Ren Qingyun and Winston really did just come over for a meal, and then the two of them went right back home together.
At times like this, Yu Junqing’s eyesight was exceptionally sharp. Just before Ren Qingyun left, he noticed something—Ren Qingyun’s neck was covered in dense purplish hickeys, a complete mess. One look and it was obvious how intense the battle had been. Honestly, that British man looked refined and impeccably put together. Who would have thought he was so wild underneath?
After seeing the couple off, Yu Junqing finally got a proper night’s sleep at home. Although certain decidedly not-for-public-discussion topics had kept him up a little later than planned, he did not have work the next morning, so he could sleep until he woke up naturally.
The next morning—
Bo Rui got up at dawn. The one in his arms was sleeping so soundly he was practically snoring. The night before, just before bed, Yu Junqing had been reciting from a cookbook, rattling off a long list of dishes he had never tried before. Bo Rui had trimmed it down, but there were still several complicated ones left. There was no way around it—if he did not start early, there would not be enough time.
He tucked the blanket snugly around the person in bed, then pulled a thick wool rug from the closet and spread it on the floor. As for why he had not laid it out the night before? He was not stupid. If he had, there would not have been anyone lying in his arms.
Once Yu Junqing was settled, Bo Rui sat at the bedside and studied his sleeping “great treasure.”
After a month of filming, he looked even thinner than when Bo Rui had first brought him home. Bo Rui had finally managed to put a little flesh on that sharp chin, but now it felt bony again to the touch. The night before, when he had held him, it had been all angles and bones pressing against him. He still had that sleek, well-proportioned frame, but the Adonis belt and abdominal definition were nearly gone.
Bo Rui cracked the curtains slightly. The early morning sunlight was soft and warm, spilling into the room and giving it an inexplicably cozy feeling. Looking at Yu Junqing’s faintly pouting lips, he could not resist leaning down for a quick kiss.
There really was something wonderful about waking up with the person you loved lying in your bed.
He changed into clothes that could handle stains and headed to the market.
The neighborhood market was not far. Many of the older residents walked there. Even at dawn, vendors selling fresh produce had already arrived. If you did not come early, you might not get the freshest goods—or might not get anything at all.
Bo Rui was a familiar face in the neighborhood. People greeted him everywhere he went. The older folks were curious. It was not the weekend. Why was he not at work?
“Xiao Bo, not working today? Out to buy groceries so early?” one auntie asked warmly.
“Day off today. Got family visiting. My cousin’s bringing friends over, so I need to prepare a big spread. Takes time,” Bo Rui replied smoothly, adjusting his collar without missing a beat.
The neighbors were kindhearted, but they talked. He had learned that the hard way shortly after moving in, when word about him had spread through the entire community in less than two days. Since then, he had understood one thing clearly—never share anything you did not want public knowledge.
After chatting a bit, he even asked a few of the best home cooks for tips on some of the dishes he planned to make. Yu Junqing’s tastes were varied, and several dishes were not his usual repertoire.
“Did not know you could cook, Xiao Bo,” one older man remarked, surprised.
“You did not know?” an auntie chimed in. “I live next door. Every time he cooks, the smell drifts right through the windows. Makes my whole family hungry.”
Bo Rui laughed. “You are teasing me again, Auntie. Everyone knows your cooking is amazing.”
Before long, they reached the bustling market entrance. Vendors shouted, buyers bargained, and piles of greens lined the road.
After securing fresh ingredients, Bo Rui returned home before eight. He changed clothes and went straight into the kitchen.
—
Yu Junqing slept like a baby.
Sunlight nudged at his eyelids, but he refused to wake. The past month had been exhausting—filming, script analysis, unexpected setbacks. Even after wrapping, Xiao Yitong had not let him rest—commercials, variety shows. This was the first truly good sleep he had had in ages.
Wrapped tightly in blankets like a silkworm cocoon, he felt like he was in heaven. He buried his face into the pillow that still carried Bo Rui’s scent, comforted by the familiar smell.
Eventually, hunger won.
The room was filled with mouthwatering aromas. His stomach growled in protest. He rolled upright, took a deep breath, and felt pure happiness.
After washing up, he wandered into the kitchen.
Bo Rui stood amid swirling steam, four tables covered with half-finished dishes.
“You are awake,” Bo Rui said without turning around.
“Mm. My stomach filed a complaint,” Yu Junqing replied honestly, patting his flat belly.
Bo Rui reached over and gave it an assessing rub. The smooth skin felt nice under his palm. Only when Yu Junqing squirmed from the ticklishness did he withdraw his hand.
“Good thing I made just enough for this big eater.”
He shooed Yu Junqing out and handed him half a tomato as a snack.
Yu Junqing stared at it. Of all things? A leftover half tomato?
He took a bite.
Oh. Surprisingly good.
While waiting, an idea struck him. He fetched the professional camera from the study and began snapping photos of Bo Rui working in the kitchen.
Click, click, click.
Bo Rui heard the shutter and instinctively straightened, shoulders broad, back forming a perfect line.
After dozens of shots, Yu Junqing sat down to review them.
Then he froze.
In one photo, Bo Rui had turned toward the lens. His expression was full of helpless indulgence, and his eyes overflowed with affection. One look, and Yu Junqing could not look away.
He saved the photo to his phone and set it as his wallpaper, blushing as he pressed a shy kiss to the screen.
One day, he thought, he would share it publicly. Let everyone see.
Bo Rui, watching from the doorway, felt something settle warmly in his chest.
He could not quite articulate what he loved most about Yu Junqing. Maybe it was simply that having him in the house made it feel alive. Even thinking about him brought a smile.
—
That afternoon, Xiao Yitong arrived to pick Yu Junqing up.
On the passenger seat sat a packed lunchbox. The food looked incredible. Xiao Yitong’s teeth practically ached from the sweetness in the air.
Ever since reporting to Huang Qian, he had somehow been dragged into a “cult.” They kept interrogating him about the “President’s Wife.”
Yes. The President’s Wife.
Only an idiot would not understand what they meant.
It turned out that RQ had been founded by Bo Rui specifically for Yu Junqing. This was not a casual arrangement.
But that made things more complicated.
Yu Junqing was a public figure. Public figures were rarely allowed the luxury of openly having partners. Many had hidden their families for life because of public backlash.
Two men. Same company. The speculation alone would be explosive.
Xiao Yitong sighed.
Back at the company, they headed to the fourteenth floor to finalize contract matters.
The moment the door opened, someone lunged out.
“Any new updates about the President’s Wife?!”
Xiao Yitong’s face drained of color. He clamped a hand over the person’s mouth and dragged him inside.
Before he could explain—
“So what exactly were you about to say?” Yu Junqing’s voice came from behind him, gentle and smiling.
Xiao Yitong froze.
Huang Qian stepped forward and explained everything in a rush.
Yu Junqing listened, then leaned back thoughtfully.
So… he and Bo Rui had been exposed internally without even realizing it?
And he had been designated the company mascot? “President’s Wife” sounded odd. “President Couple” sounded worse.
He frowned deeply, looking serious enough to make everyone nervous.
Finally, he spoke.
“Well… it does not necessarily have to be ‘wife.’”
Xiao Yitong and Huang Qian exchanged alarmed looks.
Wait.
What did that mean?