Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Rong Yuan watched an entire TV series through the night, episode after episode.

By the time he realized it, dawn had already broken, and he felt deeply guilty. Except for when he had tended to his elders during their illnesses, he had never stayed up this late.

He tiptoed outside, found the house still quiet, and quickly returned to the guest room to sleep.

Fortunately, he knew how to use the faucet in the bathroom, so he didn’t need to trouble anyone to teach him. He took a shower, dried his hair, and slipped into bed.

Not to mention anything else, the fact that he could take a hot shower anytime here was something he absolutely loved. Back then, bathing always required someone to prepare the water—boiling it, carrying it back and forth. He didn’t have to do the work himself, but watching it was still a hassle. Unlike here, where just turning a faucet let him bathe, and he didn’t have to worry about how long he took, plus there was a hairdryer.

And the shampoo and body wash—after washing, he felt fragrant and smooth, really nice to use.

Rong Yuan fell asleep carrying the scent of jasmine.

Gu Shenhan, however, woke up right around this time.

His first habit upon waking was to take a walk in the yard, but today he didn’t. He went to the second-floor lounge to see what Rong Yuan had been doing all night.

A servant said Rong Yuan must have slept very late—he was still in the lounge past midnight. Gu Shenhan checked the viewing history. Good grief—he had finished an entire eighteen-episode drama in one night. This showed some perseverance, but wasn’t his self-control a bit lacking?

Gu Shenhan walked over to the high table and looked at the six neatly arranged B5 xuan papers.

Each sheet was covered in brush calligraphy. Liang Zheng had bought A3-sized character grids and B5 lined paper. Rong Yuan used the B5 lined paper and wrote in two scripts: four sheets were filled with neat regular script, and two were in slim gold script.

Gu Shenhan was somewhat surprised. He had guessed that Rong Yuan might know calligraphy, but he hadn’t expected him to be this good—and not just in one style.

The regular script was gentle and smooth, a bit like Rong Yuan himself when he was shy and afraid to lift his head. The slim gold script was less restrained—the strokes seemed upright on the surface but hid a sharp edge, carrying its own resilience.

They say the handwriting reveals the person. Any creation is an extension of the creator’s cognition and thoughts, and handwriting is no exception.

But the content…

Han Ge said electricity is what machines eat, and TV dramas and movies are shows everyone can watch.

Tian Tian and I agreed to learn to read clocks tomorrow. The calendar here is not entirely the same as the one I know—it’s divided into lunar and solar calendars.

Today is the seventh of August in the solar calendar, Friday.

I don’t know what a week is. I need to learn…

So much to learn.

Gu Shenhan flipped through the papers several times but couldn’t understand what kind of oxygen deprivation could leave someone in this state. If someone only looked at the handwriting, who would guess that Rong Yuan didn’t even know numbers like 1234?

He put the papers back. Just then, the butler came over and asked, “Sir, breakfast is ready. Would you like to eat now, or wait a bit longer?”

“Has Rong Yuan gotten up yet?”

“Probably not. It was very quiet in the guest room when I went by just now.”

“Go knock and ask. Don’t let him develop the bad habit of reversing day and night. And ask if he wants to eat. If so, set it up on the second floor.”

The butler went to ask Rong Yuan and soon brought him over directly.

He clearly wasn’t as energetic as yesterday.

Today, Rong Yuan was still in long sleeves—a thin, opaque white V-neck knit top. He had tied up half his hair with a wooden hairpin, revealing his full forehead. He looked natural and composed, gentle and quiet. But there were dark circles under his eyes—this kid was so pale that any change on his face was noticeable.

“Morning, Han Ge,” Rong Yuan said, a little listlessly.

“Morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Pretty well. But from now on, I need to go to bed early.” It was really improper—sleeping in while being a guest.

“What time did you fall asleep?”

“Well… around the hour of the Tiger?”

“The drama was interesting?”

“Yeah.” Thinking about the show from yesterday, Rong Yuan’s heart still raced. It turned out that people here were so bold in their plays—they could openly confess their feelings, hold hands, and even stay alone together in one room. And before they were even married, they embraced… This completely defied propriety! How scandalous!

But he just couldn’t stop watching. One moment he’d shyly look away, the next he’d secretly glance back, his heart tingling and tightening.

Good thing Tian Tian didn’t have eyes, or he would definitely have been embarrassed.

Gu Shenhan didn’t know the specific plot, only that the overall story was decent and fairly close to real life.

He told Rong Yuan, “If you find something you like, you can watch it over and over to deepen your impression. It’s best to learn to speak like the people in the show.”

Rong Yuan thought the same. He felt that TV dramas explained many things—for example, last night he had learned what “air conditioning” and “supermarket” meant. People here didn’t say “what is” the way he did; they said: “What is…?” or “What is this? What is that?”

The way the people in the show talked and ate was indeed quite different from his own habits. No wonder people always thought he was strange when he opened his mouth.

“By the way, Han Ge, there’s one more thing. My phone won’t respond to me for some reason.”

“Say that again.”

“…Han Ge, my phone, for some reason, won’t respond to me.”

“Let me see.”

Rong Yuan brought the phone over. Gu Shenhan turned it on and found that an automatic power-on/off schedule had been set. Today was Saturday, and the turn-on time was set to nine o’clock. It hadn’t reached nine yet, so naturally the phone didn’t respond.

“It’s fixed,” he said, handing it back after unlocking it. “It’s dead. Did you not charge it?”

“I do need to charge it,” Rong Yuan said, “but its food box had no food.”

“What did you say?”

Rong Yuan trotted off and brought back a power bank: “Second Aunt taught me to use it. It worked before, but this morning it didn’t work. Is there no food for it inside?”

Gu Shenhan was speechless. He rubbed his forehead. “Where’s your charger?”

Rong Yuan looked completely bewildered. “‘Charger’? What is—uh, what’s that, Han Ge?”

Gu Shenhan had someone find a spare charger and plugged it into Rong Yuan’s phone. “What you called a ‘food box’ is something convenient to carry when you go out. It’s called a ‘power bank.’ At home, you use this charger to charge your phone. You say ‘charge the phone,’ not ‘feed the phone.’ Got it?”

“Got it.”

Rong Yuan made a mental note.

Gu Shenhan suddenly asked him, “How many years have you been practicing calligraphy?”

Rong Yuan said, “About… ten years?”

He didn’t know how many years this “Rong Yuan” from here had studied, only that the other person also knew how to write—he had seen the Four Treasures of the Study in that person’s room. Since Gu Shenhan asked this, he could only guess an answer.

He had studied for a full thirteen years, starting from the age of four under his grandfather. His grandfather was often busy with military affairs and sometimes wasn't home, but whenever he was, he would teach him and his younger siblings. The elder taught intermittently, but the younger generation practiced persistently.

Until the age of seventeen, when he left home, he no longer sought his grandfather's guidance in calligraphy, but he still maintained the habit of practicing daily. His grandfather said that practicing calligraphy was like practicing martial arts—it cannot be neglected for even a single day.

Thinking that he had broken this over-a-decade-long habit since arriving here, Rong Yuan suddenly felt ashamed.

Unfortunately, he could never see his grandfather again.

And his grandmother and the rest of his family—the mere thought made his chest hurt. His sudden disappearance must have caused them great worry.

"What are you thinking about? Your eyes are red again."

Rong Yuan couldn't answer.

After getting to know him a bit, he found that Gu Shenhan wasn't actually frivolous, just had a sharp tongue. And that time he wanted to hold his hand—it was just a greeting here. He didn't do anything afterward, didn't even touch him, and told him he could ask if he had any questions.

But some things he really couldn't say—they were simply too astonishing.

Gu Shenhan didn't care to pry. If the other didn't want to talk, he wouldn't force an answer. But one thing he confirmed again: "You really don't have anyone you like, right? If I find out later that there is, don't blame me for not warning you in advance."

Rong Yuan nodded. "Mm."

His marriage to his former husband had been arranged by the elders back when they were kids, but on their wedding day, the former husband wasn't even there. They had rarely met before. After marriage, they didn't see each other for years, and then he treated him like that—how could there possibly be any feelings?

Gu Shenhan curled his finger and tapped the table. "Eat first."

The chef brought breakfast: an oatmeal bagel, a glass of milk, and a mixed salad with avocado slices, cherry tomatoes, corn kernels, boiled eggs, prawns, and asparagus and button mushrooms sautéed in butter.

A lot of the stuff Rong Yuan had never seen before, and he wasn't great with a knife and fork.

But Gu Shenhan didn't show any sign of surprise, so he just followed his lead, copying whatever Gu Shenhan did. When he found something tasty, he asked Gu Shenhan, "Han Ge, what's this?"

Gu Shenhan said, "Button mushroom."

Gu Shenhan pointed them out one by one: "Avocado, cherry tomato, corn kernel, prawn, asparagus, button mushroom. Got it?"

Rong Yuan repeated them and mostly remembered. He said, "But I don't know which Chinese characters they are. Could you write them down for me later, Han Ge?"

Gu Shenhan said, "No problem. Also, I think your handwriting's pretty good. Weren't you struggling with what to give the old lady as a gift? You could write something for her in calligraphy."

"Calligraphy?" Rong Yuan thought about his own writing and felt it was a bit lacking. "Could I copy out a Buddhist sutra for the old lady?"

"Of course. Is the paper, brush, and ink that came yesterday okay with you? If not, I can take you to pick out different ones."

Liang Zheng had definitely bought them carefully, but at the time he probably thought Gu Shenhan was just practicing, so the stationery set was the best of the basic ones. It's fine for everyday practice, but not good enough to get framed and gifted. As for the ones he picked out separately, those were for the old lady. He always brought her something whenever he went back to the main house.

Rong Yuan asked, "Should we go after we eat?"

Gu Shenhan said, "Yes. Also, if there's any of this food you don't like, tell the chef, and they'll swap it out next time."

Rong Yuan said, "It's not that I don't like it, I've just never eaten it before. This, this, and this."

Gu Shenhan saw him pointing at the asparagus, avocado, and button mushrooms. Never had them… maybe he just forgot? These are all pretty common.

He honestly couldn't understand it: "What did you eat at the Rong family?"

Rong Yuan said, "Noodle soup, steamed buns, porridge, and rice. For veggies… some I don't even know what they're called—I forgot."

He didn't know what the original Rong Yuan used to eat, but since he arrived here, it's been these simple meals.

Gu Shenhan thought for a moment. "That stuff isn't as nutritionally complete as this. You'd better get used to this." He paused. "Lao Zhang, tell the kitchen to do Chinese-style breakfast on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

The butler said, "Yes, sir."

"Han Ge, you eat so fast," Rong Yuan noticed he was only halfway through while Gu Shenhan had already finished.

"Time is money. Why eat so slowly? It's not like my stomach can't digest it," Gu Shenhan said, his phone suddenly vibrating. "Keep eating—I'm not telling you to copy me."

With that, he stood up and walked aside. "What is it?"

"Mr. Gu, Fei Wendong from Haihe Trading called again," said Ma Yang, the new assistant, on the phone. "He asked if he could delay the shipping payment another two months. The batch of furniture he shipped to Brazil is stuck at Santos Port, and he says his cash flow is"

"What day is it today?" Gu Shenhan lit a cigarette by the window, his face dark. "Is this your first day on the job?"

"But he said his family is in urgent need of money…"

"What's his family's urgency to me? One month is already a courtesy; that's the bottom line. If we start letting people get away with this, we'll be dragged down. Get this straight. I don't want to receive calls about this kind of problem on weekends."

"S-sorry, Mr. Gu."

Gu Shenhan hung up and tossed the phone onto the table. Rong Yuan quickly reached out to gently stroke it, then realized it might be weird and pulled his hand back.

Gu Shenhan was still pissed and said stiffly, "What are you doing?"

"I, I was afraid you'd hurt it when you threw it." Rong Yuan looked at Gu Shenhan's phone. It was a small black box, more badass than his own little silver phone. But it could still break if you drop it, right? He'd dropped his before because the stuff on the screen freaked him out, but later he regretted it. They could talk—did they feel pain too?

"Tch, you little antique, how would it know pain? It's got a case, doesn't it? But come to think of it, you fell into the water while taking photos at the beach, and your phone's fine."

"I don't remember that. But my aunt said I gave my phone to a friend to hold while I was taking pictures, so it wasn't lost."

"Good that it wasn't lost. Eat up, then come find me downstairs."

Rong Yuan gave a small nod, suddenly thinking Gu Shenhan looked kind of scary when he was on his phone.

He finished eating quickly, went to the guest room to change and get ready, then went downstairs to find Gu Shenhan walking in the yard.

He was so tall and built. Rong Yuan's maternal grandfather and father were military officers, and some of his cousins practiced martial arts regularly, so they were all fit. But Gu Shenhan wasn't a martial artist, yet he seemed just as impressive as his relatives.

"Ready?" Gu Shenhan turned around and saw Rong Yuan dressed all in white again, squatting to tie his shoelaces. Somehow, he suddenly got the image of a big white mushroom in his head.

"Han Ge, why are you laughing?"

"I wasn't," Gu Shenhan's gaze lingered on Rong Yuan's face for a moment before looking away. "You're seeing things."