Secrets
Gu Yilan rarely checked his Moments, let alone browse them after adding Su Zesui. In fact, the moment he added the boy, he casually set their interaction to “chat only.”
He never expected that the shy, timid teenager in real life would be so open online—boldly posting the correct answers right on his Moments homepage.
. . . . .
“Coming, coming.” The butler hurried over, both hands full of takeout bags, afraid the little master might get too tired.
Meals for master and servant were arranged at different times. Since he’d already eaten lunch, he now stood by the table to set the dishes for the two masters.
Gu Yilan glanced at the boy beside him, who was nervously fiddling with his fingers, and motioned with his chin to the seat nearby. “Sit.”
Lifting a hand, he reached into the pile of takeout and, without hesitation, pulled out one specific box. He unwrapped it and placed it in front of Su Zesui.
Su Zesui slowly slid into the seat, sitting properly.
He thought he had done something wrong—that was why the man had the butler go fetch the takeout instead of letting him. So he remained tense, whether standing or sitting, never daring to lift his head and look at anyone.
But then—pa—a soft sound. Something small and white entered the edge of his vision.
Su Zesui looked up and saw a petite cream cake placed by his side.
On top of the cake sat a bright red strawberry, plump and juicy, with a crown-like green leaf underneath. The vibrant green made the whipped cream look even whiter, soft like a cloud.
Su Zesui: !
His eyes lit up, and he instinctively glanced at the man beside him.
“Eat it after your meal,” Gu Yilan said calmly.
Their cohabitation wasn’t even halfway through, yet some people were already busy worrying about this and that on their behalf.
Like Su Mingyu, who messaged just last night asking why his little brother hadn’t run away crying and screaming yet.
Gu Yilan replied perfunctorily: “Soon.”
Take Grandpa Gu, for instance—he cared deeply about Gu Yilan’s last remaining marriage prospect. He often sent messages asking how things were going between the two of them.
When Gu Yilan gave no reply, the old man even suggested he buy some gifts to help build a bond with the boy.
But in this money-driven, materialistic world, Su Zesui came from an equally wealthy family. He was doted on like a little treasure by the Su family and lacked for nothing.
As for Gu Yilan, who was always busy with work, he neither had the time nor the habit of making gifts by hand.
Realistically, that gift suggestion should’ve been shot down immediately.
However, the two of them never ate much for lunch anyway. Just to hit the minimum for takeout delivery, Gu Yilan casually ordered a small cake, a glass of milk, and a few packs of snacks.
Half-hearted, but enough to keep Grandpa Gu off his back.
Gu Yilan unwrapped the remaining takeout boxes, then glanced at Su Zesui beside him.
The boy was staring intently at the little cake in front of him, his cheeks slightly flushed, eyes curved like crescent moons, with two adorable tiger teeth peeking out from his smile.
Simple joy radiated from his bright eyes, completely replacing the fear and anxiety he’d felt earlier when picking up the food.
Gu Yilan could even feel his phone buzz three times in his pocket. He blinked. “Happy?”
Su Zesui nodded like a pecking chick. “I like it.”
A strawberry shortcake—he liked it. A strawberry shortcake from Gu Yilan—he liked it even more.
Gu Yilan’s expression grew a little complicated. He placed the milk and chips next to Su Zesui as well. “Take them upstairs later.”
“Thank you,” Su Zesui whispered. “You’re so nice.”
Gu Yilan’s hand paused mid-air as he set the food down.
A hearty lunch. A dining room so quiet it felt like time itself had stopped.
Gu Yilan, as usual, ate in silence. After the misunderstanding earlier involving the moon, the butler didn’t dare speak casually either. And Su Zesui was happily focused on his meal, determined to finish quickly so he could enjoy the sweet little cake.
Gu Yilan finished before Su Zesui did.
Normally, he would’ve left right away, too busy to linger. But this time, he stayed. Leaning back in his chair, arms folded, he sat quietly and watched the boy.
Su Zesui was too full of joy to notice, eating with his whole heart and mind.
When he was finally done, he stood up, gathered the cake, milk, and chips into his arms, and prepared to dash upstairs for a little secret treat session.
“Su Zesui.” The man suddenly spoke.
Su Zesui froze. The chips nearly slipped from his grasp.
Gu Yilan rarely called him by name. He stiffened, long pale neck taut, and looked blankly toward the man beside him.
After a long silence—just as Su Zesui was beginning to think Gu Yilan had called him for no reason—he suddenly heard the man say, in a cold tone: “I’m not a good person.”
Su Zesui shook his head instinctively, like a little rattling drum.
No.
In both worlds, Gu Yilan was the best person he’d ever met, outside of his own family.
Gu Yilan didn’t like explaining himself. He preferred to prove his point through action.
He beckoned. “Your phone.”
Su Zesui put his snacks back on the table and, without hesitation, pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it over.
The whole thing felt odd—like a parent with no concept of boundaries going through their child’s phone. The butler beside them opened his mouth as if to speak but couldn’t find the right position or excuse to intervene.
Su Zesui’s phone had no password, and he hadn’t installed any apps. The screen was clean, with the WeChat icon right there in plain sight.
“You added someone,” Gu Yilan said, tapping open WeChat and scrolling casually as he stated the fact.
Su Zesui was momentarily stunned—then remembered the mysterious man with the period username.
He had added the person because that “Uncle Period” could do fortune-telling, and Gu Yilan had once said he could add a few online friends. That’s why he did it.
But he didn’t like chatting with Uncle Period. The man constantly badmouthed Gu Yilan—each message more outrageous than the last—insisting over and over that they’d never get married. It made Su Zesui angry.
Over time, the accumulating negativity from those messages made him dislike the person more than he appreciated the fortune-telling.
So he never initiated conversations.
But… he didn’t know how to reject people, and he didn’t know how to block them. So he just let it sit there, quietly, unread.
With all this in mind, Su Zesui had to think long and hard about how to explain it. He wasn’t good with words.
Just as he was struggling to come up with a way to put it, he saw Gu Yilan’s long fingers tap the screen and open their chat window.
“No—” Su Zesui instinctively reached out to stop him.
Uncle Period had said a lot of bad things about Gu Yilan. He didn’t want him to see any of it.
But Gu Yilan was taller. He stood and casually raised the phone just above Su Zesui’s reach.
The butler, witnessing this scene, silently covered his face.
This was… a bit much. Bullying a child, really.
The boy in front of them was stretching his arms high, eyes glistening as a thin layer of mist began to form in them. Gu Yilan’s lips pressed into a tight line.
Finally, he lowered his arm and placed the phone flat on the table.
For someone with social anxiety and a fear of people, their social circle is often incredibly small. Losing even one friend means losing a large part of their social world—so they tend to cherish every friend deeply.
Uncle Period had helped Su Zesui set up his Moments, recommended search tools, and even taught him how to phrase questions. He was probably considered an important part of Su Zesui’s tiny social sphere.
Judging by the boy’s anxiety just now, that assumption was likely accurate.
“Have I ever said you’re not allowed to talk to other people?,” Gu Yilan said, tone cold and self-righteous.
The butler, standing nearby, broke into a cold sweat on his behalf.
Irrational and twisting facts—that kind of approach was far more effective than reason. But it was hard on the innocent little master, who had no idea how devious Young Master Gu could be.
Gu Yilan curled his finger, motioning for the boy to come closer.
Though confused, Su Zesui obediently scooted closer, watching as that long, bony hand tapped a few times on the screen. And then—
Uncle Period was added to the WeChat blacklist.
Su Zesui: !
Once blocked, all chat history was automatically deleted.
He hadn’t expected that, in the blink of an eye, the whole situation would reverse—and not just in a small way. Two amazing things had just landed on his head like gifts from the sky.
Noticing Gu Yilan still looking down at him, Su Zesui hesitated, then softly said, “…Thank you.”
Gu Yilan: ?
To express his gratitude, Su Zesui picked out his favorite flavor of chips from the pile and offered it to Gu Yilan. Then, he gathered the rest of the food back into his arms and glanced up at the man again, those clear eyes seeming to ask: Can I go now?
Gu Yilan: …
He nodded toward the stairs with his chin. “Go on.”
Only then did Su Zesui finally relax and turn to dash upstairs.
Once the boy’s figure completely disappeared, the butler asked, puzzled, “Young master… he looked really happy? Even though you just deleted someone he liked talking to?”
Before he could finish, Gu Yilan shot him an icy glare. The butler immediately fell silent.
He sighed inwardly. It was one thing not to understand Gu Yilan—but now he couldn’t read Su Zesui anymore either…
. . . . .
That afternoon, Su Zesui explored the third floor.
As someone who had devoted his life to physics, Gu Yilan’s third floor was filled with labs—mechanics labs, optoelectronics and electronics labs, computational physics and simulation labs…
There were even some rooms Su Zesui couldn’t comprehend, labeled things like “AdS/CFT and Gravitational Quantization Lab” or “String and Holographic Duality Research Lab.”
He placed his fingerprint on the scanner and entered the optics lab.
He had been studying optics recently, so he tried setting up a basic double-slit interference experiment—
When the laser passed through a board with only two narrow slits, it formed a series of alternating light and dark bands on the screen.
The brightness of the fringes varied, but the distance between the bright bands was unexpectedly uniform.
To someone who didn’t understand physics, this would seem like a miracle crafted by the hands of the universe itself.
The lab equipment here was incredibly precise and high-end, with sleek designs and premium build quality.
Su Zesui couldn’t help doing a Poisson spot experiment next, before finally running back to his room.
He lay sideways in a golden cage lined with blankets. All around him were adorable plush toys with all sorts of chip bags resting on their heads like silly hats.
Hugging a fluffy stuffed toy shaped like handcuffs, he munched on chips while doodling in his competition prep book, circling the problems he didn’t know how to solve. He planned to ask Gu Yilan for help later that night.
——Sorry, Uncle Period.
——It’s not that I didn’t want to ask you questions first—your contact info just got deleted, so now I can only ask Gu Yilan instead.
As he wrote, Su Zesui suddenly realized—without even noticing, he had already completed the fourth step of his “Improve Favorability” plan:
Give him sincere praise.
Earlier at lunch, when Gu Yilan said he wasn’t a good person, he had replied, “You’re very kind.” It had been sincere, without any ulterior motive.
Now, only the last move remained.
Step Five: Share your little secrets with him.
A hard shell protects a fragile core, but I’ll show it to you. Welcome to my inner world, my destined soulmate!
That step was especially difficult for Su Zesui, because during the transmigration, he had lost many of his past memories—and he didn’t have this world’s “original him” memories either.
A secret of his own…
Su Zesui mimicked the butler’s usual pose, resting his chin in his hand as he began to think.
He slipped into such deep thought that he entered a flow state—and time flew by. Before he knew it, it was already time for their usual nightly “TV watching” session.
Just as he crawled out of the golden cage with his brick-thick competition book in hand, there was a knock at the door, and it opened.
Gu Yilan stood outside with arms crossed, his expression cool. “Ready? Let’s go.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Su Zesui felt a little touched.
Even though his room was just a short distance from the living room, Gu Yilan still came all the way to escort him down. So thoughtful. So warm.
Hugging his book, he skipped cheerfully toward the spiral escalator, while Gu Yilan followed a few steps behind.
On the way down, he could clearly feel the man’s intense gaze locked onto him. The moment he turned his head, he would meet those deep, bottomless black eyes.
But Su Zesui stiffened his neck and didn’t look back.
Just moments ago, he had been bouncing around energetically. But as soon as he rounded the corner, he stiffened like a robot.
Because the living room downstairs was full of people, he tiptoed his way down, careful not to make any big movements. Otherwise, he might draw attention from strangers.
. . . . .
Tonight’s projection was, as usual, the evening news.
“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to tonight’s news broadcast,” said a female voice.
“Recently, an incident involving a socially anxious individual being assaulted has sparked widespread public attention…” a male voice continued.
Normally, Su Zesui would be watching the news in a state of nervous drowsiness.
Nervous because he was afraid the people in front of him would turn around and look at him; drowsy because the news always made him sleepy.
But when he suddenly heard that sentence, he jolted awake in shock.
“On the afternoon of July 6, citizen Zhang met up with online friend Wang. Due to Zhang’s social anxiety, he had appeared especially enthusiastic on social media, but failed to respond in time to Wang’s friendly greeting in real life, which led to a misunderstanding and unnecessary physical conflict.”
Su Zesui stared at the screen, dumbfounded—
So if socially anxious people meet up with online friends, they might get beaten up?!
He couldn’t help but think of Uncle Period.
Thank goodness Gu Yilan had helped him block that guy. Otherwise, it was only a matter of time before he ended up getting hit too.
Su Zesui sneakily shot Gu Yilan a grateful look.
Being with Gu Yilan made him feel incredibly safe and happy. Plus, he could hear physics problems explained face-to-face and use a high-end physics lab for free. It was amazing.
There were still five days left—he had to work hard and win him over!
Su Zesui secretly clenched his snow-white fists.
No longer nodding off like a sleepy chick, he widened his pretty eyes, racing against time to think about how to “tell him a little secret.”
And digging into his secrets inevitably brought back memories of the past.
As he kept thinking, Su Zesui fell into fragments of memories from before he time-traveled—some joyful, some painful, full of ups and downs. His eyes grew chaotic with emotion, and he looked a bit dazed.
Time slipped by while he was lost in the whirlpool of memories.
Eventually, the screen flickered and went dark.
Su Zesui forced himself to snap out of it. He planned to carry his competition prep book to the empty dining room and ask Gu Yilan a question there.
But just as he stood up, the man raised a hand to stop him and said coldly, “Wait.”
With a duang, Su Zesui sat right back down.
He watched as the servants ahead began to rise, about to clean up the TV setup. Immediately, the boy covered his face with both hands.
In that brief darkness behind his palms, his thoughts were once again swept away by fragments of memory—flashes of things he had forgotten when he first crossed over.
“Give me the book.”
Only when he heard that deep, familiar voice did Su Zesui move his hands slightly, revealing two slightly red eyes.
The memories weighed heavily on him, hard to escape.
But the moment he opened his eyes, all those memories vanished, leaving not even a trace behind.
Along with them, his emotions seemed to be drained as well. A trace of confusion flickered in his gaze.
When he saw Gu Yilan’s large hand held out in front of him, he finally came back to his senses and placed the book into his hand.
The man had beautiful hands—long, well-defined fingers with veins faintly visible beneath his skin. He was holding Su Zesui’s black bunny pen and writing formulas on a sheet of scratch paper.
That low and pleasant voice was explaining the physics problem he cared most about.
But for once, Su Zesui found himself distracted.
Because suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him—an effortless way to casually reveal one of his little secrets! It was perfect! He was so excited that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Right now, the top priority was marrying Gu Yilan. Even his beloved physics competition had to take a back seat.
“Is there anything else you don’t understand?” Gu Yilan twirled the pen in his hand and looked up at him.
“Calculations…” Su Zesui hadn’t absorbed a single word of the long explanation just now. He could only pretend to listen seriously and vaguely muttered, “Always wrong.”
Gu Yilan looked at the algebraic proof problem in front of him, paused for a moment, then said, “Miscalculations usually happen because you’re not familiar enough with solving the problem. Human brainpower is limited—when you’re focusing hard on figuring out the method, there’s less attention left for the actual calculations.”
A dazed Su Zesui could definitely relate.
Gu Yilan handed the book back to him and said mildly, “You don’t need to practice calculations specifically. Just do more problems.”
Su Zesui hugged the book again and looked at Gu Yilan.
“Tomorrow is your last chance to run away,” Gu Yilan’s gaze swept over his small face, “Go back.”
Only after hearing that did Su Zesui turn and dash upstairs—he had to write down all his great ideas.
His mind was full of good ideas, so much so that he didn’t notice the heavy gaze fixed on his back. Gu Yilan stared at him until he disappeared around the bend in the staircase.
“…Did the little master get scared into some sort of stress response? He’s been out of it all evening,” the butler couldn’t help commenting to the boss.
Before the TV session started, he had been standing at the bottom of the stairs and had witnessed Su Zesui’s entire descent.
He had clearly seen that it wasn’t the news projection that made Su Zesui tremble—but the crowded living room full of people.
It really did seem like the little master was genuinely “afraid of people.” That earlier theory about him being a masochist was clearly a misunderstanding.
“Young Master Gu, do you think the little master doesn’t believe he’ll actually be controlled, or that he just doesn’t care?” the butler asked.
Though the two may sound similar, there was a subtle difference. One meant he cared, but didn’t believe the other person would actually do it. The other meant he simply didn’t care at all—completely surrendered.
Strangely enough, Gu Yilan recalled the WeChat message from the boy yesterday: [I drank his control potion.]
He fell silent for a while, then calmly stated, “He likes it.”
“What?!” the butler jumped in shock.
But then he composed himself.
With Gu Yilan’s prompt, all the chaotic thoughts in his mind suddenly started to make sense.
Why did the little master seem like a masochist in some situations, but act totally unlike one in others?
Because he was afraid of people.
The kind of control that created order and kept him from socializing—he liked that.
But the kind of control that forced him to interact with people—that terrified him.
The butler hesitated. “But… isn’t this going a bit too far? The little master really does seem quite scared…”
Gu Yilan sat still, turning his head to look at the staircase corner where Su Zesui had disappeared. After a long while, he finally said, “Let’s go.”
. . . . .
The boy only looked like he was seriously injured because of his pale skin—his bruised knee wasn’t actually that bad. After three days of treatment, the bruising had mostly faded.
So tonight, Gu Yilan didn’t need to come over to his side anymore.
He sat in the study, fingers silently tapping on the table.
While waiting, he noticed the butler frantically searching for a lost document nearby, clearly at his wit’s end. In the meantime, Gu Yilan casually opened his phone.
Ever since he’d seen the unfiltered, raw posts in Su Zesui’s Moments, he’d been paying attention to the boy’s WeChat.
He tapped into the boy’s profile and scrolled.
Just ten minutes ago, Su Zesui had posted a new text-only Moment:
[I’m sorry. It’s not that I can’t talk—I’m just afraid.]
“Ah, right, now I remember. It was here the whole time—finally found it. Young Master Gu, you—” the butler’s voice stopped mid-sentence.
“What’s wrong?”
Seeing Gu Yilan’s tightly furrowed brows, the butler instinctively grew tense.
Had the company’s stock price crashed? Had University A been overtaken by rival University B?
Gu Yilan hesitated briefly, then put his phone down on the desk with a “thud”, his voice emotionless: “He just posted this.”
“He? Who?” the butler leaned in—and immediately paled in shock.
“This—this this—Little Master Su… is he okay? He’s not really having a mental breakdown, is he?”
Just reading that sentence was enough for the butler to vividly imagine the boy clutching the hem of his shirt, eyes red, speaking in a trembling voice—like someone being bullied, one step away from jumping off a rooftop. It tugged painfully at the heart.
“No wonder he’s been out of it all evening. He just saw that news about a social phobic person being attacked, and then we forced him to stay in a crowd. Did we traumatize him?”
The butler grew anxious. “Should we go comfort him?”
Gu Yilan recalled the harsh red hue at the corner of the boy’s eyes and, with a blank expression, glanced at the butler babbling beside him. His voice dropped low and cold: “Me?”
The butler glanced at his terrifying boss, whose history of scaring kids into tears was legendary.
Right. As the main culprit here, Young Master Gu should probably keep his distance—any further contact might just add to the trauma.
“Don’t act on impulse, Young Master Gu. I’ll go check on him.” The butler took out his own phone.
He had also added Su Zesui’s new WeChat. But after a quick scroll, his face turned green.
“Young Master Gu…”
Gu Yilan gave him a sharp look.
“Well… Little Master Su… it seems he’s blocked me…”
Gu Yilan: …
The butler, afraid the boss wouldn’t believe him, showed him his phone.
On the butler’s screen, the only Moment he could see from Su Zesui was yesterday’s post: [Like.]
The new post, [I’m sorry] was completely invisible.
“What should we do now?” the butler asked, a little worried. “Little Master Su wouldn’t do anything to hurt himself, would he?”
Gu Yilan’s temple throbbed. He closed his dark eyes, and his thin lips pressed into a tight line.
. . . . .
Meanwhile, in the side bedroom.
Su Zesui lay sprawled on the bed, bored out of his mind. He was flipping through a competition prep book, his phone placed nearby.
Because Gu Yilan had written out the solution steps very clearly on the scratch paper—without skipping any like the competition books often did—Su Zesui could understand the material now, even though he hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.
For once, he had left his phone right beside him.
Because he had just thought of something—perhaps a little hard to talk about openly, but definitely a small secret. After doing some research on Ahoo, he figured out how WeChat’s privacy settings worked. Then, he posted a WeChat Moment visible only to Gu Yilan.
He thought the sentence he wrote was very intriguing—something that would definitely hook someone. He imagined the man would be itching with curiosity, desperate to figure out what he meant.
Sure enough, he hadn’t even finished one problem before his phone buzzed twice.
Su Zesui dropped his pen and eagerly grabbed his phone—
[Private message from “Stranger 。” on Ahoo: Why did you block me?]
[。: Add me back.]
Su Zesui: ?