Chapter 25

Chapter 25

What?

Why so sudden?

The streets were fragrant with candied chestnuts. Spring had arrived, bringing the rich scents of cinnamon and azaleas. The city's slow pace felt languid, even making one's thoughts drift.

Song Yuan couldn’t fathom Gu Jingchi’s reason for holding an engagement banquet.

After all, their initial agreement had been explicitly stated:

—Aside from maintaining appearances in front of their contract partner, there was no need to act as a couple around others.

This was the arrangement Gu Jingchi wanted, and it suited Song Yuan just fine. Only this way could he persistently pester Gu Jingchi to secure a divorce.

But now, Gu Jingchi had suddenly proposed an engagement banquet—completely deviating from their original terms and throwing Song Yuan’s plans into disarray.

Song Yuan’s brain short-circuited on the spot, leaving him at a loss.

Well, after half a month of acting spoiled, the divorce hadn’t happened. Instead, an engagement banquet was on the horizon.

All that effort, wasted.

"But I..." Song Yuan hemmed and hawed.

He hesitated.

Gu Jingchi’s fingers twitched slightly, his lowered lashes veiling the light in his eyes.

Was this moving too fast?

For Song Yuan, it seemed so.

Song Yuan’s situation was far more difficult than Gu Jingchi had imagined. At nineteen, he had been sent by his family as a pawn in an arranged marriage—stripped of independence, with no freedom to speak of. At an age when his worldview was still developing, he had been shackled to the heavy obligations of his family.

In their world, such things weren’t uncommon. Most people preferred taking shortcuts. Had it been anyone else, they would have long given in to greed and lost themselves.

But Song Yuan, unexpectedly, hadn’t gone down that path.

At first, when Song Yuan had been overly enthusiastic toward him, Gu Jingchi had suspected it was an act—an attempt to extract more benefits from this marriage of convenience.

But as time passed, he realized Song Yuan wasn’t like that.

He treated Gu Jingchi well not because Gu Jingchi was special, but because Song Yuan himself was naturally kind-hearted. It was as if he was born to love others—caring, sincere, radiating kindness.

No matter how cold or indifferent someone was, it never stopped him from being good to them.

But this was unfair to Song Yuan.

Because he didn’t know about the prejudice Gu Jingchi had initially held against him.

Song Yuan shouldn’t have been treated like that.

So, starting now, they would take it slow—beginning with dating, making amends step by step.

Even though, in the end... he still wouldn’t marry Song Yuan.

But before this contract ended, he would respect and cherish him.

"Would you like to have dinner together?" Gu Jingchi asked.

What?

The abrupt change of topic caught Song Yuan off guard. "O-okay."

Song Yuan’s home was in the old district, where there were no large commercial centers—just simple cafés tucked into the historic arcades.

It wasn’t bad. Young people frequented the area, and it was pleasantly quiet.

Only when they walked side by side to their seats did Song Yuan snap out of his daze.

Gu Jingchi’s earlier words... must have been a joke, right?

Thank goodness. Otherwise, Song Yuan wouldn’t have known how to refuse.

But for some reason, dismissing it as a joke left him with an inexplicable pang of disappointment.

Inside, the café charmed him—decorated in vintage American style, with a picture window framing a vast, sunlit flower field. It was breathtaking. Song Yuan loved warm, cozy spaces, so he chose a seat by the window.

It was strange.

Despite being contractually engaged, he and Gu Jingchi had never shared a meal since meeting.

Gu Jingchi lowered his head to unfold Song Yuan’s napkin before turning to the menu.

The café had a coffee counter collaborating with a popular animated film, featuring a character Song Yuan adored. He couldn’t help stealing a glance as they passed, and Gu Jingchi noticed.

"Want some?"

"No, no." Song Yuan was caffeine-sensitive. Coffee, alcohol, even tea—any of them would send his heart racing uncontrollably, guaranteeing a sleepless night.

His mouth refused, but his eyes betrayed him, flickering toward the counter again.

The commemorative ticket only came with a coffee purchase. Why couldn’t they sell it separately?

Before he could look away, Gu Jingchi was already walking to the counter.

He was buying coffee.

Song Yuan’s heart fluttered like a skylark, following him.

So Gu Jingchi was getting coffee after all.

If he’d known earlier, he might have asked if Gu Jingchi liked the bundled items. Maybe he could’ve snagged some merchandise.

But it was too late now. Oh well.

"One oat milk latte, please."

Song Yuan, sharp-eared, overheard the order and blinked in surprise.

A latte with oat milk? That didn’t seem like Gu Jingchi’s usual preference.

In Song Yuan’s mind, someone like Gu Jingchi would drink a bitter, strong iced Americano—one sip, and his face would scrunch up.

But that wasn’t the point. The coffee Gu Jingchi ordered... came with the commemorative ticket!

Did Gu Jingchi like anime too?

The coffee arrived swiftly, accompanied by a soufflé and a slice of cake.

The soufflé was ethereally light—like a cloud, drizzled with soft yellow fruit sauce. It looked delicate and delicious. Song Yuan lifted his fork and gently prodded it, watching the "cloud" melt into an ice-cream-like texture. It tasted just as heavenly as it looked.

Song Yuan loved it.

Between bites, he peeked at the merchandise bag, extending a tentative gesture of shared interest.

"Gu Jingchi, are you into anime too?"

Gu Jingchi: "..."

"No."

"Oh." Song Yuan’s voice was soft, lingering, testing the waters. "Then... do you want these little trinkets?"

He fluttered his lashes expectantly, his intentions plain.

Gu Jingchi glanced at the gift bag.

"Take them."

"Thank you, Gu Jingchi! You’re the best!" Song Yuan beamed, clutching the figurine.

They were always meant for you.

Gu Jingchi pressed his lips together, silent.

He wondered why Song Yuan couldn’t sense his intentions.

Was he being too indirect?

A moment later, Gu Jingchi stood. "I’ll be back shortly."

Song Yuan nodded, setting down his fork to wait.

At a nearby table, a couple sat close—the girl leaning into the boy as he fed her a bite of cake. They looked sweet together.

Such effortless romance. Song Yuan was spellbound.

Gu Jingchi returned with a bouquet of lisianthus—elegant flowers symbolizing enduring bonds. He’d liked the name, so he bought them. Back at the café, he found Song Yuan pressed against the window, gazing outside, his figure frozen in the glass like a fairy suspended between worlds.

When their eyes met, the fairy’s gaze warmed. Song Yuan’s face lit up with joy as he waved eagerly.

"Come here, come here!" His lips seemed to form the words.

Gu Jingchi didn’t enter. Instead, he approached the window and stopped outside.

His shadow eclipsed the light. Song Yuan looked up at him.

Then, a bouquet of lisianthus appeared before him, the sunlight gilding the petals until they outshone the flower field behind him.

"This is for you too. Have a safe trip."

*

When Song Yuan returned home with the flowers, his head was still in a daze.

This was the first time he’d ever received such beautiful flowers. He was overjoyed.

But what troubled him most was how Gu Jingchi seemed to be treating him better and better.

It made him feel guilty.

Gu Jingchi lacked nothing, and Song Yuan had nothing to offer in return.

Perhaps the best repayment was agreeing to end their contract.

"I’m leaving for Nancheng tomorrow."

"Will you miss me? OVO"

After sending the message, Song Yuan resumed packing, kneeling beside his luggage.

Late that night, the house manager arrived with a package.

"These are medications for seasonal flu. Nancheng is humid—Young Master Song might struggle with the climate." He unpacked each item, explaining their uses.

"The hospital downtown is a Gu family investment. If you need anything, just say the word. I can arrange a specialist appointment."

So thoughtful!

Song Yuan thanked him, then asked, "Has Gu Jingchi been busy lately?"

The manager nodded. "Quite. Why do you ask?"

No reason.

This separation would be a good chance to let his "spoiled brat" act cool off. Once he returned, he could launch a full-scale offensive—Gu Jingchi wouldn’t withstand it then.

Jiang Ming accompanied him—Song Yuan for work, Jiang Ming for the ride.

Nancheng’s climate proved harsh the moment they landed.

At noon, it was so sweltering that Song Yuan stripped down to his last layer, yet still felt suffocated. By evening, torrential rain hammered the hotel windows as if it were the most violent downpour he’d ever experienced.

[Image attached]

"Such heavy rain (gazes upward)."

"The lightning here is terrifying."

By bedtime, Gu Jingchi hadn’t replied. Song Yuan arched a brow.

Turning this cold right after he left?

Seemed like leaving was the right move.

Let his patience threshold drop—more room to maneuver.

Song Yuan took the earliest weekend flight to Nancheng.

*

That same morning, Gu Jingchi received a call from the main residence.

The caller ID read "Gu Zhengrong."

His father.

He demanded Gu Jingchi return to the old mansion.

The reason? The estate was relocating, and as the eldest son, he had to select an auspicious date and light incense. The wealthy in Jiang City were particular about *feng shui*—every venture, from groundbreaking to planting a tree, required perfect timing.

Gu Jingchi had never believed in such things. He trusted only himself.

But Gu Zhengrong was insistent, speaking more than usual, adamant that Gu Jingchi return.

Gu Jingchi was strictly professional. "Mr. Gu, state your business."

He was busy. He had no time for fake familial affection.

"..."

The line went silent for a beat.

"Jingchi, it’s been too long since you came home. Last time I called, you didn’t answer—didn’t even call back."

Gu Jingchi nearly laughed.

This Mr. Gu was true to his hypocritical nature—superficially courteous, yet combative beneath.

The manager, having sorted the documents, quietly withdrew. The spacious study was left with only the static on the line.

As ever, Gu Jingchi held his silence.

In any exchange, whoever controlled the silence held the dominant position—an unwritten rule of social dynamics.

Sure enough, the other party broke first.

"We indulged you too much growing up. That’s why you turned out like this." Gu Zhengrong’s words were blunt, though he played the supportive father figure well. "You didn’t even sign that agreement—why cling to it? If the Song family hadn’t collapsed, I’d say nothing. But their company’s coffers are drained. Why insist on this farce? Playing the philanthropist?"

"I never took you for such a saint."

Gu Jingchi didn’t deign to respond.

His father’s shameless behavior sickened him.

It reminded him of an incident from childhood.

Around six, his mother had discovered his father’s affair. It wasn’t shocking—since memory served, his father had a new dalliance monthly, some forgotten even by the man himself.

But that time was different. His father had married the woman abroad, with a certificate as proof.

Time had blurred details, but certain scenes remained vivid.

His complacent mother’s sudden scream. The couple shoving parental duty onto each other. The fruit knife that ultimately stabbed his ribs.

It ended with police and ambulances at the estate. From that day, child services took him away, and he never returned.

Snapping back to reality, Gu Jingchi heard his father still ranting.

"Anyone else, fine. But that shallow Song Yuan? All looks, no substance—and a temper to boot. Even if you had to comply, why him...?"

A notification chimed. The manager’s message:

"Sir, confirmed—the old mansion is relocating to Nancheng."

Where Song Yuan was staying.

Gu Jingchi’s fingers twitched.

"If not for my sake, then your grandfather’s—"

Gu Jingchi cut him off. "Mr. Gu, ensure everything concludes by Saturday."

Silence. "But Saturday is the auspicious date."

"Saturday is auspicious," Gu Jingchi said. "That’s when I have a date with Song Yuan."

The exhibition went smoothly. Song Yuan’s work drew much praise. Afterward, he and Jiang Ming browsed other stalls, collecting charming souvenirs.

*

For dinner, they visited a local tea restaurant, sampling regional dishes.

Dusk had fallen by the time they ambled back to the hotel.

Unexpectedly, they encountered a fanatical admirer in the lobby.

The man—tall, masked, with dull eyes but frenzied body language—asked for Song Yuan’s autograph.

Jiang Ming found him unsettling and tried to steer Song Yuan away.

Song Yuan sensed it too—the man’s fervor felt unnatural.

Lugging their bags, they raced for the elevator, Jiang Ming mashing the button urgently.

*Hurry up!!* Jiang Ming panicked inwardly. Why couldn’t security outrun some average-looking man?

It defied logic.

*Ding—*

The elevator arrived.

The doors slid open.

Jiang Ming barreled in, dragging Song Yuan—but Song Yuan yanked him back.

Baffled, Jiang Ming followed Song Yuan’s gaze and froze mid-step.

—Inside the bright cabin stood a tall man watching them.

Broad-shouldered, imposing. The warmth of the day had him in a dress shirt, sleeves rolled to reveal toned forearms.

He glanced past them at the pursuer, who immediately fled.

Song Yuan brightened with joy. "Gu Jingchi, what are you doing here?"