Jiang Chu flushed the toilet, grabbed some water from the tap at the sink, and rinsed his mouth. He awkwardly explained to Qin Zui, “Sorry, it wasn’t because of you.”
Qin Zui glared at him for a few seconds, then turned and walked out.
Jiang Chu heard him turn on the lights, pour himself a glass of water, and set it down on the dining table with a clang.
After Jiang Chu finished washing up and came out of the bathroom, Qin Zui’s door was closed. He’d gone back to his room. Zhou Teng was lying in front of his door.
“So you’re already kissing him, huh?” Jiang Chu whispered to Zhou Teng.
Zhou Teng swished his tail, too lazy to acknowledge him.
The next morning, Jiang Chu woke up to the smell of food.
Qin Zui had made a pot of rice porridge, bought youtiao and tea eggs, and was already sitting there eating.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Jiang Chu yawned and shuffled out, slouching into the chair across from him.
He reached for the porridge bowl, but Qin Zui blocked his hand with his chopsticks. Chewing on half a youtiao, he said coldly, “Brush your teeth.”
“Oh.” Jiang Chu rubbed the back of his head, stood up, and shuffled to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
After washing up, he sat down to eat. They got along peacefully, neither mentioning the accidental kiss from the night before.
Jiang Chu didn’t think much of it. It was just an accident. Guys in school did crazier stuff all the time. If anyone was going to be awkward about it, it would be Qin Zui, in his sensitive, untouchable hormonal phase.
But as he drank his porridge and watched Qin Zui, the kid didn’t seem to be reacting.
Probably because his face had been toughened up from all the fighting since he got here.
This time, Qin Zui’s birthday celebration wasn’t at a hotel. Around 10:30 AM, Jiang Liantian called Jiang Chu and asked them to come over to the new house to eat.
Qin Zui’s expression was unreadable. As usual, he seemed indifferent, tinged with a little impatience, as he followed Jiang Chu into the car to go celebrate his own birthday.
“You haven’t been there before, have you?” Jiang Chu asked as he drove. “Her new place.”
“Mm,” Qin Zui replied.
“Your birthday’s the 13th, right?” Jiang Chu glanced at him.
Qin Zui looked over.
“Last time at the hospital, I saw your ID. Looked like September 13th.” Jiang Chu said.
Qin Zui didn’t deny it. No denial meant it was right.
It seemed like every time the topic of his birthday came up, Qin Zui was especially reluctant to talk. Last time he’d asked which year, he hadn’t gotten an answer either.
None of that mattered now, anyway. Jiang Chu was still trying to figure out what to give Qin Zui for his birthday. He pulled out his cigarette case, tapped one out, and put it between his lips.
Remembering how he’d banged on the door and interrupted the kid’s… session last night, maybe he should actually give him a masturbation cup?
He was lost in this ridiculous thought as he was about to toss the box into the glove compartment. Qin Zui reached out, plucked one out, and put it between his own lips.
“That’s crossing the line there.” Jiang Chu glanced in the rearview mirror as he turned the steering wheel. “Haven’t even had your drink yet today, Little Brother Qin Zui, sophomore.”
Qin Zui paused at the nickname, then pulled a lighter from his own pocket, lit his cigarette, and held it out to Jiang Chu.
Jiang Chu tilted his head, lit his cigarette from Qin Zui’s, squinted, and rolled down the window halfway.
Halfway to their destination, Jiang Chu turned on the GPS.
Jiang Liantian and Qin Shuman had bought a new house after their marriage. Jiang Chu had only been there once, almost two years ago, and he couldn’t quite remember the way.
After entering the residential complex, he called Jiang Liantian again to confirm the specific building number. As he parked the car and walked upstairs with Qin Zui, Jiang Chu couldn’t help feeling a little sentimental. Four people squeezing in a birthday celebration on a tight schedule, none of them feeling like a real family.
He looked at Qin Zui. The birthday boy was probably feeling it even more than he was.
“Come on, cheer up.” Jiang Chu put his arm around his shoulder, thinking that after seeing Jiang Liantian twice in two months, he should probably go visit his own mom soon.
Sure enough, Qin Zui had developed an immunity. He didn’t react much to Jiang Chu’s physical contact anymore. He just looked at Jiang Chu and said nothing.
As they stepped out of the elevator, the corridor was filled with the aroma of braised ribs.
This time, Qin Shuman answered the door. Jiang Liantian’s voice called from the kitchen, “Is that Qin Zui? Or is it the cake?”
Qin Shuman glanced at Qin Zui, her smile restrained. She sized up his outfit for the day, but the first person she addressed was still Jiang Chu.
“Must have been a bit of traffic today, Little Chu.” She let them in and handed Jiang Chu a pair of slippers.
Jiang Chu said “Ah,” took them, tossed them down at Qin Zui’s feet first, then put on his own pair. He smiled. “A bit.”
Jiang Liantian poked his head out from the kitchen and greeted them. “Have a seat. The cake will be here soon. Your mom specially ordered it this morning, Qin Zui… Oh, got a new haircut, Qin Zui. Looks sharp.”
Qin Zui didn’t say anything to Qin Shuman either. He just nodded at Jiang Liantian.
Jiang Chu picked a piece of cumin lamb from the table, feeling awkward for both of them just watching the atmosphere between mother and son.
And Qin Shuman… she’d called yesterday. Ordering a cake was just a phone call away. How could she drag it out until this morning?
Freshly made?
“Jiang Chu, come help your dad make a cold dish.” Jiang Liantian called again.
Jiang Chu, who only knew how to make egg-fried rice, knew Jiang Liantian wanted to talk to him privately.
He found the remote on the TV cabinet, turned on the TV to some random show, and patted Qin Zui’s back as he passed him. “Sit tight, just play on your phone for a bit.”
“The lamb is good.” Jiang Chu went into the kitchen, washed his hands, and complimented.
“Right? I thought so too. Fresh delivered this morning.” Jiang Liantian handed him a small bowl and three thousand-year-old eggs. “Peel these.”
“Don’t bother with the oysters.” Jiang Chu looked at the other ingredients being prepped, picked up an egg, and cracked it against the bowl.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like them?” Jiang Liantian kicked a trash can over to him.
“Qin Zui is allergic to seafood.” Jiang Chu said. “Remember when you treated him to dinner last time? He broke out in a red rash all over when he got home.”
Jiang Liantian was stunned for a moment, then lowered his voice. “Why didn’t he say anything?”
“Your wife didn’t say anything either.” Jiang Chu said with a wry smile.
Jiang Liantian was silent for a moment, glancing toward the living room. The mother and son were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, looking like two random people thrown together for a meal.
He half-closed the kitchen door, fished out a cigarette, lit it, and offered the pack to Jiang Chu.
Jiang Chu shook his head and asked quietly, “Is he even her biological son?”
“What kind of question is that?” Jiang Liantian turned the heat down on the soup, slowly peeled another egg, and spoke vaguely around the cigarette in his mouth. “They were separated too early. Your Aunt Qin and his dad got divorced when Qin Zui was only six or seven. Lost touch for so many years. Just got him back now, some awkwardness is normal.”
‘Brought him back’?
“What do you mean?” Jiang Chu raised an eyebrow as he peeled an egg. “If his dad hadn’t died, she wasn’t going to acknowledge him?”
Jiang Liantian definitely knew something. Jiang Chu could see it in his expression. But Jiang Liantian didn’t want to say.
“So this is it, then?” Jiang Chu continued. “All right. Don’t expect Qin Zui to take care of her in her old age.”
“You’re just thinking about not taking care of me in my old age, aren’t you?” Jiang Liantian kicked Jiang Chu in the ass.
“Hey! Don’t touch me, I’ll drop the bowl.” Jiang Chu frowned and dodged, feeling like he’d just stolen one of Qin Zui’s lines.
Jiang Liantian was staring at the range hood, chewing on his cigarette. The expression on his face made it look like he was about to say something important just as the doorbell rang again.
“Is it almost ready?” Qin Shuman pushed open the kitchen door, holding the cake that had been delivered. She smiled and asked, “Just do something simple. Or should I help?”
“The cake’s here?” Jiang Liantian stubbed out his cigarette in the sink. “Alright, good. Have Qin Zui open the cake first.”
“Done peeling.” Jiang Chu tossed the last peeled egg into the small bowl. “You get to making the dressing. I’ll go out and wait.”
He washed his hands, took the cake from Qin Shuman, brought it out, and placed it in the center of the dining table.
Qin Shuman went back into the kitchen to help with the food, as expected. Jiang Chu glanced at Qin Zui, sat on the arm of the sofa next to him, and nudged his shoulder.
Qin Zui turned his head. Jiang Chu quickly shoved a piece of lamb into his mouth.
“Drink more of the soup later,” Jiang Chu leaned over, grabbed a tissue to wipe his hands, looked at Qin Zui’s expression—mouth full of lamb, not sure whether to chew—and had to hold back a laugh. “The old man’s not the best dad, but he makes amazing soup. My mom used to say he should have been a chef.”
Qin Zui stared at Jiang Chu’s smiling eyes for a long moment. Then, very rarely, the corner of his mouth curled up slightly. He let out a low “Mm,” turned his head, and watched TV while chewing the lamb.
When Jiang Liantian and Qin Shuman finally emerged from the kitchen and the four of them sat around the table, Jiang Chu was already starting to regret coming to this meal.
It was the most awkward birthday dinner he had ever attended. Hands down.
More awkward than the time Fang Zi tried to confess to that girl from the department on her birthday, only to be rejected on the spot.
Jiang Liantian was trying hard to smile and make conversation, trying to liven up the atmosphere. Qin Shuman tried her best to go along with it, laughing and talking, but there was always a dazed look in her eyes. She spent more time looking at Jiang Chu than she did at Qin Zui, as if Qin Zui had thorns all over his face that would prick her eyes.
Jiang Chu tried to help fill the silence, but Qin Zui was sitting right there with his “has nothing to do with me” expression, and it was just really no fun.
“Alright, shall we open the cake first?” Jiang Liantian rubbed his hands together, said “Qin Zui,” and frantically winked at Jiang Chu.
“Sure, come on, open it.” Jiang Chu kicked the leg of Qin Zui’s chair.
Qin Zui, purely out of politeness, forced a smile at Jiang Liantian and pulled the ribbon on the cake box.
“You can help too.” Jiang Liantian patted Qin Shuman’s arm, telling her to help open it together.
“I wonder if it turned out good-looking. The girl at the shop was raving about it.” Qin Shuman smiled, smoothed her hair, and stood up to lift the upside-down cake box.
The cake was nothing special. The same old mold you’d find in any chain store, with delicate, beautifully piped borders.
But what drew all four of their eyes was the elegant cursive writing on the cake.
Happy Birthday, Qin Zui [T/N: The cake says “Qin Zui” using the character for ‘Drunk’ instead of his name ‘Best/Most’.]
“Careless of them.” Jiang Chu chuckled. “Too busy talking, I guess. Even got the name wrong.”
But no one responded to him.
Qin Zui, Qin Shuman, and Jiang Liantian were all three staring at that character for “Qin Zui” like it was a live grenade.
What the hell was this?
Jiang Chu was about to be confused by their reaction. It was just a typo. It wasn’t that big a deal, was it?
“I’ll order another one.” He pulled out his phone.
“Yeah, have your brother order another one.” Jiang Liantian quickly followed up.
Qin Zui moved his arm, pressing down on Jiang Chu’s hand. His gaze shifted from the cake to Qin Shuman’s face. Looking at her expressionlessly, he said, “I’m eighteen.”
Qin Shuman’s eyelids fluttered. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Qin Zui didn’t give her a chance to speak. He pushed his chair back—it scraped loudly against the wooden floor—stood up, and walked out the door with long strides.
