Chapter 17: Collection

“Leave the contract in my office. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Gu Chuanzhou sat in the back of the sedan, speaking into his phone. His cold-grey suit was impeccable; half of his features were hidden in the shadows, his eyes like deep, silent pools. His presence was sharp and icy. The driver didn’t dare make a sound, breathing shallowly in the oppressive silence while waiting for instructions.

“Understood, President Gu. Also… your father asked me to pass on a message. He said…” The assistant on the other end paused. “He hopes you keep your mind on serious business.”

Gu Chuanzhou let out a cold, mocking laugh. “He’s someone who has already been completely forced out of the game. Don’t pass on similar messages to me in the future.”

“Yes, sir. Understood.”

The call ended. Gu Chuanzhou instructed the driver to wait in the parking lot and stepped out of the car carrying a paper bag.

He took the elevator to the top floor—to his most frequent residence, a penthouse closest to the company. The interior was a minimalist, cold blend of black, white, and gray, with the most striking feature being the $270^\circ$ panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows.

However, the owner of this house had long since grown tired of this space. He had returned this time for one purpose: to hide his “treasures.”

Gu Chuanzhou entered his study, rotated a switch behind the bookshelf, and opened a hidden door disguised as a cabinet. Behind it lay another door requiring facial recognition. Once opened, the recessed lighting flickered on, illuminating a secret room with a dim, cold glow.

Inside this square space, three walls were lined with custom wardrobes, jewelry cabinets, and display cases. The fourth wall was covered entirely with photographs of various sizes.

Everything in this room belonged to another master, even if that person was entirely unaware.

Gu Chuanzhou first added a few new photos to a long-vacant spot on the wall. One was a close-up: a youth’s profile, quiet and exquisite, his porcelain neck adorned with a black silk ribbon held by an emerald brooch that sparkled like his eyes.

It was a beautiful shot. Gu Chuanzhou had enlarged it specifically to occupy the center of the wall. Before this month, there had only been photos of the boy as a child. Finally, he could add new ones.

Gu Chuanzhou stood still, admiring the wall, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Next, he opened the jewelry cabinet and placed the emerald brooch in a prominent position. Once, it had been just one of many jewels in his collection, but after being worn by the youth, it had become something entirely different.

He then opened the adjacent display case. One by one, he took the items out of the paper bag.

This case didn’t hold expensive collectibles like the jewelry cabinet. Instead, it was filled with “junk” that looked far past its prime: empty soda bottles, glass candy wrappers, dried yellow flowers sealed in jars… and a withered, unrecognizable grass-woven grasshopper.

Gu Chuanzhou placed the fresh, new grasshopper next to the old one and watched it for a long time.

He remembered how Yu Xi had pulled his sleeve before he left the Pei house, whispering a secret instruction: “You absolutely, definitely can’t tell the others, especially Xiao Juan. I promised her I’d give her the first one I made, but I broke my word… let this be our little secret, okay?”

A secret.

He was the first, and the only one, to receive so many.

Gu Chuanzhou replayed those words in his mind—words almost too sweet to handle. The excitement he had been suppressing all the way home finally threatened to burst. His heart hammered wildly against his heated chest. Veins pulsed, and an unnatural flush spread across a face the outside world mocked as being “devoid of human emotion,” reaching all the way to his neck.

Gu Chuanzhou gently cupped the grasshopper in his hands and pressed his nose to it. Amidst the scent of the grass, he could detect faint traces of the youth’s personal fragrance. It took every ounce of his formidable self-control not to crush the gift in his grip.

This vibrant, green grasshopper wasn’t a stolen trinket hidden away, nor was it a discarded item he had scavenged. It was a gift Yu Xi had given him voluntarily, made by his own hands, for him alone.

It was something that truly belonged to him.

In the afternoon, Zhang Xingkuo “escaped” from his house and arranged for everyone to meet at the equestrian club. He drove to the Pei residence to pick up Yu Xi, bringing Pei Wang along as well.

This was only because Pei Wang had asked Yu Xi, “Aren’t you teaching me my homework today?” just before they left. Yu Xi couldn’t bear to leave him home alone, so he had turned to look at Zhang Xingkuo with pleading eyes.

Yu Xi’s eyes were unique; his large, dark, and bright pupils emphasized his pure aura. But when he stared at someone with a plea, that “deeply affectionate” quality of his eyes came to the fore. No one could resist it—especially not Zhang Xingkuo, whose immunity to Yu Xi had been zero since childhood.

Zhang Xingkuo hesitated for $0.01$ seconds before relenting with a pout. “Fine, for Xiao Xi’s sake.”

Pei Wang climbed into the car and reminded him, “He gets motion sickness. Drive slowly.”

Yu Xi turned to look at him, and Pei Wang, guilty of his previous “driving prank,” rubbed his nose and looked away.

Zhang Xingkuo let out a cold laugh. “No need for your unnecessary reminder. I knew he got motion sickness before you even knew where you were.”

Pei Wang: “…”

Zhang Xingkuo, the famous race car driver known for his wild, death-defying style on the track, drove more steadily than anyone. He didn’t even get impatient when someone cut him or the car off at a red light. He was a completely different person from the man in the race broadcasts.

Yu Xi felt no discomfort at all and kept praising him: “You drive so well! It’s rare for me to not feel even a little bit sick.”

Zhang Xingkuo raised an eyebrow proudly. “Of course. When I was learning to drive, I thought I had to be the best so you could sit comfortably whenever we went out. I didn’t expect to actually get interested in racing and accidentally win a few trophies. I have you to thank for that.”

It sounded a bit like a humblebrag, but Yu Xi was charmed by that last sentence. “It’s because you’re talented. It has nothing to do with me.”

The club they visited was the best in the capital—a massive expanse of land with professional training grounds and facilities, catering only to the elite. Horse riding was an expensive hobby, far beyond the reach of the average person.

“My horse and the Sheng sisters’ horses are in the same stable. I’ll take you there first,” Zhang Xingkuo said, his arm around Yu Xi’s shoulder as he introduced the grounds. “The weather is good today. We can play in the outdoor arena. I’ll pick a gentle horse for you and call a coach so you can try riding.”

“Ah, me?” Yu Xi had thought he was just there to watch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you. There won’t be any safety issues. I’ve prepared everything. Yunjuan said she brought an equestrian outfit for you; she should be here soon.”

Since his friends had planned everything to this extent, Yu Xi stopped refusing and obeyed.

Soon, the Sheng sisters arrived, followed by Meng Shen.

“Xiao Xi! I missed you to death!” Sheng Yunjuan rushed over, pulling Yu Xi out of Zhang Xingkuo’s reach and into a bear hug. She rubbed his head. “Oh, this yellow sun hat you’re wearing is so cute today.”

Yu Xi laughed, straightening the bucket hat. “Chuanzhou-ge gave it to me.”

“Fine,” Yunjuan muttered. “I have to admit he’s always had good taste in picking things for you.”

“That’s enough. Didn’t you just see him yesterday?” Zhang Xingkuo said irritably, peeling Yunjuan’s arm off Yu Xi.

“So what?” Yunjuan retorted. “I miss Xiao Xi even if we’re apart for an hour. As for you, if you never came back, I’d clap and say ‘good riddance’.”

The group made their way toward the equipment room, passing an outdoor arena where several people were practicing dressage.

During a break, a blonde youth among them glanced over and froze. “Who are you looking at?” another person asked curiously, their eyes also lighting up. “Hey, isn’t that Xiao Wang and Xiao Xi? Who is Xiao Xi talking to? He looks so happy… Meng Liang, is that tall guy over there your brother?”

The listless Meng Liang snapped his head up when he caught a certain name. “Who did you say?”

“Your brother. Over there. It looks like him, but I’m not sure; we see him too rarely.”

Meng Liang looked over. At the end of the group, the youth was walking alongside a man he found eyesore-inducing. The boy was looking up with a smile, his eyes curved into crescents, looking even brighter than the yellow hat on his head. He was impossible to ignore.

Meng Liang let out a snorting laugh. “Meeting him again so soon.”

“So that is your brother? He looks pretty close to that group. They look like they’re having a great time.”

“So? I know Yu Xi, too. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Whoa! You knew him as a kid?” Both companions looked at him with envy.

Meng Liang feigned indifference. “Yeah, we’re close. Why is that surprising? If even people like you know him, why wouldn’t I?”

The other two ignored his barb, focusing on the details. “I never knew what Xiao Xi looked like as a kid. He’s so good-looking now; he must have been incredibly cute back then.”

“Meng Liang, tell us more! Do you have photos? Can we see?”

Meng Liang crossed his arms arrogantly, acting as if he were being pestered, before speaking reluctantly. “No photos. It wasn’t anything special. His face was just a bit rounder than it is now. I pinched it once, and it turned red instantly. He was delicate as hell.”

“And he had no temper at all. After I pinched him, he’d just stare at me with those big eyes and ask me to be gentler next time.”

As he spoke, Meng Liang paused strangely for a few seconds, looking as if he were immersed in the memory. His ears were suspiciously red. When pestered for more, he cleared his throat and continued.

“That’s it. He probably thought everyone in the world would like him. He acted spoiled with me, too, but he was wrong. I don’t fall for that.”

Finally, Meng Liang clicked his tongue as if he couldn’t stand it. “Basically, that guy is pretty hopeless.”