Shoutout to Kari for the commission!
Le Cheng didn’t hear what he said at the end at all. His head was filled with only one thought: I got bitten.
His lotus-white wrist was still held in Zhou Shirui’s hand, the slightly rough palm pressed against his delicate skin. The sensation was almost the same as when he had just been bitten.
“You…” Le Cheng stared at him with wide eyes. “Why did you bite me?”
Zhou Shirui’s reaction was extremely calm. “Mm, I bit you. What about it?”
He looked so righteous and composed that it gave Le Cheng the strange impression that being bitten was a perfectly normal thing.
“Okay…” Le Cheng’s brain was turning a little slowly. “Then are you still angry?”
Zhou Shirui didn’t release his hand. “Then do you still want to meet with Lin He?”
“I didn’t want to meet with Lin He…” Le Cheng instinctively followed his line of questioning. “No, that’s not right. I can’t just suddenly stop talking to him for no reason…”
Before he could finish, Zhou Shirui lifted his wrist toward his lips again, as if he were about to bite his fingertips.
Le Cheng shrank back a little in fear and immediately said, “I won’t hang out with him anymore! I won’t hang out with him!”
Only then did Zhou Shirui refrain from biting him.
Le Cheng pulled his hand back and decided that Zhou Shirui was incredibly petty. He probably really did hate Lin He, to the point that even seeing Le Cheng talk to him made him angry. He had never seen Zhou Shirui get angry at anyone else.
Le Cheng felt that Zhou Shirui wasn’t as mature as he appeared on the surface. This childish act of “claiming territory” was just like when he was in elementary school, not wanting his best friend to play with someone he disliked.
The bizarre contrast was unexpectedly adorable, and Le Cheng couldn’t help laughing.
Zhou Shirui looked at him, feeling an inexplicable itch in his heart. That bite just now was less a punishment than an expression of many indescribable, hidden desires. Now, looking at Le Cheng’s fair face, he suddenly felt unsatisfied.
He wanted to bite it too. But Le Cheng would probably cry if he got bitten, covering his face with his eyes red and watery, his lips pouting as he asked him what he was doing.
That strange, wicked heat seemed to burn upward along his tiny nerve endings with a crackling sensation. Zhou Shirui lowered his eyelashes and took two restrained, deep breaths, forcibly suppressing it.
He asked, “What’s wrong?”
Le Cheng touched the place where he had been bitten and shifted awkwardly. He felt that this habit of Zhou Shirui’s was not very good. How could you bite someone just because you were angry?
So he thought for a moment, carefully considering his wording, before saying earnestly, “Um… I think you shouldn’t have bitten my wrist just now.”
Zhou Shirui’s gaze moved from his face to his fair, pale wrist. The strange feeling he had barely managed to suppress rose again. After a pause, he asked in return, “Then where should I bite?”
“Should bite…” Le Cheng furrowed his delicate brows. “No, that’s not right. You shouldn’t bite people!”
“Zhou Shirui, ” Le Cheng tried to reason with him. “Biting people is bad.” He paused, then suddenly became suspicious. “You haven’t bitten anyone else before, right?”
Zhou Shirui: “No.”
That was good. Le Cheng relaxed. Just now, he had almost wondered whether Zhou Shirui had some strange habit of liking to gnaw on things.
“Anyway, you’re not allowed to bite my wrist.” Le Cheng actually couldn’t explain why he couldn’t bite it, but in that moment when Zhou Shirui bit down, his heart seemed to race for two seconds. It felt numb and tingly, and it was way too abnormal.
“Did you hear me?” Le Cheng poked him.
“Mm.” Zhou Shirui readily agreed, saying very calmly, “I won’t bite it today.”
Le Cheng didn’t notice anything wrong. He stood up and pulled Zhou Shirui to his feet. “Let’s go, let’s get something to eat.”
Zhou Shirui: “Mm.”
The evening breeze brushed against their cheeks as they went to the cafeteria.
It wasn’t mealtime, so there weren’t many people around. During the meal, Zhou Shirui received a phone call.
Le Cheng thought he would walk off to the side to take it, but Zhou Shirui didn’t avoid him.
“Mm. I understand,” Zhou Shirui said.
“I won’t forget.”
Le Cheng studied his expression. Zhou Shirui’s eyelashes were lowered slightly, his face completely expressionless. He looked cold, and it was obvious that he was in a bad mood.
Actually, Zhou Shirui rarely got upset.
At least in the past two months, Le Cheng had never seen him look like this.
Le Cheng stuffed a mouthful of meat into his mouth and chewed away. Zhou Shirui hung up the phone.
After hesitating for a moment, Le Cheng couldn’t help asking, “What happened? Who called you?”
Zhou Shirui’s hand paused as he picked up some food. “My dad.”
Le Cheng froze for a moment. “Oh…”
He thought about it. Since he had already asked, he might as well ask the whole thing. “Your dad… what did he call you about?”
Zhou Shirui said without much emotion, “He wants me to go back for a meal.”
Le Cheng frowned. He had read this novel, so naturally he knew what kind of person Zhou Shirui’s father was.
In the original novel, Zhou Shirui’s father didn’t like his mother, and because of that, he didn’t have much affection for Zhou Shirui either.
The relationship between father and son was terrible. Zhou Shirui had been beaten quite a lot when he was young. Zhou Pinghe believed that children became filial through strict discipline, while Zhou Shirui’s mother rarely came home and didn’t participate in raising him. So throughout his childhood, Zhou Pinghe could do whatever he wanted.
This situation only eased after Zhou Shirui became an adult, gained enough strength to stand up to him, started making his own money, and moved out of the old family home.
Le Cheng unconsciously frowned even more tightly. When he heard Zhou Shirui ask him what was wrong, he instinctively said, “Can’t you just not go?”
He remembered that in the original book, Zhou Pinghe had already married someone else long ago. It was only because Zhou Pinghe himself was unable to have children that he hadn’t had any. Zhou Shirui was going home for a meal, and although Le Cheng didn’t know what kind of meal it was, it definitely wouldn’t be pleasant.
Zhou Shirui was slightly taken aback. After a pause, he asked, “You don’t want me to go?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to…” Le Cheng obviously couldn’t say, I know your family’s story, so I don’t want you to go, because Zhou Shirui had never told him any of this himself.
Le Cheng didn’t want to bring up such unpleasant things on his own.
“I want you to stay with me.” Le Cheng came up with an excuse. “Can’t you just not go?”
Zhou Shirui’s Adam’s apple moved. “It’s a birthday banquet.”
A birthday banquet? Le Cheng thought for a moment. In the novel, the Zhou family was considered half an established wealthy family, except that Zhou Pinghe had managed the family poorly, and after divorcing his first wife, the family was no longer as prosperous as it once was. Even so, they still cared greatly about maintaining social connections.
After all, for a family like this, saving face was practically more important than life itself.
Le Cheng nodded. “Okay, then when are you going?”
Zhou Shirui: “Wednesday night, eight o’clock.”
After eating, they returned to the dormitory, and Le Cheng began working on his drawings again.
His life was extremely regular now: drawing, going out to “work” for the knitting club, and meeting Zhou Shirui for meals. But Zhou Shirui had been unusually free lately and had even taken the initiative to suggest going to the knitting club with him to crochet.
Le Cheng was extremely surprised by this, but after thinking about it carefully, Zhou Shirui was someone who liked buying stuffed animals anyway, so it wasn’t all that strange for him to suddenly become interested in knitting.
He confidently puffed out his chest and declared that once they went inside, he would definitely teach Zhou Shirui everything and have him graduate within two days.
But after learning the basic crochet techniques from Le Cheng at an incredibly fast speed, Zhou Shirui then learned the advanced version from Chu Yue. His graduation time was— half a day.
Le Cheng: “…………”
Being a teacher was completely devoid of any sense of accomplishment.
He sat beside Zhou Shirui, huffing and puffing as he watched his long fingers swiftly weave through the yarn, moving about three times faster than his own.
Although Le Cheng had already realized from watching Zhou Shirui type on a keyboard that he had incredibly fast hands, he hadn’t expected Zhou Shirui’s fingers to be this nimble as well.
So long! So nimble! And so fast!
Le Cheng felt completely crushed.
He couldn’t help bumping Zhou Shirui’s shoulder and saying quietly, “How are you crocheting so fast?”
“Don’t crochet so fast.” Le Cheng grumbled unhappily. “…It makes me look so stupid.”
Zhou Shirui’s fingers paused slightly. His gaze moved away from the yarn and landed on Le Cheng’s cheek. “Isn’t crocheting fast a good thing?”
Le Cheng said very unreasonably, “How can the student crochet faster than the teacher!”
Zhou Shirui let out a short laugh. “Then if I crochet faster, won’t you have to crochet less?”
Huh?
Le Cheng blinked lightly. This was indeed a path he had never considered.
So he stopped trying to slow Zhou Shirui down. In fact, under Zhou Shirui’s lead, the amount of work that originally would have taken several of them five days to finish was completed in just three days. After Zhou Shirui put everything down, he immediately pulled Le Cheng back with him.
Le Cheng said goodbye to everyone. When his gaze swept over Lin He, he barely managed to hold himself back and only gave him a slight nod.
There was no choice. Childish Zhou Shirui couldn’t stand seeing him talk to Lin He.
Zhou Shirui’s hand was wrapped around his wrist. Le Cheng felt that patch of skin was a little warm. He moved slightly, and suddenly heard Zhou Shirui say, “You don’t need to go to the knitting club anymore.”
“Huh?” Le Cheng was slightly stunned, then nodded. “Of course. You helped us so much. Originally, the few of us, plus the outside help we hired, would probably have needed to go for a week, but now that we finished the task ahead of schedule, we definitely don’t need to go anymore.”
He didn’t look up when he said this, so he didn’t notice the slight smile curling at the corners of Zhou Shirui’s lips.
“Mm.”
It wasn’t until just before going upstairs that Le Cheng noticed that Zhou Shirui had a cut on his index finger.
It wasn’t very deep. It was obvious that someone had casually wiped it, but it hadn’t been treated at all. It was probably from getting nicked by a utility knife just now.
Le Cheng frowned. He didn’t approve of such careless treatment of a wound. The weather had already started getting hot, and a utility-knife cut could easily become infected.
He pulled Zhou Shirui along to buy a bottle of iodine solution and some bandages. Downstairs in the dormitory building, he held Zhou Shirui’s hand and carefully disinfected it with a cotton swab, his movements very gentle and meticulous.
“Does it hurt?” Le Cheng asked.
Actually, it didn’t hurt. Perhaps because of his past experiences, Zhou Shirui had always had a very high tolerance for pain. But after remaining silent for a moment, he looked at Le Cheng’s eyes, which were shining like black obsidian, and nodded.
Then he saw Le Cheng think for a while before lowering his head and leaning closer to his finger, gently blowing on it.
The faint stream of air brushed over the wound, and also stirred his heart.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Le Cheng blew on it again, his tone childish, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, not knowing who he was saying it for. “The pain has already flown away.”
“Zhou Shirui, does it still hurt that much?”
Zhou Shirui: “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Seeing how cooperative he was, Le Cheng couldn’t help laughing twice. He deliberately asked, “Isn’t it amazing? I’m a magician with magical powers.”
Zhou Shirui asked, “The Rose Magician?”
Le Cheng hadn’t expected him to remember. “Mm, that’s right. Not only can I steal hearts, I can also steal away pain!”
Zhou Shirui gazed at him and didn’t speak for a moment.
He heard Le Cheng say, “Then if your wounds hurt in the future, just come find me.”
Once the wound was no longer damp, Le Cheng put a bandage on Zhou Shirui’s finger. He didn’t forget to remind him, “Remember to change it every day.”
Back at the dormitory, Le Cheng only enjoyed a couple of leisurely days before Xu Yuan called him over to fill in for someone.
The cultural festival had already begun rehearsals, but the originally scheduled host suddenly had something come up and couldn’t make it. Xu Yuan wanted Le Cheng to step in and help.
Le Cheng had absolutely no hosting experience. Xu Yuan assured him, “You only need to read the opening remarks, then wait until the performances are over and read the closing remarks. That’s it. It’s super easy, there’s no way it can stump you!”
Normally, for events like this, they would find broadcasting students with good looks to serve as hosts, but they were in a hurry now, so they could only have him fill in.
Since it was just a rehearsal, Le Cheng only needed to go up and run through it once. So after reading the opening remarks, he went back down and started playing around on his phone.
Zhou Shirui had already left the school and gone to the birthday banquet.
The last message was still Zhou Shirui asking him: [Has it started?]
[Orange: It started. I already finished reading the opening remarks. I think it went pretty well.]
[Orange: It wasn’t as hard as I imagined. Maybe because I didn’t have many lines hehe.]
[Orange: I suddenly feel like I’m actually pretty amazing!]
[Orange: line-drawing puppy hands-on-hips.jpg]
Zhou Shirui didn’t reply for quite a while, probably because he was busy. Le Cheng waited for a while before it was time for him to announce the program lineup. He and another girl took turns announcing the programs, usually with only one person going up at a time.
Le Cheng quickly finished reading his part. After coming offstage, he casually took a photo of the rehearsal and sent it to Zhou Shirui.
[Orange: Look, the lighting at our school is actually pretty good.]
[Orange: The dancing is so pretty too.]
[Orange: This comedy routine is killing me hahahaha, look at this.]
[Orange: Chu Yue from our club just went up to sing. I recorded a video for her. It sounds so good!]
[Orange: Zhou Shirui, there’s even an acrobatics performance!]
[Orange: Zhou Shirui, are you busy?]
[Orange: Zhou Shirui, are you bored?]
The luxuriously decorated hall was extremely bright. The light was cool, illuminating the night as brightly as daylight. Zhou Shirui was dressed in a perfectly tailored high-end custom suit, holding a glass of wine. While politely clinking glasses with the people who came over, he calmly lowered his eyes to look at his phone.
Le Cheng had sent him a whole bunch of rambling messages. Every single one was something he thought was fun, and he had sent all of them to Zhou Shirui. The entire screen was filled with green bubbles.
Zhou Shirui read through them one by one and replied.
[Client Senior Zhou: That’s amazing.]
[Client Senior Zhou: This one is interesting.]
[Client Senior Zhou: Are you tired?]
“Ding-dong, ”
[Orange: Not tired at all. It’s really fun!]
[Orange: Zhou Shirui, where are you attending the dinner? Are you coming back today?]
[Client Senior Zhou: I’m coming back.]
Le Cheng glanced at the location. After the banquet ended, Zhou Shirui should just barely be able to make it back before the school gates closed.
[Orange: Okay, then have you been drinking? Make sure you don’t drink too much.]
[Client Senior Zhou: Okay.]
[Client Senior Zhou: Have you eaten?]
[Orange: Not yet, I don’t have time right now.]
[Orange: Not talking anymore, it’s my turn again!]
After replying to the messages, Zhou Shirui felt someone suddenly pat him on the shoulder.
He turned his face and saw Zhou Pinghe.
Unlike the furious image he had presented over the phone, Zhou Pinghe was now wearing a silver-gray suit, his hair combed impeccably. Although he had put on some weight in middle age, one could still glimpse the elegance he must have possessed when he was young. He had a very amiable face, looking like the gentlest father in the world.
“How come you didn’t even tell Dad you were coming?” Zhou Pinghe said with a smile. “Your mom has been wanting to see you.”
Zhou Shirui subtly shifted to the side, leaving that hand awkwardly hanging in the air. He raised his eyes slightly and asked without much emotion, “Where is Auntie?”
Zhou Pinghe’s expression froze for an instant, but he suppressed it. “Your aunt is over there. Her friends came too. Today is her birthday. Shirui, go say a few words to her.”
Zhou Shirui nodded and walked straight away.
Faced with such an awkward scene, Zhou Pinghe really wanted to lose his temper, but in front of everyone, he was unwilling to discard his refined façade. Or perhaps he already knew that his anger could no longer shake the Zhou Shirui of today in the slightest. All he could do was take two large gulps of wine.
Halfway through the birthday banquet, the dining table was noisy. Zhou Shirui had already drunk many glasses of wine, but he had a good tolerance for alcohol and didn’t feel dizzy. He only felt his body temperature dropping.
Ever since Zhou Pinghe discovered his talent in computers, he had opposed him pursuing this path. From then on, Zhou Shirui had never taken another cent from his family. Only after slowly working his way up did he understand that connections, money, and power were all indispensable.
A birthday banquet was such a good opportunity for socializing. There was no way he wouldn’t come.
Zhou Shirui glanced at the clock. The hands had already moved to nearly ten. The nearby cake shops would close around ten.
Zhou Shirui thought that by the time he returned, Le Cheng should have already eaten. Perhaps an after-dinner dessert would make him happier.
He stood up, properly clinked glasses with everyone, then turned around and walked out without hesitation.
He had just stepped outside when Zhou Pinghe quickly chased after him.
“Zhou Shirui!” Zhou Pinghe shouted. “Stop right there! What are you going to do? Your aunt’s birthday party isn’t over yet! On her birthday, you’re deliberately making everyone unhappy. Do you even still have me, your dad, in your eyes? Do you even still consider this a family?”
Perhaps because he was concerned about saving face, Zhou Pinghe’s voice wasn’t very loud. Instead, he kept it low, which made him sound somewhat ridiculous.
Immediately afterward, his stepmother, the elegantly dressed and beautiful woman, also came out. When she saw Zhou Pinghe, she first gently patted his back to calm him down, then said, “Pinghe, don’t be angry. Shirui is busy too. He still has to go back to school. It’s fine, just let the child go back.”
Zhou Pinghe refused to let it go. “And you’re still speaking up for him! His wings have grown now, and he thinks he can ride on top of his old man! You only have one birthday a year, and he still has to put on that kind of attitude…”
“Alright, alright.” The beautiful woman was very gentle. “Don’t be angry. Shirui didn’t do it on purpose…”
It was actually a very fitting scene: a husband furious with rage, a gentle and understanding wife. Under his wife’s soothing, the husband’s blustering anger gradually returned to stagnant-water-like arrogance, as though he had recovered the masculine dignity he had been losing more and more with age.
Zhou Shirui quietly watched them, without the slightest ripple in his heart. He even felt like curling his lips into a smile.
Is a birthday really that important?
Is a birthday that comes once a year really that important?
People were simply this hypocritical. The exact same thing could happen, yet they would have completely opposite attitudes depending on who they were dealing with.
“Alright, Shirui,” the woman said. “There’s no grudge between father and son that lasts overnight. Apologize to your dad. Are you coming home tonight?”
Zhou Shirui raised his eyes and calmly asked her in return, “Which home?”
“Home…” The woman’s expression was awkward for a moment, but with her good upbringing, she quickly returned to normal. “Anywhere is fine. Your room at the old house has been cleaned very well. You can go back whenever you want.”
“Oh.” Zhou Shirui said, “Go back to your house.”
It was as though Zhou Pinghe had been stabbed in a sore spot. He instantly flew into a rage. “Zhou Shirui! How can you talk to your aunt like that!”
Zhou Shirui rubbed his fingertips. There was a slightly rough sensation. He remembered, it was the bandage Le Cheng had put on him before he left.
It was very childish in style. He didn’t know where Le Cheng had bought it, but it was covered with little hearts and line-drawn puppies, resembling Le Cheng’s cheeks.
“Dad.” Zhou Shirui slowly spoke. He even stepped forward and reached out to straighten Zhou Pinghe’s slightly wrinkled suit. “Don’t get so angry.”
“After all,” Zhou Shirui said in an even tone, looking directly at him, “you don’t want to hand the company over to me too soon, do you?”
Zhou Pinghe: “You!”
For the first time in many years, he finally saw his son’s eyes clearly again. The curve of his lips was straight, but those black eyes, just like his mother’s, were like a deep, frigid pool, staring downward at him. They resembled a cold, poisonous snake drawing in its sharpness, and a chill seemed to crawl up his spine, making his heart struggle to beat twice.
For a moment, he forgot how to speak, simply staring helplessly as Zhou Shirui walked away.
“If you’ve got the guts, don’t ever set foot in this house again!”
Zhou Shirui took a black umbrella. He wasn’t affected in the slightest. He went downstairs and glanced at the deep darkness of the night.
It was pouring rain.
It was raining again.
The weather was so stifling that it made it difficult to breathe. Zhou Shirui’s footsteps paused slightly.
This inevitably reminded him of countless rainy nights in the past, some good, some bad, some painful, some tingling. But in the end, his memory still settled on that night not long ago, when he had looked at Le Cheng.
Le Cheng’s pointed chin rested against the back of the sofa as he slept in a completely disheveled position. Zhou Shirui held the revised manuscript Le Cheng had handed him in his hand. Raindrops tapped lightly against the window, but the light inside was warm. The pale light outlined a ring of golden radiance around Le Cheng’s eyelashes. Zhou Shirui looked at nothing else. His gaze quietly rested on Le Cheng’s peaceful profile.
So warm. In the middle of a rainy night, yet it felt as though he were embracing the sun.
Zhou Shirui gazed at the curtain of rain and silently watched for a moment. People kept passing by beside him. It wasn’t quiet, yet it was as though an invisible barrier separated him from everything around him. All that reached his ears was the intermingled, lonely sound of the rain.
The rain was coming down so hard.
Without hesitating any longer, he opened his umbrella and was about to step into the darkness of night.
“Zhou Shirui.”
A voice suddenly sounded behind him. Zhou Shirui’s footsteps stopped. As though he were hearing things, he stood dazed for several seconds before turning around.
Le Cheng was holding a transparent umbrella, his bright eyes looking toward him. Just like before, he hurried forward.
“Why did you only come out now?” Le Cheng’s voice was soft, sounding almost like he was sweetly complaining. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”
I’ve been waiting for you for so long.
The space before his eyes seemed to suddenly twist, pulling him back to that rainy day when Le Cheng had first come to pick him up after class. His heart seemed to stop at that very moment. The howling wind rang in his ears, and he could no longer distinguish reality.
“How…” Zhou Shirui lowered his head, his voice seeming not to belong to him. “Why did you come?”
Le Cheng didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head. “Do you want a hug?”
“What?”
“Do you want a hug?” Le Cheng looked at him.
Zhou Shirui’s heart seemed to be squeezed tight. As the umbrella fell to the ground with a pat, a warm body pressed against him, an arm hooked around his neck, and his arms suddenly felt so full.
A faint fragrance lingered beneath his nose, unique to Le Cheng, like a brightly blooming orange. His heartbeat shook his chest until it hurt, and he heard himself stubbornly ask, “Why did you come?”
Le Cheng looked up. There actually wasn’t any special reason. He simply wanted to come. And by coincidence, he had seen Zhou Shirui looking toward the rainy night just then. There had been no particular expression on his face, just as usual, yet the surroundings had seemed to rapidly lose their color, as though they were grieving for someone.
“There’s no reason. It’s just…” Le Cheng looked at him and smiled brightly, his voice light and cheerful. “I was afraid you’d be sad walking alone at night.”
