Not Good
Su Zesui looked forward to Gu Yilan coming to pick him up every single day.
He thought about it while eating, before going to bed, even while doing homework—his mind would wander. The messages he sent went unanswered, leaving all his emotions with nowhere to go, and he ended up pouring them all onto his big brother.
Su Mingyu found it strange. “It’s only been a few days. You can’t wait? Your big brother is on vacation just for you. Can’t you show a little respect?”
Su Zesui said disappointedly, “Okay.”
In truth, he didn’t spend that much time with Su Mingyu either.
Even though Su Mingyu was on annual leave and sleeping more than usual, as a core member of the company’s management, he still had urgent matters to handle. Even when not at the office, he had to deal with them immediately online.
This time, Su Mingyu brought Su Zesui back not only to take him for a follow-up at the hospital but also hoping to spend some quality time and build a closer bond with his younger brother.
Unfortunately, work piled up. He had promised to cook a meal for Su Zesui himself, but in the end, due to all sorts of matters, the housekeeper ended up doing it.
Sometimes Su Zesui found it strange. Mr. Gu was even busier—running a company and conducting experiments—but somehow, he always made Su Zesui feel constantly accompanied, giving him a strong sense of security.
When Su Mingyu got busy, it felt as if he disappeared completely.
Still, amidst his busy schedule, Su Mingyu managed to carve out some time and voluntarily taught him a few problems for the physics competition.
Su Mingyu wasn’t trained for competitions; he had only double-majored in physics during university. Years after graduation, most of his academic knowledge had faded.
The experience of being taught by him was far less satisfying for Su Zesui. He felt that his big brother wasn’t even as good as the indifferent Uncle Period, let alone Mr. Gu—learning from Mr. Gu was both a pleasure and a torment.
Knowing he couldn’t compare to Gu Yilan, Su Mingyu told his brother, “Wait a little longer. After you see the doctor in a few days, I’ll take you to your competition mentor’s house.”
“He’s not my mentor,” Su Zesui poked at the draft paper with his pen. “He’s the one I like.”
“The one you like?” Su Mingyu thought his younger brother looked adorably childish in his anger and teased, “Then why doesn’t he reply to your messages?”
“He’s just busy,” Su Zesui said firmly. “Once he’s done, he’ll reply.”
Su Mingyu watched his brother’s expression, sensing sincerity. Feeling a mix of confusion and regret, he said, “Do you have to like him? Has he ever told you not to?”
Su Zesui puffed out his cheeks, poking a small hole in the draft paper with his pen, and repeated stubbornly, “I like him. I just like him.”
Seeing his younger brother’s love even more intense than twenty days ago, Su Mingyu hesitated, frustrated. He had no idea how Gu Yilan had interacted with Su Zesui during this time.
Aware of the upheaval in the Gu family, he planned to talk with Gu Yilan properly after this period. For now, he could only give a tentative warning: “Don’t get too carried away. What if he wants a divorce in the future?”
Su Zesui’s nerves were fragile after being separated from the one he liked. He couldn’t even hear the word “divorce.” He stood up and said seriously to his big brother, “He would never divorce me! I’ll make love to him—we’ll be together forever.”
Hearing his younger brother’s explosive statement, Su Mingyu felt as if struck by lightning, stunned, frozen in place.
He withdrew his previous thoughts and now wanted to rush straight to Gu Yilan, to ask how he had made those promises and what he had been doing these past days. What had he done to his pure, innocent little brother?!
“He doesn’t like you at all. Stop being one-sided,” Su Mingyu said, frowning, trying to stay calm, but his voice was still unusually sharp.
Su Zesui was even angrier. He let out a loud “hmph” and said, “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand?” Su Mingyu snapped back, his temper rising. “He told me himself he didn’t like you. The marriage was just formal. Later, if it wasn’t needed, he’d divorce. And you still take this marriage seriously?”
“You lied to me,” Su Zesui accused.
“Fine, so now I’m lying to you,” Su Mingyu said, tapping his phone a few times. “There’s a surveillance camera in the living room. If you don’t believe me, I can pull it up for you. See for yourself.”
Su Zesui froze. He didn’t want to believe it, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. His whole body trembled with tension as he watched Su Mingyu rapidly search on his phone.
Their family valued privacy, so there were no cameras in the rooms. Only semi-public spaces like the living room, kitchen, and entryway had surveillance for security reasons.
“Come, take a look,” Su Mingyu said. “See it for yourself.”
Su Zesui staggered forward. Su Mingyu turned the phone volume to max. The man’s voice suddenly rang out from the speaker:
—“If he’s unhappy in the future, we can get a divorce. I won’t do anything to him.”
—“It’s okay, I can teach him.”
Besides Gu Yilan’s words, there was also Su Mingyu’s voice: “Fine. You can get married—but write a guarantee letter first. Promise that from now on, you’ll be my brother’s competition coach, bodyguard, and caretaker. Fulfill your duties and don’t cross any lines…”
Despite such an outrageous statement, Gu Yilan didn’t react. He seemed to silently consent, even taking the time to pick up scattered ceramic shards from the floor.
“Do you see now?” Su Mingyu gritted his teeth, frustrated that it was like talking to stone. “From that moment on, he never intended to have a romantic relationship with you. And you… you’re still daydreaming, chasing something as unrealistic as a castle in the air.”
“He will divorce you sooner or later—it’s only a matter of time. Understand?”
The slightly distorted recording, mixed with Su Mingyu’s frustration, hit Su Zesui like a hammer, shattering his soul.
For a moment, his mind went blank—but memories of the past with Mr. Gu became clearer than ever.
He remembered so many little details about being with Gu Yilan. How he had tried to break the ice, and how Gu Yilan had pushed him back softly, like doing Tai Chi. Over and over. For no reason…
He finally understood the question that had always puzzled him—why, even though he had done everything exactly as Ahoo suggested, Mr. Gu still had no intention of taking things further with him.
——It turned out… a divorce was inevitable, it was just a matter of time.
——But… but… but hadn’t Mr. Gu said during the musical that he would stay with him forever?
Seeing his younger brother’s tears fall like they cost nothing, Su Mingyu couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. “Forget it. It’s fine as long as you’ve come to terms with it yourself. He’s skilled in his profession—just treat him as a competition coach. Isn’t that good enough? Romantic relationships aren’t worth it anyway.”
Su Zesui felt tightness in his chest and couldn’t catch his breath, his separation anxiety was pressing heavily against his chest.
He couldn’t bear separation, and even more so, he couldn’t stand the thought that the other person could act so kind on the surface while secretly planning to leave one day… without even telling him.
For someone like him, who takes a very long time to build a relationship, this was unbearably cruel.
It was as if, after a long entanglement and mutual closeness, a sharp sword had been plunged through the intertwined bones and blood. It would have been less painful if they had never married in the first place—then there would have been no tender intimacy, no ensuing torment.
Su Zesui’s fingers trembled violently as he pulled out his phone. Several times he nearly dropped it onto the carpet before finally forcing himself to open the chat with Uncle Period.
The last time he had bombarded him with questions, Uncle Period had been at a loss for words, even losing his usual calm and composure. His sentences had been jumbled, and it was clear he had been trying to mislead him before.
Su Zesui realized this was the loophole—the only point where things could possibly turn around.
When people hit a low point, they always look to metaphysics for help.
With trembling hands, Su Zesui began typing, wanting to ask whether he and Mr. Gu were actually deeply fated, whether their ending could be happy, and whether the pain he was experiencing now was just a necessary hurdle. In the end, would they truly love each other?
But just then, he heard Su Mingyu beside him say, “Stop sending him messages. No matter how you ask, the answer is always the same. Besides, if he doesn’t reply to his main account, why would he reply to a secondary one?”
Su Zesui looked up blankly, feeling as if he couldn’t understand his big brother’s words.
Seeing his brother’s reaction, Su Mingyu was momentarily stunned. He hesitated. “…This is Gu Yilan’s secondary account, you know that, right?”
Su Zesui, like a puppet with its soul removed, shook his head numbly.
“You didn’t know?” Su Mingyu exclaimed. “Then… how did you even add him?”
Su Zesui froze, slowly lowering his head, staring at the other’s jet-black profile picture, as if locking eyes with a pair of brooding eyes.
——How did he even add him?
He had added him just because Mr. Gu suggested he chat more with Uncle Period.
Even Su Mingyu began to doubt himself at his brother’s reaction.
He leaned closer, staring at the chat window, muttering to himself, “The nickname and profile picture are the same. Back in our undergraduate days, he used this WeChat account to add classmates. Only later did I add his main account.”
Su Zesui suddenly seemed to remember something. He tapped the “View Chat History” button in the top right corner and began searching through old pictures. His hands shook constantly, and he misclicked several times.
Finally, he found the target photo and stared at it blankly.
Uncle Period was also a former competition student. He could guide him through difficult competition problems, but he always used computer software to input answers, so you couldn’t see his handwriting.
Su Zesui had a strong photographic memory. If he remembered correctly, a few sheets of paper with writing had accidentally appeared in the picture. But at that time, he had no curiosity about Uncle Period at all—he only saw him as a robot who could answer questions—so he had never really looked at the images carefully.
He zoomed in on the photo—
On the lab report, the flowing, confident handwriting was incredibly familiar, having appeared countless times on his own draft papers. Before his eyes, he even subconsciously pictured the other person’s hand, holding the pen, with its distinct, knuckled joints.
In fact, thinking back carefully, every single WeChat message Mr. Gu sent also had punctilious, precise punctuation. Even the tone of his words mirrored that of the Uncle Period almost exactly.
A tightly wound string in Su Zesui’s heart suddenly snapped, and tears blurred his vision. In his mind, the memory replayed over and over—the moment of utter despair when he asked the other person about his marriage fortune with Mr. Gu, and the two words that were said:
[Not good.]
——Not good… not good… not good… not good…
Finally, Su Zesui’s hands trembled so violently he couldn’t hold his phone. Along with the phone falling to the floor, uncontrollable tears spilled freely.
——Didn’t you say you would never lie to me again?
. . . . .
Gu Yilan sat on the bed, trying to call several times, but the phone kept delivering the cold, automated message: “The number you dialed is temporarily unavailable, please try again later.”
After a moment’s thought, he tried Su Zesui’s old number—the one he had forcibly replaced.
“Beep—beep—”
“Sorry, the user you are trying to reach is temporarily unavailable, please try again later.”
The same robotic female voice, the same unconnectable line.
The coffee on the table had gone cold. Gu Yilan pressed his thin lips together, furrowed his brow, and scanned the long list of contacts.
In the end, he didn’t call Su Mingyu.
For someone who disliked socializing, being unreachable for a few hours was completely normal. Maybe he had put his phone on airplane mode while sleeping, or perhaps he was just focused on homework and hadn’t noticed…
At present, tidying up certain matters was nearing its end, but not completely finished. He held the initiative, but he still needed to remain vigilant, to expand this advantage and ensure they could not retaliate.
Gu Yilan took a sip of the now-icy coffee, set the cup aside, and picked up the thick physics book on the bedside table.
He read quickly; in just a few days, he had gone through more than half of the book he had initially intended as leisure reading. Flipping through the pages, he found a bookmark that stood out against the complex formulas—a cute little doodle.
The bookmark was originally just a small card, but some young hand had drawn a silly, adorable white rabbit on it. Next to it, in neat handwriting, were the words in both Chinese and English: “With God, all things are possible”—from the Bible.
God is radiant, seeing all hearts. Nothing is impossible, nothing is unknown.
Gu Yilan rubbed his brow, closed the book, and picked up his phone again. He sent a WeChat to Su Mingyu to ask about Su Zesui’s condition, then opened Ahoo.
He intended to search for situations in which a socially anxious boy might go unreachable—but his eyes were immediately caught by the recent search history:
[How to make a cold and ruthless man like you?]
[What to do when you like someone too much?]
[How to have sex with someone you like?]
Bare and straightforward, it can make even the coldest, most indifferent person feel the love that is completely unreserved. And it’s a one-way love, with no response.
Clearly, Gu Yilan didn’t search for these himself. The only ones who had access to his phone were the butler from a few days ago, or Su Zesui, who had drunkenly used it to post on Moments.
Gu Yilan exhaled lightly, stood up efficiently, grabbed his car keys, and headed for the villa gate.
The AMG One supercar roared like a wild stallion, instantly accelerating to extreme speed. The scenery outside blurred; air whooshed past the slightly open windows like lightning.
He entered Su Zesui’s home address into the navigation.
Although the drive should have taken over half an hour, he arrived in just about ten minutes.
The security at the upscale neighborhood was strict.
At the gate, when he gave Su Mingyu’s name, he glanced at the WeChat messages the other had sent him:
[Su Mingyu: You’ve never told Suisui it was just an arranged marriage? And you played him with a fake account? You’re finished. Don’t call him—his phone is broken. He’s crying now, too heartbroken.]
[Su Mingyu: Don’t come looking for him either. Suisui’s emotions are unstable, seeing you might trigger another outburst. I’ll calm him down. In a couple of days, you can talk things through. If you two can continue treating each other respectfully, then great; if not, it’s better to cut your losses in time.]
[Su Mingyu: Don’t worry too much. If he really refuses to see you, I can help you arrange a divorce. You’ll be free again.]
“Sir, do you still want to enter?” the security guard asked, puzzled by the man’s hesitation as he opened the gate.
“Yes.” Gu Yilan’s dark eyes were unreadable. Grinding his molars lightly, he slammed the accelerator.
Back when Su Zesui had secretly gone to find Su Mingyu and gotten into trouble, Gu Yilan had his assistant locate the boy’s home.
At that time, it was too rushed, and the Su family—a prominent family in City A—valued privacy. The assistant could only locate the general area.
At that time, after arriving at the residential complex, Gu Yilan focused on the five villas that had their lights on. He went door to door, and only at the last house did he find Su Zesui, stopping a session of family discipline in progress.
Now, he knew the exact address—but he felt even more hesitant, even less directed, his dark eyes clouded with uncertainty.
As before, he parked, strode to the door, and knocked.
A minute later, Su Mingyu opened the door.
He froze for a moment at the sight of Gu Yilan, then sighed helplessly, ready to speak but ultimately silent.
“How is he?” Gu Yilan asked bluntly.
“Not great. To be honest, I’ve hardly ever seen him cry. I don’t know how to comfort him—actually, the more I try, the harder he cries.” Su Mingyu rubbed his head, clearly frustrated.
Gu Yilan said, “Let me in.”
“No.” Su Mingyu quickly raised his hand to stop him. “It’s already like this. If he sees you now, he’ll go completely crazy. Then it’ll be crying, throwing tantrums, maybe even worse. Who am I supposed to reason with then? And his temper wasn’t great before—he might even hit you.”
Gu Yilan frowned silently, his gaze drifting to the bright light behind Su Mingyu.
When the boy cried, no matter how intense, it made almost no sound. The Su family villa was utterly silent, carrying the eerie stillness of a place where nothing had ever happened.
Su Mingyu calmed down and said, “You had your own plan, and you didn’t even try to coordinate with me. Now that it’s exposed, what are you going to do?”
Gu Yilan replied, “Explain what needs explaining. Admit what needs admitting.”
Hearing the words “admit” from Gu Yilan clearly took Su Mingyu by surprise.
Still, he pressed on: “Right now, the biggest question is—what exactly are you thinking? After calming him down, do you plan to go along with a divorce? Or take him back and continue like before? Or… do you actually want a real relationship with him?”
Gu Yilan’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Not decided yet?” Su Mingyu frowned. “My advice: don’t see him again. Better a short, sharp pain than a long, drawn-out one. Take this chance to divorce cleanly and have no more entanglements. Otherwise, even if you calm him down now, you’ll end up hurting him again later. And honestly, I don’t think you’re any good at comforting him. What do you think?”
As someone always focused on his goals, Gu Yilan knew Su Mingyu might be offering the best solution. He remained silent, neither responding nor turning away.
“Alright, you go ahead. I’ll go check on Suisui.” Seeing the other man’s tacit approval, Su Mingyu raised his hand to close the gate.
“Wait.”
“Brother.”
Two voices cut him off almost simultaneously.
One was deep and hoarse, heavy with repressed emotion; the other was soft and weak, tinged with a clear nasal whine and crying tone that made it impossible not to feel pity.
This brother is so annoying why are you deciding everything for your younger brother?? No wonder Suisui was wronged in his past life like this… He can’t protect him at all!