Xu Xiliu initially thought he had misheard. But when Qin Li actually placed the frisbee back in his hand, he realized—this wasn’t a hallucination. The man genuinely wanted him to throw it again.

Was this even logical?

Did this frisbee possess some kind of magic?

He examined the object closely. It was just an ordinary dog frisbee—small, lightweight, and branded with "HeartBaby" on the underside. Nothing special.

Yet Qin Li’s gaze remained fixed on it, silently demanding. The longer Xu Xiliu hesitated, the more palpable the man’s impatience grew. His dark eyes deepened, as if he might lunge forward at any moment.

Unnerved, Xu Xiliu decided to humor him.

Fine. He’s not in his right mind anyway.

With a resigned sigh, he tossed the frisbee again.

As expected, Qin Li’s attention followed its arc. When it landed, he picked it up and handed it back to Xu Xiliu without a word. Strangely, his demeanor had softened—the earlier agitation faded, replaced by an eerie calm.

If not for the lingering haze in his eyes, no one would suspect anything was wrong.

"Again."

The cold command made Xu Xiliu’s lips twitch.

Such a domineering tone… for a frisbee throw?

Still, he obliged.

...What kind of absurd situation is this?

Why do I feel like I’m babysitting?

Where the hell is the butler? How long does it take to fetch medicine?

Exhaustion crept in. Eventually, Xu Xiliu plopped onto the carpet.

"Enough. Break time!"

He was drained.

The study wasn’t designed for frisbee-throwing. Each toss required precision—too much force, and he risked shattering glass or hitting Qin Li. After several rounds, his arms ached.

Qin Li’s gaze, now tinged with impatience, bore into him. Xu Xiliu ignored it, pulling out his phone for distraction.

A piece of candy—rose lychee flavored, his favorite—soothed his nerves.

Then his screen lit up with trending Weibo notifications.

About Qin Li?

Curious, he skimmed the headlines.

The articles covered their banquet appearance, but the tone was vicious. Speculations about Qin Li’s mental state ran wild, painting him as unstable, dangerous—even blaming him for his parents’ deaths.

Xu Xiliu’s frown deepened.

Baseless slander.

He was about to close the app when another "exposé" popped up—this one delving into Qin Li’s family history. Against his better judgment, he clicked.

The piece was riddled with malice, accusing Qin Li of being a "curse" who destroyed his family. The conclusion? He was unfit to inherit the Qin Corporation.

Xu Xiliu scoffed.

Too blatant. This reeks of orchestrated defamation.

Probably the antagonist’s doing.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Qin Li’s breathing turning ragged—until a shadow loomed over him.

The man was inches away, his crimson-tinged eyes locked onto the phone screen. Rage radiated from him, his fingers twitching as if seconds from snapping.

Xu Xiliu’s pulse spiked.

Shit. Triggered.

He immediately shut off the screen and tossed the phone aside.

Qin Li’s gaze followed, but Xu Xiliu grabbed his collar, forcing his attention back.

"Look at me. Not that."

The man’s pupils were dilated, his breaths uneven. Yet, deprived of the stimulus, his tension gradually eased.

Xu Xiliu held his ground, praying for the butler’s swift return.

The candy in his mouth dissolved, its sweet floral notes lingering. He crunched it hastily—now wasn’t the time for choking hazards.

Then he noticed Qin Li staring at his lips.

"You smell good."

Xu Xiliu froze.

"...Excuse me?"

Before he could process the absurdity, Qin Li lunged.

The impact knocked Xu Xiliu flat. The man’s weight pinned him as Qin Li buried his face against his neck, inhaling deeply.

"So sweet."

Xu Xiliu’s brain short-circuited.

Is he... sniffing me?!

Every exhale against his skin sent shivers down his spine. His ears burned crimson.

This is insane!

He tried pushing Qin Li off, but the man was immovable.

"Mr. Qin—if you want candy, I’ll give you some. Just—get off!"

No response. Qin Li continued his olfactory exploration, murmuring "good" like a starved man savoring a feast.

Xu Xiliu’s patience frayed.

Then—footsteps.

The butler’s voice rang out, then cut off abruptly.

Xu Xiliu turned his head to see Old Zhong frozen in the doorway, his expression cycling through shock, disbelief, and... dawning comprehension.

Oh no.

"Apologies for interrupting," the butler said stiffly. "I’ll return later."

The door clicked shut.

Xu Xiliu’s outstretched hand hung in the air.

"WAIT—IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!"