“Why did the junior rush out like that?” Xu Cheng stood at the door with his arms crossed, winking playfully as he let out a light tsk. “You didn’t bully someone again, did you?”
Lu Quan shot him a sidelong glance and set the envelope down on the nearby table. His voice was languid. “In your eyes, is that all I ever do—bully people?”
Xu Cheng spread his hands. “What else?”
A step behind, Qu Yizhou stepped into the hospital room. He lowered his head to check the name card by the bed. “Brother Lu, I just asked the doctor. He says you have to stay in the hospital tonight.”
Lu Quan frowned, his tone sour. “I want to be discharged.”
Qu Yizhou looked troubled. Xu Cheng cut in. “No can do. Grandpa Lu won’t let you.”
The young master Lu might ignore everyone else, but he still listened to Grandpa Lu—a little, at least.
It was getting late, so Qu Yizhou headed back to school first. Xu Cheng stayed behind.
He sat in a chair, peeling an apple. When he looked up, he saw Lu Quan’s cold expression. Testing the waters, he ventured, “Did that person reply to you?”
Lu Quan’s fingers twitched slightly. He dove right into chatting via the friend request.
【L】: Zhizhi, I got into a car accident. I’m lying here in the hospital all alone (looking pitiful)
【L】: Zhizhi, can you keep me company for a bit?
A minute ticked by with no reply.
He tossed a casual response to Xu Cheng. “She replied.”
Xu Cheng stammered, “So… did you add each other back as friends?”
Lu Quan furrowed his brow. “I haven’t coaxed her yet,” he said flatly.
Xu Cheng: “…”
His words were harsh, and his thoughts even more vicious.
“You’re really sure you weren’t scammed?”
Lu Quan: “No. She likes me. Are you trying to stir up trouble between us?”
Xu Cheng: “…”
So he was the wicked mother-in-law here, huh? This was just some lovers’ quarrel, was it?
He threw a mini tantrum.
But under Lu Quan’s utterly indifferent gaze, it fizzled out. He muttered, “Whatever, I don’t care anymore.”
The man in the hospital bed ignored him completely, staring down at his phone.
Xu Cheng: “…”
By the time Liang Zhixia returned to the dorm, it was past seven.
After paying Lu Quan back, a weight had lifted from his chest.
He sat in his chair, munching on a small bun while staring at the message on his phone.
L said he was hospitalized, but Liang Zhixia wasn’t entirely convinced.
Maybe it was just a minor injury, like Lu Quan’s.
Still—
Alone in the hospital?
He hesitated, then typed a reply.
【Zhizhi】: What about your family or friends? No one’s with you?
The response came almost instantly, as if the other side had been waiting.
【L】: No one’s here. I’m a little scared being hospitalized alone.
Liang Zhixia remembered when his grandparents had been sick in the hospital. He’d lain alone on that narrow cot, the sharp scent of disinfectant filling his nose, footsteps echoing in the corridor along with other patients’ coughs.
He hated that atmosphere.
Every time his grandparents fell asleep, he’d secretly listen to their breathing.
He was afraid.
The dorm’s harsh fluorescent light shone down on him from above. His long lashes trembled faintly, casting a shadow beneath his eyes.
After a long moment, he moved his fingers.
【Zhizhi】: Okay.
He paused, then sent another.
【Zhizhi】: But you can’t say stuff like that anymore!!!
【Zhizhi】: Angry Cat.jpg
On the hospital bed, a certain someone arched his brows slightly. His slender fingers typed slowly.
【L】: I was wrong last time. Can Zhizhi forgive me?
【L】: Bowing Cat.jpg
【Zhizhi】: No. When are you going to rest?
【L】: Not sleepy now. I want to chat more with Zhizhi. I miss you so much.
【Zhizhi】: …
Such a smooth talker, all honeyed words.
Were paid chat companions this competitive these days just to hook clients?
He set his phone down, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the shower.
He’d just stepped out, still dripping, when his phone started ringing.
The name on the screen caught him off guard.
“Hello, Aunt Wang.” He pressed his lips together, his long lashes fluttering. “Is something up?”
The middle-aged woman’s voice on the other end sounded weary but kind. “Xia Xia, about the money we lent you before—can you pay us back now?”
Liang Zhixia lowered his gaze. His slender fingers gripped the edge of the desk tightly, knuckles turning white.
“Auntie… didn’t we agree on four years to pay it back?”
Aunt Wang sighed. “Yes, we did. Back then, you borrowed it for the old folks’ medical bills, and we understood. But we’ve hit some trouble at home now. We need the money urgently.”
Liang Zhixia bit his lip, fingers fidgeting nonstop. He cleared his throat. “Okay. I’ll transfer some to you now, and figure out the rest soon.”
Aunt Wang knew it was a tough ask, but she had no choice.
“At latest, one month.”
After hanging up, the dorm fell deathly silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. He sat in the chair, his long fingers flexing and unflexing repeatedly. His stomach churned.
Back in his senior year of high school, Grandma had suddenly collapsed and been hospitalized. Tests revealed a growth inside her. He’d scraped together every penny from home, but it still wasn’t enough.
He’d wanted to drop out then, but next-door Aunt Wang had talked him out of it and lent him the money.
Grandma had passed in the end, but he’d always been grateful.
That summer, after working odd jobs, he’d kept only tuition and living expenses, sending the rest to her.
He checked his bank balance. After living expenses, he could send her everything left.
That still left twenty thousand short.
To scrape together twenty thousand in a month—it was incredibly hard for him.
His comics took too long to earn from. Suddenly, he thought of the part-time job at the coffee shop.
Conveniently, the class schedule for this semester had come out half an hour ago. Freshman courses were numerous, but evening classes were sparse.
He immediately messaged the boss on WeChat. The boss agreed readily.
But it still wasn’t enough.
He licked his parched lips. His gaze fell on the lit-up phone screen—Zhuzi’s video link from earlier that day.
Maybe he could… give it a try.
Steam lingered in the bathroom after his shower. He stared at himself in the mirror, cheeks faintly flushed.
The form-fitting qipao suited him perfectly. His legs were long and straight, glowing white under the light. The fabric cinched tightly at his waist—narrow enough for one hand to encircle.
He turned his back to the mirror and twisted slightly. His exposed neck was slender and pale, like a dancing silver chain.
He’d coiled the black wig atop his head, securing it with a hairpin. With his body angled just so, it traced a perfect curve.
And in the bag, he’d even found a folding fan—probably left by mistake.
The opened fan hid his face, revealing only a sliver of his smooth jawline. No one would recognize him.
He wedged the fan between his ring and middle fingers, gave the hairpin a slight shake, and snapped the photo.
This time, he double-checked it before posting online.
A brand-new video account: zero followers, zero fans.
After shedding the elaborate outfit, he knelt on the bed. His phone buzzed nonstop.
Had L messaged?
No.
It was the video he’d just posted—hundreds of likes in minutes.
He skimmed the platform rules. More traffic meant more money.
For newbies, the best shot was someone buying him traffic or hitting the leaderboard to push him to the front page.
But fat chance.
This path seemed… unviable.
He turned off his phone, closed his eyes, and curled up. Amid the soft hum of the smart AC, exhaustion claimed him.
He missed L’s incoming messages in the process.
His fine brows knitted faintly, betraying an uneasy sleep.
Liang Zhixia knew he was dreaming.
The white-haired elder sat in a rocking chair under the big tree. He perched on a small stool beside her, cradling half a watermelon in his hands.
He scooped out a chunk with a spoon and popped it in his mouth. So sweet.
“Grandma’s Xia Xia, you’ve been working too hard lately, haven’t you? You’ve gotten so thin.”
He drew a deep breath, holding back the tears welling in his eyes. His voice caught as he feigned cheer. “No, I’ve been doing great. My roommate’s awesome—he covered my dorm fees. I made two new friends, and all my teachers and classmates like me.”
He felt a rough hand gently stroke his hair. Blinking, he nuzzled into her palm.
“Grandma, I just miss you all a little.”
“Then Grandma will sing you the lullaby you loved as a kid, okay?”
Her voice was soft and kindly, brimming with endless tenderness.
He heard his own choked sob break free.
“Okay.”
Meanwhile, at the hospital.
Xu Cheng perked up his ears, listening to the restless tossing on the bed. He sighed. “Didn’t that girl agree to talk to you?”
A pillow hurtled violently his way in response.
Better keep quiet.
Lu Quan stared darkly at the messages he’d sent. Half an hour, and still no reply from Zhizhi.
His fingers shifted. He switched to his photo album, his heavy gaze landing on that short skirt.
Zhizhi in a skirt looked stunning.
Too bad there were only two photos.
If Zhizhi wore the skirt he’d bought, and he tore it off himself…
The thought sent a thrill through Lu Quan. A wicked smile curled his lips as his finger accidentally tapped a push notification.
It was a suggestive video, though the teasing wasn’t particularly professional.
He had just been about to tap “not interested” when his gaze froze.
The person in the video wore a form-fitting cheongsam that hugged perfect curves. They were breathtakingly beautiful.
His eyes locked onto the inner side of the person’s ring finger—the exact same spot, the identical shape and size.
And the legs that peeked out so casually.
This was his Zhizhi Baby.
He glanced at the upload time on instinct, anger bubbling up until he let out a bitter laugh. There was time to post something like this, but no time to reply to his messages?
The like count had stalled at a thousand. After a bit of fumbling around, he quickly grasped how the app worked.
He registered an account in a flash, recharged, and started showering the stream with gifts.
He’d barely dropped two thousand when the app blocked him—the little assistant popped up to explain that new accounts had spending limits.
“……”
He tsked under his breath, brow furrowing as he followed the prompts to knock out the app’s daily tasks and ramp up his account’s activity.
Then his following count ticked from zero to one.
And he promptly disabled anyone else from following him.
The little assistant chimed in that he’d rocketed to the top of the streamer’s fan leaderboard and could now start a private chat.
He arched a brow. Who knew throwing cash at his baby came with perks like this?
Holding back the urge surging through him, he played it “cool” and sent just a single message.
【Can we be friends?】
