Chu Lai had planned for a three-day break, but he didn’t expect to spend most of it in bed. He lay there in silence for a long time, and by the time Liu Yuan called to invite him to an exhibition, his voice was still hoarse.

Liu Yuan teased, “No way, you’re still in bed? I’m jealous!”

Chu Lai found it hard to even speak. Though he was physically okay, he felt guilty, as if he had been too indulgent. “What’s there to be jealous about?” he muttered. He took a sip of water from the glass on his bedside table. It was almost noon, but the Cen family hadn’t called him for lunch, likely because Cen Wei had told them to let him rest.

Chu Lai found himself jumping between thinking how nice it was to live with family and realizing that after marriage, living with parents wasn’t the best idea. As he finished his drink, he remembered how Cen Wei had wiped the smudges from his lips the night before and sighed again.

Liu Yuan chimed in, “Is that a happy sigh I’m hearing?”

He remarked with a laugh, “I told you, with a build like Cen Wei’s, there’s no way he’s not… you know. Even Jiang Liyong doesn’t compare to him.”

Chu Lai stayed silent for a moment, then asked, “Isn’t that a bit inappropriate to say?”

Liu Yuan chuckled, “Just making a comparison.”

His tone was cheerful, though Chu Lai had no idea that Liu Yuan’s relationship with Jiang Liyong had taken a sudden leap forward, all thanks to his wedding.

“I’m not going to the exhibition,” Chu Lai said, sounding weak. “Just the thought of going back to work pains me. Let me stay in bed a bit longer.”

His voice did sound tired, and Liu Yuan couldn’t help but laugh, thinking, It really does take the right person to bring out this side of him.

“Oh, by the way,” Liu Yuan added, “next month, our department is having a reunion. All the alumni are invited. The invitation was sent by email, so check your inbox.”

Chu Lai disliked these types of events. He hadn’t even picked up his own graduation certificate—Liu Yuan had done that for him—because he just didn’t enjoy socializing. If it weren’t for the need to work and make money, he probably wouldn’t even bother going to the office.

“I’m not going,” Chu Lai stated flatly.

Liu Yuan anticipated that response. “I figured as much, but this event is being hosted by a rich alumnus from our department. He owns a gaming company, and there’ll be a raffle.”

Chu Lai knew what Liu Yuan was getting at. The company was famous, and their school had been using it for promotional purposes for the past few years. Despite knowing that Liu Yuan was trying to tempt him with the chance to win a game, Chu Lai was firm: “I can just buy it myself.”

Liu Yuan pressed, “It’s for early access. You’re a gaming content creator, aren’t you? You could get a head start.”

He was aware that Chu Lai didn’t like his major and had only chosen it because of financial reasons. That was just Chu Lai’s way: even if he didn’t enjoy something, he would get through it steadily and without complaint. That applied to both work and love—his biggest pursuit was stability.

Liu Yuan said, “You’ve already achieved your previous goal of getting married, and with someone you love no less. So, what’s next?”

His tone was casual, reminiscent of their college days when they’d chat late at night in their dorm, backs to each other, sometimes watching a movie together.

“Chu Lai, I remember back in our first year when I threw you a birthday party, you reluctantly told me you had two wishes.”

“I wasn’t reluctant,” Chu Lai interjected.

“You said you wanted to play a lot of games and fulfill your childhood dream. Of course, you never make any grand statements, so you added, ‘if possible’ at the end.”

Liu Yuan and Chu Lai were about the same height. Many people in their department knew about their sexual orientation, often jokingly referring to them as “the perfect pair of the dim-witted and the gloomy.” Thanks to Liu Yuan, Chu Lai’s university life was much better than the loneliness he had experienced in high school.

“That childhood dream must have been woodcarving, right? My mom still says you’re a master,” Liu Yuan teased. “Though I know it’s tough, let’s start with the first one. You’ve already built up a great following as a gaming creator. That’s impressive.”

Liu Yuan hadn’t called out of the blue. After visiting Chu Lai’s old home, Cen Wei had spoken with Yu Ruimei and learned more about Chu Lai’s simple social circle. He had even called Liu Yuan to talk about Chu Lai’s university days, which he hadn’t been a part of, and confirmed Chu Lai’s dreams through his mother.

Chu Lai appeared calm and reserved, but in reality, he was timid. His stable life was comfortable, but he was still avoiding the hopes and dreams he had once hidden away—the dreams he had shared with his father and the hopes his father had for him before passing away.

His father had wished for Chu Lai to live happily, to play as much as he wanted, and not to be too mature too soon. These were the things Yu Ruimei had shared with Cen Wei. On the day of the wedding, when Chu Lai was resting in the waiting room, Yu Ruimei had pulled Cen Wei aside and added a few more details, including her husband’s last words after the car accident.

He had died in the hospital after emergency treatment failed, and in his final moments, he had expressed concern about his son. He worried that Chu Lai’s reserved nature would prevent him from forming deep connections, and that no one would truly understand him. He had also urged Yu Ruimei to remarry.

The man had arranged everything, but his son was always on his mind.

Whatever Chu Lai liked, Cen Wei wanted to give him.

Liu Yuan went on and on, thinking to himself, Cen Wei sure goes the long way around things. Isn’t he just trying to make Chu Lai happy after seeing his wishlist?

Liu Yuan had originally mentioned the raffle as a joke, but it didn’t align with the usual practices of the gaming company. Coincidentally, someone had wanted to organize a reunion, and through some connections, Cen Wei had reached out to the organizer and helped finalize the event.

But Chu Lai wasn’t easy to fool. Although he had been coaxed into bed by Cen Wei over the past few days and had finally experienced real pleasure, he was well aware of the online chatter.

Rumors about him were everywhere—how he had dumped his ex-boyfriend to be with his boss, how he was after money, and more. While Chu Lai wasn’t a public figure, pictures of him weren’t widely circulated. However, the school’s forum and alumni chat groups had exploded with clips from their wedding. Although most of the viral clips only showed their backs, some guests had posted group photos, and the rumors had spiraled, painting him as someone with poor character.

Chu Lai asked, “Does this reunion have anything to do with Cen Wei?”

Liu Yuan was startled and quickly denied it, “Of course not!”

“You’ve seen the rumors online, haven’t you?” Chu Lai said.

When they returned the day before, Chu Lai had received several messages from former classmates. He hadn’t replied, as he wasn’t close to them. He didn’t often check his Moments, but that didn’t mean he was completely out of the loop.

Liu Yuan sighed, “They’re just jealous.”

Even though he wasn’t a celebrity, people still loved to gossip. Liu Yuan had seen posts online accusing Chu Lai of cheating, claiming he had dumped his boyfriend for someone richer and then rushed into a flashy marriage.

Chu Lai said, “You all think I’m too fragile. I’m not.”

The bed in the Cen family home was much bigger than the one at his old place. Chu Lai rolled over twice before lying on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. “When did Cen Wei talk to you?”

Liu Yuan hadn’t expected to be exposed so quickly and laughed, “You’re both so jealous, huh?”

Chu Lai replied, “He doesn’t even ask me directly.”

His previous relationships had been so dull, but now, with his hoarse voice and a hint of complaint, he sounded much more lively. Liu Yuan teased, “He’s probably just really careful because he likes you so much. I’m so envious.”

Chu Lai said, “I would’ve told him myself.”

The so-called “long-distance relationship” was more like a relationship where they rarely saw each other. Even when Chu Lai wasn’t single, he spent most of his time alone. Over time, his need for companionship had grown, and his desires had deepened, until one day, they became overwhelming.

For someone like Chu Lai, it was rare to lose his composure. But when it happened, it was as if fate had taken over, like a river flowing into the sea, nourishing him for life.

“Getting to know someone means understanding them from all angles,” Liu Yuan said with a chuckle. “Besides, he’s your legal husband now. You’re not in a contract marriage anymore, so what are you afraid of?”

Now that everything was out in the open, Liu Yuan spoke freely. “Your husband went to great lengths to sponsor our department’s reunion. I don’t even know the gaming company owner myself—he was always a big shot, way out of my league back in school.”

“Man, you’re so lucky. Someone who loves you is willing to go to such lengths just for your wishes. By the way, I didn’t get a chance to say this at the wedding, but I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Chu Lai was never great at responding to such heartfelt sentiments. He mumbled a quick “thanks,” but before he could come up with a proper reply, Liu Yuan laughed, “I know you can’t put it into words. Well, I guess I won’t be getting the reward your husband promised me after all.”

“What reward?” Chu Lai asked.

“It’s not important for you,” Liu Yuan replied, then hung up.

Chu Lai lay there for a while longer, thinking about when exactly his wishlist had been exposed. He felt a bit groggy, the sensation of being held still fresh on his mind. His waist still ached from where he had been gripped, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret about his expensive gaming chair—it would be hard to sit in it again without thinking about what had happened.

In his half-asleep state, he recalled when Cen Wei had likely seen the list. It must have been that day when Cen Wei had borrowed his computer for work, while Chu Lai was writing out his goals for the new year. The notes on his computer synced with his phone, so it was likely that’s how Cen Wei had found out.

Before long, it was well past lunchtime, and when Cen Wei came home, he was met with disapproving looks from the whole family.

Grandma Hong, in particular, fussed over Chu Lai’s thin frame, insisting that he needed to be fed properly. Grandpa Cen, while saying nothing, gave him a look that clearly labeled him a beast.

Cen Wei scratched his nose, feeling a bit awkward, but not overly so. He quietly went upstairs, even closing the door behind him to keep the dog out.

Chu Lai was hiding under the covers, playing on his phone. Since he was alone, the game’s background music was turned up loud, and he didn’t notice when Cen Wei entered.

When Chu Lai rolled over and saw him, he was startled.

“You’re awake? How are you feeling?” Cen Wei asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking every bit the composed, professional man. But in Chu Lai’s mind, all he could picture was the reckless side of him from last night.

“We should sleep in separate rooms from now on,” Chu Lai declared.

Cen Wei was caught off guard and hesitated for a moment. “Why?”

Chu Lai pursed his lips. His lips were still a bit red, and even his damp eyelashes from the night before hadn’t been spared. Now, feeling annoyed, he grumbled, “You’re interfering with my work. I can’t even sit down and play games properly anymore.”

“You’re unbearable, Cen Wei.”

He didn’t realize that his hoarse voice and the way he glared at people had the opposite effect. Coupled with his naturally pale skin, which easily showed every mark, the bruises and kiss marks on his arms were evidence of how out of control things had gotten.

Even Cen Wei felt a bit like a beast. He nodded, “That’s my fault.”

“Do you want to keep sleeping, or would you like something to eat?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep anymore. I promised Grandma I’d take her to the park today,” Chu Lai replied.

“That’s okay. There’ll be another chance,” said Cen Wei.

“I haven’t walked the dog in days. Da Cai doesn’t like me anymore,” Chu Lai muttered.

In the next second, a kiss landed on the corner of his lips. “I like you.”

The man’s voice was low and deep, but Chu Lai was immune to it by now. With a blank expression, he pushed him away. His hand landed on Cen Wei’s chest, and he suddenly remembered the link Grandma had shared with him. Comparing the two, he couldn’t help but smirk, “You should work out more.”

“I thought you said you liked me this way,” Cen Wei said innocently.

Chu Lai avoided looking at the chair in the study. As he got dressed, he replied, “I don’t like it anymore.”

The wedding ring was still on the bedside table, where Cen Wei had taken it off while showering. He now had the aura of a successful married man, with the ring as the most prominent symbol of that. It gave him a sense of maturity that seemed to come with starting a family.

Chu Lai’s chest was in terrible shape, covered in bruises. Even when he touched it, he winced, not wanting to deal with Cen Wei. The next moment, though, Cen Wei took his hand and slipped the ring back onto his finger. “You can’t take it off. I’m going to love you forever.”

/

Though Chu Lai complained about him, Cen Wei still stayed for lunch. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed much conversation before heading off to work in the afternoon, leaving with a slightly defeated expression.

In the afternoon, Chu Lai decided to nap on the terrace, cradling Da Cai in his arms. The Cen family’s estate was large, with beautiful gardens, and he could do as he pleased. After his nap, he went downstairs and found Grandpa Cen playing chess. The old man called him over, so Chu Lai joined him for a game while they chatted.

Chu Lai had naturally fair skin, and his hair was dark. While his features weren’t exceptionally delicate, there was a certain elegance to him when he lowered his head to think. He was quite likable.

At one point, Grandpa Cen asked, “How’s my grandson treating you?”

Chu Lai was caught off guard by the question and didn’t react immediately. “What?”

“Ah Wei may seem mature, but deep down, he’s still the same. Because of his father’s situation, we don’t often bring up his relationships,” Grandpa explained. “He’s not as mature as he looks.”

His face was lined with wrinkles, and he couldn’t eat much at family dinners, often needing to be given nutrient injections. Before Chu Lai was born, both his grandfathers had passed away, so Grandpa Cen was the only one who fit the image of a typical grandfather. He was very old, and his illness had aged him further, making his hands look shriveled. But when he placed his chess pieces, his moves were still strong and decisive. His style of play reflected the personality he must have had in his youth.

Chu Lai shook his head, “He’s fine.”

“Don’t spoil him too much,” Grandpa advised. “The most important thing in a relationship is communication. Having someone you can talk to about anything is rare.”

The snow from the previous day had mostly melted, and when Chu Lai glanced outside, he saw Da Cai lying at Grandma’s feet while Xuan Rongqing and Grandma Hong worked on flower arrangements. The housekeeper was in the yard, instructing the workers on how to set up something on the lawn.

Chu Lai asked, surprised, “Do I seem like I’m spoiling him?”

Grandpa just smiled knowingly. The house was warm, and Chu Lai was dressed in an oversized cashmere hoodie. The loose sleeves exposed his wrists, but his arms were covered in ambiguous red marks that were impossible to hide.

Trying to cover up, Chu Lai pulled his sleeves down. Grandpa sighed, “See? I told you not to spoil him.”

By now, Grandpa had gotten to know Chu Lai a bit better. The young man answered questions honestly and wasn’t annoying in the least. His calm demeanor made people want to treat him kindly.

Chu Lai reflected for a moment. He was easily swayed by Cen Wei’s hugs, and the man knew exactly how to exploit his weakness. No matter how many times Chu Lai said no, the moment their chests were pressed together, with a tight embrace and tears welling in his eyes, it was as if his protests didn’t exist. Instead, he was left overwhelmed by kisses, each one demanding more than the last.

It did seem like he was spoiling him a bit too much. No wonder he felt so tired now.

But admitting that was difficult. His last relationship hadn’t reached this level of intensity.

Cen Wei, on the other hand, had been willing to meet his every need, to the point of thoroughly preparing to win him over, even gathering information from those around him.

“He…” Chu Lai began.

As he placed his chess pieces, a faint wisp of steam rose from the tea beside him. The sense of distance that had enveloped Chu Lai the first time he came to the house had vanished without a trace.

“After all, this isn’t my first relationship,” he said.

Grandpa nodded, “That’s why I say Ah Wei is lucky to have met you.”

The old man smiled. “I just hope he doesn’t take on too much responsibility. He doesn’t seem to hate going to the office as much now.”

“I never expected him to feel like he had to make the company a huge success. He’s always been thoughtful, always worrying about this and that.”

Chu Lai thought back to how he had first met Cen Wei. He had been hurried and worn out, driving over from another city just to break up in person. Even when they sat together for a meal, there had been a deep crease of worry between his brows. That’s why he had gotten drunk so quickly.

Chu Lai nodded. “After all, it’s a family business that’s been passed down through generations. He doesn’t want to be the one to let it end.”

While Chu Lai lived a life of routine, going to and from work just to make a living, he could sense how much passion Cen Wei had for what he did. When they talked over meals, even though Chu Lai wasn’t very interested in work, whenever the topic shifted to materials or industry details, Chu Lai found himself paying extra attention.

It was interesting, and it looked good on him too. Sometimes, even Cen Wei was surprised by how intently Chu Lai was watching him. “What is it?” he’d ask.

Chu Lai would just shake his head. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem to like hearing about this stuff. I’m probably boring you,” Cen Wei would say.

But Chu Lai would reply, “No, it’s interesting.”

He had never shared moments like this with Shen Quanzhang.

Maybe in their third year of college, they had sat together chatting over dinner, but it had always been a one-sided conversation. Shen Quanzhang would talk, and Chu Lai would respond, but over time, what had started as excitement had faded into something dull. It got to the point where Chu Lai found himself thinking, This is so boring.

Was it me? Am I the problem?

Chu Lai had thought about it before, but Liu Yuan had told him not to overthink it. “You two just weren’t a good fit,” Liu Yuan had said.

But what does it mean to be a good fit?

The sound of chess pieces clinking onto the board was crisp. Chu Lai’s mind wandered to how, earlier, as he was getting ready to leave for work, Cen Wei had asked for a kiss.

Last night, Chu Lai had refused, his tongue still tingling from their earlier kiss, leaving him too frustrated to indulge him. But as Cen Wei left, he turned back multiple times, finally sending a message on WeChat asking, “Can I get a kiss when I come back?”

As if afraid that Chu Lai would reject him, he added, “A cheek kiss will do.”

What cheek kiss? It was obvious he wanted to cuddle, just like when he’d said he only wanted a little closeness. That too had been nothing short of a scam. He hadn’t even let go of Chu Lai during their bath.

Chu Lai had never experienced such intense intimacy before. The previous impression he had of these things had completely vanished, replaced by a sense of heat, invasion, and fullness.

And, of course, by the whispers of love.

Was this what love was?

Was this what it meant to be with the right person?

Even when I say I don’t like it, the moment he leaves, I start looking forward to the evening—to the cheek kisses and cuddling he mentioned.

I start to look forward to even tighter embraces.

Chu Lai and Grandpa Cen played several rounds of chess. Though he seemed a bit absent-minded, Chu Lai’s chess style was anything but gentle. His moves were sharp and decisive, revealing his true nature.

Though Cen Wei hadn’t mentioned anything about Chu Lai’s past relationships, Grandpa had done some digging and found that Chu Lai’s breakup had happened around the same time as his grandson’s. But relationships don’t follow logic, and the rumors weren’t attacking anyone’s morals—they were targeting something else.

Grandpa asked, “If you could choose any job, without worrying about money or living expenses, what would you want to do?”

Grandpa wasn’t the type to fuss over the little things. While his own grandson was polite, he wasn’t particularly warm, making him a bit hard to love. But Chu Lai was different. Grandpa, who had attended numerous weddings within his circle of acquaintances, was highly satisfied with Chu Lai. Many guests at the wedding had complimented Chu Lai’s delicate appearance, and Grandpa had been so pleased that he had acted as if Chu Lai was his actual grandson.

As he packed up the chess pieces, Chu Lai said, “I’d want to do woodcarving.”

Bringing Cen Wei home meant that he had fully opened the door to his heart. The Cen family was now his family, and he had no intention of hiding anything.

“Just like my dad,” he added after a pause. “Though it wasn’t his main job—he was just a carpenter.”

“Do you want to try it?” Grandpa asked.

“What?”

“Try doing what you really want to do.”

Chu Lai hesitated. This dream had been buried for many years, but he was very aware of the emotions he had suppressed. Over time, those emotions had simplified into a goal set in his student years: to live a simple life, one day at a time, with no need for change.

Woodcarving wasn’t like other hobbies. Chu Lai knew a lot about different types of wood, but the death of the person who had taught him had left him with a deep-seated fear of the future.

What if I’m always alone?

Separation and death always come without warning.

Even if we’re doing well now, one day we’ll be apart.

Chu Lai’s hesitation was so evident that Grandpa didn’t press him further. With a smile, the old man rolled his wheelchair closer and patted Chu Lai on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much, Lai Lai. You’re part of this family too. Some things carry risks, but the adults will shoulder them for you. You don’t need to plan for failure in advance.”

“Life is long. It’s okay to try.”

/

After their honeymoon, Cen Wei immediately returned to work, much to the bewilderment of the company’s senior management. However, he was generous in other ways, and everyone could see that his mood had greatly improved.

Before, Cen Wei rarely expressed emotions. He was like a frozen tundra that never thawed. But now, his obvious cheerfulness was almost irritating to those around him.

His secretary, who had been rewarded handsomely for the extra work, followed him around, scheduling meetings and forwarding an email from a certain gaming company to him.

It was about the game Chu Lai had been playing, Paper Umbrella Town.

“The company is interested in collaborating with us. The details are in the email attachment,” the secretary explained.

Cen Wei nodded. His WeChat still had the recent addition of one of Chu Lai’s old classmates, now working for the company, though in a different game studio.

His main reason for contacting the classmate was to surprise Chu Lai.

Liu Yuan had reported back that Chu Lai had agreed, and just then, the classmate also sent a message: “The email has been sent. Thanks again for your sponsorship, Mr. Cen. Our game studio is launching a new project soon that aligns with your company’s products. We’ll be sending a partnership proposal.”

In the past, work had been all-consuming for Cen Wei, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about Chu Lai. He missed the feeling of holding him, of taking a bath together and chatting.

For someone who used to love work so much, he suddenly found the endless flow of projects irritating. Glancing out the window, he called for his secretary. “Go to this place and pick up something for me.”

It was one of the items from Chu Lai’s wishlist: a snack from an old bakery in S City.

Without even needing to ask, the secretary knew it was for someone special. There was no way it was for a business partner.

As he headed out the door, the secretary remembered to report back on something else. “The account that posted defamatory rumors about Mr. Chu was using fake credentials, but the IP address is local.”

On the day of his wedding, rumors had circulated about Chu Lai being a home-wrecker and social climber, latching onto a rich partner. Since the wedding, people in the company had whispered about how Chu Lai’s ex still worked in the marketing department. Despite being on leave, speculation had run wild in the office.

“Hmm,” Cen Wei muttered, recalling the private messages he had received on Weibo.

“Is Shen Quanzhang from marketing in today?” he asked.

The secretary shook his head. “No, he worked overtime for two days and took today off.”

Cen Wei nodded.

/

That evening, Cen Wei returned home with bags of old-fashioned snacks, arriving just as the sun was setting. Chu Lai was upstairs, playing games with Da Cai in his arms, nowhere to be seen in the living room.

After scanning the room and not finding him, he headed upstairs. Grandpa sighed, “He doesn’t even greet his grandpa anymore.”

With a small laugh, Cen Wei said, “Didn’t I just nod at you, Grandpa?”

He looked a little impatient. Grandma Hong chuckled, “You were far worse when you were younger. Our Ah Wei has really matured.”

“You used to run in and hug me every time you came home,” she added.

“Which is why I’m going upstairs to hug my Lai Lai now,” he replied.

Grandpa felt a pang of toothache from the sweetness and muttered, “They should really move out. I’m getting too old for this.”

Grandma Hong grinned, “The doctor said your health is improving. If they leave, you might just kick the bucket right away.”

Most elderly people avoided joking about life and death, but in this family, it was no big deal. Grandpa sighed, “I’d like to see them for a few more years, though. I used to think it didn’t matter, but now I feel a little reluctant to let them go.”

That afternoon, some of their friends had come over for a visit, and Grandma had heard a few rumors. Turning to Grandpa, she asked, “Do you think Ah Wei and Lai Lai’s marriage is really just an agreement?”

The two old folks shared a knowing smile, and Grandpa sighed, “Wouldn’t that make it just like our arranged marriage?”

She gave him a light smack on the arm. “Ours was a love-after-marriage deal. Totally different.”

“Well, love-after-marriage isn’t bad either,” Grandpa chuckled. “It’s just that our grandson is a bit too rough.”

Upstairs, the “rough” grandson pushed open the door. Paper Umbrella Town had just finished its maintenance update, and Chu Lai was continuing from where he left off, completely oblivious to anyone entering the room.

The livestream camera was positioned to capture only Chu Lai from the neck down, with Da Cai nestled in his lap. The viewers had been engrossed in the game’s eerie atmosphere, only to be jolted by the sudden appearance of an off-screen hand that whisked the dog away and swiftly pulled the streamer into a tight embrace.

The microphone was still on, and everyone could clearly hear the sound of a kiss.

Chu Lai had been so immersed in the game that he nearly jumped out of his seat, almost letting go of the mouse. When he saw it was just Cen Wei, he took a deep breath. “Can’t you knock?”

[Wait, is the streamer’s husband the guy from the snowy wedding video?]

[OMG, this is too sweet! And those hands! Gorgeous!]

[Why am I watching a horror game stream and getting fed dog food instead?]

A low, somewhat dejected voice replied, “I knocked. I knocked for a long time.”

“Yeah, right. So why didn’t Da Cai react?” Chu Lai retorted.

“He likes you too much. He’s too comfortable to bark, like he’s lost his instincts as a dog.”

The comment was a backhanded compliment. Chu Lai chuckled softly, “Don’t bother me…”

That’s when he realized the livestream audience could hear everything.

“Just one kiss, and I’ll leave,” Cen Wei bargained.

[Do it! With my blessings, now get out!]

[My game finally finished loading, but my heart can’t recover from this.]

[Did you guys notice the red marks on the streamer’s wrist? Things must have been intense.]

[No PDA during horror game streams!]

[I’ve seen a lot of accidental stream moments, but this is a first. If I remember right, isn’t UP’s partner in the umbrella business?]

[@Cen Lianxin Umbrella Co., come get your boss!]