Chapter Forty

The night before Yi Xiao returned home, Old You clung to Yi Xiaoyu’s leg, wheedling and pestering for half the night, but failed to persuade Yi Xiaoyu to take him along the next day. In a fit of pique, Old You sulked through the night. Of course, he didn’t dare show it in front of his wife; instead, he snuck off to the bathroom in the middle of the night and vented his frustration by brushing his teeth with Yi Xiaoyu’s toothbrush.

Yi Xiaoyu had a mild case of mysophobia. Once, Old You had accidentally used his toothbrush, and only told him after Yi Xiaoyu had finished brushing. Yi Xiaoyu was so furious he snapped the toothbrush in half on the spot, and gave Old You a thorough thrashing for good measure. Ever since, whenever Old You was upset with his wife but didn’t dare show it, he would secretly sneak into the bathroom and use Yi Xiaoyu’s toothbrush as an outlet.

That night, he nearly brushed his gums raw.

The next morning, Old You got up early to cook for Yi Xiaoyu and help pack his things for the trip home, acting with unusual enthusiasm. Yi Xiaoyu even praised him warmly, but when Old You, beaming, pleaded once more to be taken along, he was again heartlessly refused.

After getting into the car, Yi Xiaoyu saw the look of grievance in his lover’s eyes, sighed, got out, walked over to Old You, cupped his chin, and kissed him tenderly.

The effect was immediate. Old You’s face softened, and he threw his arms around Yi Xiaoyu’s waist, pinning him to the car and kissing him without restraint.

———

By the time Yi Xiaoyu arrived home, it was already midday. As soon as he stepped into the living room, he saw Wen Ming sitting on the sofa, chatting and laughing with his father.

Yi Dongjun was delighted to see his eldest son return. Yi Xiaoyu exchanged a few brief words with him before turning to look at Wen Ming.

Before Yi Xiaoyu could speak, Wen Ming smiled lightly and said, “I came to visit Uncle today, and didn’t expect you’d be back as well, Xiaoyu. What a coincidence.”

Yi Dongjun patted his son’s shoulder. “You two chat. I’ll go upstairs and check on Xiaoyu. The kid’s been gaming all morning, and it’s almost lunchtime.”

With that, Yi Dongjun left. A few steps away, he paused and looked back at the two standing face-to-face by the sofa, a gratified smile on his face.

“Uncle said you didn’t come home on New Year’s Eve,” Wen Ming’s gentle voice sounded, “Did you spend the holiday with your partner?”

Yi Xiaoyu poured himself a cup of tea and sipped it, head lowered. “Yes. It was the same last year.”

“That sounds lovely.” Wen Ming gave a self-deprecating, bitter smile. “Unlike me—I fell asleep at a table covered in design drafts on New Year’s Eve.”

Yi Xiaoyu’s gaze was calm. “You’re just chasing your dreams. Sacrificing a New Year’s Eve for that is nothing.”

He had no intention of implying anything, but Wen Ming heard a deeper ache in those words, as if they were saying: back then, you gave up even me for your dreams—so what is sacrificing a single holiday to you now?

Wen Ming’s face clouded for a moment. Sensing his words had been misunderstood, Yi Xiaoyu added, “Don’t get the wrong idea, I just think—”

“It’s nothing,” Wen Ming smiled. “It’s all in the past. Oh, I did want to ask you something, though. While chatting with Uncle, he said you’re still single. About your marriage... you haven’t even told your family?”

“...No, but I will, sooner or later. I hope you can keep it secret for now.”

“Of course. I didn’t say a word to Uncle just now. It’s just—” Wen Ming fixed his gaze on Yi Xiaoyu’s eyes and asked softly, “Can you tell me why, after two years of marriage, you still haven’t made your relationship public?”

“I have my reasons, and I don’t want to explain.”

“I think I can guess,” Wen Ming replied, the corners of his mouth curving in a smile that hinted at quiet certainty.

They moved on to lighter topics, and only then did Yi Xiaoyu’s expression grow natural, a frank smile gradually appearing on his face.

Yi Yu, coming downstairs at the second landing, spotted Wen Ming and Yi Xiaoyu sitting together in the living room. Grinning, he whipped out his phone and snapped a photo—flash and shutter sound both on. At the click, both men turned to look at him.

Yi Xiaoyu stood up, his voice stern. “What are you taking pictures for?”

Yi Yu waved his phone. “I missed you, that’s all! Wanted a new wallpaper. Hey, bro, are you worried I’ll send it to Brother You? Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, I know what’s up between you and Brother You.”

“Trying to blackmail me with this?” Yi Xiaoyu sneered. “You little brat, have you lost your mind?”

“Who’s Brother You?” Yi Dongjun came down behind Yi Yu, asking, “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing, Dad.” Yi Yu clung to his father’s arm. “Dinner’s ready, let’s eat! Oh, and Wen Ming, when are you and my brother going to make it official? Mom and Dad have been waiting ages to toast you both at your wedding, hehe...”

“You rascal.” Yi Dongjun feigned a knock on Yi Yu’s head. “Such a chatterbox. Xiaoyu, Wen Ming, come eat. Xiaoyu’s mom is cooking today—all your old favorites.”

Yi Xiaoyu said nothing, but his face was as dark as thunder.

After lunch, Yi Yu returned to his room to call You Hanzhe.

Since You Hanzhe had called him before, Yi Yu had his number saved long ago.

You Hanzhe wasn’t one for small talk, but Yi Yu could tease and banter with him for ages. Just hearing his voice over the phone made Yi Yu’s heart itch; he wished he could fly to him that instant and tackle him to the ground.

———

With his beloved away visiting her parents, Old You suddenly found life utterly dull. He went out drinking, only to have Xiao Zhou clutch his leg and sob for hours.

Ever since Chu You vanished, Xiao Zhou had wilted like a frostbitten plant. In the first days, he could still force a smile, but soon he drifted about like a lost soul. Now, all he did was drink and, once drunk, mutter Chu You’s name.

Old You wanted nothing to do with Xiao Zhou’s mess. Anyone with eyes could see Chu You had never cared for him. Xiao Zhou had forced him into being his lover, and the fact that Chu You simply ran away instead of stabbing him was already an act of mercy.

Old You had meant to kick him while he was down—after all, Xiao Zhou used to strut around bragging about his expertise in love, and seeing him fall flat was satisfying. But looking at him now, so shriveled and pitiful, Old You couldn’t quite bring himself to twist the knife. Instead, he offered patient comfort, repeating the old saying: There are so many flowers in the world, why pine for a single blade of grass?

Besides, considering Xiao Zhou’s true worth, it was really Chu You who’d lost out.

Old You, content in his happy home and love-filled heart, found words of comfort came easily. Reclining on the sofa, drink in hand, legs crossed, he casually dispensed sage advice on love.

“I’ll find him, no matter what,” Xiao Zhou muttered, fingers tangled in his hair, staring at the floor, his voice choked. “I don’t want anyone else, just him...”

Old You took a sip of his drink, smacking his lips in satisfaction—this really was a fine vintage.

(Yawnbro: If it’s past nine and there’s no update, there’s a seventy percent chance there won’t be one that night. So after nine, don’t bother waiting—get some sleep, girls, early to bed and early to rise!)