Humans are always especially tolerant of beautiful creatures.
Fu Tingchao lay on the grass and forgave Chen Zemian in a matter of seconds.
“You really do have a beautiful face,” he said, sitting up and brushing grass from his clothes. “You’re so beautiful that no matter what kind of trouble you cause, I can’t bear to blame you once I see your face.”
Chen Zemian crouched beside him. “I’m not that beautiful. I’m just very good at teaching people to speak politely.”
Fu Tingchao studied him for a few seconds, then asked, “How old are you?”
Chen Zemian replied, “Today’s my twentieth birthday. Do you want to wish me a happy birthday?”
Fu Tingchao frowned. “You don’t look it.”
Chen Zemian tilted his head. “Don’t look what?”
“Don’t look like a child.”
“Twenty isn’t a child, brother.”
His back still ached, but Fu Tingchao couldn’t resist teasing the handsome boy. “You’re so much younger than me—you should be calling me brother.”
Chen Zemian stayed expressionless. “Why? Is it illegal to be younger than you?”
Fu Tingchao blinked, then laughed. “You’re really something, Lu Xiaomian.”
From nearby, Xue Duo, who’d been watching the scene unfold, suddenly choked and coughed.
Chen Zemian hadn’t expected the fake name he blurted out to be used again. Slightly embarrassed, he raised a fist to his lips and corrected, “It’s Chen Zemian.”
Fu Tingchao ignored the correction. “Xiaomian.”
“Call me whatever you want.” Chen Zemian didn’t push it. “Can we talk now, Second Master Fu?”
Fu Tingchao agreed, changed clothes, and asked him to meet at the coffee shop on the golf course.
The course belonged to the Fu family. When Fu Tingchao came to play, he cleared the field ahead of time. The café was empty, filled only with the rich scent of fresh coffee.
The quiet made Chen Zemian drowsy. He sat by the glass window, propping his chin on his hand, eyelids heavy.
Fu Tingchao, without his usual mischief, looked at him from a distance and asked if he wanted to rest in the guest suite.
Chen Zemian declined politely. “Thank you, but no. Let’s talk business.”
Fu Tingchao sat across from him. “The police are investigating the case. How is it your business?”
Chen Zemian didn’t explain. “Call it curiosity.”
Fu Tingchao’s gaze sharpened. “There’s no such thing as curiosity without cause. If you suddenly want to know something, it must touch some corner of your life. Otherwise, why wouldn’t you be curious about The Role of Digital Entrepreneurship Psychological Capital on the Spatial Structure and Spatial Effect of the Domestic Economy? Isn’t that right, Xiaomian?”
Chen Zemian heard only the phrase “digital entrepreneurship” before his brain began to shut down. When Fu Tingchao called his name again, he blinked back to focus. “What digital entrepreneurship?”
Fu Tingchao repeated it kindly, “The Role of Digital Entrepreneurship Psychological Capital on the Spatial Structure and Spatial Effect of the Domestic Economy.”
Chen Zemian struggled to connect any dots. After a moment, he gave up. “What is that?”
Fu Tingchao shrugged. “My doctoral thesis.”
Chen Zemian choked. His breath caught and he coughed twice, staring. “A doctor?”
Fu Tingchao casually brushed invisible dust from his sleeve. “Didn’t want to take over the family business, so I studied a few more years. Is that a problem?”
Chen Zemian stood up, respectful now. “No problem, no problem. I just didn’t expect you to be a gifted scholar. But what does your dissertation have to do with the Xiaojin Pills?”
Fu Tingchao answered coolly, “Nothing. It only proves that people aren’t interested in things unrelated to them.”
Chen Zemian: “…”
No normal person would care about spatial structures or digital economy!
He tried to steer them back. “Then let’s say it is related to me. What exactly is the Little Golden Pills? Have you seen it?”
Fu Tingchao shook his head.
He didn’t know much. He only offered what he had.
“One of my flings started acting strange one night, like he was on something—really hyper. I suspected drugs, so I thought I’d call my brother and report it.”
His brother didn’t take him seriously.
When Fu Guanlan heard the call, his first reaction was to warn that group sex was illegal.
Chen Zemian blinked. “Then what?”
“I don’t like people who get too passionate in bed. When the test results came back clean, I passed him on to a friend.”
“Was your lover male or female?”
Fu Tingchao lit a cigarette, answering offhandedly. “Both. Want me to introduce you to a few good ones?”
Chen Zemian snapped, “I meant the passionate one!”
“A boy. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Clung like a little puppy. I couldn’t stand it, so I passed him on.” Fu Tingchao gave a sly smile. “Why? You into passionate types too?”
Chen Zemian’s gaze darted. “Uh. It’s fine.”
Fu Tingchao found him amusing. “So Mr. Lu is passionate himself?”
“There’s nothing exciting about me. Your life sounds much more eventful.” Chen Zemian forced the conversation back. “How did you know it had anything to do with the Xiaojin Pill?”
Fu Tingchao leaned back, relaxed. “That brings us to my friend who likes passionate types.”
Chen Zemian fell for the bait again. Despite himself, he leaned forward. “Which friend? What’s his name? What did he find?”
Fu Tingchao didn’t answer. He tapped his coffee cup with one finger.
Chen Zemian caught the signal and immediately poured him a cup.
Good thing Xiao Kesong had taught him proper serving etiquette.
You never know when little tricks like that come in handy.
He rose, stood beside Fu Tingchao, kept his fingers clear of the cup’s edge, picked up the pot, and poured carefully until the cup was seventy percent full.
Steam curled up from the surface.
Hot. Too hot.
He resisted the urge to throw the cup and instead half-placed, half-tossed it toward Fu Tingchao’s right hand.
The scalding coffee sloshed over the rim and spilled onto the back of Fu Tingchao’s hand.
Chen Zemian: !!!!!!!!!!!!
Crap. Crap. Oh crap.
Quick-thinking, Chen Zemian snatched a napkin, lunged forward like a cat after prey, and pressed it down on Fu Tingchao’s hand—
If he wiped fast enough, maybe they could all pretend it never happened.
“It’s not enough to scald me once—you had to hold it there, huh?” Fu Tingchao looked up at Chen Zemian. “Are you torturing me, Lu Xiaomian?”
Chen Zemian curved his eyes, offering a polite, slightly flattering smile. “My fault, Mr. Fu. I didn’t mean it.”
He truly hadn’t been careless. That was almost exactly how Xiao Kesong had taught him. He’d simply absorbed the method a little too well.
Fu Tingchao studied the red skin on the back of his hand. “Is this how you usually serve Lu Zhuonian?”
Chen Zemian’s mind flicked through the past. If he compared it honestly, Lu Zhuonian had suffered far more than Fu Tingchao.
By a lot.
Should he call and apologize?
Fu Tingchao noticed him spacing out and raised a hand to summon the waiter for ice. The waiter, seeing that the young master’s hand had been scalded, looked stricken—like the sky had collapsed. He rushed to apply ice and ointment, flustering around them for a long while.
The rich scent of coffee mixed with the sharp sting of medicinal cream.
The offending coffee pot and cup were whisked away, replaced by two tall iced lattes.
No more pouring for anyone else. Just drink your own.
When the chaos died down, Chen Zemian noticed the iced coffee in front of him and lit up. “Perfect—iced latte.”
Fu Tingchao still found it hard to believe that Chen hadn’t done it on purpose, but something about him felt guileless.
Chen Zemian took a big sip, then caught Fu Tingchao studying him again—eyes distant, thoughtful. It reminded him of how Lu Zhuonian used to look at him when they first met.
What had Lu Zhuonian been thinking back then?
Chen snapped back to attention. Focus. Get to the point.
He broke the silence. “Second Master Fu, can you keep talking about your friend?”
Fu Tingchao, no longer in the mood to circle around the issue, said plainly, “I already told you—my friend likes passionate people. He’s seen it all. The moment he met my lover, he said the behavior looked exactly like the heightened libido caused by long-term use of Yuanqi Drink.”
Chen Zemian stiffened. “Yuanqi Drink?”
Fu Tingchao blinked. “You’ve never heard of it? It used to be everywhere—ads plastered all over the city.”
“I… didn’t really pay attention,” Chen Zemian murmured.
He’d assumed “Yuanqi Drink” was something obscure, buried deep. Yet here it was, mentioned casually, like a forgotten commercial jingle.
So before the investigation, it had actually been popular.
Fu Tingchao nodded. “You were in elementary or junior high back then. Probably didn’t notice that kind of ad. But yeah, it was big. Then they found it contained banned ingredients. My brother had just graduated and was interning with the Public Security Bureau. He happened to join the cleanup operation. Made an impression on him. So when similar drugs started showing up again, he followed the lead.”
Chen Zemian pieced it together.
Yuanqi Drink hadn’t been caught early because the banned substances were low in concentration. It took long-term use for effects to show. That’s why it slipped through for so long.
But Lu Zhuonian had been given a concentrated dose, likely not from the product itself, but from raw materials.
That overdose explained the speed and severity of his addiction.
Yuanqi Drink had been banned for years. The people behind it must have refined the formula, creating something new—Xiaojin Pill.
Chen Zemian’s voice lowered. “So the real problem isn’t Yuanqi Drink or Xiaojin Pill—it’s the banned ingredients, the derivatives that keep popping up.”
Fu Tingchao smiled faintly. “That’s what my brother says. Until you catch the one behind it all, eliminating one product doesn’t stop anything. They’ll just make more. And more victims will follow.”
Chen Zemian nodded. “You’re right. Everyone’s responsible for stopping this. I’ll investigate it. But tell your brother to stop watching me.”
Fu Tingchao raised an eyebrow. “He’s not watching you. He got hit with a steel pipe a few days ago. Concussion. Still in the hospital.”
Chen Zemian frowned.
He could’ve sworn two plainclothes cops had followed him this morning.
So… if it wasn’t Fu Guanlan—who was it?
Still, someone willing to look into the case helped. “A friend of mine knows the whole backstory on Yuanqi Drink,” Chen said. “He’s not in the country, but when he returns, I’ll arrange for you to meet.”
He and Fu Tingchao exchanged contact info.
By the time they left the golf course, the sky had darkened. Dove-gray clouds gave way to a deeper dusk. In the distance, the lights of Beijing flickered on.
The city’s rush hour had peaked. Headlights glittered in every direction. Neon lights buzzed to life. The buzz and whir of human life met the quiet majesty of the night sky—collision and harmony.
Chen Zemian felt a sudden ache of longing.
He glanced at the time and sent a WeChat message. “Are you in class?”
Lu Zhuonian called almost instantly. “No class.”
Chen Zemian slipped back into habit, reporting his whole day—where he went, what he found, who he talked to. He shared everything he’d learned from Fu Tingchao.
Hearing that they planned to meet again, Lu Zhuonian’s voice cooled slightly. But when Chen described how he’d imitated Xiao Kesong’s serving style and accidentally burned Fu Tingchao, his tone softened. “Poor guy.”
Chen Zemian drove home with Lu Zhuonian in his ear.
Traffic was thick, but not endless.
Once he reached the viaduct, the road cleared. In the square up ahead, someone had started setting off fireworks. From inside the car, the timing was perfect.
Bursts of color exploded above the skyline—vivid, dazzling.
The fireworks reached their peak, blooming in vibrant waves. Just as they began to fade, Chen Zemian drove off the bridge.
At the next turn, another firework flared in the sky.
And at every intersection that followed, no matter which way he turned, fireworks bloomed again—always in front of him.
It felt like the city was guiding him home, each twist in the road lit by a shimmering farewell.
Chen gripped the steering wheel. His voice was low but steady. “Lu Zhuonian.”
“Hm?”
“If I miss an intersection,” Chen asked, “will I still see the fireworks?”
“Yes,” Lu Zhuonian said warmly. “No matter which road you take, there’ll be fireworks waiting at every turn.”
A beat.
“Happy birthday, Chen Zemian. I hope every road you take brings surprise—and that the rest of your life is brilliant.”
*****
TN: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BABY MIANMIAN!!!!
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
