Chapter 79 Part 1

When he realized that beneath the neighbor’s tall and intimidating exterior lurked a paper tiger with a good heart, Zhong Nian felt no psychological pressure at all.

He was also willing to extend kindness proactively to good people.

The beautiful pastries would absolutely not go to the bastard Husband he lived with day in and day out, but they could go to an unfamiliar good neighbor.

Zhong Nian had this clear-cut personality—he despised the wicked distinctly and yielded to the soft-hearted but not the hard-hearted. But if the other party was a bad sort, they wouldn’t get even a shred of good treatment from him.

Unless the person hadn’t reached the point of no return and was willing to admit their mistakes obediently.

“Want one?”

Seeing the neighbor freeze in place without moving, Zhong Nian pushed the pastry in his palm forward a bit more.

His curved round eyes formed cute crescent moons, and the elevator’s dim cold white light sparkled like stars in his deep blue eyes, tugging at the heartstrings of anyone who saw it.

Hidden behind his long hair, the man’s pitch-black pupils fixed on his face, as if bewitched by Medusa—turning to stone at a single glance, unblinking.

The man didn’t speak, and Zhong Nian didn’t mind. He continued to earnestly “recommend” the pastries he’d just received, raising his hand higher: “This one’s a rabbit. Very cute.”

The fingers extended right under his eyes were so beautiful they dazzled. The man’s attention naturally shifted.

The pastry was shaped like a rabbit hugging the moon, adorably chubby. But compared to the pastry, the palm cradling it was even more captivating.

The young man had a pair of exceedingly delicate hands—skin fine and smooth, fingers slender and long. Just looking at them evoked images of how soft and cloud-like they would feel to the touch.

Not a single callus; they were perfect works of art. No matter what they held, it was a pleasing sight.

But what if those hands caressed someone proactively…? What would that feel like for the one being touched?

“Ding!”

The elevator’s chime rang out like a hypnotist’s snap, jolting the one lost in delusion back to reality.

But in Zhong Nian’s eyes, the man before him had simply been too nervous and flustered to react.

Standing in the elevator forever wasn’t an option. Zhong Nian figured it was better to take the initiative rather than wait for a social anxiety case to accept, so he planned to just stuff it in.

The other man’s fists looked clenched tight, so Zhong Nian tucked the pastry into the spacious front pocket of his hoodie.

“There. I’m heading off first.”

After handing it over, Zhong Nian stepped out of the elevator, lest he make the man feel pressured.

He walked all the way to his door, fished out his Key, and opened it. Just as he was about to enter, his peripheral vision caught a massive figure lingering nearby, hesitating as if wrestling with something.

Zhong Nian thought he’d blocked the path and was making the socially anxious neighbor too scared to pass, so he hurried. But as he went to close the door, he heard some anxious footsteps and a very low voice.

“Wait… wait a second.”

Zhong Nian paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to look at the man who’d called out to him.

The man met his eyes and immediately ducked his head. One hand clutched the bag—maybe trash?—tightly, while the other was stuffed in his pocket, probably gripping the Little Pastries Zhong Nian had given him. He used these objects to ease his inner tension.

The man took a heavy breath in and out, each word squeezed from his throat with great courage: “I want to ask you a question.”

It was probably because he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time, but his voice was terribly hoarse, like it’d been scraped with sandpaper—rough and gravelly.

Zhong Nian released the doorknob, turned to face him, and said mildly, “Sure, go ahead.”

“You and Mo—” The man got stuck again, but this time it didn’t seem like nerves; he was probably trying hard to recall Mo Heng’s name but couldn’t, so he settled for the safe alternative. “You and Mr. Mo… what’s your relationship?”

“We’re spouses.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d explained this to someone, so Zhong Nian no longer felt the initial awkwardness. He accepted his in-game identity with composure.

For some reason, the man deflated upon hearing the answer. His broad shoulders slumped further as he muttered to himself very softly: “So he’s keeping you as a partner…”

Thanks to his excellent hearing, Zhong Nian caught it and asked, puzzled, “Is there a problem?”

“N-No, nothing. I’m just… a bit worried about you.”

Having broken the ice seemed to make it easier; the man’s speech flowed better, his voice louder, though he still didn’t dare lift his head to meet Zhong Nian’s eyes.

“Worried about me?”

Zhong Nian’s first reaction was that something was wrong with Mo Heng.

Why else would the neighbor worry about him?

“I heard it.” The man quickly peeked at him from behind his black hair, swallowed, and continued, “Two nights in a row, you were calling out.”

Zhong Nian’s eyes widened abruptly.

The man said, “Last night you cried really hard. For a long time, until 2:41:56 a.m. before it stopped.”

The man’s words carried heat, searing into Zhong Nian’s ears and turning his pale earlobes red.