Chapter 67

This question confused Jiang Zhihuo a little.

The God of Learning Yan was extremely powerful; a few words from him, and everything fell into his strategy.

He explained the concept, limited the options, and left him with no real choices. There were two options, but no matter which he chose, it all led to the same conclusion.

This type of indirect confession was the hardest to ignore.

Jiang Zhihuo reacted quickly, pushing Yan Mu and lightly hitting his body with his fist. He laughed, then asked, “Who are you? Are you Yan-ge? Shouldn’t you be saying something else? Where’s your dignity?”

“Lost it a long time ago.” Yan Mu looked at him as he spoke.

“It fell here. Just pick it up, wipe it off, and it’s good as new.” Jiang Zhihuo pretended to pick something up, handing the air to Yan Mu, laughter shining in his eyes. “Put it on and stop blurting out those cheesy love lines!”

Yan Mu didn’t understand the joke but slightly raised his hand, his eyes questioning. Jiang Zhihuo didn’t nod, nor did he pull away; his attitude was somewhere in between. With one arm draped over his shoulders and the other hanging loosely by his side, Yan Mu let his palm rest against the back of Jiang Zhihuo’s hand, his thumb gently rubbing the blue vein he had accidentally touched.

Yan Mu felt a little warm, his heart pounding. In the quiet living room, his breathing grew louder and more shaky, showing how nervous he was.

He explained, “I didn’t ask that question because I needed an answer; I just wanted a reason to make you stay. You can take half the bed, or I can give you the whole bed. I’ll help you change the bandage. You’ve had a long day, so you should get some good rest.”

Yan-ge was talented, always knowing how to evoke emotions. Each word hit perfectly, making Jiang Zhihuo fall deeper with every statement.

It had been a long day, and he was truly exhausted.

He fought at the clubhouse, was chased across the floor by a group, passed out after escaping, and when he woke up, he realized that Yan Mu was actually Qin-ge.

He wasn’t feeling relaxed, either mentally or physically.

Jiang Zhihuo couldn’t come up with a reason to refuse, or maybe he didn’t even try. So, he stayed and went along with it.

Jiang Zhihuo hadn’t packed any extra clothes, only the ones he was wearing. Luckily, they were roughly the same size, so Yan Mu’s clothes fit him well. Before he took a shower, Yan Mu handed him a fresh pair of underwear.

Jiang Zhihuo slept well that night.

It had been some time since he became an omega. Although he hadn’t fully differentiated yet, his reproductive cavity was developing, and the markings on his glands were almost gone.

For the first time, Jiang Zhihuo truly understood how comforting it is for an omega to have an alpha nearby, without the hindrance of a mark.

Yan Mu didn’t use the masking spray that night. After the effects of the last spray wore off, his pheromones began to leak out, filling the air with a fresh rain scent. It smelled incredible. A while ago, when he was sleeping alone, he sometimes felt a dull ache in his lower abdomen in the middle of the night. It wasn’t serious, but whenever the pain started, he had trouble falling asleep.

With Yan Mu’s pheromones around, his entire body relaxed and felt at ease.

Jiang Zhihuo lay in bed for hours but couldn’t fall asleep. He had just been at the hospital, so it was tough for him to doze off quickly.

He lay with his back to Yan Mu, listening to the quiet night. He could hear Yan Mu’s breathing behind his ear and knew that Yan Mu was already sound asleep. In his sleep, Yan Mu’s hand shifted slightly, pulling Jiang Zhihuo into his arms.

As he shifted, his back pressed against Yan Mu’s chest, and the warmth of their bodies spread beneath the blankets.

Jiang Zhihuo closed his eyes and gradually fell asleep.

The next day was Sunday, and Yan Mu usually woke up early. When Jiang Zhihuo slowly lifted the blanket and got out of bed, Yan Mu had already bought soy milk and fried dough sticks. Not wanting to disturb him, he sat at the dining table studying instead.

Jiang Zhihuo walked out, stretching and yawning as he greeted him with a ‘good morning.’ After heading to the bathroom to wash up, he returned and drank half a cup of warm water, feeling completely refreshed.

Before eating, Yan Mu took out the medicine prescribed by the hospital yesterday. Since the gauze had been on all night, it needed to be changed in the morning.

Lying on his side on the sofa, Jiang Zhihuo lifted his shirt and pulled his waistband down a bit, revealing the spot where the gauze was attached.

The skin beneath his clothes was light, and the curves of his waist and stomach extended into his waistband. When he lay on his side, a small dip appeared where a tiny mole sat.

It was a tiny mole, so small that most people wouldn’t notice it, but it was still somewhat visible against the white gauze.

Yan Mu moved a small chair and sat down next to him, leaning forward a little.

The gauze had been on for a while, so when he ripped it off, it hurt quite a lot. Jiang Zhihuo winced slightly.

“I’ll be gentle,” Yan Mu said.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that the adhesive got stuck to my skin.”

Jiang Zhihuo rested his head on his right arm.

After waking up, Jiang Zhihuo’s eyes still felt dry, so he closed them for a moment to moisten them.

A cotton swab soaked in medicine was gently pressed against the wound. The cool liquid seeped in, causing a stinging sensation as it spread, and a bitter medicinal scent filled the air.

After sleeping through the night, he couldn’t keep avoiding the question he hadn’t answered the day before. Jiang Zhihuo still didn’t have an answer, so he decided to turn the question back and asked, “What exactly is our relationship now?”

That question wasn’t just for Yan Mu; it was for him as well.

If this had happened a few days ago, he would’ve agreed immediately because it was Yan Mu, only Yan Mu. He already knew what kind of person Yan-ge was, so there was no need to overthink it.

Things had changed now, and it was more complicated.

He only realized that Yan Mu was actually Qin-ge. After so many years apart, their relationship was still unclear when the truth finally surfaced. Even though they had discussed things, the core issue remained. They had been separated for too long, and the truth hit suddenly. That emotional barrier in his heart wasn’t something he could easily get past. Jiang Zhihuo needed some time to accept it.

Their relationship was tense back then, and his personality had changed significantly. They were no longer the same people they once were. His thoughts weren’t as simple or innocent as before, and during estrus, the influence of pheromones could cause him to do things he couldn’t control.

There were many things to think about.

Knowing that Jiang Zhihuo would need time to accept it, Yan Mu didn’t push the issue or try to rush him.

“I’ll wait for your answer.”

This wasn’t a half-hearted response or a way to avoid responsibility. Yan Mu said, “I get how you feel. There’s no need to rush. Just stay where you are, and I’ll be right here with you. When you’re ready to move forward, come take my hand¹[T/N: “留在原地就行，我在这陪你” is a gentle idiom-like phrasing often used in emotional contexts, meaning “you don’t have to force yourself forward, I’ll be with you until you’re ready.”].”

Yan Mu continued with his task, waiting for the medicine to dry slightly before applying a new piece of gauze.

There wasn’t much to comment on. Jiang Zhihuo hummed softly and opened his eyes, noticing Yan Mu’s fingers. The knuckles were prominent; his movements were slow and gentle.

Jiang Zhihuo blinked, then suddenly remembered something. The chaos from yesterday had completely made him forget.

“Why?” He asked.

Yan Mu froze for a moment. After saying all that, he was suddenly faced with a “why” —it was enough to surprise anyone.

“No.” Jiang Zhihuo sat up and grabbed Yan Mu’s hand.

A red mark was visible on his wrist from when the bodyguards pulled him away.

It would turn red just with a light touch from others, but when Jiang Zhihuo held it in his hand, nothing happened.

“Why is it alright when I touch you?” Jiang Zhihuo asked.

Yan Mu told the truth, “I’m not sure.”

He honestly had no idea and was even caught off guard at first.

Jiang Zhihuo recalled how, when he was younger, he always worried about Qin-ge‘s pain. Each time, he had to prepare himself fully before he could lie on the same bed with him. Feeling frustrated, he said, “If I had known back then, I would’ve tried touching you. Then you wouldn’t have been able to keep it hidden from me for so long!”

He asked again, “So what’s going on with you? You didn’t know before, but by now, you should, right?”

Initially, Jiang Zhihuo didn’t realize Yan Mu couldn’t be touched. But after seeing it a few times, he asked about it, only to have Yan Mu refuse to answer every time.

This time was no different.

Yan Mu said, “It’s fine, you’ll get used to it.”

It was a vague answer that failed to clarify anything. The previous silence could have indicated that they weren’t close enough yet, but remaining quiet now only suggested that Yan Mu was hiding something.

Before Jiang Zhihuo could ask, Yan Mu put away the medicine box and ruffled his hair, saying, “Eat something. You can ask later.”

The table was filled with steamed soup dumplings, soy milk, and fried dough sticks. Jiang Zhihuo wasn’t about to let the matter go. As he ate, he kept his gaze fixed on Yan Mu. Yan Mu didn’t respond, so Jiang Zhihuo couldn’t push any further and had to guess.

There was one thing that stood out. Jiang Zhihuo had considered it before, but it didn’t feel solid enough. The reasoning seemed a little flimsy, so he didn’t bother to explore it further.

A few days before the sports meet, He Xiezhou was causing trouble, and Yan Mu grabbed his wrist to stop him. Later that night, Jiang Zhihuo went home and searched up things like ‘red marks after touch.’

He searched the whole internet and found nothing.

He didn’t think much of it back then, but in today’s world, what kind of normal information wouldn’t be online?

Even something like second-gender differentiation from A to O appeared all over the internet. So, if there was a condition where skin couldn’t be touched, how would it not show up in a search?

Looking back on Yan Mu’s evasive attitude each time…

Although there was no solid evidence, it seemed like the inability to touch others might be more than just a medical issue.

Yan Mu finished his breakfast and was intently focused on his test paper, his head bowed as he worked through it. Every now and then, he’d look up, only to see Jiang Zhihuo gazing at him with a thoughtful expression. Without saying a word, Yan Mu would lift his paper, hiding his face behind it.

“Don’t look at me like that, and don’t make wild guesses, Xiao Zhou.”

Jiang Zhihuo slid the test paper aside, gripping his cup of soy milk. “If you won’t tell me, then I guess I’ll have to figure it out myself. Convince me in three sentences, no more.”

Yan Mu sighed, realizing there was no way to avoid this. He couldn’t dodge it this time, and honestly, he didn’t have a reason to. Getting three sentences to explain was already the most Jiang Zhihuo was willing to give.

“I know why this is happening.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Being able to touch you makes me really happy.”

Three sentences—no more, no less.

He knew exactly what was going on, and there was no reason to worry. It was just a confession.

Jiang Zhihuo let out a deep sigh and pushed the bun into Yan Mu’s mouth. “Alright, I got it. I won’t ask anymore. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

It was a brief moment, just an interlude. Since he had promised not to bring it up, Jiang Zhihuo didn’t intend to mention it again.

He didn’t head home on Sunday. Instead, he stayed at Yan Mu’s place the entire day.

In the afternoon, Jiang Zhihuo sat by the bay window, watching Yan Mu continue studying. The results of the last competition would be announced on Monday, and in about two weeks, Yan Mu would have to go to another city for yet another one. It was clear that the senior year of the God of Learning was going to be filled with nonstop competitions.

The view from the bay window was stunning. They were on a high floor, offering a broad view of the city sprawling out below. The setting sun cast a warm, golden glow over everything.

Jiang Zhihuo had been reading a classic novel, but he kept nodding off. The first time, the book slipped from his hands and hit the floor, waking him up abruptly. The second time, he fell into such a deep sleep that he didn’t even notice when Yan Mu covered him with a blanket.

He groggily woke up and asked, “Where was I?”

“Page seventy-six.”

Jiang Zhihuo rubbed his eyes and went back to his book.

The afternoon felt warm and peaceful, with the quiet stretching on.

Every now and then, he’d feel a dull ache from the wound on his waist. When the pain pulled him out of his book, his mind wandered to what had happened with Fu Xiuwang.

Li Hao hadn’t reached out yet, probably buried in work.

Abduction, training, trafficking—when you add up those words, it’s clear this wasn’t going to be a simple situation.

The existence of a venue and an industry behind it indicated there was a market. Someone wanted it, and someone was making money from it.

The fact that a clubhouse operating so openly outside the law could exist this long without being caught wasn’t just because Fu Xiuwang was good at avoiding investigations. There was definitely someone behind him, and digging deeper would probably reveal even more surprises.

But Jiang Zhihuo didn’t want to dwell on any of that. It was all too complicated. For now, all he needed was to enjoy the afternoon.

As a self-proclaimed salted fish, he felt perfectly content.

After getting bored with reading, he ordered two cups of milk tea. Later that night, he took a shower and crawled into bed, his mind completely at ease.

By the end of the day, Yan Mu didn’t ask much about the clubhouse.

Yesterday, Jiang Zhihuo had told him it would be the last time.

And it indeed was the last time. He didn’t avoid Yan Mu this time.

This was a deal. If you truly knew what you wanted, you wouldn’t spend your whole life stuck in it.

It’s hard to deny there was some temptation in the deal itself. Li Hao was sharp, and making a deal with someone that young was never really a sensible thing to do.

Li Hao was undoubtedly clever.

Jiang Zhihuo needed everything that Li Hao had planned—his identity, environment, education, and life.

All the practical, essential things that can’t be skipped.

Without a new identity, he’d never escape his terrible father. That man and everything he did would always be with him.

Without the right environment, growth was unlikely. A person’s narrow perspective was the biggest obstacle that could hold them back.

Education is crucial for progress. Change cannot occur without it. Everything relies on knowledge and perspective.

Without life, there was no room to discuss what came next.

However, the real reason he agreed was one sentence.

“It’s just a deal,” Li Hao said, making it as straightforward as possible. “Like putting something in a display window. If I want to sell, and you want to buy, you step up and pay.” He gave him a calm look. “It’s a mutual choice. I need your help, and you can choose to accept. It’s all about cooperation while we’re both in it, and when that’s over, we walk away. You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

It looked like Jiang Zhihuo was getting all the perks, but in fact, it was all solely mind games.

Imagine the relationship between people as a deal, weighing factors like skill, morals, and more. It seemed fair on the surface, but in reality, it was tough to escape from, and breaking the balance wasn’t easy.

It was a clever move to get him to agree, like offering a big piece of candy, but inside, it was sticky glue that would cling to your teeth.

Once Jiang Zhihuo gave his nod, there was no backing out.

Much of what Jiang Zhihuo had was handed to him by others, all because of Li Hao. Li Hao decided what he saw, who he met, and what he knew. How could he leave? It wasn’t as simple as simply walking away.

At first, Jiang Zhihuo didn’t agree. Before they could finalize anything, he had already sent Li Hao away.

But of course, Li Hao wouldn’t leave. His ability to spot all these gaps so easily showed how sharp he was. He wasn’t just smart—he was clever, exactly the kind of person Li Hao had been hoping to find.

Li Hao then made his intentions clear. “Aside from the paths I’ve assigned to you, you’re free to ask for anything else. Whatever you need, I’ll provide. You can use the resources I offer however you want. The deadline is until you turn eighteen. My plan is simple; it only requires a few years. After that, you can leave if you want, or stay. It’s your choice.”

A deal with clear terms and benefits—it’s a straightforward transaction.

Before his eighteenth birthday, Li Hao sent him a message: Investigate Bai Zhengou and Fu Xiuwang.

That day, Jiang Zhihuo reminded him it would be the last time.

Li Hao simply said, “It’s up to you.”

He didn’t hesitate or break his word. Li Hao was the kind of person who always put himself first. As he climbed higher, he never considered Jiang Zhihuo’s feelings. He only shared case details when it suited him, keeping everything that gave him an edge close to his chest—selfish and self-centered. But, at the end of the day, he solved cases and rooted out the people hurting society. The world needed people like him.

Li Hao handed Jiang Zhihuo what he’d promised, and Jiang Zhihuo gave him everything he’d brought. It was the last time. The deal was complete. Neither owed anything to the other, and they went their separate ways.

Jiang Zhihuo, finished with his reading, stretched his neck before hopping down from the bay window. He moved over to Yan Mu, exchanged a few words, and then casually sketched out a couple of equations.

“I should take a picture of you like this and send it to Zong Bei,” Yan Mu, the God of Learning, said, having survived Jiang Zhihuo’s ways of learning during the makeup lessons.

Only Zong Bei, who had been through the same makeup lessons, would truly get how brutal it had been.

“Forget it,” Jiang Zhihuo replied. “One of us, either me or him, is definitely going to die young.”

It was truly shocking to see a slack student who couldn’t even get into college suddenly solve complex competition problems.

And Jiang Zhihuo? He had been pretending to be clueless simply to mess with them, and now, he knew Zong Bei would roast him for it.

“Did you only pretend because of the investigation?” Yan Mu asked, setting his pen down.

There was nothing left to hide now; his act had already been exposed in front of Yan-ge.

Jiang Zhihuo chuckled. “Mhm, these days it’s all about grades. If your results are bad, no one will even consider you smart. It’s like the perfect setup, haha.”

The persona truly played a major role.

When it came to the Feng Zhi situation, Jiang Zhihuo told them that Director Feng saw him as a fool, which meant he never thought to be cautious around him. And sure enough, Feng Zhi never suspected a thing.

He had also infiltrated Bai Zhengou’s house by pretending to be interested in courting his daughter. Bai Zhengou was so focused on Bai Yujun that he never questioned Jiang Zhihuo’s true intentions.

Fu Xiuwang hired a private detective before bringing Jiang Zhihuo into the clubhouse.

With his student status, impulsive nature, reputation as a slacker, and terrible study habits, Jiang Zhihuo seemed nothing more than a naive kid. No one would ever associate him with Li Hao, and if anyone questioned his intentions, it would be easy to clear things up.

Even Yan Mu, who spent every day with Jiang Zhihuo at that time, hadn’t picked up on a single clue.

Li Hao was truly a crafty old fox when it came to manipulating people.

“How much longer?” Yan Mu asked.

“It was over, so there was no need to keep pretending. But to be safe, we had to wait until the whole case was resolved. We decided to take it slow and steady; rushing ahead would only raise suspicion.”

Jiang Zhihuo stared at the cube diagram for a long time. Finally, he picked up his pen, drawing an auxiliary line. “What if I added it here? Would the solution be any simpler?”

Yan Mu followed his train of thought, writing and drawing. “Mhm, that cuts out two steps, making the solution clearer.”

Jiang Zhihuo leaned over and flipped to the next paper, which was at an insanely difficult level—very challenging.

Yan Mu leaned back so Jiang Zhihuo could review the test problems more easily. After a moment, he suddenly called out, “Xiao Zhou.”

“What’s the matter?” Jiang Zhihuo turned his head and met Yan Mu’s gaze.

Yan Mu looked at him steadily. The sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a gentle glow, while the sky outside had turned a deep purple.

Jiang Zhihuo could see the sky, the sunlight, and his own reflection in Yan Mu’s eyes. Each one felt meaningful.

Yan Mu reached out, gently brushing his hand, and said, “No matter what’s happened before, don’t dwell on it. Keep your world lively.”

“Promise me.”

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  [T/N: “留在原地就行，我在这陪你” is a gentle idiom-like phrasing often used in emotional contexts, meaning “you don’t have to force yourself forward, I’ll be with you until you’re ready.”]