WP Chapter 63

For some reason, Jiang Yibai felt an unexpected sense of familiarity and warmth. The tension in his chest eased a little. After changing into house slippers at the door, he stepped past the entryway and saw Father Si sitting on the living room sofa.

Father Si looked stern and composed, with a quiet authority. His temperament was very similar to Si Shaorong’s. Jiang Yibai bowed politely and said, “Happy New Year, Uncle. My name is Jiang Yibai. I hope I’m not imposing by coming here today.”

“You’re not imposing at all. No need to be so formal,” Father Si replied in a calm, deep voice. He wore a shirt beneath a grey V-neck sweater. The floor heating was on, and the room was comfortably warm. His eyes moved up and down as he took in the young man before him, then shifted to glance at his son. He gave a nod of approval. “You’ve gained some weight. That’s good.”

Si Shaorong smiled and used the opportunity to praise his boyfriend. “Yibai’s a great cook. He makes something different every day.”

Father Si looked back to Jiang Yibai and gestured for him to take a seat. “You cook?”

Jiang Yibai sat properly, his back straight and knees together. He nodded politely. “I live alone, so I handle all my meals and housework myself.”

Just like Si Shaorong had said, the Si family was extremely composed in their manner. Not overly inquisitive, never overstepping. Father Si didn’t press about Jiang Yibai’s family, nor did he ask why he lived alone. He simply nodded and said, “That’s good. Young people should learn to do things on their own. Being diligent is always a good thing. Shaorong’s not great in that department. We spoiled him.”

It was rare to hear someone criticizing the Male God, and Jiang Yibai found it unexpectedly refreshing. But this was still his precious boyfriend they were talking about, so of course he had to come to his defense.

“My ge has a busy job. People who do important work are always like that. But he’s not lazy. He washes the dishes, helps me hang laundry, and even takes the initiative to clean when he has free time. But don’t worry, with me around, he doesn’t have to worry about the small stuff.”

Father Si’s expression remained neutral. To an outsider, he might seem a bit intimidating. His face gave away nothing. It was hard to tell whether he was pleased or displeased.

But this was where Jiang Yibai’s tenacity really showed. It was as if that timid young man who had been psyching himself up at the car just moments ago had vanished. In his place now was the charming, quick-witted Jiang laoshi everyone liked.

Seeing that Jiang Yibai had relaxed, Si Shaorong felt at ease and left them to talk while he went to the kitchen to help his mother.

The Si family was not particularly skilled in cooking. Mother Si wasn’t great at it either. In the past, they had always hired someone to cook for them.

Today was a rare exception where Mother Si had decided to cook herself, and the kitchen looked like a disaster zone. One glance and it was clear that this was his real mom.

She stood there with her usual composed, distant expression. If not for the apron and her hair tied up as she stood over the stove, she could have passed for someone entirely untouched by the dust of the mundane world.

Si Shaorong took one look at the dark, unidentifiable dishes and coughed lightly. “Why don’t we just order in? There are places that deliver New Year’s dinners now…”

“That sort of thing needs to be booked ahead of time. It’s too late now,” said Mother Si. She rinsed her hands and carefully dried them with a towel, her movements precise. “I bought dumplings and some braised dishes. We’ll boil the dumplings later and put together a passable table.”

She said calmly, “I also bought pizza and cake. Young people like those, right? There’s fried chicken, fries, drinks, enough to feed four people.”

Si Shaorong couldn’t help smiling. “You always have a backup plan.”

“That’s essential,” Mother Si replied smoothly. “You must always have a Plan B. Never blame others for making you late. If something goes wrong, it means you didn’t prepare well enough. No one wants to hear ‘If only I had known.’”

Si Shaorong nodded and continued her rhythm effortlessly. “Don’t make others wait. Better to be early than late. Always leave yourself a buffer, and you’ll stay in control. Never count on last-minute solutions. That’s just being irresponsible. Right?”

Mother Si finally paused, glanced up at him, and frowned slightly. “Were you always this tall? Or have I gotten shorter?”

Si Shaorong suddenly felt a sting in his nose. He reached out and gently massaged her shoulder. “Come rest a bit. No rush for dinner.”

This time around, both Father Si and Mother Si seemed much older.

There was gray at their temples, silver threading through their hair. The two people who, in his memories, had always carried themselves with upright backs, calm authority, and no hint of sentiment, now seemed softened, inside and out. They no longer looked quite like the unchanging figures in his mind.

When Jiang Yibai heard Mother Si mention dumplings for dinner, he caught the flicker of emotion in Si Shaorong’s expression and immediately rolled up his sleeves. He offered to cook dinner himself.

In any typical household, someone might have stopped him out of politeness, saying things like “You’re a guest, you shouldn’t do this,” but not here. Father Si simply turned to Mother Si and said, “I heard Xiao Jiang is a good cook.” And without missing a beat, Mother Si nodded in agreement.

So that night, on New Year’s Eve, Jiang Yibai finally had the chance to show what he was good at. It made him even happier than bringing gifts. At last, he no longer had to worry about leaving a bad impression on Si’s parents.

During dinner, the whole family sat together in a peaceful atmosphere, chatting lightly while they ate. A comedy sketch was playing on the Spring Festival Gala in the background, and outside, firecrackers occasionally burst in the residential compound. Every now and then, a startled car alarm would go off.

Only, this “peaceful atmosphere” wasn’t quite what Jiang Yibai had imagined. Father Si and Mother Si didn’t smile much. Their voices remained calm and polite, but with little variation in tone. Most of their speech was flat and matter-of-fact. Si Shaorong, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease. He responded smoothly, talking with them about his current work. At one point, Father Si said gravely, “Even if it’s just online fiction, you still have a responsibility to your readers. You can’t just write nonsense and lead people astray.”

Mother Si nodded in agreement. “Do your research thoroughly. Don’t misuse idioms. Back in school, you couldn’t even use the different ‘de’ particles correctly in your writing.”

Si Shaorong nodded calmly and answered as usual. Jiang Yibai, sitting beside him, was growing increasingly self-conscious. He couldn’t help but think about his own tendency to write purely for fun, chasing excitement without always worrying about structure. A guilty flutter passed through his chest.

Father Si glanced toward the TV and added, “You should watch more of these language-based performances. Learn how to build a setup, how to plant foreshadowing, how to link transitions properly. These days, comedy skits are all surface-level laughs. They lack the artistry of the past…”

Jiang Yibai stole a glance at Si Shaorong. A faint sense of unfairness rose in his chest. Although Father Si clearly meant well, he was still an outsider, tossing around advice as if it were obvious. But Si Shaorong was the professional here. He had been writing for years. In terms of both instinct and experience, he was far more qualified.

Yet seeing how unbothered Si Shaorong looked, as if entirely accustomed to this kind of lecture, Jiang Yibai kept his words to himself and simply focused on his food.

Si Shaorong didn’t say much at home. After Father Si and Mother Si had talked for a while, Mother Si suddenly turned to Jiang Yibai. “Xiao Jiang, Shaorong told us you’re a writer too?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a writer,” Jiang Yibai said quickly, putting down his chopsticks with a polite smile. “I just write for fun. It’s nothing like what my ge does. I don’t make much money from it either. It’s more of a hobby.”

Mother Si nodded. “Forgive the question, but what’s your main job?”

“I teach music. Private tutoring, mostly,” Jiang Yibai replied. “Most of my income comes from lessons and rental income.”

That seemed to be enough for them. Father Si and Mother Si didn’t press further. They didn’t ask where the rental income came from, whether he lived alone, whether he was an only child, or how much he had in savings.

After dinner, Jiang Yibai and Si Shaorong went to wash the dishes. There was a dishwasher, so after rinsing the plates, Jiang Yibai loaded them in, then rolled up his sleeves to start washing the pots by hand.

In a low voice, he murmured, “I think I understand now why you are the way you are.”

Si Shaorong smiled faintly. “Oh?”

Jiang Yibai said, “Your parents have pretty high expectations of you.”

Si Shaorong thought for a moment, then nodded. “They usually didn’t interfere with my grades, but they had a lot of rules when it came to conduct. I wasn’t allowed to trouble others. I had to be polite, learn to be grateful, make my own decisions, and never act irresponsibly.”

“That’s why you’re always so tense. You hold yourself to such strict standards.” Jiang Yibai let Si Shaorong take the dishcloth from his hand, then dried his hands and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend from behind. In a soft voice, he said, “When Uncle was reminding you about your work earlier, I really wanted to tell him how amazing you are. How hard you work. How you’ve never slacked off for even a single second.”

Si Shaorong reached back and patted the hands wrapped around his waist. “I get what you’re trying to say. But it’s alright. There’s no need for them to know how much I’ve put in. They’re not in this line of work, so they wouldn’t understand. And besides, it’s my job. Of course I should take it seriously.”

Jiang Yibai pressed his lips together and kissed the side of his boyfriend’s neck. “I like you just the way you are. You’re really hot.”

“Ahem.” A light cough came from the kitchen door. Startled, Jiang Yibai jerked back and quickly let go. In the rush, his hand hit the edge of the counter. He let out a sharp hiss of pain.

Mother Si walked over at once. “Are you alright? Let me see.”

Jiang Yibai’s face turned bright red. He answered awkwardly, “I’m fine, Auntie. I just bumped it a little.”

Si Shaorong dried his hands and turned around, taking his hand gently to check. “Where did you hit it? How did you get hurt so easily?”

He examined the hand carefully, fingers habitually brushing over the soft tips as he checked. On any other day it would have seemed normal, but at this moment, Jiang Yibai found it unbearably embarrassing. The gesture felt far too intimate.

Flustered, he pulled his hand back and gave Si Shaorong a pointed look. But Mother Si remained calm as ever, completely unbothered. Her eyes passed over the two of them before she said, “Warm up the fried chicken. Let’s eat it together.”

Jiang Yibai was already quite full, but he didn’t want to refuse her kindness, so he nodded right away. “Okay.”

Si Shaorong’s lips curved slightly. He seemed to remember something, but didn’t say it aloud.

After midnight, fireworks exploded across the residential complex, lighting up the night sky with bursts of color. Jiang Yibai leaned against the windowsill watching them, while Si Shaorong draped an arm around his shoulders. Behind them, the television was still playing festive songs and laughter to ring in the New Year. Father Si stood up and said, “It’s getting late. Everyone should sleep. Staying up too late is bad for your health.”

Jiang Yibai turned around at once and answered, “Okay.”

Si Shaorong’s bedroom had already been tidied up. Two quilts had been laid out. The small room was filled with remnants of his childhood, and it woke Jiang Yibai up from his drowsy daze.

After they washed up and said goodnight to the family, they closed the bedroom door behind them. Jiang Yibai immediately began poking around, checking here and there, trying to find some old photos.

Si Shaorong said, “We never used to have pizza or fried chicken at home. My mom always said that kind of food was bad for you.”

Jiang Yibai paused in surprise.

Si Shaorong smiled. “I think she bought it because you were coming.”

Jiang Yibai was hit with a wave of emotion. At the same time, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly, I don’t really like that stuff either. I’ll let her know next time so she doesn’t go to the trouble.”

When Si Shaorong heard that soft “next time,” his mood lifted completely. He pulled Jiang Yibai into his arms and kissed him against the desk.

Jiang Yibai’s fingertips traced lightly along the side of his neck. Breathless, he murmured, “Doing it in the room you grew up in… kind of thrilling, isn’t it?”

Si Shaorong answered with his body, not his mouth.

They didn’t go all the way, but still couldn’t resist fooling around. Pressed close together at the edge of the desk, they leaned forehead to forehead and helped each other along. When Jiang Yibai came, he leaned in and kissed his boyfriend deeply, tongue curling around his, while the warmth in his palm smeared across Si Shaorong’s bare stomach in a slow, teasing stroke. The motion was intensely suggestive, and just like that, Si Shaorong was half-hard again.

They slept well that night.

The next morning, Mother Si went out early to buy breakfast. The four of them ate quietly together before Si Shaorong took the car and drove everyone out for a casual outing nearby.

They stayed at the Si house for two days. Father Si and Mother Si seemed to have fully accepted their relationship without ever explicitly saying so. Not once did they bring up the kinds of questions Jiang Yibai had mentally prepared himself to answer.

No one asked what their plans were for the future. No one asked if they planned to have children. No one asked what they would do if word got out. No one asked if the Jiang family had voiced any objections.

It was strange, but in a peaceful way. For two full days, Jiang Yibai cooked for the family. During the day, he went out with them on little strolls. In the evening, after dinner, they all curled up on the couch to watch TV together.

Mother Si always went to bed early. That left the three men sitting in the living room, watching the sports channel with a kind of easy, idle rhythm.

Jiang Yibai didn’t quite know how to describe the feeling. He had gone from anxiety to calm acceptance in just a few days. The Si family welcomed him not with big statements or emotional scenes, but with quiet normalcy. As if he had always belonged here.

Every morning, when he got up and shuffled sleepily into the bathroom, he would see Mother Si already in the kitchen. When he came back out, Father Si would be standing at the mirror shaving. Without fail, he would say, with the same flat expression, “Morning. Was it cold last night? Was the quilt warm enough?”

He asked the same questions for two days in a row, and still repeated them like a habit.

It moved Jiang Yibai in a way he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t help but think of his own parents, who were completely different in every way.

They were ordinary, quarrelsome, and occasionally disappointed in him. But they loved him, worried about him, and wanted him to do well. His mother cooked delicious meals. His father drank with him. Before he graduated, his father had already started reaching out to people to arrange an internship.

But Jiang Yibai didn’t want to go. He was proud. He had his own path in mind.

They were the kind of parents who had once made him believe all parents in the world were the same. But who could have guessed that even those seemingly unshakable presences were not fixed in stone?

The next day, after lunch, it was time for the two of them to leave.

Mother Si brought out a red envelope and pressed it into Jiang Yibai’s hand.

Father Si said, “We have no say in what kind of life you choose to live. That’s your own business. But remember one thing. Once you’ve made your choice, you have to take full responsibility for it. Do not speak of giving up lightly.”

Mother Si placed a few of the family’s specialty products in the trunk. Her fingers pinched lightly at the edge of her coat, as if she had something she wanted to say. But in the end, she said nothing at all.

In that moment, Jiang Yibai suddenly understood the way these two expressed love for their child. In truth, they were no different from any other parents. The only difference was that they held their affection more tightly in check. More restrained, more composed.

Just like Si Shaorong had always said—they were extremely rational. So rational that it tugged at the heart a little.

Jiang Yibai felt awkward accepting the red envelope, but Si Shaorong gave his shoulder a light squeeze and nudged him to take it.

After they said their goodbyes and got on the highway, Jiang Yibai finally opened the envelope and took a peek.

Ten thousand and one yuan.

He stared, speechless.

One in ten thousand.

Wasn’t this the kind of red envelope a mother-in-law gave to her new daughter-in-law?

The corner of his brow twitched. He had the distinct feeling that Mother Si had misunderstood something. But then he turned and saw the subtle curve of Si Shaorong’s lips, his expression calm and at ease, and swallowed his words.

He tucked the envelope away, adjusted his seat, and leaned back with his eyes closed.

There was no point getting caught up in something like this. As long as everyone was happy, that was enough.