Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The city’s winters were notoriously brutal; even after the coldest 27-day period had passed, the chill remained relentless.

Upon waking, Song Yuan heard the wind wailing like a banshee outside and felt slightly dizzy.

After getting dressed, he pushed open his bedroom door and took a leisurely stroll around the villa. Instead of "accidentally" running into Gu Jingchi, however, he was met with a sharp draft rushing through the hallway.

The cold breeze sent him into a sneezing fit.

Hugging his arms, Song Yuan retreated to his room to find warmer clothes.

Unfortunately, all he had was the lightweight jacket he’d worn the day before. With no other options, he reluctantly put it on.

After tidying the bedsheets and grabbing his backpack, Song Yuan prepared to leave.

As he opened the front door, the butler approached him. "Young Master Song, are you feeling alright?"

Song Yuan, sitting on the bench by the entrance while putting on his shoes, looked up with a faint blush still lingering on his face. "Much better. I think the fever’s gone."

The butler stepped closer and gently pressed the back of his hand against Song Yuan’s forehead. "You’re still a bit warm. Are you sure you should go to class today? Perhaps you should take the day off."

Song Yuan hesitated for a second before shaking his head. "Leave requests have to be submitted a day in advance."

At this point, it was too late. Skipping class now would count as an unexcused absence.

The original owner of this body had never attended a single class after enrolling in university. According to W University’s student regulations, such behavior warranted expulsion. Song Yuan had only managed to reinstate his enrollment because the faculty had been willing to help him. Since then, he’d maintained a perfect attendance record.

The butler frowned. "But this leave policy is so inflexible. How can anyone predict whether they’ll fall ill in advance?"

Song Yuan agreed wholeheartedly.

"Let’s have breakfast first. The master had the chef prepare congee with lean pork and century eggs. It’s a bit bland—will that be alright for you?"

"Of course!" Song Yuan set down his backpack. "I’ll eat anything."

Halfway through breakfast, his phone buzzed.

Gu Jingchi: *Are you going to school?*

Song Yuan replied:

*Yep!*

After sending that message, Gu Jingchi didn’t respond further.

Song Yuan didn’t press either. He switched to another chat and noticed several other unread messages.

Jiang Ming had heard about his illness and urged him to rest, promising to personally request leave from their professor on his behalf.

Other classmates had also sent their well-wishes.

…

What surprised him, however, was a message from his adoptive brother, Song Shenyu.

Song Shenyu: *You’re sick?*

Song Shenyu: *Feeling better?*

*How did you know?*

Though puzzled, Song Yuan didn’t reply immediately.

Scrolling down, he spotted a red notification dot. Tapping it, he saw a friend request waiting for approval.

The note read: *Song… Qiao?*

His estranged adoptive younger brother—why was he suddenly adding him?

His head still felt foggy, making his thoughts sluggish.

Just then, Gu Jingchi sent another message.

Gu Jingchi: *Eat your meals on time and and take your medicine.*

Gu Jingchi: *Rest well. I’ve asked the chef to add you on WeChat. Let him know if you want anything specific.*

*Ding!* Another friend request popped up.

Song Yuan instinctively tapped to accept—only to realize he’d accidentally approved Song Qiao’s request instead.

But he didn’t dwell on it. Given their strained relationship, Song Qiao would likely just remain a ghost contact.

After breakfast, Song Yuan prepared to leave.

The butler stopped him. "Young Master Song, you don’t have to go to school today. The master has arranged leave for you."

Song Yuan’s eyes widened slightly, wondering if he’d misheard.

W University’s leave application process was notoriously tedious. For Gu Jingchi—a man constantly swamped with work—to spare the time to go through it for him was… unexpected.

The butler smiled. "It wasn’t troublesome. The master funded the construction of W University’s new campus. Getting leave approved is just a matter of a single word from him."

The thought of Jiangcheng’s top brass personally messaging W University’s administration just to secure leave for Song Yuan was surreal.

In Jiangcheng’s social hierarchy, the pyramid of power was ruthlessly stratified. Outside of work, the number of people who could even get close enough to speak with Gu Jingchi within a week could be counted on one hand.

Yet now, Gu Jingchi had lowered his usual aloofness—for Song Yuan’s sake—to interact with people he’d otherwise never glance at twice. It was as if he’d finally been touched by mundane warmth, no longer just an untouchable, ice-cold masterpiece.

*

Outside, the wind still raged fiercely. Song Yuan eyed the 270-degree floor-to-ceiling windows, half-worried he might get blown away. But such concerns proved unnecessary. Curled up on a plush chaise lounge, he listened to the wind as he sketched. Before long, he even found the howling somewhat endearing—like the growls of a baby dragon.

Determined to finish his docket, Song Yuan spent the entire day by the window, taking only a short nap before resuming his work.

By 3 p.m., he’d finally cleared his backlog. Burying his face in the blanket, he stretched lazily, murmuring sleepily as he became enveloped in Gu Jingchi’s scent.

Though the blanket had been laundered with the same detergent as Gu Jingchi’s clothes, it carried a distinctly different aura.

Gu Jingchi was unlike anyone else.

With a few rough strokes on the canvas, Song Yuan exported the sketch and sent it to Gu Jingchi.

It was a playful doodle—a man focused on work, repeatedly interrupted by an affectionate kitten.

The kitten, craving attention, rubbed against him insistently before finally burrowing into his arms.

The man looked exasperated but still paused his work to gently pat the kitten’s head.

After sending it, Song Yuan couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

Gu Jingchi hadn’t replied yet.

Logging into his art platform, Song Yuan posted a preview for new commissions, planning to take on a few more.

Just like last time, slots were snatched up within seconds of opening.

*"Aaaah, I was 0.01 seconds too late! Teacher, can you open more slots next time?!"*

*"I’ll pay an extra 500 to reserve a spot for the next round!"*

*"600!"*

*"800!"*

*"1,000!"*

As the bids skyrocketed, Song Yuan grew alarmed.

Sanshui Yuanyuan: *Please, everyone, spend responsibly!*

His appearance only fueled the frenzy in the comments. Private messages flooded his inbox with incessant *dings*. In a hurry, Song Yuan adjusted the commission price to 8,888—a deterrent price—but just as he was about to close the listings, someone instantly purchased both slots at the inflated price.

Song Yuan: *!*

He quickly messaged the buyer.

Sanshui Yuanyuan: *Sorry, I closed the listings too late. That price was meant to discourage purchases. Let me know how to refund you.*

Saranghae: *No need!!*

Saranghae: *This is my deposit for you.*

Song Yuan: *!!*

Saranghae: *I’d love to commission a scene illustration for my OC. Pretty please~*

Saranghae: *This is my darling daughter. Isn’t she cute? [excited]*

*So adorable!*

Normally, Song Yuan wouldn’t make an exception for commissions, but the offer was simply too generous. He accepted without hesitation.

After calculating, he realized that finishing these commissions would cover his rent until graduation.

Even if Gu Jingchi ended their agreement without providing a hefty payout, Song Yuan could still sustain himself in Jiangcheng with his skills.

—If Gu Jingchi terminated their contract today, it wouldn’t even be a problem.

But before that happened, there was still one crucial thing left undone.

Tapping around on his tablet, Song Yuan switched to Procreate’s homepage and opened a folder labeled *"Gift."*

On the night they left the Song family banquet together, Song Yuan had promised Gu Jingchi a gift.

Though it had been a one-sided promise, Song Yuan had taken it seriously.

Ever since seeing Gu Jingchi in a suit that day, he’d been itching to design a four-piece suit ensemble (jacket, vest, trousers, and overcoat) for him—complete with suspenders, sleeve garters, and shirt stays. No artist could resist their Muse, and Song Yuan was no exception. If he was going to design something, he wanted it to be flawless.

He’d even sketched out chest and waist chains, but Song Yuan, ever the coward, didn’t dare gift those.

He couldn’t bring himself to present what he considered art to Gu Jingchi—because Gu Jingchi would undoubtedly label him a deviant.

After some thought, Song Yuan realized he still needed to figure out Gu Jingchi’s exact measurements—waist, leg length, and most tricky of all, wrist circumference, since arms were too conspicuous to measure discreetly.

This folder was the first one Song Yuan had created, but after two weeks, it only contained a handful of rough drafts—nowhere near a complete collection.

Just then, Gu Jingchi—who’d been silent until now—sent a message.

Gu Jingchi: *?*

Gu Jingchi: *This doesn’t look like your usual style.*

Song Yuan’s eyes widened as he reread the words.

How did Gu Jingchi know what his usual style looked like?

Gu Jingchi: *I came back at noon. You were asleep.*

Gu Jingchi: *Your tablet was still on. I turned it off for you.*

So Gu Jingchi had returned at midday while Song Yuan was napping by the window.

The realization made Song Yuan break into a cold sweat.

He had no idea what Gu Jingchi had seen—or how much. Had he spotted the shirt stays? The suspenders?

Those could be explained away. But if Gu Jingchi had seen the body chains…

There’d be no salvaging that!

Song Yuan forced a laugh. *"I’m not just a genius—I’m a versatile genius."*

Gu Jingchi replied swiftly.

*"Mm, you are."*

The tone was oddly indulgent. Just reading it, Song Yuan could vividly picture Gu Jingchi saying those words.

Since when had Gu Jingchi become so accommodating?

Gu Jingchi: *If you’re sick, rest properly.*

Gu Jingchi: *The drawings won’t run away. No one’s competing with you for them.*

Song Yuan immediately sent an *"angry bunny punching"* sticker.

He took back his earlier thought—Gu Jingchi was still the same clueless straight guy.

*Zero romance!*

Due to roadwork outside the hospital, the dust was overwhelming. The doctor advised Song Yuan to return for his IV after the construction crew left.

*

It wasn’t until nightfall that Song Yuan finally headed out.

Once the nurse secured the IV line, Song Yuan snapped a photo and sent it to Gu Jingchi.

*"Here for my IV!"*

*"Didn’t bring my tablet. I’m resting like a good boy. [puppy eyes for head pats]"*

Maybe it was his imagination, but Gu Jingchi’s replies seemed to be getting faster.

Gu Jingchi: *Atta boy.*

*"Song Yuan?"*

The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar. Song Yuan turned.

It was Doctor He.

He Zongnian: *How are you feeling? Better?*

Song Yuan nodded. *"Much better."*

He Zongnian seemed to want to say more, but someone called for him from behind. Reluctantly, he said, *"I need to hand over my shift. Wait for me—I’ll be right back."*

*"I’ll return soon."*

Song Yuan blinked, struck by a sense of déjà vu.

Half an hour later, the nurse removed his IV and applied a bandage to the puncture site.

*"Huh? Why isn’t the bleeding stopping?"* The young nurse began to panic.

The head nurse examined Song Yuan’s hand carefully. *"Your platelet count is a bit low."* Gently peeling off the blood-soaked bandage, they replaced it with a fresh one. *"Don’t move until the bleeding stops, alright?"*

Song Yuan nodded obediently, bobbing his head like a pecking chick.

As he did, he suddenly spotted Gu Jingchi standing at the doorway—how long had he been there?

Song Yuan froze, then brightened and waved enthusiastically. *"Gu Jingchi—!"*

Gu Jingchi’s brow furrowed slightly as he strode over.

*"Ah!"*

Looking down, Song Yuan saw the fresh bandage already staining red.

Sheepish, he’d forgotten about his unhealed wound.

The nurse chuckled. *"Is this your boyfriend?"*

Song Yuan’s face burned instantly.

The word *"boyfriend"* carried a different weight than *"fiancé."* The latter was tied to their contract, allowing Song Yuan to mentally distance himself from the teasing implications.

But *"boyfriend"* implied something genuine—no contracts, just pure affection.

And he and Gu Jingchi didn’t love each other.

As Gu Jingchi approached, he naturally took the jacket Song Yuan had been holding.

*"Sorry."* Song Yuan’s instinctive fear of burdening others made him apologize immediately. *"I forgot about the wound."*

*"It’s fine."* Gu Jingchi gathered Song Yuan’s belongings. *"Everyone gets hurt sometimes. No need to apologize."*

The calm reassurance soothed Song Yuan more than any grand gesture could.

His spirits lifted quickly, his voice feather-light and heart-fluttering.

*"Wait for me. I’ll be right back."*

Gu Jingchi remained where he was.

About ten minutes later, footsteps sounded behind him—but they weren’t Song Yuan’s.

The newcomer had been cheerful at first, but his expression darkened upon seeing Gu Jingchi holding Song Yuan’s jacket.

Gu Jingchi recognized him—the accidental bystander from the photo Song Yuan had sent.

*"Hello."* He Zongnian spoke first, tone polite. *"That’s Song Yuan’s jacket, isn’t it?"*

*"And you are?"*