With Lu Zhuonian’s unconditional concession, Chen Zemian couldn’t stay angry—even if he wanted to.
He was just like a puppy. His temper came fast and went faster.
After a few gentle words from Lu Zhuonian, he forgot that he was even upset. Quietly, obediently, he followed along—
Without even asking where they were going.
It wasn’t until the driver turned onto an unfamiliar road that Chen Zemian finally noticed they weren’t headed back to Shengfu Huating.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Hospital,” Lu Zhuonian replied.
The word “hospital” immediately gave Chen Zemian a headache. Hospitals meant queues: registration, consultation, exams, waiting for reports, taking the reports back to the doctor, and finally lining up at the pharmacy.
“You don’t have to queue at private hospitals,” Lu Zhuonian said calmly. “You see the doctor immediately, and the test results come out quickly.”
Quick, yes—but expensive.
Chen Zemian remembered the anesthetic from last time that cost several thousand yuan. He suspected the business model of private hospitals was based on price over volume.
But this time, they were going to the Lu family’s hospital. So no matter how much money was spent, it would eventually circle back into the Lu family’s account. A neat little economic closed loop.
How can someone be so disgustingly rich? So frustrating!
The car sped down the road. Chen Zemian and Lu Zhuonian sat in the backseat, a gap between them, wrapped in silence.
A quiet, distant tension lingered in the car.
Lu Zhuonian sat upright, one button of his suit undone. His knees were slightly apart, one hand resting casually on his leg, the other hanging at his side.
His expression was unreadable, his thin lips pressed into a neutral line, his eyebrows sharp, his thick lashes casting shadows beneath his eyes. The cold, distant aura he exuded was unmistakable, even as his eyelids drooped slightly with calm.
At that moment, Chen Zemian felt like he didn’t know Lu Zhuonian anymore.
Or perhaps—it was the first time he had truly seen him clearly again.
Lu Zhuonian had always been aloof and composed, someone who instinctively kept others at arm’s length. Chen Zemian had mistaken him as warm and easy-going simply because they had grown too close, too familiar.
The closeness had blurred the image, softened the edges, made him seem gentle.
But in truth, Lu Zhuonian was someone unreachable—someone hard to get close to.
It had only been a little over a week since they last saw each other, but the distance between them now felt unfamiliar.
Lu Zhuonian didn’t speak. And Chen Zemian didn’t know what to say. If he wasn’t going to talk, then neither would he.
He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up, leaned against the car window, and closed his eyes. Quiet and small, like a curled-up animal.
Lu Zhuonian glanced sideways. Seeing Chen Zemian like this—curled up like a quail—his gaze softened, and a faint smile flickered in his eyes.
Chen Zemian had only been pretending to sleep.
But his poor sleep habits were no secret, and before the car had even driven two blocks, he had genuinely fallen asleep.
It wasn’t until Lu Zhuonian gently pulled back his hood that he stirred awake, dazed.
“We’re here,” Lu Zhuonian said.
Chen Zemian unbuckled his seatbelt and headed toward the outpatient hall without needing to be told.
During the consultation, he had no choice but to mention some things that Lu Zhuonian didn’t know.
Like how he’d been experiencing frequent stomach pains recently, how eating made him nauseous, and how even slightly overeating would make him vomit.
The doctor immediately recommended a gastroscopy.
Chen Zemian didn’t want to do it, but in the end, he nodded reluctantly.
He understood his own condition well enough. This wasn’t something minor. It needed to be checked.
Without hesitation, Lu Zhuonian scheduled a gastroscopy under general anesthesia for the next morning.
After Chen Zemian signed the forms, he suddenly remembered something. “Aren’t there those capsule robot ones you can swallow?”
The doctor shook his head. “Traditional gastroscopy gives clearer results. Under general anesthesia, there’s no discomfort. You’ll just wake up and it’s done.”
Chen Zemian sighed. “Alright.”
“You’ll need to fast for eight hours beforehand. Stick to liquids today,” the doctor instructed. Then he turned to Lu Zhuonian. “As a family member, please keep an eye on him. No milk, soy milk, dumplings, or bread. All of those count as food. Understood?”
Lu Zhuonian nodded, took the checklist, and left the clinic with Chen Zemian.
Chen Zemian was quiet, energy drained.
Not because he was afraid of the procedure. What truly weighed on him was the fear that the test results would be bad.
He’d had stomach pain since the day he arrived in this world. He’d been avoiding seeing a doctor, hoping it would go away on its own. Maybe some medicine would help. Maybe if he watched his diet, things would get better.
But Chen Zemian had terrible self-control. Every time the pain subsided, he’d forget all about it—going back to eating whatever he wanted: raw, cold, spicy, greasy, even seafood. His sleeping schedule had been erratic for ages. Instead of getting better, his condition had only gotten worse.
Especially after he stopped going back to Shengfu Huating, no one was cooking for him. He’d lived off takeout for days. Naturally, things deteriorated.
Lately, he was vomiting almost every day.
He hadn’t even told the doctor that there had been blood in his vomit the past two days—mainly because Lu Zhuonian was standing right beside him.
Anyway, they’d see it on the gastroscopy tomorrow. A few more hours wouldn’t make a difference. And if he got scolded for hiding it—so be it.
Maybe once Lu Zhuonian saw him looking so pitiful after the procedure, he wouldn’t have the heart to be harsh.
Despite everything, Chen Zemian still feared Lu Zhuonian a little. He feared the way Lu Zhuonian always tried to control him.
But… he didn’t hate it.
In fact, he liked it—being controlled by Lu Zhuonian.
Because he couldn’t control himself. He needed someone who could.
Otherwise, living the way he did, he might very well end up dying again one day.
And it wasn’t an unfounded fear. It wasn’t just paranoia. Chen Zemian had already died once—exactly like this—before he crossed into this world.
Back then, his health had been much better. But even so, he’d burned the candle at both ends until his heart gave out.
This time, he wanted to avoid repeating the same fate.
If he couldn’t discipline himself, then it was especially important to find someone who could.
And there was no one more suitable than Lu Zhuonian.
Because—Lu Zhuonian knew him too well.
With Chen Zemian’s reckless nature, for him to agree to a gastroscopy without hesitation—it could only mean one thing. His condition had reached a point where he couldn’t avoid it anymore.
In front of the doctor, he only mentioned stomach pain and vomiting. He didn’t say how many times it had happened in the past few days. And when asked about other symptoms, he hesitated, clearly hiding something.
Lu Zhuonian’s expression darkened.
He’d deliberately taken a hands-off approach with Chen Zemian, not wanting to pressure him or force him into anything. But the moment he loosened the reins, this person managed to drive himself into a health crisis.
Watching Lu Zhuonian’s face cloud over, Chen Zemian grew flustered. His breathing turned shallow. Guiltily, he mumbled, “I’ll come for the exam tomorrow,” then turned to flee.
But Lu Zhuonian reached out and tugged on his hood.
Again.
Every single time Lu Zhuonian yanked on his hoodie like this, Chen Zemian swore he’d never wear one again. Yet every time he went out, he’d still reach for the same kind of sweatshirt—so easy to slip on, so deceptively convenient.
Lu Zhuonian said nothing. He simply hauled him toward the car, treating him like an unruly prisoner.
“Back to Shengfu Huating,” he ordered.
Still holding onto his hood, Chen Zemian turned around and grabbed Lu Zhuonian’s hand. “I’ve got something to do, Lu Shao.”
Lu Zhuonian shot him a calm but icy look. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”
Chen Zemian immediately shrank back, muttering under his breath, “I really do have something…”
Lu Zhuonian’s voice turned cold, mechanical. “You can do whatever you want. Go wherever you want. But on one condition.”
Chen Zemian looked up at him, his clear eyes wide, unguarded, glinting with a trace of innocence. “What condition?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “What do you think?”
Chen Zemian squinted, gauging the mood. “Depends on your mood?”
Lu Zhuonian gave a short laugh. “You think I’ve been in a good mood lately?”
Silence. Chen Zemian looked down, guilt creeping back in.
“You’ve been hiding from me. Avoiding me.” Lu Zhuonian reached up, tilting his chin so their eyes met. “Fine. I won’t look for you, not this week—not ever, if that’s what you want. But you have to take care of yourself.”
Chen Zemian’s gaze flickered. He muttered, “I haven’t been hiding…”
Lu Zhuonian clearly didn’t believe it. His thumb traced along Chen Zemian’s jawline, subtle and deliberate. “But you’ve lost weight.”
“…I haven’t,” Chen Zemian murmured again, quieter this time.
Lu Zhuonian’s hand stilled. His voice was soft, almost tired. “You never admit to anything.”
His stare burned into Chen Zemian like fire, and despite himself, Chen Zemian’s lashes trembled. But he still answered, firmly, “I didn’t… I didn’t avoid you because I didn’t want to see you.”
Lu Zhuonian’s breath caught.
Something shifted in his expression—his usual calm overtaken by something deeper, more tangled.
“Then…” he asked, voice low, “do you want to see me?”
Chen Zemian bit his lip, nodded slowly.
“Then why didn’t you dare to see me?” Lu Zhuonian’s voice was quieter now, but impossibly more pressing.
Chen Zemian didn’t answer.
He lowered his head, started to fidget with the strings on his hoodie, twisting them around his fingers like a child trying to avoid a scolding.
Lu Zhuonian felt utterly helpless.
Even when Chen Zemian was healthy and argumentative, he couldn’t bring himself to say harsh things. Now that he was sick, how could he possibly do it?
But if Chen Zemian refused to speak, even someone like Lu Zhuonian—with all his resources and cleverness—was at a loss. He could only swallow his questions and force himself not to dig deeper.
Lu Zhuonian gently placed the hood back on Chen Zemian’s head, then tapped it softly.
“Fine,” he said. “Keep hiding.”
Chen Zemian didn’t want to hide.
But he’d rather die than admit he’d gone into a spiral because… because he’d watched some gay action movies, and suddenly became resistant to the idea of deeper intimacy with Lu Zhuonian.
“It’s just… really scary.”
*****
The next morning, after the gastroscopy, when Chen Zemian woke up, the anesthesia hadn’t worn off completely.
His brain was foggy, thoughts loose and drifting. Whatever he had said yesterday about “not telling even if you beat me to death,” was gone from memory.
He opened his eyes and started babbling nonsense, over and over mumbling, “It’s terrible… it’s terrible…”
Lu Zhuonian sat by his side, gently stroking his hair. “It’s not terrible. The gastroscopy is over. You’re okay now. Just sleep a while longer—you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
But Chen Zemian heard only the word “sleep,” and immediately panicked.
“No—don’t sleep!” he cried, bolting upright with fear in his eyes.
Startled, Lu Zhuonian looked to the doctor. “What’s wrong with him?”
The doctor explained, calmly, “Anesthesia suppresses the central nervous system, so patients can be disoriented or emotionally unstable after waking. It’s common, Mr. Lu. Don’t worry.”
Sure enough, Chen Zemian was like a drunk kitten—rambling incoherently and clinging to Lu Zhuonian’s clothes for dear life. His limbs were soft, his grip weak, but he still scrambled onto Lu Zhuonian like a frightened child.
The nurses stepped in to help, trying to pull him off, but Chen Zemian clung tighter, whining in his small, raspy voice, “I don’t wanna go back to bed… I don’t wanna do it again…”
Lu Zhuonian held him protectively, gesturing for the others to back off.
“I don’t want to…” Chen Zemian mumbled again, nestling into Lu Zhuonian’s arms. “Can I not do it…?”
Lu Zhuonian soothed him, “It’s already done. It’s over. You’re fine now.”
Chen Zemian blinked slowly, then twisted around and looked—eyes wide with disbelief—toward his backside.
“…What? It’s done?!!”
Lu Zhuonian nodded. “Yes.”
Chen Zemian looked scandalized. “But… I didn’t feel anything?! Nothing!”
The nurse chuckled. “That’s because it was done under general anesthesia.”
Chen Zemian’s mouth fell open. No wonder he felt so weak.
He slowly sat up and, with a wobbling finger, pointed at Lu Zhuonian. “How could you… how could you do this?”
“You agreed to it yesterday,” Lu Zhuonian said matter-of-factly. “You couldn’t have handled it without anesthesia.”
But Chen Zemian, half-asleep and dazed, clearly didn’t remember that part.
All he knew was that something had been done, and it had been done under anesthesia.
The damage was done. There was no going back now.
Slumping against Lu Zhuonian’s shoulder, he knocked his forehead lightly against it and muttered in a defeated, slightly aggrieved voice.
“…Lu Zhuonian… you’re so shameless.”
*****
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