The landlord’s refusal to let her husband work as a ride-share driver multiple times, Zhou Sicheng cunningly reasoned: “The passenger this morning filed a complaint after getting out.”

In reality, it was Zhou Sicheng who had reported the passenger for harassing someone else’s wife, resulting in the passenger’s account being suspended for a month.

“Ah?” Xiang Zhen was stunned. You can’t judge a book by its cover; he seemed like such a reasonable human being, how could he be someone who stabs people in the back? What a waste of those twenty yuan he gave him!

“Honey, I’m sorry, it was all for the sake of dropping me off at work.”

Zhou Sicheng replied: “It has nothing to do with you; he’s the one with no morals.”

Xiang Zhen couldn’t help but think of the oddball customers he occasionally encountered at work and comforted Zhou Sicheng: “You don’t need to take it to heart. I get reported every day, and I never get angry.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” Every day? So you’re annoying people outside, too?

Xiang Zhen gave up the idea of keeping his husband company while he drove a car, unless he was driving a truck.

Wait, a truck?

Xiang Zhen had scrolled past videos of “husband-and-wife trucking teams” where they traveled thousands of kilometers on long-haul routes. Only the two of them were in the cabin, eating and sleeping in the vehicle. They could be together 24 hours a day, living a life filled with love and distant horizons. Plus, they could bask in the sun all day—far more comfortable than an office.

“Honey, do you know how to drive a big semi-truck?”

Zhou Sicheng: “I don’t have an AB license; I can’t drive a truck.”

A glimmer of excitement shone in Xiang Zhen’s eyes: “If you keep having trouble finding a job, you could go take the test. Then we could travel the world.”

Zhou Sicheng: “So, I’m responsible for driving and cooking, and you sleep in the passenger seat?”

Xiang Zhen: “As long as I’m with my husband, I’m fine eating dry bread.”

Zhou Sicheng’s expression was one of refusal; there was absolutely no way he was taking Xiang Zhen on a cross-country trip in a semi-truck. Unless, perhaps, they drove a luxury RV after retirement.

Xiang Zhen was far too clingy; it would cause him quite a bit of trouble. Zhou Sicheng glanced at the innocent Xiang Zhen. He had a business trip next week, long since scheduled and impossible to swap. How was he supposed to tell Xiang Zhen?

Xiang Zhen placed a pig trotter into Zhou Sicheng’s bowl. Driving requires constantly switching between the gas and brake; the soles of his feet must be tired. “Honey, eat this. ‘Like cures like’ (eat feet to help your own feet).”

Zhou Sicheng: “You’re the little pig.”

Xiang Zhen: “I’m not a little pig.”

Zhou Sicheng: “You know how to wash dishes, right?”

Xiang Zhen said proudly: “I can do that.”

Zhou Sicheng casually stacked the bowls and chopsticks together: “Go wash them. Remember to wear an apron.”

After eating, Xiang Zhen put on the apron. The rental unit was so small that Xiang Zhen didn’t even need to move; the sink was right at his fingertips when he stood up. He picked up the bowl, leaned slightly, and placed it into the sink. His slender, fair fingers were too beautiful; even holding a ceramic bowl looked like a piece of art.

Zhou Sicheng watched the back of Xiang Zhen as he washed the dishes. This life… it could manage.

“Want to go for a walk?”

Xiang Zhen finished quickly and wiped the water off his hands onto the apron: “Yes!”

Zhou Sicheng looked at Xiang Zhen’s flat abdomen and raised an eyebrow. He ate so much; where did it all go?

In early summer, the number of people walking in the evening increased. The neighborhood Xiang Zhen lived in had little greenery and a high density, but walking out toward the main road, the urban landscaping was excellent, with shrubs and trees neatly layered along the medians.

On the walkway, families were walking with children and couples were walking dogs; it was rare to see just two people out for a purposeless stroll, and if there were any, they were usually elderly.

Xiang Zhen was observant of humans and summarized: “Honey, we’re like an old married couple!”

Zhou Sicheng: “No, we’ve only known each other for three days.”

Xiang Zhen mimicked the young couples and hooked his hand into the crook of Zhou Sicheng’s arm.

Zhou Sicheng’s arm stiffened. It felt as if a straight utility pole on the side of the road had been entwined by a tender willow branch, sparking and short-circuiting. The irony was that the willow branch itself was an insulator; it couldn’t feel the current beside it and only wrapped tighter.

In the shadow of the trees, Zhou Sicheng bent his arm to make Xiang Zhen more comfortable.

At corporate banquets, where handsome men and beautiful women walked arm-in-arm, chatting and laughing, Zhou Sicheng had always been alone. He never needed a female companion to hold up his image. Fan Hao used to tease him, calling him a “Diamond Left Arm”—it was untouchable and should just be locked in a safe.

Yet, here were things that some people could get with a mere reach.

Zhou Sicheng: “Watch where you’re going, don’t look at me.”

Xiang Zhen shifted his gaze, but not entirely; there was no sun at night, so he had no choice but to look at Zhou Sicheng.

“Honey, should we get a dog?”

It sounded like a spur-of-the-moment whim. Zhou Sicheng didn’t want to take on the responsibility of scooping poop: “Have you thought about the added expenses for vaccines, dog food, neutering, and toys?”

Xiang Zhen closed his mouth tightly. Ah, raising a dog in the city is different from the countryside; in the country, you just give them leftovers. He decided against a dog; his money had to be saved to buy a house for Zhou Sicheng.

As they walked, Xiang Zhen kicked off his slippers to get intimate with the ground.

Zhou Sicheng looked down at the snow-white feet, frowned, and said: “Why are you taking off your shoes?”

Xiang Zhen curled his toes and mumbled: “I’m hot.”

Zhou Sicheng: “There might be broken glass on the ground. Put them back on.”

Xiang Zhen: “No.”

Zhou Sicheng was silent for a moment. “Are you trying to get me to carry you on my back?”

Xiang Zhen: “No.”

Zhou Sicheng crouched down: “Just like a child. Complaining as soon as you’re tired.”

Zhou Sicheng had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Xiang Zhen couldn’t resist the temptation and climbed onto his back.

“I wasn’t complaining; I just wanted to be a human.”

Zhou Sicheng snorted coldly. Climbing on so quickly—he said he wasn’t complaining. Today, he was deigning to carry Xiang Zhen only because he hadn’t worked out yet; he’d just treat this as exercise.

Xiang Zhen lay contentedly on his husband’s back. Seeing a commercial building with a flashing, garish pink sign for “Massage” and “Foot Bath,” which looked tacky and illicit, he asked innocently: “Honey, have you ever been to a foot bath parlor?”

Zhou Sicheng: “No.” But he had employed professional massage therapists.

Xiang Zhen was intrigued: “Want to try it?”

Zhou Sicheng stopped abruptly. He lowered his gaze to stare at the slender ankles dangling next to his suit pants. His voice had no fluctuation or discernible emotion: “You want to go?”

Of course, Xiang Zhen didn’t really want to go. He wanted to learn how to give Zhou Sicheng a foot massage when they got home—after all, Zhou Sicheng had been working the gas pedal all day and walking while carrying weight; his feet must be congested.

Before he could explain, Xiang Zhen had a second thought: I don’t know how to massage at all. I have to learn from a master first. So he nodded: “I want to go.”

Zhou Sicheng: “You want to waste money just because you have a little bit?”

Xiang Zhen: “I—”

Zhou Sicheng: “If you dare to go, I’ll break your legs.”

If Xiang Zhen walked in there, he’d be eaten alive.

Xiang Zhen felt a pain in his thigh as Zhou Sicheng pinched him: “I won’t, I won’t go.”

I’ll just learn online instead. He didn’t realize Zhou Sicheng was this frugal.

The next day, Xiang Zhen was slacking off at work learning foot massage techniques. He was right in the middle of memorizing acupoints when he was caught red-handed by his desk mate, Liu Xiaofang.

Liu Xiaofang joked: “Who are you trying to give a massage to?”

Xiang Zhen: “My husband.”

Seeing Liu Xiaofang’s look of shock and suspicion, Xiang Zhen remembered he had forgotten to announce it on social media: “I have a husband. We live together now.”

Liu Xiaofang never expected Xiang Zhen to actually be gay: “Since when?”

“Just a few days ago, we met through a blind date,” Xiang Zhen said mysteriously. “The ride-share car that picked me up during the rainstorm last time was driven by my husband.”

Liu Xiaofang hadn’t heard anything about Xiang Zhen moving in with anyone, so she said softly: “Living together—is he living in your rental unit? Are you paying the rent?”

Xiang Zhen: “Yes.”

Liu Xiaofang’s face read “unmatched” in big letters. “With your looks, you should at least be looking for someone with an A8-level net worth (referencing Audi A8 luxury cars).”

“A8?” Xiang Zhen integrated the information in his mind. “I don’t like the Audi A8. I like BYD (a popular, practical domestic car brand).”

Liu Xiaofang had a breakdown: “Where did this freeloader of a fox spirit come from to charm you like this?”

I’m the one who’s a spirit, Xiang Zhen thought. “My husband is very handsome.”

Liu Xiaofang: “How handsome can he be? Bring him out and show us. How about tonight after work? I have a four-person group-buy voucher, plus Yueyue—we can all eat together.”

Yu Yueyue, returning from the restroom, heard that Xiang Zhen had found a husband and was also burning with anxiety. It had to be a smooth-talking scumbag fooling Xiang Zhen; Xiang Zhen wouldn’t even know he’d been sold out.

Xiang Zhen: “I can’t. My husband has to drive the night shift.”

Yu Yueyue: “I’ll call a ride; can’t he just accept the order?”

Driven into a corner, Xiang Zhen had no choice but to call his husband.

In the middle of a meeting, Zhou Sicheng’s phone rang. He lowered the volume and put on his headset: “What’s wrong?”

In the conference room, the executives held their breath, waiting for the President to finish this crucial call.

Xiang Zhen: “Do you want to have dinner with my colleagues tonight?”

Zhou Sicheng: “Sorry, I accepted a pre-booked order. I don’t have time.”

The executives looked at each other. Which President was currently discussing a partnership with CEO Zhou? What “pre-booked order”?

Xiang Zhen: “Oh, okay.”

Zhou Sicheng hung up the phone and looked up: “Continue.”

Liu Xiaofang and Yu Yueyue were practically pressing their ears against Xiang Zhen’s phone. They glanced at each other—a scumbag with a deep voice, and incredibly cold, too.

Xiang Zhen rubbed his ear. Zhou Sicheng’s voice just now was completely different—serious, cold, and magnetic, as if he were at some important event, with an aura of “three meters by three.” “He doesn’t have time.”

Liu Xiaofang watched helplessly as Xiang Zhen, who had just made a single phone call, was now as vibrant as a plant that had withered in the rain and finally found the sun. It was toxic.

“Forget it, forget it. Just don’t let him swindle your commission.”

Having enjoyed the benefits of Zhou Sicheng’s cooking yesterday, Xiang Zhen bought a fish at the supermarket after work.

Carrying the shopping bag home, Xiang Zhen passed the unit next door and discovered the previous tenant had moved out; there was a “Room for Rent” sign on the wall.

8:30 PM. Zhou Sicheng hadn’t finished his shift yet.

Xiang Zhen called him: “Honey, are you done with your pre-booked order?”

Zhou Sicheng: “On the way.”

(He was actually on the treadmill in the company gym.)

Xiang Zhen: “Honey, finish that order and come back early. I bought a fish.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Just stew some soup for yourself. I’m working overtime tonight. Eat and go to sleep; don’t wait for me.”

Stewing fish soup is easy; just add water.

He had important overseas business to handle tonight and had to use the company’s internal network. Even if the sky fell, he had to stay in the office until midnight.

Bang! Bang! Bang! A sudden, urgent thumping on the door came through the phone.

Xiang Zhen listened quietly for a moment: “Honey, someone is knocking on my door.”

Zhou Sicheng jumped off the treadmill; the sudden reversal in speed nearly made him stumble: “Don’t open the door. I’ll be back immediately.”

“CEO Zhou…?” Secretary Gao stood holding a contract, looking at the empty treadmill. Where did he go?

Did he jump off?

Zhou Sicheng ran to the underground garage three times faster than he had been running on the treadmill. “Is the door double-locked?”

Xiang Zhen: “Yes.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Don’t be afraid. I’m contacting security to go up and take a look.”

After renting a parking space from the security guard, Zhou Sicheng had left his contact info.

He immediately called the guard: “Take someone with you. Get there in under a minute. Two thousand yuan.”

The elderly security guard had never run this fast in his life. Almost the moment Zhou Sicheng reached the garage exit, the guard was upstairs and reported back: “It’s the tenant from upstairs. He’s drunk and went to the wrong door; he can’t get in and keeps bumping into the door.”

Zhou Sicheng let out a breath. His car was stuck at the parking exit, unsure whether to head out or go back.

With his elbows resting on the steering wheel, Zhou Sicheng closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his forearm to calm down for a moment. He didn’t know if it was sweat from the run or sweat from the tension, but it stained the cuffs of his suit.

He is letting Xiang Zhen influence his emotions far too much.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Zhou Sicheng lifted his head and calmly called Secretary Gao: “Find two bodyguards immediately and have them move into the unit across from Xiang Zhen’s.”

Now I can work in peace.

Usually, when working past midnight, Zhou Sicheng would definitely sleep at the office. That was his plan for tonight.

1:00 AM.

Zhou Sicheng finished his work and took a shower. His office came with a luxury suite; the bathroom alone was larger than Xiang Zhen’s entire apartment.

It had been three days since he slept in his own bed, and he felt uncomfortable when he lay down.

The bed felt too vast, the quilt too soft, and the ceiling too high.

Ding-dong. His WeChat suddenly pinged.

At this time of night, no one should normally be bothering him.

Zhou Sicheng picked it up and froze.

[Honey, are you not off work yet? I cooked the fish soup myself.]

A massive sense of guilt washed over Zhou Sicheng. He felt like a scumbag who had abandoned the “poor but faithful wife” waiting in a shabby rental apartment.

[I’m off work. Heading back now.]

Zhou Sicheng put his clothes back on and sped through the empty streets at 1:00 AM.