The Byoukidere Is Her Sweetie

"Then stay away from me, there's someone inside who doesn't like the smell of women's perfume."

That person was like an ancestor, needed to be pampered, and had poor health. What else could be done but spoil him?

The woman was sensible and stepped back, obedient and seductive, "Mr., can I play the role in the Tangren script?"

This woman was a newcomer that Baoguang had just signed last month.

Xue Baoyi tilted his chin and smiled, "You haven't even served me yet, and you're already thinking about resources?"

The woman pouted, "You're so annoying, I'm not thinking about that."

"Don't be in a hurry." Xue Baoyi pulled out a business card from his pocket and slipped it into the woman's low neckline. His actions were frivolous, but his eyes were keen, "Wait for my call."

Before he could withdraw his hand, someone behind him coughed, seemingly a bit reproachful, and then cleared their throat a few more times.

Xue Baoyi pulled his hand back and turned his head, annoyed, "What?"

The lights in the corridor of Fusheng Inn were dim, with gray-green lampshades casting a soft glow. In the shadowy light, a tall figure stood, wearing a cream-colored coat over a peach-colored sweater.

The effeminate outfit was somewhat redeemed by the baby-faced look, quite like Fu Fen He Lang.

'Fu Fen He Lang' approached, glaring at Xue Baoyi with clear, harmless doe eyes, "Aren't you ashamed of yourself!"

Xue Baoyi grinned mischievously, "What's there to be ashamed about? Do you think everyone is as innocent as you?"

The innocent 'Fu Fen He Lang' quickly looked away from the woman's low neckline, his face turning bright red. Despite his gentle appearance, his scolding held little intimidation, "Get inside, stop embarrassing yourself out here."

After speaking, 'Fu Fen He Lang' turned and left.

The woman laughed and asked, "Mr., who is he?"

Xue Baoyi adjusted his coat, "My uncle, Third Young Master of the Xue Family."

Oh, the late-born son of Old Master Xue.

As Xue Baoyi was about to step into the room, a chicken claw scratched at him.

"Damn," he immediately kicked, "Why is there a chicken here?!"

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!"

The chicken, kicked into the corner, clucked noisily.

Ah Wan went over and stepped on the string tied to the chicken to keep it from flapping around, saying, "The chicken belongs to Mr. Jiang. He brought it home to slaughter and cook for his employer's health."

Xue Baoyi took a tissue, wiped his shoe, and jokingly said, "Brother Zhi, you've switched from making movies to raising chickens?"

The room was furnished in an antique style.

Jiang Zhi lounged on a chaise, too lazy to respond.

Ah Wan answered for him, "It was a gift from someone else."

Xue Baoyi wiped his hands again, crumpled the tissue into a ball, and threw it into the trash, "People still give chickens as gifts these days?" He pulled a rattan chair and sat down, resting his long legs on the coffee table, "Who was it? A man or a woman?"

Ah Wan was about to reply.

Jiang Zhi lazily gave him a glance, "You, and that chicken, get out."

Fine, Ah Wan carried the chicken and left.

"Where is Nanchu?" Jiang Zhi asked.

It was just past late autumn, and he was already wearing a thick sweater, looking increasingly unwell and lethargic.

Xue Baoyi poured himself a drink, "He's clashing with his dad again, will be late."

This gathering was organized by him to welcome his third uncle.

"I'm cold." Jiang Zhi nudged Xue Baoyi's leg with his foot.

His body was delicate, susceptible to cold, and couldn't stand the heating. It wasn't even winter yet, and he was already complaining about the cold. Xue Baoyi laughed, "You're really like my ancestor!"

He set his glass down and went out to get a blanket for Jiang Zhi.

There was no helping it—being an aesthetician at heart, he was fascinated by beauty, and among a group of men, he spoiled Jiang Zhi the most.

Once everyone left, Jiang Zhi asked the person sitting quietly beside him, "Where's the medicine?"

The third young master of the Xue Family, Xue Bingxue.

A man with a baby face, full of collagen, lips redder than a girl's, eyelashes longer than a girl's, and eyes bigger than a girl's. Unlike Jiang Zhi's delicateness, he was soft. Ridiculous, right?

According to Xue Baoyi: My third uncle is a naive beauty, twenty-eight years old and still as innocent as a maiden, kind as a saint, probably even has an M-physique; otherwise, why would he at his age harbor unrequited feelings for someone who once stripped him and pinched his privates?

Xue Bingxue took a pill bottle from his coat pocket and tossed it to Jiang Zhi, "One a week, no more."

Jiang Zhi replied with a hum, unscrewed the cap, poured out a pill, swallowed it with warm water, then pocketed the bottle and rolled up his sleeve to place his arm on the table.

Xue Bingxue, a doctor specializing in hematology, was apprenticed to an old Chinese medicine practitioner.

He sat closer and took Jiang Zhi's pulse.

Congenital deficiency, weak heart and lungs.

This was Jiang Zhi's diagnosis at five years old, being born prematurely at less than seven months, his health was naturally poor. With good care, it wasn't life-threatening, but despite being coddled at the Jiang Family like a treasure, his condition didn't improve. Eventually, chronic organ failure, heart weakness, and increasing frailty set in.

Especially in winter, he often needed bed rest and even had a tendency to cough up blood. The strange thing was, despite being riddled with ailments, no doctor could pinpoint his exact illness.

If it weren't for that boy's accidental intervention, he might have died already.

There was a rumor in the Jiang Family that the young master wouldn't live past twenty-five. This year, he turned twenty-four.

"It's not worth it for them." Xue Bingxue said.

The medicine was bitter, so Jiang Zhi washed the taste away with a small sip of liquor. He didn't like alcohol, frowning as his stomach felt uneasy.

He said, "I know."

Xue Bingxue, gentle in nature, dared not persuade him, only said, "This medicine can't be taken too much."

"Mm."

He added, "Too much can cause infertility."

Jiang Zhi looked up at his face, cuter and cleaner than a girl's, and laughed, "Do you think," he drawled lazily, "I would have children with anyone?"

Fearing to upset him, Xue Bingxue muttered softly, "Maybe someone could turn you straight."

Jiang Zhi snorted, "Nonsense."

Xue Bingxue fell silent.

After Jiang Zhi set the glass down and lay back, feeling drowsy possibly from the medicine's effect, he said, "Don't let my nephew find out, he's straightforward and can't keep secrets. My illness mustn't be known to him."

Xue Baoyi wasn't foolish, just couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Xue Bingxue sat upright, "I understand."

Just as the matter was finished, Xue Baoyi returned with a blanket, "Brother Zhi, I got you a pastel pink."

Jiang Zhi glanced at the beige-pink sweater on Xue Bingxue and coldly muttered at Xue Baoyi, "Idiot."

"..."

Xue Baoyi rolled his eyes.

Ah, Brother Zhi tormented him countless times, but he treated him like a first love.

Fusheng Inn used to be a large courtyard with eight main entrances and exits. With some modern renovations and additions, it was divided into an outer and inner wing. The outer wing catered to ordinary guests, while the inner wing, with its four small courtyards named Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, and Chrysanthemum, was exclusive to the elite of the Imperial City.

This Fusheng Inn belonged to the Luo Family, wealthy merchants of the Imperial City. Though rich, they lacked deep foundations and weren't counted among the Four Great Families.

Zhou Xufang looked up at the plaque above the door, surprised to find such a place in the Imperial City. She walked in with her bag, but was stopped just past the front hall.

A woman in a short cheongsam, with a delicate face and gentle smile, said, "I'm sorry, this area is for VIPs only."

It had begun to rain outside. Zhou Xufang wore a black raincoat, black rain boots, and a delivery cap. She masked herself, wrapped tightly.

She took out her phone from her pocket and made a call, "Your delivery is here."

She usually worked as a delivery driver for a seafood porridge shop in her free time. The Boss Lady was kind; Zhou Xufang had been a regular customer who once received the wrong porridge, containing eggs, which made her ill. The Boss Lady had kindly let her rest for the night, and since then, Zhou Xufang helped with deliveries when she could.

A woman's voice answered, "Room 304, please bring it in."

Zhou Xufang replied, "I can't get in."

A man then took over the call, "Give the phone to the person blocking you."

Zhou Xufang handed her phone to the woman blocking her, careful to avoid physical contact.

After listening, the woman returned the phone, "You may go in now."

Zhou Xufang carefully took her phone back, then proceeded to the inner courtyard. Upon entering, she found four forks in the path, with paintings of Plum, Orchid, Bamboo, and Chrysanthemum hanging nearby. She sent a text asking the customer which courtyard but received no reply. Forced to check each one, she began her search.