On the second floor, before reaching the study, he heard his brother and father talking inside.
Chen Boyao sounded unusually agitated: “…Peak Point has always focused on new energy project incubation, never touched biomaterials. I can’t risk the business I built from scratch on his whims. From childhood, whenever he burned money on play, didn’t I support it? First venture, all that cash down the drain without a peep. This second time, didn’t I fork over without a word? I wrote it off as sunk cost, no expectations of return. As his brother, I’ve done more than enough. These years subsidizing Boyu, Qian Yun and I have argued over it more than once. We’re planning to try for a baby after New Year; I need to consider my own family… Dad, you can’t be so biased…”
Chen Yongmao: “Calm down, Boyao. Hear me out—I’m not asking you to invest more.”
Chen Boyao paused, his voice lowering: “Then what do you mean…?”
Chen Yongmao: “Flat-out refusing might hurt Boyu’s pride. I’ll cover it; you toss in a token amount under your name. Not much, like pocket money. Once it’s burned through, he’ll come to his senses. Then bring him into your company. In a few years, when he’s of age, marriage—he won’t complain. We’ve supported him plenty already.”
Chen Boyao: “Don’t take offense, but I really don’t think Boyu’s cut out for it. I’d rather he be a playboy eating and drinking—costs less…”
Chen Boyu went back downstairs, called the nanny over, handed her the bottle, said he had to step out and asked her to deliver it.
The grand house felt empty and quiet after everyone left.
Chen Boyu stepped outside into the spacious courtyard.
The night breeze still held summer’s warmth, yet he felt a chill seep into his bones.
/
Lan Yan usually rose at eight, washed up, had breakfast downstairs, then biked to work.
Summer days broke early; she woke earlier too. She left right at eight.
At the gate, about to cross the street, someone called her name.
She looked and saw Chen Boyu’s car parked on the roadside.
She paused, then walked toward it.
Chen Boyu got out, closed the door, and approached. Without a word, he pulled her into a hug, resting his head on her shoulder.
A posture of complete dependence.
Lan Yan froze for a moment, then patted his back lightly. “What’s wrong?”
“…Heading to work?” His voice was hoarse.
“Yeah.”
“Can I crash at your place for a bit? Wait for you to get off.”
Only then did she notice he still wore yesterday’s light gray pinstripe shirt.
“Where’d you sleep last night? Why didn’t you change?”
“…Slept in the car for a bit.”
Lan Yan was inevitably stunned. “The whole time in the car?”
Chen Boyu hummed. “Drove over at two in the morning. Figured you were asleep…”
“The AC hasn’t been replaced yet. You…”
“It’s fine.”
Lan Yan took the access card and keys from her bag. “Turn on the living room AC and open the bedroom door. It’ll be cooler. Go get some sleep first. I’ll be back at noon… and we can talk then.”
Chen Boyu yawned and nodded obediently, like some kind of gentle large breed dog.
Lan Yan had been busy all morning. During her lunch break, she sent Chen Boyu a message. He was probably still sleeping and didn’t reply. Not wanting to disturb him, she didn’t go back. She left a note for him to talk once he woke up and said she’d head home early in the afternoon.
A little after three in the afternoon, she received Chen Boyu’s reply. He said he was up and waiting for her to come home.
When it was time to clock out, Lan Yan saved her unfinished work and was the first to leave the studio.
She knocked when she got home. Chen Boyu opened the door. He had already washed up and changed into the spare clothes he kept there—a simple gray T-shirt. He looked much fresher overall, though his expression still held a trace of dejection.
Chen Boyu had ordered takeout for two. While waiting for delivery, he told Lan Yan about what happened the night before.
He lay flat on the sofa, knees propped up, head pillowed on Lan Yan’s lap. He raised an arm to cover his eyes and said with self-mockery, “…I feel just like in The Truman Show. It wasn’t until yesterday that I finally saw the real world for what it is. I’m not as outstanding as my big brother, sure, but I thought… they still had some expectations for me…”
Chen Boyu’s voice grew even more hoarse. “…Jingchuan always said some things might not be what I thought they were. I didn’t take it seriously before. He was right. The person involved is baffled.”
Whenever anyone bared their heart to her, Lan Yan felt a little at a loss. But at that moment, she seemed to finally see again the Chen Boyu from two years ago, waiting for her by the window.
She chose her words carefully. “Do you trust Jingchuan?”
“Of course.”
“Then you should know he wouldn’t joke about his future. If he’s willing to join your team, it means he believes in your potential.”
After dinner, Chen Boyu’s mood had improved a lot.
He bought a honeydew melon and took it to the kitchen to cut it into pieces.
Lan Yan walked over to his side and watched him handle the knife—not very skillfully—before speaking thoughtfully. “I don’t know if now’s the right time to say this.”
Chen Boyu turned his head. “Go ahead.”
“I won’t participate in any more social events at your house from now on. Sorry. I tried, but some things I just can’t do.”
Chen Boyu lowered his gaze and looked at her seriously. “If I forced you, would you break up with me?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lan Yan said, “Maybe.”
Chen Boyu smiled. He had eye smiles, and when he grinned, his eyes and brows looked especially gentle. “The fact that you’re hesitating is enough. Don’t worry. This house… I don’t even want to go back to it myself right now.”
Late August was Chen Boyu’s birthday.
He had many friends and usually threw lively parties, but this year he wasn’t in the mood. All his energy went into fundraising.
So he decided to just invite the company’s main founders and a few best friends over for dinner at home.
On his birthday, Jingchuan drove over with the company’s CSO, Luo Shan.
Luo Shan was a few years older than them. She had a background in bioengineering and MIT education. She was the core technical staff besides Jingchuan. Back then, half the reason Jingchuan joined was because he recognized her value.
The two typical techies didn’t have much to talk about privately besides work.
Luo Shan asked, “Aren’t you childhood friends with Chen Boyu? How come you’re not riding with him?”
Jingchuan smiled faintly. “Mm.”
Luo Shan: “Oh, he went to pick up his girlfriend, right.”
“…Mm.”
By the time they arrived, everyone else was mostly there.
Some of Chen Boyu’s friends were playing games in the living room, while others gathered around the dining table, doing who-knows-what.
Jingchuan’s gaze passed over those shoulders and landed on Lan Yan standing by the table.
Even for her boyfriend’s birthday, she wasn’t dressed overly formally—just a simple smoky gray spaghetti-strap long dress, hair pinned up.
The noisier the crowd, the more her stillness stood out.
Jingchuan went to the beverage station, got a glass of ice water, and strolled over to the dining table.
It turned out Mend Orchid Studio had collaborated with the city museum on a blind box for a calligraphy restoration experience. Lan Yan had brought one over, and one of Chen Boyu’s friends was interested, so they opened it on the spot.
For most ordinary people, even following the instructions, it was hard to get the hang of it quickly. They kept asking Lan Yan for help.
She was very patient, not skipping even basic points like how to apply pressure with a tuft brush.
Jingchuan took a sip of water and was about to walk to her side when Chen Boyu clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Chen Boyu nodded toward the living room. “One round?”
It was a fighting game popular over a decade ago. Back in high school, they’d hit the arcade to battle whenever they had time. Win rates were about fifty-fifty.
Their styles were completely different. Chen Boyu countered moves and pressed advantages. Jingchuan preferred waiting for the perfect moment to land a one-hit kill.
Chen Boyu’s go-to character had a super move that wasn’t guaranteed every time—it depended on luck to pull off.
He had great luck. Sometimes he’d turn the tables with that 15% probability move even when down to a sliver of health.
If Chen Boyu was luck’s favorite, Jingchuan was probably the one it abandoned.
Two years ago, he was supposed to graduate in July and return to South City on schedule.
But under his advisor’s strong persuasion—to push for a top journal paper for the research group—he had to delay graduation by half a year.
That summer of delay was when Chen Boyu and Lan Yan got together.
This time too. Their relationship had been on ice, the Truman World illusion shattered, yet it somehow gave Chen Boyu a push, filling in the long-missing lesson in growth and shaking off his biggest liability.
“Fuck… he pulled it off again!” Someone beside Chen Boyu exclaimed.
Jingchuan kept his eyes steady and said nothing. He dodged backward early, before the super move could start.
Chen Boyu’s super whiffed. He pushed forward on the stick for pursuit, chaining combos.
“KO.”
Jingchuan looked up at Chen Boyu and smiled. “You didn’t think I’d bet on you whiffing the super again, did you?”
People with bad luck shouldn’t gamble on luck.
Chen Boyu huffed a laugh, not entirely convinced.
“One-life clear is tough.” Jingchuan set down the controller and stood. “Good luck to you.”
Chen Boyu looked up, puzzled. “One-life clear? What game are you talking about?”
A smile hid in those narrow, deep eyes. Jingchuan shrugged, as if to say: Who knows.