Chen Zemian licked his dry lips and closed his mouth again.
Lu Zhuonian raised his eyebrows. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Chen Zemian asked warily, “Mr. Lu, do you think the fact that I lost my memory… is ridiculous?”
Lu Zhuonian said nothing.
A slight chill ran down Chen Zemian’s neck, and his hair stood on end. “Then I’ll go home and think it over carefully. Maybe I’ll feel better in a few days.”
Lu Zhuonian remained silent, simply gazing at him intently.
Chen Zemian felt like a rabbit under the stare of a python. He hurriedly said, “Good night, Mr. Lu. Goodbye, Mr. Lu.”
Before he finished speaking, Chen Zemian quickly circled around Lu Zhuonian and slipped away.
Four bodyguards emerged from behind Lu Zhuonian, lining up to block the corridor and cut off Chen Zemian’s path.
Then, more footsteps echoed as four additional bodyguards flanked Chen Zemian.
Eight burly men blocked the hallway. Even without moving, their sheer presence was overwhelming.
Chen Zemian’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes were already searching for an escape route.
The head bodyguard looked at Lu Zhuonian for instructions.
Lu Zhuonian took the leather gloves offered by a bodyguard and slowly put them on. The black leather wrapped snugly around his slender fingers, the soft, high-quality sheepskin glowing warmly under the light.
Chen Zemian took a half-step back, as if facing a formidable foe.
In the original story, Lu Zhuonian’s action of putting on gloves is iconic.
Because of his severe mysophobia, Lu Zhuonian always wears gloves before handling anything himself.
The black lambskin gloves symbolize restraint and self-control, but beneath this gesture lies an ominous hint of impending violence.
This sharp contrast heightens readers’ anticipation, making it a memorable scene—
The calm, restrained male lead, even when furious, remains composed, slowly putting on gloves before launching a ruthless, bone-crushing attack that leaves his opponent bloodied. Then, he calmly rises, looks down on the adversary like a dog, removes the bloodstained gloves, tosses them to the ground, and walks away. The tension peaks and readers cheer wildly.
However, Lu Zhuonian’s noble status means he rarely needs to take matters into his own hands. These famous “glove-wearing” moments are rare—only happening when the other party crosses his principles and boundaries, forcing him to personally teach a lesson.
But now, Lu Zhuonian is actually wearing gloves?!
What did I do?
Chen Zemian was bewildered.
I haven’t even said anything.
Why is Lu Zhuonian wearing gloves? Did I cross some line?!
Retreat, retreat, retreat.
Chen Zemian’s pupils dilated slightly. He froze, frantically pressing Ctrl+Z in his mind.
Lu Zhuonian was pleased by Chen Zemian’s reaction and said calmly, “Then can I stop you?”
Chen Zemian’s pupils shrank as he turned and ran.
Quick and sharp, Lu Zhuonian grabbed Chen Zemian by the back of the neck.
Chen Zemian didn’t care about anything else. With both hands, he lifted his shirt, preparing to strip off his clothes to escape.
His shirt lifted, revealing a slim waist and radiant pale skin.
Lu Zhuonian pulled him back by the collar and grabbed his neck.
Chen Zemian wondered what move this was and twisted his head to dodge, but Lu Zhuonian grabbed his wrist again, forcing it downward and pinning his palm.
Lu Zhuonian frowned and called softly, “Chen Zhe.”
Chen Zemian stopped and relaxed his strength. “I want to leave. You can’t stop me.”
“I may not be able to stop you,” Lu Zhuonian said, “but I doubt you’d dare attack me.” Suddenly, he pulled Chen Zemian closer. “So you have no choice but to go with me.”
Chen Zemian was skilled enough that the bodyguards couldn’t do much to him.
Lu Zhuonian intervened personally, not because he was a better fighter, but because he was certain Chen Zemian wouldn’t dare hit him.
Understanding the implication, a trace of disbelief flickered in Chen Zemian’s eyes. He never expected Lu Zhuonian to use that logic.
Quite shameless.
“Are you really Lu Zhuonian?”
When Chen Zemian was forced into the car, only one question remained in his mind.
In the original story, Lu Zhuonian was proud of his status and acted superior—how could he stoop to such outrageous means as threatening others with himself?
Lu Zhuonian sat upright in the backseat of the business car, calm and composed. “Do you need me to show you my ID?”
“Forget it,” Chen Zemian slumped back in his seat, resigned. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the hospital,” Lu Zhuonian replied. “You lost your memory from internal injuries, so I’ll take you for a checkup.”
A glimmer of hope sparked in Chen Zemian. “If nothing’s wrong, can I leave?”
Lu Zhuonian glanced at him. “You’ve lost your memory—how could there be nothing wrong?”
Chen Zemian’s heart sank as Lu Zhuonian’s doubt became clear. “What if there really isn’t a problem?”
Lu Zhuonian said casually, “Then we’ll keep checking until we find one. Until then, you can stay safely in the hospital. I’ll send someone to watch over you.”
Chen Zemian’s heart fell completely.
They call it protection, but it’s really surveillance.
He protested quietly, “You’re restricting my personal freedom and detaining me illegally.”
Lu Zhuonian nodded slightly. “Then call the police.”
“…”
Chen Zemian was speechless.
Is this really Lu Zhuonian?
The calm, steady man from the story—why is he so mischievous in real life?
His character differs slightly from the original, but his appearance is exactly the same.
Lu Zhuonian’s bright eyebrows and straight nose, the warm orange light casting shadows on his handsome young face, highlighting his superior bone structure. His features are sharply defined and three-dimensional. His expression is stern and deep. Between his brows lies a proud, arrogant temperament and an authority that belies his age.
He seemed younger than in the book.
The interior of the car was warm and clean, with a fresh scent—no smell of leather or gasoline, and no overpowering incense.
Chen Zemian was prone to motion sickness after drinking, but this time, he didn’t feel it.
The driver was excellent; the vehicle moved steadily, and the engine’s slight rhythmic vibrations kept Chen Zemian from falling deeper into sleep.
Chen Zemian propped himself up with his hands and looked at Lu Zhuonian. As he stared, he closed his eyes and soon fell asleep again due to the alcohol.
Lu Zhuonian turned his head to look at Chen Zemian, whose breathing grew heavier, finding him increasingly interesting.
The business car entered the luxuriously built private hospital owned by the Lu family. Within half a minute after the special license plate was scanned in the parking lot, the whole hospital was notified that the young master of the Lu family had arrived for treatment.
The vehicle stopped in front of the emergency room entrance and shook slightly when braking, just enough to wake the sleeping Chen Zemian.
When Chen Zemian opened his eyes, he saw a dozen duty directors and nurses in white coats standing at the door to greet him. If one didn’t know better, they might have thought the car was carrying a critically ill patient on the verge of death.
The driver got out and opened the door. Several nurses quickly stepped forward and carried Chen Zemian onto an ambulance stretcher.
“I can walk, I can walk,” Chen Zemian repeated several times, trying to free his arms from the nurses’ firm grip.
Before he could say more, a group of doctors pushed him into the hall. In a daze, he underwent more than a dozen tests, including blood tests, CT scans, and MRIs. The only thing missing was a lumbar puncture to draw cerebrospinal fluid and examine the meninges.
“Intellectual impairment is the main manifestation of meningeal damage. Perform a lumbar puncture,” Lu Zhuonian’s voice whispered devilishly outside the observation room.
Naturally, the doctor dared not disobey the young master’s order. He entered with a nurse and instructed Chen Zemian to lie on his side, keep still, bend his neck, and hug his knees, ready for the procedure.
The nurse pulled out a special puncture needle from the medical cart. The needle, black-scaled, was thick and about 12 centimeters long.
The silver-white needle tip flashed coldly under the shadowless lamp.
Chen Zemian was suddenly jolted awake by fear.
Blood draws and X-rays were one thing, but a lumbar puncture was another matter entirely.
He rolled off the bed and shouted loudly, “Lu Zhuonian! Lu Zhuonian!”
Lu Zhuonian remained silent until Chen Zemian called him several times, then slowly walked into the observation room.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Chen Zemian, overcoming his hesitation, grabbed Lu Zhuonian’s sleeve with desperate precision and begged, “I was wrong, Mr. Lu. Please don’t draw my cerebrospinal fluid. It hurts.”
An imperceptible smile appeared in Lu Zhuonian’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Chen Zemian answered, “Everything’s wrong. I’m really not sick. Please don’t check me.”
Lu Zhuonian lowered his eyes and looked at Chen Zemian, almost laughing. “Now you’re begging me. I thought you were brave—at least you’d endure a gastroscopy or bronchoscopy before admitting the truth.”
Gastroscopy, colonoscopy, or bronchoscopy as threats? Lu Zhuonian must be a devil.
The human trachea is fragile. Even choking on water causes long bouts of coughing, let alone having a scope inserted. The sensation is a hundred times worse—an instrument moving deep inside, causing feelings of drowning and impending death that could drive anyone mad.
Faced with the threat of various endoscopies, few could maintain their composure.
Chen Zemian was instantly convinced.
He gripped Lu Zhuonian’s sleeve tightly, as if holding onto a lifeline, and said submissively, “I have no backbone at all. I’m super honest.”
Lu Zhuonian glanced at his sleeve. “Let go.”
Chen Zemian remembered Lu Zhuonian’s mysophobia and immediately released his hand. He also pulled out an alcohol wipe from the medical cart and pretended to sanitize the spot where he had grabbed.
Lu Zhuonian was satisfied.
Chen Zemian clenched his fists inside, silently repeating a hundred times, Don’t underestimate this poor young man. One day, I’ll trample you under my feet, before barely suppressing the urge to butt his head into Lu Zhuonian’s face and shatter his smug expression.
Seeing Chen Zemian’s obedient look, although unwilling to accept the result, Lu Zhuonian felt a rare interest stirring inside him.
It was a thrill more magical than extreme sports.
Since birth, Lu Zhuonian had easily gotten everything he wanted.
Because it came so easily, life was boring and tasteless.
A smooth, successful life of wealth and honor was like a grand and elegant court symphony—magnificent and brilliant, yet peaceful and calm without any waves.
Day after day, life was smooth and monotonous. Lu Zhuonian could foresee the future without even thinking.
But the familiar tune suddenly hit an unusual note tonight, creating an unexpected melody.
Lu Zhuonian knew he should set things right, correct Chen Zemian, and keep his distance.
Yet, the Chen Zhe before him was so vivid.
Full of vitality and strength, he seemed like the first truly living person Lu Zhuonian had seen in twenty years.
He had just been threatened with a lumbar puncture, which scared him so badly that he turned pale, loudly called Lu Zhuonian’s name in the observation room, and clung pitifully to him, begging for mercy.
At that moment, the pleasure Lu Zhuonian felt surpassed even bungee jumping and skydiving.
He had thought himself a person with strong morals, principles, and a bottom line far above the social average. He shouldn’t take pleasure in bullying others. If happiness were so simple and crude, he’d have become a bully back in junior high.
So why did teasing Chen Zhe make him happy?
Why couldn’t it be anyone else but Chen Zhe?
Lu Zhuonian thought for a moment and decided it probably wasn’t his problem.
It had to be Chen Zhe’s fault.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal
