Chapter 133 – Longing Turns into Plague

The next morning, the Commander dragged the Deputy Commander to the kitchen to sincerely express to Mother their desire to visit their aunt and uncle early for a family reunion. At the time, Fang Liangang was still sound asleep in the bedroom, so the scene was peaceful and harmonious. Liu Shuxian, wearing an apron, was frying dumplings. When she heard their request, she turned around and smiled gently at the Deputy Commander: “They say if the first day of the New Year goes badly, the whole year won’t be good. Chudong, what do you think?”

Chudong had no opinions to offer—only praise. Auntie truly was a legend.

Thus, the Fang family spent another tumultuous first day of the New Year. By evening, when the eldest and second aunts learned that the eldest brother’s family would be visiting the sister-in-law’s side the next day for a reunion, they bid their farewells and returned to their own homes. However, they were reluctant to leave, especially the outgoing second aunt, who, in the chaos, pinched the cheeks of her nephew’s boyfriend twice and still wasn’t satisfied. She even made plans to reunite: “I’ll come back to eat yuanxiao with you on the fifteenth!”

Fang Zheng, who had been worrying about how to freeload at home until the Lantern Festival, nearly kowtowed to his second aunt. You’re the real MVP, TAT.

With no relatives around for the second night, Fang Zheng and Meng Chudong no longer had to sleep in the living room. However, whether they should share a bedroom or sleep separately became a dilemma. For the Deputy Commander, although half of his butt had already been exposed, it was unintentional and could be excused as a moment of mutual understanding and irresistible emotion. But if they actively chose to share a bed, it would truly be a case of “those shameless boys.” Fang Zheng didn’t overthink it as much. He simply felt that bringing Birdy home was already pushing the limits, and now was not the time to further provoke his parents’ nerves.

As the two of them hesitated awkwardly in front of the bedroom door, they were caught red-handed by Madam Liu, who happened to pass by. The two froze, unsure how to explain themselves. Madam Liu gave them a disdainful glance, brushed past them, and left gracefully, tossing back a single sentence—

“Stop pretending. The rice has already turned into mung bean porridge.”

Perhaps Mother’s words carried some magical power, because that night, the rice and mung beans behaved themselves without stirring each other up, sleeping peacefully until dawn.

“I’ve given them a heads-up.”

That’s what the Commander’s mother said on the way to the aunt’s house.

Though they were comforted by this unprecedented gesture, Fang Zheng and Meng Chudong still felt uneasy deep down—until two hours later, when Meng Chudong was dragged onto the mahjong table by his boyfriend’s uncle…

Seated at the table were his aunt with her big curls, his uncle with a gold chain, and his beautiful aunt-in-law. Three rounds in a row, Meng Chudong fed the winning tiles to his opponents, each time to a different person. The atmosphere instantly heated up. The uncle, who had no interest in mahjong but was always forced to play during the New Year, was overjoyed to finally have a successor. When the aunt’s son called from overseas that evening, she casually introduced her nephew’s boyfriend. The well-traveled son immediately sent his blessings to this new family member. From then on, Birdy officially had an ID card in the Fang family.

By the sixth day of the New Year, Meng Chudong had lost 780 RMB in a four-bedroom, two-living-room commercial apartment but received 1,000 RMB in red envelopes from relatives as a “new daughter-in-law gift,” resulting in a net profit.

By the Lantern Festival, Meng Chudong had faced off against the Fang family’s fierce warrior four times in a relocation apartment, with one win, one loss, and two draws. The boss didn’t drop any loot, but Meng Chudong still gained plenty of XP. After the final round, the boss declared that operations were overloaded and needed maintenance, with the battle to resume in spring. Against the Fang family’s meatball, he fought three times, winning all rounds. The boss dropped loot every time, though stingily—only materials: a single chrysanthemum.

At first, Fang Zheng and Meng Chudong treated dragging things out until the Lantern Festival as a mission, like an endgame dungeon—whether they liked it or not didn’t matter, it just had to be done. But when they actually ate yuanxiao on the fifteenth and realized they’d be leaving the next day, they suddenly felt reluctant.

However, time marches on regardless of joy or sorrow. The sixteenth day of the first lunar month arrived as scheduled.

Though they had resigned themselves to fate, the Commander’s parents weren’t affectionate enough to see them off for miles. In fact, when Fang Zheng and Birdy left, Madam Liu only escorted them to the doorway, waving amiably from inside. The Commander’s father didn’t even leave the bedroom, shouting from afar: “Get lost! Don’t let me see you two again before Labor Day!”

On the bus back, Fang Zheng was in high spirits. While at home, he hadn’t realized it, but looking back now, the results of this Spring Festival’s battles had far exceeded expectations. The best outcome he had imagined was just lingering at home for a few days before being kicked out. Eating yuanxiao on the fifteenth had been nothing more than a hopeful dream—who knew it would actually come true? This was like spending 100 Huaxia Coins on a lottery and winning a purple-tier gear, damn it! The heavens truly loved him, TAT.

Watching Fang Zheng fidget by the window—picking at the seatback in front of him, rubbing his head against the glass, occasionally squinting and grinning foolishly—Meng Chudong knew the guy was happy.

He yawned, leaned gently against Fang Zheng, and closed his eyes to rest.

Fang Zheng’s body was soft and plump yet resilient, much like his personality. He seemed easygoing, but that was only because you hadn’t crossed his bottom line. Once you did, he’d stand his ground more firmly than anyone.

“Hey,” Fang Zheng ruffled his hair less than half a minute after he closed his eyes, “don’t lean on me, it’s hot.”

The bus’s heating was blasting.

Meng Chudong didn’t move, not even opening his eyes.

Fang Zheng sighed and compromised: “Then get up first, let me take off my down jacket.”

Before he could even finish speaking, the supposedly “dead” bird quickly sat up, blinked twice, and said expectantly: “I’m ready. Go ahead and take it off.”

For a moment, Fang Zheng wondered if he’d slurred the words “down jacket” together so badly that it sounded like “underwear.”

After removing the down jacket, Meng Chudong naturally leaned back against him. Fang Zheng rolled his eyes: “Five bucks per minute, got it?”

Without the down jacket, the fatty’s touchability improved even further. Meng Chudong leaned comfortably against him and sighed in contentment.

Fang Zheng had no choice. He turned to stare at that face for a long while before sighing: “I used to think my mom was sent by God to torment me. Now I see—God sent a duo…”

Meng Chudong’s eyes remained closed, but the corners of his lips curled up slightly at those words.

The Commander-brand body pillow was intoxicating, and Meng Chudong’s consciousness gradually drifted away. Unfortunately, just as he was about to fall asleep, the bus jolted violently, startling him awake. He didn’t move, still leaning against Fang Zheng with his eyes closed, but his thoughts grew clearer. The past few days replayed in his mind like slides, finally freezing on the morning of their departure.

That was a few hours ago. Neither Fang Zheng nor his father was awake yet. Meng Chudong had woken up thirsty, washed his face, and gone to the kitchen for water, where he ran into Liu Shuxian, who had just gotten up to cook. He greeted her with a “good morning,” then didn’t know what else to say. Leaving immediately seemed rude, but staying in the kitchen felt awkward. Then Liu Shuxian, tying her apron, suddenly said: “You haven’t told your family yet.”

It wasn’t a question. Liu Shuxian said it as casually as if remarking on the nice weather.

But he knew exactly what she was asking.

Fang Zheng had brought him home and introduced him as his boyfriend, but he hadn’t done the same. In fact, he hadn’t even considered it. Even now, while he envied how Fang Zheng’s relationship with him had gained implicit acceptance from his parents, he still didn’t think the same could happen in his own family. Every family was different. Just as Fang Zheng’s teasing tactics only worked on a father like Fang Liangang—change the setting or the person, and it wouldn’t fly. Since there was no hope of successful communication, why drag Fang Zheng back to suffer?

His silence was answer enough.

Unexpectedly, Liu Shuxian didn’t mock his silence or gloat about guessing right as she usually would. She didn’t even pause her work, continuing to carefully arrange steamed buns in the pot. Just when he thought the topic was over, she said calmly: “In some ways, you’re actually not as good as my fatty.”

When Fang Zheng and Birdy returned to their base, they were warmly welcomed by Fifth Brother and his two lackeys. Fifth Brother said he’d missed them terribly, but Fang Zheng assumed it was just polite talk. Later, when he logged into YY first, his Ghost Server comrades also expressed their longing in the channel. Fang Zheng still thought emotions were being exaggerated—until he opened Huaxia Online and clicked “Log In”—

[Whisper] Nicknamed White Dragon Horse: Is it really you?

[Whisper] War-Black Gold: Is it really you?

[Whisper] Summit of Mount Tai: Milk Mom?

[Whisper] Big H: Where are you?

[Whisper] ……

Before the little healer’s figure on the screen had even fully materialized, a barrage of over a dozen messages exploded in his chat.

Milk is Mom had logged out before the New Year on a low-level open-world map where dimensional rifts often appeared. At the moment, there were no rifts on the map, just a few mobs wandering around aimlessly, not bothering to attack the much higher-level healer. A little alt was grinding mobs not far away and suddenly stopped moving when it noticed the newcomer ahead.

Fang Zheng watched as the half-health alt was about to be clawed to death by the mob and kindly tossed a Silent Nourishment its way.

The now full-health alt still didn’t move. Just as Fang Zheng was about to remind it, a bold red megaphone message scrolled across the top of the channel—

[Megaphone] A Little Alt: Friendly reminder—Ghost Server Legion Leader Milk is Mom has appeared!!!!! OMG close-up view of my idol ahhhhhhhhh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Coords XX,XX!! Hurry!!!

Fang Zheng was stunned, then suddenly felt a warmth in his chest.

Only after a long separation does one realize how deep the longing runs… But did you have to spend money on a premium megaphone for this?! If you’ve got money to burn, give it to me! I’ll notify you personally every time I log in from now on, how about that?!

Thanks to the megaphone’s wide reach, the desolate open-world map was instantly packed. Previously, it had been so empty you couldn’t tell which way the wind was blowing—now it was so crowded you couldn’t tell if the wind could blow at all.

[Local] Transparent Glass: Idol, don’t move! Let’s take a photo!

[Local] Transparent Glass: Move aside, you guys! My screenshot is just a wall of people, damn it!

Photo my ass, don’t you know unphotogenic people like me hate this shit, TAT.

[Local] Stillwater Immortal: Healer, remember me? I bought materials from you? We even ran Terracotta Warriors together?

Terracotta Warriors? That was last century!

[Local] Graceful Snowblade: They say you led a dozen Ghost Server players to clear an endgame dungeon! Is it true?!

Drink Till You Drop, Big H, I’ve wronged you all=_=

[Local] Flower Fairy: Who’d have thought, healer? Back in Mirage Server, you were just a material trader, and now you’re a god, hahaha.

Over a hundred alts and mains had gathered on the open-world map, cramming the screen like a Go board at the end of a game. There were level 10–20 alts and level 60+ mains, but few familiar faces—aside from folks like Stillwater Immortal and Flower Fairy, who might have fragments of memory attached to them, the rest were all strangers…