Want some sweets?
Yu Bai immediately recalled the little girl from earlier. When they had gone foraging at the restaurant, she had sneaked a peek around the back kitchen before returning with sparkling eyes to rattle off dish names to him.
Hibiscus Crab, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, Camphor Tea Duck, Lotus Leaf Pork…
Tonight’s banquet overflowed with rare delicacies from land and sea, drawing from every major cuisine. Some of the names were so complex even elementary school kids couldn’t recite them fully—though everyone remembered just how intoxicating they smelled.
But there didn’t seem to be any purely sweet dishes.
Chinese cuisine tended toward complex flavors, like sweet-and-sour, sweet-and-salty, or fragrant spice. Pure single-note tastes were rare.
There would probably be fruit and desserts after the main courses, though.
That should be the kind of sweet Xie Wufang would like.
Still, this dinner wouldn’t wrap up anytime soon. Yu Bai didn’t want to make him wait that long.
Besides, Xie Wufang had only just woken up and likely hadn’t fully recovered his usual state. It would be better for him to stay in the room and rest a while longer, rather than joining what was sure to be an overly boisterous meal.
That group of family members Old Man Yuan had cursed as turtle bastards was bound to stir up some trouble.
With that thought, Yu Bai turned toward the door at once, planning to raid the kitchen for some desserts right away and feed the god who so rarely craved human food.
“You wait here for me. I’ll go right now—”
But he didn’t finish his words.
Just as the fluffy snow-white figure turned to leave, another voice rang out abruptly.
“Where are you going?”
The voice lacked its usual calm or curiosity. It was hoarse, carrying an unfamiliar chill, as if soaked in the frigid air drifting through the room.
Startled, Yu Bai halted and glanced back at the man on the bed, wondering if he’d misheard.
Was it an illusion from how cold the room was?
He paused in bewilderment before continuing, “I’m going to the kitchen to find you some sweets.”
Why did Xie Wufang’s tone sound like he didn’t want him to leave?
Yu Bai was utterly baffled.
If not the kitchen, where else was he supposed to find sweets?
At the same time, those surging gray-blue eyes fixed on him. In the dim room, they held an almost heart-stopping intensity, making Yu Bai think hazily of an ad he’d seen: a priceless blue sapphire resting quietly on black velvet.
The black velvet filled the entire frame.
With no lamp on in the bedroom, the night was thick and hazy.
A flash of realization cut through the confusion in his light-brown eyes.
Then a smile bloomed.
…Xie Wufang was afraid of the dark?!
Humans loved sweets and feared the dark.
Gods loved sweets now, so maybe they feared the dark too?
Yu Bai found the logic sound. He fought back his laughter, cleared his throat, and asked casually, “Should I turn on the light?”
The man shrouded in darkness replied promptly, “Yes.”
It felt just like his usual compliance.
Convinced he’d guessed right, Yu Bai walked to the door and flipped the switch for the overhead light.
With a crisp click, warm amber light flooded the bedroom.
Yu Bai blinked to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Once his vision steadied, he saw the familiar white shirt on the man in bed—and the other’s face, pale and weary.
He really hadn’t recovered fully yet.
Now with the lights on and the room bright, surely nothing would stop him from heading out?
Still fixated on feeding the weakened non-human who had made such a rare request, Yu Bai added, “Then I’ll head to the kitchen. I’ll be back soon—just a few minutes.”
The kitchen wasn’t far. Even without pre-made pastries or sweets, it always stocked fresh fruit. It wouldn’t take long.
Dinner was almost ready anyway, and he still needed to join Uncle Zhang’s family. No matter what, he had to hurry back.
But as he turned to leave again, Xie Wufang’s expression darkened under the lights. He didn’t stop him this time.
Instead, he said, “I’ll go with you.”
“…Huh?”
Surprised but concerned, Yu Bai asked, “Don’t you need more rest?”
Xie Wufang’s reply was curt, brooking no argument: “No need.”
Yu Bai dropped the persuasion, abandoned his solo errand, leaned against the doorframe to wait, and called back, “Alright, let’s go together.”
At the same time, a faint ripple of puzzlement stirred in his chest.
So, had Xie Wufang really been afraid of the dark earlier?
The being who had awakened from that rare slumber seemed different from his usual self.
Moments later, beneath the early summer night sky where cold winds raged, the two walked side by side through the ancient corridor, faint miscellaneous noises threading through the air around them.
Their footsteps—one light, one heavier—echoed and intertwined under the eaves. After a while, the man in the snow-white mink fur coat suddenly asked the formally dressed one beside him in a small voice, “Are you afraid of the dark? You know… scared of darkness?”
Sorry, he’d mulled it over forever but couldn’t hold back his curiosity.
A god who seemed omnipotent and a fear of darkness just didn’t match—mismatched to the point of being almost cute.
Xie Wufang, gaze slightly lowered ahead, paused briefly before realizing what Yu Bai meant.
He answered, “No.”
…Then why hadn’t he let him leave earlier!
Yu Bai swallowed his follow-up questions, chalking it up to an instinctive sense of insecurity right after waking. He had more pressing concerns.
“Did I wake you up just now? Were you disturbed?”
Seeing Xie Wufang in this unusual state, he worried the other hadn’t rested enough and had been roused prematurely, potentially leaving some lingering effects.
“No,” Xie Wufang said. “I woke on my own. The room temperature was just right.”
He asked, “Did you put those ice blocks there?”
At that, delight flickered at the corners of Yu Bai’s eyes and brows. He nodded, then shook his head.
“I had Yan Jing put them there. I couldn’t move them myself.”
He was looking toward the corner of the corridor ahead as he spoke, so he missed the undisguised aversion that suddenly flashed across the face of the man beside him.
Only when Yu Bai continued did that chilling hostility gradually yield to something akin to gentleness.
“I figured since your body runs so cold, lowering the temperature might make you more comfortable,” he explained. “Good thing I was right.”
From Xie Wufang’s words, if the room hadn’t been cool enough, he might not have woken so soon.
Actually, before they left, when Yu Bai had handed him the coat, he’d touched his fingers and found the skin neither scorching with fever anymore nor back to its usual eerie chill—merely approaching normal human warmth.
For a god so utterly unlike humans, did that mean he was still in a feverish, sickly state?
That would explain why he felt off, different from usual.
Moreover, winter lingered in this timespace, the terrifying cold snap that had descended unbidden not yet withdrawn by the awakened deity.
Was it because he was weakened from illness, unable to control his power for the moment?
Or more precisely, unable to rein in his instincts?
Such thoughts in mind, Yu Bai stole a glance at the man beside him.
This enigmatic neighbor who usually struck him as serene and gentle now wore a perfectly tailored black suit, its collar revealing a hint of white shirt. The stark black and white accentuated his chiseled profile, lending him a sharp, aloof remoteness that kept others at bay.
…It had to be the coat’s fault.
Xie Wufang preferred the cold by nature and wouldn’t wear a warm fluffy coat like his—that would backfire. But he couldn’t appear before others in thin summer clothes with a pallid face either; it would draw undue concern or panic from ordinary folk.
So, on their way out, Yu Bai had a brainstorm and settled on a compromise.
“Tian Ge picked out this suit—it fits you perfectly,” he said, withdrawing his covert scrutiny with a sigh of admiration. “If I tried it on, it’d probably be a bit big.”
This pricey black suit had been snuck in among the mink fur coats in the car. Yu Bai hadn’t discovered it until after leaving Zhang Yunjiang’s place, leaving him no chance to refuse.
Sun Tiantian’s intent had clearly been to dress up Young Master Yu, who had finally ditched his clunky glasses, indulging the man’s longtime chuunibyou fatherly fantasies just a little.
The dust bag holding the suit contained a handwritten note from Sun Tiantian.
It read:
My greatest wish is to see you in this outfit, sitting in that boss leather chair in my office, coldly chewing out my pack of little punks.
It’d be handsome—beyond (crossed out) deadly (crossed out) cool!
But I’m not dead yet, so let’s knock out half for now, heh heh!
Below the three lines of scrawled handwriting, complete with messy corrections, was a strikingly vivid red name seal serving as the signature. Beside the extravagantly flourished artistic script reading “Sun Tiantian” was an imposing dragon pattern, vaguely forming the character for “righteousness.”
Tian Ge’s corporate seal—with its unmistakable gangland flair—was undoubtedly the most distinctive among those of any company bosses out there. It must have dazzled the eyes of countless fellow executives, secretaries, and accountants.
Earlier, when Yu Bai had first seen that Watermelon Gift Note, he hadn’t known where to begin his rant.
In any case, that particular wish was probably impossible to fulfill.
Yu Bai had no desire to inherit someone else’s fortune or business, nor did he want to tarnish his sterling reputation as a law-abiding citizen.
But he did rather fancy owning that Dragon-Patterned Name Seal.
It was just so cool—and ridiculously funny.
The association between Xie Wufang’s clothes and that note made Yu Bai actually laugh out loud, brilliant flecks of starlight sparkling in his eyes.
The man beside him, drawn by his sudden remark, turned to look and came to a halt. In a low voice, he asked, “Tian Ge?”
“Yeah, this coat I’m wearing? He brought that too.”
After tossing out the casual remark, Yu Bai realized he hadn’t yet mentioned Sun Tiantian to Xie Wufang. He paused to think it over, then said, “He’s… an uncle who’s always been good to me.”
Not a real father or brother—calling him a friend felt off in terms of seniority—so “uncle” it was.
While Yu Bai fumbled for the right words, Xie Wufang spoke up promptly. “The one from the video call who said he was coming to find you.”
Yu Bai froze for a moment. Then he recalled the socially mortifying scene from the night before: claiming he was off to bed, only to get busted red-handed playing games.
…What good was such a sharp memory!
He cleared his throat with practiced ease and swiftly changed the subject. “Cough—yeah, that’s him. This afternoon, when Tian Ge ran into Uncle Zhang, he opened by calling him ‘President Zhang.’ Gave me quite the shock.”
Before settling into his leisurely days of playing chess every day, Zhang Yunjiang had indeed been a businessman.
Though he and Sun Tiantian—who had gone legit after hanging up his criminal past—operated in different fields with little overlap, they knew of each other and had crossed paths a few times.
Quite a few things had happened during that afternoon, which had felt both endless and fleeting. Xie Wufang had missed them all and knew nothing about any of it, so Yu Bai figured he’d fill him in.
“Turns out Uncle Zhang’s family business is massive—not just ordinarily wealthy.”
Yu Bai glanced at the opulent courtyard glowing in the night, a touch of emotion in his smile.
“But I still can’t picture Uncle Zhang sitting in some office like a proper boss. He always strikes me as more of a retired old professor type. So when Tian Ge kept going on with ‘President Zhang this’ and ‘President Zhang that,’ it just sounded so bizarre—like something was fundamentally off. Good thing he had business to attend to; they only chatted for a bit before he left…”
Yu Bai, who had been smiling as he spoke of others, let his voice trail off until it stopped altogether.
In that instant, he sensed it too—something wasn’t right.
The man at his side remained utterly silent, those gray-blue eyes fixed on him in quiet intensity.
Gone was the usual earnest focus of a attentive listener. In its place was an inexplicable chill, sharp and rejecting.
Yu Bai froze. On reflex, he asked, “…You in a bad mood or something?”
The Xie Wufang before him reminded Yu Bai of the night before.
Xie Wufang had worn a similar expression back then, peering through the door to catch him gaming with Yan Jing.
But the icy pressure in those eyes now felt even more intense.
Later that same night, Yu Bai had actually asked Xie Wufang why he seemed in a bad mood.
His answer? “I don’t know. Am I?”
With a look that fierce, of course he was.
Still, confronted with such brutally honest words from the non-human, the utterly baffled Yu Bai hadn’t been able to press further. All he could do was tuck away a small lingering question.
He never imagined that unresolved puzzle would find an echo right here and now.
Xie Wufang regarded the stunned young man and gave a slight nod.
Evidently, he had learned Yu Bai’s definition of a bad mood.
Caught off guard, Yu Bai blurted, “Why?”
Had it been the recent illness making him irritable? Was all the nonstop chatter too much?
With the bright moon hanging high and the corridor’s lights casting a soft, ethereal glow, Yu Bai posed his question, brimming with curiosity for the answer he couldn’t predict.
He didn’t have to wait long. Xie Wufang’s voice soon rose in the heavy night air, dark and indistinct.
“Because you brought up other people.”
