Fish-Fragrant Shredded Pork with Tofu - Chapter 4
Seeing the live chat filled with comments about Guo Zeyan’s abs, my mind drifted back to when he was staying at my place. He’d strut around shirtless all day, showing off those abs. I tried giving him my clothes, but he just tossed them aside with a look of disdain: “They’re too small. They don’t fit.”
Standing at nearly 1.9 meters and with years of training behind him, it was no wonder my clothes were too tight on him. At first, I didn’t care—two grown men, what’s the big deal? Who could have guessed Guo Zeyan was hiding such a fox’s tail?
I shot him a flat look. “Put a shirt on. I don’t have that kind of kink.”
“You’re so mean,” he replied, voice tinged with mock hurt. “When you picked me up, you promised to treat me well for life.”
“Bro, I was drunk. You actually believed me?”
“But you were just sneaking glances at me changing.”
“I was not.” I swallowed nervously, knowing the more I denied, the more suspicious I sounded. I gave up and turned away, refusing to look at him.
In the locker room, I changed into my swim trunks and sat by the hot spring, waiting for Guo Zeyan. For once, he came out wrapped up tight, barely showing any skin. Meanwhile, I was just in my big shorts.
“Yichen doesn’t like it when I show too much. He gets jealous,” Guo Zeyan announced with a straight face.
The chat went wild.
[Modesty is a man’s best dowry.]
[Guo Zeyan is really the model of ‘manly virtue.’ What a good guy]
I stood up to get into the water, but as soon as I did, I lost my balance and tumbled straight into the deep end of the hot spring. I can’t swim. The water rushed over my head, and I struggled for air, everything around me a blur of steam.
“Hold on.”
A strong, slender hand reached out to me. Instinctively, I grabbed it, and my head broke the surface. I gulped in air, coughing.
Guo Zeyan’s face appeared close, his tone full of concern. “Careful.”
Before I could answer, he pulled me up and out of the water, right into his warm chest.
“Yichen, you scared me just now.”
His familiar scent filled my nose. Reflexively, I pressed my hands against his chest. We were barely an inch apart.
“Thanks… just now.”
Our reflections shimmered in the water. My naturally wavy hair was plastered to my face, and Guo Zeyan’s T-shirt clung to him, outlining his abs.
Fox.
He seemed to read my mind, glancing at the tiny gap between us. His lips curled in a half-smile, voice husky: “Yichen, you’re so heartless. My chest actually hurts—want to check?”
He tightened his grip on my hand.
“N-no need,” I stammered, pushing him away.
He leaned in, breath warm on my ear, voice low and slow: “Remember our roles, little brother.”
I froze, not daring to move.
The chat was about to explode.
[Don’t move, I’m bringing a bed over]
[Yichen totally fell in on purpose for the hero rescue]
[Who’s gone crazy? Me.]
[Even my seventy-eight-year-old aunt is obsessed with this CP]
[There’s no shipping without madness]
Netizens really have wild imaginations.
After falling into the hot spring, I caught a cold.
Qiao Nan sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through videos of me and Guo Zeyan by the hot spring, her imagination running wild.
“Yichen, with a rich and gentle guy like Guo Zeyan, why not just go for it?”
I burrowed under the covers, sneezing. “He’s just a manipulative guy.”
“You have no idea your CP fans have already written several spicy stories online. Want to read one?”
“Not interested.” I pulled the blanket over my head.
But Qiao Nan wouldn’t give up. She started reading aloud: “Guo Zeyan’s hand slid down Yichen’s waist, then slowly—”
I yanked her phone away. “If you keep reading, I’ll flush your phone down the toilet.”
She clutched her phone. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, just give it back.”
She was interrupted by a knock.
“Yichen.”
I blinked, and Qiao Nan snatched her phone back.
“New couples really are clingy. I’ll leave you two alone.” She even closed the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wanted to check if you’re feeling better. If you’re still sick, you can skip this afternoon’s shoot,” Guo Zeyan said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“Did you take your medicine?” He asked like he was coaxing a child.
“I did.”
He nodded, then frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”
I looked down. “I was fighting for Qiao Nan’s phone and forgot.”
“Don’t do that again.” Guo Zeyan walked over, bent down, and picked me up.
“N-no, I can walk,” I protested, embarrassed.
But he didn’t let go. My feet left the ground, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He smiled, carrying me to the bed and tucking me in.
“Rest well.”
I drifted off into a deep, hazy sleep.
That afternoon, a photo of Guo Zeyan visiting my dressing room was posted by a fansite and shot to the top of the trending list.
[These two are inseparable. He went straight to Yichen’s room after just a short break.]
[Did anyone notice Guo Zeyan stayed for a whole hour?]
[He probably didn’t finish that fast, right?]
[Guo Zeyan looks like he could go all night.]
[Guys, this isn’t a novel.]
[Yichen looks so frail, though.]
[Yichen, don’t read the hate comments.]
[This is just too much.]
I shut my phone. No more hate. Not reading, not reading.
That night, it was time for the cooking segment again.
Guo Zeyan had shown, back when he lived with me, that he was clueless in the kitchen. I figured I’d be doing all the work.
“I’ll do it. You’re still sick, just rest,” he said, taking the ingredients from me.
Excuse me?
I shot him a look: Bro, are you sure? Last time you couldn’t even tell spinach from water spinach. Don’t blow up the kitchen.
He gave me a reassuring nod.
Fine. I went to make watermelon juice instead, both of us liked it.
As I was juicing, I spotted a bag of salt. A wicked idea flashed through my mind. I checked to make sure the cameras were focused on Guo Zeyan, then snuck some salt into his glass, giving it a quick stir.
If fans saw him take a sip and make a face, they’d think he hated my juice. There goes the “dotingly supportive boyfriend” image.
Just as I finished, Guo Zeyan called, “Yichen, dinner’s ready.”
“Coming,” I brought the juice to the table.
Guo Zeyan carried over two plates.
I stared—one was shredded pork with garlic sauce, the other was cola chicken wings. Both my favorites.
Did he really make these?
I leaned in and whispered, “How’d you bribe the crew to order takeout? Lin Qianyu did the same thing before.”
All for the sake of looking like a devoted boyfriend?
He smiled, then brought over a plate of oyster sauce lettuce.
“You think everyone’s like Lin Qianyu, always scheming? If I can cook, I cook. If I can’t, I don’t.”
I stood there, stunned. Guo Zeyan had secretly learned to cook just for the show and got this good, this fast.
I handed him the watermelon juice. “Help me with my apron?”
Standing at nearly 1.9 meters and with years of training behind him, it was no wonder my clothes were too tight on him. At first, I didn’t care—two grown men, what’s the big deal? Who could have guessed Guo Zeyan was hiding such a fox’s tail?
I shot him a flat look. “Put a shirt on. I don’t have that kind of kink.”
“You’re so mean,” he replied, voice tinged with mock hurt. “When you picked me up, you promised to treat me well for life.”
“Bro, I was drunk. You actually believed me?”
“But you were just sneaking glances at me changing.”
“I was not.” I swallowed nervously, knowing the more I denied, the more suspicious I sounded. I gave up and turned away, refusing to look at him.
In the locker room, I changed into my swim trunks and sat by the hot spring, waiting for Guo Zeyan. For once, he came out wrapped up tight, barely showing any skin. Meanwhile, I was just in my big shorts.
“Yichen doesn’t like it when I show too much. He gets jealous,” Guo Zeyan announced with a straight face.
The chat went wild.
[Modesty is a man’s best dowry.]
[Guo Zeyan is really the model of ‘manly virtue.’ What a good guy]
I stood up to get into the water, but as soon as I did, I lost my balance and tumbled straight into the deep end of the hot spring. I can’t swim. The water rushed over my head, and I struggled for air, everything around me a blur of steam.
“Hold on.”
A strong, slender hand reached out to me. Instinctively, I grabbed it, and my head broke the surface. I gulped in air, coughing.
Guo Zeyan’s face appeared close, his tone full of concern. “Careful.”
Before I could answer, he pulled me up and out of the water, right into his warm chest.
“Yichen, you scared me just now.”
His familiar scent filled my nose. Reflexively, I pressed my hands against his chest. We were barely an inch apart.
“Thanks… just now.”
Our reflections shimmered in the water. My naturally wavy hair was plastered to my face, and Guo Zeyan’s T-shirt clung to him, outlining his abs.
Fox.
He seemed to read my mind, glancing at the tiny gap between us. His lips curled in a half-smile, voice husky: “Yichen, you’re so heartless. My chest actually hurts—want to check?”
He tightened his grip on my hand.
“N-no need,” I stammered, pushing him away.
He leaned in, breath warm on my ear, voice low and slow: “Remember our roles, little brother.”
I froze, not daring to move.
The chat was about to explode.
[Don’t move, I’m bringing a bed over]
[Yichen totally fell in on purpose for the hero rescue]
[Who’s gone crazy? Me.]
[Even my seventy-eight-year-old aunt is obsessed with this CP]
[There’s no shipping without madness]
Netizens really have wild imaginations.
After falling into the hot spring, I caught a cold.
Qiao Nan sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through videos of me and Guo Zeyan by the hot spring, her imagination running wild.
“Yichen, with a rich and gentle guy like Guo Zeyan, why not just go for it?”
I burrowed under the covers, sneezing. “He’s just a manipulative guy.”
“You have no idea your CP fans have already written several spicy stories online. Want to read one?”
“Not interested.” I pulled the blanket over my head.
But Qiao Nan wouldn’t give up. She started reading aloud: “Guo Zeyan’s hand slid down Yichen’s waist, then slowly—”
I yanked her phone away. “If you keep reading, I’ll flush your phone down the toilet.”
She clutched her phone. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, just give it back.”
She was interrupted by a knock.
“Yichen.”
I blinked, and Qiao Nan snatched her phone back.
“New couples really are clingy. I’ll leave you two alone.” She even closed the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wanted to check if you’re feeling better. If you’re still sick, you can skip this afternoon’s shoot,” Guo Zeyan said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“Did you take your medicine?” He asked like he was coaxing a child.
“I did.”
He nodded, then frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”
I looked down. “I was fighting for Qiao Nan’s phone and forgot.”
“Don’t do that again.” Guo Zeyan walked over, bent down, and picked me up.
“N-no, I can walk,” I protested, embarrassed.
But he didn’t let go. My feet left the ground, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He smiled, carrying me to the bed and tucking me in.
“Rest well.”
I drifted off into a deep, hazy sleep.
That afternoon, a photo of Guo Zeyan visiting my dressing room was posted by a fansite and shot to the top of the trending list.
[These two are inseparable. He went straight to Yichen’s room after just a short break.]
[Did anyone notice Guo Zeyan stayed for a whole hour?]
[He probably didn’t finish that fast, right?]
[Guo Zeyan looks like he could go all night.]
[Guys, this isn’t a novel.]
[Yichen looks so frail, though.]
[Yichen, don’t read the hate comments.]
[This is just too much.]
I shut my phone. No more hate. Not reading, not reading.
That night, it was time for the cooking segment again.
Guo Zeyan had shown, back when he lived with me, that he was clueless in the kitchen. I figured I’d be doing all the work.
“I’ll do it. You’re still sick, just rest,” he said, taking the ingredients from me.
Excuse me?
I shot him a look: Bro, are you sure? Last time you couldn’t even tell spinach from water spinach. Don’t blow up the kitchen.
He gave me a reassuring nod.
Fine. I went to make watermelon juice instead, both of us liked it.
As I was juicing, I spotted a bag of salt. A wicked idea flashed through my mind. I checked to make sure the cameras were focused on Guo Zeyan, then snuck some salt into his glass, giving it a quick stir.
If fans saw him take a sip and make a face, they’d think he hated my juice. There goes the “dotingly supportive boyfriend” image.
Just as I finished, Guo Zeyan called, “Yichen, dinner’s ready.”
“Coming,” I brought the juice to the table.
Guo Zeyan carried over two plates.
I stared—one was shredded pork with garlic sauce, the other was cola chicken wings. Both my favorites.
Did he really make these?
I leaned in and whispered, “How’d you bribe the crew to order takeout? Lin Qianyu did the same thing before.”
All for the sake of looking like a devoted boyfriend?
He smiled, then brought over a plate of oyster sauce lettuce.
“You think everyone’s like Lin Qianyu, always scheming? If I can cook, I cook. If I can’t, I don’t.”
I stood there, stunned. Guo Zeyan had secretly learned to cook just for the show and got this good, this fast.
I handed him the watermelon juice. “Help me with my apron?”
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