Caress
Su Mingyu had just come out of the shower when he saw his younger brother’s bedroom door wide open and the living room completely empty.
“Su Zesui?” Su Mingyu called out tentatively. “Suisui? Where are you?”
No answer. Only the sound of the wind whistling outside the windows, making the first floor feel even emptier and quieter.
Su Mingyu went to check his brother’s room thoroughly, from the small study to the bathroom—there wasn’t even a shadow of him anywhere.
With Su Zesui’s phone broken and him running off without a word, he was now officially a missing person.
Fearing his brother might do something foolish, Su Mingyu quickly pulled out his phone, intending to call Gu Yilan—who’d also been ignoring him.
But just then, the front door gave a “beep,” and a moment later came the sound of light “pat-pat” footsteps.
Su Mingyu hurried to greet him, only to see that his brother’s eyes were even redder than before, as if he’d been crying for a long time. Strangely though, those once-empty eyes now seemed lit with a spark, full of life again.
“Big Brother.” Su Zesui called softly. His voice was still tinged with tears, but his whole demeanor was noticeably different from earlier.
Who knew what he’d been doing just now?
“Where did you go?” Su Mingyu kept his voice as gentle as possible, not wanting to scare his brother, who had been teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
Su Zesui raised a hand and pointed toward the door. “Talked to… him.”
Of course Su Mingyu knew exactly who “him” referred to.
What he really wanted to know was how Gu Yilan had lured his already despairing brother out, and what exactly he’d said to make his state so strangely contradictory.
“Did you cry again?” Su Mingyu asked cautiously, worried about reopening old wounds.
Su Zesui rubbed his eyes and replied, “Sad. Cried.”
It was real crying—the gut-wrenching, heaving kind—but someone had held him and soothed him afterward.
“He made you sad again?” Su Mingyu pressed.
After a moment of thought, Su Zesui answered, “Mm.”
Su Mingyu hissed through his teeth and immediately rolled up his sleeves, ready to storm out and teach Gu Yilan a lesson.
But then Su Zesui suddenly said, “I’m going to sleep now. Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’m going out.”
Su Mingyu froze: …?
If he remembered correctly, ever since that racing accident had left him with brain trauma, his brother had been terrified of going out—even afraid to leave his own room. Had Gu Yilan knocked something loose in his head again?
“What are you going out for?” Su Mingyu asked.
“Not just going out, it’s…” Su Zesui paused, then his eyes lit up as if he’d had a sudden revelation. “A date.”
“What?!” Su Mingyu’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice cracking. “With who?”
“Him,” Su Zesui said simply.
“W–why?!” Su Mingyu’s voice was on the brink of collapse.
He’d only been in the shower for twenty minutes—what on earth had happened in that time?!
“Because…” Su Zesui twisted his fingers nervously and murmured, “He said he’s going to pursue me.”
Su Mingyu wondered if he’d misheard. “Who? Him? Pursue who? You?”
Looking at his brother, whose cheeks were turning red as he fiddled with his fingers, Su Mingyu’s mouth twitched. Forced to accept the truth, he said, “He just broke your heart, and you agreed already?”
“No.” Su Zesui shook his head. “He said… don’t answer yet.”
Su Mingyu let out a reluctant sigh of relief. “At least he has a shred of conscience left.”
“Mhm.” Su Zesui nodded and was about to slip back into his room.
But there was no way Su Mingyu could just let it go at that. He stopped his brother—who clearly didn’t value himself enough—and said, “Hold on. Tell me first, why did he suddenly decide to pursue you? Do you even know what it means to be pursued?”
Su Zesui thought for a moment and replied, “He said… I don’t have to do anything. Just wait to be pursued.”
Hearing Su Zesui’s words, Su Mingyu suddenly had the absurd feeling that some blond troublemaker had stolen his little brother.
His once well-behaved, sweet, and stammering little brother—who used to cling to him and call him “Big Brother” all the time—was now talking nonstop about “this person said this, this person said that,” even going against his own big brother.
“Fine. Let’s say he’s really turned over a new leaf. I’ll allow him to pursue you—once,” Su Mingyu said, pulling his brother to sit on the sofa. “But there are rules to being pursued.”
Even if Su Mingyu no longer minded the idea of his brother actually getting together with Gu Yilan, he still absolutely did not want to see his just-finished-first-year-of-high-school brother rolling around in bed with someone.
“What rules?” Su Zesui seemed genuinely interested.
Su Mingyu took a warm towel and gently wiped the redness around his brother’s eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. He asked if he was still feeling upset, and after getting a “no,” he began earnestly, “The rule is—you need to keep your dignity.”
Su Zesui scratched his head, confused, only for his brother to shove a cup of warm water into his hands.
As he sipped to soothe his hoarse voice from crying, he heard his big brother say, “Do you want Gu Yilan to treat you better in the future?”
A bit embarrassed, Su Zesui fidgeted with his fingers and mumbled almost inaudibly, “Yes.”
“The easier you are to get, the less he’ll cherish you, understand?” Su Mingyu said. “So don’t rush to agree to be with him. String him along—make him want more but never quite get enough.”
Su Zesui took another sip of hot water, still not quite getting it.
Patiently, Su Mingyu continued, “Hold your ground. Don’t just agree to holding hands, kissing, or… anything else. Keep your cool, reject him often, boss him around. That way he’ll learn to value what’s hard to get. Got it?”
Su Zesui nodded, thoughtful.
“You don’t want him to get bored and then break up with you, right? Then don’t let him have it so easily.”
The word “breakup” startled Su Zesui, and he quickly shook his head in panic.
. . . . .
Su Mingyu was actually curious about how someone like Gu Yilan—aloof and untouchable—would even go about pursuing someone.
Groveling? Relentless pestering? Honeyed words? None of it fit Gu Yilan’s style. He simply couldn’t picture it.
Or maybe… it would be something high-handed, like: informing his target, “I’m going to pursue you now,” and when things were far enough along, declaring, “I’ve finished pursuing you—you can agree now.”
The mental image made Su Mingyu so irritated he trembled. He decided to get up early tomorrow to keep an eye on things.
The next morning, at seven, Su Mingyu had an early online meeting.
So even though he’d gone to bed late, he still dragged himself up bleary-eyed at six.
Half-asleep, barely able to keep his eyes open, he was brushing his teeth and heading toward the kitchen when he caught sight of a tall, lean figure in the living room.
He froze mid-step, staring wide-eyed, almost dropping his toothbrush. “You—how did you get in?”
Gu Yilan was arranging tulips in the vase on the table, eyes lowered. Despite having also stayed up late and risen early, he looked alert and composed, sharp-edged and effortlessly handsome.
Since no one lived here long-term, there were rarely fresh flowers in the house.
Yet now the special tulips’ petals were soft as silk, their colors fading from gentle pink to rich red—spring warmth in the height of summer.
It was obvious who had brought them.
“He gave me the code,” Gu Yilan said flatly.
Su Mingyu was glad he’d given his brother that “emergency lecture” last night.
They haven’t even started dating yet, and he’s already given the other person the password to his home lock. If they really do start dating, wouldn’t it just take a crook of Gu Yilan’s finger for his brother to be reeled in?
“Suisui slept late,” Su Mingyu said. “Last night was an emotional rollercoaster for him, so he’s exhausted. Who knows when he’ll wake up.”
“That’s fine.” Gu Yilan set down the tulips with casual elegance and picked up the broken phone on the table, intending to transfer the SIM card into the new phone he’d brought.
Su Zesui had waited so long for him; waiting a few hours for him was nothing.
“Then you sit here and look after him. I’ll go upstairs to take care of something.” Su Mingyu grabbed some bread from the fridge and trudged upstairs with heavy steps and dark circles under his eyes.
By the time Su Mingyu finished his two-hour meeting and came back down, Su Zesui had only just woken up.
Gu Yilan was leaning casually against the doorframe, quietly waiting as the boy scrambled to brush his teeth, and even reassured him, “No rush.”
Not wanting to let the man seize the upper hand, Su Mingyu waited until his brother finished washing up, then suddenly asked, “Do you remember everything I told you last night?”
Su Zesui blinked, startled. “I-I remember.”
“Good.” Su Mingyu’s eyes, however, were fixed on Gu Yilan.
Gu Yilan only curved his lips faintly, not prying into their little secret, and said to Su Zesui, “Shall we go now? I’ve booked breakfast for you.”
Su Zesui’s face lit up, but before he could say yes, his brother coughed. His answer swerved instantly: “I’ll eat bread at home.”
Su Mingyu nodded, satisfied.
A teachable child.
Su Zesui understood and pushed further, ordering, “Go get it for me.”
Keep cool. Refuse often. Boss him around—three golden rules from his big brother.
Gu Yilan agreed readily, moving about the kitchen like he owned the place, even asking what kind of spread Su Zesui wanted—much to Su Mingyu’s irritation.
After breakfast, his “cheap” little brother trotted off after Gu Yilan without a second thought.
In the car, Su Zesui sat in the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt, still feeling as if everything that had happened last night had been nothing more than a dream. Especially the parts about Gu Yilan—so unreal they felt like soap bubbles.
Su Zesui turned his head slightly to sneak a look at the man driving beside him.
Gu Yilan had one hand resting on the steering wheel. The lines of his profile were smooth, his jaw sharp and tense, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, carrying an undeniable chill and aloofness.
Even driving at high speed through complicated road conditions, he remained calm and unhurried.
Like this, he exuded the commanding presence of someone in control, dangerously alluring—so much so that it was almost impossible to connect him with the idea of “a man with severe tendencies toward self-harm.”
Which was why, even now, Su Zesui found it hard to accept the things Gu Yilan had told him yesterday. It wasn’t a matter of distrust—it was simply something his mind couldn’t wrap around.
He wanted to check for other scars on the man’s body, but remembering Su Mingyu’s advice, he knew it wasn’t the right moment to break through that “cold and aloof” facade. And so, he found himself stuck in a dilemma.
“Do I look good?” Gu Yilan asked, eyes still straight ahead.
Su Zesui, who had been openly staring, quickly sat up straight when caught, and then guiltily added, “Y-yeah. You do.”
It wasn’t a lie—Gu Yilan really was the most strikingly handsome man he had ever seen. Strong features, a bold presence—wherever he went, he would always be the center of attention.
Gu Yilan smiled. “Thanks you.”
Unable to inspect the man’s injuries directly, Su Zesui could only feign nonchalance and ask coolly, “Why would you hurt yourself?”
“Me…” Gu Yilan frowned slightly, steering one-handed through a curve, his eyes growing distant and unfathomable.
He didn’t want to lie to Su Zesui anymore. After a pause, he spoke honestly. “I’m the sole direct heir of the Gu family, born to inherit, burdened with high expectations. Gu Kaishan and the others use that to shackle me. In turn, I use it to threaten them.”
“Threaten?” Su Zesui echoed in surprise.
Gu Yilan’s lips curved. “The body, hair, and skin are all given by one’s parents—you’re not supposed to harm them. Unless, of course, special circumstances apply.”
“They wanted me to follow the heir’s path from childhood and not waste time on trivial pursuits like object competitions. If I disobeyed, they’d throw away my books and ban me from school.” His tone remained calm, like still water in a deep lake, as though he were speaking about someone else’s life.
He even had the composure to add casually, “In short—psychological coercion.”
“But they wouldn’t starve me or stop me from sleeping, because that would damage my body.”
“So, when I was eleven, I stood in front of them with a razor blade…” Gu Yilan narrowed his eyes, a glint of grim satisfaction in them. “Every time they opposed me, I’d slash my arm. If they tried to stop me, I’d press the blade to my carotid artery.”
Su Zesui’s eyes went wide, his earlier embarrassment forgotten as he stared at the man beside him—especially the arm resting on the steering wheel.
“The injury you saw at the club was pretty much the same thing,” Gu Yilan said. “A lot of people tell me it’s childish and ridiculous to use self-harm to threaten your parents. But for me—if it works, it works.”
Out of nowhere, Su Zesui recalled what Brother Gong Chuang had once told him—how Mr. Gu would stop at nothing to achieve his goals, willing to put his dignity and emotions on the scale as bargaining chips. Now it seemed he’d added his own body to that pile as well.
“Doesn’t it… hurt?” Su Zesui asked.
“No. Don’t pity me.” Gu Yilan’s tongue brushed lightly against his teeth. “It feels great.”
Su Zesui’s heart sank sharply, and in an instant he forgot all his brother’s solemn warnings. He said seriously, “Take off your clothes—let me see.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how wrong they sounded, but it was already too late to take them back.
Just then, Gu Yilan stepped on the brakes, bringing them to a stop at an unusually long red light.
“Other people will see,” Gu Yilan said—not agreeing, but not refusing either. Instead, he took Su Zesui’s small hand and guided it under his shirt, to his abdomen.
Su Zesui’s hand froze, and heat crept from his neck to the tips of his ears.
The man’s abdominal muscles were tight and well-defined, cool and firm to the touch, rising and falling slightly with his breath—brimming with coiled strength ready to be unleashed.
But as Gu Yilan guided his hand over, Su Zesui could once again feel the faint ridges of scars beneath the tough skin. Though they had already scabbed over and healed, he could still imagine just how deep and long the cuts must have been.
——If slashing his arm was to threaten others, then… what was the purpose of injuring parts of his body so few people ever saw?
Su Zesui’s voice trembled as he asked, “Are… are all your wounds healed?”
“They’re healed here,” Gu Yilan replied.
——“Healed here” meant there were other places that weren’t.
As if reading the boy’s thoughts, Gu Yilan guided his hand further down, his tone matter-of-fact as he explained, “In summer, we wear less clothing. If the wounds were in other spots, they’d be too easy to notice. So I choose more hidden places.”
Following the pressure of Gu Yilan’s hand, Su Zesui suddenly felt he was touching something he shouldn’t—soft, fleeting under his fingertips, yet impossible to ignore. Heat surged into his face at once.
“For example, the inside of the thigh,” Gu Yilan said in a voice as calm as if he were giving a clinical lecture. “That one might still not be healed even now.”
Su Zesui let the man hold his hand, torn between the urge to check Gu Yilan’s still-unhealed injuries and a strange, bashful discomfort welling up inside him.
Avoiding his gaze, he lowered his head, heart pounding wildly without knowing why. The air conditioner felt too warm, stifling, making sweat bead on his skin. His head sank lower and lower, yet his hand remained resting on the man’s thigh.
That was when he heard the low, amused rumble of the man’s voice beside him: “Do you like touching me?”