TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 28

When the call abruptly ended, Ji Zhiyuan’s first thought was that the signal had dropped.

He immediately tried calling back.

It wasn’t every day he got such an intriguing phone call. Originally, he had messaged Zhuang Yanyu to ask if he was still staying at Wen Chenxi’s place, and Zhuang Yanyu had actually called him back.

Frankly, Ji Zhiyuan found it strange that Zhuang Yanyu was still living at Wen Chenxi’s.

He and Li Xi had only ever stayed over at each other’s places for a night at most—just borrowing a bed.

They were all grown men, after all. Even among close friends, seeing each other first thing every morning and last thing every night could get suffocating.

Even with a good relationship, Ji Zhiyuan would still find it boring.

What do you do during the day? What about at night?

Eat, play games, watch movies?

Sometimes, when he had to go through scripts sent by investors looking for a good project to fund, he felt nauseated from reading so much.

Moreover, Ji Zhiyuan understood his good buddy very well. Wen Chenxi was practically a lifetime bachelor and a perpetually introverted soul. He preferred being alone and occasionally meeting up with friends. Spending long periods with someone else would also tire him out.

“Beep beep beep…”

The call went through, meaning the signal was fine, but no one picked up.

Ji Zhiyuan found it odd. “We were just talking, and now the line’s dead. Did something happen?”

He dialed again.

What Ji Zhiyuan didn’t know was that the atmosphere at Wen Chenxi’s home had turned strangely tense.

Zhuang Yanyu’s phone was in Wen Chenxi’s hand, and he could see the incoming call.

But seeing it was Ji Zhiyuan, Wen Chenxi had no desire to answer.

Zhuang Yanyu glanced at the phone, then at his good buddy, blinking in confusion. “My phone is ringing. Aren’t you going to pick it up?”

Wen Chenxi simply said, “It’s Ji Zhiyuan calling.”

Zhuang Yanyu’s eyes lit up. “I wasn’t done talking to him just now.”

He had already extracted a lot of intel from Ji Zhiyuan and was planning to document all the things Ji Zhiyuan had done with Wen Chenxi so that he could do them himself someday.

Wen Chenxi didn’t move and didn’t return the phone either.

After thinking for a moment, Zhuang Yanyu suddenly seemed to understand what Wen Chenxi meant.

Did he want to compare first?

For some reason, Zhuang Yanyu’s face heated up. He didn’t even know why—perhaps it was just one of those strange human bodily reactions to emotions.

Blushing slightly, he said, “If you want to compare first, that’s fine.”

He looked around, noticing that the living room didn’t seem like a convenient place to do this.

For one thing, the curtains weren’t drawn, and the room was spotless.

For another, Ji Zhiyuan had mentioned something about comparing who could pee farther. That would only be possible in the bathroom.

The more he thought about it, the stranger it felt. That humans would engage in such behavior was beyond the understanding of the former system inside him.

Still, as a learning system trying to adapt to human life, he didn’t mind going along with human customs to better integrate.

In a low voice, he asked, “Should we go to the bathroom?”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

Just as Zhuang Yanyu finished speaking, the phone rang again—still Ji Zhiyuan.

Wen Chenxi could guess what Ji Zhiyuan was thinking. He was probably worried since the call had abruptly ended and was now calling persistently to check if something was wrong.

Reluctantly, Wen Chenxi answered.

Sure enough, Ji Zhiyuan’s concerned voice came through immediately: “Xiao Yu? What happened? The call suddenly dropped, and then I couldn’t get through. Are you okay?”

Wen Chenxi replied in a deep voice, “I hung up.”

The unexpected sound of his good buddy’s voice startled Ji Zhiyuan so much he nearly dropped his phone. “Old Wen? Haha… Haha… You’re back?”

His voice grew quieter, and he felt a bit guilty.

Oh no, had Old Wen overheard his conversation with Xiao Yu?

Wen Chenxi said, “If I hadn’t come back, would you have kept digging up all my embarrassing stories?”

So he did overhear!

Ji Zhiyuan felt a little panicked.

He even thought he heard his good buddy let out a cold chuckle, but that had to be his imagination!

Awkwardly, Ji Zhiyuan said, “W-What embarrassing stories? It’s… it’s interesting stuff. Xiao Yu was curious, after all.”

When Zhuang Yanyu had said to him, I’m so envious of you. You and Ah Xi have such a good relationship. You must have shared so many experiences to have such a strong bond, who could refuse to respond to such a comment?

Ji Zhiyuan couldn’t resist proudly recounting all the things he and Old Wen had been through, making sure Zhuang Yanyu understood that their brotherly bond, which had started in diapers, wasn’t something just anyone could easily insert themselves into.

It was meant to make Xiao Yu realize the depth of their relationship and back off—or settle for being second best.

Wen Chenxi felt his head throbbing.

Suddenly, he thought, falling for someone as dense as rebar wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t the rebar’s fault either.

But letting two pieces of rebar interact? That was his mistake.

With a frosty tone, Wen Chenxi said, “You might not find this embarrassing, but I do.”

Ji Zhiyuan cleared his throat. “Fine, I won’t talk about it anymore…”

Thinking back on it, these stories did seem a bit awkward now.

How had he let Xiao Yu coax him into spilling everything? His curiosity had made Ji Zhiyuan reveal too much.

Wen Chenxi: “Hanging up now.”

Without waiting for further objections, he ended the call and handed the phone back to Zhuang Yanyu.

By this point, even Zhuang Yanyu wasn’t oblivious. He could tell that his good buddy had no intention of engaging in such a comparison and was even a little annoyed.

His brows drooped, and he looked dejected as he asked, “So… are we still going to the bathroom?”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

Honestly, he was afraid that if he and this fish went into the bathroom together, he wouldn’t want to let him out again.

Having been raised as an heir, Wen Chenxi’s strict upbringing instilled in him a sense of propriety. He couldn’t take advantage of someone who was entirely unaware of his intentions.

Even though he had once gone through a rebellious phase in his childhood, which led to leaving behind these embarrassing memories with Ji Zhiyuan, he really couldn’t bring himself to do such things anymore.

At most, while restraining his instincts and allowing the other person to persistently approach, he might briefly indulge in hugging them lightly.

“Xiao Yu.” Wen Chenxi took off his glasses, revealing a pair of eyes with a sharp, slightly predatory gleam. He said, “Don’t listen to Ji Zhiyuan’s nonsense. You need to understand that every man goes through a juvenile, slightly cringey phase when they’re young. This phase often leaves behind embarrassing memories that make you want to leave Earth when you think of them. But those are just childhood things, understood?”

After a pause, Wen Chenxi continued, “So, while these are things that close friends might have done together as kids, they’re not suitable for adults. Do you get that?”

Zhuang Yanyu felt guilty.

He truly didn’t understand—because when he was young, he wasn’t human. He became human only after transmigrating.

As a child, he had been a chip.

Thinking back to the protagonist, whom he had accompanied in his previous life—what was his character setup?

88% of the time, it was an extremely tragic childhood.

The more miserable the childhood, the stronger the awakening of his soul, making their rise in the later stages all the more satisfying.

The Protagonist didn’t have a happy childhood, much less a buddy to engage in childish comparisons with.

Of course, there was also the “genius turned loser turned genius” trope in earlier setups.

But unfortunately, the ones Zhuang Yanyu had been assigned to were always the former type.

At this moment, though, Zhuang Yanyu suddenly felt relieved.

Thankfully, when he transmigrated, he chose to be an adult instead of a child.

If he had been a child, given his current family conditions and living environment, there was no way he could have met aristocratic children like Wen Chenxi and Ji Zhiyuan. They were from entirely different worlds, and as a child, their paths would never have crossed.

Thinking of this, Zhuang Yanyu became even more dejected. “Oh.”

Seeing Zhuang Yanyu’s dispirited expression, Wen Chenxi suddenly felt a twinge of regret.

He began reflecting on whether he had been too harsh or had rejected him too decisively.

What had Xiao Yu done wrong?

He only saw Wen Chenxi as a good friend and wanted to do things that only close friends would do together.

Between good friends, wasn’t that perfectly normal?

Wen Chenxi abruptly shook off the train of thought, realizing it was getting more and more ridiculous. Did he actually intend to go through with such a comparison?

After a moment of silence, Wen Chenxi stepped forward, ruffled Zhuang Yanyu’s hair, and said in a low voice, “What’s with the ‘oh’? Talk less with Ji Zhiyuan from now on, got it?”

Later, he’d block Ji Zhiyuan’s number.

He’d also block Ji Zhiyuan from Zhuang Yanyu’s phone.

There was no way he’d let these two stubborn “rebar rods” hang out together again.

Zhuang Yanyu still looked a bit down.

Wen Chenxi poked his cheek. “Why aren’t you happy?”

Zhuang Yanyu lowered his head, his long eyelashes hiding the thoughts in his eyes.

Wen Chenxi lifted his chin, forcing him to look up.

He loved Zhuang Yanyu’s eyes—those eyes often sparkled like stars when they looked at him, making him want to capture that light and keep it for himself.

But now, the light in Zhuang Yanyu’s eyes had dimmed, replaced by a hint of gloom.

It was an emotion Wen Chenxi didn’t want to see.

If he was really upset because of his rejection…

Wen Chenxi took a deep breath, gritting his teeth slightly. “If you really want to, then I…”

Hopefully, his self-control would be strong enough to suppress any physiological impulses.

And, hopefully, the effects of Uncle Liu’s supplements from breakfast this morning had worn off.

“It’s not that,” Zhuang Yanyu shook his head. He wasn’t foolish—forcing a friend to do something they didn’t want to do wasn’t what a good friend would do.

In a soft voice, Zhuang Yanyu said, “I’m just feeling a little regretful.”

Wen Chenxi exhaled slightly in relief. Not that—good.

“What are you regretting?” he asked.

Zhuang Yanyu answered honestly, “I regret not knowing you when we were kids.”

If he had known Wen Chenxi back then, he could have done all those things Ji Zhiyuan talked about with him.

Then he wouldn’t have to worry about being overshadowed by Ji Zhiyuan.

Hearing this, Wen Chenxi felt a slight pang in his heart. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled Zhuang Yanyu into a hug.

With a low voice, Wen Chenxi murmured, “Me too.”

Zhuang Yanyu didn’t resist; instead, he rubbed against Wen Chenxi’s chest.

His good friend’s words visibly lifted Zhuang Yanyu’s spirits.

Sharing the same regret meant their feelings for each other were mutual. Otherwise, they wouldn’t feel the same way.

Although comparing sizes was something only kids did, there were plenty of other things they could do.

Fortunately, Zhuang Yanyu had already noted down all the things Ji Zhiyuan mentioned. He planned to reevaluate and analyze them tonight, collecting data to figure out what was suitable for adults and what wasn’t.

That night, as usual, the two shared the same bed. Despite Ji Zhiyuan’s departure, Zhuang Yanyu didn’t suggest returning to the guest room, and Wen Chenxi didn’t force him.

After all, Wen Chenxi could foresee that if he did, Zhuang Yanyu would just become sulky again.

This fish’s thoughts were so easy to read.

Wen Chenxi found it both exasperating and amusing.

The next day, the two went to work together as usual.

To accommodate Zhuang Yanyu’s schedule, Wen Chenxi had even started arriving at the office earlier these past few days.

This, however, was a struggle for Assistant Lin.

When the big boss arrived early, how could he afford to be late? He was forced to follow suit and start work earlier too.

Recently, the boss seemed to be in an unusually good mood, likely due to some recent development with Mr. Zhuang.

Assistant Lin took advantage of the boss’s good mood to cautiously ask, “Mr. Zhuang hasn’t been sending gifts to the executive office lately, has he?”

Wen Chenxi replied with a simple “Hmm” and said, “I told him to stop buying them.”

Lin, relieved that there were no issues between the two, thought to himself that it was fortunate everything seemed fine. Unable to resist fishing for more, he added, “Mr. Zhuang is very considerate, isn’t he?”

Wen Chenxi raised a brow but went along with it.

Lin continued seamlessly, “He gives you those gifts out of concern for how hard you work. And you, by asking him to stop, are being mindful of his spending. Without genuine feelings, who would bother looking out for someone like that?”

Wen Chenxi glanced at Lin, thinking that if Ji Zhiyuan could speak so tactfully, he wouldn’t be on the verge of being blacklisted.

“Enough. Get back to work,” Wen said.

Lin hesitated before bringing up something he needed to report. “The dock in City A—the one from the project we completed two years ago—has reached out. They heard about our collaboration with H-Port Group and want to upgrade their system servers. They might need Mr. Zhuang to visit.”

City A’s dock was a minor project from two years ago. Now, learning about the newer system, they naturally wanted an upgrade. The job involved upgrading servers, updating the system, and checking if the old hardware could handle the new software. If not, it might require reinstallation.

While this was a small task, since it required Zhuang Yanyu’s expertise, Lin thought it best to give Wen Chenxi a heads-up.

Wen asked, “Is that the dock where Xiaoyu worked overtime last time?”

Lin nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Arrange for someone easygoing to work with him,” Wen instructed. He thought it would be good if Zhuang Yanyu could get along with his colleagues and make more friends.

Lin agreed, “Understood.”

Soon, Zhuang Yanyu received a notification from Supervisor Xu, asking him to check the dock’s hardware and see if it could support the QZD system upgrade.

Supervisor Xu added, “I’ll have someone accompany you. This engineer just returned from a trip and was part of the original project team, so he’s familiar with the equipment. He’s also easy to get along with.”

Zhuang nodded. “Okay.”

Supervisor Xu asked, “Do you need anyone else to assist?”

Initially, Zhuang planned to say no but suddenly thought of someone. “Can Zhou Quan come with me? He’s somewhat familiar with the project from last time.”

“Of course. I’ll arrange a loan from the tech support department,” Supervisor Xu replied.

“Thanks,” said Zhuang.

To avoid overtime, Zhuang planned to head out early. Zhou Quan, thrilled to join him, arrived quickly, brimming with enthusiasm. “Zhuang-ge, it’s only been a day, and I already missed you!”

Zhuang was puzzled. “Why would you miss me?”

Zhou Quan dramatically lamented, “Zhuang-ge, how heartless can you be? Haven’t you ever had a close friend you admire so much that the thought of seeing them less often makes you miss them the moment they leave?”

Zhuang rarely argued about emotions, knowing others had far more experience. Zhou Quan’s reasoning sounded plausible.

Reflecting on it, Zhuang realized he also missed a certain “good brother.” But since he saw Wen Chenxi regularly, why would he miss him?

Supervisor Xu soon introduced the accompanying engineer, who turned out to be a familiar face—Qin Yiyuan.

“Wow, it’s you guys!” Qin exclaimed, surprised but pleased.

“Senior Qin! What a coincidence!” Zhou Quan greeted warmly.

Qin laughed, “I didn’t expect it either.” He looked at Zhuang with pleasant surprise. “When my supervisor mentioned upgrading the dock’s system to something impressive created by our engineering department’s new member, I didn’t realize it was you, Xiaoyu.”

Though slightly embarrassed, Qin remembered how he’d once offered to mentor Zhuang and even suggested transferring him to the engineering department someday. In hindsight, Zhuang clearly didn’t need his help, being far more skilled than he’d imagined.

Zhuang nodded, appreciating Qin’s familiarity with the old system’s equipment, which would save time.

The three headed to the dock.

On the way, Qin asked Zhuang, “Have you been busy lately? I wanted to invite you to dinner, but you always seem tied up.”

“I’m not busy. I just don’t like eating out,” Zhuang replied honestly.

“Exactly!” Zhou Quan interjected. “Zhuang-ge is super punctual about going home. Total homebody!”

“Oh… I see,” Qin said, slightly awkward.

Qin tried again, “We might be busy at the dock all morning. Where should we eat lunch?”

Since they were out, eating nearby made sense.

“Someplace close is fine,” Zhuang answered, wanting to finish quickly and head home.

“Alright, lunch is on me,” Qin offered.

At the dock, Zhuang immediately immersed himself in work.

The development and integration capabilities of the new system, both software and hardware, must keep up.

Qin Yiyuan said, “When we worked on this project, we split the gantry crane management, yard management, and vehicle management into three separate server systems to avoid interference and increase speed. I noticed your QZD system integrates these into a unified interactive interface. To be honest, we had considered this idea before, but the required computational power was too overwhelming for the equipment to handle.”

Without looking up, Zhuang Yanyu responded, “The servers need to be replaced.”

Curious about what Zhuang was calculating, Qin leaned closer to peek at his work. As he looked, his gaze inadvertently drifted to Zhuang’s profile.

He rarely encountered someone so good-looking.

It wasn’t just about Zhuang being handsome. His appearance and demeanor had a unique charm that struck a chord with Qin. Even watching him work so intently evoked a strange, irresistible feeling of wanting to get closer.

As Qin continued staring, Zhou Quan returned, sweaty and breathless. “Zhuang-ge, here’s the ACCS (Automated Crane Control System) data. Take a look.”

Zhuang took the data, then glanced up to see Qin staring at him. He asked curiously, “Is there something on my face?”

Startled, Qin quickly replied, “No, nothing.”

“Then why were you staring for so long?” Zhuang asked, puzzled.

Qin was at a loss for words, caught off guard by Zhuang’s directness. But strangely, his straightforwardness didn’t feel uncomfortable—it was just an honest observation.

Much like earlier, when Zhuang had earnestly questioned why people felt the need to eat out frequently.

Even knowing that Zhuang was undeniably straight, Qin couldn’t help feeling a pang of affection for him.

Helplessly scratching his head, Qin told himself to let it go. He mumbled, “I was just thinking.”

Zhuang nodded, accepting the explanation, and went back to work.

Meanwhile, Zhou Quan was struggling. This was his first exposure to such systems, and he was overwhelmed by terms like automated crane control, yard crane control, and AGV (Automated Guided Vehicle) navigation. It all made his head spin.

Like Zhuang, Zhou had a background in electronic tech support. His previous work in the engineering department involved simple debugging tasks, far removed from anything like this. He felt lost and anxious.

As he watched Zhuang and Qin work seamlessly together, exchanging ideas with ease, Zhou, a nearly 6’2″ man, looked like a helpless child, staring in awe.

Noticing Zhou’s eagerness to learn, Zhuang slowed down and began explaining each step to him.

Zhou was moved and listened attentively. When he didn’t understand something, Zhuang patiently taught him.

By the end of the day, Zhou had learned a lot but felt utterly drained. Nearing the end of their shift, he slumped into a chair, staring blankly ahead.

“What drives me to work so hard, to earn money so desperately? Is it love? No—it’s being broke!” Zhou lamented dramatically.

Zhuang glanced at him, then looked back down, continuing to message Wen Chenxi.

Wen had asked when he’d finish work so he could come pick him up.

Curious, Zhou straightened up and asked, “Zhuang-ge, why do you work so hard? Are you trying to save up for a house like me?”

“No,” Zhuang replied. “I do it for my brother.”

Zhou was stunned, not expecting this. But he quickly rationalized it, assuming Zhuang’s brother must be struggling financially and needed his support.

The realization made Zhuang seem even more admirable in Zhou’s eyes.

“Zhuang-ge, you’re such a good brother! I wish I could be your brother,” Zhou said hopefully.

Hearing this, Zhuang looked at him seriously.

Zhou stared back nervously. “Can I?”

After a moment of thought, Zhuang shook his head. “Probably not.”

As he had always believed, having one brother was enough—it was about quality, not quantity.

Now that he had Ah-Xi, he was completely satisfied. Beyond Ah-Xi, he didn’t seem to have much interest in anyone else.

Zhou’s face fell in disappointment.

“Besides,” Zhuang added thoughtfully, frowning, “I only have one body, so I can’t manage.”

This reminded him of a past host he once supported—a “Protagonist”-type character who had mastered powerful cloning techniques, allowing him to accompany three different friends on three separate treasure hunts simultaneously.

“Uh, what?” Zhou asked, bewildered. “What does having one body have to do with it?”

He only had one body too, didn’t he?

Zhuang explained, “My body is already living with my brother, sharing the same bed. Adding another person wouldn’t work—I wouldn’t have the energy to keep up.”

As a former system, Zhuang had always operated on a one-host-at-a-time basis, never binding with two at once. Human energy was finite, after all.

After a moment of reflection, Zhuang decided he simply wasn’t capable.

“Wait… huh???” Zhou stammered, utterly confused.

Zhou’s mind reeled.

Zhuang-ge lives with his brother… and they sleep in the same bed?

The beginning of the explanation sounded fine, but that last part threw Zhou completely off. Something about this didn’t seem right.

What do you mean by ‘no energy to handle it’?!

Usually slow to catch on, Zhou Quan’s face turned beet red as his thoughts drifted in the wrong direction. Stammering, he said, “I-I-I didn’t mean that kind of ‘brother’…”

Zhuang Yanyu asked, “What kind?”

Zhou didn’t dare speak further. Damn it! He genuinely hadn’t meant it like that!

He just hadn’t expected that Zhuang-ge and his “brother” would turn out to have… that kind of ‘brotherly’ relationship!

For the rest of the shift until they clocked out, Zhou appeared dazed and out of sorts.

It’s a good thing he’s not my brother, Zhuang thought, feeling relieved.

Qin Yiyuan initially wanted to drive Zhuang home, but Zhuang said, “My brother will pick me up.”

At the mention of “brother,” Zhou froze again, then hastily pulled Qin along. “Qin-ge, you can drive me home. I-I still have so many things to learn from you!”

He couldn’t delay Zhuang-ge’s love life!

Having no other choice, Qin said goodbye to Zhuang.

Wen Chenxi had already arrived and was waiting for Zhuang at their usual spot.

As soon as Zhuang rounded the corner, he spotted Wen’s car.

Once he got in, Zhuang leaned back into the seat. Just seeing Wen made him feel at ease and comfortable.

Wen rubbed Zhuang’s head affectionately. “Tired?”

“Not too much,” Zhuang replied.

Wen smiled. “How’s it going with your colleagues?”

After some thought, Zhuang said, “They’re a bit slow.”

“Slow?” Wen asked, intrigued.

“Yeah,” Zhuang confirmed. One liked to stare at him blankly, while the other was in a daze all afternoon.

Zhuang sighed inwardly—his colleagues were truly something else.

Seeing Zhuang looking a little drained, Wen found him endearing.

As they drove out of the port, the road was lined with speed bumps. Even though the driver was careful, one bump caused Zhuang to tilt sideways.

Wen pulled Zhuang into his arms, holding him securely.

Zhuang adjusted himself comfortably, resting against Wen’s chest.

Seeing how cooperative he was, Wen tightened his embrace. “If you’re tired, close your eyes and rest for a while.”

“Okay,” Zhuang replied.

But less than ten seconds after closing his eyes, Zhuang spoke again. “Ah-Xi, did you know that every time you hold me, I think of a song?”

Wen’s mind immediately conjured the iconic Titanic theme song and the image of that classic embrace.

He chuckled and stroked Zhuang’s back. “Oh? Which song?”

“‘Brothers, Hug It Out,’” Zhuang said.

“…” Wen’s romantic imagination shattered instantly.

Wen released him almost reflexively, covering Zhuang’s mouth in case he actually started singing.

“…I get it,” Wen said wearily.

“You know the song?” Zhuang asked.

“Yeah.”

What man hasn’t heard it?

Ji Zhiyuan always sang that one with gusto during karaoke.

Before Zhuang could say more, Wen covered his eyes, too. “Xiaoyu, don’t talk. Just rest.”

“Oh,” Zhuang said obediently.

Wen stared at the top of Zhuang’s head for several seconds. This little troublemaker had a unique ability—one word from him, and all the atmosphere was gone.

That night, as Wen lay in bed with Zhuang next to him, he struggled to fall asleep.

When he finally did, he dreamed of Zhuang repeating, “If you’re my brother, hug me; if you’re my brother, hug me; if you’re my brother…”

Wen woke up abruptly, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He had a feeling that every time he hugged Zhuang in the future, this song would echo in his mind.

He had truly tasted the bittersweet agony of love.

–Author’s Note:
When Zhuang is quiet: full of charm.
When Zhuang speaks… Wen: Please, just don’t.

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