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Gu Yilan immediately let go of the arms he had been clutching so tightly. His eyes froze, and a bloody, violent thought flashed through his mind—
Out of control again.
He shot a quick glance at the boy in front of him, then ignored the master bedroom’s built-in balcony and left the room, heading toward the second-floor terrace. His movements were smooth and swift, lips tightly pressed together, not saying a single word, leaving Su Zesui alone on the bed, stunned.
If there were one phrase to describe his current state, it would be: fleeing in defeat.
The summer night was stuffy, and the hot wind scraping across his face didn’t help him calm down—instead, it only made him more irritable, as if he wanted to tear the whole world apart.
Gu Yilan didn’t like smoking, but right now, his fingers were itching for a cigarette—anything to help him cool off.
“You’re well aware that our family line has always had only one son per generation. This is a fate we can’t escape.”
“If it really doesn’t work out, you can adopt, or whatever… That Su family boy seems well-behaved. I don’t think he would say no.”
“If you two don’t want to raise a child yourselves, send them to us—we’ll take care of them.”
. . . . .
Gu Yilan’s lips tensed into a flat line as he looked down at the pond in the garden below. His gaze measured the approximate distance from the second floor to the ground, and a metallic taste of blood spread in his mouth.
“Brother?”
Su Zesui’s voice came from behind. Before Gu Yilan could turn around, he felt a soft body wrap around him from behind in a gentle hug.
He had been so consumed by his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard the boy’s footsteps.
“Brother, what’s wrong?” Su Zesui asked with concern.
Gu Yilan pushed away the cruel thoughts in his mind and replied hoarsely, “I’m fine. Why aren’t you asleep?”
Su Zesui pointed at him and said, “Brother is here.”
The meaning behind those words was unmistakably clear.
He was here—so of course he was worried, and couldn’t fall asleep.
Gu Yilan’s jaw tightened slightly. After a moment, he quietly pulled away, putting a bit of distance between them.
“What am I to you?” he suddenly asked, completely out of the blue.
The night was too dark for Su Zesui to see the man’s expression clearly. He could only go by what he felt and began counting off on his fingers, speaking honestly, “You’re someone very important to me. Someone who protects me. Someone who cares about me. You’re…”
He wanted to say “You’re the person I like.” But facing the man’s overwhelming presence, he suddenly felt too shy to say it out loud.
That would’ve been impossible for him just a few days ago. Back then, he spoke his mind freely, without much thought. Once he was sure of something, he could say “I like him” to anyone without hesitation.
But now, something had changed.
In just these past few days, he had unknowingly gained something—something resembling human emotion.
“Your teacher?” Gu Yilan prompted when the boy fell into silence, stumbling over his words.
Su Zesui nodded vigorously. “Mm-hmm. Teacher.”
How could he forget that? Mr. Gu was his mentor—he’d taught him so much. A lot of his habits now, he’d learned from him.
“You sure?” Gu Yilan raised a brow.
“Yes!” Su Zesui didn’t quite catch the meaning behind the man’s tone, but he was absolutely sure.
For some reason, he felt like the man in front of him quietly let out a sigh.
Then Gu Yilan asked again, “Have you been hugging me too often lately?”
Su Zesui shook his head and once again opened his arms wide, ready to demonstrate how much he liked him—with a hug!
But the man in front of him responded coldly, “From now on, once every three days.”
Su Zesui pouted and slowly lowered his arms, muttering a small, unhappy “Oh.”
After spending so much time together, he’d come to understand some of Gu Yilan’s temperament. Once Gu Yilan made a decision, there was no changing it—no matter who objected, it was useless.
But unusually, this time, after hearing his downcast little voice, Gu Yilan didn’t respond with the usual “Be good” or “Listen,” but instead said, “Go back and rest. I’ll leave later.”
“Okay…” Su Zesui answered, crestfallen, and returned to the bedroom.
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling bathed in moonlight.
His progress had been incredible. By now, he already understood “dry wood and blazing fire,” “a passionate night together,” the concepts of “1” and “0,” and a whole range of other technical terms.
And he had an excellent memory—he still remembered a help post from Ahoo that said:
[Just crawl into his bed and turn the raw rice into cooked rice.]
That comment had received a lot of upvotes.
So he made a plan: when Mr. Gu came back, he’d say—“Let’s set the dry wood ablaze!”
But ever since he’d learned what that phrase really meant—and ever since his heart started racing every time he saw Mr. Gu—he found he couldn’t say it so casually anymore.
So he decided he needed to rehearse.
He sat up in bed, turned to look at the empty space beside him, and with a serious expression practiced:
“Mr. Gu, I… let’s set the dry wood ablaze.”
His face flushed red, and he couldn’t help adding a timid “Okay?” at the end, then covered his face, completely mortified by himself.
Half an hour later, after rigorous training, he could say that phrase smoothly—and had even come up with a few backup lines.
Things like: “Mr. Gu, you’re the best,” “Could you be a little gentler? But it’s okay—I don’t mind the pain,” and “Mr. Gu, let’s spend a passionate night together.”
With everything prepared, Su Zesui was full of confidence. He was sure that after tonight, Mr. Gu would definitely want to hug him every day.
But he waited, and waited—from sitting to lying down, from wide-eyed determination to bleary sleepiness—and still, his “east wind”1 never came.
——Maybe Mr. Gu isn’t planning to sleep tonight…
That was Su Zesui’s final thought before drifting off to sleep.
. . . . .
The next morning, unsurprisingly, he overslept. It was Gu Yilan who gently woke him.
“Still going to school with me today?” Gu Yilan asked from beside the bed.
“Yes.”
Even though he was so sleepy he could barely open his eyes, Su Zesui forced himself up.
——He still had to turn raw rice into cooked rice! There was no time to waste!
But once daylight came, and the sun was shining brightly, Su Zesui realized he couldn’t bring himself to say any of the lines he’d rehearsed last night.
It was fine. He could try a different angle.
But alas—man proposes, heaven disposes.
Today, Mr. Gu seemed especially busy. He was nowhere to be seen all morning.
Finally, lunchtime arrived. After much internal debate, Su Zesui decided he’d speak up. But just as Gu Yilan finished unpacking the lunch delivery for him, he got up to leave again.
That was when Su Zesui noticed… Mr. Gu had only ordered food for one person.
There was nothing he could do. He knew Mr. Gu was really, really busy, and didn’t want to bother him. So he just silently waved at the man’s retreating back, saving his chance for another time.
. . . . .
Outside the private lab office.
Gu Yilan casually closed the door behind him. Gong Chuang, who had been leaning against the wall waiting for him, straightened up and joked, “So eager to get back to the lab? Are you not hungry, or just trying to avoid him?”
Gu Yilan shot him a calm glance, showing little reaction.
“You know, you’re his legally married husband now,” Gong Chuang said. “Won’t he be heartbroken if you keep acting like this?”
“He won’t,” Gu Yilan replied firmly as he walked toward the lab. “Things between us aren’t as deep as you think.”
“Huh?” Gong Chuang was stunned.
He thought back to Su Zesui’s explicit questions the night before and couldn’t believe it.
“No way. You’re messing with me, right? This is just… like, part of your couple dynamic or something… right?”
Gu Yilan didn’t respond to his joke and said coldly, “I asked him. He only sees me as a teacher. That’s all.”
“Only as a teacher?” Gong Chuang was stunned and retorted, “You treat him so well, and he just uses you as free labor? Is your relationship just a transactional one without any feelings?”
Gu Yilan’s steps paused ever so slightly, his eyes darkening, but he calmly said, “This is already the best way for us to get along. Once I’m no longer useful to him, he can walk away anytime.”
Gong Chuang was taken aback again, eyes wide, hesitant to speak. “You…”
Gu Yilan anticipated what Gong Chuang was about to say and cut him off with a calm voice, “You already know part of my situation. I’ve taught him everything I can. While he still doesn’t have feelings for me, I will gradually cut off…”
What he meant to cut off was obvious.
Recalling Su Zesui’s intense enthusiasm for researching AV, Gong Chuang wanted to argue but thinking of Gu Yilan’s harsh reality, the words twisted in his mouth and he ultimately couldn’t say anything, only letting out a long, helpless sigh.
Gu Yilan’s expression remained unchanged as he continued walking, lowering his gaze to tap a few times on his phone. He sent an old, dusty photo via WeChat to Gong Chuang.
The phone vibrated. Gong Chuang looked closely and immediately widened his eyes in shock and hesitation. “Th-this…”
Gu Yilan put away his phone without looking away and stared at the sign at the end of the corridor, speaking flatly, “Send it to him.”
“No, don’t.” Gong Chuang’s mind went blank as he blurted out his advice, “Don’t do that. Why the sudden change?”
Gu Yilan pressed his thin lips and said, “I’ve always been like this.”
“You’re putting it all out there. Aren’t you afraid that once he knows the truth, he’ll pack up and run off overnight?” Gong Chuang hurriedly followed his steps, anxiously.
Gu Yilan stopped, lowered his lashes to cover the dense emotions in his dark eyes, and said, “Let me correct you. It’s what I want.”
Gong Chuang was speechless from the sharp reply and took a step back, trying again, “Actually… I think some things should be done gradually. Don’t hurt the enemy eight hundred and yourself a thousand.”
“I know you said some things to him that you shouldn’t have.” Gu Yilan glanced at the embarrassed Gong Chuang beside him, paused, then continued, “From all my experience so far, if you want to minimize loss, you have to extinguish the flame before it even appears.”
“If you want to make things right, then do it this way. If not, forget it.” Gu Yilan didn’t want to discuss further and turned away without looking back.
Gong Chuang stood there, staring at the photo on his phone, helpless and frustrated, running his hand through his hair, and sighed deeply.
- 东风 (Dōng fēng) comes from the Chinese idiom “万事俱备，只欠东风” (Wànshì jù bèi, zhǐ qiàn dōngfēng) meaning everything is in place, just waiting for one crucial element to succeed. ↩︎
And now we have to wait 40 chapters before the misunderstood clears and they cuddle with love