However, compared with Qi Ji’s reaction, the injured party himself was far calmer.
“It’s just a minor injury. Perfectly normal.”
The statement made no sense at all. It lodged in Qi Ji’s throat and left him speechless instead.
Setting aside whether an injury this severe could even be called “minor,” the word “normal” was even more absurd the longer one thought about it.
Did that mean the CEO lived every day in dire straits, liable to get hurt at any moment?
Qi Ji knew something was off, yet he had no idea how to dig deeper. In a daze, he recalled a conversation he’d once had with his younger brother—the similarity to the present moment was uncanny.
Back when Qi Ji used to fight matches at underground boxing rings, he’d come home injured every time. When Qi Mingyu asked what had happened, Qi Ji would always brush it off as an accident, never telling the truth.
Pei Yusheng was clearly doing the same—dodging the issue. But unlike Qi Ji, he wasn’t someone so desperate for money that he had to fight. This injury could only be due to some special reason.
A reason that couldn’t be spoken aloud.
Thinking it through like that, Qi Ji found he could understand.
Just as he himself had never wanted to tell Qi Mingyu the truth, President Pei must have his own unspoken circumstances. If anything, Qi Ji had been overstepping by pressing the question.
Maybe the best approach was to pretend he hadn’t seen anything.
Just like with Lina when she lost control—hiding had been better than confronting her directly. The same applied to President Pei. By prying at his wounds like this, Qi Ji was probably just making him uncomfortable.
As he thought it over, a twinge of guilt crept in.
After everything that had happened tonight, he realized just how lacking he was when it came to taking care of others.
Whether it was Pei Yusheng at work or Qi Mingyu at home, one professional and one family—he’d failed them both.
Carefully, he pulled the sleeve back down into place. Because of the awkward stiffness in the air, his movements became even more clumsy, and he could only try to make up for it with words.
“I’m really sorry…”
But before he could finish the sentence, Qi Ji suddenly shuddered. The remaining words jammed in his throat, and his whole body stiffened.
The man beside him had reached out with his other free hand and pinched the back of Qi Ji’s neck.
“What are you apologizing for?”
The pinch was through the coat draped over his shoulders, and the force wasn’t heavy. Qi Ji was just overly sensitive, which made his reaction seem exaggerated.
He recovered quickly. When he looked up, he met Pei Yusheng’s eyes head-on.
“Hm?”
Qi Ji swallowed unconsciously. “It’s just…”
He stumbled over his words, unable to produce a justification that sounded remotely legitimate. He was inexperienced to begin with, and being stared at from such close range only made it harder to find an excuse.
Unexpectedly, Pei Yusheng didn’t press him.
Instead, the man reached up and undid the sleeve Qi Ji had just fixed, folding it back neatly and rolling it up.
Qi Ji had just told himself that the best response was to pretend he hadn’t seen anything, yet the moment the injury was exposed again, his gaze slid back to it involuntarily.
This time, he finally saw the full extent of it.
The wound really was serious—stretching from the forearm all the way to the elbow, like the mark left when someone had been struck by a blunt object and had to raise their arm to block it.
The force had been so heavy that the bruise had swollen grotesquely, purple and livid. Just looking at it made one’s heart clench. Qi Ji had no idea how the man had endured it for so long.
“It really is a minor injury,” Pei Yusheng said, utterly unconcerned. His tone was even more detached than when he’d spoken about Lina. “Compared to the other guy’s.”
“I only took one hit.”
…So the other person was hurt even worse?
Qi Ji froze. “Was it a fight?”
But it didn’t sound like sparring at all. And with Pei Yusheng’s skills, who could possibly injure him this badly?
Pei Yusheng smiled faintly. “You could say that.”
Lowering his sleeve and fastening the cuff, he added casually, “A long-term opponent.”
“Was he hard to deal with?” Even though the injury was now hidden, the impact it left behind lingered. Qi Ji couldn’t help worrying. “That person hit way too hard.”
“It’s fine. He can’t beat me.”
Pei Yusheng reached out and pulled the coat around Qi Ji’s shoulders more snugly.
Compared to Qi Ji’s earlier tension and clumsiness, the injured man’s movements were smooth and natural.
“And we don’t meet often,” he continued. “Nothing will happen.”
Qi Ji was still uneasy. “Even so, you should be more careful.”
Pei Yusheng answered seriously, “I will.”
The man lifted his gaze toward the distant sea. In the pitch-black night, only the far horizon where sea met sky glimmered with a faint gray-blue hue. The surface of the water itself was invisible; only the sound of waves could be heard, carrying the briny scent of the tide.
Qi Ji followed his gaze and heard him say softly, “Stay and watch for a bit.”
Qi Ji replied just as quietly, “Okay.”
Silence settled around them. There was only the sea and the wind. Wrapped in the oversized suit jacket, Qi Ji didn’t feel cold. Beside him was a constant source of warmth, radiating like a blazing sun, its heat mingling with the scent of the ocean air—still pleasant.
Qi Ji asked in a low voice, “Do you come here often, Mr. Pei?”
“Not that often.”
Pei Yusheng’s voice suited the night perfectly. For some reason, as Qi Ji listened, he suddenly imagined him telling someone a bedtime story.
But the CEO didn’t seem old enough to have kids yet. Qi Ji blinked, reined in his wandering thoughts, and kept listening.
“I haven’t been in S City very long. When I was in B City before, I used to go to the waterfront a lot.”
Qi Ji frowned. “B City has the sea?”
Pei Yusheng laughed. “Why wouldn’t it? Beihai, Shichahai—aren’t those water too?”
Those were lakes.
Qi Ji didn’t argue. He rested his cheek against his arm and continued listening.
“When I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d go out. Back then the environment wasn’t great, and at night the lighting was bad, so the water was pitch-black—nothing much to look at. But the sound was fine.”
He glanced toward the sea.
“It’s pretty similar to here. When I first came to S City, the sea looked familiar, so I come by now and then.”
He withdrew his gaze and looked at Qi Ji, who was listening intently. “But if you really want to see the sea, you should go to an island. During the day it’s blue waves and golden sand. At night, when it’s dark, the sea reflects the stars and the moon. It’s beautiful.”
Drawn in by his description, Qi Ji couldn’t help saying softly, “I like the sea too.”
“Hm?”
Pei Yusheng made a light nasal sound, coaxing him to continue.
Willingness to open up was the first step of trust.
And Qi Ji did go on.
“My hometown is really far inland. You hardly ever see even a river. When I was in elementary school, I studied a text in class that described the ocean. I ran to call my parents and begged them to come back soon and take me to see the sea.”
“They agreed. Said they’d take me when they got back. But that year my grandma fell ill, so we couldn’t go. Later on, other things came up, and it was forgotten.”
His tone slowed. The grief he’d once been reluctant to touch had faded into something gentler, tinged with nostalgia. Pei Yusheng paused for a moment, then quietly changed the subject.
“What was that text about?”
The wound hadn’t fully healed yet. He didn’t want to hurt him again.
Qi Ji didn’t notice. His thoughts followed the new direction, and he answered seriously, “A sunrise over the sea.”
“I still remember the lines. ‘The horizon and the sea were both blazing gold. The sun rose, and we cheered, welcoming the first light of morning.’”
He rubbed the tip of his nose. “First-grade reading. It was a long time ago.”
Pei Yusheng asked, “Do you want to see a sunrise over the sea?”
Qi Ji glanced toward the sky. “Can you see it from here?”
“Not here. The direction’s wrong. And everything’s gray anyway—the sky and the sea. Even when the sun comes up, it won’t look like that golden scene from the text,” Pei Yusheng said. “But there’ll be a chance someday.”
Qi Ji nodded, thoughtful.
They sat by the sea for a long time. When Qi Ji finally sneezed, Pei Yusheng pulled him to his feet.
Even though Qi Ji insisted it was just because he’d inhaled some lint and wanted to stay a bit longer, the man who’d wanted to keep watching the sea didn’t change his mind.
As they headed back, the sky had shifted from a thick black to a deep blue. Qi Ji assumed they were returning to the city, but instead Pei Yusheng led him toward a small stone house by the beach.
The hut stood right on the shore—open the door and you stepped straight onto sand. It looked unremarkable from the outside, but the interior was unexpectedly well-equipped: brand-new appliances, electricity and running water all readily available.
It looked more like a seaside guesthouse.
Of course, building a guesthouse directly on the beach was absurd. Between tides and sea wind, the interior would be perpetually damp, with maintenance costs through the roof.
And indeed, it wasn’t a guesthouse. Pei Yusheng explained quickly, “I bought this place earlier, for somewhere to rest when I come by.”
There was a dehumidifier inside, as well as air conditioning and hot water. Even though no one lived there regularly, maintenance hadn’t been neglected. Even the bottled water in the fridge had this month’s date on it.
The only issue was that the wind was strong tonight. Even with the AC on, the room still felt a little cool.
Pei Yusheng went to shower first. He still didn’t make much of his injury, casually wrapping his arm in plastic before heading in. By the time he finished, he heard the kettle click off after boiling.
Qi Ji had heated the water, but he wasn’t there.
Pei Yusheng looked around the room. Still no sign of the familiar figure. He frowned slightly, slowing his movements as he peeled off the protective wrap.
Only when he heard noise at the door did he rein in the chill around him—colder than the sea wind—and look over.
Qi Ji rushed in. He wasn’t wearing Pei Yusheng’s coat, and it was unclear what he’d gone out to do. He was radiating cold, his pant legs damp. His cheeks were pale from the wind, his ears red—but only from the cold.
The hint of ease that had just returned to Pei Yusheng’s expression vanished. “What did you go do?”
“Nothing,” Qi Ji waved it off. “I just wanted to listen to the waves a bit longer, so I went out for a—achoo!”
He sneezed loudly before he could finish.
Pei Yusheng: “……”
Pei Yusheng: “Go shower. The hot water’s ready. Pajamas are in the cabinet on the upper right.”
Feeling guilty, Qi Ji was exceptionally obedient and hurried into the bathroom.
Soon the water stopped. He came out wearing pure white pajamas, the steam making his fingertips and cheeks look even pinker.
Qi Ji looked curious. “These pajamas fit really well.”
Pei Yusheng glanced at him. “I bought one set in every size, just in case.”
That said, there was obviously no third size.
Still, it was a pity, Pei Yusheng thought. Poor preparation—this place only had the simplest styles. Not even a pair of bunny ears.
Qi Ji, of course, had no idea what the other man was thinking. He quickly blow-dried his hair, then brought over the medical kit he’d just found and set it in front of Pei Yusheng.
“Don’t forget to apply medicine.”
Since President Pei had spoken so calmly about his opponent earlier, he probably didn’t mind his injuries being seen, right? After weighing it, Qi Ji decided health mattered more and reminded him anyway.
Pei Yusheng glanced at him and, as expected, didn’t say anything.
But after rolling up his sleeve, he extended his arm straight toward Qi Ji.
Huh? Qi Ji asked, “Do you need help?”
Pei Yusheng replied, “This is my dominant hand. It’s not very convenient.”
Qi Ji thought about it and agreed. He took out the ointment and bandages.
When he spotted the ointment in the first-aid kit, he paused in surprise. “Isn’t this the swelling-reduction ointment from the villa?”
Pei Yusheng glanced at it. “Yeah.”
That was an unexpected bonus. Qi Ji said, “This stuff works really well. Put it on and it’ll be a lot better by tomorrow.”
Practice makes perfect. Qi Ji was very deft when it came to bandaging himself. Most of the injuries he dealt with were broken skin, though—he didn’t have much of a solution for deep bruises under the skin and usually just left them alone.
On top of that, he had a clotting disorder, so even open wounds healed slowly. He was used to it.
But last time he’d banged his calf against a piece of rosewood furniture, this ointment had worked wonders. He remembered it clearly: he’d been afraid of pain and hadn’t massaged the bruise out the way the other man told him to—he’d just applied the ointment. Even so, by the next morning it was already much better.
Granted, that night he’d dreamed the whole time, dreaming that Qi Mingyu pinned him down and bullied him—but at least the medicine worked. That was enough.
As a firsthand user, Qi Ji wholeheartedly recommended it and even reassured him, “And it doesn’t hurt at all. You just spread a layer on the surface—it’s really convenient.”
For some reason, though, the man’s expression grew subtly complicated when he heard that.
Thinking Pei Yusheng didn’t quite believe him, Qi Ji offered proof from experience. “Last time I was hurt, I put this on and it was basically fine overnight. Like this.”
As he spoke, he carefully spread a thin layer of ointment over the surface of the injury.
“See? It doesn’t hurt when you apply it.”
Of course it didn’t hurt—because the painful part was massaging the bruise out. And the last time, this little patient had already fallen asleep by the time that happened.
Even asleep, he’d kept kicking at him, whimpering softly as if on the verge of tears.
Pei Yusheng kept those thoughts to himself and said nothing. He watched as the boy carefully finished applying the ointment and wrapped the area with gauze. Only after Qi Ji was done did he say, “Thank you.”
Qi Ji rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand and smiled. “It’s nothing.”
Seeing that smile, Pei Yusheng felt like it truly didn’t hurt at all anymore.
A trace of the boy’s slightly cool fingertip warmth still lingered on his arm. Pei Yusheng moved the carefully bandaged limb, and when he lifted his eyes, he could see the boy beside him, busy tidying up the first-aid kit.
The medicine really does work, he thought.
With the ointment applied, the room still felt a bit chilly. Turning the AC up any higher would make it too dry, so Qi Ji poured out the boiled water and brewed a pot of hot tea.
It was barley tea left in the cupboard—something that wouldn’t keep you awake, and it smelled nice. Qi Ji didn’t really understand tea, though, and didn’t know how to brew it properly. He’d picked it simply because it was the cheapest one on the shelf, and he had very little confidence in his own technique.
As for tea ceremony skills—Qi Ji had seen a full tea set at Rose Villa, with accessories whose names and purposes he didn’t even know. With knowledge that shallow, the tea he brewed was never going to be impressive.
In front of a man who owned a complete tea set at home, Qi Ji’s skills were nothing to brag about.
Yet when Pei Yusheng took the cup, he showed not the slightest hint of displeasure. Instead, he drank the entire cup, sip by sip. The hot liquid warmed him through, and he looked far better than when they’d first met that night.
Only then did Qi Ji finally relax.
He really had no talent in the kitchen—thankfully, at least this tea was drinkable.
After all the running around through the night, by the time they actually turned off the lights, it was already past four in the morning. The stone house wasn’t big, with only one bed—just barely enough for two people.
Before falling asleep, Qi Ji started sneezing again. He sneezed twice in a row before hearing Pei Yusheng say, “I should’ve gotten you a thicker set of pajamas.”
Qi Ji waved it off. “No need, no need. I’m fine.”
Pei Yusheng ignored him. “When we get back, wear the polar bear set. It’s warmer.”
Qi Ji: “……”
Considering the other man was injured, he gave in. “Okay.”
Calling it sleep was generous—it was more like a short nap. They rested for a little over two hours before it was time for work.
Early in the morning, with the sea breeze blowing, the temperature felt even colder. Looking out the window, the sky was gray and heavy, dark clouds hanging low as if rain were imminent.
They packed up quickly and got ready to leave. Pei Yusheng stepped out first. Just as he was about to turn back to speak to Qi Ji, his gaze caught on something, and he froze for a rare moment.
On the beach a few meters away from the stone house, nearly a hundred smooth pebbles were embedded in the yellow sand, arranged into the shape of a beautiful sun.
Qi Ji followed him out. Seeing that Pei Yusheng wasn’t moving, he poked his head out from behind the man and, upon seeing the beach, remembered. “Oh—that. I checked last night and saw it was going to rain today. There wouldn’t be a sunrise at the beach, so I made a sun… here on the sand.”
He scratched at his hair, growing more embarrassed the more he thought about it. His voice dropped noticeably. “It was dark at night, so I couldn’t see very well. It probably came out pretty ugly… and there wasn’t time to fix it this morning, so I just left it there.”
The man finally spoke. “It’s not ugly.”
He said seriously, “It’s beautiful.”
The pebbles were all light-colored, clearly chosen with care. The sun itself had been assembled meticulously—not just a simple circle with a few rays sticking out, but filled in layer by layer inside the circle with pebbles. It looked really nice.
“Why did you use so many stones?” Pei Yusheng turned back to him. “Even just a circle would’ve looked like a sun.”
Qi Ji touched the tip of his nose. “I was worried that if it was just one ring, it wouldn’t be sturdy enough… that it might get blown away.”
Only after saying it did he realize the other man was smiling.
Qi Ji looked confused. “President Pei?”
Pei Yusheng said, “Don’t call me that.”
Qi Ji obediently corrected himself. “Mr. Pei.”
It still needed work—but it was already much better.
Pei Yusheng thought so.
Compared to calling him “President,” this was only one word closer.
He stepped nearer and continued looking at the sun made of stones. Qi Ji followed behind him and glanced at it a couple more times, feeling even more that there wasn’t much to see.
He’d picked and arranged all those stones last night by phone light. Now that it was daylight, it was obvious the sizes weren’t uniform, and the outline of the sun even looked a little crooked.
And yet, this imperfect sun held the man’s attention completely. He stared at it so intently, as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away.