Chen Zemian wasn’t unhappy—just surprised.
Genuinely surprised.
This wasn’t like Lu Zhuonian at all. It was the first time he had said something like this while sober and under normal circumstances.
Chen Zemian sensed provocation and immediately responded, defiant, “Okay, fine. What else do you want to say? Go on.”
Lu Zhuonian paused for a few seconds. “It’s hard to say.”
Chen Zemian’s gut twisted. The last time Lu Zhuonian said something was “hard to say,” it had left quite the impression.
“Is it something dirty again?” he asked.
Lu Zhuonian replied, “Not dirty. It’s about the experimental results—an academic issue.”
Chen Zemian frowned. “What kind of academic issue can’t be said out loud?”
Lu Zhuonian said mildly, “There aren’t many students here who understand Chinese, but enough. I’ll type it and send it to you.”
A few seconds later, a message appeared on Chen Zemian’s phone.
[Lu: Does the whitening effect of essential oil bath balls affect the anus.]
Chen Zemian: “…”
“Can I take back what I just said?” He felt short of breath. “Maybe don’t say everything that comes to mind.”
Lu Zhuonian laughed without replying. After confirming flight details, he ended the call and returned to his group meeting.
The flight from Beijing to Boston took fifteen hours.
On the day Lu Zhuonian left, those fifteen hours felt endless. But once Chen Zemian boarded the plane and flew overseas, the time didn’t seem so hard.
He had booked a luxury first-class seat—quiet, spacious, and comfortable. The food and drinks were decent, not amazing but passable.
The cheese bacon mashed potato salad wasn’t bad. High in carbs and protein. After eating, Chen Zemian dozed on and off for twelve hours. Before he knew it, they had arrived.
He had brought a laptop, intending to work on optimizing the new game’s modeling outline. But it stayed in his bag until the plane landed.
So much for looking like a business elite in first class.
Lu Shao had connections everywhere, even in Country M. He handled everything.
The moment Chen Zemian stepped out of the plane, he saw him.
And behind Lu Zhuonian—his entourage.
The motorcade consisted of reinforced luxury sedans, low-profile but clearly armored. Most of the bodyguards were white, wearing suits, tall and imposing. The shape of guns showed through their jackets.
Lu Zhuonian stood at the front, not overshadowed at all. If anything, he stood out even more.
From the gangway, Chen Zemian froze for a second.
Lu Zhuonian had always been like this. Noble. Outstanding. Extraordinary.
He didn’t need to speak or act. Just by standing there, he commanded attention. Surrounded by his aura, he was the star. The sole protagonist.
Passersby stared. Some whispered, wondering who the tall, black-haired young man was—and who could warrant such an extravagant welcome.
This kind of welcome was rare. Few could enter the tarmac with armed guards and a full convoy.
Then Lu Zhuonian saw Chen Zemian. A subtle smile softened his stern expression.
A flicker of joy lit Chen Zemian’s heart.
He’s mine now.
Such a dazzling, extraordinary Lu Zhuonian.
Mine.
Chen Zemian started down the stairs but quickly grew impatient. After just two steps, he leaped—using one hand to vault the rest of the way down the four-meter gangway. Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Lu Zhuonian’s expression shifted. He flinched, then realized the height wasn’t a problem for Chen Zemian. His worry turned into a deeper joy.
He caught him easily.
Chen Zemian grinned. “Spin me around.”
Lu Zhuonian raised an eyebrow. “Spin you?”
“That’s how they do it on TV,” Chen Zemian said brightly. “After a long separation, you have to hug and spin around.”
“I don’t think the show I want to act in has that kind of plot.” Lu Zhuonian kissed the side of his temple. “It wouldn’t even be allowed on air in China.”
Chen Zemian chuckled and leaned close. “I’ll kiss you all the way home.”
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze darkened. “Let’s go.”
They headed for the car.
“Where do you live?” Chen Zemian asked.
Lu Zhuonian gave an address.
The apartment in Boston was top-tier—24-hour butler service, pool, catering, massage, everything. Only 22 private residences in the whole building, one per floor.
Lu Zizhen had arranged it. When Xiao Kesong found out, he managed to rent one too. Lu Zhuonian lived on the 11th floor; Kesong, the 8th.
“Why didn’t Kesong come?” Chen Zemian asked.
“I didn’t tell him,” Lu Zhuonian said as he opened the rear door.
“Huh?”
“If he knew you were coming, he’d disrupt my schedule.” Lu Zhuonian nudged him into the car. “We’ll tell him later.”
“A few days later?” Chen Zemian looked horrified.
Lu Zhuonian didn’t answer. He locked the door and gave the driver instructions in English.
The convoy pulled away from the airport.
At first, they talked a lot—overjoyed to see each other again—but once inside the car, things quieted. They sat across from each other. No kissing, no hugging. Barely a word.
The person he’d missed for so long was finally in front of him, but the weight of too many things to say made it hard to begin.
Each sentence felt urgent, but none essential.
With longing fulfilled, the words no longer mattered.
Chen Zemian looked at Lu Zhuonian and couldn’t stop staring. Every detail—from his hairline to his jaw—fit his ideal type. Flawless.
He looked perfect.
He was perfect and his.
If humans still had tails, Chen Zemian’s would be curled sky-high.
Probably strong enough to hold a soda bottle.
He smiled to himself.
Lu Zhuonian glanced at him, hesitating. His voice held meaning. “You’re amazing. Like, foresight-level amazing.”
“Huh?”
“My dad tripped down the stairs Tuesday night.”
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened. “What? Is he okay?”
“Just a sprained ankle. He’s already walking fine after a couple days of therapy. Yesterday, he even went to Tanshan Temple to fulfill a vow. Donated money to re-gild a Bodhisattva statue.”
Chen Zemian relaxed. If Dalong Aotian had the energy to go temple-visiting, he couldn’t have been hurt too badly. “So that ‘climb high, fall hard’ disaster is over.”
“Pretty much. He drew a fortune stick—it said the danger had passed.”
“Then I guess we’re in the clear. The Bodhisattvas at Tanshan Temple are the real deal.”
“You might be the real Bodhisattva,” Lu Zhuonian said, giving him a look.
Chen Zemian rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad fell? I should’ve visited. You even accepted my meeting gift.”
Lu Zhuonian smirked. “You don’t know them, and you’d feel awkward. If I told you, you’d feel obligated to go.”
“That doesn’t matter. Even if it were just a friend’s parent, I’d go. We’re not just acquaintances.”
“What are we then?” Lu Zhuonian asked.
“Boyfriends,” Chen Zemian replied.
Lu Zhuonian didn’t look satisfied. “Still just boyfriends? Even after the gift?”
“Then what do you want to call it?”
Lu Zhuonian answered without hesitation.
Chen Zemian knew what he wanted to hear but hesitated to say it out loud—especially in front of the white driver.
So he leaned in and whispered, “Husband.”
Lu Zhuonian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He lowered the privacy partition.
“Get out,” he said.
Chen Zemian responded to his longing with action.
The ride to the apartment was long.
When the car finally stopped, Chen Zemian’s breath hitched.
Lu Zhuonian brushed a thumb over his lips and said something to the driver in English.
The door closed.
Chen Zemian leaned against the window. “Is it safe?”
“Safe.” Lu Zhuonian tugged him close. “The windows are tinted. No one can see in.”
Chen Zemian lay back, flushed. His shirt hung open, exposing his pale neck.
Lu Zhuonian traced the shoulder blades and kissed his forehead. “Still pale. Even whiter than before.”
Chen Zemian twitched. “Yeah, yeah. The whitening products worked.”
“Those essential oil bath balls,” Lu Zhuonian murmured, “really delivered. So soft.”
His touch sent tremors through Chen Zemian’s body. He gasped, eyes filling with tears.
Just as Lu Zhuonian was about to continue, a shadow appeared at the car window.
Xiao Kesong pressed his face to the glass, peering in.
He had seen the car move and come to investigate. He couldn’t see inside because of the one-way tint—but they could see him.
Lu Zhuonian froze. He covered Chen Zemian’s mouth. “Don’t move.”
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened.
Even knowing Xiao Kesong couldn’t see, he pulled his shirt closed.
He wanted to speak but didn’t trust his voice. Wanted to text but feared the glow would give them away. Instead, he traced words on Lu Zhuonian’s palm: “Why is he here?”
Lu Zhuonian grimaced.
He’d checked the schedule. Kesong had class and a group meeting. He should’ve been anywhere but here.
“I didn’t expect him to skip.”
He whispered into Chen Zemian’s ear, “Ignore him. He’s impatient. He’ll leave.”
Chen Zemian held his breath.
Kesong tugged the door. Locked. He turned and left.
Both men exhaled.
Then—a ringtone.
Loud. Cheerful.
Lu Zhuonian shut his eyes, face darkening.
Chen Zemian jumped.
In the silence of the garage, it was deafening.
Kesong paused, turning back.
Lu Zhuonian took out the cell phone that was pressed under him, looked at the three words “Xiao Kesong” flashing on the screen, and couldn’t help but cursed in a low voice.
“Fuck.”
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
