Chapter 18 Part 2
While competition prep books continued to evolve with new editions, the core problem types remained largely the same—many of them were based on theories developed over a hundred years ago.
As he flipped through the book, Su Zesui suddenly stumbled upon a problem that had stumped him for ages. This page, however, had no scribbles—Gu Yilan either thought it was too easy or just couldn’t be bothered to write.
Su Zesui puffed up his pale cheeks, trying his best to apply the kind of thinking he’d just learned to break down the problem.
But after a long struggle, he still couldn’t make sense of it.
Competitive students had a certain stubbornness—they would fight a problem tooth and nail until they truly hit a wall, only then reluctantly seeking help.
By now, Su Zesui knew this one was beyond his current abilities. Remembering that Gu Yilan had just offered to tutor him, he quickly snapped a photo and sent it to the man via WeChat.
Problem-solving was addictive.
While waiting for a reply, Su Zesui couldn’t help but move on to another question.
The butler stood quietly nearby, not disturbing the little master’s concentration.
The morning light was soft and golden. He decided to tidy up the long-neglected study a bit, dusting off books and shelves.
After a while, he turned to look back—
And there was the boy, sitting on the carpet, biting his fingers as he earnestly double-checked his calculations on a piece of scratch paper. The sunlight hit him just right, casting a warm golden glow around his figure.
In that moment, the butler’s breath caught in his throat.
For a split second, time seemed to rewind by many years.
Back then, the teenage Gu Yilan had also sat at a desk like this, just as focused, working out equations on his own.
People on the outside always called Gu Yilan a genius, a gifted prodigy, someone who made everything look effortless. Mentioning him often stirred up envy, admiration—or shy, ambiguous praise.
But the butler had seen what lay behind that perfect image: the crushing pressure Gu Yilan faced in private.
Stubborn to the core, Gu Yilan had walked a path like a tightrope walker—one misstep, and he’d fall to his doom. He pushed himself to the limit, living as if there was no middle ground—only victory or collapse.
The butler had felt deep heartache watching it all, but there was nothing he could do. He could only stay up with the young master late into the night, quietly placing a cup of hot water in front of eyes gone bloodshot from endless problem sets.
And that… was all he could offer.
He could nap during the day—but Gu Yilan, after grinding through the night, still had to face overwhelming pressure from all sides once morning came.
One bitterly cold night, the butler even caught Gu Yilan gazing out the window, murmuring in a hoarse voice, “The moon’s gone.”
In that moment, the butler was jolted wide awake.
They say “the moon represents my heart,” but what does it mean when someone believes the moon no longer exists? The despair and pain must be unimaginable. The butler didn’t even dare to think about it.
Ever since that night, looking up at the pale, distant moon, he made a silent wish: if the young master could just stay alive and healthy, that would already be more than enough.
And yet, not only had Gu Yilan survived—he’d pushed forward to reach the height he stood at now, mastering everything he once longed to control.
The road here had not been easy—far from it.
The butler’s eyes grew misty with age as he thought back.
He went to the second-floor tea room, poured a cup of warm water, and placed it gently beside Su Zesui.
The boy blinked, snapped out of his problem-solving trance, and quietly murmured, “Thank you.”
The butler smiled warmly. “Little master, you really must marry Young Master Gu.”
Su Zesui thought for a moment, puffed his cheeks, then nodded firmly. “I will.”
The butler’s smile deepened, his face wrinkling as he offered some sage advice. “Young Master Gu isn’t as hard to win over as people say. If you just hang in there a little longer, who knows—he might soften up. He’s got a soft heart, really.”
Su Zesui scratched his head, not quite understanding.
“You can try getting close when he’s feeling vulnerable. Offer him real comfort, from the heart.” The butler paused. “Even though he doesn’t seem to have a ‘vulnerable’ mode right now… maybe you can start with his past?”
Hearing this, Su Zesui copied his pose and rested his chin on his hand, striking a pose of full attention.
The butler hesitated briefly, then pointed out the window at the moon. That moon was tied to a painful memory—one of the rare times young Gu Yilan had broken down.
He didn’t share the details of what Gu Yilan had faced back then. He simply described that moonlit moment to the boy, who listened with quiet, focused intensity.
——Sorry, Young Master Gu. I really hope you two get married. And when you do, make sure I get a seat at the main table.
Su Zesui nodded thoughtfully and found a clean sheet of scratch paper, carefully jotting down everything the butler had just said.
He needed to go back and study how to comfort Gu Yilan with high emotional intelligence.
After that topic, still holding his pen, he followed the butler’s explanation and drew a simple floor plan of the house—just a basic square layout.
On the east side were the dining room, the living room, and the main entrance of the villa. In the center sat the elevator and a large decorative screen, dividing the east and west wings and mostly blocking the view between them. The west side held various leisure rooms.
To go upstairs or downstairs, one could use the large spiral staircase on the east side, or a smaller staircase on the west.
The elevator was accessible from both wings.
Then, just like solving a physics problem, Su Zesui started listing out the known conditions:
- Known: only Aunt Fan is downstairs, but it’s unclear whether she works in the east or west wing.
- Known: every room is equipped with infrared sensors that track the number of people inside.
- Known: there is also a highly agile butler, whose exact whereabouts are unknown—he could be either monitoring the room sensors from the surveillance room or wandering around the first floor…
Su Zesui scrunched his little face in frustration and glanced toward the butler beside him.
The butler, seeing a caricature of himself on the scratch paper labeled with a big circled word—“AGILE”—guiltily rubbed his nose.
But there was nothing he could do. This was a matter of principle. No matter what, he couldn’t betray the boss.
Su Zesui looked away from him and lowered his gaze to the heart rate band on his wrist.
That was the most troublesome thing of all.
Because of his personality, if he ever bumped into the butler or Aunt Fan while trying to escape, he wouldn’t be able to lie, and his heart rate would spike instantly—going over the limit. That would notify Gu Yilan that he was attempting to flee.
So, based on the known data, he tried to reason through the next step—
If he wanted to escape smoothly, he would need to avoid both the butler and Aunt Fan with perfect precision and without alerting anyone.
That meant he had to pinpoint their locations in advance.
But he couldn’t just message them or sneak a peek downstairs—that would be like writing “I’M TRYING TO ESCAPE” across his forehead. Unable to lie and wearing a heart rate monitor, he’d give himself away instantly.
It was riddled with obstacles. From any angle, this mission seemed impossible.
His only option was to rely on probability and take a gamble: assume both Aunt Fan and the butler were in the west wing and make a break for it using the spiral staircase in the east.
“What’s the punishment… if I fail?” Su Zesui asked in a small voice.
The butler thought for a moment. He genuinely hoped the boy would succeed—get married to Gu Yilan and live happily ever after.
So he deliberately replied, “I don’t know. Maybe… Young Master Gu will stop trying to control you forever?”
Sure enough, the moment Su Zesui heard that, he shook his head vigorously.
No, no—he couldn’t take that risk!
This problem looked messy, tangled in probabilities, but Su Zesui believed no problem was truly unsolvable. The question setter must have left a way to fix all the variables—he just hadn’t figured it out yet.
He had a little faith now. He decided to go back to studying physics competition material and see if inspiration would strike.
But just as he opened his study book, his phone suddenly buzzed—
[。: ?]
It was a message from Uncle Period. Only then did Su Zesui realize… he’d sent the photo to the wrong person.
It was too late to delete it, so he had no choice but to own up.
[(o^^o): Sorry, wrong person.]
[。: Who was it supposed to be for? Him?]
For some reason, the other person’s tone always carried that cold, mocking edge—especially when it came to anything involving Gu Yilan.
[(o^^o): Mhm.]
[。: Did he ask you to send it?]
[。: I told you already. He’s not going to marry you.]
[(o^^o): Not true. We’re getting married very soon.]
The other person went silent for quite a while before finally sending—
[。: ??]
You could tell he was genuinely confused this time—even sent two punctuation marks, a rarity.
[(o^^o): How do you know he won’t?]
[。: I just know.]
[。: I also know you’re afraid of strangers. Right?]
Su Zesui’s hand holding the phone froze, then instinctively tightened its grip.
He had an extremely rare condition—pathological social anxiety—far more severe than the usual form.
So, normally, few people called him socially anxious. Instead, people around him referred to him as “the little mute,” “the stuttering freak,” or, even worse, insulted him by saying there was something wrong with his brain—like he was some speechless idiot or a weirdo who never fit in.
It was a painful topic for Su Zesui, one he instinctively denied.
[(o^^o): That’s not true]
Su Zesui wasn’t good at lying. If the other person pressed him even a little, he’d definitely get exposed.
Fortunately, the other person didn’t pursue that line of questioning. Instead, they kindly solved the problem he had sent—using the simplest, most flexible method—and sent the solution back to him.
Since the steps were typed on a computer, Su Zesui had no way of knowing what their handwriting looked like.
But judging from their problem-solving approach, he suspected this person might be a real expert.
[。: Do you still have questions?]
That question instantly made Su Zesui forget all about the social anxiety topic and happily dive back into competition prep.
Once the tough problem was solved, the person even sent one final message:
[。: If you ever have questions again, send them to me. Don’t bother him anymore.]
Su Zesui froze for a moment.
This had just been a random forward. And while “Uncle Period” had indeed given a very useful solution, if he encountered another difficult problem, he would still send it to Gu Yilan.
Because he really liked being around Gu Yilan—and talking to him.
Su Zesui didn’t know how to lie. After carefully thinking it over for a long time, he finally sent another message:
[(o^^o): I can’t. You know what? I drank his control potion. I’m already under his spell.]
[(o^^o): I can only be with him from now on.]
[。: ……]
Even though he said that, the reality was—Gu Yilan was just too busy. He was out all day, and Su Zesui couldn’t find him even if he wanted to.
His lunch, fruit, and dinner were all eaten in the study while he kept on working.
That evening—
Outside the window, the sunset painted the sky like a canvas, soft hues of orange and gold melting into each other, quiet and beautiful.
“Little Master, why don’t you pick out a few books and read them in your room?” the butler suggested.
It was such a good idea that Su Zesui’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly like a pecking chick.
He stood up and looked up at the bookshelf, pointing to a few textbooks on the top shelf like “Middle School Olympiad Physics Course” and “Selected Physics Competition Problems.” Then, after thinking for a bit, he also pointed at an all-English version of the Bible.
The butler brought over the household stepladder and climbed up to help him get the books.
As he pulled out two of the textbooks stacked together, a yellowed photo gently floated down from the shelf and landed near the boy’s feet.
Su Zesui bent down to pick it up—
The edges of the old photo were slightly curled, and the image was fading with time, leaving behind the marks of the years, as if transporting you back to long ago.
It was a picture of two young boys, around seven or eight years old.
Su Zesui tilted his head and stared at it for a long time before he could barely recognize one of them—maybe it was Gu Yilan as a child.
It was hard to tell for two reasons: First, the faces in the photo were blurry and slightly distorted. Second, little Gu Yilan was smiling at the camera with curved eyes—completely different from his current demeanor, almost like a different person.
Su Zesui stared at the photo, and once he confirmed it really was Gu Yilan, he couldn’t look away.
“How’s this photo still around?” the butler said as he climbed down the ladder, scratching the back of his head and peeking at the picture.
Su Zesui shook his head politely, indicating he didn’t know either.
He pointed to the other boy in the photo and asked curiously, “A friend?”
The butler shook his head instinctively, though his answer was unusually vague: “No. Young Master Gu doesn’t have friends.”
Su Zesui let out a soft “Oh,” then studied the photo again before handing it back, his eyes shining. “I want to be his friend.”
The butler carefully placed the photo into the family album and smiled a little sadly. “Little Master, you’re Young Master Gu’s fiancee.”
Su Zesui thought about that, then said, “I want to marry him.”
It was one of the rare times he spoke a full, fluent sentence—his tone was especially firm, as if he had practiced saying this thousands of times in his heart.
And once he made a promise, he believed in taking action. After speaking, he accepted the stack of books the butler had taken down for him, whispered a soft “Thank you,” and ran back to his room with the books in his arms.