Mu Yicong’s bite earned him a fist straight to the face from Qi Yang.
The knuckles scraped across his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose. A sharp, searing pain numbed his entire hand. Qi Yang didn’t care how hard Mu Yicong had taken the punch; he didn’t even spare him a glance. He just grabbed his phone and headed upstairs.
Back in the bedroom, he yanked his duffel bag over, stuffed the discarded clothes into a ball, and hoisted it, ready to leave and find a hotel.
He’d already reached the staircase landing when he stopped, reconsidered, and threw the bag back.
Why the hell should I?
It was Mu Yicong who’d acted like a ghost possessed him and come at him like that. Why should he be the one slinking off like some wronged maiden?
No matter how you spun it, what happened tonight was Mu Yicong being a total asshole.
Just because he was helping out didn’t mean he got to take advantage.
Qi Yang tore open a fresh pack of cigarettes in the room and chain-smoked three in a row, forcing himself to calm down.
He ignored the lingering numbness on his lips and the strange, prickly feeling like a rope twisting in his chest, and thought hard for a long time.
After the three cigarettes, he left the bedroom and went downstairs to find Mu Yicong.
Mu Yicong was still at the dining table, but he wasn’t eating or drinking anymore. He was on the phone.
Qi Yang pulled out a chair and sat diagonally across from him. Mu Yicong lifted his eyelids to glance at him, then said into the phone, “Let’s leave it at that for now. We’ll talk when I get back.”
With that, he hung up. His posture was still relaxed, and he faced Qi Yang with complete naturalness.
As natural as if nothing had happened between them.
“Let’s talk,” Qi Yang said.
“You go first.” Mu Yicong tossed his cigarette pack over.
Qi Yang pulled out another cigarette and clamped it between his lips, but didn’t light it. The buzz from the three he’d just smoked hadn’t worn off yet.
“What the hell do you want?” he demanded bluntly, still holding the cigarette in his mouth.
Mu Yicong looked at him for a moment before answering. “Which aspect?”
“Don’t bullshit me,” Qi Yang said coldly. “I owe you one for helping me out. If there’s money involved, factor in the gas for the drive, the hotel cost for staying at your place, and this meal.”
He kicked the table leg.
“Add it all up in cash. I’ll pay you whatever it is.”
“But if you think helping me out means I owe you something else, then you might as well pretend I never asked you.”
It was actually pretty embarrassing to haggle over money like this, especially with someone who’d genuinely helped him.
Qi Yang was a prideful person. The people he hung out with were the type who didn’t keep score. If Liu Dameng were the kind who would show up the next day with gifts and money and grovel after Qi Yang helped him fight a battle, the two of them would never have been friends.
Even in his lowest moments, Qi Yang prided himself on never failing in how he treated people. He always reciprocated. He wouldn’t grovel to those who helped him, but he remembered it and looked for a chance to pay them back.
But Mu Yicong these days was way too unpredictable. He mixed business with personal likes and dislikes, and it threw Qi Yang off balance. He didn’t know how to handle it.
“Let’s keep things separate, you understand?” He emphasized in a businesslike tone. “Your likes and dislikes have nothing to do with me.”
“Let me be clear.” Qi Yang bit down on the cigarette and stared unblinkingly at Mu Yicong. “If you’re after sex, I can’t give you that.”
Saying those words one by one was even more awkward than having Mu Yicong bite his mouth.
Every time Mu Yicong met Qi Yang, he never reacted to his sarcasm.
He didn’t even seem annoyed when Qi Yang punched him.
But after hearing Qi Yang say all this, his entire demeanor—his expression, his aura—gradually shifted back to the Mu Yicong in Qi Yang’s memory: the one who always showed him contempt and mockery.
“Maybe my words made you misunderstand.” Mu Yicong picked up his wine glass and tapped it lightly on the table. “Don’t say things that degrade yourself.”
With that, he set down the glass and went up to the third floor, continuing to make his phone calls, not even glancing back at Qi Yang.
Qi Yang didn’t sleep well that night.
Partly he was worried about the doctor’s appointment, but mostly the scenes of his interactions with Mu Yicong kept replaying in his mind, frame by frame.
In the darkened room, his physical sensory memories were amplified. The smell of fresh bedding kept reminding him that he was sleeping in a bed in one of Mu Yicong’s houses thanks to Mu Yicong’s favor.
Mu Yicong had bitten his mouth.
And then after biting him, he told him not to overthink it, not to say things that degrade himself.
Qi Yang couldn’t even remember the last time he’d kissed someone. Even his first kiss hadn’t made him dwell on it like this, feeling so awkward all over.
Fuck.
He tossed and turned until 3:30 AM, then grabbed the quilt and wrapped himself up like a silkworm cocoon.
What the fuck was all this?
The next day, he was startled awake by Mu Yicong knocking on the door. Qi Yang sat up in bed, taking a while to come to his senses. He checked the time: just past nine.
He couldn’t remember what time he’d finally fallen asleep; his head just felt dizzy.
After washing up and changing clothes, he went downstairs. Mu Yicong was already dressed and ready, sitting on the sofa with a smug look, tapping on his phone. Breakfast was laid out on the dining table.
“Have you eaten?” Qi Yang sat down and asked stiffly, seeing that Mu Yicong didn’t seem to be coming over to eat.
Mu Yicong grunted an “Mm,” not even raising his head.
Qi Yang ignored him, grabbed a quick bite to save time, and then the two of them left to visit the doctor.
The expert’s residence was indeed not far from Mu Yicong’s villa, and he was quite easygoing.
After reviewing the medical records and listening to Qi Yang describe Qi Xing’s condition, he shared his own assessment and mentioned a few patients with similar severity who had shown significant improvement under his care.
But as with every doctor he’d seen before, they would inevitably emphasize at the end: given the current level of autism research and treatment, parents should prepare for lifelong symptoms.
“I understand all that,” Qi Yang nodded, not surprised by the response. “I just want to help her get as close to normal as possible. I’m not expecting miracles—just enough independent living skills.”
“Based on the status you’ve described, her condition is relatively mild,” the expert deliberated. “It’s just that the age is a bit delayed. If symptoms had been caught early and scientific intervention applied in childhood, the results would have been much better.”
Qi Yang didn’t explain. He just smiled faintly to show he understood.
“But just aiming for independent living—that’s still hopeful.” The expert handed Qi Yang two books. “Take these home. Use the suggestions in the books combined with your child’s habits to guide her.”
“These children all have their own behavioral logic. In their world, there’s no right or wrong.”
“The root of many parents’ suffering is their stubborn insistence that their child live by normal standards.”
“Since the condition is irreversible, it’s better to adapt to the child’s habits and build a set of life skills they can understand and execute.”
Qi Yang took the books, thanked the doctor, and nodded in agreement.
“I think there’s still a lot of hope,” the expert encouraged him at the end. “After the New Year, bring her to the hospital for a comprehensive check-up, and we’ll work out her treatment plan.”
After all these years of going everywhere, all he wanted was to hear that word: “hope.”
Qi Yang seized the opportunity to ask about a few more tricky issues, like how to teach Qi Xing to understand menstruation. After getting some guidance, he let out a deep breath, stood up, said goodbye, and thanked the doctor.
Throughout the conversation, Mu Yicong sat quietly nearby, listening.
When Qi Yang finished his questions, Mu Yicong handed him the car keys, signaling him to wait outside while he spoke to the expert alone.
Qi Yang didn’t get in the car right away. He stood by the vehicle for a moment, calming himself. The feeling of finally having hope to solve a thorny problem was wonderful.
—That’s how it was for Qi Yang now. He didn’t expect everything to get better. As long as things didn’t get worse, that was hope.
He smoked a cigarette outside the car and pulled out his phone to video call home.
When Qi Yang wasn’t home, Zou Meizhu became much more reliable. She had been at home watching Qi Xing for the past two days and hadn’t gone to play mahjong. But when the video connected, she held the phone away from Qi Xing and poured out a basket of complaints, saying that without her son around, she was exhausted.
Qi Yang was in a good mood, so he patiently listened to her ramble, offered a few words of comfort, and then reminded her to pass the phone to Qi Xing.
After hanging up, Qi Yang turned around and saw that Mu Yicong had come out at some point. He was standing in front of the unit building, staring at him.
“Today…” Qi Yang started to say thank you.
But before he could finish, Mu Yicong naturally averted his gaze, walked over, took the car keys, and got straight into the car.
He didn’t say a word.
Qi Yang stood outside the car watching him for a moment, then swallowed his words.
According to the original plan, after seeing the expert, they could head back. Qi Yang had packed his luggage bag that morning and stuffed it in Mu Yicong’s car.
He walked up and knocked on the window, signaling Mu Yicong to open the tailgate.
“What?” Mu Yicong asked.
“Didn’t you come here to handle some business?” Qi Yang opened his phone to buy a train ticket. “Thanks for today. Go do your thing. I’ll buy a ticket and head back.”
“Done,” Mu Yicong said lightly. “Get in.”
“No need.” Qi Yang felt inexplicably irritated by his attitude.
“You’re driving once we’re out of the city,” Mu Yicong said emotionlessly. “I need to catch up on sleep.”
They stared at each other through the window for a moment. Qi Yang nodded, pocketed his phone, and got into the car.
On the way there, they hadn’t talked much, but the drive back was even more silent.
Qi Yang occasionally glanced at Mu Yicong from the corner of his eye, wary that he might start some idle chatter about nonsense.
But the whole drive was silent.
At ten in the evening, the SUV pulled up outside Qi Yang’s neighborhood. Qi Yang got out with his bag, stood on the roadside, and looked at Mu Yicong again.
“Thanks for these past couple of days,” he said, trying to keep his tone from sounding too stiff. He cleared his throat. “In a couple of days, I’ll treat you to…”
“No need.” Mu Yicong said the same thing again.
Again, he cut Qi Yang off before he could finish and directly reached out to pull the car door shut.
Qi Yang’s suppressed anger from the whole day finally ignited completely at this attitude.
He yanked the door open and stared straight at Mu Yicong. “What’s wrong with you now?”
