Chapter 11
Fang Jing Yao lingered in the car before getting out. Zhuo Yifan had already checked in and was waiting in the lobby on tiptoe. Spotting Fang Jing Yao, he immediately ran over. “Master, why are you back so late? Did you go g?n? Your lips are so red! Did the spicy fish from last night get to you?”
The mischievous kid was trying to please Fang Jing Yao in his simple way: by talking endlessly, filling the other’s time, seeking attention. Fang Jing Yao glanced at him, and the kid immediately widened his eyes, shining, obedient and well-behaved.
Fang Jing Yao cleared his throat, changing the topic: “Everything settled? I’ll write down my home address. Come to eat lunch at my place tomorrow.”
Zhuo Yifan was satisfied with the promise and immediately nodded. “Okay! I’ll be there tomorrow!”
Fang Jing Yao said it to make sure he wouldn’t get lost and didn’t think much more of it. After returning, he stayed up late again, busy until early morning.
The next morning, the doorbell rang incessantly. Fang Jing Yao hadn’t opened his eyes yet. Huang, the cat, jumped off the bed and ran to the door. Used to the bell, the cat thought it was Fang’s mother bringing his meal.
Fang Jing Yao pretended to sleep. Huang, impatient, jumped back onto the bed, nudging and pawing at him, bumping his nose with a “thud.” The cat was fine, but Fang Jing Yao felt like his nose was broken, tears welling up. Covering his nose, he sat up and lightly tapped the cat on the head. “You win. I’ll get the door.”
Huang purred and ran alongside him.
Opening the door, it wasn’t Fang’s mother—it was Zhuo Yifan.
Zhuo Yifan held a bag of vegetables in his left hand and a fish in his right, smiling. “Master, I’m here!”
Fang Jing Yao almost slammed the door on him. Still groggy, dark circles under his eyes, he scowled: “Why are you here g?n?”
Zhuo Yifan squeezed in, trying to please him. “Didn’t you say yesterday for me to come have a meal…”
Fang Jing Yao rolled his eyes at the unfilial boy. “I meant lunch! Look at the time! Tell me, what time is it? Did I ask you to have breakfast?”
“Oh, I was just wandering this morning and saw a market nearby. There were vegetables you like, so I thought I’d make you some porridge,” Zhuo Yifan replied, used to being scolded. He went to the kitchen to prepare it. “Master, sleep a little more. I’ll call you when the porridge is ready.”
Fang Jing Yao, now awake, leaned against the kitchen doorway. “When did you get so health-conscious? You were never this diligent before. Do you care for Sun An and the others like this at the studio?”
Zhuo Yifan efficiently soaked the vegetables and cleaned the fish, proudly saying, “No way! Who else deserves such care but you, Master? You have a sensitive stomach, so I’m making fish-slice porridge. The rest of the fish head can be used for a gastrodia soup. I even ordered pufferfish for lunch. I’ll make you a big meal!”
Fang Jing Yao chuckled. “Why are you obsessed with fish? I’m not that fond of it…”
Zhuo Yifan, hearing only the last part, asked again.
“Nothing. Just make your meal.”
Zhuo Yifan nodded and got to work, a diligent and practical young master. While the porridge cooked, he tidied Fang Jing Yao’s apartment, especially the study, knowing his master’s habits better than Fang’s mother.
Everything here had been tidied up, and a delicious aroma drifted from the kitchen. The ingredients were fresh, making the food particularly fragrant. Even Fang Jing Yao, who hadn’t been very hungry, found his appetite stirred a bit.
Zhuo Yifan washed a bowl while serving him porridge, saying, “Master, how long has it been since you last washed this bowl? It’s completely spotless… dry clean.”
Fang Jing Yao put a cigarette in his mouth and mumbled, “I’m alone. Do I need to wash so many bowls?”
Zhuo Yifan asked, “Isn’t my grandmaster coming?”
“Ah?” Fang Jing Yao was momentarily stunned, even forgetting to light his cigarette. “Who are you talking about? Long Yu?”
“Yeah,” Zhuo Yifan brought out the porridge and gave him a curious look. “Doesn’t Dr. Long say you two are living together?”
Fang Jing Yao’s face flushed slightly. He scratched his head, no longer caring about smoking, crushed the cigarette, and leaned against the kitchen doorway to ask, “How did Long Yu tell you that?”
Zhuo Yifan carefully wiped the traces of overflow from the rim of the bowl with a towel and said, “He said you’re his fiancé. I couldn’t call you ‘master’s wife,’ right? So I called you grandmaster instead.”
“And he agreed?”
“Yes!”
“What kind of generation ranking are you even calling out… oh, whatever. Let’s just keep calling it that for now.” Fang Jing Yao chuckled at himself.
Seeing Fang Jing Yao in a good mood, Zhuo Yifan leaned closer, serving the bowl of fish-slice porridge carefully like a work of art. “Master, have your porridge.”
Fang Jing Yao’s irritation completely melted. After drinking two large bowls of the hot, sweet fish porridge, he lay on the sofa, rubbing his stomach, feeling that life had no regrets. Even this unfilial Zhuo Yifan seemed unusually pleasing to the eye.
For three consecutive days, Zhuo Yifan had diligently acted as the hardworking, quiet “Snail Girl,” yet after enough hot porridge, Fang Jing Yao sank into thought.
Up until today, Dr. Long hadn’t answered his calls for three days. Over those days, he had only sent a few texts, replying particularly late.
Fang Jing Yao kept thinking about Long Yu’s text from yesterday. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, but he couldn’t help feeling weak in the knees, wanting to explain something. For example, he and Zhuo Yifan had no other feelings, or if Long Yu was displeased, he could have skipped the hot porridge in the morning—it wasn’t a habit, and his stomach wasn’t that delicate… Thinking this, he glanced at Zhuo Yifan outside cleaning the room, a Japanese-style pretty boy in a small floral apron, with his gray-white hair clipped up neatly, humming as he mopped the floor.
“Master, the porridge’s not hot anymore. Come drink it quickly!”
Fang Jing Yao splashed his face with cold water and sighed. The meal was delicious, but he couldn’t forget the charm of Dr. Long either.
After washing up, he saw Zhuo Yifan leaning against the wall, holding the mop, playing with his phone. His hands typed rapidly, his expression fierce.
Fang Jing Yao glanced at his screen—a manga discussion forum. The thread was old, debating whether he or Luo Yi was the scapegoat. Zhuo Yifan, using three accounts, continuously commented: one pretending to be the enemy asking questions, and the other two answering righteously. He tore apart everything Luo Yi had done, creating three personas to expose it all. The post quickly became popular.
Fang Jing Yao tapped his head. “Enough already. Stop it.”
Only then did Zhuo Yifan reluctantly put away his phone, sneering, “Master, once you give the order, watch me tear his face apart!”
Fang Jing Yao, less fond of fussing, sat down, drinking his porridge. “With all this performance desire, why don’t you become an actor?”
Zhuo Yifan said, “I can’t. I must stay by your side to fulfill my duties and care for you in your old age!”
Fang Jing Yao: “…Get lost!”
He looked utterly exasperated. Damn, why are there so many theatrics around me!
After finishing the meal, Fang Jing Yao didn’t lie down as usual. Instead, he took out his phone to call Long Yu. Long Yu had been busy for days, and now it was the weekend—normally a time they should meet. This time the call went through, but it was answered by an assistant who briefly said he was preparing for surgery:
“Dr. Long is in the sterile room, not convenient right now. Do you have something to relay?”
Fang Jing Yao replied, “Oh, nothing much. Please ask him to return my call when he has a moment.”
The assistant asked, “Which law firm are you with?”
Fang Jing Yao: “Huh? I’m not a lawyer, just a friend.”
The assistant hurriedly explained, “Sorry, Dr. Long has been consulting lawyers these days; I thought you were one too. Okay, I’ll tell him to call you back.”
Fang Jing Yao could tell how busy Long Yu was, so he felt embarrassed to send another message. He stared at his phone for a while, bored, then tossed it onto the table, no longer waiting.
Zhuo Yifan carefully asked, “Master, am I holding you up? I…” He was reluctant to leave, nervously fumbling for the room card in his pocket while testing Fang Jing Yao, “I can book a hotel for a few days… you know, so you can… get some romance? You can’t keep him hanging, I think my grandmaster would be quite popular… Otherwise, I have some extras, really good ones, even some bondage-themed. Master, learn from me…”
Fang Jing Yao endured the first few sentences but couldn’t hold back after the last ones. He yanked off his slippers and went to smack him. “You little brat, stop being bad! Stop talking about bondage!”
Zhuo Yifan hugged his head, running to the bedroom, but Fang Jing Yao blocked him and continued hitting him. He cried, “Master, I won’t do it again!”
Just then, someone coughed at the door. Fang Jing Yao’s body tensed, and he turned to say, “Mom…”
Fang Jing Yao’s mother had just arrived. She walked in at the worst possible time, seeing her son corner a handsome boy in the bedroom, nearly making him cry. She anxiously scolded, worried: her son had always been troublesome, and now seeing the live scene, she was even more concerned.
Her eyes shifted from Fang Jing Yao to the pretty boy, then back to Fang Jing Yao. She looked serious. “Jing Yao, come with me. I need to talk to you.”
