Chapter 37

The cabin’s system voice droned on about the rules for today’s daytime missions. Qian Xingzhi sat on the sofa with a cold expression, his right hand draped across the iPad.

He wasn’t listening at all.

In the camera’s view, Qian Xingzhi’s long fingers tapped lightly on the screen with a distinct rhythm, as if playing a chaotic little melody without a tune. His gaze was frosty, fixed coldly on the screen—specifically on the social status update from the cabin system that he’d just posted, visible only to Shen Li.

No one in the audience knew what he was looking at.

The viewers’ hearts were simply captivated by that elegant hand with its prominent knuckles, tapping away at the screen.

【Tap away, Qian Xingzhi—quit flexing. Showing off’s banned here.】

【What do you know? My bro’s being elegant! Elegant, got it?】

【Can’t handle this elegance anymore. From how he acted when he entered the cabin earlier, I’ve got a bad feeling he’s a total love-struck fool.】

【A love-struck fool? No way. You guys don’t know my bro. He’s lived like a monk all these years—pure mind, no desires. He even studied classical Chinese studies and I Ching, and read the entire Complete Library of the Four Treasuries! He fixed all the plot holes in the drama’s I Ching logic himself. I’m scared he’ll actually go become a monk next. Love-struck fool? Impossible.】

【Is Money Jar still in denial? So resilient. With that grit, you’d succeed at anything.】

【Thanks. I’ve come around—having an ex-wife is no big deal. He’s divorced now anyway.】

The barrage of comments flew in chaos, but Qian Xingzhi tapped for a little longer before swiping up on the system interface, seemingly returning to the iPad home screen. The camera didn’t catch what he was looking at next.

In reality—

Qian Xingzhi had opened the “Perpetual Almanac.” Without a change in expression, he recalled the past few days of interactions with Shen Li.

Jia-Shen month, Wu-Wu day, Chou hour just past.

Shen Li had been the first to say “it’s past one,” ending the video call and cutting off Qian Xingzhi’s attempt to reminisce about their schoolboy days and campus memories.

Jia-Shen month, Wu-Wu day, Chen hour or so.

He’d just woken up and heard Shen Li’s “Mm, I’m here.” He’d wanted to ask “How’d you sleep?” but Shen Li had cut in with “You’re awake? Hang up and get to work.”

Jia-Shen month, Geng-Shen day, Zi hour or so.

Shen Li had come proactively to deliver medicine and agreed to stay the night.

Jia-Shen month, Geng-Shen day, just before Wu hour.

Shen Li had rejected the offer to co-rent without mercy… So, could it be because the noon fire of that hour had clashed with the favorable Zi water in Shen Li’s Eight Characters? Maybe Shen Li hadn’t felt well physically, was irritated inside, and that’s why he’d refused?

Whatever. After 9 PM tonight, he’d ask Shen Li again about trying co-renting.

Shen Li’s natal chart was Yi-You day master, weak self-element. Zi was favorable and useful; fire was a taboo, disliked when clashing.

Weak self with heavy wealth—earth was also taboo.

Metal countered Yi wood—another taboo—

So the coming Shen, You, and Xu hours—3 PM to 9 PM—weren’t good times for sweet talk or romance with Shen Li either.

Everyone knew that when people were tired or annoyed, they had no mind for love.

Qian Xingzhi stared coldly at the almanac for a long while, eyes boring holes into words like “Ren-Wu hour: inauspicious” and “Wu-Zi hour: auspicious.” Finally, he swiped up again, elegantly closing the almanac interface.

Just then, Shen Li emerged from the room.

Qian Xingzhi’s eyes flicked up. Shen Li’s lean frame stood tall and straight, but his steps—carefully masking some discomfort—gave the illusion that he might snap at any moment.

It was a pale yet resilient beauty, fatally alluring.

Qian Xingzhi instinctively looked away, turning his head arrogantly before Shen Li could reach him.

The next moment, Shen Li’s uneven footsteps grew closer—one light, one heavy. They passed right in front of him from not far away, then receded with cold indifference.

Neither spoke.

Just as Qian Xingzhi thought Shen Li would leave for good like that, Shen Li’s calm voice rang out:

“Come here.”

It was like an auditory hallucination.

A tingling numbness spread from Qian Xingzhi’s eardrums to his throat. He turned to look and saw Shen Li had already stepped into a camera blind spot and stopped.

Qian Xingzhi glanced at the iPad for a while longer before standing up with what he thought was extreme indifference. He sauntered casually toward Shen Li.

“What’s up?”

Qian Xingzhi spoke coolly, hands in his pockets, body leaning back slightly—a picture of careless arrogance.

Shen Li tilted his head slightly, his serene gaze settling on Qian Xingzhi with a touch of scrutiny. He watched him quietly for a few seconds. That silence stretched endlessly, tension thickening the air.

“Also,” Qian Xingzhi said flatly, a cold smirk tugging at his lips, “don’t call me like you’re whistling for a dog. One ‘come here’ and I come running? That’s really…”

The words “not polite” never left his mouth.

Qian Xingzhi felt a cool touch on his forehead.

Shen Li’s left hand gently brushed it, just like the night before when Qian Xingzhi had grabbed it.

Only this time, Shen Li had initiated it completely.

“Who called you like a dog?” Shen Li frowned, thin lips parting. “So what am I doing now—petting a puppy’s head?”

Qian Xingzhi’s eyes darkened further. His gaze flashed away like lightning, landing on some distant, imaginary point. “I didn’t give you permission this time.”

Shen Li frowned but didn’t joke further or yield to the implied threat. His thumb pad wiped the sweat from Qian Xingzhi’s forehead clean, then he lowered his hand.

“You’re sweating a lot. Still a bit feverish.”

“…”

“Go see the on-call doctor first. I just called him up. Let him check you out.”

Qian Xingzhi’s face grew even colder, frosted over like ice, though his Adam’s apple bobbed subtly. He opened his mouth to speak—

But Shen Li’s gaze had already shifted away, his expression complex, fine brows furrowed in quiet distress. He spoke evenly again:

“For the missions later—which one are you picking, A or B?”

…

Today’s daytime production activities split into A and B options: A for physical labor, B for mental tasks.

You could pick both for more rewards, but each sub-mission was first-come, first-served—you had to commit once claimed, no swaps. Fail to finish by six, and you’d forfeit penalty funds.

Qian Xingzhi had checked the program details ahead and knew the missions weren’t tough. He’d instantly selected both A and B when they opened on the iPad.

But the assignment booth for specific draws was mobbed, so he’d planned to go later.

“Both A and B… You doing them with me?” Qian Xingzhi asked indifferently. “What’d you pick?”

Shen Li’s eyes darkened. He glanced at the veins bulging on Qian Xingzhi’s arm, sidestepping the “together” question. “I picked A and B too. Going to claim them now… Want me to grab yours?”

Qian Xingzhi nodded, figuring Shen Li grabbing them meant they’d do them together.

He eyed the booths for medical and missions, saw no sign Shen Li meant to accompany him to medical. Probably, see the doc first, then team up?

“Whatever,” Qian Xingzhi said. The corner of his mouth twitched up faintly before he forced it down, making himself seem even less invested than Shen Li. “Go claim if you want.”

“Alright, then you head to medical.” Shen Li paused briefly, then added, “Missions close at 7 PM—no rush. If the doc says IV, listen to him.”

“Got it.”

Shen Li watched Qian Xingzhi’s retreating back vanish in the opposite direction before heading to the now-thinning crowd at the assignment booth.

The two emerged one after the other from the camera blind spot, and the viewers’ imaginations ran wild:

【Aaaah, did they sneak a kiss behind our backs!?】

【August weather’s so chilly—it turned Mr. Qian’s ears red [smile]】

【Yeah yeah, Shen Li looks even prettier now QAQ—did he get kissed?】

【Help, these two have mouths harder than our boss’s backend. Do they even work for kissing?】

【Dunno about mouths, but Qian Mou’s hook seems hard [smile]. Looked bigger than usual when he walked by [smile]】

【Wtf, eyes where?? Report upstairs for rumors.】

【Money Jar, don’t break. From what I see, your bro’s physical crush on his ex is spilling off the screen…】

【So what if it is? He’s divorced??】

【…Can I say it? From that reunion just now, Shen Li seemed so cold. Totally indifferent to my bro [shatter]. Doesn’t care about him at all [shatter]. I want my bro to date—he’s not getting younger—but at least someone who likes him, cherishes him, treats him right? Really don’t want him simping [shatter]】

【Lol, in under 20 minutes you clocked Shen Li’s bad to him?】

【Obvious. Shen Li ignores everything—lets every word of his hit the dirt [smile]. How do you love someone and let their words fall on deaf ears? [shatter]】

Shen Li crouched with some difficulty and picked up the task slip that had fallen to the ground.

He brushed the dust off it.

He’d just drawn one A and one B from the dwindling options in their respective barrels.

Today’s daytime production missions differed from usual—the steward’s tasks were solo farm chores.

A-category barrel had things like feeding pigs, milking cows, spraying pesticides, weeding, mending fences, grafting seedlings… physical labors of varying difficulty, each slip marked with different reward amounts, high and low.

B-category brain work mostly involved bookkeeping, cost calculations, filing—easier ones and high-payers already snatched by earlier folks.

Shen Li picked one A and one B from what remained and turned to head back.

Then Ke Jiujiu came bouncing over with a slip in hand, like she wanted a swap.

“Wow, Brother Shen, you’re so late!” Ke Jiujiu eyed the slips in Shen Li’s hand eagerly. “What’d you get? Can I swap for an A? I checked—catching chickens is way harder than I thought. Can’t do it.”

Before he could reply, she’d spotted them.

“Whoa, you got two?”

Shen Li frowned, a touch displeased. He tucked both slips into his pocket smoothly. “Someone else’s. Grabbing them for him.”

“Oh~ Mr. Qian, right!” Ke Jiujiu tilted her head with unabashed curiosity. “Eh? But why did you pick the two hardest ones? I remember there are still several slips left in that box. The pair you chose are exhausting and barely pay anything. Want to swap for something easier…”

“No need, thank you,” Shen Li cut her off before she finished, already turning to leave. “You swap yours.”

He departed first, leaving Ke Jiujiu staring after him in utter bewilderment.

The moment Shen Li stepped out of the cabin, he ran into Xiao Zhang, who was having a smoke.

After a second’s thought, he walked over.

“Zhang Min.”

“Hey!” Xiao Zhang snapped out of it and blew out a smoke ring. “Wh-what’s up, Brother Shen?”

“You heading to the medical van later?”

“Uh, y-yeah, I can go. Or skip it—what’s going on?”

“There’s something here. Could you pass it to Qian Xingzhi for me?”

“S-sure thing, no problem at all.”

Xiao Zhang took the two task slips from Shen Li with a cheerful grin, not giving it another thought.

Shen Li frowned, paused briefly, then added, “If he’s in the middle of a checkup or resting, just wait a moment before handing it over.”

“Gotcha, Brother.” Xiao Zhang promised readily.

Shen Li said nothing more.

He turned and rode his little electric scooter toward the strawberry field, Site A for the task.

Once there, he took a moment to study the fixed camera positions he had scouted the day before. Then he glanced at the weeding area and the broken fence that needed mending. He made a rough time estimate, steadied himself on the fence with a few casual tugs to slip out of frame unnoticed, and moved on.

Only after confirming he had reached the blind spot around the corner did he abandon the pretense, grit his teeth, squat down, and swiftly yank out the weeds from the extra assigned patch with practiced efficiency.

Hand-weeding was the go-to method for small strawberry fields, effectively clearing weeds but demanding heavy labor. August brought scorching heat and plentiful rain, spurring rapid, dense weed growth—many turning woody and resilient. Left unchecked, they robbed the strawberries of water and nutrients, stunting growth and yields.

Even though the estate had been rented to the program group for just about ten days, Shen Li had seen workers tidying the yard during his security shifts. The farm tasks assigned that day extended beyond camera range, covering roughly two-thirds of the total area and requiring estate staff approval upon completion.

Shen Li had already surveyed the strawberry field, so he knew what to expect.

Fence repairs or weeding—farm chores like these came easily to him, no real challenge.

Just a bit of strain on his legs, nothing else.

Once Qian Xingzhi recovered, he could handle the camera-visible section himself with a quick pass.

A sheltered young master like Qian Xingzhi had no experience with rough work, and being ill on top of it, he surely hadn’t slept well the night before.

Chasing chickens, milking cows, feeding livestock—none of it was suitable. This open-air farm offered no respite from the heat, so less time there, the better.

…

Would Qian Xingzhi be upset that he hadn’t waited?

Sweat quickly soaked Shen Li’s face, beads racing down his collar in rivulets. Even his usually pallid lips took on a faint rosy hue.

His mind wandered as he pulled a few more handfuls of weeds. Exhausted, he sank to the ground for a panting breather. From the backpack he had brought on purpose, he drew a tissue to wipe his hands, then pulled out the iPad.

Navigating the cabin’s system contacts, he found Qian Xingzhi.

The man’s avatar glowed online, changed at some point from the original to a solid black square. Shen Li’s brow creased—

Back in his old circles, only for funerals did people switch to something like that…

For Qian Xingzhi, though, using it to signal his mood tracked as perfectly reasonable.

He really was mad, then…

Shen Li drew a deep breath, weighed his words carefully, typed and deleted a few times, and settled on easing in with a gentle opener to soothe the hurt feelings:

[Shen Li]: 【You done over there?】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【No】

… Rather frosty.

Shen Li mindlessly thumped his useless legs a couple times, lips pressing into a firm line as he pondered at length.

Finally, he sent over a coaxing probe:

[Shen Li]: 【Still feeling off? What’d the doctor say?】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Better. Doctor wants me on an IV to break the fever】

[Shen Li]: 【Oh, then you can tackle that accounting B-class task while it drips [tilts head]】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【?】

[Shen Li]: 【?】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Tilts head?】

[Shen Li]: 【Typo】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Ha】

[Shen Li]: 【?】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Fine】

[Shen Li]: 【…】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Anything else? No? Back to the calculator】

Shen Li sighed, unsure if his maneuvers had thawed Qian Xingzhi at all.

His expression blank, he stared at the smudged screen, a heavy fatigue settling over him like brooding storm clouds—duller even than half an hour of weeding.

No more beating around the bush.

Shen Li went direct:

[Shen Li]: 【Mad?】

Qian Xingzhi went quiet for two seconds before replying.

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【? Mad about what】

[Shen Li]: 【Why the avatar?】

This time, silence stretched ten seconds long.

Then came two long strings of text.

Shen Li’s brow furrowed sharply, his deep gaze darkening further as his long, thick lashes quivered. His pale complexion took on an odd cast.

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Black corresponds to water, a highly auspicious color for those who favor water—it amplifies water energy.】

[Qian Xingzhi]: 【Should make you feel better. Does it? [tilts head]】

[Shen Li]: 【[smile]…?】