“You’re like a kitten.”
Lu Zhuonian turned his head to avoid Chen Zemian’s overly warm breath. “You jump up and down every day. You’re curious and energetic. You don’t listen to orders, and you’re lawless.”
Chen Zemian kissed Lu Zhuonian’s cheek and asked curiously, “Then why do you call me a puppy?”
“Puppies are obedient.” Lu Zhuonian pressed the back of Chen Zemian’s neck and pulled him into his arms, preventing him from rubbing against him. “It expresses the beautiful hope that you might someday learn to behave.”
Chen Zemian nestled into Lu Zhuonian’s chest and muttered, “How am I disobedient? Every time we do that, I always do what you want.”
Lu Zhuonian laughed softly. “That’s why you’re like a kitten. You only become obedient after being played with. Now I’m asking you to sleep, but you’re not listening.”
Chen Zemian didn’t want to sleep—and couldn’t.
The darkness magnified the fear lurking deep in his heart. He closed his eyes. In his mind, apart from the flashback of the car accident, there was the looming plot of what was yet to come.
To escape his spiraling thoughts, Chen Zemian searched for a distraction.
He gently toyed with the buttons on Lu Zhuonian’s pajamas and coaxed, “Then come play with me.”
Lu Zhuonian held his fingertips and asked gently, “Do you really want to play, or are you just nervous and overstimulated from the car accident and trying to distract yourself?”
Chen Zemian’s heart trembled at the words.
Lu Zhuonian was too sharp—too perceptive.
He knew Chen Zemian so well that sometimes it felt like he understood him better than Chen Zemian understood himself.
Chen Zemian buried his face in Lu Zhuonian’s neck and fell silent.
Lu Zhuonian pulled the quilt open, drew Chen Zemian into its folds, and placed a hand on his back, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.
“Do you feel better now?”
He held Chen Zemian close and whispered his name. “Mianmian, I’m willing to help you distract yourself in any way you want, but you know the pleasure hormones bring is only temporary. It won’t solve the problem at its root.”
Chen Zemian hid under the quilt, the boundless world reduced to this tiny, tangible space.
It was just him and Lu Zhuonian here.
Lu Zhuonian liked him so much—so much that he defied the very logic of a male-protagonist narrative. He liked him so much, he was even willing to give up his life.
They should be able to talk about everything—share everything.
But Chen Zemian didn’t know where to begin.
It felt too sudden to just tell Lu Zhuonian to be careful of his father’s safety. But to explain further would inevitably lead to the plot… and the book.
If it were just one incredible thing, maybe it could be brushed off. But every detail was monumental in its shock value.
He couldn’t just say—
[Lu Zhuonian, I’m not from this world. I came from a book.]
[This world is a male-oriented novel. You’re the protagonist. The plot starts with you inheriting the Lu family business…]
[…Because your father dies.]
It was too abrupt.
Chen Zemian said nothing, and Lu Zhuonian didn’t press him. He simply held him tighter.
His calm, steady breathing created a soothing rhythm in Chen Zemian’s ear. As he listened, his mind began to drift. He grew drowsy.
His head grew heavier on Lu Zhuonian’s shoulder.
Chen Zemian realized that Lu Zhuonian didn’t actually want answers—he just wanted to lull him to sleep like this.
Chen Zemian’s eyelashes trembled.
Half-asleep, half-awake, he suddenly thought of a great way to warn Lu Zhuonian.
He forced himself awake and whispered, “Lu Zhuonian, do you believe that some dreams can predict the future?”
Lu Zhuonian didn’t say whether he believed it or not. He simply asked in a calm tone, “What did you foresee—or what are you predicting again?”
Chen Zemian jolted as if he’d stepped into thin air, instantly awake.
“What did you say?”
He pushed the quilt aside and scrambled away from Lu Zhuonian’s arms, his words tumbling out. “What premonition or prediction? Where does ‘again’ come from?”
Lu Zhuonian sat up and turned on the nightlight at the head of the bed. “Don’t panic. Don’t be afraid.”
But how could Chen Zemian not panic?
He had merely mentioned a “dream that predicts the future.” He hadn’t revealed anything specific, yet Lu Zhuonian had asked what he foresaw—or forewarned, again.
That word—again—was loaded with meaning.
Though he had already shown many inconsistencies in front of Lu Zhuonian and stopped pretending long ago, both of them had tacitly agreed their first meeting had been in Lushui Pavilion.
He’d never once mentioned future plot developments. How could Lu Zhuonian know he had this ability of “premonition”?
Just because he said earlier that the car would definitely explode? But sports cars are notoriously prone to that in crashes.
Lu Zhuonian’s insight was terrifying.
Chen Zemian was pale, overwhelmed by fear and confusion.
Lu Zhuonian had known for a long time that Chen Zemian had access to information from unknown sources.
It was obvious that Chen Zemian had been holding something back tonight. He hesitated for so long, struggling to find the right words. When he seemed about to fall asleep but then stirred himself awake again, Lu Zhuonian had spoken for him—hoping to let him rest sooner.
But he didn’t expect that to scare him even more.
Lu Zhuonian reached out a hand. “Don’t be afraid. Come here.”
Chen Zemian hesitated—he wanted to run.
Lu Zhuonian looked at him, the faintest smile forming between his elegant features. He called softly, “Mianmian.”
Chen Zemian was momentarily stunned by the beauty of that voice. His brain short-circuited for half a second, and before he realized it, his hand was already in Lu Zhuonian’s.
Lu Zhuonian gently clasped his fingers and pulled him back into his arms.
Chen Zemian leaned against him, his back stiff, swallowing nervously.
Lu Zhuonian said softly, “What are you afraid of?”
Chen Zemian couldn’t say exactly—but he was undeniably nervous. “Why do you know that?”
Lu Zhuonian pressed his lips to Chen Zemian’s eyelid. “You didn’t know I knew, did you?”
Chen Zemian stiffened and stared up at him. He spoke like a tongue-twister, breathless and confused. “How would I know that you know unless you tell me? What exactly do you know?”
Lu Zhuonian expressed his guess. “You have a special information channel that allows you to predict some things in the future.”
“Where did you come to that conclusion?” Chen Zemian held his breath unconsciously. “Did I reveal a lot?”
Lu Zhuonian recalled, “Not much. On the night at Fanlou we celebrated Kesong’s birthday, you knew in advance that Shen Qingwan would be in trouble. Even when my right hand was injured, you still believed I would win. When you persuaded me to study abroad, you were sure I would make a lot of connections there and said it would be a pity not to go. You mentioned the ‘Eight Great Families of Beijing’ before, and later I noticed that the situation was indeed developing in that direction.”
Chen Zemian: “…”
So he had revealed so much without realizing it?
Lu Zhuonian had been too patient. Even knowing he could “predict the future,” he never once asked what would happen.
“After the car accident tonight, before going to the hospital for a checkup, you knew that I would be fine. You also knew the car would explode, that Cheng Ziyi would become a movie queen, and that her agent might harm her.”
Lu Zhuonian listed all the abnormalities. “You rarely take the initiative to talk to girls, and you don’t like adding strangers on WeChat. But when Cheng Ziyi asked to add you, you let her scan your QR code. Were you trying to warn her?”
Chen Zemian explained, “I didn’t actually add her. The one I gave them was a work number.”
“Am I a jealous person in your eyes?” Lu Zhuonian couldn’t help laughing and kissed Chen Zemian’s face. “After everything I pointed out, that’s the part you chose to explain?”
Chen Zemian looked at Lu Zhuonian strangely. “When your control issues are at their worst, you practically get sick just seeing me go out.”
Lu Zhuonian smiled. He didn’t deny his strong desire for control, but simply said, “I’ll try my best to restrain it and not interfere with your daily interactions.”
As the attending physician, Chen Zemian acknowledged Lu Zhuonian’s recent progress. “You’re much better now. Today, you didn’t get sick even when I was talking to a girl, and we experienced a car accident. With such an intense emergency and emotional upheaval, you didn’t…”
He paused mid-sentence and looked at Lu Zhuonian.
Lu Zhuonian was also looking at him—with the same surprise and shock in his eyes.
He hadn’t gotten sick today.
From receiving a sports car as a confession gift, to seeing Chen Zemian talk to a girl in the club, to the rockfall accident that nearly killed him, to the explosion of the sports car, to Xiao Kesong’s emotional breakdown after seeing them kiss, to the kiss just before bed, and the suggestive words, even Chen Zemian’s invitation…
Each event had carried strong emotional impact.
In the past, let alone such a concentrated string of events—Any one of them could have triggered an episode of sexual addiction.
But nothing happened.
How could that be?
Chen Zemian’s first reaction was, “Did you take medication?”
Lu Zhuonian took Chen Zemian’s hand and placed it on himself.
Chen Zemian touched twice, still in disbelief, then pulled open Lu Zhuonian’s pajamas to take a look.
Lu Zhuonian had a physical reaction, but he was controlling it.
And this was a normal feeling—a healthy, physiological reaction. Not the compulsive, irrational kind brought on by sex addiction.
For a moment, Chen Zemian felt like he was in a dream.
No one had ever truly treated sex addiction, and he hadn’t known where to start. He had only acted on instinct, believing it was better to release than suppress. Instead of resisting, maybe the path forward was to embrace and resolve it.
Neither of them had experience. They were groping their way in the dark. There had been signs of improvement, yes, but also relapses.
The repeating symptoms were disheartening. Not only did Lu Zhuonian waver, even Chen Zemian had sometimes doubted if it was even possible.
But he had loved Lu Zhuonian, and love required no conditions. At worst, if the illness couldn’t be cured, then he’d remain a lifelong comfort doll for him.
Yet in this long tug-of-war with sexual addiction, they had suddenly achieved a huge breakthrough.
Even if it wasn’t a complete cure, this was a milestone.
The long, unknown exploration had felt like an endless night—and now dawn had arrived, silently and without warning.
Chen Zemian and Lu Zhuonian looked at each other, speechless.
Any words would feel pale in this moment.
On the 6th year and 128th day of Lu Zhuonian’s sexual addiction—The day Chen Zemian chose to confess his love—
Fate changed.
He had encountered his own miracle.
The feeling of triumphing over fate filled Chen Zemian with courage and confidence.
In the past, he had believed the plot was unchangeable, that fate was inescapable. Even when he’d wanted to alter Lu Zizhen and Yan Luo’s fates, he hadn’t known where to begin.
But now, he suddenly realized—even if the ending had already been written, man could still defy the heavens.
Chen Zemian looked at Lu Zhuonian with resolve. “I’ve been restless tonight. There’s something I want to warn you about, but I didn’t know where to start.”
Lu Zhuonian held his hand. “It’s okay. No matter how you say it, I’ll understand.”
Chen Zemian curled his fingers slightly and said, “Mr. Lu.”
Lu Zhuonian was surprised. “My dad?”
Chen Zemian spoke quickly, “He should be especially careful in the next two years. Stay away from real estate projects, don’t go alone to inspect construction sites, and avoid high places. There’s a risk of falling.”
The original story opened with Lu Zizhen’s funeral.
All Chen Zemian knew was that he had died after falling during a site inspection.
The accident had led to a full shutdown of the construction site. The rival Xu family, who had lost the bid, had tried to take advantage of the situation during the funeral—but ended up being humiliated by Lu Zhuonian.
But the book hadn’t mentioned which project it was.
Chen Zemian told Lu Zhuonian all he knew. “It’s a project involving a bid against the Xu family.”
Lu Zhuonian understood instantly.
He even recalled Chen Zemian’s subtle reaction when his father was first mentioned and drew his own conclusion.
Lu Zhuonian asked calmly, “In the future you know, my dad is gone, isn’t he?”
Chen Zemian nodded almost imperceptibly.
“You’re not going to ask how I know?”
Lu Zhuonian stroked his hair. “I told you long ago—whatever unexplainable things you carry, if you don’t want to talk about them, I won’t ask.”
Chen Zemian let out a quiet sigh of relief. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I just didn’t want to trigger some kind of Oedipus effect. But today’s accident happened so suddenly, and I don’t know whether it was just an emergency or something that got brought forward. I’m worried your father’s accident might also happen early. That’s why I told you.”
Lu Zhuonian’s voice was slightly hoarse. “You must have worked up a lot of courage to tell me that.”
Chen Zemian hugged him. “Maybe it can be avoided. A lot of things have already changed from what I know.”
Lu Zhuonian was silent for a few seconds. “I’ll assign more bodyguards to my father and remove any safety risks around him.”
Chen Zemian said firmly, “Fate isn’t unchangeable. Even sex addiction, something so hard to cure, we managed to fight it. Other things can definitely be overcome.”
Whether the plot could be reversed or not—
Chen Zemian would give it his all.
He would protect Lu Zhuonian, just as Lu Zhuonian had protected him.
And he would protect the people Lu Zhuonian cared about.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
