Chapter 18

For a moment, the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

White roses swayed on the balcony, their silhouettes cast by the setting sun across the floor, creeping up Ye Mingxuan’s calf.

Ye Mingxuan’s lips trembled. “I… I am using them.”

　　Tan Sizhe fixed him with a heavy gaze: “You’re not using enough.”

The air conditioner seemed to lose its effect, the room’s temperature rising abruptly.

Beads of sweat formed on Ye Mingxuan’s nose as he forced the words out: “I’m already using far too much, sir.”

　　“Mingxuan, perhaps you don’t fully understand—we are legally married.”

Tan Sizhe took a deep breath and murmured, “You can control my finances and use anything in this household.”

　　“Or do you think my wealth isn’t enough to support you?”

“Sir! I… I absolutely didn’t think that!”

“Then what are you hesitating about?” Tan Sizhe smiled, his narrow phoenix eyes dark and bright. “Good boy. Tell me what you want. Buy whatever you desire. If the money runs out, come find me.”

　　“Mingxuan, I’m very wealthy. You needn’t worry about me going bankrupt.”

Ye Mingxuan wiped the cold sweat from his nose. “I’m not worried about you going bankrupt, sir. It’s just…”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“…

　　Footsteps approached from behind. Aunt Fu called them to dinner, interrupting the conversation just like last time.

The aroma of the meal had already wafted into the living room, making Ye Mingxuan’s stomach growl audibly.

Tan Sizhe glanced down, and Ye Mingxuan covered his stomach in embarrassment.

　　These past few days, he hadn’t just been sleepy—he’d also been ravenously hungry.

He ate plenty every day, yet his stomach growled again before he knew it, like an insatiable little piglet.

Ye Mingxuan had just finished ice cream and fruit, yet now his stomach bellowed like a famine victim.

　　Watching his little wife’s cheeks flush crimson with embarrassment, Tan Sizhe stifled a laugh and stepped down onto the floor. “Come on, let’s eat.”…

The silvery moon hung high as night descended, a vast black canopy enveloping the entire city.

　　Steam filled the bathroom as cool water dripped from Tan Sizhe’s hair, falling onto his broad shoulders and trickling down his sculpted chest to his well-defined abdomen.

His damp arm reached for the faucet and turned it off.

　　Tan Sizhe dried his hair, wrapped himself in a black bathrobe, and emerged from the bathroom, carrying the lingering scent of shower gel.

He entered the bedroom to find the bedding already piled up at one corner. Ye Mingxuan lay facing away from him.

Tan Sizhe’s eyes darkened. Closing the door behind him, he walked over, pulled back the covers, and lay down.

　　Ye Mingxuan carried the same scent of shower gel, a remnant of his own bath.

Tan Sizhe extended his forearm, draping it over Ye Mingxuan’s waist, his large hand touching him twice, restless.

In recent days, Ye Mingxuan’s cheeks had filled out, and his waist seemed to have grown softer too—his touch met a smooth, supple surface.

　　As he touched, Tan Sizhe’s breathing grew heavy.

All the lights in the room were off, with only a few strands of moonlight, like silver satin, seeping through the curtains.

Tan Sizhe drew close to Ye Mingxuan’s nape, lowering his head to inhale deeply, like a large dog burrowing into its own den.

　　The boy’s scent wafted from his warm skin, tightening Tan Sizhe’s throat.

Lips pressed against skin, teeth grazing tender flesh, a thin tongue lapping over it. Tan Sizhe sucked once, leaving his mark.

　　He lifted his head. Ye Mingxuan showed little reaction—usually at such moments, the boy would tremble like grass clinging to a cliff face.

Tan Sizhe’s tongue traced circles on the skin, gradually sliding toward the boy’s earlobe.

The prolonged silence made Tan Sizhe sense something was off.

　　He switched on a small lamp, using its dim glow to turn Ye Mingxuan over.

Little Piggy was already fast asleep, his peaceful sleeping face appearing almost sacred in the darkness, making Tan Sizhe seem inhuman by comparison.

Tan Sizhe: “…”

　　…

That octopus was back again. In his dream, Ye Mingxuan frantically tried to escape, yet the tentacles still wrapped around him.

Tentacles studded with suction cups clung to his face. Ye Mingxuan gasped for air, his body twisting uncontrollably.

　　A sticky sensation crept downward, followed by sparks of electricity exploding at the point of withdrawal.

Ye Mingxuan jolted awake, letting out an unbearable whimper in the silent bedroom.

　His fingers plunged under the quilt, grabbing wildly before snatching hold of the man’s hair.

“No, don’t…”

The quilt shifted twice. Tan Sizhe poked his head out, his breath salty and damp. In the dim light, droplets glistened on the man’s lips.

“Why have you been sleeping so much lately?”

　　Tan Sizhe murmured, lowering his head to kiss him.

Ye Mingxuan whimpered, trying to push the man away with his tongue, but the kiss was too bold, leaving Ye Mingxuan powerless.

The salty wetness spread in his mouth, and Ye Mingxuan closed his eyes in shame.

　　His knees were spread wide, his underwear long discarded beneath the bed. Tan Sizhe poised himself, ready to enter, his heat making Ye Mingxuan shiver.

“Sir, please don’t…” Ye Mingxuan pushed against the man’s shoulders, panicked. “I have class tomorrow. I’m so tired.”

“Mingxuan.” The man’s voice was hoarse. “You know I can’t just let go easily.”

“No, no…”

Tan Sizhe lowered his gaze to Ye Mingxuan. The fear in his pupils didn’t seem feigned.

Realizing he was genuinely exhausted, Tan Sizhe didn’t press further. He grabbed Ye Mingxuan’s knees and pulled them together. “Then let’s do it another way.”

　　…

The next day, sunlight flooded the room.

Ye Mingxuan sat at the dining table, kneading his legs. His muscles ached intensely, each squeeze drawing sharp gasps of relief.

Thankfully, the man had known when to stop, not wearing him out until midnight. Otherwise, Ye Mingxuan wouldn’t have been able to get up this morning.

　　“Aunt Fu, has the gentleman left yet?”

　　With the master gone for three days, Ye Mingxuan inserted his straw into the cup and fell silent.

Seeing his reaction, Aunt Fu smiled. “Don’t worry, the master flies very fast.”

Ye Mingxuan looked up, his mind painting a picture of Superman Tan Sizhe soaring through the sky based on her words.

“…Flying very fast?”

　　“Yes, the boss has a private jet,” Aunt Fu said with a smile. “Whoosh! He’s up in the air in no time.”

Ye Mingxuan was stunned again. He’d seen wealthy people traveling by private jet on TV, but never imagined it would happen in his own life.

　　Aunt Fu continued, “The gentleman owns more than one private jet. I heard the most expensive one is worth two hundred million.”

“…”

Ye Mingxuan finally understood what Tan Sizhe meant by “don’t worry about him going bankrupt.”

　　Five million yuan to Tan Sizhe was probably like casually pulling a few coins from his pocket—something he wouldn’t even notice if he lost.

But Ye Mingxuan wasn’t Tan Sizhe. If he dropped a dime, he’d scrape the ground until he found it.

　　Ye Mingxuan lowered his eyelids and sipped his soy milk in silence.

……

“Send the calligraphy piece we bought back to the old man after we return. Keep the jewelry—I’ll give it to Mom myself for her birthday. As for the piano, store it at the ancestral home for now.”

Bai Yu jotted everything down: “Got it.”

　　A smooth sea breeze swept overhead as Tan Sizhe sipped his rich coffee. “How much did Mingxuan spend today?”

“…” Bai Yu tucked the notebook into his pocket and pulled out a receipt from another. “I really don’t get you. Why do you spend all day studying how much other people spend? You’ve got too much time on your hands.”

　　Tan Sizhe shot him a glance and took the receipt. “I enjoy it.”

He glanced down quickly, then frowned. “Besides meals, he hasn’t spent a single penny.”

Bai Yu: “Who says he hasn’t? Look, he spent fifty cents here.”

He pointed it out to Tan Sizhe: “Um.”

——Deep Sea Little Fish (Sauce Flavor), ¥0.50.

Tan Sizhe: “What’s this?”

Bai Yu: “It’s a snack in blue packaging. Tastes pretty good.”

“…” Tan Sizhe tossed the paper back on the table. “Why?”

　　“Why what?”

“He still won’t spend my money.”

Bai Yu crossed his legs: “What else could it be? He just doesn’t like you, hahaha!”

Tan Sizhe shot him a cold stare, and Bai Yu stopped laughing: “Alright, alright, I’m not joking anymore.”

　　“Do you remember why you hired me as your assistant back then?”

Tan Sizhe: “You were useful.”

Bai Yu: “…That’s true.”

“But I also know you saw my family’s debt back then and wanted to help me this way.”

　　Tan Sizhe tugged at the corner of his mouth, offering no denial.

“See, there’s the problem. You understand my situation, so why can’t you understand Ye Mingxuan’s?”

“From Ye Mingxuan’s perspective, he’s just wasting your money. How could he possibly feel comfortable about that?”

　　Tan Sizhe: “But she’s my wife. Spending my money is only natural.”

“But he doesn’t see it that way,” Bai Yu crossed her arms. “You’ve forgotten—from his perspective, he married into this family as a substitute for the young master of the Ye household.”

“He doesn’t consider himself a wealthy young master, let alone your wife.”

　　“So in his eyes, none of your possessions belong to him—let alone letting him spend your money.”

A cool sea breeze swept over them. Tan Sizhe’s knuckles, clenched around the glass, throbbed faintly.

“Not mine? My wife?” Tan Sizhe’s throat tightened. “He truly believes that?”

　　“…” Bai Yu, seeing his state, couldn’t bear to say anything more hurtful. “I was just speculating.”

Tan Sizhe: “Then what should we do now?”

Bai Yu: “Ye Mingxuan is like me—he won’t accept money given freely unless we earn it ourselves. Just like you gave me a job, give him one too.”

　　Tan Sizhe pondered for a moment. “Give him a part-time job.”

“Good idea,” Bai Yu said. “But then another problem arises. His current status is the second young master of Ye Dong Group. Take Ye Yufan’s lifestyle as an example—he has more pocket money than he could ever spend. Why would he take a part-time job?”

　　“I’m sure Ye Mingxuan considered this too. He knows working outside would raise our suspicions, so he’d have to give up on that idea.”

Tan Sizhe tightened his grip on the cup. Ice cubes melted in the coffee, condensation forming on the rim and trickling down his fingertips.

　　“I’ll handle this matter,” he said, rising. “I’ll make sure he takes that part-time job with a smile.”

“However…” Tan Sizhe turned to Bai Yu, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ll need your help.”

Bai Yu froze for two seconds before pointing at himself. “Huh? Me?”