CH Extra 7

Extra 7: Days of Their Lives (Full Story, End)

During the winter break of his fourth year of university, Yue Zhishi received UCL’s offer the eve of Lunar New Year after being painfully swamped for over half a year with studying for the IELTS exam and applying for universities at the same time. Song Yu, about to graduate with his master’s degree, received an offer as well. When the good news arrived, Lin Rong both laughed and cried, overjoyed that both her sons were so excellent but upset because they were about to leave her for a while to study overseas. 

“Aunt Rong, if you miss us, just buy a ticket and fly over to see us,” Yue Zhishi said, comforting her. His head was on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around one of hers.

“True.” Lin Rong’s mind turned on, and she started to plan a European tour for herself with England as its starting point. “I’m going to close the restaurant for half a year and have fun with my girlies. I’ll come back when I’ve had enough.” 

Song Jin was already very used to Lin Rong not including him in her travel plans. Instead, he thought ruefully of their future university and slipped an arm around Yue Zhishi’s shoulders. “So after so many twists and turns, you’re still ending up in England.”

“Gege’s supervisor gave him a recommendation for UCL’s geoscience department, and since he’s also written so many papers, there definitely won’t be problem for him to apply for the CSC scholarship. UCL’s supervisor was really satisfied with him, and they even joked and said to gege, ‘our profession is to save the world’.” 

Lin Rong couldn’t help but scoff, “British people have the same humour is the same as your brother.” 

With an indifferent face, Song Yu said, “Ms Lin gave birth well.”

“Hahahahaha.”

Time passed very quickly, the holiday break gone in a flash. After returning back to school, Yue Zhishi busied himself with his graduation thesis, so busy he almost didn’t have time to sleep. The cherry blossom season arrived, and Wuhan U overflowed with people; Yue Zhishi turned in his revised draft and went home that weekend with Song Yu to rest — just in time to avoid the crowds of people heading in to admire the flowers.

Early on Saturday morning at 6:30, Song Yu, who had maintained a habit of exercising in the morning, got out of bed and cleaned up. But when he saw how warm and snuggled up Yue Zhishi looked in the blanket, he couldn’t help but sit back on the bed and look at him.

While still sleeping, Yue Zhishi sensed the bed sinking down slightly. He kept his eyes closed and subconsciously stretched out a pale, narrow arm in a daze, groping around, before finally catching Song Yu’s hand. It had been pressing into the mattress; Yue Zhishi very affectionately shifted over. The blanket on his body didn’t follow along, and the shirt of his pyjamas even rode up and revealed his flat and pale lower belly. He leaned his head against Song Yu’s hips, his arms wrapping around Song Yu’s waist.

The way he looked made Song Yu think of the hamster he and Yue Zhishi had once seen in a pet store. They’d crouched down to look at it, and the hamster had also clenched his eyes shut like that when sleeping — his tiny paws had also extended out to move around.

Song Yu stroked Yue Zhishi’s arms and nudged away the hair lying on his forehead, the pads of his fingers massaging between Yue Zhishi’s eyebrows before sliding downwards to touch his cheeks and bottom lip. Yue Zhishi fidgeted, feeling a bit ticklish, and then he felt Song Yu’s palm touch his belly and grip onto his waist.

He was originally going to push away Song Yu’s hand, but the next moment, Song Yu’s kiss landed onto the side of his neck. After tossing and turning for a while, Yue Zhishi’s face was flushed, and he fuzzily opened his eyes, his arms around Song Yu’s neck.

“Are you leaving now?” Yue Zhishi was lightly panting, his voice very soft.

“Mn. Want to come with me?”

“Don’t want to.” Yue Zhishi was very lazy — he didn’t like exercising.

“Then sleep a bit longer.” Song Yu kissed his forehead. “Is your waist sore?”

Yue Zhishi stared at him a bit blankly, but then he belatedly turned bashful and pulled the blanket up to cover up his head.

Through the blanket, Song Yu heard his mumbled it’s fine, as well as I’m going to keep sleeping — and so he caressed Yue Zhishi’s head through the blanket before getting up and leaving.

He might have said he was going to sleep, but Song Yu’s touching had already taken away all of Yue Zhishi’s drowsiness. He pushed away the blankets after staying inside the nest for a little while, re-fastening his unbuttoned shirt, pulled open the windows to the balcony for some air to come through and then went to clean up.

Lin Rong had also woken up very early. Yue Zhishi came down in a woollen sweater and saw her setting out breakfast in the dining room.

“Le Le, why are you up so early?” She was holding a plate of three delicacies beancurd skin. “Come and eat, I just bought it from that super popular stall. I had to line up for so long. I even saw your brother on my way back, he said he was going to eat near the gym.”

Yue Zhishi helped her carry over some milk and eggnog, glancing at the living room. “Where’s Uncle?”

“He left for work at the crack of dawn, he has a contract to sign in the morning.” Placing down the platter of fruit in her hands, Lin Rong sat down at one end of the table, Yue Zhishi on the other side. “Let’s eat.”

The two of them ate as they pulled up a sitcom from overseas to watch on the iPad at the table. Many families didn’t allow watching television while eating, but Lin Rong was an exception; not only did she allow it, she also took the lead in watching.

“I need to head to Yanghe Qizhe after 10am to get ready for the baby’s one-month celebration party. You guys should come over and eat as well.” Focused on the screen, Lin Rong finished off a piece of green apple. The celebration was for the niece of one of Lin Rong’s good friends; Lin Rong and that friend were very close, and so she’d prepared for a very long time.

“Oh yes, the housekeeping auntie’s coming over in a bit.” Lin Rong looked at her watch. “She should be almost here.”

Taking a sip of milk, Yue Zhishi suddenly remembered the lube and condoms sitting on top of the bedside table and almost spat out the milk. “That… I’ll help gege clean up his room.”

Lin Rong’s eyes shifted over to Yue Zhishi’s face, and she gave him a cute and meaningful smile. “Just how messy is it.”

Yue Zhishi immediately waved a hand and said, “It’s not, it’s really not messy.”

“Fine, then you can clean it.” Lin Rong knew Yue Zhishi couldn’t handle being teased. She ate another piece of beancurd and then said through the food in her mouth, “Since your brother doesn’t like other people touching his stuff anyway. What about your room?”

“Auntie can clean it.”

“True, since your room exists in name only,” Lin Rong laughed.

Yue Zhishi’s ears were very red. “Not really…”

“Why don’t we turn it into a movie room so you can use it to watch your anime. Or maybe let’s turn it into a dressing room for you and your brother, the two of you don’t even have your own dressing rooms…”

“Ah?”

Lin Rong had just finished bringing up suggestions when she said to herself, “No wait, we still need to leave you a room. If you guys end up fighting, then you’ll still be able to leave him alone and return back to your own room to sleep. Right, Le Le? Actually, you can come over and sleep with me too…”

Yue Zhishi wanted to both laugh and cry, saying, “Is that considered as returning to the maiden home?”

Lin Rong immediately clapped. “Precisely.”

After cleaning up the table, Yue Zhishi rapidly went back upstairs to Song Yu’s room. The long, floor-length white curtains floated upwards from the gentle breeze of April — ever since Yue Zhishi moved in, Song Yu had pulled down those heavy black blinds and returned light and clarity to the room.

Yue Zhishi pushed those items that could make other people feel awkward into the bedside table’s drawer, folded the blanket and caught sight of Song Yu’s black silk pyjamas lying on the light grey sheets. Song Yu had just changed out of them earlier; even though they were thin and very soft, their buttons were extremely hard to undo.

The wind of April was as smooth as water, and the scent of an unknown flower flowed inside with it along with the sunlight of early morning. Yue Zhishi grabbed the clothes and experimentally raised his arms — like water, the clothes unfurled in his palms. He lowered his head and submerged his face into the cloth.

That unique scent on Song Yu’s body, the only one of its kind, filled Yue Zhishi’s nose and his entire body. Yue Zhishi thought of those lingering fingers on his face earlier that morning, those kisses and embraces. He didn’t realise it, but he sat down on that perfectly made bed that didn’t have a single wrinkle — that was a great taboo, as it would ruin the work he’d just finished, but his thoughts had already been led astray by Song Yu’s scent. It was as though the blood in his entire body was pushing against the current, and in the end, he even fell backwards onto the bed, still breathing in those pyjamas.

Yue Zhishi could always ruin things placed in perfect order — Song Yu’s tidiness, as well as his own.

People always said that once affection was gained, it would arc downwards, but Yue Zhishi thought his desire for Song Yu seemed to only grow with each passing day. He suddenly had a strange conviction in his mind: perhaps he used to be a certain part of Song Yu’s body in his previous life, and that was why he felt such a sense of belonging towards Song Yu.

A stranger’s voice abruptly came through the door, and it interrupted Yue Zhishi’s fanciful thoughts. He heard Lin Rong greet the housekeeping auntie, and his thoughts cleared up for a moment, remembering why he came back to the room.

The pyjamas, the chief culprit to be blamed for his distraction, were ruthlessly folded up and placed onto the cream-coloured small sofa. Heading towards the desk, Yue Zhishi closed his laptop, organised the various kinds of documents and writings he’d left on the table and returned his pens back to the penholder. Song Yu’s desk was once again clean and tidy. Yue Zhishi picked up a National Geographic magazine and walked to the bookcase, putting it with all the other ones.

He stood there for a bit, and then Yue Zhishi suddenly realised a very thick book without its outer cover lay on the very top shelf of Song Yu’s bookcase. The inside cover was a light yellow-green colour, and there was no title on the side of the book. Slightly curious, Yue Zhishi took it down; he’d just flipped it open to the title page when he saw a row of handwriting — it was his own.

[Song Yu gege, happy birthday!]

Yue Zhishi was able to guess it was from his junior high years, seeing the ‘gege’ and how his handwriting looked. When he saw the title of the book on the table of contents page — You Breathe in the Sun, I Breathe in the Moon (A Selection of Anna Akhmatova’s Love Poems) — he couldn’t help but marvel at his own taste back then. His thoughts whirling, he thought he had only been attracted by the name of the book; he hadn’t actually read through it before buying it immediately.

Now that he thought about it, sending love poems to Song Yu during puberty really hadn’t been a good idea…

He lightly skimmed through the pages, the book falling open at a certain page — there was a folded piece of paper stuck inside. Yue Zhishi first brought out the paper, and then his gaze paused on the page, on the few sentences Song Yu had underlined.

[But I didn’t look after my heart well

Someone has stolen it away from me]

[I easily guessed who the thief was

I could see who he was just by his eyes

Except I’m afraid that the heart he stole away

Would be too quickly, too promptly returned back to me.] 

Song Yu’s black underlining was different from those words brimming with emotion; the line was straight and precise, as proper as himself, and the words didn’t seem like language he would approve of — except, in a bout of contradiction, he had underlined them. 

Yue Zhishi’s heart raced simply by reading those lines, and just like the poem, he could hear the sound of ‘dragonfly wings’ in his chest. The folded piece of paper slipped out of his loose hand and fell onto the floor. Closing the book, Yue Zhishi picked back up the piece of paper folded into a square and opened it.

There were no words on the paper, and neither were there any calculation formulas. Instead, there was something even more unfitting of Song Yu’s clean handwriting strokes: many, many drafts of a piece of cheese. The only thing that looked like Song Yu on the paper was the neat and orderly arrangement of each drawing, each attempt next to each other. The first few drawings looked a bit stiff, not quite cute — the piece of cheese only started to look slightly rounder, cartoon-like, near the end.

Yue Zhishi’s eyebrows faintly drew together as he stared at the cheese blocks, thinking they looked very familiar. A few seconds later, he remembered the sketchbook Song Yu had given him so casually upon graduating high school: the logo etched onto the cover had been this piece of cheese.

He was somewhat puzzled — why did Song Yu copy the brand logo so many times? Was it simply because he found it nice-looking?

A knock landed on the door, and Yue Zhishi turned around, hearing Lin Rong say, “Le Le, come down and help me change the sofa cover.”

“Okay.” Yue Zhishi placed the paper back into the book, returning everything back to their previous positions, and went downstairs to help Lin Rong. They’d just finished changing the cover when Yue Zhishi heard the sound of the front door opening; holding the old sofa cover in his arms to carry into the laundry room, he looked over at the entrance hallway. As expected, he saw Song Yu in a black sweater and a dark blue baseball cap.

“You’re back.” Lin Rong stood up. “Did you bring home some yoghurt for me?”

Song Yu let out a ‘mn’, putting the bag in his hand onto the tea table, and asked Yue Zhishi, “Slept enough?”

“I didn’t keep sleeping.” Thinking of how he’d actually done so much work that morning only to be misunderstood, Yue Zhishi was a bit dissatisfied. He started walking towards the laundry room with the sofa cover in his arms, but then Song Yu arrived at the door to the laundry before he did and blocked his way. The laundry was connected to the main balcony, and its entrance was very wide. Yue Zhishi shifted towards the left, and Song Yu followed him, not letting him enter. Yue Zhishi moved towards the right — so did Song Yu.

“Song Yu, you’re so childish,” Yue Zhishi said, tilting up his head to look at him. “You weren’t this childish even in high school.”

At the sofa, Lin Rong clarified, “Wrong. He’s never been this childish since he was born.” 

There was a smile curling up the corners of Song Yu’s mough — he liked the look on Yue Zhishi’s face after being teased, and so he caught Yue Zhishi’s chin and kissed him.

That scared Yue Zhishi, worried Lin Rong would see. He pushed at Song Yu, but Song Yu ended up slipping his arms around his waist and saying, “You didn’t sleep longer even though I gave you the opportunity?” Song Yu’s body was warm, the heat from exercising.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Yue Zhishi replied.

“Why?”

“Because…” Yue Zhishi pursed his lips and then decided to answer frankly. “It was your fault, and yet you’re still asking me.”

Hearing the answer he wanted, Song Yu let Yue Zhishi go, and he even nodded with a bit of approval for himself. “Yes, my fault.” He even very considerately set the time on the washing machine and turned it on for Yue Zhishi after he stuffed the sofa cover into it with his ears reddened.

Lin Rong came over with the remaining cushion covers, clicking her tongue the entire way. Yue Zhishi’s ears flushed even harder.

She told her son to let her through, and then she said, “Song Yu, you know you’re turning more and more indecent, right?”

“You gave birth well,” Song Yu returned.

Lin Rong kept shaking her head, attempting to drag Yue Zhishi onto her side of the argument. “Le Le, don’t bother with him. Come, follow me to Yanghe Qizhe.”

But Song Yu unexpectedly said, “I’m taking him out for lunch later, we have plans with friends.”

“Huh?” Yue Zhishi had no idea. “When did we make plans? With who?”

“Organised this morning.” Song Yu leaned against the washing machine and reached out to tug off Yue Zhishi’s hair tie. His hair drifted down from the small ponytail he’d tied up behind his head, slightly wavy. “I think you’ll be really happy when you see them.”  

“All right, then.” Sensing that it was a surprise, Lin Rong shrugged. “Remember to come by Yanghe Qizhe later tonight for the one month celebration.”

Yue Zhishi followed Song Yu out of the house after changing clothes. He didn’t know where he going nor who he was going to see, and the even stranger thing was — Song Yu didn’t drive.

“Are we eating at a place close by?”

“No, it’s not nearby,” Song Yu said. He was holding Yue Zhishi’s hand, and they walked past a crosswalk and entered a subway station, getting onto that pink Line 2 train along with everyone else. There were too many people; Yue Zhishi and Song Yu stood at the carriage doors, leaning very closely to each other.

“I’ve taken a photo of you here before,” Song Yu suddenly said.

Yue Zhishi’s eyes slightly widened, expressing his surprise. “When?”

“That time you were following me.” Song Yu studied his face, as though believing Yue Zhishi would’ve definitely forgotten about that unimportant little matter. But to Song Yu, whether it had been the clumsy boy following behind him, the two words of ‘family member’ he’d blurted out upon checking in or even how Yue Zhishi had fallen asleep on his shoulder — that day had made him happy for a very long time.

Yue Zhishi finally remembered that day, and he even very smartly managed to guess where they were going to eat. “You’re taking me to that Japanese restaurant?”

“Are we seeing…”

Once they were almost at the restaurant, Yue Zhishi confirmed all of his own guesses — including his guess about who Song Yu had said he would be really happy to see. 

“You guys are finally here!” Sitting near the floor to ceiling windows, Xia Zhixu waved a long arm at them, his face bright with a sunny smile so similar to the one many years ago. “Hurry up.”

Yue Zhishi was delighted, and he was even more so when he saw Xu Qichen faintly smiling at him. “Senior Qichen…” 

Song Yu headed over with an arm around Yue Zhishi, and he sat down across from Xia Zhixu and Xu Qichen. “Have you guys ordered?”

“Mn.” Xia Zhixu’s tiger teeth peeped out of his smile. “The same order as last time. What do you think, my memory’s not bad, right.”

Hearing this, the first person to laugh was Xu Qichen; he was very willing to indulge Xia Zhixu. When Yue Zhishi saw amusement over his quiet and still face, he inexplicably felt relieved. He truly hoped the things in the past could remain in the past — he truly hoped Xu Qichen wouldn’t be caged within those people’s words.

“I ordered an extra portion of ice cream for you,” Xu Qichen said, passing over a cup of tea to Yue Zhishi.

“Thank you, senior.” Yue Zhishi’s eyes rose from Xu Qichen and landed on Xia Zhixu, and he blinked. Extremely straightforwardly, he asked, “So senior, you guys are together now, right?”

Xia Zhixu had been sipping his tea. He choked at Yue Zhishi’s question, coughing, and patted himself on the chest. 

Song Yu flatly said, “Are you a high school student?”

With his ears tinged with red, Xu Qichen glanced at Xia Zhixu, amused.

“How’d you know?” Xia Zhixu jerked his chin at Yue Zhishi. “Song Yu told you?” 

“Nope.” Yue Zhishi’s chin was propped on a hand. “I guessed. I had a feeling last time, but it wasn’t very obvious. I thought about you guys afterwards, and then the more I thought, the more I felt like you guys mutually liked each other.”

“So amazing…” Xia Zhixu shook his head.

Song Yu gave Yue Zhishi a piece of sushi. “Yes, more amazing than you.”

“Damned younger brother-con.”

Feeling as though Xia Zhixu was the only person around the table who didn’t know about him and Song Yu, Yue Zhishi told him kindly and candidly, “I’m his boyfriend now.”

Xia Zhixu choked again, and he wrenched his head over to look at Xu Qichen, only to see him with an innocent look on his face. Xu Qichen leisurely said, “Oh, right. I still haven’t told you about them…”

“When??” Xia Zhixu was in disbelief. 

“During…” Yue Zhishi took some time to think about it, and the long amount of time he took to remember gave Xia Zhixu an even stronger blow.

“During my first year of university.”

Xu Qichen nodded. “Around Christmas.”

“You knew?” Xia Zhixu thought Xu Qichen had been extremely withdrawn during university and had refused to listen to anything outside his two ears.

“Mm.” Xu Qichen took a bite of his daifuku. “The whole school knew.”

Xia Zhixu now truly did turn depressed. “Song Yu, worthy of being you.”

“Such flattering.” Song Yu gave him the last piece of sushi with benevolence.

The two of them kept needling at each other as they ate and continued talking, sharing with the other what they’d missed out on during the past few years. Yue Zhishi couldn’t help but compare Xia Zhixu today with the shining image he’d given out during high school, and he kept feeling as though Xia Zhixu had lost weight. His voice had also deepened much more compared to before. And yet the emotions flowing between him and Xu Qichen didn’t seem to have changed: they were blooming, as clean as a first love. 

Just as before, their hands resting on the table occasionally brushed against each other, but this time, they didn’t pretend as though nothing had happened and shift slightly away. Instead, as Xia Zhixu continued talking with Song Yu, he subconsciously covered Xu Qichen’s hand with his own and held onto him.  

“So you guys are going to UCL together?” Xia Zhixu gave Xu Qichen a piece of tempura. “Not bad, a G5 school.”

Yue Zhishi couldn’t hold back from saying, “But you’re more amazing, you already have your own start-up company.”

“It’s just some games,” Xia Zhixu modestly chuckled.

Song Yu raised an eyebrow. “Luckily you know how to make games.”

“I suspect you’re making fun of me.” Xia Zhixu pointed at him.

“Be a bit more confident in your guesses.”

The lunch lasted two hours, and Song Yu was the one to pay this time around. The restaurant was a bit packed, so Yue Zhishi waited at the entrance with Xu Qichen — the afternoon sun was particularly comfortable, and it was warm and gentle as it landed on his body.

“Le Le.” Xu Qichen took the initiative to speak to him. “When you first got into Wuhan U, I originally wanted to give you something. But I wasn’t in the greatest condition during that time, and I didn’t end up giving it to you because I thought you wouldn’t want it either.”

“I want it,” Yue Zhishi blurted out, his eyes sincere as he looked at Xu Qichen.

Xu Qichen smiled, his voice gentle. “I just happen to need to visit the university next week. I’ll bring it along for you — it’s a book.”

“Okay.” Yue Zhishi didn’t know where the urge came from, but he directly went forward and hugged him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t know if he was grateful because Xu Qichen, during his most trying times, had remembered someone he’d only met once over a meal, or if he was grateful Xu Qichen had been able to walk out of his cage himself — and then reunite with Xia Zhixu.

It was as though Xu Qichen silently understood his embrace, and he patted Yue Zhishi’s shoulders. “I’m doing well, now.”

“Mn.” Yue Zhishi retreated slightly. “I can tell. I’m glad, even though your ending came a bit late.”

Xu Qichen gazed at him, and then he looked out at the cars endlessly streaming past them. “It’s not late.”

His voice was tender. “As long as we can start over, it would never be late. I would be satisfied no matter when.”

Xia Zhixu called out to Xu Qichen from far away, and he slipped an arm around Xu Qichen’s shoulders when he arrived. Song Yu also came to stand next to Yue Zhishi — and they planned to say goodbye just as they did last time.

“See you next time.”

Xia Zhixu suddenly remembered something and said, “Oh yeah, I just remembered.” He said to Song Yu, “You must’ve made that notebook for Le Le, right? The one you made with me.”

Yue Zhishi tilted his head. “Notebook?”

Xu Qichen also turned to look doubtfully at Xia Zhixu.

Song Yu, who had always been the winner between Xia Zhixu and him, finally lost his arrogance. “Shut up, you.”

“What? Don’t tell me you still haven’t given it out?” It was as if Xia Zhixu finally had something to tease Song Yu with. “Le Le, your brother made a sketchbook for you that time he went with me to Beijing. He made it so carefully, and he almost injured his hand…” Xia Zhixu only stopped talking under Song Yu’s threats of plugging up his mouth.

“You mean you made one too?” Xu Qichen very keenly caught onto the main point.

“Ah…” Xia Zhixu was stricken — he’d been so focused on messing with Song Yu that he forgot he himself had yet to give his out. “That… You’ll find out when we get back.”

Song Yu and Xia Zhixu, who’d both had their wings clipped during their third year of high school, now departed — each holding onto his own lover. 

When Yue Zhishi thought back about that piece of paper covered in cheese drawings, all of the clues instantly linked up together.

That hadn’t been some brand’s logo at all.

“You etched that block of cheese, didn’t you?”

Song Yu stopped acting so awkward after they entered the subway station, and he admitted it somewhat calmly. “Mn. Xia Zhixu, that stupid guy, refused to leave without making a souvenir so I followed along and made a sketchbook as well. And then he ended up losing his phone in Beijing.”

“That cheese…” Song Yu paused. “I drew it back then, when I had nothing else to do.”

That final sentence gave Yue Zhishi a peculiar feeling.

“Was it because my name’s pronounced really similarly to ‘cheese’?”

Song Yu stared at his eyes, as though not happy about how Yue Zhishi always asked him such candid questions. He only hummed in agreement after a little while passed.

In this moment, Yue Zhishi finally knew: it hadn’t only been him who had done something so foolish as writing Song Yu’s name again and again during his early teenage years. Song Yu had also done something similar — he had simply just hidden it better, hiding it behind a lot more defences.

And no wonder. Yue Zhishi had received his second sketchbook only after Song Yu had returned from a conference in Beijing. Those sketchbooks Yue Zhishi had treasured — Song Yu hadn’t given them to him casually; they were something Song Yu had personally made, had etched his drawing onto their leather covers by hand. 

And yet he hadn’t said anything. Suddenly, Yue Zhishi was thankful he cherished everything Song Yu had given him. If he’d carelessly lost or wasted those sketchbooks, he would most likely be extremely, extremely upset at trampling on Song Yu’s heart now that he’d learned the truth.

“You keep not telling me things.” Yue Zhishi held onto his hand. “Do you still have a lot of things you haven’t told me?”

They’d already arrived at Yanghe Qizhe’s small alleyway as they spoke. At first, Song Yu didn’t reply, but later, he lowered his head and said, “Mn.”

“Tell me,” Yue Zhishi wheedled, hugging his arm.

Except Song Yu laughed softly. “There are too many.”

“I want to listen to them all. You can tell me one thing every night before bed, like a bedtime story. Okay?”

Pushing open the restaurant door, Song Yu gently consented. “Okay.”

Yanghe Qizhe had been decorated by fresh flowers, and for a moment, it brought Yue Zhishi back to that time they’d prepared it for a wedding. But the flowers this time were richer in colour, and there were also many large toys children liked to play with — as well as lego blocks and a croquembouche almost as tall as a person.

“So lively.”

“You’re back?” Lin Rong placed a balloon to the side, having finished blowing it up.

“I’ll help you.” Yue Zhishi ran to help her with the balloons, only to have his first one explode in his face; he scared himself and stood there in astonishment.

Standing not too far away, Song Yu froze at first as well, but then he chuckled at Yue Zhishi’s reaction — he found him more adorable the more he thought about it.

“Go to the kitchen and try the soup!” Song Yu had yet to stop working, and Lin Rong urged him away to the kitchen. “Oh yes, give your dad a call and remind him to come. He needs to make a speech, so tell him to remember to draft one up!”

Yue Zhishi couldn’t help but say, “Such an occasion.”

“But of course, it’s the first grandchild for my best friend’s family. She also really likes her niece, they’re as close as mother and daughter. Having a new baby in the family is an extremely joyous occasion.” 

Seeing the cute photos attached onto the wall, Yue Zhishi’s thoughts started to wander. He grabbed another balloon and said, “Aunt Rong, you…”

Lin Rong seemed to read his mind, crisply and plainly telling him, “I don’t want a grandchild.”

Yue Zhishi laughed, in spite of himself. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“It’s the same whether you say it or not, darling.” Lin Rong hugged his shoulders, looking at the photos on the wall with him. “Little children really are cute, but teaching them and taking care of them require a lot of effort. I’ve managed to raise you two to adults, and so I’ve already enjoyed enough the joys of being a mother. Now that you two are grown up, I want to do some things for myself while I still have the energy and desire to do so. My value shouldn’t lie only in being a mother — I want to be myself too, and not just someone’s mother. Do you understand that?”

Yue Zhishi nodded and hugged Lin Rong. “You’ve worked hard.”

He leaned into the hollow of Lin Rong’s shoulder. After saying quiet for a few moments, he used a very soft, almost tentative, voice to say for the first time, “Mom, thank you.”

They’d been joking around just a few moments ago — but now, at that title, Lin Rong’s nose started to sting, her eyes turning red.

She also returned Yue Zhishi’s hug, and she stroked up and down his back. “So…”

Somewhat childishly, she said, “You’re going to call me mom anyway. Hmph, and Song Jin keeps stopping you. Call me by that name again in front of his face later, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Mom.” Yue Zhishi laughed, nodding very obediently in her arms.

Lin Rong then added, “Don’t call him dad yet.”

Yue Zhishi couldn’t stop laughing. “All right.”

Guests started to pour in, more and more people gathering in Yanghe Qizhe’s front courtyard. It was still not yet time for dinner. After finishing with the balloons, Yue Zhishi went around, searching for Song Yu. He looked into each private room and travelled all the way to the one at the very back, sliding open the door; he saw Song Yu in Yanghe Qizhe’s secret backyard. He was sitting peacefully on the bench underneath the cherry blossom tree, and without a single word, he lifted his eyes and gazed at Yue Zhishi.

Their whole family of four had transplanted that weeping cherry blossom tree to the backyard when Yue Zhishi had been ten years old. It had grown much larger now, its snow white cherry blossoms studded all over those drooping branches. Under the breeze of early April, those blossoms lightly swayed — a rain of flowers, snow in colour, drifted downwards in flowing sheets. The orange rays of dusk fell onto that cold-looking tree, and it looked like it was set on fire. 

And Song Yu, sitting under that tree, was extraordinarily pure and elegant. His face was serene, and the setting sun reflected a tinge of that always so hard to see tenderness on his face. 

He stretched out a hand towards Yue Zhishi, who walked towards him and gripped onto his fingers. “You really know how to hide away.”

Song Yu didn’t respond, but he pulled lightly at Yue Zhishi, tugging him into his arms and having him sit on top of his legs. He wrapped his arms around Yue Zhishi, and kissed the side of his neck.

“I called Aunt Rong ‘mom’ just then.” Yue Zhishi was looking at Song Yu and, noticing a cherry blossom fallen onto his head, reached out to gently pluck it down. Twirling it in his hand, he continued, “She was really happy.”

Song Yu let out a ‘mn’ and said, “She’d wanted it for a very long time. She just didn’t say it.”

“You’re really similar to her in that sense.” Yue Zhishi curled his arms around Song Yu’s neck, giving him a sweet yet pure smile.

Looking at his face, Song Yu was lost in his thoughts — but he was very quickly pulled back out by Yue Zhishi’s light kiss on his lips.

“I had a dream last night,” he softly said, holding onto Yue Zhishi.

Yue Zhishi, still yet to let go of that blossom, swept its soft petals over Song Yu’s face. “What did you dream about?”

“I dreamed that… your parents didn’t die, and you grew up in England. You were a very loved child.”

“And then?” Yue Zhishi’s hand paused. He seemed to only care about one thing. “Where were you?” 

“I was here, but I think I went to look for you and saw you after you grew up.” There was a faraway look in Song Yu’s eyes as he recalled what he’d dreamed. “I also remember seeing an ocean and white cliffs.” His mouth curved slightly. “We were also together.”

Yue Zhishi knocked his forehead with his own. “And then?”

“I don’t really remember. I remember us lying on grass together, as well as an endless, happy summer.”

It sounded like a beautiful dream. Yue Zhishi focused on Song Yu’s face, and then with a completely serious face, he said, “Song Yu, you must really like me to have a dream like that.”

Song Yu was amused by his serious expression, and he pinched his face. “You only know that now?”

And then, the amusement on his face faded slightly. He hugged Yue Zhishi and asked, “Baobao, do you think — if you had your parents and happily grew up like you did in my dream — would you be less…” he paused, carefully considering his words, “…less regretful.” 

Yue Zhishi quieted, getting up to change his sitting position. He switched to straddling over Song Yu’s body, facing each other, and called out gege. His amber eyes were sincere and transparent. “I don’t feel regretful at all.”

His voice was very quiet. “I have no way of comparing myself with a hypothetical me. Of course, I’ve thought about how I’d be like if my parents were still alive, if I would be happier than now. But honestly, it’s already such a wonderful thing to have Aunt Rong and Uncle Song in their roles as my parents. I can’t imagine anyone else better than them in the entire world.”

He pressed against Song Yu’s forehead as he spoke. “Besides, there’s you, too. Being able to grow up together with you — that’s the luckiest thing I can ever have in my life.”

Song Yu reached up and stroked Yue Zhishi’s soft hair.

“I don’t think that dream’s all that glorious, and I don’t want it either, because the me in that dream would’ve missed your best childhood and adolescent years. Perhaps I would have your future, but the feelings between us wouldn’t be so deep. From when you were three to your current twenty two years — every day I’ve spent with you has been the most precious gift I’ve ever received.” 

Song Yu lowered his eyes before looking back at him, his arms tightening.

“I also have no way to imagine you not growing up by my side. So I keep thinking I’m very cruel — if I had to choose again, I would still choose for you to arrive to me at three years old.” 

“Not cruel at all.” Yue Zhishi’s arms overlapped behind Song Yu’s head, and he spoke tenderly. “The other side of regret is a perfect ending.”

They heard the sound of the door sliding open as they spoke, and they looked over, seeing Song Jin standing by the door. All three of them were stunned.

“Why are you just standing there?” Lin Rong had also come over, and when she saw them hugging each other underneath the cherry blossom tree, there was an unsurprised look on her face. “Time to eat.” Turning around, she even smacked Song Jin, who was frozen where he stood. “And you, what are you so surprised about. You have your draft speech?”

“Yes. Have a look.”

“I don’t want to.” Lin Rong threw a look over, holding open the door. “The two of you stop clinging onto each other, come and eat.”

“Understood.” Song Yu helplessly shook his head, and he also knocked Yue Zhishi’s forehead with his own.

Yue Zhishi let out a laugh — he stood up, shaking off the flowers on his body, and said, “Let’s eat.”