The Wealthy Old Man’s Palm-Sized Pet - Chapter 2

Fu Can’s birthday arrived quickly. Song Zhiyuan headed to the Fu residence with a carefully prepared birthday gift.

They had forged their friendship back in tenth grade during military training. Having both been punished with laps around the field by the instructor for imperfect movements, they bonded over the shared ordeal. At that time, another boy in their class from a wealthy family constantly flaunted limited-edition sneakers and jerseys, his superiority written all over his face. Fu Can was the complete opposite; despite growing up in luxury, he was simple, kind, and never acted as if he were above anyone else. Consequently, Fu Can was very popular.

Song Zhiyuan took a taxi to the Fu villa. The estate was incredibly lavish, with a garden nearly the size of a football field. When he saw Fu Can, the latter was rare in a formal suit and bowtie, his hair neatly combed. He looked spirited and handsome—in this moment, he truly looked the part of a wealthy young heir.

Song Zhiyuan wished him a happy birthday and handed over the gift. Fu Can accepted it happily, draping an arm around Song Zhiyuan’s shoulder almost like he was acting spoiled. “Song Zhiyuan, I thought you wouldn’t come.” Fu Can had been worried; lately, Song Zhiyuan was always busy and hard to find. “We haven’t met in so long; we have to have a great time today.”

As the only child, Fu Can’s parents hosted a lively and luxurious party. Fu Can introduced Song Zhiyuan to his friends. Though they didn’t know him, they were welcoming; as Fu Can’s friend, he was treated as one of their own. Moreover, they were surprised Fu Can had such a beautiful and handsome friend, and many gazes lingered on Song Zhiyuan.

Song Zhiyuan stayed quietly in a corner, watching them. He knew Fu Can was trying to help him integrate, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered if he would see Fu Can’s uncle today. Fu Can had mentioned that every year on his birthday, his uncle would come by to deliver a gift.

In the middle of the banquet, after drinking a few cocktails, Song Zhiyuan got up to find the restroom. The villa was so large he had to ask a maid for directions. The guest restroom was staggering in its luxury, featuring blooming roses on the vanity and the fragrance of fresh flowers.

As he washed his hands, his thoughts drifted. Fu Xingnian hadn’t appeared yet; perhaps he wouldn’t see him tonight. The debt collectors had been quiet the past two days, but Song Zhiyuan was worried they might have found his grandmother. He felt relieved only after calling her and confirming no strangers had visited.

His grandmother was getting older and her health was declining. If his father, Song Tianlai, caused her any harm, Song Zhiyuan would never forgive him. It had been three months since Song Tianlai vanished, and Song Zhiyuan had even considered filing a missing persons report.

Distracted by these thoughts, Song Zhiyuan didn’t watch where he was going and bumped into someone, stumbling back half a step.

“I’m sorry.” As he apologized, a familiar scent of perfume hit him. He froze when he saw the tall man before him: Fu Xingnian. He had actually come. “Mr. Fu, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Fu Xingnian’s expression remained unchanged, though his gaze lingered on the boy for an extra two seconds. He remembered this boy from the club entrance the one who had come straight for him. Meeting him here again tonight, it seemed the boy had done his homework.

Song Zhiyuan, bolstered by a sudden burst of courage, grabbed Fu Xingnian’s sleeve. “Mr. Fu, could you reconsider what I said the other day? I need your help.”

Fu Xingnian looked at him. He hadn’t looked closely that night; the boy was more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen. Song Zhiyuan looked at him innocently, his delicate fingertips pink from the effort of gripping the fabric, his cheeks flushed. To Fu Xingnian, he looked pitiful, but he knew this boy wasn’t as fragile as he appeared.

Looking down at the hand on his sleeve—no one usually dared touch him like this Fu Xingnian noted that the owner had no intention of letting go. He met Song Zhiyuan’s eyes and said playfully, “Repay me? Do you know what that means?”

Song Zhiyuan looked at him with vulnerable eyes and whispered, “I know.”

“Then how do you plan to repay me? What do you want to do?” Fu Xingnian emphasized the word “repay.” His tone was flat, yet Song Zhiyuan felt an invisible pressure, feeling like a tiny ant before a giant.

“As long as Mr. Fu is willing, I’ll do anything.”

“Song Zhiyuan, so this is where you are.” A voice broke the tension. Fu Can ran over, looking worried. He had noticed Song Zhiyuan was missing for ten minutes and feared he was lost. Then he saw his uncle. “Uncle.”

Fu Xingnian handed Fu Can a bank card. “Birthday gift. The password is your birthday.”

“Thanks, Uncle!” Fu Can was thrilled; the amount on the annual card was never small. “Uncle, this is my classmate and best friend, Song Zhiyuan.”

Fu Can then introduced his uncle to Song Zhiyuan, who acted as if they were meeting for the first time: “Uncle Fu.”

Song Zhiyuan felt Fu Xingnian glance at him after he used that title. “This is your classmate?” Fu Xingnian asked. Fu Can nodded happily, explaining they had been best friends for all three years of high school. He was surprised his uncle was asking questions. Fu Xingnian gave a noncommittal hum and went upstairs.

Fu Can noticed Song Zhiyuan looked a bit pale. “My uncle is just cold-natured and doesn’t like to smile. Don’t take it to heart.”

“It’s fine,” Song Zhiyuan replied. He felt a sense of loss that Fu Xingnian still hadn’t given him an answer. Fu Can, assuming he was down because of his uncle’s coldness, put an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go eat cake.”

Fu Can, being slightly taller, naturally tucked Song Zhiyuan under his arm. From the corner of his eye, the ascending Fu Xingnian saw the two of them acting intimate and let out a cold sneer.

The eight-layer birthday cake was the largest Song Zhiyuan had ever seen. Fu Can carved a piece with extra cream for him, knowing he loved it. Seeing Song Zhiyuan smile as he ate, Fu Can was also happy. However, Fu Xingnian did not reappear, and Song Zhiyuan assumed he had left.

From an upstairs window, Fu Xingnian watched the young people in the garden. Song Zhiyuan and Fu Can were inseparable, with Fu Can constantly bringing him food and drink. As the night went on, someone suggested a game of “passing the card.”

Fu Can explained the rules to Song Zhiyuan, thinking he was too “well-behaved” to have played before. The game involved passing a card from mouth to mouth; if it fell, the players’ lips would likely meet and even if it didn’t, it was essentially an indirect kiss.

Song Zhiyuan smiled and declined, saying he needed the restroom. He didn’t want to play, and they didn’t force him. Seeing his flushed cheeks, Fu Can asked, “Are you okay? Want me to go with you?”

Song Zhiyuan waved him off. “No, you guys keep playing.”

This time, Song Zhiyuan didn’t need a guide. But he had drunk a lot of wine and felt dizzy. In the sprawling estate, he lost his way and couldn’t find the direction of the restroom. Dazed, he pushed open a door and headed straight for the bathroom inside not noticing the man standing by the window with a wine glass in hand.