Needing the sound of a heartbeat to fall asleep, to confirm he wasn’t alone… perhaps even the seemingly unshakable Mr. Pei had a side that wasn’t so strong.
Hearing Pei Yusheng’s words, Qi Ji couldn’t help but recall how, when his younger brother first returned to their hometown as a child, he had clung to him, insisting on sleeping together.
Qi Mingyu and Pei Yusheng were both unusually independent by nature, yet there were moments when even they needed companionship.
Admittedly, Qi Ji’s heart softened a little.
He hesitated for a while—after all, it took time to process thoughts like these. But in the other person’s eyes, this pause took on an entirely different meaning.
Pei Yusheng seemed to think Qi Ji was about to refuse and added, “The five hundred thousand can be paid in cash tonight.”
“Ah? That’s not necessary,” Qi Ji said, stunned for a moment. “We don’t even need five hundred thousand… we can go by the original calculation.”
Though the additional fifty thousand for completing the task ten days early was tempting, Qi Ji wasn’t foolish. A daily wage of fifty thousand was already astronomical; his current labor-to-reward ratio was completely disproportionate, and accepting the extra sum would feel unreasonable.
“I can agree.”
Qi Ji clearly felt the pressure of Pei Yusheng’s embrace tighten slightly.
“But…” He hadn’t finished, “may I wear something thicker? I might need to keep my jacket on or something. My skin is sensitive… it might get uncomfortable.”
Qi Ji asked cautiously, and Pei agreed without hesitation.
“Of course.”
It was still before ten o’clock. Not only had Pei Yusheng not yet slept, but Qi Ji’s own rest time hadn’t come either. They followed their usual routine, working separately for a while before preparing to sleep.
The familiar routine now included something entirely new: sharing a bed. Of course, Qi Ji was nervous. He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone in many years. When he washed up, he brushed his teeth twice, only then realizing he had already washed his face.
Pei Yusheng had finished earlier. When Qi Ji emerged, the man had shut down his computer and was leaning against the headboard, flipping through an old book.
It was rare for Pei to end work so early. Qi Ji didn’t dare meet his gaze at first. Only when he got close enough to see the cover did he recognize the book:
“Old Tales of the Xu Family—From the Kingdom on the Water to the Xinghai Empire”—the very book Qi Ji had brought back himself.
It was part of the StarSea materials Lina had given him. He had taken it to read before bed, never expecting Pei Yusheng to notice.
Hearing the movement, Pei lifted his gaze from the pages, put the book away, and watched Qi Ji approach the bed.
“Turn off the lights.”
As soon as the words fell, the Star system, already integrated with the sanatorium, switched off the main lights.
Only a night lamp remained. Under its soft glow, Pei Yusheng’s silhouette was cast in a deeper shadow.
Qi Ji swallowed instinctively.
He took a silent, deep breath and sat down at the bedside.
Quietly, he slid onto the bed, carefully lying down at the edge, leaving only one corner for the pillow.
The man beside him had already lain down. When the night lamp dimmed, total darkness fell around them.
For a long while, there was not a sound. Even the night wind outside had stilled, leaving a deep silence.
Qi Ji stared into the blackness, exhaling slowly and silently.
He closed his eyes and turned toward the inner side of the bed.
Quiet.
Nothing happened.
Perhaps he was too far away? He exhaled slightly and shifted closer.
Still nothing.
He shifted again. Pei Yusheng seemed to have forgotten the request he had made, remaining utterly still. On the third adjustment, Qi Ji, nearly about to open his eyes, suddenly felt a warmth.
“…!”
The next second, he was enveloped in an arm.
This time, the distance he was drawn in was farther than all his previous shifts combined. Pei Yusheng’s jaw rested near the top of Qi Ji’s head, but without pressing down, so it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Yet even at this distance, Qi Ji was uneasy.
He faced Pei’s chest, thighs touching, upper body encircled by an arm—truly held like a doll. He could smell Pei’s unique scent and clearly hear the rhythm of his breathing.
This wasn’t exactly a sleep-friendly posture, Qi Ji thought. He considered shifting again; if he couldn’t sleep, having someone this close, even breathing, might disturb him.
Unexpectedly, it didn’t take long for Qi Ji to notice that Pei Yusheng had actually fallen asleep.
His heartbeat and breathing were steady, and the sleep monitor near the bed flashed, beginning its night’s work early.
Qi Ji was so surprised that he almost forgot to be tense about the close contact.
As a caregiver, he had witnessed the severity of Pei Yusheng’s insomnia—every night, no matter how late Qi Ji had gone to bed, Pei hadn’t rested. The monitor had never recorded him sleeping before two a.m.
Yet now, it wasn’t even midnight.
Qi Ji was incredulous, but then remembered the night he had returned from the studio. That night, the uncontrollable man had burst into the guest room, pressed him down, and held him—resistance was impossible. Yet within just over ten minutes, he had fallen asleep.
Perhaps… Pei really did need companionship.
Qi Ji thought this and quietly felt relieved that Pei could rest tonight.
Honestly, even just seeing Pei stay up so late made him anxious. Now that he could rest a little, Qi Ji was naturally happy for him.
But he faced a huge dilemma:
He was too close to Pei.
Though not pressed down as before, the proximity and posture meant any contact would immediately reveal his physical reactions—there was no hiding it.
Even with the medicine mostly worn off, Qi Ji still couldn’t control his body’s responses.
This was the main reason for his hesitation before agreeing.
But now that it was done, all he could do was distract himself, thinking about anything and everything.
For instance, now.
Though Qi Ji knew unexpected events often entered his life, he never imagined he would one day share a bed with someone—let alone the man who had pinned him down the first time they met.
He quietly tilted his head, staring across the darkness at Pei’s sleeping face.
Only now could he look without the man noticing.
From their first meeting to now, their interactions had never been entirely smooth, and Qi Ji’s instinctive caution remained.
After all, putting everything else aside, Qi Ji simply wasn’t skilled at social interactions.
Others had tried to get close to him before, hoping for a deeper connection. But burdened with massive debt, he couldn’t drag anyone down. He could never remove his protective mask, and those attempts had quietly fizzled.
Pei Yusheng, however, was different.
Qi Ji pondered the reason. Perhaps it was money, he thought—but that didn’t explain why he had never formed such an intimate connection with other bosses or affluent acquaintances.
No matter how he reasoned, Qi Ji couldn’t find a better explanation.
He had never imagined he would progress to this level of closeness with another person, nor had he expected that someone like Pei Yusheng—unshakable, always getting whatever he wanted—would reveal such a vulnerable, fatal weakness in front of him.
It was as if a fierce, untamable beast had exposed the soft wound in its belly.
Qi Ji didn’t even know how to describe the complex feelings stirred by such contact.
He simply wasn’t skilled at this. He even felt awkward facing the concern of his colleagues, let alone engaging in this deeper, more intimate interaction with another person.
The room was quiet. Qi Ji’s thoughts scattered, finding no clear direction. He felt his mind actively processing, yet somehow, in the midst of all this reasoning, his rationality gradually slipped into a drowsy, dreamlike state.
Qi Ji didn’t notice that his body’s natural resistance had weakened far more than he expected, as if it had adapted ahead of his thoughts, even finding this closeness more comfortable—more preferable.
His body sank further, dragging his mind along, while the steady rhythm of Pei Yusheng’s breathing continued beside him.
Half-dazed, Qi Ji recalled the sound of Pei’s heartbeat from earlier when he had been curled against his chest.
The rhythm of that heartbeat truly brought a sense of security. In that tense situation, the pulse reassured him that he was not alone.
That feeling of comfort also helped him drift into sleep.
Unconsciously, Qi Ji, who had assumed he would stay awake all night in Pei’s arms, quietly fell asleep instead.
A full, restful night.
When Qi Ji woke, groggily trying to shift, he realized with the sudden warmth beside him that the man was still there.
Qi Ji froze.
Pei Yusheng had slept this long?
In recent times, Pei would at most remain in bed until four a.m., then rise to exercise, shower, and begin a new day of work.
But now, Qi Ji’s room was filled with light. Sunlight streamed in, clearly past six a.m.
Could the heartbeat really have that effect…? Qi Ji thought, still half-asleep. He forced his eyes open and was immediately startled—the view made his heart race.
The positions had changed from last night. Now it was Qi Ji who was clinging tightly, nestled against Pei’s chest, unwilling to let go.
He nearly jumped out of Pei’s arms.
Why was he holding someone else?
Instinctively, Qi Ji checked himself. Being this close, he couldn’t afford large movements.
Thankfully, a brief check confirmed there was no physical reaction.
That prevented the most embarrassing scenario.
Still, the situation was only slightly less awkward. Qi Ji couldn’t understand how, despite usually feeling uncomfortable with physical contact, he could sleep so soundly while holding someone—without any involuntary response.
What was happening?
As Qi Ji fretted, the man he was holding had already sensed he was awake.
A calm, composed voice spoke from nearby above him.
“Morning.”
Qi Ji stiffened. “…Good morning, Mr. Pei.”
“Sorry, just now—”
Qi Ji didn’t know how to describe the fact that he was hugging Pei. He could only mutter vaguely to cover it up. “I… didn’t disturb your rest, did I?”
Embarrassment aside, his biggest worry was that his actions might affect Pei Yusheng’s rare opportunity for sleep.
Fortunately, Pei denied it. “No, I was asleep.”
Qi Ji exhaled slightly, relieved. “That’s good.”
He hurriedly got up, pressing the indoor call button to have breakfast prepared downstairs.
Soon after, the doctor, alerted by the message, arrived to conduct Pei’s morning routine check.
As soon as the doctor saw the sleep monitor data, he was stunned. “My goodness!”
Qi Ji, already putting on his coat, glanced over in curiosity.
He usually checked the sleep monitor upon waking, but this morning, flustered by the unexpected situation, he hadn’t yet done so.
Judging from the data, this had been a particularly long sleep. Pei had gone to bed before midnight and only just woken up. Qi Ji noticed that Pei’s morning state was excellent—almost radiating refreshment and clarity.
It was in stark contrast to Qi Ji, whose mind was still spinning with questions.
But the doctor’s report still exceeded Qi Ji’s expectations.
“Four hours! And deep sleep!” The doctor’s excitement was palpable, as if he’d just witnessed a critical patient recover. “This really sets a new record. Second Young Master, how do you feel?”
While he spoke with Pei Yusheng, Qi Ji walked over to check the sleep monitor screen.
Sure enough, he saw a streak of green he had never noticed before.
Green indicated deep sleep. Compared with the grayish-white for awake, bright red for poor-quality sleep, and yellow for light sleep, this color was genuinely encouraging.
After completing the routine checks, the results showed that all of the patient’s indicators had improved significantly. The doctor’s delight was evident; after so long, they finally saw a breakthrough.
His joy didn’t fade. When Dr. Zhao arrived, the doctor excitedly repeated the day’s results for him.
Dr. Zhao was pleased, though Qi Ji noticed his surprise was notably more subdued than everyone else’s.
When Qi Ji returned with water, he caught a fragment of Dr. Zhao’s words: “…Did he snuggle up to you again?”
“What’s going on?” Qi Ji asked, setting down the cup as he entered, thinking he might have missed a new instruction.
The other doctor had already left; in the room were only Dr. Zhao and Pei Yusheng. Before Dr. Zhao could respond, Pei spoke up: “It’s nothing, we were just talking about a pet cat.”
“Oh?” Qi Ji was curious. “Dr. Zhao has a cat?”
Dr. Zhao smiled, though his expression seemed slightly stiff. “Ah, yes… I’ve been wanting one.”
Seeing Qi Ji’s interest, Pei Yusheng glanced at him. “If you want, you could keep one at home too.”
Qi Ji, however, didn’t respond with the same excitement he had when hearing about the cat paw pillow. Instead, he said, “No, that would be too much trouble for you, Mr. Pei.”
After all, it was someone else’s home, and Qi Ji himself was too busy to take proper care of a pet.
“But it seems… you really like cats, Mr. Pei?”
The cat pillow, the paw pillow… all evidence pointed that way.
“Yes,” Pei said lightly, “but I already have a cat. I don’t plan to get a second one.”
Pei already had a cat? Qi Ji was curious. He hadn’t seen any pets at the Rose Villa; perhaps this cat was kept elsewhere. Pei himself seemed too busy to care for it.
“Not getting a second one?” Qi Ji asked, intrigued. “Does your cat have a strong territorial instinct?”
Pei shook his head. “No, he likes other cats, but I worry he might be stressed, so I don’t want another one.”
Then, almost casually, Pei added: “I also don’t want another cat to divide his attention from me.”
Qi Ji finally understood.
It wasn’t the cat who was possessive—it was the CEO.
The conversation continued as if ordinary, but Dr. Zhao, listening on the side, looked completely frozen. Only he likely understood the stark difference in what the two people were actually referring to in the same dialogue.
Pei Yusheng’s insomnia treatment showed significant progress. Meanwhile, Qi Ji began his design work.
His study routine continued, though the afternoon team practice shifted into formal work. In reality, this task differed from what Qi Ji had anticipated.
Lina didn’t immediately start the tea packaging design. Instead, the designers were sent to observe the retail stores of Xinghai smartphones in various locations. Including Qi Ji, the S City studio had two designers handling this assignment, each visiting the offline stores in S City.
After returning, Lina asked them: “What did you think?”
“What do you mean, think?” The other designer, a northerner named Zheng Hang, scratched his head. “The stores are everywhere. Some are tiny street-level shops for topping up phone credit, others are high-end flagship stores in office buildings. Across high, medium, and low tiers, the only common trait is they fit into their surroundings without standing out.”
“Of course,” he added from a design perspective, “they aren’t particularly attractive.”
When Zheng finished, Lina gestured for Qi Ji to speak.
Qi Ji’s impression was similar: “We visited 27 stores across three districts—three under 20 square meters, 21 under 50, and three over 50. The biggest takeaway is… they don’t have any distinctive features.”
Xinghai smartphones started in the low-end market. Offline sales mainly relied on electronics megastores. Only in recent years, with higher-end models, did the mobile division consider overall store design.
Though Xinghai is a tech group with a communications background, the most widespread consumer touchpoint is mobile sales. Now, with substantial profits from this segment, they began to pay more attention to design and branding.
“Stores under 20 square meters are basically just a signboard,” Qi Ji continued, “those under 50 have glass displays, photos of endorsers, and posters. Stores over 50 are flagship stores in commercial buildings, drawing more foot traffic.”
He hesitated. “But even the flagship stores lack a distinct interior design. Though the space is high-end, customers often mistake them for other phone brands.”
Early on, copying competitors was the simplest approach, but as a company grows, this becomes insufficient. Differentiation and uniqueness are key for customer recall.
Lina appreciated the straightforward analysis. “Exactly. Xinghai has a visual identity (VI) but hasn’t implemented it, so it fails to stick. Last month, Xinghai signed a contract with Forest Architecture Studio to build landmark retail stores in S City, B City, and G City. This tea packaging design isn’t just for internal use—it will also integrate with store design for consumers.”
“So your team will coordinate with Forest for the S City store. You’ll be the first to complete the concept, covering both Xinghai’s and S City’s main visual identities.”
Assigned the task, Qi Ji and Zheng began liaising with the architectural firm. Zheng was experienced, having already proven himself in Lina’s team, but Qi Ji was less familiar with interior design.
Although Lina had prepped him with materials, the gap between understanding and creating remained wide—he was essentially starting from scratch.
Fortunately, this phase was still learning-oriented. He didn’t have to produce final designs, easing the pressure. The Forest Architecture staff were friendly. Despite being a globally renowned firm collaborating with multiple high-profile companies, the designer guiding Qi Ji was particularly attentive, often bringing large-scale residential design plans to help him cultivate an independent aesthetic.
Most of the plans were for mega-mansions, over a thousand square meters—not commercial, but residential—which surprised Qi Ji.
Where were all these huge residences being built?
Setting aside this small curiosity, Qi Ji’s learning process went smoothly. Design principles transfer across fields, so learning was relatively efficient.
Additionally, project deadlines were light, as Lina seemed busy with other matters. She hadn’t been staying late in the studio, often leaving promptly at set times.
Experienced designers predicted the team might even get a break. Qi Ji hadn’t paid much attention until one day he spotted an unfamiliar woman in the studio’s reception area.
It was noon when Qi Ji arrived at the studio and immediately noticed a tall woman sitting in the reception area. Her hair was jet black, her long dress pure white, and her demeanor refined and calm. She sat quietly in her chair, not even a paper cup in front of her.
With the front desk clerk absent, the scene momentarily reminded Qi Ji of the first time he had met Lina.
But this guest was far quieter than Lina had ever been. Seeing that no one came to attend to her, Qi Ji stepped forward. “Hello, ma’am. Is there anything you need?”
The woman looked up at him but didn’t speak.
Qi Ji frowned. “Or would you like something to drink? I can get it for you—there’s coffee and…”
She finally interrupted him.
“Qi Ji, what nonsense are you talking?”
Qi Ji froze. That voice sounded so familiar.
Even hearing it, it took him a moment to register. “Li… Lina??”
Lina snapped at him: “Go check on the coffee. It’s taking too long—why hasn’t it arrived yet?”
Finally, Qi Ji recognized the familiar sharpness in her tone.
He couldn’t blame himself for being confused—the person in front of him looked completely different from the Lina he knew. Her whole style had changed: her hair was black again, the black tattoo lines on her face were gone, and she looked clean, elegant, and refined. If she held a poetry book in her hands, she could easily star in an art-house film.
When the coffee arrived, Lina offered a brief explanation: “I have a gathering the next couple of days and won’t be back. You and Zheng Hang just keep working, and I’ll check the progress when I return.”
“Understood,” Qi Ji replied.
Indeed, just as the other designer had said, they effectively had a short break.
Given Lina’s seriousness, the gathering must have been important, so Qi Ji and Zheng Hang didn’t disturb her and focused on their respective tasks.
But aside from work, Qi Ji had another pressing matter.
Mr. Pei was being discharged from the hospital.
The day Pei Yusheng left the hospital happened to be the same day Qi Ji had seen Lina in the white dress in the reception area. That evening, after work, he rushed to the convalescence facility.
Since that night when Pei had slept holding Qi Ji, his sleep had averaged two to three hours—already a noticeable improvement. Later, when Pei experienced occasional insomnia and had pressing matters the next day, he had again asked Qi Ji to sleep beside him for a night.
So, Pei’s insomnia was not fully cured; even after discharge, he still needed care. But his condition had improved enough that he no longer required constant monitoring by the medical team.
Before leaving, the doctors repeatedly emphasized maintaining a comfortable sleep environment to prevent relapse and continue treatment. Qi Ji took note of everything.
Back at Rose Villa, it was nearly eleven o’clock. Qi Ji showered in the guest bedroom and, upon seeing the empty bed, felt oddly unaccustomed.
After days of accompanying Pei, returning to a single room felt strangely unfamiliar.
Soon, Pei called him to the master bedroom upstairs.
“Mr. Pei,” Qi Ji said, knocking even though his fingerprints could unlock the door, “you wanted to see me?”
Pei had just finished his shower. Dampness clung to his body, and the subtle, unique warmth of his scent mixed with the cool water, filling the air around him.
“I’ve been in the convalescence facility for a long time. A sudden change in environment… I worry about a relapse,” Pei Yusheng said. “Could you stay in this room tonight?”
His tone wasn’t forceful; it had a consultative softness, making it hard to refuse.
Perhaps to ease Qi Ji’s mind, he added, “We’ll just share the room—you don’t have to sleep holding me.”
Qi Ji hesitated briefly.
Seeing Pei Yusheng struggle with sleepless nights before, he couldn’t bear to say no. Every time, Pei had asked politely, only when genuinely exhausted—never demanding Qi Ji’s presence.
Compared with Pei Yusheng’s cautiousness, Qi Ji didn’t feel coerced. If anything, he thought the CEO had suffered enough. Besides, his own daily pay was absurdly high, giving him no reason to refuse.
In the end, Qi Ji agreed: “Okay, I’ll get changed and bring a sleep shirt.”
Pei Yusheng stopped him: “There’s a sleep shirt here.”
Qi Ji blinked in confusion. “I can just wear mine…”
His words trailed off as he was completely stunned.
The wardrobe door slowly opened, revealing a wall of colorful garments.
The master bedroom’s wardrobe was spacious, nearly the size of the bedroom itself. The last time Qi Ji had entered to fetch something from the safe, he had noticed a sizable collection of cute sleepwear—but that “large” collection paled in comparison.
Now, a whole half-wall of the wardrobe was filled with an array of cute, brightly colored sleepwear.
Not only did many have furry ears, but some even had tails.
…Some even came with paw gloves.
Pei Yusheng’s voice came from behind him.
“You said physical contact makes you uncomfortable, so I prepared specific outfits for you—all in the right size.”
His tone was serious, earnest, and logical—not a hint of jest.
“There’s only one bed. This way, even if we accidentally touch, you won’t feel uncomfortable.”
Qi Ji wished he were hallucinating.
The sheer number of sleep shirts was overwhelming. His lips moved, but he couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
“I… I…”
Pei Yusheng finished for him: “Consider it your work uniform. Go in and see—choose whichever you’d like to wear tonight.”