President Fu Is Great at Pretending, and the Frail Young Master Has No Way to Deal With Him

Speaking of which, it was the first time Fu Yanhe had breakfast prepared by Gu Wenning. Although he often went to see Gu Wenning—once in the morning and once in the evening—sometimes, when he had enough time, he would also visit during his lunch break. Fu Yanhe ate a lot, but their meals were usually cooked by Fu Yanhe himself, or he ordered home-cooked food.

Strictly speaking, Gu Wenning didn’t actually do much when preparing breakfast. He simply heated the milk he had bought in advance and stored in the refrigerator, then toasted some bread.

To be honest, Fu Yanhe didn’t like this kind of Western-style breakfast. Even though he had grown up abroad, his stomach was still an orthodox Eastern stomach, as was evident from his usual eating habits.

However, he wasn’t picky. The fact that it was prepared by Gu Wenning made it special. Fu Yanhe was so happy to have breakfast that it felt like he was eating some kind of delicacy from the mountains and seas.

It was Saturday, and Fu Yanhe didn’t have to go to the company. Since it was raining outside and inconvenient to go out, he decided to stay at Gu Wenning’s place for the whole day. At that moment, he was playing on a game console, as comfortable and leisurely as if he were at home—without the slightest courtesy of being a guest.

After all, in Fu Yanhe’s view, his wife’s home was his own home. In his own home, of course, he could act as comfortable as he wanted, so there was no need for politeness.

It was Fu Yanhe who had bought the game console. After purchasing it, he didn’t send it to his own home but to Gu Wenning’s instead.

Fu Yanhe had his own selfish reasons for this. By playing games, he could visit his wife more often. Occasionally, he could even bring his wife over to play games together, which, in his opinion, would help cultivate their relationship.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to go to the video game arcade, but staying at home felt more cost-effective. This way, he could “hide” his wife and keep him all to himself. Who could blame him? His wife was so good-looking. It was easy for his wife to attract attention when they went out.

The last time they were at the arcade, several people wanted to add Gu Wenning on WeChat. They were all handsome men and beautiful women—young people in their twenties trying to seduce his wife. If his wife wasn’t determined and ended up being charmed by some pretty boy, he wouldn’t even know where to cry.

While Fu Yanhe was playing games in the living room, Gu Wenning was in the study drawing. Apart from reading and meditating, painting was Gu Wenning’s favourite pastime.

The Gu family had the means and wasn’t short of money, so it was easy for Gu Wenning to learn painting. Although Gu Wenning was far less favoured than Gu Mingxu, with Grandpa Gu in charge, he hadn’t been treated harshly in material terms.

Still, when he was choosing his major for painting, Father Gu considered these pursuits frivolous and a waste of time. It was already a kindness that he didn’t belittle or criticize them.

Gu Wenning was very talented. After just a few years of serious study, his painting skills improved significantly. Although he didn’t plan to rely on drawing comics to make a living, he had managed to earn some money from it.

There was a knock at the door. Gu Wenning, who was deeply focused on his painting, didn’t hear it. It wasn’t until a plate of freshly cut fruit appeared in front of him that he raised his head, his black-and-white eyes showing a hint of surprise.

“Honey, eat some fruit. There’s banana, mango, dragon fruit…”

Fu Yanhe was promoting the fruit platter he had prepared when his eyes suddenly stopped, and he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Hey!”

“Honey, are you painting me?”

“You can paint me, but my wife, you must make me handsome. Highlight my cold and domineering character, my awe-inspiring temperament, and my chivalrous, soft-hearted, tender side…”

Fu Yanhe talked non-stop, like a merchant praising his own goods, saying all sorts of flattering things about himself.

What did it mean for his wife to paint him? It meant that he loved him deeply. Why else wouldn’t he paint anyone else but him? Surely, he must have a soft spot for him.

But there was no need to rely on memory—he was right there. Couldn’t he just be a live model for his wife?

Fu Yanhe grew more and more excited, unable to suppress the thrill in his heart. His tone was part touched, part proud, and part enthusiastic. “Wife, I can be your model—a lifelong model! You can paint whatever you want, as long as you don’t get tired of me.”

“Tell me, wife, how do you want me to pose? Sitting or standing? Front or side profile? Full body or half-body? Do you need me to take off my clothes? Some models pose completely nude. For the sake of art—for my wife’s sake—I can do anything. Don’t feel embarrassed, wife. Just tell me what you want. Today, I am your brick; you can move me wherever I’m needed.”

With a determined expression of “I can do anything,” Fu Yanhe’s eyes shone with passion. He was ready to act at a moment’s notice. If Gu Wenning asked him to take off his clothes, he would do so in the next second without hesitation.

Gu Wenning processed the torrent of words that poured out like firecrackers, his eyebrows twitching as he felt a headache coming on.

“Mr. Fu, you’ve already delivered the fruit. Can you leave now?”

Hadn’t he come here to bring fruit? How had it escalated to him wanting to model for a painting?

“Honey, are you sure you don’t need a model? I’m offering for free. You don’t even have to pay me!”

Fu Yanhe was insistent, eager to be Gu Wenning’s model even if he had to beg for it.

However, Gu Wenning genuinely didn’t need a model. Despite this, Fu Yanhe kept returning to ask, only to receive the same negative answer each time. Reluctantly, he finally left the study, glancing back with every step.

The bustling study fell silent. When Gu Wenning picked up his brush again, his hand froze mid-air, his brows furrowing slightly.

He hadn’t noticed before, but now, as he looked at the half-completed painting, he realized that the facial contours and features of the figure bore a striking resemblance to Mr. Fu.

Was it an illusion? Had he been influenced by Fu Yanhe’s words and subconsciously projected his image into the painting?

Gu Wenning remembered clearly that, while painting, he hadn’t used Mr. Fu’s image as a reference nor thought about him.

So why did the figure in the painting…

Shaking his head, Gu Wenning pursed his lips and decided to continue painting, determined to finish it. However, after a few strokes, he found himself unable to proceed. Frustrated, he finally tossed the brush aside.