After a Herculean effort, the twins finally fell asleep.
Stepping out of the guest room, Song Cheng felt as though he’d fought a war of attrition today. The enemy was cunning and vicious, pushing him to the brink of disaster several times. Thankfully, our side had a solid strategy and held sole control over the household appliances and snacks, which is why we didn’t lose everything.
Back upstairs, Song Cheng stepped out of the shower, let out a long sigh of relief, and then collapsed onto the pillow without a care for his appearance.
Qin Wunian: “…Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?”
Song Cheng lifted one eyelid. “You’re not me, so of course you think it’s exaggerated.”
Qin Wunian twitched the corner of his mouth. “You make it sound like I’ve never looked after them before… During the time Qin Yinian and Xia Mi were going through their divorce, the two little ones would be sent over to me every few days. Back then, they were only three years old—they were way more of a handful than they are now. You took them on during a phase when they were easier to handle. Now that they’re older, they know how to mimic humans.”
Song Cheng fell silent. The way Qin Wunian described them, his two nephews sounded like they were beyond human comprehension. Although Song Cheng had been thoroughly worn out today, he wouldn’t go so far as to describe them that way.
Song Cheng got up and sat on the bed. With a hint of sadness, he said, “It’s my fault. I’m just not cut out for taking care of kids. When I first started playing with them, it felt fine, but after a while, I even thought about paying someone to come over and watch them for me.”
Qin Wunian paused for a moment. “I don’t think that job is called a ‘playmate.’ It’s called a nanny.”
Song Cheng: “It’s the same thing.”
Seeing that he really couldn’t handle this situation, Qin Wunian comforted him: “Look on the bright side—these twins aren’t ours. When the time comes, their parents will take them back, and then we’ll only see them during holidays.”
Hearing this, Song Cheng tilted his head back and looked at Qin Wunian, then spun around with a snap and leaned against the headboard. His face flushing slightly, he asked, “So, does that mean I’ll get to meet the rest of your family during the holidays?”
Qin Wunian didn’t answer the question directly. He looked at Song Cheng and asked, “Do you want to meet them?”
Song Cheng nodded enthusiastically. “Of course I do! I’ve actually been wondering—after all, we’re married, and yet I’ve never met your family. That’s just ridiculous.”
Qin Wunian paused for a moment before giving a vague reply. “Things were too complicated back then.”
Before Song Cheng could ask why things had been so complicated, he spoke up first: “We’ll see. If I have time this Mid-Autumn Festival, the two of us will go back for a visit. If not, we’ll talk about it during the Spring Festival.”
Just as Qin Wunian had hoped, Song Cheng’s attention was immediately diverted.
Song Cheng said, “Actually, I think even if you don’t go, it’d be fine for me to pay them a visit on my own… But since it’s my first time visiting, it’d be better if you came along. Going alone feels a bit weird.”
Song Cheng spoke in a very casual tone, but after he finished, he realized Qin Wunian had been staring at him the whole time. His gaze didn’t match what Song Cheng had expected; instead, it held a hint of something indefinable.
Song Cheng blinked and asked him, “What’s wrong?”
Qin Wunian shook his head. “Nothing.”
Song Cheng: “That’s not ‘nothing.’ Spit it out, or I won’t let you sleep tonight.”
Qin Wunian: “……”
Of course, he wasn’t about to be intimidated by such a threat, but no matter the situation, he always instinctively took a step back in front of Song Cheng—sometimes, even retreating again and again.
He said, “It’s just that sometimes, I feel like things are moving too fast, as if we’re using growth hormones. Every step requires time and energy to adjust; it doesn’t feel like it’s happening naturally.”
Song Cheng didn’t really understand what he was talking about. He paused for a moment, then asked tentatively, “Are you saying you don’t want me to meet your family?”
Qin Wunian furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Of course not. I dream of introducing you to them. I—”
His words suddenly trailed off.
Because he didn’t know how to continue. Not all feelings can be described, and even when they are, they aren’t always understood by the other person.
Seeing Song Cheng’s expression grow increasingly puzzled, Qin Wunian wasn’t sure what he was thinking himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card he’d just received that day.
It was the new SIM card he’d just gotten for Song Cheng.
After receiving the SIM card from Xiao Zhao, Qin Wunian had stood in front of the trash can, hesitating for a long time, before finally tucking it into his pocket. He’d thought he wouldn’t hand the SIM card over to Song Cheng—because he wanted to be a self-interested person. Yet, as the saying goes, the identities people repeatedly emphasize they possess are often the very ones they lack.
Handing the card to Song Cheng, Qin Wunian said nothing. Song Cheng paused for a moment, then his eyes lit up with delight. “You’ve already gotten it sorted? You didn’t mention it at dinner earlier—I thought you’d forgotten.”
As he spoke, he took out his own phone and looked at the SIM card slot. He patted Qin Wunian on the thigh. “Go get a SIM ejector pin.”
This time, Qin Wunian knew exactly how to describe his feelings.
One word: bitter.
He couldn’t keep deceiving Song Cheng, nor could he count on this colossal lie to resolve itself. Xu Wenheng had been unreliable his whole life, but at least he’d spoken a few reliable words.
Life wasn’t one of those idol dramas he’d acted in, where no matter how far-fetched the plot, the screenwriter could always make it work in the end. The only thing he could hope for now was that Song Cheng wouldn’t immediately revert to her cold-hearted nature once she remembered everything.
After finding the card, Qin Wunian handed it to Song Cheng and then sat down at a distance from him.
History always repeats itself in startling ways. On the day he confessed to his amnesia, Song Cheng had also deliberately sat far away from Qin Wunian. Now Qin Wunian finally understood why Song Cheng had done that. Because he felt guilty, because he didn’t dare to see the look of disappointment on his own face up close.
Song Cheng didn’t notice Qin Wunian’s subtle gesture; all his attention was focused on his phone. After inserting the SIM card, he called Qin Wunian to make sure everything was working properly. Once he knew his phone number, he began trying to log into his various apps one by one.
He’d been using WeChat the most these past few days, so Song Cheng entered WeChat first. But this proved a bit of a hassle—since it was a new device, WeChat required not only a verification code but also additional friend verification. Of course, Song Cheng couldn’t find any other friends to help with the verification. He fiddled with it for ages but couldn’t find a workable solution. Qin Wunian, who had been waiting impatiently on the sidelines, was already on edge. Watching Song Cheng’s haphazard attempts felt like a dull knife cutting into his flesh. With a sigh of resignation, he snatched the phone from Song Cheng’s hands.
He selected “Forgot Password” and filed an appeal directly. With Song Cheng watching, Qin Wunian finally managed to recover Song Cheng’s account.
When Qin Wunian handed the phone back to Song Cheng, Song Cheng praised him happily: “Erbao, you’re so smart!”
Qin Wunian: “……”
Logging into his own account, the connection was a bit laggy. Song Cheng checked his contacts page first. He scrolled down full of anticipation, only to discover that after scrolling just two or three centimeters, the list ended.
Song Cheng couldn’t believe his eyes. In his actual WeChat, he actually only had twelve friends?!
Two of them even had the same nickname, with numbers in parentheses to distinguish which one was the main account.
That’s way too few! It’s even fewer than the friends he has on his current WeChat!
Song Cheng was shocked. He knew he wasn’t very good at socializing, but this was taking it too far… An 80-year-old grandpa probably has more friends than he does…
Seeing Song Cheng’s expression, Qin Wunian couldn’t help but ask, “Is something wrong?”
Song Cheng sighed softly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just realized another thing about myself—I have absolutely no social life.”
A question mark popped into Qin Wunian’s head. Song Cheng held his phone up to Qin Wunian’s face. “Look, just these few people. Do you recognize any of them?”
Twelve friends, each with a note attached—all ordinary-sounding names. Only one didn’t look like a real name, though it was possible that person was just trendy.
South.Li. The profile picture was a stamp-like logo; the small image made it hard to make out what was written, but the person’s business-like vibe was obvious, so Qin Wunian didn’t pay him much attention.
Scrolling down, he realized he’d never heard of any of them. Qin Wunian shook his head slightly: “I don’t know any of them.”
Just then, the delayed connection finally stabilized. In the bottom-left corner, which had been blank, a red number suddenly popped up: 28.
The phone was still in Song Cheng’s hands. Qin Wunian pursed his lips and gave an ambiguous chuckle: “You sure have a lot of people looking for you.”
Song Cheng: “Huh? Let me see.”
He was a bit surprised. He tapped open the home screen and found that out of the twenty-eight messages, three were from that “South.Li,” while the remaining twenty-five were all from a man named Han Congzhou.
Song Cheng opened South.Li’s chat first and saw that the messages read: “?”, “Where are you?”, and “Are you standing me up?”.
These three messages had been sent on the second and third days after his car accident, and then there was nothing else.
Song Cheng didn’t know what he’d agreed to do with this person. He froze for a moment, then hurriedly typed out an explanation and apology. He wasn’t in the habit of typing long messages all at once, and thankfully he didn’t have that habit—otherwise, he would have felt even more depressed.
Because South.Li had already blocked him.
Staring at the red exclamation mark, Song Cheng fell silent again and again, swallowing the bitter taste in his heart. He closed the chat window and opened Han Congzhou’s instead.
Twenty-five messages. He assumed Han Congzhou must have something very important and urgent to say, which was why he’d sent so many messages. But when he opened them, he saw that none of the twenty-five messages were longer than a single line.
From the “Not there yet?” right after his car accident, to the “?” a couple of days later, to the “.” seven or eight days after that—the most recent ones were from this past week, but Song Cheng couldn’t make heads or tails of what he meant.
—Congratulations.
—Aren’t you coming yet?
—Heartless man.
Song Cheng looked completely baffled. He showed the messages to Qin Wunian, asking what this person meant. Qin Wunian couldn’t figure it out either, but he vaguely sensed that this person had a close relationship with Song Cheng. And in Qin Wunian’s mind at that moment, a close relationship was a very dangerous sign.
He sat down without giving anything away, using his long neck to sneak a peek out of the corner of his eye as Song Cheng sent a message to that person. Clearly, the person was still awake and holding their phone; as soon as Song Cheng typed “Sorry,” the person replied immediately.
——If you don’t reply to me, I’m going to go to the TV station and expose you.
Song Cheng froze and typed back, “Expose me for what?”
——Abandoning your own son for no reason—shouldn’t such despicable behavior be exposed?
When Song Cheng saw that message, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He reflexively glanced at Qin Wunian, only to find Qin Wunian staring blankly, as if he’d been hit by a dimensional blow.
Song Cheng didn’t have time to worry about him. He tapped away furiously, trying to ask what that meant, but the other person was faster. Before he could finish his sentence, another message had already come through.
—I want the fame, not the dog. In this day and age, behavior like yours would get you trolled to death online.
Staring at the word “dog,” Song Cheng’s mood swung wildly. He let out a sudden sigh of relief, nudged Qin Wunian’s arm, and said, “It’s just a dog. Look how scared you got—your face went pale. Hahahaha, did you really think I had a son?”
Qin Wunian: “……Weren’t you pretty nervous just now, too?”
Song Cheng: “That was just normal surprise. Actually, when I thought about it carefully, I knew it was impossible. You’re the one who overreacted.”
Qin Wunian thought to himself, That’s because you’re even more heartless.
Now that he didn’t have to pretend anymore, he looked directly at the screen of Song Cheng’s phone and asked, sounding a bit annoyed, “What dog?”
Song Cheng shared his confusion. “I don’t know. I’ll ask him. Did I actually have a dog? Maybe I left it at his place when I was away on a business trip.”
He typed with his head down, asking the same question Qin Wunian had asked. But when he saw Song Cheng’s reply, “What dog?”, Han Congzhou, sitting on the sofa, narrowed his eyes. In an instant, he recalled that phone call from a while back that had gone nowhere. Later, when he tried calling back, the phone was turned off, leaving him completely baffled.
He quickly typed three words and sent them.
——Who are you?
Song Cheng: “……”
Rubbing his nose, Song Cheng had wised up this time. Instead of typing out an explanation, he simply sent a voice message.
“It’s Song Cheng. Sorry, are you my friend? Is my dog with you? I don’t remember any of this. I didn’t reply to your messages earlier because I was in a car accident. After hitting my head, I lost my memory, and my phone broke. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
After that, Han Congzhou didn’t send any more messages. About thirty seconds later, he called directly.
The ringtone startled Song Cheng. He reflexively pressed the answer button. Although it wasn’t on speakerphone, Qin Wunian was sitting close by, so in an instant, both of them heard the deep, magnetic voice coming from the phone.
Han Congzhou asked, “Chengcheng?”
Upon hearing that nickname, Qin Wunian whipped his head around, nearly staring a hole through the phone.
Song Cheng, on the other hand, was quite pleased. He nodded repeatedly, “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. I wasn’t lying to you. Everything I said is true.”
Hearing that familiar voice, Han Congzhou was taken aback. He’d previously thought Song Cheng was a scammer, and seeing him actually answer the call had left him a bit baffled. Now, hearing Song Cheng’s voice, he was even more confused.
“You were in a car accident? When did that happen? I saw online that you were off filming a variety show.”
Song Cheng: “I had the car accident first. After I was discharged from the hospital, I went to film the variety show.”
Han Congzhou: “…You’ve been pretty busy.”
Song Cheng nodded absently. He was more concerned about something else right now. “Um, my dog…”
Han Congzhou caught on and went, “Oh.” He called out toward the distance, “Chengfeng, come here. I want to talk to your dad.”
Chengfeng was drinking water. Upon hearing this, he shot forward like a bolt of lightning across the tiles. Unlike other dogs that charge recklessly, his braking ability was exceptional. Just before he was about to collide with Han Congzhou, he slammed on the brakes, all four paws hitting the ground, and barked loudly at Han Congzhou.
Hearing that bark, Song Cheng suddenly took an instinctive breath.
Memories buried deep in his mind began to stir. Although Song Cheng couldn’t recall anything specific about Chengfeng, at that moment he was absolutely certain: yes, he was this dog’s father!
……
Song Cheng was suddenly overcome with excitement. “I’ll go pick it up tomorrow! When are you free? Where do you live? Please tell me—I’ll write it down right now!”
Hearing Song Cheng’s frantic voice, Han Congzhou actually calmed down considerably, his mind racing. Shaking his head, Han Congzhou said, “There’s no rush. What I’m more curious about right now is: where do you live? You left Chengfeng with me so you could stay at my place when you came back. Now that you’ve lost your memory, it’s even less likely you’d find a convenient place to stay. So where exactly have you been living all this time?”
Qin Wunian fell even deeper into silence.
If she hadn’t lost her memory, would Song Cheng have moved into this man’s home? Who exactly is he, and why does Song Cheng trust him so much?
Completely oblivious, Song Cheng held up her phone and answered with perfect nonchalance, “I’m staying at Qin Wunian’s place. Um… do you know who Qin Wunian is?”
Han Congzhou certainly knew who Qin Wunian was. Before watching the variety show, he’d always thought of Qin Wunian as just one of countless celebrities far away in the spotlight. It wasn’t until he saw the show that he realized Qin Wunian had actually been this close all along. It was him who’d made Song Cheng’s life these past years feel like that of an ascetic.
Han Congzhou didn’t have much of a good impression of Qin Wunian. He frowned and said, “If you keep staying at his place, he might get annoyed. Why don’t you move out? I’ve already tidied up your room. Chengfeng’s things are all here with me, and he’s been quite happy staying here lately.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than Chengfeng, sitting in front of him, bared his teeth at him.
Han Congzhou: “……”
Hearing this, Qin Wunian couldn’t hold back any longer. He snatched Song Cheng’s phone, stood up, and snapped at Han Congzhou, “I don’t find it annoying! Song Cheng is my boyfriend now. He’ll be staying with me permanently. We’ve gotten back together. Please pack up all his things. I’ll come over tomorrow to pick up both the dog and his belongings!”
On the other end of the line, hearing Qin Wunian’s voice suddenly burst in, Han Congzhou wasn’t surprised. On the contrary, he gave a soft chuckle: “Back together? You two have never even been together—how can you possibly be ‘back together’?”
With a sharp tear, Qin Wunian heard the sound of the fig leaf he’d been desperately protecting being sliced open by a knife.
Song Cheng hadn’t heard what Han Congzhou had just said; he’d only seen Qin Wunian’s face change instantly, as if all the color had drained from it. Song Cheng froze for a moment. He stood up to take the phone back, but Qin Wunian reacted sharply, taking a sudden step back to prevent him from doing so.
Song Cheng froze, and Qin Wunian also snapped out of it. He lowered his voice, sounding less self-righteous than before. “Bring the dog over tomorrow.”
With that, he hung up the phone, shoved it back into Song Cheng’s hand, and turned to head straight for the bathroom.
Song Cheng didn’t even look at his phone. He took two steps forward to catch up. Qin Wunian hadn’t closed the bathroom door; he was simply leaning against the marble countertop, staring silently at the drain in the center.
Song Cheng stood behind him, waiting for a moment before asking softly, “What did Han Congzhou just say?”
Qin Wunian’s back was tense as a taut string. It took him a long time to straighten up and turn around slowly.
Looking at Song Cheng, he twisted the corner of his mouth. “It’s the one thing I hate hearing the most.”
His eyes were like hooks; when he stared at Song Cheng, it was as if he intended to see him bleed to death. All-or-nothing, throwing caution to the wind, willing to go down together—that was the feeling he gave off. Song Cheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed once. After a moment’s pause, he didn’t ask what exactly the phrase was that Qin Wunian hated most. He simply said: “Let’s go pick up Chengfeng together tomorrow. Even though I’m not cut out for taking care of kids, I think I’d be great at taking care of dogs. You two are the only things in this world that can make me stay patient.”
Emotions aren’t like waves, rising and falling at will. But as mentioned earlier, Qin Wunian would always take a step back in front of Song Cheng. He was like the moon guiding her; as long as he spoke, even the fiercest storm at sea would open a gap and gradually subside.
Breathing slowly, Qin Wunian’s body relaxed a little; at the very least, the veins on the back of his hand subsided. Qin Wunian looked at Song Cheng and said, his tone ambiguous, “You don’t even remember that dog. Just because someone told you it was yours, do you think it’s special to you?”
Song Cheng let out a soft nasal sound, like a snort, yet not quite that either. Then he smiled. “How could that be? I’ve lost my memory, not my mind. I still have my own judgment. Besides, feelings don’t lie. There are so many dogs in this world. If I hear another dog bark a couple of times, I wouldn’t react at all. But when I hear Chengfeng bark, my whole heart stirs. I may not remember him, but my heart does—and it always will.”
Qin Wunian’s eyelids twitched. He didn’t look very calm. After a long moment, he lowered his gaze and pretended nothing was wrong as he took two steps forward. “So, that means we’ll have another dog at home from now on.”
Song Cheng smiled nervously. “Yeah. You… like dogs, don’t you?”
Qin Wunian lifted his eyelids and looked at Song Cheng. “I wouldn’t say I like them, but I wouldn’t say I dislike them either.”
Hearing this, Song Cheng asked again, “But you can live with a dog, right?”
This time, Qin Wunian didn’t answer immediately. Song Cheng grew incredibly anxious from his silence; just as his expression began to show his impatience, Qin Wunian suddenly smiled, and a faint, magnetic aura instantly filled the entire bathroom.
“Don’t ask me questions like that in the future. There are so many things I don’t like, but I like you. So, forget about a dog—even if you brought ten lions home, I could still live with them.”