WRA CH20

Chapter 20: “Wifey, You Smell So Good”

Zhou Sicheng cast a glance around the bedroom. After his five-day absence, the sunflowers beside the window had shot up by thirty centimeters. The largest leaves were now as big as a palm; before his business trip, they were merely a bunch of puny sprouts. How had they grown so fast?

The bedroom looked like a vegetable plot. What kind of fertilizer had Xiang Zhen used on them?

Zhou Sicheng had once meticulously logged the growth of sunflowers himself. Could it be a different cultivar? Even under his flawless conditions of sunlight, water, and fertilizer, his sunflowers hadn’t shot up this aggressively.

Xiang Zhen had a real knack for growing sunflowers. He ought to live in a luxury manor, wearing a cute little apron every day, watering his sunflowers, sipping afternoon tea, and waiting for his husband to return from work.

Daydreams aside, Zhou Sicheng was determined to see through a full month of living in poverty. Once he revealed his true identity, a lavish life would be right within reach, but these simple, tender days of everyday domesticity would never return. Sometimes, when a house was too large, opportunities for closeness only dwindled.

Besides, a lush patch of green right by the bed was a bad omen.

More importantly, these sunflowers were encroaching upon Zhou Sicheng’s personal space. One virtue of the duplex loft Xiang Zhen rented was its floor-to-ceiling windows facing the lake. Perched up on the sixteenth floor, the area by the glass offered decent privacy.

Without these sunflowers, there would be much more room to put the techniques he had studied to good use.

The weather was warming up. Tomorrow, he would have Uncle Zhang come over to buy the sunflowers off his hands.

Zhou Sicheng fed Xiang Zhen ice cream spoonful by spoonful. Seeing that the bowl was half-empty, he turned the spoon around and slipped the next bite into his own mouth.

It was already past three in the morning, the coolest hour of the night. Eating too much icy food was bad for the stomach.

Xiang Zhen looked on longingly as Zhou Sicheng ate it himself. Half each was very fair; if his husband wanted to eat, that was fine too.

Taking two bites, Zhou Sicheng caught sight of Xiang Zhen’s expression. A spark flared in his chest, and an idea he usually scoffed at—yet knew to be effective—reared its head uncontrollably: “Still want more?”

Xiang Zhen nodded. “Mn.”

Zhou Sicheng scooped up a generous bite, put it in his mouth, and said, “Kiss me.”

Xiang Zhen immediately reached out to hook his arms around Zhou Sicheng’s shoulders. Tilting his chin up, he leaned close and extended the tip of his tongue, softly lapping at the seam of Zhou Sicheng’s lips.

Instead of responding right away, Zhou Sicheng froze. With his lips sealed tight and his Adam’s apple bobbing, the guilt of swindling a naive beauty waged a frantic war against the blazing lust sparked by that soft, wet tongue. Gripping Xiang Zhen’s shoulders, the veins on the back of his hands stood out. Between pinning him down and pulling him tighter, his grip grew firmer by the second.

Xiang Zhen let out a sharp hiss. Zhou Sicheng was squeezing his shoulders terribly hard—as expected, quite violent.

Frowning, he looked at Zhou Sicheng: “You swallowed it before we even kissed.”

Zhou Sicheng apologized: “My fault. You have some.”

He scooped a spoonful for Xiang Zhen. Just as Xiang Zhen happily took it in, reluctant to swallow it down all at once, Zhou Sicheng caught him off guard by scooping him up onto the bed. Clamping his chin, he dipped his head, sending his tongue sweeping straight in.

That bite of ice cream lasted Xiang Zhen an eternity. With Zhou Sicheng’s tongue invading his mouth, he couldn’t close his lips at all. Assuming the melting cream and saliva must have soaked the pillow, he freed a hand to feel around, intending to use it as an excuse to tell Zhou Sicheng to stop.

Yet his fingers met only a dry pillowcase and a clean collar.

Every drop of moisture had been lapped up by Zhou Sicheng.

Realizing this, a sudden flush swept across Xiang Zhen’s face. Why was Zhou Sicheng… kissing with more vigor by the second?

Could it be because he was a sunflower, producing far more oxygen than carbon dioxide in his alveoli, so kissing him was effectively supplying Zhou Sicheng with pure oxygen?

Gradually, Zhou Sicheng’s kisses did not stop at his lips. He pressed down heavily; it wasn’t just mouths connecting, but noses too, Xiang Zhen being poked repeatedly by that tall, straight bridge.

Zhou Sicheng caught a clean fragrance drifting from Xiang Zhen—one that seeped out from his very bones, something he could never get enough of. He wished he could bite down to see if intoxicating perfume flowed in his veins; his senses were spinning into a dizzy haze.

“Wifey, you smell so good.”

A sunflower’s fragrance was an exceptionally subtle scent of summer sunshine, faint enough that one had to breathe deeply to catch it.

Xiang Zhen’s plant form was currently in full bloom. Hearing Zhou Sicheng praise his fragrance, his heart fluttered. Tracing a forefinger down the tall bridge of Zhou Sicheng’s nose, he said, “Hubby, your nose is so straight.”

A compliment that hit the spot for any man. Zhou Sicheng ruffled his hair firmly: “Mn.”

He forced himself to cool down from the boiling heat. It was truly far too late; Xiang Zhen was used to early hours, and staying up until now hadn’t been easy on him.

Patting Xiang Zhen’s back, Zhou Sicheng brushed light, fleeting kisses over his forehead. “Go to sleep.”

Xiang Zhen loved having his back patted by Zhou Sicheng. It felt like returning to the past when a gust of wind swept by and the sunflower leaves patted against one another. Comforted, he shut his eyes. “Hubby, I love you.”

Zhou Sicheng: “I love you too.”

…

Early the next morning, Zhou Sicheng feigned going down for a morning jog and met his stand-in actor, Uncle Zhang, downstairs.

Though Uncle Zhang was merely a gardener who didn’t take part in Zhou Sicheng’s daily life, he had nonetheless witnessed Zhou Sicheng grow up over the years. The old Chairman Zhou had groomed him into a money-making machine. Now, after operating with precision for over two decades, this machine finally showed normal human emotions again.

In truth, Zhou Sicheng was still the same boy who planted sunflowers; he hadn’t changed at all. Now that he was grown and free of Zhou Qingyun’s control, he still pursued the purest of feelings.

Wearing a straw hat, Uncle Zhang asked, “How should I address Madame?”

Zhou Sicheng: “Xiang Zhen.”

Uncle Zhang followed Zhou Sicheng upstairs, sighing with admiration the entire way. To live in a place like this—even shabbier than his own home—he must have found true love.

Zhou Sicheng: “If he won’t sell, raise the price.”

Uncle Zhang: “Understood, President Zhou. I’ll make sure to quote a price that tempts him.”

Zhou Sicheng paused at the door and had Uncle Zhang wait a moment. Opening the door and seeing that Xiang Zhen was fully dressed, he pushed it wide and said to Xiang Zhen, “I saw a flower grower buying sunflowers downstairs just now, so I brought him up.”

Hearing this, Xiang Zhen looked over. A middle-aged flower farmer in his mid-forties stood there, sporting a square jaw, rough calloused fingers, and the scent of sunflowers about him. Wiping his hands on his apron, Xiang Zhen smiled brightly: “Hello there!”

What a virtuous President‘s spouse! To stoop inside such a cramped apartment, cooking three meals a day for President Zhou—with a wife like this, no wonder the President had no desire to return to his luxury mansion.

Uncle Zhang clutched his chest. How could President Zhou bear to keep his spouse living in a rental? “Your husband said you have a real talent for raising sunflowers. I came up to learn a thing or two.”

Standing at the doorway, one could clearly see the sunflowers by the window. Uncle Zhang offered heartfelt praise: “Thick leaves and sturdy stems, standing tall and proud—how did you grow them?”

Xiang Zhen turned sideways to look at the flowers. In truth, he hadn’t done anything. As long as the Sunflower God stood right here, ordinary sunflowers could absorb far more essence of the sun and moon to thrive.

“I just planted them casually.”

Uncle Zhang: “The quality is outstanding. When your husband bragged that they were second to none, I didn’t believe him.”

Xiang Zhen pressed his lips together shyly. He hadn’t expected the taciturn, reserved Zhou Sicheng to praise him so generously outside.

Uncle Zhang: “The sunflowers have grown too big for milk tea buckets. Sell them to me. Two hundred a pot, and I’ll take them all.”

Two hundred a pot. Looking over, there were at least thirty pots—six thousand yuan, enough to cover two months of Xiang Zhen’s salary.

Xiang Zhen was shocked: “That expensive?”

Darting his eyes around, Xiang Zhen tugged at the sleeve of his silent husband, hinting with his eyes: Could there be a trick here?

Zhou Sicheng cleared his throat softly.

Uncle Zhang hurried to explain: “There are plenty of wealthy folks in Haicheng. With the Gaokao just around the corner, sunflowers are the lucky flowers given to test-takers—wishing them to clinch the top score, since the word for ‘sunflower’ sounds like ‘top scorer.’ Demand spikes wildly on June 7th, 8th, and 9th. Parents buy three or six blossoms on average.”

“The sunflowers you’ve grown are the cream of the crop! We can sell a single stem to Haicheng locals for 985 yuan!”

Uncle Zhang had casually laid out such an astonishing business opportunity with such an unassuming face and tone.

Xiang Zhen’s worldview expanded. There were way too many rich people out there!

However… he had grown these sunflowers for companionship. They were his sanctuary of peace amidst the city’s neon lights. It had taken him great effort to find the original wild strain, and his husband had even accidentally tossed half the seed packet away. He couldn’t sell them.

Six thousand yuan could be earned back with two months of work, but once the sunflowers were sold, the window would sit empty for a whole year.

“Uncle, I’m sorry, but I can’t sell them. How about I grow some next year to sell to you?”

Assuming his offer wasn’t high enough, Uncle Zhang decisively raised the stakes: “How about this: we split the profits down the middle. I’ll buy them at 492 a pot. I failed to tend my own sunflowers well and I’m genuinely short on stock this year. I’ve already bought all the wrapping paper.”

Xiang Zhen was sorely tempted. But flowers used for bouquets required their stems to be severed, keeping only the blossom head. In other words, this batch of sunflowers would never have the chance to bear mature seeds. No matter how much he loved money, he couldn’t send adolescent sunflowers to the guillotine.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t sell them.”

A surefire deal had fallen through right under President Zhou’s nose. Uncle Zhang glanced at President Zhou’s expression, trying to figure out the next step.

“Then we won’t sell,” Zhou Sicheng, who had been acting as a bystander, suddenly spoke up, settling the matter with finality as he saw the flower farmer out. “Sorry to make you make the trip for nothing.”

Xiang Zhen looked at his husband with starry eyes. His husband understood him! This was what true harmony of hearts felt like!

Uncle Zhang was escorted out, completely bewildered.

He had assumed President Zhou would take his side to persuade Madame, only for President Zhou to stand entirely with his wife!

Uncle Zhang adjusted his straw hat, lamenting his utter lack of tact—why had he ever expected President Zhou to speak up for him?

Zhou Sicheng had only given him an opening for two sentences.

Fortunately, he was just a gardener rather than an employee in President Zhou’s company, or he wouldn’t even know how to pick the right side.

Before leaving, Uncle Zhang stole a peek at Zhou Sicheng’s face, only to find that President Zhou actually looked somewhat pleased.

With a faint curve on his lips, Zhou Sicheng turned, shut the door, and looked at Xiang Zhen.

Though they hadn’t gotten rid of the sunflowers, he had confirmed one thing: Xiang Zhen loved sunflowers more than money.

In the future, he would love Zhou Sicheng more than money as well.

Xiang Zhen excitedly wrapped his arms around Zhou Sicheng’s waist: “This year’s batch didn’t have large enough plates or perfect shapes. Next year, I’ll buy professional ornamental seeds, plant even more in advance, and sell them outside the exam centers. If an exam site has two thousand students and each blossom goes for 211 yuan, we could make 400,000 a day!”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” Still loved money after all.

Excitedly gripping the back of Zhou Sicheng’s shirt, Xiang Zhen smoothed the fabric down thoughtfully and tucked it neatly into his trousers’ belt: “Hubby, am I about to become the richest man in Haicheng?”

Zhou Sicheng looked down to study him: “Your face is quite big.”

The richest man? Dreaming of being the richest man on four hundred thousand a day.

“Is it big?” Xiang Zhen cupped his cheeks with both hands. Being praised for having a big plate was the supreme honor for a sunflower.

Zhou Sicheng used his large palms to cup Xiang Zhen’s hands, giving his cheeks a squeeze: “You’d better just marry a billionaire husband.”

“No way.” Xiang Zhen looked at him with sparkling eyes. “Hubby, I only like you.”

Zhou Sicheng felt pleased once more: “All packed? Let’s go to the supermarket to buy groceries.”

This was their first time grocery shopping together, even if it was just at the small residential supermarket next to the compound. The produce inside wasn’t arranged very neatly; shoppers rifled through items, and with no staff to tidy up in time, everything looked chaotic.

Zhou Sicheng pushed the cart. He remembered Xiang Zhen mentioning last night that he wanted to eat yardlong beans.

Yardlong beans were long cowpeas, half a meter long, tender and bright green. After harvesting, they were tied into bundles, stacked on shelves, and labeled at 4.99 yuan per half-kilo.

The vegetables at this supermarket were of mediocre quality. Zhou Sicheng meticulously flipped through bundle after bundle of beans, searching for one with top-notch presentation to stir-fry with shredded pork later.

Xiang Zhen watched Zhou Sicheng’s long, jade-like fingers sort through the beans. The sight carried an aura of the Sun God descending to the mortal realm. He waited patiently as Zhou Sicheng took his pick—

An S would leisurely select the most suitable whip. The process wasn’t meant for striking him, but was pleasing to the eye on its own.

Since they didn’t have the money to buy a real whip, he might as well let him pick yardlong beans to his heart’s content.

Buying groceries in person for the first time, Zhou Sicheng felt he was being somewhat nitpicky and taking too long, so he saved face by explaining: “The texture shouldn’t be too soft when you pinch it; it needs both resilience and crispness.”

Xiang Zhen nodded: “Hubby, take your time picking.”

Finally, Zhou Sicheng selected a bundle of yardlong beans that met his standards—long and intact.

Suspecting he had dawdled so long that the supermarket staff were eyeing him, Zhou Sicheng grandly bought two whole bundles to showcase his financial strength.

Xiang Zhen: “That’s so many.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Didn’t you say you liked them? We’ll have them with every meal.”

Next, Zhou Sicheng picked up ribs, tofu, pork tenderloin, eggplant, and prawns.

He then led his wife home to show off his culinary skills.

Xiang Zhen had worked the night shift yesterday, so he had no morning shift today and didn’t need to clock in until three in the afternoon.

No weekends off.

Zhou Sicheng was somewhat displeased: “Take the afternoon off.”

Xiang Zhen: “Can’t do that, the boss hasn’t been letting anyone take leave lately. How about this: I’ll work the morning shift tomorrow until two in the afternoon, and then we can go out on a date.”

Thinking that half a day was still enough for a date, Zhou Sicheng reluctantly agreed, deciding to properly plan their very first date.

Xiang Zhen: “Let’s stroll around a park.”

Free public parks cost nothing, and they could bask in the sun.

“Alright,” Zhou Sicheng agreed without conditions, taking the ribs out of the grocery bag to wash them.

Xiang Zhen helped wash the vegetables. He brought out the two bundles of yardlong beans and untied the strings, letting the long beans spill loosely across the floor.

On a sudden whim, he picked up a bean, raised his wrist, and whipped his own forearm with it.

Snap! The bean snapped cleanly in two, leaving a faint red mark on the pale inner side of his wrist.

It stung.

Xiang Zhen picked up another one and lashed his knee through his trousers. Using more force this time, the yardlong bean snapped into three pieces.

It stung even through the cloth.

Yet it was rather fun. Grabbing three beans together, Xiang Zhen whipped them through the air until they whistled.

A broken piece of bean bounced off Zhou Sicheng’s arm.

Zhou Sicheng turned around to find a wife who, instead of helping wash the vegetables, was actively causing mischief.

Gripping Xiang Zhen’s wrist, he lifted him up like a hard-pressed husband having to cook and babysit at the same time, snatching the yardlong beans from his hand: “If not for the pesticide residue on these, I’d whip you with them.”

Xiang Zhen paused: “Oh, right. Then I can’t play with them anymore.”

Zhou Sicheng was a clean freak.

Xiang Zhen: “We’d better just eat them instead.”