[I’ll pay attention to you from now on, don’t be mad]

Lu Zhuonian casually retracted his death stare. “Let’s go.”

Chen Zemian tilted his head back slightly, thinking for half a second without getting an answer, so he asked, “Go where?”

Lu Zhuonian said, “The basketball court. We’re going to Jinlin Restaurant tonight. Didn’t Kesong tell you?”

Chen Zemian hesitated. “He did.”

Kesong had mentioned playing basketball and picking him up for dinner—but didn’t say Lu Zhuonian would be there.

Lu Zhuonian glanced at Chen Zemian again, his tone tinged with helplessness. “Chen Zhe.”

Chen Zemian looked up. “Hm?”

Lu Zhuonian said, “Can you focus a little? We checked your brain last time, and it was fine, right?”

Chen Zemian didn’t respond.

His brain was fine, yes—but the trauma in his heart hadn’t healed.

Now every time he saw Lu Zhuonian, he thought of that long needle the nurse used for the lumbar puncture. He practically had PTSD.

Seeing Chen Zhe zoning out again, Lu Zhuonian said, “In our house, kids who get distracted this easily get sent to sensory integration therapy.”

Chen Zemian took a half-step back to maintain a safe distance before replying, “Lu Zhuonian, you’re really savage when you speak.”

Lu Zhuonian: “What are you hiding from? With your reflexes, you think I could even land a hit?”

Chen Zemian: “With you, who needs to do it yourself when a single glance is enough?”

Lu Zhuonian said, “Good that you know. So no point in hiding. Come here.”

Chen Zemian stepped forward like a martyr heading to execution. “I’m not doing a lumbar puncture!”

He had just taken a step back, but now, goaded by Lu Zhuonian, he took a big step forward. Their distance instantly shrank—still within the bounds of normal social distance, but to Lu Zhuonian, it felt close.

As Chen Zhe moved, the breeze he stirred brushed against Lu Zhuonian’s neck and cheek. It was a little ticklish.

And then he smelled a faint, fresh scent of lemon.

Lu Zhuonian lowered his eyes, hiding the sharp glint under his long, dark lashes. “What else?”

Chen Zemian, emboldened, went on: “Also not doing a bronchoscopy.”

Lu Zhuonian stared at him for two seconds, then said suddenly, “Sorry.”

Chen Zemian thought he was hearing things. He tilted his head, leaning forward slightly to make sure. “What?”

Lu Zhuonian said, “That night, I overreacted.”

Chen Zemian hadn’t expected Lu Zhuonian to apologize. He blinked, trying to figure out whether Lu was being sincere or messing with him.

But Lu Zhuonian looked earnest. He even repeated it. “I scared you. That was my fault.”

Clearly, all Chen Zemian had to do was say “It’s fine,” and this would be over—but he was naturally contrary and couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly was your fault?”

Surprisingly, Lu Zhuonian answered calmly, “I shouldn’t have suspected you of ulterior motives just because you were acting… unusual.”

Chen Zemian looked up warily. “Why does that not sound like a real apology? What do you mean I’m ‘unusual’?”

Lu Zhuonian shot back, “Are you normal?”

Chen Zemian had never heard of someone being called abnormal in the middle of an apology. He was briefly speechless.

Lu Zhuonian seemed to realize the wording was off and clarified, “I meant you seem… different from before.”

Chen Zemian frowned. “Different and abnormal mean the same thing to you?”

Lu Zhuonian said, “I’m talking about how you suddenly knocked out two professional bodyguards in seven seconds. That’s not exactly normal behavior.”

“…”

Chen Zemian had no comeback for that—because he really couldn’t explain it. He had to concede, lowering his head. “Okay, fine, not normal.”

Lu Zhuonian looked very pleased, flashing a smug “Told you so” look—but quickly wiped it off his face, returning to that unreadable, composed expression that gave away nothing.

Chen Zemian was speechless. He walked past Lu Zhuonian toward the basketball court. “I saw you feeling smug.”

Lu Zhuonian raised an eyebrow and adjusted his expression. “Was it that obvious?”

Chen Zemian said, “Not obvious, but very glaring.”

Lu Zhuonian offered a fair comment. “You’re quite good at reading people.”

Chen Zemian: “Not that good.”

The two walked side by side, maintaining a polite one-person distance.

Lu Zhuonian said calmly, “You’re being too modest. If you weren’t good at it, how could you have fooled Xiao Kesong? He’s careless about small things, but very cautious when it comes to friends. And he never noticed you were hiding something like that.”

Chen Zemian was quiet for a few seconds. “I wasn’t hiding it. I just never had a reason to act before.”

Lu Zhuonian responded thoughtfully, “Oh, so that’s how it is.”

Chen Zemian couldn’t help defending Chen Zhe. “I never tricked Young Master Xiao. I admit I had a motive for getting close to him, but I never meant to hurt him.”

Lu Zhuonian asked, “Then can you tell me what that motive was?”

Chen Zemian gave a small laugh. “Young Master Lu, people like me—ordinary—go out of our way to flatter and curry favor with someone powerful and influential. Isn’t the reason obvious?”  

It’s for power, for protection, for climbing the social ladder.

Lu Zhuonian, as always, gave a surprising answer. “Then why didn’t you come curry favor with me?”

Chen Zemian cleared his throat and glanced at Lu Zhuonian, unsure whether he was actually curious or just mocking him.

Lu Zhuonian’s face remained unreadable, revealing nothing.

In the past, Chen Zhe had tried a few times to flatter Lu Zhuonian, but the responses were always cold. Chen Zhe was smart enough to know when someone didn’t want to deal with him, so he backed off, stopped being annoying, quietly did what he needed to do, and waited for a better time to make his presence known. He didn’t want to make himself an eyesore.

Chen Zhe was patient—and he could endure.

No one knew how long it took, but in the original novel, when he first appeared, he was already a well-liked follower at Lu Zhuonian’s side. A lot of second-generation elites even called him “Young Master Zhe.” Unfortunately, readers hated how he’d risen to power and pressured the author to change the story. So “Young Master Zhe” became a mocking nickname instead.

Thinking of this, Chen Zemian couldn’t help but feel angry.

Winning over someone like Lu Zhuonian, who was notoriously hard to please, wasn’t something that could be done with just a pretty face. Who knew how much effort Chen Zhe had put in behind the scenes—how cautious, how hardworking, how resilient he’d had to be.

There were so many beautiful people in the novel, and none of them had managed to win over Lu Zhuonian.

Was it because they didn’t want to?

Readers typed a few throwaway lines and forced the author to flip the script, erasing all of Chen Zhe’s years of effort. It was infuriating.

Chen Zemian’s mood was written all over his face. He was the kind of person whose emotions showed loud and clear—when he was happy, it was sunshine and smiles; when he was mad, his whole face darkened, and his eyes practically frosted over.

Walking so close, Lu Zhuonian was the first to sense his brewing anger.

And since Chen Zemian’s irritation with the author and readers was indirectly tied to Lu Zhuonian, the original object of all that effort, he ended up snapping at him. “What? I have to suck up to you?”

Lu Zhuonian’s tone was calm and collected. “No.”

That only made Chen Zemian angrier. He spoke up, defending Chen Zhe’s honor. “You asked why I didn’t suck up to you. Does that mean I failed at it? I toasted you the first time we met—you didn’t even look at me. After that, every time was the same. You clearly didn’t want to pay attention to me.”

Lu Zhuonian stopped walking. “I’ll pay attention to you from now on. Don’t be mad.”

“…”

Chen Zemian was the kind of person who could blow up if you challenged him when he was mad—but if someone soothed him just a little, he could calm down fast, even start reflecting on his own temper.

Lu Zhuonian noticed Chen Zhe had gone quiet with his head down. “Anything else you want to say?”

Chen Zemian glanced at him quickly, then looked away and muttered, “You’re really hard to please, Lu Zhuonian.”

Lu Zhuonian couldn’t hold back a low chuckle.

Chen Zemian trailed behind, staring at Lu Zhuonian’s back. He had to admit, this male lead really was charismatic. No wonder he had so many loyal followers.

He was someone you could count on—broad-minded, thoughtful, graceful in both action and attitude.

A man destined for greatness.

…

By the time they reached the basketball court, Xiao Kesong had already finished playing. He was wearing a red jersey, sitting in the stands, elbows on knees, watching the game. He didn’t notice Chen Zemian.

Chen Zemian called out, “Young Master Xiao.”

Xiao Kesong turned his head. “What took you so long?”

Chen Zemian held up the bag in his hand. “Bought you guys some drinks.”

Xiao Kesong grinned, clearly pleased by how considerate Chen Zhe was. He called his teammates over to grab drinks, proudly showing off. “My little bro got these. Take whatever you want. We’re heading out for dinner.”

Chen Zemian added, “Actually, Young Master Lu paid for them.”

Xiao Kesong blinked. “Zhuonian? You ran into him?”

Chen Zemian nodded. “Ran into him by the teaching building. He went straight to the car.”

Xiao Kesong cracked open a Coke. “Makes sense. He doesn’t like the smell of sweat—says the court stinks. You should head to the car too. I’m going upstairs to shower and change.”

Chen Zemian first went to the parking lot to get the car, then drove Lu Zhuonian to the dormitory building. After waiting about ten minutes, Xiao Kesong and Ye Chen came down from the dorm.

It wasn’t quite six when they left campus, right during rush hour. But Chen Zemian drove fast, and they arrived at Jinlin Restaurant not long after.

Jinlin Restaurant was a famous old establishment in Beijing, right next to Prince Gong’s Mansion, notorious for difficult parking.

Chen Zemian pulled up to the front entrance. “We’re here.”

Xiao Kesong unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched lazily. “It’s nice having a driver. Last time I came, I circled the place forever looking for a spot.”

Chen Zemian smiled. “Just call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up.”

Parking was always a pain here. Every time before, Chen Zhe would drop Xiao Kesong at the door, then circle in the car until dinner was over.

Jinlin’s roast duck was famous. Chen Zhe had come here countless times—but never eaten it himself. Sometimes Xiao Kesong would remember to pack him a portion, but Chen Zhe would take it home and throw it away with a smile.

His stomach couldn’t handle cold food.

At the restaurant entrance, the security guard opened the car door.

The three of them stepped out and walked into the opulent, gold-lit lobby.

Chen Zemian stepped on the gas and drove off, and almost immediately, another car pulled into the spot he’d just vacated. A few well-dressed diners got out.

Ye Chen glanced at the retreating car. “Where’s he going to eat?”

Xiao Kesong’s expression froze for a moment, then he blankly turned to Ye Chen.

Ye Chen looked at him in disbelief. “Don’t tell me that all the times you asked him to drop you off, you never thought about that?”

Xiao Kesong’s slow-working brain finally caught up, and he realized where he’d messed up. “Shit, I never thought that far. His company used to be close by, so he’d just drive back to work after dropping me off.”

Lu Zhuonian raised an eyebrow. “What kind of company makes you work during dinnertime?”

Xiao Kesong: “…”

Ye Chen was speechless. “Your family doesn’t have a driver?”

Xiao Kesong looked genuinely confused. “It was just convenient to call him. We could chat on the way. What now? Should I call him to come back?”

Lu Zhuonian stepped into the elevator. “I’ll have a bodyguard go ask him, but he might not come.”

Sure enough, once the three were seated in a private room and had just finished ordering, a bodyguard knocked and entered to report: “Chen Zhe said he’s not hungry and won’t be coming up.”

Ye Chen poured himself a cup of tea. “Then I guess we’ll treat him another time.”

Xiao Kesong raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “No way, I feel so guilty right now. Do you think Chen Zhe thinks I’m mistreating him? I really didn’t mean it like that.”

Lu Zhuonian casually flipped through the drink menu, acting as if it had nothing to do with him.

Xiao Kesong turned to Ye Chen again. “What should I do?”

Ye Chen lifted his tea, blowing at the foam. “There’s nothing you can do. Eat your taro duck with a guilty conscience.”

“…”

The taro duck hadn’t even arrived yet when Xiao Kesong couldn’t sit still anymore. He took his phone and went downstairs. Instead of calling Chen Zhe, he used GPS to find the car parked along the roadside.

Chen Zemian was slouched over the steering wheel, playing a single-player game.

Xiao Kesong knocked on the window.

Seeing him, Chen Zemian was a little surprised and rolled the window down. “Young Master Xiao?”

Xiao Kesong got into the passenger seat and got straight to the point. “Why didn’t you come up to eat?”

Chen Zemian replied, “I’m really not hungry.”

Xiao Kesong looked annoyed, though it wasn’t clear if he was mad at himself or Chen Zhe. “Even if you’re not hungry, you could’ve still come up for a bit. You staying down here—I can’t even eat properly.”

Chen Zemian chuckled. “You can’t eat properly? Isn’t the crispy duck any good?”

“It’s taro duck.” Xiao Kesong sighed. “Chen Zhe, are you not coming up because I treat you like a driver and you’re upset?”

Chen Zemian said, “Why would I be? I really am not hungry, and I don’t know Young Master Ye or Young Master Lu very well. Sitting with them is awkward. I’d rather chill in the car and play some games.”

Xiao Kesong hesitated, then grabbed his arm, using the car’s light to study his expression. “You’re really not mad at me?”

Chen Zemian, sensing the sudden surge of guilt, quickly soothed him. “Of course not. Young Master Xiao, you’re my benefactor and have treated me so well—how could I be mad at you?”

Xiao Kesong said, “I’ll treat you even better from now on. You’re my little bro.”

Chen Zemian couldn’t help laughing. “Thank you, Young Master Xiao.”

Xiao Kesong tugged on his arm. “If you’re my little bro, you have to listen to your big bro. Come on, come upstairs and eat. Ye Chen and Zhuonian are fine with it. Hang out more and you’ll get used to them.”

It would be too much to refuse again.

Chen Zemian had no choice but to say, “Okay, I’ll find a place to park first.”

“No need. Zhuonian’s bodyguard is here.”

Xiao Kesong rolled down the window and waved. A suited man stepped out of a black business car and took over driving. He dropped the two off at the restaurant and then drove away.

Chen Zemian and Xiao Kesong walked side by side into the grand lobby.

The front desk manager saw that Xiao Kesong had personally come down to bring someone back and assumed the guest must be someone important. She immediately greeted them with a smile. “Young Master Xiao, which family’s young master is this? He’s really too handsome.”

Xiao Kesong replied, “This is a friend of mine—his surname’s Chen.”

The manager made a welcoming gesture, leading Chen Zemian forward. “Young Master Chen, you look unfamiliar—this must be your first time at Jinlin Restaurant. Let me introduce you to our signature dishes…”

Hearing that, instead of easing his guilt, Xiao Kesong only felt worse for having neglected Chen Zhe all this time.

Chen Zhe had dropped him off here so many times, but this was the first time he’d actually come inside.

Xiao Kesong thought for a moment, then picked up his phone and tapped a few times.

The next second, Chen Zemian’s phone rang with a series of electronic notifications—

“Alipay received 50,000 yuan.”

“Alipay received 50,000 yuan.”  

“Alipay received 50,000 yuan.”