It was evening when Lu Zhuonian woke up.
The dusk resembled ink stains on rice paper, slowly dyeing the last rays of light in the sky.
He seldom slept so deeply. This time, he awoke without the familiar, sharp headache. Instead, he felt light, as if he had turned into a feather.
Warmth and fatigue filled his limbs. His tense muscles relaxed, like thawing river water soothing the joints—everything felt loose and soft.
Lu Zhuonian hadn’t experienced such comfort in a long time.
When he opened his eyes, he thought he was still dreaming.
He looked at the clouds outside the window and lay quietly for a moment.
Night fell quickly. The orange sunset vanished in a flash, and the clouds faded into the gray-blue of pigeon feathers.
Streetlights flickered on all at once.
It was a very logical scene—this couldn’t be a dream.
Lu Zhuonian shifted slightly, and just as he was about to get up, he noticed something unusual—
The down quilt had mysteriously disappeared. In its place, only a balled-up blanket lay between his waist and abdomen.
It was as if someone had taken the duvet and casually tossed the blanket over him.
Lu Zhuonian could think of only one person capable of such overbearing and tyrannical behavior: Chen Zemian.
He turned to the side and saw the person lying next to him.
It was indeed Chen Zemian.
Chen Zemian had his back to him, arms tightly hugging the duvet. Perhaps because of the heat, both legs sprawled over it, while his face was buried deep in the quilt, making his cheeks and neck flushed.
Lu Zhuonian lifted the corner of the quilt, freeing that flushed, damp face.
The moment the quilt was lifted, Chen Zemian seemed to breathe at last, taking a long inhale.
Lu Zhuonian found it funny. After glancing at him, he lightly covered Chen Zemian’s eyes with the blanket.
Chen Zemian immediately groaned in protest, shifting his head in his sleep and struggling hard to escape the cover.
Unsuccessful.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes were full of amusement. After tidying his clothes, he helped lift the quilt properly.
Chen Zemian, half-asleep, stretched out his arms and pulled the quilt closer.
He wore a loose, silver-gray silk shirt. The collar was askew, and faint teeth marks could be seen on his exposed skin. The cuff buttons were undone, revealing much of his arms.
Silk wrinkles easily, and after sleeping in it, the shirt was full of folds—completely different from when it hung pristine in the cloakroom.
Lu Zhuonian’s own clothes were always neat and orderly. He didn’t immediately recognize the shirt Chen Zemian was wearing.
Not until he saw the “LU·ZN” embroidery on the inside of the cuff did he realize: Chen Zemian was wearing his clothes.
In that instant, a strange emotion welled up inside him.
Maybe the doctor’s advice had worked. After one moment of release, Lu Zhuonian felt calm.
It was as if the whole world had grown gentler, bathed in a warm glow.
As if his five senses had been restored overnight. The once-dull emotions had sharpened, allowing him to find joy in the smallest things.
Before, Lu Zhuonian’s emotional threshold had been extremely high—he was as stable as a perfectly programmed machine.
It wasn’t the first time Chen Zemian had worn his clothes. Back then, Lu Zhuonian had felt something too, but it was cold and distant—like he had input a mental instruction saying, “You should feel happy about this.”
It was completely different from the vibrant, living feeling now.
So this is how the world is supposed to be.
Compared to this peace, even the self-loathing and depression that came after that release didn’t feel so unbearable.
If this was the emotional price of connection, then it was worth it.
Lu Zhuonian leaned over slightly and kissed Chen Zemian on the eyelids.
Chen Zemian didn’t wake and simply buried his face back into the quilt.
He was truly exhausted.
He had barely slept the night before, and only managed a short nap on the plane. After returning, Lu Zhuonian had fallen ill with a fever, and Chen Zemian’s nerves had been stretched thin the entire time.
Lu Zhuonian lay back down and pulled him into his arms.
Chen Zemian stirred, looked at him in a daze, and—judging subconsciously that the environment was safe—went back to sleep.
But instinct isn’t always reliable.
Chen Zemian didn’t know that the person who posed the greatest danger to him at that moment… was Lu Zhuonian.
There was no guard between them, only trust. But that trust was being consumed by desire.
Lu Zhuonian held him tightly. His once-empty soul now felt full—like a sail puffed up by a strong wind.
To keep hold of this satisfaction, he was willing to let go of some principles. Some morals.
He also decided to follow the doctor’s advice.
After Chen Zemian woke up, still not fully conscious, he heard Lu Zhuonian say,
“The doctor was right. I feel much better now.”
Chen Zemian, voice still lazy and hoarse, rubbed his eyes. “How do you feel better?”
Lu Zhuonian replied, “My body and mind feel good.”
Chen Zemian yawned. “Moderate exercise relieves mental stress. It’s backed by science.”
Lu Zhuonian asked, “How often is considered moderate?”
Chen Zemian glanced at him warily. “You’re young. Once a day isn’t too much.”
Lu Zhuonian looked back at him. “So you relieve stress every day?”
Chen Zemian coughed. “Not every day.”
Lu Zhuonian asked politely, “May I join you next time?”
Chen Zemian blinked, confused. “Join me for what?”
Lu Zhuonian replied, as if conducting business, “To relieve stress together.”
Chen Zemian’s pupils shrank. He stared at him in horror, reaching out to feel his forehead. His voice trembled:
“Did the fever scramble your brain? Why has your attitude changed so much just from one nap?!”
Lu Zhuonian remained calm. “Is it really so hard to understand?”
To Chen Zemian, yes—it was!
But faced with Lu Zhuonian’s composed demeanor, he started to question if he was overreacting.
Maybe this really was like trying new food—repulsive before tasting, but surprisingly delicious after.
In any case, being able to accept physical and emotional release was definitely healthy.
Lu Zhuonian had always been proud and reserved, with a strong moral code. Establishing trust wasn’t easy for him.
According to the doctor, this budding enthusiasm shouldn’t be discouraged.
Chen Zemian tamped down his confusion and forced himself to respond casually:
“It’s not so hard to understand. Tell me more about what you’re feeling.”
Lu Zhuonian answered openly,
“I just feel really good. This time, I woke up without a headache. My body is relaxed, my mind feels light, and everything around me seems pleasant. I don’t have that… dull heaviness I had before.”
Chen Zemian frowned. “Dull heaviness?”
Lu Zhuonian explained, “Like there was a sheet of brown glass in front of my eyes. Now, it’s been lifted. Everything is clear. I feel relieved.”
Just listening to him made Chen Zemian feel tired. He sighed and said earnestly,
“You’re human, Lu Zhuonian, not a god. You can’t just shut out all emotions and desires. Even healthy people would get sick from the kind of abstinence you practiced. So it was up to me—your careful, courageous brother—to bring you back to health. Who else would dare?”
Lu Zhuonian listened patiently to his rambling. He smiled and didn’t argue.
“I know you’re right.”
Chen Zemian raised his eyebrows triumphantly. “Of course I am.”
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes fell on Chen Zemian’s white, slender fingers. His throat moved as he asked, “What should I do now, Chen Zemian?”
Chen Zemian followed Lu Zhuonian’s gaze to his own hands. He seemed to think of something, and his fingers curled slightly. He stuttered unconsciously, “W-what else can you do? Just be more careful… and stop taking paroxetine.”
Lu Zhuonian looked at him and asked, “Can’t I take any medication at all?”
Chen Zemian recalled the side effects of taking paroxetine by mistake. He spoke with lingering fear, “Really, don’t take it! I felt like I wanted to die after taking that. How can anyone feel normal while on it?”
Lu Zhuonian replied quietly,
“But those urges can come at any time… If it happens in public, people will find out.”
Chen Zemian said, “No one will notice unless they’re staring at you for no reason. Besides, with regular release, maybe it won’t get so bad.”
Lu Zhuonian seemed convinced. “Maybe it’s worth trying.”
Chen Zemian picked up the medicine bottle on the bedside table. “Great—then throw out all your meds first.”
Lu Zhuonian stopped him. “Don’t throw them away.”
Chen Zemian tossed the bottle into his hand. “Fine, I’ll keep them for you. Take them only when you can’t take it anymore.”
Lu Zhuonian said nothing, only reminded him lightly, “Put them somewhere safe. Don’t just leave them around like your tablet charger—you can never find that when you need it.”
Chen Zemian immediately insisted that was impossible.
It’s unclear if it was truly Chen Zemian’s “magic hands” that brought Lu Zhuonian back to life, but the day after returning to Beijing, Lu Zhuonian’s severe illness was completely gone.
The two of them left Lu Zhuonian’s “special residence for recuperation” and moved back together into the villa next door.
It had only been just over half a month since they left Beijing for Sanya. Due to his father’s job transfers, Chen Zemian had moved many times since childhood. For him, changing homes was like changing restaurants—no big deal.
But for some reason, this time felt different. This time… he felt like he was home.
He had returned to Beijing the day before and stayed in the villa next door. The distance between the two rooms was less than 100 meters, but the feeling was completely different.
Lu Zhuonian acted as usual.
Although he had acknowledged Chen Zemian’s treatment plan during his illness—and even expressed a willingness to “relieve stress” together—he never brought it up again. He took no action.
It was as if what he had said was just a fever-induced whim, nonsense uttered in a moment of weakness.
Chen Zemian had been thinking about how to make things less awkward when they helped each other, but he hadn’t expected that Lu Zhuonian was merely bluffing. Outwardly, he accepted the idea of stress relief—but in reality, he remained accustomed to restraint and suppression.
After recovering, Lu Zhuonian simply returned to his old lifestyle.
Chen Zemian was at a loss.
He couldn’t exactly force Lu Zhuonian to take off his pants. All he could do was let him do as he pleased.
After getting better, the first thing Lu Zhuonian did was return to the Lu family estate to report his recovery to his parents.
That day happened to be the fourteenth day of the first lunar month. Chen Zemian had assumed Lu Zhuonian would stay and celebrate the Lantern Festival with his family. But to his surprise, Lu Zhuonian returned to Shengting Huafu just after 10 p.m. that same night.
He brought back a bunch of blue and pink hydrangeas.
Lu Zhuonian said they were grown by his mother, and since they were blooming, she had cut some for him to bring to Chen Zemian as thanks.
Chen Zemian felt a little embarrassed holding the flowers. He didn’t know what Mrs. Lu was thanking him for, nor what Lu Zhuonian had told his family to prompt such a gesture from the elegant and refined Mrs. Lu.
In theory, with Lu Zhuonian’s pride and reserve, he shouldn’t have explained the recovery process in detail. It’s hard to imagine him saying something like, “Chen Zemian helped me masturbate, and then I got better.”
But who knows?
After all, Lu Zhuonian may appear cold and aloof, but he occasionally says the most abstract things with a straight face.
For example, when Chen Zemian first said he didn’t have the honor to meet him, Lu Zhuonian had replied, “Now you have.”
When Chen Zemian beat up Tang Tiancong and tried to claim it had nothing to do with him, Lu Zhuonian had kicked Tang Tiancong too, saying, “Now I’ve beaten him as well.”
And even more outrageous—after they insulted each other and Chen Zemian said, “You’re not even as fun as me,” Lu Zhuonian actually asked, “Then when are you coming to play?”
And that’s just what Chen Zemian could clearly remember. There were countless other moments he’d long forgotten.
He didn’t have Lu Zhuonian’s photographic memory, nor his grudge-holding nature. Lu Zhuonian remembered every abstract comment and would bring it up from time to time to argue that Chen Zemian was a human machine.
All in all, Chen Zemian really had no idea what Lu Zhuonian told his family.
Tomorrow was the Lantern Festival—a traditional holiday for family reunions. If Lu Zhuonian had stayed away from Beijing, it would be understandable. But the fact that he went home on the 14th and then left again at 10 p.m.—that was weird.
Even in an ordinary family, it would raise eyebrows—let alone in an elite family like the Lu’s.
Unless… there was a clear, legitimate reason.
Like, say, medical treatment.
But what other treatment could he, Chen Zemian, possibly provide aside from “reviving people with magic hands”?
So… could Lu’s parents have guessed the truth?
As he watched Lu Zhuonian put the hydrangeas into a vase, Chen Zemian swallowed hard and asked cautiously, “What did you tell your family? Why did your mother thank me?”
Lu Zhuonian turned to him. “She said you rushed back from Sanya to take care of me. Without you, I wouldn’t have recovered so quickly.”
Chen Zemian studied his expression and asked tentatively, “You didn’t tell them how I ‘cured’ you, right?”
The corners of Lu Zhuonian’s lips twitched. A faint, unreadable smile flashed in his eyes. “If you want, I can…”
Chen Zemian cut him off with a glare. “You can’t tell them! No one else can know about this!”
Lu Zhuonian was quiet for a moment. “So only one of us is human?”
Chen Zemian groaned. “Is that the point?”
Lu Zhuonian laughed, placed the hydrangeas properly, and asked where Chen Zemian wanted to display them.
Chen Zemian remembered that hydrangeas have a short blooming period and wilt easily after being cut, so he said, “Let’s put them in the bedroom—so I can still see them tomorrow morning. If we leave them downstairs, they might have already wilted by the time I wake up.”
Lu Zhuonian replied, “They won’t wither that fast.”
Chen Zemian said, “Flowers last longer on the branch. It’s a pity to pick them.”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t respond.
The next morning, someone from the Lu family delivered over a dozen pots of hydrangeas. When Chen Zemian woke up, the greenhouse in the yard was almost completed.
It was a glass greenhouse, equipped with a zoned, constant-temperature system to accommodate a variety of plants. It was perfect not just for hydrangeas, but also for lilies, camellias, lily of the valley, peonies, and more.
Winter hadn’t even ended yet, but their courtyard was already bursting with spring.
This was the first time Chen Zemian had seen construction done so quietly and quickly. The greenhouse had practically risen from the ground overnight. Many green plants had already been placed inside, with the Lu family’s hydrangeas blooming beautifully in the center.
Even the bunch that had been picked the previous day was now planted in soil. The gardener explained they were using a special nutrient solution, and that the flowers would take root in about fifteen days.
Chen Zemian looked at the bustling workers in the yard and felt like he was dreaming.
Standing behind him, Lu Zhuonian answered the question left hanging from the night before—”This way, they can bloom for a long time.”
*****
If you enjoy what we do, consider supporting us on 
! Every little bit means the world!
Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal. A little support goes a long way! If you’d like to help me keep creating, you can do so at https://ko-fi.com/lazyhermitgal
