ADTCP Ch53

The air froze in an instant.

Cold drafts from the elevator seeped in from all directions, wrapping tightly around Tao Zhen. The chill shot up from the soles of his feet along his spine, then soaked into his chest and hardened into an icy blade, twisting cruelly at his heart.

His fair, rosy face went bloodless in a flash; his eyes reddened; his soft blond hair drooped over his cheeks, he looked like a bedraggled stray.

Tao Zhen stayed silent for so long it became a kind of powerless surrender. Tao Dajun was livid, almost sick with anger, and gave a cold laugh: “Don’t want to?”

“What are the things you must do even if others stand in your way, and what are the things you mustn’t do even if people cheer you on? Don’t you have any sense of that yourself? Don’t use others as an excuse, when you decide to do something, your own heart knows exactly why! All these years, everything your mother and I taught you, where did it go? Down a dog’s stomach?”

The cramped space pressed in on them. The overhead lights were harsh and dizzying. Tao Zhen tried hard not to shake.

Yes, he knew better than anyone. Even if, at the start, he’d been egged on by Wu Bin and his crowd into “keeping” Zhu Wensheng, once he cut ties with Wu Bin he’d had countless chances to end this improper arrangement with Zhu Wensheng. He simply hadn’t.

Not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t want to. Clinging to a gambler’s hope, he’d tossed aside the integrity and uprightness his parents had drilled into him, and let himself become a sugar daddy—using his parents’ status to do this kind of thing.

But…

“From the beginning, you lied to me, didn’t you? When I asked if you two were just dating, you spun me some mess about how you met and got together… In truth, you were together because of this one ‘support’ contract.

How ridiculous, how absurd, Tao Zhen. Is this something you would do? Forget how you usually act—on New Year’s, you even had him travel all that way just to come find you, and then… Tao Zhen, go. Go end this right now!”

“…But.”

Facing his father’s furious expression, Tao Zhen looked dazed, as if mustering great courage: “Dad, I know it was wrong from the start. But now, I truly like Zhu Wensheng, and he truly likes me.”

The elevator fell quiet.

The anger froze on Tao Dajun’s face for a second or two, then melted into a lava surge of fury. He barked a laugh, as if hearing a preposterous joke:

“You’re already keeping him, and you’re still talking to me about feelings?”

“… ”
Tao Zhen swayed, stumbling back to lean blankly against the elevator wall.

“A relationship built on money from the beginning, how much of it is real and how much is fake? You used money to buy someone’s care and companionship, do you not see that? And you still fool yourself like this?”

Tao Dajun did not soften; he took a step closer and pressed on, each question harsher than the last. “Sure, maybe you like him—but is your ‘like’ that cheap? Is ‘liking’ someone just throwing money so they’ll stay with you?!”

At the end, he even lifted his hand, palm poised.
The broad shadow covered Tao Zhen’s eyes. He made no move to dodge, he simply closed his eyes and waited for the slap.

Time seemed to stretch to breaking.
It was already March, but the night cut like knives.

The expected pain didn’t come. In the end, Tao Dajun couldn’t bring himself to do it; his hand lowered slowly. He turned away, weary.

“…People make mistakes,” he said, voice tight with restraint. “You’re grown now. I believe you can tell right from wrong. I just don’t want you going down the wrong path.”

Tao Zhen opened his eyes and stared, bewildered, at his father, who suddenly looked two or three years older.

“I won’t tell your mother for now,” Tao Dajun said after a deep breath. “But I want you to settle this in the next few days. If you don’t, I won’t cover for you. Until you do, I’m freezing your cards, the supplementary and the bank card. I’ll leave two thousand yuan on Alipay for basic living expenses.”

“Tao Zhen, don’t do something that hurts him.”

“… ”

The elevator had long since reached the ground floor. Tao Dajun opened the door. He didn’t let Tao Zhen walk him out, just took his things and disappeared into the night alone.

In Tao Zhen’s heart, his father had always been a towering figure; but now, that back looked a bit stooped. Pain stabbed his chest without warning, and tears spilled from his eyes.

The elevator doors opened, then closed again. He was the only one left in the narrow space, yet he didn’t even have the strength to press the button again. Slowly, he slid down the wall and sat on the floor, hugging his knees. The cold seeped into his very bones.

Colder than his body, though, was his heart.

The words of Tao Dajun and Gu Xingzhou spun round and round in his head, every sentence harsh enough to stab, yet sharp enough to bring clarity. Yes, what right did he have to believe that Zhu Wensheng was his and his alone? That what had started as a sugar arrangement had somehow become “true love”?

It was he who had forced Zhu Wensheng, a straight man, into this situation, projecting his own affections, convincing himself he was being good to him, but never once asking whether Zhu truly wanted it, whether he had developed a kind of “Stockholm syndrome.”

If only he had realized sooner.

If, back then, he had chosen to pursue instead of to “keep,” would everything have turned out differently?

Tao Zhen clutched his chest suddenly. A suffocating pressure burst inside him, leaving him short of breath, hardly noticing as the elevator slowly began to rise. His gasps were shallow and ragged.

When the doors finally slid open, a figure appeared before him, its shadow blotting out his vision. For a second he thought he was dreaming, dazedly lifting his eyes.

“…Ah-Sheng?”

The March night was still cold. The blond boy sat curled in the corner of the elevator, hugging his knees, tear stains on his pale face, his reddened eyes empty as he murmured his lover’s name.

Zhu Wensheng’s breath caught. Almost instantly, he bent down and scooped him into his arms, his voice low and strained:

“Mm. What did Uncle say to you? Why are you crying?”

“…It’s nothing serious.” Tao Zhen finally came back to his senses, wiping his face haphazardly. His voice was choked, but he forced a smile. “Dad just told me there’s some issue at the company…”

He tried to sound light, even joked: “Maybe… maybe I won’t have much money from now on.”

Zhu Wensheng’s movements faltered. In his mind flashed Tao Dajun’s evasive expression, the phone clutched tight in his hand, and Tao Zhen’s faint sobbing voice now. That vague unease and suspicion in his chest… slowly, finally, melted away.

He carried Tao Zhen inside, half-kneeling to set him down on the sofa, slipped off his shoes, and tucked those ice-cold toes under the hem of his sweater to warm them.

“This little problem will be solved soon, don’t worry,” Zhu Wensheng’s voice was firm, oddly reassuring. “Even if you don’t have money, it’s fine. I’ll support you, okay?”

“… ”

Tao Zhen’s nose stung suddenly.

Since when had the one being kept turned around to support the patron? How could Zhu Wensheng be this foolish?

If their relationship really ended, how could he ever go on with him?

His heart ached, but not wanting to show such a pitiful side of himself, Tao Zhen hurriedly rubbed at his eyes and nose, feigned nonchalance, and said with a laugh: “Hahaha, I was joking, you actually believed me?”

“Really, it’s nothing. My dad just talked to me about the company and about changing my major. I just felt a little overwhelmed for a moment, that’s all!”

The blond boy seemed to recover quickly, his tone no different than usual. Zhu Wensheng listened quietly until he finished, then gave a soft “mm,” squeezed his cold foot, and asked lowly: “Do you feel better now? Want to go wash up?”

Tao Zhen hummed an assent, trying to pull his foot away to wash up, but Zhu gave him no chance. Supporting the bend of his leg, he hoisted him up like a child and carried him straight into the bathroom.

Before he could react, he was already seated on the sink, face being gently washed with warm water, then his socks taken off so his feet could soak.

As his body warmed, Tao Zhen originally meant to push him away and shower himself. But the thought that he might never again have such closeness made him still, letting Zhu Wensheng continue.

Soon, Tao Zhen was bathed, dressed in soft pajamas, fluffy blond hair sticking up, standing at the bathroom door waiting for Zhu. He couldn’t help recalling their very first meeting,
Back then, Zhu had been in a white shirt and jeans, aloof, indifferent, refusing all approaches, like an untouchable alpine flower.

But now, that same “alpine flower” had his sleeves casually rolled to the elbow, forearms taut and veined, finishing cleaning the bathroom and then washing… Tao Zhen’s underwear.

These were the very hands that could throw million-dollar punches.

Tao Zhen clutched at his shirt hem, heart inexplicably tight.

When Zhu came out and asked what was wrong, he only smiled, shook his head, and pretended nothing had happened, climbing into bed with a yawn.

Zhu knew his mood was bad, so he didn’t press or continue what they had almost started earlier. Instead, once Tao Zhen’s breathing calmed, he tucked the quilt around him and whispered goodnight.

Moonlight was soft, tree shadows swayed.
Supposedly asleep, Tao Zhen’s eyes remained open, sleepless through the night.

***

In the following days, Tao Zhen kept himself unusually busy, out early, back late—even without morning classes.

By contrast, Zhu Wensheng, shuttling between campus and the gym, found himself with unexpected free time. He even slipped back to the Z Era base a few times, calling Zhao Zhao and Zhao Ye to ask about Tao Enterprises’ business status.

To his surprise, the “problem” that had shaken Tao Dajun that night never showed in the company’s operations. Zhao Zhao, Zhao Ye, even the Zhu family themselves all swore the business was fine.

“Nothing to worry about”…

Zhu Wensheng drummed his fingers on the table, repeating the phrase, but felt no relief, only that a storm was brewing.

If the company was fine, why had Tao Zhen been so off lately?

The once-bubbly boy no longer smiled. His bright eyes were ringed with shadows. He looked perpetually worried, like he had something he couldn’t say.

He’d clearly lost sleep, lost weight, the softness in his thighs gone, elbows and jaw sharp.

Maybe the Tao family business really had some hidden crisis, maybe the transfer process was too taxing… all possible reasons. But the unease in Zhu Wensheng’s chest only grew stronger, as if seeing in Tao Zhen the same near-collapse Jiang Shan had shown that night, a vision of his own future, burning in the fire until his insides ached.

“The right time” never came. He endured and endured—until finally deciding he couldn’t wait. He had to confess. Whatever Tao Zhen did, curse him, hit him—as long as his identity was revealed, at least he could help him shoulder burdens.

So, on Saturday, as Tao Zhen slung on his backpack to head for the library, Zhu Wengsheng stopped him.
The blond boy turned, and saw the black-haired youth step forward, face usually so cold now softened, asking quietly:

“Zhenbao, these days… have you been busy?”

So it was time.

The thought flashed in Tao Zhen’s mind. His fingers tightened on the straps, emotions in turmoil.

Busy, yes—but not to this extent.
Every day, Tao Dajun’s words echoed: “Do the right thing.” But he couldn’t bear to face Zhu Wensheng, so he ran instead—out early, home late, hiding like a turtle in its shell, heart tormented.

“…Kind of,” Tao Zhen said stiffly at last.

“I know you’ve been working hard on the transfer. But you also need balance.” Zhu Wensheng’s voice gentled, coaxing. “I heard there are new movies out. Let’s go see one together, then stroll a bit, have dinner. Okay?”

Movies, shopping, dinner.
Ordinary things, cliché things couples did. Yet Tao Zhen longed for them, never having had the chance.

Finally, he could experience it—but would this be their first and last date?

His eyes lit up like a kitten begging for attention, but dimmed just as quickly. Forcing a smile, he nodded. “O-okay.”

His mood swings were too obvious. Zhu Wensheng noticed, but only pressed his lips together and swallowed the unease.

They left early. At the theater, few people milled about. Posters lined the entrance—thrillers, sci-fi, romance. Zhu Wensheng hadn’t bought tickets yet, waiting to ask which Tao Zhen preferred. The boy hesitated, then followed his heart—choosing the romance film.

Zhu Wensheng’s brows eased as he pulled out his phone—but Tao Zheng was faster. A “ding” and the tickets were paid.
When Zhu Wensheng glanced at him with faint reproach, Tao Zhen only smiled, hiding the nearly empty balance screen behind his back: “What? Time’s tight, let’s go in.”

Once inside, the theater was almost empty. They sat near the back. Soon, the screen lit: the heroine’s tear-streaked face by the river, throwing her phone into the water. Title: Goodbye.

Two girls in front snickered:
“Seriously? Another melodramatic youth film?”

“I googled it. It’s about a naive princess supporting a poor school grass, who everyone mocks as a gold-digger…”

On-screen, the hero was ridiculed by passersby. Tao Zhen froze, then turned instinctively to glance at Zhu Wensheng.
The screen’s glow traced his profile—handsomer than any “school grass.”

But like the film’s boy, no matter his efforts, outsiders only saw the stain of being “kept.”

Zhu Wensheng caught his gaze and asked softly: “What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing.” Tao Zhen forced a smile, turning back to the screen.

Yet Zhu Wensheng didn’t look away. He, too, soon heard the girls whisper again:

“…Turns out the school grass had a hidden identity. He took revenge on those who mocked him. But the princess saw it too—learning of his lies, she said goodbye.”

Zhu Wensheng stiffened, staring at the screen.

***

Two hours passed. The girls grumbled and left. Tao Zhen and Zhu Wensheng left in silence, heading to the mall.

But unlike before, Tao Zhen showed no interest in browsing. He shook his head at everything Zhu Wensheng asked about, until Zhu Wensheng quietly noted the clothes he lingered on and bought them.

Surprised, Tao Zhen lit up, then checked the tag, cheeks puffing. “…Why buy so much? And so expensive?”

Zhu Wensheng’s fingers tightened. “It’s not expensive.”

Still worried, Tao Wensheng sighed, but Zhu Wensheng only took his hand and led him to dinner.

It was a famed rooftop restaurant, lavish, with months-long reservations. Tao Zhen shrank back. He didn’t have the money, not even close.

Why had Zhu Wensheng chosen this place?

He turned nervously. “Ah Sheng… are you sure?”

Zhu Wensheng’s eyes glimmered in the warm light. “Yes.”

The owner himself welcomed them, leading them to the best table.

The city glittered beyond the glass. Roses glistened on the table.

Dishes came one after another, exquisite. Tao Zhen tried to handle the heavy cutlery, failed, until Zhu Wensheng ordered chopsticks for him.

By dessert, both were full. The clock tower struck eight. The day was ending.

Spring night, gentle.
All day, they had hidden, endured, avoided. Now, at last, both spoke at once:

“I—”

“I—”

It was time.

Surely Tao Zhen had already realized.

What reaction would he give?

Zhu Wensheng’s fingers twitched. His dark gaze locked onto the blond boy opposite. “You first.”

Tao Zhen inhaled deeply, lifted his head, stared earnestly as if to etch Zhu Wensheng’s face into memory. “Alright, I’ll go first.”

“Ah… Zhu Wensheng.”

“You’re extraordinary—gifted, hardworking, meticulous. You’ll achieve your dreams, have a
bright future. Being with you has made me so happy. And I’m sorry, for holding you back so long.”

“But now, it’s time to put everything back where it belongs.”

He shut his eyes briefly, missing how Zhu Wensheng’s expression cracked, and said solemnly:

“Zhu Wensheng, let’s break up.”