Before the incident at Shuimu Fanghua, Su Qingci often visited Pei Jingchen at his home. Whenever he came, Pei Haiyang would invite Su Qingci to stay for dinner. Su Qingci valued personal boundaries—he disliked others entering his own home and never intruded into others’ without invitation.
So every time Pei Haiyang invited him, he declined. Despite knowing Pei Jingchen for eighteen years, he had never even stepped inside the “home” where Pei Jingchen had lived from childhood until high school graduation.
About five hundred meters from the Smile Bakery lay an ordinary residential complex. The buildings here were over twenty years old, with outdated stairwells and interior layouts, not to mention the neighborhood environment. Pei Jingchen wanted to find Pei Haiyang a new place, but Pei Haiyang clung to nostalgia. He couldn’t bear to part with even his secondhand van, which broke down every other day, let alone real estate. Besides, Pei Haiyang had said that though the house was old, dilapidated, and cramped, he’d lived there for nearly fifty years. It was left to him by Pei Jingchen’s grandmother. He was so accustomed to it that moving would leave him unable to sleep.
Pei Jingchen led the way up the stairs. “They’re a bit steep.”
Su Qingci thought to himself: Even if he was weak, surely he could manage a 30-centimeter step? Anyway… he’d just take breaks along the way! Climbing three flights in over twenty minutes wasn’t shameful—he wasn’t being carried.
Pei Jingchen unlocked the door with his key. The moment it swung open, a warm, pale yellow glow spilled out, accompanied by the enticing aroma of cooking.
Pei Haiyang emerged from the kitchen, warmly inviting Su Qingci inside. He bustled about, helping him into slippers and taking his coat, Then he exclaimed, “Oh my!” and rushed to check the fish stewing in the pot. He told Su Qingci the main dishes would take a while longer, suggesting he snack on the mooncakes on the table if hungry—he’d made them that morning, and they were wonderfully soft.
Su Qingci intended to sample just one, but ended up eating the entire thing—he simply couldn’t resist anything made by Pei Haiyang.
Dinner was lavish, though Su Qingci ate sparingly, tasting each dish. When Pei Haiyang asked how it was, Su Qingci showered him with praise until the host grew embarrassed: ” Just home cooking—nothing like a restaurant chef’s. Don’t worry about it. Here, try this braised lion’s head. Xiao Chen’s loved it since he was a kid.”
After dinner, Pei Jingchen went downstairs to buy drinks. Pei Haiyang reclined in the massage chair, enjoying it as he said, “Come stay with Uncle again this New Year!”
Su Qingci chuckled, pointing out that the New Year was still far off. Pei Haiyang insisted it wasn’t—traditional Chinese festivals meant the New Year began right after Mid-Autumn Festival!
Pei Haiyang smiled. “Wasn’t your birthday last week? Xiao Chen came back last month asking me to teach him how to make chocolate mousse. I bet it was for you.”
Su Qingci nodded, explaining it was about the camping trip.
“Getting out more is good for you,” Pei Haiyang said, his smile softening slightly. “Uncle’s really glad you came back with Xiao Chen today. Even though Xiao Chen never says it, don’t you think I can tell? You two were having a falling out, weren’t you?”
“Didn’t Pei Jingchen tell you?” Su Qingci said. “We broke up.”
Pei Haiyang was caught off guard, his eyes widening abruptly so sharply he nearly strained his back.
After confirming he hadn’t misheard, a flood of questions surged through him: Why did you break up? When did it happen? Who ended it? The words choked in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t decide which to ask first.
After a long pause, Pei Haiyang finally managed, “So… are you both… okay?”
“We’re fine,” Su Qingci replied, staring blankly at the vintage remote control on the coffee table.
Pei Haiyang pressed his lips together, saying nothing more. He reached for a cigarette but remembered Su Qingci’s lung issues, so he tore off a piece of gummy candy instead and popped it into his mouth.
“Aren’t you going to ask any more questions?” Su Qingci asked.
Pei Haiyang gave a sheepish chuckle. “Why pry into those matters? You’re both adults now, with your own considerations. We old folks don’t see the whole picture—no point in us meddling.”
Pei Haiyang waved his calloused hands dismissively. Once again, Su Qingci felt utterly ashamed before this understanding, considerate, and perceptive uncle. “I forced Jingchen to date me and live together. You truly don’t resent me?”
After finishing the orange gummy, Pei Haiyang picked up a corn-shaped one. His gaze settled on Su Qingci’s face, light as a feather skimming water, stirring only gentle, rippling waves. Instead of answering, he countered, “Did you break up with him?”
Su Qingci nodded. Pei Haiyang continued, “Xiao Chen didn’t agree, did he? That’s why he’s staying at your place now, right?”
Su Qingci replied, “Speaking of that, I’d like to ask you, Uncle, to persuade Jingchen to mind his own business and stop revolving around me.”
Pei Haiyang burst out laughing. “I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of influence. When it comes to you, I’ve never been able to control him.” His tone grew slightly more serious. “You always talk about coercion, but in truth, it takes two to tango. Don’t doubt me—outsiders often see things more clearly than those involved.”
Su Qingci instinctively stiffened, but then heard Pei Haiyang sigh softly. “It was around this time of year, too, when Xiaochen came running back to announce that you two were together—isn’t that what you young folks call ‘coming out’?”
Su Qingci froze in surprise. “He…”
Pei Haiyang: “He was completely casual about it. No grand announcement, no buildup or preamble. Just came home for dinner like any other day, munching on sweet and sour spare ribs while saying, ‘Dad, I’m dating Su Qingci.’ As easygoing as eating or sleeping, as natural as water flowing downstream.”
Su Qingci forced a smile: “You must have been stunned.”
“You’d be wrong about that.” A hint of pride flashed across Pei Haiyang’s brow. “My only thought was, ‘Ah, so it’s true.’”
Su Qingci looked at Pei Haiyang, the affable, smiling middle-aged uncle: I still remember my reply to Xiao Chen. I said, ‘Really? How long?’ He said, ‘32 days.’ I counted on my fingers and said, ‘So that was your birthday?’ Xiao Chen said, ‘Yes.’”
Su Qingci felt a flutter in his heart, his smile turning slightly awkward. “Did he tell you what happened on his 21st birthday?”
“What?” Pei Haiyang paused, then shrugged unconcernedly. “What happened isn’t important. What matters is the result, Xiao Ci. Pei Jingchen came running to me.”
Su Qingci’s expression froze. “What?”
Pei Haiyang paused again, then smiled unconcernedly. “What happened isn’t important. What matters is the result, Xiao Ci. Pei Jingchen came running to me.” “
Pei Haiyang paused, startled: “What?”
Then he laughed unconcernedly: “What happened isn’t important. What matters is the outcome. Xiao Ci, do you know what it means that Pei Jingchen came to me to come out?”
Su Qingci looked skeptical. Pei Haiyang grew serious: “This might sound a bit bitter, but if he hadn’t resolved to spend his life with you, he wouldn’t have deliberately brought up his personal feelings to tell me.”
Su Qingci froze, his gaze dropping.
Pei Haiyang’s gaze grew distant. “Xiao Ci, Pei Jingchen feels emotionally awkward because of my marriage to his mother. I hope you can understand him and bear with him. There are many things he keeps bottled up inside, afraid that revealing them too soon would put pressure on both of us. If it fails, ending in nothing, he’d feel even more humiliated.”
Su Qingci’s heart tightened as Pei Haiyang continued: “He’s stubborn. Once he sets his mind on something, he’ll fight tooth and nail to achieve it. Back in school, he studied relentlessly just to catch his mother’s attention, competing for favor with Chen Cancan. He drank coffee like water, pulling all-nighters daily. I genuinely feared he’d collapse from exhaustion. After he started working, it was the same—throwing himself into his job, flying nonstop around the world, pulling all-nighters every day. I feared he’d collapse even more.”
“I’d tell him, ‘Why push yourself so hard? Money is never-ending, and fame and fortune can’t be taken with you when you die. Working yourself to death like this—aren’t you afraid you’ll earn it but never get to enjoy it?’ He just said he was young and fine, telling me not to worry. But deep down, I knew what he was thinking. He was just a small-time boss with a fledgling company, driving a domestic car worth around 300,000 yuan, with savings barely enough for a down payment.”
Pei Haiyang paused, then smiled at Su Qingci. “Back then, a single painting of yours went for tens of millions, right?”
Su Qingci froze, a cluster of blossoms surging in his chest, burning his insides fiercely.
Pei Jingchen returned with drinks and a pack of cigarettes for Pei Haiyang. Before leaving, he urged his son to cut back on smoking. Pei Haiyang retorted, “You’re so young, why are you acting like an old fogey? Why all the nagging?” While scolding his son, he handed Su Qingci two boxes of mooncakes to take home—one with egg yolk and lotus seed paste filling, the other with red bean paste.
Pei Haiyang told Su Qingci to come visit during the New Year, insisting he must come.
At a red light, Pei Jingchen asked why Su Qingci’s shirt pocket was bulging. He reached in and pulled out a handful of gummy candies: “Your dad stuffed them in.”
Pei Jingchen said, “I’ll have one.”
Su Qingci offered him a corn-flavored one. Pei Jingchen held the steering wheel with both hands. Seeing this, Su Qingci tore open the wrapper and handed it to him. Pei Jingchen still gripped the wheel, his expression innocent: “Can’t spare my hands.” Then he opened his mouth.
Su Qingci froze for a moment, then brought the candy to Pei Jingchen’s lips. Even though Pei Jingchen hadn’t meant to, feeding him this way inevitably meant his lips brushed against Su Qingci’s fingers.
Pei Jingchen chewed slowly, smiling. “It is pretty good.”
Su Qingci was utterly charmed by his relish, so he tore open a packet of corn candy and ate it too—sweet and sticky.
Whether Pei Jingchen had picked up these romantic gestures organically through deep affection or deliberately studied them, he had changed significantly. Little romantic gestures between lovers were now flourishing wildly in his mind.
Looking back, it had always been Su Qingci who orchestrated the romance. Though it was his first time loving someone and his first time courting, he’d somehow pieced together bits and pieces until he became a master of romance, effortlessly weaving it into their lives. Like pretending his arm was too tired to lift, coaxing Pei Jingchen to fasten his seatbelt. While savoring those few seconds of romance, he’d sneak a kiss on Pei Jingchen’s cheek, turning the moment intensely intimate.
Now, Pei Jingchen had copied his moves. When he pretended to be too busy to feed him, Su Qingci would feed him helplessly. Then, Pei Jingchen would seize the moment to lightly lick his fingertips, turning the simple act of feeding candy into something suggestive.
The drive home was still long, holiday traffic making the road congested. The car moved in fits and starts. Pei Jingchen asked Su Qingci if he was tired, offering to lower the passenger seat so he could close his eyes and rest.
Su Qingci hadn’t intended to sleep, but the seat was too comfortable. The constant honking outside wove itself into a peculiar lullaby.
He drifted into a dream, reliving that night at Shuimu Fanghua. He and Pei Jingchen had been almost frenzied in their passion. One, lost in the haze of drugs, the other, having waited over a decade, finally fulfilled his long-held affection and love, desperate to drown in the other’s embrace.
The first night was chaotic, frenzied, as if they were trying to drain every last drop from each other. Yet it was also utterly exhilarating. Looking back, it seemed that every subsequent encounter could never match the intensity of that first time.
Getting into bed together required the perfect alignment of timing, place, and people.
Su Qingci still remembered being literally fucked unconscious. By dawn, his body ached like it was falling apart, making even moving a finger difficult. Yet he struggled to his feet, one hand clutching his waist while the other offered the sunflower brooch he’d prepared for so long, finally uttering that belated “Happy Birthday.”
Saying that under such circumstances was actually a bit of a bitch move, like pouring oil on the fire.
No wonder Pei Jingchen, in his fury, said nothing, grabbed the brooch, and threw it fiercely out the window.
Later, Su Qingci went searching with reddened eyes, but it was nowhere to be found. He consoled himself that it didn’t matter—thrown from such a height, it was probably shattered into pieces. What use was a flawed piece anyway? Besides, he knew the designer; he could simply pay to have another one custom-made.
On the third day of the Waterwood Splendor event, Su Qingci called Pei Jingchen. When the call connected, he remained silent—partly out of guilt, partly out of fear. Though he knew Pei Jingchen’s temperament wouldn’t sever ties with him, after all, he was his savior.
After a long wait, Pei Jingchen finally spoke: “Su Qingci.”
Su Qingci clutched the phone as if it were piercing through his chest and ribs to grip his heart. His voice was hushed as he asked, “What should I do?”
Pei Jingchen didn’t keep him waiting long—just two seconds. It seemed he’d had the answer ready all along, now merely stating it: “As you wish.”
After that, they were together. They spent a year as a couple, lovers, partners, until Su Qingci suggested moving in together.
When he moved into Pei Jingchen’s place, he accidentally discovered a sunflower brooch in Pei Jingchen’s drawer. Without a shred of doubt, he knew it was the one he had given him. It was a one-of-a-kind design, uniquely engraved with Pei Jingchen’s name.
Heaven only knew how thrilled Su Qingci felt at that moment.
This wasn’t merely a lost item recovered. It felt like validation, a release, a redemption. It proved that Pei Jingchen hadn’t reached the point of utter disgust toward him.
—This brooch was Pei Jingchen’s gift to Su Qingci, granting him the courage to “keep loving him, clinging to him, and pursuing him.”
When Lingyue Games secured its first major contract, Su Qingci remarked that the brooch suited him perfectly, complementing his crisp white British-style suit.
Pei Jingchen glanced at it once, then selected another lapel pin to wear instead, saying, “It doesn’t suit me.”
At that moment, Su Qingci felt the blood drain from his body. That “doesn’t suit me” was deeply unsettling—the implications were endless if one scrutinized it. You don’t deserve to be with me. You don’t deserve to love me. We don’t deserve to speak of love between us. Unworthy, unworthy—utterly unworthy of everything!
Su Qingci once again lamented his own extreme and sensitive nature, always habitually interpreting events in the worst, most unfavorable light for himself.
Could it be that when Pei Jingchen said “unworthy,” he wasn’t implying “you are unworthy,” but rather “I am unworthy”?
Su Qingci felt the jolt beneath him. Groggily waking, he discovered he was no longer in the passenger seat but being carried into the house by Pei Jingchen.
Su Qingci didn’t move, closing his eyes again. When Pei Jingchen gently laid him on the bedroom bed, he pretended to still be asleep and rolled over.
Su Qingci thought of Nie Baozhu—his only friend, and the one he’d severed ties with over a single remark.
On Su Qingci’s twentieth birthday, Nie Baozhu insisted on hosting a banquet. After drinking too much, he declared: “Pei Jingchen, you’d better be aware of your place and win our Qingci over properly!” If I looked like you, I’d find a rich woman and latch onto some wealthy young man as a kept man too.”
Su Qingci lifted hiseyelids slightly, stealing a glance at Pei Jingchen’s silhouette standing before the wardrobe door. He wore an English-style suit, its tailored lines accentuating his perfectly lean waist.
Su Qingci always found Pei Jingchen exceptionally handsome in British suits, especially when he shed the jacket to reveal just the waistcoat. It made him look mature and gentlemanly, restrained yet secretly turbulent, uniquely captivating.
The bespoke suit, crafted by a renowned British designer, Su Qingci recalled, cost fifty thousand pounds.
Su Qingci parted his lips. The words “Pei Jingchen” were on the tip of his tongue, but the sharp pain in his throat forced him to swallow them back.
He instinctively clutched his chest, struggling to breathe.
For a lifetime.
What a lifetime!
Su Qingci gave a self-mocking laugh, pulled the quilt over his head, and refused to think about anything.