A cool breeze swept through Harbor City.
“What were you thinking? It was your screw-up that let that kid in, wasn’t it?” The young man frowned and turned a page in his book. 996 was soaking in a glass of iced water, already starting to bloat.
“The host is your top priority. What the hell have you been teaching him?”
996 didn’t dare talk back. It shrank downward frantically until Gu Qingshi glanced up. “Don’t break my glass.”
【……】
【But I don’t know what to do either. The plot isn’t moving forward at all, Qingshi…】
996 was an underdeveloped system. Ever since finishing the 256th World, the Main System hadn’t given it any more assignments. It had mostly just been eating, drinking, and playing around. It never imagined a mishap like this…
Gu Qingshi closed the book on his lap. With slender fingers, he fished 996 out of the glass and dropped it into another one filled with ice water—a purely physical cooldown method.
996 sizzled with steam.
“A plot is just a path forced onto people. But what if they don’t want to follow it?”
“Changing protagonists… do it thoroughly. No half-measures, no dithering like a timid rat…”
Gu Qingshi frowned. “If you stir up more trouble, don’t come crying to me.”
【QAQ.】
996 said hesitantly, 【Thoroughly changing would mean…】
“Do I have to spell it out for you?”
Gu Qingshi shot it a cold look.
The beady eyes slowly shifted from the front of the glass to the back.
But by sheer bad luck, they locked eyes with the returning “protagonist.” Huo Chen feigned casualness as he asked, “What’s with all these glasses?”
He deftly upended one into a flower pot. 996 tumbled several times, caked in dirt.
“You’re reading again? What is it?”
Huo Chen couldn’t help himself. He grabbed the other’s wrist and planted a bold kiss on it.
Slap—
“Get off.”
Huo Chen turned a deaf ear, murmuring to himself, “Does your hand hurt?”
996 burrowed frantically into the soil and shut down.
~~~
The very idea of a protagonist was a false dilemma. There was no single standard for who qualified as one. It depended on the genre, the core theme being expressed, the creator’s personal leanings.
But in the novel of one’s life, each person was the author. How to pen the story of their existence was an eternal question.
The fortune sticks drawn at temples, the seers’ cryptic prophecies, the “persona” imposed by a system—they all interfered with the core of one’s true self.
Qi Jing had another nightmare, but this one wasn’t about inescapable mountains. It was a bleak, gray future.
He’d been thrown out of the Bo Family.
There was only a bundle at his feet, stuffed with a few clothes.
Auntie gazed at him with deep sympathy. “Little Jing, it’s time to go.”
It was in first-person view.
He glanced down. A black card lay in his palm—was this Bo Chengyan’s hush money to send him away? Wasn’t this the money he’d asked for?
Qi Jing’s gut told him to leave, but people were complicated creatures. Even a casual meal together could spark friendship, let alone…
He took a few steps forward and heard himself say, “C-can I see Mr. Bo one more time?”
He should at least say thank you.
At least.
But Auntie gave him a strange look and gestured toward the upstairs window.
Qi Jing followed her finger and tilted his head up. There, at that window… Bo Chengyan stared down at him from on high, his gaze utterly indifferent.
Standing beside him… was Ruan Heng.
Tears began to well up, one by one. His chest ached fiercely.
Qi Jing had never cried in a dream before—until strong hands scooped him up by the waist. Fingers kneaded his nape lightly, and a faint woody scent wrapped around him.
“Wah…”
It was three in the afternoon now, the sky dim and overcast, just like in the dream.
Qi Jing couldn’t tell reality from nightmare. He clutched at the man’s shirt in panic, tear-streaked face pushing against Bo Chengyan’s shoulder from behind.
He had to see his face.
“Little Jing—”
The boy kissed him in near-collapse, clumsy and desperate.
Their lips met. Teeth clacked together.
Bo Chengyan reacted a half-beat late. He frowned, gripped the nape, and pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
Qi Jing just kept sobbing. “You won’t kiss me… you won’t kiss me…”
It was as if his emotions had overflowed to the breaking point.
Bo Chengyan felt the veins in his arms throb and swell. The boy’s tugging wore down his restraint until it snapped.
Qi Jing’s nape was seized. His chin was pried open effortlessly, and a tongue invaded his mouth.
It was a strange sensation.
Like being savored.
The boy gradually quieted. Pure physical pleasure turned his ears red, the flush spreading to his chest.
Their tongues danced, as if their souls resonated.
Qi Jing was released just shy of suffocation. His neck lolled limply. His lips were swollen.
The mist in his eyes finally coalesced into tears. One splashed down.
Was this a dream?
His nape was lifted. Head tilted back slightly, Bo Chengyan’s features stood out sharp against the gloomy daylight.
“I like you, Little Jing.”
Qi Jing’s heart lurched upward, left dangling at the edge of the sky.
Everything fell silent.
As if years of tangled emotions had finally found their answer.
His waist was pulled upward into an embrace. Beneath tear-filled eyes, his nose was red from crying. He stared up in a daze.
Their foreheads touched lightly.
“I like you.” Bo Chengyan repeated it.
“It’s the kind of like that’s laced with desire.”
“Are you scared?”
Qi Jing’s shoulders were held firm—no escape. He bit his lip.
Finally, his mouth was forced open. A finger slipped inside.
His soft tongue shrank back, afraid to bite.
“Do you like me?”
Heaven and earth felt vast and empty. Outside, the overcast sky loomed like the end of the world—silent, yet pregnant with an impending storm.
Qi Jing’s eyelids drooped like a malnourished flower. His voice was a faint thread.
That awful dream seemed to chase him still.
His shoulders trembled faintly.
“I like you.”
Boom—
Thunder crashed. Torrential rain poured down. Leaves outside the window tore loose, fluttering and falling.
Inside, he was crushed in a fierce embrace.
Love was often a test, shrouded in confusion.
How far must one go before they could speak of it face-to-face?
Whispers drifted intermittently from the room, but they grew indistinct.
The rain drowned them out.
~~~
It wasn’t until eight or nine that evening.
Bo Chengyan came downstairs and handed the tray to Auntie. The lilies on the dining table were still fresh, though they weren’t in a water-filled vase anymore.
From one bouquet a day to one in the morning and one at night.
“I really have fallen for him.”
Auntie had worked at Brocade River Villas for over two years, tending to this young man. It was impossible not to feel attached.
With things unfolding like this, she wasn’t even surprised.
“You’re the elder here. I felt I should tell you.”
Bo Chengyan spoke calmly. “I hope you’ll keep taking care of him like before. Just stay consistent.”
“And…?”
She wanted to ask about Qi Jing.
Young people always harbored an obsessive fascination for those in power—like moths to a flame, full of danger and allure.
The powerful fell easily.
But when they fell out of love…
The discarded one suffered most cruelly.
“I won’t restrict his freedom. He has the power to call it all off anytime—right up until he graduates, lands a steady job, and builds a better life and broader horizons.”
Auntie blinked, stunned.
Honestly, there was no need to tell her—a mere… servant? Employee?
“Qi Jing likes you.”
“I respect you too.”
The weather report had warned of thunderstorms. The main light in the living room dimmed, leaving only the warm glow over the dining area. Pear soup simmered on the stove, filling the air with a subtle fragrance.
It felt warm and intimate.
Respect was the foundation between people.
Boundaries were clear, yet not cold.
“May fortune smile on Little Jing.”
She carried the pear soup away.
Everything went without saying.
…
Lin Se, truth be told, hadn’t slept a wink. He was a committed bachelor, but that daytime phone call had left him deeply anxious.
Bo Chengyan was already thirty, birthday or no.
Qi Jing was only a freshman.
Time was the sharpest blade against tenderness.
Lin Se hadn’t approved of this relationship before, but he never imagined Bo Chengyan had started without a hint of lust.
Love first, desire later.
But…
Fast-forward four years to Qi Jing’s graduation. The boy would be a young man, Bo Chengyan over thirty.
Would that pure affection endure?
Lin Se just worried it might spiral into an irretrievable mess.
Bo Chengyan wasn’t a good man.
If he didn’t fall… fine. But once he did…
Lin Se closed his eyes in silent prayer, hoping the boy wouldn’t agree so rashly—at least not for a few more years.
His phone rang.
“We’re together now.”
Cupid must have lost his mind.
~~~
Qi Jing felt a touch uneasy. He didn’t dare go downstairs—maybe afraid of the gossip from those close to him.
In a moment of heated impulse, he’d pierced the window paper. Emotions overrode reason.
His whole body was tense. He’d slept the afternoon away, leaving him wide awake now.
Footsteps approached slowly.
The numbness in his palms intensified.
[I-I don’t know how to act normal. Can we pretend it never happened…?]
His wrist was suddenly yanked, drawing him lightly into the other’s embrace. His calves kicked twice against the bed involuntarily.
Creating a few wrinkles in the sheets.
Bo Chengyan simply asked again, “Do you like me?”
The youth’s eyelids were swollen from crying. He wanted to turn his head to look, but his chin was held firmly in place. A warm breath brushed his ear along with the voice.
“Speak.”
He wasn’t allowed to look.
An older person would consider many things.
But a young one often acted on impulse.
“I like you.”
Without seeing the face.
Qi Jing felt a tingling numbness spread through his body. He unconsciously tilted his face, wanting to press it against the warmth of that palm.
It was so warm and comfortable.
“Say it again.”
The youth was innocent and clueless, not understanding the intent, but he still murmured, “I like you…”
He was lifted onto a lap.
A bowl of pear soup was brought over.
Bo Chengyan seemed to revert to his gentle and refined demeanor. He held the youth’s waist captive and lowered his gaze to stir the fruit chunks in the bowl with a spoon.
“You’ve said it before. Auntie knows.”
The youth’s face flushed bright red in an instant. He draped his arms over the man’s shoulders, his fingertips twisting together nervously.
“Lin Se knows too.”
Qi Jing bit his lower lip out of habit.
His eyes were glistening with moisture, but in the next moment, Bo Chengyan pinched his chin and pried his lips apart. Frowning, he said, “Don’t bite.”
Qi Jing had no idea what he looked like right now—his lips already swollen, his bangs slightly disheveled, his collar gaping open, and several red marks blooming on his collarbone from the rough handling.
“Mm…”
The spoon pressed against his lips, sweet liquid seeping into the seam. Qi Jing instinctively tried to lift his arms.
“Open your mouth.”
Perhaps it was some kind of strange fetish.
