[People’s hearts are always fragile when they’re injured. You can gently care for him, warm his cold heart, and gain Affection Points.]
Back in Shen Qiuxun’s small rental room, the System calmly offered advice.
Shen Qiuxun glanced at the person behind him.
The ragged Fu Mingchuan carefully pressed himself against the wall. His wet hair clung to his skin. He lifted a hand to take off the jacket used as a disguise and held it in his arms, head lowered, showing some unease in this unfamiliar environment.
Fu Mingchuan kept his eyes down, fingers brushing the jacket that no longer carried any scent. Perhaps from the rain and cold, his face was flushed.
“Go shower.” Shen Qiuxun sat down on his recliner, sitting sideways with his legs hooked over the armrest, swaying idly. He propped his chin on one hand, eyelids drooping. The black cat hopped lightly onto his shoulder, wrapping its fluffy tail around his neck.
The System felt a quiver of sheer adorableness from the human-and-cat duo.
Fu Mingchuan used his hand to feel for the shelf nearby, cautiously asking, “Excuse me… Where is the bathroom?”
Shen Qiuxun raised his eyes, quietly watching his flustered state, in a good mood. He gestured to the left with a lift of his chin. “Left.”
This was purely toying with him.
Fu Mingchuan could only obey his directions. He bent over, groping his way to the left. He bumped into a few things along the way. Uneasily, he looked back toward where Shen Qiuxun’s voice had come from. No one spoke, so he continued forward and finally found the bathroom door.
“You can leave my jacket on the rack.” Shen Qiuxun lay down. The black cat turned a few circles on his belly and then settled. Shen Qiuxun touched its ears. The black cat shamelessly leaned in to nuzzle his wrist bone.
“Yes.”
Reluctantly, Fu Mingchuan folded the jacket neatly before entering the bathroom.
Inside, there was a faint, clean scent of shower gel, very similar to the one on Shen Qiuxun. Fu Mingchuan saw nothing but darkness. His fingers brushed over the sink, the drying rack, the walls…
Imagining Shen Qiuxun’s every move here, he licked his lips thirstily.
Turning on the water heater, he tilted his head back, letting the water cascade down over his wounds. Stinging, itching. He only wondered if this water, sliding down his body this way, also slid over whiter, smoother, slender valleys and peaks.
There was no trace of the cowering, pitiful figure from outside the door.
Shen Qiuxun’s recliner was piled thick with cotton blankets and a small coverlet for his belly. He loved napping by the window on sunny days, the sunlight warming his body and the blankets, soft and toasty.
“Shen Dongxun… do you have a towel?” The bathroom door opened a crack. Fu Mingchuan poked his head out, half-concealing the door. His black hair was wet, nose bridge high, Adam’s apple prominent. Below, a solid, full chest and arms were revealed—the bruised wounds moistened by water droplets.
Shen Qiuxun tilted his head to look once, then withdrew his gaze. He was so sleepy. He lazily instructed, “There’s one on the rack to your right. I’ve used it; you can use it for now.”
[I do not permit this.]
‘What?’
[Why let him use a towel you’ve used.]
‘It’s the middle of the night. You expect a blind man to go out and buy one himself?’
[He can just stand for half the night. He’ll air-dry soon enough.]
‘Do you hear any truth or beauty in your own words?’
[.]
Fu Mingchuan froze for a long while. Only one phrase echoed in his ears: “I’ve used it…” His earlobes flushed red, his whole body burning hot. He closed the door, looking in the direction the voice had come from—a pitch-black nothing. He paused, then groped in the direction Shen Qiuxun had described. He found the towel.
A faint, lingering fragrance seeped in, binding every one of his senses.
Fu Mingchuan couldn’t help but clutch the towel. The faint scent seemed to envelop him entirely… He just felt hot, urgently needing to grasp something. He lifted his hand, gently smelling the soft towel in his grip. His hand slowly tightened, and he couldn’t suppress a sigh.
A knock came at the door. Shen Qiuxun thought it was the police. He glanced back at the closed bathroom door, walked over to knock softly, telling Fu Mingchuan to hide well. Then he went to the door, opened it a tiny crack, and popped his head out.
“Brother Shen.” Xian Zeyang’s eyes curved in a smile. If he’d had a tail behind him, it would likely be spinning like a propeller.
“What is it?”
Xian Zeyang glanced behind Shen Qiuxun. His head of fluffy blonde hair flopped as he blinked pitifully. “It’s so cold outside, Brother Shen.”
“Mm, it is.” Shen Qiuxun hugged his clothes tighter and yawned.
Xian Zeyang choked slightly, rubbing his hands awkwardly. “It’s just… Yesterday, I won a draw and got a free meal voucher for the Uptown Grand Hotel buffet. Are you interested, Brother Shen?”
A big hotel buffet?
Shen Qiuxun hadn’t eaten anything decent in a very long time. “For me? How much?”
“How can you talk about money with me, Brother Shen?” Xian Zeyang nearly jumped. He wanted to kneel right there and pledge loyalty. “Brother Shen, you’re my lifesaver! Repaying you is only right!”
Shen Qiuxun looked at him, speechless. Ultimately, he couldn’t resist the temptation of good food and nodded reservedly, deciding he’d figure out a way to return the favor later.
That lazy, indifferent attitude—those eyes seemed to look at him, yet all one felt was vast emptiness.
Xian Zeyang nervously picked at his fingers, shyly glancing at the person before him. “It’s valid next Tuesday from 1 PM to 6 PM… I happen to have some business in the Upper City District that day. Want to go together?”
“Sure.” Shen Qiuxun was about to vomit from days of drinking Nutrient Fluid. His own cooking was truly terrible; he’d rather drink the fluid.
Xian Zeyang was about to say something more.
Shen Qiuxun looked back just in time to see the bathroom door wide open. Fu Mingchuan stood there silently, bare-chested, looking toward the door with a lost expression.
Eight-pack abs. Very impressive.
“Brother Shen, so what are you planning to wear that day?”
“Hm?”
Fu Mingchuan seemed to hear the male voice from outside. He stepped back, pressing against the doorframe, posing to fully display his physique—meticulous down to the droop of his arm and the curl of his hair strands—hoping only that Shen Qiuxun would look at him a bit longer.
“Black clothes. No more talking, it’s freezing. Get back quickly.” Shen Qiuxun turned back, his sanpaku eyes staring blankly at the man before him with a displeased look.
Xian Zeyang wilted, bidding farewell miserably, his eyes looking up like a kicked puppy. “Then… See you next Tuesday, Brother Shen…”
“Mhm.” Closing the door, Shen Qiuxun glanced at the someone against the wall.
[What are you looking at?]
‘I barely have two outfits myself, and now I have to give him a set.’
[.]
“Come out.”
Fu Mingchuan obediently walked out, standing quietly in the living room, following the sound to look in Shen Qiuxun’s direction. Who was that man just now?
A friend of Shen Qiuxun’s? His eyelashes lowered. Those unfocused black pupils clouded over with dark turbulence.
He heard Shen Qiuxun pass by him, then enter the bedroom. The kitten was curled up in the recliner, clearly fast asleep.
A moment later, a rush of air came toward him. Fu Mingchuan instinctively reached to catch it. In his hands was a set of clothes.
Shen Qiuxun leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, carefully scrutinizing the man before him from top to bottom. The man bent over to put on the clothes, the collar folded in messily. His ears were already fully red.
Thus, Shen Qiuxun added another mental note to his impression of him, besides ‘easy to bully’ and ‘good-natured’: thin-skinned.
“Do you have any savings?”
Fu Mingchuan looked toward him. His dark brown eyes seemed a bit helpless. His thin lips pressed together, clearly finding the words hard to say. “I can do housework, cook… I can do anything.”
“That only covers rent. You still need to eat my food and use my things. I can’t support you for free.”
“I… I…” Fu Mingchuan’s face was pale. He clearly was a lonely, destitute, poor low-level policeman at the bottom rung. On top of that, Shen Qiuxun had framed him, causing him to lose his job and now be essentially locked up in this house. Could he be any more pitiful?
Shen Qiuxun rubbed his chin. Finally reassured. He really didn’t want a repeat of last month’s tragedy. “No going out, no contacting anyone. No defying me. You’ll do whatever I say.”
It sounded a bit unreasonable. Shen Qiuxun paused, coughed lightly. “I’m worried you’ll be discovered… It’s only right you repay me with some work… I’ll buy groceries after work. See how good I am to you?”
These demands were a true insult to a working young man’s dignity, but Shen Qiuxun felt he was treating him quite well.
Fu Mingchuan had better be sensible and give him more Affection Points.
“Yes.” Fu Mingchuan tugged at his clothes, eyes downcast, stammering. “Mas… Master.”
[.]
“?” Shen Qiuxun wrinkled his nose, thinking carefully for a long time. “Call me by my name.”
Fu Mingchuan nodded, his expression forlorn. “Dongxun is so good to me… I’ll listen to everything you say.”
Shen Qiuxun dragged out the cardboard box he’d originally spread out to sell to the recycling station, then tossed an old bedding set on top. “You sleep here.”
“?” Fu Mingchuan looked over in confusion.
Shen Qiuxun pressed his lips together. Impatiently, he reached out, grabbed Fu Mingchuan’s wrist, and guided the man down to feel it. “Here.”
Fu Mingchuan clenched his palm, feeling the soft, warm sensation of that wrist. He nodded silently. “Okay.”
“I’m going to bed.”
…
A dreamless night.
Today was sunny. Shen Qiuxun reluctantly got out of bed, dressed with his eyes closed, and went out to wash up.
Opening the door, the smell of cooking hit him. His brain finally cleared a bit. Shen Qiuxun poked his head out. His salvaged mission target was making breakfast in the kitchen. The kitchen was tiny; the mission target looked a bit cramped inside.
Fu Mingchuan was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. The clothes were a bit small, tightly wrapping his impressively muscled frame. His movements were slow and light, careful not to make any sound.
Maybe he should buy the man an apron. A pink one.
Shen Qiuxun went into the bathroom to freshen up. Coming out, he saw Fu Mingchuan supporting himself against the wall, placing a plate of Fried Eggs on the table. They were shiny and golden-yellow, sizzling with oil in the iron pan, like a beautiful sunflower.
Blind, yet this skilled. Truly very virtuous.
“Whoa.”
Fu Mingchuan was startled by his sudden voice. His hand waved helplessly in the air a few times before he softly replied, “Good morning.”
“Mhm.” Shen Qiuxun sat down on the small stool, leaning down to sniff the Fried Eggs.
Insanely fragrant.
“I also made congee… I could only find these.”
The kitchen was so clean it looked like no one had ever cooked there. Fu Mingchuan had gotten up early, groped around for a long time, and barely managed to find two eggs and a bag of rice in the cupboard.
He felt a pang of sympathy. It seemed Shen Qiuxun’s work kept him very busy, leaving no time for proper meals.
Shen Qiuxun picked up a Fried Egg and took a bite, nearly fainting from happiness. Halfway through the egg, a bowl of plain congee was placed before him. And so, he finally ate his first breakfast in over a month.
Fu Mingchuan listened to the subtle sounds of him eating, the corner of his mouth curving up. He stood quietly to the side, the picture of gentle virtue.
Shen Qiuxun was a master of timing. Work started at 7:30. He had precisely calculated the distance to the Small Hotel, so he only got up at 7:10. This time was certainly not enough to leisurely savor his breakfast. He finished the Fried Egg, poured some plain congee into a plastic cup, and prepared to head out.
“I’m going. If anyone knocks, don’t answer. Inspections have been strict lately.”
“Okay.” Fu Mingchuan stood by the table, dressed in his clothes. Softly and gently, he asked, “Can… can you come back early?”
Shen Qiuxun spared him a glance and replied indifferently, “I’ll try.”
Hearing the door close, Fu Mingchuan’s posture gradually relaxed. He lowered his head. His fingertip found a bit of dampness on the plate. His expression was unreadable.
