Pei Qingjian rummaged through his memories for a long time and finally remembered where the IOU was.
He went into his bedroom, opened a cabinet in the wardrobe, and pulled out a metal box, turning the combination lock.
Lan Xingchen, watching the whole process, asked curiously, “What’s in there that’s so precious?”
Pei Qingjian glanced at him and pulled out a paper envelope.
Lan Xingchen: !!!
He thought Pei Qingjian was completely audacious.
Such careful storage, and in such a soft, pink envelope—if it wasn’t a love letter, what could it be?!
To hand a love letter over in front of the sponsor… audacious!
Lan Xingchen turned to leave, but Pei Qingjian grabbed him. “Look.”
“I’m not looking.” Lan Xingchen turned his head, disdainful. It’s just a love letter, who doesn’t have one? Back in school, going to the bathroom and coming back, my desk would have a few waiting.
Pei Qingjian held the note closer to him. “Look, there’s really nothing between us. This is an IOU he wrote me.”
An IOU?
Lan Xingchen looked down at the note. Pei Qingjian’s expression was obedient, almost cute.
Lan Xingchen took the note. Sure enough, it was an IOU—for over a hundred thousand!
“You put an IOU in such a soft pink envelope?” Lan Xingchen glanced at the envelope Pei Qingjian had just returned. “Doesn’t fit at all.”
“No choice. There was no other envelope. This was a thank-you note that came with a Z-brand necklace I bought, so I just put it in there,” Pei Qingjian explained.
“So, the two of us were purely employer and employee. No romantic relationship, no physical relationship—just a debt.”
As for the original owner’s slight feelings for the other person, that was the original owner’s past, not his. Those feelings were gone now.
Now, he had a sponsor, and basic professionalism mattered. The sponsor spent money on him; he couldn’t just make things difficult. Even if the sponsor had no emotional demands, he had to maintain the proper attitude, show professional discipline, and handle his past romantic entanglements properly.
—Although his romantic history was practically a blank sheet, the original owner had been emotionally rich, after all.
Pei Qingjian pointed to the IOU in his hand. “Well, I’m out of money right now anyway. It’s time for him to pay up.”
Lan Xingchen nodded. Debts must be repaid, naturally. From this perspective, the IOU really did deserve careful safekeeping.
He handed the IOU back to Pei Qingjian, then sat back on the bed, waiting for Pei Qingjian to finish packing.
Pei Qingjian put the IOU back into his bag inside the suitcase and resumed picking out suitable clothes.
After finishing, he was about to close the wardrobe when something caught his eye in a drawer: a camera.
Delighted, he quickly pulled it out, opened the lens cap, and began adjusting the settings.
He held the camera and turned around, only to have Lan Xingchen walk straight into his frame.
The midday sunlight streamed through the window, bathing him in warm light. He lowered his head, looking at his phone. His long lashes dipped like fluttering butterflies, forming a summer landscape all their own.
Pei Qingjian, still a bit caught off guard, instinctively pressed the shutter.
Lan Xingchen lifted his eyes, like a flower blooming, eyelashes curling, revealing petals of hidden beauty in his gaze.
“Sneaking a shot?” Lan Xingchen said with a smile in his voice.
Pei Qingjian felt a little embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to sneak a photo—he’d just been caught in the habit, a reflex of his professional instincts.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll delete it,” he said kindly.
Lan Xingchen held out his hand.
Pei Qingjian quickly walked over and handed him the camera.
Lan Xingchen took it, casually glancing at the screen—but froze when he saw the preview.
He knew he was handsome, knew he always looked good on camera, but…
Looking at the composition and the way light played across the frame, this wasn’t a casual snapshot. It looked like a professional photoshoot.
Pei Qingjian’s technique… was really that good?
“You a photographer?” Lan Xingchen asked.
This level of skill didn’t look like it came from mere practice.
Pei Qingjian almost nodded—but then remembered he had now crossed into this story, and hurriedly shook his head instead.
“Not?” Lan Xingchen frowned. “Then what do you do?”
As he asked, a thought struck him. Slowly, he recalled that Pei Qingjian wasn’t a photographer—if anything, maybe… an actor?
“I’m an actor,” Pei Qingjian said.
Lan Xingchen nodded. That made sense; he vaguely remembered seeing the other person’s profile and the occupation listed as actor.
Looking at him now, he couldn’t help but take another long look.
Truly speaking, Pei Qingjian was very striking.
Before, he had always overdone his makeup, almost panda-like, trying to exaggerate his eyes. If Lan Xingchen hadn’t seen his student ID photo when checking on him, he never would have chosen this person as his “pet bird.”
He wanted a pet bird, not a black crow.
So when Pei Qingjian said yesterday that he was coming over to fulfill their contract, Lan Xingchen had specifically instructed him not to wear makeup—to meet him barefaced.
Apparently, Pei Qingjian had noticed his preference. This morning, he had kept it simple and clean, and came out with him without overdoing himself.
That was good enough. Lan Xingchen thought, he looked fine just like this: refined, clear eyes, delicate features, a gaze as pure and sparkling as a summer stream.
Indeed, perfect for an actor.
Yet… Lan Xingchen was curious. What kind of shows had he acted in? He had never seen him on TV.
But since he didn’t watch much TV anyway, he didn’t think much of it.
He didn’t follow celebrities and barely watched series; aside from a few big-name stars, he had no knowledge of others. Perhaps Pei Qingjian had appeared in shows he hadn’t seen.
“Your technique’s pretty good,” Lan Xingchen said approvingly.
Pei Qingjian agreed.
“If you want, later I can take a whole set just for you,” Pei Qingjian offered enthusiastically.
He couldn’t help it—ever since crossing into the story and seeing Lan Xingchen for the first time, he had wanted to take photos of him. Even though, given Lan Xingchen’s current status, he couldn’t use them publicly, keeping them as personal work was still worthwhile.
Which photographer wouldn’t want a handsome guy to photograph? Pei Qingjian really liked it.
Lan Xingchen chuckled. “You really like taking photos of me?”
“You’re handsome,” Pei Qingjian said honestly.
Well, look at that—he could talk! Lan Xingchen wondered why he had never realized this little “pet bird” could speak so well. Paid or not, it made a difference.
“Later, when I have time,” he said.
“Okay,” Pei Qingjian said happily.
He took the camera back, turned it off, replaced the lens cap, and packed it in the bag. Together, they left the bedroom.
Lunch was eaten outside. As dinner time approached, Pei Qingjian remembered his promise to Lan Xingchen from the morning.
“Let’s have buns tonight. I’ll make some porridge too.”
“Good.” Lan Xingchen had been waiting to hear that and had even prepared the ingredients.
“I had some lamb delivered just now—let’s do lamb buns.”
Pei Qingjian considered it. “Sure, that works.”
“And what kind of porridge do you want?”
Lan Xingchen had it all planned. “Is there still yam in the fridge? Then let’s make yam porridge.”
“Is there?” Pei Qingjian asked, puzzled—he hadn’t seen any when he checked the fridge this morning.
“Seems like it. I saw some just now,” Lan Xingchen said, heading into the kitchen.
Pei Qingjian followed him and saw Lan Xingchen open the fridge. The brown yams were neatly arranged on the second shelf.
“Really?” Pei Qingjian exclaimed, surprised.
“All right then,” he nodded.
Lan Xingchen let out a small sigh of relief.
He had actually considered making yam and goji berry porridge, but worried that lamb, yam, and goji berries might clash. Pei Qingjian, sensitive as always, noticed his intention and gently removed the goji berries, pretending the yam had already been in the fridge.
Fortunately, Pei Qingjian didn’t overthink it.
“Need my help?” Lan Xingchen asked politely.
Pei Qingjian looked at the unpeeled yam. He thought about letting him peel it, but worried that such a young master might not have done this kind of thing before and could end up allergic.
No matter—when it came to a rich benefactor, he should act like one. Cooking together, washing up afterward… that wasn’t quite befitting of a gold-standard benefactor.
Do your job well, love your work. Besides, according to the book, Lan Xingchen was supposed to die within a year. In this last year, he should treat his benefactor well, at the very least letting him feel that the world held true affection and love.
Still, Pei Qingjian tried to recall what the client’s sister had told him about the story—how exactly did Lan Xingchen die? Was it an accident? Or illness?
She hadn’t mentioned it clearly.
Sigh. Pei Qingjian frowned. What should he do? How could he effectively extend Lan Xingchen’s life, preventing his premature death?
Why must such a fine person have such a short life? Truly disheartening.
Pei Qingjian sighed silently, his gaze softening as he looked at Lan Xingchen. “You go play on your phone. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
Treasure it—this phone, you might only get to use it for a year.
Lan Xingchen felt the gentleness in his voice. “Really, you don’t need me to help?”
“Nope,” Pei Qingjian shook his head.
Look at that—so considerate!
Why is it Lan Xingchen, the benefactor, who faces death, and not Pei Qingjian’s original father? He’d willingly trade the life of his original father to save this benefactor’s life!
No need to be polite!
“Then I’ll go to the study?” Lan Xingchen asked.
“Mm,” Pei Qingjian nodded.
Lan Xingchen turned and headed to the study.
Pei Qingjian carried the ingredients into the kitchen. He already had a recipe planned, so cooking went quickly.
When Lan Xingchen finished reviewing the documents his assistant had sent, he headed toward the fridge for a beer. Even before stepping into the kitchen, the aroma of clay pot porridge hit him.
Hunger struck him immediately. He was about to ask Pei Qingjian how long it would take, but then he noticed Pei Qingjian letting out a soft sigh, freezing him in place.
What was going on? Was he thinking about something troubling?
Lan Xingchen looked over and saw Pei Qingjian focused on making the buns, sighing softly after finishing every two or three.
What could possibly be troubling him so?
Before he could think further, Pei Qingjian had finished another bun and placed it gently on the cutting board.
Buns?
Lan Xingchen suddenly realized!
Of course—it was about his health!
Pei Qingjian must have noticed his subtle concerns about Lan Xingchen’s condition, so he was trying to make both lamb buns and yam porridge to help.
Of course—so obvious. Lamb and yam… anyone else might not understand, but Pei Qingjian, being perceptive, definitely knew the purpose of these foods. He must have misread Lan Xingchen’s intentions and felt sad for him.
He truly deserved to be scolded!
He knew Pei Qingjian was sensitive about such matters—he’d even sighed over an engine cover that morning—but he still took out these ingredients, insisting that Pei Qingjian prepare them himself! By hand!
Lan Xingchen felt his chest tighten.
It was a brazen mockery! Not only was he tormenting the body, he was targeting the heart!
“We’re going out to eat!” Lan Xingchen quickly stepped forward, grabbed Pei Qingjian’s hand, and set the bun down.
“Ah?” Pei Qingjian was startled.
Wasn’t he going to the study? Why come over all of a sudden? And why say they were going out to eat?
“Aren’t we eating buns?”
Lan Xingchen—he wouldn’t even mention lamb, avoiding it completely. Such sensitivity!
He deserved to be scolded!
“No buns,” Lan Xingchen waved his large hand. “I suddenly want stir-fry. Let’s go out for stir-fry.”
Pei Qingjian: ???
Pei Qingjian looked at him, so determined, then glanced at the remaining bun wrappers.
“All right, I’ll finish wrapping the rest first.”
Lan Xingchen couldn’t let him continue. He washed his hands immediately, picked up a wrapper, and made sure to completely prevent Pei Qingjian from teasing him about the lamb.
“I’ll wrap them,” he said, looking at Pei Qingjian with genuine warmth. “You’ve worked hard. Go rest. I’ll finish the rest.”
Pei Qingjian: …
Pei Qingjian doubted him. “You can do it?”
What was there not to know? Pick up the wrapper, add the filling, fold it neatly—easy.
Lan Xingchen was full of confidence. “Don’t worry. Who wouldn’t know how to do this?”
He picked up the ladle, scooping filling—one ladle, two ladles, three.
“Enough, enough,” Pei Qingjian said hurriedly. “Any more and it won’t fit.”
Lan Xingchen finally put down the ladle, pretending to be proud. “Got it. I was just about to start wrapping.”
He picked up a wrapper next to the meat filling.
One fold… two folds… three folds… Lan Xingchen fumbled, and just as he managed to seal one side, the meat started leaking from the other.
Lan Xingchen: !!! What the heck?! Why is the filling still spilling out?!
Pei Qingjian watched him struggle, almost bursting into laughter.
“Let me do it,” he said, reaching for the bun in Lan Xingchen’s hands.
Lan Xingchen, still thinking about Pei Qingjian’s concerns, wouldn’t let him touch the meat. He insisted, “I just got distracted this once. The next one will be fine.”
Pei Qingjian nodded cooperatively. “Mm, okay. Then wrap the next one. This one’s mine.”
“No need,” Lan Xingchen said, quickly fixing the bun in his hand, kneading it in his palm. “There, all fixed.”
Pei Qingjian: ???
Pei Qingjian: …
Lan Xingchen put the bun aside, grabbed a new wrapper, added the filling, then lifted the dough like a blanket, folding it squarely to enclose the filling.
“How’s that? A perfect little meat pie,” he said, pressing it gently so the dough would stick.
Pei Qingjian: …
Well, this was the benefactor, after all—life ticking down fast. As long as he was happy, that was enough.
“All right, then you just enjoy yourself here,” Pei Qingjian said, not wanting to ruin his fun.
“Enjoy?” Lan Xingchen tilted his head, puzzled.
“The joy of cooking,” Pei Qingjian quickly added, sincere. “You can experience the fun of making food. I’ll check on the porridge.”
“Mm,” Lan Xingchen nodded.
Wait a second—he just realized, weren’t they going out to eat? Why check the porridge then?
“Don’t watch. Go change your clothes. Once I finish these, we’ll head out,” Lan Xingchen said.
“But the porridge is already done,” Pei Qingjian said, looking back at him. “We could just eat at home today and go out tomorrow. Is that okay?”
Lan Xingchen: …
Damn it! He knew it! He’d come out too late!
If only he’d finished reading the files earlier!
No—if he hadn’t been so clever as to prepare all this food in the first place!
Now, the porridge was ready. If he insisted on eating out, Pei Qingjian probably wouldn’t be happy.
After all, Pei Qingjian had painstakingly pushed past his mental hurdles, wrapping buns and making porridge with tears in his eyes.
If he refused now, all that effort would be wasted.
“All right,” Lan Xingchen said, helpless.
He turned back and continued wrapping his lamb-filled buns.
Pei Qingjian got out the steamer, added water, and placed the buns he had made earlier inside.
Once the buns were arranged, Lan Xingchen finished wrapping his meat pies.
Pei Qingjian took the electric griddle from the cabinet, planning to fry the meat pies lightly.
“I can do this,” Lan Xingchen said confidently.
Pei Qingjian looked skeptical. “Really?”
Lan Xingchen, annoyed at his doubt, shot him a look, then opened the griddle, brushed on some oil, and placed his pies inside.
“I’ll flip them in a bit, right?” Lan Xingchen said, brimming with confidence.
Pei Qingjian nodded, realizing he actually knew what he was doing.
“Then you go ahead and cook. I’ll mix the dipping sauce.”
“Mm,” Lan Xingchen said, proudly cooking his pies.
Soon, the buns and pies were done, along with the pot of yam and red date porridge.
“Here,” Pei Qingjian said, scooping porridge into a bowl and placing a bun in front of him.
Out of courtesy, Lan Xingchen gave him one of the meat pies he had just cooked.
Pei Qingjian looked at the pies on the plate, surprised.
His parents had passed away early. He grew up with his grandmother, just the two of them. Apart from his grandmother, no one had ever served him food, especially something made by someone’s own hands.
He felt a strange mix of novelty and joy.
He picked up a pie. It wasn’t quite the same as a traditional meat pie—the dough was more like a bun wrapper—but it tasted amazing. Even better than the lamb pies he had eaten before.
“Delicious,” Pei Qingjian said, smiling.
Seeing him smile, Lan Xingchen felt a weight lift from his heart.
Good. That’s good. Eat more—maybe it’ll help you somehow.
He didn’t dare say that out loud, afraid it would ruin Pei Qingjian’s smile.
He picked up his chopsticks and handed Pei Qingjian another pie. “Here, have one more.”
Pei Qingjian took it happily, his grin growing wider.
Seeing him enjoy it, Lan Xingchen tried one himself.
Lan Xingchen: …
He silently put it back.
“Maybe… you should stick to the buns. I think they taste better.”
Better? They were far superior!
And to think he had said he could fry them… this one was so hard it could almost crack his teeth!
Lan Xingchen handed Pei Qingjian a bun instead, worried that Pei Qingjian, the male doctor, would end up in the dentist’s chair before seeing him.
“Don’t eat this one,” he said, picking up the plate of pies and heading to the kitchen to discard them.
Pei Qingjian quickly stopped him. “No, I think they’re fine.”
Lan Xingchen: ??? You think this is fine?
He really was too professional—no wonder the guy had spent money. Service attitude top-notch, he could actually say this out loud.
“Forget it. Let’s just eat something good,” Lan Xingchen said sincerely.
Pei Qingjian took the plate from his hands and set it back on the table. “I think this is fine. If you don’t like it, you can eat the buns and I’ll have this.”
Lan Xingchen: …
Does he have to be this conscientious?!
“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. The main problem is me.”
Pei Qingjian shook his head. “Really, it’s fine. I think it’s delicious.”
Well, talk about sacrificing himself for a happy benefactor!
“Don’t you think it’s a bit hard?” Lan Xingchen asked.
“Not really,” Pei Qingjian said, picking up one and placing it on his plate. “So crispy.”
Crispy?
Lan Xingchen watched him eat and thought: these days, no matter what line of work, it’s not easy. This little paid companion is the crème de la crème—professional service all the way!
“Take it slow. Have some porridge,” Lan Xingchen said warmly.
Pei Qingjian nodded and started eating slowly.
Seeing him enjoy the food, Lan Xingchen said nothing more and went back to his own buns.
Unlike the pies, the buns Pei Qingjian had steamed were truly delicious—thin dough, generous filling, tender and fresh lamb, without a hint of gaminess, leaving a lingering flavor in the mouth.
Paired with the sweet aroma of yam and red date porridge, Lan Xingchen’s appetite soared. He ate several in quick succession.
But as enjoyable as eating was, the aftermath wasn’t so fun.
At eleven o’clock that night, Pei Qingjian leaned against the bed, staring at the bathroom light. Why was he still in there?
Inside the bathroom, Lan Xingchen was enduring a cold shower.
He didn’t understand—did all those ingredients serve to affect him? To get Pei Qingjian energized?
Instead, Pei Qingjian seemed more awake than ever, full of energy and vigor.
Lan Xingchen looked at his own invigorated body and was speechless. Why so energetic now? Was this the right time to show it?
The things that should have responded didn’t, and the things that shouldn’t… were full of life. Pure chaos!
He lowered the water temperature and continued the cold shower.
Pei Qingjian waited a long time before finally asking out of curiosity, “You’re not done yet?”
“Almost,” Lan Xingchen replied, trying to calm himself down.
After a while, Pei Qingjian finally saw him step out of the bathroom.
“Then I’ll go in,” Pei Qingjian said.
Lan Xingchen watched him, wondering if Pei Qingjian was feeling the same effect. That would be a good thing!
“You’re in a hurry?” he asked excitedly.
Pei Qingjian nodded.
“Why?” Lan Xingchen asked, eyes bright with anticipation. “Is it because you’re…?”
“I’m…?” Pei Qingjian looked innocent.
“Because you’re… all fired up, full of energy, lively and wide awake,” Lan Xingchen didn’t dare say outright.
Pei Qingjian: ???
“Maybe we can watch a movie later?” Lan Xingchen suggested.
“Uh?” Pei Qingjian was shocked. “Watch a movie?”
“Don’t you want to?” Lan Xingchen teased. “Or are you planning to go straight to sleep?”
No way! After lamb and yam, who could sleep?!
Of course, Pei Qingjian could.
“Mm,” Pei Qingjian nodded. He was exhausted—if it weren’t for waiting to shower, he’d already be asleep.
“Another time, then,” Pei Qingjian said softly. “My eyes are about to close on me.”
Lan Xingchen: !!!
“So you rushed to shower… just to…”
“Of course, to sleep afterward,” Pei Qingjian said without hesitation.
Lan Xingchen: ???
“Don’t you feel anything at all?”
Feelings?
“Being super tired counts as a feeling?” Pei Qingjian asked earnestly.
Lan Xingchen: …
He sighed, waving his hand helplessly. “Go on, go on.”
“What about the movie?”
“Another time,” Lan Xingchen sighed. There was no way he could focus on a film now—completely useless!
His little paid companion was seriously ill! The benefactor really was worried!