Lan Xingchen didn’t speak.
He had never considered that possibility before. But now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Or maybe they just didn’t want to come,” he said, looking at Pei Qingjian.
Pei Qingjian propped his chin on his hand. “That’s possible too. But it’s also possible they were simply thinking of you.”
“If you really want to know, you could just ask them.”
That would be too awkward. What if they really just didn’t want to come? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
As if reading his thoughts, Pei Qingjian said, “If you’re embarrassed, I can ask for you.”
“You? How would you ask?”
“I’ll just casually bring it up—say something like, ‘The day before yesterday seemed to be your uncle’s birthday, why didn’t you go back?’ I’ll slip it into our normal conversation so it doesn’t sound like a big deal.”
Lan Xingchen didn’t respond.
He seemed to be thinking—or maybe hesitating.
Memories kept flashing through his mind, until they finally settled on their very first meeting.
The weather had been nice that day. Ning Yuan and Ning Rong had been sitting across from him. They had seemed a little surprised at first, but quickly composed themselves and started chatting with him. Back then, they hadn’t disliked each other yet—they were still on polite, conversational terms.
And there was that day when Wen Yuan had sat beside him and said:
“About Xiao Yuan joining the company—he’s actually doing it for me, and for you. You know how it is between relatives—some things are hard to say, some things are even harder to do. But I can’t just stand by and watch them slowly ruin Anglai. Someone has to step up and play the role of the villain. Xiao Yuan is that person.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that Anglai belongs to you. After you graduate, you can still come work there.”
At the time, Lan Xingchen had thought the phrase “for you” was just something Wen Yuan added subjectively—that Ning Yuan was simply doing it for Wen Yuan alone.
So he hadn’t taken it seriously.
Of course he understood—among relatives, some words are hard to say, some things hard to do. And if he entered Anglai, the rumors would only intensify. His relatives would try to pull him into their camp, to stand against Ning Yuan.
From major company decisions to something as small as a glass of water or a seat—everything could become a battleground.
So he had chosen to give up joining Anglai altogether, not wanting to make things difficult for Wen Yuan.
Who should Wen Yuan side with?
If he sided with Ning Yuan, what would the relatives say? How awkward would Lan Xingchen look?
But if he sided with Lan Xingchen, wouldn’t Ning Yuan’s role as the “villain” be meaningless? How could he not feel hurt? And how could Zhou Man not feel sorry for him?
It was better if he simply didn’t appear at all. As long as he didn’t appear, none of those conflicts would exist.
Lan Xingchen had never cared about Ning Yuan joining Anglai. The current head of Anglai was his uncle, and Ning Yuan was essentially his stepson—so it was only natural for him to join.
But at this moment, he suddenly thought again of that phrase—
“For you.”
Was that something his uncle had said on his own…
Or had it truly been related to him?
Truthfully, no one wants to be disliked for no reason. And no one wants to dislike someone for no reason either—especially when there is family involved.
When Lan Xingchen first met Zhou Man, Ning Yuan, and Ning Rong, he had genuinely wanted to get along with them.
Wen Yuan had been single for far too long. Now that he had finally found someone he loved again, Lan Xingchen had been happy for him—and sincerely hoped they could all live together in harmony.
They didn’t need to become some deeply close family—that wasn’t realistic. As long as they could be polite, get along harmoniously, smile and chat when they met, share meals together, help each other when they could, and show a bit of care when they couldn’t—that was enough.
They didn’t need to love each other deeply. As long as there was some care, that was enough.
So in the beginning, when Lan Xingchen felt that Ning Yuan and Ning Rong seemed to dislike him, he had been confused. He had wondered why.
But later, he used all kinds of reasons to convince himself, telling himself that if they didn’t like him, then he didn’t need to care about them either. And so, he consciously distanced himself from them.
In the end, his dislike toward them wasn’t really about them—it was more about their apparent dislike toward him.
So when, all of a sudden, it seemed like the other side was saying, “We never disliked you,” Lan Xingchen felt completely lost.
It was like a house he had spent so long building—only for someone to suddenly tell him the foundation was wrong, and everything he had built was for nothing.
But the house wasn’t even finished yet.
He looked at the half-built structure, the bricks still in his hands, unsure whether to keep going—or to stop.
Pei Qingjian sat beside him, watching him lower his head in quiet thought.
He sent the audio file from his phone over to Lan Xingchen.
Lan Xingchen stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Then… go ahead and ask.”
In the end, he still didn’t know how to bring it up himself, so he could only ask someone else to do it for him.
Pei Qingjian agreed cheerfully. “Sure.”
Lan Xingchen turned to look at him, suddenly realizing how capable he really was.
Whether it was Xu Ya or Ning Rong, Pei Qingjian could communicate with them easily—conveying what Lan Xingchen wanted them to know, without forcing him to face them directly.
“…Thanks,” Lan Xingchen said softly.
Pei Qingjian put on a mock look of surprise. “Wow, you’re being this polite all of a sudden—are you still my sugar daddy?”
Lan Xingchen chuckled. “I’m just expressing my approval.”
Pei Qingjian hugged his arm, smiling as he kissed him. “Then I’ll show my approval too.”
Lan Xingchen laughed, pulled his arm free from his embrace, then wrapped it around him and leaned in to kiss his lips.
He pulled him onto his lap, kissing him slowly for a long while before resting their foreheads together.
How should he put it?
A lot of the time, being with him made him feel happy… and at peace.
Like lowering your head and seeing the sea, lifting your head and seeing the sky.
All the noise, all the worries—they faded away in his presence, dissolving into something calm and clear.
Lan Xingchen held him close, pressing him gently against his chest, and softly kissed the tip of his ear.
Pei Qingjian stayed with him until a little past three, then left the hotel to head to the filming location.
He arrived just before four. His scene hadn’t started yet, and the makeup artist was touching up his makeup and checking his hair.
Meanwhile, Pei Qingjian looked around for Ning Rong.
It didn’t take long—soon enough, he spotted her getting out of her van in the distance.
He waved at her and walked over. “The crew’s still setting up. Let’s run through the scene first.”
Ning Rong hadn’t expected him to continue interacting with her the same way even after Lan Xingchen showed up.
She had thought that, because Lan Xingchen disliked her, Pei Qingjian would distance himself too.
But he hadn’t.
A flicker of happiness rose in her chest. She nodded. “Okay.”
The two of them moved to a quieter spot and began rehearsing.
As always, Ning Rong guided him seriously and carefully.
When they got to the part where Luo Fei returned late from a friend’s birthday party, Pei Qingjian casually asked, “Speaking of which, Lan Xingchen’s uncle’s birthday was the day before yesterday, right? Why didn’t you go back to celebrate with him?”
Ning Rong paused slightly.
Pei Qingjian waited patiently.
“I…” she hesitated before answering, “After filming, I gave him a video call to wish him a happy birthday.”
Pei Qingjian nodded. “Makes sense—it’s a bit far to go back from here, and you’re busy. You’ve got scenes the next day too. Going back and forth would be exhausting.”
Whether it was exhausting didn’t really matter—she wasn’t the one driving anyway.
The real reason was that if she went back, Lan Xingchen would inevitably feel uncomfortable seeing her.
It was his uncle’s birthday. Ever since he moved out, the time they spent together had grown less and less. On such a rare occasion to gather together, Ning Rong also felt that Ning Yuan was right—they didn’t need to show up and disrupt Lan Xingchen’s mood.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say that out loud.
By nature, Ning Rong was introverted. As a child, she rarely spoke, and when she was bullied, she would only cry silently.
Later, as she grew older, she realized that if she simply looked at people with a blank expression, they would hesitate to approach her. Only then did she realize that her matured features gave her a naturally cold look—when she didn’t smile, she seemed somewhat unapproachable.
From then on, she smiled less and less, using her appearance as a kind of shield to protect herself.
But now, she smiled.
“Mm,” she said. “So I told my brother-in-law I wouldn’t go back. I wished him well over video and sent a gift.”
Pei Qingjian nodded. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to run into Lan Xingchen, worried things might be awkward.”
“How could that be?” Ning Rong said softly. “I don’t mind seeing him.”
It’s just that he doesn’t really want to see me.
Pei Qingjian heard the unspoken second half, but he simply smiled and moved on, continuing to discuss the script as if it had only been a trivial aside.
Ning Rong didn’t think much of it and continued talking with him about the character.
Around six, Pei Qingjian finished filming his scene.
Relaxing his body, he turned around—
and saw Lan Xingchen sitting beside Zhou Pengyue.
Pei Qingjian immediately walked toward him.
“Are you tired?” Lan Xingchen asked with concern.
“Not at all.” Pei Qingjian shook his head. “The past few days have been pretty light.”
Lan Xingchen looked at him—he really didn’t seem tired—so he stood up.
“Then you’re done for tonight, right?” he recalled from the schedule he had checked earlier.
Pei Qingjian nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I can wrap up.”
“Good.” Lan Xingchen naturally draped an arm around him and led him out.
When Ning Rong turned back, she saw Lan Xingchen with his arm around Pei Qingjian as they walked away. She blinked, thinking to herself that their relationship really was close.
But guys putting arms around each other was normal, so she didn’t dwell on it. She just watched them quietly for a moment, until they disappeared completely, then lowered her gaze back to her script.
While waiting earlier, Lan Xingchen had already picked a restaurant online. Now that Pei Qingjian was done, he took him there.
Since Drunken River Moon hadn’t aired yet, Pei Qingjian was still largely unrecognized by the public. So he didn’t bother with a mask or glasses—he simply walked in openly with Lan Xingchen.
They ordered, and while waiting for the food, Pei Qingjian played the recording of his conversation with Ning Rong about the birthday.
The last sentence had been too quiet to capture, so Pei Qingjian added, “She said she doesn’t mind seeing you.”
Lan Xingchen stared at the phone, silent.
Humans were strange like that. Once you believed someone disliked you, everything they did could easily be interpreted as proof of that dislike.
But the moment someone told you that wasn’t the case—that they didn’t dislike you—you would start second-guessing everything again.
Was that true? Then what did all those actions mean? Was it liking… or not liking?
If she didn’t mind seeing him… then maybe she was actually willing to see him.
Then maybe her absence from his uncle’s birthday hadn’t been unwillingness—but inability.
For the first time, he no longer felt angry about Ning Yuan and Ning Rong not showing up that night.
Lan Xingchen pushed the phone back toward Pei Qingjian and gently took his hand.
“I thought of something in the car earlier,” Pei Qingjian suddenly said.
“What?” Lan Xingchen looked at him.
“Children,” Pei Qingjian said. “Your uncle and aunt don’t have any.”
“…Yeah. So?” Lan Xingchen didn’t understand.
“So I think—whether it’s Ning Rong, Ning Yuan, or even your aunt—they probably all like you.”
“If they didn’t, then given how long your uncle and aunt have been married, and knowing how close you and your uncle are… between stepchildren with no blood relation and a nephew he raised himself, anyone can tell which matters more.”
“If they really didn’t like you, they would definitely mind that. They’d want your uncle and aunt to have a child of their own. That would benefit them—and your aunt—more, wouldn’t it?”
“Your aunt must understand this too. But she still hasn’t had a child. She’s not that young anymore—if she doesn’t have one now, it’ll only get harder later. So maybe… they’ve decided not to have children at all.”
“After all, your uncle has treated you like his own child all these years. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need for a biological one.”
“But if your aunt can accept that—and Ning Yuan and Ning Rong don’t object—then there’s no way they dislike you. Otherwise, in this family, you’re the only one related to your uncle by blood. How could they feel at ease with that?”
“Most people naturally lean toward those they share blood ties with. If they truly disliked you, they’d feel uneasy. They’d want another child who shares your uncle’s blood, just to balance things out—especially when it comes to things like inheritance or family interests. Isn’t that how most people think?”
Lan Xingchen froze.
He had never thought about it from that angle.
After Wen Yuan married Zhou Man, he had wondered when they would have their own child.
One year passed. Two years passed.
Now six years had gone by—and they still didn’t have one.
He had been curious, of course. But the question was too sensitive for someone in his position. He had been afraid that asking would make Wen Yuan uncomfortable.
But now that he thought about it—six years.
What normal couple goes six years without having children?
Unless… they simply didn’t want to.
Lan Xingchen suddenly felt restless.
He had never wanted Wen Yuan to give up having his own child for his sake.
Wen Yuan had already devoted half his life to him. Of course he deserved his own happiness—his partner, his child, a complete family.
How could he give that up because of him?
And Zhou Man had agreed to this?
And Ning Yuan and Ning Rong—did they not know? Had they not tried to persuade her?
Lan Xingchen looked at Pei Qingjian. “I might not be able to stay with you tonight.”
Pei Qingjian smiled. “It’s okay. Go figure out what you want to know first—then come find me.”
His voice was gentle. “You’re the closest person to him. No matter what questions you have, you can ask.”
“You don’t need to feel awkward. Because compared to you bottling things up and thinking you’re doing it for his sake, he’d much rather understand what you’re thinking and feeling—and see you happy.”
As he spoke, Pei Qingjian thought of his grandmother.
“Not every family member can stay with you forever. That’s exactly why you should cherish the time you do have.”
He opened his arms and hugged Lan Xingchen.
“You should believe in yourself—and try to believe in your family too.”
“After all…”
He raised his hand and stretched it out exaggeratedly.
“You’re this good.”
Lan Xingchen looked at him for a long moment, then raised his hand and pressed Pei Qingjian’s head into his chest.
He didn’t think there was anything particularly good about himself.
If anything, Pei Qingjian was the truly remarkable one.
Sincere, open, bright, warm—always facing each day, every moment, with optimism.
Lan Xingchen held him tightly, arms wrapped firm around him.
How lucky.
He had seen him first—before the world had the chance to notice him.
How lucky.
That he had chosen him, chosen to come into his life, to become his.
Smiling, Lan Xingchen pressed a hand against the back of his head and said honestly, “It’s not that I don’t believe in myself. It’s just… I care too much about my uncle.”
Because he cared so much about Wen Yuan, there were things he didn’t dare to say.
He was afraid that once spoken, everything would become awkward, that it would tear apart the fragile surface everyone was maintaining.
That was how the adult world worked—people clung to a kind of artificial harmony. It wasn’t like when they were children, where things were simple: one was one, two was two, everything laid out clearly.
Adults could dislike someone and still work with them.
They could be fed up with someone and still smile and say, “No, no, it’s fine.”
And a blended family… was even more delicate.
He didn’t dare risk being the cause of Wen Yuan’s marriage falling apart, so he couldn’t say, I think they don’t like me.
He couldn’t say, If they don’t like me, why should I like them?
So all he could do was keep the peace—step back, quietly.
At the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of Wen Yuan’s love shifting away from him.
So he didn’t want to see a happy family of four.
He didn’t dare ask, Why is there something all of you know, but not me?
So he pretended not to hear, not to see—just as they seemed to want.
In front of the people they care about most, everyone becomes a little afraid.
Wen Yuan was the only family he had left.
Inevitably… he was afraid.
But maybe… he could be a little braver.
They had been together for so many years. He should be able to face that love more directly.
Lan Xingchen tilted his head and kissed Pei Qingjian on the cheek. “I’ll take you back.”
“No need, I can have Zhou-ge pick me up. You should go see your uncle.”
Lan Xingchen shook his head. “I want to take you back.”
He looked at him with such tenderness that Pei Qingjian grew a little shy. “Alright… then you can take me.”
“Mm.” Lan Xingchen nodded and led him out.
After seeing Pei Qingjian safely back to his hotel room, Lan Xingchen finally left, got into his car, and drove toward Wen Yuan’s villa.
By the time he arrived, it was nearly ten.
Zhou Man was working, Wen Yuan was on a call.
Both looked surprised to see him.
“What brings you here all of a sudden?” Zhou Man smiled.
Lan Xingchen looked at her, and as Pei Qingjian’s words echoed in his mind—that she might never have her own biological child—his chest tightened.
Ning Yuan and Ning Rong weren’t her biological children.
If she and his uncle didn’t have a child together… then she truly wouldn’t have any blood relatives of her own.
Every woman should have the right to decide whether or not she wants to become a mother—not give that up for someone else.
In that moment, his gaze softened, tinged with sadness.
He thought of all the ways Zhou Man had treated him well over the years.
How she visited him after he moved out, bringing him things.
How lost and shocked she had looked when he first decided to leave.
How, when she first moved into the villa, she had baked a cake on the weekend and asked him, after he came back, whether he liked it.
She had worked so hard to be a good aunt.
She shouldn’t have to give up the chance to have her own child because of that.
It wasn’t fair.
Lan Xingchen smiled lightly. “Nothing much. I just suddenly missed you both, so I came by. And I wanted to ask Uncle something.”
Zhou Man assumed it was about work and smiled. “Then you two talk first. I’ll finish what I’m doing.”
Lan Xingchen knew she was deliberately giving them space. Thinking about what he was about to discuss, he nodded. “Alright. We’ll come find you after.”
“Okay.” Zhou Man smiled and went upstairs with her files.
Wen Yuan finished his call and patted the seat beside him.
“Coming over this late—did you run into something tricky?” he asked with a smile.
Lan Xingchen looked at him, his gaze steady.
He sat down beside him and asked quietly, “Uncle… when do you and Aunt plan to have a child?”