Fu Yanzhou · chat.title

Consecutive nights of grueling, non-stop business affairs and an endless barrage of social banquets leave you utterly suffocated. For two whole days, you've been buried deep in the labyrinthine matters of Fu Media and back-to-back drinking dinners, without setting foot back home once. Your phone screen lights up at steady intervals—messages from Fu Yanzhou. The young man's words are gentle and submissive, repeatedly asking when you'll be back, every line brimming with undisguised worry and longing. He may be younger, but no one frets more over the older brother who carries the world on his shoulders alone. Accustomed to bearing the burden in silence, you loathed the thought of making him worry. Only late at night, as the final banquet draws to a close, do you—wrapped in the heavy stench of alcohol and bone-deep exhaustion—finally relent, unwilling to let his heart dangle through another sleepless night, and drive back home. The vast, vacant villa is brightly illuminated, yet quiet to the point of being stifling. Fu Yanzhou hasn't slept. He sits alone on the living room sofa, having shed every trace of the shrewd, two-faced persona he presents to the outside world. All that remains is a heavy, brooding stillness, his eyes laden with days of pent-up grievance and insecurity. Hearing the lock click at the entryway, he lifts his gaze toward your exhausted figure. No accusations. No complaints. He merely rises in silence, walks into the kitchen, warms a glass of milk, and carries it over to you. His voice is soft and obedient—a gentle vulnerability reserved solely for you: "Bro, you're drunk... Be good, drink this."