That evening, they met up. Li Jichuan casually asked about Su Pu’s day.
Su Pu spoke slowly, as if stalling, only mentioning two things before his face turned bright red.
Li Jichuan suppressed a smile, curious about what his little scheme was.
Probably, he was preparing another surprise.
But he patiently waited for several days, and still the truth never revealed itself.
All he noticed was that the other person was getting busier.
Having loved each other for so long, their bond deepened, and Li Jichuan trusted Su Pu completely—so he wasn’t worried that this fool would get into trouble outside.
Yet… what exactly was he busy with, that even Li Jichuan couldn’t know?
It was impossible to say he wasn’t upset. More than anything, the disappointment of the unmet expectation for a surprise was compounded by Su Pu keeping secrets from him.
Domestic matters weighed on him, leaving him somewhat distracted at work—even during meetings, he was out of sorts.
John nudged his arm gently. “Lee…”
Li Jichuan snapped back to attention, noticing that the entire conference room was watching him.
It took a beat to realize everyone was waiting for him to make a decision.
“Hm,” Li Jichuan lowered his gaze, thinking for a few seconds. “The data looks fine, but if this update can’t deliver noticeable interaction improvements and visual quality to players, I’d prefer to delay its release.”
At the far end, two staff members standing by the presentation screen exchanged worried glances.
“But… several competing games are releasing updates now. If we don’t, daily active users will drop… significantly…”
He hesitated mid-sentence, as Li Jichuan’s expression darkened visibly.
“Since when do Raimondo updates follow competitors’ schedules?”
Scratching his head, the staff member answered, “We’re not following them. This update was planned six months ago…”
“So… the decision error happened six months ago?” Li Jichuan pressed. “Whose responsibility is this?”
After a long pause, the manager of the visual effects team raised a hand slowly. “Mine…”
“Alright,” Li Jichuan stood, buttoned his suit, and strode out. “Before the teaser goes live, either implement the new tech or apologize to the planning team and delay the release. Your choice.”
His presence was imposing, leaving no room for argument; in one long stride, the chair spun empty behind him.
Anderson and John exchanged glances, then followed him into the office.
“With that pace, who would guess you used to be disabled?” Anderson teased.
John patted Li Jichuan, already settled in his ergonomic chair. “There, there. Take a break.”
Only in front of these two did Li Jichuan finally show some irritation. “You two, get lost if you’ve got nothing to do!”
“Lee, have you been neglected lately?” John teased, blue eyes blinking innocently. “Xiao Pu ignoring you?”
Anderson poured fuel on the fire with exaggerated gestures: “If Xiao Pu doesn’t want me, then I’m taking you all down with me!”
After two seconds of silence, Li Jichuan couldn’t help but laugh, reflecting, “Was I really like that just now?”
“Almost,” John sighed. “You scared the kids half to death.”
Rubbing his temples, Li Jichuan muttered, “But this update was rushed. Too many missteps like this and our veteran players will leave.”
Anderson and John agreed—but weren’t entirely satisfied with Li Jichuan’s blunt delivery. Yet they also knew they weren’t fully responsible, so they could handle disagreements calmly and politely.
It was Li Jichuan who had always led them forward, balancing ideals with interests.
Now, the young ambitious leader recognized his emotional lapse and readjusted into professional mode.
Unlocking his computer, he called out to Anderson, “Where’s the tech bottleneck? Send it over, I’ll take a look.”
Anderson shrugged, half relieved, half exasperated. “Ah, the familiar Lee is back!”
“Stop talking. Anything tricky, send it over,” Li Jichuan said, already switching into ruthless work mode.
John chuckled. “Actually, there is something—a startup networking summit tonight. We’re attending together.”
“Networking summit?” Li Jichuan looked up from his computer. How had he not heard about this?
In the past two years, confined to a wheelchair, he had always avoided public events. Later, thrown headfirst into love, he spent every off-duty hour at home, only feeling comfortable working overtime with Su Pu by his side.
So, not being informed by his secretary was understandable.
Li Jichuan decided to step up—not to burden Su Pu.
Su Pu wasn’t his possession; he had his own thoughts and pursuits. Respect was necessary.
“All right, we’ll go.”
Near the end of the day, Li Jichuan changed into a suit, put on his glasses, and slid into John’s sports car.
On the drive, John and Anderson kept sneaking glances at him, making him uncomfortable, though he couldn’t scold them.
Today, he was… dressed a little differently: a well-made dark brown wool blend suit with a subtle black patterned tie, tailored trousers showing the strap on his thigh.
Mature but still teasingly flamboyant.
Since his wife was busy and his new outfit had no immediate purpose, he chose this set.
John whistled lightly, and Anderson couldn’t resist commenting, “You really are lucky!”
Li Jichuan raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”
By the time he realized, they had arrived. The venue wasn’t far from the office.
John went to park, and Li Jichuan followed Anderson into the banquet hall.
The waiter opened the door—and the space was pitch black.
“This…?”
Years of social neglect left Li Jichuan bewildered. Had etiquette changed so drastically that summits were now held in total darkness?
He instinctively pulled out his phone, planning to document the absurdity for Su Pu later.
Suddenly, a bright white light illuminated the screen—focusing on… Su Pu.
At the end of the darkness stood Su Pu, holding flowers, dressed impeccably.
Li Jichuan’s mind swirled. Could this really be real?
“Come on in!” Anderson nudged his back. “What are you waiting for?”
At that moment, Li Jichuan almost froze. His heart and steps were out of sync as he crossed the darkness to stand in the same light as Su Pu.
Under the radiant glow, Su Pu’s skin was flawless, and his eyes seemed to hold the full moonlight of the night.
So captivating.
“Li Jichuan,” Su Pu called clearly, “will you formally become my family?”
His voice was firm, practiced countless times. Every word carried his resolve.
Holding carefully chosen flowers, dressed and standing in a carefully selected venue, Su Pu had orchestrated a perfect conclusion to what seemed like a hasty engagement.
Li Jichuan blinked. “But… didn’t we already get married?”
“Yes. We registered, got our parents’ approval, exchanged rings, and took photos…”
He trailed off, aware of a lingering unease.
This unease had begun when he first felt for Su Pu, worsened after his grandfather passed, and peaked during Su Pu’s illness when he had to hold his hand each night to sleep peacefully.
He was scared—terrified that one day, Su Pu might leave him entirely.
Ultimately, what could he do? All his spirit was tied to Su Pu. If Su Pu didn’t want him, he truly wouldn’t know where to go or what to do.
And Su Pu knew this better than anyone, which is why he seized every chance to heal his body, strengthen his mind, and give Li Jichuan more love and attention.
He learned to speak, calling him by name first, then husband, baby—everything related to him.
He thought this would reassure Li Jichuan, but realized that Li Jichuan was more fragile and more in love than he had imagined.
Then he would give him all the love he could imagine.
Su Pu wanted, in front of everyone, to form a family with Li Jichuan.
Li Jichuan had once treated him like a child, with endless patience and tolerance; now he wanted to care for Li Jichuan, allowing him to feel safe in any role.
Child or adult, king or princess—even in old age, even if walking became difficult—he would buy him wands, call his name repeatedly, and make him happy.
He would use endless love to dispel all of Li Jichuan’s fears.
Brave Su Pu, like a knight, presented flowers and a proposal to his princess.
Little Princess Li squinted, finally solved the mystery, before friends and family entered to celebrate.
“This… was what you’ve been busy with all this time?”
Su Pu nodded. “Part of it, yes.”
“And what else?” Li Jichuan asked.
“Home… we’ll talk there,” Su Pu replied, nudging his hand, and asked, “So… do you agree?”
Li Jichuan smiled, raising both hands. On his left middle finger was the ring they chose together; his wrists wore two jade bracelets—one real, one fake.
“In front of you… have I ever said no?”
Su Pu smiled, leaping into Li Jichuan’s arms, signaling the hidden waitstaff to open the doors.
Everyone they loved, carrying blessings, applause, cheers, and joyful tears, entered to congratulate them.
The lights came on, and the proposal venue glimmered like a princess’s boudoir—balloons, desserts, and soft music filling the air.
Li Jichuan watched, raising his hand to rub at his eyes with the back of it, while still insisting stubbornly, “Xiao Pu, am I really only three years old?”
Su Pu laughed, reaching out a hand. “I… learned how to dance.”
…
That night grew ever more tender.
The two of them, four feet, moved awkwardly on the short-pile carpet, spinning, stepping, intertwining—completing their first dance together.
In the latter part, Su Pu lifted his feet entirely off the ground, carried in Li Jichuan’s arms, faces pressed close, temples brushing, a closeness as intimate as water and milk blending.
Li Jichuan lost count of how many times he had whispered “I love you”—loving Su Pu, loving the world, loving every person who appeared that night, cherishing every moment in his life that shone like a sky full of stars.
His heart had long since softened into a puddle, yet he didn’t want this night to end. To the gentle music, he leaned close to Su Pu’s ear, whispering again:
“Oh, I’d love to play pretend,
So far from consequence,
Like time is on our hands.”
“Ah… I am willing to fall into this ordinary world,
Regardless of what’s ahead or behind,
Let all our time fall into our hands, everlasting and enduring.”