WRA CH21

Chapter 21: You’ll definitely make me cry.

Zhou Sicheng was a capitalist through and through—he refused to take a loss.

Whenever he cooked, he insisted that Xiang Zhen wear an apron, even if Xiang Zhen was just messing around beside him.

Putting on the apron, Xiang Zhen washed himself a big bowl of bayberries to eat. Recently, news broke that bayberries had been treated with chemical preservatives, leading to a consumer boycott and a dip in price. Only then was Xiang Zhen willing to spend money to try some.

Zhou Sicheng probably hadn’t read the news; otherwise, he would have stopped him from buying them.

Chilled bayberries tasted just as refreshing as Sprite! Xiang Zhen opened an episode of a cartoon.

Zhou Sicheng sorted out the messy pile of yardlong beans scattered all over the floor. After washing them clean, he snapped them into bite-sized segments to stew with pork ribs. Next was braised eggplant, followed by peeling large prawns, dipping them in a batter of flour and egg wash, and deep-frying them in the wok.

That last dish took quite a bit of labor.

He cooked without a single word of complaint, but the stove counter in this rental apartment was less than a meter long—truly far too cramped. A single wok and an electric rice cooker took up all the space, so the washed vegetables had to be placed on the floor. While cooking a dish, he had to bend down one moment to grab the ginger and garlic, and bend down the next to pick up the eggplant. If he wasn’t careful when standing back up, his head would bump into the protruding range hood suspended above.

Zhou Sicheng was bustling in the heat, while Xiang Zhen munched happily on chilled bayberries.

Next door, Shi Ting and Ye Yun were comfortably lounging about. They loved the days when CEO Zhou stayed home; it practically meant a holiday for them.

Thump.

Xiang Zhen looked up and saw Zhou Sicheng bump his head against the range hood, both hands too occupied with cooking to even rub the sore spot. He rushed over at once, pressing the pads of his fingers against Zhou Sicheng’s handsome forehead to massage it: “Hubby, does it hurt?”

Zhou Sicheng felt completely defeated: “Let’s change it to an angled, wall-mounted range hood.”

Xiang Zhen was very generous toward his husband: “Sure! I’ll place an order right now.”

Xiang Zhen bought one online for over two thousand yuan and sent the order receipt to the landlord, asking if the landlord could cover a tiny subsidy. The landlord refused to contribute a single cent.

Xiang Zhen: “Hubby, when the technician comes to install it this afternoon, make sure to take mental notes on how he does it. When we buy a house next year, we’ll dismantle the range hood and take it with us!”

Zhou Sicheng hummed a soft agreement, deciding not to tell Xiang Zhen that his own home came fully equipped with smart kitchen appliances.

Seeing his wife spend an entire month’s salary to buy him a range hood, Zhou Sicheng felt all the fatigue of cooking instantly vanish.

For Xiang Zhen, lunch was exceptionally sumptuous. The deep-fried prawn balls Zhou Sicheng made were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, and whatever seasoning he had used in the egg wash coating tasted utterly divine.

Xiang Zhen remarked from the bottom of his heart, “Hubby, if you cooked for me every day, I wouldn’t even care about eating cake anymore!”

Zhou Sicheng remained silent, his temples damp with leftover heat and sweat from the stove. Trying to coax me into cooking every single day? He wasn’t a professional chef; at most, he’d cook for Xiang Zhen for half a month.

Zhou Sicheng: “Once you finish the cake in the fridge, you’re not allowed to buy any more this month.”

Xiang Zhen pursed his lips. Alright then. Having just spent a month’s salary, he really needed to pinch pennies.

At two in the afternoon, Zhou Sicheng drove Xiang Zhen to work.

Seeing his husband’s beloved car again in the basement garage, Xiang Zhen stroked the front grille of the BYD with excitement. “Hubby, is this where it got banged up? The color of the paint looks a bit different.”

Of course it was different. Zhou Sicheng had patched it up with the pearlescent paint reserved exclusively for luxury cars. Infused with natural mica, it possessed an inherent, gentle luster under the sunlight—just like Xiang Zhen’s hair—deep, refined, and exquisite.

Zhou Sicheng: “It was here.”

Squatting on the ground, Xiang Zhen stroked it again and again, his heart aching for the car just as it had when Zhou Sicheng bumped his forehead on the range hood earlier.

The apartment was rented, but his husband and this car were private possessions that truly belonged to him.

Zhou Sicheng thought to himself that it was a good thing he chose to repair the car rather than replace it with a new one.

The sentiment attached to it was entirely different.

He drove the car, carrying his wife into the most resplendent sunshine of the afternoon.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Zhou Sicheng caught sight of Xiang Zhen’s golden hair glistening in the sunlight, his plump and rosy lips, his delicate, upturned nose, and his striking, dark eyes. He had the sudden illusion that, after just five days apart, Xiang Zhen had grown startlingly more beautiful.

Could it be that the deep kiss last night brought out a devoted wife’s charm in him? Or had his home-cooked meals nourished his wife’s vitality and complexion over the past couple of days?

Or perhaps it was because Xiang Zhen had pinned up his bangs with the sunflower hairpin he gifted him today, revealing his forehead? Did fine clothes truly make the man?

Was it really this effective? Zhou Sicheng was suddenly seized by a desire to dress his wife up.

He wanted to slip a sunflower ring onto Xiang Zhen’s finger, too.

Taking a deep breath, Zhou Sicheng found himself reluctant to drop Xiang Zhen off at work.

Xiang Zhen closed his eyes, basking in the sun. The May sunlight was the loveliest—bright enough without scorching the petals. During its blooming period, a sunflower naturally grew more dazzling by the day. In particular, that ring of golden petals was born solely to attract bees for pollination in the most eye-catching way possible.

Even without dye, his hair would grow softer and glossier with every passing day.

Xiang Zhen opened his eyes, spotted a general store, and suddenly remembered something. “Pull over.”

Zhou Sicheng slowly brought the car to a halt. “What’s wrong?”

Xiang Zhen looked at Zhou Sicheng with fervent eyes. Riding in his husband’s car was just so comfortable—nothing like that Feng guy’s. It was rotten drivers like Feng Chujun who caused his law-abiding husband to get rear-ended on the road.

“Hubby, did you perform a blessing ritual when you picked up the new car?”

Zhou Sicheng: “A blessing ritual?”

Xiang Zhen: “The car delivery ceremony!”

Zhou Sicheng: “No.”

When buying a BYD on a whim, one wouldn’t bother with all that fuss.

Although Xiang Zhen was a Yao, he wasn’t superstitious. Still, there was no harm in indulging in human superstitions every now and then; he just wanted his husband to stay safe and sound on the road. “Wait for me a moment.”

Opening the car door, Xiang Zhen trotted into the general store and bought two red cloth ribbons, each about two fingers wide. Running back, he carefully tied them around the rearview mirror handles on both sides of the BYD. The ribbons were quite short, just right for tying a miniature bow that wouldn’t obstruct the driver’s view.

“A red ribbon looks great on a white car, just like a beauty wearing a red string bracelet,” Xiang Zhen said, having tied a lopsided bow and offering a forced analogy.

Standing behind Xiang Zhen to shield him from any reckless oncoming traffic, Zhou Sicheng stared at the extra red ribbons and maintained his silence. Looks good? It looks utterly tacky.

Xiang Zhen pressed his palms together, praying to the heavens in the name of a sunflower: “Bless my hubby to return home safely every single day.”

Just like the sun, setting and rising each day without fail.

Zhou Sicheng suddenly tilted his head up toward the sky, blinking hard.

He despised “traffic accidents,” only forcing himself never to dwell on them.

The fact that Xiang Zhen could think of this for him made him feel profoundly grateful that, on that sunny afternoon, he had pushed open the door to that coffee shop.

“Hubby?” Xiang Zhen called out to the dazed Zhou Sicheng. “We can get back in the car now. Don’t take off the red ribbons.”

Zhou Sicheng: “I won’t.”

He touched the red ribbon. Red… weddings were supposed to use red. Western lawn weddings were nowhere near as festive.

A BYD could serve as the lead wedding car just fine; it wasn’t inferior to a Rolls-Royce with a Spirit of Ecstasy on the hood. That hood ornament was the truly tacky thing.

Xiang Zhen: “Hubby, the installation technician said he’d come at four. Remember to go back and wait for him.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Mn.”

Having Shi Ting wait for the technician would suffice; he had other arrangements on his schedule.

Xiang Zhen: “I’m here.”

Zhou Sicheng felt like they had just set off only to arrive an instant later. Spotting an empty parking spot in front of the office building, he intended to pull in and escort Xiang Zhen to the front entrance.

He drove forward a bit, and was just about to reverse into a parallel park, when suddenly a Ferrari swerved in diagonally, cutting across the lines. The owner opened the door, stepped out wearing sunglasses, and looked Zhou Sicheng up and down.

Xiang Zhen’s hair was too striking. Feng Chujun had seen it countless times on surveillance feeds and recognized him from afar.

He narrowed his eyes. Presumably, this BYD driver was the husband Xiang Zhen kept bragging about—the cheapskate who sent Xiang Zhen a measly 52-yuan red packet on May 20th.

Hah, driving a BYD and not even bothering to take off the red ribbons. Is he so vain that he needs to announce to the whole world that it’s a new car?

When Feng Chujun bought his Ferrari, he hadn’t even bothered posting about it on Moments.

Feng Chujun walked up, took off his sunglasses, and tapped the frame against Zhou Sicheng’s car window.

Zhou Sicheng stared out the window. Was this the love rival who wanted to invite himself over in the middle of the night? What an inferior appearance.

With a forceful shove, Zhou Sicheng threw the door open, sending Feng Chujun—who was eager to poach his wife—stumbling backward.

“My apologies. Didn’t see anyone there.”

Zhou Sicheng circled around to the right side to open the door for Xiang Zhen.

Xiang Zhen noticed that his husband had put his mask back on. It seemed his husband was genuinely terrified of getting tanned, unlike himself.

Feng Chujun straightened up, glaring forward with resentment, only to catch sight of a face far more imposing and authoritative than his own. Even behind a mask, the man’s commanding presence was overwhelmingly formidable.

What’s the use of being tall? His bank account probably has fewer digits than his shoe size.

Feng Chujun: “Are you Xiang Zhen’s boyfriend? What’s your surname?”

Zhou Sicheng: “Zhou.”

Feng Chujun: “I hear Master Zhou drives for ride-hailing apps. Our company happens to be hiring security guards, paying about three to four thousand a month. You could work as a guard while studying for public institution exams or something. That’s about the ceiling of what ordinary people can achieve.”

Zhou Sicheng: “No need.”

Xiang Zhen: “My hubby found a job. Thank you though.”

Had it been a week ago, Xiang Zhen would have been very tempted by this offer. He hadn’t expected Feng Chujun to be so warm-hearted; humans truly were complex creatures. Feng Chujun could push for layoffs on one hand while arranging a job for Zhou Sicheng on the other.

Feng Chujun spread his hands: “That’s a shame then. What kind of work are you doing now?”

Xiang Zhen said proudly, “My hubby is a programmer.”

Feng Chujun sneered: “A programmer? Once the next iterations of AI are finished, programmers will be the first on the chopping block. When that time comes, you’re still welcome to work as a security guard at my company.”

Xiang Zhen: “No way, is AI really that capable?”

How could it not only threaten to replace a customer service agent like him, but also his programmer husband? Xiao Kui Bao, how could you do this! It was fine if an uneducated sunflower like him, who only knew basic arithmetic, got laid off, but how could they do this to his master’s degree-holding husband?

Feng Chujun: “I’m not being an alarmist. Zhoufu Group is going full throttle into AI right now. When I was studying in the US, I had dinner with the CEO of Zhoufu, and he said that within two years, all programmers would be phased out.”

Zhou Sicheng was speechless: “I never said that.”

Feng Chujun didn’t hear him clearly and turned to Xiang Zhen: “Time’s up. Head in for work.”

Xiang Zhen waved to his husband: “See you tonight.”

Once Xiang Zhen stepped into the building, Feng Chujun’s pleasant expression turned provocative: “How about I drive Xiang Zhen home tonight? He said the Ferrari is much more comfortable to ride in.”

Feng Chujun had spouted a whole pile of nonsense earlier, but only this single sentence truly provoked Zhou Sicheng.

Remembering Xiang Zhen’s fluctuating heart rate while riding in Feng Chujun’s car, Zhou Sicheng’s gaze turned chillingly cold.

This kind of boastful second-generation rich kid was the easiest target to fall into startup traps and lose everything. Zhou Sicheng was familiar with every superficially booming business model out there; he could conjure up eight hundred custom financial slaughterhouses in a minute flat.

Still, if Feng Chujun was merely a love rival, that would be overkill. It was simply too low-tier a game.

Zhou Sicheng: “You’d better behave yourself.”

Leaving behind that warning, Zhou Sicheng drove away.

Feng Chujun rubbed the back of his neck, feeling an uncanny chill. What was that guy’s deal? Did he think he was driving a tank or something?

Zhou Sicheng didn’t want low-tier provocations to ruin his mood for shopping for intimacy supplies.

He tried to regulate his temper… but couldn’t.

Pulling out his phone, Zhou Sicheng typed: [Wifey, why did your heart rate spike when you rode in his car last night?]

If Xiang Zhen’s answer didn’t satisfy him—heh, he would buy a top-of-the-line Ferrari right this second.

Xiang Zhen’s replies were always lightning-fast.

[Hubby! Because his driving skills are terrible! Jerky starts and sudden stops! Super dangerous! I’ll never ride in anyone else’s car again!]

[My hubby is still the best!]

[Actually, I wouldn’t even be scared if he drove a roller coaster. The real reason is that I was missing you the whole time in the car!]

[My heart was beating fast because I was missing you!]

[Dear customer, do you have any other questions? If not, I will be closing this chat session now.]

These five sentences were on par with world-class psychological therapy.

Zhou Sicheng was soothed to the point that every furrow in his brow smoothed out.

Looking at the word “Dear,” a smile had just surfaced in his eyes when he suddenly remembered “darling customer.” Was this closing phrase another piece of customer service script Xiang Zhen had copied and pasted?

[Zhou Sicheng: I still have a question.]

[Xiang Zhen: Welcome back!]

[Zhou Sicheng: What flavor do you like best?]

[Xiang Zhen: Sweet fruit flavors~ cream flavor~ five-spice, caramel, pecan, sea salt, dried tangerine peel, green tea, preserved plum, rattan pepper.]

Zhou Sicheng frowned. Weren’t those sunflower seed flavors?

[Xiang Zhen: Sorry, hubby, my hands were too fast and I pasted the wrong thing again for the second half. I like fruit flavors and cream flavor best.]

Cream-flavored condoms probably didn’t exist, though vanilla might offer a similar note. Better stick to fruit flavors; cream could be applied on the outside anyway.

Zhou Sicheng: “Understood.”

At the company, in order to reply to his husband’s messages, Xiang Zhen had logged into WeChat on his computer. It was discreet, though it made it easy to paste the wrong replies.

The sunflower hairpin in his bangs caught the light with every movement, drawing plenty of attention.

Yu Yueyue felt a spark of interest: “Zhenzhen, where did you buy your hairpin?”

Xiang Zhen: “My hubby gave it to me after coming back from his business trip. Do you want to buy one too? It was thirty yuan, very expensive.”

Yu Yueyue didn’t want to admit that she shared the same taste as a stingy man. In truth, the hairpin was quite ordinary; it only looked luxurious because it sat in Xiang Zhen’s hair. Besides, buying the exact match to a hairpin gifted by someone else’s husband wasn’t appropriate. She said, “No, I was just asking casually.”

Giving a mere thirty-yuan hairpin after being away on a business trip for five days—she wondered if Xiang Zhen realized just how hopelessly cheap his husband was when opening the door for him last night.

Liu Xiaofang had heard about Feng Chujun driving Xiang Zhen home the previous night and probed obliquely: “Zhenzhen, did your husband react at all?”

Xiang Zhen: “Yes, my hubby was jealous!”

Liu Xiaofang: “Did he feel a sense of crisis?”

Xiang Zhen: “Yes.”

A sense of crisis that programmers were going to lose their jobs.

Liu Xiaofang nodded. A sense of crisis meant he should start being more generous with Xiang Zhen.

“Are you going on a date tomorrow afternoon?”

Handling after-sales inquiries while answering, Xiang Zhen replied happily: “Yes, we’re going to stroll around Tianxing Bay Park.”

Liu Xiaofang: “…”

In the scorching heat, in the afternoon, strolling through a free park? A park that just happened to offer two hours of free parking for new energy vehicles, no less. Talk about going out of one’s way to pick a spot.

In an instant, memories of countless penny-pinching blind date men flashed before Liu Xiaofang’s eyes, perfectly superimposing onto the face of Xiang Zhen’s husband. “Sigh, well… forget it. At least make him buy you a cup of milk tea.”

Xiang Zhen thought of the six slices of cake still waiting in the fridge. Zhou Sicheng wouldn’t necessarily allow him to indulge in more sweets: “That might be difficult. I’ll just bring my own water.”

Liu Xiaofang: “…”

At seven in the evening, having finished preparing dinner, Zhou Sicheng arrived half an hour early to pick up his wife.

Getting into the elevator after clocking out, Xiang Zhen ran into Sun Youzhi—a rare coincidence. “Youzhi-ge, do you want to come to my place for dinner?”

Sun Youzhi had dark circles under his eyes: “No, no, I still have to analyze the livestream data. You go ahead.”

Xiang Zhen: “Youzhi-ge, you need to get some rest.”

Lately, ever since Feng Chujun was parachuted in, the company had suddenly kicked into high gear with overtime, exhausting everyone. Now that Xiang Zhen was in the city, he finally understood why Sun Youzhi had claimed he was too busy with work to find a partner.

Sun Youzhi: “Alright, you take care too.”

Xiang Zhen filled Zhou Sicheng in on the company’s internal situation. “Even requesting a sheet of A4 paper requires an approval workflow on the system.”

Zhou Sicheng: “It’ll go bankrupt sooner or later.”

Xiang Zhen: “Feng Chujun always brags that big tech companies manage things this way, saying he’s benchmarking everything against the workflow at Zhoufu Group. Is that really how big corporations operate?”

Zhou Sicheng: “Big corporations replenish A4 paper automatically.”

Xiang Zhen: “So Feng Chujun really is a textbook capitalist.”

Lately, the word ‘capitalist’ had been brought up so frequently by his colleagues that even Xiang Zhen had picked it up.

Zhou Sicheng, an even more textbook capitalist, harbored a petty wish that Xiang Zhen would resign as soon as possible. He said, “Indeed. I’ve never seen such nonsense. A company like that has no future; you might as well look for another job. My company isn’t bad. Would you be interested in plant maintenance? Just watering the potted plants around the office every day. You’re very skilled at growing things.”

Xiang Zhen was somewhat tempted, but Auntie Guihua had warned him not to change jobs on a whim. If he wanted to switch jobs, he would have to tell Auntie Guihua, which meant revealing Zhou Sicheng’s existence.

Xiang Zhen didn’t want to bring it up just yet. He wanted to wait until he earned enough money and bring Zhou Sicheng home during the New Year.

Arriving at the apartment building’s basement garage, Zhou Sicheng retrieved a bag from the back seat and deliberately handed it to Xiang Zhen to carry.

Seeing the pink paper bag, Xiang Zhen instinctively assumed it was cake and rummaged through it with delight, only to find two unfamiliar boxes.

“‘Ultra-thin sweet strawberry temptation’… Are these milk tea sticks?” Xiang Zhen shook them, feeling that they didn’t seem like snacks. His peripheral vision suddenly caught the word “condoms” on the box.

Ah, condoms. He wasn’t a child; he knew what they were.

Then the other box was… orange-scented fruit lubricant.

Zhou Sicheng actually didn’t care for unnecessary fragrances. His wife naturally smelled wonderful, and deep down, he didn’t want Xiang Zhen’s natural scent masked by synthetic fragrances. However, Xiang Zhen was always so nervous; a sweet, fruit-like scent would probably help him relax.

Once Xiang Zhen got used to it, he would buy unscented, uncolored ones instead.

Xiang Zhen put the items back into the paper bag and asked his husband seriously: “Can these be returned?”

Sunflower seeds were an oil-bearing cash crop. As long as Zhou Sicheng pressed hard enough, there was plenty of oil and moisture in his body—wasn’t buying this just a waste of money!

Zhou Sicheng held his hand: “I didn’t mean we have to do it tonight. It’s just to be prepared. I know you’re not ready yet.”

Xiang Zhen: “I’m really not ready yet.”

Zhou Sicheng stroked his head: “It’s alright.”

Xiang Zhen rode the elevator up with him. With just the two of them inside, he murmured, “Hubby, Ye Yun said the soundproofing in our room is awful. There’s only a thin wooden board between us—it’s practically nonexistent.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…”

He had been on the phone with Ye Yun at the time and heard that excuse before he could stop him. Ye Yun had only made that up on the spot to keep Feng Chujun from coming upstairs.

Zhou Sicheng: “He’s talking nonsen—”

Xiang Zhen: “You have so much strength in your hands. You’ll definitely make me cry. What if they hear us?”

Xiang Zhen thought to himself: although netizens all claimed people should respect personal kinks, an S still needed to have a bit of money to play around like that.

Hearing those words, Zhou Sicheng instantly hardened.

They hadn’t even done anything yet, and he was already talking about being made to cry. Was Xiang Zhen anticipating it, or was he terrified?

Was he really that rough?

…Just how should he make him cry?