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“Our… our clothes are the same,” Su Zesui muttered, repeatedly looking down and up, scrutinizing both his and Gu Yilan’s tops.
The one he was wearing wasn’t much different from his usual style.
But the man’s outfit was a completely different story. Su Zesui had only ever seen Gu Yilan in minimalist black or gray. Now, in a light blue casual outfit, his normally cold aura was softened, and Su Zesui’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah. Same style,” Gu Yilan said.
Su Zesui silently let out a small “wow,” then hesitated before teasing, “So… your juniors… they’ll know about us, right?”
Gu Yilan stepped closer, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t want them to know?”
“I… it’s not that,” Su Zesui replied, mimicking the man’s tone, “Then you… don’t want them to know?”
“I do,” Gu Yilan said, leaning down to look into the boy’s eyes. “When you kissed me for the first time, I wanted everyone to know. I wasn’t fully in control then and wanted to just take you out. But fortunately, I still had a shred of rationality, struggled a bit… and ended up going upstairs.”
So that’s what Mr. Gu had been thinking…
Su Zesui felt a thrill of excitement, mixed with a hint of fear—if Gu Yilan had really walked out like that, he might be living on another planet by now.
Rubbing his fair chin, Su Zesui asked worriedly, “But didn’t you clarify before that we’re just brothers? Won’t they find it strange?”
“They might be startled and start bombarding me with messages,” Gu Yilan said, lips curling slightly, calm and composed. “Don’t worry. If they find it strange, it’s directed at me. After all, it’s me who said it.”
Su Zesui couldn’t help laughing. “Thank you for your hard work.”
With Gu Yilan’s cold face holding up under any crisis, the threat of social embarrassment was temporarily averted.
Su Zesui grabbed the man’s hand, puffed up with pride, and was ready to announce their relationship to the world at the A University Physics Lab.
But as soon as he opened the door, he ran straight into the butler, who was about to knock.
The butler blinked, and upon seeing their outfits, froze as if struck by lightning. His raised hand hung midair for several seconds before slowly lowering.
——Was his memory failing him? Didn’t Young Master Gu just say it would be best not to mention anything about his relationship with Little Master Su in front of the boy? Otherwise, the little master might feel shy, stressed, or things could backfire…
——What… what is happening? Is this right?? Ahhh?
The butler didn’t dare ask, nor show any unusual expression. After greeting the little master, he got straight to the point with Young Master Gu: “Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Gu would like to speak with you again…”
Gu Yilan’s cold expression remained unreadable, but the butler inexplicably sensed a hint of “them again?” in his demeanor.
Blood is thicker than water. They should have been the closest of family, yet they had ended up estranged in this manner. One couldn’t help but wonder if seeing Gu Yilan like this would make Mr. and Mrs. Gu regret their endless controlling ways.
Wiping his cold sweat, the butler continued: “They said they understand and respect all your choices and hope to reconcile.”
“Fine. Then I’ll declare it unilaterally: I’m reconciled,” Gu Yilan said emotionlessly, even tapping his hand sarcastically.
Su Zesui couldn’t follow the situation completely but, seeing Gu Yilan’s gesture, puffed up his little face and clapped along with a “clap clap clap,” playing along.
The scene was as ridiculous as it was comical.
“But… they’re at Old Master Gu’s house now, with him presiding. They really seem sincere about talking,” the butler hurriedly added as Gu Yilan moved to leave.
The butler had known Old Master Gu (Grandpa Gu) when he was young and had to put in a few words to help the old master save face.
“Can’t they speak for themselves? Want me to moderate?” Gu Yilan asked coldly. “Tell them I have to go; my professor is back at school today.”
He emphasized the “have to,” then grasped the boy’s hand and was about to leave.
Su Zesui’s eyes suddenly shone, heart racing like a drum.
——The professor is here too? That means showing off couple outfits in front of Gu Yilan’s teacher—slightly thrilling, hmm.
Just then, Gu Yilan’s phone rang.
Because it was so close, Su Zesui saw the caller ID—Grandpa Gu himself.
Gu Yilan’s grip on the phone tightened unconsciously. After a few seconds, he pressed his thin lips together and answered. He didn’t even say “hello,” just listened.
The phone’s reception was excellent; Su Zesui couldn’t catch the other side but knew the person was talking.
A few minutes later, Gu Yilan hung up without a word.
“Go ahead, brother,” Su Zesui said, finally noticing the hesitation in Gu Yilan’s eyes, giving a gentle push. “I’ll wait at home.”
Gu Yilan was silent for a few seconds. “Brother always puts you in a difficult position.”
“No. I can change into another outfit tomorrow,” Su Zesui licked his soft lips, feeling no grievance. “Just get the post-interview reward ready—I’m looking forward to that too.”
He had seen the video sent by Brother Gong Chuang before, knowing that preparations were needed for that kind of thing.
Gu Yilan’s eyes flickered, voice low: “It’s already ready. Anytime.”
“Th-That fast?”
Su Zesui guessed the man might have bought everything while getting clothes, and timidly asked in a low voice, “Is… is everything purchased?”
The icy expression caused by the call softened as Gu Yilan’s lips curved slightly. “No need to buy anything.”
Su Zesui glanced at the butler beside him, who looked utterly confused, and felt a little embarrassed to ask further—after all, he wasn’t sure whether the household had already prepared a backup or if the reward itself didn’t actually require any equipment.
“Bye bye, brother. I’ll figure out the interview myself.” Su Zesui waved at the man. Only after Gu Yilan’s tall figure disappeared around the stairwell corner did he turn back to the master bedroom.
Since getting together with Mr. Gu, he hardly even opened Ahoo anymore. Whatever he wanted to know, Gu Yilan would organize it neatly for him—efficiently and clearly. And if there was anything he didn’t understand, he could ask anytime.
Take this collection of interview questions, for example. They were divided into sections: personal experience, teamwork, competition insights, and future outlooks—everything carefully structured.
Su Zesui sat cross-legged on the bed, methodically memorizing the material.
Since the questions and answers were written by Gu Yilan himself, drawing on his own experience, every word carried his unmistakable personal style.
As Su Zesui read, he started imagining Gu Yilan saying the lines and couldn’t help but mimic his tone.
Standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself in the same shirt as Gu Yilan, he said coldly, “These are my personal matters. Not something I can reveal.”
Then he flopped back onto the bed and rolled around laughing for a few minutes.
With a good memory, Su Zesui soon memorized all seven or eight pages of the interview summary. Bored, he pulled his old phone out of the bedside drawer.
Gu Yilan had given it to him to use familiar photos to trigger memories, but he had avoided it—and Gu Yilan had never pushed him.
Now, after Gu Yilan’s gentle guidance and a few days of calm, Su Zesui felt his inner demons had settled. He was curious about what kind of relationship he and Gu Yilan had in his original world.
He had read some “sugar daddy” novels before, where the protagonist often ended up in bed with the male lead within the first few chapters.
——Would he and Gu Yilan be like that?
Flipping through the photo album, he saw that in this world he was a young playboy; the photos were full of parties and indulgence. After looking for a while, he recalled the drunken extravagance but gained nothing else.
As the new school year approached, his class group chat came alive again. His phone kept buzzing while he scrolled through the album—old classmates messaging him, tagging him in the group.
The socially anxious Su Zesui didn’t dare reply. He peered at the screen like a little mouse in a gutter, cautiously watching:
[Feng Chengwen: Registration is on 8/28 this year. Everyone still alive? Let’s hang out while there’s still time @Tong Jing @Yuan Mingcheng @Su Zesui]
[Yuan Mingcheng: Can you change that profile picture first? It completely kills any desire to communicate.]
Feng Chengwen’s profile picture was a dopey Patrick Star, head tilted, eyes rolled, tongue out—a face that screamed low IQ.
[Feng Chengwen: You don’t get it. Do you know how hard inheriting a family business is? True wisdom lies in appearing simple. I’m actually stepping aside, voluntarily handing the family throne to my brother. How touching is that selflessness? Applaud!]
[Tong Jing: Kids this foolish, even if cured, will still drool.]
[Feng Chengwen: .]
. . . . .
Watching the chatter in the small group, Su Zesui lowered his head thoughtfully, glancing at the clownfish on his light-blue shirt. Inspiration struck. He set aside the old phone and picked up the phone Gu Yilan had given him, opening Ahoo.
Half an hour later, he opened WeChat and tapped Gu Yilan’s secondary account.
Their chat history with “Uncle Period” still dated back to a dozen days ago, when they almost had a fallout. Back then, Su Zesui had asked if he and Gu Yilan were fated to be together; the answer had been no.
He had been upset.
He scrolled past a few emojis, pushing the unpleasant chat out of sight, then sent a message:
[(o^^o): Are you there?]
Gu Yilan seemed busy; a few minutes later, he replied:
[。: What’s up?]
Having spent time in the human world full of social niceties for quite some time, Su Zesui had learned to start with small talk before asking for favors:
[(o^^o): When are you coming home?]
[。: Something wrong? I can come back now if needed.]
[(o^^o): No, no. Just asking.]
[。: If fast, it’ll take about an hour; if slow, I’ll get back in time for dinner. (photo)]
Su Zesui opened the attached photo.
On the sandalwood table were several elegant tea sets. Grandpa Gu sipped silently, looking a little helpless. Father Gu and Mother Gu stared at the camera, concern and worry written all over their faces, clearly trying to guilt him.
[。: So annoying.]
Reading the message, Su Zesui automatically pictured Gu Yilan’s world-weary expression and imagined the two shrewd middle-aged people trying in vain to get a response, which made him smirk.
[。: Why my secondary account?]
The reminder snapped him out of his amusement. He had serious business to attend to.
[(o^^o): (photo)]
[(o^^o): Cute, right?]
He sent a web image of a chibi gray wolf, drawn in a simple, silly style. Its black bean-like eyes stared at the screen, big fluffy tail raised, furry all over. Not fierce at all—more like a small puppy.
Though not realistic, Su Zesui loved this kind of minimalist, cute illustration.
Gu Yilan was very supportive too—
[。: Cute.]
Su Zesui sent another matching little white rabbit profile picture.
[(o^^o): Then you use that one, I’ll use this one. How about it?]
[。: Using this account?]
[(o^^o): Yes, yes. Is that okay?]
Su Zesui nervously wiped the sweat from his palms on the bedsheet.
He knew that Mr. Gu probably didn’t really like this style of profile picture.
Besides, the man usually had a lot of academic and business contacts on WeChat.
Just like Yuan Mingcheng said in the group, a profile picture determines the first impression people have of you. A profile picture this cute made him look weak—not someone reliable, not a core figure who could command a room.
So Su Zesui didn’t push him too hard to change profile picture on his main account.
He thought that, considering this side account had made him cry before and didn’t have many friends, even if Mr. Gu didn’t like it, he might agree to change to matching profile pictures.
But reality didn’t go as he hoped.
[。: No.]
Su Zesui pouted in disappointment and typed “Okay” on his phone. But before he could send it, another message popped up—
[11th Dimension: I want to change this account.]
Su Zesui stared at that familiar WeChat name, and at the chibi profile picture that seemed so unlike the man’s usual style. He froze for a few seconds, then threw his phone aside, buried his face in the pillow, and laughed out loud.
. . . . .
Gu Yilan did not make up any excuses to brush off the butler.
Their group’s head professor had indeed just flown back today and had scheduled an important group meeting in the afternoon.
For a while, the group chat was full of automated “Received [roses]” replies.
After a dozen minutes, the chat went completely quiet.
At that moment, someone sent a leave message—
[@Wang Sorry, I have something this afternoon and can’t spare any time online. I need to take a leave.]
The group members’ first reaction was that this student seemed a bit rigid, not very flexible or socially savvy.
Because they all had the professor’s WeChat, small leave requests were usually sent privately. Hardly anyone posted them in the group.
Their second reaction: Who the hell is this gray little dog?
Compared to text, pictures leave a stronger visual impression, so most people recognized others by profile pictures. As physics PhD students, they were extremely low-maintenance—some kept the same profile picture for months or even years.
Suddenly seeing a new face naturally raised a mental question mark.
Those who had labeled Gu Yilan in their contacts began to suspect the account was hacked.
Those who hadn’t labeled him were confused, trying to figure out who it could be by process of elimination. After going through familiar people and counting the group members several times to make sure no one else matched, they suddenly realized—the only possibility left was that big shot…
With that chain of reasoning, even the calmest person was rendered completely speechless.
Of course, the one who was most shocked was Gong Chuang.
While everyone else wondered if Gu Yilan’s account had been hacked, only he had access to Su Zesui’s WeChat.
When this happened, he instinctively thought of that innocent, naive little kid.
He found Su Zesui’s WeChat in his contacts, and sure enough…
That silly, adorable little white rabbit, paired with Gu Yilan’s silly dog profile picture, looked like they were cut from the same mold. Clearly the work of the same artist—they were matching couple profile pictures.
The nearby lab equipment beeped twice, reminding him to set the parameters. Gong Chuang’s mouth twitched as he hit “shut down” on the device.
He felt both a pang of fear and a surge of irritation.
Fear, because yesterday in Gu Yilan’s office, he had shaken Su Zesui’s hand and patted his head. At the time, Gu Yilan’s cold smirk had sent chills down his spine, and he had thought Gu Yilan’s possessiveness was extreme.
Looking back now, they had probably already been together at that time. Gu Yilan hadn’t ‘eliminated’ him, which really showed his good temperament.
As for irritation…
Gong Chuang wanted to grab Su Zesui by the shoulders and shake him hard—
“I sent you the <Dog Training Guide>, not to actually turn him into a dog!”
“Give me back my cold, aloof Gu Yilan!”