Qi Ji remembered Lian Qing, but it was clear that the other person no longer remembered him.
That was understandable, of course. That night at the club, the lighting had been poor, and Lian Qing had gotten drunk, never actually seeing the process of opening ten bottles of Louis XIII.
Still, Qi Ji’s impression of this striking young man with a ponytail wasn’t particularly good.
Not because of the club incident, and not because the young man didn’t recognize him this time—nor even because he had once again mistaken him for a girl. What irritated Qi Ji was that during the over-the-shoulder throw, he had used the cat-paw pillow to cushion Lian Qing in advance, and yet, ever since the fall, Lian Qing had been clutching that pillow.
Even when leaving, he hadn’t remembered to put it down.
He had taken the cat-paw pillow with him.
Qi Ji was clearly a little unhappy.
For that reason, he hadn’t stopped Star from playing music. Without the cat-paw pillow, all he could do was comfort himself by looking at photos of kittens.
That day, the studio was closed, and Qi Ji didn’t go to work. Near noon, the medical staff arrived to examine Pei Yusheng, and Qi Ji finally realized that Pei Yusheng’s insomnia was far more severe than he had imagined.
Pei Yusheng had reached the point where hospitalization was necessary to undergo systematic treatment.
Qi Ji accompanied him to S City’s largest convalescent hospital, an affiliate of Huashan Hospital. The facility was located in the outskirts, with a beautiful environment, surrounded by trees, quiet and pleasant—just seeing it from afar inspired admiration. It truly was an excellent place for recuperation.
Moreover, the facility’s atmosphere was very different from a hospital, and Qi Ji didn’t feel out of place.
Truthfully, the impression the facility made on him wasn’t particularly intense—after all, the streets of Hunan Road were roughly similar. The main difference was the professional medical team present here.
Qi Ji also ran into someone familiar—Doctor Zhao, who had previously taken care of him.
The doctors spent two full hours conducting a complete physical examination of Pei Yusheng. After the checkup, they specifically spoke with him, urging him to fully cooperate with treatment.
Doctor Zhao also advised, “Second Young Master, those matters are mostly settled. You’ve done enough work. Right now, your top priority is recuperating—there’s no need to keep overexerting yourself.”
Previously, Pei Yusheng had refused to sleep or take breaks for treatment, so the doctors had struggled to convince him in advance this time.
But they hadn’t expected that, once the conversation began, without even needing their prepared long speech, Pei Yusheng agreed immediately.
“Alright.”
His tone was proper, cooperative.
Even Doctor Zhao was slightly surprised.
But then he heard Pei Yusheng say to Qi Ji, “I’ll be hospitalized for recovery. At night, I’ll need care—eight hours. Will you come?”
Doctor Zhao: “……”
It seemed that the reason Second Young Master had agreed to hospitalization so readily was simply to have an excuse to be alone with the caretaker.
Qi Ji didn’t know the full intricacies. He only knew his job was as the caretaker. The contract was signed, the work had to be done, and so he moved into the convalescent hospital with him.
During the day, though, he still had to go to work.
The studio had given two days off. On the second day, Qi Ji went home briefly. On the third day, early in the morning, he returned to the studio. Lina was coming over soon. Qi Ji had postponed extra projects he had taken on, focusing entirely on the Xinghai project drafts.
The Xinghai project hadn’t officially started yet, so when Qi Ji arrived, he didn’t see anyone along the way.
Many in the studio were following up on the previous project’s implementation. For a team of their caliber, the designs carried unique styles, which naturally made implementation somewhat challenging. The team couldn’t just hand over a project and leave; follow-up work was necessary to ensure the final effect matched the design.
The previous project had been a complete package, so many people were still involved in follow-ups. Qi Ji walked to the front hall before finally spotting a figure.
It was someone he hadn’t seen before.
A woman whose age was hard to guess, sitting in the reception area, looking at monthly updated boards. His first impression: she was cool. A person who immediately seemed extraordinarily striking, someone seemingly born for the spotlight.
She had long violet curls, wore a wide black dress, tall and slim, with wrists and ankles visible from black sleeves and cuffs, accentuating her slender frame. Most striking was the long black tattoo line under her right eye, running straight down, almost like a tear eternally streaming down her cheek.
Yet her face showed no sorrow. She was expressionless, as if nothing could captivate her attention.
She smoked, using a mint-flavored cigarette with a faint aroma, adding to her icy demeanor.
In front of her was a hand-ground coffee cup for guests, suggesting she was a new visitor. Qi Ji approached politely. “Hello.”
She seemed to notice him for the first time, glanced at him briefly, her brows slightly furrowed.
“Portfolio.”
Qi Ji didn’t immediately understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”
She flicked her cigarette, her impatience evident. “Portfolio. Don’t you have one?”
“You mean my work? Yes.” Qi Ji said. “Please wait a moment.”
Most of the studio staff were absent, and the receptionist girl was nowhere to be seen. The woman must have grown impatient, hence her brusque tone.
Qi Ji pulled out his tablet, displaying his work. He had a complete portfolio, including graphic design, UI animation, 3D modeling, and design style summaries. He also updated it regularly, so he could show it at any time.
He handed over the tablet, intending to explain that he was only auditing and didn’t represent the studio’s overall level. Before he could speak, the woman raised a hand to stop him.
Qi Ji fell silent.
She flipped through the portfolio at a speed that made even a glance insufficient, as if dragging a progress bar straight backward—clearly unwilling to waste time on the pieces.
Most of the front works were finalized commercial pieces. She slowed slightly when reaching the entries for art competitions, focusing a little more.
After looking at a few, she finally spoke. Qi Ji assumed she was giving feedback, leaning in to listen, but she said, “Go pour a glass of water.”
Qi Ji froze. “Okay.”
When he returned with water, she had already closed the portfolio and moved on to something else.
One page of the tablet displayed design apps. She opened the one Qi Ji had used for drafting the Xinghai project. Qi Ji had brought tablet #09 from the Rose Villa—it had good performance and memory, so he stored many drafts on it.
As he approached, the screen showed a messy draft for a cup coaster. She frowned and tapped directly on the section with the most revision marks.
Her nails were pure white, two shaped like clouds, but they didn’t look cute—just heavy and pale.
She said bluntly, “This is too cluttered. If you make it like this, it will definitely look ugly.”
Qi Ji was a little surprised. His draft hadn’t been refined yet, and at first glance it looked chaotic—but she could immediately tell what he was trying to design. Her eye for detail was impressive.
“This is meant to be a thickened outline,” Qi Ji said, opening Shapr3D to show the model. The 3D view made it a little easier to visualize than the flat sketch. “It’s to prevent insufficient load-bearing.”
But this was still just an unformed idea—a rough draft created during his brainstorming, with feasibility barely considered.
“That’s still ugly,” the woman said bluntly. “Why not split it into a double-layer design?”
Double-layer?
Qi Ji froze for a moment, then began thinking it through.
He was so focused on exploring the split-layer approach that he didn’t notice the timid receptionist girl approaching.
Until the woman spoke again, pulling his attention back.
“Lina, the room is ready; you may go in.”
Qi Ji was startled. Lina?
Lina had gained fame very early, emerging as a prodigy over twenty years ago. Qi Ji had a preconceived idea about her age, and the fact that she had been sitting in the guest reception area made it hard for him to guess her identity.
Lina picked up her handbag and entered the room without expression.
Just before stepping inside, she suddenly turned, pointing at Qi Ji.
“You, bring my coffee and water inside.”
Qi Ji snapped back to attention. “Alright.”
Lina turned and went in, and the receptionist girl finally exhaled in relief, whispering to Qi Ji, “The boss likes this hand-ground coffee for guests. Every time someone comes, she wants it, but it’s a bit troublesome to grind. You take it in first, Qi Qi, and I’ll bring a freshly ground one later.”
Qi Ji thanked her and carried the cups inside.
In the office area, a few people were scattered about. They weren’t sitting rigidly, but everyone was clearly more serious than usual.
As Qi Ji entered Lina’s office and set down the two cups, he heard Lina say, “Take away that basket of books at the door, read them.”
Qi Ji looked and saw a wooden basket about the size of a fruit crate, stacked with books nearly half his height. Many were still sealed with plastic and paper bands.
Even though Qi Ji was used to physical exertion, it took considerable effort to carry so many books out.
Once he finally finished, he breathed a sigh of relief and began flipping through them.
The collection included not only published books, but also thin bound volumes, loose sheets of pasted drawings, shrunk posters, and yellowed old booklets, all in a chaotic mix of formats.
But one thing was clear—these were all materials about Xinghai.
Its history, fields of involvement, product designs… even the promotional concepts at various stages—a complete chronological archive of Xinghai.
A designer nearby peeked over. Seeing Lina hadn’t come out, he whispered in curiosity, “What’s this? Trash the boss wants you to throw away?”
“…” Qi Ji whispered back, “It’s the material I need to study.”
The designer’s face scrunched up in disbelief. “What the hell? I’ve never seen so many books even before college!”
Under the sympathetic gazes of others, Qi Ji began his slow immersion in the texts. This was Lina’s first task for him, and naturally he couldn’t cut corners.
Although he hadn’t recognized her immediately, Lina fit the image Qi Ji had imagined. A brilliant eccentric, she could sell a single design for millions, yet personally she was temperamental and sharp-tongued. Her subordinates both admired and feared her. While she insisted on being addressed by her first name, privately everyone still called her “Boss.”
Qi Ji quickly grasped this in just a few days.
Lina didn’t rush into the Xinghai project. Qi Ji continued assisting the studio’s other members—researching in the morning, designing in the afternoon, with a full schedule.
…And he was scolded frequently.
Mornings were tolerable. But once Lina was present in the afternoon, Qi Ji couldn’t avoid a full-on verbal assault.
Lina was usually curt in speech, but when scolding, she unleashed full force, like a human Gatling gun.
“What are you doing? Having fun with the paint bucket? Look at this picture—besides the colors, what else is there? A three-year-old smearing paint with their hands would look better. How old are you this year—have you even celebrated your second birthday?”
“Why are the lines arranged like this? The yarn balls can’t be untangled? Oh, alright, at least you remembered to contrast thickness—good, you wrapped two different yarn balls together.”
Lina especially disliked Qi Ji’s drafting habits.
“Do you think when you move the mouse, or just click automatically? Why not leave yourself enough thinking time between each step? Is someone pushing you for deadlines? Is there a fire burning behind your ass?”
Qi Ji’s movements came from long practice on bulk commercial drafts. This kind of proficiency was sought after by many peers, achievable only through long-term hand-eye coordination.
Lina, however, found it completely unacceptable.
“Do you even know what you’re doing? Every day you dig and drill with high-precision tools. Do you think your talent isn’t being wasted enough yet? You just go all out?”
She issued a direct order: “Place a stopwatch here. From now on, you must pause at least two seconds between each mouse click. Less than two seconds? Add a book.”
At first, Qi Ji struggled. He was made to read five extra books, an entire set of Thirty Years of Xinghai: Xu Yuncheng’s Success Strategy. Once he paid attention, he adapted.
The set of books was actually fascinating. Qi Ji finished them in a morning. Xu Yuncheng was the chairman of Xinghai, heir to a shipping magnate, second son of red-cap tycoon Xu Hongye. Born with a fortune of over a hundred billion, he didn’t just inherit—it was he who built the Xinghai commercial empire, a true legend.
Reading such biographies was both enlightening and inspiring.
Qi Ji didn’t have a private office. Every scolding happened in public, leaving the entire office subdued.
Once Lina left, someone whispered to comfort him, “Don’t worry, little brother. Boss is like this—she scolds the people she values the most the hardest. It’s not personal, don’t take it to heart.
“The last person she scolded this way was Lin Wan, you know Lin Wan?”
Qi Ji nodded.
Lin Wan, a rising star designer, had just won an international youth design award last year.
“Back then, Lin Wan was scolded so badly that she cried every day. After crying, she got scolded again—she was once so terrified that just thinking about going to work made her tremble. Over time, she got used to it. Later, her family ran into trouble. Her parents, favoring sons, tried to force her to marry a fifty-year-old man to provide a dowry for her brother. Lin Wan refused, so her parents confined her. It was Boss who stepped in, sending both her awful brother and her parents away. Afterward, she came out extremely cautious, not daring to make a single call to them again.”
“Actually, Boss is ruthless with words, but she doesn’t mean harm.”
Qi Ji smiled. “I know, it’s fine. Thanks, bro.”
He truly didn’t mind. A few scoldings didn’t affect him, and Lina’s professional ability was enough to make any minor shortcomings irrelevant.
Besides, Qi Ji had genuinely learned a lot from Lina’s biting critiques. When she said he was operating too quickly, it wasn’t that his hands moved without thought; it was precisely because she could see the thought behind his movements that she insisted he leave enough time between actions to think.
Qi Ji had been forced to change his habit to meet her requirements, and he had benefited greatly.
So what seemed like terrifying scolding to others was no problem for him.
After finishing work during the day, Qi Ji still had to go to the sanatorium at night. Both the studio and sanatorium were in the suburbs. With insufficient public transport and long distances, Qi Ji initially felt embarrassed about asking for a driver. Later, as nighttime work was consistently delayed, he began a routine of being driven back and forth each day.
This time, however, the driver wasn’t Uncle Xu. Ever since that day when Lian Qing barged into the Rose Villa, Qi Ji hadn’t seen him again.
At first, Qi Ji had been worried about his role as a nighttime caregiver. He even asked Dr. Zhao if he needed to learn nursing skills, since he knew nothing about that field.
Dr. Zhao said it wasn’t necessary. The sanatorium had professional nurses on call. Moreover, Pei Yusheng only suffered from insomnia; he didn’t need nursing care as much as companionship.
The kind of companionship required didn’t mean staying awake all night—just ensuring the patient didn’t feel alone.
Hearing this, Qi Ji felt somewhat reassured. But once he actually began, he realized he had overthought it.
During his first week at the sanatorium, Qi Ji underwent medical checks almost as frequently as Pei Yusheng. Dr. Zhao came multiple times, subtly making Qi Ji feel as though he was also one of the patients being treated.
His body was no longer seriously ill. Although lingering medication effects remained, they would gradually fade.
Compared to this, Pei Yusheng’s case wasn’t so simple.
They discovered that Pei Yusheng’s earlier eager agreement to cooperate had a time condition—Qi Ji could only come at night. Pei Yusheng would receive his inpatient treatment only during the evenings, remaining invisible during the day.
Still, night visits were better than none. At least some treatments could continue.
Ironically, this situation had a positive side effect: because treatment and checks occurred only at night, every time Qi Ji came and saw the busy schedule, he realized Pei Yusheng’s condition was more serious than he had imagined. Qi Ji didn’t dare leave and followed the doctors’ advice, providing Pei Yusheng with the most comfortable environment possible.
Comfortable, relaxed, familiar.
Keeping these keywords in mind, Qi Ji took the opportunity of returning to the Rose Villa to grab the cat plushie from Pei Yusheng’s bedroom.
On the way to the sanatorium, he ran into Dr. Zhao, who glanced at the plushie and said casually, “Xiao Qi, you still like this cat so much, you even brought it over?”
“Ah?” Qi Ji was puzzled. “This plushie is for Mr. Pei.”
Dr. Zhao realized his slip. Qi Ji didn’t remember the period when he had been unconscious, nor how long he had slept hugging the plushie. He hurriedly clarified, “Yes, I mean for Mr. Pei.”
Qi Ji asked, “Dr. Zhao, you know Mr. Pei likes this, right?”
He explained, “The doctors said to provide the most comfortable sleep environment, so I brought the plushie to his room. But I worried he wouldn’t want anyone to know, so I hesitated.”
Dr. Zhao sighed, rubbed his nose, and said, “Bring it. I don’t think it matters. Mr. Pei probably won’t mind.”
Watching the boy walk away hugging the long cat plushie, Dr. Zhao removed his glasses, wiped them, and thought to himself:
He certainly won’t mind… It’s just uncertain whether Pei Yusheng can resist seeing little Qi holding the cat.
Qi Ji carried the plushie to the third floor, where Pei Yusheng’s room was located.
The sanatorium was tranquil, but the room was smaller than the Rose Villa. There wasn’t a suite—just a single bedroom. In fact, it was only a quarter the size of Pei Yusheng’s main bedroom at home.
Because there was only one room, Qi Ji slept there at night as well, on a small adjacent bed. He didn’t mind—the room was larger than his own bedroom at home—but he wasn’t sure whether the CEO could adapt to the smaller space.
Pei Yusheng seemed fine. Dr. Zhao had also mentioned that smaller resting spaces were better for a sense of security, and recommended he not change rooms.
Qi Ji had been puzzled why Dr. Zhao brought this up; Pei Yusheng hadn’t requested a change, and Qi Ji wouldn’t make decisions on his own.
He didn’t know that someone had deliberately chosen the smallest room.
When Qi Ji entered, Pei Yusheng was on a video call. This wasn’t the first time he had held a meeting here. Qi Ji tried to stay out of the way, wearing headphones so he could still respond when needed.
The meeting was in English, spoken with a clear British accent. Pei Yusheng’s voice was low, magnetic, and pleasant. Qi Ji had practiced some listening, catching a few technical terms like NB-IoT and eMTC, but the details were mostly beyond him.
Qi Ji, though a software major, wasn’t specialized in this area.
Seeing Pei Yusheng working, Qi Ji quietly set the plushie on the sofa, careful not to disturb the video call.
As he went to remove his jacket, he noticed Pei Yusheng glancing toward the plushie by the sofa.
Qi Ji initially thought he was being summoned, but Pei Yusheng didn’t call him—just looked at the cat.
The meeting continued, yet the CEO’s gaze stayed fixed. Qi Ji thought for a moment, then picked up the plushie again.
Under Pei Yusheng’s watchful eyes, Qi Ji tiptoed over and placed it gently beside him.
He even draped the plushie’s front paws over Pei Yusheng’s legs.
Pei Yusheng looked down, meeting the plushie’s round eyes.
“…”
He remained silent, giving no instructions, but Qi Ji sensed a hint of amusement in his eyes.
So Mr. Pei really liked this cat pillow, Qi Ji thought. He wished he had brought it earlier.
The video meeting continued. Seeing Pei Yusheng had no further requests, Qi Ji took out his tablet to continue editing the day’s work.
Star was present too, but since Pei Yusheng was busy, it could only communicate with Qi Ji via text.
These past two days, they had reconciled and started watching documentaries about binturongs and leopard cats—films that showed both fierce predation in the wild and fluffy, playful kittens. A single cat documentary satisfying two kinds of curiosity.
Before long, Pei Yusheng took off his headphones, signaling the end of his meeting. Qi Ji noticed and followed suit, hoping to see if he needed anything.
Before he could speak, Pei Yusheng reached down and gently touched the cat on his leg, squeezing the two pink paw pads.
Qi Ji’s thoughts: Ah…
He wanted to touch it too.
Although he had carried the plushie all the way, to keep it clean he had placed it in a bag. He couldn’t freely squeeze its paws like Pei Yusheng did.
Perhaps his gaze was too obvious, because the man looked up at him.
Qi Ji rubbed the tip of his nose and said, “Stylist Zong said a few custom outfits need to be fetched from the bedroom wardrobe. I went to open the bedroom door for his assistant, so I brought this plushie along too.”
Zong Lin was Pei Yusheng’s stylist, responsible for his daily wardrobe and looks.
Pei Yusheng responded with a simple, “Mm.”
He didn’t seem upset that a personal preference had been exposed.
Qi Ji continued, “I originally wanted to bring the cat paw pillow too. It’s convenient for leaning on while sitting.”
He pressed his lips together. “But last time, the cat paw… was taken by Mr. Lian.”
Seeing the boy’s subtle disappointment, Pei Yusheng raised an eyebrow. “I know. I ordered ten more.”
“These ten will be delivered to your home in the next few days. Remember to check them when you get back.”
Before he finished speaking, he saw the boy’s eyes light up.
Wide, round, and adorable—so pretty it almost made your heart itch.
Qi Ji, unaware he was being observed, nodded enthusiastically.
He was happy about the new cat paw pillows, and particularly enjoyed checking them—ten paws in total!
Pei Yusheng felt an uncontrollable itch in his heart.
He was about to speak when the phone rang.
It was the sanatorium’s internal line, coming from the front desk reception.
Through the phone’s leakage, Qi Ji could hear the voice.
“Mr. Pei, Miss Xu has come to see you.”
At the mention of “Miss Xu,” Pei Yusheng’s expression immediately darkened.
Qi Ji hadn’t even processed the change when the man gestured for him to stay quiet.
Then Pei Yusheng asked, “Where is she now?”
The phone replied, “Miss Xu has already gone upstairs.”
Pei Yusheng’s expression worsened. He hung up quickly and turned to say, “Qi Ji, find somewhere to hide.”
Qi Ji was confused. “Huh?”
Pei Yusheng scanned the room for a suitable spot. “Someone’s coming—don’t let her see you.”
Qi Ji realized that Miss Xu must be someone important. Even the usually composed Pei Yusheng was tense, clearly on high alert.
But hiding was hardly practical. The room had no closet—just two beds and a sofa, all solid wood. There was no place to conceal oneself.
“Should I just go out?” Qi Ji asked.
“No time. She’s already downstairs.”
Before Pei Yusheng finished, the doorbell rang.
His frown deepened.
The visitor had arrived faster than expected.
Through the intercom came a gentle, sweet voice: “Yusheng, are you awake?”
Seeing Pei Yusheng’s reaction, Qi Ji felt like he was being inspected.
The man replied briefly, “Wait a moment,” then beckoned Qi Ji over and whispered, “Come here.”
Qi Ji walked to the bed, and Pei Yusheng murmured, “Hide under the blanket.”
Qi Ji froze. “This… you’ll notice me.”
A human under a blanket would leave traces.
Pei Yusheng said calmly, “You won’t. I’ll cover you with the blanket.”
Qi Ji thought he would hide alone, never imagining this approach. His neck stiffened at the thought—how could he hide like that? And he wasn’t comfortable being so close to someone else.
“No…”
“You can’t let her see you,” Pei Yusheng said, holding his hand gently. “It’ll cause a misunderstanding.”
A misunderstanding?
Qi Ji opened his mouth to protest but suddenly remembered something the man had never mentioned before.
From the affectionate way he spoke to his current tense demeanor… could this person be…
Pei Yusheng’s girlfriend?
But a girlfriend coming shouldn’t affect him. He was just a caregiver—what could be misunderstood?
Just as Qi Ji shook his head, a voice called from outside: “Yusheng?”
He felt Pei Yusheng’s grip on his arm tighten.
The man lowered his voice, his breath close to Qi Ji’s ear.
“Fifty thousand for tonight. Just a little while, until she leaves.”
Qi Ji hesitated slightly, but Pei Yusheng pulled him over and scooped him onto the bed.
“Ugh…!”
He was curled up against Pei Yusheng before he could react. The blanket was pulled over them, hiding his slender form.
Through a thin shirt, the warmth of Pei Yusheng’s body radiated, making him shiver. Lying against the man’s chest, he dared not move, yet staying still felt equally uncomfortable.
Too close… and the whole person pressing down.
He could even feel the contours and firmness of Pei Yusheng’s abdominal muscles.
“Come in.”
The man’s chest rose slightly as he spoke, every subtle vibration transmitted through his body.
Qi Ji bit his finger softly.
The door clicked open.
Footsteps followed, then the gentle voice: “Yusheng, how are you?”
Qi Ji froze, holding his breath, afraid of being discovered.
He heard Pei Yusheng reply, “Mom, what are you doing here?”