Better to Send Money

When people panicked, their hands tended to get busy.

Cheng Yue felt that the atmosphere just now had been far too charged. He couldn't put a name to the feeling; it simply made him deeply uncomfortable.

He held his breath, almost able to hear his heartbeat pounding.

Perhaps he was trying to hide something. He instinctively opened the fridge, and cold air washed over his face. His overheated back felt as though a cool breeze had swept across it, finally giving him room to breathe.

Although Ji Huaijin didn't cook, the Lin Group would never let the Ji Family's young master suffer the slightest discomfort in Capital City. His food, clothing, housing, and transportation had all been meticulously arranged to suit his preferences.

The fridge was packed with food. Cheng Yue hadn't actually wanted to cook for him; he just needed something to do, or that inexplicable panic wouldn't stop.

He grabbed a couple of ingredients at random, and a simple bowl of egg noodles, seasoned with nothing but salt, was born.

"Smells good."

Ji Huaijin's expression relaxed as he looked at him gently. "And you're quite the homemaker."

Cheng Yue slapped the chopsticks down on the kitchen counter, his voice icy. "Ji Huaijin, do you seriously think I wouldn't dare hit you?"

Ji Huaijin pulled out a tissue and leisurely wiped the chopsticks. "I believe you would."

"But I'd still prefer you to hit me in bed."

Cheng Yue was the type who never let a grudge last overnight. Even though he was completely exhausted, once everything was over and Ji Huaijin was cleaning him up, he still gave him a kick-not too hard, not too gentle.

A smug smile curled his lips as he drifted off, satisfied that he'd gotten a little revenge.

In truth, the kick hadn't made Ji Huaijin feel remotely apologetic. Instead, it had stirred a certain restless urge to conquer him.

He ought to have been grateful he'd fallen asleep. Otherwise, he would definitely have discovered the limits of both their stamina.

Cheng Yue slammed the door behind him and left, muttering reassurances to himself the whole way. It wasn't that he didn't dare hit him; he simply didn't want to be accused of picking on a sick man.

Once he recovered, Cheng Yue would make sure that insufferable bastard got what he deserved!

Instead, the first thing to arrive was Ji Huaijin's sugar-coated offensive.

It started the next day, when he sent Cheng Yue a takeout meal to thank Mr. Security Guard for his lovingly prepared late-night snack.

The meal came in a carved wooden box. When a BMW executive car pulled up outside the residential complex, Cheng Yue assumed someone had bought a new car. Then a man stepped out in a suit and polished shoes, even sporting an extravagant pair of white gloves.

He politely handed over the food box. "Mr. Cheng, this is the lunch Mr. Ji arranged for you. Enjoy your meal."

Even after the man had left, Cheng Yue still hadn't recovered.

"Holy shit, Ding Sheng Lou! Cheng Yue, when did you make a friend who could actually get this place to deliver?"

Everyone knew Ding Sheng Lou was a century-old establishment in Capital City, founded by descendants of imperial chefs. It accepted no walk-ins, only reservations, and rumor had it that the entire year's bookings were filled by spring.

Even in the capital, the nation's seat of power, with its privileged young masters everywhere, everyone still had to follow the reservation rules. There were no exceptions.

It wasn't as though nobody had ever tried to challenge them. Those who did went home to either a beating from their father or a furious dressing-down from their grandfather.

Everyone suddenly realized that the power behind Ding Sheng Lou was not to be underestimated. After that, no one dared stubbornly stir up trouble again.

At Kyoto University, Ji Huaijin was teaching a finance class.

His phone vibrated. He called on a student to answer a question, then checked his messages.

[Young master, the meal you requested has been delivered.]

Ji Huaijin calmly put his phone away and looked up at the student, who was stammering through an incoherent answer. "Sit down," he said evenly.

The young man returned to his seat, dejected.

"The principle of bad money driving out good means that when two currencies with different intrinsic values but equal face values circulate simultaneously, the good money, which has the higher intrinsic value, will inevitably be melted down or exported and leave circulation, while the bad money, with its lower intrinsic value, will continue to circulate in the market."

"This is Gresham's Law."

The spacious classroom was packed with students, all staring intently at the podium. Ji Huaijin swept his gaze over them and said casually, "Not taking notes? This will definitely be on the exam."

The room fell silent for two seconds. The next moment, pages rustled everywhere.

Under his coworkers' curious gazes, Cheng Yue offered a couple of vague replies, unwilling to elaborate. To stop them from gawking at him like a zoo exhibit, he opened the food box and invited everyone to share.

The lingering effects of those egg noodles went far beyond that. After Cheng Yue accepted yet another commendation banner with a numb expression, the property manager happily patted his shoulder and encouraged him to keep up the good work.

Then, when they saw the hefty bonus on his pay slip, even his coworkers couldn't hold back.

"Cheng Yue, what family's crown prince did you save? This is way over the top."

Cheng Yue would also have liked to know just how long Ji Huaijin intended to keep publicly embarrassing him.

Of course, he still preferred that last way of expressing gratitude.

Rather than all those fancy gestures, sending a little money was much more practical.

With his wallet fattened up, Cheng Yue could no longer suppress the urge to fill his wardrobe.

Even though it was already so full there wasn't a sliver of space left.

Unlike Qi Su and the others, who seemed to own only two outfits a year-one for winter and one for summer-Cheng Yue had practically never been seen repeating an outfit outside work since college.

He was a bona fide fashion king of the Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei region.

In particular, the guy liked wearing cologne. His fragrance always arrived before he did.

Walking beside him made them look like grubby beggars.

When Qi Su called, Cheng Yue was strolling through the mall with a juice in hand. He wore a black color-block jacket over a mock-neck top with lettering, paired with wide-leg jeans and a glittering chain around his waist.

"What?"

Cheng Yue picked up a pair of cat-eye sunglasses and slipped them on, turning toward the shop mirror to check himself from both sides. Not bad.

"Where are you?"

"Shopping."

Even after years of getting used to him, Qi Su still couldn't understand why he loved dressing up so much.

He had completely forgotten how, back when he was pursuing his wife, he'd spent an entire week waiting on Cheng Yue hand and foot just to get one personal styling session from Fashion King Cheng Yue-and had ultimately won his love.

"Are we bros or not?"

At that, silence fell between them. Cheng Yue gestured for the sales assistant to wrap up the sunglasses he'd just tried on before answering, "We can be, or we can not be. Depends on what bullshit you're about to spout."

Qi Su was speechless. "...Screw you!"

Before Cheng Yue could say anything else that would make him want to die, he hurried on. "I'm not kidding. Come help me out tonight."

Cheng Yue finished paying and took the bag. "Not going. Bye."

He was about to hang up when Qi Su's anguished cries came through the phone. "If you don't come, I'll die right in front of you! Cheng Yue! Bro Cheng! Daddy Cheng!!"

"That's my boy." Cheng Yue was thoroughly satisfied. "If you'd called me that from the start, I'd have agreed already."

Still too young. He could've gotten it done in one step, but he had to take the long way around.

The call ended with Qi Su gritting his teeth. If Cheng Yue listened closely, he could even hear them grinding.

He was his wayward son, after all. Cheng Yue looked around, then headed downstairs to a household goods store and picked out a decent tube of toothpaste as a gift for Qi Su.

Protecting teeth was everyone's responsibility.