Chapter 20#
Coaxing Little Rabbit#
Zhen Ye never expected that after he threw an inexplicable temper tantrum, Rong Yu’s reaction would be so accommodating.
In his memory, real-life alphas didn’t act like this.
Most of them would play deaf and dumb, resort to cold violence, or just yell directly, “Who allowed you to talk to me like that? I gave you face!”
Zhen Ye knew. Because his father was exactly like that.
Alphas were a species that held grudges. After He Yusheng married into the family, he felt the Zhen family was stepping all over him at every moment, so once he turned the tables, he retaliated twofold.
After Zhen Yi died, Zhen Ye couldn’t lose his temper at home, couldn’t play the violin he loved. He couldn’t complain when hurt, couldn’t cry, because crying only earned him a cold sneer:
“You deserve it!”
You fall, you deserve it. You catch a cold, you deserve it. Your mother dies, you deserve it. Every disaster that falls on your head has nothing to do with anyone else—it’s all your fault.
He Yusheng said it, Zhong Liyun echoed it, and even He Junhua felt that everything Zhen Ye suffered was exactly what he deserved.
Did Zhen Ye think so too?
Zhen Ye felt that he had tried his hardest, done everything he could to refuse that “label.” But immersed in such an environment for so long, one’s thoughts inevitably get influenced.
Eventually, one day, the words “you deserve it” would quietly surface, slip out unconsciously. And so, the chain finally closed, and Zhen Ye joined in, becoming one of those who stabbed at himself.
Zhen Ye hated himself for it.
He even felt disgusted, nauseous, feeling like he was no different from them.
Under Rong Yu’s gaze, the omega’s thin back was like a withered yellow leaf, trembling slightly. He turned and walked against the wind to the side, to the corner of the shop entrance, where he fumbled with trembling hands to cup the wind and light a cigarette.
But he couldn’t hold the cigarette steady; he’d take a drag, then pause to steady himself a couple of times, trying to use the invasion of nicotine to smooth away the palpitations of his somatized anxiety.
When he looked back at Rong Yu, his expression was still that same self-deprecating smile:
“Mr. Rong, has anyone ever told you that you read people very accurately?”
His tone seemed to have regained its steadiness.
But as a passing car’s headlights swept by, Rong Yu clearly saw the tears shimmering in his eyes, yet unshed.
·
The Zhen Ye of now wouldn’t let anyone coax him.
After all, he wasn’t a child anymore, who could expect someone to catch his emotions with peace of mind. He had been grown for so long—so long that when others saw him, they’d say weirdly, “You’re still blaming your family at this age? You’re too sensitive.”
But Mr. Rong was different.
He really seemed to treat him like a child.
He first asked softly, “Zhen Ye, can I call you Little Rabbit?”
After receiving a vague assent, Rong Yu maneuvered his wheelchair over to him. “Little Rabbit, let’s go eat. When people are hungry, all sorts of things feel uncomfortable. Let’s go eat a meal that’ll make us happy.”
Perhaps it was that overly gentle “Little Rabbit” that touched Zhen Ye’s long-numbed nerves. Silently, Zhen Ye let himself be led away by him.
People need carbohydrates to feel happy.
So they first ordered a steaming hot handmade pizza, then a sweet and sour lemon tart.
The mall had already closed, and the restaurant’s waitstaff were still busy. To express his apology, Rong Yu scanned a thousand yuan to each of them.
Zhen Ye was stunned for a moment, then tears turned to laughter: “Mr. Rong, if I ever encountered a patron like you while working part-time, that’d be great. You’re so generous.”
Rong Yu smiled. “After all, I’m very poor—so poor that all I have left is money.”
Mr. Rong, so poor he only had money left, and Zhen Ye, so rich he was penniless, sat together. The wheelchair’s height was level with the restaurant seats; lifting their heads, their gazes could meet, and the barriers of status seemed to dissolve along with it.
So close.
So close that they suddenly became like friends.
After the great joy and great sorrow, his stomach filled with food, Zhen Ye drifted in the food coma of rising blood sugar. He pulled at Rong Yu, telling him about the lemon tarts he’d eaten, about his landlady from the first two years studying abroad:
“She was so stingy, but her lemon tarts were pretty good. Every time she made them, I’d sneak a slice from the fridge, and the next day she’d scold me with her hands on her hips, as if I hadn’t paid rent. I’d scold right back with my hands on my hips too, haha, my French improved by leaps and bounds back then!”
Then he counted the salami slices on the pizza, one, two… seven, eight:
“You know, when I was little, whenever I cried, my mom would bring me to eat pizza. She was so sly—she’d make a bet with me: if there was one extra slice, making it eight, I had to walk out happily. If it was seven, I could cry a little longer. But amazingly, it was always eight. She told me it was the Pizza God, in some mysterious way, wanting to make me happy.”
“But later, when I grew up, I found out that the extra slice of salami was something she’d brought herself and secretly placed on top.” Zhen Ye smiled hazily. “So really, it was her who wanted to make me happy.”
As he spoke, he glanced at the plate and sighed, “What a coincidence, today it’s also eight slices. Maybe the Pizza God really did show some divine intervention…”
A flicker of emotion passed through Rong Yu’s eyes, and he followed with a faint smile. “Yeah, what a coincidence.”
Zhen Ye didn’t know that he had told this story to a certain tree, a very, very long time ago.
Nor did he know that that strange tree had remembered it for a long time, and only today did it finally find a use—in order to quietly coax him, it had openly and honestly bribed the chef and the waiter.
After all, “a meal that’ll make you happy after eating” was something Little Rabbit had taught him.
He had remembered it, remembered it, continuously ruminating on it…
—Uncle, are you hurting somewhere? Your body has so many tendrils, and your leaves are still trembling… Oh, I know a kind of food that makes you happy after eating. I just saw it, I’ll go bring it to you!
Back then, those little short legs ran in and out, nimbly holding up a plate, feeding the half-dead man-eating vine.
When the estate’s butler came out and saw it, he was so frightened he covered his face with a steam-whistle scream, his tailcoat flying as he rushed over to scoop the child away.
The little short legs were still kicking and swinging in the air, shouting anxiously, “Wait, he hasn’t finished eating yet!”
The butler shrieked in despair, “If you feed him any more, he’ll eat YOU—!”
Drowning in the distant memory, Rong Yu couldn’t help but curl the corners of his lips.
“What is Mr. Rong smiling about?”
Before him, Zhen Ye, age twenty-four, asked.
“Nothing.” Rong Yu’s long lashes veiled his gaze, his hand propping up his cheek, and he smiled at Zhen Ye. That smile was bright and serene, carrying an unspoken wish that people might be together forever.
Zhen Ye’s ears turned red, and he couldn’t help feeling a warmth that bred wanton thoughts.
Mr. Rong’s face really was just his type. Such a shame his legs were broken… but actually, was it only his legs that were broken? Could that part down there still work…
If I took advantage of the butler not paying attention, tied him up, and sat on him—he has such a good temper, would he call the police…
Rong Yu’s brow quirked slightly, and he asked softly, “What is Little Rabbit smiling about?”
“…”
Zhen Ye nearly choked on his water, hurriedly lowering his head to grab a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Me too, nothing!”
Just fantasizing about racing wheelchairs with you.
With all this commotion, Zhen Ye’s mood really did recover and lift again. In the past, at times like this, he’d be in a funk for days. Today, in just a little over an hour, he was almost back to normal.
It seemed lust really was the best cure for depression.
All the way back in the car, Zhen Ye kept secretly glancing at Rong Yu. He regretted that he’d been mentally dissociated that night at the mountain villa and couldn’t remember the specifics. Otherwise, maybe he could have taken them out to savor again.
But one can’t always live in regret.
Seeing that they were almost at his street, Zhen Ye suddenly made up his mind and turned sideways to Rong Yu. “Mr. Rong.”
“Go ahead.”
Zhen Ye took a deep breath. “I bit you on Monday.”
“Mm.”
“By next Tuesday, you should be completely back to normal.”
“So?” Rong Yu’s brow moved slightly.
“So,” Zhen Ye said it all in one breath, as if afraid he’d regret it, “if by then you still want to keep the contract, then I’ll let you do whatever you want with me, okay?”
Rong Yu’s thin eyelids drooped, as if pondering for a moment.
He said, “Can’t you let me do whatever I want with you right now?”
Zhen Ye: “…”
That tone was too natural, making Zhen Ye’s face flush and his heart race uncontrollably. He wanted to agree but couldn’t. He could only hurriedly turn his face away, mumbling, “D-does it have to be right now…”
Rong Yu glanced at him, smiling in a way that was hard to tell if he was serious or joking: “Just scaring you. I’m not that impatient.”