Chapter 18 Part 3
Back in his side bedroom, he looked at the tall stack of books. The first one he opened was the all-English Bible.
Since his runaway marriage wish wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, Su Zesui went back to the old routine and continue to use the strategy manual—the relationship guidebook from Ahoo.
Step One: “Give a special response in his social media circle” — completed. Even though Gu Yilan only replied with an ellipsis, Su Zesui felt he had already succeeded.
After all, if it weren’t for that special response, why would someone as extremely busy as Gu Yilan reply to a post at all?
He had written out five methods to boost favorability. Besides “giving warmth in difficult times” and “high emotional intelligence communication,” the last two were:
Step Four: Give him sincere praise.
Step Five: Share your little secrets with him.
Su Zesui planned to save the last two strategies for later. Just now, when he saw the Bible, he suddenly had an idea—maybe he could give Gu Yilan a small gift. Surprising him with something thoughtful while he was busy should count as part of the second strategy: offering warmth during difficult times.
He also remembered that, when they first met, Gu Yilan had coldly told a bad guy, “God bless you.”
—God bless you.
So Su Zesui guessed… or rather, speculated… that Gu Yilan might be a Christian!
Biting his little fingers, Su Zesui eagerly searched on Ahoo for what kind of gifts were suitable for Christians.
After a long search, inspiration struck. He stood up and dug through his suitcase for little trinkets he could use to make a handmade gift. After tinkering for a while, he crafted a simple bookmark.
With the help of a translation app, he opened the English Bible and carefully copied down a verse that spoke to him, writing it slowly and attentively onto the bookmark:
“With God all things are possible.”
Next came the high emotional intelligence move—he wrote a heartwarming message on a little note, and even doodled a silly-looking bunny next to it.
Due to his limited drawing skills, the youthful-looking bunny ended up looking like a chubby little round rabbit. It had big round eyes, a smiling mouth, and blushing cheeks.
Just as he finished the small gift and was about to admire it a little more, Gu Yilan came upstairs to apply medicine to his knee.
Su Zesui leaned obediently against the headboard and closed his eyes. Only when he heard the sound of the medicine box closing did he peek one eye open.
Once he was sure Gu Yilan wouldn’t turn around right away, he slipped out of bed, grabbed the gift from his nightstand, and tiptoed behind Gu Yilan, holding the handmade bookmark and note in both hands.
Just as Gu Yilan was putting the medical kit back into the cabinet and turned around, he saw the silly-looking bookmark in the boy’s hands—with a note underneath it. On the note, the chubby bunny was saying:
“I usually can’t bear to give this to anyone. But remember—you’ll always be the exception.”
Gu Yilan: “?”
When he looked up again, he saw the boy staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, his beautiful face practically glowing with one big word written all over it: “Do you like it?”
Gu Yilan picked up the bookmark between his slender fingers, furrowed his brows, and said, “Thanks?”
Hearing that, Su Zesui immediately beamed, his eyes curving into crescent moons. He softly replied, “You’re welcome.”
He looked very happy, though his voice was stiff, the words clearly unfamiliar. It was obvious he had rarely ever said those three words before.
“Why are you giving me this?” Gu Yilan asked, glancing at the new books on the desk before lowering his eyes to the handmade bookmark with the Bible verse.
Su Zesui scrunched up his face in thought before answering, “To help you.”
Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow.
Over the years, countless people had begged him for help. This was the first time someone had offered to help him.
He flipped the roughly made but very earnest bookmark between his fingers and lazily said, “You really want to help me?”
Su Zesui nodded eagerly like a bobblehead.
“All right.” Gu Yilan tucked the bookmark away, lifted his gaze, and smirked. “I’ll be home for lunch tomorrow. Go get the takeout from the front door for me.”
Su Zesui: ?!!
“Tomorrow… the auntie…” He panicked, trying to salvage the situation. Not even bothering to find the words, he just started miming cooking motions with his small hands.
With a mix of speech and gestures, his message was clear: With the auntie cooking delicious food, why order takeout?
His heart was beating so fast that Gu Yilan’s phone even gave three “beep beep beep” alerts in a row.
Gu Yilan dropped the teasing smile and returned to his usual blank expression, but his voice still carried a hint of amusement: “Tomorrow is International Takeout Day.”
Su Zesui: ?
But a promise was a promise. No matter how reluctant he was now, shy little Su Zesui didn’t dare go back on his word.
He decided he’d wear a hat, a mask, and sunglasses tomorrow—covering every inch of himself—before nervously going to meet the delivery guy face to face.
“Did you try to run away today?” Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow and asked casually.
Su Zesui suddenly remembered the butler’s warning about “punishment” and immediately shook his head like a rattle drum.
“There’s a people counter in your room. I can see it on my phone,” Gu Yilan said. “If I think you’re trying to run, I’ll lock the front door remotely.”
Su Zesui froze.
…Even harder now.
“Of course, I’m not so free that I keep it locked all the time.” Gu Yilan looked down at him and lowered his voice slightly. “When I do lock it, I’ll send you a WeChat message.”
“You can take a look and see if I caught it right.” Gu Yilan narrowed his eyes and curled his lips into a faint smile.
. . . . .
The next day at noon, Su Zesui and Gu Yilan sat at the dining table in the living room. The butler brought each of them a glass of water.
The atmosphere was oddly tense. It was mealtime, but the large table was completely empty.
Su Zesui sat nervously in his chair with a small backpack still on his back. He fidgeted with his fingers, occasionally glancing at the front door, then sneaking peeks at Gu Yilan.
Gu Yilan simply sat there, quietly watching the boy, saying nothing.
Trying to ease his anxiety, Su Zesui pointed out the window and blurted out, “The moon… it’s still there during the day.”
The butler froze for a second before realizing Su Zesui was quoting a private story he had secretly told him the night before—Gu Yilan’s old secret. He hadn’t expected the boy to use it so soon. Impressive efficiency!
In his heart, the butler gave Su Zesui a big thumbs-up.
Such quick thinking, double meaning, straight to the point! Targeting Gu Yilan’s long-buried emotional vulnerability, using a healing approach to win over his heart—brilliant!
Gu Yilan frowned slightly, but responded, “The moon’s orbit allows it to reflect sunlight during certain times of the day. If it’s bright enough to pierce through the blue sky, we can see it.”
Su Zesui: “…”
Butler: “………”
“The moon,” Su Zesui tried again, gathering his courage, “is objectively real.”
Gu Yilan’s frown deepened. He glanced at the confused boy, then shifted his gaze to the visibly guilty butler and said coldly, “What did you tell him?”
The butler forced himself to meet his boss’s gaze, but couldn’t hold out for long before spilling everything. “I don’t know if you remember, but years ago, you once told me the moon might not exist. I knew it weighed on you, and I never forgot it.”
Gu Yilan was silent for a moment.
The butler noticed genuine confusion in his eyes—it wasn’t just a past wound. He really didn’t seem to remember.
He gave another hint: “It was back in your first year of high school, when we still lived at the old place… That night, you looked out the window and said…”
Gu Yilan thought longer this time.
Finally, a faint memory surfaced. The scene flashed before his eyes, and he almost let out a bitter laugh. He said coldly, “I made a random comment and you remembered it all these years?”
Upon hearing this, the butler stood upright and dramatically pounded his chest a few times, proudly demonstrating his unwavering loyalty and concern.
Su Zesui also gave a big thumbs-up beside the butler’s rounded belly.
To remember a single sentence for so many years—Uncle Butler really cared deeply about Mr. Gu.
Gu Yilan was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low voice: “Let me clarify. That random comment was a tongue-in-cheek remark popular among quantum theorists at the time: ‘The moon does not exist if we are not looking at it.’ It was a sarcastic critique mocking the observer effect in the Copenhagen interpretation.”
Before he even finished speaking, Su Zesui quickly pulled his thumbs back and sat upright, staring straight ahead, pretending he’d never been involved in this.
The butler remained frozen in place, hand still mid-chest-pounding, his straightened spine suddenly feeling crushed under invisible weight.
He didn’t know anything about “Cope-whatever,” but he now understood that what Gu Yilan had said back then… was essentially a joke.
Just like now—he had become the joke.
Su Zesui: “…”
Butler: “…”
All the emotion he’d carried for years turned out to be based on a casually spoken academic joke from Gu Yilan.
The butler didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His mouth twitched awkwardly as he stood there stiffly.
The awkward silence crept over the living room once again.
Fortunately, the tension was broken by the sudden ringing of the front doorbell.
The pressure shifted immediately. Su Zesui turned his head sharply, staring at the door like he was facing a mortal threat.
“Go,” Gu Yilan said, tapping his knuckles lightly on the table. He didn’t pursue the earlier embarrassment, but gave the butler a warning glance.
Su Zesui nodded and made his way toward the door like he was walking to his execution, inching forward step by step.
He didn’t know why Gu Yilan wanted him to get the takeout, but helping him would raise his favorability. And once that happened, they could get married!
He stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and tiptoed to peek out through the peephole—
Then almost collapsed to his knees in shock.
—Why were there four or five delivery guys outside the door?!
He looked back at the man sitting calmly at the table. Gu Yilan curved his lips into a smile. “I ordered a bit more than usual.”
Su Zesui’s cheeks puffed up into two small balls. He bent down, took off his backpack, pulled out his “gear,” and put on a full disguise—mask, hat, and sunglasses—hiding his little face completely.
After giving himself a silent pep talk, he opened the door.
The delivery men crowded the entrance, and the moment he opened the door, all their eyes landed on him.
Gu Yilan quietly observed the boy’s reactions.
He watched him stiffly take the food delivery, looking like a lifeless robot. He saw the delivery guy give him a friendly pat on the shoulder, but the boy remained awkward and unnatural. He looked like he wanted to run, but his legs were too weak to move, and he couldn’t utter a single word.
“Really afraid of people?” Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow, murmuring to himself.
The reason he hadn’t realized this earlier was probably because the boy had dared to talk to him so boldly at the club.
Gu Yilan had a notorious reputation—people avoided him wherever he went, let alone spoke to him or tugged at his sleeve.
Back then, he thought the boy was just fearless.
The butler was stunned, and for the first time began to question whether Su Zesui actually had any masochistic tendencies.
Although he selfishly hoped the little master would one day marry Young Master Gu, he still had to fulfill his duties as a butler. He reluctantly asked, “Should we call off the order to keep him from running away?”
“No need. He won’t get far,” Gu Yilan said softly. “Besides, I need a reason—to punish him.”
“Go. Bring him back.”
The butler knew his boss was softhearted and didn’t truly want to make the boy suffer.
As soon as he received the order, and already struggling to stand, the butler hurried off to help the panicked, flailing Su Zesui.
Gu Yilan lowered his gaze and opened WeChat on his phone.
He needed some proof.
He opened Su Zesui’s original WeChat Moments to see what someone who’s afraid of people would post.
A week ago, the boy posted “On the way,” with no picture attached.
Judging by the timing, that was probably the day he moved in.
Ten days ago, he posted “Happy [bunny hopping.jpg].” That had been the day of their blind date.
Scrolling further back—half a month ago:
“Who the hell scratched my car?! Fuck. [pic] [pic]”
Gu Yilan: …
Not exactly helpful. He closed that account and switched to Su Zesui’s new WeChat—created after he changed phones.
The posting style was similar. The most recent (and only) post read: “Like.” It was from yesterday afternoon and included a photo.
Gu Yilan tapped on it—and saw a picture of a competition booklet.
On it was his own elegant handwriting from high school, showing multiple solutions to a difficult problem. He had even marked a red “X” over the textbook’s official solution.
Back then, he had still been a little reckless—young and arrogant, unable to hide it. If he saw an incorrect solution in the textbook, he’d mark it with a dismissive X. Now, he saw that kind of thing as immature and unnecessary.
Over the years, he’d gained much, lost much, and stopped caring about many things.
Gu Yilan rubbed the callus on his fingertip, then emotionlessly exited the post.
Since the new WeChat account was recently created, that was the only post Su Zesui had made so far.
Gu Yilan frowned slightly, just about to try deducing the boy’s situation from what little he knew, when his eyes caught Su Zesui’s WeChat status—
[Born afraid of people. I’m sorry.]
The meaning was so clear it didn’t need explaining—floating gently into his vision like the reveal of a correct answer.
Gu Yilan: …………