qi’s lap. It was soft, carrying the refreshing body scent belonging to Lin Ruohuai.
The corner of Shen Qi’s eye twitched slightly. He said without emotion, “I have a germophobia.”
“Ah, this pillow is clean, I didn’t drool.” Lin Ruohuai adjusted his grip on the handles, his palms turning red from the friction.
Shen Qi found it nonsensical and smiled thinly: “And if there was drool?”
“I’d flip it over for you to hold; just don’t touch that side.” Lin Ruohuai leaned over and exhaled: “I rinsed my mouth, it’s not stinky.”
Shen Qi remained cold: “Take it away.”
A look of obvious disappointment appeared on Lin Ruohuai’s face. He tucked the pillow under his arm to push the wheelchair. Before they had gone two steps, the pillow fell. He picked it up within three seconds and patted it clean.
While patting it, he looked at Shen Qi with an innocent gaze.
As if someone were bullying him.
Shen Qi made no statement, but his hands, which were originally clasped together, moved to the armrests, seemingly leaving a space in the middle.
Lin Ruohuai blinked, placed the pillow back on his lap, patted it, and praised him sincerely: “Mr. Shen, you’re such a good person. Thank you.”
Shen Qi turned his head to the side, uninterested in his childish, coaxing tactics. Xie Yusheng might fall for it, Shen Qingyi might fall for it, but he wouldn’t.
The study was some distance from the bedroom; they weren’t adjacent. Shen Qi kept his life and work very separate. Moreover, since Lin Ruohuai had mentioned the smell of ink earlier, he suspected Shen Qi might have been doing more than just “working” just now.
Was he practicing calligraphy?
It wasn’t within his scope of management, so Lin Ruohuai didn’t ask.
He looked down at the crown of Shen Qi’s head. There were two hair whorls. Old people said this was a sign of rebellion and being difficult to manage.
After a few days of interaction, Lin Ruohuai’s impression of Shen Qi remained blurred. He was like the wind—coming and going as he pleased, acting on his own whims, yet possessing deep calculation and a refusal to let others peer into his heart.
He disliked sunlight, loathed the touch and breath of strangers, and was cold and self-loathing—a mushroom growing freely in the shadows.
Of course, Lin Ruohuai had no intention of prying, but this kind of person was a bit exhausting to be around… the premise of “smoothing his fur” was that he had to understand Shen Qi. Who would want to go to work in fear every day? Living here was already enough of a trial.
If it weren’t for Shen Qi accompanying him… wait, that seemed backward.
Lin Ruohuai was lost in thought, but his movements were steady. At the very least, he didn’t make any mistakes delivering him to the room. However, when he looked down to meet Shen Qi’s gaze, those pitch-black eyes seemed to pierce right through him.
But it lasted only a second. Shen Qi ignored him, told him to let go, and switched to automatic mode to enter the bathroom.
The bathroom had a threshold. Lin Ruohuai saw the wheelchair roll over it easily without any bumps or the sound of electrical currents. It seemed Shen Qi was very capable with his hands.
Before entering, Shen Qi glanced at him again, his expression deep.
Lin Ruohuai’s eyes flickered away. He stopped trying to probe the other man with his gaze; it wasn’t polite, nor did it fit his role.
Oddly enough, Shen Qi attracted him.
In every aspect.
Shen Qi took a long time to wash up. Lin Ruohuai consciously lay down on the soft, comfortable rug. The material was skin-friendly—was this even a blanket? This was clearly a plush version of a tatami mat.
The manor had a climate control system that maintained a balanced temperature. Lin Ruohuai could survive without a blanket.
His ears twitched. There was the faint sound of a wheelchair rolling at the door. Lin Ruohuai’s half-closed eyelids snapped open, and he sat up from the rug: “Mr. Shen.”
He was quite clever, like a rabbit hiding in the grass that suddenly became alert. One just didn’t know if this rabbit’s bite would hurt.
His pajama pants slid over his knees, revealing a section of long, white calves.
Shen Qi had originally headed toward the bed, but he suddenly changed direction. The wheelchair stopped at the edge of the rug, not quite touching it, like a boundary line, with Lin Ruohuai fenced inside.
Lin Ruohuai, completely unaware, shifted his bottom and even seemed to wiggle his waist: “Do you want to watch a movie? I can stay with you.”
Shen Qi narrowed his eyes, a trace of a smile on his lips: “Watch what?”
“Anything.”
Lin Ruohuai had analyzed that Shen Qi might have severe difficulty falling asleep. The man already had a gloomy aura; at night, that scent became even thicker and heavier.
Lin Ruohuai’s little heart couldn’t quite take it, so he decided to take the initiative. Of course, he had his own selfish motives—he wasn’t quite used to the manor’s environment yet. It would be best to have someone stay with him. The rug was so comfortable; he’d have to buy one online later.
Shen Qi looked down at him. “They’re all trash movies.”
“It… it’s fine.” Just as he said it, he met Shen Qi’s half-smiling expression. His heart skipped a beat, and he changed his tune: “The special effects are cool. If the plot is bad, the visual effects can still work. Which company produced them? To be so bad.”
“Produced by Qinghe.”
“Then it’s the company’s fault. Too trash. Send them a report letter, attack them online, spread the rumors, ruin their reputation—it’d be best to make the company go bankrupt.”
“It’s a subsidiary of the Shen Group.”
Lin Ruohuai closed his eyes and stopped talking.
The curve of Shen Qi’s lips became more pronounced. He turned the wheelchair around. Lin Ruohuai lay on his side, facing that direction, and spoke softly: “Mr. Shen, goodnight.”
Shen Qi acted as if he hadn’t heard and didn’t respond.
The Shen Group’s reach was vast, with industries all over the world; it was just a matter of quantity. The headquarters were in A City. As the Chairman, Shen Qi held the most power and was responsible for the core parts of the company. However, since the accident, he had gradually relinquished control.
His power was halved, leaving him with a title. Shen Qingyi was the successor everyone favored. Shen Qi had no objections, as if the things he had fought for over the years had been let go easily because of an accident.
But Shen Qi still held the title of Chairman. He still did what needed to be done, though he rarely appeared in the public eye.
Labels like “inferiority complex,” “unpredictable,” “cold,” and “perverted” were haphazardly slapped onto him.
He was also mocked as being like a “gloomy, shut-in nerd” who didn’t dare leave the house.
This was all information found online, embellished with hearsay; there was no telling how much was true or false.
Lin Ruohuai was biting on a blade of grass, watching the creatures swimming in the fish pond and basking in the sun to “recharge.” The old butler, Uncle Chen, waved to him from the door and gave him a few fresh apples.
“Mmm! These ones are so sweet and crisp.”
“The young master said he wanted some yesterday, so I bought them.”
Lin Ruohuai leaned over, his breath smelling of fresh sweetness: “Do they need to be sliced? I’ll do it. I’ll take them up to him and massage his legs while I’m at it. Mr. Shen hasn’t gotten up yet.”
Uncle Chen’s eyes lit up slightly. Being able to sleep was a blessing.
But when Lin Ruohuai went up to the top floor, the man was awake and had changed his clothes into a loose knit sweater, revealing a small section of his collarbone. His Adam’s apple was prominent, his lines sharp.
Lin Ruohuai: “I’ve brought your breakfast. After you eat, you need a massage.”
Shen Qi looked up: “Okay. Leave it there. Come into the study.”
His voice, fresh from sleep, sounded very pleasant—a bit lazy and lingering. It drifted into the eardrums, causing a wave of numbness.
Breakfast was placed on the table, and the computer was on. Shen Qi had been forced to wake up for an online meeting. However, this was the time for the leg massage. Just as Lin Ruohuai was hesitating whether to postpone it, Shen Qi looked over.
“Weren’t you going to massage?”
It seemed it was time for business. Lin Ruohuai rubbed his earlobe and immediately flew over. He grabbed a small stool and sat in front of him.
The massage was mainly to prevent muscle atrophy, so it was a daily necessity. Lin Ruohuai focused single-mindedly on his task.
Above his head was the sound of Shen Qi talking to others—low, authoritative, piercing, and oppressive. It perfectly fit the temperament of someone in a high position.
Shen Qi hummed in response to the person in the video. He leaned back, raising a hand to his forehead in exhaustion and annoyance. Only then did he notice something; he lowered his eyes to stare at the top of Lin Ruohuai’s head, which was buried in hard work.
Lin Ruohuai’s hands were getting sore. The muscle structure of Wang Yisen and Shen Qi’s legs were two completely different things. This was rock hard—clearly the result of frequent exercise.
Moreover, why was it getting harder the more he rubbed?
What was going on?
He really wanted to throw a punch.
Lin Ruohuai peeked at the arm muscles hidden under Shen Qi’s knit sweater.
He’d probably be picked up and thrown out, wouldn’t he?
Then they’d just throw a few tens of thousands of dollars at him and tell him to pack his bags and go home. Not only would Xie Yusheng’s 100,000 be gone, but his 300,000 would go down the drain too.
Lin Ruohuai’s fingers were hurting from the pressure. He couldn’t help but ball his hand into a fist and give it a light thump. Immediately after, he looked up in a daze and nervous tension. Shen Qi looked down. Their eyes met.
A dead silence followed. Lin Ruohuai’s lips twitched as he explained, his voice creeping up in tiny, dense increments: “It’s too hard, I can’t press it. My fingers hurt.”
The manager in the video finished his report. When he looked up, he could only see the Chairman’s ear. He vaguely sensed someone talking next to the Chairman but couldn’t hear clearly. He tentatively called out: “Chairman? Is the Chairman still there?”
Fearing he would be heard, Lin Ruohuai whispered: “They’re calling you.”
With his face tilted up, even the tiny fuzz on his skin was visible. He spoke so softly it tickled the ears.
Shen Qi glanced at the person in the video and said coldly: “Shut up. Can’t you hear my caregiver talking to me?”
Manager: “…”
Shen Qi shifted his position and looked down at him from above: “Where is it hard?”
Lin Ruohuai was stunned like a wooden chicken: “…”