When Gu Zhan woke up again, he was still in his own bedroom.

An IV drip had already been attached to his hand.

His eyelids felt heavy as he slowly opened them. Through his haze, he saw a tall figure pacing around the living room. The man exchanged a few quiet words with someone in a white coat, then walked them to the door.

Carrying a glass of water, the figure approached the bedside.

Gu Zhan forced his burning eyes open and tried to see who it was.

Fu Yan reached out and touched his forehead.

“You’re awake. Want some water?”

Gu Zhan's lips moved weakly.

His hair, usually slicked back neatly with gel, hung loose and disheveled around his face. Without his usual sharp executive image, he looked unexpectedly fragile and pitiful.

Fu Yan immediately helped him sit up, propping soft pillows behind him.

“The doctor said your tonsils are inflamed. You need to drink more warm water.”

Gu Zhan swallowed several large gulps.

His mind cleared somewhat.

Pressing a hand against his aching head, he murmured:

“I…”

Fu Yan casually wiped the water from the corner of his mouth.

“The fever is caused by inflammation. I called my family's doctor.”

Gu Zhan stared at him blankly.

“Why are you here?”

“Miss Tan was worried about you and called me.”

A crease appeared between Gu Zhan's brows.

“How did she get your number?”

“I included my phone number in the email I sent her. It was an emergency. She didn't know where you lived, so she contacted me.”

Gu Zhan's gaze sharpened.

“How do you know Tan Rui? Did you investigate me?”

“If it bothers you, I won't do it again.”

Fu Yan's dark eyes were filled with sincerity.

It made it difficult to be angry.

Even though Gu Zhan understood that Fu Yan's actions had probably come from good intentions, learning that someone had investigated your past always felt uncomfortable.

Exposed.

Like being stripped naked and examined.

More importantly, Gu Zhan wanted to know under what pretense Fu Yan had contacted Tan Rui.

And how had Tan Rui come to say those words that sounded so much like comfort and guidance?

What exactly did she think their relationship was?

“You're burning up with a fever and still overthinking.”

Fu Yan gently smoothed the crease from his brow.

“You passed out. If I'd arrived any later, Slungshot would have ended up with a very foolish CEO.”

Gu Zhan rolled his eyes at him.

Fu Yan chuckled.

“You really don't need to care so much about what other people think.”

For someone like Fu Yan—a man born with every advantage—such words came naturally.

But Gu Zhan was different.

Only he knew that the domineering shell he wore was merely armor hiding the vulnerability underneath.

After a moment of silence, he said quietly:

“Some of the things I do probably seem pathetic and ridiculous to you.”

His eyes lowered, concealing his emotions.

“Do you know why I'm so obsessed with getting married and having children?”

Fu Yan looked at him steadily, like someone genuinely prepared to listen.

Gu Zhan stared into the distance.

“My mother... She's had a hard life.”

“Her parents divorced. One died young from illness. The other basically abandoned her.”

“She didn't experience what a family felt like until she got married.”

“But fate likes cruel jokes.”

“Her husband died only two years after their marriage.”

“Then she adopted me.”

His voice softened.

“She treated me incredibly well.”

“She cared deeply about my education and sent me to the best school in town.”

“When I entered academic competitions, she supported me completely.”

“She even bought me a computer so I could study algorithms.”

“In the early 2000s, families like ours rarely owned computers.”

“She saved every penny.”

“When she got sick, she wouldn't go to the hospital.”

“I remember hearing her cough all through one winter.”

“After that, every winter she would cough.”

“She still has chronic pneumonia.”

He paused.

“The truth is, I'm only adopted.”

“A lot of kids who grow up in orphanages get abandoned more than once.”

“Some adoptive parents return the child if they can't get along.”

“Others lose interest once they have biological children.”

His eyes grew distant.

“I once asked my mom why she treated me so well.”

“She told me it was because I gave her a family.”

“Because of me, her household registration booklet no longer contained only her name.”

He smiled faintly.

“At that moment, I realized how much she wanted a lively, happy family.

“For years I've been busy building my career.”

“I've only thought about myself.”

“I don't know how else to give her that feeling of having a family.”

As he spoke, his eyelids slowly drooped shut.

Whether from fever or emotion, it was hard to tell.

Perhaps he was trying to hide the redness gathering around his eyes.

“People are stronger than we think.”

Fu Yan's voice was gentle.

“Miss Tan is.”

“Your mother is too.”

“If she were living inside a family that you deliberately constructed and beautified for her sake, do you really think she'd be happy?”

“And you—”

“In my eyes, you're stronger than anyone.”

His gaze drifted to a photograph on the bedside table.

It showed six-year-old Gu Zhan standing beside his mother.

The little boy's eyes were bright and determined, as if he might leap out of the frame and charge straight toward his future.

“Sometimes,” Fu Yan admitted with a self-conscious smile, “I'm a little jealous of you.”

“You always seem to have known exactly what you wanted.”

He laughed softly.

“Maybe my father's shadow was too large.”

“Or maybe because I've had everything since birth.”

“I rarely experience the satisfaction of achieving a difficult goal.”

“Most of my life, I haven't really known what I wanted.”

His gaze returned to the man in bed.

The adult Gu Zhan overlapped perfectly with the boy in the photograph.

“But you do know.”

“Maybe because you had too little.”

“Maybe because I had too much.”

“Very few people in this world truly understand their own hearts.”

“You've always been brave enough to pursue what you want.”

“That's why Slungshot exists.”

“And I believe this won't be any different.”

Gu Zhan said nothing.

His eyes remained closed.

Only the faint trembling of his lashes betrayed that he was awake.

Fu Yan gently removed the pillows behind him and tucked the blanket around him.

“If you're tired, sleep a little longer.”

“I'll go make you something to eat.”

As he reached the bedroom door, a sleepy murmur drifted from the bed.

“Thank you.”

Whatever Fu Yan's reasons had been for contacting Tan Rui, her words had finally lifted a burden that had weighed on Gu Zhan's heart for years.

His thoughts felt clearer.

He needed to face himself instead of running.

He wasn't an anomaly.

His feelings didn't need to be hidden beneath a socially acceptable facade.

His love deserved sunlight too.

And Fu Yan had played no small part in helping him realize that.

Fu Yan was mature, thoughtful, and considerate.

When faced with Gu Zhan's confusion, he never lectured him.

Instead, he quietly took action.

Because he understood that without experiencing another person's suffering, words of comfort were often hollow.

Actions mattered more.

That night, Fu Yan stayed until Gu Zhan finished an entire bowl of porridge and completed his IV treatment.

Only then did he return to his own apartment.

The next morning, just after dawn, he came back carrying breakfast.

The apartment used a keypad lock.

The day before, during the emergency, Fu Yan had called Gu Zhan's assistant, Xiao Chen, who knew the passcode.

After sleeping through an entire day and night, Gu Zhan woke unusually early.

When he heard the keypad beep open, he was startled.

Who would come to his house this early?

Surely not the cleaning service?

Then he heard soft sounds from the kitchen and living room.

The visitor was clearly moving carefully, trying not to wake him.

Gu Zhan suddenly grew suspicious.

Could it be a burglar?

He was still sick and weak.

His combat effectiveness had dropped dramatically.

Just as he struggled to sit up, the bedroom door opened.

Morning light streamed in.

Fu Yan smiled at him.

Golden sunlight seemed to shimmer through his hair.

“You're awake?”

Gu Zhan stared at him for several seconds before nodding.

“Breakfast?”

“Mushroom and vegetable porridge.

“It's light and helps reduce inflammation.”

Gu Zhan nodded again.

Fu Yan secretly smiled.

Sick President Gu was unexpectedly obedient.

Soft.

Nothing like the arrogant tyrant he usually was.

It made people want to take care of him.

Fu Yan happily supervised breakfast, took his temperature, and followed the doctor's instructions precisely.

The fever had dropped, though not entirely.

A few hours later, another IV was administered.

The medication made Gu Zhan sleepy.

Before long, he drifted off.

Fu Yan pulled a random book from the shelf and sat on the carpet beside the bed.

One hand turned pages.

The other gently held the IV tubing, warming it with his own body heat so the medicine would feel less cold entering Gu Zhan's bloodstream.

Around noon, hunger finally woke Gu Zhan.

He blinked sleepily.

“Why are you still here?”

“Nothing important to do on a Saturday,” Fu Yan replied.

“I'll stay with you.”

Then he leaned closer.

“Hungry?

“I made porridge.”

Gu Zhan looked miserable.

“Why is it always porridge?

“It has no flavor.

“It tastes awful.”

Fu Yan brushed aside the hair on his forehead.

“You have a fever. Porridge is good for you.”

“I want something with flavor.”

Fu Yan smiled.

“I think there's ramen in the kitchen.”

Then came the infamous line:

“I'll make you some noodles.”

Gu Zhan's eyes flew open instantly.

He shot Fu Yan a glare.

How could he misunderstand that too?!

Even sick, President Gu's brain worked fast.

Fu Yan sighed dramatically.

“You spend too much time with those drinking buddies.”

“All those dirty jokes are vulgar.”

Gu Zhan immediately fired back:

“Unlike you, Young Master Fu.”

“You were born into privilege.”

“Of course you can live elegantly and respectably.”

“You don't have to spend your life entertaining drinking companions.”

‘Great scholars come and go; common folk never enter.’”

Fu Yan laughed.

Looks like the fever is almost gone.

Gu Zhan has enough energy to argue again.

Since lying in bed all day only made him feel worse, Fu Yan found a movie and the two curled up on the sofa to watch it.

But Gu Zhan was still recovering.

Before long, his eyelids began drooping.

Unfortunately, he couldn't sleep peacefully.

Every thirty or forty minutes, Fu Yan followed the doctor's orders and reminded him to drink warm water.

The entire afternoon became an endless cycle:

Drink water.

Go to the bathroom.

Repeat.

Gu Zhan became increasingly irritated.

Fu Yan hovered like an overprotective mother.

Yet every time he was awakened, he found himself leaning against Fu Yan's shoulder or sleeping in his arms.

By then, he couldn't even muster the energy to complain.

He didn't remember when Fu Yan left that evening.

He had already fallen deeply asleep.

Nor did he remember how he had somehow been transported from the sofa back to his bed.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The following morning, Fu Yan arrived with breakfast again.

Gu Zhan's fever had finally broken.

No more IV treatments were needed.

The moment President Gu regained some vitality, however, he immediately became restless.

He hadn't gone to the office in two whole days.

He wanted to check on things.

The instant he climbed out of bed to get dressed, Fu Yan dragged him right back.

“The wind outside is strong.

“Your condition isn't suitable for going out.”

Fine.

If he couldn't go to the office, he could work remotely.

At least that was his plan.

Every few minutes he tried reaching for his phone or laptop.

Fu Yan confiscated both and placed them out of reach.

Then he pressed Gu Zhan back onto the bed.

“It's Sunday.

“What urgent work could possibly need doing?”

Gu Zhan struggled.

“I haven't checked my email since Friday.”

“Stop getting in my way.”

“The Earth keeps turning without any one person.”

This time, there was a warning in Fu Yan's voice.

“Don't think I don't know how you got sick.”

“Xiao Chen told me everything.”

“Do you think you're made of iron?”

“You've been working nonstop without resting.”

No matter how hard Gu Zhan pushed, he couldn't break free.

Finally he snapped:

“Fu Yan, don't you have anything better to do?”

“You stay in my apartment all day.”

“You won't let me leave.”

“You won't let me work.”

“Do you know how miserable this is?”

His chest rose and fell with anger.

No one had ever controlled him like this before.

During the struggle, his clothes became disheveled.

His dark silk pajama collar slipped wide open, exposing a stretch of dazzling pale skin.

Fu Yan stared.

His eyes darkened.

After a moment, he said:

“Then... you can make noodles for me.”

Gu Zhan: “...”