Chapter 50 Part 2

The two lay facing each other.

Slowly, Qian Xingzhi reached out and brushed Shen Li’s stray hairs behind his ear.

“Got it.”

Qian Xingzhi understood Shen Li’s requests clearly and agreed without objection.

Shen Li hadn’t expected zero pushback or haggling. He’d agreed so readily.

“…So,” Shen Li said, unsure what else to add. He met Qian Xingzhi’s eyes fairly. “Any requests from you?”

Qian Xingzhi’s deep eyes looked like a galaxy had fallen into them.

A faint crack seemed to split his stern features. His Adam’s apple jerked abruptly along the taut line of his throat, and in that mere half-inch quiver, a trace of that familiar puppy-like charm seeped out from beneath the hide of an alpha wolf.

0.01%.

But…

It was kind of cute.

Shen Li’s heart plummeted as if hooked by those sparkling eyes. In Qian Xingzhi’s gaze as he looked at him, there was a faint, humble plea:

“Can you call me ‘Xingzhi’ every day?”

Shen Li blinked in surprise.

Qian Xingzhi’s eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. With a touch of irritation, he added, “Twice a week works too. Three times if that’s too much.”

“…That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“Not for now.”

…

Shen Li didn’t fully understand Qian Xingzhi, but he knew his own heart was beating a little faster because of this ordinary yet peculiar request.

Even so, a long time seemed to pass—long enough for both of them to close their eyes—yet Shen Li was still hesitating over whether to say that “good night” Qian Xingzhi wanted to hear. Then Qian Xingzhi’s deep, magnetic voice broke the silence again:

“…Or you could use everyone’s full names except mine?”

It was like an addendum to the terms.

Shen Li opened his eyes again. Qian Xingzhi’s brows were faintly furrowed in irritation, though he showed no sign of opening his own eyes.

“Got it.”

Shen Li agreed readily.

Qian Xingzhi added, “Even if we break up later and you get with someone else, you still can’t call their name.”

Shen Li: …

Perhaps realizing he’d gone too far,

Qian Xingzhi rolled over and withdrew the statement in a cold tone: “Just kidding. Don’t take it seriously.”

Shen Li: .

Shen Li knew what Qian Xingzhi wanted to hear—and whether it was really a joke.

But right now… he truly couldn’t offer Qian Xingzhi any sweeter promises.

After all, the future…

was uncertain if they’d get back together.

What Shen Li could be sure of was that in this lifetime, he probably wouldn’t love anyone else the way he loved Qian Xingzhi.

“…Good night.”

Shen Li still didn’t say the words Qian Xingzhi longed for.

He only said good night.

That night, Shen Li dreamed of the little dog he and Qian Xingzhi had raised years ago, named Little Tongqian—a beautiful golden retriever. In the dream, Shen Li stroked Little Tongqian’s head, and the dog chased its tail in joyful circles. Before every outing, Little Tongqian had to rub all over him, covering him in that puppy scent, before letting him head to work.

Sometimes, when Shen Li came home smelling like police dogs, Little Tongqian would bark furiously at him. After the tantrum, the dog would sulk in dejection.

The vet said golden retrievers were highly social dogs, and a good mental state positively affected their health. Compared to Qian Xingzhi, the other owner, Little Tongqian clearly preferred Shen Li and needed more time with him.

So Shen Li made it a point… to shower at the station after handling the police dogs before daring to come home. He wouldn’t change out of work clothes if he’d been around dogs.

Later, as Shen Li grew too busy to come home often, he left Tongqian with Qian Xingzhi, letting the two “kindred spirits” hang out together.

…

Click.

A faint sound of the lock turning drifted from the door in the haze between sleep and waking.

Shen Li squinted toward it and saw Qian Xingzhi’s tall, lean figure slipping quietly out the door. The tension in Shen Li’s chest eased instantly upon recognizing him, transforming excessive vigilance and habit into a sense of security.

Shen Li thought no more of it, closed his eyes again, and slept deeply for a while longer.

When he woke next, it was already past eight in the morning.

With work scheduled for the morning, Shen Li hurried to wash up and get out of bed. To his surprise, Qian Xingzhi hadn’t returned since leaving at five.

Shen Li headed downstairs but hadn’t reached the bottom when the old wooden stairs creaked softly in the morning light. The rich aroma of seafood congee wafted from the kitchen.

Shen Li’s hand trembled slightly on the railing. This scent was just like that snowy night years ago—Qian Xingzhi bursting into their cramped rental, chilled to the bone, pulling a box of warm congee from his coat. All because Shen Li had casually mentioned during evening self-study that he was craving Auntie Wu’s porridge.

Qian Xingzhi had lied about a teacher needing him, skipped two classes, braved the wind and snow across half of Jiang City, and kept the congee warm against his body until he got back.

And now…

There stood Qian Xingzhi in an apron, fussing at the dining table, portioning out no fewer than eight servings.

Eight sets of blue-and-white porcelain tableware gleamed on the table, morning light filtering through gauzy curtains across the glaze. The tall man, back turned to him, carefully arranged soft-boiled eggs on blue-glazed plates. Once each egg was placed, he ladled half a bowl of hot congee for himself, tasted the seasoning, and then filled another bowl.

Li Weiwei and Kris, dressed and made up for the magazine shoot, stood by the table watching Qian Xingzhi cook.

Li Weiwei wore only light makeup today, leaning casually against the doorframe in high spirits. Watching his plating, she couldn’t help but chuckle and sigh:

“Whew, Mr. Qian, are you opening a breakfast joint?”

—She’d spotted the plastic bag from the seafood market.

Had Qian Xingzhi gone to the fresh seafood market at dawn just to make congee?

If she hadn’t investigated and witnessed just how overboard Shen Li and Qian Xingzhi could get over a decade ago, this scene might make her suspect there was some showboating in it—after all, he’d been in entertainment too long.

Kris leaned in for a sniff, waving away the steam wafting toward her eyes. “Smells amazing!”

“Is this for Teacher Shen?”

No cameras around now, so Li Weiwei asked freely, whatever came to mind.

Qian Xingzhi’s voice was cool: “No.”

“Hm?”

“Made extra. Doesn’t hurt to share with the director and crew too.”

With that, he turned expressionlessly back to the kitchen, scooped another ladle from the big pot on the small stove, and refilled the enamel pot.

As Shen Li descended the stairs into the kitchen, he watched motes of dust dance in the morning light on Qian Xingzhi’s hair. Surprised by the massive pot of congee, he blinked.

“…You.”

“Awake?”

They spoke at once, and Shen Li fell silent.

Qian Xingzhi’s gaze barely met his. After several seconds, he uttered a single word:

“Morning.”

Only then did Shen Li catch on—Qian Xingzhi was indeed holding back. No longer cooking just for him; he’d gone full generous mode.

On the other hand, Qian Xingzhi’s cold seemed better. The deliberate husky edge to his voice was gone, replaced by a normal, detached tone:

“I’ll check on the styling setup. Take your time.”

He was really getting into character.

“Mm.” Shen Li responded. Before he could thank him, Qian Xingzhi had vanished.

Shen Li sipped the congee slowly. The rich umami mingled with subtle saltiness, silky texture melting on the tongue. The rice’s tenderness blended perfectly with the thick broth—even if Auntie Wu herself made it, it couldn’t surpass this. Or rather, she might not match the taste of ten years ago so precisely.

Yet compared to being touched, Shen Li felt a strange sense of dislocation.

But if his stomach and heart were warming…

Did that mean…

He liked it a little?

While Qian Xingzhi handled styling for the couples’ magazine shoot, Shen Li distributed the congee to everyone who hadn’t eaten.

Half an hour later, with no sign of Qian Xingzhi, Cao Sheng came by to say this segment needed a short extra livestream—not too long.

Shen Li accepted, cooperating fully as the staff did his makeup and changed his outfit.

The makeup brush swept over the red at the corner of Shen Li’s eye. As he lowered his gaze to adjust the leather wrist guards, his Adam’s apple traced a sharp arc along his taut throat…

After the ordeal, Shen Li glanced in the mirror. The makeup felt too bold; he asked the artist if it could be toned down.

She hesitated. “Teacher Shen, this is already super subtle. Any lighter, and it won’t photograph well.”

“Fine,” Shen Li conceded easily, expressionless as he eyed his intricately patterned clothes. “What ancient costume character is this?”

“It’s a Flying Fish Robe!” the stylist said.

The robe’s python embroidery tapered sharply at the waist like a blade. Dark brocade cinched his prominent collarbones, pale skin gleaming coldly against the crimson collar—like half an inch of snow-white blade drawn from its sheath.

It was stunning, and the fit was perfect.

As Shen Li looked up, he caught the cameraman filming.

In the livestream frame, silver powder dusted Shen Li’s lashes like frosted knife edges piercing the mist.

His pale nail beds showed faint blue veins snaking into the collar, like white plum branches cracking ice, concealing a surging hot spring beneath.

Meanwhile.

The livestream barrage exploded:

[Originally I could be a proper scumbag too—it was being shy, honest, sincere, obedient, sensible, and loyal that ruined me [lewd] I declare!!! I stan Shen Li only now!!!]

[Regular internet surfing is too easy. How about we try “Spot Shen Li and Resist Kissing” challenge?]

[(Zoom in)(Zoom out)(Zoom in)(Zoom out)(Zoom in) Isn’t Shen Li way too gorgeous???]

[Ahhhhh can’t take it—why did Qian Xingzhi just show his face and dip to makeup? Wasn’t he clinging to his wife yesterday?]

[Cat Cat looks so pretty today aaa did he quit cold turkey?? How’s he holding back?! Qian Xingzhi I’m asking straight up! Are you peeking at your wife from some room?]

[Seems back to that restrained ice king vibe [chin rest][pondering]]

[[Sobbing] Tormented to insanity by this cold couple today—crying so hard my hands shake, even my veggie straws are scattered everywhere ▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼]