Pushing open the meeting room door, Zhuang Yuhua was struck dumb with astonishment. What on earth were these two doing? Playing international chess?!
On such a wonderful evening, they were playing chess?!
What about the stomach illness? Aside from his face being a bit pale, where was there any sign of illness? And even that paleness was mostly thanks to the cold, white fluorescent lights.
Where were the warm embrace, the attentive care, and the intimate whispers he had imagined?!
Qi Lin’s displeasure was written all over his face, his jaw clenched tight: “I thought the young master had been sent off to Antarctica.”
Zhou Ze ignored him, looking gently at Zhuang Yuhua, tossing aside the important documents without even glancing at them: “You must be tired from driving for so long. Go rest in my office for a bit; I’ll be right over.”
Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable under that fixed stare, Zhuang Yuhua waved his hand: “You two chat, I’m off.”
Qi Lin’s face grew even darker.
999 excitedly reported: “Protagonist Gong’s romance progress +5, hostility value +5, keep up the good work, Host!”
Saying he wanted to leave, the man turned around, had the secretary lead the way, and slipped into Zhou Ze’s office.
He needed to check out the big boss’s preferences so he could leak them to the slow-witted protagonist gong. Otherwise, relying on that block of wood, who knew when he’d ever win the boss over.
He was still in a rush to get off work.
Xiao Lou broke out in layer after layer of cold sweat. He had never seen his boss look so amiable, respectfully treating this deity as he was guided into the office: “Young master, make yourself at home. Just call if you need anything.”
Zhuang Yuhua suddenly called him back: “Xiao Lou, has your boss eaten?”
“He should have eaten, I suppose. There are always biscuits in his office.”
Oh, no wonder. All his scheming had been in vain.
In his heart, Zhuang Yuhua bowed to the secretary; they were both minor cannon fodder, deeply aware of how tough life was here.
He wandered around, occasionally letting out an exclamation of praise: The big boss really had great taste.
The decoration was elegant, exquisite, grand, and dignified. Above all, it was impeccably clean and dust-free. The placement of the water cups was extremely deliberate, refined to the ultimate degree, matching his transcendent appearance, tsk, tsk, tsk.
Just as he was admiring the room, very light and slow footsteps suddenly sounded behind him. Zhuang Yuhua whipped around, accidentally knocking over a ceramic cup.
With a crisp sound, it shattered completely.
He hurriedly bent down to pick up the pieces, but Zhou Ze strode over, caught his wrist, and beat him to the cleanup: “Don’t move, be careful not to cut yourself. I’ll do it.”
Zhuang Yuhua’s body stiffened.
Up close, the red and swollen back of Zhou Ze’s hand caught his eye, looking all the more severe against the backdrop of the pristine white ceramic.
A sudden wave of guilt washed over him.
“Um, didn’t you put any medicine on that hand?”
Zhou Ze’s eyes lit up, looking at him with pleasant surprise, like a child waiting for praise: “No. Are you going to help me?”
Zhuang Yuhua instantly regretted it, realizing a single sentence had ruined his whole day’s work. He turned on his heel to leave: “Go find Qi Lin.”
Anxious, Zhou Ze abruptly stood up, but the world went black before his eyes, and he began to tip over. Seeing the shattered porcelain right beneath him, Zhuang Yuhua’s eyelid twitched, and he instinctively grabbed the man by the waist to steady him.
His hand brushed against icy-cold skin, and his own back was completely drenched in cold sweat.
He suddenly realized that this guy was bloody forcing himself through this!
“Where’s Qi Lin?” He hurried to go call for help, but his arm was caught, the grip wasn’t heavy, and the hand was even trembling.
Zhou Ze’s voice was faint, as if that sudden movement had exhausted his every last ounce of strength: “He left.”
Zhuang Yuhua roared internally: Protagonist Gong, you coward, running away so fast! What the hell! Are you blind?! Can’t you see your husband suffering?!
Dragging and supporting him half-weight, he moved Zhou Ze over to the sofa. The moment he sat down, Zhou Ze instinctively curled inward, pressing one hand tightly against his stomach while his other hand stubbornly hooked onto Zhuang Yuhua’s wrist.
He didn’t let go, even though his arm ached from strain.
Breaking out in a sweat of anxiety, Zhuang Yuhua turned to chase after Qi Lin, but a trembling figure suddenly pressed up against his back, arms tightly locking around his waist.
Zhou Ze’s voice trembled as his body uncontrollably slid downward: “Xiao Hua, don’t go.”
“No, I’m going to find Qi Lin for you!”
Zhou Ze was already losing the strength to stand; his legs went soft and gave out, throwing the majority of his weight onto Zhuang Yuhua while he clenched his teeth to keep from letting go.
“I don’t want him. I only want you.”
A landmine went off inside Zhuang Yuhua’s chest, and he frantically hammered the system: “What is going on?! Is it reasonable to say things like this to a cannon fodder character?!”
999 sounded helpless: “Host, it might be because your approach was too wild and OOC was too severe, causing a major plot collapse. Please set things right.”
“…” Zhuang Yuhua was speechless: It was all the curse of his own personal charm.
Since that was the case, he could only act up and do his absolute best to be unlikable.
Gritting his teeth, he gave the man a push. Hearing a muffled groan, too panicked to check if he’d bumped into anything, he bolted out the door, decisive, ruthless, and without a trace of mercy.
Zhou Ze watched that ruthless figure depart, his heart feeling as though it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, unable to catch his breath. His uncooperative organs seized the opportunity to push the pain to a new height, swallowing up all his strength.
He couldn’t even speak.
He could only hug his knees tighter, one hand pressing desperately onto his stomach as he curled into himself as much as possible, imagining himself as a blade of grass basking in the sunlight, just wild grass would do, as long as it wasn’t this cold.
Instead, what greeted him were steadily chilling limbs and heavy, ragged breathing.
Zhuang Yuhua bolted out of the office building, ran a full circle without finding anyone, and grabbed the dozing security guard by the collar: “Did someone just go out? Driving a car?”
Squinting, the guard gave a rough nod: “Just left. Some CEO type.”
Flipping through the logbook, Zhuang Yuhua grew more anxious by the second: “Why aren’t strangers required to sign in?!”
He irritably knocked on his own head: “999, do you have the protagonist gong’s number?”
999 offered a helpless prompt: “I’m a system, but I’m not omnipotent. Might the protagonist shou have his number in his phone?”
“Duh.” Zhuang Yuhua looked up to the heavens and sighed: “Then don’t I have to go right back in?!”
If he went back in, whether he’d managed to correct the plot was up in the air, but at least the protagonist gong’s scenes were about to be completely stolen by him.
“Call an ambulance,” 999 suggested.
“No,” Zhuang Yuhua blurted out. “He’s afraid of hospitals.”
Shocked, 999 popped a flurry of exclamation points into his mind: “Host, the system didn’t have this piece of information!”
Catching himself, Zhuang Yuhua realized that statement was off. He frantically searched his memory but couldn’t find a single trace of it, like a shooting star streaking past, gone in an instant.
Before he could dig deeper, a blaring alarm suddenly erupted in his mind:
Target has entered the corruption process; the world is beginning to collapse. Host, please handle this immediately.
Cursing under his breath, Zhuang Yuhua flew back upstairs, grabbed the door handle, and found it locked from the inside.
He hammered heavily against the door, rattling the corridor’s doors and windows with loud slaps: “Zhou Ze, open the door!”
Hearing that familiar voice, Zhou Ze was startled. He released his lower lip from his teeth and managed a faint smile, which split the cut on his lip. Fresh blood made his pale complexion look even more ghostly.
Stumbling, he tried to climb up from the floor, but his legs went weak, causing his knees to crash heavily against the ground and throwing his entire body off balance. Seizing the moment, his stomach launched an offensive, the pain instantly stripping him of his strength as he collapsed back onto the floor, gasping for air.
Shaking his aching palm, Zhuang Yuhua didn’t care about anything else. He backed up a few steps and slammed his foot against the door, sending a new wave of pain shooting through his sole.
This door was seriously freaking sturdy!
Retreating to the base of the wall, he gathered momentum, took a short run-up, and threw all his weight into a flying kick!
Suddenly, the door popped open!
He wanted to put on the brakes, but flying through the air made stopping impossible. With his own eyes, he watched himself boot the big boss right over, sending the man’s slender frame flying a few meters away!
Well, he was totally screwed, was he here to help the villain corruption arc along or what?
Just as he prepared himself for mission failure and evacuation from the small world, 999 chimed in with celebratory firework sound effects: “Host is brilliant and mighty, crisis averted.”
?!
With no time to dwell on it, he hurried over to lift Zhou Ze up, feeling the trembling beneath his hands and turning half cold with dread.
“I wasn’t being careful, where did I kick you, let me see.” He quickly reached for the shirt buttons, fumbling nervously and tearing them apart in a messy tangle before resorting to straight-up ripping the fabric.
The sound of tearing cloth made them both freeze, instantly halting Zhou Ze’s uncontrollable trembling.
Astonished, he looked at the person right before his eyes, slowly trying to relax his body as he rested his head against Zhuang Yuhua’s chest.
It actually felt a little better.
Unaware of Zhou Ze’s little maneuvers, Zhuang Yuhua stared at the bruises on the man’s abdomen and inwardly cursed himself for not being human. When he gave a gentle touch, Zhou Ze winced in pain, letting out a distressed gasp from deep in his throat.
“This looks pretty serious. We’re going to the hospital.”
As Zhuang Yuhua moved to pick him up, Zhou Ze looked utterly terrified, his face turning another shade of white, and violently shoved him by the shoulder.
With a loud thump, Zhou Ze lost his balance and crashed to the floor. Ignoring whatever hurt, he propped himself up, desperate to run away. But his bruised elbow joints couldn’t support his weight at all, and he began to tip over once more.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Zhuang Yuhua thrust an arm under his armpit, supporting his body, and let out a long sigh of relief in his heart: That was close!
“We’re not going, we’re not going, we won’t go.” Cradling the man back onto the sofa, he turned to look for ice.
Wait, no, there was also the stomach issue.
Ice for external injuries, heat for internal injuries, right?
Before he could even take a step away, his wrist was suddenly hooked. Zhou Ze’s eyes were filled with panic, and his voice was reduced to a trembling, breathless whisper: “Don’t go.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead, dampening most of his hair and plastering some strands across his brow, blocking his eyes. He blinked uncomfortably.
With a dry and hoarse throat, he unconsciously swallowed. His bobbing Adam’s apple was exceptionally prominent against his fair neck.
His torn shirt hung loosely around his waist, exposing a lean and well-defined torso. His collarbone trembled slightly with each breath, looking like a butterfly beating its wings.
Zhuang Yuhua’s heart skipped a beat.
“I’m not going. Where is your medicine?” Brushing the damp hair from the man’s eyes, he locked gazes with those watery eyes before quickly looking away, completely unaware of how gentle his own tone had been.
He couldn’t help muttering internally: Tsk, tsk, the protagonist gong is such a coward. If he only had a sharper eye, he could appreciate this kind of sickly, fragile beauty.
Half-believing him, Zhou Ze slowly loosened his grip, his trembling fingertips pointing toward the office desk before fixing his gaze unwaveringly on Zhuang Yuhua, terrified that he might abandon him.
“Pain relievers?” Zhuang Yuhua’s eyelid twitched. Holding the dwindling supply of pills, he hesitated over whether to feed them to him, but seeing the man drenched in cold sweat from pain made his heart soften.
He shook out a single pill and cradled the man against him. Impatiently, Zhou Ze licked the pill right off his palm, his tongue accidentally or intentionally brushing across the skin.
Zhuang Yuhua stiffened all over. Feeling the wetness on his palm, his brain short-circuited.
He roared at 999 in his mind: “Is this seduction?! Why would the protagonist pull a stunt like this on a cannon fodder character?! What is his game?!”
999 lowered its volume: “Don’t panic, Host. It might just be an accident.”
Calming down, Zhuang Yuhua watched Zhou Ze curl inward and inch away from him, convincing himself: Right, it really was an accident. Look, even he’s embarrassed.
Swallowing the pill whole, Zhou Ze’s sluggish brain slowly caught up to the fact that he’d actually licked Xiao Hua’s hand!
Anxiously peeking at Zhuang Yuhua’s expression, he prayed silently that the other man wouldn’t be angry. Seeing Zhuang Yuhua’s tightly furrowed brows made his heart wrench in panic, causing him to release the arm and instead nervously grab a tiny corner of fabric.
Please don’t think I’m disgusting.
Zhuang Yuhua drifted between waking and sleeping. The memories of the chaotic back-and-forth in between felt as though they’d been haphazardly wiped clean by an eraser, leaving behind only a few brief, flashing fragments.
The big boss looking sickly and delicate wasn’t half bad, that was his sole lingering impression.
Massaging his temples, he opened his eyes to meet Zhou Ze’s gentle smile, feeling somewhat at a loss: “You’re okay now?”
Zhou Ze smoothed down the tuft of hair sticking up on top of Zhuang Yuhua’s head, smiling even more tenderly as he tucked the blanket around him: “Thank you for your hard work last night. Rest a bit longer. I’m going to take a shower and hold a short meeting, and then we’ll go home together.”
A wave of peppermint scent washed over him. Rolling across the bed wrapped in the quilt, Zhuang Yuhua suddenly realized that at some point he had been moved into the lounge, hogging the entire bed so aggressively and exclusively that Zhou Ze was left sitting on the very edge.
Yet Zhou Ze didn’t look annoyed in the least; in fact, he looked quite pleased.
A whole day’s work wasted. No way!
Glancing at the unchanged system data, Zhuang Yuhua immediately furrowed his brow, putting on a look of utter disgust as if even looking at the man was painful: “Are you that idle? If you’ve got time, hurry up and go make money for my family. I’m going back myself.”
Zhou Ze paused briefly before offering a warm smile again: “The old man is coming back today. It’s best if we go back together so he can set his mind at ease.”
The old man? With the quilt pulled up to his chest, Zhuang Yuhua’s brain spun at lightning speed. Old Master Zhou, Zhou Qin, Zhou Ze’s adoptive father. Hypercritical and ruthless, he was a major catalyst for Zhou Ze’s corruption arc.
He needed to ease the tension between the two of them first; that block-headed protagonist gong needed more time.
Taking his silence as tacit agreement, Zhou Ze considerately adjusted the bedside lamp and quietly slipped into the bathroom.
The moment he left, Zhuang Yuhua made a beeline for the smartphone on the nightstand: “999, the passcode.”
“Your birthday.”
He unlocked it in a single motion, still finding it hard to believe: these two fake brothers with no blood relation actually had this close of a bond?
Finding “CEO Qi” in the contacts, he entered the number into his own phone and updated the contact name: Stupid Wooden Pig.
He quickly drafted and sent a text message: You’re pursuing Zhou Ze. I can help you.
A reply came back almost immediately: ?
Just then, the sound of water stopped. A gentle knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Zhou Ze’s mellow, jade-like voice filtered through the water vapor and thin door: “Xiao Hua, can you hand me my clothes?”
“Oh, sure.” Without thinking much of it, Zhuang Yuhua grabbed the neatly folded clothes from the foot of the bed.
Zhou Ze reached out a jade-like arm gleaming with crystal water droplets. His fingers were slender, his knuckles flushed pink from the heat, and that simple reaching gesture was enough to spark endless imagination.
Zhuang Yuhua’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly felt like this room desperately needed a humidifier.
He offered an awkward internal smile: The protagonist gong is eating damn well.
“Xiao Hua?” Zhou Ze asked in confusion.
Shoving the clothes directly into the hand, Zhuang Yuhua strode over to the window, turned his back to the bathroom, took a deep breath, and rapidly tapped out a message on his phone: Three days from now, meet me at the hot spring hotel.
Heh, heh, time to put this to good use.
After a long silence on the other end, a reply came through: Okay.