Chapter 1

Huaguo, K City, K University.

It was the height of summer.

The sky was a blindingly sharp blue, sunlight glaring, cicadas chirping everywhere.

Shen Yuan wore the school uniform emblazoned with the school emblem and name. This was a special uniform, only worn for events—blue, with a terribly ugly design, paired with white track pants with blue stripes. He wore comfortable sneakers and a baseball cap.

In this heat, many boys would have preferred to go shirtless, yet he was covered head to toe.

But Vice President Shen had always been conservative and restrained in dress; everyone was used to it and didn’t think it odd.

His old-fashioned bangs nearly covered his eyes, and he wore thick black-framed glasses. His appearance was plain and unremarkable, though his jawline and clear skin hinted at his innate refinement.

Shen Yuan wiped the sweat from his face. Despite the heat, he remained patient and gentle, guiding first-time participants—junior students—through the event, coordinating everything meticulously.

If any mistake occurred, they would go to Vice President Shen, and it would surely be resolved.

After a long day, Shen Yuan returned to his rented apartment near the university. He didn’t live in the dorms but rented a place on his own. After showering and changing, he headed out to a scheduled engagement.

After completing a major event in his second year, President Qiao Jun treated everyone to hotpot to reward their hard work over the past few days.

Qiao Jun had started interning at his family’s company over the summer. During the new semester, he would come by to check attendance but leave the work to others. Everyone knew that the junior Shen Yuan, whom he personally trained, would likely become the next student council president.

Shen Yuan had excellent grades, a steady personality, and worked diligently like an ox. He never skipped class or missed meetings. When some boys got drunk from drinking games, he remained sober, handled the bills after the meal, noticed errors in the order, got them corrected, and even haggled, saving everyone thirty-plus yuan.

When leaving, a junior asked, “Vice President, you drank so much, are you okay?”

Shen Yuan smiled, “I’m fine. You guys take a taxi home. My place isn’t far; I’ll walk a bit, get some fresh air, sober up.”

He even helped hail taxis for the drunk students before returning home. Once there, he could no longer hold on and ran straight to the bathroom to vomit.

After cleaning up, washing away the stench of alcohol, and taking a sobering medicine, he collapsed into bed like his body had been filled with lead.

The next morning, just after 9 a.m., Shen Yuan was woken by his phone. The caller ID read “Wang Ziqin.” He forced himself awake. “Young Master Wang? …What’s up?”

Wang Ziqin said, “Come hang out, old place. Aren’t your school affairs done? You’re free today, right? Come now, or I won’t wait for you.”

Shen Yuan painfully got out of bed, still hungover with a throbbing head, and took two painkillers.

The “old place” Wang Ziqin referred to was a high-end entertainment club on the other side of K City.

Among K City’s wealthy circles, the young heirs and minor officials had grown up together. Shen Yuan was no exception. Wang Ziqin was a typical rich playboy: admitted to a prestigious university as a special student, but mostly focused on eating, drinking, and leisure. His family was one of the most powerful in this wealthy circle, and his domineering personality commanded respect. When Shen Yuan transferred midway through, he aimed to ingratiate himself with Wang Ziqin—and succeeded, earning respect from others in the circle.

In short, Shen Yuan was Wang Ziqin’s little aide.

Today, Wang Ziqin had called him over simply to fetch balls and run errands during a tennis game. He had no interest in using the club staff.

Shen Yuan worked diligently without complaint.

Wang Ziqin was playing tennis with a fair-skinned, beautiful girl with a slim waist and ample chest. She was exactly the type of trendy “online beauty”—chestnut curly ponytail, oval face, fair skin, large dreamlike eyes enhanced with contacts, small upturned nose, small mouth. When she jumped, her chest moved dramatically.

Other rich kids lounged under umbrellas drinking cold beverages, watching the spectacle.

Shen Yuan didn’t fit in with them; he was like a servant, fetching balls. The girl was terrible at tennis, forcing him to run constantly.

Wang Ziqin commanded him; he obeyed.

When the girl paused, laughing, she said, “He’s like a dog.”

Wang Ziqin laughed along.

Shen Yuan: “….”

Dressed in long sleeves and pants, with glasses and a dull hairstyle, he looked nothing like the rich kids—just a little follower.

The girl ordered, “Go buy me a milk tea.”

Shen Yuan froze. Before he could respond, Wang Ziqin snapped, “Who gave you the right to tell him what to do?”

The girl’s expression changed. “I… I just asked him to buy milk tea. He’s just fetching balls…”

Wang Ziqin leaned close to Shen Yuan, arm draped over his shoulders. Shen Yuan wanted to move away but held back.

Wang Ziqin snapped at her, “He’s fetching balls for me, not you. Know your place. Can you order him around?”

Among Wang Ziqin’s entourage, few had survived his temper over the years. As for girlfriends, he changed them faster than his aides. Convenience and loyalty mattered more than girlfriends. This new girlfriend didn’t read the room, so Wang Ziqin demoted her from “weekly girlfriend” to “daily girlfriend.”

Other rich kids joked, “Why not just be with Shen Yuan, haha? Defend him for him!”

Wang Ziqin disgustedly replied, “I’m not gay.”

Shen Yuan smiled awkwardly, “Better not joke about that, Young Master Wang. Your loyalty is admirable.”

The girl left. Wang Ziqin played a little more, then dragged Shen Yuan aside, frowning. “You look awful. Stop fetching balls. Go rest over there.”

Shen Yuan explained, “I was drinking with the student council last night. A bit tired. Thank you, Young Master Wang.”

Although it seemed he was being bullied, Shen Yuan didn’t mind. These rich kids just liked to talk; they weren’t truly cruel. Back in high school, they had made him run errands; now it was just upgraded to luxury cars and lavish entertainment.

After tending to the “big fools,” Shen Yuan decided to head home, knowing he had no classes the next day.

On the way to the parking lot, he thought of his uncle, and a warmth spread through his chest. Images of his uncle filled his mind.

Snapping back, he saw a man ahead—his silhouette almost identical to his uncle’s.

What a coincidence! Shen Yuan exclaimed instinctively, “Uncle!”

He hurried down the steps, slipped, and fell forward. His chin bumped into the man’s shoulder; his glasses fell off.

Shen Yuan fell into someone’s embrace.

A man’s voice spoke near his ear—clear, melodious, like a finely tuned instrument. The only problem? He didn’t recognize it.

The man asked calmly, teasingly: “Little one, which uncle am I?”

Shen Yuan froze, then looked up to see a stranger’s face.

The man was handsome, probably in his thirties. Time had not dulled his charm; it had only made his demeanor calm, confident, yet slightly untamed and carefree.

His bright, deep eyes looked at Shen Yuan mockingly.

Shen Yuan instantly felt uncomfortable. He thought: this guy… is annoying.

He had never been so close to anyone in years, never hugged anyone in a long time.

He hurriedly tried to escape the man’s embrace.

Shen Yuan, usually composed, had never been in such an embarrassing situation. He stammered, “Uh… sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”

But he lacked confidence, probably because he was the one who made the mistake—and the man’s gaze was sharp.

The man chuckled lowly at the explanation.

He hadn’t planned to get angry at the brash young man, but seeing Shen Yuan’s face, all irritation disappeared.

This face seemed sculpted exactly to his taste, fitting all his fantasies for a lover—just slightly youthful, lacking mature charm, but otherwise perfect.

The man had encountered plenty of people eager to throw themselves at him. Shen Yuan was likely doing it on purpose as well.

Shen Yuan felt his ears burn, vexed and embarrassed. He quickly looked up, glancing at the man, thinking his expression might have looked like a glare. He had never lost composure like that before.

He picked up his glasses, not putting them on yet.

The man asked, “Nothing else to say?” Waiting leisurely as if expecting the young beauty to flirt further.

Shen Yuan frowned in confusion. What did he mean? He had apologized—wasn’t that enough? He glanced at the man. Clothes were clean, expensive brands, definitely not knockoffs. Was he asking for medical expenses?

Shen Yuan said, “I’m sorry for bumping into you.”

The man responded with a hum, seemingly finding something interesting, staring at him, waiting for more.

Shen Yuan looked at him blankly: “?”

They stared at each other. Awkward.

Shen Yuan took initiative: “If you have no issues… I should go.”

The man remained silent. Shen Yuan cautiously stepped aside; seeing no reaction, he hurried off. But for some reason, he glanced back at the man—still standing there, looking after him, as if waiting for him to come back.

What a strange person, Shen Yuan thought.

It was just a trivial little incident. At the time, Shen Yuan thought he would never encounter that stranger with a back so similar to his uncle’s again. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be so reckless as to mistake him for someone else a second time.

He arrived at the parking lot and drove home.

Saying “home,” though, was a bit of a misnomer—it was the Li family’s house, not really his own.

In the second year of middle school, Shen Yuan’s mother remarried, bringing him along into the wealthy Li family as a stepchild.

Uncle Li had never minded him and treated him like his own son.

When his mother remarried, Shen Yuan was a rebellious, confused twelve or thirteen-year-old. He remembered the day he first met this uncle—back then, he didn’t yet know this man would become his stepfather.

After school, Shen Yuan would sometimes loiter in bookstores, reading books. That day, he was reading Freud, and a grown man spoke to him: “This book is quite deep. Can you really understand it?”

Shen Yuan, a bit defiant, said, “Why not?” At the time, unaware of his own limitations, he tried to show off his knowledge to this uncle.

The man listened earnestly, his eyes bright, sincerely impressed: “I underestimated you. You’re reading it with real focus.”

Shen Yuan recognized the genuine praise and blushed.

This uncle occasionally appeared in his life, always when Shen Yuan least expected it—sometimes at the bookstore, sometimes sampling food at the supermarket, sometimes when he was secretly working at a milk tea shop.

Gradually, they became familiar. When the uncle spoke to him, Shen Yuan finally put away his defenses and answered obediently.

The uncle asked curiously, “Are you sixteen? This is illegal work, isn’t it? Where are your parents?”

Shen Yuan half-lied, half-truthfully claiming he was sixteen, that he had no father, and that his mother was working abroad. No one was there to care for him. Since this was a stranger, he felt safe complaining a little.

The uncle hesitated, then said, “Maybe there’s some misunderstanding. If your mother didn’t love you, she wouldn’t have taken you. I think she does love you.”

Shen Yuan’s biological parents had divorced. Initially, he was supposed to live with his father, and his mother had abandoned him. Later, his father became unable to raise him, and reluctantly, his mother took over custody.

The uncle treated him extremely well—taking him for ice cream, giving him the books he liked, insisting on buying him new shoes. Shen Yuan didn’t dare accept them; he felt no one in the world would be good to someone else without reason.

Shen Yuan once asked, “Do you… like me?”

The uncle patted his head. “Of course I like you.”

Shen Yuan felt his ears turn red. He knew it wasn’t the same kind of “like” he imagined, but even so, he was happy—somewhere in the world, someone cared about him.

At that age, just beginning to understand feelings of affection, while other classmates were sneaking into early romances, Shen Yuan felt both fearful and excited every day, looking forward to seeing the uncle.

He feared his own feelings: Did he like a man? But he was a boy! Not only was his body abnormal, but his soul, too?

One day, his mother told him she would soon return to the country—she was remarrying.

She took him to meet his new stepfather, a wealthy entrepreneur named Li Chen.

And then Shen Yuan saw the uncle.

Later, Shen Yuan learned that the uncle had intentionally hidden his identity at first. He had worried that Shen Yuan, as a stepson, might not accept him, which could complicate the remarriage. So he had tried to win him over in advance.

Shen Yuan was overwhelmed—someone in the world actually wanted to please him, a boy so inconsequential.

He moved into the Li family home with his mother.

The uncle treated him exceptionally well, effortlessly fulfilling all his childhood wishes: a private room, a bookshelf, piano lessons. It was as if overnight he had transformed from a small beggar into a little prince.

Yet Shen Yuan understood clearly—he was still a guest in someone else’s house.

Three years later, his mother died in a sudden car accident, leaving Shen Yuan in an awkward position.

Logically, he had no blood relation to Uncle Li, and shouldn’t have remained in the Li household.

Shen Yuan had prepared himself to be abandoned, but Uncle Li, sensing he didn’t want to return to the Shen family, patted his head and said gently, “When you first arrived, I promised to take good care of you. I always keep my word.”

Thus, Shen Yuan’s household registration remained with the Li family. Until he turned eighteen, Uncle Li was his legal guardian and paid for his university tuition. Still, no matter how good Uncle Li was, or how kind the Li family seemed, Shen Yuan was not truly one of them—at most, a pretender to the wealthy heir title.

If his surname were truly Li, he wouldn’t have had to fetch balls for Wang Ziqin.

The uncle was kind, but Shen Yuan couldn’t rely solely on the uncle’s affection for his mother. So he studied diligently at school, showed filial respect at home, and socialized wisely with wealthy peers. He did his best in everything. Everyone said he was a grateful and conscientious stepson.

After over an hour on the road, he finally arrived home.

It was a lake-view villa in K City’s northern suburbs, quiet and spacious. The villa covered over eight hundred square meters, with a garden and swimming pool.

Shen Yuan entered the front door. The house was so large, he didn’t know if the uncle was home.

Passing the dining room, he encountered Aunt Zhang carrying dishes. Shen Yuan greeted her warmly: “I’ve missed your cooking at school. Look, I’ve lost weight from hunger. I made sure to come back and eat today. What’s the occasion for such a feast?”

Aunt Zhang, pleased by his words, replied with a smile, “We have guests today.”

Shen Yuan asked, “What guests?”

Before she could answer, another voice interjected mockingly: “That would be my stepmother.”

Shen Yuan felt his entire soul freeze, his hands and feet went cold. In a daze, he asked, “What… do you mean?”

The young man said, “Brother, Dad’s going to remarry.”

It was like a knife to the chest.