“Su Pu?”
“Su Pu… Xiao Pu?”
Even as Li Jichuan maneuvered his wheelchair toward him, Su Pu was still lost in thought.
Instinctively, once he recognized him, Su Pu’s eyes went straight to Li Jichuan’s left wrist.
The jade bracelet his mother had given him—lush green…
But it was fake.
“Tired?”
Seeing him standing there, dazed, Li Jichuan asked with concern.
Indeed, these past days had been taxing. Su Pu had accompanied him whenever possible while he collected evidence and negotiated with various parties.
As his partner, Su Pu had a remarkable sense of timing.
He would leave during Li Jichuan’s meetings, then suddenly appear afterward, carrying fragrant food, watching him eat, making sure he had enough.
It must have been exhausting, taking care of a disabled man.
Li Jichuan couldn’t help but feel a pang of heartache, gripping the wheelchair’s armrest.
“Let’s go back. Early flight tomorrow morning—I don’t want you to be sleep-deprived.”
Su Pu merely nodded, still absentmindedly following him, eyes constantly returning to that bracelet.
What’s wrong? He’s been wearing it all along…
…
Su Pu had something on his mind.
Li Jichuan could see it—a worry he hadn’t shared. But of course, what position did Su Pu have to share it from, and what position did he have to respond?
Back at the hotel, after showers, they lay in bed.
Li Jichuan turned off all the lights, waiting long into the night, yet the little mute didn’t climb onto him as usual.
Strange…
Su Pu frowned in deep sleep.
Li Jichuan lit a small lamp and, in the dim glow, studied the man before him.
He always felt a thin veil between their inner worlds.
And he sensed Su Pu had the same barrier toward him.
No wonder the little mute was often unhappy, insecure, never truly free.
His gaze shifted to the flower crown on Su Pu’s nightstand—
A crown given by another man.
Roses in multiple colors, interwoven with small, delicate flowers and green leaves, perched atop Su Pu’s head, breathtaking…
The sight irritated Li Jichuan more the longer he looked.
After much restraint, he turned, maneuvered the wheelchair, and quietly slipped out, leaving Su Pu in the grip of a recurring nightmare.
He dreamt of that night—his mother falling ill, him venturing out into a blizzard seeking help.
The night seemed endless; almost no one was on the roads.
If anyone was there, Su Pu’s disheveled, desperate appearance would scare them off. They’d rush past him without helping.
He ran endlessly, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow.
Then what?
After that night, what happened? Did his mother receive help in the end?
He paused under the falling snow, letting it pile on him.
The outcome… he couldn’t recall.
…
When he awoke again, the scent of fresh flowers filled his nose.
Su Pu was lying on Li Jichuan’s chest, using him as the most reliable pillow.
He breathed in the real, rich fragrance close enough to touch.
Su Pu carefully slid off him upon waking.
Really… how had he dozed off so recklessly, ending up on Li Jichuan?
Su Pu chastised himself internally—he was a terrible sleeper.
But Li Jichuan’s body was perfect to lie on!
Do you know that feeling of a mattress that conforms exactly to your body curves?
Li Jichuan’s body was even better—soft yet firm, perfectly supporting Su Pu, each breath like a lullaby accompaniment.
Su Pu held his breath, savoring Li Jichuan’s form.
Confirming he was still asleep, he reached out and groped his husband’s abs!
Hehe… so firm!
Su Pu giggled—this had become his unique morning ritual. His husband’s abs remained solid and irresistible, lifting his mood.
He got up, slipped on his slippers, and froze—
This was…
Just one night, and their room was filled with roses.
Clusters of them, in full bloom.
The bedroom was all red roses; in the living room, roses of other colors, yet all romantic, stealing Su Pu’s breath.
Just sleeping, and the suite was brimming with roses.
Why?
He stared, walking back to the bedroom, weaving through the blooms, approaching Li Jichuan.
Li Jichuan noticed how much lighter his body felt, slowly waking.
Their eyes met.
Su Pu’s gaze shimmered like the rippling waves of Erhai Lake.
He silently asked: What’s going on?
Li Jichuan propped himself up against the headboard.
“Su Pu, I filled this room with flowers for you. Do you like it?”
Su Pu nodded.
He loved it! Surprised and delighted—had Li Jichuan bought all these flowers just for him?
Yet Li Jichuan’s eyes flicked to the flower crown on the nightstand.
The flowers had wilted overnight.
“Su Pu, which looks better—the roses in this room, or the crown you got last night?”
He deliberately pinched Su Pu’s hand on the bed edge.
Without hesitation, Su Pu turned his head, chin nodding toward the red roses filling the room.
Of course, these!
Li Jichuan nodded, satisfied.
“I agree—fresh flowers are always more beautiful.”
Surrounded by roses, Su Pu was happy but also felt a twinge of melancholy.
Li Jichuan had given him a room full of real roses.
He, in turn, had given Li Jichuan a fake bracelet.
One that looked fake at a glance…
Probably to spare Li Jichuan’s pride, he hadn’t removed it.
Yet such a powerful CEO, wearing a fake bracelet every day—it must have been frustrating…
…
Su Pu’s unusual mood persisted even after returning home.
Li Jichuan noticed that ever since the Flower Spirit Festival, Su Pu seemed troubled.
He couldn’t find the cause, couldn’t ask.
Their relationship was contractual—mutual aid and support.
That morning, Su Pu accompanied Li Jichuan through rehab, then they went to breakfast together.
He kept glancing at Li Jichuan’s wrist, deep in thought.
After breakfast, he said he had to open the shop and left, leaving Li Jichuan peeling a boiled egg.
“Man Tian, do you think Su Pu has been acting strangely lately?” Li Jichuan asked.
Man Tian immediately perked up, nodding vigorously.
Li Jichuan frowned. “What do you mean, staring at my hand? Shouldn’t he be looking at my face, my body?”
Man Tian thought for a moment, then pinpointed it.
“Sir Li, maybe Xiao Pu is… a hand fetishist?”
“A hand… fetishist?”
“Someone who likes beautiful hands!” Man Tian explained. “Some people are obsessed with hands as their XP—slender, elegant fingers are most admired… Some even like thicker or shorter hands—they find them sexy!”
Man Tian got excited, showing Li Jichuan photos of his favorite hand types.
Li Jichuan’s heart raced.
The car accident had left ugly scars on his hands.
Yet Su Pu didn’t find them disgusting—he liked them.
…and was obsessed?
A curious kink, but it hit the mark perfectly!
Li Jichuan realized: Su Pu feared nightmares, but lying on him, he slept peacefully.
Su Pu was a hand fetishist, and he liked Li Jichuan’s “battle-scarred” hands.
The scars Li Jichuan had been self-conscious about were exactly what Su Pu adored.
Reluctantly, he admitted it—he and Su Pu were incredibly well-matched.
Fate had quietly placed the perfect person by his side.
…
Su Pu had lied.
He didn’t have work that morning.
He had left early to confront the lingering worry in his heart.
Some matters, he had to face himself.
Returning to the Su residence, his mood was entirely different.
The servants brought him soft slippers; he wore socks to ward off the autumn chill.
He left his coat with the servant, clad in a wool sweater and jeans, and entered the parlor to wait.
Soon, Su Fengxian came downstairs, expression cautious and probing.
“Xiao… Xiao Pu, what brings you here?”
He took a single-seat sofa, leaving the main three-seater for Su Pu.
Su Pu sat squarely in the middle.
“Xiao Chuan… he’s busy, right?” Su Fengxian wrung his hands. “We’ve submitted so many cooperation proposals, but no response…”
He was nearly panicking.
Li Jichuan hadn’t nodded, leaving the matter in limbo. Thousands of investors were waiting for his approval.
Yet he seemed to have vanished…
“Xiao Pu, do you have any good news for your father?”
Su Fengxian asked obsequiously.
Regarding Su family business proposals, Su Pu already knew the situation.
He smiled warmly, calming his father’s anxiousness.
Su Fengxian read a hint of assurance in that smile, like a devout gambler.
“Oh, that’s good, that’s good…”
Su Pu made his intention clear:
[The bracelet my mother gave me—why is it fake?]
Reading the text on his phone, Su Fengxian grew uneasy, coughing.
“How would I know what your mother gave you?”
Su Pu’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
[That bracelet, my mother wore it. If it was fake, she wouldn’t have worn it!]
Zhao Qing had always been proud.
Others, discovering their beloved had another family, might have caused a scene.
Zhao Qing wouldn’t—he preserved dignity and respect, never crossing the line.
Someone like him would never give a fake bracelet as a family heirloom to their beloved’s only “crystal of love.”
Su Pu’s fury mounted.
[Where did you hide the bracelet my mother gave me?]
Su Fengxian was stunned, silent for a long moment before replying:
“What… hide? Your mother gave me this one. Whatever she gave me, I gave you!”
Su Pu didn’t believe him.
[When my mother was critical, she only called you into the hospital!]
Su Fengxian was even more confused.
What was he talking about?
Su Pu had stayed with her until she passed—three hours before Zhao Qing died…
Su Pu would not yield, sitting squarely in the sofa’s center.
[I want the bracelet my mother gave me back!]
Su Fengxian leapt to his feet.
“This is the bracelet she left! Why would I lie?!”
Su Pu thought, then typed:
[But if it was Grandma’s to Mom, Mom definitely wore it. So why can a bracelet meant for them fit Li Jichuan’s wrist?]
He concluded: Su Fengxian must have switched it behind the scenes.
Su Pu was upset.
Su Fengxian stubbornly denied it, babbling incoherently, clearly flustered.
Su Pu left the Su residence, heart heavy.
Why… why take even the bracelet his mother left him?
Hadn’t they already taken enough from him?
Yet that fake bracelet sat on Li Jichuan’s wrist, and Su Pu couldn’t bear it.
He didn’t want the one he loved to wear a fake.
He wanted it real—like his love for Li Jichuan.
True, fearless, beyond reproach.