Pei Jingchen pulled the car over to the curb and said to Su Qingci, “Let me walk you up.”
“No need.” Su Qingci unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out.
Pei Jingchen called after him, “Then text me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up.”
“I’ll just take a taxi back. You go ahead with your work.” Su Qingci said as he walked, guided by the waiter’s enthusiastic direction into the Western restaurant.
It was the weekend, and both traffic and pedestrians had noticeably increased. Spotting the pedestrian street in the distance, Pei Jingchen remembered a century-old restaurant there that Su Qingci loved. He sent Assistant Xu a message saying he’d be late, then got out of the car and walked into the pedestrian street. He waited in line for half an hour at the restaurant. As he left, he spotted a street artist whose stall was hung with all manner of portrait sketches. Instinctively, Pei Jingchen approached. The artist looked up and enthusiastically asked if he wanted a portrait done, offering one for thirty yuan.
Pei Jingchen sat down on a low stool. The artist swiftly sharpened his pencil and drew lines with practiced ease. In less than ten minutes, he presented the finished piece to Pei Jingchen.
It was a sketch, quite lifelike. But it lacked that certain something.
Pei Jingchen had seen Su Qingci’s portrait of him before. She focused on capturing his eyebrows and eyes, rendering them so vividly that Pei Jingchen could almost describe it as “lovingly expressive.” Once, Wu Lü had seen it and gaped, his mouth agape, saying, “I almost fell in love with… your painting.”
Su Qingci possessed this extraordinary ability—to make strangers fall in love with the subject of his portrait, simply through the painting itself.
This was the profound artistic vision born from the painter’s utmost devotion to his craft, the very soul Su Qingci poured into hiswork.
Before, Pei Jingchen had only felt that every painting Su Qingci made of him carried a certain atmosphere. Every gaze, every posture, was imbued with Su Qingci’s heart and soul—a vessel for his yearning, unrequited love.
I burned them.
Pei Jingchen’s heart trembled violently, empathizing with the agonizing helplessness of being consumed by flames, reduced to ashes.
“Sir? Sir?” The artist mentioned he could also create comic-style portraits and asked if Pei Jingchen wanted to try. Pei Jingchen inquired, “Do you paint in oils?”
The artist replied he knew a bit and had the tools handy. Pei Jingchen hurriedly pulled up an image he’d found online and handed it to the artist: “This one—could you copy it?”
The artist’s expression changed instantly. Half-joking, half-serious, he said, “You’re here to ruin my business, aren’t you? How could I dare to fake a copy of Su Qingci’s work? Not even a street artist like me could pull it off. Even if you went to a professional gallery and asked one of their contracted masters, they couldn’t replicate Su Qingci’s work in the slightest.”
“Of course, I can’t make it an exact copy. I can create something completely unrelated for you, as long as you don’t mind.”
Pei Jingchen clutched his phone, staring blankly. “Alright.”
*
In the Western restaurant, the violin and piano duet played Adele by the Water. Vivian listened intently. Only after the piece ended did she spear a piece of steak, eating as she asked, “I’m surprised Pei Jingchen didn’t come up with you.”
Su Qingci chewed his vegetable salad slowly, asking what she meant. Vivian smiled. “To watch you. To keep tabs on me.”
Su Qingci froze. Vivian continued, “Pei Jingchen has hostility toward me. I’m certain of it.”
Su Qingci feigned ignorance. “You’re overthinking it. You’ve only met twice and exchanged three sentences—where’s the animosity?” Vivian’s laughter grew louder, her perfectly straight shoulders trembling. “When I visited you last time, he looked at me like he wanted to devour me. You have no idea—when he brought me hot cocoa, I genuinely feared he’d throw it in my face. Hey, can you relate to that feeling?”
“I can, but the roles are reversed. Su Qingci was the one who wanted to throw it—when Mu Yao, that little fairy boy, transformed into a lotus untouched by mud, he genuinely wanted to water the flowers.”
Vivian brought up the portrait again. She’d hung it in the most prominent spot in her living room. Last month, when she hosted a bachelorette party at home, her friends couldn’t stop raving about it. They pressed her on who the master artist was. One friend with a keen eye remarked it resembled Su Qingci’s style, instantly sparking a frenzy. Everyone questioned whether Su Qingci even painted portraits, suspecting she’d brought a fake to entertain them. Later, envy mingled with admiration as they declared, “A thousand gold pieces couldn’t buy Su Qingci’s brushwork. You’re truly fortunate.”
As they ate and chatted, the meal soon drew to a satisfying close. Before parting, Vivian extended an invitation: “I’m hosting another party at my place next month. Could you come? My friends are genuinely eager to meet you.”
Su Qingci didn’t call Pei Jingchen. He hailed a taxi on the street and headed home.
An hour later, Pei Jingchen sent a WeChat message asking if he’d finished dinner. Half an hour after that, Pei Jingchen rushed back, changing his shoes in the foyer as he said, “Didn’t I tell you to call me?”
Su Qingci glanced at him before turning back to stare blankly at the goldfish. “The streets are packed with cars. Much easier than calling you.”
Pei Jingchen noticed the goldfish too—the kind sold in round little tanks at night markets, with two egg-sized fish swimming inside. “You bought these?”
Su Qingci nodded, explaining it was an impulse purchase on the way back.
Pei Jingchen felt happy. He personally loved small animals and used to tease cats and dogs whenever he saw them on his way to and from school. But he also knew Su Qingci disliked living creatures—complaining about cats shedding, dogs being noisy, hamsters being dirty, goldfish blowing bubbles. Anything alive and moving, even if silent, annoyed him as too noisy.
Pei Jingchen asked if living alone in such a large house without a pet ever made him feel lonely. Su Qingci replied that being alone was fine—it offered peace and freedom from responsibility. Keeping a pet meant constant worry and hassle, always having to think about where to take it or what to do with it.
Su Qingci never voiced it, but Pei Jingchen knew the root of his aversion to these creatures: the fear of parting. Pets get sick, and when seriously ill, they die. Even if they live out their natural lives, it’s only a decade or so—they always die before their owners.
Su Qingci always presented a sharp, cold, and icy demeanor to the world, but inside, his heart was incredibly soft. Only no one could see it, for he hid his vulnerability, licking his wounds alone in the quiet corners of the night.
The next day, Annelise arrived. The moment she saw Incense. Empty Dream, her eyes reddened and tears welled up.
Leaving the rest to Annelise, Su Qingci became a complete absentee owner. He slept in every day, waking to watch TV, scroll through his phone, and play on his computer. This life of idleness was quite comfortable. Su Qingci noticed that Pei Jingchen had been taking more calls lately and holding more video conferences with his laptop. Overhearing bits and pieces, he gathered it was about Lingyue’s IPO.
The company’s IPO was paramount. During dinner, Su Qingci told Pei Jingchen to focus more on his career.
Pei Jingchen smiled faintly: “Didn’t you used to say I shouldn’t obsess over work and should make more time for family?”
Su Qingci replied expressionlessly: “You said that was in the past.”
After dinner, Su Qingci took a quick shower. When he emerged in his bathrobe, Pei Jingchen was waiting with the hair dryer, just like before. Su Qingci walked over, and Pei Jingchen gently guided him to sit down, drying his hair with the dryer.
Su Qingci’s hair was soft and fluffy to the touch, lying smoothly against his head. Unlike his own coarse, stiff locks—which had been buzzed short during military training back in school, feeling prickly like a hedgehog.
Pei Jingchen recalled that Su Qingci had a favorite animal: the Corgi.
Su Qingci described them as plump and round, chubby and pudgy, with a sunny orange coat that was utterly adorable. Their little bottoms looked like freshly baked bread, and the more you looked, the happier you felt.
They’d once wandered through a night market together. Su Qingci ignored the snow-white rabbits and the fluffy kittens, pointing only at the Corgi in its cage and laughing, “So cute, just like you.” ”
“How am I like that?” The young Pei Jingchen retorted indignantly, insisting he resembled a Kunming dog if anything, not some “chubby sausage”!
Pei Jingchen turned off the hair dryer. Su Qingci suddenly looked up at him: “Are you going on a business trip?”
Pei Jingchen froze. Su Qingci wasn’t stupid, after all. Besides, he hadn’t avoided discussing work around him these past few times. Of course he knew about the problems Lingyue was facing.
The company was planning an IPO, yet he, the CEO, was stuck at home doing laundry, cooking, cleaning—a full-time househusband. Su Qingci chuckled softly and shook his head. ” Mr. Pei, don’t change yourself for anyone or anything. Those soap opera tropes—like altering college choices for love—are childish. Sacrificing your career and dreams for romance is downright disgusting. Pei Jingchen, I don’t like this version of you.”
Pei Jingchen: “I know.”
No matter how unreasonable Su Qingci had been before, he never interfered with his work. When it came to his career, he supported him wholeheartedly—more than anyone else in the world.
“I’m traveling to New York the day after tomorrow. I’ll be back in three days.” Pei Jingchen pulled Su Qingci’s shoulders closer, leaning in to place a kiss on his brow.
Su Qingci froze, forgetting to dodge.
Pei Jingchen reminded him, “Make sure you eat properly at home. Most importantly, take your medicine on time. I’ll be back soon.”
Su Qingci turned his face away. “I’m not a three-year-old.”
Pei Jingchen chuckled, leaning in for another kiss. This time, Su Qingci dodged him. Su Qingci shooed Pei Jingchen out. Nearly two hours later, Pei Jingchen sent him a location via WeChat, saying he’d arrived at the airport.
Ten minutes later: [Checked in luggage/Long grass Yan Duanzi good.]
[VIP lounge serves Wulin coffee/Long grass Yan Duanzi heart.]
[Time to board/grinning.]
[Landing around 11 PM tonight. Won’t bother you then. Get some rest/kiss face. kiss face. kiss face.]
Mr. Pei’s phone lacked a privacy screen, and Assistant Xu, standing mere inches away, saw it all. As the temporary “master” teaching Pei Jingchen how to use emojis, Assistant Xu offered a gentle reminder: “Um, Mr. Pei, emoji usage should be moderated. Overuse leads to aesthetic fatigue.”
Pei Jingchen, who was just thinking he needed more stickers and was about to download a new batch: “Is that so?”
Pei Jingchen left in the morning, and Annelise arrived in the afternoon. Su Qingci asked her what else she needed. Annelise said she just came to check on him, then asked what he had for lunch, reminded him not to forget his post-meal meds, and suggested taking a nap if his blood sugar spiked.
Su Qingci shot her a glance. “You’re here to spy on me for Pei Jingchen, aren’t you?”
Annalise choked on her milk tea and hastily protested, “I’m not his employee—why would he send me? That’s hurtful, Teacher Su. Can’t I visit out of genuine care and affection? Must I always be acting on someone else’s orders?”
Su Qingci ignored her, feeding the goldfish.
Annalise remarked, “It’s rare to see you keeping living creatures.”
Su Qingci said, “It’s already dead.”
Annalise: “?”
Su Qingci: “The day after I bought them, one flipped onto its back and floated on the water. When I woke up after a nap in my bedroom, it was alive again.”
Annalise froze. Su Qingci’s smile was faint, almost imperceptible. “I know. Pei Jingchen bought a new one in a hurry to replace it.”
Annalise blurted out, dead serious despite the absurdity: “Couldn’t it be that Pei Jingchen saved it?”
Su Qingci glanced at her. “Did you start dating someone new recently?”
Annalise flushed. “How did you know?”
Su Qingci: “Love makes people foolish. IQ drops like a rock.”
Annalise: “…”
*
Su Qingci had been drifting through the past few days in a haze. With no one at home, he was utterly free—doing whatever he pleased, with no one to nag him if he didn’t feel like doing anything. Hungry? He’d grab some instant noodles. Tired? He’d nap wherever and whenever. Waking up one day to find himself sprawled on the floor, Su Qingci simply rolled over and drifted back into a drowsy slumber.
Pei Jingchen’s planned three-day trip had encountered an unexpected delay. He needed to stay in New York for two more days before heading to France for a week.
Su Qingci glanced at his phone. He’d considered just reading the message without replying, but he knew Pei Jingchen would inevitably call if he did that. So, he lazily sent a “.”
“Go ahead.”
Only after sending it did Su Qingci realize this was essentially using Pei Jingchen’s own tactic against him. It looked like childish revenge, and he certainly didn’t want that misunderstanding. So, he added a period at the end. Only after sending it did Su Qingci realize—wasn’t this using Pei Jingchen’s own tactic against him? It looked like childish retaliation, and he didn’t want any misunderstandings. So he added a line below the period: [Got it. I’m fine.]
Pei Jingchen: [What did you have for breakfast?]
Su Qingci: [A sandwich.]
Pei Jingchen: [What about lunch?]
Su Qingci’s mind was on instant noodles, but his fingers typed automatically: [Beef noodle soup.]
Braised beef noodle soup—perfect choice!
Mr. Pei sent a thumbs-up emoji, followed by a stuffed-to-the-gills sticker.
By evening, Su Qingci’s laptop ran out of battery. Unable to locate the charging cable, he headed to the study to search for a spare.
The study had always been unused until Pei Jingchen moved in, finally putting it to good use. Su Qingci pushed open the door. The desk and bookshelves were neatly organized. He pulled open a drawer to look for the charger, but two drawings suddenly caught his eye.
One was a sketch, a portrait of Pei Jingchen.
Su Qingci froze, wondering where this stray fish had come from? Then he looked closer and realized the painting was crude and shoddy—definitely not his work. Could it be by Pei Jingchen? Painting himself?
No, Pei Jingchen only drew stick figures.
Su Qingci turned to the other painting. The moment it met his eyes, ripples of emotion stirred in his long-dormant heart.
The long-burnt-to-ashes Sunflower now lay vividly before him in paper form.
It was clear the artist had tried his hardest to imitate it.
Why bother!
Su Qingci laughed at his foolishness.
She had moved on from those ten years of ashes, and sincerely hoped Pei Jingchen could do the same. Time was the best medicine.
*
Su Qingci found the charging cable, but the laptop wouldn’t turn on. It was probably broken. With no other choice, he decided to take it in for repairs the next day. There wasn’t much important data inside. He told the technician to fix it if possible, but if not, it was fine.
True to his wish, the clerk regretfully informed him it was beyond repair. Su Qingci recalled this computer had served him for seven or eight years—low specs, tiny memory, so sluggish booting up made you question life itself. By his standards, it was an antique long overdue for the trash. Yet he’d stubbornly kept using it, because it held too many photos of him and Pei Jingchen.
The clerk mentioned the hard drive could be removed without losing any stored data. Su Qingci shook his head. “Never mind.”
He’d planned to delete them anyway. No big deal.
Stepping out of the specialty store, the scorching July sun beat down relentlessly. Su Qingci bought a sweet ice cream cone and stood by the roadside, savoring it. Suddenly, he heard someone call his name. Turning around, the rich flavor of vanilla milk ice cream lingered cloyingly on his tongue.
Mu Yao confirmed he hadn’t misread the situation, noticing the two-for-one ice cream cone in Su Qingci’s hand. He was surprised to see him eating such down-to-earth food. In his memory, Su Qingci’s wealthy young master demeanor mainly manifested in his clothing and car, while his eating habits were quite ordinary. Back in school, he’d spotted Su Qingci and Pei Jingchen grabbing breakfast at street stalls several times. Su Qingci would peel eggs for Pei Jingchen, while Pei Jingchen would add a spoonful of sugar to Su Qingci’s soy milk.
Later, Mu Yao told Su Qingci that the breakfast stall was run by his relatives—a lie, of course—but it still infuriated the petty Su Qingci to no end.
Su Qingci was prone to jealousy, making him easy to deal with.
Mu Yao recalled those jealousy-fueled days as if they belonged to another lifetime: “Let’s grab a bite at the fast-food place.”
Su Qingci coldly replied, “No time.”
Mu Yao took two steps forward and grabbed Su Qingci’s arm. Su Qingci recoiled as if touched by filth, flinging Mu Yao’s hand away. Mu Yao smiled faintly and said, “You look pale. Why don’t you sit down and rest? Don’t faint from heatstroke.”
Once, Su Qingci hated him with a passion—because of Pei Jingchen. Now that things with Pei Jingchen were over, it didn’t stop Su Qingci from continuing to despise this hypocritical little angel.
“Feeling any better?”
“None of your damn business.”
It always takes someone with a nasty disposition like his to highlight the angelic guy’s gentle attentiveness, kindness, and vulnerability.
Su Qingci didn’t care; that was just who he was. Rather than playing along and competing with the angelic guy over whose tea ceremony skills were superior, he always chose to maintain his authentic self in a blunt, straightforward manner. That’s why, from past to present, his reputation within the circle stood in stark contrast to Mu Yao’s.
Mu Yao cared deeply about public opinion, spending endless effort each day maintaining his persona. Su Qingci thought of how Mu Yao must choke on his anger while forcing a polite smile—that stifled frustration made him feel utterly disgusted.
Life is but thirty thousand days. What’s the point of living by others’ faces?
“I’m most relaxed around you.” Mu Yao seemed to have shed his mask, gulping down bubble tea with his left hand and devouring a burger with his right, prompting Su Qingci to snort in disdain.
After devouring everything in a flash, Mu Yao grinned, “Want to exchange WeChat?”
Su Qingci: “Are you drunk? Talking nonsense.”
As expected, Mu Yao shrugged. “Zhang Haonan said you got into a fight at Shuimu Fanghua and coughed up blood. Maybe you have some illness. I’m really looking forward to it!”
Su Qingci’s expression froze. Mu Yao had shed his mask so completely, his raw honesty catching him off guard.
Mu Yao propped his chin on his hands, staring blankly at the fries on the table. “Later, I ran into Pei Jingchen at the Korean airport. Suddenly, I found myself wishing you were healthy.”
Su Qingci: “What the hell got into you?”
Mu Yao smiled ambiguously: “Aren’t you curious what happened between me and Pei Jingchen at the airport?”
Su Qingci finished his ice cream cone leisurely, wiped his lips and hands clean with a napkin, then stood up and walked away.
“Su Qingci.” Mu Yao called out, but failed to stop him.
He had once been intensely jealous of Su Qingci—jealous of his illustrious family background, his stunning looks and extraordinary talent. Compared to himself, he simply had no grounds to compete with Su Qingci. His only weapon was relentlessly planting the idea in Pei Jingchen’s mind that they were “from different worlds.” Someone of Su Qingci’s background and status was unsuitable for him; he couldn’t possibly match his. Why not look back at me instead? We’re truly on the same level.
During graduation season, when their peers were enjoying summer break after years of hard study, Pei Jingchen burned the midnight oil, already tackling university-level courses. While others camped, grilled, or planned ski trips to Hokkaido, he baked mousse cakes in bakery kitchens and coded under desk lamps.
When he pulled out a small game he’d programmed, his classmates gasped in awe, declaring him a true academic superstar, a relentless overachiever.
Mu Yao asked why he pushed himself so hard. Staring intently at the crude single-player game, he murmured to himself, “I want to be closer to him.”
Mu Yao pretended not to understand, pretending that “him” referred to himself.
At graduation season, Mu Yao asked Pei Jingchen what he wanted to perform. Without hesitation, he replied, “Play the piano.”
Mu Yao was excited and asked if he had chosen a piece yet.
Pei Jingchen replied, “Autumn Whispers.”
Whispers of Autumn—a fairy tale of autumn, a warm and romantic autumn.
Mu Yao remembered Su Qingci’s birthday fell in autumn.