After Zhou Sicheng explained that two men couldn’t legally register their marriage, Xiang Zhen had supplemented his knowledge and now understood what it meant to “come out of the closet.”

Zhou Sicheng was so smart; if he took the civil service exam, he would surely pass the written portion. He was handsome, calm, and highly capable—he could easily rise to be a bureaucrat. My husband gave up a future as a bureaucrat just for me.

Xiang Zhen decided he needed to love his husband even more. He handed the phone back to Zhou Sicheng and began tapping away on his own phone, calculating something.

“You aren’t allowed to drive night shifts anymore.”

Zhou Sicheng prompted, “Not going to check anything else?” He had meticulously prepared his WeChat billing history; wasn’t he going to check it?

Xiang Zhen shook his head. He was busy planning to buy a house. Humans sought “peaceful living and satisfying work,” and since his husband had lost a stable job for his sake, he needed to return a stable residence to him.

“Husband, can you get a loan from a bank?”

Zhou Sicheng replied, “Of course.” (The banks were usually begging him to take loans.)

Xiang Zhen’s eyes lit up: “That makes it easier!”

Zhou Sicheng’s expression darkened. A loan? Deep down, a sliver of doubt remained—was Xiang Zhen acting? After all, he presented himself with his real name and face. Xiang Zhen was always online; after the near-slip with the AI assistant earlier, could he really be completely incurious about who the “Zhou Sicheng” in the news was? He found himself strongly resisting the possibility that Xiang Zhen was only after his money.

“How much of a loan?” A few hundred million? Hundreds of billions?

Xiang Zhen poked Zhou Sicheng’s shoulder, signaling him to look at his phone.

“I just asked my AI assistant if we could buy a house in Haishi. It said we can—the housing prices in Haishi have dropped, and you can buy a 30-square-meter ‘old, broken, and small’ apartment for a million.”

“You have Haishi household registration, so the house will be in your name. I’ll borrow a 150,000 yuan down payment from my family’s fund, and you’ll pay back about 3,000 yuan a month.”

Zhou Sicheng’s expression became indescribable. Not billions—three thousand yuan. He had been darkly speculating about a pure, radiant soul.

Xiang Zhen added, “I’ll help you pay it back!”

Zhou Sicheng sat up and looked at Xiang Zhen: “Your mother won’t agree to you putting up the down payment just to put it in my name.” Xiang Zhen was a simpleton, but his family couldn’t all be fools.

Xiang Zhen insisted: “She will agree. I’ll work hard to earn money to pay her back!”

Zhou Sicheng said, “A 30-year mortgage is too long, and housing prices are still falling. It’ll be more cost-effective to buy next year.”

“Oh…” Xiang Zhen mused. Right, 30 years is a long time. Is Zhou Sicheng worried that he won’t be able to drive for the ride-hailing app when he’s old? But since he was a fairy, he could secretly ensure his husband remained strong and energetic enough to work even thirty years from now. “Alright then.” He trusted his husband’s judgment on the market and decided to save up more for the down payment and buy next year.

Zhou Sicheng ruffled Xiang Zhen’s hair, making a promise Xiang Zhen didn’t quite understand: “Next year, you’ll have a big house.”

Xiang Zhen’s eyes curved: “Buy it next year.”

It was stuffy at night without the AC, and Zhou Sicheng was sweating, his heart inexplicably restless: “Where is the AC remote?”

Xiang Zhen shook his head: “Sunflowers don’t like air conditioning. If you’re hot, you can take off your clothes.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” So the bedroom is a greenhouse. Sunflowers belonged in rock crevices or along the roadside to show their vibrant, tenacious vitality—what was the point of raising one in a greenhouse?

Zhou Sicheng took the opportunity to suggest: “Buying a run-down place isn’t worth it. We could rent a two-bedroom apartment instead; then we’d have a dedicated flower room for the sunflower.”

Xiang Zhen: “Sunflowers have strong vitality; they don’t need a flower room. You can take off your clothes.”

Zhou Sicheng nodded in resignation; it would be impolite not to take them off now. Thirty seconds later, Zhou Sicheng, who usually slept shirtless, was down to his underwear: “Go to sleep.” God knows he should be working overtime on overseas affairs at this hour.

Xiang Zhen watched as Zhou Sicheng took off his sleep pants, seeing his husband’s ridiculously long legs for the first time. There were clear traces of exercise; the muscles were firm and contained explosive power—a kick that could probably flatten a cheetah. Xiang Zhen felt the happiness of someone circling the sun only to discover that the other side was even more scorching and brilliant.

“Husband, your muscles are amazing.”

Zhou Sicheng knew this marriage had a component of “looking at faces.” Xiang Zhen might not truly love him yet; the warm, selfless love he showed stemmed from him being a simple-minded “face-con.” They had only known each other for two days—there was no need to delve deep; maintaining the status quo was enough.

Seeing Zhou Sicheng about to sleep, Xiang Zhen asked, “Husband, can I play with my phone a little longer?” The world was too complex and abundant, with new things to see every day. He only had time to watch short videos after work.

“Half an hour,” Zhou Sicheng said casually. He picked up his own phone, arranging for his secretary to set up a meeting with the executives of Feichi Ride-Hailing. The platform needed a top-down overhaul; they couldn’t wait for accidents to happen before applying patches.

Xiang Zhen hugged his phone with a spirit of academic inquiry. Perhaps because his conversation with Zhou Sicheng had been overheard, he started getting videos of muscular men. Xiang Zhen swiped past them with a straight face; he wouldn’t look at any naked bodies other than his husband’s. This guy doesn’t even show his face; he can’t be as handsome as my husband.

After a while, Xiang Zhen scrolled back five videos to the muscular man’s clip. The title was: “Is this your husband?”

Xiang Zhen left a comment: “No, my husband is handsomer than him.” Because he lingered, the algorithm kept pushing him similar content.

Zhou Sicheng looked up from his boring work and realized Xiang Zhen was watching other men. Is this why you play on your phone before bed? Zhou Sicheng was so annoyed he couldn’t work.

“Stop watching. Sleep.”

“They don’t look as good as you.”

“Still, you’re not allowed to watch.”

“Okay.” Xiang Zhen put his phone down happily—his husband was as domineering as a CEO.

…

The next day, Zhou Sicheng insisted on taking Xiang Zhen to work.

Xiang Zhen felt bad about the long driving time, so he refused to get in the car: “I’m not going to the company today; I have to go to Huayun Supermarket for an in-store promotion. It’s very far, and the traffic will be blocked. I’ll take the bus.”

“It’s 7:30 AM now. Stop taking orders at 11:30 AM and go home for a nap.” He commanded his AI assistant, “Remind him at 11:30.”

Zhou Sicheng picked up the nagging Xiang Zhen and put him in the passenger seat. The sudden sensation of floating terrified the sunflower; his heart hammered against his ribs. He watched his husband get in from the driver’s side, gulped, and quickly grabbed Zhou Sicheng’s phone, entered the password, opened the ride-hailing app, and clicked “Start Taking Orders.”

Zhou Sicheng touched his empty pocket: “…” How did he know the password?

At the Feichi Ride-Hailing tech department, the director received notice of a meeting for this morning and realized they’d messed up last night. The CEO’s heart was deeper than the sea; they hadn’t realized he was simulating logs just to find the bug in their lack of driver fatigue management.

Early in the morning, the director sat in the department—he remembered the CEO had taken a real account, and he didn’t know what his intention was, but he had to track it closely if it went online.

“Boss! CEO Zhou is online! He’s taking orders!” the programmer wailed.

The director clenched his fists, predicting the CEO’s move: “Quick, send him the best orders!” The best orders meant two things: close pick-up points and long-distance drop-offs.

30 seconds later, Zhou Sicheng received an order: pick up at the neighborhood gate, drop off near Huayun Supermarket—almost the same route as Xiang Zhen’s. 26 kilometers, estimated time 62 minutes, estimated fare 73 yuan.

Xiang Zhen handed the phone back to Zhou Sicheng: Look, same route. If I take the bus, it only costs two yuan; by taking me, Zhou Sicheng is earning 73 yuan less!

“I’ll get off now.” Click. The locks engaged.

Xiang Zhen looked at Zhou Sicheng in confusion—why wouldn’t he let him out?

“Sit.”

Zhou Sicheng’s expression was grim. How could anyone abandon their wife by the side of the road to pick up a passenger for a measly 73 yuan?! His back seat had never been occupied by anyone.

“You’re not my ‘intellectually disabled’ wife, are you?” Zhou Sicheng reversed the car. “Ask the passenger if they mind.”

Xiang Zhen’s eyes widened: “Husband, that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘wife’.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” He wasn’t as foolish as Xiang Zhen; he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

At the gate, Xiang Zhen spotted a sporty man with a backpack and reminded Zhou Sicheng to unlock the doors. Zhou Sicheng unlocked them with a sour expression. Even if this is a BYD, it’s currently my favorite car. I never intended to use it to ferry anyone other than Xiang Zhen.

Xiang Zhen hopped out, smiling: “I’m the driver’s family; we’re heading the same way. Is it okay if we take you first?”

The man with the backpack was dazzled by the beautiful blonde and blinked, raising an eyebrow: “Then I should pay the ride-share price.”

Xiang Zhen: “No problem. I’ll refund you twenty yuan.”

The backpacker: “Then add me on WeChat to send the refund.”

“The platform can process the refund directly,” Zhou Sicheng said coldly. Why on earth did Xiang Zhen have to chat and laugh with a stranger over fifty yuan?

Xiang Zhen got back in. Wait, when did Zhou Sicheng put on a mask? Wearing a black mask, Zhou Sicheng looked ascetic, stern, and unapproachable. The bridge of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw were particularly prominent even behind the mask.

I get it now! This is why Zhou Sicheng said ‘no one dares to harass me.’

Zhou Sicheng: “Last four digits of your phone number.”

The man took off his backpack, as if he hadn’t heard.

Xiang Zhen repeated: “What’s your phone number?”

The man: “1743. Are you stars filming a variety show? Is there a camera in the car?”

Xiang Zhen answered: “No, he’s my husband. We’re just ordinary people living in the same neighborhood.” Xiang Zhen tried to be friendly, hoping the passenger would give his husband a good review.

The man looked them over again: “You’re gay? Well, I don’t live here. I have two large flats in the city center and an Audi A8.”

Xiang Zhen: “Mm-hmm. Please give my husband a good review, okay? His car is clean and comfortable; you’re really lucky to have hailed this car!”

The man: “…” Did you not hear me? I have an Audi A8.

Suddenly, Zhou Sicheng braked hard—a tricycle had run a red light. Xiang Zhen immediately stopped paying attention to the passenger and focused on helping his husband watch the road. Zhou Sicheng took a mask out of the compartment and handed it to Xiang Zhen: “The sun is out. Wear this for sunscreen.”

Xiang Zhen wanted to say he didn’t need it, but noticing his husband’s fierce expression, he obediently put it on.

The backpacker tried to flirt again: “Do you work as a streamer—”

“Wife, I’m thirsty.” Zhou Sicheng interrupted suddenly.

Xiang Zhen heard a genuine “wife” devoid of the “intellectually disabled” qualifier! He beamed, opened the water bottle, and fed his husband during the red light. First day accompanying my husband on his shifts—our bond is deepening! Relationships need to be cultivated through time together. We are so in love right now.

After being called “wife,” Xiang Zhen was over the moon. He only had eyes for his husband, ignoring the passenger in the back who had tried to strike up a conversation several times.

Zhou Sicheng tolerated someone staring at his wife from the back seat for fifty minutes, cutting the morning rush-hour commute short by ten minutes. Once the man got out, Zhou Sicheng ended the trip and saw a red packet pop up in the trip details—a 20-yuan tip from the backpacker, with the note: Your wife is so cute. Which apartment do you live in?

Zhou Sicheng didn’t even accept it; he deleted the order.

After dropping Xiang Zhen off at the supermarket, the first thing he did upon arriving at the company was order his assistant to take the car for a deep cleaning, ensuring no trace of any other male biological creature remained.

All morning, the Feichi team brainstormed a new fatigue-prevention system under the CEO’s nose, deciding to integrate some of the AI assistant’s monitoring features into the app by June. The director looked at Zhou Sicheng, who seemed to have eaten gunpowder, with trepidation: “Mr. Zhou, you experienced the owner-driver experience this morning; do you have any valuable feedback?”

Zhou Sicheng narrowed his eyes and smiled: “Is that why you assigned me that long-distance order?” Causing my wife to be stared at for an hour.

The director: “…” Did I backfire again?!

Zhou Sicheng didn’t lose his mind, but he did lose his composure: “It is forbidden for passengers to send any messages to the driver or their family members after getting out of the car. Violators will be banned.”

The director looked troubled: “I’m afraid that won’t work. What if the passenger leaves something behind?”

Zhou Sicheng: “…”

He had discovered the biggest downside of being poor: it’s too easy for others to covet your wife.