Reward
Gong Chuang wearily wiped his face.
He had known Gu Yilan since childhood, but their paths didn’t truly cross until elementary school. By the time he transferred into Gu Yilan’s class, Gu Yilan was already accustomed to being a lone wolf, keeping to himself and not speaking to anyone.
He entered the new class and inevitably ran into some unfriendly classmates. But young Gu Yilan, ever the “righteous hero,” used his cold, expressionless face to silently chase away those who were picking on him.
Little Gong Chuang was immensely grateful. He willingly became Gu Yilan’s right-hand man, running errands and making sure to speak a few words to him about everything.
Yet Gu Yilan always treated him with a cool indifference.
Later, Gong Chuang learned about Gu Yilan’s past and realized that his natural disposition was aloof, emotionally distant. In Gu Yilan’s world, the concepts of friends and family didn’t exist—everyone else was essentially irrelevant.
Even until just now, Gong Chuang had still believed that.
Now, his worldview was collapsing, and he began to doubt himself.
——So it wasn’t that Gu Yilan was naturally cold, it was that he simply hadn’t met the right person. Right?
Gong Chuang wanted someone to talk to about it, but the only person who also had Su Zesui on WeChat was Ji Yuxing, who wasn’t very close to Gu Yilan.
Distractedly, he continued his experiment, but after holding it in all day, he couldn’t resist by the afternoon. He sent Gu Yilan a WeChat message.
[Gong Chuang: 111]
Ten minutes passed. No reply.
Half an hour passed. Gong Chuang had finished dinner, but still not even a little notification appeared on WeChat.
He scratched his head and sent another message—
[Gong Chuang: Are you there?]
Another forty minutes passed. Gong Chuang had already gotten home, and the other person seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace.
Gong Chuang couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of pretending and skirting around, so he decided to be straightforward and sent a blunt message before settling down to review his literature.
[Gong Chuang: Did you switch couple profile pictures with Su Zesui? Things are moving so fast! Are you together with him? Bro, you kept something this big from me? By the way, did you kiss yet?]
This time, the reply came instantly.
[Gu Yilan: Mm.]
Gong Chuang: …
So the earlier two messages weren’t unseen because Gu Yilan was busy—they had simply been “read without reply.”
[Gong Chuang: Just “Mm”? Bro, which question does that answer? Say more!]
The chat showed “typing…,” but Gong Chuang, finally finding an outlet for his frustration, couldn’t wait and started typing furiously.
Their messages ended up sending at the exact same moment.
[Gong Chuang: Did you do it?]
[Gu Yilan: All “Mm.”]
The next second—
“The other person retracted a message.”
Gong Chuang: …
Got it.
[Gong Chuang: Luckily, only Ji Yuxing and I added Su Zesui on WeChat. Otherwise, with your earlier claim that he’s your little brother, the classmates would be stunned. By now, you’d already be on the school confession wall.]
[Gu Yilan: It’s fine. They’ll know the day after tomorrow.]
[Gong Chuang: ?? What does that mean?]
——Why did his tone carry a strange sense of relief?
Gu Yilan sent a photo. Gong Chuang opened it and saw the boy’s thin body taking up most of the screen.
The boy hadn’t noticed he was being photographed, resting his head on Gu Yilan’s lap and staring at the competition book. And because he had leaned forward deliberately, part of Gu Yilan’s torso was in the frame as well.
—It was damn couple outfits.
Gong Chuang: …
[Gong Chuang: That’s too much ^_^]
[Gong Chuang: Soon they won’t doubt your account was hacked—they’ll think you’ve been possessed.]
[Gong Chuang: And did you even consider my feelings? Since they won’t harass you, they’ll just bombard me with messages. Who’s going to care about me?]
[Gu Yilan: If you’re angry, go ahead and put me on the confession wall now. Or post it on Moments—it’s fine.]
Gong Chuang’s first reaction was: What has Gu Yilan been through lately to become so detached from worldly matters, completely unbothered even by being “posted”? He even actively suggested letting Gong Chuang post him, which was strangely heart-wrenching…
Then he realized something was off.
This isn’t about being posted… Isn’t this actually just helping that guy shove ‘dog food’ down everyone’s mouth?
This guy… his schemes were insane…
[Gong Chuang: (Angry)(Angry) Should I grab a megaphone and shout you out on the street? Or better yet, I’ll contact the school broadcast station—tomorrow your love story will air, a rare and touching tale. So awesome!]
. . . . .
“Brother, are we wearing matching outfits for tomorrow’s interview too?” Su Zesui’s arms were sore. He put down the competition book, tilted his small face up, and looked at Gu Yilan with bright, clear eyes.
“Yes.” Gu Yilan didn’t respond to Gong Chuang’s angry complaints. He put down his phone and looked back at the boy.
Su Zesui felt overjoyed inside, though he didn’t show it on his face. Tentatively, he asked, “So… should I wear it to the lab the day after tomorrow too?”
Gu Yilan replied, “Yes. Every day.”
“Yay… hmm.” Su Zesui curved his eyebrows and bit his fingertip, as if remembering something, then sat up from the bed. “You said before that you didn’t like me wearing gray clothes, but I think there’s a set of gray in the new clothes.”
Gu Yilan asked, “When did I say that?”
Su Zesui recalled, “That time, on the stairs, I tripped. You said you didn’t like that outfit I was wearing.”
The reminder made Gu Yilan remember. Back then, he had only just met Su Zesui and hadn’t even realized the boy had severe social anxiety. He was still trying to scare him off with his obsessive need for control.
“I said a lot of nonsense back then, so I take it back. Now, I like whatever clothes you wear.”
Gu Yilan glanced at the boy burying his head in the pillow. He paused, hesitated for a long time, then asked, “Does my controlling behavior ever make you uncomfortable?”
Su Zesui lifted his rosy little face from the pillow, puzzled. “Why… do you say that?”
Gu Yilan’s eyes darkened. “I finally ended all the grudges with them this morning. But sometimes I think… I hate them, yet I end up becoming like them without realizing it.”
“No, you’re different.” Su Zesui, not wanting to lump Gu Yilan in with the bad people like his parents, comforted him awkwardly. “You’re not the same.”
Lately, he had been thinking about the “reward” he’d get after tomorrow’s interview, so he naturally added, “For example… when you’re forceful in bed, I still like it. Both are controlling, but they’re not the same.”
Gu Yilan thought for a moment, analyzing, “It’s actually human nature. In the hunting era, only strong men could catch prey and survive. Survival of the fittest. So people tend to pair with the strong. Being forceful in bed is essentially an expression of strength.”
Su Zesui puffed out his fair cheeks. “I’m trying to comfort you, and you’re spoiling the mood.”
“Sorry,” Gu Yilan said sincerely. “I’ll make sure to satisfy you from now on.”
This time, Su Zesui understood, and his face heated a few degrees. He stammered for a long while, unsure how to respond, and could only politely say, “Um… th-thank you.”
Actually, he didn’t have to wait until later—tomorrow would be soon enough.
. . . . .
Whether it was due to nervousness about the interview or looking at old photos on his phone, Su Zesui had a rare nightmare that night.
It was a desolate dream involving Gu Yilan, making him feel as if he were trapped in a black hole, utterly hopeless and helpless.
It continued from a previous memory—
He had joyfully received Gu Yilan’s letters and recordings, carefully prepared them, recorded multiple takes, and finally completed the perfect recording.
But after he sent it, there was no reply from Gu Yilan. It was as if he had vanished.
This time even Uncle Butler appeared in the dream.
Anxiously, Su Zesui sought him out, asking what had happened. Each time, Uncle Butler replied that Gu Yilan was busy, occupied, unavailable—just wait a little longer.
Once, twice… a week, a month… each time, the perfunctory answer left Su Zesui’s fiery heart ice-cold.
In the dream, clinging to a shred of reason, he guessed sadly that Gu Yilan must have grown tired of him and gone to pamper someone prettier. Wuwuwu.
Upon waking, Su Zesui stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to shake off the lingering disappointment.
The dream was fragmented yet vivid—so real that he could recall every detail and the painful, breath-stealing throb of his heart at the time.
If he hadn’t experienced it, it couldn’t feel so true.
This also explained why someone as pathologically socially anxious as him had so quickly accepted Gu Yilan and Uncle Butler—because in another timeline, they were supposed to know each other too.
Su Zesui didn’t tell Gu Yilan about this memory fragment. Gu Yilan was still worrying yesterday whether he would dislike his controlling nature. Su Zesui didn’t want a fragmented, meaningless dream to drag him into self-doubt again.
Having spent long periods in darkness himself, he understood that pain all too well.
After spending enough time in bed, Su Zesui lowered his head and reached for the water cup on the bedside table, hoping to warm his slightly numbed heart with some water.
“Another nightmare?” Gu Yilan’s deep voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
Already weak and unsteady, Su Zesui didn’t notice anyone else in the room. Caught off guard, he flailed and fell flat.
Luckily, Gu Yilan reacted quickly and caught him, preventing him from hitting his knees.
Su Zesui held the glass firmly, so it didn’t break.
No harm came to anyone, nor was the glass damaged—the only problem was that all the cold water spilled on Gu Yilan.
Su Zesui was a head shorter than Gu Yilan, so the glass of water almost entirely poured down onto the lower part of the man’s shirt.
Just one glance, and Su Zesui’s eyes went wide—he couldn’t look away.
He didn’t even need a nightmare; reality had already hit him head-on, leaving him dizzy and dazed.
Back when he watched the short videos Gong Chuang sent him, he had secretly observed a certain part of Gu Yilan. It was impressively sized—slightly intimidating, but still acceptable. However, that was all observed through clothing.
Now, thanks to the cold water, Gu Yilan’s pants were soaked in a large patch, clinging tightly to his skin, and in the already prominent area, it outlined a terrifying curve.
“I-I’m sorry… maybe, maybe…” Su Zesui suddenly felt even thirstier, swallowing hard, too embarrassed to say, “Maybe take it easy… and don’t force it tonight…” Wuwuwu.
After a long pause, he finally forced himself to continue: “M-maybe… change clothes?”
“It’s fine. The top isn’t wet. Just change the pants,” Gu Yilan replied calmly. From start to finish, he showed no surprise or annoyance. After helping the boy steady himself, he turned and went to the wardrobe.
For Su Zesui, who hadn’t seen much of the world, this little incident was truly overwhelming. He even forgot the negative emotions from his earlier nightmares, his mind consumed by… that visually shocking image.
He felt he might die in bed tonight.
. . . . .
Their villa was huge, with every type of multifunctional room imaginable.
So this time, there was no need to go out, the interview could take place in the large home conference room.
The butler had already arranged the set, and Su Zesui had memorized his lines.
It also turned out that Gu Yilan really had a ton of interview experience. The questions from the reporter hardly ever strayed from what he had prepared in his notes.
It was like having a walkthrough guide, everything should have gone smoothly. But unfortunately, Su Zesui had overestimated his current mental endurance.
Looking at the room full of people, his social anxiety reached unprecedented levels. Combined with his distracted state, when the reporter asked questions, he felt as if someone had grabbed his throat. His lips trembled, opening and closing, unable to utter a single word.
The more anxious he got, the worse his social anxiety became. His fingers gripped his clothes so tightly that even his eyes started to go out of focus from the stress.
Suddenly, Gu Yilan, off-camera, interrupted the reporter and said calmly, “If you have questions, ask me first.”
The reporter froze, craning his neck to look at the famous A-city tycoon, his face a picture of utter confusion.
When he learned the interview would take place in Gu Yilan’s home, he had been extremely nervous. He had memorized the script perfectly, triple-checked everything, and only then dared to schedule the interview with Su Zesui.
After multiple rehearsals, he thought he was ready for any sudden situation and able to adjust on the spot.
But the moment he knocked on the door and saw Gu Yilan and Su Zesui in matching couple outfits, he was dumbfounded—almost tripped over the threshold.
Then came the part he was most confident in: the actual interview.
When he politely asked questions, Su Zesui remained silent. Meanwhile, Gu Yilan supervised nearby with an unnervingly calm, expressionless demeanor—scarier than a scowl.
This interview was a minefield, every step was perilous.
The reporter, surprised he had made it this far, even admired his own mental fortitude.
When faced with Gu Yilan’s unusual request, he wanted to ask if they thought his questions weren’t prepared well enough. But looking at that cold, abstinent face, he felt every second of delay would be a huge offense.
So he quickly complied.
“What made you decide to switch from liberal arts to science? Was it passion, or did something suddenly click?”
“How prepared are you now? How confident are you about the school competition?”
. . . . .
The reporter had prepared around twenty questions. Steadying his trembling voice, he tried to read them all clearly and precisely.
Gu Yilan listened in silence the entire time, without interrupting or speaking a word, lost in thought.
Seeing the reporter stop, the man slightly nodded. “I’ll ask him. You can edit it later.”
The reporter: ?
——Is there such a thing?
Embarrassed, he asked, “Should I send you the script?”
Gu Yilan turned, lifted his chin to signal the lights and cameraman to leave first, and answered without much concern, “No need. I remember it.”
Once everyone left, leaving only the butler operating the camera, Gu Yilan crouched down slightly and looked at the trembling boy. “Come on, relax. Listen to my questions. Take a few deep breaths before answering. Why did you choose science?”
His voice slowed, carrying a patient, guiding tone. After a while, Su Zesui’s eyes refocused, his tense body gradually relaxed, and he could finally manage to speak a few words.
“I…I love competitions. I like the feeling of solving physics problems—it’s like breaking through clouds and finally seeing the moon clearly…”
After stammering through that rehearsed answer, by the time the last question was asked, Su Zesui couldn’t hold back anymore. He threw himself into Gu Yilan’s arms, choking back tears: “I messed up… Wuwuwu.”
“Messed up where?” Gu Yilan’s gaze signaled the butler to turn off the camera. Holding the boy, he stood and walked toward the door. “The editing will make this into a perfect interview.”
“But…I didn’t do well.” Realizing it wouldn’t affect anyone else, Su Zesui relaxed slightly but still blamed himself. “I didn’t complete… what I promised.”
“You already did the best you could,” Gu Yilan said.
Positive verbal reassurance is a common way to soothe someone’s emotions.
Being comforted all the way, Su Zesui’s guilt gradually faded. He hugged the man’s neck and asked cautiously, “Since I didn’t finish the interview… is the reward… still coming?”
“It is. Right away.” Gu Yilan carried him upstairs. “It’s a reward for your courage in making the decision. So the moment you agreed to the interview, the reward already existed—it’s just being delivered now.”
——Now…?
Su Zesui hadn’t expected it to be so soon. He thought it would be in the evening. The sudden prospect of receiving the reward caught him completely off guard.
There was no time to dwell on how poorly he’d done in the interview; his mind immediately shifted to the most urgent matter—
——He wasn’t mentally prepared to accept something of that size. What should he do? What should he do?
Gripping the man’s shirt, Su Zesui whispered almost inaudibly, “Actually… it’s okay if we don’t do it right now. Later… later…”
Gu Yilan didn’t hear the boy mutter and asked, “What?”
Blushing, Su Zesui buried his face in the man’s neck and mumbled, “I said… gently.”
Being so close, Su Zesui felt the man’s chest tremble slightly. A low, soft chuckle reached his ear, and his face immediately flamed.
“No need to be gentle.” Gu Yilan entered the master bedroom and laid him on the soft bed. “And no equipment is needed.”
Su Zesui leaned against his pillow, stunned.
A few seconds later, he realized—could Gu Yilan be talking about the legendary… “field battle”?
Su Zesui felt a mix of anticipation and fear. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he instinctively gripped the bedsheet, his heart hammering like a drum.
Just as his pulse skyrocketed and his breath grew shallow, the man’s calm voice floated to him: “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Ah… oh. I see.” Su Zesui finally relaxed, lowering his head and fiddling with his fingers. “I wasn’t really thinking about anything.”
Even though he had just hoped it wouldn’t happen yet, now that it was actually happening, Su Zesui felt a small, inexplicable disappointment.
Feeling a bit lost, he twisted his fingers, his eyes catching the man picking up his cup and downing the remaining cold water in one gulp. The movement of his Adam’s apple and the masculine scent hit him full force—so handsome it made his legs weak.
Su Zesui quickly looked away, about to ask what the reward actually was, when he saw Gu Yilan put down the cup, turn to him, and without a pause, reach to pull down his pants. Then he bent his head, and his lips touched a certain part of Su Zesui.
A shiver shot straight to his head. Su Zesui’s fingers froze, his eyes widened instantly, and his pupils shrank sharply.