Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Late at night, the snow began to fall again.

Snow is light and romantic, but once it piles up, it becomes heavy and dull. Up close, it feels icy, devoid of any warmth or humanity.

A black car stopped in front of a standalone villa.

Gu Jingchi turned to look at Song Yuan, who was sulking with his back turned, stubbornly presenting only the back of his head.

Through the glass, Song Yuan was bundled up in a large, fuzzy coat, half of his face submerged in darkness, revealing only a pair of quiet, beautiful eyes—red-rimmed and puffy, brimming with grievance.

Gu Jingchi recalled the question Song Yuan had asked him earlier.

—*Do you want to divorce me?*

In some ways, Song Yuan wasn’t wrong. The contract was only for one year, and they would indeed divorce.

But he hadn’t expected Song Yuan to be so upset about it.

Faced with Song Yuan’s emotional attachment, Gu Jingchi felt a flicker of surprise. After all, in his eyes, Song Yuan was a pleasure-seeking young master, likely only interested in him as a passing fancy, someone who would lose interest soon enough.

It wasn’t until Song Yuan cried in front of him that Gu Jingchi realized—Song Yuan genuinely liked him.

Yet, no matter how much Song Yuan liked him, it wouldn’t change the fact that their contract would eventually end.

Gu Jingchi prided himself on being level-headed. He had no intention of lying just to placate someone. But when he met Song Yuan’s unfairly beautiful eyes again, the harsh words died on his tongue.

Gu Jingchi was truly at a loss.

“We’re not getting divorced. Stop being angry.”

Song Yuan ignored him.

“I’m not lying to you. It really won’t happen.”

After much back-and-forth, Song Yuan still refused to acknowledge him. Even someone as even-keeled as Gu Jingchi began to feel a hint of agitation.

“Song Yuan, it’s very late. You should—”

Song Yuan cut him off. “You're lying to me.”

Gu Jingchi lowered his gaze, watching Song Yuan silently.

—He was curious. *What exactly had he lied about?*

“You promised me you wouldn’t divorce me.”

Gu Jingchi didn’t particularly want to admit to this, but he was forced to nod. “...Mm.”

“Then why did you still do that?”

*Do what?*

Gu Jingchi strongly suspected that the drunken Song Yuan had mistaken his usual fantasies for reality. After all, he was certain he hadn’t done anything—he’d always strictly adhered to the terms of their agreement.

In contrast, Song Yuan had been testing his limits daily, constantly crossing boundaries, and loved acting spoiled.

A complete human-shaped sticky rice cake.

“Then why won’t you call me by my name?” Song Yuan said.

Gu Jingchi obliged. “Song Yuan.”

“Not that one.” Tears welled up in Song Yuan’s eyes. Perhaps because he was lying on his side, his breathing was slightly uneven, making his voice sound unusually tender.

Gu Jingchi asked, “Then what?”

“You used to call me Yuan Yuan.” Song Yuan, afraid Gu Jingchi wouldn’t believe him, added, “Do you think I’m lying to you?”

*Yuan Yuan.*

It was clearly a nickname.

Gu Jingchi felt that their relationship was purely a contractual engagement—far from the stage where they’d use pet names. “No. I just think ‘Song Yuan’ is fine too.”

Song Yuan spoke softly but with absolute seriousness. “It’s not the same.”

A proper explanation should have been more logical.

But the drunken Song Yuan couldn’t manage that. Instead, he repeated, with childlike words, “It’s not the same. This is something that belongs only to me. No one else can take it away.”

Gu Jingchi paused momentarily, inexplicably feeling a pang of emotion.

At some point, the snow had stopped. The night was still.

So quiet that the only sound left in the world was the faint flutter of eyelids.

Song Yuan looked up at him, his gaze utterly pure and clear, making it impossible for Gu Jingchi to refuse.

“Yuan Yuan, be good.” Gu Jingchi, completely disarmed, patted Song Yuan’s head. “It’s cold outside. Let’s go in first.”

Song Yuan stared at him, unmoving.

Gu Jingchi sighed. “From now on, I won’t call you ‘Song Yuan’ anymore. Only ‘Yuan Yuan.’ Okay? I’m sorry.”

Song Yuan nodded. Then, out of habitual consideration, he softened his tone and added, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have sulked. I should’ve made things clear. Next time, we should communicate proactively and not misunderstand each other. Yeah!”

*What kind of nonsense is this…*

The two of them were apologizing over something that didn’t even exist, like a pair of comedians improvising from random scripts. Gu Jingchi found it absurd, his lips quirked involuntarily.

That unexpected smile caught Song Yuan off guard. His teary eyes widened, filled with surprise and wonder as he stared at Gu Jingchi.

“Jingchi, you look so handsome when you smile.”

“......” Gu Jingchi lowered his eyes and turned away indifferently. “You’re seeing things.”

*Click—*

The black fan-shaped front door swung inward. This was the second time Gu Jingchi had brought Song Yuan into his home.

And just like the first time, it wasn’t by choice.

Because the drunken Song Yuan couldn’t remember which floor he lived on.

Left with no other option, Gu Jingchi had to bring him back.

“Go take a shower first.” Gu Jingchi rummaged around and finally unearthed a black hoodless sweatshirt from some forgotten corner.

He’d bought it in the wrong size, couldn’t be bothered to return it, never found the time to throw it away, and never bothered to organize it. A series of unlikely coincidences had led to the shirt surviving until now—only to end up on Song Yuan.

Fresh out of the shower, Song Yuan sat in the bedroom drying his hair. Through the small wooden window, a fluffy head of hair was visible.

Gu Jingchi’s gaze lingered for a second before he looked away.

Leaving Song Yuan staying over wasn’t a solution.

Gu Jingchi considered contacting Song Yuan’s family, but when he opened his phone, he realized he didn’t have any of their contact information.

Then he remembered Pei Han.

Pei Han: *Contact info for Song Yuan’s adoptive brother?*

Pei Han: *What do you need that for?*

Pei Han: *Has our ever-busy Gu Jingchi finally remembered he’s engaged to Xiaosong Tongxue?*

Pei Han: *Feeling guilty for neglecting him and planning to host a family banquet to win Song Yuan's favor?*

Pei Han: *Progress. [Proud]*

Gu Jingchi: *?*

Gu Jingchi: *Did you drink counterfeit liquor?*

Pei Han: *???*

Pei Han: *[Voice message] 60s*

Gu Jingchi couldn’t be bothered to listen to the voice message and briefly explained Song Yuan’s situation.

Pei Han: *Awa.*

Pei Han: *Sigh, you should’ve said it was for Xiaosong Tongxue earlier.*

Pei Han: *His brother’s contact is here: [Business Card]*

Pei Han: *But as a friend, I have a suggestion.*

Gu Jingchi: *Speak.*

Pei Han: *Instead of sending him home safely, I think your company is what he needs most right now. [Handshake] [Rose]*

Gu Jingchi frowned. “Stop using those emojis. They’re so tacky.”

Unfazed, Pei Han continued texting.

Pei Han: *I’ve told you before—Song Yuan doesn’t get along with his family. The rest of the Song family… probably don’t care much about him either.*

Gu Jingchi recalled the incident at the Song family banquet and frowned.

“Jingchi.”

Song Yuan’s voice came from behind. “Why are you standing in the draft? You’ll catch a chill.”

Freshly showered, Song Yuan looked all fluffy, radiating warmth. He was wearing Gu Jingchi’s dark-colored pajamas, appearing soft and docile.

An idiom that suited Song Yuan inexplicably came to mind.

*Perfect for the home.*

It was a scene he’d never imagined, stirring something indescribable in his chest. Gu Jingchi stood still, momentarily spaced out.

Under these circumstances, Gu Jingchi could’ve simply notified the Song family and had them pick Song Yuan up.

But looking at Song Yuan’s docile, earnest expression, he found himself completely unable to do so.

He couldn’t explain why. Maybe he was afraid Song Yuan would ask, just like he had about the name, *Why are you sending me away?*

—Unexplainable things were the most troublesome.

His fingers didn’t land on his phone screen as intended. Instead, they brushed against the soft fabric of Song Yuan’s clothes, resting on his shoulder.

Gu Jingchi’s frame was nearly twice the size of Song Yuan’s, so the pajamas hung loosely on him, the collar slipping to reveal a stretch of collarbone and shoulder.

The bruise from the gun's recoil earlier that day was still visible—a shockingly visible mark.

At least it had been treated. It looked much better than in the photo Song Yuan had sent.

Gu Jingchi adjusted the slipping fabric, his gaze drifting to the slender nape of Song Yuan’s neck. There was a mole there, the same pale pink as the one near his eye—small and inconspicuous, in a spot Song Yuan probably couldn’t see himself.

Staring at the mole, Gu Jingchi’s thoughts began to wander. Song Yuan seemed to notice and asked with a smile if there was something on his neck.

Realizing he’d spaced out, Gu Jingchi felt a flicker of irritation. “You should sleep.”

The Gu residence was cleaned daily by a professional cleaning service. Even the guest rooms, which had never been used, were spotlessly clean.

It was already late. Gu Jingchi didn’t want to trouble the housekeeper, so he resignedly made the bed for Song Yuan.

Once the bed was ready, Song Yuan obediently burrowed under the clean, soft blankets, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Where are you going?”

Gu Jingchi studied him for a moment. “I still have some work to do.”

“Then I’ll wait for you.” Song Yuan was being well-behaved.

Gu Jingchi refused outright. “Staying up late while drunk will make you sick.”

“If I get sick, will you stay with me?” Song Yuan clutched the edge of the blanket, looking delighted. “You’d take care of me, right?”

Gu Jingchi: “......”

Unable to argue, Gu Jingchi sighed in defeat and fetched another blanket, laying it out beside Song Yuan.

Having gotten his way, Song Yuan turned over, curling up under the covers with only his head peeking out, watching Gu Jingchi happily.

Gu Jingchi noticed the intense gaze but chose to ignore it.

After a quick shower and changing into pajamas, Gu Jingchi placed his phone on the nightstand, dimmed all the lights to their lowest setting, and lay down.

Song Yuan was still watching him, his position unchanged.

Gu Jingchi closed his eyes, planning to leave once Song Yuan fell asleep.

Half a minute of silence passed.

Gu Jingchi assumed Song Yuan had finally drifted off and prepared to get up.

Then the person beside him shifted.

The next second, his blanket was yanked open, and Song Yuan forcefully squeezed in, plastering himself against Gu Jingchi like a warm, sticky rice cake.

Gu Jingchi pressed a hand to Song Yuan’s shoulder, frowning.

But then he froze.

He felt Song Yuan wrap his arms around his waist.

“I’m so cold,” Song Yuan murmured, tilting his head up, his voice soft. *Will you hold me while I sleep?*

*Please?*