Taking a deep breath, striking a strong pose, he turned back with a wicked, unruly charm and stuffed his little wife back under the covers: “You’re not allowed to leave the bed before I get back.”

With that, he swaggered downstairs like an emperor ascending the throne. Slipping into the kitchen, he rubbed his goosebump-covered arms hard and gave a little shake on the spot. The lines he’d just delivered were just too embarrassing—his hands had gone numb while saying them.

After three days without cooking, the house had a cold, desolate feeling. Luckily, the housekeeper came every day to clean and restock groceries, so he could start cooking at any time. There wasn’t enough time to make a complicated soup, so he used the pressure rice cooker to quickly make a pot of plain congee.

He tossed the rice into the pot, checked the fridge inventory, and took out the ingredients that needed defrosting to put in the microwave. Once everything was ready, it would still take half an hour for the congee to cook, so he poured a glass of warm water and dug out the stomach medicine he hadn’t used in ages.

This stomach medicine was a paste, to be taken before meals.

Back upstairs, Ryan Carter had already finished washing up, but was so tired he flopped back onto the bed, too lazy to move.

The air conditioner was blowing directly on his back. Ethan Bolton wanted to cover him with the blanket, but the domineering CEO persona couldn’t be broken. He cleared his throat and gave a slap on that round, perky spot: “Sticking your butt out like that—trying to… ahem, trying to seduce someone, hmm?”

Aaaah! Mr. Big cocked his toes and dug hard into the carpet.

Taking a deep breath, he scooped up his little wife and forced him to take the medicine.

Ryan Carter obediently took the medicine, letting the CEO treat him like a second-degree invalid and carry him back under the covers: “Oh, you remembered?”

“W-what?” The CEO slipped up, starting to stutter.

After seven years together day and night, just a little tail wag and he knew what tricks he was up to. From the very first thing he said after waking up, Ryan Carter could tell. Narrowing his eyes dangerously: “So, which account should we settle first? Or maybe you’d like to tell me which lovers you’ve brought to the office, Dior·Mr. Bolton?”

“Thud!” The CEO tossed his little wife back onto the bed, expressionless, scooted away a bit, turned around, and buried his head in the pile of pillows, playing dead.

“Playing dead won’t save you from a beating, you know?”

“I swear on my name, I’ve never done anything to betray you!”

“Your name has any credibility? Ethan Bolton!”

“Awooo!”

The name Ethan Bolton has a story behind it.

Back when they first met on a blind date, they arranged to meet at a rather romantic French restaurant. By candlelight, the young and handsome CEO handed over a black, gold-embossed business card.

Minimalist industrial design, with just a simple name and contact info, gently placed on the table. Ryan Carter reached out to take it, but those two long, well-defined fingers didn’t let go, pressing firmly on one corner of the card.

It was a subtle hint. Ryan Carter looked up at him. He had to admit, this was the most handsome blind date he’d ever met—deep eyes reflecting the candlelight, giving the illusion of deep affection.

His heart skipped a beat. Ryan Carter looked down at the card, but the man still didn’t let go, so he had to slowly read it out. He was a bit nearsighted, and the dim lighting meant he couldn’t bring it closer, so he could only make out the general idea: “Ethan Bolton?”

The name was truly striking, leaving a deep impression on Ryan Carter. Afterward, he just couldn’t forget this man called “Ethan.” It wasn’t until their third phone call that Ethan Bolton couldn’t help but correct him: “Actually, my name is Ethan Bolton.”

But the impression was already set in stone.

Ethan Bolton poked his head out from under the pillow, aggrieved: “My name is actually worth a lot… ow!”

After a round of beating, the CEO still had to go make breakfast for his little wife.

Steaming hot congee, soft milky steamed buns, and two refreshing side dishes filled Ryan Carter’s stomach and finally made him feel better. He reached out and patted the head of Ethan Bolton, who was eating with his head down, and felt the little scabbed-over cut.

“Go to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow.” Ryan Carter was still a bit worried. He’d just made an appointment with the clinic upstairs, but they were fully booked today, so they’d have to wait until tomorrow to see the doctor.

Ethan Bolton didn’t care, thinking he was already fine: “It’s nothing, why see a doctor? That Edward Sullivan bastard just wants to scam your money.”

“Then why did you buy the ‘Ultimate Luxury Deep Sea Caviar Daisy Care’ set from him?” Ryan Carter propped his chin on one hand, watching him with amusement.

“Pfft—” The CEO choked on his congee.

Ryan Carter pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh and handed him a napkin: “It’s still necessary to get checked. Besides, I need Edward Sullivan’s test report to sue the AI manufacturer.”

“Actually, the manual does have a risk warning, though it doesn’t specify the exact problems that might be caused by a head injury,” Ethan Bolton pondered for a moment, then suddenly had a flash of inspiration, “Baby, don’t you think this is a huge business opportunity?”

“Hmm… what business opportunity?” It had been a long time since he’d heard such a cheesy term of endearment, and Ryan Carter felt a bit awkward, but the speaker didn’t seem to notice and continued analyzing on his own.

“Built-in anti-collision AI!” When it came to his field, Ethan Bolton’s eyes lit up.