Parents
The nightmarish competition problems lay sprawled across the textbook, their savage complexity completely at odds with the pale, delicate fingers of the boy flipping through them.
Gu Yilan pointed at himself—infamous, “cruel and ruthless” Gu Yilan—with a blank face and asked, “You’re asking me?”
For once, a rare trace of disbelief crept into his usually indifferent tone.
Su Zesui, ever cooperative, glanced left and right at the air around Gu Yilan, then nodded solemnly.
He didn’t have any friends and didn’t know how to reconnect with people. But from his past life’s experience, the only ones who had ever really crossed paths with him were the competition team members.
Physics competition problems were a kind of bridge: they could span age gaps and spark shouting matches between forty-year-old gold medal coaches and teenage students; they could erase social distance, turning total strangers into teammates who argued all afternoon, then walked off with arms slung around each other, heading out for dinner like old buddies.
In short, they were a pretty solid social tool.
Gu Yilan leaned slightly forward, casting a shadow over the desk. He glanced casually at the problem and twirled the black pen that had been shoved into his hand.
It was clearly a gesture born from habit—he was used to being asked to explain problems. But what he said was, “Who told you I know how to do this?”
Maybe his expression was too cold, because Su Zesui flipped a few pages back in the book, landing on a simpler question, and looked at him again, studying his face.
He repeated this process several times.
Just as he was about to flip again, Gu Yilan finally spoke. “Any further and you’ll be in the reference section and appendices.”
Su Zesui’s neck turned bright red. He rubbed the wrinkled page edge with his fingers and hung his head in silence.
“We’re not friends or family, and you want me to be your tutor?” Gu Yilan said flatly.
Su Zesui tried his best to interpret the meaning beneath those words.
He thought… he thought…
It probably meant something like: You can only ask that if we’re married… right?
So he closed the competition book, reached into his pouch—which was basically a treasure chest—and pulled out a small card, handing it over.
Gu Yilan looked closely.
There was a string of numbers written on the card. The strokes were round and neat, beautiful in a clean, elegant way—not childish at all. It matched the boy in front of him.
Su Zesui raised his hand and made a little phone gesture next to his ear. “My number.”
“No need,” Gu Yilan replied, preparing to hand the card back. “From now on—”
The rest of his sentence—From now on, don’t contact me again—never made it past his lips.
Because Su Zesui’s hand had frozen mid-air. In his fingertips was another blank card and a black pen. At Gu Yilan’s words, his arm trembled slightly, his soft lips pressed into a line, and a mist rose in his eyes. His reddening rims looked like he might cry at any second.
Meanwhile, Su Mingyu was already waiting outside.
Gu Yilan: “…”
This is trouble, Gu Yilan thought, but still reached out and took the pen and paper. “What do you want me to write?”
Su Zesui pointed to the card with the numbers already on it.
Gu Yilan, with a strange spark of clarity, wrote down his own number. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he added his name as well.
His handwriting was fluid and elegant, the strokes connected in a way that didn’t hinder readability—in fact, it gave his writing a graceful, effortless charm. It was the kind of writing only top students seemed to have.
When he finished, he handed it back and said coolly, “Don’t bother me unless it’s important.”
Su Zesui looked at the strong, graceful script and nodded, responding blankly, “It’s really pretty.”
Gu Yilan paused, taken aback, then turned to leave. “Let’s go. You know what to say about the engagement?”
Su Zesui kept nodding.
But Gu Yilan had his doubts.
Because he’d held back too much today—for Su Mingyu’s sake. The result was a much weaker intimidation effect, and the boy didn’t even seem afraid of him.
Gu Yilan knew all too well how twisted and obsessive he could be. His need for control bordered on pathological, and the rumors about him were no exaggeration. No one could stand him, and he had no desire to change even a little.
Someone like him didn’t just want people to reject the engagement.
He wanted them to fear him, stay far away from him, maybe even hate him.
His brows furrowed. He was in a terrible mood.
So, the unlucky soul waiting outside—Su Mingyu—ran straight into the line of fire.
“What’s going on? I’ve been waiting out here for over ten minutes. If you didn’t come out soon, I was seriously about to call the cops.”
At that moment, Su Zesui was quietly following behind the man like a little tail, head down as they made their way out.
After Gu Yilan’s reminder, he was already thinking hard about how to explain the engagement to his family. He wanted to say yes—but his brother seemed to want him to say no.
Su Zesui scrunched up his small face, visibly distressed.
Just then, Gu Yilan suddenly stopped walking, gave Su Mingyu a cold look, and spoke—not to him, but to the boy behind him: “Don’t talk to him.”
Su Mingyu stared in disbelief: “???”
Brother, are you for real? Have you gotten too deep into character? Is this a personal vendetta? Or do you really think you’re some kind of possessive freak?
Su Zesui was stunned at first too. Then his eyes lit up and he nodded like crazy.
And so, they climbed into the Cullinan.
As Su Mingyu made a U-turn, he casually asked, “So how’d it go? Are you rejecting him yourself, or do you want me or Mom and Dad to do it for you?”
Su Zesui turned away from the shrinking figure in front of the villa, looked at his brother, then crossed his index fingers in front of his lips in an “X.”
Su Mingyu: “…”
Let the world burn.
But even after surviving the older brother’s round of questioning, home was no safe haven—Mother Su was still waiting with her own set of concerns.
Mother Su gave him a full head-to-toe scan the moment he stepped in, worry written all over her face: “Why are you back so late, baby? Everything okay?”
Su Zesui nodded.
“Was Gu Yilan scary? Did he say anything mean or bully you?”
Su Zesui shook his head.
“Did your brother pick you up on time? You weren’t waiting long, were you?”
Su Zesui nodded, then shook his head.
. . . . .
After a few rounds of this, Mother Su finally realized something wasn’t right. She turned to Su Mingyu, confused: “What’s wrong with him?”
Su Mingyu replied irritably: “He got voice-banned.”
Mother Su: “?”
She didn’t quite get it, but she was already overwhelmed with motherly guilt.
“My poor baby had to suffer outside. Did Gu Yilan even bother to treat you nicely? This is all my fault—I never should’ve let you go. Let Mom handle the response, okay? Don’t worry, I’ll be tactful. I’ll just tell them, ‘There’s no fate between us; the timing isn’t right; let’s part ways with respect.’ A graceful, dignified refusal. He’ll back off. Would that be alright, sweetie?”
Su Zesui shook his head. Then nodded. Then paused… nodded again, and shook his head.
Mother Su was dizzy with confusion.
Su Mingyu had seen enough: “Ungrateful little brat, siding with outsiders. Go back to your room and study.”
Su Zesui couldn’t have asked for anything better—he grabbed his bag and ran off.
He had originally planned to write a letter by hand or type out a message—something to make up for his poor speaking skills and let his family know he intended to get married.
But he’d overestimated how fast he could write…
and seriously underestimated his mother’s efficiency as a business elite.
That same afternoon, Mother Su called the other family.
Seeing how her son kept hesitating, clearly wanting to speak but unable to get the words out, Mother Su’s heart ached. Part of her thought her youngest was just too kind, too eager not to trouble them. But more than that, she wanted to settle the matter quickly—so the heavy weight in her son’s heart could finally be lifted.
She dialed the number.
“Hello, is this Gu Yilan’s mother?”
The other party responded politely. After a few pleasantries, Mother Su got straight to the point:
“Well, the kids just finished their meeting today, didn’t they? The moment Suisui came home, he wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t eat—I could tell something was wrong. So I’m taking it upon myself to speak on his behalf.”
—The subtext being: My poor son got scared stiff by your terrifying son. As his mother, I’m here to make a formal complaint.
“Please, go ahead,” said the voice on the other end.
“Suisui had actually been looking forward to this meeting. Your son, after all, is accomplished, outstanding, and handsome. But unfortunately, Suisui’s been spoiled by me since he was little. When it comes to unexpected situations like this, he doesn’t handle them well. As his parents, we don’t want to put that burden on him either.”
—Implied meaning: You’ve raised a fine young man, sure, but please stay far away from us. Our fragile little heart can’t handle someone that intense.
“Mhm,” the other mother replied calmly and graciously.
“So I was thinking—those fates unintentionally formed in childhood, can they still bear fruit when they grow up? Sometimes, that really is a question.”
Her refusal was clear as day. Mother Su thought Gu Yilan’s mother would surely pick up on all her veiled jabs, maybe even get offended—but to her surprise, the woman gave her nothing but grace.
“Both families are friends,” she said gently. “There’s no need to say more. Your concerns are completely understandable. I’ll talk to Gu Yilan.”
Mother Su smiled and softened. “Ah, that’s a relief. Thank you so much.”
. . . . .
At that moment, Gu Yilan and his mother were at his grandfather’s house.
The furniture, made of fragrant huanghuali wood, was arranged meticulously. Celadon tea ware and an ivory tea scoop sat in harmony. The air was thick with the gentle scent of brewing tea, curling upward in wisps of steam.
Grandpa Gu wore a dark gold silk robe with traditional landscape embroidery. As he poured scalding mountain spring water into a clay teapot, the fragrance of the tea instantly filled the room.
“Is your arm healing well?” Grandpa Gu asked as he rinsed the tea leaves.
Gu Yilan paused and glanced sideways at the butler standing nearby.
The butler flinched under that cold, sharp gaze and hurriedly waved his hands, silently mouthing: It wasn’t me!
“It was never a big deal,” Gu Yilan replied lazily, eyes shifting away.
“You may be young and strong, but still—take care of yourself. Cut back on spicy food. Don’t let the wound get wet,” Grandpa Gu said in a calm, deep voice, firm yet gentle.
Thinking back to that ridiculous bunny-faced bandage, Gu Yilan replied offhandedly, “It’s waterproof.”
His grandfather nodded in approval. “You had that meeting this morning, didn’t you? What did you think of the other kid?”
“He was alright.”
Grandpa Gu let out a barely audible sigh.
He still remembered that little snowball of a boy—wide-eyed and soft-spoken, always tugging at his sleeve to chatter endlessly whenever something made him happy or sad.
The kid had always been a top student, proudest when showing off his perfect test scores. He’d stand there silently afterward, clearly waiting to be praised. And Grandpa Gu never held back, always making sure his praise brought out a big smile.
Then, one day, the boy had been taken back by his parents. He shed the childishness, grew tall and upright… and cold. He carried himself with distant pride, always surrounded by a quiet, brooding aura, as if he were never in a good mood.
Over time, he became more obsessive, more withdrawn. He stopped seeking approval, stopped caring how others saw him, and started pushing away anyone who tried to get close.
Just like now—no matter how many questions he asked, all he ever got were distant but impeccably polite responses.
Grandpa Gu wanted to speak a little more with his long-absent grandson. But just then, Gu Yilan’s mother returned, having finished her phone call.
“It was the Su family’s mother calling about the engagement,” Mother Gu said respectfully to Grandpa Gu.
“What did she say?”
“She said her son already admired Gu Yilan quite a bit, and after today’s meeting, he’s been so lovesick he can’t eat or sleep.” Mother Gu chuckled. “That shy little boy of hers apparently fell in love at first sight, but he’s too bashful to call, so his mother stepped in to confess on his behalf.”
Grandpa Gu let out a deep, rumbling laugh.
Mother Gu covered her mouth, laughing as well. Her lips parted, clearly ready to add more—
“You’re daydreaming again?” Gu Yilan cut her off, his voice icy enough to freeze a room.
Maybe out of concern for his injuries, or perhaps just from excitement over the potential engagement, Mother Gu, for once, spoke gently. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss it. Before she hung up, Mother Su was still going on about how fate brought the two of you together as children—and how she hoped that connection could grow into something more now that you’re older. Sounds like they can’t wait for this marriage to happen.”
Gu Yilan couldn’t be bothered to argue. He stood up to leave.
With how Su Zesui practically flinched at the slightest touch, and recalling how Mother Su gave him the “highest praise” in the hospital that day, there were only two explanations for this outcome:
Either the entire Su family had gone mad…
Or the world itself had.
“Stop right there. No manners at all—you’re leaving before your elders are done speaking?” Mother Gu frowned. “You don’t get a say in this engagement.”
She knew full well Gu Yilan had always been a loner and didn’t expect him to actually listen. She only wanted to make her position clear: she wouldn’t be swayed.
But strangely, this time, Gu Yilan really did stop.
Without a word, he leaned down, picked up the still-steaming tea, and downed it in one go.
In that moment, his tongue went numb from the burn, the mucous membranes in his mouth felt as if they were being slowly sliced open by a dull blade—the sharp pain shot straight through his nerves. And yet, to him, beneath the sting was a strange kind of relief, scalding and almost pleasant.
He tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was no humor in his eyes. Calmly, he asked, “…Really?”
Standing tall and rigid, his voice hoarse from the burn, he sounded indifferent, like he was simply stating a fact. But the pressure radiating from him was anything but mild—like a demon stepping out of hell. The oppressive aura made Mother Gu freeze, her words suddenly catching in her throat.
Tension filled the room. Just as she frowned and opened her mouth again, Grandpa Gu quickly raised a hand to stop her.
“Alright, listen to your grandfather for once. Give the boy a call and confirm it yourself. Sound good?”
Gu Yilan, fingers still curled around the phone number the boy had stuffed into his pocket, frowned slightly, then sat back down and dialed. He put the call on speaker and placed it on the table.
There was no way this situation could—or should—go off script.
“Beep… beep…”
After just two rings, the call was picked up. A timid little “Hello?” echoed into the room.
Gu Yilan was in a foul mood. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just went straight for the throat: “You want to marry me?”
His burned throat throbbed with pain. His tone was low, rough, and laced with obvious impatience. Anyone with common sense would have treated him like the plague and run far away.
But he didn’t care. In fact, he took comfort in it.
Loneliness, obsession, and a touch of madness—that was the only truth beneath his seemingly composed exterior.
As expected, there was a long pause on the other end. Just as he was about to hang up in irritation, a voice finally came through—
“…Yes.”
Soft and a little shaky, like the speaker was worried it hadn’t been heard, the boy quickly added in a whisper, “I’m willing.”
“…”
Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain.
Grandpa Gu gave a slight shake of the head, smiling warmly like a kindly elder.
Mother Gu raised her brows at her son, her face radiating a smug I told you so.
But Gu Yilan didn’t react. His fingers were white from how tightly he gripped the teacup, knuckles straining. The tips of his fingers were red and swollen from the burn, yet he showed no sign of letting go.
No one knew what he was thinking.
. . . . .
Before the call came, Su Zesui had been feeling anxious.
He wanted to get engaged—but he was pretty sure the other party didn’t like him. He was timid, weak, bad at conversation, and didn’t have any particular strengths. Very few people ever liked someone like him.
He gave a big, bright smile at the darkened phone screen, revealing two adorable little tiger teeth.
…He should’ve smiled more back then, he thought. That might’ve made him seem a little more likable.
Su Zesui kept fretting over it until Gu Yilan’s call finally came through.
His heart was pounding like crazy. He had no idea what his mom had said to the other side.
But she must’ve put in a lot of effort—otherwise, there’s no way Gu Yilan would call and directly ask if he wanted to get married.
Su Zesui was deeply touched.
A mother’s intuition really was something. She had somehow seen through his feelings and even taken the initiative to help him, doing everything she could to persuade the other party.
He curled up in a corner of his bedroom, listening as his mom answered several calls in the living room—and made quite a few herself.
Not long after, his brother came over and told him that tomorrow, they’d be having lunch with Gu Yilan’s family.
…It must be the legendary “meeting of the parents,” Su Zesui thought.
The next day, even Father Su returned home. The whole family went out in full force to a private dining room at a high-end restaurant, where they met Gu Yilan and his family.
Su Zesui was all dressed up—it was the first time he had ever wanted to attend a social event.
Gu Yilan shared some facial features with his mother, so Su Zesui didn’t feel all that afraid of Mother Gu.
He kept his head down, eating quietly in tiny bites, but his ears were perked up, secretly eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Their personalities just don’t match,” Su Mingyu was saying. “You could even say they’re complete opposites. Right now, they just find each other annoying. Who knows what kind of serious fights they’ll get into once they’re actually married, so honestly—”
Before he could finish, his little brother tugged on his sleeve.
Su Zesui puffed out his cheeks and looked up at him, then gave an emphatic shake of his head, clearly showing his strong disapproval—and silently telling him to stop talking.
At the same time, upon hearing Su Mingyu’s words, both Father Gu and Grandpa Gu turned to look at Gu Yilan.
Grandpa Gu gave him a kind smile and said, “Didn’t you say before that you thought he was alright?”
Gu Yilan stayed silent. He took a slow sip of cold water, the lingering pain in his mouth still faintly burning, but he gave no response at all.
Everyone started chiming in from different angles. The atmosphere at the table grew increasingly tense.
Just then, Mother Gu tried to smooth things over: “How about this—why don’t we all compromise a little? Let the kids live together for a while and see if any feelings develop?”
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
Two voices cut her off simultaneously, sharp and unwavering, with zero room for negotiation.
The whole room fell into stunned silence.
Because those two perfectly synchronized objections… came from two completely different sides.
One from Father Su and Mother Su—And the other, from Gu Yilan.
Gu Yilan: “…”
Father Su and Mother Su: “…………”
Wait—
Who exactly is on whose side?