The dinner ended once Li Jichuan saw the photo.
He asked Cong Shu to send the photo; Cong Shu cropped Su Pu’s portion and sent it.
“I want the group photo,” Li Jichuan said firmly, holding his phone. “Send me the group photo.”
“All right.”
Cong Shu complied. What exactly was Li Jichuan planning?
What was he planning?
Li Jichuan saved the photos to settle accounts with everyone who had wronged Su Pu.
He couldn’t allow Su Pu’s nights to be haunted by nightmares.
But before that, there was one thing he needed to do…
Su Pu’s cold gradually improved, yet his husband grew busier by the day.
Li Jichuan had been swamped lately. Even when Su Pu brought coffee multiple times, Li Jichuan remained absorbed, occasionally glancing up to offer a fleeting smile.
He looked increasingly exhausted.
Su Pu had protested before.
He confronted Anderson angrily, asking what Li Jichuan had been so busy with—how the rest of the company seemed to have time to relax, yet only Lee was swamped.
Anderson, startled by the little mute’s intensity, raised his hands and explained.
“Lee does whatever comes to mind. If he hasn’t produced results, he won’t reveal anything to us.”
“I’ve long gotten used to it. All you can do is wait.”
Su Pu impatiently patted his hands, gesturing in sign language.
Seeing Anderson’s blank expression, he realized the other couldn’t understand sign language—he had been too hasty.
He typed: “But Mr. Li isn’t eating properly—he’s lost so much weight!”
Anderson stared, as if reading an unfamiliar script.
“Lee’s only been busy three days—how could he lose so much weight?”
“Su Pu, you’re exaggerating…”
Then it hit him: Su Pu’s concern for Lee went far beyond any contractual marriage.
He truly cared, from Yunnan to now…
Anderson finally realized with a quiet, “Oh.”
That foolish boy didn’t need to feel insecure—the one he loved already loved him back.
He really had gotten lucky!
Anderson smirked; Su Pu furrowed his brow.
“What are you laughing at now?”
“Just wait,” Anderson said slyly. “I don’t think Lee will hold back for long. Whatever he wants, he’ll get, by any means necessary.”
Su Pu: ?
Anderson winked at him, holding up a cup of takeaway coffee. “Thanks for making this tasty coffee!”
Li Jichuan continued working, returning to the bedroom only past midnight, his breathing heavy as soon as he lay down.
Sometimes Su Pu felt useless—if only he could understand what Li Jichuan was busy with, if he could share some of the burden, perhaps his husband wouldn’t be so exhausted.
But there was nothing he could do.
The next evening, after finishing work, Su Pu followed his usual routine, texting to ask if Li Jichuan wanted to go home together.
Normally, Li Jichuan would have a driver send him home first. Today was different—he invited Su Pu upstairs.
Only one room on the top floor had its light on.
The executive secretary team had left for the day; the boss was the last to leave.
Su Pu entered, feeling a pang of concern. He wished he’d brought a late-night snack.
Inside, Li Jichuan sat at his desk, waiting.
He was still devastatingly handsome, having removed his formal suit jacket, wearing only a shirt with a few buttons undone at the chest.
The warm lighting made him appear strikingly sensual.
It looked like Li Jichuan had even shaved and changed clothes before Su Pu arrived.
So formal…
Su Pu’s thoughts stirred as he stepped closer.
Li Jichuan shot him a glance. “You’d rather go pester Anderson than come ask me yourself what I’ve been busy with?”
Su Pu blushed slightly.
He was scared—afraid that even if he knew what Li Jichuan was doing, he could still do nothing to help.
Feeling utterly helpless was truly awful…
“So, do you want to know what I’ve been working on these past few days?” Li Jichuan asked.
Su Pu’s eyes lit up. He was genuinely curious, eager to understand his husband’s world.
“Come here!”
Li Jichuan grabbed his wrist and led him to his computer.
In fact, he had already prepared a space in front of the screen and pulled out a chair for him.
Once Su Pu was seated, Li Jichuan opened a simulation animation.
Blue sky, white clouds, sunlight shining on a building.
Su Pu blinked, examining carefully.
This… this was their high school!
Li Jichuan had modeled their old school!
Then, moving the mouse, Li Jichuan clicked a window.
The view zoomed in, transitioning smoothly to a new scene.
It was a classroom—Senior 3, Class 4. As the scene loaded, the students began to move.
Some chatted, some scribbled furiously, others busied themselves cleaning the blackboard…
The cursor moved to focus on a boy sitting by the window.
His features were familiar. Su Pu smiled—he recognized him as the young Li Jichuan.
But why… why make this?
The teenage Li Jichuan held a book, bored out of his mind.
Su Pu turned to glance at the man beside him.
The real Li Jichuan was far more vivid, more captivating, making hearts race.
Li Jichuan slid the mouse again, drawing Su Pu’s attention back to the screen.
The scene shifted to the hallway of the academic building, descending two floors to the Senior 1, Class 3 classroom.
As the scene loaded, the students inside began to move.
Too many familiar faces—Su Pu instinctively recoiled.
Next, the view focused, and there he was—young Su Pu.
In an oversized school uniform, small-framed, fair-skinned, leaning over his desk.
Su Pu’s fingers typed: “I’m not oversleeping!”
Li Jichuan whispered, “I know…”
The computer screen zoomed back to the school building.
Dragging the mouse, Li Jichuan navigated to the swimming hall at the back, clicking to zoom in.
Su Pu’s breath caught.
Slowly, he realized—how could Li Jichuan know he had attended the same high school, even know his class, and remember his classmates’ appearances…?
What the…
Li Jichuan continued zooming in: the vivid pool, the white diving platform, and then the changing room and showers.
Inside the mist-filled changing room, the young Li Jichuan and young Su Pu squeezed into a stall.
Su Pu’s mouth fell open in surprise, looking at Li Jichuan.
You… recognized me?
Li Jichuan blinked, a glimmer of moisture in his eyes.
“Su Pu, is this you?”
He pulled a wallet from the side, opened it, and under the transparent sleeve was Su Pu’s ID photo.
Back then, Su Pu looked so green and fragile, small and thin, stunted from chronic malnutrition—so weak and tiny.
Clearly different from the adult he had grown into.
Yet the photo… the one Li Jichuan had kept in his wallet all these years, it was him?
Su Pu drew a deep breath.
Was this some joke from heaven?
Li Jichuan’s gaze never wavered. “Sorry… I didn’t recognize you all this time…”
After what felt like an eternity, Su Pu shook his head.
It’s okay.
He was so ordinary, never expecting to be remembered—let alone remembered so profoundly.
Li Jichuan sniffed, adjusting the view again.
On the screen, young Li Jichuan walked young Su Pu out of the stall. This time, they didn’t avoid the people chasing Su Pu.
Li Jichuan included all of Su Pu’s classmates in the virtual scene.
Su Pu looked at him in confusion, unsure of the intention.
Li Jichuan smiled softly.
“I can imagine what you went through… I’m sorry I didn’t realize the pain you suffered back then.”
He took Su Pu’s hand and placed it on the mouse.
“So now, I want to help you make it right.”
“Think about what your classmates did to you, and what you could do to them…”
“They hit you? You hit back, stronger.”
Su Pu paused, realizing.
[This is… Raimondo?]
It was Li Jichuan’s app to make up for regrets—punishing classmates in a virtual world to fill the emptiness in one’s heart.
Li Jichuan shook his head gently. “This is the Raimondo—Su Pu exclusive edition.”
He smiled, but his eyes held a hint of cruelty. “Su Pu, you can punish them freely here. I’ll make sure every punishment you deal out is carried out in reality, on them.”
To hell with letting go!
Su Pu had endured so much—why should he forgive or forget?
Li Jichuan wanted to prove to those who had hurt Su Pu: time cannot erase your sins. Your misdeeds will one day pierce your soul like arrows.
He guided Su Pu. “The more pain you felt, the more they will feel. Don’t blame yourself; this is heaven’s punishment. I’ve got you covered.”
Su Pu’s eyes shimmered with tears.
He never imagined Raimondo could do this—stand before his tormentors and finally voice all the grievances of his past…
But this still wasn’t what he most wanted.
He moved his hand over the mouse; Li Jichuan let go, letting him act freely.
In the virtual world, young Su Pu didn’t harm anyone.
The small boy simply moved forward, searching, and finally found young Li Jichuan at the back of the crowd.
Young Su Pu embraced young Li Jichuan.
At last, he fulfilled the greatest regret of his youth.
How much he had wanted to hold you, to embrace your loneliness, helplessness, confusion…
Thankfully, Raimondo helped him fulfill this wish.
In reality, adult Li Jichuan pulled adult Su Pu into his arms.
Was this a comforting hug?
Being held, Su Pu thought: Li Jichuan really is the gentlest person.
He didn’t dare linger too long, afraid of losing himself, afraid of entanglement.
After stepping back, he smiled, trying to sound casual:
“I never expected… I’m your white moonlight.”
Clearly a joke—yet Su Pu didn’t dare look.
He couldn’t understand why Li Jichuan carried his photos all this time.
But in the next second, Li Jichuan pulled him back into his arms.
A sigh of longing whispered in his ear.
“Don’t be afraid of me… don’t dislike me…”
Su Pu’s head spun. What was Li Jichuan saying?
“Why not?” Li Jichuan asked.
Su Pu spun further. Why not what?
Li Jichuan read his mind, answering: “Why can’t you be my white moonlight?”
“Su Pu… what if I say you already are?”