If (2/9)
Su Zesui had thought Gu Yilan was just joking casually.
His own world was small and monotonous, so the moment Mr. Gu appeared in his life, he immediately took up a large space in it. But Mr. Gu’s world was vast, full of things far beyond Su Zesui’s understanding. He felt that he probably occupied only a tiny, insignificant corner of it.
On top of that, Mr. Gu’s career and connections were all overseas, and he was pursuing a master’s degree in finance at a prestigious foreign university.
Under these circumstances, the idea of him returning to China seemed completely unrealistic.
Yet, only half a month after his return, with no expectations at all, Su Zesui received a call from Gu Yilan. With a smile, he told him to get his luggage ready—they were moving.
It was hard to put Su Zesui’s feelings into words.
It was as if he had been indulging in an impossible dream for a long time, only to be told in the end that it wasn’t a dream at all—that it had been, and would continue to be, his real life.
On the day of the move, Gu Yilan personally came to pick him up.
His home was small and a little run-down, but neatly organized.
Gu Yilan walked over to the low desk and asked, “So this is where you usually do your writing?”
“Mm-hmm.” Su Zesui fiddled with his fingers, nodding like a little chick pecking at grains.
He had used this small desk since he was a child. The surface was worn, marked with scratches and pen stains, the corners smoothed and rounded by years of use. On top sat a similarly old bookshelf—once the place where he organized Mr. Gu’s letters, now empty.
Gu Yilan’s aura of long-held authority felt completely out of place in his humble room. Su Zesui felt a twinge of insecurity and nervousness, but the man merely smiled and teased, “So this is where a pen pal produces so many letters.”
At that, all of Su Zesui’s shyness melted away. He even stood at the doorway to introduce the space to Gu Yilan: “That day, Uncle Butler stood right here and told me that you were going to sponsor me.”
Similarly, the butler stood there and told him that Mr. Gu was very busy and couldn’t write back to him for a while. This made him feel miserable for many days, until he finally bought a plane ticket and flew to Country M.
Gu Yilan nodded slightly and commented, “No need for him to relay messages anymore.”
Su Zesui still felt a little light-headed and hesitated: “Mr. Gu… I’m really going to live with you?”
Gu Yilan turned to look at him, not answering directly. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Call me ‘brother.’”
Su Zesui’s eyes widened slightly. He fiddled with his fingers for a long moment before shyly forcing out a barely audible, mosquito-like whisper from his throat: “…Brother.”
He had very little luggage, but Gu Yilan’s home was fully equipped with appliances, stationery, and bedding, and he even arranged a bedroom solely for Su Zesui—so he didn’t need to prepare much at all.
After putting away his things, Gu Yilan took him out to buy new clothes.
In the huge apartment in the school district, through the window, Su Zesui could see the bustling streets and the crowds below. In that moment, he felt even more profoundly that in just a few short days, his life had undergone a tremendous change.
He now lived opposite Mr. Gu’s room and did his homework with him in the same study at night.
After showering and changing into pajamas, the steam around Mr. Gu softened the sharp edges he usually carried, presenting a version of him completely different from the businesslike, impeccably dressed man of the daytime—real, lived-in, and personal. This was an image only someone very close, like a family member, could see.
Even though they lived very close, Mr. Gu would still drive him to and from school every day, carry his backpack, and watch his figure disappear around the corner of the school building before driving away. This allowed him to once again experience the feeling of being accompanied, cared for, and waited for.
Even though Mr. Gu’s career grew busier after he dropped out and returned to China, every weekend he would take Su Zesui out—sometimes shopping, sometimes to an arcade to relax, sometimes with no plan at all, simply to spend time with him.
It was as if they had truly become brothers bound by blood, inseparable and close as family. Yet Su Zesui still felt deeply insecure.
The better Mr. Gu treated him, the more anxious and fearful he became—afraid that one day it would all be taken away, and he would be sent back to the lonely, harsh days of his past.
From heaven to hell, he thought, would be far more painful than simply staying in hell all along.
He tried his best to be perfect at home: making breakfast every morning for both himself and Mr. Gu, cleaning the house every couple of days, and never again complaining about going to school—hoping to prove his worth, as if doing so would make him worthy of love.
Even minor physical discomforts, he never mentioned to Mr. Gu, choosing instead to endure them silently.
It wasn’t until one night, when his heart pounded so hard he could barely keep himself upright and collapsed onto the desk in the study, that Gu Yilan’s private doctor discovered he had mild anxiety disorder.
The doctor asked him, “How long have these symptoms been going on?”
Su Zesui whispered a lie, “Just tonight.”
The doctor shook his head with a wry smile. “Little one, you have to tell me the truth. I won’t hurt you.”
Subconsciously, Su Zesui looked at Gu Yilan, fidgeting with his fingers, trying to figure out how to explain that his mild anxiety hadn’t lasted long and that he would do his best to recover quickly.
——Please don’t abandon me.
Before he could speak, Gu Yilan pulled him into a brief, gentle hug, his voice low and tinged with guilt: “I’m sorry… this is my first time taking care of someone. I didn’t take good care of you.”
Su Zesui paused for a moment, then quickly waved his hands. “No, no, it’s all my fault… I… my mind just isn’t strong enough.”
Both of them silently bore the weight of responsibility, until finally the private doctor broke the silence, addressing the boy: “Can you tell me the real reason for your anxiety and how long it’s lasted? That way I can determine whether you need medication or just temporary conservative treatment.”
Not wanting to trouble the two adults in front of him any further, Su Zesui whispered, “Before… my big brother, who had been in treatment for a long time, died of cancer. I was very sad and didn’t want to accept it. Later… I…”
His voice grew softer and quivered with unshed tears, almost inaudible, but Gu Yilan understood the rest.
Later, while Gu Yilan was in a emergency room abroad, unable to reply to the boy’s letters for a long time, the already despairing Su Zesui sank even deeper into hopelessness.
Gu Yilan pressed his thin lips together, feeling a gentle tug at his sleeve.
The boy looked up at him with a pale, troubled face, his beautiful eyes glistening with moisture. Carefully, he said, “Brother, I’ll get better. I’ll… go back to how I used to be.”
Having spent so long in the ruthless, cutthroat world of business, where people would do anything to achieve their goals, Gu Yilan wasn’t very familiar with the sensitive emotions of a teenage boy.
Over the past week, the boy had been cautious with everything he had given him. At the time, he had simply attributed it to Su Zesui’s shy, introverted nature and the fact that they weren’t yet close offline, assuming it would pass with time.
But there was something in Su Zesui’s words now that set off a faint alarm in Gu Yilan.
“Which ‘used to be’?” Gu Yilan asked.
Su Zesui’s cheeks flushed as he glanced at the private doctor, hesitating to speak.
Only after Gu Yilan had the psychologist step outside for a moment did he turn back to the boy and ask, “Can’t you tell my brother about this?”
“N-no…” Su Zesui’s ears burned red. After a long pause, he whispered, “The way… you liked me before.”
When Gu Yilan asked what kind of person he liked before, Su Zesui couldn’t answer.
All he knew was that Mr. Gu had wanted to take him in as a younger brother because of some trait he had back then. So as long as he stayed the same as before, Su Zesui thought, Mr. Gu probably wouldn’t stop liking him so quickly.
Gu Yilan lowered his gaze, thinking for a moment, and said, “Actually, I don’t lack a younger brother.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Su Zesui clenched the edge of his clothes, his breathing growing shallow and faint, as if a reaper’s scythe were hovering above him, ninety percent certain to fall.
But in the next second, his tightly clenched hand was enveloped by the man’s large hand, giving him an inexplicable sense of warmth and strength.
“What I lack… is you,” Gu Yilan said, looking at him.
Su Zesui froze for a moment, then suddenly lifted his head, looking at the man beside him in confusion.
“I’ve sponsored many students before, but not out of kindness. It’s just part of my charitable work. You’re the only one who asked me directly and kept writing me letters over and over again.”
Seeing the thoughtful look on the boy’s face, Gu Yilan ruffled his fluffy hair and couldn’t help but smile. “Stop trying to figure out the reason I like you.”
Caught off guard, Su Zesui fiddled with his fingers and softly murmured, “Oh.”
“It’s not something you ‘did’ or any reason that can be described,” Gu Yilan explained. “It’s the way you are as a whole—unique, entirely yourself—that moved me deeply.”
Su Zesui pointed to himself in disbelief. “Me? Really… me?”
“Yes. You,” Gu Yilan said. “Don’t belittle yourself. When I was at my lowest, reading your letters gave me a feeling that kept me alive. In other words, you’re amazing—you’re my lifesaver. I need you, and I can’t help but want to be close to you.”
The usually reserved Gu Yilan had rarely spoken so much.
He didn’t try to summarize exactly what those “feelings” were, because the boy was alive, vibrant, and unique. His traits couldn’t be captured in a few words, nor could they ever be replicated by someone else with intent.
Su Zesui was too stunned to speak. After a moment, Gu Yilan continued, “Not replying to your letters back then wasn’t because I was annoyed with you or wanted to tease you. It was just that I was in the hospital and couldn’t write.”
In just a few casual sentences, Gu Yilan summarized that life-and-death, edge-of-the-brink period, yet still cleared up the misunderstanding that had left Su Zesui anxious and unsettled for so long.
Tears welled in Su Zesui’s eyes, and for the first time in many days, the knot in his chest finally loosened.
“You’re just like my own younger brother,” Gu Yilan said. “No matter how much you make me angry, no matter whether you’re exceptional or ordinary, I will never deny your place as my brother.”
Su Zesui’s heart raced uncontrollably. “Re-really?”
This permanent, unbreakable promise felt heavier than any wedding vow. A lifelong, unchanging bond that brought a sense of security and peace.
“Really,” Gu Yilan smiled. “Do you want me to write it down in black and white?”
“I—I didn’t mean it like that,” Su Zesui lowered his head, speaking honestly. “I’m just afraid I’m not as good as you think I am.”
“Lazy? Dislike school? Three-minute attention span? Show me your flaws and see if I get angry,” Gu Yilan said with a smile. “Actually, I have a very good temper—I rarely get truly angry. You can try anytime.”
With just a few words, the man reassured him, framing everything with the logic of treating him as his forever younger brother. Su Zesui’s nose tingled with emotion, and the heavy stone in his heart finally dropped.
“Actually, there’s something that’s making me a little angry,” Gu Yilan said suddenly.
“Uh… what is it?” Su Zesui, though still nervous, no longer felt the same panic and unease as before.
“Isn’t there a parent-teacher meeting next week?” Gu Yilan pinched the boy’s soft, pale cheek and raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell your brother?”
Su Zesui hesitated for a moment before explaining, “You’re so busy… I was afraid it would trouble you. No one ever came to my parent-teacher meetings before… it’s okay…”
Gu Yilan didn’t say “it’s not a problem.” Instead, he said, “It’s your brother’s duty. No matter how troublesome, you have to go. Come on, repeat that.”
Su Zesui froze, his lips parting and closing, but not a single sound came out. Yet, under the man’s unwavering gaze, he finally whispered very quietly, “It’s your brother’s duty. No matter how troublesome, you have to go.”
Gu Yilan curved his lips into a small smile. “Good boy.”
. . . . .
On Monday, the parent-teacher meeting arrived as scheduled.
Gu Yilan carried the boy’s backpack over one shoulder, walking a half-step behind Su Zesui, his gaze never leaving the boy’s face, which was full of happiness and anticipation.
On the way to the classroom, several people kept glancing at him—some curious, some confused. Taking advantage of the crowd and Su Zesui’s usual meekness, they didn’t even try to hide it, standing in place and staring openly. From this, one could get a glimpse of the poor treatment Su Zesui often received at school.
But Gu Yilan had remarkable composure. No matter how many people looked at him with ill intent, he could calmly meet their gaze without a flinch. His repressed aura and sharply cold features quickly made the surrounding students nervously avert their eyes.
With some time still before the parent-teacher meeting officially began, Gu Yilan, like any parent concerned about their child, first went to the teachers’ office.
The school was careful to protect the privacy of its donors. Su Zesui’s homeroom teacher didn’t recognize him and was clearly taken aback when he saw him following Su Zesui into the office.
“I’m his brother,” Gu Yilan introduced himself. “I’d like to learn more about how Su Zesui is doing in his studies.”
“Oh… oh! Hello, hello,” the homeroom teacher said, standing up and gesturing for him to sit in the chair in front of the desk.
The man nodded slightly and leaned back in his chair, unconsciously raising an eyebrow—a habitual posture he took when listening to someone respectfully report to him.
It was clear that this man, dressed modestly but with impeccable taste, must have long held a high position; he was either wealthy or highly influential.
As for his true relationship with the orphan Su Zesui, the homeroom teacher didn’t dare to imagine, let alone ask.
To his surprise, the man had genuinely come only to inquire about Su Zesui’s studies—the boy’s attitude, academic performance, and relationships with classmates.
Whenever the teacher mentioned something Su Zesui had done well, the man would curl the corner of his lips and pat the boy on the back. The boy, in turn, would shyly lower his head, his ears flushed.
“Uh, after the parent-teacher meeting, our school is hosting a ‘Thank Your Parents’ event on the playground with experts. If you don’t have time, you don’t have to attend,” the homeroom teacher said, a bit embarrassed.
“That’s fine. I have time,” the man said as he stood.
As the two of them disappeared from the office doorway, the teacher noticed Su Zesui’s rare smile. The boy was bouncing along beside the man, eagerly telling him about funny things that had happened at school, while the man kept his gaze down, listening indulgently.
The subtle atmosphere between them really did seem… just like ordinary brothers.
At the parent-teacher meeting, parents were required to sit in their child’s seat while the students stood outside in the hallway, waiting for the meeting to end.
After showing Gu Yilan where his seat was, Su Zesui headed toward the long line in the corridor.
As expected, as soon as he joined the line, several students immediately asked about the handsome man who had been with him.
Su Zesui curved his eyes into a small smile and said, “That’s my brother.”
Upon hearing this, those around him—neither close nor distant—couldn’t help but gossip:
“Your brother is that handsome? He doesn’t look much like you. Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Is your brother rich? Wow, so impressive! His aura doesn’t even feel like a nouveau riche. Su Zesui, I didn’t realize you’re secretly from a wealthy family! You’ve been hiding it all this time!”
“Eh? By the way, Su Zesui, why haven’t we seen your brother before?”
Su Zesui had never been the focus of so much attention from his classmates. A little flustered, he said, “My brother used to be abroad… he only recently had time to come back.”
The surrounding students let out a long “oh” in unison, then crowded around him, eager to ask more questions.
Inside the classroom, Gu Yilan slowly walked to the seat Su Zesui had pointed to. The moment he sat down, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a middle-aged woman staring at him intently.
Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow.
“Hello, Mr. Gu. What a coincidence,” the woman said politely, extending her hand when he glanced her way.
She had met the young heir of the Gu family—despite his age, the sole successor—at a recent high-level business meeting. Since her own company often needed his family’s assistance for various deals, she had taken care to remember him, thinking it would be useful for future social occasions. To her surprise, he turned out to be the parent of her son’s classmate—a stroke of luck.
Seeing that the man had no intention of making a move, the woman continued her introduction, “We met briefly last month at the Future Summit in City A. You may not remember me, as you just returned to the country. My surname is Jiang, and I’m Zhou Qizhao’s mother.”
Author’s Note: This chapter is all about the older brother being courteous and the younger brother being respectful, making up for some gaps in the main story (and adding a touch of forbidden tension). The next chapter should finally move on to the main story of them falling in love as adults.