Even though the penthouse elevator was private, Zhiyu instinctively turned his back to any cameras and shielded Li Xi with his body.
They shared a long, lingering kiss, undisturbed by door sensors or alarms.
Li Xi pulled Zhiyu out of the elevator.
Instead of returning inside, they went up to the rooftop.
Technically, Li Xi’s penthouse was in the heart of the city.
This central area could no longer be described as “prime real estate”—it was dominated by corporate headquarters, multinational banks, top-tier hotels, and super-premium office towers. Residential buildings were practically extinct.
Yet Li Xi’s place stood right in the middle: seventy-seven floors, private helipad, outdoor pool, and glass greenhouse.
On the rooftop, Zhiyu saw not only the greenhouse and pool…
But rows of drones, a white grand piano, and even a black music stand left behind by a forgetful musician.
He realized instantly.
This place had been meticulously prepared for a grand birthday celebration, abandoned only because the host had yet to return. Now, it lay half-finished, leaving traces for someone later to imagine the original grandeur.
“What were the drones for?” Zhiyu asked.
“Fireworks,” Li Xi replied succinctly.
Zhiyu frowned. “Isn’t there a ban on fireworks in the capital?”
Had the city really bent the rules so much for the Li family?
Li Xi gave a wry, silent look. “The drones simulate fireworks. What does the ban matter?”
Ah. Zhiyu got it.
“Cyber fireworks.”
“Did the band leave already?” Zhiyu asked, noticing the abandoned stand.
Li Xi nodded.
It was almost midnight. Would he really have asked musicians to stay on the roof overnight?
Zhiyu approached the white grand piano. “Do you play?”
He knew Li Xi did. In their eleven-year marriage from the past life, Li Xi hadn’t played for him specifically, but nearly every home of his contained a piano.
As expected, Li Xi sat at the white piano.
“What do you want to hear?”
“Anything,” Zhiyu said.
Li Xi didn’t ask further. His long fingers danced across the keys, letting notes flow naturally.
Zhiyu wasn’t musically trained but had a sharp memory—he could remember what he heard.
Li Xi played Chopin’s Waltz in D-flat Major, aka “Minute Waltz.”
A lively, cheerful piece—not Li Xi’s usual style.
It was short. When he finished, he looked at Zhiyu.
Zhiyu applauded. “Your Highness Xi, authority at its finest.”
Fans online called him that, and Zhiyu teased him with the same title.
Li Xi gave a faint snort, clearly unimpressed by flattery.
Zhiyu slid next to him on the piano bench. “I can play something too.”
Li Xi’s brow twitched—another skill not on his Alpha dossier, yet Zhiyu knew it?
The next second, Zhiyu’s fingers—delicate, well-shaped—played…
Do Re Mi Do, Do Re Mi Do, Mi Fa Sol…
Li Xi froze.
Zhiyu wasn’t really playing. He was just tapping keys.
He even used only his right index finger to play the internationally famous children’s song, Two Tigers.
Finishing, Zhiyu turned expectantly to Li Xi, awaiting praise.
Li Xi inhaled and exhaled, finally saying, “Not bad.”
Zhiyu beamed, unabashed. “Don’t like it? I can do Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, The Itsy-Bitsy Spider, or Baby Shark, and…”
Before he could finish his “children’s hits list,” Li Xi closed his eyes. “Impressive.”
Zhiyu chuckled.
“Teach me something new?” he asked, eyes sparkling. “Brother.”
Li Xi’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Will you?” Zhiyu pressed. “I learn quickly.”
Li Xi didn’t hesitate long. He picked Beethoven’s Für Elise.
He played only the first line—simplest part.
Zhiyu raised his hands, about to replicate, then hesitated, asking something practical.
“Will it disturb anyone?”
Only now thinking about noise?
Li Xi chuckled. “You do have a sense of civic duty.”
Zhiyu grinned. “Highness, that’s why you liked me—my civic duty.”
Without it, he wouldn’t donate blood voluntarily; without donating, he might not even appear on Li Xi’s “potential consort” list.
“Stop calling me that,” Li Xi lightly scolded.
Then added, “The four floors below are ours. Who would we disturb?”
Zhiyu blinked. Ours?
He caught the flicker of surprise in Li Xi’s eyes.
“The floors your dad gifted us for our wedding. You’re included, of course.”
Right—this was a genuine post-marriage property.
Zhiyu’s curiosity spiked. “This must be expensive.”
Li Xi said, “This one with the rooftop sold three years ago for 990 million yuan. Without the rooftop, 880 million. The three lower units are roughly 600–700 million each.”
Zhiyu went silent.
Had he not married into the Li family, he’d probably have spat in disbelief: Forget it, you rich people!
Even now, as the “top son-in-law” of the capital’s high society, his annual “salary” barely covered one-tenth of this apartment—without considering taxes, renovations, or other fees.
Perhaps lost in thought, Zhiyu’s fingers unconsciously began to “replicate” the Für Elise Li Xi had just played.
He even started questioning his past self—how had he been so blind in his previous life?
Married for a week and already inheriting over a billion yuan, the first year of marriage should have been about laying low—so why wait three years to introduce him to his family?
The graceful melody poured effortlessly from his nimble fingers.
By the time Zhiyu came to his senses, he had already played two-thirds of the piece.
He instinctively glanced at Li Xi.
Li Xi was looking at him too.
Zhiyu: “…”
Li Xi: “…”
They exchanged a silent look, words unnecessary.
To hear only the opening notes and spontaneously “learn” the entire piano piece, playing it so fluently and beautifully—no matter how high your IQ, even 140 or 400, you couldn’t do that.
Alphas simply feigned talent.
Zhiyu actually could play piano.
Li Xi squinted, assessing the Alpha before him. How many more hidden talents did Zhiyu possess?
Confronted with Li Xi’s suddenly sharp, scrutinizing gaze, Zhiyu remained unfazed, shamelessly bold.
He cleared his throat and, pretending, asked, “Did I play it right?”
Li Xi studied him for a long moment, then curled a corner of his mouth, teasing coldly: “Exceptional talent.”
Zhiyu smiled brazenly. “Thanks for the compliment.”
Li Xi: “…”
Less than a minute remained before September 9th ended.
Zhiyu politely reminded him, “Your pheromones are leaking.”
Li Xi’s heat hadn’t fully passed, and that elevator kiss had easily stirred them.
A week of stabilized heat, repressed to the extreme, now surged back with overwhelming force.
Li Xi leaned against the piano and bench. Zhiyu, careful not to hurt him, used one hand to calm him while cleverly positioning his arm between Li Xi’s back and the piano keys.
In a daze, Zhiyu’s elbow brushed the keys, producing a crisp, surprisingly pleasant melody.
Sweat still dampened Li Xi’s hair in the night wind. He clenched Zhiyu’s mischievous hand, tempted to bite it off—but then came the Alpha’s low, calm, innocent voice near his ear:
“What’s wrong, brother?”
Li Xi froze, closed his eyes, and released his grip.
At last, he became the puppet controlled by the Alpha—
a slave to pheromones.
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