Chapter 49

When Qi Yang spoke those words one by one, what was going through his mind?

It wasn’t just about figuring out how to phrase things so the refusal wouldn’t seem too abrupt. Ever since the day he received the phone from Mu Yicong, every time he mulled over his words, he would think back to that phone he had returned to Mu Yicong back in school as compensation.

He was so arrogant back then. As a carefree youth with no worries, when he saw the new model Qi Dahai brought home, he just took it. When Mu Yicong came to fight him with the phone that Liu Dameng and the others had broken, Qi Yang couldn’t even be bothered to argue—he just tossed a brand new phone right over.

He even threw in a bicycle on top.

How could Qi Yang back then have imagined that more than a decade later, he would have to count the price of a gift just to decide whether he could accept it?

He didn’t even have to go back ten years. Just a few months ago, Qi Yang felt he could bare the poverty of his current life to anyone except Mu Yicong.

Now that he had actually said these words to his face, it really wasn’t that big a deal.

Mu Yicong was probably thinking the same thing as Qi Yang. Because Qi Yang didn’t see any displeasure at the returned gift in his eyes—just a faint trace of… something that could be considered sympathy.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Qi Yang laughed, and only after driving on did he ask deliberately, “Has no one ever rejected your gift like this before?”

“Actually, no.” Mu Yicong tossed the phone box in his hand and smiled too.

“You’ve got quite a colorful romantic history,” Qi Yang glanced at him.

Mu Yicong lowered his eyelids, lost in thought, and didn’t respond.

When he dropped Mu Yicong off at his neighborhood, Qi Yang got out of the car too, but didn’t go upstairs.

“Go get some rest,” he sized up Mu Yicong, “You look tired.”

Mu Yicong stood in front of the car and slightly opened his arms to Qi Yang.

In this high-end residential complex, the buildings were spaced far apart, and the greenery was good enough to qualify as a city park. At 1 AM, aside from the street lamps on either side of the road, there wasn’t a soul in sight.

Qi Yang hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer to Mu Yicong and accepted his embrace.

The hug had no ulterior motive, carrying a reassuring scent. Qi Yang couldn’t help but stroke Mu Yicong’s back. Mu Yicong patted the back of his head, then squeezed his nape.

“Happy birthday.” After letting go, Mu Yicong added.

“Thanks.” Qi Yang was genuinely moved tonight, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. “This year’s been pretty happy.”

Although he had returned the phone, it wasn’t long before Qi Yang received another gift box.

This time, the item wasn’t so expensive that it burned his hands—it was a mid-to-high-end lighter, a brand Qi Yang himself used.

The front of the lighter was inlaid with a deep blue material, like agate. The lid and body were carved with a winding curve. Qi Yang looked at it closely—it was a simplified swan.

He searched the official website but didn’t see the same design.

Qi Yang was really skilled with lighters—he could flick the flame and spin it through his fingers several times, a skill he’d honed back in school when he played with pens instead of paying attention in class.

He casually recorded a video and sent it to Mu Yicong. Mu Yicong replied: “Cool.”

Qi Yang: Manager Mu’s gift is a must.

Mu Yicong: Do you like it?

Qi Yang: It looks nice.

Qi Yang: Why couldn’t I find this model?

Mu Yicong: Custom-made.

Qi Yang: Boss is generous.

Mu Yicong didn’t reply afterward. Qi Yang knew he was busy again, so he lit a cigarette with the new lighter and went back to his own work.

After seeing off a regular customer who had rented a car, Qi Yang returned to the office to drink some water and found that Mu Yicong had sent him another message half an hour ago.

Mu Yicong: To me, twenty thousand and two thousand are the same. You can think of it as spending twelve yuan versus ten.

Mu Yicong: So don’t look up the price, and don’t worry about reciprocating with something of the same value.

Mu Yicong: You only need to think about loving me a little more.

Stinky Rich Person, so arrogant.

Qi Yang stared at his phone for a long time until Little Liu came over asking for a contract and curiously asked, “Brother, what are you smiling about?” Only then did he realize the corners of his mouth were lifting.

After the May Day holiday car rental peak passed, Liu Dameng came to Che Li to see Qi Yang.

Like every other time, he didn’t even need to say hello—he passed out cigarettes as soon as he entered. Seeing Qi Yang receiving a customer in the garage, he waved to signal and went to wait in the office as if he owned the place.

It was getting hot, so Che Li had stocked cold drinks and ice cream. Qi Yang grabbed a popsicle and tossed it into Liu Dameng’s arms as he entered. “How come you have time to come by today?”

Liu Dameng had completely turned over a new leaf after his wife got pregnant. He used to drop by Qi Yang’s place every few days, but now after work he went nowhere—just stayed home to guard his wife, serving her like the Queen Mother.

Yesterday, Qi Yang had even seen a post on Ma Jiajia’s Moments—Liu Dameng sticking his big head carefully against her pregnant belly, his mouth almost splitting to his ears.

“Almost a dad, feeling nervous.” Liu Dameng, just like in school, bit off half the popsicle in two big bites, shivering from the cold and chattering his teeth. “Just came to chat with you.”

“When’s the due date?” Qi Yang asked.

“The month after next,” Liu Dameng said.

“That soon?” Qi Yang counted the days—it had only been a little over four months since Liu Dameng had treated them to dinner.

“We found out she was pregnant when she was already almost three months along,” Liu Dameng said, his face scrunched up as the popsicle melted. “Before you know it, she’ll be giving birth.”

Qi Yang couldn’t quite figure out their math, but he could tell Liu Dameng was really stressed—a huge boil had popped up on the bridge of his nose.

But even with his stress, he hadn’t forgotten to bring something for Qi Xing. This time it was even more than usual—he came carrying two bags.

“How’s Qi Xing?” he asked while showing Qi Yang the new products he’d brought. “Is that hospital treatment working?”

“Not really noticeable,” Qi Yang said. He’d have to take Qi Xing again next week. “The doctor says it’s going well.”

“You two are together every day, so it’s normal not to notice. Oh, by the way,” Liu Dameng suddenly thought of something, put down the bag, and pulled out his phone. “Let me show you something.”

He fiddled with his phone for a while, finally found a Douyin account, and handed it to Qi Yang. “Take a look at this video.”

Qi Yang reached out and took it. The screen showed no person—just a notebook and two hands, with stickers and stationery all over the table, doodling away.

“Pretty similar to what Qi Xing likes to play with,” Qi Yang said.

“A handcraft journal blogger,” Liu Dameng prompted. “Look at the likes and comments.”

Over two thousand likes, plenty of comments—all praising how good it looked. Some didn’t understand and were asking what they were doing.

“The notebook this little girl uses is also from our shop. Good traffic, and it even drove some sales.” Liu Dameng leaned on the table. “I was thinking, could our Xing’er also set up an account?”

Qi Yang tapped into the blogger’s profile and scrolled from top to bottom. All of them were videos about making handcraft journals—views varied, but all had some audience.

“Look at the storefront she’s linked,” Liu Dameng leaned across the table and tapped the screen to explain. “These can all generate income if someone buys.”

“I’m going to be blunt, so don’t take it the wrong way,” he blinked, lowering his voice. “We’ll treat the kid as needed, but this is a lifelong thing. Find her something to do—not necessarily to make money, but at least it’s a path.”

“What do you think?”

Qi Yang had long accepted Qi Xing’s condition and didn’t care whether the words were harsh or kind. He understood that Liu Dameng truly cared about their family.

“Being a dad really changes a person.” Qi Yang smiled and handed the phone back to Liu Dameng. “The way you see things is totally different.”

“You’re not wrong.” Liu Dameng rubbed his boil and shook his head. “I was happy when Ma Jiajia got pregnant, but now I’m getting more and more worried. I mean, if the kid looks like her, that’s great. But if we have a daughter who looks like me, won’t she grow up with an inferiority complex? What if she gets sick? What if she goes bad like we did when we were kids? What if she rebels and finds herself a yellow-haired punk in puppy love…”

Liu Dameng nearly worked himself into a meltdown, as if he already had a yellow-haired son-in-law. He collapsed into the chair and cursed, “Fk!”

“There aren’t that many what-ifs.” Qi Yang couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’re a good dad, the kid will turn out fine.”

Liu Dameng had come to vent all his “what-ifs” to Qi Yang, and he felt a bit better. Qi Yang offered to treat him to dinner, but Liu Dameng declined, worried that something might happen to his wife at home alone, and rushed back.

Qi Yang took the stuff Liu Dameng had brought back to Qi Xing. This time, instead of just handing it over and going back to his room, he sat down next to Qi Xing, picked up one of her finished notebooks, and looked at it seriously for a while.

No pattern at all—completely random and unconstrained.

In the video Liu Dameng had shown him, the person doing the journal also wrote some words, but what Qi Xing made was just various stickers, or else large smears of color.

Qi Yang didn’t understand it. He flipped through a few pages and felt that although it was messy, when he looked closely, the layout was actually quite comfortable.

“Qi Xing.” He took a few photos with his phone and suddenly called out.

Qi Xing finished sticking the sticker in her hand, turned her neck, and glanced at Qi Yang’s eyes.

It seemed a bit better than before; her reaction to her name was quicker.

Qi Yang stared and met her eyes. After waiting two seconds, Qi Xing fluttered her eyelashes and lowered her head to continue her own business.

In the evening, Zou Meizhu went out to play mahjong. Qi Yang lounged on the sofa and called Mu Yicong.

—They had been communicating more on the phone recently. Qi Yang used to feel that even if they were just trying things out, there was no way they would really be in constant contact like people in a relationship.

But after that hug, he found himself quite willing to chat with Mu Yicong even when he had nothing to do.

Mu Yicong picked up the phone quickly this time—he must have been driving, as there was the sound of honking and the hustle and bustle of the road in the background.

“Off work?” he asked Qi Yang.

Qi Yang made an “ah” sound. Now that the call was actually through, he didn’t know what to say, so he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Turned down a business dinner,” Mu Yicong said. “Have you eaten?”

“I grabbed a bite at Che Li in the afternoon, not hungry right now.” Qi Yang looked at the dishes on the dining table that Zou Meizhu had left unwashed after eating—a leftover mantou and some leftovers from lunch.

“Perfect,” Mu Yicong suddenly said. “I’ll come find you.”

Perfect how?

Qi Yang took down his phone to check the time. Zou Meizhu had just left, and there was no way he could call her back now.

He honestly told Mu Yicong that Qi Xing wasn’t sleepy yet, and he was home alone, so he couldn’t go out.

“That’s why I said I’ll come to you.” Mu Yicong chuckled. “What, is it inconvenient because you’ve got someone hidden at home?”

“I have.” Qi Yang tilted his head to hold the phone and got up to clear the table. “Come and catch me.”