Chapter 7: “If you’re not in the mood, I can help you”
Jiang Chi stood in place for a while, staring at Hong Zixiao’s retreating figure, before dazedly stepping into the elevator.
This kind of news, to any man, was nothing short of a bolt from the blue.
Subconsciously, Jiang Chi believed there was nothing wrong with himself — but then again, there was no reason for Hong Zixiao to lie.
So what exactly was going on?
Jiang Chi vaguely remembered that when he woke up this morning… he did have a reaction, didn’t he?
God, he hadn’t even paid attention to something like that. What normal man would?!
In theory, if the original owner had some kind of physical issue, that problem would have been inherited by Jiang Chi after transmigrating into the book. But Jiang Chi was very sure that before all this, his body had been perfectly healthy. So why would his body in this world…
But it was fine — thankfully, this wasn’t something that required a hospital visit for confirmation. He could find out the truth when he took a shower later.
As of now, the outcome was unknown. There was a 50-50 chance.
But even a 50% possibility was pretty bad!
Jiang Chi was hit hard by the blow.
He unlocked the apartment door with his fingerprint, nodded absentmindedly at Qin Yan who was sitting on the couch, and said distractedly, “Make yourself at home. I’m going to take a shower first.”
With that, Jiang Chi tossed the stuff in his hand onto the coffee table and stumbled back to his room, looking utterly lost.
Qin Yan glanced at the small blue box Jiang Chi had thrown onto the table.
“……”
Two minutes later, Jiang Chi emerged, shirtless, wearing only a pair of ankle-cuffed joggers, and drifted into the bathroom like a ghost.
As the bathroom door closed, a heavy sigh came from inside.
Qin Yan: “???”
At this point, Jiang Chi couldn’t care less that someone else was in the apartment. Before he could confirm the situation, he had no energy left to think about anything else.
This was way too important for a man.
Although Jiang Chi had never actually used it in his twenty-something years of life… that didn’t mean he could calmly accept such devastating news.
It was like a warrior’s sword — you might not need to use it, but you absolutely could not be without it!
Turning on the shower, with the sound of rushing water filling the air, Jiang Chi steeled himself and decided to verify things personally.
Three minutes later, Jiang Chi hastily wrapped a towel around his waist, not even bothering to dry himself off, and stormed out of the bathroom. Under Qin Yan’s shocked gaze, he bolted back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
Immediately after, Qin Yan heard a long string of curses.
Really — a very, very foul string of curses, even worse than what you’d hear in a trap house.
Jiang Chi’s furious roar came from inside the room: “Hong Zixiao, are you out of your damn mind?! You scared the shit out of me!”
Underneath the white towel, an obvious, angry-looking bulge made its presence known, twitching slightly with every surge of Jiang Chi’s rage.
“Who the hell said I’m not working?! I’m working just fine!”
Jiang Chi grabbed his phone and roared:
“Extremely fine! Big and fully functional!”
Hong Zixiao had expected to get yelled at, but he definitely hadn’t expected Jiang Chi to be… completely fine!
This was truly fantastic news!
Honestly, that “Ji Yu” — so cold, so pure, and so beautiful he looked like a reincarnated nine-tailed fox — with those cool, enchanting eyes, like hooks carved from cold jade that pierced straight into a person’s heart… who wouldn’t get bewitched just looking at him?
Hearing the good news, Hong Zixiao was genuinely happy for Jiang Chi and didn’t mind getting scolded at all.
With his usual good temper, Hong Zixiao said:
“Yes, yes, yes, you’re perfectly fine — that’s great! I’ll throw you a huge party later… I told you, it was never your problem, it’s just that your standards were too high. But now, look — everything’s good, really good!”
After letting it all out, Jiang Chi gradually calmed down, his emotions settling back into balance.
He didn’t know how many exes the original owner had, nor did he want this incident to drag those people into unnecessary gossip.
Lowering his voice, Jiang Chi said, “That was all because I wasn’t serious before — it had nothing to do with anyone else. Don’t ever bring this up again.”
Hong Zixiao replied casually, “OK, whatever you say, Brother Chi. Wanna come out for drinks tonight? I’ll gather the guys.”
Sitting on the bed, Jiang Chi wiped the water from his shoulders with a towel. “No need. And don’t throw any party either — it’s not exactly something to celebrate… Oh, by the way, does anyone else know about this?”
Hong Zixiao: “Nah.”
Jiang Chi asked, “Then how did you find out?”
Hong Zixiao chuckled. “Because we’re best bros, of course. Don’t worry — no one else knows.”
Hearing that, Jiang Chi finally let out a breath of relief and casually tossed the towel onto the table.
After chatting a bit more with Hong Zixiao, Jiang Chi hung up, exhausted, and collapsed onto the bed.
As his emotions settled, his scattered mind slowly returned.
And then it hit him — there was still someone sitting in his living room! Unless the guy was deaf, he definitely would’ve heard that entire phone call!
This was beyond embarrassing.
Had he even bothered to properly wrap the towel when he came out of the bathroom?
Was everything covered?
Would the guy think he was some kind of lunatic?
Jiang Chi shot up, re-wrapped the towel tightly around himself, pulled a T-shirt over his head, and carefully cracked open the bedroom door to peek outside.
Qin Yan was in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.
Hearing the door open, Qin Yan raised his glass toward Jiang Chi in a toast and said from afar:
“Congratulations, Second Young Master Jiang — big and fully functional.”
Instantly, Jiang Chi broke out in a cold sweat. From the tips of his ears down to his neck, he flushed bright red.
With a loud bang, he slammed the door shut again.
Right before the door closed, Jiang Chi caught sight of a small blue box sitting on the coffee table.
It was the box of condoms Hong Zixiao had bought for him!
He had just casually tossed it onto the coffee table — Right in front of “Ji Yu”!!
Hong Zixiao, you traitorous bastard!
Oh, heavens — couldn’t he just get one more chance to transmigrate again?
Please, even rewinding fifteen minutes would be fine!
This was way too awkward. Ji Yu must definitely think he was some kind of pervert, or a lunatic, or a lunatic pervert.
Putting himself in Ji Yu’s shoes — if someone he’d only known for two days suddenly tossed something like that right in front of him, Jiang Chi would’ve thrown a punch without hesitation.
Ji Yu had such a good temper.
But… he probably wouldn’t trust him anymore, right? After all, he must have looked like a total creep.
Jiang Chi had never wished for time to rewind — or for someone to conveniently lose their memory — as much as he did at this moment.
Even though he had only half-finished his shower, Jiang Chi no longer had the courage to leave his room.
Hiding inside, he opened his laptop, ordered a batch of materials from an online building supplies market, and started designing a mosquito elimination system for his room.
Before he could actually finish building the system, Jiang Chi also ordered a bunch of common mosquito-repelling products from a delivery app — mosquito nets, bug-repellent lamps, electric coils, sprays — anything he could think of.
…
Half an hour later, the delivery guy knocking at the door became the excuse Jiang Chi needed to finally leave his room.
Only now did Jiang Chi truly understand what “social death” felt like.
Luckily, his bedroom was close to the front door. He didn’t have to cross that living room — the living room now forever stained with dark memories — to grab the delivery bag.
At that moment, Qin Yan was still sitting on the sofa, having adjusted the electric recliner into the perfect position, nestled against a pillow, watching TV.
And that cursed blue box…
It was still there.
Sitting untouched on the coffee table.
It hadn’t magically disappeared like Jiang Chi had desperately prayed it would.
Jiang Chi used the delivery bag to shield the small blue box from view, crouched down on the carpet, and started pulling out the mosquito products one by one, ripping open the packaging.
Seizing the opportunity, he stealthily slipped the blue box into the pile of wrappers, trying to pull off a disappearing act and erase it from existence once and for all.
After what he thought was a very sneaky operation, Jiang Chi looked up and stole a glance at Qin Yan.
Qin Yan was already looking straight at him.
Startled, Jiang Chi jerked, nearly falling over.
Fortunately, thanks to years of regular training, his lower body was rock solid; after wobbling a bit, he managed to steady himself and forced himself to meet Qin Yan’s gaze with a straight face.
Everyone has embarrassing moments — it’s no big deal.
In his heart, Jiang Chi cheered himself on: We’re all adults here. As long as I stay calm and composed, this whole thing will pass quietly out of my life.
Right. Just turn the page.
That stupid little blue box, the “big and functional” nonsense — let it all blow away with the wind.
Acting all nonchalant, Jiang Chi began unpacking the mosquito net, planning to wash it before hanging it up.
The afternoon sun was warm and bright. His apartment, perched on the top floor, had a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and a large terrace, letting in heaps of light.
The mosquito net was made of light, thin material — it would dry quickly once hung over the laundry rack under the sun. Afterward, he could set it up in the bedroom, preventing any brainless mosquitoes from biting “Ji Yu” again.
“I bought a mosquito net and an electric repellent,” Jiang Chi said, handing Qin Yan a mosquito lamp. “You can put this in your bedroom.”
Qin Yan accepted the lamp, but his eyes landed on the dark water stain on Jiang Chi’s shoulder.
Jiang Chi’s hair was already dry, but the T-shirt — damp from where the tips of his hair had soaked it — was not.
Jiang Chi touched the wet patch on his shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Qin Yan quickly looked away.
Jiang Chi stood tall, his posture straight and poised. His chest was lean, his abs sharply defined, and his entire silhouette had the graceful strength of someone who trained regularly. Because he hadn’t intentionally bulked up, his chest muscles weren’t overly thick, which toned down any overly aggressive sharpness, making him visually pleasant, almost effortlessly attractive.
When he had stepped out of the bathroom earlier, water had traced a path down from the curve of his neck, across his collarbones, gliding along his chest and stomach, disappearing along the V-line beneath his towel.
Qin Yan let out a slow breath.
It was… painfully obvious what Jiang Chi had been doing in the bathroom just now.
In Qin Yan’s life up until now, he had always been educated under elite, traditional philosophies.
Although he had studied abroad since he was young, when it came to matters of love and intimacy, his grandfather had strictly upheld Chinese traditions — such topics were never discussed openly in broad daylight.
Thus, in Qin Yan’s understanding, Jiang Chi’s earlier behavior was… not exactly appropriate for midday.
But Jiang Chi clearly didn’t think so.
In broad daylight, doing that in the bathroom — and with someone else still in the house — as if it was perfectly normal.
So domestic young people are even more open than abroad, Qin Yan thought. Way more straightforward.
Regarding the ideological differences between himself and Jiang Chi, Qin Yan decided he would approach them with an open mind — understanding and acceptance.
After all, Qin Yan had very little contact with people his own age; he was used to interacting with corporate presidents in their forties and fifties, which had imbued him with a kind of composure and depth far beyond his years.
To put it less flatteringly — he lived like an old man.
There really wasn’t much youthful vigor left in him.
Jiang Chi, on the other hand, was bursting with life.
According to information from his secretary, Jiang Chi was considered one of the standouts among the younger generation of the Wuchuan elite circles.
As a forward-thinking head of his household, Qin Yan was trying to adapt to the younger mindset — embracing diversity, refining and filtering as needed.
After all, one day, the older CEOs would retire and be replaced by the younger generation.
Qin Yan needed to learn how to get along with young people — and Jiang Chi, conveniently, was an excellent case study.
Of course, as for what Jiang Chi had just been doing in the bathroom, Qin Yan respectfully decided to… pass on that particular part.
For now, he would file it under the “rough” parts that needed filtering out.
Still, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it: Why do something like that in the middle of the day?
Was it some kind of special ritual?
Or maybe, under the blazing noon sun, when the Yang energy was at its peak, it had some miraculous, unforeseen effects?
Just now, he seemed to have vaguely heard Jiang Chi shouting something about whether it “worked” or not…
In any case, Qin Yan decided that the next time Jiang Chi needed the bathroom, he’d better just head back upstairs — to avoid encountering another situation like that, saving them both from further embarrassment.
Qin Yan turned to confirm with Jiang Chi: “Are you still using the bathroom?”
Jiang Chi didn’t even look up as he tore open the packaging of the mosquito net.
“No, I’m done.”
Relieved, Qin Yan shifted his attention back to the television.
“What’s wrong with using the bathroom?” Jiang Chi asked casually, as he walked out to the balcony, tossing the mosquito net into the washing machine. He mumbled, “The seller sent a pink mosquito net. I’m washing it first. By the way, are you okay with pink?”
“Any color is fine,” Qin Yan replied, a little hesitant. He struggled to organize his words, then said vaguely, “I was just surprised that you’re… used to doing it at noon. But it’s fine. Everyone has their own habits — you don’t have to feel embarrassed.”
Jiang Chi, completely unaware that Qin Yan was talking about his… activities in the bathroom, thought he was referring to washing the mosquito net.
Glancing at the rumbling washing machine, Jiang Chi said, “I’m not embarrassed. Are you saying it’s too noisy?”
Qin Yan’s ears turned faintly red.
“Not really. I didn’t hear too much earlier… It’s just — when do you usually do it? So I can avoid it next time.”
Jiang Chi: “There’s no fixed time. Usually, whenever I think of it, I just do it.”
A look of utter confusion flickered across Qin Yan’s eyes.
Just doing it whenever he thought of it — were young people in China this casual nowadays?
The level of openness really was high, not a bit inferior to what he’d heard about abroad. Then again, he’d never really had friends his own age overseas either — all his knowledge about these things was hearsay. Maybe he was already out of touch.
Qin Yan successfully convinced himself and quickly regained his composure, as if he had silently compromised on something deep inside.
“Alright,” he said calmly, “it’s true — being in the mood is the most important thing.”
Jiang Chi gave him a strange look.
Qin Yan was sipping water at that moment, his slender neck slightly tilted back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His movements were unhurried and graceful — he looked just like an elegant, noble crane.
No wonder he’s an artist, Jiang Chi thought. He really does move so elegantly.
Even when it comes to dirty laundry, he has to wait until he’s “in the mood” to wash it. Elegant. Truly elegant.
Sliding the balcony door shut, Jiang Chi casually said, “It’s fine. If you’re not in the mood, I can help you—”
He hadn’t even finished saying the word “wash,” when Qin Yan, mid-sip, suddenly spat out a mouthful of water.
Jiang Chi: “!!!”
Qin Yan started coughing violently, practically hacking up a lung.
“No—cough, cough, cough—no need… I can do it myself—cough cough cough—thank you!”
