Chapter 38

A person’s bottom line really can be pushed lower and lower.

That was the first thought that popped into Qi Yang’s head when he heard Mu Yicong say that.

Not long ago—just before the New Year—he would have taken Mu Yicong’s ambiguous words as a declaration of war and carefully, repeatedly analyzed what he really meant.

Now, after having his mouth bitten, Qi Yang barely felt Mu Yicong’s verbal provocation.

Still, he glanced at Mu Yicong’s lips, then snatched his own cup back.

“Is the water in someone else’s cup sweeter?” Qi Yang rotated the cup, avoiding the spot where Mu Yicong had drunk.

“What’s the matter?” Mu Yicong crossed his legs and asked unhurriedly. “Did you have your lips inlaid with gold? Can’t anyone else drink water you’ve touched?”

Qi Yang froze for a second. Staring at the faint smile in Mu Yicong’s dark eyes, he couldn’t help laughing.

“Damn,” he said, lowering his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “I said that, didn’t I?”

Mu Yicong watched him intently for a moment before replying, “I thought you’d forgotten.”

As if you could really just forget.

Qi Yang recalled that afternoon in high school when he went to Mu Yicong’s place to copy homework—chasing away Ren Wei, wearing Mu Yicong’s slippers, drinking Mu Yicong’s water.

Back then, Mu Yicong walked around with his nose in the air and disdained any association with him. When teenage Mu Yicong saw Qi Yang naturally pick up his cup and drink, he had coldly warned him, “I already drank from that.”

Qi Yang’s answer at the time was exactly what Mu Yicong had just said: “What, did you have your lips inlaid with gold?”

A few years ago, Qi Yang had come across a saying: People can’t even empathize with their past selves.

Thinking about it now, it was really true.

He and Mu Yicong now seemed to have swapped places compared to when they were kids, both changed by time into different people.

“You were nothing like you are now back then.” Qi Yang propped his face on his hand, found a more comfortable sitting position, and couldn’t help reminiscing. “You were so pretentious. All stiff with rules, getting mad at the drop of a hat.”

“Was I?” Mu Yicong looked at him with a faint smile.

“You were.” Qi Yang nodded firmly. “I really couldn’t stand you back then.”

“Me neither,” Mu Yicong said.

Their mutual animosity had been shown a thousand times through their actions ten years ago.

But today, at this moment, sitting in this clean, warm villa, listening to the faint winter wind howling outside, drinking warm tea, and looking at Mu Yicong who had suddenly appeared on this winter evening, Qi Yang couldn’t muster any negative feelings.

In fact, he felt that this was the first time they had truly closed the distance since their reunion.

“How much did you hate me?” he asked with interest. “Did you hate me the first time you saw me, too?”

“As soon as you walked into the classroom, you threw your ball at my face. Then after school, you blocked the door for no reason. Anyone would hate you.” Mu Yicong said. “You caused too much trouble.”

“Actually, the first time I saw you wasn’t in the classroom.” Qi Yang seriously refreshed his memory.

“Oh?” Mu Yicong replied.

“It was at the school gate.” Qi Yang tugged at the tassels on the sofa cushion and told Mu Yicong, “Your white shirt was way too eye-catching. I saw you as soon as you got out of the car.”

“By after school, it had turned into a dirty rag,” Mu Yicong said.

Qi Yang pursed his lips apologetically and tapped Mu Yicong’s cup with his own.

“Liu Dameng and Cui Wu—they were sincere at the gathering that day. Even if a verbal apology doesn’t mean much.”

He drank some water and started again.

“But I’ve always been curious.”

“You were more than capable of beating them up. You weren’t afraid of trouble, either. When they pulled all that crap on you in school, why didn’t you ever just fight back?”

Qi Yang really had never been able to figure this out.

Even just judging by Mu Yicong’s family background—though he kept a low profile—if he had thrown a young master’s tantrum at school, Liu Dameng and his crew would have had no good days.

But Mu Yicong kept his mouth shut and instead only ever found chances to beat the hell out of Qi Yang himself.

Ever since Mu Yicong entered the villa, his gaze had basically been locked on Qi Yang’s face.

Now that Qi Yang had asked about himself, Mu Yicong lowered his eyelids. His expression returned to calm, hard to read.

“The Old Master’s political career was in a tight spot back then,” he said flatly.

That was all he offered. He didn’t intend to continue the topic.

Qi Yang raised his eyebrows. He could roughly guess the connection—people on a political path feared their children being used against them the higher they climbed. They would repeatedly warn their kids to keep a low profile and avoid trouble. Even if they suffered a little, they mustn’t pull something as terrifying as “My dad is Li Gang.”

“Looks like being the Young Master isn’t easy either.” Qi Yang lit a cigarette and deliberately teased.

Mu Yicong raised his cup in a toast. “It’s easier now.”

“So when did you figure out you liked men?” Qi Yang suddenly asked.

He was still curious about this.

Before, he’d been curious how Mu Yicong could have liked him. Now, he was curious about the development of Mu Yicong’s orientation.

Curious whether it had anything to do with him.

“I forgot.” When it came to his own matters, Mu Yicong’s answers were simple and uninteresting. He turned the question back on Qi Yang. “How did you figure out you liked women?”

Qi Yang froze.

Did you need to figure that out? When you reached the right age, you just knew.

That was what he wanted to tell Mu Yicong, but saying it would make his own question look stupid.

And when he thought about it, he didn’t really have a strong desire for the opposite sex. Taking care of Qi Xing every day made his worldly desires atrophy. The last time he’d let off steam was because…

Qi Yang’s self-analysis came to a sudden halt. Under Mu Yicong’s gaze, he grew restless again.

“Talking to you is no fun.” He smoked his cigarette down to the filter, flicked it into the ashtray, and stood up to head upstairs. “I’m going to sleep.”

After two steps, he stopped and turned back. “How are you going to sleep tonight?”

Mu Yicong glanced at the time, then stood up and grabbed his jacket.

“Leaving?” Qi Yang paused, also checking the time. It was already 10:30.

“I still have things to do.” Mu Yicong put on his jacket as he walked toward the entrance hall. “Don’t bother saying goodbye to Auntie.”

“You have things to do this late?” Qi Yang followed him to see him off. Remembering Mu Yicong’s line when he first came in— “I wanted to see you, so I came”—a weird annoyance rose in him.

Not a single sincere word.

“What’s wrong?” Mu Yicong stopped at the entrance and studied Qi Yang’s expression. “Don’t want me to go?”

Qi Yang admired this guy’s nerve. He almost laughed. “Get lost.”

Mu Yicong looked at him for a few seconds, then suddenly stepped forward.

Qi Yang instinctively wanted to back up, but that would feel like backing down from a fight. So he held his ground, shoulders tense, bracing himself for Mu Yicong to do something out of line.

“I really do have things to do.”

Mu Yicong turned his head slightly near Qi Yang’s ear, his nose brushing past Qi Yang’s temple, a very light touch.

“But wanting to see you was real, too.”

He finished in a low voice, didn’t wait for Qi Yang’s reaction, opened the door, and left.

Qi Yang stood there for a long time. He raised his hand and rubbed his temple hard, then rubbed his burning ears too, cursing under his breath that the guy was out of his mind.

—

The next morning, Zou Meizhu woke up and went downstairs to prepare breakfast.

When she saw Qi Yang already in the kitchen cooking congee, she tied up her hair, walked over, and asked quietly, “Son, where’s your friend? Still asleep?”

“He left,” Qi Yang said.

“Ah?” Zou Meizhu glared at him in displeasure. “He left without even eating? Why didn’t you stop him? He helped us so much.”

Qi Yang fished the eggs out of the pot and put them in a bowl of cold water. He didn’t say much to Zou Meizhu.

Today was the last rehabilitation class of this phase. They were heading back in the afternoon, so he needed to hurry Qi Xing through washing up and get to the hospital.

A single phase of classes didn’t show much effect. Although Qi Xing had been much more stable these last two days, it was hard to say if that was just because she’d gotten used to the villa.

The only thing Qi Yang was grateful for was that she behaved better on the way back than when they had come. She didn’t make a scene.

Zou Meizhu, on the other hand, was going through massive withdrawal symptoms.

“Mommy really doesn’t want to leave.” She was genuinely nostalgic about Mu Yicong’s villa. All the way back, she leaned against the car window in a daze and sighed three or four times. “That big house is where Mommy belongs.”

Qi Yang chuckled. “Can you stop dreaming about being a rich lady?”

“When’s the next treatment, son?” Zou Meizhu started planning for herself. “Mommy will come take care of you two again.”

The expert had set a course of four classes a month. Ideally, they’d go every week, but there were too many factors to consider from so far away. Qi Yang had to compress the schedule by the month, squeezing out a few days each month to go.

If Zou Meizhu were a reliable mom, they could rent a house over there for half a year. She could take Qi Xing to class, and Qi Yang would have a lot less on his plate.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at Qi Xing, who was playing with sticker art.

But Qi Xing couldn’t be away from him. And Zou Meizhu couldn’t be away from him, either.

Qi Xing didn’t long for the big villa. Back in her familiar little home, she quickly returned to her usual routine—getting up and going to bed on time, happily doing her handcraft journal.

But on the second day after coming home, she got her period for the second time.

She was still clueless, not understanding what was happening when her period came. She bled all over her pants, but this time she learned to take Qi Yang by the hand and show him the stained sheet.

Zou Meizhu sighed as she tore open a pair of menstrual underwear for her, grumbling, “Big as you are, back to wearing diapers.”

Menstrual underwear really was easier for Qi Xing than sanitary pads.

At least Zou Meizhu didn’t have to keep checking her pants. She still had to wash the sheets twice, but compared to last month’s whole-family chaos, things were much better overall.

Following the expert’s advice, Qi Yang patiently started teaching her about menstruation, prepared for a long battle.

A few days passed like this. Once Qi Xing’s period was over, Qi Yang picked up his phone before bed one night and realized Mu Yicong hadn’t contacted him in days.

He lay in bed thinking for half an hour. Based on the hotel’s pricing, he calculated the approximate rent for those nights, added food, electricity, and other sundries, estimated a number, and called Mu Yicong again.

This time, the phone rang longer than ever. Qi Yang thought maybe it was getting a bit late, and was about to hang up when Mu Yicong finally answered.

“What’s up?” he asked Qi Yang.

“Last week, staying at your villa…” Qi Yang cleared his throat, about to get to the point, when suddenly a voice called out from the other end of the line: “Bro!”

Bold, youthful, with the particular hoarseness of someone who’d just finished puberty. A teenage boy’s voice.

Mu Yicong moved the phone away from his ear. Qi Yang heard him respond: “Hm?”

“Who are you talking to?” The male voice asked, his tone naturally familiar and intimate. “Get over here.”

“Give me a sec.” Mu Yicong pressed the phone back to his ear and asked Qi Yang again, “What did you just say?”

Qi Yang suddenly lost the will to talk.

He didn’t turn on the light. He grabbed a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it in the dark. “Nothing. You go ahead.”