After waking up, Chen Zemian wanted to die.
Not only had he said a lot of stupid things while he was unconscious, but he had also done a lot of stupid things.
The good news was that, due to his vague expressions, Lu Zhuonian probably just thought he was rambling—refusing a gastroscopy, nothing more.
A blessing in disguise.
The results of the gastroscopy weren’t bad, but the long list of forbidden foods at the end made him feel a little hopeless.
The doctor said that stomach problems were 30% treatment and 70% care. Fried foods, high-fat meats, spicy and irritating dishes, cold drinks, and raw or cold seafood were all off-limits.
Basically, his entire diet was banned.
Lu Zhuonian sent the list of forbidden foods to the housekeeper and explicitly prohibited those items from being served at home.
Chen Zemian protested weakly, saying, “I’m the one who can’t eat them, not you. There’s no need to ban them entirely.”
Lu Zhuonian replied, “It’s for you to eat.”
Chen Zemian tilted his head. “Huh? Then you’re not eating?”
Lu Zhuonian casually peeled an apple. “Well, you can go back to Shengfu Huating. Your aunt will cook for you. I’ll return to the Lu residence.”
Chen Zemian pushed himself up with his hands. “No.”
The fruit knife in Lu Zhuonian’s hand paused slightly, and the continuous peel snapped. He looked up at Chen Zemian. “Why not?”
Chen Zemian grabbed Lu Zhuonian’s sleeve. “No means no. You said I could do whatever I wanted. Now you want to go back on your word?”
Lu Zhuonian smiled faintly. “But I don’t know what you want, Chen Zemian. You didn’t say anything and just moved out without a word.”
Chen Zemian’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
It wasn’t just that Lu Zhuonian didn’t know what he wanted—he didn’t know either.
Lu Zhuonian looked at him. “Did I offend you in any way?”
Chen Zemian shook his head. “No.”
Lu Zhuonian looked at him for a moment longer before saying, “You have to return to Shengfu Huating. That’s non-negotiable. Once you recover, I won’t care where you go.”
Chen Zemian was about to respond when there was a knock on the ward door—three times.
Lu Zhuonian didn’t react immediately. He lowered his gaze to the half-peeled apple in his hand, as if lost in thought.
Chen Zemian said, “Come in.”
The door opened, and Zheng Huaiyu walked in slowly, carrying a bouquet of flowers.
To Chen Zemian’s surprise, Shen Qingwan followed behind him.
Chen Zemian blinked. “You know each other? Why are you here together?”
Zheng Huaiyu placed the flowers on the bedside table. “I came to visit and ran into Miss Shen at the nurse’s station.”
This time, Shen Qingwan didn’t bring cake. Instead, she brought her own homemade stewed milk papaya with white fungus.
After washing her hands, she ladled a bowl and said, “Papaya strengthens the spleen and stomach, helps relieve indigestion, and is best stewed. Try some.”
Chen Zemian was flattered. “How did you know I was in the hospital?”
Shen Qingwan smiled. “Yan Luo heard you were sick and wanted to visit. I told him to focus on class and came on his behalf.”
Chen Zemian accepted the bowl, saying “thank you” first before adding, “Yes, he’s about to take the college entrance exam and is in an intensive prep course. Every class matters. I’ll let him know later—it’s just a check-up. Nothing serious.”
Lu Zhuonian seemed to have a headache. He pressed his fingers to his forehead and didn’t speak. When Shen Qingwan approached, he stood up and gave her the seat beside the bed. “You sit.”
Shen Qingwan looked at him in surprise. “President, you sit. I’ll only stay a short while.”
Lu Zhuonian replied calmly, “Take your time. I’ll go answer a call.”
Chen Zemian watched Lu Zhuonian walk out. For some reason, an odd discomfort settled in his chest.
In the past, Lu Zhuonian would never have left him alone with Shen Qingwan. But this time, not only did he give up his seat, he even made an excuse to leave—as if deliberately creating space for them.
It felt strange. Just like earlier, when Lu Zhuonian had said, “You go back to Shengfu Huating, and I’ll return to the Lu residence,” drawing a clear boundary.
Chen Zemian didn’t like it. He frowned unconsciously and didn’t touch the papaya and white fungus in his hands.
Zheng Huaiyu chuckled quietly.
Both Chen Zemian and Shen Qingwan looked at him. Shen Qingwan remained silent, but Chen Zemian asked, “What’s funny?”
Zheng Huaiyu, ever graceful, paced around the private room. Finally, he stopped by the windowsill and tapped the fish tank with his finger. “Look at how silly this fish is. It only knows the water is shaking, but doesn’t realize someone outside is knocking.”
Shen Qingwan turned her head to look. “It’s beautiful.”
Zheng Huaiyu said softly, “It’s a guppy—one of the most popular ornamental aquarium fish. They’re small, omnivorous, adaptable, easy to raise, beautiful, and gentle.”
She watched the colorful tail swish through the water. “Fish have temperaments?”
Zheng Huaiyu leaned against the windowsill, gazing down at her. “Some fish thrash when caught. Guppies just lie in your hand and blow bubbles.”
Chen Zemian sensed that Zheng Huaiyu’s words had a deeper meaning and were meant to draw attention. He quickly changed the subject and started talking to Shen Qingwan about school.
At B University, the hottest topic was the upcoming study abroad season.
Shen Qingwan also hoped to study at a prestigious music college as an exchange student. Her GPA and professional scores were excellent, but her father’s criminal record disqualified her.
When she spoke of it, she was regretful, but not bitter.
“I can start saving now. I’ll just go there for graduate school.”
She was like a vine—delicate yet resilient. Her eyes sparkled with dreams. “I just paid off my father’s debt recently. We don’t have much left.”
Zheng Huaiyu looked at her with admiration. “I have friends and professors there. I can write you a recommendation when the time comes.”
“Really?” Shen Qingwan looked surprised.
“Really. I went to college in California,” he said.
They exchanged WeChat contacts. Shen Qingwan smiled. “Didn’t expect to meet a benefactor while visiting a patient.”
But Zheng Huaiyu didn’t consider himself a benefactor. He simply recognized someone like himself—and added her to his “group.”
Everyone thought Zheng Huaiyu was a charming playboy, but in truth, he was just searching for his own kind.
This is a world obsessed with appearances. Beautiful creatures enjoy many privileges but face countless dangers.
Zheng Huaiyu was lucky. In addition to being beautiful, he came from wealth. He used his resources to help others like him when he could.
Few believed a handsome, wealthy heir would offer help without expecting anything in return. As a result, he was branded a flirt and a heartbreaker in elite circles.
It was inevitable. Whenever he helped someone beautiful, feelings followed. It annoyed him—but each time he looked in the mirror, he forgave them.
After all, how could he blame them for liking him? He liked himself, too.
Still, forgiveness didn’t mean acceptance. Anyone who fell for him was quietly removed from his circle.
Because “liking” is dangerous for beautiful creatures.
Like flowers in bloom, they’re easily plucked. Most people’s affection is selfish, possessive, even destructive.
He once suspected Lu Zhuonian’s feelings for Chen Zemian were like that—possessive. But after observing them for a few days, he realized: Lu Zhuonian wasn’t trying to break the fish—he was raising it.
Of course, he was also fishing.
And the beautiful little fish had already started to stir.
It just didn’t know it yet.
Chen Zemian’s attention toward Lu Zhuonian was obvious. Zheng Huaiyu didn’t need to explain—it was evident from the way he talked to Shen Qingwan.
Since they’d brought up study abroad, the topic naturally turned to Lu Zhuonian.
People in their department were surprised he had declined the opportunity. Even students in other departments had heard the news.
“Everyone thought he would go abroad.”
Shen Qingwan leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “At our school, the student union president usually goes abroad in the second semester of sophomore year. All of us vice presidents were already jockeying for his position. But then he suddenly said he wouldn’t go.”
Chen Zemian stirred the papaya in his bowl with a spoon, looking more worried than the vice presidents. “I don’t know why he didn’t go. It’s such a good opportunity… If it’s wasted—”
If it was wasted, would it change what was supposed to happen next?
Shen Qingwan suspected it had something to do with Chen Zemian, but since he didn’t say anything, neither did she. She simply said, “I’m sure President Lu has his reasons. Focus on your recovery first.”
Chen Zemian smiled. “I’m really fine. Thank you for coming and bringing this delicious papaya stew.”
She glanced at the bowl, the papaya mashed to pulp. “Is it delicious?”
“Delicious,” Chen Zemian replied without hesitation.
Shen Qingwan squinted at him. “You haven’t taken a single bite, Chen Zhe.”
Chen Zemian: “…”
Shen Qingwan had classes in the afternoon, so after sitting for a while, she stood up to leave. Zheng Huaiyu, ever the gentleman, offered to take her downstairs and said he could drop her off at school along the way.
Shen Qingwan declined politely, but Zheng Huaiyu simply smiled and said, “I’m Mr. Chen’s secretary. It’s only right I take Ms. Shen back to school.”
For some reason, every time Chen Zemian saw Zheng Huaiyu, he couldn’t help but imagine him as something like a butterfly fairy or a daffodil—beautiful, fragile, and faintly fragrant. He was completely different from Liu Yuebo or Ye Xi—people who could be reprimanded or scolded. Zheng Huaiyu couldn’t be yelled at, nor could he be hit. Chen Zemian truly had no idea how to interact with him.
Seeing that he was about to leave, Chen Zemian quickly leaned toward Shen Qingwan and whispered, “Let him take you. His fragrance makes me want to cough.”
Shen Qingwan couldn’t help but laugh. “All right. I’d rather obey than be polite.”
The two walked off chatting softly. A while later, Lu Zhuonian returned to the ward.
He didn’t ask what had been discussed in his absence, nor did he sit by the bed. Instead, he walked to the sofa by the wall and sat down.
His profile was clear and elegant, as if sculpted from calm itself. His eyes held little emotion—just a quiet, untouchable nobility.
Chen Zemian glanced at him. “Why did it take so long to make a phone call?”
Lu Zhuonian turned slightly. “Kesong will come see you later.”
“Here?” Chen Zemian frowned. “Can’t I just leave after a bit of observation?”
Lu Zhuonian’s tone was calm, devoid of warmth. “Let him go wherever is convenient for you.”
Something about the way he spoke made Chen Zemian’s heart sink. A subtle pressure gathered in his chest.
“What did you do just now?” he asked, quietly.
“Answered the phone,” Lu Zhuonian replied.
Chen Zemian’s gaze dropped to the breast pocket of Lu Zhuonian’s suit. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. His eyes sharpened.
“Come here.”
Lu Zhuonian raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel a little nauseous,” Chen Zemian said. “I want some water.”
Without hesitation, Lu Zhuonian got up, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it over.
Chen Zemian looked down at the glass. The water rippled gently in the transparent cup.
He lifted his hand, not to take the glass, but to reach into Lu Zhuonian’s suit pocket.
In one swift movement, he pulled something out—a small blister pack of pills.
Paroxetine.
One tablet was missing from the upper-right corner.
Lu Zhuonian had gone to get a prescription.
Chen Zemian held the strip between his fingers, letting the silence stretch. Then, in a low voice, he asked, “What’s this?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t respond. He knew Chen Zemian had already read the label.
Chen Zemian took a slow breath, then looked up, his gaze fierce. “You were sick, and you didn’t tell me.”
Lu Zhuonian’s fingers curled slightly around the water glass. “I’m not sick. Just some early signs. I’m taking medicine in advance, just in case.”
Chen Zemian let out a cold laugh. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why do you need to ‘prevent’ anything?” Chen Zemian gripped the blister pack tightly in his hand. “Is it because you don’t want me to treat you anymore, or—like how you silently assumed I wouldn’t return to Shengfu Huating next week—you’ve already assumed I don’t want to help you anymore?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t flinch. His face remained composed, his expression quiet, unaffected. He simply looked at Chen Zemian, silently, for three full seconds.
Paroxetine has a wide range of clinical side effects. Depending on the individual, symptoms can vary drastically. Where Chen Zemian grew heavy and introspective, Lu Zhuonian became emotionally muted.
He’d been on medication for a long time before. Over time, he’d learned to mask the side effects, and had built up a certain tolerance. His behavior remained stable. Unremarkable.
But this time was different.
He had stopped taking the pills for nearly two months. And now, this new box came from a different pharmaceutical company—one he hadn’t used before. The ingredients weren’t exactly the same. The dosage form differed slightly.
Everything together created a reaction he hadn’t expected.
Headaches. Nausea. A faint tremble in his fingers. Most of all, a drifting detachment from his own emotions.
He could tell something inside him was off—an imbalance—but he thought he could act through it. That his usual calm demeanor would suffice.
He hadn’t expected it to be so obvious.
Hadn’t expected that in just a few minutes, Chen Zemian would notice.
Lu Zhuonian thought he was hiding it well.
But Chen Zemian had already grown accustomed to the version of him with warmth in his voice and weight in his gaze.
Now, standing before him cold and quiet, Lu Zhuonian revealed more in his stillness than he ever had in his words.
Chen Zemian noticed something was wrong the moment he saw the lifeless look in Lu Zhuonian’s eyes.
As someone who had once mistakenly taken paroxetine and experienced its side effects firsthand, Chen Zemian knew now was not the time to talk to Lu Zhuonian.
He needed to wait until the drug wore off—until Lu Zhuonian returned to himself—before trying to communicate with the person he was familiar with.
Because the Lu Zhuonian in front of him now, under the influence of an “emotional indifference debuff,” was clearly not someone easy to reason with.
But knowing something and being able to act on it were two different things.
Chen Zemian didn’t have that emotional indifference debuff.
He was very upset, very annoyed, and very angry. Furious, even.
Furious that Lu Zhuonian didn’t trust him, that he’d acted on his own, that he would rather take medication than let Chen Zemian know he was sick.
Even the adverse side effects weren’t enough to stop him.
Who exactly was he putting on this cold, detached act for?
Chen Zemian was seething, like a balloon about to burst, like a puffed-up pufferfish. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. The string of reason in his mind snapped with a sharp pop.
He was furious.
If Chen Zemian were a game character, his red rage meter would be so full it was glowing purple.
I have to vent!
He was mad at everything. Not just Lu Zhuonian—even a passing dog might get smacked at this point.
His anger burned so hot, even Lu Zhuonian—numbed by medication and incapable of fully responding to emotional stimuli—could sense it.
Lu Zhuonian raised a hand and gently held Chen Zemian’s wrist. “Don’t be angry.”
Chen Zemian looked at him coldly. “Aren’t you emotionally indifferent right now? Isn’t everything supposed to feel the same to you?”
Lu Zhuonian replied calmly, “Emotional indifference doesn’t mean low IQ.”
Chen Zemian: “…”
Lu Zhuonian’s fingers curled around his wrist, eyes steady. “The side effects are worse than I expected. Right now, my emotional response is dulled—I can’t feel your anger like I normally would. But I know you’re angry. Can you calm down, just a little?”
Chen Zemian yanked his hand free. “If you can’t feel my emotions, why do you care whether I’m angry or not?”
“I said I can’t empathize with your emotions, not that I’m dead,” Lu Zhuonian said, his gaze icy but his voice as soft as a spring breeze. “No matter how angry you are today, by tomorrow… it’ll be gone.”
That unexpectedly gentle tone softened Chen Zemian’s fury, if only slightly. He stopped being sharp and muttered under his breath, “Where would I even go?”
Lu Zhuonian replied, “You left before when I didn’t offend you. If I really upset you this time… will I ever see you again?”
Chen Zemian flared up again. “Am I that petty?”
Lu Zhuonian caught his wrist once more. “It’s not that you’re petty. It’s that I’m too afraid of losing you.”
This time, Chen Zemian didn’t pull away, but he didn’t go easy either. “What difference does it make if you see me or not? You’ve already started taking medication. You won’t need me anymore.”
Lu Zhuonian frowned. “Those are two separate things. Don’t mix them up. You just had a gastroscopy today. I haven’t been feeling well lately. I couldn’t afford to get sick too, so I took medicine in advance to prevent that… But I’m really not used to this brand. I won’t take it again. Where do you keep the meds at home?”
Chen Zemian nearly answered without thinking—but stopped himself just in time.
“You’re trying to trick me?!”
He stared at Lu Zhuonian in disbelief. “Even now, you’re still scheming? Lu Zhuonian, you’re way too cunning.”
“How could I be?” Lu Zhuonian said mildly. “Last time I had an episode, I asked you, but you didn’t tell me. I’m just trying to prepare for the next one.” His eyes flicked toward the cardboard medicine tin in Chen Zemian’s hand. “You don’t want me using this factory’s meds again, do you?”
It was clearly a stretch, but damn if it didn’t make a bit of sense.
Was that even reasonable?
What kind of absurdly high IQ logic was this?
Chen Zemian stared at him, stunned.
Lu Zhuonian looked completely unruffled.
Chen Zemian was at a loss for words.
Then Lu Zhuonian added, “You don’t want me to take this medicine because you care about my health. But now you’re sick. I can’t just stop caring about your health, right? Shouldn’t you get better first? Isn’t that what matters most right now?”
Under that relentless logic, Chen Zemian’s objections suddenly sounded feeble.
“I just have a stomach issue. That doesn’t mean I need to stop caring about you. What does that have to do with my health?”
He tried to leap out of the trap. “If you take that medicine, does it magically cure my stomach? What happened to what we talked about before? Lu Zhuonian, you’re really… I don’t even know what to say to you anymore.”
Lu Zhuonian said, “Chen Zemian, honestly… taking the medicine isn’t that bad. Life’s less complicated that way.”
Chen Zemian suddenly looked up. “What do you mean by that—‘less complicated’? Are you saying that me helping you is a problem?”
Lu Zhuonian lowered his lashes. “Back when you were helping me, things weren’t this messy between us.”
“We’re not in conflict now either,” Chen Zemian shot back.
“No conflict? Then why haven’t you come home all week?” Lu Zhuonian asked. His tone was calm to the point of arrogance. “You said you’d help me. But then you started avoiding me, didn’t want to see me. If you were in my position, what would you think?”
Chen Zemian flushed with embarrassment and snapped, “I never said I didn’t want to see you! And not coming home doesn’t mean I’m not helping. If you’d asked me to come back, I would’ve come. But did you ask? No! You just assumed I wouldn’t!”
Their raised voices alerted the nurse in the hallway, who knocked gently on the door.
“Is everything alright in here?” she asked softly.
Lu Zhuonian turned toward the door.
Chen Zemian took a deep breath. “We’re fine.”
The nurse added gently, “Mr. Lu, the patient’s just come out of anesthesia. Please be mindful of his emotional state.”
Lu Zhuonian nodded. “Understood.”
Then she turned to Chen Zemian. “Mr. Chen, after a general anesthesia gastroscopy, your body will feel fatigued. Please rest.”
Chen Zemian flopped onto the bed like a deflated balloon. “Got it.”
Lu Zhuonian adjusted the quilt around him. “Don’t be angry or agitated. Let’s talk again when we’re both calmer.”
“Oh, I’m the one who’s not calm?” Chen Zemian sneered. “You mean I should be like you, right? Sure.”
Then, he reached into the drawer, pulled out a pill of paroxetine, and popped it into his mouth. “If I take this, I won’t be angry or excited anymore.”
Lu Zhuonian’s pupils contracted sharply. His previously emotionless expression finally cracked.
He grabbed Chen Zemian by the neck. “Spit it out.”
His grip was so strong that Chen Zemian choked, coughing violently.
He couldn’t even swallow it if he tried, yet he insisted he had.
Lu Zhuonian didn’t believe him. He pinched Chen Zemian’s jaw, forced his mouth open, and stuck his fingers in.
His long fingers explored the warmth of his mouth, brushing against his tongue.
Chen Zemian couldn’t close his mouth at all and could only let Lu Zhuonian do as he pleased.
Pinned down by an iron grip, he had no choice but to tilt his head back. His exposed throat formed a graceful, vulnerable line—like a swan offering its neck to be broken.
Elegant. Beautiful. Fragile.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes darkened. His fingertips pressed at the root of Chen Zemian’s tongue until he found the tiny pill tucked beneath it.
Saliva dripped from the corner of Chen Zemian’s mouth, tracing a glistening, ambiguous line across his cheek.
Lu Zhuonian withdrew his hand, pill in hand.
Chen Zemian nearly threw up. The moment Lu Zhuonian let go, he curled up on the bed, coughing violently.
Lu Zhuonian grabbed two tissues, knelt beside the bed, and wiped his mouth in silence.
In his other hand, he clutched the still-warm pill.
Its warmth scorched his palm, as if the pill carried not just body heat—but the burning echo of Chen Zemian’s resolve.
The heat pierced flesh, branded his soul.
Chen Zemian kept coughing.
Lu Zhuonian had been too frantic, rougher than when his own episodes hit.
He’d been terrified Chen Zemian might actually swallow it.
The drug’s side effects were intense, and Chen Zemian had just undergone a gastroscopy—forcing him to vomit now would’ve been brutal.
But the endoscopy had already irritated his throat, leaving it raw and sensitive. Every cough triggered a dry heave.
His stomach was empty. He couldn’t throw anything up. All he could do was retch until his eyes went red and tears spilled from his tightly shut lids.
Expressionless, Lu Zhuonian wiped those tears too.
Chen Zemian was being reckless. He needed to be taught a lesson—taught just how serious this was.
“Will you casually take medicine again?”
Lu Zhuonian’s cold gaze swept over him. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Chen Zemian chuckled through watery eyes. “Don’t do what?”
Lu Zhuonian’s throat moved slightly. “Don’t court trouble. Ignore me if you want.”
Chen Zemian raised an eyebrow, voice low and serious. “What if I insist on caring?”
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes darkened, voice low. “Then you’ll suffer even more than now.”
Chen Zemian smiled again. “You always forget what I said.”
Before Lu Zhuonian could reply, he was abruptly thrown back onto the bed.
It was Chen Zemian.
His first time physically retaliating against Lu Zhuonian.
Call it an attack, if you like.
The power and precision behind it were stunning.
Lu Zhuonian knew Chen Zemian could fight—but seeing it was nothing like feeling it.
As his back hit the bed, Lu Zhuonian found himself staring up at that beautiful face.
Chen Zemian looked down at him, lips curled. “I told you. If I don’t want something—no one can make me.”
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes flickered.
Chen Zemian leaned in, whispering in his ear, “I never planned to swallow that pill. I just wanted to scare you.”
Lu Zhuonian rubbed his nose against Chen Zemian’s cheek. “You did it on purpose.”
Chen Zemian smirked, proud and cunning. “Of course I did. I took the pill on purpose. I made you fish it out on purpose. I’m not actually stupid.”
A smile finally touched Lu Zhuonian’s eyes. He reached up and gently pinched Chen Zemian’s cheek. “Who gave you the guts to play games with me?”
Chen Zemian narrowed his eyes, undaunted. “That was just a warning.”
Lu Zhuonian: “Warning for what?”
Chen Zemian stared into his eyes, voice firm. “I said you’re not allowed to take paroxetine. If I find out you’re secretly taking it again, I’ll take as much as you do.”
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes trembled, his expression complex.
Chen Zemian raised an eyebrow, cool and proud. “If you want to suffer, fine. But I’ll suffer right alongside you.”
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
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