Lin Ruohuai’s mind wasn’t filled with many twists and turns. He didn’t necessarily need Shen Qi to urge him to come home; rather, he wanted to use this opportunity to prove that he truly wanted to stay by Shen Qi’s side. He wanted the man to stop overthinking and just obediently act as his ATM, paying his wages without constantly playing these testing games.
The water ball he’d been playing with had become sticky, so he tossed it aside. His fingers began tracing endless circles on the rug. The rug in Xie Yusheng’s room wasn’t soft enough—it wasn’t nearly as good as the one in Shen Qi’s room.
Lin Ruohuai squatted down again, his face squeezed between his knees, giving his cheeks a bit of a fleshy look.
His thoughts drifted back to Shen Qi.
He wondered what Shen Qi was doing. The two places were far apart; it was cloudless here, but would it be raining at the manor? Lin Ruohuai looked at a cluster of dark clouds in the distance and pondered.
When Shen Qi was testing his relationship with Xie Yusheng, his mind must have been a mess. Speaking of which, did Shen Qi seem like a “brother-complex” type? Not really. He seemed more like a robot, living without desire or demand.
They were people from two different worlds.
Suddenly, Shen Qi’s face floated into Lin Ruohuai’s mind. His heart gave a sudden thump. He clutched his chest. Too handsome. Handsome guys transcend borders.
Xie Yusheng’s impatient prompting made him turn around. “What exactly are you doing if you’re not going back? Are you waiting for someone to pick you up, or do you want me to send you?”
“I don’t want you to send me!” Lin Ruohuai whipped his head around quickly.
“Crap, are you okay? Are you addicted to being mistreated?”
There was no physical mistreatment, but there was definitely some mental damage. Every night when he first arrived, he was scared to death by Shen Qi. However, these last two days had been fine; it felt like Shen Qi was intentionally or unintentionally reining in his “ghostly” aura.
Lin Ruohuai didn’t reply but instead gave him a sinister look. It’s all because of you.
Actually, that wasn’t right. It was for the sake of making money and ensuring he had a happy ending.
He couldn’t give up on his inner faith and dreams just because of certain people.
Xie Yusheng got out of bed and walked toward him. Feeling the shadow looming over his head, Lin Ruohuai’s leg muscles twitched, and he fell backward, his bottom landing on the rug. He let out a loud cry: “You almost scared me to death!”
Xie Yusheng pursed his lips, nearly choking on his own annoyance: “…Excuse me? Did I touch you? Is your heart just a decoration? You’re scared to death every two seconds.”
Lin Ruohuai patted his pant legs. He was only 178cm and had to look up at Xie Yusheng. Realizing he had overreacted, he said weakly, “What’s up? Are you leaving? Then I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll send you back.”
Lin Ruohuai turned away: “I refuse.”
“…” Xie Yusheng narrowed his eyes, observing his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his profile—it looked like a character from a cartoon, soft and chubby.
Damn, Shen Qi is raising him well. What mistreatment? He’s been spoiled into being incredibly melodramatic.
Just then, the phone on the table rang. Lin Ruohuai answered it sneakily: “Assistant Lin.”
Assistant Lin’s voice was as pleasant as a spring breeze: “Mr. Lin, I was wondering when you would finish. Will you be having dinner at the Xie residence? I should pick you up before it gets dark.”
If he didn’t go back soon, he’d be in trouble—his bonus would be docked.
Mr. Shen was generous, but he was also “generous” when it came to docking pay.
Lin Ruohuai feigned surprise: “Assistant Lin, have you been waiting for me? I thought you were going to abandon me tonight.”
There was a hint of “Green Tea” manipulation in his voice.
Xie Yusheng looked over.
Assistant Lin’s fingertips trembled for a rare moment: “Mr. Lin, you must be joking. Mr. Shen would never allow you to spend the night outside.”
Lin Ruohuai curled his lip: “He said that?”
“Yes, I recorded it. Do you want to come and listen?”
“Wait for me.”
Xie Yusheng stood there with his hands in his pockets, acting cool. He glanced at him: “Let’s go. Does Shen Qi still have to coax you back?”
“No way, don’t talk nonsense. This is called dispelling his doubts.” Lin Ruohuai unconsciously scratched his palm. “I didn’t come over voluntarily.”
Xie Yusheng watched his back as he went downstairs. After a moment of silence, he said, “Xiao Huai, you can just tell him directly. We were fake from the start anyway.”
Lin Ruohuai, who was putting on his shoes, almost face-planted: “What about Shen Qingyi’s side?”
What about my money?
Can this plot not continue?
Will I still have a happy ending? It’s better to be safe.
Xie Yusheng had given up, exuding a decadent aura: “Whatever. If he doesn’t like me anymore, what can I do?”
A glimmer of light flashed in Lin Ruohuai’s pale pupils, like bamboo shoots after rain—the fresh air after a wash, refreshing to the core. He said softly, “Don’t be discouraged, bro.”
Xie Yusheng was confused by his comfort. After all, Lin Ruohuai’s mouth usually itched if he didn’t snap at him a few times. The change seemed to have started when the salary structure was proposed.
Xie Yusheng repeated something he had said back at CAW: “Just behave yourself. Shen Qi is not someone to be trifled with.”
Lin Ruohuai instinctively became protective—Shen Qi was currently his biggest benefactor: “Don’t talk about him like that. You look like you’re jealous; even your facial features have changed.”
“…”
As soon as Lin Ruohuai stepped out, he saw Assistant Lin. This time, he had parked the car directly at the entrance and was exchanging pleasantries with Xie’s mother. Lin Ruohuai sat in the back and suddenly asked, “Where’s the recording? Let me hear it.”
There was a recording, but it was mostly Assistant Lin talking. Shen Qi’s part was just a single “Mn” that sounded like a puff of air.
“Is there nothing else? For example, Mr. Shen compulsively ordering you to tie me up and bring me back.” As it turned out, that plot point didn’t exist. Shen Qi had incredible endurance.
“Mr. Lin, although the money comes fast, I am a decent man doing a decent job.”
Lin Ruohuai lost his temper: “Oh.”
Assistant Lin instinctively glanced at him. He was expressionless, but his eyes conveyed a sense of confusion. He made a mental note: Mr. Lin likes to be forced. Tell Mr. Shen later.
They returned to the manor just as darkness fell. From a distance, the massive building was hidden in the forest, its lights ethereal—like a lonely castle in the dark.
Lin Ruohuai got out of the car and followed the guided path of the streetlights. He pushed the door open and went inside. The living room hall was brightly lit—a rarity. In all the days he had lived here, this was the first time he felt a lack of fear. The silence was being slowly dispelled.
Lin Ruohuai was dressed lightly today. His stylish top had ribbons on the sleeves that swayed as he walked. The silver chain wrapped around his wrist had been chosen for him by Shen Qi before he went out; it shimmered with fine light.
In the top-floor area, Lin Ruohuai continued to search room by room. Shen Qi wasn’t here, and he wasn’t there either.
As it turned out, Shen Qi was in the tea room practicing calligraphy.
Lin Ruohuai poked his head in from the doorway. He didn’t make a sound to disturb him, walking quietly to his side. He disrupted the ethereal incense, which was now mixed with the scent of someone who had been out “fooling around.”
Practicing large characters could calm the mind, though in Lin Ruohuai’s eyes, that was something only old people did.
Only after entering did he realize that Shen Qi wasn’t dressed as strictly and abstinently as usual. He had changed into loungewear with an open collar, the soft light falling on his collarbone.
A scent of ink and sandalwood lingered around him, used to suppress certain emotions.
Shen Qi put down the brush: “You’re back late.”
“There was a traffic jam.” Lin Ruohuai wanted to meet his eyes, but since Shen Qi was sitting, their eye levels were unequal. One was high and one was low, yet the one looking up somehow felt like he was looking down.
Shen Qi’s pupils were pitch black; the light couldn’t penetrate them: “You are indeed back late.”
Lin Ruohuai was suddenly broken into a sweat by the punitive look in the man’s eyes. He abruptly squatted down: “I want to learn.”
Shen Qi looked at him, so close at hand. The tight gloom in his gaze dissipated slightly: “Learn what?”
“Learn to write large characters.” Lin Ruohuai leaned in to sniff—it was fragrant, the scent of a man of culture. “Mr. Shen, you’re so amazing. You can do everything. I want to learn it all. Can you teach me?”
There was a definite hint of acting spoiled.
He didn’t just speak; he also shifted slightly, brushing against the back of Shen Qi’s hand.
Lin Ruohuai flinched as if burned: “Why is your hand sometimes icy and sometimes very hot?”
Shen Qi’s head lowered. This time, it was a true “looking down from above,” but the suffocating feeling was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a meaningful, gentle, and probing gaze.
“It’s hot when you touch me, and cold when you don’t.”
Lin Ruohuai: “…”
That makes it sound like I can control his body temperature.
Lin Ruohuai sat on his haunches, tucking his hands against his stomach: “Then I’ll touch you less from now on. It feels like a fever when I touch you.”
Shen Qi said calmly: “When it’s cold, it’s the temperature of a dead person.”
Lin Ruohuai froze for a moment, then reached out to hold the man’s large hand with both of his: “Then I’ll touch you more. Don’t talk about dying; it’s bad luck. Don’t say that in the future.”
The stagnant heart skipped a beat, as if a giant stone had been thrown into a frozen lake, causing a violent explosion that shattered the ice. It disrupted the calm bottom of the lake, releasing a deeply buried, sleeping monster.
Lin Ruohuai’s words were sweet—not the empty, superficial kind of praise and concern, but a sincerity that permeated the heart. It felt real and deeply personal.
Shen Qi’s long, introverted eyes narrowed slightly, his eyelashes lowered. Under the light, the silhouette of his features was like a painting.
Lin Ruohuai’s heart raced. He stared unblinkingly, unwilling to look away for even a fraction of a second.
Shen Qi pulled his hand back: “What are you looking at? Has a ‘red apricot’ sprouted on my face?” (Note: “Red apricot leaning over the wall” is an idiom for an unfaithful spouse/attraction.)
Lin Ruohuai thought to himself, Not really, you’re better looking than a red apricot.
Wait, why a red apricot?
Lin Ruohuai’s mind suddenly went blank. His legs were sore from squatting, and his center of gravity shifted out of control as he started to fall backward. His arm was suddenly gripped tightly, and using that force, he was lifted and placed onto the chair.
He had always known that Shen Qi wasn’t actually weak. His temperature became scalding when touched, and his bones were full of strength. Only now, being held, did it feel real. Like the time he was pulled out from under the covers—if he were being pinned down, he probably wouldn’t be able to struggle free.
Wait, why was he thinking that? It was very weird.
Lin Ruohuai nervously gripped his trousers, his palms rubbing against the fabric. He saw Shen Qi pick up the calligraphy brush again. Writing could calm a person’s mind; judging by the number of papers, Shen Qi had been writing since daytime.
Lin Ruohuai’s heart skipped a beat for a few seconds. He poked his head out from under Shen Qi’s arm and asked dryly: “Were you worried about me? Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”
Shen Qi wrote calmly: “No.”
“What if I hadn’t come back tonight?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t stay.”
Yes, yes, you didn’t say I couldn’t, yet you’ve been writing all day to calm your mind.
Lin Ruohuai stared at his hand with his beautiful eyes: “I went to Xie Yusheng’s room.”
Shen Qi’s grip tightened, his knuckles turning white: “I don’t want to know.”
Lin Ruohuai continued on his own: “I did chat with him about a few things. Do you want to know?”
The ladder had been personally lowered; he could climb it or not.
Shen Qi was silent for a moment, his tone laced with the gloom of this morning’s rain: “Are you testing me? If I really wanted to know, I wouldn’t need you. I am perfectly capable…”
Lin Ruohuai rubbed his fingers, rested his chin on his hand, and tilted his head to look at him: “I want to sleep in your room tonight and tell you everything slowly.”
Shen Qi didn’t even think before saying: “Okay.”