Chapter 26 – Please Get in the Car No Matter What

Guan Lan was in a bad mood.

The reason for his bad mood, in his own opinion, was somewhat ridiculous.

His thirtieth birthday was approaching.

At this age, one should at least have some stability in all aspects of life, if not necessarily settled down with a family and career.

As for himself, his career was somewhat established, but his family life was still nowhere in sight.

Of course, in modern society, many people marry late, and at thirty, they are still far from settling down. But at least they have accumulated a lot of experience, so that once they meet the right person, they can naturally follow the correct steps.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t even sure what the correct steps were.

In fact, the fact that he was about to become a thirty-year-old virgin didn’t particularly shame Guan Lan, because even in modern society, there are many conservative and traditional people who insist on remaining chaste until their wedding night—there are plenty of such people. But a person without psychological disorders or abnormal sexual preferences, who is also not a celibate, yet has never been in a relationship by the age of thirty, can be considered a rare oddity.

Guan Lan had to face the painful fact: he was a failure in love.

He used to say, “How can I settle down when the Huns are not yet defeated?” and claimed that he was just unlucky. But as that day drew closer, he began to feel that it might really be his own problem.

No matter how he tried to justify it, it seemed that the responsibility for this situation lay more with him.

This bit of frustration was not something he could share with others. The only person he could confide in, Chen Jin, had gone to another province to record a program this week. Guan Lan didn’t want to bother him with his trivial worries, especially since Chen Jin rarely worked hard—so he could only bottle up this small frustration, turning it into a huge one.

On his birthday, fans online compiled a collection of his works for him, and someone even made a fan-made MV for him. He was initially a bit happy, and his mood slightly improved. But then he clicked on the most popular video, only to find it was a harem-themed one.

Although he knew the fans meant no harm, after watching it, his mood plummeted to the bottom.

Fortunately, his Weibo was always the aloof type, so even though he didn’t repost anyone’s Weibo and only posted a simple “Thank you all,” no one found it unusual.

Later, his parents called to wish him a happy birthday. His mother also, not too subtly, reminded him that at thirty, he should have had enough fun and it was time to consider developing a more long-term relationship.

Only then did Guan Lan realize that his mood hadn’t hit rock bottom yet—it was still sinking.

In fact, his parents were quite open-minded. They had always encouraged him to focus on his career and hadn’t been pressuring him to marry every other day. But seeing their son still single at thirty, what parents wouldn’t be anxious?

And Guan Lan knew that being single wasn’t actually the biggest problem. The day he stopped being single, he would have even more headaches—but since that day was still far away, he might as well not trouble himself with the headache of coming out.

When he arrived at the company, he noticed that Ren Xiaofei was looking at him with a mix of excitement and evasion.

Guan Lan knew that somewhere in the company, a surprise party or something similar was being secretly planned. Although he was touched by their thoughtfulness, he felt he might not have the energy to act surprised.

Even so, when he saw the massive four-tier cake on the table in the lounge, he dutifully exclaimed in surprise.

Guan Lan: “I… I really didn’t expect this. Thank you all.”

This party was the Big Boss’s idea, and the Big Boss had decreed that the Music Department didn’t have to work today and could enjoy themselves to the fullest, with all expenses covered by the company.

The artists in the company who had some connection with Guan Lan naturally also attended.

Of course, that included Zhuang Lin.

Zhuang Lin: “Happy birthday.”

Guan Lan: “Thank you. You’re so busy, you didn’t have to come specially.”

Zhuang Lin: “It wasn’t special. I came to the company for a meeting and took the opportunity to bring you a gift.”

Guan Lan: “You even brought a gift, that’s very thoughtful.”

Zhuang Lin: “It’s a bit chaotic here. I’ll give it to you alone after it’s over. It’s not soup.”

Guan Lan: “Hmm, I was wondering why you didn’t bring a thermos.”

Seeing that Guan Lan was even joking about the soup incident, Zhuang Lin cautiously felt that Guan Lan’s attitude had softened a bit, and he was somewhat happy. But he didn’t dare to be too happy, fearing that, like last time, he’d get another cold shower.

These days, he had followed the advice of his love strategist and didn’t make any big moves. Instead, he focused on the spiritual route, chatting with Guan Lan about creativity, sharing songs he’d been listening to lately, or just talking about random things. Guan Lan didn’t reply much—Zhuang Lin would send four or five messages, and Guan Lan would reply briefly after two hours or half a day. Zhuang Lin initially found it awkward, but after getting used to this one-sided conversation, he became somewhat addicted, wanting to share everything with Guan Lan.

Although Guan Lan replied sparingly, he didn’t block Zhuang Lin—of course, blocking was impossible since they still had a working relationship and needed to communicate about work. He also didn’t tell Zhuang Lin to shut up or stop bothering him, nor did he completely ignore him. This gave Zhuang Lin a glimmer of hope.

He thought, indeed, this slow and steady spiritual approach was more effective.

But Zhuang Lin still wanted to see him, desperately.

These days of not coming to see him had used up all his self-control.

In reality, it hadn’t been that long, but it felt like half a year had passed, and he couldn’t get enough of looking at him.

But today was his birthday—why did he seem a bit unhappy?

Guan Lan felt he had performed perfectly today, exuding happiness and joy, almost ready to sing “Good Days.”

At the same time, he could feel Zhuang Lin’s gaze, from halfway across the room, resting on him.

Strangely, Guan Lan didn’t feel the urge to flee in panic. On the contrary, the longer the gaze lingered, the hotter he felt.

The long-suppressed frustration and depression in his heart had unexpectedly given rise to a thought he had never had before:

This isn’t my problem, it’s not my fault. After all, someone still loves me, someone loves me this much.

He was now desperate to find evidence that he wasn’t a complete failure in love. He was stuck in a swamp of self-denial, desperately reaching out to grab a lifeline.

That lifeline was Zhuang Lin.

As the party was winding down, Zhuang Lin went to find Guan Lan, intending to give him his gift.

He had prepared two gifts. One was with him—several rare foreign vinyl records he had collected, all unreleased in China, with the artists’ signatures. The other was a guitar, which he had left in his car, planning to play it by ear: “Oh, this thing is too heavy, maybe I should deliver it to your house.” But he didn’t think Guan Lan would fall for such a basic trick, so he didn’t hold out much hope.

Zhuang Lin: “Here’s your gift.”

Although it was wrapped, Guan Lan could tell from the size and shape what it was.

He took it: “Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”

Seeing that Guan Lan didn’t seem particularly excited, Zhuang Lin decided to take a gamble: “There’s one more thing… it’s in my car, it’s a bit big. Should I take it to your house?”

Guan Lan’s dark eyes looked at him.

Guan Lan: “Sure.”

Zhuang Lin: !!!

When they arrived at Guan Lan’s house, Zhuang Lin was still in a daze.

He really didn’t know what he had done right today.

Was it the right words? But they hadn’t said much. Was it the right gift? Guan Lan hadn’t even glanced at his two gifts.

Guan Lan went straight to the liquor cabinet as soon as he entered the house, took out a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses.

Zhuang Lin was shocked. He knew Guan Lan’s alcohol tolerance—this was really strong liquor.

Guan Lan poured them both a glass, then tilted his head back and downed his own glass in one go.

Zhuang Lin watched in horror, scrambling to recall some basic knowledge about drinking, trying to make conversation: “I remember an American alcoholic once told me how to identify good whiskey, look at the color…”

Guan Lan downed the second glass.

Even Erguotou wasn’t drunk like this!

Zhuang Lin: “…the color is a faint gold…”

Guan Lan: “Zhuang Lin, you know what I mean by bringing you back to my house this late, right?”

Zhuang Lin had indeed imagined that meaning on the way here, but given recent events, he didn’t dare to think too much.

Guan Lan took something out of his pocket. His house didn’t have this thing—he had just dug it out of Chen Jin’s room. Who knew why Chen Jin had brought this thing when he stayed over, and who knew how Guan Lan knew Chen Jin had it in his room. He handed it to Zhuang Lin: “So, are you willing? Before I regret it.”

Zhuang Lin looked down and felt his soul shatter into nanoparticles.

It was a condom.

Zhuang Lin knew that Guan Lan’s mental state was very abnormal right now. The rational and correct thing to do was to sober Guan Lan up, have a sincere talk with him, let him open up, and then comfort and guide him properly…

To hell with rational and correct! I’m not impotent!

Guan Lan knew he was making a mistake.

The young man’s kiss was filled with burning passion, and through their touching lips and tongues, he could almost feel the pounding of his bare heart.

Just for tonight, he didn’t want to be a responsible adult who always thought things through. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow, even if I’m still a failed thirty-year-old man who’s never been in a relationship, at least I won’t be a thirty-year-old virgin.

The alcohol gradually began to affect Guan Lan’s body, and he felt himself heating up all over; but no matter how hot he felt, it was nothing compared to the heat of Zhuang Lin’s hands on his skin.

Guan Lan didn’t exercise much and didn’t have Zhuang Lin’s toned physique, but his body was still smooth and well-proportioned. From his neck down to his chest, Zhuang Lin’s hands wandered, lingering on the tender flesh at his sides, causing Guan Lan to tremble uncontrollably.

He gasped: “Don’t bother with all this… just, ah, just do it…”

Zhuang Lin gently bit his lower lip: “Teacher Guan, leave it to me.”

Guan Lan suddenly realized that, at some point, Zhuang Lin had stopped calling him “Teacher Guan.” Now, hearing it again, it only made his entire body tighten with shame.

The moment he truly felt his body being invaded, Guan Lan seemed to sober up for a moment and tried to push Zhuang Lin away: “Wait—”

Zhuang Lin gasped: “I can’t wait.”

Guan Lan let out a long moan, feeling the pain of being penetrated, and thought, I don’t regret this.

Zhuang Lin leaned down to kiss him.

Guan Lan bit his lip until it bled.

Zhuang Lin: “I love you so much—”

Only then did Guan Lan truly wake up.

After it was over, rationality returned, and Guan Lan regretted it to the point of inwardly screaming.

He felt like the biggest jerk. Zhuang Lin had been sincere with him, and he had just played with him—not only his feelings but also his body.

He didn’t have the same feelings for Zhuang Lin, yet in a moment of emotional vulnerability, he had done something irreversible. No matter how he thought about it, he was just too much of a scumbag.

So the next morning, when Zhuang Lin turned over and pulled him into his arms, wanting to enjoy a blissful morning cuddle, he saw Guan Lan’s apologetic face:

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.”

Zhuang Lin thought, having his heart drenched in cold water over and over had somehow made him numb to it.