Delicate
[Su Zesui: Big Brother, am I really still alive?]
[Big Brother: What are you doing? What’s wrong?]
[Big Brother: What did that bastard Gu Yilan do to you?!]
Su Zesui bit his finger, hesitating for a long time before finally snapping a photo of the bruise on his knee and sending it over.
[Su Zesui: [Photo] I got hurt by accident, but I applied medicine.]
What he meant to say was that he had obediently applied the medicine—but clearly, his brother focused on the wrong thing.
[Big Brother: How did you get hurt like that?! Wait there, I’m coming to pick you up right now.]
Panicked, Su Zesui hurried to type—
[Su Zesui: No]
[Su Zesui: I already put on the medicine.]
Afraid Su Mingyu wouldn’t believe him, he even snapped a picture of the Yunnan Baiyao ointment tube and sent that too.
[Big Brother: Take care of yourself. If anyone bullies you, message me. If you want to come home, we’ll pick you up anytime. Don’t force yourself to endure anything…]
. . . . .
On the other side, the butler followed Gu Yilan to the study, getting ready to help organize some company documents.
Having worked by Gu Yilan’s side for years, the butler thought he’d seen every type of person out there—cunning schemers despite their youth, smiling backstabbers, useless heirs leeching off the family fortune… all kinds of oddballs.
But it wasn’t until he met Su Zesui that he realized—there’s actually a kind of person in this world he had never seen or even imagined could exist: someone so pure, it was as if an angel in white had fallen to earth just to test the hearts of men.
Even after they’d left the house, the butler couldn’t help sighing.
“Little Master Su must’ve been raised in a greenhouse—such a delicate flower. I remember helping him when he fell, but who’d have thought his knee would bruise so badly? His skin’s just way too tender.”
Gu Yilan let out a noncommittal “Mm,” his tone unreadable.
Their boss rarely showed interest in anything, hardly ever responded. So even a short hum like that was enough to get the butler a little excited.
“Don’t you think it’s strange, sir? Are there really people in the world who are scared of watching TV?” the butler asked, scratching his chin, completely puzzled.
“I don’t know.”
The butler couldn’t help thinking of the little kids in the Gu family’s side branches—only a few years old, but even if scolded in public by elders, they’d grit their teeth and not make a sound just to save face.
He shook his head slightly, sighing in confusion. “Can a little bump really hurt that much? That ointment doesn’t even sting, but I swear the little master looked like he was about to cry. His eyes were all red, like a little white rabbit. Just looking at him makes your heart ache.”
Gu Yilan’s phone buzzed.
He unlocked the study door with facial recognition, pulled out his phone, and glanced down—coolly tossing out a single word: “Delicate.”
The notification on his screen was a friend request on WeChat—
[(o^^o) has requested to add you as a friend. Note: I’m (o^^o)]
Gu Yilan frowned. He never accepted requests from strangers—and few people even dared to leak his contact info. This friend request came completely out of nowhere.
He was about to ignore it when something about the profile picture caught his attention.
It was a dark-styled plush doll surrounded by a group of regular, cute stuffed animals. If you looked closely, you could even spot a hint of gold thread at the side.
—It was unmistakably the handcuff plush toy he’d casually given to Su Zesui during their blind date.
Gu Yilan: “…”
Beside him, the butler was still trying his best to defend the ‘delicate little master’ image: “Being delicate just means he’s blessed. And someone blessed brings good fortune to those around him. He and Young Master Gu actually make a great match…”
Gu Yilan’s ears couldn’t catch a break. Feeling irritated, he accepted the friend request and immediately adjusted the privacy settings to “Chat Only.”
He sat down at the large, dignified desk in his study and was just about to type—[Change your profile picture.]
But before he could finish, a new message popped up on his phone.
[Su Mingyu: My brother’s hurt?]
Gu Yilan hesitated for a moment, then tapped into the chat window.
[Gu Yilan: Yeah.]
[Su Mingyu: Just yeah??? Are you fucking kidding me—give me the full story. What happened, how it happened, every detail.]
Judging from his tone, you’d think someone had kidnapped his brother.
So aggressive—someone kind-hearted might empathize with his anxiety and admire how much he cares for his sibling. But someone hot-tempered might just get pissed and think, What the hell does this have to do with me?
But Gu Yilan remained emotionally detached, as if nothing in this world could really concern or affect him—
[Gu Yilan: He tripped and fell.]
[Su Mingyu: Did he make a fuss when applying the medicine? Even if he did, don’t take him to the hospital just yet. Fine—just keep an eye on him for the next couple of days. If he really refuses the medicine, just let it go.]
[Gu Yilan: Pretty sure I didn’t major in early childhood education.]
[Su Mingyu: …Asking you for a favor is like pulling teeth. He’s just a kid. What’s wrong with calming him down when he throws a tantrum? Even if you don’t love your fiance, can’t you show a little care for the kid?]
Su Mingyu was eight years older than Su Zesui. And even though his little brother was technically an adult, to him, he was still just a kid.
[Gu Yilan: Why don’t you take your precious little crybaby home and worship him yourself?]
“Young Master Gu, the documents are all sorted,” the butler said, placing a thick stack of files on the desk—instantly forming a small mountain.
Gu Yilan glanced at his phone again. The chat still showed “The other party is typing…”, but no new message came through.
He was just about to put his phone on Do Not Disturb and focus on work when, finally, a long message came through—
[Su Mingyu: Actually…]
Work hours had officially started. Normally, no matter how big the issue, Gu Yilan wouldn’t entertain it during business time. But this time, for some inexplicable reason, he didn’t look away from his phone.
“Remind me in three minutes,” he told the butler.
The butler stood by and quickly responded, “Yes, sir.”
[Su Mingyu: Actually, I’ve always felt guilty about Suisui. I don’t talk about this much, but when he was little, our work kept us so busy that we neglected him—gave him emotional wounds we can never really make up for. He developed late and didn’t speak well, so some of his classmates often bullied him. I didn’t notice until way too late.]
There was a pause before another message followed.
[Su Mingyu: By the time I noticed, he was covered in bruises.]
[Su Mingyu: He was so small and skinny back then, with pale skin, so the injuries were especially striking. When I tried to check his wounds, he just stared at me with wide, helpless eyes—like he’d done something wrong. He didn’t cry, didn’t say a word. But from the looks of the bruises, I guessed he’d either been pinched hard or beaten with something.]
Gu Yilan instinctively frowned and typed:
[Gu Yilan: He never told you?]
[Su Mingyu: No. He had no concept of how rich our family was at the time. Those kids threatened him—said if he told the teacher or our parents, they’d beat him up even worse. So he didn’t dare say anything.]
[Gu Yilan: And then?]
[Su Mingyu: By the time I realized it, it was already too late, so… well…]
[Su Mingyu: In short, he developed a psychological aversion to bruises and ointment. His reaction might be a bit intense.]
The scene of that boy stubbornly refusing to take his medicine flashed again in Gu Yilan’s mind. He pressed his thin lips into a line.
[Su Mingyu: So I’m asking you to keep an eye on him. If he throws a fit, please be patient with him. Just send me a message, and I’ll come pick him up.]
[Gu Yilan: He’s been pretty good so far.]
“Young Master Gu, your three minutes are up.”
Bzz—
The butler’s reminder and the phone vibration came at the same time.
[(o^^o): Mr. Gu, it’s me [Rabbit peeking emoji.jpg]]
Gu Yilan tapped into the chat. His unfinished message—“Change your profile…”—was still sitting there.
He deleted it, stared at the contact’s cute profile photo, and typed with a blank expression:
[11th Dimension: I noticed.]
[(o^^o): Still far from 11:30—I’m watching my online course. Thanks [photo]]
The photo showed an iPad placed on the bed, playing the competition course that hadn’t finished earlier on the living room projector. Next to it was a competition prep book—so thick it looked more like a brick.
Because it was a casual shot, the boy’s pale, slender legs were also in the frame. His skin was as smooth as porcelain, fair like packed snow under the overhead light—so delicate and well-behaved, it stirred a quiet sense of tenderness in the viewer.
Who could be so cruel as to hurt someone like this?
[11th Dimension: Mm.]
His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds before he began typing again.
[11th Dimension: You mentioned wanting to hear a story before, right?]
He knew it would lead the boy down the wrong path, would only bring more trouble in the future. But he asked anyway.
If God really existed, then at that moment, something in the magnetic field around Gu Yilan must have shifted.
[(o^^o): Can I hear it now?]
[(o^^o): I want to hear the story about helping an old lady cross the street!]
Typing it out online seemed to help Su Zesui organize his thoughts better—at least the sentences were complete. But because it still took him longer than normal to form sentences, his replies came slowly.
[11th Dimension: Didn’t I tell you that one before?]
[(o^^o): I want the details!]
[(o^^o): Please? [Rabbit begging emoji.jpg]]
Gu Yilan raised a hand to rub his temples, then glanced at the butler.
The butler, catching on quickly, said, “Young Master Gu, it’s already been over five min—”
But Gu Yilan cut him off, gesturing toward the desk with his chin. “Turn on the computer. Use AI to write me a story about helping an old lady cross the street.”
The butler: ???
Five minutes later.
[11th Dimension: It was a sunny morning, and I was just about to cross the street. That’s when I saw her for the first time—an old lady with snow-white hair.
‘Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll help you cross the road!’
Like the wind, I dashed over and supported her across.
Her rough but warm hand held mine tightly, her face full of gratitude.
I reassured her, ‘No need to thank me—this is my duty!!’
She smiled kindly, and in that moment, time seemed to freeze. The background music “The Light of Justice” burst into my ears.
Brothers, did I do the right thing?]
Gu Yilan didn’t even bother to revise it. Without a second glance, he sent it as-is.
But on the other end, someone was surprisingly enthusiastic—
[(o^^o): Yes! So amazing! You even got hurt for helping the old lady! [Rabbit thumbs-up.jpg]]
[11th Dimension: Satisfied now?]
[(o^^o): Is that why your throat hurts too? Because of the old lady?]
[11th Dimension: …]
[(o^^o): Did your voice go hoarse because you were explaining road safety to her for too long?]
Gu Yilan: “…………”
[11th Dimension: Done with your online class?]
Meanwhile, upstairs in the side bedroom, Su Zesui, who had been lying on his pillow, suddenly shot upright—like a student caught daydreaming when the teacher calls their name. He immediately typed:
[Still watching! [Rabbit frantically writing.jpg]]
He hadn’t added a nickname for Gu Yilan, so the top of the chat still showed the other’s WeChat display name.
The reply came, calm as ever—
[11th Dimension: Mm.]
[Su Zesui: Are you busy?]
[11th Dimension: [Image] Yeah, we’ll talk tomorrow.]
[11th Dimension: Put the ointment back in the med kit before bed.]
Seeing that word—ointment—Su Zesui’s breath caught. It felt like someone had squeezed his heart, making it ache and sting all at once.
Memories from before he transmigrated flickered like a movie in his mind.
He could no longer remember the faces of those who bullied him, but he could still recall the sharp smell of hospital disinfectant, and the cold, sticky feeling of ointment on his skin.
At that time, his older brother was in the hospital with late-stage cancer. Every cent he spent reduced his brother’s chances of surviving. So he always toughed it out, thinking: I’ll heal on my own anyway, even without medicine.
Even after his brother found out and bought him all sorts of ointments, the mindset had already taken root. Every time he saw that little tub of ointment, his PTSD would flare—he felt like he was stealing his brother’s hope of living.
But before those suppressed emotions could take over, his heart suddenly began racing again.
Because he noticed something in the photo Gu Yilan had just sent—a picture of his desk.
In one corner, on top of some documents, were a few blurry but recognizable words: Funding Program for Underprivileged High School Students.
Su Zesui: !!
He paused his trip down memory lane. One thought filled his mind: Do people this good really exist in the world?!
Standing up for him and beating the bad guys, helping old ladies cross the street, and now donating to help poor students!
Across both of his lives combined, the people he knew were either family or bullies.
This was his first time encountering—a truly kind person.
Someone who made him feel warm, at ease.
Su Zesui turned the photo over and over, zooming in and out, examining every detail until he had it memorized front to back. Then, carefully, he saved it into his favorites folder.
Gu Yilan hadn’t given him many things. Other than this photo, all he had left was that handcuffed plushie.
Clutching the toy in his arms, Su Zesui began studying Gu Yilan’s WeChat profile.
His profile picture was a casual snap of a sunrise.
Between the staggered city buildings, a fiery red sun spread its glow across the surrounding clouds, dyeing them a gentle orange. The morning light shone directly through, but it wasn’t harsh—instead, it brought with it a sense of hope, energy, and… justice!
To Su Zesui, the feeling it gave off… was exactly like Gu Yilan himself.
He pinched his pale fingers, heart suddenly pounding in his chest again as his cheeks grew hot.
Being around someone this kind made him feel safe!
A kind person who even refused to let him go out or talk to others—wasn’t that just divine intervention? A social anxiety savior!
Blushing furiously, he saved Gu Yilan’s profile picture, then opened his phone’s built-in browser. After logging into WeChat, he began typing slowly, one word at a time: “How to marry someone.”
[Please wait… Searching for related queries…
First, let’s give a round of applause as the groom/proposer gets down on one knee 👏👏👏 and offers a heartfelt proposal. The lucky one should now squeal, spin in circles, blush, cover their face in shyness, pretend to hesitate, and finally agree with a smile 🎉🌸
Next, the Civil Affairs Bureau will appear with your marriage certificates.
Lastly, it’s the big wedding day…
Simple version: 1) Propose. 2) Get the marriage license. 3) Hold the wedding.]
Su Zesui, who had never seen much of the world, stared at the screen, confused.
Something didn’t feel quite right.
He reread it a few times, tried phrasing the question differently, and finally figured it out—to marry someone, you had to increase that person’s affection level first.
A lightbulb went off in his head. He immediately searched again: “How to increase someone’s affection.”
This time, the results were exactly what he wanted. There were so many that “a sea of information” didn’t even begin to describe it.
Like a starving kitten who had just fallen into a giant jar of snacks, Su Zesui devoured the information with hungry eyes, completely absorbed in learning everything he could.
The search engine, noticing how long he lingered on that particular topic, automatically popped up a “One-click to Post” button.
Su Zesui had never used a forum-style platform before. Whatever the system popped up, he just clicked.
His post became wildly popular. In just a few minutes, dozens of strangers jumped in to act as his personal strategist squad, offering all sorts of advice and plans.
Too shy to reply to any of them, Su Zesui curled up under his blanket, silently lurking and reading every comment. He carefully jotted down the most-liked and what he personally felt were the best suggestions.
After toiling away for ages, he finally sat up in bed, straightened his slender body, and looked proudly at the notebook he’d filled to the brim—
1. Leave a special comment on their Moments.
2. Appear just in time when they’re in trouble, and help them through it.
3. Say interesting things and be a thoughtful, understanding partner.
…
Su Zesui nodded thoughtfully, feeling like his little brain had never been this full before.
With this list in hand, he was surely on his way to becoming the next social expert!
After proudly admiring his notes with a few satisfied nods, his eyes landed on the first tip:
1. Leave a special comment on their Moments.
Moments are the windows to the soul—and you’re the brightest star peeking through that window! Act now—leave a compliment, something that sparks curiosity, or a unique remark that shows off your charm!
It felt like fate. He had already added the person on WeChat before finding this tip—surely a sign that the stars were aligning!
Following the advice, Su Zesui copied a few “special responses,” things like:
[Now that’s professionalism—leave it to the pros to handle professional matters.]
[Really? I don’t believe it.]
[Nice, you’re at it again with that genius brain of yours!]
Feeling confident and ready to shine, he opened Gu Yilan’s WeChat Moments.
This first step seemed like it would be a breeze. Victory was in sight.
And then—
He was greeted by a cold, thin white line across the top of Gu Yilan’s Moments page.
Below the line?
Absolutely nothing.
Su Zesui blinked in surprise, his soft lips parting slightly. He instinctively swiped down twice, but the page remained starkly empty and painfully clean.
He didn’t use WeChat often, so he was totally lost. Puzzled, he went back to the search engine to figure it out.
After some digging, the app delivered the verdict:
[You have been restricted by the other party.]
Su Zesui: …