The Xun Mansion was equipped with complete home medical facilities. The doctor carefully examined Lu Zhou and Lu Ting separately. Lu Ting was fine physically; the bruise on her forehead would heal with a few days of ointment, but she had been frightened and needed good rest.
Lu Zhou’s injuries were more severe. Lu Jianming had struck viciously—not just external bruises, but also a mild concussion and minor internal organ rupture and bleeding. He needed medication and absolute bed rest.
Lu Zhou and Lu Ting settled into the Xun Mansion. The vast estate had a butler, driver, gardener, chef, and maids—a considerable staff—but only Xun Qian and Xun Ji as masters.
According to Uncle Li, the brothers’ parents, the chairman and chairwoman of the Xun Corporation, lived abroad year-round, leaving the entire Xun Corporation inside and out under Xun Qian’s management.
Lu Zhou had thought he would see Xun Ji constantly here, just like in the dorms, but in fact, after moving in, he hardly saw Xun Ji at all.
With the New Year approaching, Xun Qian dragged Xun Ji out every day—family gatherings one moment, charity events the next, then conglomerate annual meetings. When they rarely crossed paths, Xun Ji looked dazed with exhaustion. He would press Lu Zhou back to bed to rest, then stumble to his own room to sleep.
Lu Zhou wanted to ask him why he had come to his hometown to find him, why he had appeared on that rundown fishing boat. And what did he vaguely hear him say about “Protagonist”?
But seeing Xun Ji’s listless state softened Lu Zhou’s heart. Next time—there would be a chance to ask.
Lu Zhou’s recovery was swift; by New Year’s Eve, his wounds had mostly healed. That day, like many times before, he pretended to go downstairs for water but actually detoured down the long corridor to check if Xun Ji was in his room.
He was caught red-handed by Xun Ji.
“Lu Zhou, perfect timing. Help me see which suit looks good.” Xun Ji dragged him inside.
The room was littered with several sets of clothes. Xun Ji picked one up, held it against himself, and asked Lu Zhou, “How’s this one?”
“Are you going out?”
“Yeah,” Xun Ji said with faint anticipation. “There’s a big charity gala later. I’m representing the Xun Corporation to make a donation—gotta dress properly.”
Back when Xun Ji was a corporate drone, he donated often too, but limited by his means, never more than three digits. Seeing the donation amount his brother had prepared for him this time, Xun Ji silently counted the zeros several times. He didn’t know if donating others’ money counted as a good deed, but the thrill of such extravagance was exhilarating.
“Give me your opinion.” He shook the suit in his hand, urging Lu Zhou.
It was a vintage, luxurious champagne-colored suit—simple yet elegant in design, with flawless tailoring and premium fabric at a glance. Even without trying it on, Lu Zhou knew it would look perfect on Xun Ji’s figure.
“I don’t know—why don’t you try it on?” But that’s how he answered Xun Ji.
Xun Ji thought it made sense; just holding it up wouldn’t show the effect. So he tossed the suit to Lu Zhou to hold and freed his hands to undress.
He wore a coarsely knitted white sweater and gray plaid lounge pants. He stripped efficiently in a few moves, then reached out to Lu Zhou.
After waiting with no response, Xun Ji looked at him oddly. “Give me the clothes.”
Lu Zhou’s eyelashes trembled. He walked to his side, acting as if it were normal. “I’ll help you put it on.”
He lifted Xun Ji’s arm, helped him into the suit, buttoned it up, then squatted down.
“You’re not thinking of helping me with pants too, are you?” Xun Ji chuckled, took the pants, and put them on himself. He showed off to Lu Zhou but found Lu Zhou’s gaze fixed on one spot.
“Hm?” Xun Ji looked down and saw the bare half of his chest exposed. He finally realized.
“I knew something was missing.” Xun Ji was speechless for a moment.
He bent down to rummage through the pile of clothes for a shirt and was about to put it on when he heard a faint click by his ear.
“Lu Zhou, what are you doing?” He turned his head suspiciously.
Lu Zhou calmly put away his Mobile Phone. “Nothing, accidental touch.”
Xun Ji didn’t buy it—this little pup was definitely up to no good again. He reached out to Lu Zhou. “Give me the phone.”
Lu Zhou turned his head away, pretending not to hear, and hid his hand behind his back.
Xun Ji’s eyebrow arched slightly as he stepped forward.
A small pile of clothes lay on the cashmere carpet. Xun Ji didn’t notice and tripped, stumbling forward.
Lu Zhou quickly reached to steady him but lost his footing in the panic. Instead, Xun Ji’s weight pulled him down too.
“Ugh!” Lu Zhou grunted as the Mobile Phone flew from his hand and landed not far from his head.
“You okay?” Xun Ji was entirely on top of Lu Zhou. The single button on the suit had scraped open, and his bare chest pressed tightly against Lu Zhou’s sweater, somewhat itchy.
Thanks to Lu Zhou as a cushion, he hadn’t hurt himself at all.
Lu Zhou’s face was buried in smooth skin. After a long moment, he mumbled a muffled “ow.”
“Xun Ji, my wound hurts again.”
Xun Ji paused and propped himself up. “Didn’t the doctor say yesterday it was mostly healed?”
His hand landed on Lu Zhou, checking. “Where does it hurt?”
Lu Zhou’s hot breaths sprayed onto the skin inches away as he replied haphazardly, “My head.”
Xun Ji’s fingers threaded through his black hair, finding the injury.
“The wound’s healing well.” Xun Ji felt the new skin.
Lu Zhou felt all sensations converge on that small spot at the back of his head—itchy and unbearable.
He arched upward, tilting his head to escape the hand. “It itches, don’t… uh!”
He froze suddenly.
Xun Ji froze too.
For a moment, he didn’t register what was on his Adam’s apple.
Soft, hot, and even…
Moving.
Chicken skin rose on Xun Ji instantly. “Lu…”
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