19

The next morning, they both woke up almost drenched in sweat.

The floor heating was already on. Fei Bolin spent the whole night on edge, worrying the bed was too small and Wen Fu would roll off onto the floor. In the second half of the night he gave up and shifted them around, scooting Wen Fu to the inside. But then he was afraid Wen Fu would be cramped, so he kept edging outward, leaving Wen Fu as much room as possible. Come morning, Wen Fu was still plastered against him anyway—hair a mess, the wispy bits at his forehead damp with sweat.

Even so, Wen Fu was still burrowing into him, like he couldn't sleep right without something to press against.

Fei Bolin stroked the back of Wen Fu's head and looked down at his sleeping face.

Asleep, Wen Fu's lashes and the slight upturn of his nose tip were just right—another kind of good behavior, different from every other moment.

Fei Bolin crooked his index finger and gently brushed Wen Fu's dark lashes. Under the lids, Wen Fu's eyeballs shifted uneasily.

He pulled his hand away. Wen Fu's eyes stopped moving.

He brushed them again. The eyeballs moved once more.

Pulled away again. Still again.

After a few rounds of this, Wen Fu frowned in his sleep.

Fei Bolin suddenly felt like some kind of creepy adult—sneaking around poking at a sleeping person like he was teasing a cat. He pulled his hand back decisively, tucked the covers around Wen Fu, and slipped out of bed.

For breakfast he made Wen Fu a sandwich and two scones—that way even if Wen Fu slept in, there'd still be food.

When he ordered the groceries, he threw in two cartons of Jule Milk. By the time he was done, Wen Fu still hadn't woken up.

He had to go to the office, so he'd gotten up early. Before leaving, he poked his head into the study to check on Wen Fu, left a sticky note, and went.

Wen Fu woke up. Eyes still closed, he called out Fei Bolin's name. No answer. He knew—he'd left again.

The sticky note on the dining table told him where the food was, reminded him not to put too much condensed milk on the bread, and didn't forget to tell him to take a dose of anti-inflammatory medicine after meals if he wasn't feeling well.

Wen Fu flipped the note over. This time Fei Bolin hadn't written anything else. Wen Fu's eyes flicked—he ran to the kitchen warming drawer, grabbed breakfast, and stuffed it down standing up. Then he started wandering the house, waiting for Fei Bolin to come home at noon. If Fei Bolin wasn't coming back, he'd have made lunch in advance. Since he'd left nothing extra, that meant he was coming home to cook.

At twelve-thirty, when Fei Bolin stepped inside, he was rewarded at his feet with a Wen Fu sitting cross-legged, head tipped up, waiting.

Without a shred of surprise, he scooped Wen Fu up with his free hand—the one not holding groceries—and headed for the kitchen. 'Did you finish breakfast?'

Wen Fu trailed behind him, nodding. 'Yeah, all of it.'

Fei Bolin set the groceries down and went to check the condensed milk in the fridge, to see how much Wen Fu had used that morning.

There was no condensed milk in the fridge.

Wen Fu had polished off the entire 50ml carton of condensed milk along with both scones.

The instant Fei Bolin opened the fridge door, he felt the figure behind him visibly stiffen.

Wen Fu alertly stopped in his tracks. When Fei Bolin closed the fridge and turned around, Wen Fu's pupils flickered, his gaze darting everywhere, and he quickly pointed at the cabinet first: 'I washed the dishes.'

Fei Bolin glanced at the plates that had held the scones and sandwich that morning, and finally delivered the praise he'd missed yesterday: 'Washed them really clean.'

Wen Fu's eyes lit up. He was about to head out to watch TV, easy and relaxed, when he heard Fei Bolin rolling up his sleeves and prepping vegetables, drawling: 'Next time you eat that much, you're coming with me to the dentist.'

Wen Fu: '...'

He still had an impacted tooth that had never been pulled. Nobody knew except Fei Bolin. Nobody had bothered to deal with it over the years, so it had just dragged on.

After he finished speaking, Fei Bolin glanced back and saw Wen Fu's whole posture deflate, dragging his feet toward the living room.

A smile crept across his lips. He'd made his point—no need to keep scaring him.

At lunch, Wen Fu was still listless from the dentist comment, but it didn't slow down his eating one bit.

Small, helpless, but he can eat.jpg

Wen Fu moped and ate seriously at the same time. Fei Bolin waited until he was nearly done, then asked: 'When's the variety show recording?'

Wen Fu thought for a moment. 'The 18th.'

Because of the sudden commercial performance cancellation, Wen Fu had two extra days off. He could rest until after the V family's red carpet, then head straight to the Chuanxi Region to film the reality show.

The Program Team had to come to the artist's home for a pre-departure shoot before the guests left, so Fei Bolin had to move back to the hotel the day before.

The night before he left, he pulled out three suitcases. Two were filled with outfits he'd put together for Wen Fu to wear each day of filming—mostly brands that had come knocking after the red carpet, with the occasional piece he'd bought himself. The third was half toiletries, half snacks: mostly nuts and dried meat, plus some vitamin gummies.

Once he found out the show would be based in the Tibetan Region, Fei Bolin portioned the snacks out into small daily servings, so Wen Fu wouldn't inhale them all at once when he got a craving. He even thought ahead about snack bags getting 'altitude sickness'—anything that could be vacuum-sealed, he vacuum-sealed.

The steps were tedious, but Fei Bolin was enjoying every bit of it.

While he worked, Wen Fu crouched beside him, watching with wide, bright eyes. When Fei Bolin stood up, Wen Fu stood up too—following him from room to room, trailing him all over the house.

After a while, Fei Bolin asked: 'What's so interesting?'

Wen Fu pointed at the suitcase. 'You used to do this too.'

'Used to?'

'Eight years ago.'

Fei Bolin went still for a beat, looked away, and said nothing.

Wen Fu didn't seem to notice anything off. He waited until Fei Bolin finished packing, then threw himself onto the sofa, rolled around bored a couple times, slid off, and turned on the TV to watch anime.

It wasn't until Fei Bolin said he was leaving that Wen Fu finally dragged his eyes off the screen. Sitting on the carpet, he blinked stupidly: 'Huh?'

Then he remembered—the variety show shoot couldn't have Fei Bolin on camera.

The anime on TV suddenly felt boring. Wen Fu lowered his eyes and dawdled after Fei Bolin all the way to the elevator. The lazy contentment he'd had while rolling around on the sofa was completely gone.

'When you get to the Tibetan Region, don't wander off. Stay somewhere with signal. If you feel off, say so right away—don't tough it out.' Wen Fu had never been to high altitude. Once he set off, it was another goodbye into the unknown. Fei Bolin was still running through his head, wondering if he'd forgotten anything. 'Try to talk to people more. Smile more.'

Other than that, Fei Bolin wasn't worried. Wen Fu didn't guard his food, wasn't lazy—give him something to eat and he'd share, give him a task and he'd jump on it. The only thing that worried him was how quiet he was. If the show's editors wanted to manufacture some unfriendly angle for clicks, the most likely target was the silent Wen Fu.

His personality wasn't suited for reality TV. If it weren't for a favor owed in a resource swap, Stella would never have agreed to let him on a Huangtai Platform outdoor variety show.

Seeing Wen Fu looking drained from head to toe, Fei Bolin couldn't help reaching up to ruffle his hair. Funny thing—Fei Bolin followed a bunch of Wen Fu's fan accounts and offline-meet posts on Weibo. Every single one of those fans described his hair as black and coarse, and anyone who'd met him in person said the first thing that came to mind was a bristly little cat with a mop of rough black fur.

But Fei Bolin remembered Wen Fu's hair as soft. Ten years ago, and still now.

Messy, sure. But nice to touch.

He stroked it for a while, keeping himself in check. When he figured the time was about right, he said softly: 'When you get back... we'll move.'

The new place couldn't be planned out in the short term, so they'd move back to the Fei Family Estate for now. For years Fei Bolin had deliberately ignored that place, just leaving it there unattended. It had been so long since anyone went back that just finding people to clean it up would take a week or two.

A few minutes after leaving Yunhe Song, his secretary called.

Fei Bolin had just gotten in the car, still worrying about Wen Fu's first reality show, in a foul mood. His voice was low when he picked up: 'What is it?'

'Mr. Fei...' The secretary paused, then reported honestly: 'Xu Wei came by again this afternoon.'

This time Xu Wei had gotten smarter. He camped outside Fei Bolin's office building, waited until Fei Bolin was gone, then went in to make a scene. When security came to chase him out, he'd run. When he got tired of running, he'd let them drag him out. He wasn't after any payoff—he wanted scorched earth. He'd trash the workplace just to make Fei Bolin's life miserable. He'd even declared, 'Calling the cops won't help.' If he got locked up, he'd send his parents. If his parents got locked up, there was still his aunt Xu Lin.

For Xu Wei to dare drag Xu Lin into it—that crossed Fei Bolin's absolute bottom line.

Fei Bolin's already-dark expression darkened another shade. His voice went cold: 'Since he's not satisfied, take the house back too. Get him out within the month. Tell him—if there's a next time, the shop goes too.'

The reason Xu Wei had been so brazen all these years was that he was counting on Fei Bolin caring about the Fei Family's reputation, assuming he wouldn't go too far. Years apart—Xu Wei had only seen Fei Bolin once before that last time at the office, way back when Fei Bolin had just started college.

Years gone by without seeing how Fei Bolin had grown up alone overseas, Xu Wei still thought he was that wet-behind-the-ears kid who wouldn't dare touch the Xu family. After all, once Fei Bolin had taken control of the Fei family's finances and hollowed out the original businesses, all he'd done to the Xu family was wave them off with a light 'get lost.' He hadn't actually crushed them.

Moving them from the estate to a damp little house, and giving them a shop to keep their income going—compared to what the Xu family had done to Fei Bolin's mother, it was nothing.

Which just goes to show—most people are cheap. If they haven't suffered enough, they won't learn to give up.

The Program Team showed up at Wen Fu's place at eleven in the morning with their gear. Fei Bolin knew exactly what they needed to shoot. The night before, he'd deliberately left out a small suitcase for Wen Fu to pack unimportant daily items into during filming—material for the editors.

The show's chief director was surnamed Liu—he'd arrived at the shoot location ahead of everyone else. The one doing the morning follow-cam was the executive director, surnamed Li, whom the crew called 'Director Li.'

Normally, on a variety show like this, the pre-departure packing time was one of the rare solo segments each artist got. No fighting other cast members for screen time or highlights. If you were funny and charming on camera, you could pull in viewers right from the first episode.

Packing was the busiest, messiest thing—and the easiest way to give yourself material to talk about.

But with Fei Bolin having arranged everything so neatly, all Wen Fu had left to pack himself was a toothbrush, toothpaste, and his phone charger.

Wen Fu, who had just been told the shoot would last a full hour, stared at the three immaculate suitcases and fell into helpless silence.

So under the Program Team's watchful eyes, he moved like a sloth crossing the road—the toothbrush, toothpaste, and charger that could've been carried in one hand were ferried from the bedroom to the suitcase in three separate trips. Once he was done, the team told him there were still forty-five minutes of filming left.

Wen Fu: '...'

Wen Fu and the shoot crew stared at each other for a long moment.

Luckily Stella had come by during the planning stage to specifically warn them—her artist wasn't great with words, she hoped the directors could accommodate him a bit during filming, and she'd sent plenty of expensive gifts. They'd all been mentally prepared.

Though that preparation turned out to be slightly inadequate when actually facing Wen Fu, who was about as talkative as a brick wall—but this small scene? No problem for Director Li!

The thoughtful Director Li looked around, decided to take the initiative, and pointed behind Wen Fu: 'Those three suitcases—are you taking those too?'

Wen Fu nodded.

Then another three seconds of dead silence.

Realizing that was Wen Fu's answer and he had zero intention of continuing the topic, Director Li at that moment understood the deep kindness behind Stella's extravagant move a month ago of treating the entire production team to a hotel dinner.

But this small scene? No problem for me, Director Li!

Director Li pressed on: 'You packed these yesterday?'

Wen Fu nodded, then noticed that if he didn't say something, the atmosphere was going to get weird, so he added: 'Packed them in the evening.'

'Oh, in the evening.'

Good. Progress.

Director Li coaxed him along: 'What's all inside?'

Wen Fu: 'Clothes.'

'Besides clothes?'

Wen Fu pressed his lips together. He vaguely remembered Zhou Ji reminding him the show didn't allow private snacks, so he hesitated a moment: 'Pants. And shoes. And hats.'

If pressed further, Wen Fu would probably break it down into 'underwear, briefs, jeans, and sweatpants.' Director Li broke out in a cold sweat internally and pivoted: 'Took you a while to pack, huh?'

Wen Fu thought for a moment. Adding in the time Fei Bolin spent portioning snacks and vacuum-sealing bags: 'Two hours and five minutes.'

Director Li was shocked: 'You timed yourself packing?'

Wen Fu shook his head, about to say he hadn't been the one packing, when Director Li cut in: 'So you're pretty sensitive to time, huh.'

Actually, the night before, Fei Bolin hadn't wanted Wen Fu trailing after him like a tail while he packed, so he'd specifically put on a movie for Wen Fu to watch. From the dragon logo to the end credits, the movie ran exactly two hours and five minutes—and Fei Bolin had finished packing right on cue.

Explaining all that would've been complicated, so Wen Fu chose to just let Director Li's guess stand.

Then Director Li's next question was: 'Did you pack all this yourself?'

Wen Fu paused slightly, then answered honestly: 'No.'

'There was someone else.'

Wen Fu glanced at the camera and said: 'My gege.'

Director Li got interested: 'You have an older brother?'

Wen Fu nodded, perfectly serious: 'Just got one.'

'...'