Qi Ji had not expected at all that the visitor would be Pei Yusheng’s mother.
For one, the phone had referred to “Miss Xu”; two, her voice was gentle and sweet, giving no clue to her age. Combined with Pei’s unusually tense, on-edge demeanor, Qi Ji once again made a misjudgment, similar to his first meeting with Lina.
But once he confirmed the visitor’s identity, he was even more puzzled.
Why did Pei Yusheng need him to hide just because his mother was here? What could possibly be misunderstood?
Still, curiosity aside, Qi Ji didn’t dare move. At his current position, being discovered would truly be the greatest misunderstanding of all.
Pei’s mother’s voice came from outside the blanket.
“The European contract is signed. I rushed back early,” she said. “How are you? Have you been resting well lately?”
“I’m fine,” Pei Yusheng replied. “I’ve been able to sleep.”
His tone was low, with a deep, magnetic timbre. Qi Ji, already sensitive to his voice, lying against his chest, could feel every vibration as Pei spoke, sending shivers of goosebumps all the way down.
From the thin skin at the tips of his ears to the soft flesh at the nape of his neck, the tingling sensation spread, leaving Qi Ji utterly defenseless.
Strength couldn’t compete, and even his reaction time was affected. He bit his finger, feeling slightly frustrated.
Yet he couldn’t control how hot his face was becoming.
The air under the blanket was limited. Despite Qi Ji trying to control his breathing, the small space grew warmer and warmer, with only a narrow gap on his right allowing a breath of fresh air.
Huh.
He blinked slowly.
It was then that he noticed Pei Yusheng had slightly lifted the corner of the blanket on the right, allowing him to breathe.
But before he could dwell on that, the next second his vision went completely dark—the tiny gap vanished.
Instead, footsteps grew nearer.
“You haven’t had a fever this time, right?”
Pei’s mother stepped closer, apparently checking his temperature herself. Her voice was right beside Qi Ji, making him involuntarily pause his breathing, terrified of being noticed.
“You…” she sighed. “So young, and yet you don’t take care of yourself.”
Qi Ji held his breath, not daring to make a sound. But it wasn’t the restricted breathing that made him most uncomfortable—it was his right thigh.
When Pei had pulled him onto the bed, it had been too rushed to adjust his posture. Qi Ji’s thigh bone pressed against Pei’s hip, and his leg muscles, tense from anxiety, had been tight for so long that a dull ache had begun to set in.
Qi Ji was highly sensitive to pain, though it was bearable; his greatest concern was cramping, which would be difficult to control.
“I’ll be careful,” Pei Yusheng said. “Mom, it’s inconvenient by the bed—why don’t you sit on the sofa?”
Though what Pei said was exactly what Qi Ji had been silently wishing for, it was so bluntly stated that it caused him to feel a twinge of worry.
He worried Pei’s mother might notice something from that, or insist on sitting by the bed to properly check on her son.
The wait was agonizing. Even though both adults spoke at normal speed, the pause before Pei’s mother replied made each second feel like an eternity for Qi Ji.
Finally, her voice came.
“All right.”
She responded calmly, but followed with a soft sigh.
“Yusheng, the road ahead is long. Even if you don’t care, you should consider the people around you. You’ve already realized you don’t want to go it alone anymore, haven’t you?”
The room fell into a brief silence.
Qi Ji, buried against Pei’s chest, felt a twinge of guilt.
This was a rare, intimate mother-son moment, and here he was, an outsider, intruding on their warmth. He didn’t know if Pei had been affected.
He only hoped his weight could be lighter, so as not to disturb Pei’s emotions, allowing them to talk properly.
From the tone and voice alone, Qi Ji could already imagine Pei’s mother: a gentle, tender woman.
After a short pause, Pei Yusheng replied: “I understand, Mom.”
His voice was calm, betraying no sign of concern over being discovered, fully focused on answering his mother.
Qi Ji let out a silent breath of relief.
Still, lying so close, he could hear Pei’s heartbeat clearly.
It was strong, pounding against his ear, making him feel a tingling itch.
Pei’s heartbeat seemed a bit fast. Qi Ji thought maybe he was still a little nervous.
In fact, when Qi first hid under the blanket, he had felt Pei’s heartbeat was slightly strong—but compared to the far more anxious Qi Ji, Pei had already remained relatively calm.
As the footsteps receded, Pei’s mother walked away, and Qi finally relaxed—only to be startled when Pei reached in, using the moment she turned to lift Qi slightly, adjusting his posture.
Qi’s thigh no longer pressed against Pei’s hip, and the soreness eased considerably.
The danger had passed, and Qi let out an inaudible sigh.
Yet he couldn’t help feeling odd.
Why did Pei adjust him so naturally? Even through the blanket, without knowing Qi’s exact position or his discomfort, Pei still reached out with such ease, as if used to holding him.
Qi Ji was stunned by the thought.
How could this be?
The high-ranking CEO couldn’t possibly stoop to hold someone casually, and Qi himself wouldn’t have let anyone be so close without guard.
Yet Pei’s fluid movements defied explanation, the familiarity of his touch almost uncanny.
While Qi was still puzzled, Pei lifted the blanket corner again, letting him breathe more easily. He could do nothing but listen silently as mother and son continued their conversation.
“How’s the Yuntu project? Smooth?” Pei’s mother asked.
“It’s settled,” Pei Yusheng said, his tone more steady when discussing business. “The process is nearly complete; it can be announced mid-next month.”
Qi, still pressed to his chest, could hear every beat of Pei’s racing heartbeat.
“All right,” Pei’s mother said. “Xinghai will send updates too, so the full plan will be more comprehensive. But we’re not in a hurry—take your time, and remember to take care of your health.”
“Mm.”
Qi Ji only knew that the Pei family was well-known in City B, but he hadn’t realized Pei’s mother played an active role in guiding Pei’s management at the company.
She continued, “By the way, Yusheng, your uncle mentioned that you recently bought a dessert processing factory. What’s that about? Weren’t the previous desserts enough?”
“No,” Pei Yusheng said. “I just wanted a supplier who could provide refreshments for Xinghai, so I decided to buy one myself.”
Huh?
Qi Ji froze. The wealth… was all Pei’s?
His mind hadn’t yet adapted to the kind of impulsive thinking that “if I need refreshments, I’ll just buy a processing plant,” nor could he anticipate where their conversation was going.
Pei’s mother didn’t even ask how much the factory cost. Instead, she said, “Oh, that works perfectly—it can be used to experiment with smart management for a physical business. I remember this factory previously used Xinghai’s operational system, right?”
“Yes.”
“Mm. Actually, the car contract you signed in Europe is similar. Once development reaches a certain stage, you need to work with physical companies to implement it. Fully automated driving is one of the more advanced links, but it all works on the same principle. Starting with the factory is good practice, a pilot project of sorts.”
“We’ll follow up on it,” Pei Yusheng said. “We chose this factory because they already have the Xinghai smart system foundation.”
“Right. Our goal isn’t to participate in the physical economy or actually sell sugar; the Internet of Things is necessary, and you considered that well.”
Qi Ji hadn’t expected that in business matters, Pei’s mother would take on a mentoring role for Pei Yusheng.
He had thought that being a young CEO constantly buried in reports was impressive enough.
Their conversation continued, rich in information, though not overly long or detailed.
After discussing work, Pei’s mother asked, “Yusheng, are you comfortable living here?”
“Pretty much,” Pei replied.
“You haven’t been here before, right?” she asked. “My bedroom used to be right under yours. Director Wu said it’s now one of the largest rooms in this sanatorium.”
Her tone was tinged with nostalgia: “So many years have passed. Did you see the four trees at the entrance? I planted them with your three uncles back then—they’re all so tall now.”
Listening, Qi Ji finally understood why the phone call had addressed her as “Miss Xu” rather than “Mrs. Xu.”
Pei’s mother had once lived here as a child.
Most of the sanatorium’s buildings were three- or four-story villas. Though renovations were evident, the structures retained a certain timeless elegance.
It seemed that this sanatorium had once been part of Pei Yusheng’s family estate.
Qi Ji, listening to the conversation, felt a little dizzy. Though Pei had left a small gap for him to breathe, the prolonged closeness still left him slightly short of oxygen.
Pei’s hand occasionally reached in, helping Qi breathe or subtly smoothing out uneven spots. Qi had initially been startled several times but gradually adjusted; with less oxygen, his reactions weakened too.
Pei’s fingers brushed his cheek, and Qi no longer reacted sharply—only a cool, soothing sensation remained.
He vaguely realized how flushed his face must have been.
After a while, Pei said, “Mom, you go back first. Adjust to the time difference. I’ll come home to see you once I’ve rested.”
The words sounded blunt, almost like he was hurrying her along. Yet she said nothing, reminded him of a few things, and prepared to leave.
“Mom, wait at the door—I’ll change my jacket and see you out.”
“All right.”
With the door closing, Qi Ji finally exhaled. He let himself collapse, weak and spent.
He had been tense for so long that he was nearly drained and didn’t even move to pull the blanket off and get down immediately.
When the blanket was lifted, cool air rushed in. Qi Ji, like a young cub stifled too long, nestled against Pei’s chest, limp and exhausted.
His ears were fully red, cheeks flushed with two prominent patches. His fingers and lips had left vivid marks, and his large, beautiful eyes glistened with moisture, even the curled lashes damp.
A hand reached over, gently pinching his reddened cheek.
Qi Ji realized a moment too late. His lips, slightly wet, parted, a question mark forming over his head.
Even speaking became slow, as he didn’t understand why Pei was pinching him. “W-what…?”
Pei lowered his eyes, calm as ever, and didn’t rush to get him off his chest.
“There’s fuzz on your face. I wiped it off for you.”
“Ah…? Oh, thank you, President Pei.” Qi Ji instinctively reached for his cheek, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself.
Fully alert, he quickly pushed himself off Pei’s chest, rolling down.
Still weak, he fumbled a little, brushing against Pei in the process, flustered and clumsy.
He moved so hastily he didn’t notice that Pei made no effort to help him down faster.
Only at the very end, as Qi Ji reached the floor, did Pei lend a hand, steadying him.
Pei stepped out to see his mother off. Qi Ji took a moment, then went to the door to listen carefully to the sounds outside.
Footsteps receded—the mother had indeed left.
Just as Qi Ji was about to relax, he faintly caught a snippet of conversation:
“You, child… really, this is the first time…”
It was Pei’s mother, lightly scolding, but they had walked away, and the rest was inaudible.
Probably still about Pei not taking care of himself.
Qi Ji rubbed his temple, returned inside, and hastily tidied the room.
He hadn’t removed his jacket earlier, which luckily prevented Pei’s mother from noticing anything.
Still flushed and dizzy from the heat, he took off his jacket, packed his clothes into his bag to prevent outsiders from seeing, then placed the cat plush on Pei’s bed for easy access.
After tidying, Pei returned. Qi Ji, having just recovered a bit, suddenly remembered lying on Pei for so long and felt awkward.
The atmosphere stiffened momentarily, but Pei seemed unfazed. He closed the door and asked, “Are you all right? Were you uncomfortable just now?”
Shaking his head, Qi Ji asked, “I’m fine. Aunt… she left, right?”
“Yes.”
Qi Ji hesitated, but still couldn’t help asking, “Pei Zong… before you said ‘misunderstanding’… what would Auntie misunderstand?”
Pei Yusheng lifted his eyes. The two of them were nearly two meters apart, so he had to raise his voice to reply.
He glanced at the boy, who instinctively kept his distance, paused for a moment, and said, “She might think I’m lazy and spoiled, hiring a personal caregiver and not doing anything myself.”
Qi Ji clearly hadn’t expected that answer. He froze, blinked, and said, “…Ah?”
Pei Yusheng, however, remained expressionless, speaking without pretense: “They don’t like me hiring a caregiver. They think it encourages laziness.”
So Pei’s family really was that strict? Qi Ji scratched his head. But thinking about it, it made sense—aside from himself, Qi Ji hadn’t seen any other personal caregiver around Pei Yusheng. Even the gold-rimmed glasses executive assistant mostly handled things over the phone; Qi Ji had never encountered him during night shifts.
Still…
Qi Ji felt a little uneasy. “So, I… now—”
Before he could finish, Pei Yusheng anticipated his question.
“It’s fine. She’s busy and could only come by tonight. Besides, your treatment will be over in a few days. We’ll go back to the Rose Villa, and we won’t be staying with her.”
“Oh, okay.”
Judging by the location and size of the Rose Villa, Qi Ji had assumed it was Pei’s main residence. He hadn’t realized Pei’s mother didn’t live there. Then again, with Pei’s wealth, one villa certainly wouldn’t be the only property.
Just then, Qi Ji looked up and belatedly realized that the man he’d been speaking with had already approached.
Until now, they had maintained a safe distance. Pei Yusheng had never crossed boundaries, which gradually eased Qi Ji’s guard and made him more attentive to his role as caregiver.
But this time was different. Pei Yusheng didn’t stop at a safe distance—he stepped forward, his tall, lean figure blocking Qi Ji against the wall.
“Pei Zong?”
Qi Ji was confused, just as the man reached out toward him.
Instantly, he remembered the cheek-pinching from earlier and assumed there was fluff on his face again.
Just as he was about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, he was enveloped in strong, muscular arms.
“…?!”
One hand circled his waist, the other wrapped around his back, and Qi Ji found himself fully embraced.
“Pei Zong…?”
He froze, unsure of what was happening.
Close to his ear, he could hear the slightly muffled sound of Pei’s breath. After a long moment, the low, magnetic voice spoke:
“You’re easier to hold than a doll.”
Qi Ji: “…Ah?”
He was stunned by Pei Yusheng’s words, completely baffled. Were it not for the warmth radiating from the man, he might have thought he was hallucinating from being smothered.
But soon, the pressure around his lower back and spine released. Pei held him only briefly, letting go before Qi Ji’s instinctive resistance could fully arise.
“I’ve only been able to sleep less than an hour each night lately, so I haven’t rested well,” Pei Yusheng said, looking at him earnestly. “Can I hold you for a while tonight?”
Qi Ji froze again.
It was true that, during their stay at the sanatorium, even though he was the caregiver, his own sleep had often been longer than Pei Yusheng’s. Many times, Pei would let him sleep first, only to remain awake after Qi Ji woke.
According to the sleep monitor, Pei did rest a little after Qi Ji fell asleep, but his total effective sleep time was short, pitifully little compared to a normal person.
Qi Ji knew Pei wasn’t sleeping well, but he still felt a natural instinct to resist such close contact.
He said dryly, “Pei Zong… is it uncomfortable to sleep without holding something? I brought the cat plush today—you could try it…”
Before he could finish, Pei bent over and held him again.
The hug was gentle, warm, not heavy enough to provoke resistance.
“But it’s not as comfortable as holding you,” Pei said, his voice low and husky, like the rustle of pine and sea waves right beside Qi Ji’s ear.
“Holding it, I can’t hear a heartbeat.”
The night wind whispered outside. The tone was calm, not forceful.
Yet, inexplicably, Qi Ji sensed a sliver of loneliness, a faint trace of desolation from this usually self-willed, untethered man.