Zhou Sicheng looked around the bedroom. In the five days he had been away, the sunflowers by the window had shot up by thirty centimeters. The largest leaves were now as big as his palm; they had been nothing but a bunch of bean sprouts before his business trip, so how could they have grown so fast?

The bedroom was like a vegetable garden. What kind of fertilizer had Xiang Zhen been feeding them?

Zhou Sicheng had never meticulously recorded the growth of sunflowers, but unless the variety was different, even under perfect lighting and watering conditions, the sunflowers he had grown himself had never been this vigorous.

Xiang Zhen was very good at growing sunflowers. He should be living in a mansion, wearing a little apron every day, watering the sunflowers, sipping afternoon tea, and waiting for his husband to come home from work.

Fantasy was fantasy. Zhou Sicheng was determined to live this poor life for at least a month. Once he restored his status, a blissful life would be right in front of him—but the warm, simple life of mundane daily chores would never be there again. Sometimes, when a house is too big, there are actually fewer opportunities to connect.

Green greenery by the bedside didn’t have the best connotations.

Moreover, these sunflowers were encroaching on space that belonged to Zhou Sicheng. One benefit of the duplex apartment Xiang Zhen rented was the floor-to-ceiling windows and the view of the lake; plus, being on the 16th floor, the privacy by the window was quite good.

If not for these sunflowers, there would be more room to put the techniques he had learned into practice.

The weather was getting hot. Tomorrow, he would have Uncle Zhang come over and buy the sunflowers.

Zhou Sicheng fed Xiang Zhen ice cream. Seeing the cup was half-empty, he changed the direction of the spoon and stuffed it into his own mouth.

It was already past three in the morning, the coldest time of the day; it wasn’t good to eat too much ice-cold food.

Xiang Zhen watched eagerly as Zhou Sicheng ate it himself. Half for one and half for the other was fair; if his husband wanted to eat, that was fine too.

Zhou Sicheng took two bites, and seeing Xiang Zhen’s expression, his heart stirred. A thought he had previously scoffed at, yet knew was effective, uncontrollably popped up: “Still want more?”

Xiang Zhen nodded: “Mm.”

Zhou Sicheng dug out a large scoop, put it in his mouth, and said, “Kiss me.”

Xiang Zhen immediately reached out to hook his arms around Zhou Sicheng’s shoulders, tilted his chin up, leaned in, and extended the tip of his tongue, gently licking and sweeping against Zhou Sicheng’s lip seam.

Zhou Sicheng froze in place, lips pressed shut, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The guilt of seducing a foolhardy beauty and the lust ignited by that wet, soft tongue were fighting a fierce battle in his mind. He pressed against Xiang Zhen’s shoulders, the veins on the back of his hands bulging, pressing harder and harder between the urge to push the person down and lock him in.

Xiang Zhen hissed; Zhou Sicheng was squeezing his shoulders very hard—it really was quite violent.

He frowned at Zhou Sicheng: “You swallowed it before we even kissed.”

Zhou Sicheng apologized: “It’s my fault. You come eat it.”

He dug out a spoonful for Xiang Zhen. While Xiang Zhen was happily holding it in his mouth, reluctant to swallow it all at once, Zhou Sicheng caught him off guard, picked him up, and placed him on the bed. Holding his chin, he lowered his head, and his tongue drove straight into the mouth.

Xiang Zhen had that mouthful of ice cream for a very long time. With Zhou Sicheng’s tongue drilling into his mouth, he couldn’t close it at all. He thought the melting ice cream and saliva must have stained the pillow, so he freed a hand to touch it, wanting to take the opportunity to tell Zhou Sicheng to stop.

However, he only felt the dry pillow and the collar of his shirt.

All the liquid had been eaten by Zhou Sicheng.

Realizing this, a tide of redness instantly flooded Xiang Zhen’s face. Why was Zhou Sicheng… why was his kissing getting more and more forceful?

Could it be because he was a sunflower, and the oxygen produced in his alveoli was more than carbon dioxide, so kissing was actually supplying oxygen to Zhou Sicheng?

Gradually, Zhou Sicheng’s kisses went beyond his mouth. Zhou Sicheng pressed down tightly; it wasn’t just kissing, there was also his nose, poking and prodding against Xiang Zhen’s bridge.

Zhou Sicheng smelled a fresh fragrance from Xiang Zhen’s body—a scent that seemed to seep from his very bones—and he couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted to take a bite to see if it was a love potion carried in his blood; he was almost becoming dizzy and intoxicated.

“Wife, you smell so good.”

The scent of a sunflower was an extremely faint smell of summer sunshine, only capturable if one sniffed carefully.

Xiang Zhen’s plant form was in its blooming period, and Zhou Sicheng thought he smelled wonderful. Xiang Zhen felt his heart race and extended his index finger, sliding it along the bridge of Zhou Sicheng’s high, straight nose: “Husband, your nose is really straight.”

A compliment every man enjoys. Zhou Sicheng rubbed his head forcefully: “Mm.”

He forced himself to calm down from his boiling state. It was truly too late, and Xiang Zhen always went to bed early and rose early; it wasn’t easy for him to have stayed up this late.

Zhou Sicheng patted Xiang Zhen’s back, kissing his forehead like a dragonfly skimming the water: “Sleep.”

Xiang Zhen loved being patted on the back by Zhou Sicheng; it was like returning to the past, when a gust of wind would blow, and the sunflowers’ leaves would slap against one another. He closed his eyes contentedly: “Husband, I love you.”

Zhou Sicheng, filled with tenderness, didn’t hesitate to respond: “I love you too.”

…

Early the next morning, Zhou Sicheng feigned going for a morning run and met the actor Uncle Zhang downstairs.

Although Uncle Zhang was a gardener and hadn’t directly participated in Zhou Sicheng’s life, he had witnessed Zhou Sicheng’s growth over the years. Old Chairman Zhou had trained him to be a money-making machine, but now, this machine that had operated precisely for over twenty years had developed human emotions.

Actually, Zhou Sicheng was still that same young boy who planted sunflowers. He had grown up and broken free from Zhou Qingyun’s control, yet he was still chasing the purest of emotions.

Uncle Zhang brought his props.

Zhou Sicheng: “Xiang Zhen.”

Uncle Zhang entered, sighing repeatedly at the sight. Living in a place like this, even shabbier than his own home—this must be true love.

“I’ll add the price.”

Uncle Zhang: “Understood, President Zhou. I’ll act it out.”

Zhou Sicheng stopped at the door and asked Uncle Zhang to wait a moment. He opened the door and, seeing Xiang Zhen was fully dressed, pushed it wide open and said to Xiang Zhen: “I saw a flower farmer buying sunflowers downstairs just now, so I brought him up.”

Xiang Zhen looked over and saw a forty-five-year-old flower farmer with a square face and rough fingers. He carried the scent of sunflowers on him. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled: “Hello there.”

What a virtuous President’s wife! He actually bent down in this low-ceilinged room to cook three meals a day for President Zhou. With a wife like this, it was no wonder President Zhou didn’t want to go back to his mansion.

Uncle Zhang clutched his chest. How could President Zhou bear to let his wife keep living in a rental apartment? “Your husband says you’re very good at raising sunflowers, so I wanted to ask for some advice.”

Standing at the doorway, one could see the sunflowers by the window. Uncle Zhang praised him sincerely: “The leaves are thick, the stalks are sturdy, standing tall and straight. How do you grow them?”

Xiang Zhen turned his head toward the sunflowers. Actually, he hadn’t done anything. The sunflowers just had to stand there, and the average sunflower would be able to absorb more essence of the sun and moon to grow vigorously.

“I just planted them casually.”

Uncle Zhang: “The quality is truly excellent. I didn’t believe it when your husband was bragging about them.”

Xiang Zhen pursed his lips shyly, not expecting the usually taciturn and steady Zhou Sicheng to praise him so much to outsiders.

Uncle Zhang: “The sunflowers are big now; the milk tea buckets can’t hold them. Sell them to me. Two hundred per pot, I’ll take them all.”

Two hundred per pot—looking over, there were at least thirty pots. Six thousand yuan; that was enough for Xiang Zhen to work for two months.

Xiang Zhen was shocked: “So expensive?”

Xiang Zhen shifted his gaze and tugged on the sleeve of his husband, who was standing by and not speaking, signaling with his eyes: Could there be a scam here?

Zhou Sicheng coughed.

Uncle Zhang hurriedly explained: “There are many rich people in Shanghai. The college entrance exams are coming soon, and sunflowers are used as gifts for exams; they signify ‘winning the championship’ (kui), and ‘sunflower’ (kui) sounds the same. The demand on June 7th, 8th, and 9th is huge. Parents buy three or six flowers per person.”

“The sunflowers you’ve grown are the best of the best—I can sell one to the people in Shanghai for 985 yuan!”

Uncle Zhang used such a plain appearance and tone of voice to spout such a shocking business opportunity.

Xiang Zhen’s eyes were opened; there were too many rich people!

But, but… he had grown these sunflowers as companion flowers; they were his place of peace amidst the neon lights of the city. These were the original varieties he had found with such difficulty, and after his husband had accidentally thrown away half a packet of seeds, he couldn’t sell them.

He could earn six thousand yuan in two months, but if he sold the sunflowers, the space would be empty for a year.

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

Uncle Zhang thought his offer wasn’t high enough and decisively raised it: “How about this, we split the profits 50/50, and I’ll buy them at 492 a pot. I didn’t take good care of my sunflowers; I really am short on flowers this year, and I’ve even bought the packaging.”

Xiang Zhen was very tempted, but flowers for bouquets had to be cut, and if they only used the flower head, that meant these sunflowers would have no chance to produce mature seeds. No matter how much he loved money, he couldn’t send his youthful sunflowers to the chopping block.

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

A sure-fire business deal had just fallen through right under President Zhou’s nose. Uncle Zhang looked at President Zhou’s expression, trying to gauge the next move.

“Then don’t sell them.” The indifferent Zhou Sicheng suddenly spoke, finalizing the decision, and ushered the flower farmer out. “Sorry, I’ve made you waste your trip.”

Xiang Zhen looked at his husband with star-struck eyes; his husband understood him! This was what it meant to be of one heart!

Uncle Zhang was left baffled as he was ushered out.

He thought President Zhou would stand on his side and persuade his wife, but it turned out the President stood on his wife’s side!

Uncle Zhang touched his straw hat, lamenting that he really lacked the eye for things—why had he expected President Zhou to speak up for him?

Zhou Sicheng would only give him two sentences’ worth of opportunity.

Fortunately, he was just a gardener and not an employee at President Zhou’s company; he couldn’t even manage to pick the right side.

Before leaving, Uncle Zhang stole a glance at Zhou Sicheng’s expression and found that the President was actually quite satisfied.

Zhou Sicheng wore a faint smile, turned around, closed the door, and looked at Xiang Zhen.

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

Presumably, he would also love Zhou Sicheng more than he loved money.

Xiang Zhen excitedly hugged Zhou Sicheng’s waist: “The flower heads of this batch of sunflowers aren’t big enough and the flower shape isn’t perfect. Next year, I’ll buy special flower seeds, plant more in advance, and take them to sell at the exam sites. If there are 2,000 people at one exam site and I sell them for 211 yuan each, I can earn 400,000 in one day.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” Still loves money.

Xiang Zhen excitedly tugged at the shirt on Zhou Sicheng’s lower back, then affectionately smoothed it out, tucking it into his suit trousers belt: “Husband, am I going to become the richest man in Shanghai?”

Zhou Sicheng lowered his eyes to examine him: “Your face is quite ‘big’ (arrogant/thick-skinned).”

Making 400,000 a day and thinking about being the richest man.

“Is it big?” Xiang Zhen covered his face with both hands. Being complimented on having a ‘big’ face was the supreme honor for a sunflower.

Zhou Sicheng rubbed his face through Xiang Zhen’s palms with his large hands: “You’d better just marry a rich husband.”

“No.” Xiang Zhen looked at him with bright, shining eyes. “Husband, I only like you.”

Zhou Sicheng was pleased again: “Are you ready? Let’s go to the supermarket to buy groceries.”

This was their first time grocery shopping together, though it was just the small living supermarket next to the complex. The vegetables and fruits inside weren’t arranged with care, customers rummaged through them, and there was no staff to organize them in time, so it looked very chaotic.

Zhou Sicheng pushed the shopping cart; he remembered Xiang Zhen saying he wanted to eat green beans last night.

The green beans were long beans, half a meter long, tender and green. After being picked, they were tied into bundles, placed on the shelf, and marked at 4.99 yuan a jin.

This supermarket had poor-quality vegetables, but Zhou Sicheng fastidiously rummaged through the bundles of beans, wanting to find a bundle with good appearance to stir-fry with shredded pork later.

Xiang Zhen watched Zhou Sicheng’s long, jade-like fingers flipping through the beans. The sight had a kind of solar-deity-descending-to-earth feeling, and he waited patiently for Zhou Sicheng to select—

An S would slowly and methodically choose the whip that suited him best; the process wasn’t to hit him, but actually quite pleasing to the eye.

They didn’t have money to buy a whip, so let him pick the green beans to his heart’s content.

Zhou Sicheng was picking his own groceries for the first time, and he felt a bit like he was nitpicking for too long, so he saved face by saying: “They can’t feel too soft when squeezed; they must be tough and crisp.”

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

Finally, Zhou Sicheng picked the green beans he favored—slender and intact.

Suspected of being slow at picking, he was stared at by a supermarket employee, so Zhou Sicheng arrogantly bought two bundles to show his financial power.

Xiang Zhen sighed under his breath: “So many, oh.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Money is no object.”

Following that, Zhou Sicheng also bought ribs, tofu, tenderloin, eggplant, prawns, and more.

Zhou Sicheng led his wife home to show off his skills.

Xiang Zhen had worked the night shift last night and had no morning shift today; he wouldn’t start work until 3:00 PM.

They didn’t have weekends off.

Zhou Sicheng was somewhat dissatisfied: “Ask for a half-day off in the afternoon.”

Xiang Zhen: “Can’t, the boss doesn’t allow time off lately. How about this: I’ll work the morning shift tomorrow until 2:00 PM, and then we’ll go out on a date.”

Zhou Sicheng thought about having half a day for a date and reluctantly agreed; he would carefully plan their first date.

Xiang Zhen: “Let’s go to the park.”

Free parks didn’t cost money, and one could sunbathe.

“Alright.” Zhou Sicheng agreed unconditionally and took the ribs out of the shopping bag to wash them.

Xiang Zhen helped wash the vegetables. He brought out the two bundles of green beans, untied the strings, and the beans scattered all over the floor.

He had a sudden whim, picked one up, raised his wrist, and whipped his own forearm with it.

Snap! The green bean broke instantly, leaving a little red mark on the inside of his fair wrist.

It hurt.

Xiang Zhen picked up another one, whipped his knee through his trousers; this time he used more force, and the green bean snapped into three pieces.

It still hurt through his clothes.

But it was quite fun; Xiang Zhen grabbed three, whipping them in the air until they whistled.

A fragment of broken bean bounced onto Zhou Sicheng’s arm.

Zhou Sicheng turned his head and saw a wife who wasn’t helping wash vegetables but was causing trouble instead.

He grabbed Xiang Zhen’s wrist and lifted him up, like a miserable husband who had to cook and raise a child at the same time, and snatched the green beans out of his hand: “If it weren’t for the pesticide residue, I’d whip you with these.”

Xiang Zhen was stunned: “Oh, right, then I can’t play with them.”

Zhou Sicheng was a clean freak.

Xiang Zhen: “Let’s just eat them then.”

Zhou Sicheng: “At least you’re sensible.”