TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 45

Wen Chenxi didn’t really believe that just one sentence could make Zhuang Yanyu change his mind and actually want to marry him.

He’d said it mostly to help Yuyu be a little less wary of his brother.

Sure, Yuyu’s fear of his brother was absurd to the point of comedy—but if this could make him view Zhou Qingcheng differently, then that was a good thing.

“Alright, Yuyu, go shower. We’ll talk after.”

“Okay.”

While showering, Zhuang Yanyu kept thinking about what Wen Chenxi had said.

He couldn’t deny it—in that moment, he finally understood what it felt like to want to marry someone.

Though… his reasons for wanting it might not be the same as A Xi’s.

He didn’t have the courage to just say yes and agree to marry his brother like that.

Based on the data he’d collected, human marriage was a sacred, serious commitment—something solemn and meaningful.

If he married A Xi just for a reason like this, it felt… unfair to him somehow.

Still, it gave him a new idea.

Zhou Qingcheng was A Xi’s younger brother. Even if he wasn’t A Xi’s good brother anymore, he was at least a friend, right?

And a brother’s friend—well, that made him the same generation as the brother.

That thought made him quietly happy.

After his shower, he did his laundry, dried his hair, and finally climbed into bed.

He hugged the pillow he hadn’t seen in days and let out a content sigh.

It was soft, and it carried Wen Chenxi’s familiar scent.

Clearly, even while he hadn’t been home, this pillow had stayed on the bed in the master bedroom—so it still smelled strongly like him.

Rubbing his face against it, Zhuang Yanyu thought—this feeling, of being able to touch something he liked—it was wonderful.

It was a sensation he’d never experienced before, not even back when he worked with microchips.

Just as he lay down, the WeChat video call popped up again—apparently, Wen Chenxi had timed it perfectly.

When he answered, he saw that the background had changed.

The lighting behind Wen Chenxi was dim, with shifting streaks of light flashing past.

He was in a car.

“I’m on my way home,” Wen Chenxi said. “Yuyu, can you see me? It might be a bit dark.”

“I can see.”

Wen Chenxi smiled faintly.

“Did you dry your hair?”

“Yes.”

He remembered exactly how long it took Yuyu to do every little thing—so naturally, he’d timed the call just right.

“Do you think the hotel’s too small? I can have them move you somewhere bigger.”

“No need,” Zhuang Yanyu refused. “It’s close to the dock. I can just walk to work—it’s convenient.”

And most importantly, walking there counted as exercise.

“Alright then. If Yuyu says no, we’ll keep it as is.”

“Mm.”

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Wen Chenxi just quietly watched him—the man who always seemed about to spill out of his phone screen.

He’d noticed it too: ever since he confessed, things between them had changed.

Before, Zhuang Yanyu talked a lot around him.

In front of outsiders, he was always polite and reserved, but with Wen Chenxi, he could talk endlessly—about theories, about life as a “human,” about everything.

But now… he spoke less and less, as if he didn’t have much he wanted to say to him anymore.

Wen Chenxi sighed softly.

“Xiao Yu.”

“I’m here.”

“Yuyu doesn’t like talking to me anymore.”

“…That’s not true.”

“It is. You’re not like before.”

Zhuang Yanyu pressed his lips together.

Of course it wasn’t the same as before.

He used to talk more because he wanted to share what it felt like to be human—with his brother. All those new experiences, those subtle feelings that no one else could understand—he’d wanted to share them with him.

But now…

Zhuang Yanyu bit his lip again, his voice carrying a faint, almost childish hint of grievance.

“You’re not my brother anymore.”

“So I can’t listen to you anymore if I’m not your brother?”

“Right.”

“Then I’ll switch back to brother mode. You can talk now.”

“What?”

He blinked. Could someone just… switch modes like that?

Wen Chenxi frowned slightly, then muttered,

“How does that song go again?”

When he couldn’t remember, he simply told the driver,

“Play ‘Brothers, Give Me a Hug.’”

Zhuang Yanyu: “…”

And sure enough, the driver obediently played the song—turning the volume way up.

The clear sound of the song came from the phone and reached Zhuang Yuyu’s ears.

Meanwhile, Wen Chenxi waited quietly, humming along under his breath. When the song reached its chorus, he joined in, singing the line:

“Brother, give me a hug, tell me what’s on your mind…”

He had long forgotten the rest of the lyrics — only the melody remained in his memory.

So he kept repeating that one line, even changing the words, singing instead:

“Yuyu, give me a hug, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Zhuang Yuyu never would’ve imagined that hearing Wen Chenxi repeat words he himself had once said would feel like this.

He could feel his face heating up uncontrollably again.

Flustered, he covered the camera. “Don’t sing anymore…”

Wen Chenxi just laughed. “Is it that bad? I haven’t sung in a long time.”

To be honest, it wasn’t bad at all.

On the contrary — maybe because his voice was naturally pleasant and he didn’t dare to sing too loudly, deliberately keeping his voice low —

his singing carried a certain tenderness, making it sound more like a heartfelt love song.

Zhuang Yuyu didn’t really know what a love song was supposed to sound like.

He only knew that Wen Chenxi’s version was completely different from the one he’d heard before.

The original version he’d once listened to had made his heart race —

he’d wanted to sing it to his “good brother” in front of the whole world.

But Wen Chenxi’s version made his heart race in a different way —

the kind of “if I keep listening, my CPU’s going to overheat” feeling.

Wen Chenxi noticed the dark screen where the camera had been covered and told the driver to turn off the music. He said softly,

“Xiaoyu, I can’t see you.”

Zhuang Yuyu didn’t respond.

“Xiaoyu?” Wen Chenxi called again.

Only then did Zhuang Yuyu uncover the camera — though he only revealed half his face.

Wen Chenxi found it amusing. At that moment, Zhuang Yuyu looked like a little fish poking its head halfway out of the water, only his round black eyes visible, alertly glancing around — adorable and soft.

Wen Chenxi couldn’t resist taking a screenshot. In fact, he took several in a row.

Zhuang Yuyu noticed Wen Chenxi’s face suddenly grow larger on screen — clearly, he’d brought the phone closer, staring intently at something.

And perhaps because of the phone’s excellent resolution, even through the reflection in Wen Chenxi’s glasses, Zhuang Yuyu could see exactly what he was doing.

After taking screenshots, Wen Chenxi zoomed in on them again and again to look closer.

Zhuang Yuyu was speechless.

Finally, Wen Chenxi realized that Zhuang Yuyu hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Yuyu, are you sleepy?”

“No.”

“Hmm? Then what are you looking at?”

“What are you doing?” Zhuang Yuyu countered.

Wen Chenxi answered solemnly, “Talking to you. Nothing else.”

Zhuang Yuyu’s lips twitched. He wanted to say, I saw everything.

But then he thought — even if he said it, his “brother” probably wouldn’t care.

He might even tell him to move the camera lower so he could take another screenshot.

Somehow, he realized he’d really started to understand his “brother.”

Wen Chenxi, unaware that his glasses had given him away, asked softly, “Is the work over there in S City tiring?”

Zhuang Yuyu replied, “Not really. I left it to Zhou Quan.”

“Oh, that assistant of yours?”

After a brief pause, Wen Chenxi chuckled. “The one you treat like a son?”

“Yes.” Zhuang Yuyu didn’t get why that was funny. He praised Zhou Quan instead:

“He’s doing very well. After using the five-pass learning method, he was able to pick things up quickly. Not dumb at all.”

“So if someone can’t learn after five passes, they’re dumb?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. The five-pass method isn’t literally about studying something five times — it’s also called the ‘five-step rapid memory’ technique. In practice, it’s divided into five stages of memorization and learning…”

As soon as the topic turned to data and methods, Zhuang Yuyu immediately became animated again, explaining seriously to Wen Chenxi.

He had researched many learning methods online and, after numerous trials, found that Zhou Quan adapted best to this one.

And as it turned out, his analysis was right — Zhou Quan had been performing well, easily mastering whatever Zhuang Yuyu taught him.

“I see,” Wen Chenxi said thoughtfully. “So next time there’s a project at another port, you can just let Zhou Quan handle it instead of going yourself.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Hmm?”

Wen Chenxi smiled but didn’t explain.

What he was thinking was that it would be best if Zhuang Yuyu didn’t have to travel for work anymore — he had his own projects, his own authority, and now a capable apprentice.

If Zhou Quan did well, it would also reflect positively on Zhuang Yuyu.

And, of course, if Zhuang Yuyu didn’t have to go on business trips, they’d have more time together.

Of course, that wasn’t something he could say outright — if Yuyu heard that, he’d probably insist on traveling just to prove a point.

Wen Chenxi checked the time and said, “It’s about time for you to go to bed.”

“I know.”

“Oh? You didn’t look at the time — how do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Then tell me — what time is it now?”

“21:58:06… 07 seconds, 08 seconds…”

Wen Chenxi interrupted with a laugh. “Yuyu’s amazing. You didn’t peek, right?”

Zhuang Yuyu’s eyes widened — did such a simple thing really require peeking?

He thought to himself, I’m basically a sentient timer — why would I need to look?

Wen Chenxi chuckled softly and quickly said, “Just kidding. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Zhuang Yuyu replied, “You’re not home yet.”

Wen Chenxi thought for a moment, then said, “Then close your eyes and start getting sleepy. When I get home, I’ll tell you, and you can hang up then.”

That seemed reasonable to Zhuang Yuyu, so he obediently closed his eyes.

He forgot how good his sleep quality was.

And since he hadn’t slept well for days without his pillow, now that it was finally back in his arms, he fell asleep almost the instant he closed his eyes.

Wen Chenxi had expected as much. After silently counting two minutes in his head, he switched his phone to silent mode and simply watched.

He gazed at the sleeping Zhuang Yuyu on the screen, his fingertips brushing lightly over where the man’s dimples would be.

—

The port in S City had already been well-built; this trip was just to upgrade the dock’s system.

They were only replacing some servers — the core wiring and infrastructure had been designed well enough and didn’t need changing.

Zhuang Yuyu had already taught Zhou Quan what to check, and with the experienced Qin Yiyuan assisting on-site, there shouldn’t be any major issues.

So Zhuang Yuyu entrusted the work to Zhou Quan, then went over the previous day’s progress to see if there was anything to improve.

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket — a message from Wen’s mother, sending her usual kind greetings.

Zhuang Yuyu replied obediently to each one.

When he woke up in the morning, his phone battery was nearly dead. He noticed it was lying against his cheek, and when he checked the call log — the video call with Wen Chenxi had lasted one hour and forty-seven minutes.

Before falling asleep, he’d only talked to Wen Chenxi for twenty-one minutes.

That meant Wen Chenxi had stayed on the call for another hour and twenty-six minutes after he’d fallen asleep.

He wasn’t sure if that was because Wen Chenxi had only gotten home that late — otherwise, why hang up so long afterward?

While he was still thinking about it, Qin Yiyuan came back. Seeing Zhuang Yuyu in the break room, Qin froze for a second, then tried to act casual.

“Uh… the wind outside’s a bit strong, got kind of chilly. I came back to boil some water.”

“Mm.”

Zhuang Yuyu handed him the thermos from beside him.

Qin quickly reached out with both hands. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

“Oh.”

Zhuang Yuyu, of course, didn’t notice Qin Yiyuan’s awkwardness.

Though he was observant, his grasp of human emotions was still incomplete — so he had no way of sensing when someone was acting unnatural around him.

When Qin finished pouring his water and turned to leave, Zhuang Yuyu didn’t realize the man was trying to avoid him. He even asked, “How’s Zhou Quan doing?”

Qin’s steps faltered. “He’s doing great. He said you’ve been teaching him with some kind of special training method, so he’s picking things up really fast.”

As he said that, Qin turned back and looked at Zhuang Yuyu. “You’re really impressive.”

Zhuang Yuyu nodded, accepting the compliment with his usual calm, then continued,

“If you think he’s good enough, take him with you to H City for the second phase of the support construction.”

Qin blinked in surprise. “You’re not going then?”

“I’ve still got another project on hand,” Zhuang Yuyu said. “Director Chen told me the second phase starts in about a month.”

Qin did a quick mental calculation — yes, that timing added up.

Even though he still felt awkward being alone with Zhuang Yuyu, hearing that he wouldn’t be going to H City left Qin feeling strangely disappointed.

Sigh.

Guess I won’t be seeing my dream guy anymore.

He said, “Alright, that’s fine with me.”

Zhuang Yuyu nodded and picked up the insulated kettle. “I’ll come with you.”

When they reached Zhou Quan’s workstation, they found that several people had shown up at the dock while they were gone.

At the front of the group was a middle-aged man with a considerable belly — his shirt buttons looked ready to pop.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, frowning deeply as he spoke.

In front of him, Zhou Quan stood with his head down, looking scared, frustrated, and a little wronged.

Qin immediately hurried forward. “What’s going on?”

Zhou Quan opened his mouth as if to explain, but then swallowed the words.

The middle-aged man noticed them and asked, “Are you the person in charge of this project?”

Qin glanced at Zhuang Yuyu — remembering that he didn’t like social situations — and quickly stepped up.

“Yes, I’m one of the project leads. Is something wrong?”

The middle-aged man didn’t answer, but someone behind him spoke up:

“Hello, this is our General Manager Shen. He’s here today for an inspection.”

General Manager Shen was the head of this port, visiting to check on the upgrade progress.

With the National Day holiday approaching, the port’s workload was about to surge. If the new system wasn’t ready, there’d be chaos — so this upgrade was crucial.

Worried that something might go wrong, Shen had come personally to inspect the new server installations.

But when he arrived at the new equipment area, he found only Zhou Quan there.

Thinking Zhou Quan was an engineer, Shen asked him several technical questions — and Zhou Quan had answered them all correctly.

The problem came when Shen praised him as an excellent engineer, and Zhou Quan hurriedly corrected him:

“Oh, no, I’m just an assistant, not an engineer.”

That instantly soured Shen’s mood.

What? I spent all this money on new servers, and there isn’t even an engineer on-site? Just an assistant?

What if this assistant messes something up — a programming error, a configuration mistake?

Sure, we could replace the server, but that would delay the whole schedule. What happens when National Day hits and shipments pile up?

After all, Shen had already adjusted several shipping routes in anticipation of this system upgrade — and everything depended on it being ready in time.

Qin Yiyuan quickly understood what had happened and immediately said, “I’m so sorry, General Manager Shen. I just went to the restroom for a moment, that’s why I left Zhou Quan here alone. I’ve been watching over things all along — nothing major could’ve gone wrong.”

General Manager Shen was still displeased. “This isn’t a joke. You left someone who doesn’t understand anything here. What if something happens to the system? What am I supposed to do then? I have millions of tons of cargo waiting!”

Qin Yiyuan forced a smile. “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right. We’ll be more careful next time. But don’t worry, Mr. Shen — although Xiao Zhou is an assistant, he’s actually a trainee engineer. His technical skills are solid, you can rest assured.”

Mr. Shen wouldn’t let it go. “How can I be assured? Do you have any idea how expensive these servers are? If something happens, can you two young people afford to pay for it?”

Qin Yiyuan thought to himself, no, we definitely can’t afford it, and could only keep smiling awkwardly.

Before he could say anything more, a calm voice cut in: “We can afford it.”

Qin Yiyuan froze and turned around — he saw Zhuang Yanyu walking over, lips pressed together, clearly unhappy.

Only now did Mr. Shen notice there was another person there. He hadn’t seen him before because his own staff had been blocking the view.

His gaze landed on Zhuang Yanyu, studying him for a few seconds. “And you are?”

“I’m the project lead for this system,” Zhuang Yanyu said. “My name is Zhuang Yanyu. Zhou Quan is my apprentice. May I ask, Mr. Shen, did he fail to answer any of your questions?”

Zhuang Yanyu had been listening from the side and was already irritated.

Before knowing Zhou Quan was an assistant, this man had been praising him as an excellent engineer. But once he found out the truth, his attitude flipped completely.

And besides — if Zhou Quan hadn’t been able to answer Mr. Shen’s questions, then yes, that would’ve meant Zhou hadn’t learned enough and Zhuang hadn’t taught him well.

But Zhou had answered everything just fine. So why should he be belittled for it?

Mr. Shen paused for a moment. “You’re… you’re Zhuang Yanyu?”

For some reason, his tone softened. He no longer sounded accusatory, merely saying, “I was just worried that the assistant might accidentally damage the servers.”

Zhuang Yanyu responded with a short “Mm,” then turned to Zhou Quan and said, in front of Mr. Shen, “Go ahead. If something breaks, I’ll pay for it.”

Qin Yiyuan: “…”

He quickly tugged on Zhuang Yanyu’s sleeve and whispered, “Xiao Yu, don’t bother arguing with someone like him.”

If the boss turned out to be petty and complained to the company… that would be bad.

Losing a bonus was one thing — but if it ruined the partnership, that would be much worse.

Zhuang Yanyu listened. After hearing Qin Yiyuan’s quiet warning, he pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything more.

It was just that… he couldn’t stand seeing his people being bullied.

Just like when he’d heard that Ji Zhiyuan was being pushed around by a rival company — it made him angry.

Maybe it was because he’d spent too long living as a human, but he was starting to realize why he felt that way.

Probably because he’d absorbed too much of the “overpowered protagonist” mindset — it was rubbing off on him.

He’d become a bit like his past hosts — protective of his own.

His people simply couldn’t be mistreated.

To Qin Yiyuan’s surprise, though, instead of getting angry, Mr. Shen actually laughed. “This young engineer has quite the temper.”

Qin Yiyuan quickly smoothed things over. “Please don’t take it the wrong way, Mr. Shen — our Engineer Zhuang just has a fiery personality to match his great skills.”

Mr. Shen accepted the gesture. “That’s true. Technical people are always a bit eccentric.”

After saying that, he gave Zhuang Yanyu another couple of looks, then turned and left with his team.

The other employees quickly dispersed as well.

Once they were gone, Qin Yiyuan finally exhaled in relief and turned to comfort Zhou Quan. “Don’t take it personally, Xiao Zhou. Out here in the real world, I’ve met plenty of snobbish bosses like that — some even worse.”

“Thank you, Brother Zhuang, Brother Qin. Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Zhou Quan said with a strained smile, then bent his head and went back to work.

The three of them thought the matter was over.

But near the end of the day, just before quitting time, a woman dressed like a secretary came up to them and said, “Gentlemen, our General Manager Shen feels sorry about what happened earlier. He’s booked a table at the Hyatt and would like to treat you to dinner to apologize.”

Qin Yiyuan blinked and looked over at Zhuang Yanyu and Zhou Quan.

Zhou Quan immediately said, “Don’t look at me — if you’re going, I’m going too.”

Zhuang Yanyu didn’t really mind either way.

Qin Yiyuan thought for a moment. “We’re going to be working here for another week. We should probably go — better not risk offending him.”

“Mm,” Zhuang Yanyu replied. In his mind, it was an apology meant for Zhou Quan anyway. Whether he went or not didn’t matter much.

The secretary smiled politely. “Then please come with me — the car’s already waiting outside.”

Two cars were parked outside the dock. The secretary led them toward one of them.

Both Qin Yiyuan and Zhou Quan gestured for Zhuang Yanyu to get in first.

But unexpectedly, that car had only two empty seats. Once Zhuang Yanyu got in, the secretary followed and took the other.

The secretary quickly said, “The car behind us is also ours.”

Qin Yiyuan glanced at Zhuang Yanyu. “How about you get out, Xiao Yu — you and Zhou Quan can take the other one.”

Before Zhuang Yanyu could respond, the secretary said, “Mr. Shen is already waiting at the restaurant. Don’t worry, gentlemen — Mr. Shen is very sincere about this.”

Hearing that, Qin Yiyuan could only watch helplessly as the car door closed.

Still uneasy, once he got into the second car, he sent Zhuang Yanyu a message:

If you notice the car heading somewhere strange, let us know right away.

[Zhuang Yanyu]: I can fight pretty well. Don’t worry.

Thinking of the other’s slim frame and delicate build, Qin Yiyuan didn’t feel reassured at all.

About ten minutes later, the car stopped in front of a restaurant called “Hyatt.”

Seeing that the destination really was a restaurant, Qin Yiyuan finally breathed a sigh of relief.

However, when he and Zhou Quan arrived at the private dining room they’d been told to go to, Zhuang Yanyu was nowhere to be seen — only General Manager Shen’s assistant was waiting for them.

Qin Yiyuan asked in confusion, “We have another colleague — where is he?”

The assistant replied, “They’re still on their way, they’ll be here soon. Don’t worry, Engineer Qin.”

Zhou Quan frowned, feeling that something was off. “Didn’t Brother Zhuang’s car leave first? Ours was behind them — he should’ve arrived before us. How come we got here first?”

Author’s Note:

PS—

Yuyu: I never should’ve told him about that song, then I wouldn’t be blushing today! (…Wait, why am I blushing?)

Feel free to buy me a coffee/show your support on ko-fi! Thank you ❤