WRA CH92

“I’m not leaving, I’m not leaving,” Bai Qi murmured. “Guihua… my mom’s complaints have already been forwarded to me.”

Chu Ren made a solemn vow. “From now on, I will never turn my back on you to sleep.”

“Go take a shower,” Bai Qi said.

While waiting for Chu Ren to shower, Bai Qi took a moment to reply to his subordinates’ inquiries.

Subordinate: Boss, the company listens to you, and those second-generation heirs (the cousins) also listen to you. How could we possibly lose!

Bai Qi: Discard the factional mindset. Chu Ren listens to me too.

Subordinate: Boss, if you step down, what if Young Master Chu makes things difficult for us?

Bai Qi: If Chu Ren gives you a hard time, come find me. But if anyone gives Chu Ren a hard time, they’ll answer to me. [Smile] [Fist]

Subordinate: …

Bai Qi: @Jiang Fei, continue overseeing the Artists Department. Keep Chu Ren from interacting with them too much.

Subordinate: Is that to keep an ace up our sleeve?

Bai Qi: Because Chu Ren is my husband.

Subordinate:!!!!

Over the years, rumors had swirled, but most people assumed Bai Qi and Chu Ren were merely playing parts for show. Nobody had expected it to be true love!

Having served as General Manager Bai for four years, Bai Qi had seen every trick in the book from celebrities. He certainly wasn’t going to subject himself to the petty jealousy Chu Ren had endured—spirits were very clever.

Those brief messages sent a loud and clear signal: Young Master Chu had taken the throne, but Bai Qi ruled from behind the curtain.

After double-checking that every loose end had been tied up, Bai Qi tossed his phone aside with peace of mind and climbed into bed to sleep.

When Chu Ren emerged from the shower, he slid into bed and drew Bai Qi into a tight embrace. Over time, he had deciphered the pattern: as long as he held his spouse for half an hour to warm him up, what followed could proceed smoothly. “Wife, I saw that you officially announced our relationship.”

“Mm.”

“Does that mean I can openly carry you to and from work from now on?”

Bai Qi always turned terribly sluggish in the winter. Every morning, Chu Ren had to help him freshen up and eat breakfast, bundle him in a thick cloak, and carry him to the car. Once they reached the company, General Manager Bai would dawdle inside the vehicle for a moment before gathering his wits, stepping out looking pristine and composed, and walking independently to his office—with Chu Ren tailing him like a personal bodyguard.

Chu Ren had long wished to carry him through that final stretch as well, sweeping his spouse directly into the executive suite.

Bai Qi pushed gently against Chu Ren’s chest, genuine confusion flickering in his eyes. “Doesn’t resigning mean I stay home to sleep? Who said anything about going to work with you?”

“We’re not going to work together anymore?!”

“Why would we? The plan from the very start was that I’d rest once you graduated and took over.”

“No way, absolutely not! If that’s the case, I’d rather just be your secretary and pour your tea!” Chu Ren cajoled and pleaded, begging him to at least work on an alternating schedule—one day on, one day off.

Worn down by the relentless badgering, Bai Qi felt woozy from the rising warmth beneath the covers. He tried to nudge Chu Ren away so he could slip out and clear his head, but Chu Ren caught on immediately and dragged him back under.

“Two days on, two days off,” Bai Qi compromised groggily.

Chu Ren refused. “You just want to sleep for two days straight without eating, don’t you?”

“…” Fine, fine, whatever.

Over the next five years, Chu Ren matured considerably, shedding the raw edges of the overlooked young master to become an authoritative Chief Executive whose word was law.

For five years, throughout every winter, President Chu carried General Manager Bai straight from the car to the private executive elevator.

Bai Qi never showed his face at social banquets. Yet despite running an entertainment company, Chu Ren never had a single shred of romantic scandal attached to his name—word on the street was that anyone who brushed against President Chu’s sleeve would have a film role stripped away on the spot.

The consequences were far too dire; artists took wide detours just to stay out of Chu Ren’s path.

When Zhou Qingyun, the former chairman of Zhou Er Fu Shi Group, hosted a grand birthday banquet, prominent business figures were invited.

Chu Ren pestered Bai Qi to accompany him. “Everyone else has a plus-one, and I’ll be all alone. It’s so pitiful.”

It happened to be early spring, with dreary drizzling rain outside. Bai Qi lay on the bed browsing the company’s newest micro-dramas. “Not going.”

“President Zhou is the richest man in the city,” Chu Ren coaxed. “He won’t skimp on heating. The banquet hall will be nice and warm.”

“He doesn’t have a partner either,” Bai Qi retorted flatly. “You two can keep each other company.”

Chu Ren muttered internally, Who wants to be grouped with a wifeless CEO?

Little did he expect that just four months later, Zhou Sicheng would find himself a wife.

In late August, Zhou Sicheng distributed invitations far and wide, inviting his business partners to his engagement party with Xiang Zhen.

Bai Qi had originally planned to skip it, but Chu Ren refused to let the chance slip. “Wife, it’s an engagement party—it looks terrible for me to go alone! Everyone else is coming in pairs, even Zhou Sicheng has a partner now!”

With the recent boom in micro-dramas, Bai Qi had been overwhelmed trying to keep up. Hearing that, he raised an eyebrow and took in Chu Ren’s earnestly beseeching look.

Sensing an opening, Chu Ren pressed his advantage, spilling all the juicy gossip he had gathered regarding Zhou Sicheng’s turbulent love affair: “When his wife vanished, Zhou Sicheng was so worried people would glance at missing person posters and forget her face that he nearly commissioned a search-and-rescue micro-drama from our company, intending to use their proprietary AI to render Xiang Zhen’s likeness.”

Turn that into a script, and it might well have become a runaway hit.

Bai Qi’s gaze flickered. Xiang Zhen? Careless Auntie Guihua had sent the rice dumplings to the wrong address—the newest spirit was named Xiang Zhen.

More importantly, the reason behind Xiang Zhen and Zhou Sicheng’s breakup sounded rather adorable.

“And then?”

“Word is, his brother-in-law talked him out of it.”

Before the sentence even fully landed, Bai Qi had rolled out of bed and finished dressing.

“Let’s go.”

Chu Ren sensed that Bai Qi’s interest was unusually piqued, with a distinct foreboding that something monumental was about to unfold.

Sure enough, it did.

An engagement party attended by ordinary mortals turned out to conceal three spirits.

And Bai Qi was one of them.

He and Zhou Sicheng had eavesdropped on the spirits’ conversation.

Zhou Sicheng and Shen Ku took Xiao Kui Bao’s analytical summary as absolute gospel. Chu Ren was far more skeptical—he had shared a bed with Bai Qi for ten whole years; could he possibly not know whether his own spouse was human?!

Then again…

By the time the banquet concluded, Chu Ren was consumed by racing thoughts.

Evidently, Zhou Sicheng and Shen Ku were entirely confident about what species their respective partners were.

What about Bai Qi?

Was he a plant spirit too?

No, no, no. Zhou Sicheng and Shen Ku hadn’t said anything about their wives being poikilothermic.

Bai Qi was likely some kind of cold-blooded creature.

There were countless cold-blooded animals in the world, and Chu Ren was terrified that guessing wrong would trigger a fallout.

Still, his primary suspect was a snake.

Throughout the drive home, Chu Ren watched his spouse closely.

Bai Qi wore a faint curve on his lips. Finding little spirits he could confide in had made him genuinely happy, so much so that he completely overlooked Chu Ren’s hesitations.

Over the past decade, he had encountered many convoluted humans; fellow spirits were so much better—candid, straightforward, free from hidden subtext, and unconditionally trusting of one another.

Even so, Bai Qi felt a slight twinge of guilt: had the Guide to Adulthood he authored led Xiang Zhen astray? After all, he had written it based entirely on television tropes.

To make up for that, a snake that had spent ten years navigating human society was duty-bound to guide the younger spirits.

They needed to hold frequent meetings and keep in close touch.

Bai Qi tapped Chu Ren’s arm. “Don’t we own an unfurnished villa?”

“Uh, yeah. Just basic fixtures.”

“I have a use for it. Make sure you don’t sell it.”

What use? To renovate it into a secret meeting hub for the spirits, of course.

The moment they pulled up to the house, Chu Ren spoke up abruptly: “Bai Qi, I need to run out for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

“Mm.”

An hour later, Bai Qi watched Chu Ren carry a box inside, draped under a dark cloth.

Setting the nightstand-sized container on the living room floor, Chu Ren tried to play it cool, though his nonchalant act fell somewhat flat. “Wife, do you know what’s in here?”

Bai Qi: “…”

A white snake.

He swallowed. It turned out Chu Ren wasn’t slow-witted after all; the cover story they had cooked up hadn’t held up against a private powwow among the three husbands.

A snake wasn’t like a sunflower spirit—it could actually frighten people.

Chu Ren was terribly nervous too. With a swift tug, he whipped off the cover. Inside the transparent, temperature-controlled glass terrarium, a white snake the thickness of an arm lay coiled around a branch, motionless and quiet, with faint yellow markings running along its back.

It looked nearly identical to Bai Qi.

“Don’t be scared, it’s non-venomous.” Seeing Bai Qi turn pale, Chu Ren suddenly recalled that this species could be ophiophagous—cannibalistic toward its own kind—and instinctively stepped in front of the glass. “I won’t let it out.”

“I’m not scared,” Bai Qi said. “Where did you get a snake?”

“A friend of mine is going abroad and asked me to look after it. He said it’s very docile and you can handle it freely.”

Crossing his arms, Bai Qi retrieved his glasses from his shirt pocket, put them on, and fixed a cool, impassive stare upon Chu Ren.

A sudden flash of inspiration struck Chu Ren, and the words tumbled out: “Wife, are you a cobra?”

Bai Qi couldn’t bring himself to nod or shake his head; his true nature had been completely seen through.

“Xiao Kui Bao mentioned the three of you were watching Madame White Snake,” Chu Ren pressed on. “I think I understand what you were worried about. I brought a snake home today so I could handle it right in front of you.”

He spoke with conviction, yet made no move to touch it.

Bai Qi furrowed his brows slightly. Too afraid to grab it?

Chu Ren took a step closer, raising both hands with his palms turned upward. “I’ve never handled a snake before in my life.”

“And so? You’re too afraid?”

Chu Ren suddenly caught Bai Qi’s slender, pale wrists. “I can prove it to you, but… wouldn’t you want to have my first time?”

Bai Qi: ?

Handling a snake requires preserving one’s ‘first time’ too?

Chu Ren adopted a scrupulously proper tone. “This is a full-grown male snake, completely unclothed. Knowing full well it’s the same species as you, it wouldn’t be appropriate, right?”

Bai Qi: “…”

His crossed arms dropped to his sides, his gaze darting around the room. Who on earth would get jealous over that?

“This snake might even be in its breeding season,” Chu Ren argued. “I’d much rather touch you.”

Bai Qi remained silent.

Chu Ren lifted the lid of the terrarium, slipping half a palm inside. “I’m really grabbing it! Wife!”

“My first time!”

The relentless shouting made Bai Qi’s head spin. Chu Ren really had managed to find the most convoluted angle possible. Reaching down, Bai Qi unfastened the buttons of his sleep shirt.

Chu Ren froze, dumbfounded, then hastily threw the cloth back over the terrarium. “Don’t you peek at my wife.”

The jealousy Bai Qi refused to feel, Chu Ren felt on his behalf.

The sleep shirt slipped off his back, revealing a sweep of porcelain skin. Stripping himself bare, Bai Qi walked over to the bed.

Since he was going to transform, there was no point keeping clothes on. Once summer sleepwear suffered a tear, Chu Ren would inevitably rip it to shreds the next day, using it as an excuse to demand all sorts of things in his excitement.

Bai Qi paused, suddenly realizing he was already anticipating their intimacy tomorrow.

Subconsciously, he trusted Chu Ren completely.

Chu Ren quickly stripped down as well, meeting him in bare honesty—greeting a snake fully clothed versus doing so in the buff belonged to two entirely different realms of intimacy.

Bai Qi slipped beneath the quilt.

Moments later, a warm, solid body settled over him.

Chu Ren gathered his spouse into his arms and rolled over. The weight atop him vanished abruptly. Looking down, he saw a slender white snake coiled neatly against his chest, its tail pointed directly at him.

“Wife, turn around.”

Bai Qi ignored him.

Chu Ren effortlessly turned him around, meeting a pair of jet-black eyes.

In the very next second, Bai Qi shifted back into human form.

“I didn’t even get to see the whole picture,” Chu Ren complained.

“What is there to see?”

“I want to understand you, wife. I’m sorry… I know far too little about you.”

“If you could figure me out so easily, it would mean I’m useless.”

Holding Bai Qi’s bare body, Chu Ren noted the slight chill to his skin—his usual temperature when he first climbed into bed.

A sudden bolt of realization struck his mind.

“Wife, you’re not actually frail at all, are you?”

“I never once claimed I was frail.”

Chu Ren squeezed his eyes shut. What a loss! A catastrophic ten-year deficit! “Wife, tonight, I’m going all out.”

Bai Qi: ?

Only then did Bai Qi finally learn that his husband’s upper limit was far, far beyond twice.