After getting married, every day felt like a dream for He Ling.
He’d wake up in the morning and ask for a kiss.
Before leaving the house, he’d ask for another.
If they met for lunch, he’d sneak another kiss.
When they returned to their offices, he’d steal one more.
Some afternoons, he’d leave work early and show up at Gong Qin’s office, watching him work while kissing him until Gong Qin’s face turned red.
At home, he could barely wait a moment—he’d push Gong Qin onto the bed and make love to him, thoroughly and completely.
Everything was so good, almost too good, that it felt unreal.
He Ling would often wake up in the middle of the night, terrified that it was all just a dream, that Gong Qin wasn’t really there, that they’d never actually gotten married.
But every time, as soon as he reached out, he could touch him.
Gong Qin would mumble sleepily, “Go to sleep…”—almost like he was being coy, and He Ling could never resist him like that. He’d lean over and kiss him, turning their night into sleepless laughter and tangled sheets.
The next morning, Gong Qin would banish him to the guest room, but the bedroom door was never locked. He Ling would sneak back in after Gong Qin fell asleep, wrapping his arms around him and drifting off, completely content.
This life went on for a long, long time—so long that He Ling thought it would last forever.
Until half a year ago, when he accidentally overheard a conversation between Gong Qin and a friend.
The friend said, “You two have been together seven years, right?”
Gong Qin paused. “Has it really been that long?”
The friend said, “Yeah, time flies. You’ve hit the seven-year itch already…”
Gong Qin repeated, “Seven-year itch?”
The friend explained, “Yeah, after seven years of marriage, most couples run into problems.”
Gong Qin asked, “What kind of problems?”
The friend replied, “After being together so long, things stop feeling new. Life gets routine, and eventually it just gets boring. Men, you know, always chasing after something new and exciting—sometimes they cheat.”
Gong Qin frowned. “I don’t like new and exciting things.”
The friend laughed, “But what about him?”
Gong Qin paused, then said calmly, “It doesn’t matter.”
Hearing those three words, He Ling felt like he’d been plunged into an ice bath, like someone had hit him over the head. Seven years of dreams, shattered in an instant.
What did “it doesn’t matter” mean? Did nothing he did matter to Gong Qin?
Come to think of it, they’d been married seven years.
Had Gong Qin ever said he loved him?
No.
Not even once.
In seven years of marriage, He Ling was always the one reaching out.
Gong Qin was always calm, composed, sometimes even irritated.
It was always He Ling, tirelessly pouring out his passion, constantly showing Gong Qin his endless love, laying his heart bare for him, over and over.
The longer they were together, the more He Ling understood Gong Qin.
Gong Qin was passive, hated change.
Once he accepted something, he’d stick with it, for better or worse. Once he started, he’d see it through to the end.
He didn’t like his job, but he’d done it diligently for over a decade, building it up to what it was today.
He didn’t like crowded parties, but because he was used to a fixed social routine, he’d still go to the same clubs regularly.
He Ling even knew that Gong Qin didn’t like sharing a bath, but because He Ling had insisted, Gong Qin eventually got used to it and would always have the tub ready when He Ling came home.
There were so many things Gong Qin didn’t like, but he never changed them—he just got used to them.
Did Gong Qin love him?
Or had he just gotten used to living with him?
He Ling told himself not to overthink it. If they could just go on like this forever, that would be enough.
But the human heart is like Pandora’s box—once you open it, you can’t control what comes out.
What if Gong Qin met someone he truly loved?
Someone who made him want to change, no matter what?
Would he leave He Ling?
He definitely would.
He Ling couldn’t hold it in anymore. He asked Gong Qin, “Do you love me?”
Gong Qin looked at him, baffled. “What’s gotten into you?”
He Ling pressed on, “Do you love me?”
Gong Qin replied, “If you’re bored, go wash the dishes.”
He Ling grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall. “I’m asking you—do you love me?”
Gong Qin narrowed his eyes. “Let go.”
He Ling refused, gripping his wrist tightly, staring him down.
Gong Qin let out a cold laugh and called him by his full name.
Suddenly, He Ling felt all his strength leave him. He looked at Gong Qin’s indifferent lips, the anger in his eyes, and realized how ridiculous he was being.
Why was he even asking?
He was just humiliating himself. From the very beginning, he’d always been the one chasing after Gong Qin.
He Ling let go of him and, for the first time, went to sleep in the guest room on his own.
Gong Qin said nothing, going about his usual routine—showering, changing into pajamas, reading in the study, and going to bed at eleven sharp.
When He Ling first met him, everyone around Gong Qin called him a robot.
Back then, He Ling thought everything about Gong Qin was adorable, even that nickname.
Now he understood.
Robots aren’t just precise and methodical—they don’t have hearts.
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