Bai Qingqing froze. Her son had never been one for sweet talk since he was little. Even when he cared about you and was anxious to death, he would only stay silently by your side, occasionally calling out “Dad” or “Mom” to show he was there. That was the best comfort he could offer.
In his heart, he had plenty of caring words to say, and he might have rehearsed them over and over, but when they reached his lips, those words sprouted needles that sewed his mouth shut, leaving him flushed and tongue-tied, unable to utter those flowery phrases.
In just half a year, he didn’t know what his son had gone through, but he had boldly shed his timid shell, touching the world with a softer self, probing bit by bit. He wasn’t afraid of getting hurt anymore and tried to express his true feelings with a thousand words.
Before death, words were pale and powerless.
Before the living, words bloomed in purple and crimson splendor.
After a long daze, Bai Qingqing laughed out loud and said, “When I first met Xiao Chi and he said he’d teach you everything, I didn’t quite believe him. I didn’t expect him to really teach you everything—you’ve learned so well now. Have you thanked him properly?”
The sudden mention of Chi Mo, coming from Bai Qingqing’s mouth no less, made Li Ran go “Ah” and panic instantly. He stammered, “Y-Yeah… Yeah, I have.”
Bai Qingqing wasn’t perceptive enough to notice: “Don’t worry, son. Having you and your two sisters is more than enough to satisfy me. How crazy would I have to be to want another one pushing forty? I’m not insane.”
She laughed: “None of you three are easy on me. As long as you’re all healthy and things go smoothly for you, that’s better than anything.”
Li Ran relaxed and smiled.
The next day, everyone decided to head home.
Early in the morning, Cheng Ai Mei wandered around restlessly, her eyes always fixed on Li Ran, treating him like a clock as time ticked by slowly. She was about fed up with Chi Mo, who stuck to Li Ran’s side constantly like he’d never seen him before, glued together day and night.
They weren’t even dating yet and it was like this—what would it be like if they did? That cold-faced dog king wouldn’t lock the kid up in his room…
What a sin.
Cheng Ai Mei grumbled inwardly, praying for Chi Mo to stay away. When Li Ran was finally alone, she swooped in, half-exposing a string of Bodhi beads in her palm: “Go bother Chi Mo quick and make him take you home today, or I’ll give these Bodhi beads back to him and say you gave them to me yesterday and hid them from him. I can’t stand this damn place another day, Granny!”
The Bodhi beads were like a boomerang—Li Ran didn’t dare let his grandma tattle. He thought to himself that he’d hide all the Bodhi beads when they got back, then slowly went to pester his brother.
Wherever Chi Mo went, he followed, trailing step for step. One moment he’d tickle his brother’s palm, the next tug his sleeve, then hold his big hand.
Finally, in a mosquito-like whisper: “Let’s go home today, Brother.”
Chi Mo: “.”
Chi Mo stared at him, silent for a long time.
Cheng Ai Mei could tell he was holding back because she and Ye Ze were there; otherwise, who knew what reckless thing he’d do.
Once everything was packed, the two elders acted twenty years younger, nearly breaking into a two-person dance in the living room. Chi Wei sneered as he watched, then said to Chi Mo in front of them, “Make sure they take their meds on time. If they miss even once, call me directly.”
“Then A’Wan and I will come pick them up, and they’ll live with us from now on.”
Chi Mo agreed: “Sure.”
Cheng Ai Mei / Ye Ze: “…”
After packing the humans’ things, there were the cats’ things—bags upon bags, incredibly abundant.
Li Ran opened the pet carrier and put a can of meat inside to lure Black and White Impermanence in. Hei Ge smelled the meat and dashed over unguarded, but as he passed Chi Wei’s legs, that shameless human grabbed one of his front paws. Chi Wei crouched down and said, “See? It wants to stay and keep me company, be my family’s cat. This cat knows how to play the world better than people—nice, nice. Then it stays.”
“Meow—meow!” Hei Ge meowed furiously, flopping onto the ground and kicking wildly at Chi Wei with his powerful hind legs. The two-legged creature stood firm, unafraid of getting scratched.
“Little Uncle! That’s my and Brother’s kitten!” Terrified, Li Ran stopped leisurely waiting for the cats to enter the carrier on their own. He rushed over, scooped up Hei Ge, and bolted.
Chi Wei shook the fur off his hand—it was too light to shake off: “It insisted on staying itself.”
Li Ran: “It did not!”
He quickly scooped up the oblivious White Cat too, cradling one under each arm while glaring warily at Chi Wei. Sticking close behind Chi Mo, he urged, “Bro, let’s go! Hurry! Run, run, run, run, run!”
Chi Mo did as he said, grabbing the suitcase in one hand and yanking Li Ran—with the two cats—along without looking back.
He even left the pet carrier behind.
Chi Wei wanted to say more, but Ye Chengwan stopped him with a mix of laughter and exasperation: “That’s enough from you. Where’s your elder dignity?”
Chi Wei: “They’re the unfilial ones—where’s their junior manners?”
Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze, reborn, burst out the door in unison: “Wuhu!”
On the way home, Black and White Impermanence didn’t get along with the old folks in the back seat, so they curled up on Li Ran’s lap in the passenger seat, fast asleep.
One black, one white, huddled together like yin-yang. A perfect match, made in heaven.
Li Ran stroked one cat with each hand, glanced sideways at his brother, then looked in the rearview mirror at his beaming grandpa and grandma. His heart felt warm and toasty.
For the first time in the new year, he made a wish: I hope next year is like this too.
After days away, Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze missed home terribly. The moment their feet hit the ground, they dashed upstairs, claiming early to bed and early to rise was good for health, vanishing from the living room without a backward glance.
The rooms had phones and tablets aplenty.
Before the New Year, Li Ran had made a little snowman for Chi Mo and frozen it in the bottom layer of the fridge. Chi Mo’s first act upon returning was to check if the snowman had deformed.
The shape was intact, and its body had formed a layer of frost crystals in the extreme cold, making it look even fluffier and cuter at first glance.
Chi Mo couldn’t resist taking it out and placing it in an exquisite fruit dish to snap a photo. The entire screen was filled with the little snowman.
Cats have short memories; a territory untouched for days becomes unfamiliar, requiring re-familiarization with scents. With so many cat-related items at home, Black and White Impermanence sniffed around upon entering before dashing off joyfully.
After watching the cats, Li Ran turned and saw his brother photographing the snowman like a model. Curious, he walked over: “Why are you taking pictures?”
Chi Mo picked the best one and sent it to Li Ran: “Change to this.”
Li Ran was puzzled: “Huh?”
Chi Mo brooked no argument: “Change it.”
A few minutes later, Li Ran’s WeChat profile picture became the little snowman his brother had photographed—full of atmosphere.
It was nice, but why did his brother use his photo as a profile picture…
That photo only showed a tiny bit of his chin tip. It was from New Year’s Eve when Li Ran went to Bai Qingqing’s house. Seeing the crystalline thin ice on the road sparkling in the sunlight, he couldn’t resist snapping it.
The newly risen sun hesitantly skimmed the ground, captured by the ice in roadside puddles. Through a series of refractions, it shot straight toward the half-open window of the Cullinan.
The central “light path” was tinged with rainbow hues of red, yellow, orange, and green.
His silhouette reflected in the rearview mirror, upper body obscured by the slender hand holding the phone, only the lower half of his face visible. The rainbow’s end kissed right on his thin handback.
Chi Mo had changed to that exact photo.
Opening his brother’s chat, Li Ran saw himself—well, not his face, but it still felt weird.
…His heart beat a little fast.
Chi Mo: “Pin me to the top.”
Li Ran: “Oh. Okay.”
He obeyed without question.
Chi Mo: “Don’t unpin me.”
Li Ran solemnly: “I won’t.”
Far away at the Qi family home, Qi Zhi wanted to chat with Li Ran. He opened A’Dai’s chat and saw the perpetually blank avatar had changed to a little snowman.
His brows furrowed slightly. With a flash of insight, he backed out and searched for Chi Mo’s name. Sure enough, Chi Mo’s ancient unchanging black avatar had become a portrait. At first glance, no one who didn’t know Li Ran would recognize it—it looked like an atmospheric web image—but Qi Zhi knew it was A’Dai.
Clearly, couple profile pictures.
