When Xiao Kesong thought about what Chen Zemian might be facing, a wave of sadness and regret washed over him. He had initially believed that Lu Zhuonian had no interest in men, but now doubts lingered, clouding his mind.
He pulled Chen Zemian into a tight embrace, his arms trembling slightly from the overwhelming emotions. “I didn’t expect him to be such a beast,” he whispered, voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow.
Chen Zemian, perplexed, didn’t understand what Xiao Kesong was implying. He looked at Lu Zhuonian in astonishment, silently asking, What did you do? How had it come to this—how did Lu Zhuonian become a beast?
Lu Zhuonian remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Chen Zemian reached out instinctively and took a few tissues, handing them to Xiao Kesong to wipe away his tears. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, “Don’t cry first. Just tell me what’s going on, and we’ll figure it out together.”
Xiao Kesong shook his head, tears still brimming in his eyes. “You didn’t come out for so many days… It turns out you’ve been at Lu Zhuonian’s place.”
Chen Zemian nodded gently. “Yes, this is a special situation,” he acknowledged.
Xiao Kesong’s eyes reddened further. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chen Zemian hesitated briefly before replying, “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want people to know.”
A heavy silence settled between them before Xiao Kesong spoke again, voice trembling with confusion. “If he didn’t want you to say anything, then… then you were detained at home?” His voice faltered, unable to finish the sentence. After a pause, he asked cautiously, “Are you—are you doing this voluntarily?”
Chen Zemian answered matter-of-factly, “Voluntary. Young Master Lu gave me money.”
Xiao Kesong’s face twisted with anger. “Is that all? Just money?”
Chen Zemian nodded in agreement. “You think so too, right? I was angry at first, too. I considered him a good friend, but he sees these things as transactions!”
Hearing Chen Zemian’s words, Xiao Kesong’s sadness deepened. He hugged him tightly again, tears spilling over once more. “This is too insulting,” he whispered.
Chen Zemian glared at Lu Zhuonian. “I treat him as a brother, yet he treats me like a servant!”
Xiao Kesong was stunned, his voice trembling. “Still… a servant?”
Chen Zemian nodded solemnly. “But he’s apologized and acknowledged his mistake.”
“Apologies won’t fix everything,” Xiao Kesong said fiercely, fists clenched. “You can’t forgive him—this isn’t something money can buy.” He turned to Lu Zhuonian, voice filled with righteous anger. “I won’t allow you to do this!”
Lu Zhuonian, observing the scene, thought that such an obvious misunderstanding could be cleared up with just a few words. But to his surprise, Xiao Kesong and Chen Zemian spoke past each other, each one saying something entirely different. Their words crossed in the air, yet somehow, their conversation flowed smoothly, as if they understood each other perfectly.
It seemed that there was some unspoken reason why these two could communicate so effortlessly.
Lu Zhuonian hesitated, then finally interrupted softly, “Can you listen to me first?”
That was enough to ignite Xiao Kesong’s fury. He couldn’t control his temper and suddenly punched back.
Reacting swiftly, Chen Zemian grabbed his arm, hugged him, and held him firmly by the waist to restrain him. “Hey, hey, calm down,” he urged gently. “Let’s talk this through. Don’t do anything rash.”
Xiao Kesong’s anger only intensified. “You’re still protecting him!”
Chen Zemian looked into his eyes, voice steady. “I have to protect him. His hand is injured. If you break something else on him, I’ll have to serve him even more.”
A flicker of confusion crossed Xiao Kesong’s face. His struggling movements slowed, and for a moment, he hesitated.
Lu Zhuonian glanced at Chen Zemian and said quietly, “Next time, put the hand injury first.”
Finally, Xiao Kesong turned slowly, his gaze falling on Chen Zemian. “His hand is injured… You’re at Lu Zhuonian’s house, taking care of him,” he finally realized.
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened in surprise. “What else?”
Xiao Kesong was silent, a storm of thoughts swirling within him.
So, the “special situation” was the hand injury, and the reason for helping Lu Zhuonian take off his clothes was to hide the injury. He hadn’t wanted others to worry—especially Aunt Lu. The money given to Chen Zemian, he now understood, was “nursing fees.” He also realized that he had to close the door before speaking because the game was about to start, and the opponent couldn’t know about their secret.
So, that was it.
He just figured it out now—wasn’t it a little late?
He dared not look directly at Lu Zhuonian’s expression, yet he couldn’t help sneaking a glance.
Lu Zhuonian was not angry; instead, he crossed his arms and looked at him with a half-smile.
He wasn’t angry at all.
Xiao Kesong felt as if he were dead—he’d misunderstood Lu Zhuonian so badly, almost exposing the secret of his illness. Yet, strangely, Lu Zhuonian seemed in a good mood, as if giving him a reprieve.
He knew he had to think carefully about how to behave—how to seek forgiveness, how to earn some leniency.
Silently, Xiao Kesong touched his face, his mind racing. He kept thinking about how to take back his words. After all, the misunderstanding about his brother had gone too far. If he revealed that Lu Zhuonian was ill, even if Lu Zhuonian chose not to pursue it, he would still be forced to apologize.
He looked at Chen Zemian and, in a moment of vulnerability, began to hug him again. “Lu Zhuonian is simply a beast,” he muttered. “You treat him like a brother, but he’s really ruined your brotherhood!”
Chen Zemian suddenly understood.
So that’s how “beast” and “ruin” are understood in this context.
He was filled with indignation. “You’re so good to him, yet he treats you as a mere caregiver. It’s truly too much.”
Chen Zemian raised his hand gently to wipe the tears from Xiao Kesong’s cheek. “It’s too much, yes. But you don’t have to cry like this.”
Xiao Kesong paused, then said softly, “I’m a little sad. You don’t want to play with me anymore, and I feel like I’m not your best friend.”
Chen Zemian couldn’t help but laugh. “Best friend? When Mr. Lu’s hand heals, I’ll play with you every day. How could you be sad?”
Lu Zhuonian chimed in, “When my hand is better, you have to come back to work.”
Chen Zemian nodded. “Then I’ll play with Xiao Shao after work.”
Lu Zhuonian remained silent.
Seeing that the misunderstanding had been smoothed over, Xiao Kesong saw an opportunity to ask Lu Zhuonian a question. He hesitated briefly before speaking. “How did you hurt your hand? Is it serious?”
Lu Zhuonian answered casually, “I got burned. It’s not serious. Don’t tell my mom.”
Xiao Kesong’s gaze shifted to Lu Zhuonian’s hand. “No wonder you’ve been wearing gloves. How could you get burned? You’re so careless.”
Lu Zhuonian said nothing, remaining silent.
Chen Zemian answered for him, “Lu Shao used a glass pot to cook something, and it exploded.”
Xiao Kesong’s face showed obvious surprise. He looked at Lu Zhuonian. “What were you thinking? Thermal expansion and contraction— I studied liberal arts, but I know that glass can explode when heated too quickly. Have you been wasting your time on physics?”
Lu Zhuonian glanced at Xiao Kesong. “It’s high borosilicate glass. The manual says it can withstand high temperatures and open flames.”
Chen Zemian hesitated. “Is it high borosilicate? That kind of glass shouldn’t break like that. Are you sure you weren’t fooled?”
Lu Zhuonian remained silent.
Xiao Kesong, confident in his deductions, said, “No way anyone would fool him—if someone tried, they’d fool others. It must be an ordinary glass pot. He probably lied about the high-temperature glass to save face, worried that others would think he, Young Master Lu, has no common sense.”
Lu Zhuonian’s expression was unreadable. “You can’t even remember the words ‘borosilicate,’ but you claim to have common sense,” he said quietly.
Xiao Kesong wanted to retort but hesitated. Instead, he changed the subject. “Then how can you compete if you’re injured?”
Chen Zemian snapped out of his thoughts at the mention of competition. Instantly recalling their preparations, he quickly pulled out his pistol.
Lu Zhuonian sat down at the table, pulling over a chair. “Thank you for reminding me of our purpose here,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
Hearing this, Chen Zemian cast a quick glance at Lu Zhuonian, then began disassembling the Beretta 92 with practiced ease—his hands moving swiftly, checking each part carefully, then reassembling it after confirming everything was in order.
Xiao Kesong watched him from the side. “So fast—almost as quick as Zhuonian,” he exclaimed.
Chen Zemian pushed the pistol toward Lu Zhuonian. “I learned from Lu Shao,” he said simply.
Lu Zhuonian nodded. “He disassembles and cleans guns every day. He’s more familiar with them than I am.”
Xiao Kesong looked intrigued. “When I come back to work, I’ll find you. Teach me too.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Lu Zhuonian picked up the Beretta 92, indicating that it was time for the test.
Chen Zemian only had time to nod in agreement before he was swiftly pulled away by Lu Zhuonian.
As they approached the shooting range, Lu Zhuonian personally loaded the bullet into the gun. His movements were precise, and while the speed was not slow, it was clear that, with one hand injured, there was still a gap compared to Chen Zemian’s usual quick reloading—though, to be fair, Chen Zemian’s fingers are notably nimble, and his reloads should be comparable to Lloyd’s, if not even better.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes drifted toward Chen Zemian’s fingers, lingering quietly for a few seconds as if analyzing something unseen.
At 3:20 pm, the second game was about to commence.
The coach announced the rules in Chinese and English, respectively:
“There are a total of one hundred disc targets, and four launchers will fire them in succession. Two are automatic launchers, and the other two are manually operated by staff. Each disc counts for one point. After all the discs are launched, the one with the highest score wins.”
Unlike the emptiness of the field at the beginning of the first game, this time, the shooting hall was packed with athletes and coaches from various countries. Under the gaze of thousands, Lu Zhuonian picked up his pistol.
Immediately, a ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, and Lloyd’s eyes narrowed slightly in concentration.
What caught everyone’s attention, however, was Lu Zhuonian’s grip—he held the gun with his left hand!
Lloyd licked his teeth, his gaze narrowing as he fixed it on Lu Zhuonian’s right hand.
It seemed his guess was correct. There must be something wrong with that hand—no wonder he had been wearing gloves all this time.
Under the watchful eyes of the spectators, Lu Zhuonian remained calm and composed, as if he couldn’t hear the whispers and murmurs around him.
However, everything changed when two staff members, responsible for manually throwing the discs, stepped onto the stage. Lu Zhuonian’s gaze suddenly sharpened.
One of them was Chen Zemian.
Chen Zemian raised his eyebrows at Lu Zhuonian and took his designated position, holding twenty-five lime-colored discs in his hand.
Lu Zhuonian made a subtle gesture to halt the game.
“This person is my friend,” he announced, pointing at Chen Zemian. Then, turning to the referee, he added, “I believe it’s unfair for him to throw the discs.”
Lloyd raised his hand casually and said, “Report to the referee—I have no objection. The other staff member throwing the discs is my teammate. Cooperation is part of the game. Since this is meant to be entertainment, fun is the most important thing.”
His reasoning was sound, and both sides had their own people throwing the discs, ensuring fairness. Consequently, the referee rejected Lu Zhuonian’s request for a substitution.
Chen Zemian, visibly proud, made a V-sign to Lu Zhuonian, which instantly made Lu Zhuonian’s face darken with irritation—he didn’t want to look at him, yet he had no choice.
Lloyd, with his narrow-minded and vengeful streak, was reluctant to let Lu Zhuonian shoot the discs thrown by Chen Zemian. So, Lu Zhuonian had to do it himself.
This was getting bolder—and perhaps a little reckless.
Suddenly, the signal sounded, and the game officially began.
Lu Zhuonian swiftly shot down the disc target thrown by Chen Zemian. Without hesitation, he moved his arm, raised his hand, and fired his gun. With a sharp “bang,” he shattered the disc launched by the automatic launcher.
Lloyd was not far behind. The first fifteen bullets, the two of them tacitly agreed, targeted only the closer discs.
When reloading for the first time, Lu Zhuonian was the first to finish his magazine, but he was half a second slower in raising his gun afterward.
Meanwhile, Chen Zemian, watching Lu Zhuonian reload, didn’t rush to throw his disc. Instead, he raised his hand at just the right moment, timing his throw carefully.
As a result, even though Lu Zhuonian was half a second slower, he still had enough time to shoot down the disc sent by the automatic launcher before hitting Chen Zemian’s throw.
Lloyd’s lips curled into a slight smile.
From Lu Zhuonian’s reloading speed, it was clear he suspected something—probably that his right hand was uncomfortable. During the second reload, Lloyd seized the opportunity. While Lu Zhuonian paused, he fired first, smashing the disc sent from Lu Zhuonian’s automatic launcher.
In this way, Lloyd scored a point—two points, to be precise.
If Lloyd managed to hit one more disc belonging to Lu Zhuonian, he would not only gain a point but also cause Lu Zhuonian to lose a point. The game was tense, and the competition kept shifting, with neither side giving an inch.
Lu Zhuonian remained calm, unshaken by the score deficit. Instead, he seized an opening when Lloyd aimed at a disc target for half a second longer. He fired three shots in quick succession, knocking down two targets on his side and one on Lloyd’s, reclaiming the lead.
The scene grew tense, anxious even, as the gunfire echoed in the quiet. Only the sound of shots pierced the silence, and the score was neck and neck.
Soon, it was time for the final magazine change. Only a few discs remained, but their scores were still close.
This time, Lloyd changed his magazine first. He fired two shots in quick succession, followed by Lu Zhuonian.
While Lu Zhuonian was reloading, Chen Zemian threw his last disc.
Almost simultaneously, the gunshots rang out again.
Lu Zhuonian shattered the disc fired by the automatic launcher, while Lloyd took the lead, smashing the disc next to Chen Zemian’s hand.
In fact, when Lloyd fired, Chen Zemian had just let go of his throw, and the disc was less than ten centimeters from his hand.
According to the rules, this distance was still within the permissible range. Firing at a target that close would be considered a violation and incur a penalty.
But Lloyd fired anyway—deliberately.
The disc was shattered into powder, dust swirling like snowflakes.
Chen Zemian brushed off the dust from his shoulder, looking up at Lloyd with a calm expression.
Lloyd raised his eyebrows and offered a provocative smile.
Just then, the referee blew the whistle to stop the game and was about to call a violation on Lloyd.
But in the next second, another gunshot rang out.
Lloyd’s pistol—Lloyd’s own Beretta 92—exploded in his hand!
Everyone turned toward the source of the shot—only to see Lu Zhuonian.
He was the only one holding a gun on the scene.
After knocking Lloyd’s pistol aside, Lu Zhuonian didn’t stop. Without hesitation, he raised his loaded Beretta 92 and pointed it directly at Lloyd’s right hand.
A hush fell over the crowd.
No matter how daring Lloyd was, cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realized the gravity of the situation.
Lu Zhuonian’s voice was steady, calm, devoid of emotion. “Lloyd, I warned you not to challenge my rules,” he said quietly.
Lloyd froze in place, unable to move.
Lu Zhuonian stared at him, slow and deliberate. “Don’t touch my bottom line,” he repeated softly.
*****
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