After transferring the money to Yu Tan, Hu Xiaoyu instantly regretted it.
Yu Tan had stared at him for a long moment, then even praised him with a faint smile:
"You're quite generous."
…Wait. Did that mean one hundred thousand yuan was too much?
Before he could protest or renegotiate, Yu Tan had already turned and walked downstairs.
Hu Xiaoyu hurriedly checked his balance—just a little over fifty thousand yuan left.
That money had been an advance on his salary. It was originally a hundred thousand, but after treating Yu Tan to dinner and topping up his gaming account, only this much remained.
From the host's memories, Hu Xiaoyu knew that for an ordinary person, fifty thousand yuan was a respectable sum. But when he thought about Granny Cui's nursing home fees, the number looked pitifully small.
At least Yu Tan covered food and lodging—Hu Xiaoyu was genuinely grateful for that much.
He found his own pajamas crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Though the floor wasn't dirty, they had been lying there all night, and he couldn't bring himself to wear them again.
So he reached under the pillow, pulled out Yu Tan's pajamas from the night before, and slipped them on. They were loose, but warm and comfortable.
As for the pants... well, since he had already "overpaid," wearing Yu Tan's pajama bottoms didn't feel like such a crime.
When Ah Jiu returned from his morning workout, he was standing in the living room drinking water. A casual glance upward nearly made him choke to death.
He sprayed out a mouthful and doubled over coughing violently.
Descending the stairs was Hu Xiaoyu—blanket wrapped around him, clad in Yu Tan's pajamas with the pant legs rolled up, looking like he had just rolled out of his boss's bed.
The noise startled Hu Xiaoyu so badly he almost tripped down the stairs.
Before he could ask what was wrong, Ah Jiu rushed over. His eyes swept up and down, pausing at the faint red mark on Hu Xiaoyu's neck.
… The boss moves fast.
That mark was indeed from Yu Tan—a careless kiss left during the night—though Hu Xiaoyu had no idea. He had been fast asleep at the time and only woke when his wrist was bitten.
Seeing Ah Jiu's face flush with scarlet, Hu Xiaoyu kindly explained, "Don't worry, I paid for it. Yu Tan didn't get mad at me."
Paid... for it?
Ah Jiu: "..."
He understood every word individually, but strung together, the meaning was incomprehensible.
Hu Xiaoyu paying Yu Tan—for whatever had happened?
Ah Jiu began to wonder if he had lost his mind.
Butler Hong found out soon after, because Ah Jiu, still unsettled, went to consult him.
Butler Hong, too, thought it was too fast.
Especially since Young Master Yu had never shown interest in anyone before... and Hu Xiaoyu was simply too endearing. And now he had been...
Could it be... this time was different?
With that faint hope, Butler Hong even dared to raise the matter to Yu Tan himself.
He couched it carefully, reminding him that since he was older, if he and Hu Xiaoyu were now "involved," he ought to know how to cherish the younger boy.
Yu Tan respected Butler Hong deeply. The man had played a pivotal role in his upbringing.
So even though his face darkened several shades, he still forced out an explanation: Hu Xiaoyu had been afraid of thunder and had only stayed the night temporarily.
Butler Hong frowned. "Then what about the mark on his neck...?"
Yu Tan's expression didn't flicker. "Mosquitoes bite."
But deep down, his thoughts were venomous: If there's ever a next time, I'll bite that brat's neck clean.
Butler Hong, playing the diplomat, approached the subject gingerly. He asked about the mark on Hu Xiaoyu's neck in the most tactful, indirect way he could muster—framing it as a worry about summer mosquitoes. If insects were the culprit, then there was nothing indecent to worry about.
Hu Xiaoyu shrugged. "Spiritual energy keeps most bugs away, but they still buzz around my aura sometimes." He sounded unconcerned enough.
Relieved, Butler Hong exhaled and let himself believe the relationship between his master and the boy was innocent. He even allowed himself a small, private hope that perhaps the young master might finally settle down.
Hu Xiaoyu, oblivious to the household gossip, asked a practical question: "Why is Yu Tan's room always so cold?"
Butler Hong's face clouded with something like old sorrow. When he finally answered, his voice lowered: "When he was a child... he was once locked in a cold-storage room. After that, he grew to prefer cold places."
Hu Xiaoyu tilted his head. That didn't make sense to him—if someone had been frozen, why would they seek cold? Yet Butler Hong wouldn't say more.
That night, while Yu Tan slept, Hu Xiaoyu sent a thin filament of spiritual warmth up to the second floor. It seeped into Yu Tan's limbs and softened the tension in his brow. Watching the visible ease sweep across the man's face, Hu Xiaoyu smiled to himself: no one truly liked being cold. Maybe this was part of the problem.
On Monday morning, Hu Xiaoyu took his usual place in the backseat beside Yu Tan. The man's recent chilly mood hadn't escaped him — sullen, short, like an old man with a permanent scowl.
"Yu Tan, what do you want for dinner?" Hu Xiaoyu asked, eager to be useful.
Yu Tan pushed aside his face with a flat hand. "Didn't you eat at breakfast?"
"No, I mean I'll cook. Anything you particularly like?" Hu Xiaoyu looked earnest. Small details could matter; taste could be a key.
Yu Tan glanced sideways. "You'll cook? That knowledge will cost you."
"How much?"
He shoved a QR payment at Hu Xiaoyu. "Five hundred yuan per question."
Hu Xiaoyu blinked. Doing this for Yu Tan's sake—why should it cost him? But then he thought: maybe he could turn this into a plan. He quickly transferred one thousand yuan.
Yu Tan muttered that it was the smallest sum he'd ever taken since running the Yu Group. A small irritation prickled him. He looked at Hu Xiaoyu with a darker edge. "You're groveling—what do you want in return?"
Hu Xiaoyu's eyes were plain and unwavering. "I want you to be happy."
Yu Tan's retort came like a slap. "You want to make me happy? Then let me fuck you."
The words landed like a stone.
Hu Xiaoyu froze. "F—what?"
Yu Tan's fingers brushed his throat in a movement half-threatening, half-teasing, then softened, tracing the warm skin. His voice dropped to gravel: "Don't play dumb. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep with you until you can't get out of bed. Clear?"
Hu Xiaoyu shoved away so hard he nearly slammed against the car window. "No way!"
In his clan, pairings were male-female. Even in human form, that custom clung to him. He knew of human customs—men could wed men here—but it felt alien, wrong. The idea of that intimacy with Yu Tan made his fur stand on end in a way he couldn't reconcile.
Yu Tan watched the storm of emotions on his face and barked a laugh. "So? Do you find me disgusting, or do you prefer women?"
Hu Xiaoyu scratched his head in confusion. "I don't find you disgusting... I... I like women."
The confession hit Yu Tan sharply. If the boy liked women, why had he clung to Yu Tan before? Had the entire thing been a humiliation? The thought lodged like a stone in his chest.
Still, Yu Tan collected his payment with cold efficiency. "No particular preferences," he said, then reminded him: "You paid for two questions. Ask the second."
Hu Xiaoyu swallowed and asked, voice small: "Why is your room so—so cold?"
Yu Tan's answer snapped out like a lash: "To remind myself never to be that stupid again. Happy?"
Even to his own ears, the reply sounded blunt. He turned away then, done with the conversation.
In a small voice that barely pierced the car's hush, Hu Xiaoyu whispered, "You're not stupid. You're the smartest, best person I've ever met."
Yu Tan grunted. "Nonsense."
If Hu Xiaoyu had known the cruelty that lived under his polite cynicism, his little fox heart might have burst.
When they arrived at the store, Yu Tan didn't step out right away. Those three words—I like women—had planted something ugly and irrational in him. He told Hu Xiaoyu to take three days off. "Do whatever you like, but don't show up in front of me."
Hu Xiaoyu, secretly thrilled at the unexpected free time, still worried aloud: "Will you dock my pay?"
Yu Tan's answer was merciless. "If you show up during those three days, ten thousand yuan per appearance will be docked. You're rich, right?" The barb stung like ice.
Now considerably poorer, Hu Xiaoyu imprinted those words on his mind.
As they reached the office, Ah Jiu voiced his concern: "Boss, the old mansion's a little far. Xiaoyu might have trouble getting back."
Yu Tan recognized the implication. "Call him. Arrange a ride."
But before Ah Jiu could, Hu Xiaoyu was already on his phone. Yu Tan sneered, "Picking up someone new so fast? I underestimated you."
Inside the car, Hu Xiaoyu was indeed talking to Jin Bao—who was on set and, hearing Hu Xiaoyu's budding interest in acting, arranged for someone to pick him up.
An hour later Hu Xiaoyu found himself at Shanghai Film City, swept into a bright, chaotic world of cameras and spotlights. People stared; some asked for autographs. Even without trying, he pulled more attention than most. Passing through the compound felt like a sudden surge—the way human adoration amplified his spiritual energy made his chest buzz with possibility.
Meanwhile, Yu Tan left the office half an hour early, which Ah Jiu found jarring. His boss rarely departed before the workday ended. When Ah Jiu pressed, Yu Tan snapped, "Mind your own business."
Back at the Yu estate, Butler Hong was watering plants when Ah Jiu asked after Hu Xiaoyu. "He said he had something to do and won't be back tonight. The young master gave him time off."
That was enough. Yu Tan took the news like a live coal—turning on his heel, he headed upstairs.
At dinner, the house felt oddly hollow. Butler Hong's smile was muted. The food seemed to lack flavor without the boy's presence. Yu Tan pushed his chopsticks down. "No appetite," he said flatly.
He buried himself at work that night with the kind of numbed, ruthless focus that kept him climbing. But one thought persisted: where would that silly boy sleep tonight? Back at his house, forced to grovel? Or somewhere else? The uncertainty prickled.
Then his phone buzzed. Shi Jingyang called.
"Brother Yu, did your little sweetheart get home safe?" Shi Jingyang asked, teasing.
The group always called Hu Xiaoyu "Brother Yu's little sweetheart." Yu Tan had never corrected them.
Yu Tan's tone dropped two octaves. The voice over the line grew stone-cold: "Explain. What happened to Xiaoyu?"