Just as he intended, Lu Zhanlei had really blown the situation out of proportion.
By early the next morning, his suicide attempt in the city center had not only made the headlines of local news, it had exploded onto Weibo’s trending topics.
The headlines came in all shapes and sizes:
- “Heir of a Tycoon Fails Suicide Attempt Downtown!”
- “Biological and Adopted Sons Battle for Inheritance!”
- “Adopted Son Lives Lavishly While Forcing Brother to Attempt Suicide?”
- “Slapped on the Rooftop by Lover of Adopted Son?”
…
Videos, photos, and eyewitness “vivid” accounts from that day were picked apart pixel by pixel by the media, who exaggerated and sensationalized everything for traffic and money. No one cared what the truth really was. As long as it grabbed attention and made for gossip over meals, it served its purpose.
Aside from keywords like “tycoon,” “suicide,” and “inheritance fight,” what people were most fascinated by was the fact that the biological son of the Lu family had been slapped by the adopted son’s boyfriend.
Some said, no wonder the adopted son hadn’t returned home in years—he was out living lavishly and having gay affairs. His younger brother had kindly tried to bring him home, only to be slapped by an outsider.
Others said Lu Zhanlei must’ve been pushed to the edge by his brother and had no choice but to act out so drastically. “See? You can’t raise someone who’s not your blood. Raise them for years and they turn out to be a backstabber.”
Some even went so far as to dig up every bit of the adopted son’s boyfriend’s information—his name, school, major, class, academic records, and his social life.
The comment sections were full of wild speculation:
“Wow, you really can’t judge a book by its cover. He looks clean, polite, and academically outstanding—but turns out he’s a kept boy for a rich heir!”
Others chimed in,
“Who wouldn’t take that kind of opportunity? The guy’s good-looking and lucky. I’d want a rich heir to take care of me too.”
Then the conversation derailed entirely, turning into a discussion on how to get sponsored by a rich heir, or how to become rich enough to sponsor a guy like that.
This whirlwind of chaotic public opinion didn’t last too long. Within a few days, the noise and discussion were gradually suppressed.
It was obvious someone had intervened. Lu Nanyang knew that after things escalated, Lu Hongzhen had personally stepped in.
Lu Zhanlei hadn’t shown up for several days. When Lu Nanyang asked the dean, he was simply told that something had come up at home and he had taken a leave of absence.
When saying this, the dean even cast a disapproving glance at Lu Nanyang, as if saying, “Don’t you know what you’ve done?”
Lu Nanyang had been waiting for either Lu Hongzhen or Lu Zhanlei to come find him, but ever since the suicide incident, the Lu family had seemingly vanished from his life without a trace.
He had taken out his phone several times, wanting to open those familiar Lu-family contact names, but each time, he couldn’t summon the courage and ended up giving up.
He could clearly feel that over the past few days, people’s attitudes toward him had changed noticeably.
In the past, classmates would often ask him to play ball, eat, or help with questions after class, but in recent days, not a single person had approached him.
Sometimes, when he walked into the classroom, the lively chatter from just a moment before would abruptly stop. Heads that had been huddled together in animated conversation would suddenly part, each person pretending to busy themselves with something else.
“What were you guys talking about? Sounded fun,” Lu Nanyang asked.
“Nothing, just chatting about a game coming out next month,” someone replied casually.
“What game?” Lu Nanyang asked calmly.
The person was caught off guard by the question and couldn’t respond. His female deskmate, who was looking at her phone, suddenly interjected, “Why are you telling him this? It’s not like he can’t afford it.”
Someone else chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, there’s probably nothing the young master of the Lu family can’t buy.”
The girl laughed and nudged him, but before she could say anything else, Wen Fei’s sarcastic voice interrupted.
“Oh, there is something he can’t buy,” Wen Fei said, mimicking the girl’s voice, “Like some people’s foul mouths that are full of crap. Ugh, why am I even telling you this? You guys wouldn’t know what a clean mouth looks like anyway.”
The group’s expressions shifted, and they all got up and left their seats.
Wen Fei snorted through his nose, clearly disdainful. “Cowards who only dare gossip behind someone’s back.”
Lu Nanyang smiled helplessly. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to—”
“What is there to thank me for? If I didn’t stand up for my bro at a time like this, would I still be human?” Wen Fei said angrily. “Sure, I was shocked when I first found out about you two… but that was just shock, okay? I’ve already moved on. You two didn’t kill anyone or set anything on fire, you’re just in a relationship—why should you be treated like this?”
“I think maybe people just have a bit of a hatred for the rich,” Jia Rong said. “When I first met Lu Nanyang, I thought he could probably buy our whole school with a wave of his hand, and keep ten beautiful girls as sugar babies if he wanted. It wasn’t until I got to know him that I realized what kind of person he really is.”
Da Ze turned to Lu Nanyang seriously and asked, “Yang, be honest with us—did you actually sugar-baby Dr. Xie?”
Lu Nanyang couldn’t even be bothered to respond. “Get lost.”
….
Counting the days, it was Xie Quan’s turn on duty at the infirmary that day. Lu Nanyang used his lunch break to pay him a visit.
Xie Quan was hunched over his desk writing something and didn’t even notice someone approaching.
Lu Nanyang leaned against the door frame, staring at his back for a long while.
How can his boyfriend be this good-looking?
And from every angle too—flawless in all directions.
Even with just the view of him hunched over his desk, Lu Nanyang couldn’t help but let his gaze travel up his back, lingering on the back of his neck where some soft hair curled, and the faint outline of his Adam’s apple.
Finally managing to collect his wandering thoughts, Lu Nanyang knocked on the door.
“Come in—” Xie Quan said, only looking up after finishing the sentence. He froze for a second upon seeing Lu Nanyang, then smiled. “What brings you here?”
“What, not allowed to visit my boyfriend?” Lu Nanyang said playfully. With his hands behind his back, he shuffled up to the desk step by step, then suddenly revealed what he was holding. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” Xie Quan blinked and picked up the container. “Tea?”
“Yeah.” Lu Nanyang casually pulled a chair over and straddled it backwards, resting his elbows on the back. “I brought it from home ages ago—Xinyang Maojian. Never got around to drinking it. Found it while cleaning my dorm and figured I might as well bring it to you. I noticed you don’t have any decent tea in your office, only plain water.”
Xie Quan stared at the canister of tea for a long time, then chuckled lightly and pushed it back. “You think this is my private office or something, bringing tea like this?”
“Why not?” Lu Nanyang said, full of righteous logic. “You’re the only one who really uses this office anyway. When others come by, just hide the tea so they don’t see it.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Xie Quan sighed. “If you really want to drink some, bring it home and we can brew it there. This office… won’t be mine for much longer.”
“What?” Lu Nanyang froze.
“I can’t continue my infirmary shifts anymore. The faculty believes it’s… damaging to the school’s reputation,” Xie Quan said calmly. “I came here today mainly to pack up my things.”
Lu Nanyang stood there dumbfounded, only then realizing that the office was noticeably emptier than usual.
The books in the cabinets were all gone. The piles of documents on the desk had vanished. Even Xie Quan’s mug and pen holder were missing. Looking down, Lu Nanyang saw a black plastic bag by his feet, stuffed with all of Xie Quan’s personal belongings.
“Why?” Lu Nanyang’s anger flared instantly. “What do they mean ‘damaging the school’s reputation’? Did you do something terrible? Did you steal? Rob someone?”
“Calm down,” Xie Quan said with a chuckle. “You make it sound like I was fired by a company. I wasn’t even getting paid for these shifts. Not doing them just gives me more free time for other things—what’s so bad about that?”
“…” Lu Nanyang opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but before he could get any words out, Xie Quan stood up from the desk, casually slipped the paper he’d been writing on into a book, and said, “Want to go eat? Let’s go.”
The words on that paper flashed past Lu Nanyang’s eyes, and only a few stood out in his mind:
“Regarding”… “caused”… “self-reflection.”
Just as he was about to take a closer look, Xie Quan had already packed up his things, shoved the plastic bag into Lu Nanyang’s arms, and opened the door with a bright smile. “Let’s go. Carry it for me, boyfriend.”
“…” Caught off guard, Lu Nanyang took the bag and followed Xie Quan out the door. His emotions churned like a boiling pot of soup—anger, confusion, helplessness—all bubbling up from his chest, only to be blocked by that affectionate word: “boyfriend.”
It was noon, and the infirmary building was quiet. A few students came in groups of twos or threes to pick up medicine. When they saw the two of them, their stares were blatantly unfiltered. Just as Lu Nanyang was about to glare back at them, those students stifled their laughter and quickly walked away.
Xie Quan frowned and tugged on Lu Nanyang’s arm. “Ignore them.”
“But…”
Xie Quan shook his head. “The more attention you give people like that, the more they’ll escalate. Just hold onto my stuff—I still have one last thing to clean up.”
The last thing he needed to clean was the long-forgotten suggestion box outside the infirmary. The school had installed one outside every administrative office as a standard practice, but no one ever used them—hardly anyone even opened them.
So over time, they often became filled with trash—cigarette butts, scraps of paper, food wrappers, and the like.
Xie Quan searched for a while before finally finding the tiny key to the suggestion box among his large keyring. But the moment he opened it, a pile of crumpled paper notes came bursting out.
They had all been shoved inside by someone—every single one scrawled in bold, gaudy marker pen:
“Whore.”
“Hooker.”
“How much does Lu Nanyang pay you for a night?”
“Yuncheng University’s disgrace.”
The paper slips, filled with vicious insults, fluttered to the floor like snowflakes, scattering everywhere. Lu Nanyang stared at Xie Quan in disbelief, pointing at the mess on the floor. “This is what you mean by ‘ignore it’?”
Xie Quan didn’t say a word. He turned and walked back into the office, came out with a broom and dustpan, and began cleaning up the mess.
“You—” Just as Lu Nanyang was about to explode, Xie Quan bent down, picked out a few paper slips from the pile, tore and reassembled them, then slapped them together with a sharp “pa” on the front of the suggestion box—right under the words “Suggestion Box.”
He rearranged the ripped words into a new sentence:
“Lu Nanyang’s Exclusive Whore Suggestion Box.”
Xie Quan calmly folded his arms and looked toward a group of people hiding nearby, giggling and watching. The grins instantly froze on their faces. They jostled each other and quickly fled.
“Let’s go,” Xie Quan said, raising an eyebrow.
