Chapter 72: “Hello, Grandma.”

Recovery from bone and muscle injuries takes a hundred days. Although Kong’s Mother hadn’t injured her bones, her recovery ability at her age was what it was. Healing from a tailbone contusion would still take a couple of months.

During this time, Kong Ji kept running back home.

He had no choice. The old lady, already strong-willed, became even harder to care for after getting hurt. She suddenly exhibited a stubborn, childish side, throwing tantrums at the slightest thing.

Kong’s Father couldn’t handle her alone. When she wore him down, he’d call Kong Ji to come deal with it.

Kong Ji’s approach was very direct, just like at the hospital: spend money where needed, hire help where needed. He booked the best rehabilitation specialist to care for her.

He ignored all of Kong’s Mother’s complaints and nitpicking. Concerning her recovery progress, he only listened to what the doctor said.

This kind of interaction lacked warmth, but warmth was precisely the thing their family needed the least.

Still, there was always a unique element in familial bonds. Meeting once a year at the dinner table, after a few extra cups of wine, the harsh words would start flowing. Now, seeing each other every few days, setting aside Kong’s Mother’s complaints, the three’s interactions had unknowingly become somewhat more harmonious.

For instance, sometimes when Kong’s Father called to tell Kong Ji to come over, he’d casually mention they’d run out of wet wipes at home and ask him to pick some up from the supermarket on the way.

For instance, if it happened to be mealtime when Auntie Wu finished cooking, Kong Ji would also stay and eat.

The most direct manifestation was that Kong’s Father began calmly discussing work matters with Kong Ji.

A dynamic that was the most ordinary daily routine in any other household, but in theirs, was a rare state of ease.

Yet this state could never last long. Whenever the relaxed, natural atmosphere continued for about twenty minutes, Kong’s Father or Kong’s Mother would always tentatively try to steer the conversation towards Kong Ji’s orientation, pressuring him to marry, his age, and family.

They always felt that even at this stage, simply by mentioning it more, pressuring more, persisting more, they could still change their son’s life choices.

Kong Ji had long since passed the age where he needed to rely on losing his temper or reasoning to assert himself.

He knew his parents were just like him—neither would ever back down. He had long since accepted this deformed and twisted family relationship.

“Even if you just get married, then divorce, and have your own child, then go mess around with all that messy stuff of yours, neither your father nor I would say anything about you.”

This was Kong’s Mother’s favorite thing to say lately.

It sounded outrageous. More outrageous was that this was the most “open-minded” statement she had made in all these years.

When Kong Ji heard her start this spiel, he was in the middle of coordinating work with Jiang Lin on his phone. At her words, his brow twitched. The first thought that came to mind was: If Tong Xilin heard this, he’d probably laugh out of sheer anger.

He couldn’t even be bothered to give her a glance. He just turned his head and asked the caregiver, “Has she gone for her walk today?”

Hearing that she hadn’t, Kong Ji withdrew his gaze and signaled the caregiver to help his mother out for a stroll in the backyard garden.

Just as he’d dispatched his mother for her walk and rehab, Kong’s Father, brewing tea at his tea table, chimed in: “Actually, you could consider what your mother said. Parents can never win against their children, but children should also be considerate of their parents. It’s all for your own good.”

“Be careful, don’t break another one.” Kong Ji pointed at his teapot. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, picked up his car keys, and left.

Thinking back, it was quite interesting.

As Kong Ji drove to the studio, recalling those words, he laughed and lit a cigarette.

Two ever-aging parents, losing their grip on their child, yet tirelessly using “for your own good” as a pretext to try and change their son’s life choices.

A stubborn old man and woman.

The stubborn old man and woman weren’t always so easy to brush off. In the first few days of the May Day holiday, when Kong Ji went to visit, Kong’s Mother had another outburst at him.

This time, it was a bad one. Because Kong’s Mother was no longer just sparring with words. Perhaps because they’d met so many times this year, and Kong Ji had been very attentive in his care, she felt renewed hope of pulling her son back to the “right path.” She actually proposed introducing him to a girl.

“Whether it works out or not, just meet her. Treat it as making a friend.”

That’s how she tried to persuade him, having even gotten a photo of the girl, holding up her phone to show Kong Ji.

From his brow to the corners of his mouth, not a single feature on Kong Ji’s face moved. He stood straight up and walked out.

Passing by the caregiver, he gave a verbal instruction: “Remember to take her for her follow-up checkup in a few days.”

When Tong Xilin called that night, listening to Kong Ji’s tone, he felt his fatigue had entered a whole new level.

As if it was additionally laced with a great deal of helplessness.

“Are you really okay, Uncle?” He asked Kong Ji very seriously.

“I’m fine.” Kong Ji poured himself a glass of wine. “Just a bit annoyed.”

“Who’s bothering you?”

“No one’s bothering me.” Kong Ji always found it easy to laugh because of Tong Xilin. “No one can bother me anymore. But having people constantly trying to change me, that’s a very annoying thing.”

Tong Xilin didn’t press further about what exactly was going on. He felt that since Kong Ji didn’t want to say, there must be a reason for it.

Maybe it really was work-related, and even telling him would just mean re-living the frustration. Maybe he still saw him as a child, incapable of sharing the burden of his emotions.

He didn’t ask more. He didn’t even offer much comfort. After hanging up, he went straight to check flight tickets.

Just like what Kong Ji had done for him last summer—sensing Tong Xilin’s bad mood, he didn’t say much, just flew directly to his side first.

But for Tong Xilin to nail down the timing for this ticket, it still took some juggling.

The May Day holiday was only three days. With the Gaokao coming up fast again this year, both the tutoring center and Zhao Linlin’s private tutoring had classes. The final sprint phase meant schedules were extremely tight.

Tong Xilin negotiated with both sides, shuffling things around to free up a whole day of rest. He booked a flight landing at 10 AM.

He didn’t tell Kong Ji. When Zhou Qi called to ask him his plans for the holiday, Tong Xilin had already arrived in the North, just stepping out of the airport.

“You went home?” Zhou Qi was quite surprised, confirming it two or three times. After confirming, he was still a little miffed. “How come you didn’t tell me? I’m on break, stuck at school with nowhere to go, bored out of my mind. If you’d told me, I would’ve come back with you.”

“I’m only back for one day.” Tong Xilin explained to him. “I’m flying back tomorrow morning.”

“What’s up, something going on at home?” Zhou Qi immediately became sharp. “Did that fake mom of yours try to find you again?”

The term “fake mom” was so harsh. Tong Xilin found it amusing, but some kind of bizarre moral restraint also made him too embarrassed to laugh outright.

“What fake mom…” He cleared his throat and casually told a little lie. “No, I came back to take care of some paperwork.”

Hearing it was official business, Zhou Qi didn’t ask further and promptly hung up.

Tong Xilin didn’t tell Kong Ji he was back. He hailed a cab from the airport straight to home.

On the way back, remembering Zhou Qi mentioning Huang Lirong, he went onto Douyin to check her account, wanting to see if she was still posting those meaningless things.

That look nearly made him fail to find the account.

Whether Huang Lirong had come to terms with things, or the novelty wore off, or maybe she consulted a lawyer and realized her search-for-son act couldn’t bring her huge benefits, she had deleted all those “looking for my son” videos.

Even the username “Looking for My Son Tong Xilin” was changed. Now it was just “Rong Er.” After the two characters “Rong Er” followed a string of symbols and a red lip emoji.

And her latest post was a video of her legs in stockings.

Even though he had already calmly accepted that his mother was this type of person, every time he saw these images and posts, Tong Xilin still felt an indescribable taste.

He still felt confusion and incomprehension—a pure, unseeking curiosity he didn’t want to find an answer for: This was actually his mother.

After the incomprehension passed, he calmly exited Douyin and called Kong Ji.

At that moment, Kong Ji was also in a car. But he was the one driving. Kong’s Father was in the passenger seat. The back row held Kong’s Mother and the caregiver. The group had just finished a medical check-up at the hospital, and he was driving the old couple back home.

Tong Xilin’s call popped up on the car’s display. He glanced at the screen and picked up without a moment’s hesitation.

“Uncle,” Tong Xilin had absolutely no idea his voice was broadcasting inside Kong Ji’s car, being listened to by four people. He asked with a light smile, “Where are you?”

“Driving.” Hearing this kind of question, Kong Ji immediately understood what it implied. He also smiled. “You came back?”

“So formidable,” Tong Xilin murmured softly, “You guessed it right away.”

A male voice. Young. An intimate tone.

The moment Kong’s Father and Mother heard Tong Xilin say the word “Uncle,” they swiveled their gazes over in unison. Kong’s Mother even straightened her back reflexively, pulling at the muscles below her waist. She pursed her lips in pain and exchanged a look with the stern-faced Kong’s Father.

Their reactions, the instantly stiff and tense atmosphere in the car—Kong Ji felt it all. And he didn’t care about any of it.

“Have you landed yet, or are you home already?” He sped up, only asking Tong Xilin, “Do you need me to come pick you up?”

On the other side of the city, Tong Xilin glanced out the taxi window. The weather today was beautifully clear, a vast expanse of tile-blue. But it wasn’t hot. There was the scent of green grass in the wind. Big puffy clouds dotted the sky, and golden sunlight blanketed the ground.

He looked at the landmarks and buildings along the road, about to tell Kong Ji where he was, when suddenly a female voice cut in from the other end of the phone.

“Home?” The female voice sounded aged, icy cold, with a very slow cadence. “You two are living together? Which house of yours? What kind of uncle are you?”

Tong Xilin clamped his mouth shut abruptly, his eyelids twitching.

He wasn’t naive. This age, this line of questioning—he guessed the speaker’s identity instantly. Nine out of ten, it was Kong Ji’s mother.

The silence on the call made Kong Ji frown. He glanced at the monitor, a little worried Tong Xilin might have been frightened. He also looked at the questioning Kong’s Mother, feeling somewhat surprised by her behavior of interrupting the conversation.

When Kong’s Mother was younger, she had been very conscious of her image. At the very least, she had never been this sharp in front of strangers.

Just as Kong Ji was about to open his mouth and explain, Tong Xilin’s voice suddenly came through the car’s speakers again.

“Hello, Grandma.”

He was smiling, a polite smile, his voice clear and generous.

“I’m Tong Xilin. Uncle is the one who supports my living and schooling. We live together in one home.”