“So that means Chu Mushan is Chu Xiaoyun’s relative, and he’s also a scumbag?” Xiao Zhou finished listening to what happened today, put down his cup, and punched his fist into his other open palm with a light smack. “No wait—he should be called a gold-digger!”
An indescribable emotion filled the air. The three of them simultaneously felt a sense of pity for their grandfather. Gu Lingzhou’s impression of Gu Yuanshan stopped at the age of thirteen—the memory of that dignified man had already begun to blur.
Gu Yuanshan rarely came home, and even when he did, he barely exchanged a few words with them. Gu Lingzhou, being the closest grandchild to Gu Yuanshan, could always manage a few more sentences than the others. Having grown up hearing outsiders praise his grandfather, it had subconsciously influenced Gu Lingzhou’s decision to apply to the military academy.
Da Ling glanced toward the door, then looked away. “Chu Ke is the child Kolia had from her affair with Chu Mushan, and Grandfather turned a blind eye to it. But if we can find these things out, Grandfather certainly could have too. He knew he loved Grandmother and also knew Chu Mushan was a scumbag. Logically, no one would want the person they love to follow a drunken mute who lost everything and was despised by his own family. Don’t you find that strange?”
Every word struck deep. What he said made sense. Gu Lingzhou’s gaze intertwined with his in an invisible yet clear line—at every interval along the line, an event occurred, and the story of his grandparents was strung along it, only to snap apart when the wind blew.
“You mean… Kolia might have deliberately let us see it?” Gu Lingzhou set the coffee cup of hot water down with a light clink, interlaced his fingers, the knuckles protruding. He rested his chin on them in a posture of looking down upon all.
Xiao Zhou was half a beat behind but was also jolted awake by the realization: “You’re guessing that either that diary or this whole Chu Mushan business was deliberately shown to us by Grandmother? Why would she do that?”
Da Ling shook his head. “She wouldn’t be bored enough to hire someone to forge Grandfather’s diary. Besides, that room clearly hadn’t been touched in years. She doesn’t have that kind of foresight to predict we’d catch on to her scheme—after all, eighteen-year-old you was that stupid. The most likely possibility is that she fabricated Chu Mushan’s information.” He picked up his cup and took a sip of water. His gold-rimmed glasses lent his words an air of authority, but it only angered Xiao Zhou.
Hearing this, Xiao Zhou jumped up and cursed: “What the hell are you talking about, old man! Where am I stupid?!”
“Maybe. My thoughts are a mess right now.” Gu Lingzhou looked down, ignoring the chaotic noise over there. The water in his coffee cup rippled faintly from Xiao Zhou’s outburst just now.
The sound of water in the bathroom stopped. The foam was washed down the drain, and droplets traced along the lines of his body before sliding past his pale ankles. When Shi Yuxing came out wrapped in a towel, the bedroom was empty. Strange—the people who usually fought to get into bed were nowhere to be seen?
The hairdryer was set to the second setting, and warm air flowed out with a “buzz.” Shi Yuxing ran his fingers through his hair, closed his eyes, and let out a small yawn.
So sleepy. When would the annual leave come? He wanted to sleep in for days in a row. These past days of work mixed with weekends weren’t nearly enough to restore the energy he’d burned through at the hospital.
He didn’t know when the hairdryer in his hand had been turned off, nor when his face had met the soft pillow. Shi Yuxing let out a contented sigh; his heavy eyelids could no longer hold up. His consciousness, along with the scattered droplets of moisture, drowned into the boundless darkness.
When he next became aware, his head was half-hanging off the edge of the bed. The “buzz” above him and the warm high-speed airflow cleared his vision for a moment.
Seeing him awake, Gu Lingzhou said: “Not drying your hair will give you migraines. Next time, come find me to dry it—I won’t interrupt your sleep.” His tone carried reproach, but the concern beneath was unmistakable. Gu Lingzhou knelt on one knee. In this topsy-turvy world, Shi Yuxing suddenly realized what exactly he was facing.
The bedboard vibrated slightly. Shi Yuxing looked up, turned his head to look at him, then shifted his gaze. “Just you?”
“Isn’t just me enough? How many more do you want?” Gu Lingzhou’s tone carried a hint of displeasure. Shi Yuxing was groggy, his thoughts still sluggish. He made an “mm” sound, then was once again swept up by drowsiness and sank back into the covers, smacking his lips: “Tired.”
Gu Lingzhou put away the hairdryer, lifted the covers, and lay down beside him. The enormous heat source pressed close, and Shi Yuxing immediately felt the warmth. His eyes, filmed over with drowsiness, struggled open and then closed again. “Hot, far, away… zzz—zzz—” Seeing Shi Yuxing too tired to function yet still refusing to let him near, Gu Lingzhou only found him adorable. He turned around, lowered the air conditioning, and switched off the light.
Soon enough, the full-blast cold air made Shi Yuxing shiver and gravitate toward the heat source, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s waist. Gu Lingzhou was naturally happy to oblige, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Good night.”
The next second, his butt was smacked twice with considerable force. The muscles in his abdomen and buttocks tensed. Gu Lingzhou looked down and saw that the person who’d been too tired to even acknowledge him just a moment ago was now squinting his eyes with a sly smile, pretending to be asleep.
Moonlight spilled into the corner of the bedroom, illuminating half the room. Swirling dust particles rose and fell like so many little ballerinas.
Though Shi Yuxing was sleepy, he still remembered what happened earlier that evening—Gu Lingzhou still owed him a butt-smacking.
So his hand crept over to deliver the punishment.
“Did you secretly take something again?” Shi Yuxing opened his eyes and peeked at Gu Lingzhou’s smiling face. Just one look was enough for Shi Yuxing to know the answer. “You’re so bad.” Gu Lingzhou’s head pressed against his, forehead to forehead, traces of moisture still lingering.
Shi Yuxing withdrew his hand and placed it on Gu Lingzhou’s chest, patting twice. “Soft.” The moment the words left his mouth, the muscle beneath his hand tensed up.
“Touch it again.” Gu Lingzhou confidently radiated pheromones at him.
Shi Yuxing only sampled briefly, then patted other places. Everywhere he visited, Gu Lingzhou would flex his muscles.
“You’re not allowed to smack my butt anymore,” he mumbled, suddenly lifting his head. “I can smack yours but you can’t smack mine—got it? Or else I’ll never talk to you again.” His fierce tone actually carried no real threat at all.
Gu Lingzhou smiled and held him tighter, whispering just a few short words into the long night.
“Yes, sir, baby.”
·
The next day, Shi Yuxing happened to share an elevator with Jiang Chusheng when he arrived at the hospital.
“Oh, Xiao Shi, you’re early too.” Jiang Chusheng wore his white coat, the wrinkles on his face and silver-streaked hair making him look like a very reliable doctor.
Shi Yuxing nodded. “Director Jiang, you’re early as well.”
“Getting old—sleep time gets shorter,” he pointed at the grey-black elevator buttons, “and memory gets worse too. Which floor are you going to?” Shi Yuxing pressed the button for his floor, and Jiang Chusheng said, “What a coincidence.”
Not really a coincidence, Shi Yuxing thought to himself, since all the Glandular Department doctors’ offices were on this floor anyway.
The numbers jumped, the elevator doors opened, and the two exited one after the other.
“Oh, by the way—if you’re free, I’d like you to come by my office at noon…” Jiang Chusheng’s leading footsteps paused. He turned to look at Shi Yuxing, who had deliberately fallen a step behind. His squinting eyes made Shi Yuxing freeze for a moment. Just as he was about to nod, the little old man suddenly remembered something. “Ah, I almost forgot—you have a lunch date with your lover boy at noon.”
Shi Yuxing’s face flushed at the comment. Jiang Chusheng continued on his own: “Then dinner time it is. I’m around anytime.”
“Alright.” After seeing off his mentor, Shi Yuxing leaned against the wall, his legs a little shaky. Despite everything, he still felt a bit of fear toward this authoritative figure. He sighed, looked forward again—a sliver of sunlight leaked through the window at the end of the hall, then quickly disappeared. He wondered if the sun would come out today.
Time flew by. Shi Yuxing rubbed his sore shoulders and freed up a hand to reply to Gu Lingzhou.
-Gu Lingzhou: [Image.jpg]
-Gu Lingzhou: The cafeteria has sweet and sour pork ribs today. If you want, I can pack some and bring it over later.
Shi Yuxing tapped to enlarge the photo on his screen. The dishes in the tray looked pretty good. Was this him reporting his daily activities? A low, soft laugh escaped through his teeth, the curve of his lips something he hadn’t even noticed himself.
His pale fingertips tapped quickly, and the other person’s name instantly switched to “Typing…”
-How long does it take to heal a star: Aren’t you military guys supposed to have the worst food? This looks better than what we have at the hospital.
-Gu Lingzhou: Rumor.
-How long does it take to heal a star: And you’re sneaking military food out to me? Wouldn’t you get in trouble if you got caught?
-Gu Lingzhou: No.
Shi Yuxing pursed his lips and mimicked his cold reply with two words.
-How long does it take to heal a star: Heh heh.
-Gu Lingzhou: What’s wrong?
-How long does it take to heal a star: I thought you only knew how to play the two-word game.
-Gu Lingzhou: No. Bringing food for family members won’t get you penalized.
A message popped up in a green-bordered bubble. Shi Yuxing leaned back in his chair, then spun around once.
-How long does it take to heal a star: Just eat your food already. I’m swamped.
-Gu Lingzhou: I’m free right now. I’ll bring it to you.
-How long does it take to heal a star: NO NEED!!! Just eat yours. I’ll eat at home.
-Gu Lingzhou: Okay.
-Gu Lingzhou: If you miss me, you can smell the flowers. I’ll know.
Shi Yuxing felt like his eyes had been gouged out. He broke out in goosebumps all over, tossed his phone aside, rubbed his prickling arms, and stared at the still-lit screen. “So cringey—”
Suddenly, he turned to look at the bouquet Gu Lingzhou had sent over at noon—magnolias nestled against camellias, red and white intertwined.
…
“Knock knock. Director Jiang? Are you here? I’m coming in.” Shi Yuxing pressed down on the door handle. Light spilled out from inside as Shi Yuxing poked his head in.
Strange—not here? He looked left and right. The office, which could be seen at a single glance, definitely couldn’t hide a person. Jiang Chusheng must have stepped out. Just as he was thinking about messaging his teacher to schedule another visit, Dr. Shi suddenly froze in place. His peripheral vision had just caught a glimpse of something he definitely shouldn’t have seen.
If the office had been dimmer, that thing would have been even more conspicuous. In front of the glowing computer screen sat a bottle he had seen before—and floating inside it was something all too familiar, something that filled him with dread.
Leave a Reply