Touch (1/2)
Su Zesui dazedly wiped at the tears on his face, using both the palms and backs of his hands. In the end, his fingers were soaked, yet the tear stains still wouldn’t go away.
He knelt on the bed, his mind automatically replaying the words Gu Yilan had said to him earlier.
“Su Zesui, what should you do next time someone makes things hard for you?”
“If you’re ever struggling on your own, call someone for help.”
“Call your brother. He has more free time than I do.”
. . . . .
Back in the car, Su Zesui had thought Mr. Gu said those things out of concern—because Gu Yilan had been treating him better and better, which must mean they were going to get married soon.
But now, thinking back, it was clearly nothing more than a final show of tenderness before a permanent farewell.
Why did he tell him to call his brother?
Because from beginning to end, Mr. Gu had never intended to marry him. That wasn’t a trial of love at all—it was simply the last of their time together.
Having experienced multiple partings—some life-and-death—Su Zesui understood deeply that the bond between people is often no stronger than a single thread, easily snapped.
People who spend every day together may seem intimately connected, but sometimes, they’re only tied by a single, invisible string. And once that string breaks, there’s nothing left—no more relationship, no more encounters, perhaps never again.
Just like him and Mr. Gu. Even though they had moved in together, their lives deeply intertwined, once the idea of marriage was gone, there was nothing left to link them. No ties, no obligations.
. . . . .
When the butler knocked and entered, what he saw was the boy sitting on the bed with his back to the door. Both hands covered his face, and his thin shoulders trembled slightly. The bedsheets were soaked through in a wide patch.
“L-Little Master…” The butler knew that any comfort he could offer now would be feeble and meaningless.
To give someone hope, only to drag them into the depths of despair—no one could endure that kind of blow.
He blamed himself too. He had only considered the situation from the Gu family’s side. If Gu Yilan refused the marriage, the fallout could be disastrous—people might even threaten their lives, making things more chaotic and difficult.
In contrast, getting married would’ve been the simplest solution.
Young Master Gu hated trouble—this might have been his main reason for refusing the marriage altogether.
So the butler had believed that as long as the young boy could endure the pressure, the marriage would eventually happen.
What he hadn’t expected—and still couldn’t understand—was that Gu Yilan would be so firm and decisive in his rejection.
He stepped forward and pulled a few tissues from the nightstand, offering them to Su Zesui.
Su Zesui still had his face buried in his hands. His body was shaking, completely silent, yet crying so deeply. Unlike usual, he didn’t take the tissues with both hands or obediently say, “Thank you.”
The butler let out a quiet sigh and simply stayed there beside him, keeping him company.
No one knew how much time had passed before Su Zesui finally calmed down a little. He panted heavily, arms falling limply to the bed. Turning his stiff neck, he looked blankly at the butler.
Those eyes, once clear and beautiful, were now blurred after being washed with tears—like stars behind a fog. And the corners of his eyes were red as if they might bleed.
“Little Master, actually… things are very chaotic on the Gu family’s side. If you were to marry Young Master Gu, you might get caught up in a storm. Besides, Young Master Gu, well, he…” The butler started listing all the reasons not to marry.
“I… I’m not afraid,” Su Zesui muttered, lowering his tear-soaked lashes. “I’m not afraid.”
But now, it was all meaningless.
The butler sighed deeply again.
“I think…” Su Zesui bit his lip and said, “I want to pack my things.”
“Okay! I’ll help you!” The butler, watching his expression carefully, headed to the second-floor storage room where the boy’s seven suitcases were kept.
But by the time he returned with the cases in tow, Su Zesui’s gaze had already lost focus again. He sat motionless on the bed, like a puppet whose springs had all unwound.
That moment of clarity just now… was nothing but a final flicker before everything went dark again.
The butler knew he was hurting and didn’t push him to speak. He just quietly began to help him pack.
He remembered when the boy first arrived, he had brought three suitcases full of plush toys, one of chips, and one full of materials for science competitions.
The butler hesitated for a moment. Glancing at the textbooks Gu Yilan had once used on the bookshelf, he chose not to pack them.
Since they were parting ways, keeping mementos would only deepen the sorrow.
Three suitcases’ worth of plush toys were scattered throughout the room.
The golden cage that Gu Yilan once used to scare people had now become a disaster zone filled with plush toys.
Originally, the cage had a tightly woven mesh made of golden threads—elegant and ornate, exuding a sense of luxury tinged with oppression.
But now, it was lined with a fluffy blanket, surrounded by a pile of cute little plushies. A single reach would get you all kinds of chips and snacks, fully showcasing the lazy indulgence of the room’s current owner.
It was obvious the boy really liked it here—he had already treated this room like half his home.
Once all the plush toys were packed up, the butler couldn’t help but feel—as if it were just his imagination—that the side bedroom had suddenly lost all traces of human warmth. It had returned to that cold, prison-like vibe it had before the boy moved in.
After organizing the luggage more or less completely, the butler straightened up and was just about to rest for a moment when he received a WeChat message from Gu Yilan—
[Boss: Come over. There are a few people to deal with.]
Glancing at the boy still sitting dazed on the bed, the butler could tell he needed some time to calm down. So he didn’t disturb him. Instead, he quietly headed for the door and gently closed it behind him.
Su Zesui had no idea how long he’d been sitting there.
He didn’t like looking at scenery and was afraid of people, so he would often pull shut the special blackout curtains to isolate himself from the outside world.
With no sunlight streaming in, he couldn’t even judge the time by the light.
When a knock came at the door, he thought it was the uncle butler returning after a short errand, ready to help him finish packing.
Su Zesui didn’t move. In his daze, he heard a man’s low and unmistakably lazy voice behind him: “Not eating dinner either?”
Su Zesui froze, didn’t turn around, and instinctively tapped his phone screen to light it up.
It was already 7 PM.
According to the schedule, dinner was served at 6 PM. The housekeeper would place the food by his door and return an hour later to collect the empty dishes.
He… had sat there for more than four hours straight, completely unaware of the passage of time.
Gu Yilan noticed the luggage in the room. As he stepped closer and caught sight of the boy’s red eyes, he paused and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Su Zesui sniffled and murmured, “…I’m leaving.”
Gu Yilan frowned but didn’t respond to that. Instead, he said, “Come downstairs and eat something first.”
Su Zesui shook his head, his voice still thick with congestion: “I don’t want to.”
Gu Yilan sighed helplessly and placed a pack of tissues by the bed, relenting: “I didn’t say you had to leave right now.”
Su Zesui hugged the tissues to his chest, choked up, and whispered, “Just two more days.”
Gu Yilan’s eyes darkened slightly—he hadn’t expected the boy to remember so clearly.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. After a long pause, he asked, his voice hoarse: “Why do you want to marry me?”
It was a question Gu Yilan had asked countless times before.
Every time, Su Zesui would excitedly tell him that he was happy—because Gu Yilan treated him well. But beyond that, he couldn’t come up with anything more to say.
But now, he lowered his head and, for once, said nothing.
Silence spread through the dimly lit room. After a long pause, Su Zesui finally whispered, “If you pretend to be a bad guy, then you won’t have to get married.”
He had thought about it for a long time—pondered and reasoned—and finally understood why Mr. Gu, who had been so kind before, suddenly punished him and took him outside.
——Because Mr. Gu never intended to get married. He wanted to play the villain, to scare off anyone who might want to marry him.
“There’s no need to pretend,” Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow. “I was never a good person to begin with.”
“You’re really nice to me,” Su Zesui murmured, poking at the napkin in his arms, crinkling the wrapper noisily.
“You’ll meet someone who treats you even better,” Gu Yilan looked down at the boy with dark eyes. “Your brother treats you pretty well, doesn’t he?”
Su Zesui instinctively shook his head and muttered, “No one.”
Gu Yilan pressed his lips together. Seeing that the boy was on the verge of retreating into his own world again, he changed the subject, “Want to go downstairs and eat?”
Su Zesui nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his bare feet touch the ground. But then, as if remembering something important, he said in a small voice, like sharing a great secret: “Actually… it’s not that I can’t talk. I’m just scared.”
Gu Yilan had just turned to follow him downstairs, but stopped in his tracks.
That sentence sounded strangely familiar.
Because he had seen it before—in Su Zesui’s WeChat Moments.
At the time, he thought the boy might have some kind of psychological issue. But after probing a little using a dummy account, he realized it was just teenage angst—an exaggerated, dramatic confession posted late at night.
But now, hearing those same words in this quiet, intimate setting… they carried a completely different weight. Like a stone sinking deep into the bottom of a lake.
When Su Zesui spoke in a breathy whisper, he sounded much more fluent, though his pace was still painstakingly slow. “I don’t really hate people… I’m just afraid.”
“Why?” Gu Yilan knew he shouldn’t get more involved—but he still asked.
Su Zesui fidgeted with his fingers.
Not long ago, the great strategist Ahoo had given him five pieces of advice. He had tried four of them over and over, but none really worked. The only one left—something he had dismissed as useless—was: “Tell him a little secret about yourself.”
He had spent a long time thinking of a secret no one else knew. But he never got the chance to say it.
Now, with nowhere else to turn, he said it without any preamble.
And the moment he opened his mouth, more memories rushed in, flooding his mind and stitching together a complete story.
His eyes turned red.
“My brother hoped I’d make more friends.”
Gu Yilan hesitated slightly but nodded. To better hear the boy’s whisper, he sat down beside him and gestured for him to lift his feet off the floor.
Obediently, Su Zesui tucked in his bare feet and sat cross-legged on the bed. “My brother gave me chocolate… I gave it to a classmate.”
Back then, he was in high school. His brother was bedridden with late-stage cancer. Their family had always struggled, but his illness made things even worse. Sometimes, Su Zesui couldn’t even bring himself to use ointment for minor injuries—he was saving every penny for his brother’s treatment.
Just surviving was hard. Buying snacks was out of the question.
His brother must have noticed how lonely he was. One day, from the drawer beside his hospital bed, he pulled out a big bar of strawberry-flavored chocolate and smiled as he handed it over. “Suisui can share this with your classmates—make some friends at school.”
Looking at the kind of snack he hadn’t tasted since both their parents were still around, Su Zesui couldn’t help but lick his lips.
But he listened to his brother. He packed the chocolate in his school bag and, the next day, gave the whole bar to his deskmate.
His deskmate looked surprised, like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
Before he could, the class monitor walked over with a deadpan face and told him the homeroom teacher was calling him.
At the time, his grades were terrible—among the worst in class, and still slipping. So it was no surprise that he was probably about to get scolded.
“And then?”