Li Ang never took credit: “I didn’t pay for the house—it was all your Pei Shu.” He eagerly grabbed a pair of new slippers from the shoe rack by the entryway—youthful style, perfect for Li Ran’s age, a bit childish at first glance. “Here’s new slippers—want to change? No big deal if not. He didn’t hit me. This on my wrist… really not domestic violence. Besides, I’m a man—if he really laid hands on me…”
A faint embarrassment lowered Li Ang’s voice. He didn’t want to admit his inherent uselessness, but it was fact, so he said: “I may be spineless—your mom always says so—but I’m not so pathetic I wouldn’t fight back. Xiao Ran, don’t be sad.”
Li Ran changed into the slippers, head down, not feeling much better: “Mm.”
He wasn’t sure if Li Ang was just saying that to comfort him.
Because Bai Qingqing was so strict, and Li Ran himself had no interest in the peculiar, he didn’t know that making love wasn’t just the boring act of procreating—it came in endless varieties. He also didn’t know how men consummated their relationships; up until now, he thought it only involved holding hands.
He even found it pretty boring.
He couldn’t understand why his dad had chosen Pei He Yu…
Li Ang knew all this but didn’t explain too much to Li Ran, lest the boy actually “learn” something and Bai Qingqing blame him for it.
After placing the tea on the table, Li Ang kept tugging at his sleeve. “Come in and sit for a bit first. What do you want for lunch, Xiao Ran?”
The house was beautifully decorated, exuding understated luxury everywhere, but the furniture and fixtures were simple, mismatched with the high-end renovations. It was like a bare shell apartment dressed up fancy—no trace of home.
Li Ran couldn’t remember the last time he’d been here, or if this was his first visit. Everything his eyes landed on felt unfamiliar.
In Li Ang and Pei He Yu’s home, there was almost no sign of Li Ang’s personal life.
He hadn’t added a single item of his own to the place, as if he were just crashing there temporarily, ready to say goodbye without a second thought at any moment.
Though there had been several years of “distance” when they didn’t see each other much, Li Ran remembered Li Ang as a dad who deeply loved family life.
Whenever he was home, not even the overlooked corners stayed empty—they’d be filled with cute, colorful potted plants, painting a warm picture.
His quiet thoughtfulness made up for his severely lacking eloquence—today’s conversation with Li Ran was an absolute outlier for him—not without its merits.
These were qualities Ms. Bai Qingqing never possessed. She was strong-willed, outward-focused, with a fiery temperament suited for leadership.
In a way, aside from their utterly incompatible tempers, the two could be seen as a complementary ex-couple.
“Dad, your house feels a bit empty.” Li Ran voiced the fact he’d gleaned from just a couple of glances, his tone light, like a feather drifting down.
Afraid of disturbing some private heartache.
Li Ang picked at the fabric on his knee. “Oh, work’s been busy lately… Can’t think of anything to buy. Have some water, Xiao Ran.”
“Isn’t Uncle Pei your boss?”
“Ah.” Li Ang responded.
Li Ran pouted. “Why does he make you so busy?”
Busy enough to neglect home. Busy enough that his dad wasn’t like he used to be.
Li Ang said, “I want to be busy myself.”
He handed Li Ran an apple as he spoke, urging him to try it. Clearly trying to shut him up.
The apple was big and red—prettier and more dazzling than the one the ugly witch gave Snow White. Li Ran couldn’t bear to bite it; he cradled it like a diamond apple. “You used to buy potted plants and knick-knacks for the house…”
“Xiao Ran.” Li Ang smiled, the expression rushed and stiff. “The house I share with Uncle Pei has a little garden out front… Those flowers are the ones I planted. I do add things to the home; it’s not like I don’t.”
It felt less like he was speaking to Li Ran and more like to Pei He Yu.
Who wasn’t even here right now.
Li Ran was surprised. “You planted those flowers?”
Li Ang: “Mm.”
“…They’re almost dead.”
Li Ang said sheepishly, “Forgot to water them the past couple days.”
Li Ran confirmed it: In this house, Li Ang probably wasn’t allowed to dwell on the past.
His dad seemed a little tense.
Pei He Yu wasn’t a good uncle.
Li Ran said, “I’ve said several times before that I’d come over, but I kept backing out, so I only made it today. Sorry, Dad.”
This was laying the groundwork to cover for Bai Qingqing. As the one who’d been repeatedly stood up, Li Ang had been scolded plenty by her—no need for Li Ran to play peacemaker for their divorced ex-spouses.
Li Ang gave a wry smile. “It’s fine.”
But there were times Li Ang couldn’t help resenting it, like when he was in bed with Pei He Yu. Pei He Yu didn’t like seeing Li Ang too involved with his ex-wife and son; he’d throw a tantrum every time.
Pei He Yu had a good temper, though, and was used to being a convincing boss. Whatever he said or did came across like gentle spring rain—seeming mild and harmless, yet capable of reviving all things.
When dissatisfied with Li Ang, he wouldn’t say it outright or act directly. Instead, he’d resolve it circuitously… with his body.
What Li Ang feared most was that circuitous approach—it never ended in just a couple hours.
Whenever Li Ang said he was meeting Li Ran, Pei He Yu would express full understanding, gushing about their father-son bond and his own envy as an unmarried man—then make Li Ang pay the price.
The bruises and marks from binding that Li Ran had accidentally spotted today were Li Ang’s payment.
He’d paid the price before, only to be blocked by Bai Qingqing each time. Li Ang fumed silently, afraid to offend either side, feeling like a male prostitute getting legally used without compensation.
Today, having finally seen Li Ran, any prior resentment had dissipated. Li Ang kept offering him water, then fruit, then asking what he’d have for lunch.
“Do you want to eat out or at home? Eating out is easier,” Li Ang said, eyes never leaving Li Ran. “If at home… I bought lots of fresh veggies this morning; they’re in the fridge. I can cook for you. How about we eat here?”
The house wasn’t that big, and right now it only held Li Ran and Li Ang. But every sentence Li Ang uttered seemed carefully weighed, as if someone were watching.
Li Ran said, “I want to eat out.”
He clearly saw his dad quietly exhale in relief the moment the words landed.
Then he happily stood, grabbing his phone and wallet. “Okay. I’ll take you out. There’s a good restaurant nearby.”
The rose bushes in the front garden were stunted and pitiful—Li Ran thought this really didn’t look like his dad’s handiwork.
He understood why soon enough.
The downstairs neighbors guarded the street, seeing each other more than the reclusive two-household building allowed; they’d grown familiar over time.
A spry grandma spotted Li Ang. “Heading out?”
Li Ang kept his head down. “Yeah.”
“Where’s your brother? On another business trip?”
“Yeah.”
“Neither of you married? Your parents not worried?”
“They’re gone.” Li Ang answered hastily and dragged Li Ran away by the arm.
He never once looked up.
After five years with Pei He Yu, the neighbors who’d lived nearby that whole time had no clue about their relationship—they thought the two were blood brothers, same parents.
Just two brothers who, for some reason, refused to marry. No women ever around the house—just the two men.
What kind of talk was that?
Li Ang had the guts to cheat but not to come out. Hiding and covering up to this day.
Named Li Ang—his simple rural parents hoping he’d rise high and hold his head proud—yet his head hung lower and lower, never thinking to lift it again.
On the way to the restaurant, Li Ran and Li Ang barely spoke.
During the trip, Li Ran’s phone buzzed a few times. Messages from Chi Mo.
He asked why Li Ran hadn’t messaged all afternoon—what was he doing.
Li Ran had been bored the whole time; nothing new to report.
But he wanted to chat with Chi Mo.
[Bro, I’m feeling kinda down.]
Chi Mo called right away.
Li Ran startled and didn’t pick up: [I’m with my dad. Not convenient to talk.]
Chi Mo: [Why are you sad?]
Li Ran: [I don’t know.]
Chi Mo: [Tell me when you’re heading back. I’ll pick you up.]
Li Ran: [Okay!]
“Are you chatting with Mr. Chi?” At the restaurant, Li Ang guided Li Ran to the pre-booked table.
Li Ran flipped his phone face-down, a bit embarrassed. “Yeah.”
“Xiao Ran, you and Chi Mo…” Li Ang asked in a cautious but non-aggressive tone, “what’s your relationship?”
Li Ran blurted, “He’s my landlord. I worked at his company over summer break, and now I go on weekends too. He teaches me how to talk to the older brothers and sisters there, how to ask for what I need and say no to what I don’t. He even tutors my homework—he’s super strict as a teacher…”
The teacher’s authority was unquestionable; Li Ran trailed off with lowered head and drooping brows.
He wasn’t fully bought by Chi Mo, but close enough.
“Has he…” Li Ang held his breath, ashamed of his suspicions yet unable to drop them, “done anything weird to you?”
“What weird stuff?” Li Ran’s eyes were clear. “Like not letting me sleep if I don’t do homework? That’s pretty weird.”
Li Ang silently berated himself. “No, I overthought it. I’m glad he’s your teacher—learn well from him. Your monthly exam scores were great this time; you should thank him.”
Before lunch was fully served, Li Ran bowed his head to message Chi Mo: Don’t forget to eat.
Li Ang watched thoughtfully from across the table.
Halfway through the meal, Li Ran had drunk too much soda and got up for the bathroom. Li Ang took his phone from the table corner, silenced it, and pocketed it—for an experiment only he knew the purpose of.
Li Ran was both perceptive and oblivious—a lovable, frustrating mix. Perceptive enough to sense others’ subtle moods; oblivious enough that if his phone “went missing” for half a day, he wouldn’t notice, and no one could reach him.
After eating, Li Ang kept Li Ran to talk. Sitting in the soulless house, they skipped the past and spoke only of the future.
Vague, lofty topics, but Li Ran spoke eagerly. Because he brought up Chi Mo’s game—a choice-based adventure in a parallel world that anyone could play.
Li Ang knew nothing about games but listened with interest.
In explaining, Li Ran couldn’t name a single technical term, but he sure could praise Chi Mo. That day, Li Ang heard his usually inarticulate son gush with genuine admiration for another man.
“Dad, he’s really amazing. Mom’s always comparing me to him—how could I measure up? Otherwise, I really could get into Tsinghua or Peking University, maybe even study abroad.” Li Ran downed half a glass of water, still eager to continue, when he suddenly remembered: “Hey, where’s my phone? Dad, have you seen it?”
Li Ang: “…”
Oblivious to the extreme.
“Here.” Li Ang said. “After lunch, I saw you weren’t taking it, so I grabbed it for you.”
If the phone was lost, he’d need a new one—that cost thousands. Li Ran nearly had a heart attack; he hated losing the phone or the money. He patted down every pocket frantically.
Confirming it wasn’t lost, he quickly took it from Li Ang. “Thanks, Dad. It was with you. Scared me.”
As dusk fell, the doorbell rang at Li Ang’s place. Pei He Yu was away on a two-day trip—not him.
Li Ang asked Li Ran, “Chi Mo?”
The phone he’d just gotten back had dozens—maybe hundreds—of messages. Li Ran hadn’t checked them all, just saw the last one: Chi Mo saying, “I’m coming to pick you up now.”
Not a question.
“Probably.” Li Ran wasn’t sure but jumped up to answer the door at the sound.
Li Ang called from behind, “Did you tell him the address?”
“I don’t think so…” The door opened; the words cut off.
Chi Mo stood there in a suit, impeccably dressed.
His expression carried an innate cold severity.
Li Ran and Chi Mo locked eyes. “Bro.”
“Mm.” Chi Mo restrained the stern gloom between his brows and said, “Why didn’t you pick up?”
Li Ang, still seated on the living room sofa with his own silenced phone for the day, received a message from Pei He Yu.
The exact same question as Chi Mo’s.
[Why didn’t you pick up?]
The tone and attitude screamed superiority—control so dominant it brooked no resistance. Li Ang thought Chi Mo and Pei He Yu must be cut from the same cloth.
He had to stop this…
But Chi Mo’s next words showed the difference.
He softened his stance, bluntly baring his heart: “I was really worried about you.”
” Ranran, vanishing without a word for half the day scares me to death.”
