Chapter 25: Drawing Closer

Li Ran had a mother who could unleash a torrent of witty words or sharp barbs when she spoke. Having been steeped in that environment for over a decade, he might not outshine her, but he should at least manage some basic smooth talk.

But Li Ang’s genes were truly dominant. That inferior “Y” chromosome had squeezed out Bai Qingqing’s two “X” chromosomes, molding Li Ran into an honest-to-goodness Li Ang 2.0.

Sometimes, Bai Qingqing had good reason to be annoyed with Li Ang. This woman hadn’t extended her disgust for her ex-husband to their son—a willpower that was remarkably clear-headed.

If Li Ran could have come up with those sweet, coaxing words, his mom might have delayed her divorce from his dad a little longer.

The living room light cast a hazy glow around its edges, soft like a filter, flower-like.

Only by staring hard could he realize he couldn’t see clearly.

Li Ran sat under the lamp, his feet stepping on his own shadow, fidgeting uncomfortably.

His face flushed red from the torment.

He wanted to say he couldn’t do it, but Chi Mo had already said to coax him. Asking again would seem tactless, insincere. Li Ran wished he could crack open his chest to display his sincerity—just as long as no one forced him to speak.

At that moment, Chi Mo’s empathy shone through. He didn’t push Li Ran and instead asked, “Why didn’t you live with your parents these past few years?”

Back then, he had been a teenager living alone in a rental. Though money wasn’t an issue, the thought of it was heartbreakingly pitiful. Now Li Ran was still a teenager, but three years ago, he had been even younger.

Li Ran let out a soft “ah” first, then looked down and said, “Mom was getting remarried.”

Chi Mo replied, “Weren’t you awarded to Dad? You could have lived with him.”

“…Mom didn’t agree.” Li Ran stared at his fingers, saying only that.

Li Ang was gay and had cheated with a man—a fact that no longer needed hiding in this family—but Li Ran didn’t want to talk about it.

He said quietly, “I was originally supposed to live with Mom. I just… didn’t go myself…”

Before Bai Qingqing and Uncle Zhao tied the knot, Li Ran had been genuinely happy for his mom. They had planned to live together; Uncle Zhao was a good guy, always buying Li Ran this and that.

Li Ran felt like an ungrateful wretch. Shame made him hang his head even lower. “He bought so many things… without asking if I liked them or even knew how to use some. He likes Mom, but…”

“…maybe not me.”

It was normal for a man to fawn over his girlfriend’s child before marriage. Whether other kids could sense an adult’s fickle true feelings, Li Ran could.

Then he told his mom he didn’t want to leave the place where he had lived with both parents for over a decade; he wanted to stay.

He was grown up enough to take care of himself. Commuting was convenient now, and after Bai Qingqing married, he could take the subway to see her every week—of course, she could come visit too.

When Li Ang heard, he insisted on taking Li Ran to raise him. Bai Qingqing exploded on the spot.

“Mom was afraid Dad would lead me astray…”

She refused flat-out.

Li Ang understood her concerns and, red-faced with embarrassment, said he wouldn’t let Xiao Ran live under the same roof as them. He’d rent a place nearby—just close enough to keep an eye out and provide support.

Even that carried the risk of Li Ran living around a gay man, and Bai Qingqing wouldn’t take the chance.

“I might be a burden…” Li Ran said dejectedly. From childhood to now, he was still a fool with no redeeming qualities. The more he thought, the sadder he got, the more he wanted to sigh.

For some reason, even though he hadn’t told his brother much, a fine web of grievances welled up in Li Ran’s heart.

Especially when Chi Mo placed a hand on his head and gently stroked it—Li Ran’s eyes started to sting. But he kept his head down, not daring to let Chi Mo see.

Too embarrassing.

“You’re not a burden, good boy.” Chi Mo said gently. “You’re only allowed to overthink like this once—no next time.”

Then he added, “I should have spread my wings sooner… come earlier.”

His voice was too low; Li Ran didn’t catch it. When he looked up, he saw Chi Mo’s nearly expressionless face and figured he’d misheard. Then Chi Mo said something else.

“You have to ask if it hurts.”

“…Huh?” Li Ran blinked in confusion. When Chi Mo raised his hand, Li Ran’s attention snapped away from his grievances. He frowned worriedly at the scabbed wound on Chi Mo’s hand.

Miraculously, following Chi Mo’s guidance—like a gentle, unending stream leading him forward, just as Chi Mo had taught him to swim by testing the waters bit by bit—he asked without pressure.

“Does it hurt… bro?”

Chi Mo said, “It hurts.”

He shifted into a lazy recline against the sofa back. “You have to ask if I need you to blow on the wound.”

“Bro, do you need me to blow on your wound? …I can help.”

“Yes.” Chi Mo said. “Now, take my hand.”

Li Ran clumsily lifted Chi Mo’s hand. Compared to Chi Mo, he seemed childish, but not clueless—he had long limbs too and could easily pull Chi Mo’s hand to his face with one hand to soothe it. Yet he used both, cradling it almost reverently, lips drawing near to blow softly.

As if Chi Mo were perched on the tip of his heart.

The warm-cool artificial breeze from Li Ran’s lips brushed Chi Mo’s hand back.

The wound felt no pain; instead, it was like a hundred, a thousand tiny insect eggs hatching beneath the scab, their nearly transparent myriad claws tickling his flesh to the core. Chi Mo’s fingers twitched in a spasm, grasping a bit of Li Ran’s hand.

“Well done. Good boy.” Chi Mo said hoarsely.

Li Ran grinned happily.

After soothing this easily placated adult, Li Ran asked where the flashlight was. He grabbed it and stepped out, shining it east and west on the road, bending over as if to burrow into the ground.

If he’d done this in the afternoon, Chi Mo could reasonably suspect he was hunting for a crack to crawl into—maybe even pat his head and tell him not to be so hard on himself. But now, he couldn’t guess Li Ran’s intent.

Chi Mo turned on his phone light and joined him, searching the ground too.

About two minutes later, Li Ran found the first Bodhi bead. “Here it is!”

The black Bodhi bead, after the flashlight’s rude glare, gleamed with inner luster, hiding light at its core.

“…Why are you looking for these?” Chi Mo asked softly.

“You like wearing them.”

“I have plenty.”

Li Ran kept searching. “These are these, and that one’s that one.”

Even if Chi Mo had crates of Bodhi beads, all similar in color, each was unique before becoming human ornaments.

Li Ran found another. “Bro.”

By the time he had rummaged the seventeenth from the road, roadside, and roadside grass, Chi Mo vaguely responded, “Mm?”

Li Ran hesitated. “Can I restring this bracelet for you? I’ll give it back then, okay?”

“Mm.”

A strand had more than seventeen beads, but Li Ran couldn’t find others. With afternoon traffic and pedestrians, wheels rolling over, beads scattering into cracks—it was possible.

“I’ll buy new beads for you, matching the color and size as much as possible.”

“Mm.”

They headed back.

The secret from his parents had always been a knot in Li Ran’s heart; he even dreamed of it being exposed, a stubborn stone weighing him down.

Today’s scene wasn’t what he’d wanted, but it resolved one worry. He felt light as a feather.

The flashlight beam swung back and forth, the beads in his pocket clinking. Li Ran hopped and skipped now and then, marching to his own beat.

Like a rabbit.

The light beam pulled back from the distant night, circling Chi Mo’s bare wrist before casually shining afar again.

Li Ran glanced at Chi Mo’s wrist—nothing on it—and sensed his brother had some odd fixation on pain.

He loved wearing tight bead strings, indenting his skin with deep and shallow marks like bruises.

He even flicked himself with them.

“Bro, you…”

Chi Mo cut him off sharply. “Shh.”

There were rats at home.

Two. Big ones. Old ones.

Chi Mo slipped inside silently. Li Ran, seeing this, hunched his shoulders and shrank behind him, tiptoeing close.

When Cheng Ai Mei went upstairs, she noticed Chi Mo’s sour face and didn’t want to deal with him, but she worried.

After the call with her son, she and Old Ye had come out hand-in-hand, hiding at the second-floor corner to eavesdrop.

Hearing Li Ran briefly mention family matters, the two elders sighed silently, pitying the poor kid even more. Then hearing that scoundrel Chi Mo teach Li Ran such sleazy nonsense—and claim it hurt—they could hardly bear to listen, mouthing to each other, Who buys that?

…But naive little Li Ran actually did.

He mimicked it perfectly.

Cheng Ai Mei’s dentures started aching. She touched her face. “What a sin. How’s he just like his little uncle?”

Ye Ze: “How should I know?”

Cheng Ai Mei was forever curious. “How come he’s nothing like his parents?”

Ye Ze: “How should I know?”

Cheng Ai Mei: “Ever suspect this cold-faced dog king is actually Chi Wei’s kid?”

“Heh,” Ye Ze said. “When could your son give birth? Is he mutated? His orientation change nearly gave me a heart attack—another mutation would kill me!”

Cheng Ai Mei agreed, rolling her eyes.

Cheng Ai Mei: “Old Ye, think I could stop them successfully?”

“The Qing Dynasty’s dead—no more ‘masters’ around,” Ye Ze poked his wife’s hand. “If you had the skill, wouldn’t you have broken up your son’s marriage ages ago?”

“Go to hell.” Mentioning that fired Cheng Ai Mei up.

Ye Ze: “You’re cursing my mom now?”

Mid-argument, the two downstairs suddenly left—who knew for what. Cheng Ai Mei fancied herself a lady spy on a stakeout, but age brought wisdom; she feared tripping in the dark where streetlights didn’t reach, ending her old bones right there.

Better not.

Then she craved something sweet.

She told Ye Ze to fetch it from the fridge.

That’s when Chi Mo appeared like a ghost behind Cheng Ai Mei. She turned, startled. “Lord almighty!”

“Why yell for no reason? It’s the middle of the night—scary as hell. I got your cake…” Ye Ze turned, eyes squeezing shut. “Mother of God!”

Cheng Ai Mei laughed it off. “Back already, dear grandson?”

“Who said you could sneak cake?” Chi Mo asked flatly.

Cheng Ai Mei: “He did.”

Ye Ze: “She did.”

The elders spoke in unison.

Cheng Ai Mei: “Not me!”

Ye Ze: “Not me!”

They pointed fingers.

Cheng Ai Mei: “You old fart, slandering me?!”

Ye Ze: “You old fart, slandering me?!”

Married for decades, they knew each other better than themselves. The more in sync, the guiltier they looked—enough to make them want to bite each other.

Nearly seventy, treated like this by Chi Mo—Li Ran felt sorry for them.

“Bro…”

“They’ve got high blood pressure, high blood sugar—always sneaking sweets. But they forget their meds.”

“Oh!” Li Ran said. “Then give ’em a good scolding.”

Cheng Ai Mei panicked. “Hey, kid… I told you to be my spy—how’d you turn traitor?”

“He’s Chi Mo’s spy,” the Qing Dynasty master said without conviction.

Li Ran didn’t ask how the storm passed, fearing splash damage. He bolted.

Saturday and Sunday were Li Ran’s days off—no work. Previous weekends, Chi Mo had assigned summer homework, keeping him at the company. This week, Li Ran told Chi Mo he wasn’t going.

His mountain bike hadn’t been ridden in ages; seat and handlebars dusted. Li Ran wiped them clean with a damp towel, prepping his steed.

He’d done his homework, noting nearby jewelry stores.

Three specialized in Bodhi beads.

Li Ran scouted them, meticulously picking and choosing, buying dozens of beads.

For just a few dozen bucks.

Bodhi beads were cheap.

He’d even haggled with the clerk.

Near home, he spotted the Black Cat and wanted to stop and chat.

Lately, the Black Cat seemed to know this human’s life had improved—no more worrying about food, even feeding them four eggs daily.

The first three days without Li Ran buying veggies, the Black Cat sniffed his hands thoroughly before eating the eggs. As if detecting another man’s scent on him, checking for threats.

Later, he realized that the silly teenager’s face showed more smiles than gloom, so Hei Ge turned a blind eye and focused on eating the egg yolk, ignoring everything else.

As soon as the mountain bike pulled up to the roadside, Li Ran spotted the Black Cat with its front half hidden in the bushes. When it saw him, it didn’t even acknowledge him and kept digging around in the undergrowth.

It hunched over, crawling and wriggling along.

Two impatient meows overlapped each other.

Li Ran thought Hei Ge was fighting with another stray cat again and was about to eagerly jump in to help.

The White Cat, grabbed by the scruff of its neck, let out a sharp yowl and burst out of the bushes. It twisted its head to bite the Black Cat. The Black Cat didn’t dodge; instead, its front paws pinned down the White Cat’s back, clamping even tighter on the scruff of her neck.

“Meow—!”

Li Ran’s face instantly turned beet red, and he spun on his heels and walked away.

He hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t seen anything—really, he hadn’t seen a thing.

They were…

A moment later, Li Ran quietly walked back. He hadn’t looked… but he was curious.

The cat cries sounded just like a child’s wails.

It was fine in broad daylight, but if it were the middle of the night, it would definitely be creepy.

Li Ran casually strolled to the best vantage point, facing the main road, not glancing at all toward Hei Ge and his white wife. Only the corner of his eye was darting wildly toward the sky.

The Black Cat’s tail was held high, and although the White Cat was roaring and furious, her tail didn’t drop either—it was raised just as high.

The two fluffy tails trembled and intertwined.

The next second, Li Ran whipped his head around, his mouth slightly agape, utterly dumbfounded.

The White Cat… the White Cat wasn’t the wife.

She had balls!