Vegetation that gets battered, bent, and left in disarray under a torrential downpour only needs to wait for the sun to rise the next day to stand back up straight, spirited and refreshed. Brushing away the dust, their leaves turn a deeper green, their new shoots grow more tender, and their stems become more resilient.

Xiang Zhen was exactly like that.

He propped the bedroom door open with a bucket to keep the wind from blowing it shut, carrying the sunflowers up to the rooftop with both hands.

Shi Ting stood at the doorway and asked politely, “Do you need some help?”

Xiang Zhen’s mind had been entirely preoccupied with the Helios storm and torrential rain for a whole day and night. The exact second Shi Ting spoke, he finally remembered that someone was living next door.

“The rain was so heavy yesterday. Did you guys sleep well?” Xiang Zhen managed to squeeze out after a long pause.

Shi Ting replied, “We slept very well. To prevent rainy days from affecting our sleep, those in our line of work always wear noise-canceling earplugs at night.”

Xiang Zhen let out a sigh of relief. To show that his own sleep hadn’t been affected by the solar storm either and that he had plenty of strength to spare, he declined, “No need, I’ll get a bit of exercise myself. You guys know I’m a really good runner.”

Shi Ting nodded. Unlike Ye Yun, he wouldn’t act overly affectionate or enthusiastic toward the person he was protecting. After all, his mission was to guarantee personal safety, not to act as a nanny—that was President Zhou’s job.

As for the fact that Xiang Zhen was a good runner, Shi Ting was actually quite surprised. One couldn’t tell from Xiang Zhen’s slender, delicate frame that he possessed the stamina of a professional long-distance runner. Furthermore, he always felt that Xiang Zhen hadn’t even unleashed his full strength yet.

If there ever came a day when Xiang Zhen ran at full capacity, would he and Ye Yun even be able to keep up?

Shi Ting lent Xiang Zhen a small handcart, and Xiang Zhen pulled it back and forth a dozen times in one breath.

To his surprise, there were dozens of empty flowerpots upstairs! Moreover, they were labeled explicitly for sunflowers! Zhou Sicheng must have prepared them!

Xiang Zhen’s face flushed a deep crimson. Just how long has Zhou Sicheng been planning this?

There were people drying quilts on the rooftop, and others growing vegetables; all the spots were fully occupied. If Zhou Sicheng hadn’t taken the initiative to buy flowerpots to claim the space in advance, Xiang Zhen’s sunflowers wouldn’t have had a single place to stand.

Alright, Xiang Zhen forgave his husband.

He transplanted the sunflowers from the milk tea buckets into the large flowerpots, widening the gaps between them. It was indeed much less crowded than it had been in the bedroom.

Because he had lost half a bag of seeds, Xiang Zhen cherished these remaining ones immensely and always wanted to nurture them carefully. In reality, they should have been moved out long ago, rather than him secretly feeding them with his solar power.

His husband was right to give him a little push.

It was just that his way of pushing him was a bit much.

The moment Xiang Zhen remembered how effortlessly Zhou Sicheng could lift him up—using the exact posture one would use to hold a toddler while they used the restroom—his head had soared past Zhou Sicheng’s, almost bumping against the ceiling. The feeling of dangling in the air combined with the sheer embarrassment truly made him want to cry.

Strange, where did Zhou Sicheng learn that? It wasn’t taught in any web novels.

Zhou Sicheng indeed didn’t use any external tools; he didn’t need any props whatsoever to make Xiang Zhen lose his mind entirely.

“Wife.” Zhou Sicheng knocked on the iron door of the rooftop. After their intimate, soulful union, calling him ‘wife’ came even more smoothly and addictively. “Why didn’t you wait for me to carry them up together?”

He claimed he had gone out to buy groceries, but in reality, Secretary Gao had brought over several identity documents for him to sign, and he had smoothly arranged a few other matters along the way.

Zhou Sicheng strode closer and caught Xiang Zhen’s hand. After checking it over, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Just stand there and watch. I’ll till the soil.”

Moving the sunflowers from the milk tea buckets to the large flowerpots required filling them with more nutrient-rich soil. Zhou Sicheng had prepared all of this in advance; as long as his wife was with him, he would love everything associated with him.

Xiang Zhen helped steady the sunflowers while Zhou Sicheng squatted down to pack the soil. Staring down at the cowl of hair on the crown of Zhou Sicheng’s head, he suddenly felt the shared joy of planting sunflowers.

Sunflowers planted together were like their children.

Zhou Sicheng’s technique was well-practiced, and he wasn’t afraid of getting dirty. His fingers directly loosened the soil and his palms pressed it firm. The very hands currently gripping the small iron trowel had just harvested a round of sunflowers earlier, having traveled across every inch of Xiang Zhen’s body.

No matter what kind of sunflower it was, he could easily encompass it within his hands.

Zhou Sicheng looked up and caught his wife’s ardent gaze. He had long noticed that Xiang Zhen loved to gaze at him, including when they were in bed. During the rear-entry position, Xiang Zhen would twist his head around every brief interval, his watery, pitch-black eyes filled with unspoken emotions as his fair, slender shoulder blades trembled. The moment Zhou Sicheng saw this, he knew his wife wanted to look at him, so he would readily lean down and tilt forward to grant his wife a glance, claiming a long, deep kiss in return.

Getting Xiang Zhen to take the cowgirl position didn’t require any elaborate cajoling at all.

He was looking at him again.

Xiang Zhen had to bear 90% of the responsibility for his insatiable demands.

However, since they had already indulged themselves during the day, Zhou Sicheng intended to let Xiang Zhen rest tonight.

“Do you want to head out this afternoon, or would you prefer to rest at home?” Zhou Sicheng asked.

Xiang Zhen replied, “Either is fine, Hubby.”

Zhou Sicheng said, “I’ll take you to get a few sets of clothes made. Working at a bank requires formal wear.”

Xiang Zhen asked, “Tailor-made? Will it be very expensive?”

Zhou Sicheng looked incredibly handsome in a suit, and he loved to look at him, but Xiang Zhen himself had never worn one. Since the onset of summer, he had been wearing white T-shirts bought online for a hundred yuan for three pieces.

Zhou Sicheng replied, “It’s not expensive. He’s just an old-fashioned, elderly tailor who doesn’t have much business. Nowadays, machines have replaced manual labor in the garment industry, so going to patronize his business is a good deed.”

Xiang Zhen was thoroughly convinced by his husband’s logic. “Alright.”

The two of them came down from the rooftop. Zhou Sicheng went home to wash his hands before taking his wife down to the underground garage to retrieve the car.

He was even more attentive than usual, not only opening the door for him but also carefully shielding his head.

The BYD SUV was wonderful in this regard; it was simple, elegant, and possessed ample space. He bent over to help him in, knowing that a vehicle with a low chassis definitely wouldn’t do.

According to the medical knowledge Zhou Sicheng possessed, Xiang Zhen’s inner thighs would inevitably be incredibly sore over these past few days, and a bursting sensation of soreness would flare up the moment he lifted his leg.

“Does it hurt?” Zhou Sicheng pinched the flesh of Xiang Zhen’s thigh.

In a flash of realization, Xiang Zhen comprehended his meaning. He nodded heavily, “Hubby, it hurts a lot.”

“Alright,” Zhou Sicheng smiled subtly, his gaze deep. “Apply some medicine when we get back later, and I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Once the vehicle set in motion, Xiang Zhen picked up his phone for the first time today. The red notification dots on WeChat surged out like a customer service backend.

Xiang Zhen reviewed them one by one.

Yu Yuanyuan and Liu Xiaofang were asking him what happened last night—was he no longer saving up to buy a house? Did he truly switch husbands?

Feng Chujun was also asking if the person who logged onto his account last night was the new boyfriend who gave him the 52,000-yuan red packet, and what his identity was. He even asked if 52,000 yuan was all it took to become his new boyfriend.

Xiang Zhen looked utterly bewildered. “Hubby, what did you do last night?”

Zhou Sicheng explained simply, “It was just Fan Hao. He wanted to test your usual workload to see if you could adapt to the customer service work at the bank.”

Xiang Zhen asserted, “I can do it!”

“I said the same, but he insisted on questioning it, so I told him to log onto your account to experience it for himself.” Coincidentally hitting a red light, Zhou Sicheng freed one hand to grasp his wife’s hand resting on his knee. “Customer service is also a systematic job. Look at him—a returnee from abroad, yet his idea of after-sales service is just a full refund. No skill whatsoever.”

Xiang Zhen agreed deeply. “A full refund is far too foolish. One should start by offering a compensation of a few yuan and gradually increase the stakes. When offering a five-yuan compensation, one should use the excuse of applying to higher management to stall for a while, making it seem like I’m putting in a lot of effort.”

Zhou Sicheng praised, “As expected, only my wife is cut out to be a customer service representative. Having you as a bank customer service agent could save me ten or eight million a year.”

Xiang Zhen only knew that he was being appreciated by his husband, curling the corners of his lips as he continued to scroll through the messages. “Fan Hao just got married? He even sent ten thousand slogan red packets!”

Zhou Sicheng replied, “Mm, they’re currently picking an auspicious date.”

Xiang Zhen noted, “Liu Xiaofang and Yu Yuanyuan both managed to snatch a red packet.”

Zhou Sicheng urged, “You snatch one too.”

Xiang Zhen asked, “Are there still any left?”

The ten thousand red packets had been completely snatched clean within a dozen minutes. Taking advantage of Xiang Zhen not paying attention, Zhou Sicheng retrieved his phone and added some more funds into the pool, making the individual amounts larger than last night’s.

“520!” Xiang Zhen entered the slogan, his eyes lighting up. “My luck is actually this good!”

Zhou Sicheng smiled, “Because I possess the fate of bringing luck to my husband.”

Xiang Zhen harbored absolutely no doubts. Ever since he met his husband, his luck had been exceptionally good.

He had been wondering previously how other spirits managed to earn so much money to contribute to the mutual aid fund. It turned out one just needed to find a good husband; once your luck turned around, you could earn a vast fortune.

They arrived at the tailor shop, which was located inside an old residential building. The storefront featured several conspicuous sewing machines, a large box filled with all sorts of outdated buttons, and prices for mending down jackets and hemming trousers hanging on the wall.

Beside a sewing machine sat a middle-aged craftsman wearing reading glasses, currently engrossed in a newspaper.

Zhou Sicheng initiated, “Excuse me, I’d like to get a few sets of suits made for my wife. Please measure his dimensions.”

Xiang Zhen stood at the doorway peering inside. His husband was right; coming to a place like this to get clothes made was indeed an act of kindness.

The old tailor put down his newspaper, retrieved his recording tools, adjusted his reading glasses, and stated, “Four sets for a custom order.”

Zhou Sicheng agreed, “Alright.”

Xiang Zhen interjected, “How much for one set?!”

The old tailor replied, “One hundred and fifty. Four sets for six hundred. High-quality fabric will be used.”

Xiang Zhen couldn’t bear to make things difficult for the old tailor’s livelihood. Thinking of the 520-yuan red packet he had just snatched, he agreed, “Then please make four sets for me.”

The old tailor began measuring Xiang Zhen’s height, arm length, leg length, and so forth.

Zhou Sicheng leisurely found a chair to sit down. The moment he sat, he noticed a Rolex resting on the sewing table. Unobtrusively, his middle finger nudged it beneath the newspaper.

The trouser-hemming shop had been found provisionally by Secretary Gao, but the old tailor was actually a haute couture designer Zhou Sicheng had hired from a luxury brand.

“A perfect model,” the designer praised reservedly after concluding the measurements. A multitude of bold color schemes suitable for Xiang Zhen’s blonde hair materialized within his mind. However, President Zhou had emphasized that since the model himself worked at a bank, he could only wear black and gray.

Zhou Sicheng commanded, “As quickly as possible.”

Returning to the car, Xiang Zhen remarked, “Hubby, I could feel that he is incredibly professional. It’s truly a pity for someone like him to be replaced by machines.”

Zhou Sicheng countered, “He’s at an age close to retirement, so it’s not a pity.”

Upon reflection, Xiang Zhen found it reasonable; humans were always looking forward to retirement.

In the afternoon, Xiang Zhen was ordered to rest in bed, watching with wide eyes as Zhou Sicheng squatted on the floor, wiping the area before the window like Cinderella.

After the milk tea buckets were moved away, they left rings of water stains behind. Zhou Sicheng wiped them with a towel first, then disinfected the area with hypochlorous acid, and finally wiped it down once with fragrance and once with purified water.

Every single corner and every single grout line was tidied up immaculately.

A high-end domestic helper could do no better.

Initially, Xiang Zhen assumed his husband simply had a obsession with cleanliness, but Zhou Sicheng wasn’t this meticulous when dealing with the frequently used kitchen stove; he only acted this way toward things associated with him.

The little sunflower trembled slightly, a possibility gradually dawning upon his mind.

It wasn’t until Zhou Sicheng produced a perfectly cut white carpet that Xiang Zhen confirmed this possibility.

Zhou Sicheng was highly satisfied with the fruits of his labor. Now that the sunflowers were gone, they could turn on the air conditioner, and lounging against the woolen carpet wouldn’t feel hot either.

He had worked up a sweat from the exertion, reaching out to unbuckle his belt, intending to take a shower and switch into a set of loungewear.

Hearing the crisp clicking sound of the belt buckle turning made Xiang Zhen’s scalp tingle.

He currently felt that the process of his husband getting into bed and fastening his belt was the most handsome—possessing a hint of lazy casualness amidst the slick efficiency, locking away that terrifying object within three or two motions of his fingers.

Zhou Sicheng drew out the incredibly expensive belt—a long, thin strip of sleek black.

Xiang Zhen inquired, “Hubby, can we do it tomorrow instead?”

Zhou Sicheng casually hung the belt onto the wall hook, walking toward the bathroom. “Hmm?”

Xiang Zhen pulled the belt over. Since his husband wasn’t using it, he would use it himself.

Even though his pajama pants didn’t have belt loops, Xiang Zhen still tied it tightly around his waistband, finally feeling a modicum of security.