Chapter 61: Grand Opening
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
When Shi Wenze transformed, his qilin eyes would take on a deep, blood-red hue. For most beasts, that kind of look was meant to intimidate. But to Lin Su, was there anything more direct and dangerously sexy? Absolutely not.
Madam Ji Yun had been right—there was something truly captivating about a handsome guy whose hair had been styled to perfection by Tony the stylist. Even wearing an old man’s thermal shirt, Shi Wenze still looked insanely attractive.
Perched high above, the little white dragon wagged his tail modestly. The chandelier swayed along with him, casting fractured reflections all around the stairwell. Down below, Shi Wenze stood with arms open, ready to catch him. Of course, a dragon didn’t need to be caught—but a dragon in love did. Especially one who had just upgraded from a day-pass boyfriend to a lifetime membership.
The crystal chandelier creaked under the strain—handmade in Austria by Du Siyue’s special order. If it fell down and shattered the day before the gallery’s grand opening, Du Siyue might have had a stroke right then and there.
So the little dragon chose mercy. He slithered down from the ceiling and curled himself gently around his boyfriend. He was just the right length to wrap around him one and a half times—from legs to waist—then rested his head on Shi Wenze’s shoulder.
Shi Wenze stood straight and still. “Easy, babe. I can’t walk like this.” The tail loosened just a little.
Of course, Shi Wenze couldn’t help himself. He slid his hand to the dragon’s soft belly, fingers brushing against the patch of plush scales that hadn’t hardened yet. Even the extra padding didn’t dull the strange, electric sensation. The little white dragon nearly exploded on contact, instinctively springing upward like a startled cat.
Shi Wenze lunged to catch him—but only managed to grab hold of a thick, blue, fleece-lined sweater. “…” Wow. Easy to put on, even easier to strip off.
Most monsters didn’t wear clothes—but Lin Su’s little dragon was a notable exception. Ever since the weather had turned cold, he’d been faithfully wearing his grandma-knitted sweaters—bright colors, mismatched patterns, soft yarn. Shi Wenze knew he was in the wrong, so he immediately offered an apology and tried to help dress him again.
“I’m sorry, seriously.” His tone was sincere—but his technique left much to be desired. He fumbled through the sweater like a rookie babysitter or a sleazy amateur. From belly to back, he struggled to thread the sleeves correctly, finally tugging out a claw from the wrong cuff.
The little dragon had enough. He gave Shi Wenze’s waist a tail-slap—not hard, just a clear warning—and then spiraled upstairs, sweater half-draped, still missing one sleeve. Shi Wenze hurried after him. By the time he caught up, Lin Su had already turned back into his human form. He looked at him and said firmly, “Stay right there. Don’t move.”
Shi Wenze complied immediately, raising his hands like a man surrendering to the law. “Alright. I won’t cause trouble. Need any help?”
“No,” Lin Su replied. “Tomorrow’s going to be chaotic. Just take care of our parents.”
“They’re just coming to check it out,” Shi Wenze said. “No need to worry. My folks are staying in Chengdu for a few more days. Once the opening’s over, we’ll all grab dinner.”
The large painting by Cang Daming had also been moved to the gallery. Lin Su had originally wanted to keep it at home, but Shi Wenze objected. “If it’s not a piece you truly love, then we can’t have it hanging in our bedroom. You could paint me instead. I’ll pose nude if you want. We can hang it above the bed.”
Lin Su deadpanned: “Shut up. My sister and mom visit my room.”
Though… for their new home? That could be considered. After all, Shi Wenze really did have a phenomenal body. Great lines, great muscles—not a single flaw. And the monster-run construction crew had worked faster than any human contractor. They moved supplies through the fog, took shortcuts, and didn’t need any ventilation after installation. No risk of formaldehyde—just efficient, clean work. If they wanted, they could move in by spring.
Maybe live together. Maybe even go register for a marriage certificate with the Monster Bureau. Lin Su didn’t see marriage as some grand, life-altering choice that needed constant second-guessing. To him, it was just a stage—sooner or later, it would happen. And there was only ever one person it would happen with. In that case… why not now? Shi Wenze squeezed his hand. “What are you thinking?”
Lin Su dragged his thoughts back from the image of a red marriage certificate. “Thinking about tomorrow. We’ll need a separate room just for gifts.”
Shi Wenze nodded. “Xu You prepared something for you too.”
Young Comrade Xu, though not academically gifted, had at least one scholarly relative in the Chiwen family tree. He’d made the trip to Tongshan to find his reclusive uncle and asked him to write something special.
The uncle delivered: a two-meter scroll bearing the words—“Your students bloom like peach and plum blossoms across the world. Why bother planting flowers in front of your own hall?” A touching tribute, he insisted.
Xu You didn’t agree. “It’s too… classical. This is a modern gallery.”
So the uncle tried again. “How about: Teachers are the engineers of the human soul?”
Xu You groaned. “Can we go a little trendier?”
His uncle replied, “That quote is from Mikhail Ivanovich Kalinin. Twelve syllables, one name—doesn’t get trendier than that!” In the end, Xu You gave up and just had the original poem framed.
Even Boss Cheng from the chicken feet shop chipped in with a gift. Though his taste in hotel décor was more nouveau-riche than refined, his art sense was surprisingly okay. He picked a decorative piece inlaid with rare Changliu Mountain gemstones—modest in price but rich in uniqueness. It wasn’t ostentatious, didn’t hint at bribery, and it matched the gallery’s vibe. A well-rounded businessman indeed.
As for the rest of the Chengdu Monster Bureau crew, they pooled money and bought an ultra-futuristic robot for “Brother Shi’s wife.” The robot was metallic, shiny under lights, and could bow ninety degrees non-stop once charged.
Shi Wenze was baffled. Yue Xiaoyu explained, “We were going to get a lucky cat, but this felt more… artistic.” It was a common truth—human or monster: things you couldn’t reach were called “the distant,” and things you couldn’t understand were called “art.” By that definition, the robot was perfect. It was affordable, modern, and came with its own welcome function.
They snagged it during the New Year clearance sale. Shi Wenze was deeply moved—yet very tempted to decline. Lin Su said, “I actually think it’s kinda okay.”
Shi Wenze squinted suspiciously. “If it’s ‘kinda okay,’ why did you stash it in a hidden corner next to the second-floor storage room?”
Lin Su: “…” It was just too big. Seriously—too big.
The recording device inside the robot’s belly kept repeating “Welcome” over and over again, bowing each time, making every guest who walked through the door feel increasingly overwhelmed. As for the thick stack of hidden Plus-version features listed in the manual, Lin Su had no intention of exploring them in the short term—or the long term, for that matter. “I’ll put it away after tomorrow,” Shi Wenze said.
That night, the two of them didn’t stay together. They were still pretending to be pure and proper in front of their parents—after all, Shi Wenze hadn’t officially won him over yet.
The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Shi Wenze’s father called.
“Why are you still sleeping? Lin’s gallery opens today. You need to get there early to help. We ordered two massive floral walls. Go sign for them.”
Half-asleep, Shi Wenze squinted at the clock by his bed. 5:35 a.m. He mumbled something vaguely agreeable and tried to burrow back under the covers—only for Xu You to start knocking on his door.
“Your mom sent me a red envelope for 188 yesterday,” Xu You said dutifully, “to make sure you got a punctual wake-up call. And if I get you to the gallery by 7 a.m.? She promised to double it.”
Shi Wenze figured he didn’t even make that much at work. Getting up was practically a goldmine. And the winter mornings? Unforgiving. The cold bit harder than ten years of cleaning fish at a hypermart. By 6 a.m., he was on his motorbike, helmet strapped on, riding alone through the frigid streets. In that moment, he understood just how committed their parents were to making this relationship happen.
Mrs. Ji Yun had personally picked out the flowers, and they were massive. She had told the florist, “Yes, it’s for a gallery opening, but it also needs to reflect an extraordinary closeness.” The florist had thumped his chest, swearing it wouldn’t be a problem. “Everyone else sends a basket. We’re sending an entire wall. Every detail will follow wedding standards.”
So when Lin Su stepped out of the car and saw the gallery, he momentarily thought he’d wandered into a floral wonderland. The entire scene felt more like a spring field trip than a professional art event.
“I tried to talk them out of it,” Shi Wenze said.
Lin Su just smiled. “It’s great. Why would you stop them? Honestly, your parents have excellent taste.”
Even the locals loved the floral wall. People were lining up on the sidewalk to take pictures with it—and of course, they’d take a quick look around the gallery while they were there.
At first, Xu You was nervous. In his mind, high-end galleries were supposed to be cold, quiet, and intimidating—so cold and quiet, in fact, that anyone passing by would wonder, How is this place not bankrupt yet? That was what made it “artistic.” It wasn’t supposed to be too… relatable.
But then a middle-aged man carrying a grocery bag casually slapped down a deposit on a nearly hundred-thousand-yuan painting, saying he wanted to hang it in his living room. Suddenly, Xu You realized—maybe being “artistic” wasn’t so important after all. Business was booming, and that was what really counted.
Auntie Wang Cuifen also showed up. To thank Lin Su for getting her that signed celebrity photo, she even offered to bring her “Beautiful Life” square-dance team for a free three-hour performance at the gallery. Shi Wenze: Please, no.
The parents from both sides came too. Besides Si Longqiu—who worked in the industry and stayed behind to help entertain guests—the other three parents only stayed for a short while before slipping off to the café across the street. They sat there, pretending to relax but secretly fretting. Each had their own set of worries, afraid of accidentally revealing something embarrassing during small talk. Sleeping in too late. Poor grades. That kind of thing.
By around three in the afternoon, Lin Su and Shi Wenze finally had a chance to sit down and eat something. The staff had ordered a family-size bucket of fried chicken. While Shi Wenze helped wipe Lin Su’s hands, he asked, “Du Siyue’s flight hasn’t landed yet?”
“Nope. Still grounded because of the thunderstorm.”
Du Siyue had been sent on a last-minute business trip to Beijing the day before. He was supposed to be back that morning, but the capital airport had been buried under ominous black clouds all day. The giant display board still showed nothing but red. Lin Su couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. He had really wanted to share this moment with his best friend.
Shi Wenze had even considered asking his contacts in the capital if any freelance flight monsters were available to pick him up—but apparently the whole airspace was under traffic control. No luck. “It’s okay,” Shi Wenze comforted him. “Maybe the storm will clear up soon.”
Lin Su leaned back in a lounge chair, munching on fried chicken while scrolling through his phone. The screen pinged with a breaking news notification, and just as he tapped it open, the office door slammed wide.
Du Siyue stood there, panting, with a wild, punk-style explosion of a hairstyle that looked like she’d started in a level-ten windstorm. She leaned against the wall and demanded, “Water. Quick. I’m dying.”
Lin Su stared at her in disbelief. “How did you get back?”
Du Siyue grabbed the glass from Shi Wenze and downed it in one long chug. “Found a monster transport company.”
Lin Su: Seriously? I don’t believe you.
Shi Wenze asked, “Wasn’t that whole region under control?”
Du Siyue was vague. “They’re controlling it… but not completely.”
Lin Su said, “Jiang Yuhao brought you back.”
“No way, no way,” Du Siyue denied immediately.
Lin Su pressed on, “Someone online posted saying they saw a silver flood dragon breaking through the blockade.”
Du Siyue snapped, “Damn it! What kind of bored internet troll is that?”
“Where’s Jiang Yuhao now?” Lin Su asked.
“No idea.”
“Which floor?”
“Second. Listen, I tried to stop him but failed. Don’t worry though—he’s wrapped up so tight, if he steps outside and turns left, he could rob a bank without anyone recognizing him. No unnecessary drama. You still want that chicken bucket or should I split it with him?”
“…No thanks.”
Du Siyue grabbed two drumsticks himself and headed upstairs with the bucket. Lin Su followed. Shi Wenze grabbed his wrist. “What are we doing?”
“Nothing. Just checking,” Lin Su answered confidently.
The three climbed the stairs and found Jiang Yuhao alone on the second floor, standing quietly in front of the robot. Lin Su suspected the superstar’s “hide-your-face” style was so intimidating it naturally kept people away. Du Siyue was more surprised. “I was gone for one day and you set up a knockoff Ultraman?”
Shi Wenze paused. “…”
Lin Su replied, “Knockoff? That’s the welcome robot someone gave me. Let go—why are you grabbing my sleeve?”
Du Siyue explained he was just worried he might run off and started some unnecessary chit-chat. “This is my gallery. I can go wherever I want.”
“I invested in it too—the second floor is mine,” Lin Su added. Du Siyue quickly dragged Jiang Yuhao off to the rooftop bar, bucket in hand.
Lin Su felt a little melancholy creeping in, the kind you get at a 45-degree angle. This whole situation was worth feeling down about. But before he could really settle into the mood, the welcome robot suddenly spoke up in a deep male voice, startling him. What kind of ghostly phenomenon was this?
The gift from the Monster Management Committee was actually quite thoughtful. The “Plus” version was legit, not some scam slapped with a sticker. Not only did it look cool, it had built-in playback functions that perfectly captured the superstar’s cold and moody persona. In the past ten minutes, it had shifted through different apology tones—from aloof to impatient to gentle—seamlessly acting like a pro. Lin Su got chills down his spine and swore he never wanted to see another Jiang Yuhao-brand robot again.
He called someone on the phone. “Did you fight with Jiang Yuhao?”
The person on the other end was shocked. “How do you even know about that? Where’s your spy?”
Lin Su replied flatly, “Guess.”
Du Siyue looked suspiciously at the person munching fried chicken beside her. No way… have you two secretly been in touch behind my back?
Lin Su put the phone up to the robot’s speaker. Hearing everything on the call, Du Siyue immediately said, “Don’t throw it away! I can resell this Ultraman for a good price!”
Lin Su: OK, fine. I knew it. He felt even sadder. But sadness didn’t stop business. At 10 p.m., after all the guests had left and Si Longqiu had gone home, Lin Su and Shi Wenze sat in front of the computer, counting the day’s earnings and soaking in the joy of making money. Then they collapsed on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, staring up at the crystal chandelier.
They probably should have been looking at the stars, but since rain mixed with snow was still falling outside, the crystal chandelier would do just fine.
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