This past month had been incredibly fulfilling for Jiang Shunnian. After dropping the little ones off at school each morning, he’d head to his teacher’s place for lessons in opera, Republican-era poise and etiquette, and social dancing. In the afternoons, he’d run lines at home, delving into the psyches of his two roles, immersing himself in their worlds, even writing little backstories for the characters.
When the kids got out of school in the afternoons, Jiang Shunnian would occasionally pick them up, and sometimes Fu Yanli would join him, bringing the little ones back to Fu Corporation until it was time to head home together.
Shen Lingyi had originally thought that handling three kids at once would wear Jiang Shunnian out and suggested sending over a nanny arranged by Shen Boheng to help. But Jiang Shunnian turned her down—the three little ones were just that well-behaved.
Nono was the youngest, but he was already remarkably self-sufficient. Atticus and Lu Yunchuan were the same: no sudden tantrums or tears, no mealtime antics or refusals to eat.
All three little geniuses had J-type personalities, mapping out their daily schedules with meticulous precision.
This even rubbed off on Jiang Shunnian, who tweaked his own laid-back, freewheeling lifestyle to start making plans.
Each day, he’d rope in one of the kids as his English tutor, since the older brother’s lines in the script included some English—not much, but Jiang Shunnian drilled them relentlessly until his pronunciation was spot-on.
But if they were talking peak plan-execution discipline, that crown went to Fu Yanli.
Jiang Shunnian had no idea how Fu Yanli mustered such ironclad patience, starting from the finest details, probing one bit at a time, expanding patiently until he could take it all without causing injury.
Sometimes, Jiang Shunnian could clearly see little President Fu on the verge of exploding, massive sweat beads rolling down his forehead, looking utterly tormented.
Even Jiang Shunnian felt a pang of sympathy watching it.
Yet Fu Yanli powered through every time, prioritizing his comfort above all.
Jiang Shunnian couldn’t help but marvel: with that kind of perseverance, Fu Yanli could succeed at anything.
They said loving someone made you instinctively ache for their pain—and one such ache from Jiang Shunnian led him to offer up his legs, landing him bedridden for a full day.
About a month later, the day before New Year’s Day, a piece of social news shot to the top of the hot searches.
An entire remote mountain village had been implicated in human trafficking, forcing and murdering dozens of women, even selling off baby girls—utterly depraved.
Just reading the reports sent chills down the spine and ignited pure outrage.
Fu Yanli told Jiang Shunnian that Lu Qinghe’s mother had been trafficked into that very village. She was a stunning, vibrant student from a top university, with a bright future ahead—until she was abducted. She never submitted, attempting escape multiple times. Once, she nearly succeeded, only for the whole village to hunt her down and drag her back, shattering both her legs.
She was kept chained year-round, forced to bear children against her will. At first, her girls were either drowned outright or sold off—until Lu Qinghe came along.
By the time Lu Qinghe was three, she’d been tortured half-mad. Constant births without proper care left her body wracked with pain, sleepless nights blurring into insanity.
She never lived to see Lu Qinghe grown and rescue her, slipping away one winter night.
Though born in that den of evil, Lu Qinghe had emerged unsullied from the mire, inheriting his mother’s looks and temperament. But his own childhood had been brutal—his beauty drawing malice and bullying, forging his extreme caution and fearfulness.
This time, Pei Qingrong mobilized everything at his disposal, netting every last criminal in the village. It was a perilous operation; the locals were fiercely tough and tight-knit. Despite alerting the police and bringing bodyguards, Pei Qingrong took a shovel blow to the back to shield Lu Qinghe, bruising his internals.
But they did recover Lu Qinghe’s mother’s remains, cremating and interring them in a scenic public cemetery.
The ordeal warmed things between Lu Qinghe and Pei Qingrong—a silver lining for Pei.
Pei Qingrong had called Fu Yanli privately, admitting he could’ve dodged that shovel strike. But in that split second as it swung, Pei made a bold call: he didn’t dodge. He wanted Lu Qinghe to worry for him.
Call him underhanded if you must, but Pei Qingrong desperately wanted to be with Lu Qinghe, to cherish and protect him, to give him a healthy, warm family.
He ended with: “Brother, the bitter meat ploy works wonders.”
Fu Yanli pondered that.
He glossed over Pei Qingrong’s intentional injury but relayed the rest to Jiang Shunnian verbatim.
This was a dark underbelly Jiang Shunnian had never touched. He was furious—how could humanity sink so low?
He called his agent right away, asking if he could post on Weibo. He couldn’t stamp out evil, but he could leverage his influence against it.
Jiang Shunnian had wide latitude, and Zhao Yuanzhou, upon hearing he wanted to repost the news, just said to draft it and run it by him—no issues, post away.
Jiang Shunnian whipped it up, got the green light, and fired it off.
His heat was sky-high right then, with fans topping 15 million. They spotted it instantly.
Soon, artists under Huazhen and Shixu followed suit, demanding harsh punishment for traffickers of women and children.
The story hadn’t trended much before, but the celeb wave skyrocketed it, sparking nationwide debate.
Under that public pressure, the authorities would surely deliver justice.
Maybe that was the point of being a public figure.
Jiang Shunnian quietly contacted a Fu Corporation charity, donating three million—all his earnings from the past few months—to aid in finding trafficked women and children. He kept it under wraps.
Stars’ every move got dissected; announcing it might earn praise from fans as noble, but others might see it as grandstanding, pressuring non-donors.
He preferred quiet action, no moral shaming.
Even so, some online voices slammed Jiang Shunnian and the others for “pressuring justice” with their clout—was it appropriate?
Their fans clapped back hard.
Jiang Shunnian also noticed Qin Group entertainers were silent at first, only jumping in as the buzz exploded.
But posting was personal freedom; he didn’t dwell.
With Pei Qingrong injured and needing care—mostly to fast-track bonding with Lu Qinghe—Lu Yunchuan stayed put at the Fu Family home.
On New Year’s Day, their makeshift family of five returned to Fu Manor to reunite with Shen Lingyi and Fu Shizhang.
Nono’s castle was still there, and the three little ones dashed off to play in it, dragging Jiang Shunnian along.
Shen Lingyi chatted with Fu Yanli, teasing with a smile: “Has Shunnian given you a proper title yet?”
On that note, Fu Yanli brimmed with confidence: “I’m planning to formally ask Shunnian to confirm our relationship on my birthday.”
Jiang Shunnian’s feelings were crystal clear to him—the deepening affection plain as day.
He was sure the confession would land.
Publicizing it? That was a pipe dream for now.
Shen Lingyi loved ribbing her son but backed him at crunch time: “Good. Shunnian’s had it rough raising Nono solo all these years—you’d better treat him right. Though he looks healthier and happier lately; clearly, you’re stepping up.”
Fu Yanli ate that up, though his face stayed cool and impassive.
Keep pretending, Shen Lingyi thought.
Fu Yanli’s birthday was January 5th. Jiang Shunnian had fished around indirectly for gift ideas.
But Fu Yanli, ever sharp, shot back three words: “Maid outfit.”
If Jiang Shunnian wore a maid outfit… Fu Yanli couldn’t even fathom the bliss.
A maid outfit? Absolutely not! His Medicinal Jade was nearly gone; add that, and Fu Yanli might literally fuck him to death.
Jiang Shunnian racked his brain and settled on gem cufflinks.
Not for lack of other ideas—Fu Yanli’s custom wardrobe was flawlessly handled by his assistant and Shen Boheng.
He also planned handmade longevity noodles and a birthday cake, bingeing tutorials. He’d baked for Nono before—no sweat.
He swore off the maid getup, but after the mall, passing a jewelry store, a fluffy fox-ear hair clip caught his eye.
Internal tug-of-war raged, but he went in.
Just in case Fu Yanli would wear it.
Jiang Shunnian figured Shen Lingyi would host the birthday at the manor, but on New Year’s Day, she told them to celebrate solo.
She knew the confession plan—wouldn’t dream of interrupting.
She was just waiting for Jiang Shunnian to cave.
Oblivious to the mother-son scheme, Jiang Shunnian stocked up on balloons, flowers, and decor.
The night before, he teamed up with the three little ones to deck out the place: inflating balloons for the walls, draping colorful ribbons.
It turned the home festive and cozy, downright gorgeous.
Jiang Shunnian beamed, snapping photos before Fu Yanli whisked him off to bed.
The next morning, Jiang Shunnian woke first. Fu Yanli’s eyes were still shut in sleep—or so it seemed. Gazing at his handsome face, Jiang Shunnian leaned in for a soft kiss, whispering: “Happy birthday, Yanli.”
He’d just eased out of Fu Yanli’s arms to start the noodles when strong hands yanked him back.
Fu Yanli’s deep golden-black eyes gleamed wide awake—no drowsiness. He’d been playing possum, waiting for Jiang Shunnian’s move.
He pinned Jiang Shunnian close, kissing him wildly. Morning wood nearly sparked a fire, but Jiang Shunnian reined it in, shoving him away.
Fu Yanli nuzzled his earlobe and neck, murmuring huskily: “Send the three of them off tonight, okay?”
