BO CH168

1. The Top-Tier Sugar Mama

On Sunday morning, a small enamel pot of silver ear and lily soup bubbled away on the stove, the steam misting the kitchen glass in a warm, white haze. In the living room, Zhuang Ningyu sat upright on the sofa, clutching a throw pillow. Standing opposite him were one man and one dog. The dog was U-Shield, currently boarding with them; while it didn’t quite understand what was happening, it sharply sensed the unusual atmosphere in the room, promptly swallowing its whimpers, puffing out its chest, and squatting heavily on the rug with a solemn expression.

“Excuse me,” Zhuang Ningyu asked with an excellent attitude, “can our family meeting conclude here for today?”

“No, sit back down!” Yi Ke, wearing a “Good Husband” brand apron and wielding a pink silicone cat soup ladle, had clearly not yet waded out of his ocean of sorrow. He continued his righteous accusation: “On such a rare, sunny winter weekend where we could have been camping as a family and thoroughly enjoying nature, you actually abandoned your husband and dog to run off to a glitzy hotel to meet…” Yi Ke paused here, as if searching for an appropriate title for the other party. After a moment of thought, he slapped the table decisively: “…your top-tier sugar mama!”

Zhuang Ningyu felt a profound sense of awe at his husband’s ability to bestow titles.

The root of this incident was the wealthy female sponsor who provided the high-end heated bidet toilets for Zhuang’s entire unit. She was recently in Jincheng to negotiate a new round of sponsorship with the government, so Zhuang Ningyu attended the hosting dinner. He had originally planned to wear his “bespoke Italian handmade suit” again to show respect, but Yi Ke held a different opinion. His central argument was: My wife is married to me now, how can he wear some ancient relic from the bottom of his closet? Absolutely not, your husband has plenty of money. But simultaneously, he wrestled with another thought: I am paying out of my own pocket to dress my wife up beautifully so he can go host a female boss… is there something wrong with this picture? To be or not to be, who am I, what is truly important, freedom versus responsibility—which choice truly defines the meaning of my existence?

This philosophical debate was finally terminated when Zhuang Ningyu, dizzy from the noise, took the initiative to kiss Yi Ke on the cheek.

Yi Ke resigned to his fate: “Buy, buy, buy. I’ll buy it for you.”

Zhuang Ningyu was baffled. “Buy what?”

“A real Italian suit.”

The “bespoke Italian handmade suit” his department had previously scraped their treasury to buy at a high price had a questionable origin. Whether the “made in Milan” tag referred to Milano, Italy, or Jincheng’s Milan Clothing Wholesale Street was impossible to verify. As for why, after all this time, no one in the entire department except Yi Ke had noticed anything amiss—aside from everyone’s genuine ignorance about imported suits—Zhuang Ningyu’s own face had to take a large part of the responsibility.

“That was a knockoff?” Zhuang Ningyu was shocked.

Yi Ke patted his head. Yes, my silly wife.

Ultimately, Zhuang Ningyu acquired a brand-new suit, handpicked by Yi Ke. The impeccable tailoring accentuated his superior proportions, highlighting his narrow waist and long legs. On the day of the dinner, Yi Ke leaned against the entryway watching him change shoes. He walked over, bent down to press his cheek against Zhuang’s back, and declared forcefully, “I will pick you up at 6:30.”

The wall clock read 6:05. Allowing his wife out of his sight for a full twenty-five minutes made Yi Ke feel like an incredibly generous husband, deserving of at least ten kisses. Zhuang Ningyu, however, ignored his flair for drama. His brain automatically filtered out the dual whining of the large and small creatures in his house. He simply stood up straight, leaned in for a brief kiss, and said, “I’ll give you the other nine when I get back. I’m leaving.”

Still unwilling to give up, Yi Ke grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close. “Can you really not take me with you?”

“No,” Zhuang Ningyu refused flatly. “We’re begging for alms here. There can only be one rich person at the table. It’s inappropriate for you to go, lest that bunch starts eyeing our family’s rice bin again.”

The logic was flawless. Yi Ke sincerely gave him a thumbs-up. Such a thrifty manager of the household. Good wife!

And so, he stood obediently at the door, gazing deeply and affectionately at Zhuang Ningyu’s departing figure like a faithful stone statue waiting for its spouse.

“Come back early.”
“I will.”

As it turned out, he didn’t. The dinner, originally expected to take two or three hours, dragged on until 1 AM because the hosts and guests hit it off so well. When the electronic lock on the door beeped open, U-Shield, who had been dozing in its bed, was jolted awake and sprinted to the entryway on all fours, wagging its tail furiously around Zhuang Ningyu.

“Look at this. Look at how worried we were about you,” Yi Ke immediately started performing, pointing at U-Shield.

“Yes, yes, uh-huh, you’re right,” Zhuang Ningyu said. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“No. Family meeting!”

The family meeting lasted half an hour. The sole speaker was Yi Ke, while Zhuang Ningyu was primarily in charge of eating his silver ear and lily soup. The warm sweetness, combined with the lingering buzz of alcohol from the dinner, successfully made him drowsy. Eventually, he had to prop his eyelids open with his fingers, lifting his unfocused eyes to say, “Hubby, I’m so sleepy.”

Yi Ke’s voice cut off instantly. He reached out to catch the man pitching forward off the sofa and, basking in the afterglow of that husky “hubby,” happily wagged his invisible tail and carried him into the bathroom.

The next day was Sunday, a perfect time to sleep in—or, more accurately, for Yi Ke to sleep in unilaterally. Zhuang Ningyu woke up quite early. He walked the dog alone, tidied up the house, and made a fresh brunch following a recipe app. At noon, Zhuang Ningyu opened the bedroom door and pulled back the curtains, letting the sunlight filter through the sheer drapes onto the bed. Squinting, Yi Ke reached out to pull the person standing by the bed down with him, but missed. Drowsily, he mumbled, “Wifey, let me sleep a little longer.”

“Stop sleeping, get up.” Zhuang Ningyu patted his face. “Get up and go see your top-tier sugar mama!”

Yi Ke’s eyes snapped open alertly. He sat bolt upright, his brain instantly clearing the moment his pride as a husband was threatened. He waved his right hand decisively. “Impossible. How could I possibly have such an inappropriate social connection?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ms. Deng appeared at the bedroom door and criticized, “Look what time it is, and you’re still sleeping.”

Yi Ke immediately shut his mouth and placed his hands obediently on his knees, while looking deeply at his wife.

You’re right. She periodically drops massive amounts of gold coins. This is indeed my top-tier sugar mama.

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2. A Stealth Ad for the Civil Affairs Bureau

As the year drew to a close, Zhuang Ningyu’s overtime became somewhat frequent. Yi Ke actually wanted to accompany his wife for these late shifts, but Zhuang Ningyu refused. The unit wasn’t at the point where they needed him to contribute free labor; there was no need to be so proactive.

“Then I can go talk to your boss as a family member,” Yi Ke offered, cupping Zhuang’s hands. “I’ll tearfully ask him to sympathize with the hardships of our small family and stop exploiting you all by yourself.”

“What exact inspiration did you use to construct this plot?” Zhuang Ningyu asked warily. Please don’t tell me Qinggang finally managed to share his five-yuan short-drama streaming membership with you.

“It’s from a realistic perspective,” Yi Ke replied. “I think it was last Tuesday. I heard the husband of Sister Wang from the next department got her three days off by doing exactly this.”

Zhuang Ningyu’s direct superior was Huo Ting. He simply couldn’t visualize the bizarre image of Yi Ke shedding tears in his office, so he shook his head frantically in refusal: “Please be merciful and spare him. I can go in a bit later today. I’ll drive you to the clubhouse first.”

The location where Yi Ke frequently gathered with his friends was a two-story building not too far from the unit. The others had arrived a bit earlier and were currently standing in twos and threes on the terrace, chatting and soaking up the sun.

“Is that Brother Yi’s car?” someone suddenly asked.

Everyone looked down just in time to see the electronic gates slowly opening as a white sedan drove in. The person stepping out of the passenger seat was indeed Yi Ke, but instead of coming straight upstairs, he walked around to the driver’s side and knocked on the window.

The window rolled down, and Zhuang Ningyu leaned out, exchanging a kiss with him. His profile, framed by black sunglasses, looked incredibly fair and striking. The sunlight caught the tips of his hair, casting a golden glow over him.

The peanut gallery of friends: …%#&&@￥#@#@（）!!!

Knowing he successfully wooed him and witnessing with their own eyes that he successfully wooed him were two entirely different experiences. Who would have thought that Brother Zhuang, during the busiest time of the year, would personally drive this guy to such an unimportant gathering, give him a goodbye kiss, and even reach out to adjust his collar? What is there to adjust on a jacket?!

It was the sheer physical manifestation of marital bliss. Based on the gnashing-teeth index of his friends on the scene, the Civil Affairs Bureau really ought to pay these two a promotional fee.

But in reality, ever since getting married, Yi Ke hadn’t actually shared much about his romantic life. It wasn’t because he had grown a conscience and decided to spare his friends, but because he genuinely felt that letting anyone else hear even the tiniest detail about his wife was a personal loss. For instance, the fact that his wife woke up every morning, sleepy-eyed, wearing the yellow banana pajamas (Version 2.0) that used to be his, stretching and exposing a sliver of his waist—this was a state secret. Anyone other than him who heard it had to die.

As a normal person, Jing Lan couldn’t quite grasp this mentality. He warned him, “With this level of perversion, I feel like sooner or later you’re going to lock Brother Zhuang up on some deserted island. Maybe you should see a therapist before you go down a dark path.”

Yi Ke slung a single arm around his friend’s shoulder, his expression unfathomable. I’ve already tried, but at the time, my wife’s professional dedication as a civil servant defeated my thirst for twisted romance. The imprisonment failed.

Jing Lan was dying of curiosity. “Can I just ask, what exactly do you two do at home all day?”

“Depends on the timeframe,” Yi Ke answered. “For example, for the past two weeks, I’ve been casually reading Speculations on the Origins of Human History, while he’s been meticulously researching how to replicate McDonald’s spicy crispy pork.”

“…Why not just let McDonald’s earn that money?”

“Because it is part of our marital ritual. Plus, he’s using plateau-raised organic black pork. By the way, do you want some?”

Jing Lan was skeptical. “Are you actually willing to part with it?”

A good brother always hits the nail on the head. But this time, Yi Ke really was willing. Ever since Zhuang Ningyu successfully fried his first batch, he had been greatly encouraged. Batch after batch followed, endless pots of frying oil. They had bought half a pig just for this, and the freezer was overflowing. Yi Ke himself had been forced to increase his gym visits due to his frequent consumption of delicious crispy pork. The burden was simply too great; giving some away was perfectly acceptable.

And so, another urban legend was added to the “Perfect Human Praise Group.” Now everyone knew that not only did Xiao Yi manage to marry Brother Zhuang, but Brother Zhuang also stayed home every day frying spicy crispy pork for him.

“Real or fake?”
“Real. Every single one of us got to eat it.”
“Was it good?”
“Delicious.”
“Tch.”

Xiao Yi, a true winner in life.

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3. Forced Deal

As the weather turned cold, Yi Ke, having nothing better to do, was scrolling on his phone to pick out a new bed for U-Shield. During this, he clicked on a video by a pet influencer. The content wasn’t anything special—just a low-res video of a cat meowing loudly—but the comment section was fascinating. Numerous cat owners reported that the moment their cats heard the audio, they immediately came running and meowing.

Was it really that magical?

Yi Ke turned his phone volume to the max.

A few seconds later, a head really did pop into the doorway of the study. Zhuang Ningyu asked with a face full of curiosity, “What are you watching?”

It works like a charm. Thoroughly convinced, Yi Ke immediately tipped the video creator a hundred bucks.

That night in bed, Yi Ke leaned against the headboard, wrapping one arm around his husband while holding his phone in the other hand. He replayed the video from earlier. Before the pixelated cat could even meow twice, Zhuang Ningyu, who had been facing away from him, voluntarily turned around again. His eyes locked onto the phone first, then shifted to Yi Ke’s face. He couldn’t help but ask again, “You’ve been acting weird all day. What exactly are you laughing at?”

Laughing at how cute you are. Yi Ke brushed the back of his fingers against Zhuang’s jawline, then suddenly leaned in and planted a fierce kiss on him. Propping himself up slightly, he hovered over Zhuang, admiring him happily for a long moment before blurting out, “How am I so good at finding a wife?”

Zhuang Ningyu: “…”

Yi Ke patted his head again in praise. “Of course, you’re also very good at picking a husband.”

Zhuang Ningyu dodged his hand and yanked the blanket over himself, attempting to hide. He had zero desire to participate in this conversation. The attempt failed; before he could even roll over, he was forcefully yanked back. Yi Ke had a larger frame than him, and when he pressed down, he completely enveloped the person in his arms. His strong embrace formed a tight, narrow space under the covers, which smelled faintly of warm toffee—the body wash they had picked out together at the mall last week.

“Go to sleep,” Yi Ke said, very satisfied with this position.

Pinned face-down on the bed, Zhuang Ningyu said weakly, “But I can’t move like this.”

“Exactly.” Yi Ke kissed the reddened earlobe right in front of him, talking total nonsense. “This is the ‘forced love’ trope you ordered on Double 11. Forced means you don’t get to move.”

How shallow! For the umpteenth time, Zhuang Ningyu repeated, “Psychological level. I meant forced love on a psychological level. Not this unbroadcastable TV garbage. I want a refund.”

Yi Ke wagged a finger in front of his eyes. No can do. Handmade products do not qualify for the seven-day no-reason return policy.

He really was a master of forced deals.

“Then I’m giving you a bad review,” Zhuang Ningyu threatened.

“A bad review earns you ten free ‘forced’ PLUS upgrades.”

“What about a good review?”

“A good review gets you twenty.”

“TD.” (Unsubscribe)

“That function is unavailable.”

Zhuang Ningyu buried his face deeply into the quilt.

Yi Ke hugged the stifled, laughing man in his arms tightly and kissed him again.

Ah, happy married life. Once you place the order, there are no returns or exchanges.