Wen Qi put the pajamas that were about to be changed into the washing machine and went back to bed to continue sleeping.

Since Yuanbao was there, the door of the master bedroom was left slightly open. He slept uneasily and could even sense the small dog jumping down, making little “tap-tap-tap” sounds as it left the room. He wasn’t sure if it went to drink water or to go to the bathroom. Not long after, the dog returned with the same “tap-tap-tap” sound, and tried to jump onto the bed twice but missed. On the third attempt, it made it up and nudged next to him, then got up after a while, seemingly dissatisfied with the position. It stepped around the soft bed, walked in a large circle, and chose a new spot to lie down. Throughout the night, the dog kept coming in and out, tossing and turning, even licking Wen Qi awake twice. He was too tired to be angry and felt like he hadn’t really slept.

After finally dozing off for a short while, the automatic curtains that were set to a timer made a soft “ding,” gradually opening to reveal soft morning light streaming through the window. The dog excitedly stood up and let out a loud “woof!” Wen Qi covered his face with a pillow, his eyes barely open due to exhaustion, and pushed the dog’s head away with one hand, saying, “Yuanbao, play by yourself…” The dog rubbed against him, whining and being playful, trying to get him up to play. Wen Qi, still with his eyes closed, mumbled sleepily, “A grown-up dog should learn to walk itself…” The dog paused, thought for two seconds, then, thinking it didn’t understand, continued to nudge him, undeterred. A soft laugh was heard.

The enthusiastic, fluffy dog was suddenly lifted up by a large hand. Pei Yanchu, holding the dog in one hand, leaned down to pick up the remote control on the bedside table and pressed the button to close the curtains. The soft sound of the sliding track echoed as the curtains slowly closed, dimming the bright light little by little. Wen Qi heard the movement, his long lashes fluttered, and he barely managed to open his eyes. In his blurry vision, Pei Yanchu placed a warm hand on his head, gently rubbing it with a smile and saying, “Go back to sleep.”

As the light gradually faded, the tall figure, holding the dog, walked out of the room, gently closing the master bedroom door behind him. Wen Qi’s furrowed brows relaxed, his eyes closed again, and he fell back into a deep sleep.

In a daze, it felt as if he had returned to high school. In the school infirmary, outside the window was a hundred-year-old ginkgo tree, its leaves falling in the wind. In the golden dream, he was lying on a hospital bed, surrounded by a white partition curtain. It was small, enclosed, and quiet. The sound of footsteps approached, and then a boy’s voice politely asked, “Hello, teacher. Was there a student who came to the infirmary this morning? The teacher asked me to check on the situation.”

“Are you asking about Wen Qi? He has a fever, almost 39°C. I asked him to notify his parents to take him to the hospital, but he refused. He just took medicine here and fell asleep.” The teacher added, “He’ll probably sleep for a while longer. Could you stay and keep an eye on him for me? I’ll be quick at the cafeteria.”

“Okay, teacher, go ahead.”

The footsteps faded away, and the door of the infirmary creaked as it slowly closed. The white curtain by the bed was gently pulled back by a boy’s hand with distinct joints. Wen Qi was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, sweat beading on his forehead, a few strands of hair sticking to his flushed cheeks. His wrist felt as heavy as lead, unable to lift. The nearby chair scraped as someone sat down beside him.

He heard a noise and tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but a cold, damp sensation pressed against his forehead, alleviating some of the heat. A wet wipe gently passed over his sweaty forehead, bringing a slight coolness. He unconsciously pressed his flushed cheek against it, rubbing a little, seemingly against the other person’s wrist. The boy’s movement stiffened for a moment, then quickly relaxed. He extended his hand and gently ruffled his hair, his voice low as he softly said, “Go back to sleep.” The tone was familiar, almost identical to the memory from before, carrying a soothing, comforting magic.

Wen Qi had several dreams within dreams. They were bizarre and fragmented, with no connection. One moment, Xu Qianjun was laughing at him: “Xiao Qi, your photo on the monthly exam ranking list downstairs was stolen again!” The next moment, there was a contract on the desk, and his mother gently spoke to him: “Xiao Qi, you’re so talented, help mommy, okay? Mommy needs you.” Then, the class monitor led the way for each student to give a gift to Pei Yanchu for his birthday. The flattery was too obvious; he didn’t want to give a gift, but not wanting to appear too out of place, he casually brought a cup of Yangzhi Ganlu (a mango dessert), placing it on the table filled with gifts for Pei Yanchu. But Pei Yanchu was allergic to mangoes; why should he drink it?

Wen Qi slowly opened his eyes, suddenly realizing that he had been away from high school for a long time. The questions that were once buried in time and forgotten still had no answers. Everything around him was dim, with only a sliver of white light spilling from the edge of the curtains, a reminder that it was daytime. He reached for his phone on the bedside table and checked the time—it was already 2 PM. Since bringing Yuanbao home, he hadn’t slept this long in a while.

…Where was Yuanbao? Wen Qi got out of bed and opened the door, momentarily blinded by the bright lighting in the apartment. As his vision gradually focused, he saw the embedded TV in the living room silently playing the animated dog show “Brui.” Pei Yanchu was doing push-ups on the floor with one hand, while the dog sat on his back, staring intently at the TV, its black glassy eyes fixed on the animation, its tail occasionally wagging.

Wen Qi’s gaze fell on Pei Yanchu. With one hand on the ground, the other behind his back, Pei Yanchu’s body formed a straight line. His upper body was bare, wearing only loose sports shorts, and his sun-kissed back muscles were well-defined and tight, subtly trembling, covered with fine, glistening sweat beads. Wen Qi suddenly remembered the last time Pei Yanchu had insisted on buying a maid outfit, saying that his physique was very similar to that of the male internet celebrity in the promotional picture. But in reality, they only had a slight similarity in build—the male influencer’s muscles were clearly built from protein powder, while Pei Yanchu’s physique was more proportionate, with solid muscles that weren’t exaggerated, the result of long-term training and real effort. If compared, Pei Yanchu’s muscles were more pleasing to the eye.

The dog’s ears twitched slightly as if sensing something. It turned around and, upon seeing Wen Qi, its dark, grape-like eyes lit up with excitement: “Woof!” Yuanbao suddenly kicked off with both feet, jumping off Pei Yanchu’s back and darting toward Wen Qi like a small cannonball. “Woof woof woof!”

Pei Yanchu steadied his breath, sinking his body downward, but Yuanbao kicked him twice. Losing his balance, he fell flat on the ground. “Damn! Yuanbao, you…”

A light laugh rang out, like the soft jingling of wind chimes, interrupting his words. Pei Yanchu looked up in surprise, and a pair of jade-like feet appeared in his sight first. The sleep pants hung low, revealing a small section of delicate, slender ankles, with the thin soles of the feet resting on the wooden floor, making them look even paler, glowing with a faint, moonlit radiance. Looking up, he saw Wen Qi’s tall figure, followed by his bright, spring-like eyes, sleepy yet alluring, as if just waking up.

Wen Qi leaned down and picked up the dog, who was in his arms. Seeing Pei Yanchu still dumbfounded, lying on the floor staring at him, he lazily kicked Pei Yanchu’s shoulder and asked, “Is the floor stuck with glue?”

Pei Yanchu pushed himself up with his hands, sitting cross-legged, and looked up at him, asking, “Are you hungry? I made apple oatmeal porridge in the kitchen, do you want some?” Wen Qi nodded.

Pei Yanchu said, “Then wait for me for ten minutes, I’ll take a quick shower.”

Wen Qi replied, “I’m not so lazy that I can’t serve myself.”

Pei Yanchu nodded briskly, “Okay.”

Wen Qi gently put the dog down, went to the kitchen, and returned with a bowl of steaming oatmeal, placing it on the dining table. The sound of the bathroom water soon stopped, and Pei Yanchu emerged, fresh and clean, wearing simple casual clothes. He brought a glass of water to the dining room and sat down across from Wen Qi. Just as he sat, the dog came running, scratching at Pei Yanchu’s pants.

Pei Yanchu understood immediately and lifted the dog into his lap. The dog sat upright, its front paws reaching up to the edge of the table, wagging its tail at Wen Qi.

“Yuanbao is using me as a chair to eat with you?” Pei Yanchu said with amusement, “Pretty smart.”

Wen Qi scooped up some porridge with a silver spoon, a smile curving the corners of his lips, and said, “Yuanbao is smart. He can understand many commands, though sometimes he pretends he doesn’t.”

Pei Yanchu suggested, “But standing like this isn’t good for a dog’s joints. How about we get Yuanbao a baby seat? He can sit beside you while you eat.”

In the past, Yuanbao would jump onto the chair beside him and lie there to keep him company. Wen Qi thought for a moment and decided that buying a baby seat wasn’t a bad idea. He nodded, “Okay.”

Pei Yanchu asked, “How long have you had Yuanbao?”

When talking about the dog, Wen Qi’s bright eyes softened with a gentle smile, and his tone became warmer as he replied, “I started raising him after graduating from university. It’s been two years. When I first brought him home, he was so clingy. Wherever I went, he followed. His legs were short, so when he couldn’t keep up, he would call out in a panic.”

Pei Yanchu looked down at the dog and couldn’t help but say, “Seems like it’s still the same now, right? His legs are still short.”

Yuanbao understood, and barked angrily, “Woof!”

Pei Yanchu teasingly asked, “Isn’t it?”

Yuanbao huffed indignantly, “Woof woof woof!”

Pei Yanchu casually replied, “Mm mm mm, yes yes yes, your legs aren’t short at all. You’re the fastest walking dog in the world.”

As they were having this serious conversation, Wen Qi laughed for a moment and asked, “Did you walk Yuanbao this morning?”

Pei Yanchu nodded. “I saw that you weren’t fully awake, so I took Yuanbao out. Yuanbao knows the way and led me to a small park. There were quite a few girls in the park who recognized Yuanbao and greeted him.”

Wen Qi replied, “Yuanbao likes pretty girls. As soon as he sees them, he rushes over to greet them. You can’t stop him, he knows he’s cute and has made a lot of older sisters and aunties.”

Pei Yanchu laughed. “I noticed. Yuanbao is indeed very popular, but when those girls came over and asked why it was me walking Yuanbao, they looked at me like I was a dog thief.”

Wen Qi, interested, asked, “What did you say?”

Pei Yanchu replied nonchalantly, “I told them the truth. You were exhausted last night and couldn’t get up this morning, so I had to take Yuanbao out instead.”

Wen Qi paused in his action of drinking porridge, giving Pei Yanchu a look that was hard to describe. “You…”

Pei Yanchu innocently asked, “What’s wrong?”

Wen Qi sighed lightly. “Nothing.”

In just two days, a sense of numbness had developed, as though it was something to be expected. Whether it was being misunderstood by one person or by a group of people… it didn’t seem to make much of a difference.

Wen Qi asked again, “Did they say anything else?”

“They asked when I arrived, if I was staying here long-term, and about my work and other things,” Pei Yanchu recalled. “I just said I was staying here and that you’re supporting me.”

Wen Qi was silent for a moment. “Great, so I sleep in a little longer this morning, and I’m sure the local dog-owner community has already spread the word that I have a sugar baby now.”

“Oh, by the way, on the way back, I saw an old man selling pomegranates from a tricycle. They looked pretty good, so I bought a few kilos.”

“Did you weigh them when you bought them?”

“No, why?”

“Street fruit vendors often don’t weigh things accurately.”

Pei Yanchu froze for a moment, quickly standing up to grab the digital scale from the kitchen. After a short while, he returned, looking frustrated. “He really charged me for half a kilo more.”

The amount wasn’t much, but it was still annoying.

Wen Qi smiled, gently comforting him. “It’s alright, you’ll know next time. I’ve had the same experience.”

Pei Yanchu, feeling a little flattered, asked, “Wen Qi, why are you being so nice to me today?”

Wen Qi smiled. “Probably because I suddenly realized you’ve never been very sharp, even back then.”

Knowing he was allergic to mangoes, and still drinking that mango sago. If he wasn’t a silly dog, what else could he be?

Pei Yanchu blinked in confusion and asked, “Huh?”

Just then, Wen Qi’s phone lit up, and the ringtone for a voice call rang out. The name “Song Zhiyu” appeared on the screen.

Wen Qi lowered his gaze, his smile fading, and his expression becoming slightly more serious.

Pei Yanchu also looked over, noticing the name, and asked, “Who’s this?”

Wen Qi replied flatly, “He’s my mother’s remarried partner’s son, my nominal older brother.”

Wen Qi said this without expression, then clicked to answer the call.

“Xiao Qi?”

A male voice came through the voice call, gentle in tone: “I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?”

Wen Qi skipped the pleasantries and directly asked, “What’s the matter?”

Song Zhiyu wasn’t surprised and continued, “Aunt Wen told me yesterday that you want to terminate your contract with Xingle.”

Wen Qi replied, “Mm.”

“I know about your visit to the hospital for psychology treatment,” Song Zhiyu said, “but the contract is in black and white, the conditions were agreed upon. You’re required to write at least two songs a year, which isn’t too demanding, right? But this year, you haven’t even submitted a single demo. Even if I wanted to agree, it wouldn’t make sense.”

Song Zhiyu’s voice was calm, neither fast nor slow: “Recently, the company’s been facing a crisis, and some artists want to leave. If they find out you’re terminating your contract like this, they’re sure to be unhappy. It’s going to be difficult for us too.”

Wen Qi lost his appetite, dropped the silver spoon into the bowl, and let his eyelids droop. “What are you trying to say?”

The autumn air was chilly. He hadn’t felt it when he had just gotten up, but now that he was only in pajamas and barefoot on the wooden floor, he started to feel the cold and hugged his arms.

Song Zhiyu’s voice continued on the call: “You’ve been with Xingle for so many years, and you’ve had a good relationship. I know your condition hasn’t been great the last few years…” He went on, speaking at length with grand principles, saying how hard the company had it, how rare it was to have worked together for so long, and how they were willing to give Wen Qi some time to adjust. They could later renegotiate the terms of the contract, and the company was willing to make concessions.

On the other side, Pei Yanchu put down the dog, stood up, and walked toward the bedroom.

Wen Qi ignored him, zoning out in his chair, feeling irritated. Wasn’t this a tiring roundabout way to speak? Was it even interesting?

However, a set of footsteps approached from behind, stopped, and then a bit of weight fell onto his shoulder—an overcoat draped across him.

It was thick and warm, chasing away the chill of autumn. Wen Qi was surprised and turned to see Pei Yanchu standing next to him, holding a pair of thin wool socks in his hands.

Pei Yanchu knelt down slightly, took his right foot, and placed it on his knee. His warm palms wrapped around Wen Qi’s slender ankle, and the touch felt like sparks on his slightly cool skin.

Pei Yanchu lowered his head, his handsome brows dipped, and the silver ear stud in his left ear glinted faintly as he seriously slipped the thin socks onto Wen Qi’s foot. His movements were slow and gentle, without any hint of impertinence, as natural as if he were simply draping the coat over him.

Wen Qi was momentarily dazed, his foot curling slightly as if in response to the sensation.

Pei Yanchu raised his head again, looked at him, and extended his hand, saying, “Left foot.”

In the phone call, Song Zhiyu was still talking, endlessly filling the background with his voice.

Wen Qi hesitated for a moment, then tentatively stretched his left foot out. A warm, dry hand once again held his foot, and the soft wool fabric wrapped around it inch by inch, covering his snowy-white foot. The little dog tilted its head and sat beside them, blinking its black eyes curiously.

Pei Yanchu softly said, “Yuanbao, come warm up Xiao Qi’s feet.”

The dog understood and immediately rolled over, generously offering its soft belly in a warm invitation.

Wen Qi paused for a moment, and the clouded mood cleared up, as he gently smiled. His laughter interrupted Song Zhiyu’s conversation, and he asked in confusion, “Xiao Qi, is someone next to you? Are you even listening to me?”

Wen Qi finally remembered that Song Zhiyu was still on the line and slowly said, “I wasn’t listening. Why don’t you repeat it for me?”

Song Zhiyu: “…”