Chapter 4: A Heart Stirred by the First Peal of Spring Thunder

The sound of water trickled in the bathroom.

Through the misted glass, the outline of a tall man was refracted—water tracing along the lines of his body, muscles defined, every contour radiating a wild and compelling allure.

The water stopped.

Zhou Yili emerged with a loosely draped bathrobe, a white towel perched on his head. At the bedside, his phone chimed with a notification.

“S has transferred you 10,000 yuan.”

With one hand tousling his damp hair, Zhou Yili raised an eyebrow and lazily typed a line in the chat:

“Are you buying coffee or buying me?”

He hesitated before sending, frowned for two seconds, and decided not to let Shen Jixing have the satisfaction. There was something unspoken in the way that man looked at him lately.

So he deleted it and sent only a question mark.

[Z]: ?

[S]: Rent. I need to stay at your place for a while, not sure how long. If it’s not enough, I’ll make up the rest later.

[Z]: ?

Shen Jixing frowned. Was this man only capable of sending question marks?

[Z]: Got it.

Zhou Yili, as if he’d seen through everything, typed with cold amusement, phone in one hand.

[Z]: So apartments are that hard to find? You can only cling to my place every day.

[Z]: I see. Stay as long as you like.

"10,000 yuan has been refunded to your account."

The message was thick with meaning: Young Master Zhou knew exactly what games were afoot, was too lazy to expose him for now, and, frankly, didn’t care for such a paltry sum.

Shen Jixing looked at the chat, feeling both absurd and amused. He’d never been one to argue.

[S]: Think what you want.

He set the phone aside, began to unbutton his shirt. His fingertips grazed a silver necklace, the pendant a silver-black hexagram. His thoughts drifted elsewhere, and when he returned to himself, he pressed lightly on his stomach.

The phone chimed again.

[Z]: I was going to spare you some dignity. Maybe you should check your WeChat nickname?

Shen Jixing: "?"

Their nicknames: one an S, the other a Z. Using single letters for WeChat nicknames was hardly unusual; Shen Jixing saw nothing strange in it.

[Z]: Didn’t you used to have a different nickname?

[Z]: Did you do this on purpose?

Zhou Yili’s suspicions weren’t entirely unfounded. After all, they hadn’t spoken in nearly four years—not since things had ended so badly between them. Now Shen Jixing had come to him in desperation, tossing out ambiguous lines:

"I have nowhere else to go."
"Can you take me in?"
"Could you bring me a coffee?"
"Can I stay at your place as long as I want?"

It was all maddeningly ambiguous.

The nickname was just another small piece of evidence.

Shen Jixing was silent for a moment, but decided he couldn’t let Zhou Yili get away with it.

[S]: Are they the same? Look again.

[Z]: ?

Zhou Yili, legs stretched out against the headboard, thought that whatever he looked at, it was clearly just an English letter.

A new message popped up.

[S]: I’m older than you.

“…”

“…”

In the stillness of the night, a single curse burst out from the young master’s lips.

“Shit.”

You’d better get the hell out of my room right now.

Zhou Yili glared coldly at the screen, but in the end swallowed his words. Too childish.

With a flick of his long fingers, he changed his WeChat name to a string of "ZZZZZZZ" and tossed the phone onto the pillow, satisfied.

Perhaps it was the disruption of his usual routine, but his thoughts grew hazy.

Once more, he remembered the first time he’d ever met Shen Jixing.

“What tutor?”

A black-haired boy in a blue and white jersey, number 24, a blue headband across his forehead—every inch of him radiated youthful rebellion. He bounced a basketball, laughing softly.

“No need. Send him back wherever he came from.”

“Absurd!”

The middle-aged man slammed the table, his presence commanding. “Have you even looked at your grades? A 666 and you have the nerve to refuse a tutor?”

The butler hurried to mediate, “666 isn’t so bad…”

The man sneered, “That’s six points each in language, math, and English.”

The old butler: “Ah…”

Such scores were truly rare. To be precise, the young master was in the throes of rebellion, treating his studies as a game.

The black-haired youth stood under the light, basketball in his arms, utterly unconcerned.

His defiant attitude stoked Zhou Hengyang’s anger further. “With that attitude, you think you’ll make it into high school?”

A moment’s silence fell.

Even the old butler stared, speechless.

Zhou Hengyang frowned, wondering if he’d gone too far.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of the basketball bouncing broke the air—it thudded and rolled away.

Everyone was startled.

Zhou Hengyang glared, “What’s with you? Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The boy’s eyes were red as a young lion’s, fierce and wild.

“Say my mother’s name again, I dare you.”

Zhou Hengyang: “What did you say?”

“Don’t let me hear you mention her again. Send your world-class prodigy back where he came from.”

Zhou Yili strode out, face cold, “I will not learn pian—”

He stopped short, nearly colliding with someone entering.

A crisp, cool scent drifted past—white sandalwood, barely sweet at the base.

The young man before him wore a white shirt and black trousers, features as clear as brushstrokes in ink, his gaze shifting past Zhou Yili’s shoulder.

“Arguing?”

His gentle voice stirred the hair at the boy’s nape.

Zhou Yili stiffened.

The newcomer took a polite step back, saying mildly, “Continue. I’ll come back later.”

So very polite.

Zhou Yili stared at him, and in the golden dusk, this young man was as clear and flawless as jade.

His lashes were long and straight, casting a cool shadow.

Then, as their eyes met, it was as if spring thunder gave way to a gentle rain—Zhou Yili’s heart thumped for no reason at all.

He was the first to look away, brushing past.

“You’re the student from Venus Royal Academy of Music?”

Behind him, Zhou Hengyang’s question sounded. His son’s resistance was irrelevant; Zhou Hengyang always believed in his own decisions.

“Yes,” came the calm, magnetic reply. “Shen Jixing. Twenty years old.”

Zhou Yili walked on through the summer garden in full bloom.

Twenty years old?

A mocking smile flickered across his unruly face. “Heh, what a fraud.”

—

Out loud, Little Zhou: Heh, what a fraud.

In his heart: Damn, I just met a fairy. :-D