That night, Wen Xia dreamt again, but it wasn’t a nightmare. In his dream, he became a teddy bear, carried around everywhere by Lin Fengqi, who swayed him back and forth until he was dizzy. Eventually, Lin Fengqi solemnly placed him into a baby’s cradle and said something before leaving.
When Wen Xia woke up, Lin Fengqi was already gone, and his suitcase was missing too.
Lin Fengqi’s flight was over an hour earlier than his.
Wen Xia turned over and lay flat on his back, unable to resist reaching out to touch the other side of the bed.
After an hour, it had already gone cold.
He sighed.
After lingering in bed for a few more minutes, Wen Xia got up to pack his things.
While checking out, he ran into Gui Qulai, who was also in a rush to get back and deal with the rowdy kids at the club. The two of them headed to the airport together. Before they parted, Gui Qulai didn’t forget to invite him to play games together when they were back.
Wen Xia was about to agree when Gui Qulai, with a mischievous glint in his eye, added, “Don’t worry, I know how to keep my distance now.”
Wen Xia: “?”
After observing them for the past two days, Gui Qulai concluded that Wen Xia and that handsome guy in the suit seemed to be very close, solidifying his suspicion that the man was likely the mysterious number one supporter, the one who had been gifting so generously. As for that confusing arithmetic sequence drama a few days ago, he couldn’t quite figure it out yet. But since that suited guy knew Wen Xia was a streamer, he probably watched the streams, right? It didn’t make sense for Wen Xia to allow viewers to ship him with others if his partner was watching. The Wen Xia he knew wouldn’t tolerate that.
Maybe the two of them had argued about something and were in a cold war, which would explain why the suited man wasn’t directly involved in the shoot but was still following along—to win Wen Xia back!
The way the man stuck to Wen Xia like glue, not letting anyone else talk to him, was just like how the mysterious supporter acted whenever someone tried to get too close to Wen Xia during his streams.
Gui Qulai thought it over and became increasingly convinced that he could switch careers to become a detective.
Wen Xia, on the other hand, couldn’t quite figure out what Gui Qulai meant by “keeping his distance.”
Lin Fengqi was definitely easier to understand.
After landing, Wen Xia went straight home, where he found a message from Lin Fengqi asking him to let him know when he got home safely.
Wen Xia: [I’m home.]
Lin Fengqi replied almost instantly: [Okay.]
Lin Fengqi: [Are you heading to the studio this afternoon?]
Wen Xia: [Yeah. How about you? You got back so early—aren’t you tired?]
Lin Fengqi started typing…
Then stopped.
Lin Fengqi paused, cupping his hand over his mouth as he coughed twice, deep in thought.
Should he say he was tired?
If he did, would Wen Xia feel bad for him? Would he comfort him?
…
Wen Xia waited for about half a minute before his phone buzzed again.
Lin Fengqi: [A bit.]
Lin Fengqi: […I really did catch a cold.]
Wen Xia replied: [I told you yesterday that you were getting sick, but you wouldn’t admit it.]
Lin Fengqi struggled for a moment before choosing to play dead.
Wen Xia checked the time, got up, and went to the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, there were no fresh ingredients in the fridge. Since they had been away for a few days, he had cleared out anything perishable before they left.
If he wanted to cook lunch, he’d need to buy groceries first.
Closing the fridge, Wen Xia thought for a moment, then messaged Lin Fengqi: [Are you eating lunch at the office?]
Lin Fengqi: [Yeah.]
Not sure how Lin Fengqi interpreted that, but as Wen Xia was still typing, he quickly followed up with: [There’s nothing in the fridge at home. I might not have time to come back, but I can ask Zeng Yuan to bring you some lunch. Don’t order takeout.]
It was rare for him to send such a long message.
Wen Xia replied that it wasn’t necessary and asked: [Are you that busy this afternoon? What time do you get off work?]
Lin Fengqi: [I’m not sure.]
During the two days he was away, although Zeng Yuan and the other managers handled most of the work, they lacked the authority to make certain decisions, so Lin Fengqi had to personally take care of things.
Procrastination has its price, even for the boss.
By comparison, Wen Xia had a bit more breathing room.
The demo version of “Flower of the End” was set to be taken down tonight. Even though Wen Xia had been away, the game’s development continued uninterrupted. His studio was small, and everyone worked with a passion for the game, driven by their enthusiasm and love for the project. It wasn’t like running a big company like Lin Fengqi’s, where management alone was a huge burden.
That was also why Wen Xia had never agreed to take over his father’s company, despite Wen Shan Hai’s wishes.
Wen Xia wasn’t particularly materialistic. He had grown up accustomed to doing as he pleased and preferred to work on what he enjoyed, making enough money to live comfortably without financial worries.
His attitude, according to Fang Lianshu, was “aimless and unambitious,” and Wen Shan Hai often used him as a cautionary tale to spur Fang Huai into action, fearing his son would turn out like Wen Xia, a “good-for-nothing.”
Wen Xia often found the Fang family’s strict approach to education baffling.
Originally, Wen Xia had planned to take a nap after getting home, but he changed his mind and headed out again, not even unpacking his suitcase.
He went to the nearby supermarket, bought some groceries, and returned home to cook.
At eleven-thirty, Wen Xia parked his car and walked into the Fenghang Technology Building, carrying a lunchbox.
This was his first time entering the building. Despite living in the same city as Lin Fengqi and watching the Fenghang Technology Building rise from the ground, he had never gone inside, only ever stopping at the entrance to look up at the towering structure before turning away.
He had thought they would never cross paths again.
The receptionist greeted him with a professional, friendly smile. “Hello, how can I help you?”
Wen Xia said, “I’m here to see Zeng Yuan.”
“May I ask your name, please?”
“Wen Xia.”
“Okay, please wait a moment while I contact him.”
Zeng Yuan was just about to go to lunch when he got the call. He had even asked Lin Fengqi if he wanted to join him, but the latter was too absorbed in his work to respond.
As Zeng Yuan was leaving, he received the receptionist’s call: “There’s a Mr. Wen Xia here to see you.”
Zeng Yuan glanced back at Lin Fengqi’s office, thinking, Isn’t he here to see the boss? He told the receptionist, “Hold on, I’ll check with Mr. Lin.”
He didn’t hang up, turning back toward the office, with the sound of the receptionist and Wen Xia’s faint conversation still audible on the other end of the line. Just as he was about to knock, the receptionist quickly added, “No, Mr. Wen Xia said he’s here to see you specifically.”
Zeng Yuan froze for a moment. “?”
He hurried down to the lobby, where he found Wen Xia sitting in the reception area and rushed over. “Mr. Wen!”
Wen Xia put away his phone and stood up. “Sorry to trouble you.”
“No trouble at all,” Zeng Yuan replied, glancing at the lunchbox in Wen Xia’s hand. “Did you bring…?”
“Lunch,” Wen Xia said, raising the lunchbox slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t tell Lin Fengqi I was coming, and since I’ve never been here before, I couldn’t just barge in. I had to ask the receptionist to call you.”
“No problem at all,” Zeng Yuan assured him.
He led Wen Xia upstairs. The Fenghang Technology Building had a unique design that blended simplicity with a futuristic touch, even down to the elevator, which looked more like a spaceship cabin from a sci-fi movie.
The elevator ascended, stopping at a few floors, but each time, people heading to the cafeteria saw it was going up and didn’t get in, merely greeting Zeng Yuan and casting curious glances at Wen Xia.
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and Zeng Yuan said, “Here we are.”
It was lunchtime, and the office was bustling. Some people had brought their own meals and were enjoying lunch while watching TV shows at their desks, making the most of their break.
Wen Xia followed Zeng Yuan through the crowd until they reached Lin Fengqi’s office.
“This is it. Mr. Lin should still be inside,” Zeng Yuan said.
“Thanks. You should go eat,” Wen Xia replied.
With a smile and a wave, Zeng Yuan left.
Wen Xia knocked on the door, and Lin Fengqi’s voice came through the frosted glass. “Come in.”
Wen Xia opened the door and poked his head inside. Lin Fengqi was buried in his work, not looking up, assuming it was an employee reporting in.
Wen Xia quietly closed the door and walked over.
He moved lightly, not wanting to disturb him. After a moment of silence, Lin Fengqi, noticing the lack of conversation, frowned slightly and finally tore his eyes away from the computer screen to look up.
Wen Xia caught the exact moment of his stunned expression.
“You…” Lin Fengqi began, quickly catching the surprise in his tone and adjusting it. “What are you doing here?”
Wen Xia raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I be here?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lin Fengqi quickly clarified. Because of his cold, his voice had a nasal tone, making him sound oddly pitiful.
His gaze shifted down to the lunchbox in Wen Xia’s hand. “Is that…?”
Wen Xia placed the lunchbox on the desk. “A favor returned.”
Lin Fengqi had brought him food for almost a week. Even if he didn’t deliver it himself, he would always have Zeng Yuan bring it, never forgetting to include enough for the four hungry mouths at his studio.
Now, it was finally Wen Xia’s turn to return the favor.
For a rare moment, Lin Fengqi looked dazed, as if unable to distinguish reality from fantasy. He stared at the lunchbox, then looked back up at Wen Xia.
That look… Wen Xia didn’t know how to describe it.
It was a bit like the expression A’Mou had after successfully begging for a treat.
Bright and sparkling. It made his heart melt.
“Where do you want to eat?” Wen Xia asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the intensity of that gaze. He cleared his throat. “Here or at the coffee table?”
“The coffee table,” Lin Fengqi replied.
They moved to the coffee table. The lunchbox was kept in an insulated bag, and as Wen Xia unpacked it, the office was soon filled with the aroma of home-cooked food.
Wen Xia had prepared two meat dishes and one vegetable dish: cola chicken wings, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and blanched bok choy. Everything was perfectly done, no worse than Lin Fengqi’s cooking. There was also a small box of fruit—plump, glistening green grapes, which Wen Xia had carefully dried after washing.
He had brought enough food and utensils for two.
“Are you…eating here too?” Lin Fengqi asked.
“Why, can’t I?” Wen Xia replied. “A favor returned, remember?”
A favor returned… Did that include this too?
Lin Fengqi’s mind was a little hazy, dizzy with happiness.
He was genuinely thrilled. The exhaustion from work seemed insignificant now; he felt like he could pull an all-nighter after this meal.
This was the first time he had eaten something Wen Xia had cooked—something Wen Xia had specifically prepared for him!
Wen Xia had made this, brought it to him, and was now eating lunch with him.
Did this mean, at least for this moment, that he occupied a small place in Wen Xia’s heart?
Overwhelmed by this unexpected joy, Lin Fengqi struggled to maintain his calm exterior.
“…What are you doing?” Wen Xia suddenly asked.
“Hm?” Lin Fengqi replied, composed.
Wen Xia stared at his chopsticks. “That’s the bone you just spat out. Why are you putting it back in your bowl?”
Lin Fengqi froze, glancing down at the chicken wing bone he had almost put back in his rice, and awkwardly set it aside. He couldn’t hide the redness creeping up his ears. “…I got distracted.”
Distracted by this? Wen Xia thought, speechless. He nodded and kindly covered for him. “I get it. My cooking’s so good that even the bones taste good.”
With a flushed face, Lin Fengqi took a bite of rice, mumbling an embarrassed “Mhm.”
The chicken wings Wen Xia bought were large, plump, and tender, easily falling off the bone. The sweetness was just right—not overly sweet, perfectly balanced with the savory flavors.
It was indeed delicious.
As Lin Fengqi ate, his mind began to wander. Did Wen Xia learn to cook on his own, or was he forced to?
In high school, he had heard that Wen Xia never had to cook for himself, with housekeepers taking care of all his meals and daily needs, just like many other privileged kids. He was born to enjoy life, meant to live carefree and happy. But the downfall of the Wen family was swift and brutal, and during that time, Wen Xia must have had to shoulder many responsibilities. Did he learn to cook out of necessity during that period?
Forced growth is a cruel thing.
No one knew this better than Lin Fengqi.
His earlier joy started to fade.
Seeing Lin Fengqi put down his chopsticks, Wen Xia glanced at his half-full bowl. “You’re already full?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why are you staring at me like that…?”
“I’d rather you didn’t bring me food anymore,” Lin Fengqi said.
Wen Xia was mid-bite into a chicken wing when he froze. He quickly chewed and swallowed the meat before asking, “Why?”
Lin Fengqi pressed his lips together and said, “I don’t want…”
“Don’t want what?” Wen Xia asked. “Don’t want to see me? Or don’t want others at your company to see me?”
“No.”
Lin Fengqi frowned slightly, looking at him with a mix of seriousness and concern. His voice was soft. “I don’t want…to see you so tired.”
Wen Xia: “…?”
It took Wen Xia a moment to process what he meant. “I’m not tired. Making two or three dishes isn’t hard.”
“…But you didn’t have to do this.”
Wen Xia paused.
Lin Fengqi’s expression softened, his lips pressed together in silence.
He was a little frustrated. He should have put work aside and gone home to cook for Wen Xia at lunch, rather than letting Wen Xia go to the trouble of coming over. Especially since he already felt bad about…
That morning, Lin Fengqi had woken up earlier than Wen Xia and, unsurprisingly, found himself holding him again. His hand on Wen Xia’s waist had been dangerously close, almost slipping under his shirt as Wen Xia had turned over in his sleep.
He had been shocked and was now even more convinced that he had done something inappropriate to Wen Xia the night before, whether he was aware of it or not.
Wen Xia took a moment to grasp Lin Fengqi’s meaning.
Looking at the man’s downcast appearance, he thought of that diary.
In the diary, Lin Fengqi frequently mentioned their different backgrounds. Though he didn’t express jealousy or envy, it was clear he was very conscious of it. When he wrote about it, there was a tinge of bitterness and…inferiority.
To Lin Fengqi, Wen Xia seemed like the sun, distant and dazzling, a star he could never hope to reach.
But Wen Xia had never seen himself as some untouchable deity.
He didn’t deny that he had grown up in a privileged environment, constantly surrounded by people, whether he wanted them there or not. Many of them weren’t drawn to him personally but to the power and influence behind him. When he was young, he naively believed these people were his true friends, but as he got older, he realized that most of these relationships were driven by ulterior motives and interests.
Did it hurt? Of course, it did. But it was something he had to accept, so he adapted, learning to live more freely and carelessly—making friends? Sure, but on his terms, ensuring he remained the absolute center of any social circle.
Fortunately, he was quite successful in this, gathering a mix of real and fake friends who surrounded him wherever he went.
But with all that, Wen Xia didn’t think he was as exceptional as Lin Fengqi seemed to believe. He had his flaws, some of which were stubborn habits picked up from his privileged upbringing. What some called spontaneity could easily cross the line into recklessness if not kept in check.
Sometimes, when Wen Xia looked at Lin Fengqi, he thought that Lin Fengqi was the one who truly deserved all the praise and admiration.
Learning to cook had been a natural progression.
Even without the upheavals in his family, Wen Xia would have eventually learned to take care of himself after moving out on his own. Sure, he could afford to hire help, but he didn’t see the point.
While he enjoyed the luxury of having everything taken care of for him—who wouldn’t?—he didn’t want to become completely dependent on others.
Wen Xia snapped out of his thoughts, picking up some scrambled eggs with his chopsticks. “You’re no different.”
“What?”
“Cooking, bringing food to someone—given your status, you don’t need to do those things either,” Wen Xia said, looking at him. “So why do you do it?”
Lin Fengqi was taken aback.
Why did he do it?
Because he liked Wen Xia.
And also…
“Also,” Wen Xia continued, “why haven’t you bought a mansion or something? You only bought a standard apartment, nothing fancy, nothing like what a big shot would live in—except maybe your car. Why is that?”
He had always noticed this. Besides the car, the suits, and the formal attire that fit his image as a successful businessman, Lin Fengqi’s living space, daily attire, and lifestyle were all surprisingly ordinary, lacking the usual trappings of wealth.
Even though Wen Xia’s family had fallen on hard times, Wen Shan Hai still held onto their villa, refusing to sell it no matter what.
A wave of indescribable emotion swept through Lin Fengqi.
Warm, overwhelming, with a touch of bittersweetness.
It felt like someone had reached into his soul—a rare feeling of being understood.
He looked at Wen Xia, who was eating quietly, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, wrapping him in a soft, warm glow.
“Because…I just want to,” he said softly.
Wen Xia nodded and smiled at him. “Exactly. You just want to.”
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