Li Ran kept his ears open and eyes sharp. He naturally scooped up one sister and set her on his lap, letting her poke and pull at the long-absent him out of curiosity. The other climbed behind to play with his hair, lisping with slurps of drool after every word: “Big brother… are you our brother? Me and silly big sis went yesterday, to the pet shop, saw a puppy with curly fur, just like big brother’s, all curly…”
“You’re the silly little sis!” Silly big sis retorted hotly.
“I’m your brother, and brothers aren’t puppies. My curls are definitely cuter than a dog’s.” Li Ran laughed, while noticing the off atmosphere between Uncle Zhao and his mom—probably some disagreement before he arrived.
They went in and out of the kitchen, brushing past each other physically but avoiding eye contact. Adults papered over the peace; Li Ran wouldn’t poke the hole. He played heartlessly with his sisters as if oblivious.
Half a year later, the sisters’ speech was clearer, their weights equal—both nicely round—and their looks even more identical, like the same face. Luckily, they took after Bai Qingqing: fair skin, big eyes, small mouths, with noses already showing “buildings rising from flat ground.” They’d be beauties grown up.
Li Ran couldn’t tell them apart. Seeing them hands on hips, clumsily directing their round bodies to hurl pillows at each other while friendly-shouting “silly” names, he borrowed the nicknames without asking.
“Silly Sister No. 1” and “Silly Sister No. 2.” Adorable.
Last time, he’d called them “Villain No. 1” and “Villain No. 2″—no brotherly vibe at all.
By lunchtime, the sense that something was wrong between Bai Qingqing and Uncle Zhao grew heavier, a weighted worry pressing on Li Ran’s heart.
He hoped it wasn’t Uncle Zhao’s fault… hoped it wasn’t a matter of principle.
Bai Qingqing couldn’t tolerate sand in her eyes. A man’s principled mistake would disgust her, lead to lifelong nagging and cursing—like dragging the still-living Li Ang out for whipping now and then. But disgust aside, she wouldn’t let such a man disrupt her future; she’d cut ties cleanly.
Bai Qingqing was clear-headed, refusing to compromise for kids or accept a man’s harms.
But even the most poised woman couldn’t withstand a second injury. Li Ran felt for her—once bitten by a snake, ten years scared of wells—the thought knotted his stomach uncomfortably.
“Uncle Zhao, my studies have been heavy this semester, so I haven’t come in a long time. Last time Mom said you had a viral flu, I didn’t have time to visit—really sorry. You must’ve scared Mom bad; she took care of you nonstop. You’re all better now, right?” Li Ran unusually opened up.
His tone was light, every word equal—if not listened to closely, easy to miss.
But the subtext heavily emphasized “Mom got scared” and “took care of you,” underscoring that Bai Qingqing and he were family.
Family holds no overnight grudges.
Uncle Zhao glanced at him in surprise, thinking this kid had secretly evolved in months. Studies soaring, social savvy gained—even daring to voice his thoughts word for word.
What class was he taking? Teachers that good?
Mentioning the viral flu, Uncle Zhao recalled Bai Qingqing’s meticulous care, his expression softening with a sigh. “Thanks for your concern, Xiao Ran. I’m fine now. Of course, biggest thanks to Qingqing for nursing me day and night. I should know when I’m blessed.”
He picked a piece of rib for Bai Qingqing’s bowl, not seeing it as weakness.
Bai Qingqing loved that about him—no macho pride, admitted faults, reflected deeply, apologized to wife and kids.
Men who could do that nowadays? Count on one hand. Rarity made value.
But she didn’t realize Old Zhao’s concession came from Li Ran’s words; she wasn’t that perceptive. Hearing Li Ran’s long spiel surprised her: “Yo, son, I thought your smooth talking over phone was from unseen practice sessions. Didn’t expect it face-to-face too?”
Li Ran flushed, shoving rice into his mouth. “Was I that useless before?”
“Yes.” Bai Qingqing nodded solemnly.
Li Ran: “…”
He muttered, “He teaches well.”
Still very soft.
The two silent adults, thanks to Li Ran’s icebreaker, started chatting and laughing again. Bai Qingqing pointed at Uncle Zhao. “Lessen the fights from now on, stinky man.”
Uncle Zhao smiled placatingly. “Yes.”
Everyone was still savoring the meal slowly when Bai Qingqing had wolfed hers down, patting her stomach contentedly. “Stuffed.”
“Mom, eat slower next time—it’s not great for your health.” Bai Qingqing had shed her coat earlier, and Li Ran saw her sweater waistline thicker than last time, but he didn’t dare say it outright, fearing a swat. “Last time you and Uncle Zhao went to the hospital, you said you got your stomach checked. You told me the doctor said no cold or hot foods, chew more bites. Won’t listen to me or Uncle Zhao, but doctor’s words at least?”
“Hah, you little brat, you’ve really grown up, haven’t you? You’ve just learned how to sweet-talk a bit and now you’re using it on your mom? Trying to rebel?” Bai Qingqing touched her waist and said wistfully, “It’s gotten thicker again.”
Li Ran quickly clarified, “You said it yourself, Mom. I didn’t say it.”
Bai Qingqing was amused by him at first, but her laughter soon turned into hearty guffaws. She took turns patting the three children’s heads. Her sisters were still young, so she patted them gently, but Li Ran was older, so she could pat him harder.
A not-too-light nor too-heavy slap landed on the back of Li Ran’s head. Bai Qingqing said, “So what if it’s thick? I gave birth to you three—how could it not be? If you want slim, go look at your dad. He doesn’t have to give birth… Uncle Zhao is slim too, and he doesn’t have to give birth either. You’re a tall, skinny guy yourself—next year you’ll probably hit 1.8 meters, and you don’t have to give birth. Yet here you are, complaining about me.”
Then she mocked herself, “But honestly, with this waist, if I said I was pregnant again, people might believe it. ‘How many months?’ ‘Three months.’ Who knows, maybe I’m pregnant and don’t even realize it, hahahaha… I love kids, but I really don’t want any more. You three are enough. Sons, daughters—I’ve already got one of each. No more kids for me.”
At that moment, Li Ran caught a glimpse of Uncle Zhao’s unnatural expression, followed by a silent sigh.
Li Ran immediately understood. The disagreement between the adults today was most likely because Uncle Zhao wanted a son, but Bai Qingqing had firmly refused.
He slowly furrowed his brows.
As evening fell, Li Ran usually stayed here for a few days in previous years, but today Bai Qingqing still needed to tidy up the room. Li Ran said, “Mom, I told you in advance when I came that I’m not staying here tonight. I’m not alone this year.”
In the past, if he didn’t come here, he’d be staying alone in his cold, unwelcoming rental apartment—so yeah, he was alone. That’s what he meant just now.
There was no deeper meaning.
But the words took on a different tone in Bai Qingqing’s ears, sounding like an accusation. “Are you blaming Mom for not caring enough about you?”
Li Ran was stunned. “No…”
“Fine, if you don’t want to stay, then don’t. Saves me the trouble of cleaning.” Bai Qingqing didn’t see Li Ran off and silently returned to her room.
Uncle Zhao walked Li Ran to the door.
Before leaving, Li Ran hesitated but finally said, “Uncle, my mom will be 40 in a couple more years. Her age isn’t suitable for getting pregnant again. I hope you treat her well.”
“Yeah, women over 35 are considered high-risk pregnancies. You’ll be 18 in a few months. You’ve grown up since I last saw you, and you can’t forget what happened when you were little. No matter what, I’m not your dad.” Uncle Zhao gripped the door handle, ready to close it at any moment. He looked down and said indifferently, “Otherwise, I could’ve raised you like my own son.”
His words were gentle and mild, seemingly without any hostility, but Li Ran could hear the thorns hidden around every syllable, pricking at him as an outsider without any affection.
Years of sharing the same table couldn’t bridge the gap at all. As Li Ran grew—not just in age, but in his grades and other aspects over the past six months—it had become a kind of threat.
When Li Ran turned to leave, he politely nodded to Zhao Zeyang, his expression unchanged, looking just as usual. But once he left the neighborhood and spotted the Cullinan waiting across the street, Li Ran pouted.
A sense of grievance instantly filled his heart.
He quietly pulled open the car door and slipped inside. Chi Mo immediately noticed his downcast eyes and prominently pursed lips. The wave of grievance hit Chi Mo full in the face. He reached out, pinched Li Ran’s chin, and made him look at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Li Ran’s tears came rushing out.
He wasn’t a fragile person and never liked to cry. Back when he thought he’d scratched Chi Mo’s car and owed ten thousand in debt, he’d only reddened his eyes before steeling himself to face reality.
But now, just from Chi Mo’s gentle question—Mom hadn’t come to see him off, seemingly upset, and Zhao Zeyang had implied he’d never be his real son, leaving him as nothing but an outsider—all that pent-up grievance poured out.
It filled the spacious interior of the Cullinan, the pride of its make, with Li Ran’s choked sobs of sadness.
Chi Mo’s brows furrowed tightly.
How dare anyone make this good kid feel so aggrieved?
Tears flowed onto Chi Mo’s hand. Li Ran grabbed Chi Mo’s wrist with both hands, as if Chi Mo had pinched too hard and he was resisting in pain.
The emotions he hadn’t wanted to show in front of his own mother, he was willing to let Chi Mo see—all of them.
“Tell me.” Chi Mo wiped away his tears, his voice even lower. “Hm?”
With tears streaming down his face, Li Ran choked out in a small voice, tattling, “…I’m not happy.”
