Cage
Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
Su Mingyu had taken the day off specially to drive his younger brother to Gu Yilan’s house—or more accurately, to his arranged date.
Strangely enough, even though his little brother was legally an adult, the word “matchmaking” still felt incredibly out of place when applied to him.
Su Mingyu glanced sideways at the passenger seat—
The boy wore a soft white shirt that outlined his slender frame. A small dolphin, embroidered near the chest, added a simple yet fresh touch. Below were blue shorts, revealing two long, lean legs that looked almost blindingly pale in the sunlight.
The little guy was fidgeting with his clothes—again—trying to smooth out wrinkles that probably weren’t there, while muttering some kind of greeting script under his breath non-stop ever since getting in the car.
Su Mingyu still couldn’t understand why his brother—who would rather die than step outside the house—had agreed to this meeting.
After thinking it over, he could only chalk it up to Su Zesui overhearing the argument between him and their mother, feeling guilty, and deciding to sacrifice himself for family peace.
Su Mingyu felt a little touched at the thought, and reassured him, “Stop fussing with your clothes. You look good enough already—good enough to scare Gu Yilan off.”
Su Zesui’s carefully rehearsed opening line was interrupted. He puffed out his cheeks in protest and shot his brother a stealthy glare.
There was a burn scar on his arm—left from a childhood car accident, according to their mother.
The scar was high enough that even a short-sleeve shirt would cover most of it, and today, he was wearing long sleeves anyway.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling self-conscious. He instinctively reached to tug his sleeve lower—but then remembered what his brother had just said. He awkwardly froze mid-movement and switched to rummaging through his little backpack instead, double-checking that everything was in place.
It was the same backpack he’d brought to the Speedsters Club. This time, it held not only what he wanted to bring, but also a GPS tracker.
Their mother had snuck that in, worried he’d get kidnapped and sold.
Su Mingyu wasn’t quite as dramatic as their mother, but he still gave a few serious reminders: “Once you’re there, just treat it like a house tour. Don’t get too invested, and speak politely.”
Halfway through, he paused. Considering his brother’s current soft and timid personality, it was more likely that Gu Yilan would scare him speechless rather than the other way around. So he added, “If anything happens, call me right away.”
“I’ll come pick you up after you’re done,” he said. “Oh—almost forgot the most important part. Repeat after me: ‘You’re great, but I’m sorry—we’re not right for each other.’”
Su Zesui had no intention of learning that.
He puffed up his cheeks and turned to look out the window, pretending not to hear.
Su Mingyu wasn’t annoyed. He just kept going: “Also, Gu Yilan doesn’t like physical contact. You’d better not touch him.”
At that, a vivid image flashed through Su Zesui’s mind—back at the club, when that bad guy Ro had grabbed Gu Yilan’s wrist. Everyone had sucked in a sharp breath like it was the end of the world. Then, Ro’s arm had been ruthlessly twisted and broken.
…So that’s why.
Su Zesui nodded thoughtfully.
The black Cullinan cruised through the city center and stopped at an exclusive location. After being cleared by security, it turned into a gated mansion district.
A breeze rustled the trees. The place felt more like a private garden than a residential area. With its sunken layout and an extravagant disregard for cost, the greenery coverage here reached a stunning 70%.
They didn’t see many people along the way—perfect for someone with social anxiety.
Just as Su Zesui was gazing out the window, taking in the scenery, the car came to a stop again.
“We’re here,” Su Mingyu reminded him. “Go ahead. Call me if anything happens.”
Su Zesui blinked and instinctively looked at the only building in sight—
A European-style classical villa stood among the trees, ornate and refined. In the middle of the bustling city, it exuded a distinct sense of isolation and elegance, like it didn’t belong to this world.
Leaning casually by the front gate was a tall man, long-legged and poised. From afar, his face wasn’t clear, but his posture was striking—like a lone wolf detached from the world, exuding a powerful and suffocating aura.
Su Zesui’s palms began to sweat.
He wasn’t wearing a mask or hat this time. Even if Gu Yilan had a pleasant voice and a kind sense of justice, Su Zesui still felt a wave of social anxiety.
He clenched his little fists, got out of the car, and walked toward him.
Gu Yilan had been waiting a while.
His phone wouldn’t stop vibrating—
[Butler: Young Master Gu, perhaps you’d prefer to wait in the living room. That young master from the Su family is terribly spoiled—it’s not certain he’ll show up on time.]
[Butler: The kid’s stubborn and temperamental, and his family dotes on him. No matter how important something is, if he doesn’t want to do it, his parents will handle it for him. The fact that he actually agreed to this date… seems Young Master Gu’s reputation truly precedes him. Irresistible charm indeed!]
Gu Yilan let out a cold, mirthless chuckle.
A “date”? It was really just playing house with a pampered kid. Once the brat got scared off, he could move on to dealing with his mountain of pending work.
He lowered his eyes to glance at his phone, momentarily distracted.
And when he looked up again—he locked eyes with a pair of sparkling eyes full of curiosity, staring directly at him.
Gu Yilan: “…”
The moment their gazes met, the boy’s long, thick lashes trembled ever so slightly, like he was nervous.
…There was something oddly familiar about him.
Gu Yilan frowned slightly, letting his gaze sweep up and down, discreetly sizing up the boy who stood nearly a head shorter than him—until he noticed the little backpack on his shoulders.
—He’d seen it before. Exactly the same one. Just a few days ago… at the club.
Right then, his phone buzzed again. A new message popped up on WeChat—
[Su Mingyu: My little brother’s on his way over. He’s timid—try not to scare him too much. Seriously. Don’t traumatize him.]
Gu Yilan: “…………”
If it were a minute ago, he would have read that message with a blank expression, blocked Su Mingyu, and kicked his little brother out.
But now…
The boy in front of him had snow-pale skin, a slender neck, and a rosy face. When he looked up, his bright eyes reflected only him. And when he noticed Gu Yilan watching, he gave a shy little wave.
Gu Yilan pressed his lips into a tight line, voice cold and distant. Rare for him, he actually tried to talk someone out of something: “You should go back.”
Su Zesui’s ears tingled. That low, rich voice seemed to slip in through his ears and rush straight to the top of his head, leaving him lightheaded and tingly all over. It also made him completely forget the opening line he’d been practicing in the car for half an hour.
He paused for a few seconds, savoring the feeling—then looked at Gu Yilan in confusion.
After a brief silence, Gu Yilan straightened up and, chin slightly raised, nodded toward the door with a cool warning: “If you go in, don’t expect to come out.”
Su Zesui: “!”
Wait—he could go in and not come out? But hadn’t Mom said that kind of thing only happened after marriage…?
Seeing that the man was still standing in front of the door without moving, Su Zesui also pointed at the entrance and finally spoke his first words since arriving: “Go in.”
Gu Yilan frowned and replied in a low, impatient voice: “The Speedsters Club is my territory. I helped you because I was clearing out the trash in my club—nothing more. You wouldn’t want to know the real me. Go back to your brother.”
Su Zesui heard it all, but didn’t really understand.
The real him?
Was what Mom said—cold-blooded, shameless, possessive to the point of perversion… raising a canary in a cage—all just rumors?
Gu Yilan raised his phone, looking ready to message his brother. Su Zesui didn’t dare touch him, so he just stood there furiously shaking his head, like a little bobblehead doll.
Gu Yilan’s brows furrowed deeper.
He pressed his thumb against the fingerprint lock, and with a loud thud, pushed open the heavy European-style door.
With two crisp clicks, eight motion-sensor cameras in the entryway and living room instantly swiveled into place, locking onto them like rows of dark, hollow eyes. The sight was enough to send chills down anyone’s spine.
“Still want to go in?” Gu Yilan asked again.
Su Zesui had already lifted a foot to step inside, but froze mid-step at the question. He blinked in confusion, then shook his head.
Gu Yilan tucked his phone away and turned, striding into the house. Su Zesui scrambled to follow.
Past the entryway, the first thing that caught the eye was a massive schedule posted prominently in the living room:
7:00 Wake up
7:20 Breakfast
7:50 Work
11:30 Lunch
…
23:30 Sleep
Noticing where the boy’s gaze had landed, Gu Yilan said coolly: “Everyone in this house follows my rules.”
As if that weren’t intimidating enough, he walked over to a signal jammer and added: “Except during scheduled breaks, smart devices and internet access are strictly prohibited.”
Only then did Su Zesui notice a peculiar item on the timetable: “19:20 – Watch TV.”
He guessed it was meant to prevent the household staff from becoming too out of touch with the outside world—kind of like in prison, where they organize time to watch the evening news.
If it were up to Su Zesui, though, he’d rather watch Crayon Shinchan.
Suddenly, as if something occurred to him, he rummaged through his little backpack and pulled out his phone, holding it out: “For you.”
Gu Yilan’s gaze darkened slightly, but he didn’t take it: “Not now.”
Su Zesui assumed that meant he’d need it after they got married, so he nodded and tucked it back into his bag.
Since his bag was open, and he’d packed various kinds of bandages inside, he figured he might as well dig through and choose one.
He eventually pulled out a white bandage printed with a little cartoon rabbit and offered it to Gu Yilan: “For your cut.”
Gu Yilan didn’t want to take it.
But from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the other bandages in that bag—an overwhelming, chaotic burst of color.
Compared to those, the plain white rabbit design was… surprisingly tame.
“Waterproof,” Su Zesui added helpfully when he saw Gu Yilan hesitate. “Very useful.”
After speaking, he even pointed at his own arm, demonstrating where to put it.
Gu Yilan finally accepted it.
The moment his fingers brushed the bandage, Su Zesui flinched and quickly pulled his hand back like he’d been shocked, cradling it close and rubbing his fingertips nervously.
Gu Yilan’s expression didn’t change. He simply withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened.
But Su Zesui secretly let out a breath of relief.
Whew. That was close…
Just a little closer, and their fingertips would’ve touched.
“At night,” Su Zesui said, “use it.”
“Mm.” Gu Yilan raised his hand and placed the bandage on a shelf in the living room.
“Also,” Su Zesui looked up at him, “thank you, last time.”
The boy’s brows and eyes curved gently, the nervousness in his expression replaced by genuine gratitude. Under the overhead light, his eyes gleamed like pale-colored gemstones.
Gu Yilan paused for a moment and replied, “Mm.”
He rarely bothered explaining himself a second time—unless the person mattered.
After a brief walk around the living room, Su Zesui followed the man to a room with a secure fingerprint lock. Gu Yilan placed his finger on the scanner, keyed in the number of occupants—”2″—and pushed the heavy door open with a loud thud.
Inside was a wall of curved LCD displays filling the entire room. The footage was high-definition and silent, monitoring every corner of the house. In front of the screens, a man sat in a swivel chair, eyes fixed, monitoring each screen with unwavering attention.
The dim lighting in the room gave it a stifling atmosphere. It almost felt like all the people on those screens were NPCs in a simulation—and if anyone deviated from the schedule, they’d be flagged as defective and quietly eliminated.
Su Zesui instantly darted behind Gu Yilan, only his head peeking out as he stared, trembling, at the man in the chair.
…Why is there a stranger here?!
“All the rooms are here, monitored around the clock in shifts,”
“All rooms are monitored here, 24/7,” Gu Yilan turned his head slightly and said in a threatening tone. “No matter how capable you are, there’s no way you can escape—even if you had wings.”
Su Zesui half-hid behind him as he stepped into the room, timid but obediently nodding his head.
When the middle-aged man stood up and walked over, Su Zesui’s heart started racing.
“Little Master Su, nice to meet you. I’m the house butler.” The man offered his hand.
Maybe it was his kind face that reminded Su Zesui of his father—or maybe it was just that he’d always had a good impression of “butlers”—but the rock weighing down his heart finally eased. He gently shook the man’s hand.
His palm was warm and steady, not the hand of a bad person.
With Gu Yilan’s nod of approval, Su Zesui bravely stepped forward and began exploring the surveillance room.
Aside from the wall of screens, there was also a central display tracking the number of people in each room—likely tied to the fingerprint and headcount entry system.
Su Zesui felt safe. If anything bad happened, someone would rush over to help him. As he wandered through the room, he naturally assumed this security system was just part of the house’s employee benefits.
While the boy explored, the butler lowered his voice and said to Gu Yilan,
“Gu Honghui called again. She’s pleading with you to help her son get into the A University grad program. Says she has no other options left.”
“I’m a PhD student at A University, not the head of admissions,” Gu Yilan replied coldly.
The butler recalled how even professors treated Gu Yilan with utmost respect and thought to himself, You’re more powerful than the admissions office.
But he still kept his tone respectful: “She’s looked into your background—she knows she can’t bluff you. She wants you to write a recommendation through the academic association. That would give her son at least an 80% chance of getting in.”
Gu Yilan sneered.
The butler was about to speak again—when he suddenly fell silent.
Because the boy who’d been aimlessly wandering around the control room had turned and was now walking straight toward them.
Su Zesui stood in front of the two men, looking expectantly at the butler. His soft lips parted slightly as he prompted, “It’s been a long time since…”
The butler was completely confused. “S-Since what?”
What does that mean? “A long time since…”—what’s the subject? The verb? Where’s the rest of the sentence?!
When the conversation didn’t follow the “script” from his reference book, Su Zesui scrunched up his little face in frustration. Despite his social anxiety, he added softly, “Haven’t seen.”
He was just about to slowly load and deliver the phrase “Little master smiled,” when Gu Yilan cut him off coldly: “He doesn’t say things like that.”
The butler still looked utterly baffled1, but his mouth moved faster than his brain:
“Ah yes, yes, I’m not very good with young people’s ways of talking. Apologies, Little Master Su.”
“You can go,” Gu Yilan said, jerking his chin toward the door.
The butler seized on the lifeline like a drowning man and practically fled from the surveillance room.
Pale gray light from the monitors washed down from above, casting harsh shadows that split the darkness. It fell across the only two people left in the room.
With the butler gone, Su Zesui lost his focus and could only turn his bright eyes toward the man beside him, as if waiting for him to speak.
Gu Yilan glanced away with a blank expression. “Why are you looking at me again?”
Su Zesui pressed his lips together, then said, “You can.”
A long silence filled the surveillance room.
Gu Yilan’s face remained frozen, brows twitching upward with sarcastic disbelief. “‘I don’t need much money. I just need lots of love.’ Like that?”
There was something oddly disconnected about the boy—like his understanding of the world came entirely from romance novels and the internet.
Su Zesui’s eyes curved into little crescents. He covered his mouth and let out a small laugh.
Gu Yilan turned around. “Let’s go.”
This kid was braver than he’d thought. Gu Yilan took a different turn and led him to a side bedroom.
The room had no windows—only a ceiling vent hummed steadily overhead.
No sunlight could reach here. With the lights off, it would be pitch black, like a yawning abyss—deep and oppressive.
Gu Yilan switched the light on.
Towering sandalwood bookshelves lined both walls, pinning in a narrow wooden bed at the center. Black surveillance cameras locked onto them the moment they entered, creating a suffocating sense of pressure.
“This…” Su Zesui looked around curiously.
“The bridal room,” Gu Yilan said succinctly.
He walked to the nearest cabinet and pulled it open with a “whoosh.” Inside, cold metal glinted—locks, chains, collars—all gleaming with a sterile silver sheen, their reflections lighting up in Su Zesui’s pale eyes.
Gu Yilan narrowed his eyes, his voice turning low and dangerous: “I can’t tolerate losing control of anyone or anything. So, when necessary, I will use any means to maintain it.”
“For example, keeping someone permanently confined within my designated space—until death.”
Su Zesui walked up beside him.
His gaze moved back and forth between the handcuffs and his own slender wrists. In all honesty, he commented: “Too big.”
Gu Yilan: “…”
After trying them out visually, Su Zesui looked up at him again and asked with genuine curiosity, “Really… not allowed to go outside?”
“If someone is to be a canary in a cage, it’s only proper that they sing for me alone. Why should they go out?” Gu Yilan’s eyes lowered slightly as he idly flicked one of the chains with his long fingers. His tone was cool: “What they eat, what they say, what they do—should all be controlled.”
The clatter of chains colliding was jarringly loud in the silent room—but suddenly, with a soft thunk, something fell from one of the metal links.
A plushie.
A plushie shaped like a pair of handcuffs.
Alone, it wasn’t particularly impressive, but placed among all the cold, unmentionable steel items in the cabinet… it was actually kind of cute.
Gu Yilan: “……”
He told the butler to casually set up the side bedroom—he didn’t expect him to take it this casually.
“It’s yours,” Gu Yilan said coolly, pinching the toy between two fingers and turning to the boy beside him, expression icy as he handed it over.
Startled, Su Zesui instinctively leaned back a step to avoid the close proximity of his hand, then carefully reached out with both hands to accept the plushie.
Thanks to the height difference, Gu Yilan could clearly see the boy’s palms—damp with a sheen of sweat. Whether from nerves or fear, he wasn’t sure.
…So he did know how to be scared.
This level of psychological intimidation was clearly beyond the kid’s emotional tolerance. Any more, and the fragile little thing might actually end up traumatized.
Gu Yilan checked the time, sent a message to Su Mingyu, then lifted his eyelids to glance at the boy. “That’s enough for today.”
Su Zesui tucked the handcuff plushie into his small backpack, still a little shaken.
When he’d been peering into the cabinet earlier, he’d stood too close. If he hadn’t dodged quickly, Gu Yilan’s hand might’ve brushed his shoulder. And this was only their second meeting—he didn’t want to do something the other person disliked and leave a bad impression.
“Anything else?” Gu Yilan asked, clearly ready to send him on his way.
Su Zesui blinked, then thought hard for a full minute before slowly nodding.
He wiped the sweat from his palms on his pale blue shorts, then started rummaging through his backpack again.
And Gu Yilan watched, dumbfounded, as the kid pulled out a thick-as-a-brick copy of Intermediate Olympiad Physics Manual.
Gu Yilan: “.”
Su Zesui held the book up to him, first flipping open the cover and pointing to the title page, where his name had been written in careful, deliberate strokes.
Gu Yilan, face blank, nodded to indicate he’d noted it.
He assumed that was the end of it—names exchanged, a fleeting acquaintance, and then goodbye forever.
But the boy clearly had other plans.
Su Zesui flipped further into the competition manual.
The book was large and heavy, making his hands look even smaller. He fumbled with the pages, struggling a bit, but the folded corners helped him find what he was looking for.
He raised a small hand and pointed at one of the creased pages, right at a long and convoluted problem. “This one… I don’t understand.”
Then he looked up at Gu Yilan, pale eyes shimmering with quiet anticipation.
Gu Yilan: “?”
- Same here — I’m not quite sure what they’re talking about.😭 ↩︎
1. Hes speaking about a classic butler text “It’s been a long time since young master smiled” which is super popular in CEO novels haha. When CEO meets the protagonist and he smiles for the first time