Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Song Yuan was very fond of acting cute and affectionate.

The frequency was so high that Gu Jingchi couldn’t keep track, but Song Yuan himself seemed oblivious to just how effusive he was.

Did he used to ask his foster brothers for hugs too?

Would Song Yuan also cling to the necks of his classmates and act sweet when they went out for meals?

But weren’t these things reserved exclusively for a partner?

*Partner.*

Gu Jingchi suddenly realized something profoundly serious. He, who always prided himself on his rationality, was actually associating such an unfamiliar word with Song Yuan’s affectionate behavior.

These two words crashed through Gu Jingchi’s mind, brutally shattering all logic.

*

After the downpour, Jiangcheng had regained its usual vibrancy.

“Then I’ll come find you after class.”

Before leaving, Song Yuan tilted his head slightly, looking up at Gu Jingchi with bright, sparkling eyes. “You have to wait for me.”

Gu Jingchi’s hesitation was fleeting.

Because he couldn’t think of a single reason to refuse Song Yuan.

“Thank you, Gu Jingchi, you’re so kind—!”

Having received affirmation, Song Yuan was utterly content.

He released the doorknob, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and skipped down the steps, his face beaming with happiness.

After the driver had taken Song Yuan away, Gu Jingchi turned and walked back inside.

The black and gold marble reflected Gu Jingchi’s silhouette, as if the world had merged with this stone wall, becoming silent and still.

The humidity inside was just right, the decibel level no different from usual, the lighting ample, and the house warm and inviting—everything seemed perfectly cozy and homelike.

But it was too quiet.

Unbearably quiet.

As if this place were the most uninhabitable spot on the entire planet.

Gu Jingchi felt a slight irritation welling up inside him.

He instinctively opened his phone, connected to the driver’s satellite navigation, wanting to see how far Song Yuan and the driver had gotten.

“Distance: 20 kilometers. Estimated arrival at W University: approximately 30 minutes.”

That’s quite a while. Leaving at this time meant hitting morning rush hour.

Gu Jingchi’s brow furrowed slightly.

Behind him, Pei Han suddenly began muttering to himself.

“Black Sa~ What should we do~”

Gu Jingchi: "..."

Black Sa, tongue lolling, was blissfully unaware, not comprehending the human conversation.

Pei Han put on a show of deep emotion, enunciating each word with theatrical flair—

"Our little Yuan won't be able to visit you again for a very, very long time."

Black Sa cocked its head, articulating the "why" on Gu Jingchi's behalf.

Pei Han: "Just think—W University is so far from here. To go to school, you have to cross half of Jiangcheng. What college student gets up at seven? It's one thing if someone is self-disciplined, but why drag others into it?"

"With all that time, why not just sleep?"

"Isn't that better?"

The 'someone' in question: "..."

Black Sa let out a soft whine, ears drooping, anxiously circling in place.

Pei Han ruffled Black Sa's fur: "If only our Black Sa lived near W University. You could see each other day and night, live under the same roof, and occasionally even pick up little Yuan from school."

Black Sa grinned.

Gu Jingchi slowly lifted his eyelids, looking at Pei Han, "Are you that idle?"

Pei Han, feeling guilty under that gaze, knew that pushing his luck further would be fatal. He scooped up Black Sa and promptly made his escape.

Silence returned to the room.

Gu Jingchi stared at the slowly moving car icon on his phone screen, his fingers, resting at his side, suddenly twitched.

Pei Han's rambling was indeed a bit much, but not entirely without merit.

Making Song Yuan commute such a long distance to school every day was indeed impractical.

*

There was only one core class in the morning.

To fill the one or two hours before class, Song Yuan decided to tackle his backlog of work.

He found an empty classroom, set up his tablet, and opened the red app.

It was time to take on a couple of commissions and hone his skills.

Song Yuan checked the time—only eight o'clock. Students without early classes were probably still asleep.

On a whim, Song Yuan casually posted something on his social account, not even bothering with tags, and just hit send.

Song Yuan was prepared for no engagement; after posting, he switched to look at other things.

When he switched back, Song Yuan found his tablet's notification bar overflowing with private messages.

"Holy cow! So beautiful! And so cheap! Wife, are you a Bodhisattva?"

"Teacher, teacher, look at me! Your art is too beautiful, my Bodhisattva kitty."

"Please pick me!!! If I get a slot, I can't imagine how happy I'd be."

"Just seeing these makes me incredibly happy."

Beyond the flood of praise, Song Yuan also noticed a flurry of comments from people trying to "save their spot!"

He never expected his casual post to garner so many views. His palms were sweating with excitement.

Just five minutes in, and it had already surpassed 500 likes.

Not to mention the platform's push mechanism—posts exceeding 500 likes were almost guaranteed to go viral!

Watching his follower count climb, Song Yuan was over the moon.

He scheduled commission openings for 9 a.m., with only three slots available.

There was a reason for capping the number—besides earning money, he had his own personal motives.

The artwork displayed in the post was a heavily textured character illustration. While he was capable of painting in that style, he didn't want to confine himself to just one type.

He didn't want to repeatedly churn out the same style. After perfecting one, he hoped to challenge himself with other, different styles.

This was the artistic growth Song Yuan craved most.

Three lucky fans snagged slots, and Song Yuan added them as friends.

"OMG! I actually got one! Unbelievable! I'm so hyped!!"

"San Shuiyuan: Congrats ^^"

"San Shuiyuan: Hooray~"

All three commissioners had their own unique preferences and ideas. Song Yuan jotted down each client's requirements in his memo, then double-checked the details of the drafts before confidently putting his tablet away, ready to head to class.

Perhaps due to his overwhelming excitement, Song Yuan's face was burning hot, flushed with an unnatural redness.

"Yuan Yuan, are you really okay?" Jiang Ming asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, just too excited," Song Yuan attributed the strange heat to the joy of receiving commissions.

But soon, he no longer felt that way.

Song Yuan felt as if he was getting sick.

His head was spinning, and his entire body was filled with discomfort.

This feeling intensified with time.

After class, Song Yuan bid farewell to Jiang Ming and rushed home, planning to take a shower. However, his luck was truly bad; halfway through, the water heater suddenly broke, and no matter how he adjusted it, only cold water came out.

It was the dead of winter, and being drenched in cold water was far from pleasant. Song Yuan shivered uncontrollably, daring not to continue showering. He quickly blow-dried his hair and wrapped himself in his blanket.

It wasn't even noon yet. Song Yuan leaned against the headboard, eyes closed, trying to rest and recharge before meeting Gu Jingchi for lunch.

But he was simply too tired. Holding his phone, he accidentally dozed off.

When he woke up again, Song Yuan's head was still spinning. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, so long that the white blurred into black, and he still hadn't fully come to.

So hungry.

He hadn't eaten lunch yet.

...Oh no, lunch!

Song Yuan woke with a jolt.

The first thing he did after waking was sneeze into the air.

"Achoo!"

His head felt fuzzy, and the world spun around him.

It was so cold.

He stumbled to the wardrobe, pulled on a thick shearling coat, then headed downstairs to unlock a shared bike.

Halfway there, Song Yuan stopped. He realized that no matter how he rode, he couldn't keep the bike in a straight line. Continuing would have been too dangerous.

He parked the bike and walked the rest of the way to Gu Jingchi’s company.

When he arrived, Gu Jingchi was still in a meeting. Song Yuan settled onto the lounge sofa, his eyelids drooping, his head bobbing like a sleepy chick pecking at grain.

The secretary worriedly touched his forehead. "Oh dear, Xiao Yuan, you must have caught a cold."

Song Yuan was listless. The lounge’s heating was so warm it made him drowsy. For a moment, he seemed to drift off, barely registering what the secretary said, only managing a weak, indistinct mumble.

When Gu Jingchi emerged from his office, he saw Song Yuan’s flushed cheeks.

The assistant, puzzled, asked, "What's going on?"

The secretary replied, "Xiao Yuan seems to be sick."

Assistant: "Could it be from getting caught in yesterday's rain?"

Gu Jingchi’s gaze lingered on Song Yuan for a moment too long.

Seeing Gu Jingchi, Song Yuan’s previously dull eyes suddenly brightened. "Gu Jingchi! Let's grab lunch~"

Even sick, he was still so persistent.

Gu Jingchi called the butler to take Song Yuan home.

"The doctor will be there soon. The butler will pick you up shortly."

Song Yuan looked a little regretful. "Sorry, I can’t have lunch with you."

There was nothing to apologize for, yet Gu Jingchi still reminded him, "Listen to the doctor and get some good rest."

After the doctor left, Song Yuan finally got his wish—burrowing under the covers.

This was his second time sleeping in Gu Jingchi’s bed. He had to admit, Gu Jingchi’s bed was incredibly soft and comfortable. Right now, all he wanted was to stay in it forever, never to leave.

Like some kind of nesting instinct, Song Yuan piled the blankets high, snuggling deep inside with only his adorable head peeking out.

Song Yuan slept in the covers for an entire day, only getting up three times to use the bathroom—twice bumping into the glass door and twice waking Gu Jingchi.

The second time he was woken, Gu Jingchi asked Song Yuan, "You hit it a second time?"

Song Yuan stammered his complaint, "Wh-whose bathroom uses transparent glass anyway?!"

Gu Jingchi paused, casting a surprised glance at the bathroom.

The glass was indeed transparent, but Gu Jingchi truly hadn’t expected the bathroom here to be like this.

He’d never been here before.

As for why the bathroom had transparent glass, Gu Jingchi couldn’t answer that question, nor did he want to continue this slightly ambiguous topic with Song Yuan, so he fell silent.

After tucking Song Yuan into bed, he took out a hanger, a piece of clothing, and a hook from the wardrobe. He hung the clothes over the glass and turned to look at Song Yuan.

People get fussy when they’re sick. Song Yuan wrinkled his face, whining like a child, "Don’t you think it’s scary? When the lights are off, it feels like someone’s watching me from there."

"Don’t be so dramatic," Gu Jingchi said, but he still took the clothes down.

Song Yuan grumbled and flopped over, but because he did it too forcefully, he immediately clutched his head and groaned in pain. Still whining, he jutted his chin at the backpack on the chair, "There’s a marker in my bag. Take one and draw something on the glass. If I see it, I won’t bump into it again."

Gu Jingchi ignored the suggestion.

"Pink! The light kind!"

Just like the color of his teardrop mole.

Gu Jingchi paused, startled by his own thought.

He lifted his gaze, meeting Song Yuan’s bright, guileless smile, the teardrop mole standing out starkly.

It was hard not to notice. Shoving down the surprise, Gu Jingchi took the marker and walked toward the bathroom.

"Draw me a cat~"

Song Yuan’s soft, drawn-out voice came from behind.

Gu Jingchi didn’t turn around, unsure whether he would follow the suggestion.

Song Yuan watched his retreating figure, watching until sleep took him.

.

The next afternoon, Gu Jingchi left work early.

When he returned home, it wasn’t even five o’clock yet.

The butler eyed the takeout bag in his hand and asked, "What’s this?"

Gu Jingchi handed it over. "Tonic soup from Soup Alley."

The butler took it with a smile. "Sir, you’re so thoughtful. I’ll warm it up. Young Master Song can drink it once he’s up."

Hell must’ve frozen over—Gu Jingchi, the ice-cold recluse, actually knew how to care for someone. Soup Alley was in the opposite direction from home, meaning he had gone out of his way just to buy this soup!

When Song Yuan shuffled downstairs, the soup had just finished warming.

"Young Master Song, right on time. Here, drink this tonic soup Sir specially brought for you."

Song Yuan gaped at Gu Jingchi, delighted. "Really?"

"Jingchi, you’re amazing—!"

Gu Jingchi didn’t react. "It’s best hot."

"What kind of soup is this?" Song Yuan’s eyes lit up. "It’s the same kind I got you before!"

Gu Jingchi went still, like the thought had physically hit him.

"Did Young Master Xiao Song ever purchase this for Mr. Gu before?" the butler said, holding up the card from the food container and offering a slight smile. "It seems Young Master Xiao Song really knows how to shop."

In the kitchen, another housekeeper looked at Song Yuan and smiled faintly too.

Gu Jingchi sat beside the dining table, watching him expressionlessly, his gaze lingering on Song Yuan's face for a few extra seconds.

"The boss said it's something good."

He actually repeated words that Song Yuan had once said.

What cryptic game are you all playing?

Picking up the dropped card nearby, Song Yuan saw clearly printed in golden letters:

Ten-Ingredient Tonifying Kidney Soup.

Function: Nourishes essence and vital energy, strengthens waist and kidneys.

!

So last time, he had sent Gu Jingchi a kidney-nourishing soup?!

Realizing what he had done, Song Yuan felt like he shattered into pieces instantly.

Like a dream or illusion, he finished the soup absentmindedly and dizzily walked upstairs.

Both his ears and face were flushed red—whether from the effect of the medicine or because he now knew he had given Gu Jingchi a kidney-replenishing soup.

How could he dare?

Wasn't this challenging Gu Jingchi's masculinity?!

He just wanted to act a little mischievous, not suicidal!

While lost in thought, Song Yuan missed a step and was about to tumble down the stairs.

At the critical moment, Gu Jingchi caught him just in time.

Scared stiff, Song Yuan instinctively gripped Gu Jingchi’s hand, leaning half his body against him to gather strength to continue walking. Their positions were subtly intimate—one above, one below—and Song Yuan happened to expose a section of fair waist, incredibly beautiful. In the shadow, one could even see the indentation of his lower back.

Gu Jingchi quickly shifted his eyes away, unconsciously deepening his breath, a wave of restlessness rising within him.

After crawling back under the covers, Song Yuan still felt shaken.

Seeing Gu Jingchi turn to leave, he hurriedly called out, "Gu Jingchi!"

Gu Jingchi turned around, "What is it?"

Song Yuan's cheeks were rosy red, his eyes full of misty moisture, "Thank you for buying me the soup."

Gu Jingchi glanced at him and nodded slightly.

"And... I didn't know it was that kind of soup—that specific one. I bought it only after taking the boss's suggestion," Song Yuan blinked innocently, "really."

I didn't mean to challenge your masculinity as a man.

Song Yuan appeared very sincere; one could tell from his expression. Perhaps because he rarely saw such a flushed face, Gu Jingchi didn't look away like usual but instead lowered his gaze and stared a bit longer.

Not only his cheeks, even his nose tip had turned red, like a rabbit's nose.

Could it be the soup making him so flushed?

"I didn't do it on purpose. Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry," Gu Jingchi paused, "The boss was right."

That soup truly was something good.