---

Moving

---

[11th Dimension: Next week we’re moving. (Address—Blue Domain Mansion, Building A2)]
[11th Dimension: Suisui said he hopes you come.]

At that moment, Su Mingyu was in a meeting at the company. Reading these two messages, he couldn’t help but frown.

It is said that in the internet age, your profile picture gives the first impression—and in the workplace, it can even determine whether a boss takes you seriously or whether your promotion path is smooth.

Every executive sitting across from him had a serious, proper profile picture, clearly showing they were up to the task.

Gu Yilan, on the other hand, held a high position yet used a childish cartoon as his profile picture—a silly little dog barking here and there. Ignoring the cold tone of his messages, Su Mingyu might even suspect that he had acquired an immature younger brother.

And that wasn’t all. Su Mingyu recently noticed that Gu Yilan—who usually disliked taking photos or posting anything—had started updating his Moments. But these weren’t the boring screenshots of noteworthy documents he used to post; they were real, everyday-life posts.

Looking closer… oh, the pictures were all stolen from Su Zesui’s Moments, with only the captions written by Gu Yilan himself.

For example, Su Zesui posted a photo of an ice cream with the caption: “Such a nice day, brother bought me ice cream.” Within five minutes, Gu Yilan would repost the same picture with a caption: “Suisui really likes it.”

It was a perfect call-and-response, like they were showing off their affection from a distance.

Occasionally, he could also see photos that Gu Yilan had taken himself. They were placed after the stolen pictures, and without exception, every single one was of Su Zesui—from front and side profiles to his back.

Thankfully, his little brother was naturally good-looking, with long, thick eyelashes that gave him a mixed-race charm. He looked flawless from every angle; otherwise, Gu Yilan’s photography skills would have ruined him long ago.

The two of them posted on Moments frequently. If it weren’t for monitoring whether Gu Yilan was taking good care of his brother, Su Mingyu would have blocked them long ago.

During this executive meeting, he would need to speak in a few minutes. Su Mingyu quickly tapped away on his phone, sending messages to Gu Yilan:

[Su Mingyu: How can it be so fast? It’s only early December.]
[Su Mingyu: Are the formaldehyde and benzene levels at home within safe limits? Send me a copy of the keys later; I’ll have a professional bring a detector to check.]
[Su Mingyu: Has Su Zesui’s final exam result come out yet? How did he do?]
[Su Mingyu: Where is he???]
[Su Mingyu: ……….]

At this very moment, Gu Yilan was busy with serious work. No matter how much the phone on the table buzzed, he didn’t even glance at it.

He leaned forward slightly as Su Zesui, sitting on the bed, placed a freshly folded handmade hat on his head. Glancing sideways at the mirror, he caught sight of the miniature paper hat shaped roughly like a nurse’s cap and couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his lips.

Su Zesui said happily, “Brother is a nurse today!”

To help the boy gradually return to a normal social life, the psychologist had suggested numerous rehabilitation exercises to address his severe pathological social anxiety. Among them, Su Zesui’s favorite was always the “role-playing games.”

He used to rarely go out and actively avoided interacting with others. Most professions he only knew from books, which made him extremely curious. Plus, Gu Yilan could play any role effortlessly, looking so good at it that it made the experience even more enjoyable.

Gu Yilan then turned to the wooden cabinet, took out a medical kit, and placed it on the bed. “I’ll be the doctor,” he said.

Su Zesui was momentarily stunned, not understanding why he was doing this, but he compromised, “…Okay.”

Gu Yilan took out a pair of medical latex gloves from the kit and gestured toward the boy on the bed. “Good. Turn around and take off your pants.”

Su Zesui: ???

Seeing the boy completely bewildered, a trace of amusement flickered in Gu Yilan’s eyes, though he explained in a perfectly serious tone, “I’m a proctologist, and you’re my patient.”

Su Zesui hadn’t expected this and widened his eyes, cheeks flushing. “B-Brother….”

“Hmm?” Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow, interrupting him mid-address.

Following the rules of their game, Su Zesui quickly corrected himself, pleading, “D-Doctor Gu… can it not be this department?”

Gu Yilan turned on the air conditioner in the room, then put a pair of gloves on his long, slender fingers. He said in an unquestionable tone, “No. This is the only major I studied in college; I don’t know anything else. Turn around, don’t waste time for the next patient.”

The explanation was logical and suited the scenario perfectly—no out-of-character slip-ups—so Su Zesui had no choice but to cover his burning face and bury it in the pillow. Moments later, he felt his pajama bottoms being tugged down, leaving his bottom exposed to a sudden rush of cool air.

Of course, at that precise moment, Juzi, the kitten decided to strut into the master bedroom. The little cat leapt up, wiggling its pink nose, sniffing curiously at his fully exposed backside.

Though Gu Yilan quickly shooed the mischievous Juzi away, Su Zesui’s face flushed even hotter, and he gripped the bedsheet tightly, leaving a series of sharp creases.

“Have you recently noticed any discomfort in this area, like itching, lumps, or pain?” Proctologist Mr. Gu asked, keeping a professional tone while carefully probing.

Su Zesui’s face flushed all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears, turning him into a ripe tomato. He stammered, “A little…”

“Mm. Lift your hips, and don’t move around,” Gu Yilan instructed. “How long have these symptoms been going on?”

Obediently following his directions, Su Zesui felt even more mortified, as if every second lasted an eternity. His muffled voice came from the pillow: “…Since last night.”

Gu Yilan nodded slightly and asked again, “How about your eating habits and daily routine?”

Su Zesui answered honestly, “I like ice cream and chips… and last night… I didn’t sleep until 2 AM.”

“Not very healthy, but not serious. Luckily, you came at the right time and met me,” Dr. Gu said. “Now I’m going to examine the area. Relax and stay in this position. Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable.”

Su Zesui tried to bury his head and ignore it, but when the doctor began the examination, a sharp, undeniable pain forced him to speak up: “Ugh… it hurts!”

Gu Yilan suddenly stopped moving and lightly patted his bottom with the other hand. “Relax. I’m pulling my hand out and applying the medicine now.”

Only then did Su Zesui become aware of the foreign sensation between his legs. He slowly loosened his body, feeling so embarrassed and frustrated that he wished he could move to another planet. Yet, still wary from the earlier pain, he had no choice but to speak: “D-Doctor Gu… be gentler…”

As it turned out, he had worried unnecessarily. Gu Yilan maintained his cool, professional tone, but when applying the medicine, his touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers precise and careful—no different from the way he usually coaxed Su Zesui into bed.

Even so, the overly long time they had spent together on the bed last night left Su Zesui still very uncomfortable. Forgetting his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but whimper softly.

Because that area was so sensitive, he could clearly feel that each whimper made Gu Yilan’s fingers tense slightly, prompting him to slow his movements even further—but the application itself became quicker.

“Hang in there. Almost done,” Gu Yilan said.

To maintain his patient role, Su Zesui didn’t scold him for last night’s antics. He just murmured, “It really hurts.”

“My fault,” Gu Yilan soothed him. “Be good. Almost done.”

A few minutes later, after the medication was applied, Su Zesui, legs sore from being stretched, collapsed onto the bed. He felt as if a thin blanket had been draped over his lower body for modesty and warmth—but his pants were still bunched at his knees, awkwardly noticeable.

He kicked off his pants onto the floor with a few quick movements, huddled under the thin blanket, and retorted, “You actually said, ‘my fault.’ You broke character as a doctor.”

Gu Yilan tossed the soiled latex gloves into the trash and smiled helplessly. “I lost this round. As punishment, I’ll help you pack for free. Now, get some rest.”

Su Zesui mumbled disgruntledly, “It should have been you packing anyway… you were so bad last night…”

Hearing this, Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow but admitted calmly, “No matter what, it’s all my fault. I’ll make it right tonight. Okay?”

Su Zesui buried his flushed face back into the pillow, saying nothing.

They had chosen the moving date themselves—mid-December. The new house was equipped throughout with advanced UV photocatalyst purification systems, capable of quickly removing odors and toxic gases. All environmental indicators were already well within safe limits, making Su Mingyu’s worries about excessive formaldehyde entirely unnecessary.

Coincidentally, the day before moving, the CPhO finals results came out. Su Zesui scored high enough to win the gold medal and earned an A+ recommendation in physics at University A, securing direct admission—soon to become Gu Yilan’s junior.

He placed the medal in his blue backpack, which Gu Yilan carried, planning to hang it alongside the man’s many other awards once they moved into the new home. The rest of the luggage was handled by the butler, who organized a team of tall, strong bodyguards to transport it.

Looking at the towering pile of suitcases, the butler couldn’t help but reminisce about the day Su Zesui first moved into the villa. Back then, he had seven or eight tightly packed suitcases, sat shyly on the bed, and had been handcuffed to the headboard by Young Master Gu—yet he had been overjoyed. At the time, the butler had worried whether the two would ever be together, but just a few months later, their relationship had changed completely. Truly… it was wonderful.

On moving day, Su Mingyu arrived as promised and, at his younger brother’s request, brought a large cake to celebrate.

Inside the heated house, Su Zesui wore a blue short-sleeve pajama shirt, with a chubby orange kitten at his feet, running back and forth, directing the maid where to place all the little items belonging to him and Gu Yilan. He was full of energy and life.

And the scars on his arms—once carefully hidden—were now fully exposed, catching Su Mingyu’s attention in a way he couldn’t look away from.

After placing the ocean-themed preserved flower in the center of the living room, Su Zesui finally noticed his big brother’s gaze at the doorway. Subconsciously, he followed the line of sight and lifted his hand to touch the slightly uneven skin on his arm.

During his middle school years in this universe—and in the high school period of a parallel universe—he had suffered the same brutal school bullying, including being scalded with boiling water, leaving scars on his arms that would never fully fade.

In the parallel universe, it was Gu Yilan who had pulled him out of the mire; in this universe, it had always been his big brother, Su Mingyu, protecting him.

In psychology, there is an interesting phenomenon called the “false memory effect”. It refers to when people repeatedly tell someone fabricated stories about their childhood; over time, the person comes to believe these events really happened, even recalling many details as if they were real.

Before regaining his memories, Su Zesui had always thought the scars on his arms were from a car accident. This was because, during his psychological recovery, Su Mingyu had fabricated the incident as a mere accident to help him move past the trauma of being bullied—letting him believe he had always been a young master living in love and happiness.

The false memory effect can be used to prank or deceive children, but it can also be used to weave beautiful dreams.

Now, Su Zesui’s mind was strong enough to face all cruel truths. He left behind his insecurities, sensitivities, and pain—along with Gu Yilan’s countless folding knives—in their old home.

Their new home was a villa with no surveillance cameras, styled completely differently from Gu Yilan’s parents’ residence—a fresh start for their new life.

Su Zesui lowered his hand from his scars, feeling no trace of negativity, and ran over to Su Mingyu excitedly. “Big Brother, cake!” he exclaimed.

“I brought it, I brought it,” Su Mingyu said, a hint of concern softening his gaze as he patted his younger brother’s head. “Your classmates and your fans sent some gifts too, to thank you for standing up for justice and speaking out for them. I’ll have them delivered in a bit.”

“Happy moving day, Su Zesui,” he added gently.

“Thanks, Big Brother,” Su Zesui said obediently, taking the cake with both hands. After thanking his big brother, he scampered over to Gu Yilan, who was supervising the bodyguards organizing the luggage nearby.

“What’s up?” Gu Yilan asked, pinching his soft, fair cheek.

Su Zesui held out the cake. “Brother, happy birthday.”

Not far away, Su Mingyu nearly dropped his phone: ???

Gu Yilan looked at the cake in his hand and at Su Mingyu’s resentful, “ungrateful dog” expression. He was a little amused, but his face remained serious as he said, “You got it wrong. It’s not my birthday today.”

“Ah?” Su Zesui was stunned. “But on your ID…”

“You sneaked a look at my ID?” Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow. “Too bad it’s wrong—it’s more than a month off. I was born on January 21.”

Since hardly anyone had ever celebrated his birthday growing up, he had never bothered to correct it.

“Then…” Su Zesui suddenly had an idea. He glanced at Su Mingyu behind him. “Big Brother and I will wish you a happy birthday in advance!”

“…I’m leaving first.”

Su Mingyu couldn’t bear to watch his somewhat useless younger brother. Their new home wasn’t far from where he lived, so there would be plenty of time to meet later. With a loud “slam,” he shut the front door and left without looking back.

Su Zesui was left standing there, bewildered, only to have Gu Yilan pinch his cheek again.

“Thanks, Su Zesui,” Gu Yilan said. “Moving day tiring?”

“Not at all,” Su Zesui quickly came back to his senses, shaking his head. “I’m very happy!”

Though he said it cheerfully, after sorting through the massive amount of luggage and giving Gu Yilan a pre-birthday celebration, Su Zesui was still exhausted—his limbs sore, his whole body drained.

Despite being physically exhausted, he didn’t forget to log onto his social account and start a livestream for his fans, who had been pestering him to go online. He gave them a little tour of his new home.

[Grandpa, your favorite streamer is live!!]
[Su Zesui, did you get the scarves and gloves your mommies knitted for you? Stay warm this winter!]
[Where’s Brother? On this big moving day, drag him out for a kiss or two! 💛💛]

As he walked around, Su Zesui said, “Thank you all for the gifts! I’ve opened them and I love them! This is my new home. It’s got a cozy, casual style, and it looks great.”

“Brother is in the bedroom tidying up. Today, I’m going to play a role-playing game with him.”

He went to the master bedroom, sat cross-legged on the big bed, showed the handcuffs in his hands to the livestream audience, and pointed at Gu Yilan, who was organizing two sets of competition books nearby. “Brother’s the cop, I’m the criminal.”

[I’m new here and don’t understand, could I please ask if this is an S&M livestream? 💛💛]
[So brave, Su Zesui! You dare to stream this and I don’t even dare to watch! 🙈🙈]

What was meant to be desensitization training for rehabilitation somehow always got twisted by the boy into all sorts of bizarre angles and loopholes.

What had started as a simple social desensitization exercise somehow spiraled into a restrictive, lock-and-control game—leaving everyone both exasperated and amused.

Gu Yilan looked at the boy’s long-kept handcuffs and smiled helplessly. “Where did you even dig these up from?”

“I’ve always kept them,” Su Zesui said, pointing proudly to the bookshelf not far away. “The handcuff plushie you gave me is here too!”

Gu Yilan arranged the last set of the ,<Road to Gold Medal> books, walked to the side of the bed, and reminded him, “If you role-play a negative character, your livestream could get banned.”

Hearing that, Su Zesui panicked. “Th-then… what should I do?”

“Okay, switch to a role that doesn’t need props,” Gu Yilan said thoughtfully, then added seriously, “I’ll play your husband.”

“You—you’re already my…!” Su Zesui started, but halfway through realized he was being tricked. He abruptly fell silent, unwilling to say another word.

Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow and, unabashed, teased, “Oh? Then why have I never heard you call me that before?”

“I…I…”

Being teased like that by Gu Yilan, Su Zesui’s ears flushed so hot they seemed to steam. To hide his embarrassment from the livestream audience, he subtly adjusted the phone so the camera only captured the ocean-themed bedsheet.

Because of the awkward angle, he gripped the phone unsteadily—and it was easily snatched away by the mischievous Gu Yilan.

Facing the livestream camera, Gu Yilan said calmly, “The following content is not suitable for a livestream. Let’s have the substitute streamer come and take over.”

Su Zesui and the livestream audience: ???

Then Gu Yilan waved to the butler by the door and handed him the phone.

The chubby little orange kitten first sniffed the camera curiously, then started rolling on the floor, licking itself, and washing its face with its tiny paws…

When the phone was first taken, the audience could still faintly hear the boy’s muffled “mm-mmm” along with the soft sound of lips sucking. But after a few seconds, the phone was fixed in place, and a round little kitten was brought fully into the frame.

After a soft ‘click’ of a door closing, everything fell silent, leaving only the dutiful lapping sound of the substitute streamer, Juzi.

The livestream audience went wild with helpless fury. No one even called Gu Yilan “Brother” anymore—they vented their outrage:

[Gu! Yi! Lan! What is there that we, the most loyal fans, can’t see?!?!]

---

Author’s Note:

After more than three months of serialization, the story of President Gu and Su Zesui officially comes to a full conclusion! I truly want to thank everyone for all the support—whether it’s supporting the official release, cheering for the little couple, or supporting me. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to complete this work so quickly and with so much passion. (Bows deeply)

All the “100 Questions,” birthday side stories, and any future extras I feel inspired to write will be included in the bonus extras for everyone~ If you have any questions you want to ask the little couple, feel free to leave them in the comments, and I’ll have Su Zesui and President Gu answer them in the 100 Questions feature.

Finally, I’d really appreciate it if everyone who’s subscribed could give this book a five-star rating for its conclusion—it means the world to me.

Thank you again for all your support! I’ll still be giving out red envelopes in the comment section as usual~ See you in my next story!

---

Taw’s Note:

So, this is the end of our journey with our little socially anxious, Suisui, and our control freak, Mr. Gu. (＾∇＾)ﾉ♪

Thank you for the support, comments, and likes. Don’t forget to support the original author! ♡⸜(ˆᗜˆ˵ )⸝♡

You can check out other equally interesting BL novels at Wanderer Translation here. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

---

---

If (9/9)

---

Gu Yilan in front of him was watching quietly, his warm breath puffing against Su Zesui’s cheek.

Su Zesui, still a bit out of it, absentmindedly raised a hand to touch his slightly swollen lips. Only then did it hit him: “Brother… did you… kiss me?”

Gu Yilan studied the boy’s expression carefully, then reached out to lift his chin, placing another light, delicate kiss on his soft lips. The movement was slow and gentle, giving him plenty of space to pull away if he wanted.

Even in this slightly more sober state, Su Zesui didn’t resist at all. After the kiss, he just looked even more bewildered, repeating in a surprised voice, “Brother… you really kissed me?”

“Mm,” Gu Yilan replied. “Do you remember what I just told you?”

“Brother…” The drunken Su Zesui turned into a chatterbox, ignoring reason entirely. “Why… why did you kiss me?”

Gu Yilan was silent for a moment before answering, “Because I like you.”

But Su Zesui wasn’t satisfied. He pressed further, probing relentlessly, “Why… why do you suddenly like me tonight?”

“It’s not sudden,” Gu Yilan said, lowering his dark eyes, patiently answering the little drunkard’s absurd questions. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

He had hidden his feelings and tested the waters in so many ways, all out of fear that if things went too far, they might not even remain brothers. Sometimes, when his emotions spiraled out of control, he even needed the guidance of a psychologist just to interact normally with the boy.

Tonight… he had acted on impulse.

“So that’s why when I said I liked men, you… you…” Su Zesui’s muddled mind finally started to make sense of things. But remembering Gu Yilan’s words about not getting married still made him angry.

“You lied to me! If you never intended to marry, why did you go on a blind date?” he accused.

“I never went,” Gu Yilan replied calmly.

Su Zesui let out a heavy “hmph,” wriggling out from under the man’s arm. He sat on the edge of the bed, pointed at the book on the nightstand, and demanded, indignantly, “Then why do you have someone else’s resume? And why did you keep their confession bookmark? You’re two-faced, you bad, heartless man…”

Gu Yilan frowned, thinking for a moment. “You mean the ones the butler gave me? Those were sent from the Gu family mansion—they come every quarter. I’ve received them for over two years and never looked at them. As for the bookmark… that was your Dragon Boat Festival gift to me.”

Su Ze was still racking his brain for insults, but hearing what he said, his mind instantly went blank, and he was struck speechless.

The man’s explanation was reasonable and self-contained, and it was likely true. If so… all the little fits he had thrown tonight, which he’d thought were righteous accusations, had suddenly become nothing more than baseless, unreasonable tantrums.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Su Zesui pressed his swollen lips and awkwardly tried to change the subject. “Um… then… Brother, does this mean we’re… dating now?”

His tone wasn’t nearly as defiant as before; it was soft, almost casual, not too different from how he normally spoke.

Gu Yilan thought for a few seconds. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow, after you’ve sobered up.”

Su Zesui pouted in dissatisfaction. “You kissed me, but don’t want to take responsibility.”

“No,” Gu Yilan said without hesitation. “Decisions made while you’re not clear-headed don’t count.”

“I am clear-headed!” Su Zesui pointed to his little head. “Whatever I said, whatever I did—I’ll remember it all perfectly tomorrow!”

The boy’s tone and gestures were exaggerated, yet he spoke with confidence about being very rational—a little comically, like the old proverb about “there’s no 300 taels of silver buried here.”

Gu Yilan chuckled silently, then resigned with a hint of helplessness. “Fine. Consider it so.”

Satisfied, Su Zesui sat on the bed, about to lift the hem of Gu Yilan’s shirt.

Gu Yilan caught his restless hand, his Adam’s apple moving as he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Sorry…” Su Zesui apologized sincerely. “Let’s… do it. No, I mean, I’ll let you do it.”

Gu Yilan: …?

Su Zesui’s thoughts were all over the place. Since he had misunderstood Gu Yilan, he felt he had to make amends. And if Gu Yilan accepted that they were now a couple, then the fair way to make it up was to give him a first “experience.”

This was pretty normal among young couples, he had often heard. As for himself—well, if it hurt a little, he could just grit his teeth and get through the night. After all, one must take responsibility for their own actions and compensate when they caused trouble.

Thinking this through, Su Zesui rambled on, voicing fragments of his reasoning without any concern for whether Gu Yilan understood.

He rolled onto the bed, lay on his stomach, and bit down on Gu Yilan’s pillow, looking as if he were about to face some great trial. With solemn determination, he said, “Come on… I’m ready!”

But the next moment, Gu Yilan lifted him upright again.

“Who did you learn that from?” the man asked helplessly. “I’m also your brother. Do you want to do ‘that’ with me right now?”

Su Zesui didn’t answer either question. Instead, he yawned sleepily, his eyes watering as he mumbled, “If you don’t come now, there won’t be another chance later, you know.”

Gu Yilan exhaled slowly, looking down at the half-asleep figure on the bed. “Be good. Go take a shower first.”

“Oh, right… have to shower first before we can…” Su Zesui wobbled to his feet. But the man’s dark, piercing gaze stopped him mid-sentence, and the thought disappeared.

Even though he was exhausted, weak, and could accept doing “that” kind of thing with his brother, he still felt embarrassed asking the man to help him bathe. He quickly splashed some warm water on himself, then flopped back onto the bed.

He had planned to wait until Gu Yilan finished his shower so they could both be clean for… well, “that” kind of thing. But the man’s shower went on far longer than normal, and Su Zesui’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. In the end, he couldn’t resist and fell asleep first.

. . . . .

The next day, the sun shone brightly.

Waking up, along with a hangover-like headache, were the absurd and chaotic memories of last night—and his own reckless, foolish words.

Su Zesui widened his eyes, staring at his brother, who was just inches away, and instinctively softened his breathing.

The room was still the familiar room, and their relationship remained as close as ever. Yet the atmosphere in the air seemed to have shifted subtly, making his heart race uncontrollably.

The series of embarrassing blunders from last night paled in comparison to the impact of “kissing his brother,” “his brother saying they were a couple,” and “letting his brother do ‘that’ kind of thing to him.” These thoughts struck Su Zesui far more deeply.

“Brother,” Su Zesui tilted his small face up, quietly calling to the man holding him in his arms.

Something felt off.

The position felt wrong, the tone felt wrong, even the atmosphere felt wrong.

Su Zesui parted his lips slightly and whispered, “…Boyfriend?”

Now it felt even worse. Embarrassment flushed his face red.

As if on cue, Gu Yilan opened his dark eyes at that moment, lowering his lashes to look at him calmly. It was unclear what he was thinking—or whether he had even heard those two words.

As they stared at each other, the air between them felt thick and sticky, almost suffocating. Yet Gu Yilan’s composure was legendary; no matter how awkward the atmosphere, he remained unmoved.

Unsurprisingly, it was Su Zesui who spoke first, his voice soft: “Brother… are you hugging me to sleep?”

“Hm,” Gu Yilan finally spoke, his voice calm. “Does your head hurt? How much do you remember from last night?”

Su Zesui instinctively raised a hand to touch his lips, stammering, “I-I remember… all of it. I’m… sorry…”

Gu Yilan’s expression grew serious, but he said nothing. Instead, he furrowed his brows slightly and waited quietly for him to continue.

The large hand resting on the boy’s shoulder tightened just a little unconsciously. It didn’t press down on him, but the knuckles whitened.

“I’m sorry,” Su Zesui continued. “I shouldn’t have scolded you.”

Gu Yilan’s fingers suddenly relaxed. “It’s fine. As a little brother, you shouldn’t scold your brother. But if it were another kind of relationship… then you could scold me freely.”

Hearing this, Su Zesui tilted his head, finally beginning to grasp the subtle difference between the two types of intimacy.

With the leftover courage from last night’s experience, he snuggled closer to Gu Yilan and, with a “snap,” bit down on the man’s trapezius muscle in his neck.

A few seconds later, he released his bite and lowered his gaze to admire his handiwork, tentatively whispering, “Brother… I planted a strawberry for you.”

Sure enough, Gu Yilan didn’t get angry or scold him for being reckless. He merely glanced at the mark and raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Looks more like a tooth mark.”

Su Zesui’s eyes lit up.

——He could feel it! The feeling… it was really different!

After getting out of bed, the difference became even more pronounced.

Gu Yilan still cared for him just like before—making him honey water, helping him open gifts, bringing him a big cake—but in that moment, each ordinary gesture tugged at Su Zesui’s heartstrings, making it impossible to look away, his heartbeat racing.

His mind and eyes were full of his brother. At the same time, he could sense that in Gu Yilan’s world, there was only him.

This feeling of being completely and wholly devoted to each other gave Su Zesui, whose bones were steeped in insecurity, an extraordinary comfort—like being wrapped in a fluffy blanket, warm and safe.

You have to give to receive! No risk, no reward!

After lunch, eager to nurture this new relationship, Su Zesui slipped out the door and returned within half an hour, knocking on Gu Yilan’s bedroom door.

On the bed in this spacious bedroom, there was already a pillow that belonged to him. Mr. Gu had said that from now on, they could sleep here together. So…

“Brother, I’m fully awake now,” Su Zesui said.

Gu Yilan, flipping through a pile of complicated reports at his desk, heard him, set the papers down, and looked at the boy a short distance away. “Hm.”

Su Zesui continued, “Brother… I’m an adult now.”

Gu Yilan responded, calmly, “Hm.”

Su Zesui stepped closer and held out something from his pocket. “Brother… this is for you.”

This time, Gu Yilan could no longer just reply with “hm.”

The small box in the boy’s hands was exquisitely packaged, printed with English text and abstract patterns—blocks of color and lines interwoven. It was clearly an 18+ product.

Gu Yilan felt a dry lump in his throat and took a sip of water before asking, “You bought this yourself?”

Blushing, Su Zesui nodded and pressed the box into Gu Yilan’s hand. “Take it.”

Gu Yilan gave a slight nod, pulled open the desk drawer, and placed the little box inside. “Alright. Go do your homework. I’ll take you out after I finish my work.”

Having spent so long mentally preparing himself to offer this small but significant gift, Su Zesui wasn’t about to let it go so easily. Flustered, he scrambled for an excuse: “W-well… the saleslady said there’s a seven-day no-questions-asked return policy. So… maybe we could… try to see how the quality is?”

Gu Yilan’s gaze darkened. “Today is the first day of your adulthood.”

Su Zesui counted on his fingers and persisted, “I am an adult now.”

The moment he said this, the room fell into a heavy, silent stillness. Even with his head lowered, he could feel the intensity of the man’s gaze pressing down on him.

After a long moment, Gu Yilan reopened the drawer. His fingers traced the sharp edges of the small box, and in a husky voice he asked, “Aren’t you scared?”

Of course, Su Zesui was scared—so scared that his whole body was trembling. Especially when he saw how small the box looked in Gu Yilan’s large hand.

He was very sensitive to pain; as a child, even getting a shot or having blood drawn would make him cry loudly enough to be heard down the whole street. Now, offering himself willingly was purely out of “love.”

But a few minutes after it actually began, Su Zesui realized that it didn’t hurt at all—in fact… it even felt a little pleasant.

The only problem was that the bracelet he had given Gu Yilan kept brushing lightly against his skin. Its twisted silver strands were clearly defined and somewhat cold; compared to the softness of his own skin, the sensation felt jarring. And as Gu Yilan’s fingers moved, it would, at some unpredictable moment, graze him again.

Su Zesui’s thighs trembled slightly.

Unable to bear it, he said, “…Can you use the other hand?”

But Gu Yilan ignored him, continuing as he pleased. Su Zesui shrank back and murmured, “…Just… go straight on. Okay?”

Gu Yilan let out a soft laugh, paused, and opened the small box by the bed. “You’re the eldest in the family, so I’ll listen to you,” he said.

. . . . .

From that first letter sent across the ocean to the present, filled with sweat and tears, they had spent more than four years together, creating countless recordings and handwritten letters. Even now, every single one remained carefully preserved in some corner of their home.

Once, they were strangers separated by a vast ocean. A charitable sponsorship program had brought them together, turning them into pen pals who confided their hearts to each other.

Later, a dreamlike turning point originated from a wish made under a Christmas tree. From that moment on, their relationship developed at a lightning-fast speed— From polite “roommates” to inseparable, brotherly companions, and now, to lovers sharing an intimate moment.

And in the future, they would continue walking forward together.

. . . . .

Su Zesui let all his strength go, melting onto the bed, allowing himself to be handled.

It wasn’t until Gu Yilan bent down to kiss him that he traced the familiar features of his brother’s face and, catching his breath, said, “Brother… the trip… are you still going? It’s really fun.”

In this atmosphere, such words were almost amusing to Gu Yilan. He pressed a restrained kiss to the boy’s soft lips and, without hesitation, said, “Go.”

The man’s answer was so decisive that Su Zesui looked at him in confusion. “But… uh, uh… didn’t you say before that you didn’t have time?”

Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow and said, “Chu Shihui and Tao Jiani’s boyfriends are going. How could your boyfriend not go?”

“You… how…” Su Zesui covered his face with both hands. “You remember so clearly?”

Gu Yilan thought for a moment, then said seriously, “Ever since I started liking you, I remember every other name you’ve mentioned.”

Hearing this, Su Zesui couldn’t help but start calculating the timeline in his head. But the days were a little too far back, and his thoughts kept getting interrupted, so after a few minutes, he gave up.

Sweat mixed with their entwined bodies, and Su Zesui’s sense of time seemed to stretch endlessly under the man’s presence.

He didn’t know how long had passed. Eventually, he lay on his side, utterly exhausted, feeling his body so weak that he could hardly sense his bones. His skin was marked with faint spots, his throat hoarse, and all he could manage were a few muffled sounds from deep in his chest.

After drinking the honey water Gu Yilan gave him, he regained his voice like a mermaid returning to form, stubbornly chattering away again.

Looking at the clear scratch marks on Gu Yilan’s back, Su Zesui asked, “Right now… are you my brother, or my boyfriend?”

He asked because when he had been sick before, Gu Yilan had also often given him honey water. The two scenes were so similar that he felt dazed and couldn’t quite distinguish between them.

Gu Yilan placed the cup on the table, turned around, and checked Su Zesui’s forehead. “Both,” he said.

“‘Both’… what does that feel like?” Curious little Su Zesui, feeling a bit more energetic, asked. “Isn’t it supposed to switch? Sometimes being a boyfriend, sometimes being a brother.”

Gu Yilan lay in front of him, reaching out to pull him closer into his arms. “No. You can throw away the ruler at home. If you misbehave like last night, I won’t use the ruler to teach you anymore. Instead, I will…”

Su Zesui held his breath nervously. Just as he was about to ask, “Instead, you’ll what?” he felt a light tap on his hip.

The man’s touch was so gentle it didn’t hurt at all, but Su Zesui, who understood immediately, blushed from his neck to the tips of his ears and buried his face, muttering, “N-no…”

This example was too vivid—the way a single person could be both brother and boyfriend suddenly became clear in his mind.

Relaxing his stubbornness, Su Zesui shifted his body and nestled into a comfortable position in Gu Yilan’s arms. Naturally, the man raised his arm, lightly holding Su Zesui’s back, giving him an added sense of security.

In the afternoon, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting fleeting patches of warmth over the two on the bed, creating a quiet, peaceful summer atmosphere with a lingering sense of timelessness.

Before settling down for an afternoon nap to recharge, Su Zesui snuggled close to Gu Yilan’s ear and, as if sharing a world-shattering secret, whispered very softly, “Actually… I don’t like men. But I like my brother.”

Gu Yilan lowered his gaze to him, a slow smile curling on his lips. “And your brother only has you.”

-End of “if” storyline-

---

---

If (8/9)

---

Inside the blues bar.

Neon lights flickered across the enclosed space, casting mottled shadows that danced to the rhythm of the bartender’s shaking cocktail bottles, pushing the background music to its peak.

The air was thick with tobacco and alcohol. Groups of people gathered in twos and threes, laughter ringing out, glasses clinking together in a constant chorus. For someone who had never stepped foot in a bar before, Su Zesui was utterly stunned by the scene.

He wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with, and as the guest of honor at this party, he was the target. After losing round after round of drinking games, he was getting a little out of it.

“Come on, let’s play Truth or Dare.”

Noticing the flush in the young man’s cheeks, Shi Fangbin blocked another drink from reaching him and instead placed a deck of game cards in front of him. “Draw three cards, and you can skip a drink.”

“O-okay.”

Su Zesui’s head was spinning, but he still knew well enough that if he chose “dare,” he’d probably end up embarrassing himself in front of the whole bar.

So without hesitation, he picked three “truth” cards—

[What’s your favorite kind of… sex?]

Su Zesui: ?
Wait—did it mean what he thought it meant?

“I–I…” Su Zesui suddenly felt a little guilty. He glanced around and said, “I’m still underage.”

Everyone burst into teasing, saying that after tonight they’d send him some videos so he could properly experience the decadent pleasures of adulthood.

It was supposed to be nothing more than a joke, yet for some reason, Su Zesui felt even more uneasy, as if he’d done something wrong. In his mind, the stern face of his brother popped up unbidden, making him shiver.

Amid this restless unease, he flipped to the next “truth” card—

[What kind of person do you find yourself most strongly attracted to?]

His alcohol-fogged brain was sluggish. Even after he finished reading the question aloud, the lingering thoughts and emotions from the previous round still hadn’t faded.

That was why, after rolling Gu Yilan’s image around in his mind several times, he suddenly snapped awake—realizing at last what the question was really asking.

Su Zesui gave a small shake of his head, trying to toss Gu Yilan’s face out of his mind.

“Uh… taller than me, a cold personality. Someone who’s firm, decisive… and strong-willed inside.” Su Zesui forced himself to discard his wandering thoughts and rattled off the opposite traits of his own personality, just to get through the question.

As soon as he finished, his classmates began nudging Shi Fangbin with their shoulders, eyes glinting with gossip.

But Su Zesui didn’t notice the subtle undercurrents in the room. What he did notice was that, after circling around with his answer, the person he had described still seemed to be Gu Yilan—a man of few words, cold and decisive, with an inner steadiness that made him utterly reliable.

——No, no, he’d had too much to drink. He couldn’t keep sinking into this question.

So he flipped to the final “truth” card—

[What was the last thing that left you feeling unwilling to accept it?]

——Unwilling to accept…

The previous two questions had pressed down on him so heavily that he felt like a dumpling trapped in a steaming basket—swelling and swelling, with no release. At last, this final question gave his emotions an outlet.

Flushed with alcohol, Su Zesui staggered to his feet, shaking his head and declaring with conviction: “Unwilling… I’m not willing to accept it… I refuse…!”

At first, everyone around him was startled, thinking he couldn’t handle the game and was about to storm off in anger. But then they saw the boy, with his strikingly delicate face and soft, obedient voice, spilling out such raw, self-destructive words. Their surprise quickly turned into intrigue.

“Don’t rush, don’t rush. Sit down and tell us slowly,” one classmate urged.

Su Zesui sank back into his seat, but he still couldn’t let it go. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them: “Fine, maybe they do come from better families than me… maybe they’re a better match…”

“Better than your family?”

His classmates were stunned. They all had some idea of his background—his family was definitely among the city’s most prominent. Even if they didn’t watch the financial news, the luxury car his brother drove to pick him up every day was proof enough.

Su Zesui rubbed his flushed cheeks, but he still couldn’t sober up. He went on: “They’re also more capable than me… all graduates from top international universities. Not like me—who went to some no-name school. Even if you searched the admissions guide for three whole days, you’d never find it…”

His fellow “no-name university” classmates: …

“But!” Su Zesui smacked the table, his voice thick with grievance. “At least—at least… I look okay, don’t I?”

As he said this, his eyes shimmered with a watery glaze, like a dazed little rabbit lost in the haze of alcohol. His straight nose twitched slightly, his soft lips opening and closing as he mumbled incoherently—so pitiful it made hearts melt into water.

The classmates sitting nearby hurried to nod in agreement. “More than okay,” they chimed.

Su Zesui raised the glass by his hand, ignoring his increasingly muddled head, and took sip after sip. In a slurred, unbroken murmur, he added: “And besides… we’ve been together for years. Our bond… it runs deep.”

The classmates immediately caught the scent of gossip, their eyes lighting up. “How so? Tell us!” someone pressed eagerly.

But Su Zesui was lost in his own world, swaying as he continued to spill secrets: “…If only I were a girl, it would be so much better.”

The classmates around him—and even Shi Fangbin—nearly dropped their glasses.

What?!

Though Su Zesui was gentle and easy to get along with, he usually spoke very little. Coupled with his strikingly beautiful face, he had long been regarded as the untouchable “flower on the high peak.”

No one expected that after a few drinks, his whole personality would flip upside down. Even more shocking—this untouchable flower, secretly admired by so many, had actually fallen hopelessly for another straight guy.

Su Zesui parted his soft lips, about to let slip something else, when a sudden ringtone cut him off.

Blinking in a daze, he looked around at the others before remembering—the sound was coming from his own pocket. He fished out his phone, and sure enough, it was his brother calling.

Drunk courage. Clouded by alcohol and pent-up emotions, he did something he’d never dare to do while sober—he hung up on Gu Yilan.

And, just to be sure, he switched his phone straight into airplane mode. This time, even if the King of Heaven himself tried to call, the line would stay dead.

But after finishing that whole series of reckless moves, when he finally put down his phone, the urge to keep spilling his heart out was gone. All he could do was lift his glass and mutter, “Let’s drink.”

“It’s already past eleven,” Shi Fangbin said. “I asked a delivery guy to bring your birthday cake. You’re drunk—drink less.”

“I am not,” Su Zesui insisted, forcing himself to drain the glass in front of him.

His stomach felt bloated, his throat a little sour. The sight of the cream-covered cake made him nauseous, so he pushed it toward his classmates and kept sipping his drink alone.

“Suisui, make a wish,” someone coaxed.

“I… I don’t want to,” Su Zesui muttered, his emotional intelligence clearly out the window.

But the way his cheeks were flushed and his lips pouted around that soft little “no” was inexplicably endearing. Far from putting anyone off, it only made them want to tease him more.

“Doesn’t your brother keep you on a tight leash? How’d he let you come to a bar? Did he finally give you permission to drink?”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Su Zesui grumbled.

“This cake was specially bought for you by Shi Fangbin. I heard he went to several cake shops just to find a style you might like. No matter how beautiful a ‘white moonlight’ is, they’re not as real as the person right in front of you, hahaha…”

Shi Fangbin gave a gentle smile. “It’s fine. I’ll wait for you forever, Suisui.”

“Ohhh, look at those eyes of yours—like a lovesick puppy! Suisui, you should just say yes already!”

The teasing around him went in one ear and out the other. Su Zesui was still stuck on the previous thought—just imagining that Gu Yilan might already be at a hotel with his fiancee made his chest tighten with anger. The more he thought about it, the more worked up he became, until he suddenly shot to his feet and slammed the table.

“I’m the eldest in this family! My brother doesn’t let me drink, but I’ll drink if I want to!”

With that, he tipped back his head and emptied the glass in one go. He reached for another bottle sitting a little farther away—but failed to notice how the whole table had fallen silent, his classmates exchanging awkward looks as if they’d just witnessed something they really shouldn’t.

“I’ll drink, I’ll drink, I’ll—”

Before his repetition could finish, a strong hand seized his wrist just as his fingers brushed the cool glass of the bottle.

“You—!” The little firecracker bristled, his face scrunching in protest as he spun around, ready to unleash a harmless complaint on anyone who dared lay a hand on him.

But the next second, all his bluster deflated like a punctured balloon.

Gu Yilan was standing there, his face like ice, one brow arched as he asked in a voice as cold as frost: “Eldest in the family?”

Su Zesui’s courage shrank instantly. Still, outwardly he stubbornly turned his head away, leaving Gu Yilan nothing but the defiant angle of his cheek and the back of his head.

Gu Yilan gave a slight tug and lifted him down from the barstool, his tone brooking no argument: “Let’s go. We’re going home.”

Having long held a position of authority, and with his face darkened at this moment, Gu Yilan’s presence grew even more oppressive, sending chills down one’s spine. No one dared say a word against him.

A classmate quickly tried to smooth things over with a laugh. “Alright, we’ve played enough for tonight. Suisui, just go home with your brother. We’ll meet up again next time.”

With his friends all siding with Gu Yilan, Su Zesui had no choice but to reluctantly follow him out of the bar and into the driver uncle’s car.

He could feel that Gu Yilan was suppressing his anger, but he himself wasn’t in a good mood either. As a result, the atmosphere in the car was icy cold, neither of them saying a word to break the silence.

It wasn’t until they had sat there for a while that Su Zesui, slow on the uptake, finally realized:

——Why on earth was he sulking while leaning against Gu Yilan’s chest?!

——No, no way.

Bracing his arms, Su Zesui tried to push himself upright, but suddenly a burning hot hand gripped the back of his neck, pressing him firmly back into Gu Yilan’s embrace, leaving him unable to move.

Then, at a breath’s distance, came the man’s low, shadowed voice: “Su Zesui, you’re being a little disobedient.”

Gu Yilan’s warm breath brushed against his ear.

Su Zesui’s ears immediately heated up, and his body dared not move. All the way home, he obediently stayed nestled in Gu Yilan’s embrace.

At the doorstep, Gu Yilan supported his limp, weak body and frowned. “How much did you drink?”

“A lot,” Su Zesui admitted.

“Mm. Impressive,” Gu Yilan said flatly, his “praise” completely expressionless.

Su Zesui pouted, refusing to be outdone. “What about you? How much did you drink tonight?”

Gu Yilan paused, slightly taken aback. “I didn’t drink.”

“I don’t believe you,” Su Zesui shot back. “Who goes out in the middle of the night for a blind date and doesn’t drink…?”

One hand still supporting his soft, pliant body, Gu Yilan used the other to enter the code for the front door. “Who told you I was on a blind date?” he asked.

Su Zesui was about to reply when the man pushed open the villa door. His eyes immediately fell on the birthday surprise that had been so carefully arranged: ribbons, balloons, and fresh flowers—everything one could imagine.

In the living room, the gift boxes were even piled into a small mountain, each tied with a beautiful bow. It was obvious that they had all been prepared by a certain someone.

In that moment, Su Zesui sobered up a little, realizing he had misunderstood Gu Yilan. But to immediately kneel and admit his mistake now would be far too embarrassing.

So he pressed a hand to his forehead and said, “I…I feel a little dizzy.”

Gu Yilan looked at the boy, whose acting skills were limited, and said with a hint of helplessness, “Dizzy from the alcohol or from the car?”

Su Zesui pouted.

“Brother, I want some water.”

“Finally admitting I’m your brother?” Gu Yilan placed him on the sofa, then turned to get him some warm water, his voice cool. “We’ll settle this tomorrow when your hangover wears off.”

Tears clouding his eyes, Su Zesui mumbled, “…Tomorrow is my birthday.”

After giving the boy some water, Gu Yilan glanced at his phone. “A few minutes until midnight. Go take a quick warm shower first.”

Su Zesui had no strength to resist. He was lifted into Gu Yilan’s room and collapsed onto the bed like a heap of boneless clay.

Listening to the water running in the bathroom, Su Zesui felt a little thirsty and pressed his soft lips together.

But since Gu Yilan had gone to adjust the water temperature, no one was there to hand him the water. He could only twist on the bed and reach out to grab an unopened bottle of mineral water from the bedside table.

As expected, the unsteady Su Zesui, in his attempts to reach the water, ended up touching everything on the bedside table—except the bottle—and accidentally knocked a book to the floor.

He sat up and bent down to pick it up. But as soon as he grabbed the book, a bookmark slipped out and skittered under the bed.

Dizzy and frustrated, Su Zesui slammed the book back onto the table, stomped barefoot on the floor, and finally managed to retrieve the bookmark.

Glancing at it, he froze. It was a rather suggestive bookmark, in a soft pink color, with a non-mainstream message printed on it:
“You will always be the one my heart longs for, I will love you for a lifetime ❤️”

It was completely unlike anything Gu Yilan would buy for himself.

There was only one possibility—this bookmark had been given to him by someone else, and the man clearly liked it.

Su Zesui’s body went rigid on the spot. The negative emotions he had just pushed away surged back like a tide, even stronger than before, threatening to drown him.

He realized now that tonight, Gu Yilan hadn’t gone on a blind date. He had merely postponed the “death sentence,” not completely resolved the issue.

Until now, Su Zesui had been angry at an imaginary rival.

But now, holding a tangible bookmark in his hand, the once-imagined, untouchable “fiancee” suddenly became real in his life—and he had no choice but to face a single truth—

In this world, there was a woman he had never met—graceful, from an illustrious family—who, in the not-so-distant future, would inherit all the love and care his brother currently gave him.

Footsteps echoed from the bathroom. Su Zesui, unable to collect his emotions in time, hurriedly slid the bookmark back into the book and flopped face-down on the bed, completely limp.

After a moment, Gu Yilan came over and gently patted his shoulder. “All right, let’s go take a shower.”

Su Zesui was in a terrible mood. He stayed silent for a few seconds before muttering gloomily, “I don’t want to shower.”

Gu Yilan caught the unease in the boy’s voice but still said, “You reek of the bar. How are you going to celebrate your birthday later if you don’t wash?”

Su Zesui pouted stubbornly. “Then I won’t celebrate it.”

“What’s the matter?” Gu Yilan frowned. “Sit up and tell your brother.”

“No!” Su Zesui kicked out with his little legs, throwing a tantrum. “I don’t want you to be my brother anymore.”

The little drunkard has a small body but a big temper. In the blink of an eye, he was sulking again, his voice carrying a faint, almost imperceptible whimper—Gu Yilan had no idea what happened in between.

Gu Yilan sat on the edge of the bed, thinking for a moment before saying, “Are you upset because I went on a blind date and forgot your birthday? I didn’t—I’ve always remembered.”

Although forgetting his birthday would normally be upsetting, for some reason, in this context, the word “blind date” stung even more sharply in Su Zesui’s ears, making his heart feel like it was being ripped apart again and again.

After a long pause, seeing that Gu Yilan still had no intention of leaving, Su Zesui finally forced himself to sit up. “Go away.”

Gu Yilan looked at him calmly. “This is my room.”

Su Zesui, flustered and running out of words, stammered, “Th-then you…” His eyes darted around before finally landing on the silver handmade bracelet on Gu Yilan’s wrist.

Sniffling slightly, he continued, “After you get married, you won’t be able to wear the bracelet I gave you. When that time comes, just take it off and throw it away—don’t even tell me.”

Gu Yilan: ?

He could clearly tell that Su Zesui was imitating what he had said that day—but the deeper reason behind it remained a mystery.

Before he could think it through, Su Zesui blurted out, “Brother doesn’t like me anymore—he’s going to marry someone else. I don’t have anyone I like yet, so I’ll just try with Shi Fangbin first!”

Having deliberately provoked him with those words, Su Zesui kicked off his shoes and tried to run outside.

But as a completely helpless drunk, how could he possibly slip past the towering Gu Yilan?

He hadn’t even reached the door when the man snapped the bedroom door shut with a loud “click,” blocking his escape.

Gu Yilan lowered his gaze to him. “You said you don’t like men.”

There was a calm in the man’s tone, like the quiet before a storm. Su Zesui’s back pressed against the door, his body trembling, but he stubbornly lifted his chin and retorted, “Wh-what’s it to you? I didn’t like them before—I can like them now if I want. And anyway, you’re going to…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before a shadow fell over him, cutting off the light behind. Then, before he could even protest, his parting lips were captured in a kiss, silencing him completely.

Su Zesui’s eyes shot wide open, his pupils shrinking. His already muddled mind went completely blank with a “buzz,” while his heart pounded uncontrollably.

Gu Yilan’s usually inscrutable black eyes were lowered quietly. One hand pressed against Su Zesui’s chin, his fingertips brushing gently but firmly, carrying an undercurrent of intensity. His tongue traced carefully along Su Zesui’s lips, palate, and tongue…

The heat from the man’s lips and teeth was intense, almost burning. To prevent him from moving, the other hand had already pressed firmly against his waist.

Su Zesui flinched in his lower abdomen, sensing that something was off.

Wrong—everything felt wrong.

But as oxygen drained from his brain, the little rationality he had left vanished. All he knew was that it felt… surprisingly good. He didn’t struggle, even clumsily moving his tongue in response.

Just a few minutes ago, they had been brothers who trusted each other completely.

Now, however, the entire bedroom was thick with a lingering, intimate tension—dominated by Gu Yilan’s forceful lead, while he could only comply. The kiss was tangled with closeness, confusion, and the haze of alcohol, leaving him trapped in its intensity.

The hand gripping his waist was firm, as if trying to fuse him into Gu Yilan’s very being, making it harder to breathe, leaving him entirely at the other’s mercy.

Between gasps for air, Gu Yilan brushed away the tears at the corners of his reddened eyes and soothed him gently. “Suisui… I’m not getting married.”

“Happy birthday.”

---

---

If (7/9)

---

“Count you… count you as my brother,” Su Zesui said in confusion. “That is… family members.”

What he meant was that in the travel group, it wasn’t only his classmates—some were also bringing other friends—so it shouldn’t matter at all if Gu Yilan went. But whether the man had misunderstood him or was just looking for an excuse to refuse, Su Zesui couldn’t quite tell.

“Brother!” Seeing that Gu Yilan was about to turn back inside again, Su Zesui quickly called after him, pleading, “Then I won’t go with them. Let’s just go by ourselves. Where would you like to go?”

“There’s no need,” Gu Yilan sighed softly. “It’s better for you to spend more time with your classmates. As for a trip with just the two of us—there will be plenty of opportunities in the future.”

Hearing the gentler tone, Su Zesui grew bolder. Puffing out his pale cheeks, he protested, “That’s not the same!”

When Gu Yilan remained silent, Su Zesui simply darted into his room, threw his arms wide, and flopped onto the man’s large bed, refusing to leave.

He was already in his loungewear, clean and neat as usual, and the bed was big enough for two. Unable to resist, he rolled around just like he used to when he was little, stubbornly repeating, “No.”

Gu Yilan: …

After closing the door, Gu Yilan walked to the bed and looked down at him. “You’ve been out all day. Aren’t you tired?”

“Tired,” Su Zesui admitted, rolling over to face the ceiling. “And then you rejected me, so now I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. Wuu…”

“At the end of August I’ll be quite busy—I might not be able to make time.” Gu Yilan picked up the phone from the table, pulled up the packed schedule his assistant had sent him, and handed it to the boy.

Lying on the bed, Su Zesui held the phone in both hands, staring at the dense schedule until his head started to spin. With a groan, he lifted his arms and tossed the phone onto the soft bed, muttering, “Then I can adjust my volunteer schedule so I can go with you.”

“Why do you insist on going with me?” Gu Yilan asked.

Su Zesui was a bit dazed by the question and said, “Don’t we spend every winter and summer vacation together? I’m not used to it without you.”

“Suisui, your eighteenth birthday is at the end of this month, isn’t it?” Gu Yilan suddenly asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.

Su Zesui nodded, but stubbornly dragged it back. “Then when the time comes, I’ll make a birthday wish—to spend the summer traveling with you.”

But Gu Yilan ignored that, and instead shifted the topic. “You’re an adult now. There are a lot of things you can do—like… start dating.”

Su Zesui froze for a moment.

——So that’s why Mr. Gu no longer restricted his contact with Shi Fangbin? Because… he was about to grow up?

The subject was so striking that it successfully pulled his thoughts away. Stubbornly, he insisted, “But I don’t like anyone else.”

“What about your classmates in the group?” Gu Yilan asked. “Any of them single?”

Su Zesui had spent the whole day worrying about why Mr. Gu’s attitude toward him had changed, so he hadn’t paid much attention to his teammates’ chatter. “I don’t know… maybe? I’m not really close with them.”

He didn’t notice how, in saying this, he had instinctively excluded the boys in the group; nor did he notice the faintly repressed look that flickered in Gu Yilan’s eyes after hearing his answer.

Leaning down, Gu Yilan casually picked up the phone that the boy had tossed aside earlier and asked, as if offhandedly, “And the boys in your group—they’re all straight, right?”

“Ah? I—I don’t know.” Su Zesui sat up, flustered for no clear reason. “I… I don’t like them, so I never asked.”

Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow and was just about to say something when his eyes caught an unread message on his phone.

It was a diagnostic summary from his psychologist earlier that day. The message warned him that excessive control could hurt both himself and others, and that if he kept pushing, it could lead to irreparable damage—like breaking the fragile balance between them and ending up not even as friends. It also included a few suggestions for psychological recovery.

Looking at the pure and clueless boy lying on his bed, Gu Yilan pressed his thin lips together and chose to remain silent.

When he didn’t reply, Su Zesui went on flatteringly, “They’re all just average. None of them are like you. They wouldn’t book hotels for me, carry my luggage, buy me breakfast, or act as my personal tour guide.”

But Gu Yilan didn’t respond to the compliment. Instead, he said coolly, “We can go together during winter break. That’s enough. Now go back and rest.”

Su Zesui was still caught up in the conversation, not ready to return to his cold, empty room just yet. He pouted and protested, “I don’t want to go. I’m so tired I can’t even walk. Let me sleep here tonight.”

A vein in Gu Yilan’s temple twitched. “What, are you going to cling to your brother like this even after you get married?”

That shut Su Zesui right up. He opened his mouth but couldn’t come up with a reply.

To him, marriage was some distant, unreachable concept—just like the idea of being separated from his brother. If it ever happened, it would be a long, long time from now. Too far off to imagine, and completely beyond his control.

Su Zesui muttered, “We’ll deal with that when the time comes…”

Gu Yilan lowered his dark eyes to look at him and said seriously, “When you get married in the future, you’ll move out and live with her. You won’t be able to live with me anymore, let alone lie in my bed, act spoiled, or go traveling alone with me.”

Su Zesui froze for a few seconds, then fiddled with his fingers and muttered, “Then I just won’t get married… That should work, right?”

“Don’t make decisions for your future self so early,” Gu Yilan replied, effectively dismissing him. “Go back and rest. I still have things to do. I’ll have my assistant see if my schedule can be adjusted later. For now, let’s leave it at that.”

Since he had already said so much, Su Zesui couldn’t bring himself to keep stubbornly clinging on. With a quiet “Goodnight, brother,” he left, looking dejected.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Mr. Gu had been strange tonight, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

From that night on, over the next two weeks, Su Zesui often saw that “other brother” visiting as a guest. He would bring along a thin booklet and chat with Mr. Gu. Judging by the length of their conversations, they often lasted even longer than the time Su Zesui had recently spent alone with Mr. Gu.

Su Zesui was deeply curious about what the two of them were discussing, but every time he passed by, the unfamiliar “brother” would immediately fall silent, as if deliberately avoiding him.

——Brother has his own secrets now…

The thought made Su Zesui feel quietly miserable.

However, he wasn’t the type to give up easily, especially when it came to matters concerning Mr. Gu. So, for a while, he pretended to be thirsty and needed water, and then he went to the door to grab a package, running up and down, persistently trying to eavesdrop.

“Hey, that bracelet of yours looks nice. I’ve noticed you always wear it. Where did you buy it? Send me the link, I want to pick one out too.”

After hearing it enough times, the unfamiliar “brother” stopped pretending to be mute every time and instead made small talk with Mr. Gu—random, trivial chatter just to fill the awkward silences.

This time, though, the idle chatter really caught Su Zesui’s attention. As the “creator” of that bracelet, he couldn’t help puffing out his chest with pride.

Clutching his iced water as he ran upstairs, he strained his ears, eager to hear how his brother would respond.

But to his disappointment, Gu Yilan stayed silent, lost in thought.

At the turn of the staircase on the second floor, Su Zesui grabbed the handrail and glanced back from the blind spot, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gu Yilan secretly smiling while thinking of how to reply.

But before he could see clearly, he bumped straight into someone else.

With a startled “Oh dear!” from the butler, the stack of documents he was carrying toppled. The top sheets of A4 paper fluttered through the air, while the thick pile underneath scattered messily across the floor.

“Ah sorry, sorry…” Su Zesui quickly turned around and bent down to help the butler pick up the papers scattered across the floor.

Thankfully, from the living room’s angle, it was hard to see the mess, otherwise he would have been thoroughly embarrassed again.

——But… had Mr. Gu spoken just now or not? How would he introduce the bracelet that he had spent hours making? No—why hadn’t he answered right away? What was he hesitating over?

Before Su Zesui could sort out the jumble of thoughts in his head, one of the documents in his hand caught all of his attention.

It was a set of files resembling resumes, but instead of work experience, they focused on personal details—appearance, temperament, family background. More like… matchmaking profiles.

By the time the butler, with his beer belly, finished picking up the scattered papers. Just as he straightened his old back, panting, he saw Su Zesui staring intently at a stack of documents.

Leaning over for a glance, the butler nodded knowingly. “Oh, those are the candidates for Young Master Gu’s fiancee. The Gu family picked them out—well-matched families, all very fine young women.”

At those words, Su Zesui felt his mind go blank with a sudden buzzing sound. His fingers tightened unconsciously, lips parting as he struggled to find his voice. After a long moment, he finally managed a whisper: “Brother… he’s getting married?”

The butler gave him a suspicious glance, took the documents, and said, “Of course. Young Master Gu is of legal marriage age this year. Even if he doesn’t plan to marry right now, he’ll certainly settle down with a good family eventually. Besides, he’s the only son of the Gu family—he also carries the responsibility of continuing the family line.”

Su Zesui clenched his fists and nodded.

Although he hadn’t been standing long, his legs felt numb. He pressed his lips together and shuffled back toward his room, moving slowly as if every limb were heavy. From the corner of his eye, he saw the butler following with the documents, looking concerned. “Did you hurt yourself when you bumped into someone just now?”

Su Zesui paused at his door and shook his head, feeling a little wronged.

His mind was full of what Mr. Gu had told him before—that when he got married, he would move out to live with his wife. At that time, Su Zesui couldn’t cling to him, act spoiled, or go traveling with him.

——But if the one getting married was Mr. Gu, wouldn’t it be the same? Mr. Gu would live alone with his wife, and they would go their separate ways…

——So, even back then, Mr. Gu had been implying something.

Su Zesui’s eyes reddened slightly as he murmured to himself, “No wonder he never wanted to show off the bracelet I made…”

The butler standing nearby looked worried. Hearing this, he quickly reassured him, “That’s not true, Young Master Su. Between you and me, I often see Young Master Gu quietly admiring the bracelet you gave him in his study. He definitely likes it—he’s just too shy to say it out loud.”

Su Zesui pouted and turned to the butler. “So… the reason he doesn’t want to go out and play with me is because he’s going to be spending time with his fiancee soon?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” the butler said, flustered. “You’re Young Master Gu’s younger brother. How could that be the same as his relationship with a fiancee? Even if Young Master Gu gets married, he’ll still make time for you.”

Su Zesui lowered his gaze. “…It won’t be the same.”

“Why wouldn’t it be the same?” the butler tried to comfort him. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Young Master Gu isn’t getting married anytime soon—he hasn’t even gone on any matchmaking meetings yet.”

“Really?” Su Zesui looked up. “Then when will he go on a matchmaking meeting? When will he get married? After he gets married, will he move out?”

“Well… um…” The butler felt embarrassed. “I’m not really sure about that. My job is just to handle the documents. How things actually unfold… that’s up to Young Master Gu himself.”

A bad feeling gnawed at Su Zesui. Somehow, he couldn’t shake the sense that all of Mr. Gu’s unusual behavior these past few days was laying the groundwork for the upcoming marriage.

. . . . .

Ever since discovering the “matchmaking candidate profiles,” Su Zesui often found himself secretly tracking Gu Yilan’s movements.

If Mr. Gu had dinner engagements, he would try to find ways to keep him home. If Mr. Gu had no plans over the weekend, Su Zesui would occupy all his free time with university assignments…

He knew these behaviors were childish, clingy, and utterly absurd—but he couldn’t help himself.

The thought that all of Mr. Gu’s future care and attention might be given to someone else made him unbearably sad. He would thrash helplessly on his bed, struggling with his frustration, before reluctantly returning to the reality of the world.

Despite all this, Gu Yilan still showed him the greatest patience and never acted impatient. But after a while, Su Ze himself started to feel embarrassed. He would occasionally let Mr. Gu go out for dinner, then spend the entire evening agonizing over it by himself.

It wasn’t until he saw Gu Yilan return home without any triumphant smile—no “matchmaking success” glow—that he could finally relax again.

. . . . .

On the evening of June 26, just before his birthday, Gu Yilan insisted on going out, and no amount of whining or pleading could change his mind.

Su Zesui guessed that Mr. Gu had probably forgotten his birthday entirely. Feeling a little hurt, he murmured, “So many people need you every day…”

Gu Yilan, sensing the boy’s deep lack of security over the past days, gently patted his fluffy head and said, “I’ve got something to take care of. Go rest early tonight—don’t wait up for me.”

Su Zesui fidgeted with his fingers together, still unable to bring himself to say, “Brother, did you forget something?”

His sixth sense told him that no matter what he did tonight, from this moment on, Mr. Gu would no longer belong to him alone.

It was something that would have happened eventually, but Su Zesui hadn’t expected it to come so fast—so fast that he hadn’t prepared at all.

He pursed his lips, trying to hide the sadness on his face.

Gu Yilan hesitated for a moment, then gently hugged the downcast boy.

In recent days, he had deliberately tried to cultivate independence between himself and Su Zesui, but at this special time—on the boy’s birthday—he allowed himself to set aside all the tangled, unavoidable matters for a while.

Suddenly feeling the dampness on his chest, Gu Yilan froze for a moment and brushed away the tears at the corner of Su Zesui’s eyes. “Why are you crying?” he asked softly.

“N-nothing,” Su Zesui rubbed his eyes. “I just feel sorry seeing you work so hard…”

Gu Yilan felt his heart tighten, tempted to stay with him, but just then a message popped up on his phone:

[Mr. Gu, the young master’s birthday surprise is almost ready. I guarantee he’ll absolutely love it! When will you be coming?]

Gu Yilan ruffled Su Zesui’s dark hair and said softly, “Be good. Take care of yourself at home. I’m leaving now.”

Watching the man’s retreating figure, Su Zesui felt a sour, aching sensation in his chest. He puffed out his cheeks in frustration, unhappy, yet powerless.

He trudged back to his room and collapsed onto his soft bed, imagining himself as a puppet. Plop! His spring spent, he lay there completely motionless.

He didn’t know how long he had been lying there, but finally, two “buzzing” WeChat notifications woke him up.

Su Zesui groggily picked up his phone:

[Shi Fangbin: Suisui, is it your birthday tomorrow? I got you a cake. Want to come out tonight so we can celebrate your birthday at midnight? (Address: Blues Bar)]
[Shi Fangbin: Don’t worry, it’s just people from our volunteer group—you know them all. Come on, give me some face, play some games, have a few drinks with everyone?]

On any other day, Su Zesui would never dare set foot in a bar—his brother would have a fit if he found out.

But now… Mr. Gu had left him alone to go on a blind date. So… maybe he could…

Su Zesui sat up, suddenly energized as if struck by a bolt of electricity, and furiously typed on his phone:

[Okay! I’ll take a taxi over later. Tonight—Not! Going! Home! Until! Drunk!]

---

---

If (6/9)

---

As soon as he stepped into the living room, the aroma of steaming hot food hit him—rich with the scents of oil, garlic, and sauce, mingling with the soft fragrance of rice. It was a smell that belonged uniquely to “home.”

But Gu Yilan didn’t glance sideways; he walked steadily, heading straight for the bathroom.

At the sink, he cupped some water and splashed his face several times with cold water, leaning on the counter to catch his breath. After a long moment, he finally lifted his gaze to the mirror, meeting the reflection of his disordered self.

Clear droplets of water slid down the smooth contours of his face, dripping from his sharp jawline and soaking the front of his shirt, leaving a dampness that was hard to ignore.

Yet at this moment, Gu Yilan paid no attention to it—there were sensations far more pressing.

Grinding his back teeth, he kept telling himself over and over in his mind:

——He’s your younger brother.

Suddenly, two soft knocks sounded on the bathroom door, and a worried voice called out from outside: “Brother, are you okay?”

At the sound, Gu Yilan turned his head slightly, exhaled softly, and muttered a muffled, “Mm.”

Su Zesui detected the restraint in his voice and worried aloud, “Are you feeling unwell? What should we do… Is it serious? Should we go to the hospital? I… I can call Uncle Driver right now…”

After the boy rambled on for a while, Gu Yilan finally managed to calm down a little and, lowering his voice, said, “It’s nothing… just some stomach pain.”

Su Ze asked, “Stomach pain? Is it… because you’re hungry? I’ll go heat up the food again. Brother, you should come out and eat something quickly.”

Only when he heard the boy’s hurried footsteps retreating did Gu Yilan unclench his fingers and drop his gaze to his own body.

——It was just a physiological reaction, nothing to do with love or desire.

Theoretically, when a male experiences combined visual and tactile stimulation, the nervous system sends signals to the spinal cord, hypothalamus, and relevant sexual centers, which then trigger a physiological response via the autonomic nervous system.

In other words, an erection is simply an involuntary bodily reaction that doesn’t require conscious control and has little to do with personal feelings.

The boy had just finished his shower, and the scent of his body wash resembled pheromones that could trigger such a reaction in a man. On top of that, his soft, still-warm body brushing against him made it perfectly natural for Gu Yilan to respond physically.

Thinking this, Gu Yilan focused on quickly dealing with the discomfort. He turned on the tap and watched as the fluid between his long fingers was washed away, mixing with the clear water and disappearing without a trace.

Compared to his own disoriented state, the small box lying by the sink appeared exceptionally pristine. It had once been at the center of a whirlwind of contradictions, but now it belonged solely to him.

After drying the water droplets from his hands, Gu Yilan reopened the little box and lowered his gaze, examining it carefully.

The silver bracelet inside wasn’t flawless—the silver threads forming the heart-shaped pendant were slightly crooked, and the engraved waves were occasionally asymmetrical. It was clearly handcrafted by someone not fully skilled in the craft.

Yet it was precisely this clumsy imperfection that erased the rigidity and uniformity of machine-made items, giving it a vivid sense of authenticity. It was something truly unique in the world.

As Gu Yilan picked up the small white card holding the bracelet, a tiny card lying at the bottom of the box caught his eye.

It was a delicate, pale pink card with a cheesy declaration of love printed on it:
“You will always be the one my heart longs for, I will love you for a lifetime ❤️”

Although he knew the card likely came with the jewelry box and that Su Zesui might not have been aware of it, the moment he saw it, Gu Yilan’s heart skipped half a beat.

. . . . .

By the time Gu Yilan returned to the dining room, he saw that the table was filled with steaming dishes, the aroma wafting through the air. The boy was pacing anxiously, holding some stomach medicine in his hands.

Seeing him approach, Su Zesui quickly turned around and said, “Brother, are you still feeling unwell? I’ll pour you a cup of hot water so you can take your medicine.”

Gu Yilan’s gaze swept over his face, and with a faint parting of his lips, he said, “I’m fine. Let’s eat.”

Su Zesui studied Gu Yilan carefully, and only after confirming that his face didn’t look pale or fatigued, and that his body felt slightly warm, did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“Brother, I’ll serve you some rice.” Su Zesui put the medicine back in the cabinet and turned toward the kitchen.

Gu Yilan watched his figure disappear, his voice softly lingering in the air: “Mm. Good boy.”

Although Su Zesui had already eaten dinner, considering that he wanted to keep Gu Yilan company—and that the school cafeteria meals couldn’t compare to home-cooked food—he couldn’t help but feel tempted by the smell of the meat.

After serving two bowls of rice and sitting down beside Gu Yilan, Su Zesui finally noticed the bulge at Gu Yilan’s wrist under his sleeve. His eyes widened as he traced its outline carefully—it looked just like the bracelet he had given him!

Su Zesui felt a surge of joy and couldn’t help but curve his eyes into a smile. He picked up a piece of stomach-friendly carrot and offered it to Gu Yilan. “Brother, are you feeling better now?”

“I wasn’t angry to begin with,” Gu Yilan said lightly as he picked up the carrot. “Besides, I’m your brother. I’ve said it before: no matter what you do, I’ll never cut ties with you or stop taking care of you.”

Su Zesui felt relieved and stuffed a piece of sweet-and-sour pork rib into his mouth, then mumbled, “Brother… were some of these dishes made from mud?”

Gu Yilan replied, “A few of them, yes.”

Su Zesui laughed. “Then I really did grow up eating the meals my brother made.”

In a sense, he wasn’t wrong. Gu Yilan had taken care of him for over three years, watching him grow from a tiny, skinny boy into someone now standing 1.73 meters tall; from a timid 14-year-old who barely spoke a word to a cheerful university student.

During those crucial years of adolescence, Gu Yilan had escorted him to school, attended parent-teacher meetings on his behalf, helped him with math, guided him in understanding right and wrong, and shaped his values and personality—just like a real older brother, or even a father.

Gu Yilan paused for a moment before saying, “I’ll make them for you again in the future.”

With a weight lifted off his chest, Su Zesui happily buried himself in his meal. Halfway through, the butler even brought him a dessert, completely dispelling the lingering gloom in his heart.

After finishing the meal, it was almost time to return to their rooms. Su Zesui, holding his dessert, felt a bit reluctant to part ways. He followed Gu Yilan to his door and said, “Brother, rest early and take care of yourself. I still want you to look after me forever.”

It should have been a perfectly normal, affectionate remark between siblings—slightly exaggerated and unrealistic, but only meant to show the boy’s dependence on him.

Yet Gu Yilan, standing at the door with his eyes lowered, paused silently before taking on the role of the “spoilsport adult.” He said, “In the future, many other important people will appear in your life. I can’t be with you forever.”

Su Zesui froze and instinctively asked, “Important people?”

Gu Yilan parted his thin lips, hesitated for a moment, and finally said, “…It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

Before leaving, Su Zesui hurriedly added, “Brother, you’ll always be the person I love the most. I can stop being friends with anyone else, but I can’t be without you!”

After saying that, the boy, cheeks flushed, hugged his dessert and ran off, leaving Gu Yilan standing in place, fingertips frozen, heart slightly off balance, as the thoughts he had once controlled now surged wildly.

After a long while, he finally turned and returned to his room. He closed the door, took out his phone, and scheduled a home consultation with his psychologist for the weekend.

. . . . .

One weekend in early June, with the final exams still some time away, the Colorful Sun Volunteer Organization arranged an event. Various volunteer groups were to drive to a target elementary school to exchange gifts and letters with the children, fostering connection and making it easier to carry out teaching activities during the summer break.

As the group leader and one of the few with a car, Shi Fangbin naturally became one of the drivers.

Thinking back to his brother’s rejection of Shi Fangbin, Su Zesui considered it carefully but ultimately decided to go to the school on his own. He was no longer the timid child who dared not trouble Gu Yilan for anything. Now, he was anything but “polite,” wishing he could stick to his brother all day and monopolize his time.

Yet Shi Fangbin insisted on driving him there. Even after Su Zesui refused several times, Shi Fangbin still arrived at his doorstep on time, citing reasons like convenience, planning, and the fact that they were a team.

Coincidentally, that was also the day Gu Yilan had scheduled a home consultation with his psychologist.

Although this private psychologist wasn’t the same doctor who had treated the boy for anxiety back then, he was already an old acquaintance of Gu Yilan. Wearing glasses, dressed in casual clothes, and carrying his diagnostic notes, he came straight over.

He was not very old and had a good relationship with Gu Yilan. Since he already knew part of Gu Yilan’s past, he could skip the usual steps of building trust and taking a medical history, and directly proceed to a psychological assessment based on the information Gu Yilan provided.

After listening to a general description of the man’s current mental state, the psychologist pushed up his glasses and said thoughtfully, “So… the old condition has relapsed?”

Gu Yilan, sitting on the living room sofa, took a sip of hot tea and replied, “Yes.”

“Do you know what caused it?” The psychologist flipped through his notebook with a rustle, murmuring in confusion, “It shouldn’t be… did it just happen suddenly? To speak out of turn for a moment, your parents are the ones who need therapy more than you…”

“I don’t want him interacting with anyone else,” Gu Yilan interrupted, trimming the statement down to the bare facts.

The psychologist looked momentarily dumbfounded. “Who?”

When Gu Yilan’s gaze drifted toward the second floor, the psychologist immediately understood and comforted him: “Ah, I see. Don’t worry, don’t worry—this is actually very common among parents.”

Hearing the psychologist refer to himself as a “parent,” Gu Yilan unconsciously frowned.

Although the psychologist was somewhat quirky, as a returnee PhD he was highly competent and very skilled at detecting subtle emotional shifts in his patients.

Observing Gu Yilan’s instinctive reactions, he said, “You have a condition similar to what we saw before. Your need for control is probably stronger than that of an average parent. And a teenager is at the peak of self-awareness and independence—if you try to control his social life, you risk pushing him to rebel against you in the future.”

Gu Yilan set down his teacup calmly. “He won’t.”

“Alright, let’s assume he has a good temperament and won’t resist. But have you considered the consequences? This isn’t good for either of you. You’ll gradually trap yourself in a narrow mindset, while his personal development, social skills, and independent thinking will all be limited—like a delicate flower in a greenhouse, easily…”

As the psychologist spoke, a head suddenly appeared at the corner of the spiral staircase on the second floor.

The boy glanced at him, making sure not to interrupt anything important that couldn’t be paused, then tiptoed quietly down the stairs. The psychologist immediately fell silent.

Gu Yilan’s gaze was dark, but when the boy reached him, he tried to soften his tone as he asked, “What is it?”

Su Zesui pressed his fingers together and whispered, “Brother… today we’re going to Sunshine Elementary, and Shi Fangbin wants to drive me there…”

He had already hinted very clearly. He believed that Mr. Gu, who had always been particular about things and disliked Shi Fangbin, would definitely understand what he meant. He was sure Mr. Gu would immediately grab his car keys and, without any room for argument, tell him to get into his car.

But this time, Gu Yilan only turned his head to glance at the black car parked in the courtyard, pressed his thin lips together, and said in a hoarse voice, “Go. Come back early.”

Su Zesui was stunned. Stammering, he tried to protest, “But… but…”

Gu Yilan’s gaze rested on the teacup in front of him, and he raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

With another person still on the sofa, Su Zesui felt a little embarrassed to say anything coquettish or spoiled. Realizing his subtle struggle was useless, he comforted himself: it was normal that Gu Yilan had important matters to attend to today and couldn’t accompany him, so there was no need to be sad…

“Well… bye, brother,” he mumbled, backpack slung over his shoulders, and trudged toward the door.

The psychologist smiled with satisfaction, about to praise Gu Yilan, when he noticed the man’s gaze remained glued to the boy—following him all the way out without shifting even once.

The psychologist cleared his throat lightly and offered some advice: “He’s an independent individual. He’ll have his own life, family, and career someday. Give him the freedom to grow, keep an appropriate distance, and don’t get too close, okay?”

Gu Yilan withdrew his gaze and muttered softly to himself, “It’s fine. He said he doesn’t like men.”

Psychologist: ???

He didn’t mean it that way. But judging by Gu Yilan’s dark, yet subtly frustrated tone, it felt like he had just stumbled onto some huge, shocking secret!

“So… uh, between you and him…” The psychologist trailed off, clearly hesitant to finish the question.

Gu Yilan anticipated what he was about to ask. He lowered his gaze, fingers tracing the delicate bracelet on his wrist. “He only sees me as his brother.”

The psychologist pressed on. “…And you? What do you feel for him?”

Gu Yilan paused his movements, thinking for a long moment before looking up. “I can’t tell clearly… but it’s love, in any case.”

After this exchange, the psychologist finally noticed the faint shadow of bruising under Gu Yilan’s eyes. Flustered, he murmured, “Th-this… this is tricky.”

“I know.” Gu Yilan finished his tea in one sip, stood, and said lightly, “I understand everything you said. I can control myself. If there’s nothing else to discuss, let’s end here for today.”

The psychologist also stood, watching the man’s upright, resolute figure. He opened his mouth as if to say something, hesitated, and then said nothing—just let out a long sigh.

Difficult, indeed.

. . . . .

Meanwhile, in Shi Fangbin’s black car…

In the last row, Su Zesui frowned, resting his chin in his hand, sitting next to a blushing female classmate, still puzzling over what had just happened.

Ever since the conflict that night, Mr. Gu seemed to have become busier. Although he was still very kind to Su Zesui—picking him up and dropping him off at school—he clearly spent more time at the office. When he occasionally spoke to Su Zesui, it was brief, nothing like the long, late-night conversations they used to have.

Su Zesui didn’t think his brother was avoiding him, and he had no reason to believe that. Could it be… that something had gone wrong at Mr. Gu’s company?

But even if he were unusually busy, how could Mr. Gu so casually let him get into Shi Fangbin’s car? Mr. Gu disliked Shi Fangbin so much—at the very least, he should have arranged for a driver to take him to school…

——He couldn’t figure it out. Why had this happened?

Su Zesui spent the whole day thinking about it. He wandered into the meeting half-asleep, mechanically accepted the letters and gifts from the children, and chatted absentmindedly with his groupmates. Words went in one ear and out the other; all he could do was nod along, murmuring “mm-hmm” throughout.

——What on earth was going on? It couldn’t be that Mr. Gu’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy, about to face massive debts or even legal trouble, and that’s why he was pushing him out of the picture, could it?

——That doesn’t seem likely. But then again, given Mr. Gu’s personality, it’s possible he would do something like that in a moment of crisis.

The more Su Zesui thought about it, the more confused his mind became. As soon as the event ended and he got home, he went straight to knock on Gu Yilan’s door.

After a day of overthinking, he finally saw the brother he had been thinking about all day. The evening breeze brushed against him, and Su Zesui, on the verge of tears, pressed his lips together and whispered, “Brother…”

Gu Yilan froze. “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you outside?”

Su Zesui wiped the corner of his eyes, shook his head, and choked out, “Is our family… about to go bankrupt?”

Gu Yilan: ?

“No. That’s just a rumor,” the man said firmly.

His words didn’t sound like a lie, which gave Su Zesui a bit of relief. He then carefully spoke the words he had been rehearsing in the car: “Then… brother, our group of classmates is planning a trip after the volunteer activity. Would you go with me?”

In previous summers, he had always traveled abroad with Mr. Gu. But this time, the volunteer activity had taken up most of his summer, leaving him with only one chance for a long trip. He felt certain that his brother, who usually worried about him even when he returned home late, wouldn’t refuse.

But Gu Yilan said, “They’re all your classmates. I’m not going.”

Su Zesui felt his heart sink. Before he could process it, the man had already turned and started walking back into his room.

In a panic, Su Zesui quickly grabbed Gu Yilan’s wrist to stop him. “Not all of them are just classmates,” he urged. “They’ll bring people they know… uh, like Chu Shihui and Tao Jiani—they’ll bring their boyfriends. Their boyfriends aren’t from our school; they might even be working already.”

The wrist he held was where Gu Yilan wore his bracelet, and the abrupt, icy touch of the silver against his palm made him anxious. He whispered, almost to himself, “If you’re not going… I don’t want to go either…”

In truth, even before Gu Yilan had a chance to respond, Su Zesui already knew that his brother was unlikely to accompany him.

Gu Yilan had a decisive personality. He didn’t make choices lightly, but once he did, no one could sway him.

Feeling a little dejected, Su Zesui lifted his gaze—and saw Gu Yilan’s Adam’s apple move as he spoke in a hoarse voice: “…They’re all bringing their boyfriends. If I go, what am I to you?”

Su Zesui: ?

---

---

If (5/9)

---

In the pitch-dark living room, the window had been left open. A cool breeze swept through, carrying with it the heavy air of an approaching storm, sending a chill down Su Zesui’s spine.

He could clearly feel that Gu Yilan was holding back his emotions, but he couldn’t figure out why his brother was so angry.

There was no curfew at home. He hadn’t come back at dawn, nor had he been out causing trouble. Could it be… was his brother mad at him for lying?

Thinking he had figured it out, Su Zesui lowered his head and held out his pale palm to Gu Yilan, his voice soft and aggrieved: “Brother… you can hit me.”

At those words, Gu Yilan’s brows furrowed. He didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned forward slightly and pressed the button on the remote to turn on the overhead light. A blinding white glow instantly flooded the living room.

Su Zesui squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the glare, still not used to the sudden brightness.

But Gu Yilan, who had been in the dark for so long, didn’t so much as blink. Against the harsh light, he simply looked up at Su Zesui, deep in thought.

Only when Su Zesui finally adjusted and could open his eyes again did Gu Yilan speak. “How old are you?”

Su Zesui froze for a moment, then stammered softly, “I… I’m seventeen.”

He remembered it so clearly because, thanks to the anti-addiction system, many of his game accounts were still tied to Gu Yilan’s ID card. Every time he had to go through facial recognition, he needed to call his brother over to help.

“You’re still underage.” Gu Yilan fixed his gaze on him. “Where did you go?”

“I… I…” Su Zesui’s eyes flickered instinctively toward the bulging little box in his pocket.

He had gone out to prepare a gift for Mr. Gu. But in this tense atmosphere, if he told the truth now, the sense of surprise would be completely ruined—
worse, it might even turn into collateral damage in the middle of their conflict.

Wanting to preserve the impact of the gift he had painstakingly worked on for hours, Su Zesui pressed his soft lips together and chose silence.

He decided to endure his brother’s anger on his own. Only that way could he separate the surprise of presenting a Dragon Boat Festival gift from the current situation.

Of course, the boy’s small gestures didn’t escape Gu Yilan’s eyes.

He noticed Su Zesui’s hesitation—and the obvious bulge of the box in his pocket.

If his memory was correct, when Shi Fangbin had ruffled the boy’s hair in the courtyard just now, he had also been holding a box. Judging by the size, shape, and sharp edges, it looked exactly the same as the one in Su Zesui’s pocket.

Gu Yilan rubbed his fingertip, and before he could speak again, the boy reached out his hands toward him and said, “Brother… maybe you should just hit me.”

Gu Yilan asked in return, “Why would I hit you?”

Su Zesui froze for a moment at the question, his cheeks heating up and the tips of his ears reddening. He quietly confessed, “I lied to you… I didn’t actually have a meeting tonight.”

Gu Yilan was silent for a moment, then said, “…It’s not a big deal. It’s not worth me hitting you over.”

Puzzled, Su Zesui asked, “Then… why are you so upset, Brother?”

Gu Yilan frowned.

It was because Su Zesui had lied to go out with Shi Fangbin, because Shi Fangbin’s car was parked where Gu Yilan usually dropped Su Zesui off, and because Shi Fangbin had patted Su Zesui on the head—and the boy had obediently accepted it without resistance…

In the end, it all had to do with Shi Fangbin.

So Gu Yilan said, “Shi Fangbin isn’t a good person. Stay away from him from now on.”

Su Zesui lined up his fingers and asked hesitantly, “But… didn’t you say before that he’s okay? That it’s fine to hang out with him?”

Gu Yilan recalled the subtext of what he had been thinking at the time. Tapping lightly on the armrest of the sofa, he said coldly, “He has a reckless personality, five ex-boyfriends, and a tendency to flirt around—he’s not someone suitable for a long-term relationship. Besides, he’s still in college, fully reliant on his family financially. His monthly allowance is only a few thousand; he can’t give you a comfortable life. And, frankly, he’s quite average-looking. Even if you don’t consider passing on genes to the next generation, he’s just not pleasant to look at.”

Su Zesui was dumbfounded. Even he rarely heard Gu Yilan speak in such a long, harshly mocking tone.

“Th-then I’ll try to play with him less from now on,” Su Zesui mumbled in reluctant agreement. “It’s just… our volunteer activities haven’t started yet, so sometimes we still have to meet…”

The boy’s voice gradually grew softer until it was barely audible. Gu Yilan cut him off decisively: “What did he give you? Show me.”

Su Zesui froze, instinctively reaching into his pocket. Noticing the man’s gaze fixed on where he was touching, he hurriedly explained, “This… wasn’t given by him.”

Gu Yilan didn’t respond. He just gestured with his chin toward the coffee table, signaling for him to put the item there.

Su Ze hesitated for a moment, then braced himself and stammered, “Even though he didn’t give it to me, you… you still can’t look at it right now. Well, it’s just not convenient to look at it right now, brother…”

Gu Yilan exhaled slowly, nodded, and stood up. “You’ve grown up and have your own mind now. Brother really shouldn’t be controlling you so much. But I’ll give you one last warning—he’s not a good man.”

Hearing that, Su Zesui’s mind fixated on the words ‘shouldn’t be controlling you’, and he panicked. He quickly shook his head. “N-no, that’s not it.”

Ever since that snowy night when he sincerely made a wish in front of the Christmas tree, his relationship with Mr. Gu had been inseparably close. Now, with the sudden declaration that he wouldn’t look after him anymore, it felt as if an invisible bond had been abruptly cut.

Even though he knew Mr. Gu couldn’t look after him forever, deep down Su Zesui was still that insecure little boy, terrified of change.

“All right, go back to your room,” Gu Yilan said, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation, and started walking toward the bedroom.

Su Zesui followed his steps, turning slowly, and only then noticed the dining room behind him. A table was set with a beautifully prepared meal—full of dishes he loved—but they had long since grown cold.

“Brother… have you… eaten?” Su Zesui raised his voice slightly and lifted his arm toward the man’s back, as if trying to hold onto him from afar.

Gu Yilan didn’t slow his pace and didn’t look back, leaving behind a cold remark: “I’ve already eaten. Have the butler clean up the dining room.”

“Oh…” Su Zesui slowly lowered his arm, his disappointed reply dissolving softly into the air.

——But… the dishes on the table looked completely untouched.

Back in his bedroom, Gu Yilan naturally sat down at his desk, picked up one of the many documents piled there, and skimmed through it at lightning speed, as if perfectly calm—as though nothing had just happened.

Yet a few minutes later, he rubbed his temples, flipped the file back to the first page, and started over from the beginning.

Unfortunately, before he could focus, a hollow, burning ache rose again from his stomach, pulling his attention away.

Gu Yilan simply set the file aside, closed his dark eyes, steadied his breathing, and after a few seconds picked up his phone. He sent a WeChat message to the butler, who had just gone out.

[Gu Yilan: On your way back, stop by a dessert shop and get some cake.]

The reply came quickly.

[Butler AAA: Certainly. What flavor would you like?]

[Gu Yilan: Just get it for him. He likes sweet things. Also, make sure it’s filling.]

[AAA Butler: Is this for Young Master Su? I recall he already had dinner at the school cafeteria, so he probably isn’t very hungry. How about I get him some light desserts instead?]

[Gu Yilan: With that cafeteria food, how much do you think he could’ve actually eaten?]

[Butler AAA: Alright, alright. I’ll finish up here and head over right away. I should be back in about an hour and a half.]

Gu Yilan’s gaze lingered on that last message for a long while. Just as he was about to turn off the screen, two more cautious messages popped up—

[Butler AAA: Young Master Gu, did something happen that upset you?]

[Butler AAA: If there’s anything I can do to ease your worries, please tell me. I’ll do my best.]

Gu Yilan’s brows drew together. His thumb unconsciously rubbed against the phone’s power button.

Both Su Zesui and the butler had asked him the same thing—but… what was there to be upset about?

Shi Fangbin wasn’t much of a man, true, but he was hardly a real threat to Su Zesui. Su Zesui was already grown up; since he had the ability to judge right from wrong, he should also have the right to decide whether to fall in love.

If anything, Gu Yilan’s interference would only hinder the boy’s growth.

But why, when he saw the two of them interacting so intimately, did his heart suddenly skip a beat, his molars itch, and an oddly childish sense wash over him—as if something that once belonged to him had been snatched away?

Gu Yilan thought he really ought to see a psychologist.

Because of the overly complicated environment he grew up in, he carried some deep-rooted issues—an urge to control and possess that went far beyond what was normal. It didn’t affect his daily life and hadn’t flared up in a long time, but tonight it seemed much harder to keep in check.

Rising to his feet, Gu Yilan sent the butler a short reply: [No need.] Then he started down the hall toward the boy’s room.

It was a little past ten at night. The darkness outside wrapped the world like a soft blanket; the sky stretched deep and quiet, speckled with stars. From far away came the occasional cry of night birds, a sound that only made the silence feel more solitary.

The corridor connecting their two bedrooms was unlit. A thin strip of light spilled from the crack beneath the boy’s door, outlining a faint, narrow line at the threshold. If nothing was out of the ordinary, Su Zesui should be inside.

Yet when Gu Yilan knocked and patiently waited two whole minutes, there was no response.

Worried the boy might do something foolish, Gu Yilan hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

Su Zesui’s room, like the boy himself, was fresh and tidy. A light-blue quilt was neatly folded on the bed, while a laptop and a row of books sat on the desk and shelf.

On the innermost shelf were letters from years ago, written back and forth between them. The sight made Gu Yilan almost hallucinate the image of that soft, obedient boy who used to call him “Mr. Gu.” His gaze involuntarily darkened.

At the same time, the light in the bathroom was on, and the faint sound of running water trickled out.

Gu Yilan had intended to wait until the boy finished his shower before coming in, but as he turned to leave, his eyes caught on a small box sitting on the rack by the door.

A familiar box.

He had once glimpsed it on the surveillance feed of a handmade jewelry shop, and later seen it even more clearly in Shi Fangbin’s hands.

Su Zesui and Shi Fangbin had gone to a trendy couple’s spot, the kind of place popular for lovers’ activities. Clearly, the two of them wouldn’t have made separate pieces only to walk away hours later with their own trinkets in hand.

And yet—whether because the boy was too shy, or because Shi Fangbin had crafted something that couldn’t bear to be shown—Su Zesui hadn’t let him see it, not even for a second.

What made things worse was that when Shi Fangbin was weaving the silver bracelet, he had done so with his back to the camera, at such a tricky angle that the piece he made remained shrouded in mystery.

For a fleeting moment, a devilish thought rose up in Gu Yilan’s mind, urging his hand toward that unguarded little box.

But in the very next second, he snapped back to his senses. Lowering his hand, lips pressed into a thin line, he strode out of the boy’s room.

——He was sick. Perhaps he really should just wash up and go to bed early.

. . . . .

Bathing always helped Su Zesui clear his mind.

Whenever he ran into a difficult problem with his studies, he would first take a shower. By the time he returned to his desk, inspiration would flow again, and his pen would move across the page as if guided by the gods.

But this time, even after scrubbing and rinsing over and over, lathering the body wash again and again, his mind remained foggy—never once did that spark of clarity return.

——Was Mr. Gu… angry at him for not trusting him?

After all, Mr. Gu had waited so long for his reply, yet he hadn’t answered, made up excuses, and even insisted on keeping the Dragon Boat Festival gift a secret. To anyone else, it really would seem quite excessive.

Not to mention, this was the same Mr. Gu who had always treated him kindly, who had once saved him from fire and water. Surely he must be hurt… disappointed…

Lost in anxious thoughts, Su Zesui dawdled his way through his routine. Still wrapped in a bath towel, he absentmindedly picked up his phone as he stepped out, glancing at the time.

——Not good. He had actually spent nearly half an hour in the shower. The dishes he’d reheated for Mr. Gu were about to go cold again!

Su Zesui didn’t have time to think about anything else. He hurriedly pulled on a shirt and underwear, grabbed the small box from the stand by the door, and dashed toward the kitchen.

After all, his pajama top was long enough to cover down to his thighs, and the summer night was a bit stuffy, so it was fine not to wear pajama pants or socks.

Once he had set the reheated dishes neatly back on the dining table, Su Zesui patted the small box tucked inside his shirt pocket to make sure it was still there, then quickly hurried off again—this time toward Gu Yilan’s bedroom.

He knocked on the door. No response.

“Brother,” Su Zesui’s voice carried a timid edge, “it’s me.”

Still, there was no answer.

He didn’t know if the other simply wasn’t in the room, or if he just didn’t want to acknowledge him.

Without his phone, Su Zesui couldn’t message Mr. Gu. After a few seconds of anxious hesitation, he slowly pushed the door open a crack and peeked his head in. “Brother?”

The room was empty. Only the bathroom light was on inside—it seemed he must be taking a shower.

Su Zesui let out a sudden sigh of relief and lightly patted his chest to calm himself. Taking small steps, he entered the man’s room and, familiar with the routine, sat on the edge of the bed. He waited for the man to finish his shower, nervously mulling over what he would say later.

Mr. Gu’s bed wasn’t exactly soft, but it carried a distinctly masculine scent that somehow brought him a quiet sense of comfort and ease.

There was only one chair in the bedroom. Every time he came over late at night with questions, Mr. Gu would have him sit at the bedside while patiently explaining economic models and theories to him.

Lowering his eyes with a hint of sadness, Su Zesui let his legs dangle and sway lightly. He wasn’t good with words. But if it meant going back to the way things used to be with Mr. Gu, he would be willing to quit the volunteer work altogether…

So, when Gu Yilan came out after his shower, dressed in pajamas, the first thing he saw was the boy sitting not far away—looking both uneasy and sorrowful.

The boy wasn’t wearing pajama pants, and his bare calves swung back and forth in small arcs. Fresh from his own shower, his skin looked pale and delicate, with a soft glow of warmth, like tender tofu that would yield at the slightest touch and bear the imprint of a finger.

At that moment, Su Zesui lifted his damp, glistening eyes toward him. In those clear, luminous pupils reflected only Gu Yilan’s figure—nothing else. The sight stirred an inexplicable pang of tenderness.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Yilan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he tossed the towel into the basket. Stepping forward, he tilted the boy’s chin between his fingers and said, “Open up.”

Su Zesui suddenly opened his mouth, but faint teeth marks still lingered on his soft lower lip.

Gu Yilan noticed the small box Su Zesui was holding. He put his hands down and let out an almost imperceptible sigh. “What do you need me for?”

“Brother… are you still mad?” Su Zesui lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I heated up some food for you… do you want to eat?”

Being asked the same question over and over for an entire evening, Gu Yilan tugged at the corner of his lips with a hint of helplessness. He answered honestly, “It’s fine. A little annoyed… but I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t… don’t be annoyed.” Su Zesui held out the small box with both hands. Seeing the confusion in Gu Yilan’s eyes, he hurriedly added, “It’s for you. I made it myself.”

Gu Yilan noticeably paused, his thin lips parting slightly. After a moment, he finally muttered, “…You made this for me?”

“Y-yes.” Su Zesui nodded vigorously. “I made it tonight. I originally wanted to give it to you as a Dragon Boat Festival gift, but… but I’ll give you something else for the festival.”

The boy opened the small box.

It was a silver bracelet, primarily woven in a twisted braid pattern, with delicate engraved ripples. Two clusters of silver intersected, and in the center hung a heart-shaped pendant outlined by fine silver threads, adorned with a tiny heart-shaped lock bead. It was indeed the bracelet the boy had made, as seen in the surveillance footage.

At the time, just looking at it had made his chest tighten; now, it was hard to look away.

Gu Yilan’s pupils contracted, a faint, almost imperceptible emotion flickering in his eyes. His fingertips curved slightly as he lifted his hand to accept the small box the boy was offering.

“Brother… please don’t be annoyed with me, okay?” Su Zesui stood up and hugged the man in front of him, pouring out all his grievances. “And… don’t ever stop caring about me, wuwuwu.”

Gu Yilan’s fingers clenched the little gift box, his voice low and hoarse. “I’m not annoyed with you. I won’t stop caring about you… it’s my fault.”

Su Zesui shook his head like a rattle, hugging him even tighter, and whispered in Gu Yilan’s ear, “It’s not your fault, Brother. You’re the most important person to me. I never want to be apart from you…”

Having just finished his shower, his body was naturally more sensitive. And as he rested his chin against Gu Yilan’s neck to speak, he hugged him tightly, occasionally shifting slightly. His slender, bare legs brushed against Gu Yilan unconsciously.

With every intimate word whispered, warm breath swept across his ear, stirring an undeniable, tingling sensation…

Suddenly, Gu Yilan’s eyes darkened, and his breathing became erratic like never before.

He raised his arms, picked up the boy who was still mumbling in his arms, and immediately turned to walk away, only leaving behind a quick sentence: “I’m a little hungry. I’m going to eat first.”

Su Zesui slipped and landed on the bed, staring at the man’s swiftly retreating figure, his lips parted slightly, feeling somewhat bewildered.

---

Author’s Note:

Su Zesui: “Brother, why is there a hard thing poking me?”
Gu Yilan: “..It’s the Dragon Boat Festival gift you gave me.”
Su Zesui: “I–Is that so?”

---

---

If (4/9)

---

“Brother, what should we go eat tonight?”

Su Zesui wiped the water off his hands while peeking into the living room at Gu Yilan. But he saw the man frowning, his gaze fixed on a letter on the coffee table. He pressed his thin lips together and didn’t respond—so focused that he didn’t even hear the question.

“What’s this?” Su Zesui ran over and bent down to look at the pink envelope on the table.

Gu Yilan looked up at him. “The letter that was tucked in with the flowers.”

Su Zesui froze for a moment, then quickly realized what it was and hurriedly said, “I—I’ll return it to him later.”

Gu Yilan rubbed his fingertips together, neither agreeing nor refusing, leaving Su Zesui unsure of his stance.

For some reason, even though it was a love letter someone else had sent, and he was completely innocent, Su Zesui still felt the embarrassment of being caught in a romance by a parent. He stood there awkwardly, twisting his fingers, waiting for his brother to speak.

In the subtle silence, Gu Yilan finally broke it: “You’re just going to return it like that? Not even open it to see what’s inside?”

Scratching his head, Su Zesui admitted honestly, “If I read it, I won’t know how to face him afterward…”

Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow and asked, “You’ll still have to interact with him later?”

“We’re in the same group, and we have to give online classes to children in impoverished mountain areas together during the summer,” Su Zesui stammered. “It’s, um… for a charity volunteer activity.”

During nearly a year of college, he had received plenty of love letters and already knew the trick: as long as you didn’t open them, you could pretend nothing had happened and continue being normal friends.

Gu Yilan nodded and picked up the envelope from the table. He flipped it back and forth and, seemingly casually, asked, “Why only join some organization when the first year is almost over?”

The man’s tone was no longer so stifled, and Su Zesui let out a sigh of relief. Sitting next to Gu Yilan, he curved his eyes as he spoke, “It’s just for a summer activity organization, well, like social practice, a second classroom, and things like that. I chose to teach a class for kids.”

“Hm.” Gu Yilan lowered his gaze to the pink letter in his hand, then suddenly, without warning, asked, “Can I see it?”

Su Zesui froze for a few seconds before realizing what he meant. “O-Okay….”

After all, love letters were all the same—copy-pasted from articles online. Looking at it wouldn’t really matter… wait!

Suddenly, Su Zesui remembered something and went completely silent, his words cutting off mid-thought.

Seeing that he had said “okay,” Gu Yilan was already starting to open the envelope. Panicking, Su Zesui pressed his hand against the man’s long fingers, stopping him.

Under Gu Yilan’s questioning gaze, Su Zesui withdrew his hand, feeling guilty. “B-Brother… maybe we shouldn’t look at it… I… I feel a little embarrassed…”

His excuse was far too flimsy to fool his sharp-witted brother.

Gu Yilan, as if granting his wish, placed the envelope back on the table, but deliberately said in a mockingly understanding tone, “Embarrassed to even look at it… do you have the nerve to reject her? Want me to do it for you?”

“N-No, no, no!” Su Zesui waved his hands frantically.

The boy’s behavior was far too unnatural—he practically had the words “I’m obviously hiding something” written across his face.

Gu Yilan frowned. Imagining all the troublemakers in society—smokers, drinkers, tattooed bar-hoppers who could easily lead a kid astray—he asked directly, “What’s going on with her?”

Su Zesui held out for a few seconds but knew he couldn’t keep the secret. Steeling himself, he opened the envelope, skimmed the letter, and then placed it in front of Gu Yilan’s eyes, pointing to the bottom right corner: Shi Fangbin.

Clearly, a boy’s name.

Gu Yilan: …

Gu Yilan: “You like boys?”

“No, no! I don’t like anyone. I… I’m just friends with them,” Su Zesui shook his head frantically, like a rattle, terrified that this letter might force him to “come out” in front of his brother.

He had indeed received many letters from male classmates and was no longer fazed by them—but he had no idea how Mr. Gu would react.

He stole a glance at the long-forgotten ruler on the bookshelf and shivered.

From what he knew, most of the boys around him kept their sexuality hidden from their parents. The rare ones who dared to come out either got locked up or were beaten until their backs were covered in bruises. Terrifying.

Although Mr. Gu hadn’t “disciplined” him since he started college, there was no guarantee that, if enraged, he wouldn’t restart the family rules and try to “straighten” him out.

Seeing the boy so unusually agitated, Gu Yilan’s eyes darkened slightly.

He didn’t have any issues with homosexuality—abroad, he had seen people of all sorts, let alone gay men. But Su Zesui’s overly stressed reaction was… intriguing.

“Let’s go. Time to eat.”

Gu Yilan stood up. While the boy was putting the love letter back in its envelope, he sent a message to his secretary to look into the group leader named “Shi Fangbin.”

“What should we eat, brother? I’ll go with whatever you want today.”

Su Zesui’s cheeks flushed red from nearly causing a misunderstanding about his sexuality. In just a few quick movements, he tucked the love letter into the coffee table drawer and, without reason, gave the man a playful wink.

But to Gu Yilan, this little “flattery” carried an entirely different meaning.

While thinking about nearby restaurants, he casually sent another message to his secretary: [As soon as possible. The more detailed, the better.]

. . . . .

Receiving the message from Boss Gu, the secretary immediately mobilized their connections, sending over a full “profile” of Shi Fangbin—from kindergarten all the way to college.

Apparently, this person had a flirtatious nature, charming to everyone, but wasn’t fundamentally bad. He was currently 20, a junior in college, and came from a moderately wealthy family…

Meanwhile, at the hotpot restaurant, Gu Yilan skimmed the detailed PDF the secretary had sent. When he looked up, he saw the boy carefully picking up a slice of cooked beef and gently placing it into his bowl—so different from his usual habit of burying himself in his food.

Gu Yilan’s fingers gripped his phone so tightly that the knuckles turned pale. Suddenly, he picked up his chopsticks and ate the few slices of beef that Su Zesui had placed in his bowl, letting the fiery spice spread freely across his tongue.

Su Zesui froze for a moment, then hurriedly added half a plate of beef to the pot.

His intentions were simple—he was embarrassed just talking about dating and gay relationships in front of his brother.

When people are awkward, they often try to find something to do. On top of that, he felt his earlier rushed explanation hadn’t been convincing enough, so he wanted a chance to talk a little more with Mr. Gu. Naturally, he busied himself around him, helping with condiments, adding ingredients, and picking food from the pot.

“How long have you known him?”

Finally, after his persistent effort, Gu Yilan’s cold tone returned to the original topic.

Given another chance to explain, Su Zesui sat up straight, quietly delivering the carefully prepared words: “Not very long. We’ve only met a few times in the activities. He’s the group leader—organizing things and looking out for everyone.”

What he wanted to convey was that Shi Fangbin didn’t mean anything special to him—just slightly more than an ordinary friend, a feeling that could be retracted at any time. He hoped Mr. Gu would understand!

Though looking at his brother’s furrowed brow, Su Zesui suspected Mr. Gu’s thoughts weren’t exactly following his reasoning…

“Hm.”

Gu Yilan pondered for a moment, then expressionless, said, “He seems fine. You can just hang out with him casually.”

“Oh… oh!” Su Zesui couldn’t quite grasp what Gu Yilan meant by “just hang out,” but he obediently replied, “Okay, brother.”

Gu Yilan put down his phone and said, “Good. Let’s eat.”

. . . . .

That night, after finishing the hotpot, Su Zesui used WeChat to politely decline Shi Fangbin’s feelings, making it clear they could still remain friends.

Shi Fangbin didn’t feel embarrassed at all. He readily accepted it and even suggested meeting a few days later at the volunteer group’s orientation meeting to talk through the upcoming activity arrangements.

Su Zesui breathed a sigh of relief and happily went to school—but after the meeting, Shi Fangbin invited him to hang out at the shopping street, leaving him utterly dumbfounded.

Shi Fangbin wasn’t the type to give up easily. On the contrary, for someone he truly liked, he was patient. For him, knowing Su Zesui was single and that his orientation wasn’t clearly heterosexual was enough.

He was willing to pursue Su Zesui until Su Zesui agreed.

Seeing Su Zesui struggle with what to do, Shi Fangbin, relying on his careful observations over the past days, hit the nail on the head: “Didn’t you say you wanted to get your brother a Dragon Boat Festival gift? I know a hidden jewelry shop—not the usual bead stuff, but all handmade. Want to go check it out together?”

Su Zesui’s eyes lit up, but then he suddenly remembered the earlier love letter. He hesitated for several seconds, torn, before ultimately giving in and sheepishly said, “…Okay.”

The Dragon Boat Festival was just a few days away, and he had been agonizing over what gift to give Gu Yilan. Shi Fangbin’s suggestion of the jewelry shop felt like a godsend.

Wanting to surprise Gu Yilan, Su Zesui didn’t reveal his true destination. He simply sent a message saying that the volunteer group had a meeting that evening, so Gu Yilan didn’t need to wait for him for dinner.

Shi Fangbin had invited him to eat at an outside restaurant, which Su Zesui politely declined. He only asked the boy to send him the store’s address. After a quick, casual meal at the school cafeteria, he would head straight there.

What he hadn’t expected was that Shi Fangbin was willing to accompany him—sitting through the cafeteria’s uninspiring food, driving him to the shop, acting as both navigator and jewelry guide along the way.

Though Su Zesui had already learned a bit about jewelry-making while eating, once they arrived, the complexity and time required far exceeded his expectations.

The shop specialized in handcrafted pieces using silver wire weaving. Even just designing the style took Su Zesui a considerable amount of time.

He wanted to create a piece that matched Gu Yilan’s temperament, with a process that was neither too simple nor overly complicated, and that could express his everlasting gratitude and affection. As he sketched, erased, and redrew, time quietly slipped away.

After finishing the bracelet design, a professional one-on-one instructor guided him through cutting the silver wire, looping, bending, and weaving it.

Single-strand weaving, double-strand weaving, French weaving—it all made Su Zesui dizzy and his hands sore.

Finally, after completing the weaving, he still had to connect and secure the bracelet, then embellish it with the previously chosen decorations or beads. Only then could a silver bracelet be considered halfway done.

Su Zesui wiped the sweat from his forehead. After completing these steps and handing the bracelet over to the instructor for polishing and finishing, he finally had a moment to pull out his phone.

Once he got into the flow, time had flown by. In the blink of an eye, darkness had fallen outside, and only the neon lights of the shopping street flashed in colorful patterns.

Glancing at the time on his phone’s lock screen, he let out a small sigh of relief.

Luckily, it was just past nine. There was still time to head back.

But as soon as he unlocked his phone, his jaw nearly dropped.

During the orientation meeting, he had set his phone to Do Not Disturb mode. Then, in the rush to come make the jewelry, he had forgotten to turn it off. As a result… dozens of unread WeChat messages sat there, with no pop-up notifications.

And without exception, all of these messages were from a single person——

[Brother (18:51): Will there be food at the meeting? I’ll have the driver bring you a meal—send me the address.]
[Brother (19:39): Still not finished yet?]
[Brother (19:44): Are you with that Shi Fangbin again?]
…
[Brother (21:37): .]

Seeing that final, silent period in the last message, Su Zesui panicked and almost dropped his phone.

He glanced guiltily at Shi Fangbin beside him, took a deep breath to steady himself, and frantically typed a reply:

[Su Zesui: There’s a lot to cover in the volunteer activities, so the meeting will run late. I’ll be back right away, brother!]

After receiving the perfectly packaged bracelet from the instructor, Su Zesui quickly stood up, ready to hail a taxi.

Except for that intimidating final period, Gu Yilan hadn’t sent him any other messages since early evening—probably predicting that the meeting would run long and didn’t want to disturb him.

Gu Yilan’s trust and consideration made Su Zesui feel deeply guilty for the little lie he’d told, wishing he could fly straight home immediately.

“Suisui, I’ll drive you home. It’s more convenient for me,” Shi Fangbin said with a smile, holding his own finished silver bracelet. “Besides, it’s so late. I don’t feel comfortable letting a freshman go home alone.”

Su Zesui waved his hands. “No, no, it’s fine. My place is really close; I can just take a taxi.”

“It’s nothing, no need to be so formal with me,” Shi Fangbin said, taking out his car keys. “You live on the south side of campus, right? What a coincidence—my place is that way too, so it’s on the way. Let’s go.”

Since Shi Fangbin insisted, Su Zesui couldn’t refuse. He clutched the small box holding his bracelet and shyly got into the passenger seat, staying quiet the entire ride.

About ten minutes later, they arrived.

Shi Fangbin parked in Su Zesui’s driveway, but didn’t hurry off. He got out of the car with him.

“Suisui, actually, I made this bracelet for you tonight,” Shi Fangbin said, standing in front of the boy and holding up the bracelet he had painstakingly worked on for hours. The glow of the streetlights reflected in his curved eyes. “It’s for you.”

“N-No, you don’t have to,” Su Zesui stashed his small box in his pocket, at a loss for words. “Really… you don’t have to.”

He had made the bracelet together with Shi Fangbin and could see how much care and effort had gone into it. Such a thoughtful, labor-intensive gift… he didn’t know how to reciprocate and felt he simply couldn’t accept it.

“Why not?” Shi Fangbin asked gently, smiling. “Isn’t the bracelet you made also meant for your brother? Brothers can give each other gifts—so why not friends? I made this according to your style. If you don’t accept it, wouldn’t that mean I made it for nothing?”

Su Zesui wasn’t as smooth-talking as Shi Fangbin. He couldn’t really explain why he insisted on saying no. Seeing the other person trying to hand the bracelet directly to him, he quickly waved his hands and shook his head, unwilling to take it.

Seeing the young man so determined to refuse, Shi Fangbin sighed softly, withdrew the bracelet, and instead lightly ruffled the boy’s fuzzy hair.

Since the boy finally gave up, Su Zesui couldn’t bring himself to resist again. He curled his fingers nervously, letting Shi Fangbin run his hand through his soft black hair. After all, it was just a pat on the head—no harm done.

Meanwhile, inside the villa, it was pitch black, making it hard to see anything.

Gu Yilan sat in the darkness, staring down at the jewelry shop’s surveillance footage on his phone. Even at five times the playback speed, it was clear how close Shi Fangbin stood to Su Zesui, occasionally pointing something out to the boy.

During this “lesson,” his fingers came almost in contact with Su Zesui’s hands, and the way he looked at the boy was so intense it was as if threads could be drawn from his gaze…

Gu Yilan turned off his phone, slowly closing his dark eyes, his temples pulsing slightly. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but only when he heard a car pull up outside did he open his eyes and glance out the window.

From his angle, the living room window was slightly tilted, but he could still see that in his yard, the pale light of the streetlamp fell on two figures, casting long, dark shadows on the ground.

The shadows moved with the two of them, echoing their affectionate gestures of patting each other’s heads.

If one tilted their head and squinted, they could see the boy himself lowering his head, staying still and silent, obedient just as he usually did when being patted on the head.

Gu Yilan sat up straight and casually tossed his phone, which had been on standby, onto the coffee table. Two hard objects collided with a sharp “clack,” the sound echoing through the spacious living room.

A few minutes later, the villa’s front door was gently pushed open with a “click.” A boy poked his head out, scanning the darkness and glancing around. Only when his eyes landed on Gu Yilan did he freeze in place.

“B-Brother…” Su Zesui closed the door behind him and walked toward Gu Yilan, keeping a composed expression. “Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

“Forgot.”

Gu Yilan studied the younger brother he had raised for several years. After a long pause, his hoarse voice finally asked, “Do you even remember what time it is?”

Su Zesui fidgeted with his fingers. Although there was no security system at home, he still felt guilty and uneasy after lying when facing his brother—whose mere presence carried an imposing aura. He whispered, “It’s ten o’clock…”

Gu Yilan asked, “Why are you coming back so late? Were you out with someone?”

“I…”

The lie he thought was flawless was mercilessly exposed. Su Zesui froze, standing there like a thorn in his own back, his heart racing, lips parted, unable to say a single word.

He didn’t intend to struggle or lie any further, but saying the words “I was with Shi Fangbin” felt strange no matter how he phrased it.

Remembering how Gu Yilan had allowed him to hang out with Shi Fangbin at the hotpot restaurant, Su Zesui had a sudden idea. He whispered, trying to justify himself, “I just… went out… casually… with Shi Fangbin…”

Having spent some time in the dark, Su Zesui’s eyes had gradually adjusted to the night.

He could clearly see that as soon as he finished speaking, Gu Yilan’s expression darkened, his thin lips pressed into a straight line.

---

Author’s Note:

How Su Zesui sees himself: Well-behaved, going out, making gifts for his brother.
How Mr. Gu sees Su Zesui: “Just came back from messing around outside.” (Covered in dirt.jpg)

---

---

If (3/9)

---

Not long after, Su Zesui, carrying a failing math test, nervously got into Gu Yilan’s car—and immediately noticed the man pursing his thin lips, uncharacteristically silent.

After a few minutes of awkward tension, Su Zesui couldn’t hold it in any longer. Trying to fill the silence, he said, “Brother, good afternoon.”

The man kept his eyes on the road, responding in a low, restrained voice, “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

Subconsciously, Su Zesui tightened his grip on his backpack straps, and his first thought was of the miserable test score in the monthly exam paper inside the bag.

He knew that if Mr. Gu found out, he would worry, pat his head to comfort him, and might even talk to the teacher to get the full details. He didn’t want Mr. Gu to trouble himself, so he forced himself to say, “N-no, I didn’t.”

Gu Yilan frowned. “I’ll give you one last chance.”

Su Zesui hesitated for a moment but still whispered firmly, “No.”

After saying that, he stole a glance at the man beside him—only to find his expression icy, exuding such a heavy pressure that it felt like someone had his throat in a vice, making it hard to breathe.

Faced with Mr. Gu’s unusually stern demeanor, Su Zesui twisted his fingers nervously, fearful and anxious, keeping his head down the entire way as he followed him home.

“Come here.”

Su Zesui dawdled, still not having changed into his slippers, when he heard the deep voice coming from the living room.

Looking up, he saw Gu Yilan sitting on the sofa, lightly tapping a heavy wooden ruler, waiting for him.

The living room felt charged, like a storm about to break. Su Zesui shivered instinctively and slowly moved forward, murmuring hesitantly, “Brother…”

Hearing the boy’s pitiful, trembling call, Gu Yilan remained unmoved. He held out his hand and said, “Ten slaps for failing the monthly exam, twenty for deliberately hiding your scores.”

Su Zesui parted his soft lips, realizing he had no words to protest, and cautiously extended his left hand toward the man.

Smack!

The ruler landed on his pale palm, sending a sharp sting through his skin. Su Zesui cried out, quickly retracting his hand and bending over to cradle his reddened palm.

In bending like that, he perfectly missed the flicker of tension breaking through Gu Yilan’s usually composed expression.

Gu Yilan prided himself on not hitting hard, but the boy’s skin was far too tender; even a gentle strike left his palm a fiery red.

Yet he had to continue: “Hand.”

After only a few seconds, Su Zesui, under the man’s imposing presence, timidly extended his hand again, offering it like a precious treasure. This time, Gu Yilan gripped his fingertips firmly, making it impossible for him to pull away, no matter how much it hurt.

After several more strikes, the pain stacked up until tears welled in Su Zesui’s eyes. His palm was squeezed so tightly he couldn’t move it, and all he could do was stomp his feet and wail, “Brother! Brother, I’m sorry, wuwu…”

Before, he had always called Gu Yilan “Brother” softly and politely, his voice gentle and obedient. Now, with his sobbing, urgent tone, he no longer cared about the image he held in Gu Yilan’s eyes—he just wanted the man to stop hurting his reddened, throbbing palm.

But the man remained unmoved, persistently staining the boy’s palm strike by strike—until the twenty-fifth.

In truth, Gu Yilan was struggling to catch his own breath, suffocated by the intensity of his emotions. He had intended to get it over with quickly, but the boy’s pitiful crying tugged at him. Unable to fully restrain himself, he broke his own rule and let him rest for a few minutes.

“Where did you go wrong?” Gu Yilan asked.

“I… I didn’t study properly.” The act of confessing felt unbearably humiliating, especially facing someone he had always respected. Su Zesui’s neck flushed bright red, spreading up to his ears, matching the color of his palm.

“Anything else?”

“I… I lied to you, brother… wuwu.” Su Zesui’s tears began to fall—not from emotional pain, but strangely from a mix of relief and shame, and the lingering sting in his hand.

Gu Yilan let out a low “hm” and, terrifyingly, extended his hand again. “Five more.”

“Brother… p-please, don’t hit me anymore…” Su Zesui blinked, his eyes clear and shining from tears, and for the first time, tried to act coquettishly toward Gu Yilan, though awkwardly.

Gu Yilan paused for a moment, then coldly replied, “No.”

Su Zesui pouted, blew on his palm, and then bravely extended it once more, as if going to a heroic demise.

For the final few strikes, Gu Yilan eased his force—but Su Zesui, already at the peak of pain, didn’t notice him holding back. After five more slaps, he was utterly broken, crying uncontrollably.

Gu Yilan finally exhaled, dropping the ruler and pulling the boy into his arms. “Alright, it’s over now,” he soothed.

Just as the psychologist had predicted, the boy didn’t withdraw. Instead, he threw his arms around Gu Yilan’s neck, with movements and words more intimate than ever before. “Brother… wuwu…”

Gu Yilan rubbed the back of his soft, fluffy head like a real older brother. “Do you understand what you did wrong?”

Su Zesui nodded rapidly against his neck, like a child acknowledging a lesson. “I’m sorry, brother…”

With a gentle, tearful voice, the boy choked out his confession, promising to study properly and never hide anything from him again.

Gu Yilan took the ointment he had prepared in advance and carefully applied it to Su Zesui’s palm. When the boy winced in pain, he couldn’t help but blow on it gently, his heart aching for him.

He never had particularly high expectations for Su Zesui’s grades, but the boy’s nature was far too obedient—he never dared stir up trouble. Coupled with the psychologist’s repeated advice not to be soft, Gu Yilan reluctantly decided to try this method after receiving the teacher’s call.

After this punishment, something seemed to shift. Having seen Su Zesui in such a real and vulnerable state, the boy became unusually clingy, telling him everything and no longer constantly reading his expressions.

When he saw Gu Yilan’s stern face, Su Zesui no longer fell into endless self-doubt or internal struggle. Instead, he found subtle ways to cheer him up, always thinking about how to make him happy.

Su Zesui understood that they were forever brothers. The worst that could happen was paying for a past mistake—getting a few swats on the hand and then being comforted by Gu Yilan.

Their lives gradually fell into a steady rhythm, and their bond grew ever closer. Every New Year, instead of returning to his family estate, Gu Yilan would take Su Zesui abroad, acting as his unpaid translator and letting him explore the world with joy and excitement.

They had no family—only each other—like inseparable brothers.

Over time, Su Zesui became increasingly dependent on Gu Yilan, his personality brighter and more cheerful. Eventually, he passed the college entrance exam and was admitted to the city’s top university, majoring in Economics.

It wasn’t until university started that he realized what Mr. Gu had meant when he said by the Christmas tree abroad, “My home isn’t far from your school.” In fact, Gu Yilan owned properties all over the city—so no matter where he needed to be, it was never far.

After Su Zesui was admitted to university, they moved again—this time into a “school district apartment” near the campus.

Gu Yilan’s career had gradually stabilized, giving him more free time, yet he continued the old habit of driving the boy to and from school, just like in high school.

One day, after participating in a freshman volunteer organization’s ice-breaking event, Su Zesui ran up to Gu Yilan, who was leaning against the car, holding a small bouquet of flowers.

Seeing the bright, blooming flowers, Gu Yilan instinctively furrowed his brows. “Where did these come from?” he asked.

“They’re from our group leader!” Su Zesui held the bouquet out for him, letting him smell the fragrance.

Gu Yilan gave a slight nod, taking the car keys to get in. Only when he saw the boy still fiddling with the flowers in the passenger seat did he part his thin lips and ask, “Why did your group leader give you flowers?”

“To welcome us,” Su Zesui said. “Every freshman joining the organization gets one.”

Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further about the flowers. Instead, he asked about the boy’s university life. Su Zesui, long accustomed to sharing every detail of his life with him, immediately began chattering non-stop, recounting everything in vivid detail.

The whole way, the car was filled with laughter and cheerful chatter.

Once they got home, Su Zesui didn’t hesitate to shove the bouquet into Gu Yilan’s arms. “Brother, help me find a place for these. I’m going to the bathroom.”

With that, he quickly changed into his slippers, tossed his backpack onto a chair, and dashed off to the restroom.

Gu Yilan took the flowers and scanned the spacious living room, finally settling his gaze on the tall shelf next to the TV.

Carrying the bouquet, he approached the shelf. Just as he raised his arm to place it on the upper tier, something slipped out from between the stems and fell to the floor.

He steadied the bouquet on the shelf and bent down to pick up the fallen item—but the moment he saw it clearly, he froze in place.

It was a pink envelope.

As if fearing the recipient wouldn’t understand its meaning, the sender had drawn a large red heart in the center of the envelope.

---

Author’s Note: It finally feels like they’re real brothers. Can’t wait to see how Gu Yilan handles it, hhh (covers face)

---

---

If (3/9)

---

Gu Yilan asked flatly, “Zhou Qizhao?”

Mother Zhou was about to say a few flattering words when the man cut her off: “The one who’s always bullying my brother?”

Mother Zhou froze, then quickly forced a smile. “Ah, could there be some misunderstanding? Children are simple-minded—it’s normal for them to bicker now and then. Sometimes we parents might think they don’t get along, but actually, they’re on good terms. Haha…”

Her laughter died in her throat when she noticed that the man’s eyes held not the slightest hint of amusement. His cold gaze rested on her face like the scythe of a reaper locked onto its target.

Mother Zhou’s voice faltered, and sweat began to bead on her forehead. She knew better than anyone what kind of trouble her own son caused.

“He’s my brother’s deskmate.”

The man finally curved his lips, speaking with a faint lift of his brow. His tone carried a pressure that seemed to hide deeper meaning, and it sent a chill down Mother Zhou’s back.

A few seconds later, Gu Yilan’s smile vanished. Like a grim reaper delivering judgment, he said coldly, “Have him transferred to another class.”

“Ah? Th-this…”

Mother Zhou faltered under the weight of his commanding tone, her voice trembling as she tried to explain: “My son, he’s just… not very good with words, but he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s been going to this school since he was little—if he transfers, I’m afraid he won’t be able to adjust… Please, Mr. Gu…”

Gu Yilan lowered his eyes slightly, his voice cool and calm: “He can transfer to a school in another city. But before that, he owes my brother a public apology.”

In her business dealings, Mother Zhou had always dreaded facing men like Gu Yilan—those whose words were mild and measured, whose tone was faint and detached, yet carried an undeniable weight. No matter how many flowery excuses she made, none of it could sway someone like him.

Seeing Gu Yilan pause in thought, Mother Zhou feared he might demand something even harsher the next second. Her face turned red, then pale, as she quickly nodded. “Alright, he’ll transfer. Zhou Qizhao grew up spoiled by us, thick-skinned and arrogant. It’s our fault for raising him this way—he should be sent off to fend for himself.”

In such a situation, losing face was a small matter. What Mother Zhou feared even more was that due to the disharmony between the younger generation, Gu Yilan would trip them up in future collaborations or even team up with other powerful families to make things difficult for them.

It was all that brat Zhou Qizhao’s fault—unlike his younger brother, he never gave anyone a moment’s peace. Playing around all the time was bad enough, but now he’d gone and provoked such a vengeful ancestor for the family. He’s truly a lost cause.

Mother Zhou lowered her head, bowing again and again, her heart already regarding Zhou Qizhao as a burden to be cast aside.

Gu Yilan said calmly, “Make sure he apologizes publicly at next week’s flag-raising ceremony.”

“Mm.”

Mother Zhou hesitated for a moment, then gritted her teeth as if making a firm decision. “Since you said Qizhao has harmed his classmate, we will definitely handle this matter strictly. We’ll send him to a boarding school in another city, and only give him a basic living allowance each month so he learns to reflect on himself. If a child misbehaves, it’s because we as parents have failed to teach him well. My husband and I are both responsible. We’ve been busy with work lately, and the projects with your company…”

Mother Zhou wasn’t sure if her harsh punishment would satisfy Gu Yilan, so she kept glancing at the man’s expression. Unfortunately, Gu Yilan’s face remained calm, giving nothing away. He only spoke faintly when she mentioned the project: “I know.”

His tone carried a subtle note of ending the conversation. Following his gaze, Mother Zhou noticed the homeroom teacher had somehow entered the classroom, holding several test papers while checking in the parents one by one.

At that moment, Mother Zhou felt a little regretful.

The “projects” she had just mentioned involved investments worth hundreds of millions—highly profitable ventures. Not only that, she had hoped to gain some favor with Gu Yilan, who was still establishing his footing domestically. Yet here she was, sitting in an ordinary parent–teacher meeting like everyone else? How was this fair???

The theme of the meeting was the usual: students’ academic performance and mental state.

The homeroom teacher handed out each child’s report cards from the past few exams, along with the most recent test papers from every subject, asking the parents to sign them.

Gu Yilan picked up the black pen from the boy’s desk. His strokes swept across the paper, bold and fluid, and he signed his name next to the score.

The boy’s handwriting was neat and elegant, but by contrast, his own looked freer—almost careless—yet powerful, as if he were signing a contract rather than a high school test paper.

After listening to the homeroom teacher’s long analysis of the class, Gu Yilan gathered a stack of test papers and report cards, ready to step outside and find Su Zesui.

In the hallway, Su Zesui was surrounded by a small crowd, his brows curved in a smile, lips moving gently as he spoke in a soft voice. When he saw Gu Yilan come out, he immediately walked over and called out, sweetly and obediently, “Brother.”

Gu Yilan reached out to ruffle his hair. “The teacher said your grades have improved recently. Keep working hard.”

Su Zesui nodded firmly. Back in elementary school, his big brother had told him the same thing. But after his big brother was diagnosed with cancer, there had been no one to attend parent–teacher meetings for him anymore.

“Brother, are you busy?” Su Zesui asked. “If you are, you don’t have to go to the ‘Thank Your Parents’ event. It’s not that important.”

Gu Yilan slipped the papers into the boy’s backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and started toward the stairs. Looking back at him, he said simply, “I’m not busy.”

Su Zesui hurried after him, clutching the swaying strap of the backpack as he followed Mr. Gu downstairs.

On the playground, overly sentimental background music poured from two large speakers. Rows of chairs had been hastily arranged across the soccer field, giving the whole event a sense of carelessness and oddity.

Having lived abroad for a long time, Gu Yilan wasn’t very familiar with these kinds of school activities. After a brief hesitation, he followed the seating chart given by the homeroom teacher and led the boy to their assigned spot.

Noticing that only a single chair had been provided, Gu Yilan naturally said to Su Zesui, “You must be tired from standing at the door just now. Sit down and rest for a while.”

At that, Su Zesui shook his head vigorously like a rattle-drum, patting the chair instead. “No, no, I can’t. This event is about thanking my brother. You should be the one to sit.”

“Thank me?” Gu Yilan couldn’t help but laugh as he sat down. “And how exactly are you going to thank me?”

Su Zesui thought for a moment, then said, “Hmm… I don’t really know.”

Gu Yilan felt a vague sense of foreboding, but considering the boy had probably never experienced this kind of event before, he decided to wait patiently as the other parents filed in.

Ten minutes later, a deafening sound blared from the speakers on the main stage: “Your parents are, and always will be, your parents! For your sake, as long as they have a single breath left, they will give you everything they can! Including their own lives! They ask for nothing in return, only that you live well!”

Gu Yilan: …

Su Zesui: “Wuwu…”

“Look at your parents! Touch your father’s calloused hands, stroke your mother’s graying hair, kiss the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes!”

Gu Yilan was caught between laughter and speechlessness. It was his first time attending such a bizarre event, and he couldn’t bring himself to say a word. But when he lowered his gaze, he met Su Zesui’s tear-filled eyes.

Like his innocent classmates around him, the boy’s eyes were red, his cheeks streaked with two trails of tears. Half-squatting on the ground, he clutched at Gu Yilan, wanting to look at him more closely—clearly moved by the “master’s” words from the stage.

With a helpless sigh, Gu Yilan extended his palm toward the boy.

He was only twenty years old—no white hair, no wrinkles. The only thing Su Zesui could see was the thin layer of calluses on his fingertips. The boy pursed his soft lips, then let a crystal tear fall into the man’s open hand.

Gu Yilan rather ruined the mood by saying, “That’s from handling guns all the time.”

But Su Zesui was still moved. His throat tightened as he choked out, “Brother, you’ve had it so hard…”

Gu Yilan almost laughed, but the smile never made it out—because the “master” on stage had started again: “Fathers, mothers, thank you! Now, is there any student brave enough to come up here and say those three words to your parents out loud?”

The moment Su Zesui began to rise from his seat, Gu Yilan quickly raised a hand to stop him, speaking fast: “Stay here with your brother.”

Tears glimmered in the boy’s eyes as he nodded, then threw himself into Gu Yilan’s arms, sobbing, “Brother, thank you… When I grow up, I’ll make lots of money—hic—and repay you, wuwu…”

“Mhm. When you grow up,” Gu Yilan chuckled softly, patting the boy’s back to calm him down.

By the end of the event, Su Zesui was crying so hard he was drenched in tears, insisting he wanted to use his pocket money to buy the master’s recommended book <A Grateful Heart>. Luckily, Gu Yilan reacted quickly and stopped him. “Be good. We’re going home.”

It was around then that Gu Yilan began to sense that something wasn’t quite right.

The boy had taken his words from a few days ago to heart. He no longer worried that he might lose him at any moment. Yet he still instinctively treated him with a certain “formality,” feeling more gratitude than dependence, always thinking he should repay his kindness.

This tense, careful way of interacting didn’t really resemble how brothers normally got along.

Gu Yilan assumed it was just because they weren’t familiar with each other yet—that the boy had intellectually accepted his reasoning, but his body was a step behind and hadn’t fully adjusted. A little more time together, and things would settle.

But as days passed, the boy remained respectful and endlessly grateful. He would often share only good news, never the bad. Su Zesui would happily tell him about Zhou Qizhao bowing to apologize in front of everyone or about the top scores he achieved in class, but he wouldn’t mention where he struggled in his studies or if he felt unwell.

Even feelings like “missing someone” were rarely expressed, as he feared that unnecessary emotional attachments might waste his time.

Out of concern, Gu Yilan eventually called in a psychologist who specialized in adolescent anxiety to determine whether Su Zesui’s current behavior required intervention to prevent psychological issues from worsening.

After learning the situation over the phone, the psychologist said nothing—except to hand Gu Yilan a disciplinary ruler.

Frowning, Gu Yilan weighed the surprisingly heavy ruler in his hand. “What does this mean?”

“Sometimes, excessive reward and politeness are what drive people apart,” the psychologist said, flipping through the records. “Based on my diagnosis, you shouldn’t continue to be overly gentle or unconditionally fulfill all of his requests.”

Gu Yilan frowned in dissatisfaction. “That doesn’t mean I can hit him, right?”

“You see, you also silently agreed that you absolutely mustn’t lay a finger on him,” the psychologist shrugged. “But among real brothers, it’s very common for the older brother to discipline the younger. No one thinks it’s wrong.”

Gu Yilan said, “I’m not trying to chase some ‘ideal brotherhood.’ I just want him to be healthy—mentally and physically—and a little happier.”

“How do you know punishment will necessarily upset him?” the psychologist explained. “It may cause some physical discomfort, but it helps release emotions. When he makes a mistake he thinks is huge, you give a small but firm punishment, then comfort him afterward. In effect, you’re helping him bear the consequences of his actions, while he only has to endure a minor scolding. This way, he feels lighter inside—and grows more dependent on you. It benefits both of you.”

The psychologist, a specialist in human behavior, made a fair point. Gu Yilan lowered his gaze to the ruler in his hand, lost in thought.

---

---

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.

---