Chapter 68: New Year’s

On the morning of the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month, Bai Yiyi followed Yan Tuo back to his grandfather’s house in A City. They stepped into the familiar little courtyard, where Bai Yiyi could finally present himself openly as Yan Tuo’s partner.

Yu Jianguo had never imagined his grandson-in-law would turn out to be a man, but he had always lived by his principle of independence—handling his own affairs without meddling from outsiders. Though a twinge of discomfort lingered, he didn’t make things awkward for anyone. Instead, he followed local custom and handed the newcomer a thick red envelope stuffed with cash.

At noon, Yu Lian arrived with her family. Before coming, she had already given her husband and son a stern pep talk, instructing them to present a united front. Even if the tide of events had forced them to let this person through the door, they still needed to keep up appearances, nitpick relentlessly, and ideally make the other party back off voluntarily.

She hadn’t anticipated that her precious son, Li Jue, would be the first to defect.

They had barely exchanged names when stars lit up in her foolish boy’s eyes. “Bai Yiyi? The creator of ‘Green,’ which won top prize at the ACD Art Grand Prix? The painting-obsessed genius Bai Yiyi? You’re that ‘2’ from the artist live-streaming platform, aren’t you?”

Bai Yiyi flushed with embarrassment. “‘Green’ is my painting, and yeah, that’s me on the live-stream platform too. But I’m no obsessed genius—that’s way too flattering.”

Li Jue wasn’t from a pure fine arts background. His grades had been poor in high school, so he’d switched tracks to art, barely scraping into undergrad in the trendy field of digital media. That made him something of a half-insider in the art world, and he vividly remembered the massive scandal over a fake artwork a few months back.

He and his classmates had debated it hotly, wondering what this mysterious bigshot looked like and why they shunned the spotlight so fiercely.

Grinning with delight now, he said, “Bigshot—no, Cousin-in-law! I study art too. I just can’t get the hang of those distant-to-near scene transitions in quick sketches. Got time for some pointers?”

Cousin-in-law? That nickname burned with embarrassment.

Bai Yiyi’s cheeks turned bright red on the spot, but Yan Tuo wasn’t about to let him off the hook. He chuckled loudly and piled on from the side. “Cousin-in-law, go ahead and guide him. He’s family, after all.”

Bai Yiyi discreetly pinched him under cover, then nodded with a smile on his face. “Absolutely no problem. Just call me Yiyi. It’s not really pointers—more like an exchange of ideas, mutual learning, you know?”

The two added each other on WeChat and soon were huddled together on the sofa, chatting away without end. They hit it off immediately.

Yan Tuo shot Yu Lian a cheeky grin, saying nothing—but his meaning was crystal clear. No fortress, however solid, could withstand an attack from within. She might as well stop being so prickly about it.

Yu Lian shot Li Jue a venomous glare before turning her warning eyes on Li Zhong: Just try betraying me and see what happens.

Li Zhong responded with a helpless smile.

Those eyes of his had sized up and judged countless people over the past half-century or so. He’d pegged the boy at first glance: sheltered from the world, pure-hearted.

A glance at Yan Tuo told him everything else. The aura, the sharp mind—it was obvious who held the reins here.

Inwardly, Li Zhong grumbled at his wife. If she couldn’t touch the real culprit, what good was picking on the innocent young lad?

But he couldn’t afford to lose face entirely. Outside, as detachment captain commanding hundreds under his iron-fisted rule, he was untouchable. At home, though, he was just another lowly everyman at the bottom of the pecking order.

He’d long since surrendered control of the purse strings. Twenty-odd years of grueling work had left him neglecting the family entirely—his son had grown up with barely any input from him, and even his chronically ill parents had been nursed to their end by Yu Lian. Those facts alone meant he could never stand tall here.

All he could do was shoot his brother-in-law a look of utter helplessness, then wash his hands of it. He wouldn’t refuse outright, but he kept things coolly neutral.

Just then, Yu Lixiang returned from buying New Year’s goods. Yan Tuo hurried over to lend a hand, hauling the bags inside before smoothly making introductions. “Old Uncle, this is Bai Yiyi—my partner.”

Yu Lixiang had barely glanced over, not yet getting a good look, when the boy—who seemed even younger than his own grandson Li Jue—rushed up eagerly. “Uncle Da Yu!”

The whole family froze. By Yan Tuo’s generation, the proper address should have been “Old Uncle.” Where on earth had “Uncle” come from?

Bai Yiyi had been waiting eagerly for this moment. He was practically chirping like a bird now.

“Uncle Da Yu, it’s me, Bai Yiyi! Back when I was seven—uh, autumn 2005—you were stationed at Chengguan Police Station in Sunshine District. You rescued me from that little park, took me back to the station, and bought me ice cream. I was wearing army-green overalls at the time. Remember?”

Yu Lixiang went blank for a moment, then dredged up a faint splash from the river of memory. “Wait… was that the kid who scarfed down three Doll Head ice creams before calming down? You wailed the whole way back to the station. Without this uniform, folks might’ve pegged me as a kidnapper! Haha, and now you’re all grown up?”

Doll Head ice creams had cost 1.5 yuan apiece back then—a real splurge. This little guy downed three in a row, setting him back 4.5 yuan, nearly a full day’s allowance. But the poor kid had been beaten black and blue, so pitiful. It had stung a bit, but he’d bought them without hesitation.

Years later, the details were fuzzy, but he still recalled those three ice creams—and how he’d furiously kicked the scum a few times, earning a reprimand from his superiors for his rough policing style.

An old acquaintance! Marveling at the coincidence, Yu Lixiang felt a surge of fondness. He teased lightly, “You were pretty as a porcelain doll back then. Now you’re a tall young man, but still just as handsome. Tsk…”

Bai Yiyi squirmed with a mix of shyness and embarrassment from the blast of nostalgia. All he remembered was the ice cream—how had he forgotten wolfing down three? What a thick-skinned kid he’d been.

Feeling both guilty and flustered, he buzzed around Yu Lixiang like an eager puppy, helping unpack the goods, offering a steaming hot towel to wipe his hands, and quickly brewing a cup of red tea. He was the picture of devoted service.

They’d only just settled in when a crash echoed from the living room. Yu Jianguo had slammed down the phone receiver, his face twisted in a grumpy scowl.

Yan Tuo asked what was wrong. It turned out one of Grandpa’s mahjong buddies had called. They’d scheduled one final game before the New Year, but right as they were about to start, one player bailed for an emergency—leaving them one short and the whole thing scrapped.

Yu Jianguo loved his cards, but he wouldn’t blow up over a single missed game. What really got under his skin was his pet peeve: people who said they’d show but flaked, reneging on promises at the last minute.

They said the older you got, the more childish you became. At over eighty, he was throwing a full tantrum because his playmates had let him down, venting on the home phone.

After his huffs and puffs, he turned to Yu Lian, clearly plotting to rope her in as a replacement.

She caught the look and immediately felt a headache coming on. She had no desire to draw that short straw—not because she was unwilling to keep the old man company and show some filial piety, but because bitter experience had taught her otherwise.

Playing mahjong with a bunch of seventy- and eighty-somethings was glacial-paced torture that left you nodding off, not to mention their explosive tempers. Over tiny 1- or 2-yuan stakes, they could bicker endlessly about 3 or 5 yuan, sometimes to the point of strokes. It wasn’t exaggeration; last time she’d been dragged in, one old lady had triumphantly called “Mahjong!”—then promptly keeled over under the table, scaring the daylights out of her.

Pretending not to notice, she muttered something about checking the evening’s menu and fled to the kitchen.

Yu Jianguo scanned the room like a general mustering troops. Students still in school, public servants too swamped even for family time—no one fit for the job. His pout deepened.

Bai Yiyi had spent enough time around the old man to read his intentions crystal clear. He stepped up at once. “Grandpa, short one player? I’ll go with you.”

Yu Jianguo’s mouth twitched into a grin, though hesitation lingered. “You? You know how to play?”

The smiling young man instantly slipped into a thick local accent. “How could I not? No kid from C Province doesn’t know cards! Pushover win or blood battle to the end—whatever you like!”

A fellow provincial! The old man’s face lit up. He shrugged on his coat and marched out front.

Bai Yiyi barely had time to shoot his boyfriend a quick glance—promising he’d take good care of the elder—before he was whisked away.

Yan Tuo sank into the sofa. He’d been peeling pistachios for Bai Yiyi the whole time, and now he had a little pile ready. Suddenly, it all felt pointless.

By the time that old fellow and young lad got back from cards, the nuts would probably have gone stale.

He tossed them into his mouth one by one, chewing without savor.

These past few days without the system had been satisfying in some ways—he could finally have his fill of intimacy without restraint. But other aspects felt off-kilter. His boyfriend, once a constant 24/7 companion tucked right into his mental space, had gone fully independent. No more tagging along to work, and even at home, his attention was pulled every which way by this and that… like right now.

Sigh. Nothing in life was ever perfect.

He kind of missed his little Bai dumpling.

The thought had just crossed his mind when he remembered the system’s parting gift. Testing the waters, he turned to Li Zhong. “Brother-in-law, you remember Tangyuan?”

Li Zhong looked utterly baffled. “Tangyuan? You craving some? Black sesame or peanut filling? I’ll have your sister check the fridge.”

Fine. The upgraded system really was a step up.

On the very day it departed, neither he nor Bai Yiyi had clocked the switch. It wasn’t until the next day that they panicked and remembered.

The people had all fully reverted to normal, but what about the bird’s body? Where had the system taken that pot-lid-headed white dumpling known as Tangyuan? It had left only a single foot ring pressed under the pillow.

They searched their surroundings thoroughly. Apart from the two of them, no one else retained any memory of the Divine Bird Tangyuan in their minds—as if it had been wiped clean with a single click. Even the videos that Sun Lei had once recorded had vanished without a trace.

To confirm the issue, the pair pulled up a recording of the Birdman premiere. The movie was still there, still slated for a Lunar New Year release, but its animal protagonist was clearly a white-feathered parrot with a bright red face—a Xuanfeng parrot!

Still unwilling to accept it, they finally tracked down Hua Hongqing. In his garden, they spotted his most beloved pet bird: an identical gray-black pot-lid crest, a plump white belly, pink feet and beak. Its name was Young Master Snow White.

They felt a mix of relief and exasperation. The little fellow had just become a father alongside Manyu, and together they had hatched several little goldfinches. Little Jin strutted proudly around the cage, teaching the baby birds to sing.

The system had matured from a juvenile into an adolescent, and no one knew the true extent of its expanded brainwave range. All those people it had interacted with—including Tangyuan’s hundreds of thousands of fans on Douyin—had their memories uniformly altered. Such an ability bordered on the absurdly godlike!

As for why everyone else had forgotten Tangyuan while Yan Tuo still remembered, the two had discussed it and concluded it was most likely a gift from the system itself.

After all, this was more than just a secret shared between them. It was an irreplaceable treasure, the sweetest of memories.

Yan Tuo was still lost in thought on the sofa when Yu Lian walked over and asked, “So, about that guy of yours… he said my dad saved him when he was little. What happened there?”

Yan Tuo figured his boyfriend might not want all the gritty details aired out, so he hesitated over how to explain. But Yu Lixiang spoke up first. “He ran into a human trafficker, and Old Uncle spotted it and saved him.”

Yan Tuo shot Old Uncle a grateful glance before seizing the momentum. He launched into a vivid account of his little boyfriend’s tragic early years: orphaned of his father at a young age, clinging to life with his mother. Then he extolled his exceptional talent and tireless hard work, culminating in his current status as a renowned young painter among his generation.

Yu Lian let out an “oh,” her face betraying no visible reaction. But inwardly, the towering walls she’d built around her heart had quietly crumbled by a good eighty percent.