Chapter 7

Three years ago, Qiao Jin was sitting up in his hospital bed when the person in charge of the scholarship program knocked and gently entered the room.
“President Lu is here,” they said warmly.

Qiao Jin straightened slightly and turned his head toward the sound. His eyes had just undergone surgery and were still wrapped in gauze—he had to rely entirely on hearing.

The coordinator spoke quietly, almost as if not to startle him:
“All your eye surgery expenses, including follow-up care and medication—President Lu covered them.”

Qiao Jin nodded nervously.

He had known his sponsor’s surname was Lu, but he never imagined it would be the Lu Pingzhang, renowned and unreachable.

There were a few short exchanges near the door—centered on the words “Qiao Jin”—and then came the sound of calm, deliberate footsteps approaching.

Qiao Jin could feel the atmosphere change. A cold, oppressive pressure filled the air around him—like a dark cloud looming overhead, suffocating.

The unfamiliar yet overwhelming presence stopped at the foot of his bed. Qiao Jin tilted his head up in that direction.

“President Lu, I’m Qiao Jin.” His voice trembled despite his effort to sound composed. “Thank you for supporting me all these years.”

Then he felt a touch at the corner of his eye—a cool fingertip brushing lightly against his skin.
Qiao Jin instinctively flinched, but held still.

President Lu didn’t speak. His fingers hovered over the gauze around Qiao Jin’s eyes, lingering.

Qiao Jin couldn’t help but call again, “President Lu…”

And then he was pulled into an embrace.

President Lu held him tightly, his breath labored and hot. The warmth radiating from his body was unnatural—he was burning up, feverish.

“President Lu…” Qiao Jin said again, worried.

The program coordinator, standing nearby, explained in a sorrowful whisper:
“President Lu has been ill lately. He’s not doing well… I’m sorry.”

Qiao Jin went quiet. He softened completely, allowing himself to be held.

He must be in so much pain, Qiao Jin thought. If only I could let him hold me a little longer.

Finally, President Lu spoke. His voice was hoarse, low, and wavering:
“Can I come see you again, Qiao Jin?”

Qiao Jin wanted to comfort him but worried it would backfire. He couldn’t even see what President Lu looked like—but without hesitation, he nodded firmly.
“Of course you can!”

The second time Lu Pingzhang came to see Qiao Jin, his eyes had healed enough to open, though his vision was still blurry.

The doctor walked into the hospital room, leading a tall, mature man beside him. The moment Qiao Jin saw him, he knew—it was Lu Pingzhang.

“We’re still in the swelling stage,” the doctor explained. “His vision is very blurry right now. He’ll need daily anti-inflammatory and antibacterial treatments, along with eye drops to prevent rejection.”

Qiao Jin’s eyes felt dry and sore, so he closed them briefly.

Lu Pingzhang frowned.

“It’s normal,” the doctor reassured him as he gently lifted Qiao Jin’s eyelid. “The corneal condition will stabilize in about three months, and then we can do a proper assessment.”

Qiao Jin opened his eyes again. He could only make out fuzzy silhouettes, but instinct told him—President Lu was watching him intently.

Back in college, Qiao Jin had been shy and green, like a gardenia bud just beginning to bloom—far from the poised and composed person he was now. And at this moment, his nerves returned.

Lu Pingzhang leaned down to meet his eyes, close enough that Qiao Jin could hear the sound of his breath.

Qiao Jin could tell Lu Pingzhang wasn’t doing well. The program coordinator had mentioned that all of his family had passed away.

He must be incredibly lonely, Qiao Jin thought.

Lu Pingzhang gazed at Qiao Jin’s unfocused eyes and asked in a low voice, “Hospital beds are in short supply. Would you be willing to recover at my place? I have a private doctor at home—it’ll help your recovery go more smoothly.”

The proximity was a bit overwhelming. His voice was practically brushing against Qiao Jin’s ear.

Qiao Jin held his breath and didn’t move away. At that moment, he finally saw President Lu’s face clearly.

Looking back later, Qiao Jin would think—maybe he’d stared too long, maybe the curiosity in his eyes had been too revealing. Because Lu Pingzhang held his gaze for a long time, until the corners of his own eyes reddened—and once again, he embraced him.

.

On Saturday, Qiao Jin spent the entire day at the gym. His trainer stayed close, occasionally giving pointers on his form.

Eventually, Qiao Jin said, “You can go do your own thing—you don’t need to keep an eye on me the whole time.”

Dada grinned brightly. “VIP membership comes with one-on-one training, bro. If it’s too much, I’ll just stay quiet.”

Qiao Jin gestured that it was fine.

Just as he stepped off one of the machines to rest, his phone rang. It was Assistant Yin.

“Hello, Mr. Qiao Jin,” came the familiar, emotionless voice—like a news announcer. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not at all,” Qiao Jin replied, wiping sweat from his brow. “Go ahead.”

Assistant Yin continued, “President Lu would like to invite you to attend a charity auction tonight at the Rongsheng Tower. Would it be alright if the driver picks you up at six? The event starts at seven.”

Qiao Jin hesitated. “I haven’t eaten yet—and I’ll need to shower.”

“There will be a dinner after the auction,” Assistant Yin replied. He paused briefly, likely double-checking something. “There’s a private bath area inside the building. Everything you need is prepared—including a change of clothes. May I send the driver now?”

Qiao Jin glanced down. He was still in gym shorts and a t-shirt.

He didn’t hesitate long. “Sure.”

“Understood,” Assistant Yin said quickly. “The driver is already en route. He should arrive at your gym in about fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, Xiao Chang arrived at the gym right on time.

Qiao Jin zipped his jacket all the way up and got into the car.

“Why are you dressed so lightly?” Xiao Chang said, turning up the heat. “The weather’s dropped a lot these past couple days.”

Qiao Jin took the warm water he handed over and sipped from it.

He had just finished working out, and his hair was still damp. Worried that he might catch a chill, Xiao Chang rolled up all the car windows tightly.

Qiao Jin pulled out his phone and checked the message from Fu Linxiao.

The moment he frowned, Xiao Chang immediately assumed he was feeling carsick and slowed the car down to a smoother pace.

Two blocks later, at a red light, Xiao Chang cautiously said, “Brother Qiao Jin, maybe you should put the phone away?” He glanced at him through the rearview mirror and gently reminded him, “Didn’t the doctor say not to look at screens too much?”

Qiao Jin didn’t look up. His eyes were still fixed on the screen. “How do you know that?”

Xiao Chang gave a small laugh. “President Lu told me to remind you if I saw you using your phone.”

Qiao Jin didn’t put on the formal, measured tone he usually used at the company when talking to people he saw regularly. After his surgery, when he was transferred to Lu Pingzhang’s home to recover, it was Xiao Chang who had been driving him back and forth. There was no need to pretend around these people.

So he made no effort to hide anything, speaking calmly as he continued scrolling through his phone: “Just dealing with something.”

They arrived at the Rongsheng Tower shortly after. Xiao Chang stepped out and opened the car door, where Assistant Yin was already waiting.

Qiao Jin got out, and Assistant Yin closed the car door behind him.

“I’ll take you to the bath area first,” Assistant Yin said, pausing for a second—his usual flat tone finally showing a trace of concern. “…If there’s anything urgent, please handle it by phone. Screens really aren’t good for your eyes.”

Qiao Jin looked up at him, phone still in hand.

He was dressed in workout clothes, the zipper of his jacket pulled all the way up, hiding part of his sharp jawline. He still carried the warmth and energy of someone fresh from the gym—young and clean-cut, like the year he had just graduated. His hair was only slightly shorter now than it had been then.

“It’s just a friendly suggestion,” Assistant Yin added, stepping aside to let him in. When he saw Qiao Jin slide the phone into his pocket, he visibly relaxed, even allowing a faint smile to show on his usually stern face. “President Lu is still in a meeting. He’ll be done in ten minutes.”

He took Qiao Jin up to the top floor, opened a door for him, and turned on the lights. “Everything’s ready. If you need anything, just let me know—I’ll be right outside.”

The bath area clearly belonged to some high-ranking executive. It was as spacious as a private spa, complete with a soaking tub, sauna, massage chair, and even a heated stone bed.

The shower was tucked away in a corner. Qiao Jin found it, tested the water temperature, and began rinsing off.

Steam began to fill the room, soft and heavy.

Then came the sound of the door quietly opening. Qiao Jin thought it was Assistant Yin and paid it no mind.

He closed his eyes and rinsed his hair under the warm stream.

The door opened, then closed again behind someone.

Qiao Jin paused briefly, then resumed washing his hair. He didn’t need to turn around to know—it was Lu Pingzhang.

Lu Pingzhang reached up to remove his suit jacket and was just about to unbutton his shirt when Qiao Jin, without turning, said casually, “Hand me a towel.”

Lu Pingzhang had no choice but to grab a towel and pass it over.

Qiao Jin was rinsing the last of the foam from his hair, while Lu Pingzhang stood quietly nearby, holding the towel, waiting.

Qiao Jin rinsed off thoroughly and wiped his face, but his eyes still felt heavy and wouldn’t quite open. A moment later, a soft towel pressed gently against his eyes, drying the water for him.

He turned off the shower and stood there calmly, water still beading on his skin. His lean, well-proportioned figure—toned from consistent exercise—made the act of undressing look almost provocative.

Lu Pingzhang quickly shrugged off his dress shirt and, on the way back, casually grabbed a small, finely packaged square packet from the organizer tray on the central table. Qiao Jin noticed, but didn’t stop him.

When it came to these things, he had long since developed a habit of yielding to Lu Pingzhang.

Lu Pingzhang tore open the packet. Qiao Jin’s gaze was clear, though his brow furrowed slightly. He finally spoke: “The doctor said no strenuous activity.”

Meeting Lu Pingzhang’s stare, he quietly added, “My eyes haven’t been feeling great lately either.”

Lu Pingzhang’s hands froze for a second. During that brief pause, who knows what kind of mental battle he fought—because when he finally spoke, there was an uncharacteristic edge of frustration in his voice: “Got it.”

Qiao Jin hesitated, but Lu Pingzhang had already stepped closer and turned the shower back on.

Lu Pingzhang pressed a hand to Qiao Jin’s waist, his gaze direct and unflinching.

Qiao Jin pressed his lips into a tight line and reached down.

The sound of water filled the room, louder now, steam rising thicker than before, veiling everything in a dense, damp fog.

They arrived late—by the time they entered the venue, the auction had already begun.

It was mostly because Qiao Jin, right in front of Lu Pingzhang, had swallowed everything down with that rare, wide-eyed innocence.

Something about that triggered a deeply ingrained desire in Lu Pingzhang. Unable to resist, he had pulled Qiao Jin in for a little longer.