“So pretty.”
Jiang Xiuyuan gently fetched a stool and poured a cup of jasmine tea for his guest. In a mild tone, he added, “The flowers were beautiful to begin with.”
Qi Jing thought for a moment. “I think you look good right now.”
He was still so straightforward.
But this time, the young man didn’t freeze up. He merely said softly, “You’re really a kid from an ivory tower…”
Qi Jing hadn’t quite caught that. He furrowed his brow and asked what was said.
The young man just smiled and shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’ve saved up some money over these past few months. How about I pay you back five hundred thousand first?”
Qi Jing had almost forgotten about it.
His expression turned sullen, as if lost in thought.
“Or, as you originally suggested, we can treat it as an investment. I’ll give you a share of the monthly profits?”
Jiang Xiuyuan sat at the edge of the island counter, propping himself up on one arm as he asked.
His features were gentle and subdued.
Qi Jing looked up at him, clearly concerned.
“I don’t need the money anymore.”
“It’s true. I can pay you back that five hundred thousand—I still have some left.”
“There’s staff here now, too.”
Jiang Xiuyuan spoke as if explaining things to a child. After all, Qi Jing was just a university student who knew nothing of the world.
Handing over a million so casually, without even a receipt. Just giving it away.
Back then… they hadn’t even been that close.
“Fine.”
“But the flower shop has off-seasons and peak times. Some months, I might only be able to give you around a thousand or so. It’s not really—”
“That’s so much?”
Jiang Xiuyuan furrowed his brow. Was that a lot?
It wasn’t even as much as one of your jackets cost.
But he didn’t say it.
“Is this an investment?”
The young man nodded. “You could say that.”
“But without any legal formalities like this, how about I consult a lawyer later and get something official to protect you?”
He tilted his head.
It was like playing house.
But the world was just a haphazard show anyway.
Starting a business was like setting up a lemonade stand.
After chatting for a bit, the conversation naturally circled back to what had happened before.
Jiang Xiuyuan rested his chin on his hand and said calmly, “The breakup… it was because he lied to me.”
“My parents died, and I had no idea.”
His pupils were dilated.
There was no hatred or resentment.
Just calm.
“Actually, I know it was for my own good.”
“If I’d found out back in Z Province… I really would have killed myself.”
His tone was utterly even, as if discussing the weather.
He paused for a second or two.
“I’m sorry.”
Jiang Xiuyuan blinked in surprise and straightened up. “Why?”
People grew all the time.
Qi Jing pressed his lips together and recounted everything from back then in detail. He’d been worrying it was about that all along.
And it was.
“You saw it…”
Jiang Xiuyuan seemed caught off guard, but then he chuckled. “What a coincidence.”
Perhaps, though, something in him had been touched.
The young man thought for a moment before saying mildly, “If that’s the case, then I owe you an apology too.”
“Huh?”
~~~
Bo Chengyan was dealing with those photos. The person in them was still a student, after all, so those shady media outlets would naturally take risks.
Extort some cash, and a failing little media company could rise from the ashes. Why not?
Most of the photos were taken on campus.
Heading to the cafeteria to buy something.
Waiting in line.
Attending a public lecture.
Usually, he was alone.
Bo Chengyan’s brow furrowed slightly. The Chief Assistant glanced over and said warmly, “The Zhao Family has a kid at Capital University too.”
“Good character.”
Bo Chengyan considered it but ultimately declined.
“He can make his own friends.”
His tone was heavy.
If it didn’t work out, they’d revisit it.
Just then, the secretary relayed a message that someone wanted to visit.
No appointment.
Chen Zhuo looked utterly drained. He flopped onto the sofa the moment he arrived and tossed over a proposal for a photovoltaic industry collaboration.
“The family wants me to negotiate it. Take a look.”
The man draped his arms over the back of the sofa, head tilted back, dark circles under his eyes.
The assistant bent down to hand the file to the boss, then smoothly took it back.
“President Bo, I’ll go sort out tomorrow’s schedule then.”
“Mm.”
The office fell quiet.
“Chen Zhuo.”
“Will you get married?”
Their voices overlapped.
Bo Chengyan’s brow furrowed faintly, but he said nothing, just watching the other man.
“My parents are pushing me to get married.”
“But I’m gay. Why should I have to marry? Hurt someone else?”
Chen Zhuo had shed his usual playboy air. His tone was steady, stripped of all business pretense.
“Do I have a problem or something? I’m starting to envy you again.”
“Envy your old man passing away peacefully.”
Bo Chengyan’s expression didn’t change. He glanced at his wristwatch and said offhandedly, “The gift has been delivered.”
“Give my regards to your father.”
Chen Zhuo seemed to crack all at once. He sat up straight, utterly baffled. “Hold on, how are you so unflappable?”
“Qi Jing’s only a freshman this year—eighteen tops. Can he stick with you forever?”
“People out there are all watching him.”
In certain elite circles, the limits were nonexistent. The term “plaything” didn’t come from nowhere.
Some even shared.
“That’s enough.”
“Get out.”
Chen Zhuo froze. As he left, he hesitated, perhaps from deep understanding or some unspoken bond.
“You’re not getting married, are you?”
It was a tentative tone.
~~~
The afternoon sky turned overcast, hinting at rain.
Qi Jing sat at the bus stop, cradling a huge bouquet of champagne roses, his face blank.
“Cough cough cough…”
He couldn’t stop coughing.
The young man stood and moved away from the people nearby, putting on a mask. His head swam.
111: Have you gotten home?
Jiang Xiuyuan had no idea his companion hadn’t taken the family car. He assumed he’d already left and was checking in.
Qi Jing thought it over and typed:
Hates Broccoli: I’m back, I’m fine.
He followed up with an emoji.
He’d been coughing nonstop. It hadn’t been bad at the flower shop—just a tickle in his throat.
“Are you allergic to pollen? If you’re allergic, don’t hold the flowers.”
A person approached at the bus stop and ventured.
He looked like a student too, carrying a Capital University canvas bag.
Qi Jing shook his head behind his mask. “No… cough cough… I got tested. Not allergic…”
“Probably just dust. Thanks.”
He backed up a few more steps.
He considered it—maybe skip public transit altogether.
Qi Jing turned to leave, but just then, a light drizzle began to fall from the sky.
No umbrella.
He had to stop.
His jacket came in handy, wrapped tightly around him. The wind picked up outside.
The bus rolled up leisurely.
It was packed.
An elderly person got off with bags and packages, and the waiting crowd surged on.
It was crammed.
“You’re not getting on? The next one might take a while.”
Qi Jing blinked and glanced back. It was that same young man.
He shook his head. “N-no, I’m not… cough cough cough… I have this cough.”
All those people.
Wouldn’t want to spread it.
The young man raised a brow. “Oh.”
The bus pulled away.
He didn’t board either.
Qi Jing paid it no mind, just watching the rain outside, his thoughts drifting.
His fingers felt cold.
“Not taking a cab?”
The person beside him had drawn closer at some point and asked again.
Qi Jing was baffled. Why was this guy so chatty?
“I’ll call one in a bit.”
He coughed now and then.
Qi Jing just wanted to zone out outside for a while. He felt down but didn’t know what to say.
Cabs weren’t great either.
They all reeked of smoke.
The young man edged closer again and probed, “Your boyfriend give you those?”
Qi Jing was lost. He was already on the edge of the bench—any closer and he’d get soaked.
“No.”
Qi Jing stood and walked to the other side, finding it odd.
Right then, a sleek Maybach pulled up.
The young man started to say, “Nice car…”
At the same moment, the Maybach flashed its lights—a signal to get in.
The young man froze.
Until the boy beside him walked over, and the door swung open.
A slender hand reached out, adorned with an expensive wristwatch, gently cradling the young man’s palm.
They drove off.
Even after the taillights faded,
The young man snapped out of it and muttered, “Fuck.”
So damn hot.
~~~
Qi Jing was a bit damp all over. The huge bouquet of roses was set aside, and he was effortlessly pulled over, landing steadily in the other’s lap.
Bo Chengyan undid his jacket for him.
He heard a few muffled coughs.
Qi Jing hurried to explain, “I-I’m not sick.”
The mask was tugged off.
His cheeks were pinched, parting his lips slightly.
“Then why the coughing?”
His throat was red and a bit swollen.
“Mm.”
Qi Jing mumbled, clinging to the man’s arm and pushing lightly.
But to no avail.
He really wanted to cough—it felt awful.
He tried to turn away.
Bo Chengyan frowned, covering the lower half of his face with one hand. In a gentle voice, he said, “It’s okay.”
Then the coughing started.
Impressive.
In the end, he pulled out some wet wipes and carefully dabbed at his lips, one by one.
They were sopping wet.
The chest of the person in his arms rose and fell unevenly. His breathing came with effort, and his fingers felt ice-cold.
They ended up going to the hospital.
It was an allergic reaction.
But not to flowers—to cigarette smoke.
By the time they made it home, night had already fallen.
Bo Chengyan carried him straight inside.
The lights were on in the house. Outside, the rain had stopped, but a wind had kicked up, and the temperature had dropped to around fifty degrees.
“What happened?”
Auntie grew worried in an instant and hurried after them a few steps.
Qi Jing felt hazy and groggy, caught between sleep and the sensation of dreaming. He felt a gentle shaking at his shoulder.
The two of them were talking.
What were they saying?
He was laid down in the bedroom. The bedsheets were made of mulberry silk, perfect for sensitive skin.
Qi Jing’s nape was cradled, and his chin was gently pried open.
A light shone down.
They seemed to be checking whether his throat was still swollen.
“Mm… uncomfortable…”
The person on the bed pushed that arm away. His eyes were a little red, and he didn’t look pleased.
“What’s wrong?”
Qi Jing stayed silent. He didn’t know why he was being so delicate. It wasn’t good to act this way.
The back of his hand was still covered with a bandage.
And then he spoke.
It was as if all his pent-up emotions had finally overflowed.
“Just because of this?”
The voice was even, steady with a hint of magnetism.
Qi Jing tilted his head back to look at him and said glumly, “It’s not just this. I can’t even stay in the dorms. The beds are too hard, and it’s too noisy. I just can’t sleep.”
He seemed to hate himself a little for it.
He began listing his grievances, one after another.
“It’s the same with meals. The cafeteria food is okay, but I always find it a bit greasy. No one else seems to have that problem.”
“Clothes too… If I wear cheap ones, I get rashes.”
“The things they say are so weird.”
“I don’t even know the prices of my clothes… I didn’t mean to wear expensive stuff…”
Qi Jing was facing social challenges in college that were even harder to handle than those in high school.
He found it so difficult to deal with.
“I tried buying clothes online, but they just feel uncomfortable no matter what. Nothing fits right.”
Bo Chengyan frowned as he examined Qi Jing’s elbow. It looked clean, but faint red marks were still visible.
Why hadn’t he said anything?
“Am I like a girl?”
The young man lifted his gaze. His cheeks were clear, his eyes pure and innocent.
He asked with complete sincerity.
“Little Jing is a boy.”
Bo Chengyan stated it firmly, his eyes deep and unwavering.
“I think so too. Maybe… maybe some girls have short hair, and they mistook me for one. I tried explaining, but they still said it.”
“Is ‘like a girl’ supposed to be an insult?”
“No.”
Qi Jing’s shoulders were slender. He was good-looking, with a delicate frame. Even though he was tall, he still had that boyish air.
“Then why…”
“Because girls care more about their image. They’re cleaner, more polite.”
The young man froze for a moment.
Bo Chengyan simply leaned down. His features were refined and gentle. He took hold of the slender wrist and said calmly, “This society has deep-seated gender discrimination. Some men—or rather, frustrated men—harbor intense resentment toward wealth and a worship of money. Without enough social resources to attract women, they resort to vilifying and slandering others, dragging everyone down to their level.”
“There’s no need to fit in.”
“Just because something is popular doesn’t make it right.”
Qi Jing tilted his head back, his eyelids still puffy from the allergic reaction.
“Candid photos, dirty words… those are even more common.”
“Is that right?”
Qi Jing just felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.
He tugged at Bo Chengyan’s sleeve.
“No, it’s not.”
Bo Chengyan bent down gently and scooped him up, carrying him into the bathroom.
He turned on the faucet.
Let some water accumulate.
Then shut it off again.
Qi Jing was utterly dazed, perched on the edge of the vanity with something soft padding his thighs so he wouldn’t feel the chill.
His chin was held, and they checked his throat once more.
His fingers were spread out one by one.
Wiped clean with a soft cotton cloth.
“College dorms are cramped. It’s normal to feel uncomfortable. The cafeteria has a huge variety to accommodate students from all over—not just you finds it off-putting.”
“Ride-share drivers who smoke or act rude… that’s not your responsibility.”
Bo Chengyan spoke evenly: “Little Jing, there are all kinds of people in society, with different backgrounds and outlooks on life. You don’t need to conform. Respect is enough.”
“Choose your friends carefully, rather than bending over backward to please them.”
The bathroom was quiet.
“I’ve been raising you like this for the past two years, and I’ll keep doing so. I won’t lower your standard of living just to make friends who aren’t worth it.”
“Anything that makes you uncomfortable isn’t part of your social circle.”
Qi Jing’s waist was encircled, and he leaned against Bo Chengyan’s shoulder, his bangs partially covering his eyes.
“You’re going to keep raising me forever?”
His voice was soft.
“Only parents do that…”
He was still so young.
Eleven years younger.
He often felt confused.
But there was always an answer.
“Are you my mom and dad?”
His tone was light, as if he already knew the truth.
