Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Song Yuan chewed on his soufflé, lost in thought.

Why was Gu Jingchi being so good to him?

He’d expected nothing but disdain after throwing a fit.

Though he appreciated Gu Jingchi’s patience, it sent an unsettling message—Gu Jingchi’s tolerance threshold seemed to have risen again.

Now, just throwing a fit, holding hands, or even hugging didn’t cut it anymore.

And that kiss last time… he wasn’t even sure it counted.

Did he have to pester Gu Jingchi, begging for a kiss?

But Song Yuan simply couldn’t bring himself to do that.

Song Qiao had been on his best behavior lately, always texting about going to class like a good boy. Though Song Yuan sensed something off, he still felt the underlying risk lingered.

Song Qiao had a warped personality—kind to his inner circle, ruthless to outsiders. Song Yuan suspected this current friendliness was temporary, just him being lumped into the "inner circle" for now. If that little menace ever got bored, he might start waving his flag and stirring up chaos…

Then they’d really be screwed!

Song Yuan was an optimist and quickly shook off his mood.

His current mission: end the fake engagement before Song Qiao started causing trouble.

Finishing the soufflé, he took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and asked, half-whining, half-teasing, “Then why’d you mess with me?”

Gu Jingchi could’ve waited for him to open the door for the clothes—why dump them on the suitcase instead?

Gu Jingchi’s heart hammered. He deliberately looked away, refusing to replay that scene.

“I wasn’t messing with you.”

Then he met Song Yuan’s gaze.

Song Yuan was curled up on the low sofa, arms crossed, looking ridiculously well-behaved—like a cat lounging on its pet mat, licking its paws.

A cat giving its owner the silent treatment for leaving too abruptly for work, for not cuddling or petting it after coming home, just going through the motions with food like some mindless chore.

Even if Song Yuan hadn’t meant it that way, Gu Jingchi still felt guilty. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was wrong.”

Song Yuan froze, eyes widening. “You’re actually admitting it?”

That fast? He’d had a whole speech ready.

“Yeah. Won’t happen again.”

“Fine. Since you’ve already admitted your mistake, I’ll reluctantly forgive you.”

After the late-night snack, Song Yuan sorted the trash and said goodbye to Gu Jingchi.

Before leaving, Gu Jingchi asked, “Still going to the exhibition tomorrow?”

Song Yuan nodded obediently. “Yes, for two whole days.”

Gu Jingchi watched Song Yuan’s face. He was staring at his laptop, the blue light washing over his features, making Gu Jingchi think of the otherworldly glow in planetariums.

Song Yuan had a very childlike temperament—his emotions came and went quickly.

"I'll be swamped tomorrow."

Song Yuan knew exactly what he was going to say next. "Got it, got it. No need for you to babysit me, Mr. Hotshot CEO."

He drew out the last syllable, laying on a put-on whine as he stressed those final three words.

So obedient, so sensible.

Gu Jingchi felt momentarily disarmed by Song Yuan’s compliance. Unable to resist, he lowered his head to meet Song Yuan’s gaze.

"I have an international meeting in the morning that spans three time zones, so it will run very long. I won't be able to come find you until the afternoon. Is that okay?"

Song Yuan was a little surprised, not expecting Gu Jingchi to proactively inform him.

Yet, he found it strangely gratifying.

"Sounds good!"

When Gu Jingchi had rolled up his sleeves earlier, the seam of his garment had twisted slightly. Song Yuan’s professional OCD flared up, and he reached out to straighten it—only to find the fabric wouldn't budge.

Gu Jingchi’s muscles strained the fabric taut; Song Yuan couldn’t even pinch a fold of material. After several attempts, he still couldn't pull it straight.

Song Yuan probably didn't realize it himself, but the way he was doing it looked very much like he was touching Gu Jingchi’s muscles, taking advantage of him.

Song Yuan’s fingers were slender, unlike anyone else’s. Physical contact with others happened daily, but no one else’s touch made Gu Jingchi’s skin tingle with an electric current like Song Yuan’s did.

Gu Jingchi’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his breathing grew heavier.

"You…"

The next second, his wrist was suddenly gripped. Song Yuan instinctively fell silent.

"Your eyes are so red—did something get in them?"

"No." Gu Jingchi released his hand, his voice severely hoarse.

Why so hoarse all of a sudden?

Song Yuan recalled the butler’s warning: "Nancheng is hot and humid; it's easy to feel unwell from the change in environment."

Leaning in, he tilted his head back to look at Gu Jingchi. "Let me see."

The distance between them vanished once more. Song Yuan almost completely filled Gu Jingchi’s field of vision, and his scent permeated his nostrils.

"The midnight snack was a bit dry." Gu Jingchi turned away, preventing Song Yuan from coming closer. "Go to sleep quickly; you have to get up early tomorrow."

Song Yuan was still a little worried.

"Does your bedroom have a sofa too?"

Gu Jingchi didn't know why Song Yuan asked this question, but he answered quickly, "Yes."

"Then I'll come over." Song Yuan was concerned that Gu Jingchi might genuinely be feeling unwell from the change in environment. If so, he could bring him medicine in the middle of the night.

"The sofa is big enough. I'll sleep on the sofa."

Gu Jingchi said nothing, just stared at him, but his breathing was still heavy, and his chest rose and fell noticeably.

Song Yuan wanted to share a room with him.

Was he implying something?

Next, would they be sleeping together?

His heart felt clutched. "No need."

It was understandable.

Song Yuan probably thought they were dating now, and couples slept together—his suggestion was perfectly normal.

Although Gu Jingchi could enter a contractual partnership with Song Yuan, he was very clear about the definition of their relationship.

Their connection was built on a contract.

They could try being partners, like dating; he would cherish Song Yuan and fulfill all his fantasies of a partner. But what Gu Jingchi could offer was limited to material and emotional support. As for physical intimacy…

He had no intention.

No explanation was needed.

He had stated from the beginning that his relationship with Song Yuan was a contract, and it was temporary.

Though he had never dated before, he knew he wasn't an interesting partner. Perhaps after a period of adjustment, Song Yuan might realize his needs had hit a plateau and couldn't ascend further, potentially leading to disappointment.

When the contract ended, they could still be friends, and Song Yuan could start a new relationship without any burdens.

Song Yuan was good, and very pure.

Anyone who saw him seemed to fall under a spell, instinctively wanting to protect the purest part of his nature.

"I can't…"

Before he could finish, Song Yuan immediately grinned and said, "Got it, fiancé. No intimacy, no physical contact, please maintain a stranger's distance."

It was written in their agreement, and Gu Jingchi had repeatedly emphasized it since they met. Song Yuan remembered it all clearly.

Song Yuan thought, *Perfect. Just one day apart, and Gu Jingchi is back to not wanting anyone to touch him.*

This time, Song Yuan had to seize the opportunity and absolutely not make the mistake of "boiling the frog slowly," allowing Gu Jingchi's "straight-guy tolerance threshold" to rise again.

He wanted a knockout blow, direct success.

Gu Jingchi said nothing, just looked at him.

Song Yuan wondered, *Did I say something wrong? Wasn't this what you asked for?*

A strange reaction, a strange Gu Jingchi.

"Go back quickly, I'm going to sleep."

With that, he waved at Gu Jingchi.

Everything Song Yuan said was indeed what Gu Jingchi had stated. But for some reason, hearing it from Song Yuan's mouth didn't make him feel relieved.

He said nothing, turned, and left.

*

Outside the Nancheng Exhibition Hall.

Song Yuan sat in the chilly wind, holding a paper bag. The next moment, someone tapped him on his left shoulder.

“Yuan Yuan!”

“Jiang Ming, what are you doing here?” Song Yuan was a little surprised.

“I’m meeting a friend at the square, right under this giant golden flower landmark. But shouldn’t you be inside the exhibition area? Why are you out here?”

“One of the project leads got lost at the entrance, so I came to pick him up.” Song Yuan showed Jiang Ming the real-time map. “I feel like he’s wandering even farther off.”

Jiang Ming calculated the distance and reassured Song Yuan, “Don’t worry, he’s going the right way. That intersection is indeed on the opposite side.”

The next moment, a message popped up.

“Gu Jingchi: I’ll pick you up later, around five.”

Pigeons flapped their wings and cooed hungrily overhead. Jiang Ming quickly took a piece of bread from his bag, tore it into crumbs, and scattered them on the ground.

“Gu Jingchi treats you so well.”

Song Yuan didn’t respond, quietly putting his phone away.

Seeing his skepticism, Jiang Ming immediately said, “He’s coming to pick you up as soon as he finishes work—isn’t that good enough? Traffic outside the expo has been a nightmare all day. I was furious just driving past in a cab, let alone your fiancé.”

—After all, Gu Jingchi was famously averse to crowded, lively places.

Actually, Song Yuan should have refused.

Parking near the expo was difficult. Yesterday, when he and Jiang Ming left, they had to walk for half an hour before catching the subway.

Gu Jingchi always had his own convictions about certain things, like an old-fashioned gentleman.

Jiang Ming smiled. “I used to hear elders say that getting an audience with Gu Jingchi was harder than ascending to heaven. Even his own family had to schedule appointments through his assistants.”

He added bluntly, “But you can see him almost every day.”

Indeed.

Since the art festival, they had been meeting daily, practically inseparable.

“Not really. He’s very busy, sometimes vanishing without a trace. When he’s swamped, even his butler might not know where he is.”

Jiang Ming paused, recalling something. “There was an online post a while back—two or three years ago, when we were still in high school. I don’t know if you saw it, but it was about guessing your fiancé’s whereabouts.”

Song Yuan couldn’t have heard of it; he wasn’t around back then.

Besides, he found the post somewhat offensive.

How could anyone pry into someone else’s movements?

That was an invasion of privacy.

“Someone in that thread claimed Gu Jingchi would go to a rowing competition. The event was on an island, a four-hour drive from Jiangcheng, but by the time most people arrived, Gu Jingchi had already left.”

Song Yuan: “…”

Is there a possibility that Gu Jingchi wouldn’t go to a rowing competition at all?

Pei Han, on the other hand, might.

Could this be fake news spread by Pei Han?

For some reason, he just felt Gu Jingchi wouldn't go. It was a private conviction, like having privileged information.

Why am I feeling so smug?

Jiang Ming chuckled after speaking, "Anyway, I think he's probably very aloof—doesn't like people getting close."

That's true.

Last night, he was sick and still pushed himself.

He doesn't like anyone near him, including himself.

Song Yuan's mood was complicated, as if filled with an inexplicable joy, turning him into a wobbly balloon.

But the balloon landed, dragging over gravel and rocks, unsure when a sharp edge would puncture it, sending it zipping into a spin mid-air before finally splatting on the ground.

A dull ache.

Everyone likes being checked in on—it's a privilege.

But Song Yuan knew an unspoken boundary still existed between him and Gu Jingchi.

Perhaps it was precisely because that boundary was always there, and Gu Jingchi never crossed it, that they met so often.

His phone buzzed.

His contact had finally found the exit and was walking toward him.

"Gotta run—back to work." Song Yuan waved and darted off.

Unlike the lively buzz of the exhibition hall, the asphalt road outside was dead quiet.

The project lead waiting for him was a young man named Gu Linxin, a photographer based overseas.

His mentor might have mentioned him in class, but Song Yuan couldn't recall clearly—just that he was wildly talented, with a private life as notorious as his skill.

Song Yuan was puzzled.

Though the exhibition was huge, its audience was niche—strictly the otaku scene.

So why had they managed to snag Gu Linxin, a big-name fashion photographer?

The otaku world and high fashion were poles apart.

Gu Linxin wasn't quite what he'd imagined—a pretty-boy look, pale skin, red lips, and a sultry gaze, like some vampire.

He seemed startled when he saw Song Yuan but quickly smiled.

"Sorry about that—haven't been back in ages, still adjusting."

Song Yuan shook his head and ushered him in.

Gu Linxin was there to shoot the exhibition.

Workwise, Song Yuan hated having an audience—he preferred working solo.

But he couldn't say no to the event's demands, so he'd laid down ground rules with the photographer upfront.

"Don’t photograph my face; just focus on the materials and artwork," Song Yuan said. "And feel free to shoot other things."

Gu Linxin tilted his head, carefully scrutinizing Song Yuan’s face. "I’ll try my best. When I take photos, I only look through the lens. If the image in the frame is beautiful, I’ll capture it."

It was a rather cheeky reply.

The subtext was: if I want to photograph you, there’s nothing you can do about it.

Song Yuan disliked being gawked at. He felt his request wasn’t being respected, and a subtle resistance welled up within him.

Suddenly, he missed Gu Jingchi a little.

Though just a second ago he had been complaining about Gu Jingchi’s overly detached boundaries, now he found himself surprisingly at peace with it.

Because Gu Jingchi truly wouldn't pay him excessive attention.

Someone with mild social anxiety loved to revel in that state of being left undisturbed.

Thinking of this, he pulled out his phone and saw that Gu Jingchi had just sent him another message.

"Gu Jingchi: Sorry, I might be a bit late again."

"Gu Jingchi: Blizzard in Northern Europe, widespread power outage. The meeting has been temporarily suspended; we’ll have to wait for the other party to come back online to continue."

Alright.

He could just imagine Gu Jingchi sitting alone in his hotel room, utterly bored, waiting for the other party to reconnect.

Song Yuan couldn't help but chuckle.

"Song Yuan: I’ll wait for you!"

"Song Yuan: You can go to my room and grab something to eat. It’s in the bag on the sofa; I just bought it yesterday."

"Song Yuan: [Spinning in circles.JPG]"

Gu Jingchi didn’t reply instantly, but Song Yuan’s messages kept coming.

"Song Yuan: Yuan Yuan is very generous; he allows you into his room."

"Song Yuan: Unlike *certain people*."

"Song Yuan: Humph."

It was as if he was deliberately reminding Gu Jingchi of his cold behavior from the previous night, exacting a delayed revenge.

Song Yuan smiled, feeling utterly satisfied.

Beside him, Gu Linxin, who had been ignored for quite some time, couldn’t resist circling behind him, maintaining a somewhat impolite social distance from Song Yuan.

"Can we start?"

Song Yuan put away his phone, a smile still lingering on his face. "Yes, let’s begin now."

Gu Linxin couldn't help but glance at him again.

For the rest of the time, Gu Linxin remained glued to Song Yuan’s side.

Fortunately, once he got into his zone, Song Yuan was able to block out external distractions, finding contentment in his own world.

The work wrapped up smoothly, with promotional photos and videos recorded for the exhibition.

Song Yuan and Gu Linxin walked out of the studio. As they neared the entrance, Gu Linxin stopped Song Yuan and handed him a business card.

"If you need anything, feel free to reach out. I'll be in the country for a while."

Song Yuan: "?"

What would I need?

Gu Linxin patiently explained, "I'm a photographer. I often shoot models at fashion shows. I think you might find the stories from the shows interesting."

The afternoon sun was intense, its light seemingly radiating to every corner of the earth. Even the hour hand of the clock seemed to melt, and time slowed to a crawl.

Song Yuan replied earnestly, "Thank you."

"But I probably won't need anything. I'm just a student, and I don't think I'll ever enter the fashion industry."

"That's a real shame," Gu Linxin told him. "It's practically a waste of a face like yours."

Song Yuan didn't understand—what did his face have to do with it?

"No one dislikes good-looking people. With your face and your talent, you could hit a grand slam in the fashion world," Gu Linxin informed him. "You wouldn't even need to produce work; you'd just need to market yourself. You yourself could become the buzz."

The sun was scorching; it was indeed the perpetually warm South.

Song Yuan felt dehydrated, a surge of irritation rising in his throat, making him eager to end the conversation.

Gu Linxin was clearly not on the same wavelength as him. What kind of creator wouldn't focus on creating works but instead resort to underhanded methods?

"Let's talk about it later. I still need to study right now."

"I don't think you need to; you're already amazing," Gu Linxin said. "Actually... I saw you at W University that day. I was standing right behind you, watching the works on stage with you."

He drifted into memory, attempting to recreate the scene.

"You were wearing a gray-blue suit, leaning back in your chair, completely at ease. The lighting that day was beautiful—a low-saturation blue that looked stunning on your face," Gu Linxin added bluntly. "You reminded me of when I went to the science museum as a child to see the spaceships; it was so endearing."

"And your tie, it was especially nice."

At the mention of the tie, Song Yuan couldn't help but recall Gu Jingchi—it was Gu Jingchi's tie.

"It really is beautiful."

Song Yuan, who had been avoiding the conversation, finally responded, giving Gu Linxin an opening.

"To be honest, I'd wondered what you were like before, but I was studying abroad at the time and didn't get the chance to meet you."

Gu Linxin lowered his head, looking at Song Yuan. "Who would have thought we'd circle back and meet again here?"

(?)

Meet again?

That phrasing was truly subtle.

As if they had met before and shared a deep connection.

Song Yuan's hard-won relaxed mood was stirred up again. Why did this person always say things that required him to think?

Song Yuan enjoyed thinking—no creator would allow themselves not to think.

But he disliked expending brain cells on interpersonal relationships.

Being with Gu Jingchi was comfortable because he didn't have to guess.

Song Yuan stated directly, "But I don't know you at all."

"You do," Gu Linxin continued. "You might not know, but actually, I'm the one who..."

Before he could finish, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"Finished?"

!

Song Yuan whirled around.

Gu Jingchi's black coat hem fluttered open in the wind as he strode with long legs, instantly appearing before him.

Song Yuan's slightly tired eyes regained their warmth. "Didn't you say you'd be late? How are you here so soon?"

"There was a blizzard and a power outage over there. I waited too long, so I just canceled it." He then lifted his eyelids, staring expressionlessly at Gu Linxin.

Gu Linxin visibly froze for a long moment before forcing a smile, though he said nothing.

"Oh, this is the photographer I just worked with," Song Yuan said, suddenly remembering to introduce them.

Gu Jingchi nodded expressionlessly. "I know."

Song Yuan blinked.

The next second, Gu Jingchi suddenly moved closer, wrapping an arm around Song Yuan's shoulder, almost pressing against him.

"This is my fiancé."

Gu Jingchi's voice was cold, carrying an almost piercing intensity. "Say hello, greet him."

Song Yuan didn't understand why a stranger needed to greet him.

Gu Linxin's expression suddenly became somewhat subtle. He looked at Song Yuan, and after two or three seconds, spoke.

"Hello... sister-in-law."