Chapter 18: Control

Li Ran naturally agreed to Li Ang right away.

On the way home, he pondered what gift to bring to his dad’s place.

After the divorce, his parents didn’t cut ties completely; they stayed in pretty frequent contact.

Though the chances of their talks falling apart were even higher.

Right after the divorce, Li Ang’s monthly salary had been six thousand. He spent only two thousand on himself and gave the rest to Bai Qingqing.

But Bai Qingqing refused his money. Li Ang didn’t argue; he just quietly transferred his salary into her account every month.

When Bai Qingqing remarried, Li Ang’s salary rose to nine thousand. He still spent around two thousand on himself and sent another two thousand to Li Ran, who had started living independently in a rental.

The remainder still went entirely to Bai Qingqing.

It was as if he were atoning for his sins.

But back then, Bai Qingqing had sworn she wouldn’t take his money and lashed out at him: “Li Ang, I’m already married with a new family. Don’t keep showing up like a rat whenever you see I’m doing well. Have you no shame? I get sick just looking at your money!”

“If you don’t give money to me or Xiao Ran, you can’t sleep at night, can you? This is what you deserve. My son doesn’t want your filthy money either. If you dare corrupt him, I’ll go down with you!”

“Meow—wuaaah—!!”

Two shrill cat yowls pierced the air, both sounding ready for mutual destruction. Li Ran jumped in fright, all his scattered thoughts vanishing. He had been riding slowly along the roadside, but now the front wheel wobbled, nearly sending him crashing into the bushes.

The evening breeze was cool and refreshing against his skin. But now that comfort was gone, shattered by the fighting cats. Li Ran grumbled a couple of times and was about to steer clear of the feline brawl when he spotted the fully fluffed-up black cat suddenly charge and pin the other one down.

“…Black Impermanence?” he confirmed.

It really was him.

Hei Ge’s ear was already injured—either scratched or bitten—with congealed red blood on it. As he twisted in the fight, the sunset light hit it, gleaming like gel.

“Why are you fighting? Stop it, stop fighting…” Li Ran hopped off his mountain bike, tossed it aside, and ran over like a good Samaritan to break it up.

This time, he didn’t steer clear.

He had learned to meddle.

The sudden approach of human scent triggered the strays’ wariness, and they exploded apart like firecrackers. The other cat vanished into the grass, while the black cat arched his back and hissed viciously at Li Ran.

Two minutes later, the black cat seemed to recognize the familiar human. He squatted disdainfully beside Li Ran and licked his fur, which was bloody and matted.

“You’re that fierce, huh?” Li Ran squatted too, hugging his knees in awe.

The black cat slanted a glance at him and kept licking.

His barbed tongue slowly smoothed the fur, grooming it neat and pretty until it looked no different from usual.

Then he licked his paw and started washing his face.

The paw slid from ear to face, bumping the blood clot. Li Ran winced, gripping his knees, and couldn’t help asking, “Doesn’t your ear hurt? Do you need a cotton swab and iodine? I have some at home.”

The black cat thought he was nuts.

They only shared two egg yolks a day—these days it was four.

Did he have to yap on like that?

Once he was cleaned up, the black cat shifted from squat to stand, shook his tail, and strutted a couple of cat-walk circles, as if showing off to Li Ran that he looked as handsome as ever.

He had to go home to see his wife.

Li Ran, oblivious to cat-speak, just stared blankly.

Even after the black cat huffed at him irritably and leaped into the bushes, Li Ran stayed squatting, utterly baffled: “…What’s his deal?”

The Black Cullinan had been parked across the street for who knew how long, window down, as Chi Mo watched the scene with amusement.

He lowered his raised phone on a whim and opened the green app, tapping straight into Li Ran’s Moments.

Today: [I’m not A’Dai.] With a genius-level smug emoji.

Yesterday: [I’m not A’Dai.] Same genius emoji.

Like daily affirmations.

When Li Ran finally gave up deciphering the black cat’s mind and shook his head to stand, he turned and spotted Chi Mo in the Cullinan across the street.

He figured he’d squatted too long, stood too fast, and blood hadn’t reached his brain yet—causing stars and hallucinations.

Otherwise, why would he think he saw Chi Mo with a playful smile?

The stars faded, and Li Ran looked again. Chi Mo’s face was serious, back to his usual boss vibe.

He must have imagined it…

But Chi Mo had surely caught his awkward moment. Li Ran felt inexplicably annoyed, his cheeks heating up.

He hurried to his bike, grabbed it, and speed-walked away, vanishing into the old neighborhood.

Without so much as a greeting.

How could President Chi tolerate that?

Li Ran had just gotten home when his phone rang.

“…Hello?”

“Li Ran, you dare ignore me?” Chi Mo asked leisurely.

They saw each other daily, messaged constantly—just this one time without a word. What was the big deal? Li Ran set his backpack on the sofa and drawled a greeting: “…Good evening, Mr. Chi.”

“Mm.”

“Good night, Mr. Chi.”

“…”

President Chi was left hanging. Neither spoke again. Li Ran’s palms sweated as he said, “Well, I’m hanging up then…”

His voice tiny. Chi Mo heard it but before he could respond, the line went dead with two beeps. He nearly laughed in frustration.

Old and new scores would settle eventually.

Sweet, oblivious Li Ran had no idea he’d been marked for grudge. Days passed unhurriedly.

Two days before the weekend, just as he’d decided on a gift for his dad’s, Bai Qingqing derailed his plans.

She and Li Ang had talked again, and it hadn’t gone well. Bai Qingqing only said she’d felt uneasy since reluctantly agreeing and didn’t want Li Ran seeing him alone.

That day, she finally snapped and went back on her word, forbidding Li Ran from going.

Her stance was ironclad.

Li Ang tried reasoning, but he was tongue-tied, stammering in urgency without a strong comeback.

He always lost arguments.

He knew his weakness against her eloquence; knew he wasn’t as forceful, especially since he wanted to make up for past mistakes in front of her, putting him at a disadvantage.

The “Li Ran visits dad” plan was forcibly and firmly canceled. Li Ang called Li Ran in compromise: “Listen to your mom. No need to come for dinner this weekend. We’ll talk later.”

His voice was low, full of self-reproach. Li Ran could tell.

After hanging up, Li Ran felt a bit lost. He didn’t get it—one side mom, one side dad. Divorced or not, with new families or not, they were still his parents.

Why couldn’t he visit?

He couldn’t figure it out.

Didn’t know what to say.

He was used to obeying his parents.

No mind of his own.

That evening while brushing his teeth, Li Ran glanced at the white pebble beside the cup—the one he’d picked up from the roadside.

…It was an abandoned little stone.

Li Ran wasn’t smart and had a poor memory, which was actually his strength. He didn’t dwell on confusing things or obsess.

Sleep it off, forget by morning.

So in yet another exam, he proudly scored 30 in English—thanks to his bad memory and pathetic vocabulary.

The English teacher had said many times: If you can’t grasp past and present tenses but want better scores, cram vocab. Build it up, and your feel for the language might come naturally.

“No vocab at all? Picking C on everything might beat 30. Impressive, Little Li Ran.” The teacher, ever stylish and trendy, adjusted her glasses. “Don’t think you’ll coast on that face forever. Need some talent or grades, or you’ll just be a pretty empty vase. Wanna be a celeb?”

Vase Li Ran hung his head in shame—not aiming for stardom—and stayed silent, playing the part even more.

Finals and break were a week away—why these every-three-days quizzes? Li Ran took his paper back to his seat. Sparse checks versus dense red X’s, compared to Qi Zhi’s perfect score, left him mortified. He crumpled it and stuffed it in his pocket.

But he never considered studying hard or saw it as life-or-death.

Dumb is dumb. The world needed idiots. No pressure on himself was self-care.

Jeez…

He knew he wasn’t a genius.

Li Ran thought scraping by day-by-day was his life’s goal. But that afternoon after school, a gale hit, making biking impossible.

The forgotten English paper in his pocket felt the wind’s call—slipped out, flew off, smacked into something.

Then the tightly balled paper “thwacked” someone else’s car.

Chi Mo pulled over, lowered the window to see which bold fool dared.

Li Ran stopped too, anxiously checking whose car. Seeing the familiar Cullinan, he actually sighed in relief first.

The wild wind paused briefly.

Chi Mo’s voice cut clear, unswept: “Want to owe me another favor?”

“…I didn’t.” Li Ran denied vehemently. “Wasn’t me.”

Chi Mo got out, picked up the culprit from the rear. By the time Li Ran rushed to snatch it, Chi Mo had uncrumpled it, eyebrow raised at the sea of red X’s.

After admiring the marks, he checked the name. Even Li Ran wouldn’t score this low—baby-level random guessing territory…

Name—Li Ran.

“Really just 30?” Chi Mo asked.

Tone neutral, no mockery, but pure astonishment. Chi Mo probably never knew 30 points existed—from new continent vibes, he flipped the paper over and over, inspecting closely.

Li Ran’s face reddened.

“Such an idiot?” Chi Mo said.

Li Ran’s face burned hotter.

Before Chi Mo could comment more, Li Ran snatched it back, balled it tighter, pocketed it, and stormed off without a word.

Ears and nape flaming red.

Chi Mo chuckled silently behind him.

Five minutes later at home, Li Ran pulled out his phone and posted to Moments.

[I’m not an idiot.]

With a “world’s smartest me” emoji.

The notification hit Chi Mo’s special-follow instantly—two vibrations.

He tapped in, paused, then grinned long.

Refresh—and gone.

Li Ran had blocked him.

Must’ve forgotten at first.

Li Ran’s Moments: Shout at whom, block whom.

“Not A’Dai” blocked classmates.

“Not idiot” blocked Chi Mo.

His amused smile soured to pissed-off laughter.

He directly video-called Li Ran.

At home, Li Ran had just frantically blocked Chi Mo and was reassuring himself the guy was too busy to notice.

Mid-relief, the video invite blared aggressively.

Li Ran nearly flung the phone.

“Unblock me,” Chi Mo cut straight. “Moments.”

Li Ran couldn’t play dumb.

“…Oh.” He mumbled, rushing to Moments settings.

“Gutsy lately,” Chi Mo said with a cold laugh. Not negotiating—Li Ran wasn’t the negotiating type; he needed direct orders.

Li Ran obeyed habitually.

Chi Mo controlled instinctively.

In an unreasonable, aggressive tone, Chi Mo said: “Block me again, and you’ll get hit. Got it, Li Ran?”