Xiang Zhen had been unemployed for three days. By day, he opened the curtains to bask in the sun; by night, he closed the curtains to be baked by the residual heat of the sun.

Little Kui-bag’s predictions were completely unreliable!

He would never believe Little Kui-bag ever again.

Xiang Zhen insisted on going to work. He figured that once he started working, Zhou Sicheng would surely restrain himself a bit.

On the day the custom-made suit arrived, Zhou Sicheng finally nodded: “Put it on, let me see.”

Xiang Zhen tried on a pure black set, wearing a summer-style black short-sleeved shirt underneath.

Zhou Sicheng personally tucked the hem into his waist, zipped up the dress pants, unbuckled his own belt, threaded it through Xiang Zhen’s trousers, and buckled it with measured deliberation.

Next came the tie.

Zhou Sicheng had over ten years of experience wearing ties; it was practically a daily necessity for him.

He lowered his eyes, tying a neat, formal knot for Xiang Zhen.

Then he stepped back.

His gaze was obscure and unfathomable as he looked at him.

Under his hands, Xiang Zhen had transformed into a pampered young master of a prestigious family.

He really couldn’t bear to let him out for others to see.

Xiang Zhen ran to the bathroom to check the mirror. The old tailor’s craftsmanship was superb; he felt his clothes looked much better than those of the insurance agents who came to the company to pitch their products.

Wearing a suit for the first time, he felt a bit awkward being restricted, but this meant he had successfully integrated into society. He looked not just like a person, but like a proper, respectable gentleman.

“Hubby, do I look good?”

“You look good enough to attend an evening banquet.” Zhou Sicheng scrutinized Xiang Zhen, narrowing his eyes. “Your hair is getting a bit long.”

Xiang Zhen: “But I don’t want to cut it.”

The golden color was the charm of a sunflower.

Zhou Sicheng’s slender middle finger was suddenly adorned with a thin gold hair ring. Taking advantage of his height advantage over Xiang Zhen, he raked both hands through Xiang Zhen’s hair, slowly combing it backward.

Xiang Zhen was led to lift his chin, his lips pressed by Zhou Sicheng’s. As they swayed, his numb scalp was kneaded and pressed by Zhou Sicheng.

A long while later, he was released, panting. A small, messy ponytail had been fashioned at the back of his head.

Xiang Zhen’s hair wasn’t long enough, and Zhou Sicheng’s hair-tying skills were mediocre; he had only managed to bundle part of it, leaving it messy and rather cute.

“Wife…” Zhou Sicheng pressed his forehead against his, seemingly suffering from separation anxiety at the mere thought of his wife going to work.

Xiang Zhen: “No tonight, okay?”

Zhou Sicheng sighed.

On Xiang Zhen’s first day of reporting for duty, Fan Hao took him out into the field.

Fan Hao was driving an off-road vehicle. Xiang Zhen got in and buckled his seatbelt: “Manager Fan, where are we going to collect debts today?”

Fan Hao would never dare bring the President’s wife to a deadbeat debtor’s home. Some debtors were unreasonable; if Xiang Zhen, with his slender arms and legs, got hurt, Fan Hao would have to commit suicide to apologize.

“We aren’t collecting debts; we’re going to a construction site.”

Xiang Zhen: “Are you buying a house?”

Fan Hao: “We’re doing a post-loan audit today. This development borrowed money from our bank to build, so we need to go see how the construction is going, and check for fraud or unfinished projects.”

“You look over the third-party report first; we just need to go and verify it.”

Xiang Zhen saw a thick report in the back seat, reached out to take it, and flipped through the pages. The report showed that the foundation was finished and the main framework was being built.

Xiang Zhen: “How much are they selling it for at the opening?”

Fan Hao: “Estimated at 38,000 per square meter.”

The location wasn’t in the center, but being 600 meters from a subway line made it acceptable.

Xiang Zhen deflated: “Oh, then I can’t afford it.”

Fan Hao laughed, irresponsibly boasting on Zhou Sicheng’s behalf: “As long as your husband can afford it, it’s fine. Your husband earns 30,000 a month now.”

Xiang Zhen: “To buy this house, my husband would have to live very frugally. Programmers are very prone to unemployment.”

Fan Hao: “Then use your name for the loan. Apply for an employee loan from our bank, and I’ll give you a preferential interest rate.”

Xiang Zhen flipped through the third-party report, which included floor plans. A 70-square-meter small apartment was about 2.6 million, with a down payment as low as 400,000. Based on Zhou Sicheng’s salary, if they were frugal this year, they could save up the down payment by next year.

There were many shoddy construction projects nowadays, with terrible soundproofing. If he audited the project himself, would it be a bit better?

Besides, as newlyweds, buying a new house was better than buying a “shabby, old, and small” one, because they were young and would be living there for a long time.

Xiang Zhen was a little tempted. The report stated the opening was expected next June—a nearly finished apartment—which matched their savings perfectly.

Xiang Zhen asked seriously: “Can I borrow two million in my name, too?”

His monthly salary flow probably wouldn’t qualify him.

If I lose my job and can’t pay it back, I can just become a “deadbeat sunflower,” and my husband’s credit score will remain healthy because we don’t have a marriage certificate!

Xiang Zhen discovered the benefits of not having a marriage certificate.

Fan Hao: “Absolutely, as long as you have Zhou Sicheng act as your guarantor.”

You can borrow as much as you want.

Fan Hao would have preferred to say, Just take out your Gold Sunflower card and go swipe it for a unit at the sales office.

Zhou Sicheng’s wife was still too naive.

Xiang Zhen curled his lips and began reading the third-party audit report seriously. He decided he would use the strictest standards to audit the procurement vouchers and forbid the use of inferior materials.

[Xiang Zhen: Xiao Kui, give me a set of the strictest construction standards.]

[Xiao Kui: …Go to the site and be careful of heatstroke, remember to hydrate.]

Water, he thought, I’ll buy a bottle at the convenience store later.

Yu Yueyue knew Xiang Zhen was going to the field today, and to a construction site at that. She reminded him to be careful and remembered to buy water for his supervisor, too.

An hour later, Fan Hao parked the car near the construction site. It was dusty everywhere. Across an eight-lane road was a developed area, while this was the undeveloped zone.

Just as a concrete mixer drove by, his leather shoes were “kissed” by the dust the moment they touched the ground.

He patted his dress pants: “Damn, my 30,000-yuan shoes.”

Xiang Zhen stepped out of the car, clutching his tablet and audit report, and stepped into the dust without hesitation.

The tailored gray suit pants hugged his slender ankles. The moment he stood straight, it was as if he had come to film a commercial for the building.

Fan Hao glanced at him sideways. Damn it, his shoes are more expensive than mine.

There was no reason for him to be so fussy about his 30,000-yuan shoes.

Xiang Zhen remembered Yu Yueyue’s workplace tips and asked Fan Hao: “Manager Fan, is there anything you’d like to drink?”

Fan Hao replied reflexively: “Iced Americano.”

No, wait, this place was in the middle of nowhere; there wouldn’t be Iced Americanos. Having a convenience store that sold iced black tea would be lucky enough.

“Mineral wat—”

Xiang Zhen: “One moment, I’ll go buy some!”

Not far away stood a blue metal shipping container. It looked unremarkable, but the sign hanging on it read: [Freshly Ground Coffee].

Fan Hao looked up and saw the coffee sign, too. What the hell? What fool sells freshly ground coffee at a construction site? Who did the market research? It’s probably diluted coffee concentrate; can you even drink that?

The closer Xiang Zhen walked to the coffee shop, the more he felt a magical attraction.

The metal box was powered on, and the machine was humming, but there was no air conditioner outside. Only when he got close could he distinguish the sound of an ice machine.

The second-hand ice machine made a loud noise, just like the range hood Xiang Zhen used to have.

“Hello, I’d like an Iced Americano.”

Xiang Zhen’s voice was cheerful, then he stopped abruptly when he saw the price list.

He had underestimated this metal box by the construction site.

A sunflower had wandered into a coffee master’s trap!

An Iced Americano was 40 yuan!

He had never bought such expensive milk tea.

Xiang Zhen raised his eyes in heartbreak and locked gazes with a young man with long, coffee-colored curly hair.

In the oven-like metal box, the young man remained calm, his face without the slightest flush from the heat.

Xiang Zhen froze.

He smelled the scent of a spirit.

The other person also stared steadily at Xiang Zhen, clearly recognizing this little spirit as well.

Xiang Zhen: “Did Aunt Guihua mail you any Zongzi?”

The young man showed a kind smile, like someone meeting a relative: “She did.”

Xiang Zhen looked behind him; Fan Hao had been asked by security to move the car and hadn’t followed. Xiang Zhen stepped into the metal box: “Why did you think of selling coffee at a construction site? I want to start a business, too. Is business good here?”

The young man pondered: “I sell three or four cups a day, but my coffee beans don’t cost anything.”

“You know, rent is expensive everywhere in Haishi. Only this metal box costs thirty a day. Theoretically, I break even by selling just one cup. Plus, I can live here, so I don’t have to pay rent.”

Xiang Zhen: “What a great idea!”

No high rent, no decoration, no labor, no franchise fees, no material costs—without costs, you couldn’t go bankrupt.

Xiang Zhen leaned his hands on the counter, looking around with envy. Yu Yueyue always said that setting up a street stall had more of a future than working for someone else. This coffee-spirit was a demon with commendable courage.

The young man tapped the counter Xiang Zhen was leaning on: “I only bought an ice machine; this counter and this rocking chair were all things someone picked up from the recycling station and gave to me.”

Xiang Zhen: “Humans are quite nice.”

Footsteps came from outside. Xiang Zhen thought it was Fan Hao, so he shut his mouth and leaned out to peek.

It was a worker.

He was tall, wearing a work uniform over a tank top. His features were sharp, handsome, and masculine, and the muscles in his arms were solid.

“One room-temperature Americano.”

The man pulled 40 yuan from his pocket and placed it on the counter.

“It’s ready.” The coffee youth had it prepared and bagged it for him.

The man paused for a few seconds, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately left in silence.

The young man said to Xiang Zhen: “See? That’s him. He occasionally buys one cup, occasionally four. He’s my only customer.”

The young man kept close track of the time his only customer visited, having it prepared in advance every time so he wouldn’t have to wait.

If the customer didn’t show up on time, it didn’t matter; he would just pour it out.

Xiang Zhen had great insights from his customer service job: “This kind of customer who orders silently and leaves is a god-tier customer; you have to take good care of them.”

Xiang Zhen saw that Fan Hao had finished moving the car, so he hurriedly took out his phone to pay the 40 yuan: “Let’s add each other on WeChat.”

The young man: “It’s okay, I’ll treat you.”

Xiang Zhen: “I have to pay.”

The young man made the Iced Americano and handed it to Xiang Zhen: “Hope to see you next time.”

While Fan Hao was moving the car, he noticed Xiang Zhen had entered the metal box and hadn’t come out. His heart skipped a beat, and he sprinted over in what felt like a hundred-meter dash, his head filled with images of construction site murders.

The metal box was open. He slammed on the brakes at the entrance and was greeted by a face that could topple nations.

Wait, this natural-born beauty—one is working customer service, and the other is selling coffee at a construction site?

Fan Hao felt dazed, suspecting the world had installed a filter for him. He took out his phone and snapped a picture, sending it to Chu Ren, the boss of a certain media company.

[Fan Hao: What are your talent scouts doing! There are such beauties on the side of the road, yet you have ugly people acting in dramas every day.]

[Chu Ren: ?]

[Chu Ren: Why are you sending me pictures of beautiful women?]

[Chu Ren: I have a family.]

[Chu Ren: Blocked.]

Fan Hao: “…” What kind of eyes do you have? These are two men.

Xiang Zhen handed the coffee to Fan Hao: “The Iced Americano you wanted.”

The blocked Fan Hao was so angry he took a sip—Wait, this is authentic coffee.

It was so bitter he almost spat it out.

…

Xiang Zhen, intent on supervising the quality, earnestly took various photos of the construction site with time stamps, occasionally even appearing in the frame himself.

Fan Hao didn’t spend too long at the construction site, fearing Zhou Sicheng would have something to say if he brought Xiang Zhen home too late.

After a day of being a chauffeur, dropping his superior’s wife off downstairs, he had a momentary lapse in judgment and felt a sudden urge to compare: “How does my car compare to your husband’s?”

His carefully chosen Hummer.

Xiang Zhen thought for a moment: “My husband’s car is steadier.”

Self-inflicted humiliation, Fan Hao shouted in his heart. That’s because I took you to a construction site! A construction site! Zhou Sicheng drives in the city every day, so of course the roads are smooth.

Xiang Zhen left the work materials in Fan Hao’s car and walked away empty-handed.

Fan Hao watched Xiang Zhen’s retreating back, forced to admit that Zhou Sicheng really knew how to take care of a wife.

When he first saw Xiang Zhen this morning, he thought it was some young noble out to experience the real world, and almost suffered a professional reflex to go up and chat him up to get a deposit.

He couldn’t tell at all that the boy hadn’t even finished elementary school.

…

Xiang Zhen returned home as if he had done this a thousand times. His steps were light, showing no signs of the exhaustion of being ravaged by work.

In the elevator, several people stared at him, suspecting he was a celebrity.

Xiang Zhen arrived at his door, wrapped in this halo of attention.

He turned the door handle, his eyelashes fluttering.

The door was unlocked; his husband was back.

Back so early… and they hadn’t done it yesterday, either.

Xiang Zhen pushed the door open. The one-room apartment was visible at a glance. In front was the large bed, and the sofa was piled high with clothes.

Zhou Sicheng was leaning against the headboard reading a book, appearing to have already showered.

Xiang Zhen twisted his fingers, stammering: “Hubby, I’m going to take a shower.”

Zhou Sicheng didn’t even look up: “Hmm.”

After showering, Xiang Zhen came out and hovered near the edge of the double bed, never lifting a leg to climb on. It was only 6:30 PM; it was too early, and Zhou Sicheng would surely want to do it many times.

But the rented room was so small; there was nowhere to stand if he didn’t get on the bed, and it looked like he was intentionally distancing himself.

After a moment of trepidation, Xiang Zhen moved a small plastic stool and sat restrainingly in the narrow space between the bed and the stove, his slender legs pressed tightly together.

He pursed his lips and watched his husband’s expression: “Hubby, I’ll sit here for a while.”

“It’s cooler here.”

Zhou Sicheng was almost amused by him. How did he make me out to be a bully who steals someone else’s nest?

That was the one good thing about a rented room: there was simply nowhere to hide.

He would live here until the end of time.