The meal passed quietly.
Qi Yang had made a fish hotpot. This dish in his cooking system wasn’t much work: fry the fish, throw in other sides like tofu and bean curd skin, then let it boil.
It was just a bit of a waste of Mu Yicong’s wine.
The new place didn’t have wine glasses or a decanter either, so if they wanted to drink, they’d have to use bowls.
“Save it,” Mu Yicong said when he saw Qi Yang rummaging through the kitchen for cups. “We don’t have to drink it today.”
“Alright.” Qi Yang wasn’t too keen on opening it anyway.
Even though it was just a rental, Mu Yicong had brought flowers and wine, practically creating the atmosphere of a housewarming party, as if Qi Yang had already bought a new house.
They’d save the wine and open it when he actually bought a place.
Qi Xing, as usual, ate like a bird—took a few bites and then ran off.
Only Qi Yang and Mu Yicong were left in the living room. They clinked glasses with water instead of wine, and now that Qi Yang had time to talk, he gave Mu Yicong a detailed account of what Liu Dameng had said.
When he had been telling Liu Dameng about it, he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, recalling it in front of Mu Yicong, Qi Yang suddenly wondered—if he had answered differently, what would Liu Dameng’s reaction have been?
He probably would have needed a while to process.
If he found out right now that Liu Dameng liked men, even if they were as close as brothers, he would think it was too dramatic.
Mu Yicong genuinely had no interest in Liu Dameng. Aside from the brief response he’d given Qi Yang in the kitchen earlier, he listened to the rest at the dinner table with a detached expression, just looking at Qi Yang without asking a single follow-up question.
When the topic of Liu Dameng was over, he put down his chopsticks and asked Qi Yang, “When’s your next appointment?”
“Within the next couple of days. I’ve been a bit delayed by the move,” Qi Yang looked at him. “Are you coming?”
“Do you need me to?” Mu Yicong countered.
Having someone to help would definitely make things easier.
But Mu Yicong didn’t owe him anything.
“Then no,” Qi Yang said casually, rotating the pot so the side with more food faced Mu Yicong. “I’m familiar with the route now, and Qi Xing isn’t as uncomfortable as before. I can handle it.”
Mu Yicong fell silent again, staring at Qi Yang for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
After the meal, Mu Yicong didn’t stay long at Qi Yang’s new place. He answered a phone call, then stood up to say goodbye. “I’ll head off first.”
“Something going on this late?” Qi Yang was a bit surprised. He checked the time—it was just around the usual dinner hour.
Mu Yicong didn’t answer. He tapped on his phone a few times and hummed in affirmation.
Qi Xing’s reaction to Mu Yicong’s farewell was the same as when she greeted him—she reached out to touch his clothes.
Qi Yang wanted to see him downstairs, but Mu Yicong gestured not to bother, patted Qi Xing on the head, and stepped straight into the elevator.
Once inside, he didn’t look up, still typing on his phone with his eyes down, as if he had switched into a different mode.
Something felt off.
The elevator was at a 90-degree angle from the front door. Qi Yang leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head, watching the floor indicator stop at B1. He gently bit the inside of his cheek.
Qi Xing aimlessly wandered around, then came over when she saw her older brother still at the door.
“Hm?” Qi Yang felt a subtle strangeness in his heart. He looked down at Qi Xing and patted her head. “Go play.”
For the next week, the two of them had little contact. Qi Yang took Qi Xing to the hospital. Her rehabilitation course had entered a new phase that required more effort.
Every day, the siblings returned to the villa feeling lazy. One made a handcraft journal, the other sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through the shopping cart to pick items.
“Does this look good?” Qi Yang selected two pairs of sunglasses and held up the phone for Qi Xing to see.
Qi Xing wasn’t good at everyday life, but when it came to pretty things, she had her own aesthetic.
Qi Yang swiped between the two pictures for her to choose, and she actually blinked and looked seriously, then poked her finger at the more expensive one.
“You’ve got good taste.” Qi Yang laughed.
Then, without hesitation, he placed the order.
The sunglasses were for Mu Yicong. They were from the same brand as that shirt of his, costing nearly a thousand more than the perfume.
If he had spent that money on himself, Qi Yang would definitely have felt the pinch.
But imagining them on Mu Yicong’s face, he just thought they suited him.
The sunglasses arrived on the morning of Qi Yang’s return trip. He got home around ten at night, picked them up the next day after work, and opened them to check—the quality was exactly what he wanted.
He sealed the gift box back up and sent a message to Mu Yicong: “Busy?”
After waiting ten minutes without a reply, Qi Yang tossed his phone aside and went to shower. When he came out drying his hair and checked his phone again, there was a new message, but not from Mu Yicong.
Liu Dameng: “Yangzi, what do you think of the name Liu Jiama?”
Qi Yang wasn’t sure if it was because the shower water was too hot or because of Mu Yicong’s unanswered message—he felt a vague irritation. He grabbed a bottle of ice water and chugged it while replying to Liu Dameng: “Isn’t that a bit too aggressive?”
Liu Dameng: “Does the meaning suck? Me and Ma Jiajia together—how romantic!”
Qi Yang was almost amused by him: “Isn’t Liu Jiajia okay?”
Liu Dameng: “My wife also chose that, but I think it’s a bit too ordinary?”
Qi Yang: “Listen to your wife.”
Liu Dameng sent a bunch of dog emojis.
Liu Dameng: “A lone wolf giving orders.”
A new page of alternative names was sent. Just as Qi Yang was about to open it, Mu Yicong’s reply finally popped up at the top of the screen. He immediately switched to that chat.
Mu Yicong: “Eating.”
Qi Yang felt relieved: “Pretty busy.”
Qi Yang: “When are you free these days? Let’s meet up.”
Mu Yicong must really have been at the dinner table, because it took a while before he replied: “Something up?”
Something up?
Qi Yang’s eyes fixed on those three words, and he finally understood where the irritation had come from.
Mu Yicong’s demeanor was off.
It wasn’t just tonight. Since leaving after the fish hotpot last time, Mu Yicong hadn’t contacted him on his own. Qi Yang had vaguely sensed something wrong these past days.
But he had been busy taking Qi Xing to the doctor and hadn’t had time to think about it.
Now, seeing those three emotionless words, that vague dissatisfaction finally broke through the surface.
But he couldn’t judge just from that.
Qi Yang finished the remaining half bottle of water in sips, stood up, and lit a cigarette.
Mu Yicong had always been like this on WeChat—minimal words, little conversation. At first glance, he seemed like an AI.
Thinking this, he didn’t beat around the bush. He frankly laid it out to Mu Yicong: “Bought you something. Tell me when you’re free to pick it up.”
This time Mu Yicong replied a bit faster, asking Qi Yang: “Why did you buy me something?”
Qi Yang thought, why so many questions? I bought it because I wanted to.
But typing that out directly seemed too casual, so he replied seriously: “I’ve been troubling you with a lot of things lately.”
Mu Yicong fell silent again.
After a long while, he only replied: “Thanks, keep it at your place for now.”
And that “for now” stretched into another week.
Including the week he took Qi Xing to the hospital, a full half month passed without Mu Yicong initiating contact even once.
By the eighth day of silence, Qi Yang started getting annoyed.
The same situation felt completely different when facing different people.
Qi Yang and Liu Dameng didn’t contact each other when there was nothing going on either. Maybe a few words of nonsense every ten days or half a month was considered good; sometimes they wouldn’t even exchange a few words on WeChat for a whole month.
Adults have their own lives; unlike childhood, they don’t need to be together all the time to show affection.
Qi Yang initially thought he must have been busy, but clearly, earlier when Mu Yicong was in another place, they had also gone a long time without contact. Yet that time and this time were completely different.
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different.
He just clearly realized that Mu Yicong had turned back into that person from childhood who couldn’t squeeze out a single word even with three thumps.
Flipping through their last chat history again, Qi Yang looked at Mu Yicong’s simple sentences and felt that Mu Yicong seemed to have a sense of wanting to keep his distance.
Having reached that conclusion, Qi Yang stopped waiting.
He made sure Qi Xing brushed her teeth and washed her face, turned off the lights, and got her into bed. Then he glanced at the sunglasses gift box on the TV stand, grabbed his phone, and went to the balcony to make a call.
Around ten in the evening—definitely not Mu Yicong’s usual bedtime. Qi Yang patiently listened to the ringtone. After a long time, someone finally picked up, but the voice wasn’t Mu Yicong’s.
“Hello?” Ren Wei answered the call in a fluster, as if he had taken the phone away to double-check the name, and then called out in confusion, “Qi Yang?”
Qi Yang was already annoyed, and hearing that voice made it worse.
“Where’s Mu Yicong?” He didn’t exchange pleasantries with Ren Wei and asked directly.
“Manager Mu… Yicong and I just finished a business dinner. He’s not feeling well.” Ren Wei cleared his throat pretentiously. “Something wrong this late?”
“Not feeling well how?” Qi Yang furrowed his brows.
Ren Wei was still stammering for an explanation when Mu Yicong’s voice finally came through, low: “Give it to me.”
“Can’t you just close your eyes and rest a bit?” Ren Wei whispered in persuasion, but still handed the phone over.
Mu Yicong ignored him, took the phone, and called out to Qi Yang: “What’s up?”
Qi Yang heard the sound of a car door closing on the other end and guessed that Ren Wei was driving Mu Yicong home.
“Are you unwell?” he asked Mu Yicong.
“No,” Mu Yicong’s voice sounded a bit hoarse. “Just a mild fever.”
“On your way home?” Qi Yang confirmed.
After hearing Mu Yicong’s “Mm,” he only said, “I’ll be over in a bit,” and hung up.
Living out with Qi Xing meant losing more than just the free time Mu Yicong had mentioned.
Now that Qi Yang was about to go out, he had to call the nanny, Sister Li, and ask if she could come over for a couple of hours of overtime, rest on the living room sofa, and just watch that Qi Xing didn’t run out. He’d pay her by the hour.
“No problem,” Sister Li said readily. She had been on the job for over a week and already knew Qi Xing’s situation. “No need to pay extra; it’s part of my job.”
“Thanks.” Qi Yang hung up and went to the bedroom to change.
Sister Li’s home wasn’t far from them—less than a twenty-minute walk.
Qi Yang thanked her once more briefly, as if handing over a night shift, then picked up the sunglasses gift box and stepped into the elevator.
As he drove out of the neighborhood, the night wind blew away some of the irritation in his chest. He pressed the accelerator and thought, was he going crazy? Was he overreacting?
—Why was it that when Mu Yicong turned back into that kid from the past, he also became that child who, upon receiving a late-night delayed text, would run over to someone’s house in his pajamas?
