After saying this, Shi Linchuan didn’t bother responding to the system again.

He washed his face, feeling disgusted by the lingering scent of smoke and alcohol on his skin, then turned and headed upstairs at a leisurely pace to change into a clean set of loungewear.

Clang.

After heading back downstairs, he pulled open the living room’s floor-to-ceiling window, allowing the biting winter wind to rush in, blowing away the residual, acrid smell of cigarettes.

Xie Jinghe had planted many flowers in the courtyard. The wind rolled through the yard and back in, bringing with it a faint, lingering fragrance.

The system was still chattering away in his mind.

This electronic voice was like an un-closable, rogue piece of software; while urging him to progress with the mission, it was also implicitly and explicitly putting in a good word for Xie Jinghe.

It was strange.

One would think it was a “matchmaker” system.

Honestly, Shi Linchuan didn’t think this system was anything good. He couldn’t be bothered with it in his daily life; unless necessary, he rarely responded to the voice in his head.

It was all nonsense anyway.

All day long, it would just nag in his ear:

“Host, just finish the mission passingly; I don’t have such high requirements. Slacking off is the crystallization of the wisdom of the working people, right? The most important thing is to enjoy life!”

Shi Linchuan couldn’t listen to a single word of it.

Having lived for years in an environment so competitive it was distorted, he had long ago developed a set of extreme values and a distinct style of acting.

A few words from a system weren’t going to influence him.

If there was a mission that had to be completed, he had to take it to the extreme. That was his attitude toward his acting missions, and it was his consistent style.

Moreover, Shi Linchuan’s motives were impure from the start.

It was hard to say that he hadn’t put his own selfish motives into playing the “scumbag ex-husband” role from the original novel to this extent.

Shi Linchuan had never hated anyone this much.

He hated Xie Jinghe—hated him very, very much.

He even hated the flowers Xie Jinghe planted.

The man, clad in a black turtleneck sweater, leaned against the window frame, staring at the courtyard shrouded in the dark night. The shadows of the flower branches shivered; the cold scent was eerie.

After a long while.

Shi Linchuan turned back and walked toward the room’s entrance. The expression on his face had already returned to calm, save for the palm print on his left cheek that was still flushed red. It didn’t hurt, just felt slightly warm.

The dormant system immediately perked up, its electronic voice popping out: “Host, are you finally going to find the protagonist? Can you even find him without looking at your phone’s GPS?”

Shi Linchuan responded with cold indifference.

He pulled the door open.

The air inside and outside began to circulate; the wind was fierce.

The night was vast, and there were no stars in the sky; thick, heavy clouds blanketed the moon so tightly that not a sliver of light was visible. The entire firmament looked like a canvas of pure black.

Standing inside the doorway, Shi Linchuan saw a black object crouching ten meters from the door. The person had pulled up the hood of their black down jacket, wrapping it around their head and revealing a messy, disheveled face.

It looked like a mushroom that had grown a human face.

Xie Jinghe’s eyes and nose were very red—it was unclear if it was from crying or the cold. At that moment, he was gripping his phone, staring intently at the screen. The cold-toned light illuminated his face, making the shadows in his eye sockets appear even deeper.

Hearing the sound of Shi Linchuan opening the door, he stood up abruptly, hurriedly turning off the screen, and stuffed it into the pocket of his down jacket. He missed the opening several times before finally succeeding.

His current appearance was a bit wretched, lacking any of the polish he had on the big screen or at work. His footsteps as he walked toward Shi Linchuan were hesitant yet eager.

During this process, his gaze didn’t land on the man’s face.

Shi Linchuan stood where he was, expressionless, watching the “mushroom man” shuffle over and stop half a meter in front of him. Xie Jinghe sniffled and said tentatively,

“…It’s really cold out here, isn’t it?”

His voice was very small.

Shi Linchuan stared at his constantly trembling eyelashes and noticed that Xie Jinghe’s breathing had become extremely slow and light; the frequency of him swallowing grew faster. He looked very nervous.

Thus, Shi Linchuan deliberately remained silent.

After waiting for a good while without getting a response, Xie Jinghe finally couldn’t help but lift his eyelids, giving the man before him a quick glance, his speech rapid:

“…Are you out to take out the trash?”

Shi Linchuan had enjoyed his nervous expression enough. He raised an eyebrow, and a flirtatious line rolled right off his tongue: “No, I came out to look for the little piece of trash that just ran away.”

Hearing his reply, Xie Jinghe clearly let out a sigh of relief.

The next instant.

He lowered his eyes again and reached out to pull Shi Linchuan’s hand hanging by his side. Seeing that the man didn’t show any resistance, he took another two steps forward.

They were close enough that their breaths mingled.

Xie Jinghe was exactly 1.8 meters tall, and Shi Linchuan was about 6 or 7 centimeters taller. Looking down, the first thing he saw was the other man’s reddened nose tip, followed by his lips.

Xie Jinghe licked his lower lip as if afraid he wouldn’t be heard clearly, raised his volume by two notches, and said, word for word:

“Linchuan, I’m sorry.”

He was silent for two seconds, summoned his courage, his gaze skimming over the mark on the man’s left cheek, his expression flashing with a trace of annoyance.

He continued, “I might have… been a bit unclear because I drank some alcohol. My emotions took over for a moment. You… you suddenly…”

As he reached this point, Xie Jinghe choked on his words.

He took the opportunity to cough twice, secretly taking a deep breath. “But it was wrong to hit you, and I apologize to you.”

After saying this, Xie Jinghe looked up slightly, as if expecting something, staring into the man’s deep pupils. The strength in his hand, gripping the other’s palm, unconsciously increased by a few points.

At this moment, Shi Linchuan wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Fortunately, the distance between the two was so small that it didn’t affect his vision.

In fact, Shi Linchuan wasn’t nearsighted, but when the system projected his soul into this book world, it first recreated his body 1:1 based on his own physical data, then made slight modifications based on the traits of the “scumbag ex-husband” in the original novel…

And so, Shi Linchuan became nearsighted.

Although the prescription was very low—less than 100 degrees, not affecting his daily work or life—Shi Linchuan still found it annoying.

The system had argued its case:

“Host, I’ve already adjusted the prescription to the minimum!”

“I suggest you use the glasses to cover up your ‘demon’ vibe. Based on the type of ex-husband the protagonist has been moved by and the ‘main attacker’ type, he seems to prefer gentle men~”

“I spent special points to add the ‘gentleness’ attribute to these glasses, which helps with the marriage progress in the early stages! Otherwise, what would you do if you scared him off the moment you laid eyes on him?”

To this, Shi Linchuan only curled the corner of his mouth in disdain and didn’t bother rebutting the system’s evaluation of him.

As it turned out, the glasses were quite useful.

The first time he took off his glasses in front of Xie Jinghe, the other man stared at his face for a long time before whispering that he looked like a character from a certain drama.

Shi Linchuan had asked casually,

“Is that so?”

At the time, Xie Jinghe sat cross-legged on the sofa, excitedly digging out the remote, turning on the drama, and scrolling for a long time before successfully finding a clip, insisting that he watch it with him.

To maintain his persona, Shi Linchuan was forced to watch TV with him, listening to him chatter:

“Look, it’s this person!”

Bored, Shi Linchuan took a few glances.

On the large TV screen, a black-clad lawyer was striding out of the courtroom, his leather shoes clicking on the floor, the background noise filled with people accusing and cursing him.

Listening to those lines, Shi Linchuan felt a sense of familiarity.

He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, patting Xie Jinghe on the head with a meaningful expression: “It seems you aren’t particularly stupid after all.”

The action was like patting a puppy.

Xie Jinghe was used to crawling onto his back, fixing himself on him with his hands and feet. He even made a “pistol” gesture with his right hand, pointing it directly at Shi Linchuan’s temple, threatening:

“You said I’m stupid? You’re done for!”

Shi Linchuan looked back at him and smiled:

“You’re the one who’s done for.”

That afternoon, Shi Linchuan pinned Xie Jinghe down on the sofa and “did” him. During the long process, the drama was still playing on the screen. He lifted his hand to turn Xie Jinghe’s sweaty face toward the TV, whispering in his ear:

“Little Jing, if I were the person on TV, and you were the female lead he was pestering, what would you do?”

Xie Jinghe, leaning against the sofa back, couldn’t even stand steadily. His voice was trembling, the pitch of his words turning eighteen bends.

“Woo… ha…”

Shi Linchuan even patiently encouraged him: “Keep going, tell me.”

Xie Jinghe’s vision was blurred.

The scene in front of him flew into afterimages. The man held his left hand behind his back, encouraging him with every movement, so he stretched his neck and spat out, word by word…

A few seconds later.

Shi Linchuan pulled him away from the sofa back while also pinning both of his elbows behind him, saying coldly: “Then start running now.”

“…Come on, run faster.”

“Faster.”

That was already a long time ago.

The night wind was chilling.

The suspended full moon revealed a corner.

Shi Linchuan hung his head, inexplicably thinking of this past event. Facing Xie Jinghe’s gaze, he ignored the other’s nervous expression, leaned over to sniff, and asked on his own accord:

“Did you smoke outside?”

Xie Jinghe immediately pressed his lips together. After a moment of silence, he lifted his free hand and held up his index finger.

“Just one.”

Under the man’s gaze, he slowly held up his middle finger as well, the two fingers standing side by side, making a “two.”

Shi Linchuan was a bad guy who practiced “official arson but forbade commoners from lighting lamps”—he smoked and drank himself but didn’t like Xie Jinghe to be stained with those smells.

Although he played a “gentle” persona and had never forcibly demanded that Xie Jinghe not do this or that over the past three years, he could still make the other party obey obediently.

—Whenever he found Xie Jinghe smoking behind his back, Shi Linchuan wouldn’t kiss him for the next two or three days.

But Xie Jinghe clearly didn’t have the energy to think about that now. He retracted his hand, staring eagerly at Shi Linchuan, whispering:

“…I’m sorry.”

After a pause, he added,

“Does it still hurt?”

Shi Linchuan checked his conscience and replied: “Actually, it’s fine, I was just quite surprised.”

He really hadn’t expected Xie Jinghe to take a swing at him.

After all, according to the plot of the original novel, the “scumbag ex-husband” suffered from severe psychological imbalance after losing his job, always using pretexts to pick fights, speaking coldly to Xie Jinghe, and even pushing the blame onto the other party.

Even then.

Xie Jinghe was still swallowing his pride.

At this moment, the system, which had been quiet for a good while, couldn’t help but pipe up: “Host, I warned you already—don’t add your own scenes on top of the original plot…”

The system, terrified that the host would tell it to “mute” again, lowered its volume: “The two sentences you said were just poking the protagonist in the lungs, weren’t they?”

Shi Linchuan couldn’t be bothered with it.

He didn’t expect that just two seconds later, the system suddenly gave an exaggerated “Oh,” saying in an epiphany-like tone:

“Host, do you think that compared to the original, the protagonist must love you more, so he couldn’t bear to hit you even when he was breaking down, and then you immediately flipped the car, so…”

Shi Linchuan: “Shut up.”

The system obeyed and shut up—well, it closed 40%, and then with the remaining 60% of its volume, it reminded:

“Don’t let tonight’s mission fail, okay~”

As soon as the system finished, Shi Linchuan pulled Xie Jinghe through the door. Seeing the other man’s look of relief, he responded silently in his mind:

“I said it before—he has never refused me.”

Xie Jinghe truly had never refused him.

Since that night of reckless indulgence while drunk, Xie Jinghe seemed never to have woken up. Every second and every minute, he opened his heart and his body to the person by his side.

Whatever Shi Linchuan gave, he accepted without refusal.

Shi Linchuan, wearing his “gentle” persona, would give him candy, hugs, and passionate kisses, but the real Shi Linchuan always hid beneath this skin, saying nothing, coldly observing Xie Jinghe.

He was like a hunter holding a knife, squinting his eyes to examine his prey, wondering which part to cut into to land a lethal blow.

Xie Jinghe was oblivious.

He would stretch out his limbs and show his belly, and whenever he had nothing to do, he liked to burrow into Shi Linchuan’s arms, his temples and nose tip damp with sweat, looking bright and sparkling.

He stared at Shi Linchuan, his eyes so bright.

He had fantasized countless times about his future with “Shi Linchuan” and recounted it over and over in the man’s ear.

Planting the yard full of flowers;

Raising a pet in the future;

Growing old together.

But he didn’t know that the man to whom he had said “I love you” countless times was just a painted skin, and what he didn’t know even more was—

Xie Jinghe and “Shi Linchuan” would never have a future.

“…”

The door was slammed shut by the wind with a loud bang.

Shi Linchuan pulled him along, hearing him ask in a low voice behind him: “So, you forgive me?”

Shi Linchuan said indifferently: “Mm.”

He pulled Xie Jinghe to the living room sofa and sat him down, reaching out with familiar movements toward his belt buckle—his intentions were very clear.

Suddenly.

His wrist was caught firmly by Xie Jinghe.

Shi Linchuan narrowed his eyes to look at the other’s reddened back of the hand, his gaze slowly extending upward along the wrist, until it collided with Xie Jinghe’s deep eyes.

The man’s eye shape was beautiful.

Every delicate fold of his double eyelids seemed to be filled with charm.

Xie Jinghe looked at Shi Linchuan for two or three seconds.

He sniffled unintentionally—thankfully, no tears fell—his voice was muffled, but his tone was firm.

He said,

“But Linchuan, you still haven’t apologized to me yet.”

He blinked, and the tears fell anyway.

“…But you still haven’t apologized to me yet.”