Chapter 50
With the rewiring of the homestay units almost complete, Murong Cheng had a new idea.
Their homestay business relied heavily on peak tourist seasons, and the decor was outdated. Since the fire safety inspection would take time, he decided to renovate, incorporating smart home technology.
Murong Yan, of course, supported his idea.
“Do whatever you want. I’ll cover the costs.”
Murong Cheng initially refused. “Yan-ge, it’s my family’s homestay. I can’t let you pay.”
Murong Yan frowned playfully. “Ah Cheng, must you be so formal? I’m staying at your grandmother’s house rent-free. Consider this my rent payment.”
Murong Cheng still shook his head. “Smart home systems are expensive. You haven’t been here long. I can’t charge you that much rent.”
Murong Yan took his hand. “Then consider it an advance on the betrothal gifts.”
“No way, Murong Yan! I haven’t agreed to marry you!” Murong Cheng protested, pulling his hand away.
Murong Yan pulled him into a hug. “Didn’t you say you wanted to be with me forever?”
Murong Cheng hesitated. “I did, but that’s not the same thing…”
Murong Yan: “This isn’t a significant amount for me. And besides, do you have the funds for this?”
That was a valid point.
Murong Cheng licked his lips, embarrassed.
He was unemployed, with no income, relying on his parents for food and shelter, staying at his grandmother’s house rent-free, and Murong Yan covered all his other expenses.
Murong Yan: “Your family’s homestay is still closed. They have no income. Don’t add to their worries.”
Murong Cheng finally relented. “Fine, consider it a loan. No, an investment. I’ll repay you when the homestay starts making a profit.”
Murong Yan smiled. “Okay.”
Transforming the entire homestay into a smart home was a major undertaking. He decided to start with a single one-bedroom unit as a trial. He told his parents that the rewiring had damaged the walls and he wanted to renovate, promising increased profits. They agreed, seeing it as a learning opportunity for him.
Having gained valuable insights from the international forum, he decided to design the smart home system himself, incorporating all the convenient features he had learned about.
To avoid waiting until the renovations were complete to repay Murong Yan, he started livestreaming his progress, attracting viewers interested in smart home technology and crowdfunding the project.
Hearing about his plans, Chi Yu offered his artistic expertise, helping with the interior design and layout. With two attractive hosts, the livestream quickly gained popularity, exceeding ten thousand followers in just a few days.
He mostly focused on his work during the livestreams: designing, drawing blueprints, and researching. Initially, the livestream was more of a way to keep himself accountable, but his viewers seemed to enjoy watching him work, the comments section filled with encouraging messages like “You’re working so hard!”, “You’re so talented!”, and “I want to book your homestay!” He realized, surprisingly, that he had a knack for livestreaming, despite his earlier struggles with marketing at Guangyu.
After two weeks, he had a preliminary design for the smart home system, and his livestream had a steady stream of viewers and donations, enough to cover his daily expenses, and even Murong Yan’s.
Their roles had reversed. He used to wait for Murong Yan to come home from work. Now, Murong Yan worked from home, while he spent his days at the homestay, livestreaming the renovation process. Murong Yan waited for him at the dinner table every night.
This shift felt both novel and empowering. His promise to stand behind Murong Yan seemed within reach.
With success so close, he became even more driven, extending his livestreaming hours.
One evening, after Chi Yu, who had been helping him refine the design, left for dinner, he told his viewers he would be ending the stream soon, then decided to continue researching.
Creating a partially smart home with a few automated features was easy. The challenge was integrating everything into a unified system.
The smart home devices he had chosen were from different brands, and connecting them was proving to be a problem.
Engrossed in his research, he didn’t notice the messages on his phone until he heard a knock on the door.
Assuming it was Chi Yu, he told his viewers he would be right back and went to open the door.
He was surprised to see Murong Yan standing there, holding takeout containers.
“Yan-ge, what are you doing here?” he asked, surprised and delighted.
“Providing logistical support,” Murong Yan said, walking past him and into the room, passing the still-active livestream camera, and placing the food on the coffee table. “Let’s eat first.”
He sat down on the sofa, his back to the camera, perfectly hidden from view.
But the livestream also captured audio.
The comments section exploded.
[Who was that?! Is that the boyfriend?]
[The one who helped with the design looked more like the boyfriend.]
[You guys don’t get it. That was clearly a girl.]
[I didn’t see his face, but he sounded hot!]
[His voice is so dreamy! I want to see what he looks like!]
“Okay,” Murong Cheng nodded, oblivious to the livestream, and joined him at the coffee table.
[I bet a fortune that’s the boyfriend! The host’s voice changed! So shy and sweet!]
[Seconded.]
[+10086]
He took the chopsticks Murong Yan offered and then reached for his phone.
“Huh?” he frowned.
Murong Yan looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
Murong Cheng: “Where’s my phone? I… oh no! The livestream is still on!”
His heart sank. He rushed back to his workstation. The comments were flying by too fast to read, but he saw the word “boyfriend” repeatedly. He blushed, his face burning.
The comments intensified.
[It’s the boyfriend! He’s blushing!]
[Busted! If he hadn’t noticed, we might have heard something R-rated. Winking emoji]
He quickly ended the livestream, then closed and reopened the app, just to be sure.
“Did they see you?” he asked Murong Yan, finally relaxing.
Murong Yan’s expression was unreadable. “Didn’t we agree to go public?”
Murong Cheng’s lips tightened. “Yes, but…”
Murong Yan raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Murong Cheng’s expression turned serious. “You’re a public figure. I don’t want to rely on your fame. I want to do this on my own.”
Murong Yan looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Is the livestream off now?”
Murong Cheng: “Yes, why?”
Murong Yan leaned in, his hand cupping the back of his neck, and kissed him softly. The familiar scent of his cologne, the warmth of his lips, made Murong Cheng melt against him.
“So I can kiss you now, right?” Murong Yan asked, pulling away slightly, a smile playing on his lips.
Murong Cheng nodded dreamily, his face burning.
Murong Yan gently wiped a stray strand of hair from his forehead, picked up his chopsticks, and placed a piece of sweet and sour pork in his bowl.
“Here, eat.”
Chapter 51
After a satisfying meal, Murong Cheng stretched contentedly.
Murong Yan cleared the table and packed the leftovers.
“Going home together?”
Murong Cheng glanced at his laptop, hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.” He closed his laptop, turned off the power, and reached for Murong Yan’s hand.
“Let’s go.”
“Are you tired lately? Livestreaming for so long every day,” Murong Yan asked as they walked downstairs, his knuckles brushing against the old-fashioned sound-activated light switch.
Murong Cheng shook his head. “I’m fine. You work long hours too.”
Whenever he had returned to the apartment during the day, Murong Yan had been working at his desk, his workload seemingly unchanged despite no longer being the CEO of Guangyu.
“That’s why I’m worried,” Murong Yan said with a smile.
It took Murong Cheng a moment to understand the implication.
He looked up, his eyes softening. “Yan-ge, you’re really tired, aren’t you?”
Murong Yan shook his head. “I’m used to it.”
Murong Cheng let go of his hand and hugged his arm instead.
Murong Yan glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”
Murong Cheng tightened his grip, his voice muffled. “I’m worried about you.”
Murong Yan chuckled. “Silly.”
They stepped out of the dimly lit building, the cool night air a welcome relief.
“Your mother called me today,” Murong Yan said.
“My mom?” Murong Cheng was surprised.
Murong Yan: “Yes.”
Murong Cheng: “Why didn’t she call me? What did she want?”
Murong Yan: “Just checking in, asking how we were doing. I think she misses you.”
Although his parents’ apartment was just a short drive away, he had been so busy with the renovations and livestreaming that he hadn’t had time to visit or even call them.
He looked at Murong Yan. “Are you free tomorrow? I want to go home.”
Murong Yan would probably return to A City soon. Once he left H City, he would only see his parents during long holidays.
The renovations weren’t urgent, still in the design phase. And the livestream, although losing a day might impact his viewership, family was more important. Livestreaming, like any career, was a marathon, not a sprint. He had been pushing himself too hard lately, extending his streaming hours excessively. He needed to find a sustainable pace.
Murong Yan nodded. “Okay.”
Murong Cheng: “Let’s go to the morning market tomorrow. I want to make five-color zongzi.”
Making colorful zongzi in early summer, a local tradition symbolizing health and good fortune, was something he used to do with his grandmother.
Murong Yan nodded again, squeezing his hand.
He posted a notice on his social media, announcing a one-day break from his livestream, and then went to bed early. The next morning, he woke up to his alarm and went to the morning market with Murong Yan.
Five-color zongzi, as the name suggested, came in five colors: red, orange, yellow, green, and blue, made by dyeing glutinous rice with roselle, sappanwood, yellow flower, gardenia, and butterfly pea flowers, respectively, and then wrapping them with various fillings.
Glutinous rice, bamboo leaves, and twine were readily available at any supermarket, but the flowers for dyeing were best found at the morning market.
With the zongzi-making season approaching, numerous vendors sold these colorful flowers. They easily found everything they needed. They also bought fresh seafood for lunch.
Loaded with groceries, they returned to his parents’ apartment and rang the doorbell. His parents should have just finished breakfast and were probably getting ready for their morning walk.
Murong Maohua opened the door, already wearing his sneakers. Xing Li, also dressed to go out, emerged from the bedroom.
“Xiao Cheng? What are you doing here? We were just about to leave!”
“Mom and Dad, Yan-ge and I bought some ingredients for five-color zongzi,” Murong Cheng said, placing the bags on the floor. “The seafood at the market was fresh, so we bought some fish too. You two go for your walk. We’ll prepare lunch.”
Xing Li exchanged a look with her husband. “Maohua, should we stay?”
Murong Cheng: “No, go ahead. Yan-ge and I can handle this.”
Xing Li: “Are you sure you two can manage?”
Murong Cheng: “Yan-ge is a great cook. You and Dad can take your time, maybe go shopping or something. We’ll have a delicious lunch ready for you.”
Xing Li looked at Murong Yan skeptically. Her son might be able to handle the zongzi, but cooking seafood was more complicated. Murong Yan, however, seemed capable. He smiled reassuringly, and she finally agreed, leaving with her husband.
“My parents go for a walk every morning at this time. The morning sun is good for calcium absorption, and it’s not too hot yet,” Murong Cheng explained to Murong Yan after his parents left.
Murong Yan nodded. “Healthy habit.”
Murong Cheng: “We can do this too when we retire. Cook, eat, go for walks. Sounds relaxing.”
Murong Yan, unpacking the groceries, looked up at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Already thinking about growing old with me?”
Murong Cheng blushed and looked away. “No, we were just talking about walks.”
Murong Yan stood up. “No? Didn’t you say you wanted to be with me forever?”
“Did I? I don’t remember,” Murong Cheng said playfully, a smile playing on his lips.
“Don’t remember? Let me refresh your memory,” Murong Yan said, stepping closer.
Murong Cheng quickly backed away, pointing at his hands. “You just touched raw fish. Don’t touch me.”
Murong Yan: “Scared?”
Murong Cheng took another step back, his actions a clear answer.
“That was my right hand,” Murong Yan said, hiding his right hand behind his back and cornering Murong Cheng against the wall.
He lifted his left hand, cupping Murong Cheng’s chin, and gently kissed his lips.
“Mmm…” Murong Cheng didn’t resist, melting into the kiss, his hand gripping Murong Yan’s shirt.
Murong Yan pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against his ear. “Little one, you can’t go back on your word. Promises must be kept.”
