The same compliment had once been given to Bian Yiqiu by Li Ze, which showed that in the minds of their group of young elites, someone who could truly catch Young Master Ke’s attention must have extraordinary abilities. However, what exactly qualifies as extraordinary was up for debate, everyone had their own opinions.

The “extraordinary” Bian Yiqiu, still with his head wrapped up, slept for another two hours. When he woke up, his dizziness had lessened, but his hunger was unmistakably present. So, he threw on a bathrobe without even washing his face, deciding to go downstairs for food. As he walked, he muttered to himself, thinking that last night’s dream had been absolutely outrageous. It was so vivid that he still felt a certain… discomfort in a particular area. 

Wait, what’s that smell?

Bian Yiqiu wrinkled his nose and sniffed, quickly forgetting the discomfort as the delicious aroma from the kitchen drew him in, making him drool with hunger.

Zuo Cheng really was becoming more and more thoughtful and considerate. He should give him a raise!

“Ah Cheng!” Bian Yiqiu, rarely this affectionate with his bodyguard, hurried to the kitchen door, pushing it open with a wide swing. “Your boss is starving—”

The second half of his sentence got stuck in his throat when he saw the figure in the kitchen. He nearly choked, almost fainting as if he was was facing a nightmare.

“Oh.” Bian Yiqiu obediently nodded, then carefully pulled the kitchen door shut. He walked toward the dining room like a wandering soul, but he suddenly jolted awake. With a sharp turn of his head, he glared at the door. His expression shifted quickly from stunned to horrified, as if something terrifying was locked inside, ready to burst out and crush him on the spot.

Thirty seconds later, Bian Yiqiu snapped out of his trance, walking past the dining room like a zombie, climbing the stairs with stiff, synchronized steps. I must still be dreaming. I need to go back to sleep. This is a damn nightmare… it’s too terrifying…

“Bian Yiqiu.”

Don’t call me.

“Bian Yiqiu!”

I can’t hear you.

“Hey, you there, stop right now!”

“You think I can just stop because you told me to?” Bian Yiqiu muttered, feeling his pride wounded. “Doesn’t that make me look like I have no face?”

“If you take one more step, I’ll break whichever leg you move.”

Damn it, even if this is a dream, it’s my dream. You’re threatening my legs in my own dream? This is something I can put up with, but even my aunt wouldn’t stand for this!

So, Bian Yiqiu, threatened and all, turned around and went back. He’d rather die than admit he was actually worried that someone might really break his leg.

“Ke Mingxuan, are you out of your mind? Even in my dream, you’re messing with my legs. I only broke one of your legs once, are you always thinking about getting revenge?”

“Dream?” Ke Mingxuan raised an eyebrow. “So, you think about me like that?”

Bian Yiqiu was left confused, his face full of question marks, as he had no idea what Ke Mingxuan was talking about. But his gaze was quickly drawn to the bowl Ke Mingxuan was holding, and suddenly, his eyes went wide in hunger.

“What is… this?”

Ke Mingxuan looked at him like he was an idiot. “Porridge.”

“For me?”

“No, for myself.”

Bian Yiqiu, seething with anger, snapped, “Ke Mingxuan, why the hell aren’t you being nicer to me in my own dream?”

Ke Mingxuan, ever the obedient one, nodded without hesitation. “Alright, I’ll be nicer. Bian Yiqiu, please, sit down and eat. Do you need me to feed you?”

Bian Yiqiu, as if fully embracing his role as the grand master, struck a domineering pose in the chair and glared at him. “Sure, feed me.”

This time, Ke Mingxuan was stunned for a moment, but only for about a third of a second. Under Bian Yiqiu’s unblinking gaze, he reluctantly picked up the spoon.

A spoonful of porridge with a decent-looking mix of beef and vegetables was brought to Boss Bian’s lips. He glanced down, then immediately frowned. “I don’t eat ginger strips.”

Ke Mingxuan, with a particularly good temper, patiently picked out the ginger strips.

Bian Yiqiu added, “I don’t eat scallions either.”

Ke Mingxuan continued, calmly picking out the scallions bit by bit.

Bian Yiqiu stared at the bowl of porridge, about to speak again, but Ke Mingxuan interrupted him. “Don’t tell me you don’t even eat vegetables.”

Bian Yiqiu grinned broadly, showing his teeth but no real smile. “Of course not, I do eat vegetables.”

Ke Mingxuan was about to say, “Then hurry up and eat,” but Bian Yiqiu kept that annoyingly smug smile and added, “But I don’t eat beef.”

Ke Mingxuan’s patience snapped. With a loud crash, he slammed the porridge bowl down onto the table. “Bian Yiqiu, stop pushing your luck.”

“Tsk.” Bian Yiqiu let out a meaningless sound, his smile slowly fading into something colder. “I thought you could keep up the act a bit longer.”

“Didn’t you say you were dreaming?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ke Mingxuan realized they might have been a bit ambiguous. But Bian Yiqiu either didn’t catch it or chose to pretend he didn’t care. He picked up the bowl of porridge, took a spoonful, and leisurely ate it, slowly swallowing before scooping up another bite.

He ate in silence, consuming the porridge that Ke Mingxuan had painstakingly made for hours. The two of them fell into an unexpected quiet, neither saying a word. It wasn’t until the bowl was almost empty that Bian Yiqiu finally looked up and asked, “Is there more?”

Ke Mingxuan asked, “Was it good?”

Bian Yiqiu replied, “It’s not good.”

Ke Mingxuan asked, “Then why do you still want more?”

Bian Yiqiu looked at him. “Wasn’t this porridge made specifically for me?”

Ke Mingxuan snorted coldly. “What gave you the confidence to think this porridge was made just for you?”

Bian Yiqiu shrugged, a bit disappointed, and curled the corner of his lips. “Oh, I misunderstood.”

“…” Ke Mingxuan suddenly lost all his temper, he really did. But he remembered Bian Yiqiu from last night, drunk and muddled, whispering “I miss you too” with a voice almost choked with emotion. In that moment, his heart melted into a puddle of water.

Why bother arguing with this guy? Forget it.

He took the bowl, stood up, and walked toward the kitchen. He didn’t see, in the instant he turned around, that Bian Yiqiu was leaning back in his chair, wearing a very pleased smile, no trace of disappointment whatsoever.

What dreams? He was just hungover, not actually stupid. Although he was a bit shocked when he first saw him, his sharp instincts from thirty years in the world told him clearly this is real.

Ke Mingxuan’s words about missing him were real. The late-night, telepathic pull to the small villa was real. The lingering tenderness and affection were real. Even making porridge for him was real. And that half-conscious, muddled sentence Bian Yiqiu had said? He’d probably heard it. So, what’s the situation now?

Bian Yiqiu, who had never been in a relationship, was caught between excitement and confusion, his face showing a complicated, troubled expression. He was so clueless that he accidentally stumbled right into Ke Mingxuan’s gaze.

Ke Mingxuan’s first reaction was: this guy looks really dumb. His second reaction was: am I even dumber for liking someone like him?

The conclusion was a bit too brutal to contemplate, so Ke Mingxuan didn’t want to think any more about it. He walked over and placed the porridge in front of him, trying to act aloof as he said two words: “Eat it.”

Bian Yiqiu grabbed the bowl without a second thought, took a big spoonful, and, with a satisfied smile, said, “This is really inedible. Ke Mingxuan, have you even tried it yourself?”

Ke Mingxuan struggled for a long time, unable to reconcile Bian Yiqiu’s odd expression with such cutting words. He really wanted to know how this guy managed to split his expression and words so completely. How was this any different from holding a machete, slaughtering an entire family, and then telling someone, “I love you”?

“Wait, are you sure you’re trying to tell me this tastes bad?”

“Yes, this is the worst beef porridge I’ve ever had in my life,” Bian Yiqiu replied, not stopping his spooning action even as he spoke.

Ke Mingxuan was thoroughly confused. “But you don’t look like it tastes bad.”

Bian Yiqiu thought for a moment, then looked up at Ke Mingxuan with a grin. “Maybe it’s because I’m in a good mood. When you’re in a good mood, even the worst food feels like a delicacy.”

Ke Mingxuan was completely caught off guard by his smile, and, almost reflexively, asked, “Why are you in a good mood?”

After Bian Yiqiu spoke, he buried his head down again to continue eating the porridge, so he didn’t respond immediately. It wasn’t until the second bowl was finished that he set down the spoon, pushed the bowl aside, and clasped his hands on the table, sitting up straight in a posture that suggested he was ready for a serious conversation.

“Ke Mingxuan, the reason why I’m in a good mood should be the same as why you’re here, right?”

Although on the surface, Bian Yiqiu appeared confident and in control, who knew how uneasy he really felt when he asked that question? He swore that if Ke Mingxuan dared to deny it, he would go into the kitchen, grab a knife, and kill him.

Ke Mingxuan sat across from him, locking eyes as he peered deep into Bian Yiqiu’s soul—outwardly fierce, but inwardly fragile. For some reason, beneath his thirty-two years of hardened strength, Ke Mingxuan saw the image of a small, stubborn figure walking alone in the snow. His heart was suddenly pierced by something sharp and cold, a pain that struck deep and ceaseless.

He gazed at him gently, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Yes.”

Bian Yiqiu also smiled, then took his time to reply, “Have you thought it through? I won’t just go along with what you say.”

Ke Mingxuan furrowed his brow, standing up without a second thought. “Then I’ll think about it some more.”

Bian Yiqiu was stunned. “Ke Mingxuan, I’ll fuck your grandfather!”

Ke Mingxuan turned back to look at him. “Stop obsessing over my grandpa. If you’ve got the guts, fuck me instead.”

Bian Yiqiu could hardly believe his ears. “Really?”

“Same old rule,” Ke Mingxuan cracked his knuckles, the meaning clear without words.

Bian Yiqiu desperately tried to hold on, “Given our current… relationship, don’t I get any special privileges?”

Ke Mingxuan’s smile deepened, his enchanting eyes full of playful charm, as if spring itself had taken root in them. “What exactly is our relationship right now?”

Bian Yiqiu stood up from his chair, walked around the table, and slowly made his way toward him. He reached out, grabbed Ke Mingxuan’s collar, and yanked him forward, pulling him close.

The two faces, strikingly handsome yet distinct in style, were inches apart, noses almost touching, lips brushing, and their eyes reflecting each other’s image.

“You tell me.”

Bian Yiqiu’s voice was so soft it felt less like words spoken aloud and more like an unspoken transmission, carried through an unspoken connection, directly reaching Ke Mingxuan’s ears through their shared, almost telepathic understanding.

Ke Mingxuan’s smile widened slightly, his arms pulling Bian Yiqiu closer, pressing their bodies together in a way that made their lower halves align perfectly.

“Probably… just the kind of relationship where we only sleep with each other?”

Boss Bian pretended to be conflicted. “I might not get used to it.”

Young Master Ke replied without missing a beat, “It’s fine, we’ll just practice more.”

As soon as he finished speaking,  Boss Bian was pinned to the dining table, his body quickly learning exactly what it meant to get used to it.