Bo Yu did not sleep well the entire night.

He was swept up in an endless, surging tide, rising and falling, yet never finding solid ground. Like a drowning man, he could only catch glimpses of a thin, distant sky. The undulating sounds of breathing coming through the phone were like a blood-burning stimulant, making his veins pulse with heat.

He wanted to see Gu Qichi. He didn’t want to wait a single second longer.

Unfortunately, the Bo Group had a cross-border acquisition case to negotiate this week. Bo Yu’s ticket was already booked for a 7:00 AM flight. As soon as the alarm rang on his bedside table, Bo Yu got up; he had to fly to Los Angeles immediately.

The person on the other end of the line was still asleep. Gu Qichi was still in a deep slumber. Bo Yu had his schedule and knew there were no scenes for him this morning, so he turned the volume on his end to the absolute minimum to avoid disturbing Gu Qichi.

He was indeed too tired and needed more rest.

Bo Yu glanced at his slightly elevated “mysterious region,” closed his eyes, and tilted his head back. His sharp jawline connected with his neck in a handsome, taut curve. The bathroom soon echoed with the sound of splashing water as Bo Yu took a cold shower, staying inside for a long time before finally emerging.

Gu Qichi remained completely oblivious. He had always been a leisurely person; whenever he had a spare moment, he wanted to sleep. After half a month of non-stop, high-intensity work, his spirit was drained, leaving him exceptionally exhausted.

Luo Qianqian, having learned Gu Qichi’s habits from Wen Xi, knew he loved sleeping in. She tactfully avoided disturbing him and only checked in with the chef arranged by Bo Yu, allowing Gu Qichi to sleep until noon.

---

Around 10:00 AM, there was a knock on the door of Gu Qichi’s hotel room. The knocking sounded three or four times, each time with significant force, echoing loudly.

Gu Qichi, with half his face buried in the pillow, was pulled sharply from his dreams by the noise.

He had been dreaming of Bo Yu. In the dream, the man leaned close to his side, their temples pressed together in intimate closeness. Bo Yu’s voice was deep and husky, wrapped in indecipherable emotions, a faint red spreading across his eyelids like an unusual spring tide.

In the dream, the man looked particularly pitiful, calling his name with desperate restraint:

“Gu Qichi.”

“Chichi.”

“Wife.”

“Baby.”

He went through almost every possible nickname, until finally, a thousand words were condensed into one request:

“Wife, help me… please?”

The dream shattered at that point, collapsing into pieces until no trace of it remained. Gu Qichi’s fingers curled, sinking deep into the soft white sheets, his breathing coming in quick gasps.

He opened his eyes in a daze, his long eyelashes trembling, a layer of mist clouding his vision. A thin layer of sweat coated his forehead, dampening his dark, stray hair. Gu Qichi let out a soft groan, feeling a bit lightheaded from the lingering intensity of the dream.

The commotion at the door continued, showing no sign of stopping, as if the person wouldn’t leave until he opened it. Frowning, Gu Qichi rose slowly.

His phone, sitting on the bedside table, was uncharacteristically silent today and didn’t feel burning hot like usual. He pressed the power button and scanned the messages. Bo Yu’s last message was from the previous night—a simple “Goodnight.”

Aside from that, there was nothing.

His gaze shifted from the phone to the door as the knocking continued. He bit his lip. While his provocation last night had indeed been “over the top,” he had already prepared a counter-strategy. He just hadn’t expected Bo Yu to stop messaging him only to show up and knock like a maniac.

Logically, the fire from yesterday should have died down by now. Was he really in such a hurry?

Perplexed, Gu Qichi got up and went to open the door. As the door creaked open and the man’s face was revealed piece by piece, the smile on Gu Qichi’s lips froze.

It wasn’t Bo Yu. It was Song Zhian.

His grip on the doorknob tightened. The “get-out-of-bed” grumpiness he had been suppressing flared up, his expression turning cold and stern.

Perhaps it was because of Bo Yu’s meticulous care lately, or perhaps because he had been intentionally ignoring Song Zhian’s face and avoiding all unnecessary interaction after filming, but he had been managing to tolerate things without having those bizarre nightmares. However, that didn’t mean he could accept Song Zhian’s proximity.

He felt disgusted.

Gu Qichi eyed him coldly. He was slightly taller than Song Zhian, and with the thickness of his slippers helping, he looked down on him from a position of relative height.

He spoke bluntly: “Do you need something?”

The door was only open a crack, barely revealing most of his body. Song Zhian stood there holding a bag of warm breakfast, meeting Gu Qichi’s gaze. He noticed the other had no intention of letting him in.

He found it strangely intriguing.

The youth looked as if he had just woken up; his soft black hair was a mess, and his eyes were a bit hazy. The curtains in the room were drawn tight, letting in no light, leaving the space in a grayish hue. Amidst it, Gu Qichi looked so white he seemed overexposed, his skin glowing with the warmth of sleep.

Song Zhian had seen many people after they woke up—swollen, messy, or looking completely different without makeup. In this industry, everyone lived under the lens and tried their best to hide their post-sleep state, often appearing fully made-up while claiming to be “all-natural.”

Song Zhian usually sneered at such things.

But Gu Qichi was different. He was wearing a simple cotton white T-shirt, wrinkled at the collar and hem from his restless sleep. He looked like a piece of uncarved jade, perfectly natural.

It was just a shame he didn’t seem to like him…

Song Zhian’s gaze swept over Gu Qichi’s tense, thin back. At the moment the door opened, Song Zhian had sensed that Gu Qichi was happy—he seemed to be expecting someone, a smile touching his eyes—only for it to vanish the instant he saw it was Song Zhian, replaced by biting frost.

Song Zhian was puzzled. Ever since their first meeting, he had sensed Gu Qichi’s unusual attitude toward him.

He hates me…

They had never met before, so where did this animosity come from? Song Zhian had the Song Corporation backing him; his career had been smooth sailing, and people usually flocked to flatter him. Even if someone disliked him, they kept it to themselves out of fear of his family. Only Gu Qichi expressed his loathing so openly.

Song Zhian’s eyes darkened, but he lifted the breakfast bag and offered a friendly smile. “I figured you didn’t have scenes this morning, so I wanted to ask you to eat. Your assistant said you were resting, so I waited until now.”

“Gu Qichi, will you give me the honor?”

Not understanding what game he was playing, Gu Qichi only felt annoyed. His irritability and hostility were no longer hidden; they weighed heavily in the air.

Gu Qichi let out a mocking laugh, his gaze icy. He didn’t want to waste words. “Not interested.”

SLAM.

He shut the door, leaving Song Zhian completely locked out. In the quiet hotel corridor, Song Zhian looked down and let out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh. For some reason, it sounded chilling.

It seemed Gu Yuning was right—his older brother was much more interesting than imagined.

---

Gu Qichi buried himself back under the covers and fished out his phone. There were still no new messages. He felt an inexplicable sense of gloom.

After some thought, he swiped up to unlock it and took the initiative to send a message.

[Gu Qichi]: Bo Yu

Normally, Bo Yu would reply in seconds. Not today. Twenty minutes passed, and still no word. Gu Qichi’s stomach grumbled in protest, but he didn’t move. After even more time passed with no reply, Gu Qichi tossed the phone aside, his expression unreadable.

Bo Yu had said “don’t lose contact.” Gu Qichi had reached out, so he hadn’t broken the rule. He decided he wouldn’t bother with Bo Yu for the rest of the day.

---

High above the ocean, the plane carved a path through the clouds.

Bo Yu leaned back in his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to catch up on sleep, but he couldn’t rest peacefully. He missed Gu Qichi too much. His face was everywhere in his mind, impossible to shake.

The meeting in Los Angeles was one of the Bo Group’s key projects this year. Bo Yu had followed it through from the start, through countless revisions. The entire company had been working sleeplessly for six months; they were one step away from closing the deal. At such a critical moment, Bo Yu couldn’t leave. He had to finish his work before he could go back to Gu Qichi.

Unable to sleep deeply, Bo Yu rubbed his brow and sat up, taking out his phone. He had changed his lock screen again—it was a new “leaked” photo of Gu Qichi in his recent costume, with the new makeup and hair. It felt fresh and different. His wallpaper, however, remained their marriage certificate photo—red and white, exuding an air of intimate affection.

Bai Heng, sitting beside Bo Yu, had been dozing off when he was suddenly shaken awake. He thought something catastrophic had happened. He looked up in a panic, only to see his boss looking dead serious, tapping his finger on the tray table where his phone sat.

Bai Heng broke into a cold sweat. He imagined the worst: the acquisition failed, the illegitimate Bo children were causing a scene, the stock price was crashing, or the company was going bankrupt…

He swallowed nervously and looked at Bo Yu. Usually, when Bo Yu looked this serious, it was a major crisis.

Bo Yu pointed to the marriage photo in the center of the screen and asked with an unreadable tone:

“Does it look good?”

Bai Heng’s brain stalled for a second. A literal question mark appeared over his head.

Bai Heng: ?

You’re this intense just to ask me that??

But, upholding the virtues of an excellent secretary, Bai Heng suppressed his disbelief and praised: “This is the marriage photo of you and Mr. Gu, right? You look very well-matched.”

Bo Yu pulled the phone back and corrected him with a solemn face:

“It’s Wife.”