Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Song Yuan had assumed Gu Jingchi wouldn't message him back.

Yet, barely half a minute later, a three-second voice message from Gu Jingchi popped up.

Song Yuan tapped to play it.

Through the earpiece, Gu Jingchi’s voice, cold and low, stated: "Don't want to see it."

*Then why send a voice message?*

Gu Jingchi’s peculiar way of denial made Song Yuan chuckle.

Clutching his phone, he leaned back in his chair, laughing for a good while before straightening up. Then, he carefully took another photo and sent it to Gu Jingchi.

Song Yuan had taken the photo in a private room at a hotpot restaurant. Gu Jingchi could tell the focus was off; the person in the image was blurry.

But the clothes suited Song Yuan well, complementing his skin tone.

Only when Song Yuan was still did Gu Jingchi’s gaze linger.

He had noticed during their last meeting that Song Yuan’s nose was distinctly upturned, his lips redder than most, and no matter his expression, his mouth always seemed slightly ajar. Even in the blurry photo, it gave Gu Jingchi the impression—Song Yuan’s lips must be incredibly soft.

Gu Jingchi stared at the photo until a prompt to save the image appeared on the screen, pulling him back to reality.

He lowered his eyes and, expressionless, turned off his phone.

"President Gu, the driver is ready to pick up Young Master Song. Would you like to go along?" The secretary, unsure of the situation, sought Gu Jingchi’s opinion.

Gu Jingchi shook his head. "No."

He was very clear about his boundaries; from the outset, he had no intention of developing any relationship with Song Yuan beyond their contractual partnership.

If they were to return together and it was misinterpreted as them heading to a "love nest," it would be extremely troublesome.

Things that couldn't be easily explained were always the most problematic.

*

"Yuan Yuan, see you next time!"

"You guys should head back early!"

After seeing off several classmates one by one, only Song Yuan and Jiang Ming remained in the private room.

Song Yuan glanced at his phone.

The agreed meeting time with the driver was nine o’clock, and it was not yet eight-thirty. He decided to wait a little longer.

He then turned to Jiang Ming. "Jiang Ming, how are you getting back?"

Jiang Ming: "The weather forecast says the snow will stop in half an hour. Once it stops, I’ll head back to the dorm."

"That’s a long wait," Song Yuan remarked.

Jiang Ming grinned. "No big deal—you’re still here. I can keep you company while we wait." Then, a hint of curiosity in his voice, he asked, "Who’s coming to pick you up?"

Song Yuan stumbled over the question. "...my driver."

"Whose?"

Song Yuan carefully considered his relationship with Gu Jingchi. Though he longed to call him a friend, a contract stood between them—one that couldn't be construed as romantic.

After a moment's thought, Song Yuan found a compromise:

"My family member."

Jiang Ming's eyes widened slightly. "Really? Then I must go say hello later."

Song Yuan beamed. "You can!"

Outside, the wind howled with greater intensity.

Jiang Ming gazed at the goose-feather-like snow beyond the window and sniffled. "This snow is really coming down."

Song Yuan observed Jiang Ming for a few moments, sensing something amiss. "Jiang Ming, are you catching a cold?"

Jiang Ming shook his head, his voice muffled. "I get like this when it's too cold. I'll turn up the underfloor heating by two degrees."

After adjusting the heat, he paused, then suddenly spun around, an excited expression on his face. "Yuan Yuan, wait for me, I'm going to get something."

Jiang Ming opened the door and stepped out, returning with an exquisitely delicate box of pastries.

Song Yuan watched with curiosity as Jiang Ming opened the box.

Inside were a bottle of sake and a plate of sashimi. "Buy sashimi, get a free mini bottle! Let's each have a sip~ Yuan Yuan, come and try this!"

Song Yuan smiled and shook his head. "But I don't drink."

Jiang Ming replied, "No worries, look, it's only 1.3% alcohol. Even if you don't drink, you can have this. This percentage won't get you drunk."

Song Yuan looked at the frosty blue bottle, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

In his previous life, he had been too busy to attend social gatherings, let alone buy alcohol himself, so he had no idea what his alcohol tolerance was.

But if it was only one percent, surely he wouldn't get drunk.

Song Yuan picked up the glass and gulped it down, immediately choking uncomfortably.

Jiang Ming was startled, abandoning his own drink and tossing it aside.

He gently and quickly patted Song Yuan's back, then rolled up a custard bun for Song Yuan, telling him to eat it to counteract the pungent taste of the alcohol.

"Slow down, Yuan Yuan, next time take small sips. Gulping it down can cause trouble. Are you okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

After barely suppressing the stinging sensation in his nasal cavity, Song Yuan quickly waved his hand, saying he wouldn't eat any more.

"I'll go for a walk with you."

"No, you go ahead and finish the sashimi, don't waste food." Song Yuan decided to go for a walk by himself.

The hot pot restaurant's decor was elegant and grand, even the corridors were designed with flowing water motifs. Song Yuan followed the directions embedded in the marble floor, arriving at the counter.

He thought, since he was already here, he might as well settle the bill.

Just as he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with someone!

A hand steadied Song Yuan's arm. "Watch out!"

The voice sounded familiar. Song Yuan looked up and realized the man before him was someone he had met—the doctor from the shooting range this afternoon, named He...

"He Zongnian." The man noticed Song Yuan's hesitation and smiled. "What a coincidence, we meet again. Are you here to check out too?"

Song Yuan nodded and, realizing the other was closer to the counter, stepped back to let him go ahead.

Unexpectedly, the man gestured politely. "After you."

"Thank you." Song Yuan took out his phone from his pocket, and without him realizing, a black card slipped out and fell to the floor with a *clink*.

It was the card Gu Jingchi had given him earlier.

He had kept it in his coat pocket all this time but had been too busy studying to take it out.

He Zongnian picked up the card for Song Yuan, carefully wiping off the dust before handing it back.

Song Yuan thanked him again and tucked the card back into his coat pocket.

He Zongnian glanced at Song Yuan a few times and, upon seeing him pay with his phone, couldn’t resist saying, "Actually, you could just use the black card to pay. It’s easier than using your phone—just swipe it after checking the bill."

Song Yuan shook his head firmly. That card belonged to Gu Jingchi. "It doesn't have the student discount."

As soon as he finished speaking, the cashier chuckled. "Hello, our system shows you’re indeed a student at W University and qualify for our discount. We’ll apply 31% off for you."

Song Yuan gave a satisfied nod.

He Zongnian was momentarily stunned—he hadn’t heard such an innocent remark in a long time—before smiling.

After paying, Song Yuan turned to go back to Jiang Ming, but He Zongnian stopped him.

Confused, Song Yuan turned around and found He Zongnian handing him a business card.

[Professor of Surgery, People’s Hospital, Medical University]

[He Zongnian]

Song Yuan blinked, looking at He Zongnian.

He Zongnian said, "If you ever come to the hospital, you can find me at the office listed on the card..."

Song Yuan dismissed it quickly. "My shoulder is fine... really, it's fine."

Though he knew He Zongnian meant well by giving him the card, something felt strange about it.

But he was too out of it to process things—he just wanted to go back and sleep.

"Um, Dr. He, thank you for checking my shoulder this afternoon. I know you’re a very experienced and skilled doctor. If I ever need medical attention, I’ll go to the hospital on my own. Your time is too valuable—it should be saved for those who truly need it."

After saying all this, Song Yuan quietly exhaled in relief.

But the other man didn’t seem ready to end the conversation. Instead, He Zongnian stepped back respectfully and inclined his head. "I apologize—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to be friends. Please don’t misunderstand."

Song Yuan hurriedly shook his head. "No, no, it’s not that."

He was just feeling a little lightheaded and out of sorts, wanting nothing more than to go back and sleep.

"As a peace offering, next time you visit the hospital, I can have my assistant guide you to our new rehab program for young people who sit at computers for long hours." He Zongnian smiled. "From the way you were holding the gun earlier, you must spend a lot of time working in front of a screen, right?"

Hit the nail on the head.

The work of fashion design is often intricate and demanding. Song Yuan, for his part, loves to spend long hours immersed in sketching and designing. When inspiration strikes, he even enjoys leaning back in his chair to draw.

Though this posture isn't ideal, once Song Yuan loses himself in his work, everything else fades away.

—He noticed that? Who knew.

Song Yuan instinctively wanted to decline, feeling his own needs were minor and that the card should go to someone truly in need.

Just as he was about to speak, Gu Jingchi came to mind.

Gu Jingchi was an absolute workaholic, surely spending even more time in the office than Song Yuan.

Perhaps… Gu Jingchi was the one who needed this card most.

Gu Jingchi was practically his savior, always providing a solution to his problems.

Song Yuan, being thin-skinned, found it hard to refuse Doctor He’s kindness directly, but he could accept it on Gu Jingchi’s behalf. This way, Doctor He’s good intentions would be realized, and Gu Jingchi’s needs would be met—a win-win situation!

Song Yuan felt like a social genius.

Next time, he definitely had to introduce these two.

Politely accepting the card, Song Yuan said, "Thank you. If there's an opportunity, I'll bring my friend to see you."

Upon returning to the private room, Song Yuan found Jiang Ming scurrying around like a headless chicken, clutching a green soju bottle.

Jiang Ming grabbed a passing waiter. "Have you seen my friend? He drank 13% soju! 13%! He can't hold his liquor! He can't have gone far!"

13%?

So it wasn't 1.3% after all.

No wonder his head felt so dizzy.

*

Late into the night, the conference room of Gu Corporation’s chairman remained brightly lit.

Gu Jingchi was discussing a new proposal with department directors.

The first to present was a newcomer, giving his first report before the management team, clearly nervous.

Following the outlined structure, he began summarizing all the details of the Jiangcheng project for the quarter, occasionally sneaking glances at Gu Jingchi. Only when he saw Gu Jingchi remain focused on the proposal in his hands, without any scrutinizing gaze, could he continue speaking with more confidence.

The report proceeded smoothly—until Gu Jingchi’s phone suddenly vibrated, causing everyone to instinctively pause.

Without even a glance, Gu Jingchi motioned for them to continue, his tone strictly businesslike.

Perhaps because Gu Jingchi’s voice naturally carried a cool edge, his professional demeanor created an inherent sense of pressure. The directors, sweating with nerves, dared not be distracted.

But to everyone’s surprise, the caller was exceptionally persistent. Each time the phone went silent for less than thirty seconds, another call would immediately come through.

Those present were accustomed to anticipating Gu Jingchi’s thoughts. Having followed him for years, they knew him well: Gu Jingchi was polite to everyone, yet maintained very strong boundaries. He disliked being disturbed, especially by incessant calls like this.

The last person who dared to cross that line had long since vanished from their circle.

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Gu Jingchi picked up the phone, his brow slightly furrowed.

But upon seeing the caller ID, his expression quickly softened.

To their even greater shock, Gu Jingchi answered the call.

On the other end, Song Yuan’s voice came through, soft and small, calling his name.

“Jingchi.”

His tone was so endearing, carrying an unusual, almost childish innocence, and a hint of grievance.

“It’s already dark. Aren’t you coming to pick me up?”