MG CH11

“Pretty much the same as before,” Yan Zishu answered smoothly, leaving room to advance or retreat.

“Then… could you help me confirm something? Our school’s performance this weekend—will he have time to come?”

“You mean that stage play? You gave him a ticket, right?”

“Yes, that one. You still remember?” Ji Chen beamed happily.

“Of course I remember. Once President Fu gets back, I’ll check with him.”

Ji Chen let out a huge sigh of relief, his face flushing as he repeatedly thanked him.

Yan Zishu glanced sideways at Ji Chen, watching as he naturally settled himself on the sofa, waiting for Fu Weishan to get off work.

After a pause, Yan Zishu spoke bluntly, “Actually, you could ask President Fu directly. He might be happier that way.”

But Ji Chen didn’t catch the hidden meaning and waved it off. “He’s too busy… I’d feel bad bothering him all the time.”

Yan Zishu got up to pour him a glass of juice. Ji Chen held it carefully in both hands. “Thank you!”

Yan Zishu smiled. “No need to be so polite.”

On Sunday morning, Yan Zishu went to his nearby gym for a boxing class.

Contrary to what many thought, this “robotic” man did have a private life and personal hobbies.

Thinking back, he’d been made to attend countless extracurricular classes in his childhood under his parents’ high expectations—painting, piano, swimming, broadcasting—you name it. His development had been all-rounded, but all for the sake of future success, cloaked in the name of education.

Things like piano, once he’d passed the graded exams, were tossed aside for good. Painting lasted a bit longer—probably thanks to a kind and encouraging art teacher, whose praise made him keep holding the brush a few more years.

But as he grew up and life got busier, all those artistic hobbies faded away, one by one.

Only the habit of exercising stayed with him. For an office worker, the benefits were plenty: fitness, stress relief, mental clarity. Deep down, Yan Zishu also knew—he carried a lot of pent-up aggression that needed an outlet.

What started as a way to burn off energy had slowly become a necessary practice.

After noon, showered and refreshed, he changed clothes and headed off to Nanhua University to support Ji Chen’s event.

Thanks to Yan Zishu’s reminder, Fu Weishan had shown surprising interest in Ji Chen’s stage play invitation, promising he’d definitely attend.

Ji Chen was thrilled, pouring his heart into preparations, tossing and turning in his dorm for several sleepless nights.

As the car entered campus, though Fu Weishan’s car wasn’t faculty-marked, it bore a campus access pass. After all, Yinghan Group—being a well-known corporation—had long-standing cooperation with this prestigious university, having donated labs, equipment, and even established a dedicated research fund.

What Ji Chen didn’t yet realize was that the guest he’d invited was of a status that could warrant an escort from the dean himself.

But today, Fu Weishan came low-key. Yan Zishu dropped him off at the main auditorium before going to find parking.

Both sides of Nanhua University’s roads were lined with ginkgo trees. Students bustled beneath them, carrying books, basketballs, backpacks. Whether rushing to class or practice, most of them looked young, vibrant—full of the glow that only came from the ivory tower.

As he passed the sports field, a basketball suddenly flew toward him. Thankfully, Yan Zishu reacted swiftly, catching the rogue ball with one hand before it smashed his expensive glasses. He tossed it back forcefully, and a male student hurriedly shouted, “Sorry, bro!”

A friend beside him whispered, “Awesome!”

Growing up in a university faculty housing block, Yan Zishu had been familiar with this kind of boisterous energy since childhood.

But after years of slogging in the corporate world, stepping back into a lively student crowd felt both familiar and foreign.

Led by a student usher into the hall, he arrived slightly late. The place was packed—first come, first served. Only then did he see Ji Chen’s message, saying Fu’s seat was front and center.

That spot was clearly in the VIP section—Ji Chen had carefully arranged this for his special guest.

Unfortunately, the seats next to Fu Weishan were all occupied by the theater club advisor, professors, and other staff. There was no space left for Yan Zishu.

He didn’t mind, and found a quiet corner seat in the back.

Tonight’s performance wasn’t some classic script, but an original fairy tale mashup the Nanhua theater club had come up with.

Well… it was the kind of youthful, self-proclaimed creative production that appealed to students—but maybe a little too youthful. Many jokes were so niche only they themselves could get them. Yan Zishu never felt old before—but tonight, he did.

While the audience burst into loud laughter, his expression remained as calm as if attending a symphony concert.

Oddly enough, this made nearby people glance at him—oh, handsome guy—so whatever he did could be forgiven.

The curtain rose and fell again and again. Ji Chen’s role wasn’t big—he played a prince from some small kingdom.

Untrained, his acting was average at best. In Yan Zishu’s sharp eyes, he didn’t really act at all—but then again, the role was purely for looks, so as long as he recited his lines without messing up and made it through the play, that was good enough.

In fact, Ji Chen wasn’t even a theater club member—his roommate, a senior in the club, had been in a bind when an actor went abroad on exchange, spotted Ji Chen’s suitable appearance, and pushed him on stage as a last-minute stand-in.

The prince role was mostly about looking good—memorize the lines, hit the cues, and mission accomplished.

Thankfully, this was a student play—relaxed, tolerant—with experienced members carrying the rest, plus plenty of goofy antics and cheeky fanservice to hype the crowd.

Near the end, when Ji Chen got scooped up by another boy, the hall roared with laughter.

Cries filled the room: “The prince and prince got together!” “Long live socialist brotherhood!”

As the cast took their final bows, the audience left the hall still buzzing with excitement.

Yan Zishu followed behind Fu Weishan. Outside on the plaza, two white doves fluttered into the sky.

Ji Chen came running out, still in his prince costume, breathless. “President Fu!”

He was still wearing the prince costume from the play, his stage makeup untouched on his face, as if he had stepped straight out of a fairy tale into the real world.

But the little crystal prince who looked so perfect under the stage lights lost at least half of his aura offstage.

Of course, it wasn’t just him. All performers were like that. The costumes that looked so stunning on stage were, when examined closely under normal light, nothing more than showy props. And because the stage lights were so strong, the actors’ makeup had to be exaggerated and heavy; under natural lighting, it appeared overly theatrical—almost garish. Ji Chen had rushed out without removing it because he was afraid Fu Weishan might leave.

A boy with black-rimmed glasses followed him out and called, “Hey, don’t forget to return the costume later!”

Ji Chen quickly replied, “I will, just needed to come out first to see a…” he paused, carefully choosing his words, “friend.”

Only then did the guy with the glasses notice the two men in suits. “Ah, are these the VIP guests you kept mentioning? Haha, thanks for coming to support our show! I’m Ji Chen’s roommate—the one who dragged him in to fill the role.”

Fu Weishan offered a polite, formal congratulations, praising the creativity of the script and the success of the performance.

When the black-rimmed boy left, Fu Weishan turned to Ji Chen. “You did a great job today.”

“Not really… I was so nervous I thought I’d die on stage,” Ji Chen said sheepishly, scratching his head as he unconsciously followed Fu Weishan’s steps without knowing where they were headed. “Rehearsals were fine, but with that many people staring, my mind just went blank. I nearly forgot my lines.”

“It’s alright. There’s a first time for everything. You’ll get better with experience.”

“This was probably the only time I’ll help them out. I’ve got classes and internships—no time for the stage again.”

At this, Fu Weishan gave him an insincere dose of motivational talk. “But on your own stage in life, you’ll always be the lead role.”

Ji Chen, as always, bought it easily, his face lighting up with encouragement. “Okay… I’ll work hard…”

His voice cut off suddenly as Fu Weishan leaned in and kissed him—in the shadow of the auditorium steps.

Not far off, teachers and students passed by in every direction.

Yan Zishu drove Ji Chen home. Ji Chen sat in the passenger seat, dazed and silent, maintaining that state the whole way.

As they neared his destination, Ji Chen finally hesitated before speaking. “Assistant Yan… does President Fu really like men?”

The road was rough, so Yan Zishu shifted to second gear and slowed down. “If he said so, then I suppose it’s true.”

“No, I mean… he said he likes me? That can’t be possible, right?”

“You should talk to President Fu properly about that.”

“I still find it hard to believe…”

Ji Chen was clearly at a loss. He glanced toward Yan Zishu, hoping to read something from his face—but was met only with a thoroughly professional smile.

As if no matter whether Fu Weishan was gay or an alien, it wouldn’t make him blink in surprise.

Ji Chen sank back into his own tangled thoughts.

That evening, he had received a kiss from Fu Weishan. His first reaction had been to push him away in fear and flee in panic.

Fu Weishan had caught him behind the artificial rock by the man-made lake. Yan Zishu didn’t know exactly what was said between them—though he’d seen the grabbing and pulling. In the end, it was a phone call about an urgent family matter that saved Ji Chen from the awkward situation.

Even though Fu Weishan had been rejected, he outwardly displayed grace and generosity, even offering his driver and car.

Yan Zishu had called another car for Fu Weishan, then personally drove his car to take Ji Chen home.

But even after changing out of costume and removing his makeup, Ji Chen remained distracted and unsettled.

Yan Zishu noticed, but said nothing—he only reminded him to fasten his seatbelt.

Ji Chen lived in an old urban village—a place hard to describe politely. His neighborhood was like the city’s forgotten corner, shabby and run-down. The closer the car got, the bumpier the roads became. Dilapidated buildings pressed close together, electrical wires tangled messily overhead, laundry hanging from every window.

Fu Weishan’s luxury car coming here felt like a film crew had driven onto the wrong set.

The last time Yan Zishu had brought Ji Chen home, the darkness of night had hidden much of the ugliness. But now, in the dim yellow light, the filth and decay were plain to see. A drunken man stood shamelessly by the curb, urinating against the wall.

Ji Chen stared out the window. Two hours ago, he’d been facing applause, encouragement from his boss, and an unexpected kiss.

That last part had scared him at the time—his instinct had been to shove Fu Weishan away—but now, strangely, he felt a trace of disappointment.

His father’s phone call just now had only made things worse—bringing him crashing back from heaven to earth.

Awkwardly, Ji Chen said, “You can let me off here… the road inside’s bad. I’ll walk.”

“It’s no trouble—one more push of the gas pedal. Driving’s faster than walking.” Yan Zishu insisted on taking him all the way to his door.

Because of this, they ran into a small bit of unexpected trouble. As soon as Ji Chen got out, a middle-aged man appeared from the building. He was thin, sleazy, balding, and hurried straight over to grab Ji Chen. “Xiao Chen! Quick, do you have money?”

Ji Chen called out, “Dad,” and hesitantly asked, “You called me home just to get money? What for?”

The man said, “Don’t talk nonsense—quick, give me whatever you’ve got, I need it urgently.”

Then his eyes darted greedily to the luxury car. “Is this your friend? He must be rich, right?”

Yan Zishu turned off the engine, took off his glasses, stepped out of the car, and folded his arms as he watched them.

Just then, two tattooed men came out of the building. “Yo, your son’s back, huh? Alright—time to pay up, and then we can leave.”

“You’ve been gambling again, haven’t you?!” Ji Chen finally understood, exclaiming, “You said you’d quit for good!”