Thighs
Seeing the man at a loss for words, Su Zesui stood up, staring with eyes that carried little real threat, and asked again, “How did you know?”
Watching the boy put on a mock fierce expression, Gu Yilan almost laughed, but it wasn’t the right time, so he could only explain helplessly: “Back then, you were watching TV downstairs, and I sat next to you.”
Su Zesui didn’t expect his memory to be so good. He paused for a moment, then returned to WeChat and found the very first conversation with Period—
[(o^^o): Because he’s a really good person.]
[。: Illusion.]
[(o^^o): He’s very handsome.]
[。: Can good looks feed you?]
[(o^^o): Don’t say that. He might see it.]
[。: ?]
[。: Why would you show it to him?]
The more Su Zesui read, the angrier he got. Realizing that it was still Gu Yilan himself pretending on the other side made him even more furious.
“I bet he won’t marry you,” Su Zesui said, standing in front of Gu Yilan, phone in hand, reading each word aloud, “Know when to back off and cut your losses.”
When he finished, he deliberately sighed heavily, looking at Gu Yilan, waiting for an explanation.
Gu Yilan was silent for a long time before finally saying, “…I lost the bet. How should I make it up to you?”
There was something strange about this man—as if no matter what awkward or out-of-control situation arose, he could regain control in a few words, making people follow his rhythm.
But Su Zesui’s emotional awareness was weak; no matter how strong the aura, it couldn’t suppress him. He could easily bounce the ball back.
“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly.
“Then…” Gu Yilan lowered his gaze, conceding, “let me tutor you all day today.”
Hearing this, Su Zesui’s anger subsided a little. He sat back down and continued scrolling through the chat history.
“Enough.” A large hand covered his phone screen. The man’s warm touch brushed against his soft skin, stirring an unusual feeling.
The man’s calm voice dropped from above: “Stop reading. Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?”
“I’m not,” Su Zesui said stubbornly.
Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow and gestured with his chin toward the competition book under the phone.
Su Zesui then realized that while he had been awkwardly scrolling through the chat, his other hand had unconsciously been crumpling the book’s corners, leaving a large wrinkled patch on the pages.
“Stop flipping it,” Gu Yilan said, feeling responsible. “I’ll reflect on it myself.”
“I pretended not to know you, deliberately got close to you, often criticized myself inside the chat, and even used the information gap to craft a metaphysics persona, saying our marriage wouldn’t be ideal…”
Recalling it all, Su Zesui remembered everything.
He clenched the corner of the book again and let out a loud, defiant “Hmph,” his tone both cute and fierce: “And then?”
Gu Yilan hesitated, unable to recall anything else. “…Im sorry?” he said.
Su Zesui turned his head to the side, leaving only a stubborn back of his head to the man.
“I’m sorry,” Gu Yilan said. “I take back those words. May God bless our future marriage.”
In over twenty years, he had never apologized to anyone, not even saying “thank you” much. Most of the time, he just said a detached “Mm” or “Got it.”
Yet in just a few days, he had offered so many emotional words to this boy.
Su Zesui’s expression softened into a “that’s better” look. He turned his head back and said, “Punishment: no hurting yourself anymore.”
Gu Yilan, unwilling to make empty promises, said, “I’ll try.”
Hearing this, Su Zesui immediately pushed the matter of settling accounts to the back of his mind but grew concerned again. He suggested, “I… should still put medicine on it.”
Gu Yilan glanced around and smirked, “Here? What if someone comes in?”
That was indeed a problem.
Su Zesui thought for a moment and then pointed to the lounge. “There.”
“The office doesn’t have medicine ready,” Gu Yilan said. “A few days of disinfection is enough; applying medicine is too irritating.”
Su Zesui didn’t realize the man’s injury was still in its “a few days ago” stage. Panicked, he wanted to check how serious it was and blurted, “Let me see.”
But Gu Yilan seemed unwilling to discuss it further. After a brief silence, he shifted the topic with a clumsy excuse: “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Watching the man walk away, Su Zesui instinctively waved, but his mind unconsciously replayed the words:
——Applying medicine… too irritating?
Su Zesui had often been injured before. At this moment, he couldn’t help but recall the searing pain of those wounds. Even without clothing rubbing against them, just the brush of air could send sharp, stabbing pangs through his skin. The injuries were superficial, yet the pain made him grit his teeth and wince.
If he were to disinfect and apply medicine now, the stimulation would make his body tremble uncontrollably, shivering in rhythm with the pressing of the cotton swab.
And if it were in such a sensitive area as the thigh… well, he didn’t want to imagine it.
Lost in these thoughts, his mind wandered in an unusual direction.
Su Zesui lifted his hands and patted his head, forcing himself to calm down.
Just then, his phone buzzed with a WeChat message.
Su Zesui didn’t like socializing, but right now, he wanted to chat casually with either Big Brother or Brother Gong Chuang to distract himself, to cool down the heat on his skin.
But the message wasn’t from either of the brothers he expected. When he tapped it, an image appeared—
Against a white tile background, the man’s thigh was slightly relaxed, but the muscular contours were still clearly defined, exuding power and raw masculinity, handsome enough to make someone stare in awe.
Yet on this perfect physique were cruel, crisscrossing cuts. The deep wounds were sealed with dried scabs, and the surrounding skin was red and swollen. The marks revealed the decisiveness and force with which they had been made, as if the man were a puppet impervious to pain.
Su Zesui felt his heart twist violently, unable to look away from the photo.
Click.
Gu Yilan pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out.
Seeing the boy’s reddened eyes, he paused, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
Su Zesui ran forward, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him outside. “Hurry—let’s go to the hospital!”
Gu Yilan subtly exhaled and said, “It’s okay. It’s not serious.”
“Serious!” Su Zesui panicked and tugged at him like he was pulling a stubborn radish. But the man’s lower body was so steady that he couldn’t budge him an inch.
“It’s really not serious,” Gu Yilan said calmly. “I’ve had years of experience. It’s just a surface wound, it hasn’t affected any tendons or bones. Even if we don’t treat it, it will heal quickly.”
Su Zesui sensed something odd in his reasoning, but in his anxiety, he couldn’t think of a way to argue. He could only ask, “Really?”
“Really,” Gu Yilan replied in an even tone. “I’ll wait for you to come back and help me treat it.”
“I’ll move back tomorrow—no, tonight,” Su Zesui said.
“No rush,” Gu Yilan said. “Wait until your brother goes to the company. It should only be a few more days.”
Su Zesui drooped his head. “Alright.”
“Come on.” Gu Yilan walked over to the desk, moving the conversation along. “Class time.”
Just watching Gu Yilan stride smoothly made Su Zesui feel phantom pain in his limbs. He hurried to bring a chair for him.
At moments meant for studying, Su Zesui wanted to treat Gu Yilan purely as a coach—but that cruel photograph kept flashing in his mind.
His attention wandered constantly. Sometimes he felt Mr. Gu needed protection; other times, he wanted to check Mr. Gu’s injuries up close, wishing he could magically make him better instantly.
He kept zoning out, catching only a few words of a problem. With any ordinary competition coach, he would’ve been made to stand outside with his book by now.
But Gu Yilan didn’t seem angry. When he didn’t understand, he would patiently explain again, his tone calm, betraying nothing of the sharp pain he was enduring.
Completely… like a normal person.
It reminded Su Zesui of past daily interactions. Back then, was Mr. Gu also seriously injured, just able to endure and mask it so well that he never noticed…
“Focus.” Gu Yilan waved a pen in front of his face.
Su Zesui snapped back to reality and instinctively rose to bow and apologize, but the man pressed him down gently.
“If you don’t listen now, tomorrow you’ll have to figure it out on your own,” Gu Yilan said evenly, without a trace of reproach.
“W-why?” Su Zesui asked, confused.
“Tomorrow I have some company matters to handle. You stay home and do your homework, alright?”
“Company matters?”
Gu Yilan’s expression was calm, as if he were talking about something trivial. He said, “It’s about my parents. Previously, I took over their shares in the company, but their foundation was very solid, and they were extremely angry. They wanted to make a comeback and send me in…”
Before he could finish, a soft body pressed into his chest, and a faint, comforting scent filled the air, melting the heart.
“You… you’re right,” Su Zesui whispered in his ear. “Punish them. Don’t punish yourself.”
“Don’t worry,” Gu Yilan said. “I told you, I’m in a good mood these days. I won’t make things hard for myself.”
Su Zesui buried his face in Gu’s neck. “You’re the best. When I get back, I’ll help treat your injuries.”
Gu Yilan silently smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “It doesn’t hurt,” he repeated.
. . . . .
The next day, Gu Yilan still met his parents in the living room.
In just a few days, the middle-aged couple seemed wearier. Their calm, accomplished demeanor had faded, replaced by exhaustion and anger.
“Failed again?” Gu Yilan said from the sofa, coldly sarcastic.
Father Gu never expected that his son, who seemed completely indifferent to the company’s affairs, would have set up such extensive and deep plans, repeatedly blocking him at every turn. It was likely that ever since he first got involved in the company at sixteen or seventeen, he had already been acting behind the scenes.
The depth of his cunning and ruthlessness was chilling.
“What exactly do you want?” Mother Gu asked.
“I already told you,” Gu Yilan said, raising an indifferent eyebrow. “To destroy it.”
“You—!!” Father Gu roared.
Mother Gu quickly held back her furious husband and said to her son, “Do you realize how many people would lose their jobs, how many families would fall apart if you recklessly destroy the company?”
Gu Yilan licked his thin lips, his dark eyes deep. “Do you think I care?”
Mother Gu choked. Looking at the man full of hostility and clearly world-weary, she asked, “Are you still holding a grudge against your father and me for what happened back then? We had no choice—you know our family…”
Gu Yilan was annoyed by these matters and immediately lost any desire to toy with the two arrogant people in front of him. He directly interrupted her, saying, “Fine, I’ll compromise a bit.”
Seeing hope, Mother Gu sipped her hot tea. “You say.”
“The company can continue as it should. You may manage it too,” Gu Yilan said, narrowing his eyes. “But you’re not to interfere with Su Zesui and me anymore.”
Mother Gu’s hand, holding the teacup, froze.
The Gu family had centuries of history. In City A, they were considered old money, a top aristocratic family. Yet this branch carried a curse.
According to a master in City G, no matter how hard they tried, only one child in each generation would survive past eighteen. They couldn’t have many children and pick the best heir.
They had to pin all their hopes on one child. If that child died or failed, the best outcome was their branch’s decline, with another branch taking control; the worst was the century-old Gu family being erased from the list of prominent families.
Ever since they learned about the curse, they immediately set aside their busy work and took the young Gu Yilan, only a few years old, out of Grandpa Gu’s house to focus on raising him carefully.
Because one wrong move could lead to irrevocable disaster, they were extremely cautious. Everything the young Gu Yilan ate, studied, or did was constantly monitored and controlled.
Step by step, following their plan, the child was destined to become a business prodigy and the undisputed heir of the family.
As it turned out, Gu Yilan did indeed grow up following their plan, excelling in almost every way—but there were some small differences they hadn’t anticipated, which they thought were harmless…
“If you and Su Zesui don’t have children, our family line will end,” Mother Gu said.
“Is there no one else in the Gu family?” Gu Yilan asked. “Everyone except me… is dead?”
Mother Gu clutched her chest in pain. “You know what I mean. You’ve resented your father and me for controlling you, and I understand that, but we had no other choice. Besides, it was all for your own good.”
Gu Yilan instinctively bared his teeth against the soft tissue in his mouth, but then, as if realizing something, he suddenly relaxed and asked sharply, “For my own good?”
“Think carefully,” Mother Gu said. “Every thing we stopped you from doing—was there any that wouldn’t have affected you? With them, would you have lived as freely as you do now? This time is the same. Trust your father and me just once. In twenty or thirty years, you’ll understand the care behind our decisions.”
Gu Yilan wanted to scoff inwardly, but his face remained frozen, betraying no emotion.
Her words stirred up too many unpleasant memories—like a knife plunged into his heart, painful enough that all he could do was take shallow breaths, with no strength left to fight back against the ones who had caused him suffering.
At that moment, his phone, which had not been silenced, buzzed, snapping him back to reality.
Gu Yilan mechanically unlocked the phone and opened the message—
[(o^^o): Brother, I have to go to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow. I’m so scared, wuwuwu, I don’t want to go, don’t want to go, wuwuwu (crying rabbit.jpg)]
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Gu Yilan’s lips.
[11th Dimension: Don’t be afraid.]
“You… why are you smiling?” Seeing his son’s slight smile, Mother Gu was clearly stunned.
She had only seen her son smile a few times when he first returned home. After that, she didn’t know when, but it seemed all of Gu Yilan’s emotions had vanished—especially joy.
Gu Yilan wiped the smile away, but his eyes never left the screen. Calmly, he said, “Blessing or curse, I have never regretted it.”
“That’s because we cleaned up all the mess,” Father Gu interjected. “Of course it’s easy for you.”
Mother Gu continued, “You lack experience, so we make decisions for you. This time, I’m begging you—listen to us just one last time, okay? We’ve lived longer, seen more… we won’t be wrong.”
Gu Yilan’s phone buzzed again—
[(o^^o): You’re so cold, hmph (angry rabbit.jpg)]
Gu Yilan stood up, towering over the two people who had given him life, and said mercilessly, “If I remember correctly, today it’s you who came to beg me, right? We can talk, or if not… it all ends. That’s the attitude I told you from the start.”
“Butler, see them out.” Gu Yilan strode toward the spiral staircase, tapping a few buttons on his phone to make a call.
His mother let out a long sigh, her body slackening as she sank onto the sofa, watching her son walk away with determination.
On the call, his expression was no longer icy. In fact, he spoke considerately to the person on the other end: “Yes, I’m here.” He was a completely different person than the one confronting them moments ago.
What… what went wrong?
. . . . .
August 7th was the day Su Mingyu had scheduled a follow-up with the psychiatrist.
That afternoon, he paced back and forth in the living room, reporting to his parents over the phone: “He doesn’t want to—he really doesn’t. He cried all night last night. I asked, and that specialist isn’t seeing patients; we’ll have to go to the hospital. Besides, he’s grown up now; it’s time to face it. He can’t keep avoiding it.”
“Uh… I tried to comfort him, but I didn’t do it well. It’s okay, though—someone else can handle it.” Su Mingyu glanced at his younger brother, who was practically draped over Gu Yilan, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Su Zesui, clinging to the man, whispered softly, “I’m scared of the hospital… it’s really scary. Wuwuwu.”
Gu Yilan remembered that when Su Zesui had once bruised his knee badly, Su Mingyu had told him not to take the boy to the hospital lightly.
Perhaps because of some past experience, the pain had etched itself deep in his bones, making him fearful of hospitals. Gu Yilan understood.
He didn’t ask for details, only comforted him: “I’ll be with you.”
“Always stay with me?” Su Zesui asked, his insecurity showing.
Gu Yilan replied patiently, “Always. And when we get back from this trip, we’ll pack our things, and I’ll take you back home.”
“Ho-home?” Su Zesui exclaimed with delight. Every day, he wanted to help the man treat his injuries so he could recover quickly.
Gu Yilan gave a quiet, affirmative “Mm.”
Talking about this made Su Zesui think of the “company matters” yesterday that had worried him so much.
“Did you hurt yourself yesterday?” he asked.
“No,” Gu Yilan said.
Seeing the boy’s doubtful expression, Gu Yilan lifted the corner of his shirt without expression and said, “You can check if you want.”
. . . . .
“It’s fine, really! Someone spent the whole morning teaching him—going over procedures, positions, everything—practically just missing which leg to step in first at the hospital. After several hours, he should be desensitized by now,” Su Mingyu explained to the worried parents of his younger son.
When asked who this “someone” was, Su Mingyu suddenly found it awkward to say the name: “Him… who else could it be?”
“Yeah… for Suisui, he’s fine. Knows his limits, barely competent. I… what the hell!”
Su Mingyu had been leisurely pacing the large living room, but when he turned, he saw the supposedly “aware of limits” Gu Yilan deliberately lifting his shirt, letting his brother examine the sculpted abs at leisure.
Su Zesui pressed close, his little face taut, studying like he was observing an experiment, almost about to reach out and touch.
Su Mingyu felt his vision go dark and, for a moment, didn’t know whose name to shout. He could only yell, “Damn it! Don’t move!!!”
Gu Yilan paused mid-lift. Zesui’s body jolted; he immediately straightened up, fingers clenched, looking at his big brother in confusion.