Chapter 12: You Look Like a Mother Hen Protecting Her Little Chicks

In the end, he still couldn’t bring himself to call him “bro.”

Shen Ju tried his hardest, went through the motions, and managed a “Pei-ge.”

He couldn’t go back with Jian Yi after all. He even called He Yuan to explain the situation—there was a good chance he wouldn’t be able to return for the next few days.

Qin Soxi hung up the phone. Guan Lifeng noticed her odd expression and asked what was wrong.

“Uh…”

Qin Soxi’s face was a complicated mix of emotions. “I think the baby might clash with that kid from the Pei Family.”

“The Pei Family’s?”

Guan Lifeng thought for a moment. “Pei Yan? He’s the same generation as us.”

Qin Soxi: “Then should I call him little brother?”

Guan Lifeng: “That’s not what I meant, honey…”

“Then shut up and stop yapping.”

“Oh.”

The kid had gone out for a bit and now couldn’t come back.

The same applied to Jian Yi.

Jian Yi sulked the whole way, convinced this Mr. Pei wasn’t a good guy.

He seemed like someone abducting a child.

But it was a fact that Shen Ju had accidentally injured him, so the responsibility couldn’t be shirked. He had no choice but to shoulder it.

Jian Yi returned to Ankang Hutong alone.

Before leaving, he’d wanted to say something to Shen Ju, but in the end, he said nothing.

On the way back, though, he was a bit distracted.

Bang!

Someone barreled into him from the front.

“Fuck! Dead cripple, missing an arm and a leg—your eyes blind too?!”

Jian Yi frowned and eyed the guy clutching a basketball. “Even if I were blind, you don’t look much better.”

Ma Rui spat on the ground. “Damn it! You trying to die or what?”

“Oh right, I heard someone saw Shen Ju come back? Where’s he at? How come he’s gone again?”

Ma Rui let out a malicious chuckle. “Yeah, Shen Ju’s a rich young master now—who’d bother with you guys? Not like you and your mom are throwing yourselves at him or anything. After all…” Ma Rui looked Jian Yi up and down, his gaze lingering on Jian Yi’s left arm. He sneered, “A cripple like you—how else you gonna survive if not leeching off people like a bloodsucker?”

Jian Yi clenched his only hand, his face cold. “Then you really got no chance at all.”

Ma Rui’s face darkened. “What’d you say?”

“That first night of break—your mom was yelling at you again, huh?”

Jian Yi scoffed. “I heard her from across the courtyard. So what if your body’s fine? Why not fix that brain of yours?”

“Fuck! You fucking looking to die…”

“Ma Rui! What the hell are you doing?! Get your ass home!”

Ma Rui’s mom’s voice rang out from nearby. It was midday, the hutong mostly empty—just the two of them. Their shouting had carried far.

In these times, no family with kids escaped the curse of “grades.”

Living in the hutong, houses packed close, news spread fast—especially which kid aced tests and which bombed.

Jian Yi was the classic “other people’s child,” though his disability tempered the envy in people’s mouths. At best, they’d praise him as “physically disabled but strong-willed.”

Look at you—such a disgrace! Can’t even beat a disabled kid on exams.

That kid studies so hard, no nagging needed—he knows to grind. Heard he topped the class again.

Damn, how’d he score like that? One hand and he still beats you. All you do is play—two hands and you lose to one! Total waste…

Along with the sighs came plenty of sour grapes, but it was genuine—embarrassing when your healthy kid underperformed.

Families could only nitpick Jian Yi’s disability for some mental balance.

But never to his face.

They had shame.

Couldn’t say it themselves, so kids couldn’t either.

Otherwise, where’d they learn it? Gossip would point straight back to the parents.

So Ma Rui’s mom hustled out quick, barking at him sternly but weakly inside, ordering him home.

If Jian Yi was “other people’s child,” Ma Rui was the hutong’s reckless thug.

His grades were trash, his attitude worse. Spotting the basketball in his hands made his mom even madder. She grabbed his ear as he approached and laid into him—ripping his lousy mini-test scores, how he wasted break playing instead of studying, thick-skinned enough to mock Jian Yi when Jian Yi had aced the pre-holiday exam…

The words burned in Ma Rui’s ears. Remembering Jian Yi’s mockery and disdain, resentment boiled over. He couldn’t fight back at his mom, but Shen Ju—wait till school started. Jian Yi would pay!

Jian Yi knew nothing of Ma Rui’s inner rage.

Back home, he saw three sets of chopsticks and bowls on the table and sighed inwardly.

“Mom, Shen Chirp ran into something. He can’t make it.”

Xu Ru paused in the kitchen. “Can’t make it, or doesn’t want to?”

Jian Yi called helplessly, “Mom…”

Xu Ru set down what she was holding and came out. “I just can’t get over it. If he were Xiao Ning’s kid, fine—I’d accept it as his real aunt. I’ve raised him this long, no regrets. But turns out he’s not blood at all. All these years, just raising an outsider. And thinking back to what happened…”

“Mom!”

Jian Yi’s face darkened instantly. “That stuff from back then has nothing to do with Shen Chirp! Why pin it on him?!”

“Just ’cause he’s the only healthy one who survived that crash?!”

“Stop being so stubborn!”

Jian Yi panted lowly, then murmured after a beat, “Deep down, Mom, you’re just hurting, right? ‘Cause Shen Ju had a healthy family once. He didn’t lose his real parents in the crash—they’re alive, rich, powerful, giving him better stuff, no worries, happy life?”

“Yes! I’m hurting! But for you!”

Xu Ru’s face flushed red. “Like how Shen Ju got into Qichen High School, but you? You could’ve too! On your own merit, not handouts!”

“Mom! Why drag this up?! It was your choice back then—no one’s fault!”

“Shen Ju transferred ’cause there was no baby mix-up—he was always meant for better schools!”

Jian Yi stared at Xu Ru, enunciating each word. “Don’t shove your issues on me. I don’t care about that stuff. Don’t take out ‘what ifs’ on Shen Ju—it’s unfair to him. And if you gotta blame someone for the crash… blame me. Not him. He’s been good enough.”

Shen Ju went home with Pei Yan.

More precisely, he took a cab to drop Pei Yan home.

The checkup showed mild concussion.

Headaches, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, maybe tinnitus or blurry vision—mobility would be limited, no doubt.

This was Shen Ju’s second time through the door.

First as guest, second as culprit.

The little culprit trailed Pei Yan step-for-step, darting left, then right, then left again—like terrified Pei Yan might keel over from a sudden ache.

【Host, you look like a mother hen protecting her little chicks.】

[…]

“…”

The line plunged them both into silence.

Pei Yan pinched his brow and sank onto the sofa. His head genuinely spun now; he didn’t want to talk, mood souring.

Being called a little chick made it worse.

He glanced up—Shen Ju still rooted in place. Pei Yan smiled faintly. “I wanna rest. Do whatever, or head home if you need. Call you if something comes up.”

With that, Pei Yan headed upstairs.

He should’ve stayed hospitalized a few days, but he’d insisted on discharge.

Hospitals weren’t his thing. Besides, it wouldn’t change much—just feel crappy for days anywhere.

But he had to admit—Shen Ju played a part in wanting out.

Including the System on Shen Ju…

Something uncontrolled, beyond normal—in Pei Yan’s eyes, a freak. Especially one pushing proximity.

If he hadn’t overheard their chat by chance, who knew what could’ve happened behind his back.

Every word, gesture, action, move—maybe calculated, purposeful. Even if this “996” System seemed green, no slacking vigilance, letting one man and one System slip his sight.

Especially with “Pei Haochuan” involved. Not the man himself, but the “Pei” surname.

One “Pei” couldn’t spell two ways.

Pei Yan guarded against Pei Haochuan’s role—and any ripple to him.

In the dim bedroom.

Pei Yan flopped onto the bed, unbothered by the extra person in the living room below.

He didn’t like outsiders in his home, but Shen Ju was an “accident.” He was curious what the kid would do alone downstairs.

Also…

Truth was, Pei Yan lacked mood or energy now.

So yeah, he’d ditched the kid on purpose.

Lured him back, then ghosted—rude, impolite.

Like peeling off the painted skin, baring the real face.

Head hurt too much, too dizzy, too stuffy. Hard to fake anymore.