Chapter 33 Part 1

In the evening.

Lin Zao carried the signal-less Lin Xiaobao up to the second floor and into the kitchen, ready to prepare dinner.

It had been another busy day—chatting with Fu Cheng, teaching him to read characters, and even rescuing a little dog.

Lin Zao was a bit tired, not very hungry, and nothing in particular sounded appealing.

Fortunately, there was still some leftover pig head meat and pig heart from the batch he’d braised a few days earlier.

Only half an ear remained of the pig head meat, and just a small chunk of the pig heart.

Lin Zao sliced it all up, piled it on a plate, and set it in a steamer over the pot.

There was also a big pot of braising broth, which Lin Zao couldn’t bear to throw away.

He used a fine-mesh strainer to filter out the bits of meat foam and scraps from the broth, then poured the clear liquid into a small, clean bowl. He covered it with a lid and stowed it in the fridge.

As long as the fridge didn’t break and the power stayed on, they could use the broth again next time.

While Lin Zao prepared the meat dish, Lin Xiaobao dragged his numb little feet onto a small stool to wash the lettuce leaves.

He washed the vegetables obediently. Once Dad ate the lettuce, he wouldn’t be allowed to eat Little Bao anymore!

After about six or seven minutes of steaming the meat, Lin Xiaobao finished washing the veggies.

Lin Zao took a shallow porcelain plate and neatly arranged the lettuce leaves on it. He sprinkled on a bit of salt, added a steamer basket, and set it over the pot too.

He was too lazy to stir-fry, so steaming it was.

Five minutes later, he could plate it up and drizzle on some oyster sauce dissolved in boiling water.

He’d had soup for breakfast and lunch, so Lin Zao skipped stewing more for dinner.

For one thing, it took too much time. For another…

Lin Xiaobao tended to wet the bed if he drank soup at night.

Fu Cheng couldn’t do chores, and Lin Zao didn’t want to wash the sheets.

Add a small pot of steamed rice, and that was dinner for their little family.

Lin Zao set out the bowls, chopsticks, and chairs. He and Lin Xiaobao sat down to eat first.

Father and son settled in, picked up their chopsticks, and in perfect sync, reached for the lettuce.

One chopstickful, two, three.

One leaf, two leaves, three leaves.

Like two little rabbits, munching away—

“Little Bao?” Lin Zao asked, puzzled. “Don’t you like pig ears anymore? How come you’re only eating veggies and skipping the meat?”

“Dad…” Lin Xiaobao hesitated.

“I remember a few days ago, you polished off a whole plate and asked when I’d make more.”

“I…” Lin Xiaobao said softly, “I’m kinda tired of it.”

Fair enough.

No matter how delicious something was, eating it day after day got old.

Truth be told, Lin Zao felt the same way.

“Then eat more greens. Dad’ll make something new for you tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Lin Xiaobao nodded vigorously. “My pee even smells like braised meat now…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Lin Zao cut him off quickly. “We’re eating.”

“Oh.” Lin Xiaobao clapped a hand over his mouth but couldn’t stifle a giggle, his eyes curving into happy crescents.

Father and son only picked at a few slices of the braised meat from the plate. They saved the rest for Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng wasn’t picky. Whatever his wife brought him, he’d eat.

He cleaned his plate every meal and even thought it wasn’t enough.

He could devour a whole Little Zao!

The sun had set, and the little dog, unable to bask in its warmth or generate its own heat, grew cold.

Lin Zao fetched a heat pack, tore it open, and stuck it inside the dog’s bed.

They’d never really needed them at home. Fu Cheng ran hot year-round, so he and Little Bao just cuddled up to him for warmth in winter.

The heat packs were from a few years back, when Fu Cheng had gone on a supermarket spree and snagged over a hundred for nine-ninety-nine to stockpile. They’d sat unused ever since.

Now they were perfect for the little dog.

With a towel wrapped around it, the heat pack steadily gave off warmth. The little dog wasn’t dumb—it snuggled right up, humming contentedly as it soaked in the heat.

That should keep it warm through the night.

Once everything in the house was sorted and the doors and windows checked, Lin Zao took Lin Xiaobao upstairs to bed.

Lin Zao lay flat on his back, one arm raised and draped over the pillow in a casual sprawl.

Lin Xiaobao lay on his side, clutching Dad’s other arm tightly like a sticky bubblegum glob.

Neither father nor son spoke.

Lin Xiaobao’s eyes fluttered, on the verge of sleep.

But Lin Zao wasn’t sleepy. His eyes stayed open, fixed on the ceiling, blinking now and then.

He was thinking again.

Thinking about Brother Cheng.

What Little Bao had said that afternoon made a lot of sense—it had really opened his eyes.

He could outfit Brother Cheng with gloves, a muzzle, and a mask. Then Brother Cheng wouldn’t hurt them anymore and could come out of the utility room.

They had gloves at home. Brother Cheng loved riding his motorcycle, and with winter so cold, Lin Zao had bought him a bunch of leather ones.

They could use them now.

But what about a muzzle? A regular mask wouldn’t cut it—Brother Cheng was so strong, he’d rip it off in seconds.

He needed a proper muzzle.

Lin Zao had seen one before—made of iron, covering the lower half of the face. It wouldn’t just prevent biting; it wouldn’t even let the mouth open…

And it was for fierce breeds.

Hee hee, Brother Cheng was a fierce breed too—fierce and vicious, lunging when riled up.

Lin Zao couldn’t hold back a laugh.

As he laughed, his cheeks flushed.

This… that…

Meaning…

Brother Cheng in one would look… pretty hot.

Lin Zao closed his eyes, lips curving unconsciously as he blissfully fantasized.

And with that, he drifted off to sleep.

The night passed uneventfully.

The family of three—plus one little dog—slept soundly till morning.

The next day, eight in the morning.

Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao lay side by side in bed and opened their eyes at the same time.

“Little Bao, you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Time to get up!”

Lin Zao let out a sudden “Yohoo!” and sprang from the bed, scooping up Lin Xiaobao in one fluid motion.

Lin Xiaobao grumbled in protest. “Dad, you’re so annoying! You’re a total meany!”

“Am not.”

Father and son changed clothes, brushed their teeth, and washed their faces before heading downstairs.

Breakfast was congee again—Lin Zao had set the timer last night.

Paired with meat floss, pork oil slag, or a tin of dried fish, it was delicious.

By eight-thirty, father and son had finished eating and gotten dressed.

Lin Zao grabbed the food thermos bucket, Lin Xiaobao held a small bowl, and they marched downstairs with gusto to deliver breakfast.

The thermos was for Fu Cheng—he had a huge appetite and needed seconds of everything.

The small bowl was for the little dog, filled with the thin rice soup skimmed from the top of the congee. The pup couldn’t eat solids yet; this was perfect.

Meanwhile, Fu Cheng and the little dog on the first floor had been waiting awhile.

In fact, the man and the dog…

One man and one dog had woken early too.

The heat pack had gone cold, waking the little dog. It whimpered in its bed.

—So cold, so hungry.

Bored, Fu Cheng stood behind the door, forehead pressed to it, and rumbled at it twice.

—Don’t you dare get cold! Don’t you dare get hungry! Don’t make a fuss! Dogs have to be tough!

The pitiful little dog went “whimper whimper,” while the domineering big dog went “grrr rumble.”

One cry rose as the other fell, back and forth.

Until Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao came downstairs.

At the familiar footsteps, Fu Cheng’s eyes lit up. He straightened up, ready to greet his beloved.

Just then, the iron door shoved open from outside, slamming straight into him.

“Brother Cheng, Little Bao and I brought your breakfast…”

Before Lin Zao finished, he sensed something off and peeked in from the doorway.

Fu Cheng rubbed his nose, tugged at his lips, flashed a smile, and leaned forward.

—Good morning, Little Zao!

The next second, Lin Zao swatted his shoulder.

The second after that, Lin Zao slammed and locked the door.

Clang—a cold, heartless sound.

Fu Cheng stared at the firmly shut iron door in disbelief, wondering if the Little Zao he’d just seen was a hallucination.

Why had Little Zao come and gone so fast? What had he done wrong?

Fu Cheng raised a stiff hand to his mouth.

Had his smile looked bad? He’d practiced against the wall that morning for ages.

He’d mimicked Little Zao’s smile—lips quirked up, eyes crinkled, teeth showing.

It… shouldn’t have been too ugly.

Then a terrified scream came from outside.

“Ah—”

“Little Bao, that mean Big Daddy was hiding behind the door to scare us!”

“Dad almost got bitten! That was so scary!”

Fu Cheng’s throat tightened. He set aside his grievance, sensing something was wrong.

Sure enough, Lin Zao soon clambered onto the windowsill, flung open the window, and demanded loudly.

“Fu Cheng! Why were you lurking behind the door to scare me?!”

Fu Cheng took two steps back and gazed at Lin Zao all pitiful-like.

He was more practiced at that expression.

No, he hadn’t meant to scare Little Zao.

He liked Little Zao.

That said, since Little Zao mentioned almost getting bitten, he did regret it a little.

In that instant, they’d been so close—he could even see the fine fuzz on Little Zao’s cheek.

But he’d forgotten to kiss him, just stood there dazed, and got swatted instead.

Why did he always zone out whenever he saw Little Zao?

He’d resolved yesterday to kiss him.

Fu Cheng’s eyes dropped, gaze darkening. Lin Zao knew exactly what he was thinking.

Lin Zao added, “That was super mean! Extremely mean! So I’ve decided…”