Su Ling threw the covers off, his voice shaking with anger, words pouring out of him before he could stop them. "Pei You! If I really wanted to do something to you, do you think you could stop me? Like this? Defenseless?" His voice cracked, tears stinging his eyes. "If I wanted to climb into your bed, I would have done it a long time ago! I wouldn't have waited for now!"
Pei You's face was calm, like he'd known it all along, his voice flat. "Then why did you climb into my bed last night? You still won't admit you want to sleep with me?"
Su Ling's brain felt like it was going to explode. He couldn't talk to this man! He couldn't explain anything! He stammered, "Y-Y-You—" before grabbing the covers and yanking them over his head again, determined to not show his face for the rest of the night. Nothing was going to happen tonight. Nothing tomorrow night, or the night after, or any night after that. If he didn't touch him, didn't talk to him, didn't go near him—surely he'd prove he was innocent. Surely the General would stop accusing him.
Su Ling lay there, seething, until he finally drifted off to a fitful sleep.
The next week and a half passed in a blur, Su Ling's workload shrinking to almost nothing. Afraid of being called a pervert again, he handed all the physical care back to Zhuangzhuang—no more lifting the General out of bed, no more shaving his beard, no more massages. The only physical contact between them was feeding him three meals a day, a job the robots were terrible at (they always got food all over Pei You's face). But Su Ling was confused. He'd done exactly what Pei You asked—no more touching, no more closeness. So why was he still so angry? Why did he keep staring at Su Ling with those dark, unblinking eyes, like he was upset, like Su Ling had done something wrong?
Pei You thought the same thing. He should never have opened his mouth. The little guy had been so easy to take care of before, agreeing to everything, never arguing, never complaining. Pei You thought of the pink cartoon pajamas Su Ling had bought him, how cute he'd looked in them—and a flicker of regret twisted in his chest. He didn't dare buy him anything like that now, afraid of the General's anger.
The doorbell rang, shattering the silence. Mu Zecheng was here. Su Ling gave him a quick, awkward greeting before fleeing to the kitchen, not wanting to talk to him. Dinner time came, and Pei You wheeled himself to the dining room—and Mu Zecheng followed, sitting down beside him. Su Ling froze. In the book, Pei You never let anyone stay for dinner. He'd just assumed Mu Zecheng would leave after their talk, so he hadn't made any food for him. He didn't like Mu Zecheng, but he had manners. "You two eat first. I'll fry a couple more dishes for Mr. Mu."
"No need." Pei You lifted his chin slightly, his voice flat. "The house robot will make his food."
"Oh. Alright then." Su Ling sat down beside Pei You, scooping a spoonful of fish soup into his mouth, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "It's fish soup today. I added some sour fruit—tastes like vinegar. Do you like it?"
"Mm. Not too sour. It's good." Pei You's version of "good" was always a rave review. Su Ling took a sip for himself, grinning. The sour fruit he'd found was perfect for cooking, a great substitute for vinegar. He glanced at Mu Zecheng, who hadn't touched his food, his voice polite. "Mr. Mu, would you like a bowl? It's really good."
Before Mu Zecheng could say yes, Pei You cut him off, his voice cold. "Soups and porridges are for sick people. He doesn't like them. Don't bother with him."
Mu Zecheng swallowed the "yes" on the tip of his tongue, confusion washing over him. Pei You had never let him stay for dinner before. He'd thought the General was lonely, stuck in bed, and wanted a friend to keep him company—so he'd agreed happily. But now? The fish soup smelled amazing, creamy and rich, making his mouth water. And Pei You wouldn't even let him try it? Said it was for sick people? He was just being a selfish bastard, hoarding the good food for himself. But Pei You had always been generous. What was going on?
Mu Zecheng smiled, saying nothing, his eyes fixed on Pei You and Su Ling, curious to see what would happen next. Was Su Ling a spy? A threat? Pei You had never mentioned anything about him being suspicious. He watched Su Ling feed Pei You, his movements slow and careful, gentle, like he was taking care of a child—feeding him a spoonful, then eating a little himself, his movements quick and messy, a stark contrast to the care he gave Pei You. And the most shocking part? Pei You was waiting for it, his mouth parting slightly, no trace of his usual pride, no hint of annoyance. They looked so comfortable together, so happy, like they were the only two people in the room—and Mu Zecheng was the outsider.
Mu Zecheng's eyes widened, realization hitting him like a truck. Pei You had let him stay for dinner just to show off! To show his adjutant how sweet his spouse was to him, how well he took care of him! A wave of shock washed over Mu Zecheng, his mind reeling. Was this really the Pei You he knew? The cold, ruthless, unfeeling general who'd spent ten years by his side, fighting battles, leading armies? What had this beta done to him? How had he turned the fearsome General Pei into a lovesick fool?
Mu Zecheng stared at Su Ling, his shock plain on his face, and Su Ling finally noticed how close he was to Pei You, how he'd touched his lips to wipe away the soup. Embarrassment washed over him, his face flushing red as he leaned back, his voice quiet, urgent, as he spoke to Pei You. "Y-You eat faster. Hurry up."
"I always eat at this speed." Pei You glanced at him, his voice sharp. "Are you tired of feeding me?"
"No! I just—if you eat more, you'll get better faster. And then I won't have to feed you anymore." Su Ling explained, his voice soft, trying to calm him down—but Pei You glared at him, his eyes dark with anger, and Su Ling's heart sank. What had he done wrong this time? He felt a little hurt, his lower lip sticking out, words dying on his tongue as he glanced at Mu Zecheng, too embarrassed to speak. It's fine, he told himself. Caregivers feed their patients. It's normal. It's fine.
The air was thick with awkward silence until the house robot wheeled in Mu Zecheng's food, and Su Ling jumped at the chance to break the tension, his voice bright. "Mr. Mu! Eat up! Don't be shy!" He added, grinning, "You should come by more often! The General would love it."
"The General has killed many men. He's got a dark aura about him." Mu Zecheng smiled, his voice light, teasing. "Especially when he glares. It makes your blood run cold. I wouldn't dare come by too often."
Even his closest friend, his adjutant of ten years, thought of him like that? Said it to his face? Su Ling's heart ached for him. No one to talk to, no one to trust, no one who saw the man under the general's uniform—it must be so lonely. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, his voice sharp with defiance. "I don't think so! The General is a good man! You just don't know him well enough."
Mu Zecheng blinked, surprised. No one had ever said that to him—no one had ever defended Pei You like that. He didn't argue, nodding instead, a small smile on his face. "You're right. I should get to know him better. So I should come by more often?"
"Absolutely!" Su Ling nodded eagerly. Pei You trusted Mu Zecheng—he thought of him as a friend. And when people were sick, they needed their friends around. They needed someone to talk to, someone to keep them company. "Come by whenever you have time! Keep the General company. He'd love it."
"Sure thing." Mu Zecheng chatted with Su Ling, easy and casual, and found himself liking the kid—he wasn't the scheming, manipulative person he'd thought he was. Not at all. When they talked about food, Su Ling's eyes lit up, his face bright, excited, a little childish, and Mu Zecheng found himself relaxing, enjoying the conversation. Su Ling thought the same thing—Mu Zecheng was nice, easy to talk to, nothing like the stubborn, grumpy General. He smiled more and more, laughing at Mu Zecheng's jokes, the awkwardness fading away.
And Pei You said nothing the entire time, his face cold, his eyes dark, silence hanging over him like a cloud.
As soon as Mu Zecheng left, Pei You's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold, like ice. "This is my house. I decide who gets invited in."
Su Ling stared at him, confused, his brow furrowed. "Mr. Mu? But he's your friend! I thought you'd want him to come by more often."
"Did I say that? Did I ask you to invite him? On what grounds do you make decisions for me?!" Pei You's voice was loud, angry, and Su Ling's patience snapped, all the 委屈 and sadness and anger he'd been holding in pouring out at once. Every time he tried to do something good for him, every time he tried to take care of him, every time he tried to make him happy—he was accused of something, he was yelled at, he was misunderstood. Had he done something wrong? Did Pei You hate him? Was he just looking for an excuse to pick a fight?
Su Ling's nose stung, tears pricking his eyes, his voice shaking as he stared at Pei You, his heart breaking. What did he have to do? What could he say? He'd only ever wanted to be good to him. To take care of him. Why was everything he did wrong? Why was every word he said misinterpreted?