Chapter 36Fu Jinchi, as usual, tidied up the room. He picked up the book Yan Zishu had discarded from the floor and glanced at the cover.#

It was a very old collection of science fiction novels, bearing a library label, nothing particularly interesting.

Yan Zishu’s apartment didn’t have a separate study. To facilitate the owner’s use, the bookshelf and desk were arranged in the master bedroom.

Yan Zishu had seriously warned him that all locked drawers here were off-limits, and if any signs of prying were found, he would call the police.

Fu Jinchi could only guarantee with a wry smile that he wasn’t that low.

But from another perspective, Fu Jinchi instinctively understood that all other places were available for him to occupy.

Given this, the word “politeness” was not in his dictionary.

To pry open someone’s heart, especially someone highly guarded, a more forceful approach was always more effective.

Fu Jinchi walked to the bookshelf, found a gap, and tucked the hardcover novel back in.

Yan Zishu was sleeping, wrapped in a blanket. A small bedside lamp was on, its weak glow just enough to make out the titles on the book spines.

Fu Jinchi scrutinized the unremarkable bookshelf.

On the top shelf, it was filled with professional books on art appraisal, management, and investment. Many large, rarely used volumes were heavy, but the bookshelf’s quality was poor, causing the shelf to bend, forming an arc in the middle, which looked a bit precarious.

He watched for a while, then very naturally reached out to take down those reference books, preparing to move them to the bottom shelf.

One of them wasn’t held steadily and clattered to the floor. Fu Jinchi glanced back, not waking Yan Zishu.

But a stack of folded papers and a photo fell out from the flyleaf of the book.

Like an item dropped in a decryption game, accidentally triggered when a player randomly clicks.

Fu Jinchi bent down to pick them up, not treating himself as an outsider at all, unfolding and looking through them one by one.

Since it wasn’t locked, it meant it wasn’t confidential.

The photo was just a group picture from a company annual meeting from a certain year, an ordinary row of faces, laminated and preserved as new.

The text on the paper was in pure English, but Fu Jinchi, who had lived in Hong Kong, was very familiar with this format—after all, Hong Kong’s insurance industry was relatively mature, and purchasing commercial insurance was very common. In recent years, more and more mainlanders also went to apply for it.

This was indeed a commercial personal insurance policy, and the following pages were attached with basic client information.

It was nothing unusual for a white-collar worker with Yan Zishu’s income level to purchase a commercial insurance policy for himself.

Critical illness insurance, with compensation for the insured’s death, a very popular insurance product.

However, the name filled in the death beneficiary section was:

FU WEISHAN.

Fu Weishan.

Fu Jinchi was startled, turning the page sideways, holding it up to the lamplight, to clearly see the small print.

He confirmed it once, then turned back to look at the photo. This was a group photo of personnel above middle management in the company, not so densely packed. Fu Weishan was undoubtedly surrounded in the very center like stars around the moon, and Yan Zishu stood beside him, like a loyal guard to a king.

The faces of other people in the photo seemed to become a useless background, as if only these two were the highlighted focus.

Fu Jinchi suddenly laughed silently. It even became more exaggerated, his body shaking with laughter.

The lamplight reflected in his eyes, like two deep and dim flames burning.

There is a common knowledge, so common it’s almost not even considered common sense: buying commercial insurance for oneself does not necessarily require filling in a death beneficiary. If the insured does not wish to designate a family member to receive the money, and unfortunately dies unexpectedly, the compensation will be treated as general inheritance.

But someone secretly, with all their heart, filled in “Fu Weishan” in this column.

Then he put away this little thought, tucked it into a brick-like professional book, and placed it on the top shelf of the bookshelf, never seeing the light of day.

Fu Jinchi believed in a simple philosophy of life: to see where a person’s affections lie, first look at whom they give their money to.

Of course, some would say money cannot represent affection, and that is true—if he is willing to give you money, it doesn’t necessarily mean he has affection for you, but if he isn’t even willing to give you money, then he definitely has no affection for you.

So how could this not be funny?

Yan Zishu was a very contradictory person. He was respectful and obedient to Fu Weishan, yet he casually betrayed his master.

He could carelessly mingle with Fu Weishan’s enemies, trampling his due loyalty underfoot.

Yet, at home, he still hid an insurance policy entrusted to Fu Weishan, a photo hidden among the crowd, not daring to express his feelings.

Fu Jinchi almost felt this was some kind of tragic drama of unrequited love turning into hatred.

Fu Jinchi, after his laughter subsided, was outlined by heavy shadows, appearing somewhat chilling. He arranged the large volumes, finally saving the poor upper shelf, then stood by the window for a while, walked around to the other side of the bed, and slept embracing Yan Zishu.

Yan Zishu’s dream was hazy. He had a sense of crisis, always feeling that something important was about to be late, yet his feet seemed glued to the ground. Even with all his might, he could barely move an inch, confined in a frozen frame like slow motion.

Suddenly waking up, the sky was bright.

He rarely got up at six in the morning.

But opening his eyes, he found himself held so tightly by Fu Jinchi that he couldn’t move, no wonder he had such a difficult nightmare.

Ventilation and release, tension and rest. After a deep sleep, the previous night’s discord and affectation were long forgotten.

It was another new day, crisp and clear.

Fu Jinchi felt the person in his arms stir, and also woke up. He casually released his hand and sat up, leaning against the headboard, fiddling with his phone.

It wasn’t until Yan Zishu got up that he reminded him with a half-smile: “Yesterday, when I was tidying your bookshelf, an insurance policy fell out. Is this thing still useful? You should put it in a folder; just clipping it in a book, who knows when it’ll get lost.”

Yan Zishu paused, unfolding his glasses.

He put on his glasses and “hmm-ed” in confusion.

Seeing the document on the desk, flattened by a book, he understood what was going on.

This thing.

It was useful, but mainly in another sense.

In the plot, he was infatuated with Fu Weishan. This love was suppressed too deeply, and though he had a mouth, he would rather die than speak, only secretly doing evil with a twisted heart. Until after his well-deserved death, when the protagonist “gong” and “shou” were happily together, he unexpectedly received a call from the insurance company.

Imagine the scene—Fu Weishan, after many ups and downs, finally understood his beloved’s heart. As they embraced affectionately, the insurance company manager’s mechanical voice informed him from afar that he had a sum of compensation to inherit.

The two protagonists looked at each other, came to the apartment where this malicious cannon fodder once lived, and finally found this insurance policy among his belongings.

The person was gone, rights and wrongs vanished like smoke, leaving only this trace of his life, carrying a hopeless extravagant wish.

The cannon fodder loved too deeply, and his obsession was too deep. Even after his death, he spared no effort to leave something in Fu Weishan’s heart.

Fu Weishan stood in the dust-filled room, accumulated from being uninhabited, and saw his own name. What would he think?

…

Yan Zishu’s thought at the time was that it wasn’t much trouble, so he might as well buy it.

He only needed to provide a medical examination report, and the insurance company manager would handle the entire process, requiring only payment and signature.

By the way, although the probability was small, if he unfortunately contracted a critical illness before the ending, he could receive compensation before the protagonist.

He didn’t think too much, just felt it had a certain practicality.

Later, he took the policy receipt home, thinking that since it would be found sooner or later, Yan Zishu didn’t want to increase the difficulty, so he casually clipped it in a book. As for the photo, a solo photo of Fu Weishan seemed more appropriate, but it felt a bit perverted, so he changed it to a group photo.

Who knew that on an ordinary day, it would first be discovered by the villain BOSS.

Under Fu Jinchi’s playful gaze, Yan Zishu remained silent for a moment, not showing any embarrassment. He calmly walked over, flipped through it, then turned around, opened a locked drawer, found an empty folder, and put the policy inside.

The photo was casually placed on the bookshelf.

After locking everything back up, he seemed unsure what to do next, then began to ponder: Did this need an explanation?

Indeed, Yan Zishu could attribute everything to his background as a mere backdrop: he was an orphan with no relatives, and having received so-called elite education through Fu family’s funding for many years, he was repaying Fu Zhizhang’s son in this manner.

However, a moment’s thought would lead to the conclusion that no matter how deliberately embellished, it would only seem more like trying to cover up.

To think Fu Jinchi would believe such a low-intelligence excuse would be underestimating his intelligence.

Now Fu Jinchi had undoubtedly seen it, and undoubtedly vaguely suspected he was having an affair with Fu Weishan.

If he didn’t explain, Fu Jinchi might only be suspicious. If he explained, it would be tantamount to an indirect admission.

Yan Zishu merely put on a cold facade and said: “Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Fu.”

Let him think what he wants.

Fu Jinchi sat sideways on the bed, staring at his face, but suddenly asked: “Have you never called me by my name?”

Yan Zishu was startled: “That… might not be very polite.”

He really couldn’t recall ever calling him by his name; it was always “Mr. Fu, Mr. Fu.”

But when he went to the Fu family’s old residence, he would also call those who were difficult to address “Mr. Fu,” a dime a dozen, completely worthless.

Fu Jinchi laughed: “I’m not some king or general who needs to be avoided. How is it impolite?”

Yan Zishu was speechless.

Ultimately, it was about not wanting to be psychologically close.

But saying he wasn’t close now seemed a bit like self-deception.

Fortunately, no matter what Fu Jinchi thought, he always prided himself on being a man of style and wouldn’t be overly persistent. The topic stopped here.

Otherwise, Yan Zishu was really afraid that the other party would suddenly become enthusiastic about asking: “Are you treating me as someone else’s stand-in?”

Or even more melodramatic, insisting on knowing: “Who were you thinking about last night?”

That didn’t sound like Fu Jinchi’s style at all.

Yan Zishu himself didn’t think the two brothers resembled each other anywhere, probably mainly due to their diametrically opposite personalities.

But objectively speaking, Fu Jinchi and Fu Weishan did bear some resemblance in their outlines.

This was a gift of blood relation, which was unavoidable no matter whether the parties involved wanted to admit it or not.

Especially from a distance, just looking at their backs, there was indeed a possibility of mistaking one for the other.

Just as Ji Chen, when he came to work on Monday, saw his briefly separated partner in the company, and excitedly rushed to hug the other’s waist. Before he could even exclaim, “You’re back so soon!”, he was embarrassed and surprised to find, when the other turned around, that it wasn’t Fu Weishan.

Fu Jinchi stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at him with a half-smile.

The day before was Sunday. Fu Weishan had an important social engagement, went out for the whole day, and had to stay overnight, so he hadn’t returned yet.

Fu Jinchi kindly took the initiative to resolve the awkwardness, even showing a cunning expression: “It’s just mistaking someone, everyone does it.”

Ji Chen blushed, but then felt the other person was very kind: “Have we met somewhere before?”

Fu Jinchi smiled and said: “You’ve forgotten? But I see you seem to have fallen in love.”

This mature and steady tone evoked Ji Chen’s memory: “You are that—”

That kind guest who helped him out of a predicament and encouraged him to try bravely.

Ji Chen never expected to meet the other party again, let alone at his own company, which was nothing short of a surprise.

The two unexpectedly reunited, chatting and laughing, walking down the corridor.

Ji Chen heard the other party introduce himself as the new director, officially reporting to the company on his first day.

However, it seemed that the tables had turned. The person who had previously helped him out of embarrassment was now in an awkward situation himself.

Fu Jinchi looked at the office, which was piled with many things but didn’t even have an office chair, and couldn’t help but show a wry smile.

But his wry smile was also restrained and polite: “Excuse me, young student, could you please help me find a chair?”