WRA CH9

Chapter 9: Hubby, Are You Not Off Work Yet?

Having rejected his wife multiple times, Zhou Sicheng schemed up a specious rationale: “That passenger from this morning filed a complaint against me after getting out.”

In truth, Zhou Sicheng was the one who had filed a complaint against him—for harassing another man’s wife—slapping him with a one-month account ban.

“Ah?” Xiang Zhen was dumbfounded. You really couldn’t judge a book by its cover. The human had looked reasonably easygoing; who knew he was the type to stab someone in the back! That twenty yuan had been given to him for nothing!

“Hubby, I’m sorry. It’s all because you were dropping me off at work.”

Zhou Sicheng: “It has nothing to do with you. It’s because he has rotten morals.”

Xiang Zhen couldn’t help recalling the bizarre customers he occasionally ran into at work, consoling Zhou Sicheng, “You don’t need to take it to heart either. I get complaints every single day, and I never let it bother me.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” Every day? So he gets on people’s nerves on the outside too.

Xiang Zhen abandoned the idea of accompanying his husband on ride-hailing shifts—unless his husband switched to driving a cargo truck.

Wait, driving a cargo truck?

Xiang Zhen had scrolled past videos of “husband-and-wife long-haul trucking teams.” Hauling long-distance freight across thousands of kilometers with only the two of them in the cab, eating and sleeping in the truck—he could stay glued to his husband twenty-four hours a day! Life would be brimful of love and distant horizons, and he could bask in the sun all day long, which sounded far more comfortable than an office cubicle.

“Hubby, do you know how to drive a big cargo truck?”

Zhou Sicheng: “I don’t hold a Class A or B commercial driver’s license. I can’t drive freight trucks.”

A gleam danced in Xiang Zhen’s eyes: “If you can never find a job, you could go test for one! Then we could travel the world together.”

Zhou Sicheng: “So I’ll be responsible for driving and cooking, while you just sleep in the passenger seat?”

Xiang Zhen: “As long as I’m with hubby, I’d even be happy eating dry bread.”

Zhou Sicheng wore an expression of flat refusal. There was no universe in which he would haul a semi-trailer across the country with Xiang Zhen.

Unless, perhaps, in an RV after retirement.

Xiang Zhen was far too clingy; it was bound to cause him no small amount of trouble down the line. Zhou Sicheng glanced at the naive Xiang Zhen. He had an upcoming business trip next week that was long locked into the calendar and couldn’t be handed off. How was he supposed to break that to Xiang Zhen?

Xiang Zhen picked up a piece of pork trotter with his chopsticks and placed it in Zhou Sicheng’s bowl. Driving required constantly switching his feet between the gas pedal and the brake; the soles of his feet must be exhausted. “Eat up, hubby. Replenish like with like.”

Zhou Sicheng: “You’re the little pig here.”

Xiang Zhen: “I’m not a little pig.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Do you know how to wash dishes?”

Xiang Zhen stated proudly, “That I know how to do.”

Zhou Sicheng conveniently stacked the bowls and chopsticks together: “Go wash them. Remember to put the apron on.”

Having finished eating, Xiang Zhen put the apron back on. The rental was so compact that Xiang Zhen didn’t even need to take a step; standing up placed the sink right at his fingertips. He lifted the bowls, leaned sideways slightly, and lowered them into the basin. His slender, fair fingers were breathtakingly delicate; even cradling a plain ceramic bowl looked like an artistic performance.

Watching his retreating figure leaning over the sink, Zhou Sicheng thought: Life like this is just barely bearable.

“Want to go for a walk?”

Xiang Zhen finished washing quickly, wiping the water from his fingers onto the apron: “Yes!”

Zhou Sicheng looked at Xiang Zhen’s flat lower belly and arched an eyebrow. He had eaten so much—where had it all gone?

In early summer, more people came out for evening strolls. The residential complex Xiang Zhen lived in had sparse greenery and a high density ratio, but stepping out onto the main boulevard revealed magnificent urban landscaping, where tall trees and low shrubs cascaded in layered terraces along both sides of the road.

On the pedestrian sidewalk, married couples strolled with babies and sweethearts walked their dogs. Pure pairs of adults strolling aimlessly without a stroller or a pet were comparatively rare—and when they did appear, they were usually elderly couples.

Xiang Zhen was adept at observing humans and promptly drew a conclusion: “Hubby, we’re an old married couple now!”

Zhou Sicheng: “No, we’re not. We’ve only known each other for three days.”

Copying the young couples around them, Xiang Zhen looped his hand through the crook of Zhou Sicheng’s arm.

Zhou Sicheng’s arm stiffened instantly. It was as if a straight, rigid utility pole by the roadside had been entwined by a tender willow branch, short-circuiting with a crackle of sparks. To make matters worse, the willow branch itself was an insulator, completely oblivious to the surging current coursing right beside it, only coiling tighter and tighter.

In the shadows cast by the tall trees, Zhou Sicheng bent his arm slightly, making the crook more comfortable for Xiang Zhen to hang onto.

At high-society corporate banquets, dashing men and elegant women strolled arm-in-arm amidst refined chatter and laughter, yet Zhou Sicheng had always walked alone, never needing a female companion to hold up the facade. Fan Hao used to tease that his left arm was made of solid diamond—untouchable by anyone, better off locked away in a safe deposit box.

Yet it had become something someone else could claim with effortless ease.

Zhou Sicheng: “Watch the road. Stop looking at me.”

Xiang Zhen looked away, though not entirely. There was no sun out at night, so he had no choice but to look at Zhou Sicheng.

“Hubby, should we raise a dog?”

A passing whim if he ever heard one. Zhou Sicheng had no desire to shoulder the burdensome mantle of pooper-scooper: “Have you factored in the added expenses of vaccines, dog food, neutering, and toys?”

Xiang Zhen shut his mouth tight. Ah, raising a dog in the city was nothing like the countryside. In the countryside, giving them leftovers was plenty. He wouldn’t raise a dog then; his money needed to be saved for buying a home with Zhou Sicheng.

As they walked, Xiang Zhen kicked off his slippers, making intimate contact with the cool earth.

Zhou Sicheng glanced down, caught sight of the snow-white insteps, and frowned: “Why did you take your shoes off?”

Curling his toes, Xiang Zhen stammered evasively, “I’m hot.”

Zhou Sicheng: “There might be broken glass on the ground. Put them on.”

Xiang Zhen: “Don’t want to.”

Zhou Sicheng was quiet for a second. “Do you want me to carry you on my back?”

Xiang Zhen: “I don’t.”

Zhou Sicheng crouched down. “Just like a child. The moment you get tired from walking, you start making trouble like an unruly little Yao.”

Zhou Sicheng had broad shoulders and a narrow waist; Xiang Zhen couldn’t resist the temptation and climbed right on.

“I’m not an unruly little Yao causing trouble, I’m being a human.”

Zhou Sicheng let out a cold huff. Climbing on that fast and he still claimed he wasn’t acting like an unruly Yao. The only reason he was deigning to carry Xiang Zhen on his back tonight was because he hadn’t gotten his workout in yet, so he treated it as pure exercise.

Resting blissfully against his husband’s back, Xiang Zhen spotted a commercial building adorned with signs for “Massage” and “Foot Bath”—flashing in gaudy peach-pink neon that practically oozed cheap, shady vibes. Innocently, he asked, “Hubby, have you ever been to a foot bath parlor?”

Zhou Sicheng: “No.” Though he had hired licensed massage therapists.

Xiang Zhen’s interest was piqued: “Want to try it out?”

Zhou Sicheng halted abruptly. Lowering his eyes, he stared at Xiang Zhen’s slender ankles dangling beside his suit trousers, his voice completely flat and devoid of emotion: “You want to go?”

Xiang Zhen naturally didn’t want to go for his own sake; he wanted to give Zhou Sicheng a foot massage once they got home. After all, Zhou Sicheng had been stepping on the gas pedal all day and was now walking with extra weight; blood was bound to pool in his soles.

Before explaining, Xiang Zhen had a second thought: he had no clue how to give a massage and needed to learn from a master first. So he nodded: “I want to go.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Got a little bit of money and now you want to squander it?”

Xiang Zhen: “I—”

Zhou Sicheng: “Dare step foot in there and I’ll break your legs.”

If Xiang Zhen went in, he’d be eaten alive.

Xiang Zhen felt a twinge of pain on his thigh from a pinch by Zhou Sicheng. “Not going, I’m not going!”

He would just study online by himself. Who knew Zhou Sicheng was so frugal?

The following day, Xiang Zhen slacked off at work to study foot reflexology. Just as he was memorizing acupoints, he was caught red-handed by Liu Xiaofang at the next desk.

Liu Xiaofang joked, “Who are you planning to massage?”

Xiang Zhen: “My husband.”

Seeing the stunned disbelief spread across Liu Xiaofang’s face, Xiang Zhen remembered that he had forgotten to make the official announcement on Moments: “I have a husband now. We live together.”

Liu Xiaofang had never imagined Xiang Zhen was actually gay. “Since when?”

“Just a few days ago, we met through a blind date,” Xiang Zhen said conspiratorially. “The ride-hailing car that picked me up that rainy day was driven by my husband.”

Liu Xiaofang hadn’t heard Xiang Zhen mention moving, so she asked gently, “Living together—as in living in your rental unit, with you paying the rent?”

Xiang Zhen: “Mn.”

Liu Xiaofang’s face practically had the words “Not Worthy” stamped across it in bold. “With your looks, you should at least aim for someone in the Audi A8 bracket.”

“A8?” Xiang Zhen processed the information in his mind. “I don’t like Audi A8s; I only like BYDs.”

Liu Xiaofang felt faint: “What kind of freeloading male fox spirit bewitched you to this extent?!”

Xiang Zhen thought to himself: I’m the actual Yao here. “My husband is very handsome.”

Liu Xiaofang: “How handsome could he possibly be? Bring him out for us to see. How about tonight after work? I have a group-deal voucher for a four-person set menu. With Yueyue, the four of us can eat together.”

Returning from the restroom to her desk, Yu Yueyue grew equally frantic upon hearing that Xiang Zhen had found a husband. It had to be some sweet-talking scumbag duping Xiang Zhen—Xiang Zhen wouldn’t even know he’d been sold off until it was too late.

Xiang Zhen: “That won’t work. My husband has to drive night shifts.”

Yu Yueyue: “I’ll hail a ride and let him pick up the order, alright?”

Backed into a corner, Xiang Zhen had no choice but to call his husband on the spot.

Mid-meeting, Zhou Sicheng’s phone vibrated. Lowering the volume, he slipped on an earbud: “What is it?”

Inside the boardroom, the executives held their collective breath, waiting for the President to wrap up this critical call.

Xiang Zhen: “Do you want to have dinner with my coworkers tonight?”

Zhou Sicheng: “My apologies, I took an advance booking order. No time.”

The executives exchanged puzzled looks. Which company’s President had bypassed channels to pitch a partnership directly to President Zhou? What was an “advance booking order”?

Xiang Zhen: “Oh, okay.”

Zhou Sicheng ended the call, looking up calmly: “Continue.”

Liu Xiaofang and Yu Yueyue had practically pressed their ears against Xiang Zhen’s receiver. They traded glances: a scumbag baritone, icy cold to the extreme.

Xiang Zhen rubbed his ear. The voice Zhou Sicheng had used just now was very different—stern, distant, and deeply resonant, as if he were holding court in some momentous venue, carrying an aura ten feet tall. “He doesn’t have time.”

Liu Xiaofang watched helplessly as Xiang Zhen, after merely making a single phone call, looked like a wilted blade of grass revived by brilliant sunshine, brimming with vitality. Completely toxic.

“Forget it, forget it. Just make sure he doesn’t swindle your commission away.”

Having tasted the sweetness of Zhou Sicheng’s cooking yesterday, Xiang Zhen stopped by the supermarket after work and bought a fresh fish.

Carrying the shopping bag home, Xiang Zhen passed the room next door and noticed the previous tenant had moved out, with a “Room for Rent” sign plastered across the wall.

By 8:30 PM, Zhou Sicheng was still not off work.

Xiang Zhen called him: “Hubby, did you finish your advance booking order?”

Zhou Sicheng: “On the way.”

On the treadmill at the corporate gym.

Xiang Zhen: “Hubby, come home early once you drop them off. I bought fish.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Stew the soup and eat it yourself. I’m working overtime tonight. Go to sleep after eating, don’t wait up for me.”

Stewing fish soup was simple enough: just add water.

He had critical overseas business to attend to tonight, requiring the company’s secure internal network. Even if the sky fell, he had to stay at the office until midnight.

Thump, thump, thump! Urgent pounding against the door suddenly rattled through the phone line.

Xiang Zhen listened quietly for a second: “Hubby, someone is banging on my door.”

Zhou Sicheng leaped straight off the moving treadmill, the sudden reversal of momentum nearly making him stumble: “Don’t open the door. I’m heading back right now.”

“President Zhou…?” Clutching a contract, Secretary Gao stared blankly at the empty treadmill. Where did he go?

Did he leap off?

Zhou Sicheng dashed down to the underground garage at three times his sprinting speed on the treadmill. “Did you deadbolt the door?”

Xiang Zhen: “I did.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Don’t be afraid. I’ll get security to go up and check.”

After leasing a parking stall from the complex’s security guards, Zhou Sicheng had kept their contact information.

He dialed security instantly: “Bring an extra man up within one minute. Two thousand yuan.”

The elderly guard had never sprinted so fast in his entire life. Just as Zhou Sicheng pulled up to the garage exit, the guard was already upstairs, reporting the situation back to him: “It’s the tenant from upstairs. Drunk and got the wrong door. Couldn’t get it open, so he started slamming against it.”

Zhou Sicheng let out a breath of relief, his car idling at the parking exit gate, momentarily unsure whether to drive out or turn back.

Resting his elbow on the steering wheel, Zhou Sicheng closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his forearm to regain his composure. It was impossible to tell whether it was sweat from sprinting or cold sweat from raw panic, but it soaked the cuff of his suit sleeve.

He was letting Xiang Zhen pull at far too many of his strings.

He shouldn’t.

Zhou Sicheng lifted his head, coldly dialing Secretary Gao: “Hire two bodyguards immediately and have them move into the unit across from Xiang Zhen.”

Now he could work with peace of mind.

Ordinarily, whenever work stretched past midnight, Zhou Sicheng simply slept at the office. That had been his plan for tonight as well.

1:00 AM.

Zhou Sicheng wrapped up his work and took a shower. His office suite came equipped with an executive luxury bedroom, where the en-suite bathroom alone was larger than Xiang Zhen’s entire rental.

Not having slept in his own bed for three days, Zhou Sicheng felt a subtle discomfort lying down.

The mattress was too cavernous, the duvet was too plush, and the ceiling was too high.

Ding-dong. WeChat chimed unexpectedly.

At this hour, nobody would normally dare disturb him.

Zhou Sicheng picked up the phone, freezing when he saw the screen.

[Hubby, are you not off work yet? I boiled the fish soup myself.]

A profound wave of guilt crashed over Zhou Sicheng. He felt just like an absolute scoundrel who had abandoned his devoted, simple wife back in the run-down rental.

“Shift’s over. Heading back right now.”

Zhou Sicheng threw his clothes back on, tearing through the vacant, midnight streets at one in the morning.