The performance, tailored specifically for the competition, lasted exactly thirteen minutes. Though seemingly brief, it was a relentless display of virtuosity—not a single movement was simple. After showcasing nearly nothing but high-difficulty maneuvers, even Fa Muzhi, who was usually in excellent physical condition, collapsed onto the floor the moment the final note of the qin faded away.

He lay on the wooden floor, its slight coolness providing perfect relief from his overheated body. The air around his nose was filled with the scent of incense. This fragrance felt different now than during his exertion—while he’d only caught a fleeting floral note earlier, his heavy breathing now drew in deep, lingering whiffs that revealed a woody aroma.

Then, accompanied by the sound of footsteps, Su Huanliu appeared towering above him.

Squatting down, Su Huanliu wrapped a soft white bath towel around Fa Muzhi’s body and began wiping away his sweat as usual. Not with rough, haphazard strokes, but with gentle, pressing motions. When he reached the abdomen, his slender fingers slid over the washboard-like, perfectly defined abs.

The cool fingers slid left, then right, finally tracing down the midline…

Fa Muzhi immediately caught the wandering hand, raising an eyebrow as his narrowed eyes met the man above. He said:

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. Did you just draw a pig’s head on my stomach?”

Su Huanliu flashed a toothy grin.

Ignoring Fa Muzhi’s question, he simply lowered his gaze to the other’s abdomen, his expression filled with envy.

Without needing to say anything, Fa Muzhi knew exactly what he was thinking.

Propping himself up with one arm, he casually pushed Su Huanliu to sit on the floor. Then, with practiced ease, he lifted the tightly wrapped cloth covering the man’s belly. The skin there, like the rest of its owner’s body, was pale from years of never seeing daylight, yet it felt incredibly smooth. glowing softly beneath the light. Moreover, it didn’t feel as frail as its owner appeared. Though currently in a sit-up position, even through the thin layer of skin, it was clear: the ridges beneath weren’t fat, but well-defined abdominal muscles.

“Looks like you’ve been practicing diligently at home.” Fa Muzhi patted the muscle with satisfaction.

“Though I think your upper abs could use a bit more work…” After carefully examining Su Huanliu’s bare chest, he didn’t let the other man get up. Instead, he lay down beside him, demonstrated an exercise, and then gestured for Su Huanliu to follow along.

Having no habit of spending money at gyms, Fa Muzhi was a proponent of home bodyweight training.

Not objecting, Su Huanliu slowly removed his top, then just as deliberately folded it neatly and placed it aside before mimicking the exercise…

As always, his disciplined and healthy early-off-work time passed in this manner.

Then, before the other office workers arrived at the battlefield—no, the restaurant—the two headed straight to the place Su Huanliu had reserved in advance.

“After dinner, shall we catch a stage play? Miss Meyer’s Anxiety—a classic production, though with an entirely new cast. The actress playing Miss Meyer was selected through an open casting call as a prodigious talent. And while the director has never staged a play before, he’s exceptionally skilled in film direction. I’m quite curious to see if their collaboration might yield some fresh surprises…” As always, he finished his meal first—he never ate much for dinner. Su Huanliu smiled as she suggested the next plan.

Buried in his own plate, Fa Muzhi abruptly extended a hand—

“No thanks. I’m heading straight home. My sister might be back soon.” He swallowed the last bite of salad before speaking, mentally calculating his sister’s last return time, the relative flow of time between their worlds, and the end time of that soccer match.

Su Huanliu sighed disappointedly.

He didn’t press further. Su Huanliu placed one hand on the table, gently twirling the teacup, while the other hung loosely at his side. His piercing black-and-white eyes fixed on Fa Muzhi, who continued eating his bread. After a long moment, he said, “I often wonder… if my family were like yours, I might feel the same urgency to return home every day. Instead—”

The bread-eating motion halted. Fa Muzhi lifted his head to meet his gaze: “Go on. Why don’t you want to go home again? What’s your reason this time?”

Over the years they’d spent together, it could be said that the majority of their time was due to Su Huanliu not wanting to go home. Fa Muzhi, coincidentally, was someone who had no one waiting for him at home either. This shared circumstance had brought the two young boys together, allowing them to spend so much time together.

Pushing aside his tea, Su Huanliu leaned back against the chair’s wide backrest, his brow furrowing in rare displeasure. “My uncle has been coming back often these days. He came back again today.”

“Third Uncle?” Fa Muzhi recalled that the last person who had made him so reluctant to go home was his Third Uncle, prompting his immediate question.

Unexpectedly, Su Huanliu shook his head. “It’s Tenth Uncle.”

Fa Muzhi: …Alright, the old man sure can produce.

But since it involved the other party’s elders, Fa Muzhi never commented on such matters. He only addressed the issue at hand.

“What’s with your Tenth Uncle? Does he also want your grandfather to change the will and take away the portion of the inheritance meant for you?”

Su Huanliu shook his head again, and then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

Neither cold nor warm, without mockery—as if merely sharing a curious tale with Fa Muzhi—he said with a smile, “What he wants isn’t the inheritance. It’s me.”

“?” Fa Muzhi froze.

Then, he saw a hint of sorrow slip into Su Huanliu’s smile.

“He had a son. Every time we met privately, he’d mock me, saying I wouldn’t live long. Heh, who’d have thought I’d still be alive now, while he’s on his deathbed.”

Ceasing to eat, Fa Muzhi lifted his head, listening intently.

“A few months ago, he was messing around with his car and nearly killed himself. Multiple crushed fractures all over his body—that part could be fixed, anyway. His dad has money; he found the top medical team. With the best technology, those fractures could heal. But several of his organs failed.”

“Some transplants failed quickly. He’s barely hanging on now. His parents spend every day praying in the Buddhist shrine at their mansion—but they’re not praying for his recovery. They’re praying for my death.”

“What?!” Fa Muzhi frowned, utterly shocked that his relatives could be like this.

Su Huanliu curled his lips again. “Why wouldn’t they? That’s exactly what they think. They’ve even stopped pretending in front of Grandpa. They’ve started asking him outright if they can use whatever parts of me are usable to replace their son after I die.”

“Anyway, Xiao Liu was a sickly kid. The doctor said it would be a miracle if he lived to thirteen or fourteen. Now he’s already twenty-five—he’s more than lived up to expectations.” He didn’t deliberately mimic anyone’s tone, yet as he spoke slowly, Fa Muzhi felt as if he were witnessing a sharp-tongued middle-aged man cursing someone with these very words.

And that someone was none other than his closest friend—Su Huanliu!

A surge of anger welled up inside him.

Su Huanliu immediately sensed his fury. So, the man who’d been the subject of the remark now turned to comfort Fa Muzhi: “Come on, don’t get angry over someone like that. I’m doing just fine. With those eggs of yours, I feel like I can keep going for a while longer. You know, Zhizhi? Your family’s eggs might really have special effects. I genuinely feel that every time I eat one of your eggs, my body gets a little stronger. It’s not much, but over time, it adds up…”

“Don’t stop, eat more. You just used up a lot of energy. You won’t want me to carry you back later, and walking home alone is a long way—that’ll drain you again…”

He even set out dishes for Fa Muzhi.

Then, as Fa Muzhi began eating again, he propped his chin up and watched him intently. After a moment, he said, “If only my family were like you, Fa Muzhi.”

“Zhizhi, what if I gave up this life and went home with you? To live at your place?”

“Didn’t you say you have trees at home? Hmm… and chickens? If I lived with you, I could chop branches with you every day, raise chickens, collect eggs—maybe we’d get rich?”

This wasn’t the first time Su Huanliu had fantasized like this, but—

Recalling his own reality, Fa Muzhi could only reject him coldly and ruthlessly as usual. However, this time, because Su Huanliu had just poured out his “tragic” story, his refusal felt a bit more heartless.

He didn’t dare lift his head, afraid to meet his friend’s disappointed gaze.

And so, he missed that moment—Su Huanliu’s gaze across from him, utterly unlike what he’d imagined, brimming with genuine interest.

“Still refusing? Seems Zhizhi really doesn’t want me at his place?” Seated in his chair, Su Huanliu watched the young man in black disappear briskly through the restaurant door, smiling cheerfully—not a trace of the pitiful little guy from the story.

He murmured softly, as if talking to himself, yet also as if seeking an answer from the bodyguard seated behind him in the booth.

Xu Yao, the bodyguard, sat ramrod straight, maintaining his rigid posture like a stone. He never answered his employer’s questions nor offered any opinions.

Among his employers, there might indeed be someone who sought his opinion, but it certainly wasn’t the man behind him.

“Let’s go. We’ll see what troubles Miss Meyer has. Come to think of it, this play does bear some resemblance to my current predicament. Hmm… I suppose we’ll just have to see.”

With that, he stood up and walked directly toward the door.

Xu Yao rose swiftly this time. Though he started a step behind, he covered the distance in long strides, reaching the doorway just before Su Huanliu. He yanked the door open, and Su Huanliu stepped out without pausing.