Su Qingci first checked out of the hotel, then hailed a taxi. When he gave the name of the residential complex, the driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
Residents there were either wealthy or influential.
Having not returned for three years, all the furniture was covered in white cloth. The air was thick with a cold, desolate chill that cut to the bone.
Dozens of lavender pots delivered by the moving company sat by the door. In the pitch-black darkness, Su Qingci nearly tripped over them.
He had arranged for a professional moving team to deliver them here on the day he left Pei Jingchen’s home. They were indeed professional—when Su Qingci said “just put them anywhere,” they literally put them anywhere, piling them all at the entrance until there was no room to move.
Su Qingci carried each pot one by one to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lavender thrives in sunlight.
After finishing, he checked the soil’s moisture level, then turned on the air conditioner to maintain the indoor temperature between 20 and 25 degrees Celsius.
Keeping busy kept his mind from wandering.
This New Year’s Day was a real pain in the ass.
Night fell. Su Qingci had no appetite, but his body reminded him it was time to eat. Don’t expect anything edible in the fridge of a villa that’s been unoccupied for three years.
Su Qingci couldn’t be bothered to move, and he certainly couldn’t stomach anything, but he was starving. No choice. Though passive, he hadn’t yet mastered the skill of starving himself to death.
He pulled on his down jacket and ventured out in search of food.
The evening wind, laced with snow, sent a shiver through Su Qingci. He zipped his jacket all the way up and pulled the collar tight.
This winter was bitterly cold, colder than any year before.
He was built for heat, not cold. Come winter, his hands and feet turned icy—nothing like Pei Jingchen, who radiated warmth like a little sun. So whenever the temperature dropped, he’d burrow into Pei Jingchen’s embrace like a cat seeking warmth, clinging to that constant source of heat whether the other man liked it or not.
This was especially true when they went out. He’d complain his hands were cold and frozen, demanding Pei Jingchen hold them.
Pei Jingchen would mercilessly call out his deliberate defiance: “Afraid of the cold but won’t wear gloves?”
He’d put on his impenetrable poker face, guiding Pei Jingchen’s hand to clasp his own before tucking them both into Pei Jingchen’s coat pocket.
Su Qingci blew warm breath onto his palms before tucking them into his own coat pocket.
He’d once believed he couldn’t live without Pei Jingchen, comparing himself to a fish and Pei Jingchen to the wellspring of life—something he could never part with.
It turned out his resilience was stronger than he’d imagined.
Su Qingci walked while lost in thought. New Year’s Eve was bustling with noise, traffic, and crisscrossing neon lights. Though surrounded by the commotion, he felt pushed to the margins of the crowd.
He glanced over and spotted another chain store of Wulin Coffee. The chalkboard advertised New Year’s Day specials and other promotions, while staff dressed in logo-emblazoned black cat costumes solicited customers outside.
Su Qingci remembered this spot used to be a hot pot restaurant. Three years without returning, and many shops had closed while new ones opened. The barbecue restaurant he used to frequent with Pei Jingchen in his youth had vanished without a trace.
Su Qingci entered the coffee shop, took a window seat, and ordered a hot cocoa along with the New Year’s special strawberry red velvet Swiss roll.
Just as he took a bite, a sudden argument erupted in the distance. Su Qingci glanced over. It seemed a waiter had accidentally bumped into a bratty kid while carrying coffee—though it could just as easily have been the kid charging recklessly and getting what he deserved. Either way, a collision occurred between the adult and child. The waiter reacted swiftly, steadying the tray just in time. The kid emerged unscathed, but the parent flew into a rage, waving arms wildly and unleashing a torrent of abuse right in the waiter’s face.
The overprotective parent insisted the child had been scalded, while the waiter argued that it was actually him who had been burned.
The parent wouldn’t let it go, growing increasingly furious until they raised a hand to slap the server across the face! Caught off guard, the server didn’t even think to dodge, feeling the wind of the blow rush toward them. But the slap never landed—the parent’s arm was seized by a hand with knuckles clearly defined.
“Su Qingci?!” Wu Lü exclaimed in shock.
Su Qingci hadn’t expected this unfortunate victim of extortion to be none other than Wu Lü.
Just as the overbearing parent continued to rant and refuse to back down, the long-awaited manager finally arrived.
In the service industry, the customer is always right. The store manager bowed three times apologizing, but the overbearing parent wouldn’t let it go and demanded compensation. The manager kept bowing and scraping, saying sorry, which amused Su Qingci to no end.
“Is the store’s surveillance system just for show?”
The manager immediately ordered someone to retrieve the footage. The replay proved it was indeed the brat running wildly and bumping into Wu Lü. Moreover, Wu Lü’s exceptional skill and devotion to protecting the nation’s future meant he shielded the child, sacrificing himself to avoid scalding.
Though the bear parent was in the wrong, they had thick skin. With a single line—“I’m your member”—they acted like they owned the place. Just as the manager was about to grovel again, Su Qingci cut in: “Not anymore.” Game over.
The overbearing parent and manager both blurted out in unison: “Who are you?”
Su Qingci didn’t identify himself. He simply pulled the manager aside. After a few words, the manager stared wide-eyed in awe, responding with three solemn “Yes, ma’am.”
Then, clearing his throat, he formally and solemnly informed the parent: “You have been added to Wulin’s blacklist. All transactions at our global online and offline stores will be declined. Thank you for your support and understanding. Wishing you a pleasant day.” Then, clearing his throat, he formally and solemnly informed Xiong’s parent: “You have been placed on Wulin’s blacklist. All transactions at our global online and offline stores will be declined. We appreciate your support and understanding. Wishing you a pleasant life.”
Su Qingci stepped outside to catch some fresh air. Wu Lü, having resolved the issue, followed him out.
Unbeknownst to the situation, Mr. Xiong stood there looking utterly bewildered. Passing by, he muttered indignantly, “Damn couple.”
Su Qingci wasn’t upset at all; instead, he found it amusing.
Wu Lü heard it too and corrected him, “You got it wrong. It should be ‘damn two guys.’”
Xiong: “…”
Wu Lü had a distinctly feminine appearance, his features exceptionally delicate. Su Qingci recalled the first time he saw him with Pei Jingchen—he’d mistaken him for Pei Jingchen’s girlfriend, consumed by jealousy. He’d even dreamt of “her” nestled in Pei Jingchen’s arms, cooing sweet nothings.
Su Qingci asked, “Why are you working here?”
Wu Lü answered sincerely, “High pay, great benefits, light work, warm in winter and cool in summer. Most importantly, I love Wu Lin Coffee—free for employees.”
Su Qingci was momentarily speechless.
This “cute girl” with his youthful, high-school-student-on-winter-break looks was likely genuinely innocent and clueless about Su Qingci’s past hostility.
“Thank you for helping me. You’re such a kind person,” Wu Lü said, his eyes sparkling. He pointed inside the shop. “Let me buy you a coffee!”
Su Qingci: “…”
Wu Lü chuckled awkwardly. “I just got off work. How about I treat you to some wontons instead?”
Su Qingci wasn’t socially anxious, but Wu Lü was definitely a social butterfly. Without waiting for a response, he dragged Su Qingci into the neighboring wonton shop to eat what he called the “most amazing” fresh meat wontons. On a winter day like this, a bowl of them warmed his stomach and made his whole body feel incredibly comfortable.
After eating, Su Qingci thought Wu Lü would go back to the coffee shop for his coat, but he walked toward the subway station wearing only a sweatshirt. Su Qingci called out to him, and Wu Lü said, “I accidentally got it wet.”
Su Qingci hesitated for a few seconds before taking off his own down jacket and tossing it to him.
Wu Lü was taken aback. Su Qingci said, “You live far away. Don’t catch a cold. I live close by—it’s just a few steps from here.”
Wu Lü was indeed shivering from the cold. He carefully wrapped himself in the designer coat he could never afford in a lifetime, utterly overwhelmed with emotion. “Let’s exchange WeChat contacts. I’ll wash it and return it to you.”
Seeing Su Qingci staring blankly, Wu Lü hurriedly added, “Or I can give it to Xiao Chen to pass it on.”
Pei Jingchen—Su Qingci never wanted to see him again.
He stiffly handed over his QR code. When the friend request arrived, Su Qingci stared at the red number 1 beside “New Friend,” feeling a wave of bewildered disbelief.
The moment the request was accepted, his WeChat contacts list showed four names.
*
A week of nonstop work, coupled with erratic eating habits—starving one moment, stuffing himself the next—had successfully summoned stomach troubles for Pei Jingchen.
It was only mild gastritis, nothing serious, and often healed before it could flare up thanks to Su Qingci’s proactive care. Whenever he drank alcohol—no matter the amount or how late—Su Qingci would warm a cup of milk for him before bed and wouldn’t rest until he finished it.
Now that Su Qingci wasn’t home, Pei Jingchen couldn’t remember to do this himself. Moreover, no one else would risk “being disliked by him” to earnestly urge him to sleep early.
Su Qingci wasn’t a patient person, yet he was excessively indulgent toward Pei Jingchen. Day after day, he urged him to rest more. Even when occasionally met with Pei Jingchen’s cold, sharp rebuke, he never grew weary of it.
Su Qingci was capricious and short-tempered, prone to unreasonable tantrums, yet he knew his limits. No matter how furious he grew, he’d never resort to unplugging the power cord to force himself to sleep—though if Su Qingci knew all data automatically synced to the cloud, he definitely would have pulled the plug.
Pei Jingchen logged into his personal social media account and reposted the latest update from Lingyue’s official media channel to support the promotion. After finishing, he inexplicably tapped into his “Special Follows” section. Among the various Dongs and CEOs, there was also a relatively inactive Su Qingci—of course, this “Special Follow” had been set up by Su Qingci himself when he’d snatched Pei Jingchen’s phone and account.
Su Qingci shared very little; his account contained only painting-related content, devoid of any personal life. His latest post promoted a New Year’s Day exhibition.
Pei Jingchen thought to himself that he and Su were two peas in a pod—both utterly boring people.
As he scrolled, a related recommendation popped up. Pei Jingchen accidentally tapped somewhere, triggering an auto-play video.
Just as he reached to close it, the two protagonists in the video made his eyes widen in shock.
Title: Prince Wulin Bravely Rescues Waitress—Boss Romance Novel Comes to Life!
The scrolling comments were a lively buzz: “Young Master Su’s looks are off the charts, swoon swoon,” “That black shirt is way too tempting and mesmerizing, yyds,” “I’m a country bumpkin who loves stories of Beijing’s elite brats and Cinderellas,” and “I live nearby and’ve been to that place—that’s not a girl, it’s a guy!” followed by a flood of pink “Swoon!” comments.
Pei Jingchen stared in disbelief: “…”
What the hell is this?!
His WeChat buzzed—a message from Wu Lü saying he was at the community gate, but security wouldn’t let him in.
Pei Jingchen called the intercom, confirmed Wu Lü was a friend, and waited ten minutes. When the doorbell rang, he got up to open it.
Wu Lü greeted him with a cheerful laugh, carrying two large bags.
Pei Jingchen froze.
The light gray, thin down jacket Wu Lü wore belonged to Su Qingci.
He had bought it for Su Qingci last New Year’s Day.
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