A gentle touch brushed against Chen Zemian’s eyelids, then disappeared in an instant.
He woke up immediately, the sudden brightness stabbing his eyes with dazzling sunlight. For a moment, he blinked, feeling the sting. Then, just as suddenly, the light faded away.
A large palm gently covered his eyelids, blocking the intrusive sunlight.
Lu Zhuonian’s voice was light and soothing. “You couldn’t even close the electric curtains properly — You’re quite something else”
Chen Zemian, ungrateful as ever, didn’t bother to thank him. Instead, he complained, “You clearly touched my eyes just now, but you had to wait for the sunlight to shine on me before covering them.”
Lu Zhuonian threw a greeting card at Chen Zemian, his tone tinged with impatience. “What’s the deal with the roses in the yard?”
Chen Zemian reached out, touching the card pressed against his chest. “Roses? Isn’t that sent by your community property management?”
Lu Zhuonian raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you look at the greeting card?”
“I did,” Chen Zemian said, pulling Lu Zhuonian’s hand away and flipping through it carefully. Then, he picked up a red card from the ground and read aloud, “The beginning of the year has just arrived, I wish you happiness.” He paused, then added, “Isn’t this a New Year’s blessing?”
Lu Zhuonian took the card, confirming that it bore the eight words. The beginning of the year has just arrived, I wish you happiness.
The literal meaning was clear — The new year has just begun, and I wish you happiness and everything going well.
But, of course, it could also be interpreted as a love message: I’ve entered your life and brought you joy. Although I just arrived, it’s not too late.
Chen Zemian, initially thinking that the flowers were sent by the property management, didn’t dwell on the ambiguity. After all, the card was red—festive and somewhat suggestive.
Lu Zhuonian fell silent for a few seconds before asking, “How do you know it was sent by the property management?”
“Isn’t it written right here? The mathematical symbol π,” Chen Zemian pointed to the character ‘兀’ on the card. “Isn’t your community property management called Luxury π?”
Lu Zhuonian was speechless.
Chen Zemian, undeterred, continued, “I paid the property management fee two days ago. The housekeeper said that if I paid a year in advance, I’d receive some warm rewards. So I asked him to leave it at my door. I didn’t expect it to be roses—I thought it was rice, flour, and oil.”
Listening to Chen Zemian’s analysis, Lu Zhuonian was utterly speechless.
As expected, an abstract, slow-witted person like Chen Zemian couldn’t help but target himself.
He was always fair, balanced, average, and impartial—treating everyone interested in him equally.
If Xiao Qiwu didn’t know about this unprecedented and amusing analysis, it would be Lu Zhuonian’s lifelong regret.
The bizarre case of the century, caused by casual writing that connected ‘兀’ with ‘π’—remarkable indeed.
Lu Zhuonian finally invited Chen Zemian, saying, “There’s a small party tonight. Let’s go together.”
Chen Zemian nodded. “Then I’ll sleep a little longer—otherwise, I’ll definitely feel sleepy tonight.”
Lu Zhuonian gathered the two greeting cards, tore them apart, and said casually, “Go ahead and sleep.”
Chen Zemian yawned, glancing at the red greeting card, which seemed to have a piece of black-and-gold paper attached. Curious, he asked, “Did they send it again today? What did it say?”
Lu Zhuonian remained expressionless. “A joyful and peaceful New Year, may joy never cease.”
Chen Zemian rubbed his eyes and decided to go to the bathroom first before returning to sleep. “The handwriting is pretty—handwritten, too. It’s so sincere.”
Lu Zhuonian turned and strode into the bathroom, then threw this ‘sincerity’ into the toilet and flushed it away. “It’s a pity to give something flashy and impractical. Better to give rice—at least that can be donated, even if it’s not eaten.”
“Luxury π,” Chen Zemian pulled on his pajama pants and wandered into the bathroom to pee. “Sending rice isn’t luxurious.”
He saw Chen Zemian standing in front of the toilet, about to unzip his pants, and immediately turned around and headed outside. “Can you wait until I come out?” he asked calmly.
The sound of water splashing echoed behind him.
“I’ve got it, and so do you,” Chen Zemian lazily called out, voice trailing long. “Why don’t you want to compare sizes?”
Lu Zhuonian, helpless, replied, “You should be serious.”
Chen Zemian, inspired by the description of the male protagonist in a popular online article, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just joking. I can’t compare to your ‘proud capital.’”
Lu Zhuonian knew Chen Zemian’s playful nature all too well. Giving in blindly would only encourage more mischief. Instead, he simply threw aside his concerns, reminding himself that he had no improper thoughts about Chen Zemian.
If an ordinary friend teased him like this, how would he respond?
He only paused for a quarter of a second before replying softly, “Compared to you, it’s more than enough.”
Chen Zemian, unconvinced, retorted, “More than enough? How can it be more than enough?”
Lu Zhuonian’s tone was calm. “Don’t you understand the meaning of ‘more than enough’?”
“Let me see how much more than enough it really is!” Chen Zemian slipped on his clothes in zero seconds flat. After peeing — without even washing his hands — he pulled up his pants and grabbed Lu Zhuonian by the waistband. “How do you unfasten this belt buckle?”
Lu Zhuonian instantly began to regret this impulsive act.
Suddenly, he remembered his usual self-discipline and politeness, along with the constraints of his morality and dignity—factors that prevented him from succumbing to Chen Zemian’s teasing.
Chen Zemian’s hand didn’t even touch him; just brushing his belt was enough to send a micro-current through his body. Numbness spread from his waist to his back, along his spine, climbing up to the neck and scalp. The sensation was so intense that even the roots of his hair seemed to tremble, as if electrified.
In less than two seconds, every hair on his body stood on end.
Unaware of this, Chen Zemian was still studying Lu Zhuonian’s belt buckle, oblivious to his own effect.
The buckle was a hidden design by Huagui Heavy Industry’s top designer. Chen Zemian tried to open it repeatedly but failed. Frustrated, he shook the metal clasp vigorously.
A thin layer of sweat appeared on Lu Zhuonian’s back. He pushed Chen Zemian’s shoulder away and said in a deep, hoarse voice, “Stop it.”
But Chen Zemian, stubborn as ever, was determined to figure out how to open the buckle. He raised his hand again and pushed Lu Zhuonian forward. “You don’t need to tell me how to do it. I’ll figure it out myself.”
Lu Zhuonian, voice hoarse, responded, “Step aside first. I’ll take it off for you to study.”
Although Chen Zemian wanted to explore it himself, he kept staring at Lu Zhuonian’s fingers as he worked. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see which mechanism was pulled, only hearing a satisfying “click” when the buckle finally popped open.
Lu Zhuonian, trying to suppress his spasms, managed to control his trembling fingers. He carefully pulled off the entire belt and handed it to Chen Zemian as if nothing unusual had happened.
Chen Zemian’s attention was diverted once again — he was so focused on the belt buckle that he forgot about comparing sizes. Instead, he returned to his room, sat cross-legged on the carpet, and continued fiddling with the belt.
Lu Zhuonian went back to his own room to change his belt, then sat alone, calming himself in silence.
When he finally went to find Chen Zemian again, he discovered that the young man was curled up on the carpet, sound asleep.
Chen Zemian still held his belt in his hand, a finger stuck in the gap of the metal buckle.
It seemed he hadn’t yet figured out how to open it. He was clearly both stubborn and a deep sleeper.
Lu Zhuonian half-kneeled beside him and gently freed his fingers from the belt.
This time, Chen Zemian slept deeply and didn’t wake up. He only moved his index finger slightly. In his dreams, he was still fighting with the metal buckle.
When he suddenly realized the object in his hand was gone, he instinctively clasped his palms together and grabbed Lu Zhuonian’s hand.
The belt slipped from his grasp and fell onto the carpet with a muffled sound.
Chen Zemian’s eyes snapped open. Before his pupils fully focused, his subconscious recognized the person before him — Lu Zhuonian.
In his mind, Lu Zhuonian was synonymous with safety.
In this safe environment, Chen Zemian didn’t force himself to wake immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes and drifted into a deeper sleep.
He even reached out, blindly pulling Lu Zhuonian’s hand, rubbing his chin on it, and using it as a pillow—like a kitten, trusting and relaxed, yet overly confident in the safety of his surroundings.
Lu Zhuonian gently placed his arm around the back of Chen Zemian’s neck, and with his other hand, he grasped his knees. Without hesitation, he lifted him effortlessly.
Suddenly suspended in midair, Chen Zemian snapped awake instantly.
He knew that Lu Zhuonian probably had good intentions—trying to get him back to bed—but after being woken up twice in a row, his patience was wearing thin. Chen Zemian’s voice laced with restrained fury, cut through the air. “What are you doing? I’m sleeping!”
Lu Zhuonian initially intended to set him down gently, but upon hearing Chen Zemian’s grumbling, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. Without warning, he tossed Chen Zemian directly onto the bed with a loud thud. “Go back to sleep,” he said lightly.
The moment Chen Zemian hit the mattress, his eyes snapped open, fully alert.
All at once, his sleepiness evaporated, replaced by a fierce resentment that rivaled that of the legendary Evil Sword Immortal. His back bounced on the bed, and for less than half a second, he lay there, stunned. Then, using the rebound inertia, he shot up like a carp leaping from the water and lunged at Lu Zhuonian with surprising agility.
Lu Zhuonian was caught off guard by the collision; instinctively, he raised his arms to block Chen Zemian, hands landing on his thighs for support.
Chen Zemian, filled with a mixture of frustration and mischief, wanted to strike him, but dared not. Instead, he swung and hit Lu Zhuonian’s shoulder in anger.
Lu Zhuonian couldn’t help but laugh — a soft, amused chuckle that echoed in the room.
Hearing that laugh, Chen Zemian’s temper flared even more. He tilted his head back in defiance and, in a swift, reckless move, struck Lu Zhuonian’s forehead.
Having just woken up, Chen Zemian didn’t quite know his own strength. Whether Lu Zhuonian was hurt or not, he didn’t know — but his own vision went black from the impact.
Lu Zhuonian, for his part, was not much better off. The impact left him dizzy for a moment, but before he could fall, he instinctively twisted his core with remarkable strength and landed on the bed, holding Chen Zemian in his arms.
Chen Zemian, already lacking sleep, felt the bump to his head left him just dizzy enough. He turned over and, in a dazed state, closed his eyes again.
When Lu Zhuonian finally recovered from his dizziness, he sat up and looked over to find that Chen Zemian had fallen asleep once more — probably knocked unconscious.
Let him be, he thought silently.
*****
At one o’clock in the afternoon, Chen Zemian woke up again.
Despite having slept for hours, he still felt groggy, drained of energy. He stretched, took a long, hot bath, and, feeling somewhat renewed, decided to order takeout.
But when he descended the stairs, he was surprised to find a lavish feast already laid out on the dining table—there was not only food, but also an electric heater positioned underneath the plates.
There was seafood porridge, shrimp dumplings, crab roe steamed buns, Cantonese roast goose, black bean sauce spareribs, tripe, and several refreshing side dishes.
“Although it’s noon, you should still eat it as breakfast,” Lu Zhuonian said casually, leaning against the table with his head supported by one hand. “You hit me and made me dizzy. I only slept for a little while.”
Chen Zemian served a bowl of the fragrant porridge and pushed it toward him. “You didn’t get a concussion, did you? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”
Lu Zhuonian took the bowl and stirred the porridge slowly with a porcelain spoon. “Not really. Let’s eat first,” he replied calmly.
Feeling guilty, Chen Zemian sat beside him, diligently pouring tea and water, almost feeding him directly. “It was just a reflex, an automatic response,” he said softly. “You hit me first, after all.”
Lu Zhuonian picked up a shrimp dumpling from his bowl and took a bite. “Finally admitting that you’re some kind of human-machine?”
Chen Zemian smiled ingratiatingly, reaching for another steamed bun to pass to him.
Lu Zhuonian responded with a responsible tone. “It’s okay — go ahead and eat yours. I was the one who threw you first, after all.”
Chen Zemian couldn’t help but praise him. “Your tolerance and greatness will one day be written into an epic.”
Lu Zhuonian looked at him casually, eyebrows raised. “An epic? What kind?”
Chen Zemian hurriedly responded, “The Young Master in the Beijing circle.”
Lu Zhuonian raised his eyebrows, amused. “I’m not that young master.”
Chen Zemian, eager to flatter, added quickly, “Of course, besides you, who else can be the prince — so popular among the young circle, the all-powerful male lead…”
Halfway through blurting it out, Chen Zemian suddenly came to his senses and stopped dead. He forcibly swallowed back the word “role.”
Damn it, how dare I say that!
Sooner or later, I’ll probably die from my own mouth.
Lu Zhuonian paused with his chopsticks, eyeing him with a faint smile. “Male lead what?”
Chen Zemian stiffened and, with a forced smile, replied, “The male… lead… protagonist.”
Lu Zhuonian glanced at him with a teasing smile. “Male protagonist? Is there such a thing?”
Chen Zemian’s scalp tingled. “Yes.”
“Really? Let me see.”
Lu Zhuonian pulled out his phone and began typing the words “male protagonist.” Chen Zemian’s heart pounded as he watched, beads of cold sweat forming at his temples.
The search interface loaded.
The explanation for “male protagonist” appeared on the screen.
“There are three meanings in total,” Lu Zhuonian read aloud. “First, a respectful title for the master; second, the master; third…” He paused, his gaze shifting to Chen Zemian. “The main character in literary works.”
Chen Zemian’s heart nearly stopped. His mind reeled — if he had known Lu Zhuonian took this so seriously, he wouldn’t have blurted out “male lead.”
Why did I have to say “protagonist”?
It’s not the first time I’ve been a manservant in front of him. How can I still have a face at such a critical moment?
Right now, all Chen Zemian wanted was to sweep this awkward topic under the rug. Anything to divert Lu Zhuonian’s attention from the “literary work” explanation.
He forced a casual tone. “It turns out ‘male protagonist’ has so many interpretations.”
He looked at Lu Zhuonian sincerely. “What I meant was that it was a respectful title for the master back then.”
Lu Zhuonian remained calm. “I am the master. And what are you?”
His mind raced. Two words emerged instinctively—“loyal servant.”
Lu Zhuonian pondered for a moment, then asked with a faint smile, “Is there a loyal servant who offends his master and knocks him dizzy?”
Chen Zemian hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
Lu Zhuonian chuckled softly. “Well, that’s a perfect circle of logic.”
Chen Zemian let out a breath of relief, lowering his head to appear modest. Yet, deep inside, he didn’t realize how much Lu Zhuonian enjoyed turning the tables.
Lu Zhuonian always liked to lift things up heavily, then gently set them down, and, when least expected, strike unexpectedly.
“‘The crown prince at the center of attention’ and ‘the all-powerful male lead’ — they’re difficult to pronounce,” Lu Zhuonian mused, thinking aloud. “Chen Zemian, why does ‘male protagonist’ seem to rhyme better?”
Chen Zemian suddenly looked up, mouth still holding a shrimp dumpling.
Damn it! This isn’t freestyle! Why is he trying to rhyme?
Why did I even say ‘protagonist’?
When people want to hide the truth, they’ll say anything—anything to cover it up.
He swallowed the dumpling numbly, feeling helpless. “The protagonist is for the public, and the master is for my own,” he muttered.
*****
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