CH 27

Parched throat, racing heart, restless spirit.

My good rival-in-love gege who wants to instead engage in a wholesome brotherly relationship with me is sleeping right next to me. What_to_do_waiting_online.jpg…

Not exactly urgent this time, though.

Murong Jihua lands his gaze onto his diamond wristwatch for the 42nd time tonight, as the hour hand continues its march clockwise from twelve to three, potentially to further beyond. It is beyond toleration at this point.

He swears he is sleepy, but he just can’t fall asleep.

——He really, really wants to turn over to throw He Jünle’s terminal away, knock him out cold to make him sleep properly.

But he can’t.

So he can only let the man behind him continue to expertly navigate his fingers on the keyboard on the bright screen on his hand——Judging by the sound, it must be the 24-Key Input Method (TL: A way to input Chinese characters on mobile, apparently. Haven’t heard of this at all).

Fine, he’s digressing. The point is…

He Jünle, flirt and chat with your harem all you want, but why are you approaching this shaoye more and more, mm?!

His breath is already blowing onto this shaoye’s neck, oi!

Thus Murong Jihua remains immobile. His instincts tell him that if he were to move at all, he would easily enter physical contact with the man’s body behind him… He doesn’t want to gamble on which part it might be at all (TL: He Jünle is flirting with his harem, i.e. his (Spoilers: not) romantic interests, i.e. he must be excited in a certain way right now, i.e. his most front-facing body part right now has to be… Hehehe)

The feeling of the pile of fluffy warmness from today is still firmly imprinted on his brain matter.

Oh shit. The moment he thinks like that, Murong Jihua can feel his face burning up again.

・

It seems the person is still not satisfied with how awkward and subtly erotic the mood has become. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps not, but his cold, slightly gravelly tone rings out next to his ears,

“I know you’re not asleep yet.”

No, he is. Please, just treat him as if he’s asleep.

Stop talking to him while lying next to him, bro.

Murong Jihua answers with a muffled mmph.

“Then can I——”

Murong Jihua is about to go ‘no’ when the sentence continues,

“——voice chat?”

“Hah?”

“A friend of mine said she can’t fall asleep. She wants me to sing her to sleep.”

“…”

He treats flirtiness like a joke, but poor him always overthinks things.

“I see… Girls are important. Do it.”

Murong Jihua pulls up his blanket, annoyed, and buries his head in it. While cursing the womanising central heating system (TL: Chinese slang meaning someone behaving equally warm towards all) known as He Jünle will never find true happiness in romance, his chest can’t help but feel slightly sour.

The kind of sour one feels from eating lemons.

He isn’t sure what he’s sour about, either. Maybe he’s sour at how reaju his rival in love is with all his harem, while he, the CEO-in-name-only can’t do a thing about it.

Yes, it must be that…

In the lonely, dreamless night, a deep, magnetic male voice begins to hum a tune.

It feels awfully familiar. It is hard to make out any lyrics, or perhaps, Murong Jihua just doesn’t have the mind to any longer.

He only knows that, in this dreamlike singing, his consciousness is floating, more and more, and his mental exhaustion has weaved a big net, beginning to entrap and ensnare his conscious self.

‘The guy sure is amazing at singing people to sleep. I should try it on Xiaomo some other time…’

At the very precipice of his consciousness is a chuckle and some slight ruffles from moving the blankets. A voice comes,

“Burying so deep inside; trying to suffocate yourself?”

The next morning, Murong Jihua, subconsciously avoiding unnecessary physical contact with He Jünle, and thus having slept with the same posture the entire night, is aching.

That’s not the worst of it.

When he wakes up, he quickly moves his arm behind him. It’s empty. He Jünle has disappeared already.

That’s not the worst of it.

When he opens his sleepy eyes and rubs on his stiff waist as he rises up, butler Cui, who usually attends to his waking-up duties (TL: ?) with a peaceful, gentle expression is looking at him all awkwardly.

The circle of maids about his bed also all look strange. They are completely stiff holding up clothes. Their pretty faces are all buried deep. Reddened. None of them are looking at him in the eye.

“… What’s wrong with all of you? Where’s He Jünle?”

Murong Jihua takes a soft pad and puts it behind his aching waist, while asking as he puts his clothes on.

“Shao-fu——Uh, I mean Mr He Jr. has already left. He left this for shaoye.”

Butler Cui almost bites his tongue while talking. It takes him a while to produce the elegant plate from behind him.

Upon which, is five stacks of neatly tied cash.

Murong Jihua’s veins are popping. He Jünle’s hospitalisation was his fault entirely. His Zalipay money transfer was also his compensation for having felt him up casually——The hell is he doing paying him back!

What grave insult it is to pay money to the bossy CEO!

He Jünle, apologise to all the obscenely rich persons of the entire world, got it?!

While suppressing his inexplicable anger, Murong Jihua asks, “any message he left?”

“Yes…”

Butler Cui gives a complicated glance at the money on the plate, before carefully casting his gaze back on Murong Jihua.

“Mr, Mr He said, the money, the money is, is,”

He gulps, before continuing,

“Payment… for… his… one-night stand… sleeping, you.”