WRA CH16

Chapter 16: What If Hubby Is an S?

Backing out of Room 1620, just as he pulled the door shut, Xiang Zhen suddenly realized that renting another unit like this meant Zhou Sicheng had to pay an extra month of rent.

Considering taking up food delivery in the evenings to bring in supplemental income, Xiang Zhen immediately registered as a delivery rider.

The perks were generous—new riders who completed 20 orders earned an extra 30-yuan bonus! The soles of Xiang Zhen’s feet twitched with eagerness.

Oh, he still had to upload a food handler health certificate, so he couldn’t start delivering right away. Xiang Zhen resolved to get one done as soon as he had free time.

That evening, after finishing his single episode of cartoons, Xiang Zhen stared blankly at his phone. Xiao Kui Bao was muted, and the short-video platform had been uninstalled.

With his husband not sleeping at home for the very first time, the 1.6-meter queen bed suddenly felt cavernously empty.

Zhou Sicheng had mentioned having meetings at night and had sent him a phone number, saying that if an urgent emergency arose, he could contact his coworker Gao Ou, who was very kind and could relay messages.

Xiang Zhen had no urgent business. He simply wanted to ask whether Zhou Sicheng had eaten dinner yet, hoping he wouldn’t go hungry over meetings, and that he could sneak into the restroom to nibble a biscuit.

Fingering the edges of his phone, his slender, fair fingers looking as tender as freshly peeled scallion tips, he opened WeChat and gently tapped Zhou Sicheng’s avatar. Behind every successful man stood a virtuous wife; he shouldn’t disturb Zhou Sicheng at a time like this.

Suddenly, his finger grazed the screen, and a real estate video popped up, showcasing a high-rise two-bedroom unit in Haicheng: 70 square meters for a total of 2.87 million, an unbeatable value.

Turns out WeChat has an internal video feed too!

Xiang Zhen followed the agent. Since he and his husband were buying an apartment next year, he should do some homework in advance.

Once you watched one real estate video, the algorithm served you countless more.

Grabbing a pen, Xiang Zhen meticulously took notes. At first, he only recorded old, run-down walk-ups priced at one million. Gradually, he dared to note down two-million properties, until eventually, he browsed everything under three million.

These homeowners were slashing their prices by two million to sell; just by looking, he had practically saved two million! Humans were obscenely wealthy; he wouldn’t earn two million in an entire lifetime.

Fortunately, his husband was both handsome and level-headed, taking out an auto loan rather than a mortgage. Otherwise, Xiang Zhen would have spent his whole life helping Zhou Sicheng pay off debts.

Lounging on his stomach across the bed, Xiang Zhen kicked up his legs, slender and enchanting like a mermaid’s tail. He had scrawled down dozens of listings on the market, strictly weeding out any unit lacking a terrace.

If he and his husband could live in one of these in the future, Xiang Zhen didn’t know how ecstatic he would be. One bedroom for him and his husband, sunflowers on the balcony, a giant television in the living room, and an extra room reserved as his husband’s secret base to house the equipment from 1620.

Brimming with motivation, Xiang Zhen swiped to the next video. The style shifted abruptly to a person speaking behind a beauty filter, set against a study lined with hardcover volumes.

Noticing that Yu Yueyue had liked the clip, Xiang Zhen understood why it had been recommended to him.

[A follower messaged me privately saying her boyfriend loves dominating and controlling, is packed with lean muscle, and occasionally casts fierce glares. She asked how to tell whether this stems from a domestic abuser personality or an S-type personality. Sister Li is putting out a video today to thoroughly break down the difference between domestic abusers and S personalities.]

Mmh, that voice!

Despite slight vocal pitch alterations, Xiang Zhen recognized the cadence instantly—it was Sister Wang! He was baffled: how had Sister Wang turned into Sister Li?!

Clicking into the profile, Xiang Zhen spotted the bio: “Do two men not need to manage a marriage?”

Xiang Zhen’s hair practically stood on end with surprise. Turns out he had been in the wrong classroom all along! Sister Wang coached heterosexual couples on becoming perfect wives, while Sister Li was his true marital mentor.

Xiang Zhen tapped “Follow” decisively, diving into the latest video. Earlier, he had faintly heard words like “dominating, controlling, muscular, fierce”—strikingly similar to his husband’s profile.

Hearing the phrase “domestic violence” had startled Xiang Zhen; he had never associated that concept with Zhou Sicheng.

Ruling out domestic violence, his husband was undoubtedly an S!

Xiang Zhen didn’t know what an S was, but his husband had to be one—the rare, exceptionally handsome S-tier found in video games.

Sure enough, this was the home base for gay men; he had learned useful knowledge once again.

Sister Li: “While both domestic abusers and S types exhibit desires for control and sadism, fundamental differences divide them. Let’s run through a self-check checklist.”

Sister Li: “Is your boyfriend gentle and domestic outside the bedroom? Does he respect you? Does he listen to your opinions?”

Xiang Zhen reflected: his husband was deeply domestic, knew how to cook, and handed over his earnings. With a little coaxing, he would listen and buy cakes.

Sister Li: “Does violent behavior spill out of the bedroom? Not even once is acceptable.”

Xiang Zhen: No. Down from the bed, hubby never hits me.

Sister Li: “Do you have a safe word in bed? Is every encounter mutually consensual, and does he stop when you call it? Does he violently slap your head and choke your neck, or does he utilize props to enhance the atmosphere?”

Props? It matched! Zhou Sicheng owned an entire collection of props. How could Zhou Sicheng ever slap his head or strangle his neck? Zhou Sicheng only liked rubbing his head and sniffing the nape of his neck.

Sister Li: “Domestic abuse is sudden, explosive, and damaging. An S, by contrast, prepares carefully to avoid causing physical harm—disinfecting props beforehand, moving methodically, progressing gradually, and constantly monitoring your reactions. Plainly put, being an S carries a professional service dimension and requires medical awareness.”

Xiang Zhen had smelled disinfectant in 1620; Zhou Sicheng truly sanitized his props. A service dimension? Customer service and ride-hailing were both service industries; he and Zhou Sicheng were consummate professionals.

At the evening commute hour, the apartment block blazed with lights.

In Room 1603, Shi Ting stood sentry protecting their employer’s fiance. Guarding Xiang Zhen was remarkably easy and straightforward. Xiang Zhen lived a strict two-point routine; aside from keeping watch during his commute, he stayed curled up obediently inside his rental upon returning home, completely unlike the youth who loved clubbing and bar-hopping.

In Room 1620, Ye Yun finished four sets of seated cable rows and four sets of lat pulldowns on the power rack. After using each station, he soaked a towel in hypochlorous acid disinfectant and wiped down every inch with meticulous care.

President Zhou had kindly lent them the gym for training; sanitizing immediately after use was basic human courtesy.

In Room 1602, Xiang Zhen sat cross-legged, absorbing Sister Li’s analysis with rapt attention.

Sister Li: “A typical abuser suppresses, devalues, and bullies. An S man does the exact opposite—he operates on positive reinforcement. His common phrases are [Baby, you did wonderful], [Hold on a little longer], and [You deserve my reward]. You experience pleasure throughout the process.”

Xiang Zhen stroked his chin. Zhou Sicheng didn’t praise him constantly, but he rewarded him with cakes! He felt immense pleasure!

Sister Li: “Have I made things crystal clear?”

Xiang Zhen nodded. He understood completely.

Sister Li: “Abuse is a disease and a personality defect, while S is a kink. Between lovers, an S with genuine self-restraint cherishes their partner, suppresses themselves, and may even conceal their unique proclivities for a lifetime just to avoid startling their beloved.”

Enlightenment struck Xiang Zhen like a revelation.

He finally understood why Zhou Sicheng had rented a room behind his back to hoard props. If he hadn’t stumbled upon it by accident, Zhou Sicheng might have concealed his kink for a lifetime.

Zhou Sicheng must have found it difficult to speak of, merely telling him to inspect it himself without offering a word of explanation.

Hubby loves him far too much.

On May 16th, at 8:13:14 PM, Zhou Sicheng was officially diagnosed online as an S.

Sister Li: “Lastly, remain vigilant against anyone using BDSM as a cover for domestic violence! Love softens an S, but love cannot reform an abuser; it only emboldens him. Remember the national domestic violence hotline: 12338. Oh right, gay couples lack marriage certificates—better to just call the police directly.”

Sister Li’s video was pure gold. Just as Xiang Zhen was about to like, bookmark, and leave a comment to boost its visibility, he paused. His coworker Yu Yueyue had liked it too; if she saw his activity, Zhou Sicheng’s painstakingly hidden kink would be exposed to the world.

“My apologies, Sister Li,” Xiang Zhen whispered in his heart.

At nine o’clock, Zhou Sicheng’s meeting should have concluded.

Xiang Zhen missed him terribly at home.

Boarding the shuttle back to the hotel, Zhou Sicheng was about to call Xiang Zhen when a text arrived first.

[Hubby, it’s so dark at home without you.]

Zhou Sicheng’s breath hitched. Xiang Zhen was far too delicate. He had only been away for a single night—it wasn’t a blackout; what was so dark about it?

Whether it was cowardice or clinginess, he had his own read on the situation.

How would they manage in the future? He couldn’t drag him along on every business trip.

Zhou Sicheng dialed the call: “Xiang Zhen.”

Drowsing off, Xiang Zhen brightened instantly upon hearing his husband’s voice: “Hubby!”

Zhou Sicheng: “Mn.”

Xiang Zhen waited, but no follow-up came. Resting his cheek against the pillow his husband had slept on, he felt a flash of clever inspiration, taking the initiative: “Hubby, I checked out 1620 today.”

Zhou Sicheng wanted to steer clear of the topic. While working out wasn’t shameful, it made him seem obsessed with petty male posturing—unbecoming and irrational.

Xiang Zhen: “Hubby, I understand your intentions. You’re so good to me.”

Zhou Sicheng thought: Of course I am. Who eats better than you? Though knowing Xiang Zhen was likely acting coquettish, he still instructed, “Don’t fret over two yuan of electricity. Turn on every light in the house.”

Xiang Zhen: “Hubby, you’re so generous to me.”

Even though the apartment only had two lights total—one outside and one in the bathroom.

Yet the darkness he spoke of wasn’t literal; it was the darkness left by his Sun God’s absence.

Zhou Sicheng: “Eat better. I’m earning money now. The linked family account I set up for you runs on my credit card. You need to charge three… three thousand yuan a month to waive the annual fee, and the reward points can be redeemed for milk tea vouchers.”

Zhou Sicheng had initially planned to say thirty thousand, but worried Xiang Zhen might scramble into a panic trying to liquidate cash to hit the threshold and get scammed, he lowered it to three thousand.

Eager to help his husband waive the fee, Xiang Zhen replied, “Understood! Starting tomorrow, I’ll order lunch delivery for my coworkers!”

Zhou Sicheng: “…Go to sleep early.”

Xiang Zhen: “Okay, hubby, I’m almost asleep already.”

Liar.

Zhou Sicheng hung up, closing his eyes to rest on the silk duvet of the five-star hotel bed. If he couldn’t fall asleep, how could Xiang Zhen?

Shutting his eyes, the image sent by his bodyguard of Xiang Zhen gnawing on a plain dry bun in that gloomy market flashed before him. Xiang Zhen’s bright, chirpy tone on the phone made Zhou Sicheng feel sinister and despicable by comparison.

Ping. Another WeChat notification rang.

Zhou Sicheng checked the screen. Xiang Zhen had sent a text.

[Hubby, I will embrace all of your dark sides.]

Abrupt and context-free, yet it aligned seamlessly with Zhou Sicheng’s psychological needs at that precise moment. Like a single raindrop landing on parched soil, the cracked earth began to mend.

Zhou Sicheng resolved that the moment his “Zhou Sicheng” cover was blown, he would compensate Xiang Zhen ten-thousand-fold. He would never let Xiang Zhen’s hardships during this period be in vain.

If he possessed ten trillion, he would ensure Xiang Zhen had ten trillion as well.

Zhou Sicheng replied: Why do you say that?

Half an hour passed; no reply from Xiang Zhen.

An hour passed; still no reply.

Zhou Sicheng was forced to accept that his phone-glued wife had fallen dead asleep, resting peacefully even without him around.

Irritated, he placed an online order for a fitness tracking band to be shipped to Xiang Zhen. With sleep metrics synced straight to his phone, he wouldn’t have to wait up for a sleeping person next time.

The next morning, Xiang Zhen woke up and replied hurriedly to Zhou Sicheng’s text: Nothing really, just read a bit of psychology. We don’t have to remain flawless in front of each other.

Over the next two days, Xiang Zhen worked with immense enthusiasm, determined to run up charges on his husband’s credit card.

He was widely liked in the office because he smiled often and welcomed challenges, volunteering for difficult customer inquiries: “Let me handle it; I don’t get breast nodules from stress.”

Like a potted office sunflower, his radiant petals shifted from one cubicle to another, inviting colleagues to place lunch orders through his account before collecting the exact reimbursement down to the cent.

Hit today’s one-hundred-yuan mark!

Supervisor: “Xiang Zhen.”

Xiang Zhen: “Supervisor, do you want to order food too?”

Spitting out a goji berry skin, the supervisor said meaningfully, “Xiao Zhen, dye that blond hair back to black when you get the chance.”

He had no idea where Xiang Zhen had gotten his hair dyed; it was blindingly vibrant. Regardless of morning or twilight office lighting, Xiang Zhen’s golden mane popped on the surveillance feed—anyone checking the monitors would notice him first.

The supervisor shook his head. He was retiring soon, and managing personnel was just lip service to him. But the newly arrived rich heir was different—returning from a multi-million-yuan overseas degree, spouting corporate jargon like “reducing costs and increasing efficiency” and “AI empowerment.” Layoffs were coming soon, and the customer service department would be the first on the chopping block.

Some employees might get absorbed into other departments, but with Xiang Zhen’s flashy blond hair, conspicuous slacking, and probationary status, who else would get cut first!

Xiang Zhen touched his hair. He didn’t want to dye it black; the chemical smell would linger, and Zhou Sicheng loved burying his face in it. Inhaling too much might poison him.

Xiang Zhen: “Supervisor, I don’t have money.”

The supervisor was exasperated: “You clearly have money to touch up your roots!”

Don’t treat him like a relic; his own daughter loved dyeing her hair pink and blue, with black roots showing after a week. Constantly touching up roots damaged the scalp, yet she never listened.

Xiang Zhen: “I really don’t have money. I haven’t received a paycheck yet.”

Supervisor: “Your commission from last time—”

Xiang Zhen: “Must be saved for buying an apartment.”

Supervisor: “Watch out, you might get laid off before you even buy it.”

Walls had ears. Whispers of the heir’s planned layoffs had already circulated. The moment the supervisor brought it up, Yu Yueyue opened fire.

“What era is this? Owning a minor factory and calling himself an heir? If it weren’t for the relaxed atmosphere, who would work for three thousand a month? Getting chest pains from sheer rage every day. An idiotic nepo-baby with none of a capitalist’s brains, only a capitalist’s arrogance.”

Xiang Zhen nodded. Capitalists were truly abominable.

Once a privileged heir took charge, the workplace culture deteriorated; there was no point in staying. Liu Xiaofang said, “Yueyue and I are sending out resumes. If we leave, we leave together.”

Belatedly, Xiang Zhen realized that when Zhou Sicheng had called AI his adversary, it meant he was on the verge of unemployment!

Yu Yueyue firmly believed customer service was just a stepping stone for Xiang Zhen; he was bound to secure a high-paying job: “Zhenzhen, what are your plans for the next job? I heard the operations supervisor is from your hometown. Do you want to try live-streaming?”

Xiang Zhen: “How did you know Youzhi-ge is from my hometown?”

Yu Yueyue: “The supervisor mentioned it.”

Xiang Zhen was experienced with unemployment now. When Zhou Sicheng was unemployed, he drove for ride-hailing; when he got unemployed, he could deliver food.

Zhou Sicheng had to finance a BYD, whereas he only needed two legs! Running deliveries on foot carried zero overhead, without needing three thousand yuan for an electric scooter.

Yu Yueyue: “What do you plan to do?”

Xiang Zhen declared with determination: “Deliver takeout.”

Yu Yueyue: “…”

Utterly disappointed. Did he truly never consider capitalizing on that face?

Knowing they were leaving anyway, Yu Yueyue disregarded the surveillance cameras, scrolling through her phone until a news item caught her eye.

[Today’s News: The Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security held a symposium on stabilizing employment with major internet enterprises. At the conference, the President of Cycle of Renewal took the lead in pledging zero layoffs, adding 6,000 campus recruitment positions this year.]

The broadcast showed footage of attendees leaving. The reporter stood in the center, occupying most of the frame. Behind her, Zhou Sicheng’s silhouette swept past in a flash.

Yu Yueyue commented, “This guy surnamed Zhou has decent vision. That back profile is so handsome. Zhenzhen, come look quick—”

Her pantry network was well-informed. Unlike the supervisor, she didn’t think Xiang Zhen would be laid off. On the contrary, Xiang Zhen was radiant and striking; while the heir ignored him for now, he had likely taken notice secretly. Yu Yueyue genuinely worried Xiang Zhen might be seduced by a petty playboy, wanting him to look at truly handsome, wealthy tycoons to elevate his aesthetic standards.

“Hey, hey, hey! Still chatting! There’s a camera right above you!” The supervisor swooped back. “Rest assured, none of you will be laid off before the 618 shopping festival.”

Yu Yueyue locked her phone. Go bankrupt, for all I care.

The heir had better behave; otherwise, she would lead Xiang Zhen and Liu Xiaofang in jumping ship right before the massive promotion.

On the third day of the business trip, Zhou Sicheng stepped out of the conference hall, took out his muted phone, and watched a screen full of payment notifications cascade down:

-17.2

-12.5

-38.8

…

Among the barrage of micro-transactions, he couldn’t even tell which one belonged to his wife.

[Zhou Sicheng: What did you eat?]

[Xiang Zhen: 38.8!]

Zhou Sicheng didn’t buy it.

Secretary Gao waited by the exit, stepping forward swiftly: “President Zhou, the flight departs at two o’clock. Heading out now is optimal timing.”

Tomorrow was the World AI Development and Application Summit, hosted in a central-western hub. As a co-organizer and sponsor, Cycle of Renewal’s engineering team was unveiling the physical Xiao Kui Bao robot for its debut.

Zhou Sicheng was scheduled to interact with Xiao Kui Bao on stage in person tomorrow.

A pained look crossed Zhou Sicheng’s face, distrusting his own company’s product for the very first time.

Secretary Gao observed his expression. Getting like this the moment a flight was mentioned—did he genuinely harbor trauma regarding airplanes?

Understandable. The Zhou couple had perished in an air disaster, their remains lost. Now that Zhou Sicheng had recovered his footing years later and found a partner to cherish, disliking flights was entirely natural.

“President Zhou, should we switch to high-speed rail? The bullet train takes just 7.5 hours.”

Though a bit dull, chatting with his spouse would make the hours fly by.

Zhou Sicheng fixed him with a stare: “No need.”

Could he really receive another divorce text on a flight?

Without Xiao Kui Bao stirring up trouble, all misunderstandings between him and Xiang Zhen had been cleared.