After Losing My Memory, I Became Sweet - Chapter 3

Qin Huaichu had, of course, already noticed that Zhu Yun wasn’t wearing shoes.

But this was a VIP ward—surely they could at least provide a pair of disposable slippers.

Qin Huaichu glanced at Zhu Yun, then turned to the nurse and said:
“Could you please bring him a pair of slippers? Thank you.”

At those words, Zhu Yun instead sat down, looking displeased. He planted his long legs firmly on the ground, raised his head to look at Qin Huaichu, and said with great seriousness:
“I don’t want to wear slippers.”

Qin Huaichu asked:
“Why not?”

Zhu Yun answered earnestly:
“Those disposable slippers are not clean.”

Qin Huaichu: “…”

You were just walking barefoot on the floor, and now you say they’re not clean?

At that moment, the nurse brought over a pair of cotton-linen slippers. Qin Huaichu thanked her, then took the slippers along with the packaging bag into his hands.

“Thank you. I’m planning to arrange his discharge,” Qin Huaichu said to the nurse.

The nurse immediately picked up Zhu Yun’s medical records and other documents, tucked them into a folder, and said:
“Director Feng already instructed that if Mr. Zhu decides to be discharged, he still needs some supplementary nutritional medicine. Please wait a moment.”

She hurried out with the folder. Just before closing the door, she couldn’t help sneaking another glance inside.

She saw Qin Huaichu put the slippers on the floor, then lower his head and lean very close to Zhu Yun.

“You just said ‘go home.’ Which home did you mean?” Qin Huaichu asked.

The nurse instantly realized that what was about to happen was probably an extremely private conversation, so she quickly shut the door.

“My own home,” Zhu Yun replied as expected.

“That won’t do,” Qin Huaichu said coolly.

“Why not?” Zhu Yun asked.

“Because you’ve already married me. Now you live in our home.”

That was a lie. If Zhu Yun were allowed to return to his own apartment, it would be completely inappropriate. The only option for now was their marital home.

After speaking, Qin Huaichu noticed a faint blush spreading across Zhu Yun’s cheeks. On his face, pale as paper, the color was especially striking.

…Blushing?

Qin Huaichu felt curious. Zhu Yun, at eighteen, was really this thin-skinned?

“Married? What are you talking about—I’m a guy,” Zhu Yun muttered softly, face flushed.

At that moment, Qin Huaichu’s phone chimed. He glanced at it, then stretched out a hand to Zhu Yun.
“Didn’t you want me to carry you? Let’s go.”

Zhu Yun hesitated for a moment but still took two steps forward.

Qin Huaichu was six centimeters taller than him, nearly 1.9 meters tall, but carrying a 183 cm man was still bound to be a bit strenuous.

Before Zhu Yun could even picture it in his head, Qin Huaichu bent down slightly, pulled him into his arms, and lifted him up.

Zhu Yun’s feet left the ground, his trousers pulled up by Qin Huaichu’s arms, revealing a sliver of his ankle.

Qin Huaichu glanced down and froze, still holding Zhu Yun in place.

Zhu Yun lowered his eyes as well, long lashes casting faint shadows like brushstrokes across a blank canvas.

Neither moved.

Zhu Yun was simply curious—how strong was Qin Huaichu’s arm strength, that he could hold him like this for so long, and would soon have to carry him downstairs?

Apparently, Qin Huaichu’s strength was formidable. After five minutes, his muscles hadn’t trembled at all.

Zhu Yun thought for a moment, then pressed his body down slightly, leaning closer to Qin Huaichu’s chest.

At that moment, he heard it—Qin Huaichu’s heartbeat, a little fast.

Just then, someone pushed open the door and called out:
“President Qin, President Yun.”

Zhu Yun lifted his eyes slightly, just in time to look puzzled:
“President Yun?”

Qin Huaichu gave a soft hum and said to the newcomer:
“Bring over the blanket from the bed.”

The person who entered was Qin Huaichu’s personal assistant, Song Xiang. He had come to the hospital mainly to handle Zhu Yun’s discharge paperwork and errands.

He hadn’t expected his very first instruction upon arrival would be… to fetch a hospital blanket.

As Qin Huaichu’s assistant, Song Xiang had learned that the most important skill was doing things without talking. So he obediently fetched the blanket and handed it over.

Qin Huaichu motioned for him to drape it down. Song Xiang glanced at Zhu Yun in Qin Huaichu’s arms, then at where Qin Huaichu’s gaze rested.

Song Xiang loosened his fingers, and the blanket fell precisely across Zhu Yun’s legs.

Zhu Yun: “…”

Qin Huaichu’s face remained calm as he instructed:
“Go handle the discharge papers. I’ll take him to the car.”

“Oh, alright.” Song Xiang quickly trailed after him as Qin Huaichu carried Zhu Yun out, thoughtfully asking:
“President Qin, would you like me to help?”

Help? Other than holding Zhu Yun, what else could he mean?

Qin Huaichu turned his head, casting him a flat glance without expression.

Song Xiang immediately realized his mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

And he had once again forgotten—he shouldn’t talk so much.

Qin Huaichu carried Zhu Yun into the elevator, still refusing to set him down. All the way, he carried him into the underground parking garage and over to his Cullinan.

The reason he hadn’t let Zhu Yun down? That one word: “Dirty.”

Zhu Yun hadn’t spoken, only gazed curiously at Qin Huaichu’s arms as they descended.

Qin Huaichu unlocked the car and made as if to set Zhu Yun on the garage floor.

“Dirty!” Zhu Yun startled, almost leaping into action.

Balancing on Qin Huaichu’s leather shoes, he swiftly pulled open the car door and darted inside.

Qin Huaichu let him curl up like a frightened rabbit in the warm car without coming out again. Then he circled around to the driver’s side and opened the door.

Catching his own reflection in the side mirror, he saw that the corners of his lips had curved upward.

“You’re taking me to your house?” Zhu Yun asked, hugging a pillow he had grabbed, muffled voice low.

“To our house,” Qin Huaichu corrected.

Zhu Yun snorted:
“I’ve never even been there. How can it count as my home?”

Qin Huaichu said nothing, started the car, and slowly drove westward.

In the west of the city, in a high-end complex called Cloud Mountain, was their marital home.

To say it was their home wasn’t wrong, but because of work, they had rarely stayed there.

Both Qin Huaichu and Zhu Yun owned multiple properties, more than just one or two.

Zhu Yun had collapsed in one of his own apartments before being sent to the hospital.

Although part of their assets were shared, and they could freely enter each other’s residences, strictly speaking, those other houses weren’t truly “theirs.”

By bringing Zhu Yun to their marital home at this moment, Qin Huaichu clearly had ulterior motives.

Their marriage had long been far from perfect. But now, with a chance for reversal, he wanted to try again.

If they started from zero, could things change?

Could their nearly broken marriage perhaps be repaired?

At first, Zhu Yun sat stiffly in the car, watching the scenery nervously. Later, realizing the drive was long, he hugged the pillow and leaned against the window. Before long, he dozed off.

At a stoplight, Qin Huaichu took the hospital blanket lying beside him and gently draped it over Zhu Yun.

He carefully avoided letting it touch Zhu Yun’s face, so as not to disturb his sleep.

Zhu Yun was leaning against the car window, hugging the pillow and sleeping soundly. Perhaps because the heater was a bit high, his cheeks were flushed, and even his lips looked more vividly red.

Qin Huaichu’s eyelids twitched. He quickly looked away.

“Are we there yet?”

As the car pulled into the underground garage, Zhu Yun stirred awake.

“Why’s your house so far away… and so dark?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Qin Huaichu, expressionless:
“This is the underground garage.”

“Oh.” Zhu Yun unbuckled his seatbelt and, very naturally, held out his arms.
“You’ll carry me upstairs, right?”

Qin Huaichu mercilessly refused:
“You can wait a few minutes. I’ll go upstairs and bring you shoes.”

Zhu Yun pulled his arms back, propped his chin in his hand, and said:
“Got it. You’ve run out of strength.”

Before Qin Huaichu could reply, Zhu Yun lowered his head, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a few plastic bags.

He slipped the bags over his bare feet and got out of the car.

“You’re planning to walk around like that?” Qin Huaichu asked with faint amusement as the plastic rustled under every step.

“I don’t want to wait here alone,” Zhu Yun frowned.

Qin Huaichu froze. Zhu Yun never said things like that.

“I have a pair of shoes in the trunk. They’re clean, barely worn. Do you want to wear mine for now?” Qin Huaichu offered, striding toward the back and lifting the trunk.

“What kind of shoes? I’m not wearing leather shoes.”

Qin Huaichu: “…”

At work, Zhu Yun always wore suits and leather shoes, and had even nitpicked Qin Huaichu more than once for not dressing formally enough.

This younger Zhu Yun, eight years back, once again overturned Qin Huaichu’s expectations.

“Sports shoes,” Qin Huaichu said casually, naming the brand.
“I heard you like this brand.”

Zhu Yun froze.
“I do like it. I have more than ten pairs at home. How did you know—”

He didn’t finish the question.

Qin Huaichu’s calm expression already gave the answer.

—I’m your husband. Of course I’d know.

Qin Huaichu rarely wore those sneakers. Their surface was spotless, looking practically new.

Though the size wasn’t a perfect fit, once Zhu Yun put them on, he finally relaxed.

Qin Huaichu put away the shoe box and neatly wrapped Zhu Yun’s makeshift “plastic slippers” in the bag.

Zhu Yun walked ahead in the sneakers. Since they were a bit big, his steps were clumsy.

Qin Huaichu followed behind, just as he expected Zhu Yun to enter the elevator.

Zhu Yun frowned at the six elevators.
“Which one are we taking? What floor?”

Qin Huaichu’s lips curved faintly. He walked over and took Zhu Yun’s hand.

“Follow me,” he said lightly.

“The elevator needs a keycard to reach our floor. We live on the twenty-sixth.” As he spoke, Qin Huaichu demonstrated.

Zhu Yun leaned against the wall on one side, the other side of his body pressed down by Qin Huaichu.

When Qin Huaichu spoke, his breath grazed Zhu Yun’s ear.

Zhu Yun instinctively leaned away toward the wall, but the cold metal made him inch back again, close to Qin Huaichu.

When the doors opened on the twenty-sixth floor, they stepped directly into their apartment.

It was a large flat. The living room looked like an exhibition hall.

The first thing Zhu Yun saw after stepping out was a two-meter-tall robot standing by the wall, like a guard.

Qin Huaichu saw it too, and felt a sudden ache in his eyes.

He had bought this as Zhu Yun’s birthday gift not long ago, but Zhu Yun hadn’t spared it a glance and had sent it straight back.

At the time, Qin Huaichu had been abroad on business, so he’d had Song Xiang store it here temporarily.

“Wow, this is so cool!”

The real Zhu Yun, so unlike his cold self in memory, ran over excitedly, praising nonstop:
“This robot looks so advanced, the workmanship is amazing!”

“This is *Dres,” Qin Huaichu said flatly.
“It’s what you always wanted.”

Zhu Yun had followed Dres’s development for a long time, knowing its research history inside and out.

Just a week ago had been his twenty-fifth birthday. While in the U.S., Qin Huaichu had bought this robot and had it flown back.

“This is for me?”

This Zhu Yun was clearly overjoyed with the gift.

“Yes,” Qin Huaichu nodded.
“It’s your birthday present.”

Zhu Yun turned back, eyes sparkling.

Qin Huaichu felt his heart thump hotly.

Then he heard Zhu Yun say—

“Brother, you must really like me, right?”