C134

Moonlight cut through the night, as if slicing open a piece of black cloth, illuminating the city.

After the heavy rain, the night air still carried a trace of dampness.

Shen Qingran sat by the window. A desk lamp lit up his table; his gold-rimmed glasses rested on his face, and he wore a white, round-necked long-sleeved sweater.

His pale, well-defined fingers gripped a red fountain pen as he corrected the math papers on his desk. With every question he read, his brows furrowed further, quickly marking checks and crosses.

Before long, he finished correcting several papers, then picked up his phone, snapped photos, and sent them over.

He dialed a number. It took quite a while before the call connected. Loud music poured through the phone, shattering the quiet atmosphere around him.

“What does Shen Qingran want from me?” An arrogant voice sounded.

“Turn off the music,” Shen Qingran’s voice was cool and detached.

“Why should I? This is a demo I just finished for my new album. Want to listen to it for me while you’re at it?”

Shen Qingran pinched the space between his brows. “Turn it off.”

On the other end, the person reluctantly pressed pause.

“Why so bossy? You’re acting tough with me now? You’d better give me a good reason.”

Shen Qingran said, “I just finished grading the stack of test papers you’ve piled up these past few days.”

Jiang Yu’s voice lit up with excitement. “How much? Did I make progress?”

“150 points.”

“Really? Yes! That’s amazing.” He jumped on the spot, his joy vibrating through the phone. “I knew I was smart. Teacher always nitpicks, saying I’m wrong here and wrong there—he must have it out for me. Look, didn’t I just score full marks? I didn’t expect you, Shen Qingran, to actually grade me fairly for once.”

Shen Qingran covered his face. If he had known earlier, he never should’ve fallen for Teacher’s trick—taking on the chore of correcting Jiang Yu’s endless test papers out of misplaced kindness.

Glancing again at the stack of red crosses on the desk, he thought—better to give up on this kind of person quickly.

Listening to Jiang Yu brag on and on for half a minute without any intention of stopping, Shen Qingran mercilessly cut him off:

“One hundred and fifty points total—for five test papers.”

The other end went silent for three seconds before Jiang Yu protested, “That’s impossible. Did you calculate wrong?”

Shen Qingran took off his glasses, rubbed at his brows, and said, “I sent you the photos. See for yourself.”

By the time he finished speaking, his voice was heavy with exhaustion.

The other end seemed to be checking the photos. After about a minute, Jiang Yu exclaimed, “No way. I’ve been working super hard on test papers lately. How can there be so many crosses? This one—I filled in every answer! Why did you only give me 16 points?”

Shen Qingran replied weakly, “Exactly. How can you fill in every answer and still only get 16 points? Even random guessing would score higher than that. What did you even do during school?”

Jiang Yu said, “I’m allergic to math. You guys should’ve tested me in English—I used to get full marks in that. Chinese too, I wasn’t bad.”

Shen Qingran’s eye twitched. “Turn on your computer. Start a video call. I’ll explain the problems to you.”

Never in his life did Shen Qingran expect he’d one day have to tutor a college graduate in basic math.

Jiang Yu tried to bargain: “No need, right? I’m hopeless. A pile of mud that can’t be shaped. I can’t learn it. I already gave up on myself.”

Shen Qingran: “Aren’t you afraid Teacher will find out?”

Jiang Yu chuckled slyly, “Teacher trusts you more than anyone. As long as you cover for me, he’ll never know.”

Shen Qingran mercilessly refused: “No.”

Jiang Yu tried to butter him up: “Senior brother, please…”

 

At that word “Senior brother,” Shen Qingran froze for a moment. This was the first time Jiang Yu had called him that without Shi Fei forcing him to.

Maybe Jiang Yu sensed it worked, because he softly called again:

“Senior brother… okay?”

“No.” Shen Qingran’s expression returned to normal as he continued:

“Starting today, I’ll explain math to you every night at eleven. One hour each day. You’d better listen carefully, and review afterward. In half a month I’ll give you a test. If you fail, I’ll post the graded papers straight to Weibo.”

Jiang Yu instantly blew up.

“Damn it, Shen Qingran, you’re using this chance to get revenge on me! Targeting me on purpose!”

He cared about his image—if his fans ever saw those papers online, where would he put his face?

Shen Qingran said coldly: “If you’re not happy, go complain to Teacher.”

Jiang Yu: “Only little kids tattle.”

Come on, it was just a test. Back then he could score full marks in English—how could he possibly lose to math?

—

Gu Yueze sat in the car, a bit worn out after a day of work.

On the side, Zhang Wu’s phone received a message. They were at a red light, but he didn’t check—it was against his work rules to read personal messages on duty, especially in front of President Gu.

Just then, Gu Yueze’s own phone chimed. Seeing it was from Zhang Mengmeng, he glanced at the driver in front, then tapped open the voice message.

Zhang Mengmeng: [Big Brother Gu, it’s already past ten. When will you let my dad get off work?]

Hearing his daughter’s voice, Zhang Wu nearly slipped off the gas pedal.

What?! President Gu was still in contact with his daughter? They hadn’t cut ties?

Mengmeng, ah… how could you ask something like that? Are you trying to get your dad fired? Gu Yueze was always busy with a thousand things—how would he have time to answer this kind of question?

But before Zhang Wu could finish panicking, he saw Gu Yueze calmly raise his phone and send a reply:

[He’ll be home soon.]

Then Gu Yueze put down the phone and said to him:

“Pull over to the side.”

Zhang Wu opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end obeyed and parked the car.

Gu Yueze stepped out, his long legs landing on the pavement. Zhang Wu hurriedly got out too:

“President Gu, maybe I should drop you off at your destination first?”

Gu Yueze: “Head home early.”

Zhang Wu: “Alright then, but President Gu, you should also get some rest, I can see you’re—”

Gu Yueze: “What did you just say?”

Zhang Wu hesitated. “I said I should take you to your destination first?”

Gu Yueze: “No, the next part.”

Zhang Wu faltered: “I said, President Gu, you should also go home and rest early…”

Gu Yueze waved him off. “Go on, get home.”

Then he got back into his car, shut the door, and drove off, leaving his assistant stranded on the roadside.

Zhang Wu: “……” What just happened?

Sleep. Go to sleep.

Gu Yueze’s chiseled features softened, and his lips faintly curved, a trace of warmth hidden in his eyes.

A moment ago, he had been exhausted, but at the thought of a certain little one, all the fatigue vanished.

He drove home, parked in the garage, and hurried into the elevator—his mood unusually nervous and his footsteps were brisk.

When he opened the door, cool air-conditioning greeted him. The living room lights were still on. He strode quickly inside…

And there, leaning back on the sofa, propped up by two cushions, head tilted to the side—was someone fast asleep.

On his lap rested a laptop, and his ten fingers were still poised over the keyboard—it seemed he had dozed off in the middle of typing.

The screen had long gone to sleep mode, bouncing around with twelve bold characters: “Don’t touch my computer, or else you’ll regret it.”

Gu Yueze carefully lifted the laptop from his body and placed it on the coffee table. Even this small movement stirred Shi Fei awake. He blinked drowsily.

“Mister Gu, you’re back.” Shi Fei instinctively leaned his hands toward Gu Yueze. His voice, thick with sleep, carried an unintentional allure.

Gu Yueze slipped an arm around Shi Fei’s back, the other under his knees, and lifted him up in one smooth motion.

“If you’re sleepy, go rest inside. You’ll catch a chill out here.”

When he spoke the words “go rest,” his voice subconsciously deepened, the ordinary phrase suddenly heavy with temptation.

“I was waiting for you. How could I sleep without you home?” Shi Fei yawned mid-sentence, his voice tinged with a soft nasal tone—like a kitten purring in spoiled complaint.

If he hadn’t said “sleep,” it would’ve been fine. But hearing that word made a rush of heat surge through Gu Yueze, pooling in a dangerous place.

“Shi Fei, don’t tease me.” His voice was restrained and immediately became husky.

“I’m not teasing. I really just want to sleep-sleep.” Shi Fei’s head burrowed closer against his chest, searching for a comfortable spot, like a small cat curling into its nest.

His low murmurs filled the quiet room, every sound painfully clear.

Soft breaths brushed against Gu Yueze’s chest. Even through his suit jacket, it felt as if the warmth seeped right into his skin.

The phrase “sleep-sleep” was too much. Looking down at that half-buried face nestled against him, Gu Yueze shifted Shi Fei higher in his arms, lowered his head, and pressed a kiss against his lips.

Even half-asleep, Shi Fei refused to yield. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Gu Yueze’s neck, tilted his head up, and kissed back.

He was carried into the master bedroom. Though Gu Yueze kissed him with urgency, he laid Shi Fei on the bed with painstaking care, as if he were fragile jade that might shatter. Then he leaned down over him.

That night, Shi Fei slept deeply in Gu Yueze’s arms, exhausted, clinging to his waist like a little koala.

In his dreams he murmured a single word: “Mine.”

Finding a more comfortable spot, he drifted off again.

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains. Outside, the sharp tap-tap-tap of a bird pecking at the window woke him.

Shi Fei shifted, sat up groggily, then suddenly realized something was wrong. Looking down, he saw his bare body.

“Damn.” His little “oil bottle” was exposed. He quickly grabbed clothes from the wardrobe and dressed.

[TN: Oil bottle — slang for his butt was showing. (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) ]

Sliding on his slippers, he opened the door. The smell of noodles wafted in, making his stomach growl.

And there was Gu Yueze—dressed in a white shirt with an apron tied at his waist, carrying a steaming bowl of noodles out of the kitchen.

Their eyes met.

---