AADWFL Chapter 30

The agent answered quickly and arranged a time and place to meet. Half an hour later, they met at the entrance of a residential complex.

“Good evening, Mr. An,” the real estate agent greeted warmly, dressed in a professional suit as he shook An Ning’s hand. “Since you’re free today, let’s check out this unit first. If you have time over the weekend, we can look at another one — it’s a bit farther away, but the layout is quite nice too.”

He then briefly introduced the property.

It was a secondhand apartment, but fairly new — the complex had opened four years ago, and this particular unit had been handed over two years back. The owners had fully renovated it and bought most of the furniture and appliances, but before they could even move in, their marriage fell apart. They divorced soon after, and the place had remained empty ever since.

A month ago, after finally sorting out all their personal affairs, the original owner put the property on the market.

It wasn’t a desperate sale, but the listed price was still negotiable. Given its condition — unoccupied, well-maintained, and located in a newer development — the asking price was on the higher side for the secondhand market.

“I thought of showing it to you, Mr. An, since your budget is quite comfortable. If you’re willing to stretch just a bit, I think it’s a solid deal,” the agent said as they walked. “And the area’s amenities are excellent — great for long-term living.”

They entered the complex together and found the building. Before stepping into the elevator, the agent pointed out that this particular tower was the best located one in the community — right next to an artificial lake.

They swiped a keycard and took the elevator up — it was a high-rise building, and their destination was the 19th floor.

High floors were always popular — better lighting, better views — and An Ning was quite satisfied with the level.

Each floor had only two apartments per elevator hall. It wasn’t as spacious as the flat he currently lived in, but for a standard commercial apartment, it was top-tier — the kind of property even many middle-class residents of Binzhou couldn’t easily afford.

An Ning followed the agent through the rooms, inspecting the details. Overall, he was very pleased.

Of course, it couldn’t compare to his current residence, but compared to the kind of home he used to imagine for himself, this was already an excellent choice.

He quietly did the math in his head. There was room to negotiate on price, and his savings were solid — in fact, they’d grown recently. If he really wanted it, buying the place would be easy.

After finishing the tour, he didn’t give the agent a definite answer. They parted on friendly terms and agreed to meet again over the weekend.

As they were saying goodbye, the agent smiled and said, “Mr. An, you must have quite a good job, huh?”

An Ning paused, then smiled politely. “It’s alright.” He glanced down at his own outfit — sharp, tailored business attire — and suddenly understood.

Ever since he’d started living with Yu Xiuming, his work clothes had all been custom-made together with his boss’s. An Ning had always thought such extravagance unnecessary, but since it represented the company’s image — and didn’t cost him anything — he’d gone along with it out of convenience.

He’d never thought twice about it before, but now he felt a bit like he was borrowing someone else’s aura.

Slightly embarrassed, he lowered his gaze and chuckled. “Just for work.”

When he’d arrived, the sky had merely begun to darken. By the time he left, it was pitch black. Driving home, An Ning’s mind was already wandering — picturing how he might furnish and settle into his future new home.

He sped home, grinning all the way. Only upon arriving did he remember the half-eaten cake he’d left behind at the office. It would’ve made a perfect quick dinner — now he’d have to find something else.

His fridge had been empty for ages, and after such a long, tiring day, he didn’t feel like going out again. So he picked up his phone to order delivery.

But when he opened his messages, he was caught off guard — about an hour earlier, Yu Xiuming had sent him a WeChat message:

“I had the rest of your cake from lunch sent over by same-city express. It should arrive soon. If you feel like having a snack tonight, go ahead — if not, just toss it tomorrow.”

Express delivery?

An Ning froze for a second, then hurriedly checked the time.

During his meeting with Yi Mingwei’s assistant that afternoon, he had set his phone to “Do Not Disturb” mode — allowing only calls from Yu Xiuming — to maintain privacy. If the delivery courier had called during that time… oh no. That would be a problem.

It was fine. Yu Xiuming had only called the delivery service in the evening, right during rush hour, so there’d been a bit of a delay. Calculating the time, it should be arriving right about now.

Sitting on the sofa, An Ning fumbled with his phone, trying to reply to Yu Xiuming’s WeChat message, racking his brain for an excuse to explain why he hadn’t replied for so long.

Should he say he was busy?

Technically, he’d gone to view an apartment after his boss-approved working hours — it wasn’t like he was slacking off. And the message he hadn’t replied to wasn’t work-related anyway, so in theory, just telling the truth would be fine. But somehow, the moment the topic of buying a house came up, An Ning felt a guilty pang in his chest.

All in all, until everything was settled, he really didn’t want Yu Xiuming to know about it.

Just then, the delivery driver’s call flashed on his phone. An Ning answered and told him to bring the cake upstairs.

Two minutes later, the cake was in his hands.

Following the usual process, Yu Xiuming’s phone would also have received a delivery confirmation.

Not replying now would be too suspicious.

[Mr. Yu, there was a traffic jam earlier, I didn’t see your message. I’ve received the cake, thank you very much!]

A short message — yet An Ning read it over and over, polishing every word, checking for loopholes or awkward phrasing. Just as he was about to hit send, a new message popped up from Yu Xiuming.

[You didn’t receive it?]

The phone’s vibration startled An Ning. His finger twitched, and before he could think, he accidentally sent the message he’d been editing and revising for half a lifetime.

[Good, glad you received it.]

[I saw you “typing” for ages — thought maybe there was a problem with the delivery.]

Reading that, An Ning wanted nothing more than to slap his own hand — the same hand that had been editing that stupid message forever.

Why hadn’t he just typed it in his own chat box? Why did he have to make it so obvious to his boss that he’d been editing like he was revising a company report? And after all that fuss, the message he ended up sending wasn’t even particularly good.

He regretted it so much his guts turned blue. He reread his own message again and again, terrified there was still some hidden flaw in the wording.

[Traffic jam on the way home?]

An Ning thought the conversation was over — but clearly, Yu Xiuming didn’t think so.

So he patiently replied:

[Yeah, hit some rush-hour traffic, but I’m home now.]

[Oh.]

That one, perfectly punctuated word — “oh.” Yet somehow, it didn’t feel perfunctory at all.

[The delivery guy probably got caught in the same traffic. Otherwise it would’ve been quicker.]

[Cat nodding.gif]

An Ning felt like replying with just “mm” would seem too cold, so he sent a cute little cat sticker instead.

Yu Xiuming stared at the screen, long-pressed on the adorable little cat, and tapped “Add to Stickers.”

Then he typed back:

[Eat up.]

That cute little cat sticker — An Ning had downloaded it from the system’s library, just to pad out his sticker collection.

Yu Xiuming barely used WeChat outside of work. When he did, it was strictly for business. If words sufficed, he would never bother with stickers. So his emoji library was practically empty.

He looked at the bright-eyed, lively cat on the screen, and for a brief second, something soft deep inside him was gently scratched.

As if possessed, he opened the browser on his phone — which had only a handful of search records — and added a new one:

“What does it mean when someone you like sends you a cute sticker?”

The question was written so properly, so formal — exactly in Yu Xiuming’s style. If Jing Yan saw it, he’d definitely laugh his head off.

But Yu Xiuming’s expression was serious. Sitting in his leather office chair, phone in hand, he looked as solemn as if he were reviewing a multimillion-dollar contract.

It was already late. The spacious CEO office was missing its usual considerate housekeeper, and the curtains hadn’t been drawn. Across the river, the neon lights of the city shimmered, blending with the faint moonlight and the bright white glow of the office, softening the man’s expression in the chair.

After reading more than thirty unreliable answers online, Yu Xiuming finally concluded that none of them made any real sense, and locked his phone.

Even then, he felt a faint reluctance — an odd addiction to something so pointless and illogical. That wasn’t like him at all.

Lately, he’d formed a habit: whenever he caught himself doing things like this, he’d recall what Jing Yan once told him — the “essential knowledge of falling in love.”

When it comes to the person you like, acting a little stupid is perfectly normal. No need to overthink it.

So when Jing Yan received yet another video call from his friend that night, right around the same time as usual, he immediately assumed that the ever-busy President Yu was once again making time out of his packed schedule — to talk about An Ning.

Holding an electric toothbrush, Jing Yan leaned lazily against the bathroom’s glass door and said vaguely through the foam, “Wait a sec.”

From experience, he knew that at this point Yu Xiuming wouldn’t be able to help himself — he’d say, “Just listen, no need to talk,” and then launch straight into one of his long monologues.

Yu Xiuming thought he was just making a statement.

But in Jing Yan’s eyes—
he was showing off.

Shamelessly. Absolutely, unapologetically showing off.

He could still remember that one day when Yu Xiuming had spent an entire evening vividly describing how An Ning had checked the weather forecast early that morning,
how he’d come into Yu Xiuming’s room to bring him a warmer coat after the temperature dropped,
and how the poor guy had even caught a cold because he’d forgotten to dress warmly himself.

By the end of it, Jing Yan had rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out.
He’d snapped, “Why is he always the one taking care of you? Can’t you, I don’t know, take care of him for once?”

But what really got him—what really made him choke on his own words—
was that Yu Xiuming hadn’t been bragging at all.
He had listened to every word of Jing Yan’s scolding, and afterward, he’d genuinely started thinking about how to be more attentive to An Ning.

And that, inevitably, led to countless future rounds of the same kind of mind-numbing “updates.”

Tonight, though, as Jing Yan was brushing his teeth, the world was unusually quiet.

He’d said, “Wait a sec,”
and—miraculously—Yu Xiuming actually waited.

It was so out of character that Jing Yan had to glance at the screen several times, checking that it wasn’t frozen and that his Wi-Fi hadn’t dropped. Then he paused mid-brush, foam still in his mouth, and mumbled,
“What, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I’m waiting for you.”

“For fuck’s sake!*” Jing Yan rolled his eyes again, deciding not to prolong his own suffering. He hurried through the rest of his brushing, grabbed his phone, and went to sit cross-legged on the soft tatami floor—mentally preparing himself for whatever emotional TED Talk was coming next.

“You probably know quite a few real estate consultants, right?”

The question hit Jing Yan like a slap to the head.
Fresh out of the shower, with a stubborn strand of hair sticking up, he blinked blankly.
“Consultants? What kind of consultants?”

“Real estate consultants,” Yu Xiuming clarified patiently.

“You’re buying a house?” Jing Yan gawked. “No way. Even if you are, why would you need me to find a consultant? Don’t you already know a million of them? Or just have An Ning do it—he’s your assistant, isn’t he?”

“The place I live in now… feels a bit lacking in warmth,” Yu Xiuming said with a small smile.
“I’ve been thinking—if, in the future, An Ning and I…”

He paused, smiling wordlessly for a few seconds—long enough for Jing Yan’s scalp to start crawling—before continuing,
“I’d like to buy somewhere a bit larger. Somewhere that feels more like a home. A small villa would be fine, or a spacious apartment.”

Then, almost awkwardly, he added,
“The main thing is, I want it to feel like… a place for two people to live together.”

At that moment, Jing Yan completely understood why Yu Xiuming had come to him for help.

And dear god—he really wished he didn’t.

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Author’s Note:

Perfect. Their timing’s finally in sync again—both of them thinking about buying houses! 🎉