Chapter 36 The Investment

Chapter 36: Investment

The weekend passed in a kind of cohabitation that wasn't quite couple-like but was even better than one.

The days were punctuated by them helping each other out.

Lin Xishan conveniently told himself this wasn't about indulgence—it was therapy.

Pei Zhi's technique was improving, and Lin Xishan was very satisfied with it.

And Pei Zhi? He was satisfied too, obviously.

Lin Xishan made sure Pei Zhi took his meds on time so he'd get better faster.

After they'd both come clean about a few things, their relationship was definitely heating up fast.

Of course, they weren't lovers—just a sugar daddy and his kept boy.

Lin Xishan didn't mind the arrangement anymore—he'd tasted the good life of being taken care of.

But as nice as being kept was, he still had to go to class.

Lin Xishan always had an 8 AM on Mondays. He used to head back to campus on Sundays. But this week, to get more quality time with Pei Zhi, he crashed at Pei Zhi's place Sunday night.

The downside was having to wake up at six the next morning.

It wasn't the harsh ring of an alarm that woke him—it was Pei Zhi calling his name.

Still half-asleep, he pulled Pei Zhi into his arms and buried his face in his neck. "Five more minutes."

Pure bliss.

Pei Zhi let him cling for a bit, then reminded him, "If you don't get up soon, breakfast's gonna get cold."

"Fine." Lin Xishan got up, threw on some clothes, washed up, and headed to the living room.

It was still dark out, but the living room light was already on. Lin Xishan assumed Pei Zhi had bought breakfast, but it turned out he'd made it himself.

He didn't need a psychic link to figure that out—the breakfast looked absolutely terrible. The fried eggs especially—some parts were still runny, while others were burnt to a crisp.

If a restaurant served eggs like this, Lin Xishan doubted they'd last a day in this cutthroat market.

More like they'd be shutting down the day they opened.

Lin Xishan sat down, staring at the tragic plate of fried eggs.

Pei Zhi stood in the kitchen doorway, trying to look calm. "First time making it. Don't like it, toss it."

He said that, but he was clearly nervous.

Lin Xishan knew it. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of the burnt egg white, and popped it in his mouth.

Salty, with a burnt aftertaste. But he swallowed it with a straight face and went for a second piece.

"Not bad," he said. "Better than I thought it'd be."

Pei Zhi's lips twitched, and he swallowed back the "Really?" on the tip of his tongue. He walked over and sat down across from Lin Xishan. He took a piece himself, chewed twice, frowned, and chugged a big gulp of water.

"Too salty," he said, being completely objective.

"Salty's good with rice." Lin Xishan put the fried egg on his toast, stacked two layers, and took a huge bite.

Pei Zhi watched him eat, then looked down and started on his own eggs without another word of complaint.

Yeah, this wasn't just a fried egg—it was Pei Zhi's love for him.

But the love was too intense, so it ended up burnt.

Made perfect sense.

After breakfast, Lin Xishan checked the time—6:40.

He got up to clear the dishes, but Pei Zhi grabbed his hand. "Leave it. I'll take care of it. You gotta go, don't be late."

"I'll drive you." Pei Zhi was already on his feet, grabbing his keys.

Lin Xishan wanted to say no need—it was still dark out, below freezing, and riding a motorcycle in that cold all the way to campus would leave him frozen solid.

But seeing Pei Zhi already in his jacket, waiting by the door, the refusal died on his tongue and turned into a resigned sigh.

He couldn't bear to disappoint him. If he froze to death, so be it.

"Put on something warmer." Lin Xishan pulled out the thickest down jacket from Pei Zhi's closet and handed it to him.

Pei Zhi took it and put it on, zipping it up to his chin. He looked like a black dumpling, with only his phoenix eyes and a few strands of hair crushed under the hood peeking out.

Lin Xishan looked at him, reached out, and tugged the hood down a bit. "Let's go."

The streets were empty that early morning. The motorcycle tore through the deserted roads.

Lin Xishan sat in the back, arms around Pei Zhi's waist. The wind howled past on both sides, but his chest was pressed against Pei Zhi's back—that spot was warm.

Everywhere else, though, his limbs had gone stiff from the cold.

Riding a motorcycle in the dead of winter—classic move for an underground rock band lead singer.

But if he got the chance, he'd suggest Pei Zhi get something with four wheels. Even one of those little old-man scooters would do—at least it'd be warm.

At the school gate, Lin Xishan took off his helmet, his hair completely wrecked.

He handed the helmet back to Pei Zhi and tapped the top of it. "Drive safe on the way back."

Pei Zhi nodded, watched him turn and walk through the school gate, then started the engine and left.

Lin Xishan rushed into the teaching building right on the bell.

Professor Jin's class—being late was basically asking for death.

He slipped in through the back door as Professor Jin was flipping through his notes. Lin Xishan quickly took a seat in the corner of the front row, pulled out his notebook, and put on his best attentive-student face.

Professor Jin adjusted his glasses and began calling roll.

"Lin Xishan."

"Here."

"Li Wen."

"Here."

“Ye Jiaonan.”

No response.

Professor Jin looked up, peering over his glasses at the classroom, and called again: “Ye Jiaonan?”

Still nothing.

Someone in the classroom muttered, “He took a leave of absence,” and Professor Jin frowned slightly. He picked up his phone, glanced at the notice from the counselor, nodded, made a mark in his notebook, and continued calling the next name.

Lin Xishan stared at the projection screen, his expression unchanged, but his mind was racing.

Ye Jiaonan took leave?

Seriously, did he think taking leave would get him off the hook?

He was gonna get it sooner or later, so why run so far?

After class, Lin Xishan packed his bag and headed out. A few classmates were chatting in the hallway, and as he passed, he caught bits of a conversation about Ye Jiaonan.

“…heard something happened at home, he took a long leave, he's not coming back for the rest of the semester.”

“No way, he's even taking the final online?”

“The counselor approved it. Sounds pretty serious.”

“Is it just me, or did he take a long leave because he couldn't handle his roommates icing him out after that forum rumor got exposed?”

“Probably not, that came out weeks ago. Seems like something real happened…”

Lin Xishan didn't slow down, walking straight out of the teaching building. He knew exactly what was up.

Ye Jiaonan didn't have family problems—he was hiding from him.

He could hide for now, but not forever.

Ye Jiaonan would have to come back eventually. Lin Xishan could wait.

Besides, he had more important things to do—like getting the ball rolling on investing in Pei Zhi's band.

After the Liu Guoqiang thing, he'd promised Pei Zhi he'd deal with Liu Guoliang and also handle their funding.

Lin Xishan always kept his word.

And anyway, this was for his own husband—he was more than happy to do it.

He brought it up to Lin Jichuan that night.

Lin Jichuan was tuning his newly bought bass in the dorm. When he heard his brother say he wanted him to invest in the Abyss Band, his fingers slipped on the strings, hitting a wrong note.

“You? Invest?” Lin Jichuan set down the bass, his expression a mix of doubt and sarcasm. “With what? Your four million is still up in the clouds.”

“That's why I'm asking you.” Lin Xishan leaned back on the sofa, his tone matter-of-fact. “And just to clarify, it's not me investing—it's you.”

Lin Jichuan was silent for a moment, not immediately refusing. Lin Xishan knew that meant he was actually thinking about it, so he didn't push, just waited quietly.

After about half a minute, Lin Jichuan spoke: “How much?”

“Not too much,” Lin Xishan said. “Just enough for them to record an album. They can negotiate the rest themselves. I need the investment to look legit, so they don't feel like it's charity.”

Lin Jichuan put the bass back on its stand, walked to the fridge, grabbed a can of cola, cracked it open, took a sip, and then said slowly: “I can front the money, but there's a condition.”

“Name it.”

“Don't do it under my name. Use yours.” Lin Jichuan leaned against the fridge. “Aren't you trying to earn that four million? If the album does well, the profits go to you. If it tanks, I'll eat the loss.”

Lin Xishan looked at him for a few seconds, then couldn't help but laugh: “What kind of angel investor are you? Trying to help me hit my target?”

“I'm not helping you, I'm helping myself here.” Lin Jichuan looked away, speaking casually. “So that when you take over the company later, your résumé doesn't look too bad—people won't say my brother's being carried by his little brother. And if you fail, Dad will put the pressure on me. I don't want the hassle.”

Lin Xishan knew he was just fronting, but he didn't call him out. He just stood up and patted his shoulder: “No need, Dad wouldn't go for it anyway. I appreciate you willing to help. The four million's a challenge, but I'll make it happen.”

“Hmph.” Lin Jichuan mulled it over. “Fine, since you put it that way. Don't get me wrong—I'm not doing this just for you. Their band is my idol, and being their investor is pretty sick. Plus, this way I can get the other band members to sign the albums I've bought.”

“…How many albums did you actually buy?” Lin Xishan was speechless—this was straight-up superfan behavior.

Lin Jichuan didn't answer, turned, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door a little louder than usual.

Lin Xishan stared at the closed door, shook his head, and pulled out his phone to text Pei Zhi: “The investment is taking shape. I'll fill you in tonight.”

Pei Zhi replied instantly: “Okay.”

A few days later, Lin Xishan, armed with the funding plan from Lin Jichuan, arranged to meet all the members of the Abyss Band at the rehearsal room.

Zhou Yan listened to Lin Xishan's investment terms and was silent for a long time.

“You're saying,” Zhou Yan finally spoke, his voice a bit hoarse, “he's putting up the money to help us record an album, without any unfair contracts, with revenue split per industry standards, and the only requirement is that we make good music?”

“Exactly,” Lin Xishan said.