Under an awkward misunderstanding, Xiao Kesong’s stance toward Lu Zhuonian shifted—quietly, like a dimmer switch.
Over the weekend, he kept to himself. No texts. No visits. He didn’t bother Lu Zhuonian or reach out to Chen Zemian.
Chen Zemian, ever inconsiderate, only invited him to dinner on Monday night.
Lu Zhuonian was worse. Even after moving abroad and living in the same building, he’d never once invited Xiao Kesong to dinner.
By comparison, Chen Zemian seemed more thoughtful.
Xiao Kesong forgave him easily. Over dinner, he said, “There’s a mobile game trending in the U.S. The gameplay is a lot like your new one. Watch your copyright—someone might rip off your idea.”
Chen Zemian stayed calm. “It’s fine. It wasn’t my idea to begin with. I just borrowed it to make some money.”
“You can do that?” Xiao Kesong asked, surprised.
Chen Zemian glanced at Lu Zhuonian, who was quietly cutting steak, and slid half a glass of ice into his champagne. “Yeah.”
Still unsure, Xiao Kesong nudged Lu Zhuonian’s elbow. “You know more about IP law. Is that okay?”
Lu Zhuonian set down his knife and fork, unfolded his napkin with ease, and replied, “Different dimensions. No issue.”
Pfft—
Chen Zemian choked on his drink and sprayed champagne. He tried to hold it in but couldn’t suppress the reaction.
Lu Zhuonian had somehow predicted it. The napkin he’d just opened caught the spray perfectly. Without missing a beat, he raised a hand for a clean one and laid it back across his lap, unfazed by the stunned stares of both men.
“What?” he asked, calm as ever. “Why are you staring?”
Xiao Kesong narrowed his eyes, then turned to Chen Zemian. “That was staged. You’re telling me he predicted you’d choke and blocked it with a napkin? So slick. How many times did you rehearse that? You two are too in sync.”
“Who rehearses choking?” Chen Zemian muttered, shooting Lu Zhuonian a glance. “What do you mean, ‘not in the same dimension’? What are you talking about?”
“Your new game came from Liaozhai, right?” Lu Zhuonian replied, tone casual. “Pu Songling won’t charge you for IP infringement.”
Chen Zemian’s stomach dropped. He had a strange feeling—like Lu Zhuonian was either probing or already knew something. Still, he tried to keep it casual. “You meant that?”
Lu Zhuonian’s face stayed open, but his words turned sharper. “What else would I mean? Got another book stashed somewhere?”
Chen Zemian shook his head fast. “No. Just Liaozhai. That one’s enough. I’ve already used it for several units.”
Xiao Kesong frowned. “Why are you talking about Liaozhai? I was referring to your shooting game.”
Chen Zemian lowered his head, poking at his fries. “That’s what I was talking about. Liaozhai was brought up by our Young Master Lu.”
“My mistake,” Lu Zhuonian said smoothly. “I thought Kesong meant the most recent one you started planning.”
“You’re planning another one?” Xiao Kesong turned sharply to Chen Zemian. “Why didn’t I hear about it?”
Before Chen Zemian could answer, Lu Zhuonian chimed in, voice full of mock surprise. “You didn’t know? I’ve known for a while.”
Chen Zemian: “…”
“Oh, so only you knew?” Xiao Kesong shot back. “You knew before anyone else, huh?”
“Not really,” Lu Zhuonian replied. “Just after he ordered a car for me.”
Xiao Kesong raised a brow. “What car? Don’t tell me it’s the one that got totaled?”
Lu Zhuonian nodded solemnly. “A shame. I only drove it once.”
“Does that even relate to anything we’re talking about?” Xiao Kesong asked, exasperated.
“Not directly. Just reminded me—he promised me a sports car once he got rich.”
“You actually asked him to buy you a sports car?” Xiao Kesong stared at him. “Do you even have a conscience? Do you know how rich your family is?”
Trying to redirect the conversation, Chen Zemian said, “I talked to Zheng Huaiyu. That shooting game you saw? It’s our overseas version. We localized it well—it’s doing great. Monthly profits look good. Your dividend should double next month.”
Xiao Kesong’s mood lifted instantly. “Fine, buy him a car if you want. But I get exclusive shares in the game.”
“Absolutely unique,” Chen Zemian promised. “Huaiyu planned to go public, but I didn’t give him any game shares. By the way, are you okay on living expenses? That apartment’s pricey. Want me to help with rent?”
“No need. I’ll stretch what I’ve got.”
Lu Zhuonian took a sip of champagne. “Renting Boston’s fanciest apartment while ‘stretching’ your budget?”
Though he occasionally snapped at Lu Zhuonian, Xiao Kesong remained a soft loaf of bread—fluffy, harmless, and a little warm even when irritated.
“Eat more greens,” he muttered, nudging the cheese oysters toward Lu Zhuonian. “Better than wrecking a multi-million-dollar car.”
Lu Zhuonian set his glass down with a sharp click, clearly annoyed.
Chen Zemian watched, baffled. It’s all my money anyway, he thought. I’m the working stiff supporting two princes. And somehow they’re the ones competing?
Thanks to unexpected overseas profits, Chen Zemian doubled Xiao Kesong’s dividend by month’s end and bought Lu Zhuonian a new sports car.
Still, despite his efforts to keep things balanced, the exhausting tug-of-war between best friend and boyfriend dragged on—until Lu Zhuonian’s parents visited Boston.
After his mysterious accident, Lu Zizhen grew cautious. Claiming the worst had passed, he resumed plans for a private island vacation with his wife. Before departing, they stopped in Boston to see their son.
Worried his side income would be exposed, Xiao Kesong fled to the dorms and claimed he was washing dishes for a part-time job.
In front of his parents, Lu Zhuonian returned to form—reserved, mature, composed.
Chen Zemian had already been worn down watching Lu Zhuonian and Xiao Kesong spar like children. Now, seeing Lu Zhuonian act like the ideal heir in front of his parents exhausted him more.
Only with Chen Zemian did Lu Zhuonian let his guard down—showing flashes of jealousy, behaving like a typical student, fanning his tail like a peacock desperate to be seen.
Around him, Lu Zhuonian dropped every emblem of status. No longer a prince of the second-gen elite. No longer the Lu heir burdened with expectations.
He never once asked Chen Zemian to accompany him through his parents’ visit. Thoughtful, as always.
Chen Zemian only greeted him in the crowd at the airport when the couple arrived. They barely exchanged a few words before Lu Zhuonian found an excuse to send him off.
Cheng Yun thought her son was being rude, but she didn’t know that after leaving the airport, Chen Zemian sent Lu Zhuonian a sticker pack that said, “Kneeling in thanks for your kindness.”
Chen Zemian stayed out of sight during the entire visit.
Before leaving, Cheng Yun repeatedly told Lu Zhuonian to invite Chen Zemian to dinner.
Lu Zhuonian didn’t bother making excuses. “He doesn’t like to eat,” he said.
Lu Zizhen looked at him disapprovingly. “You don’t let him eat?”
Cheng Yun was shocked. “What do you mean, don’t let him eat?”
Lu Zizhen explained that Chen Zemian had stomach issues and that Lu Zhuonian controlled his diet strictly. “Even if he added syrup to his coffee, Zhuonian stopped him. He wasn’t allowed normal meals, only medicinal food.”
Cheng Yun slammed the table. “That’s ridiculous! You’re completely dictatorial.” She dragged Lu Zizhen into it, accusing him of being an irresponsible father.
With a headache from her scolding, Lu Zizhen wrote a check and told Lu Zhuonian to give it to Chen Zemian.
Sometimes, money really does solve everything.
Chen Zemian showed up at the banquet right on time.
Though the Lu couple had high expectations for their son, they didn’t act strangely about him liking men. They avoided prying into Chen Zemian’s work or family and kept the conversation polite.
At first, Chen Zemian felt nervous and answered cautiously. Once the food came, he focused entirely on eating.
Lu Zizhen spared no expense. The banquet was held at the most luxurious restaurant on the top floor of the Paul Building. King crab, lobster, truffle salmon, foie gras rolls—it was all there. The desserts included Italian pastries and dark chocolate ice cream.
Chen Zemian knew Lu Zhuonian wouldn’t restrict him at a banquet like this. He ate three scoops of ice cream in a row.
He was just indulging his sweet tooth, but to Cheng Yun, it confirmed her suspicion—her son never let the poor boy eat.
Then, for the first time, Cheng Yun asked a personal question: “Xiao Chen, you don’t seem to like going out much?”
Chen Zemian, brain fogged from eating, answered without thinking. “No.”
Cheng Yun frowned. “Then why didn’t you come see us while we were here?”
Startled, Chen Zemian glanced at Lu Zhuonian.
“I told him not to,” Lu Zhuonian said flatly, putting down his chopsticks.
Cheng Yun: “…”
After dinner, she stormed back to the hotel. Lu Zizhen headed to the cigar shop downstairs.
The shop was on the 22nd floor.
Chen Zemian, who had asthma, waited outside at the chocolate shop.
Lu Zizhen wanted to test several cigars, but Lu Zhuonian stopped him. “He can’t even smell the smoke,” he said, pointing to Chen Zemian. Instead, he bought two boxes of each kind and told his father to test them at home.
The shop owner, used to wealth, was still impressed by the gesture and personally saw them off.
Lu Zhuonian lagged behind to give the clerk a mailing address.
The elevator arrived.
The metal doors opened slowly.
While talking to the owner, Lu Zizhen saw the elevator doors open and stepped forward without looking.
His foot met empty air.
Someone shouted in English, “Wait! The elevator car isn’t there!”
The car that should have reached the 22nd floor was still hanging above.
The doors had opened first.
It was a known malfunction. Many people had died this way. Lu Zizhen had read about it, but by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.
He lost his balance.
Four words echoed in his mind—
Climbing high, falling hard.
Just as he teetered toward the shaft, something slammed into him and shoved him away from the drop.
Time slowed like a movie scene.
When he looked back, he saw Chen Zemian’s face flash by.
Chen Zemian had rushed in too fast. The floor tiles were slick. Momentum carried him straight into the shaft.
As he fell, he hooked his arm around the elevator cable and clung to it. The rough metal rope tore into his palm. He slid down a few meters before stopping.
Dangling over a drop of dozens of meters, he held his weight with one arm. Sweat beaded down his back. His muscles trembled from the strain.
Below, the shaft yawned like a void. A fall meant certain death.
Still in shock, Chen Zemian thought—
That was close.
Maybe people shouldn’t interfere with fate. Maybe karma really does strike back. But this wasn’t just anyone’s fate. It was the father of someone he loved.
So even if it happened a hundred more times, he would still intervene.
Forget plot lines. Forget karmic consequences.
I will save Lu Zizhen.
Alarms blared. Lights flashed. Voices buzzed around him.
Then he heard someone calling his name.
He looked up.
Through the darkness, Lu Zhuonian’s face shone down like a god’s.
He was pale, soul-shocked. The moment Chen Zemian vanished, his blood had stopped flowing. Only now did his heart start pounding again, nearly bursting from panic.
Chen Zemian clung to the rope and grinned. “Lu Zhuonian, am I handsome?”
Lu Zhuonian: “…”
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
