When Hu Xiaoyu said kiss, he meant exactly that—a kiss.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of Yu Tan's mouth, tasting the faint sweetness of cake.
Because of his foxish habits, he brushed his nose against Yu Tan's cheek before pulling back, soft and cool like a breeze.
And that was it.
Yu Tan didn't stop him. He only tightened his hold around the boy, one arm circling his waist while the other hand slid up to the back of his neck, urging him closer—
As if the kiss had been an invitation, not a retreat.
But Hu Xiaoyu's spiritual energy was nearly depleted. After what he'd used on Yang Kai and Yu Wenhe earlier, exhaustion came crashing down.
The moment Yu Tan's lips touched his, he mumbled against them, "Tired… Yu Tan," and rested his head on his shoulder.
Yu Tan ignored it at first. When he wanted something—or someone—he rarely stopped until he had it.
But before he could move again, Hu Xiaoyu was already asleep, his head drooping gently against his chest.
Yu Tan looked down. The boy's long lashes curled upward like inked feathers.
Delicate. Peaceful. Too fragile to touch.
After so long together, Yu Tan had begun to recognize his little fox's small habits.
Like how his lashes curled tighter when he was half-asleep, or how his breathing softened just before he drifted off.
He exhaled slowly and pulled him into his lap.
He could've done anything he wanted—yet, for some reason, he didn't.
A low hum escaped him, cold and dissatisfied. Just from filming an ad, and he's this tired? And he still wants to act?
When Hu Xiaoyu woke up, he was lying on the sofa in the study.
The room was dim except for the desk lamp. Yu Tan sat behind the desk, working, his pale skin illuminated like marble. Calm. Sharp. Unreachable.
Outside, the night was deep.
Hu Xiaoyu pushed off the blanket and sat up, realizing he was already in his pajamas.
It wasn't surprising. Yu Tan often made him stay in the studies while he worked—"to keep him company," he said.
Sometimes Hu Xiaoyu played games or watched dramas; sometimes he simply fell asleep.
Yu Tan's excuse was always practical:
"Someone has to be here to serve tea. I can't be the only one working while the bodyguard rests."
But Uncle Hong had told him the truth: no one else was ever allowed upstairs, let alone into the study.
That was when Hu Xiaoyu understood—Yu Tan wasn't lonely because he lacked people. He was lonely because he trusted no one.
And so, without ever being asked, Hu Xiaoyu followed him into the study each night, tail-invisible-but-wagging.
Hearing movement on the sofa, Yu Tan glanced up.
"Awake?" His tone was cool—the kind of chill born of being interrupted when half-aroused and left unsatisfied.
Before Hu Xiaoyu could answer, his stomach did it for him—two loud, echoing growls.
Yu Tan looked unimpressed.
Fox spirits didn't need food often. They could go months, even years, without eating. But that was before.
Now that his energy was low, even his once-sleek fur would've dulled had he still been in fox form.
He pressed a hand to his belly. It felt too flat, too empty. Pitiful, really.
"Yu Tan," he said hopefully, "are you hungry?"
Yu Tan shut the file on his screen. "Why?"
Hu Xiaoyu rested his chin on the desk, eyes bright. "You've worked so hard. Shouldn't we eat something? Maybe tomato-and-egg noodles?"
"Not hungry," Yu Tan replied evenly.
Hu Xiaoyu drooped, then tried one more time, voice small. "... But I am. I want noodles. If you make them, they'll taste the best."
That night, Yu Tan made noodles.
Only, once the dish was served, did he lock the dining room door from the inside—intent on enjoying his "midnight snack" before it got cold.
Hu Xiaoyu didn't have time to protest.
It was sudden, overwhelming, and utterly delicious.
After the ad wrapped, life went back to its rhythm: Hu Xiaoyu followed Yu Tan to work and back each day.
A few days later, Director Zhong called, saying they needed to reshoot a few scenes for better visual balance.
Hu Xiaoyu agreed immediately. Yu Tan did not.
But Hu Xiaoyu was getting cleverer at handling him.
Leaning close, he whispered, "Next time… I can be on top."
Yu Tan's hand, holding his book, froze. His tone remained steady. "What do you mean?"
If it meant what he thought it did—well, it wasn't out of the question. But the last time had nearly broken the poor fox.
Hu Xiaoyu, cheeks warm, didn't quite meet his eyes. "I mean… I won't run this time. I promise."
Yu Tan's gaze darkened. He looked away, masking it under his usual calm. "Alright."
The next day, Hu Xiaoyu returned to Starlight Entertainment.
Yu Tan personally drove him there.
When Director Zhong saw Yu Tan walk in, his composed features twitched slightly.
Rumors about the Yu heir treating the Hu family's young master as his "forbidden treasure" were everywhere—but seeing them in person told another story entirely.
This wasn't a man guarding a possession. It was someone guarding a heart.
And considering that the Yang family's factories had just lost several suppliers overnight, it seemed Yu Tan's temper was every bit as legendary as whispered.
Yu Tan barely acknowledged Zhong's presence. He found a quiet corner, sat down, and waited for Hu Xiaoyu to finish.
Even in silence, his presence was magnetic; every crew member who dared steal a glance immediately looked away, flushed.
Hu Xiaoyu, now comfortable with the camera, finished the reshoot in less than an hour.
Just as he was about to leave, Zhong called out, "Xiaoyu."
The boy turned, curious. "Yes, Director?"
Zhong smiled faintly. "Are you planning to stay in the industry long-term?"
Hu Xiaoyu nodded firmly.
Zhong's stern face softened, revealing an easy charm few ever saw. He handed him a card. "Good. You have something rare—natural light. If you ever need a role, call me directly."
Hu Xiaoyu's eyes lit up. "Thank you!"
Zhong meant it. The boy was the kind of talent directors dreamed of—raw, instinctive, real.
He was already imagining future projects, maybe even films, where that brilliance could shine again.
But before he could say more, he felt it—
That sharp, silent pressure from across the room.
He looked up.
Yu Tan, who'd been idly scrolling through his phone, had raised his eyes. Just one glance—steady, unblinking—like a predator noticing movement in the grass.
Zhong's smile stiffened. "Well… that's all. You'd better go; your friend's waiting."
On the way home, Yu Tan finally spoke. "That director."
Hu Xiaoyu pulled out the business card, beaming. "He said, I have talent."
Yu Tan said nothing. His lips were pressed too tightly together.
Hu Xiaoyu, sensing danger, quickly tucked the card into his pocket and patted it twice as if hiding a treasure.
Yu Tan saw the gesture, and his chest tightened. He drew a slow breath to steady himself.
He knew the fox drew attention—but this much?
Liu Luanzhou, Fei Sizhen, even the ever-cool Xin Shibai—all smitten.
And now this director?
He should've expected it. Beauty attracts worship.
Still, knowing it didn't make it easier to watch.
After a long silence, Yu Tan said, "You're at the age where you should focus on something more important."
Hu Xiaoyu blinked. "Like what?"
"School," Yu Tan replied. "I'm arranging it. Which grade do you want to start from?"
Hu Xiaoyu, nearly two hundred years old and already fluent in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, stared blankly. "... No."
Yu Tan's profile was calm but cold. "That wasn't a question."
Of course, he had no intention of sending the boy to an actual school—too many people, too many eyes.
A private tutor at home would do. Or he could teach him himself.
That way, he'd always be within sight—within reach.
There were many ways to keep someone.
I've spoiled him too much, Yu Tan thought grimly. It's time to remind him who he belongs to.
For the first time, Hu Xiaoyu felt… unwilling.
In modern words, Yu Tan was too much. Too controlling. Too possessive.
That night, he didn't crawl into Yu Tan's bed.
He locked himself in his own room instead.
A message came through his phone not long after.
Yu Tan:Debts must be paid. Do you remember what you promised me?
Hu Xiaoyu stared at it for a moment, cheeks puffing with irritation.
Then he stomped out, flung open Yu Tan's bedroom door, and marched inside—arms stiff at his sides like an angry child.
He dropped straight onto the bed, flat like a board. "Fine. Hurry up," he said, his voice grumpy and small. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."