Mo Cheng was definitely laughing at him. There was no other reason he’d send four more pictures from his time as a host, and he looked just as intimidating—read; gorgeous—in each one. And it wasn’t even that he was so incredibly captivating in each photo, the presence completely different than Sun Fang was used to. It was just that he’d seemed genuinely happy in the pictures.
Did you enjoy working as a host, Sun Fang sent before he lost the courage. The response was just a simple yes, but that alone had probably upended his entire view of Mo Cheng. He really, genuinely, seriously had not expected to ever see Mo Cheng as a host.
The next message from Mo Cheng came before Sun Fang had a chance to respond. It read baking has always been my dream, so I worked as a host to afford my own café, but I also really liked the host work. The club was really welcoming too. The old man who runs it recently passed away, but his grandson is really nice and has a good head for business so I hope they continue doing well.
Sun Fang pressed his hand over his eyes and basically swooned. He grinned as he flopped back down on the couch and splayed out, all his limbs stretching out as far as they could. Ivy had gone off to pick up their lunch order, not trusting anyone else to deliver it without damaging it, and so Sun Fang was home alone. It meant that he could be as dramatic as he liked, and their would no judging looks and no fond sighs.
Spinning around onto his stomach, he kicked his legs int he air and typed in a new message. oh, my condolences, were you close he wrote, hitting send. The message flew onto the web at a dizzying speed and before he knew it, he had a response right in his hands.
We weren’t friends, but he was good to me. Helped me practice my acting and come up with my character, Mo Cheng said. Sun Fang grinned brighter, spinning around on the couch until he fell off and bounced on the floor. The shock made him silent and then he burst out laughing, curling in on himself and hacking a little from the force of it. He forced himself to his feet and saw that the phone had survived, so at least that was one embarrassment that he wouldn’t have to tell Ivy about.
Just as he moved to pick up the phone from the carpet, he heard the front door open. Cursing, he kicked the phone under the couch and sat back down, grabbing the remote and turning up the TV’s volume. He had no idea what he was watching, but he nevertheless leaned back against the couch and curled up, staring at the TV like he was absolutely fascinated with it.
”Had a good trip?” he asked Ivy when the butler walked through the hallway into the kitchen. Sun Fang could only hear him, still staring at the TV. He was pretty sure it was a murder mystery of some kind, but he didn’t know who had been murdered, who was the detective and who were the suspects so every time suspenseful music came on, it just added another level of Confusion™ to his watching experience.
”Everything was optimal,” Ivy responded. Sun Fang snorted, his lips twitching, but he didn’t say anything in return. He was too busy pretending to watch TV. It was hard work, pretending to be busy.
Sun Fang deserved an award for his acting, okay!
His phone buzzed beneath the couch, receiving another message. He hoped it was from Mo Cheng, but also, his phone was under the couch. The distance between the couch and the floor was so small that he couldn’t even get his finger under it. Ivy literally lifted the whole couch every time it needed to clean below it, because there was no other option.
And his phone was in there. Sun Fang was the idiot that had kicked it in there. He groaned, mourning his intelligence. It would be missed; he’d have to arrange a nice funeral for it. Exhaling softly, he turned around on the couch and rested his chin on the backrest. ”Ivy…” he called, doing his best to sound pouting and cute.
”What is it, Young Master?” Ivy asked from the kitchen, knowing full well that when Sun Fang was cute like this—adorable, if he could say so himself—there wasn’t actually anything serious wrong.
”Can you lift the couch for me?” Sun Fang asked, pouting harder.
Ivy merely responded, ”Which couch, Young Master?”
”The living room one,” said Sun Fang.
Ivy didn’t say anything this time, it just walked into the living room and looked at him in complete silence. Sun Fang pouted, putting his hard-earned skill to their proper use, and stared longingly at his butler. Finally, Ivy said, ”Get off the couch.”
Sun Fang grinned and jumped off. He stood back as Ivy walked over to it and grabbed ahold of one end, slowly lifting it up like gravity didn’t exist. Sun Fang waited until he could see his phone before he darted forward and grabbed it off the floor, quickly stepping back so that Ivy could seamlessly lower the couch again. Hugging his phone to his chest, Sun Fang breathed out in relief. He turned to Ivy and smiled, ”Thank you, Ivy.”
”It was no trouble, Young Master,” Ivy said. Sun Fang’s smile grew wider, but he didn’t say anything more. Rather, he followed Ivy into the kitchen where a full meal was laid out on the table for him. It didn’t smell as nice as Ivy’s food, but Sun Fang wasn’t going to mention that. Not after Ivy had already gone through all the trouble of picking it up.
Ivy didn’t stay while he ate, leaving to do whatever it was that it did around the apartment when Sun Fang wasn’t paying attention.
Belated happy new year!