As Jing Mian stepped into the house, he felt the chill around him dissipate slightly, as if enveloped by an invisible warmth. His frozen fingertips gradually regained sensation.
The young man took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his nerves ease, and his entire body slowly relaxed.
It was somewhat strange. Although he had only lived in this house for half a month, it gave him a sense of returning home.
He felt inexplicably at ease.
However, why would Mr. Ren call him?
Only now did Jing Mian have the energy to recall the details of what had just happened. For instance, he had heard the sound of his phone, but it wasn’t a ringtone—it was a voice coming from the receiver.
This meant the call had been connected from the very beginning.
Jing Mian fell into deep thought.
When had the call been connected? Had he accidentally touched it? Or had he unknowingly answered when Mr. Ren called?
Jing Mian was utterly confused!
Suddenly, he remembered that after leaving the Jing family, he had once dialed Mr. Ren’s number, though he wasn’t sure if the call had gone through.
Now it seemed…
Had Mr. Ren been on the call since then?!
Did he hear the conversation between Li Qiao and him?
And just now, Mr. Ren had even said, “Wait for me to come back.”
Jing Mian’s mind was spinning. He sat there, dazed, unable to recover for a long time.
Soon, a sound came from the door not far away.
—It was the sound of a lock being opened.
Jing Mian was startled. His gaze fell on the source of the sound, but he didn’t move.
The door opened.
Through the crack, a sliver of cold air from outside seeped in, making one shiver. But it was quickly blocked by the man, shut out.
A tall, handsome man appeared not far from Jing Mian’s line of sight. The light from the living room fell on Ren Xingwan’s face, just like the beam he had seen earlier.
Though no words were spoken, Jing Mian felt something inside him silently screaming, making him feel alive again.
Ren Xingwan stood motionless at the door.
He lowered his gaze, looking at Jing Mian, who was sitting on the floor.
Jing Mian leaned against the entrance, his face still showing a trace of surprise. His eyelashes and hair were damp with melted snow, as if he couldn’t move. Even when he saw Ren Xingwan enter, he didn’t stand up or make any movement.
The young man’s down jacket was still on, the soft hood hanging down. One shoe was off, the other halfway there. His phone was placed not far away, its screen still lit.
Jing Mian pursed his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. He felt awkward: “Mr. Ren… I need to rest for a bit. I’ll get up soon.”
“You can go in first. Don’t mind me. I’ll change later.”
After saying this, he noticed that Mr. Ren didn’t follow his suggestion and take off his shoes to go inside first.
Jing Mian: “…”
Did he look too disheveled? So much so that Mr. Ren didn’t even want to talk to him?
Jing Mian silently lowered his gaze, bent his knees, and tried to take off his other shoe.
Soon, he felt Mr. Ren lean down.
One of his ankles was gently held and lifted slightly, while the other hand reached forward and carefully removed his shoe, placing it aside.
Mr. Ren’s hands were large, easily encircling his ankle. His fingers were long and pale, the kind that would look beautiful even on camera.
Jing Mian watched as Mr. Ren finished taking off his shoes, then moved closer, his arm wrapping around Jing Mian’s legs.
The man’s other hand grasped his waist, exerting a slight force, and Jing Mian was lifted into the air.
Jing Mian: “!”
The sudden sensation of being suspended in the air caught him off guard. He panicked and softly called out, “Mr. Ren.”
However, he heard Mr. Ren speak: “Didn’t you say you needed to change?”
Jing Mian thought, well, that was true, but it had just been an excuse to let the man go in first, not for Mr. Ren to carry him to change.
But now that it had come to this, Jing Mian didn’t know how to respond.
While he was still in a daze, Mr. Ren had already carried him to the living room, up the stairs, and straight toward the master bedroom where he usually stayed.
When Jing Mian was placed on the bed, he felt his strength had mostly returned. At least he wouldn’t be unable to stand up, but by now, he was too embarrassed to admit it, since he had already been carried to the final destination.
His down jacket was taken off, and a new set of pajamas was handed to him. Jing Mian was momentarily stunned, then began to change.
Mr. Ren seemed to have taken the down jacket to hang it on the rack downstairs, leaving Jing Mian ample time to change.
After changing, Jing Mian thought Mr. Ren wouldn’t return, but when the man reappeared, he noticed that this time, Mr. Ren was holding something—it looked like a medical kit for applying medicine.
It reminded him of his childhood, when he would silently take out the medical kit after a car accident and tend to his own wounds. Sometimes, his arms were too short to reach certain injuries.
But this time, it was Mr. Ren who was tending to his wounds.
Jing Mian realized that Mr. Ren must have noticed the injury on his palm.
It was a wound he had unknowingly inflicted on himself by clenching his fists too tightly on the way back, his nails digging into his flesh.
Mr. Ren dipped a cotton ball in iodine, not too much, and though his movements were swift, they were gentle when applied to Jing Mian’s palm. Jing Mian heard the man’s deep voice: “This might hurt a little.”
Jing Mian nodded and said, “It’s okay.”
When the iodine touched the wound, the strong sting made Jing Mian’s shoulders tense, but he didn’t make a sound.
Soon, the cotton ball was removed, replaced by alcohol for cleaning. Mr. Ren worked quickly, and before Jing Mian could feel the discomfort, his palm was already wrapped in soft bandages, layer after layer.
Jing Mian thought to himself:
It seemed there was nothing Mr. Ren couldn’t do.
He had previously marveled at how the man seemed like a perfect husband, and now, this only further confirmed that fact.
Soon, the other hand received the same treatment.
Jing Mian looked at his two palms, neatly wrapped in white bandages, symmetrical and tidy. If there were some bloodstains and dirt, they might even resemble the hands of a trained enforcer from a movie.
He thought this was the end, but then Mr. Ren unexpectedly produced a nail clipper from somewhere, looked at him, and said, “Give me your hand.”
Though the tone wasn’t harsh, combined with the man’s inexplicable words and the nail clipper, it felt somewhat out of place.
Jing Mian, unsure of what Mr. Ren intended, was visibly confused.
But he still extended his hand.
Soon, the nail clipper approached his thumb, and with a snip.
Jing Mian: “…!”
So, Mr. Ren was going to trim his nails.
Jing Mian glanced at his nails. They weren’t particularly long, and there was no dirt in the crevices. They were of medium length—not long enough to harbor grime, but just enough to dig into his flesh.
Logically, trimming them in two or three days would have been ideal.
But Mr. Ren’s actions seemed non-negotiable. Before Jing Mian could react, the fourth finger had already been trimmed, and the remaining fingertips were smooth and rounded. Now, even if he clenched his fists tightly, he wouldn’t draw blood.
Jing Mian: “…”
Though it might not be the right way to describe it, he felt like a child who had done something wrong, and Mr. Ren had forcefully cut off any chance of a repeat.
As Jing Mian thought this, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
Soon, the nails were neatly trimmed, and Jing Mian’s fingertips were held, a moist sensation spreading as a refreshing wet wipe cleaned away the dried blood.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere, but Jing Mian couldn’t help but speak up: “Mr. Ren.”
Mr. Ren looked up at him: “What is it?”
Jing Mian hesitated: “Did you… hear everything earlier?”
Ren Xingwan paused for a moment, then didn’t deny it: “Yes.”
Jing Mian quickly recalled the conversation. Besides mentioning the Jing family’s bankruptcy, the arranged marriage, and his mother’s death, Li Qiao had also brought up the possibility of him and Mr. Ren having a child in the future.
But what Jing Mian was most concerned about was that, at the beginning of the conversation, Li Qiao had openly referred to Mr. Ren as a “bastard” in front of him.
Jing Mian suddenly remembered Mother Ren’s visit that one time.
The conversation back then had left Jing Mian confused. Mother Ren had made her stance clear, saying she was on his and Ren Xingwan’s side, but she had also mentioned the two children born to Father Ren’s ex-wife.
At the time, Mother Ren had openly expressed her hatred for those two children, even calling them “abominations.”
Jing Mian had been puzzled, thinking that Father Ren’s ex-wife was Ren Xingwan’s mother.
But now it seemed those two children were actually Mr. Ren’s half-brothers.
And Father Ren had never been married to Ren Xingwan’s mother.
That dark, dilapidated alley, filled with alcohol, curses, and domestic violence—the image of Mr. Ren’s mother from his childhood, her life filled with resentment, was likely tied to Father Ren abandoning her and their son.
Later, Father Ren married twice. His first wife bore him two sons, and the second… was the childless Mother Ren who had come to visit that day.
The reason Mother Ren sided with Jing Mian was that, compared to those two bothersome half-brothers born to the deceased ex-wife, she naturally favored the illegitimate son who had no one to rely on but possessed undeniable talent—Ren Xingwan.
Perhaps the reason Ren Xingwan had been able to leave that cramped, narrow apartment building and return to the Ren family, engaging in a years-long power struggle with his half-brothers, was partly due to Mother Ren’s influence.
Jing Mian thought,
This was probably also the reason his brother had suddenly disappeared back then.
He remembered feeling depressed and frustrated for a long time, trying every possible way to contact his vanished brother but failing.
It had been a difficult period.
But now, looking back, Jing Mian could recall it from a detached perspective.
After all, as an adult looking back, that hadn’t been the final straw that broke him.
There were even greater hardships waiting for him.
The sky grew darker.
After Mr. Ren bandaged his wounds, cleaned off the blood, and helped him into comfortable pajamas, the man turned off the light and was about to leave when Jing Mian suddenly spoke: “Mr. Ren.”
The man’s figure paused.
“Although… the wedding is in four days,” Jing Mian’s voice hesitated, the words coming out with difficulty: “…could you stay here tonight?”
Jing Mian felt that Mr. Ren’s figure in the darkness seemed to stiffen slightly. The dim light made it hard to see his expression, casting a heavy shadow.
Jing Mian couldn’t help but feel nervous, his heart racing.
But soon, Mr. Ren moved.
He returned to the bed, on the side where Jing Mian was lying.
Jing Mian didn’t feel the cold rush of air as the blanket was lifted. The man’s figure hesitated slightly, then silently lay down beside him.
This time, though they weren’t particularly close, the darkness made it seem as if they were closer than before.
Mr. Ren softly said, “Okay.”
Jing Mian’s palms instinctively clenched, but upon feeling the bandages, he slowly relaxed.
Mr. Ren always managed to make him nervous.
But he didn’t dislike the man’s company. It was somewhat strange.
Neither of them slept.
After a while, Jing Mian hesitated, then whispered, “Actually, my relationship with my stepmother isn’t good.”
He had never brought up his own affairs with Mr. Ren before. But today, perhaps because his vulnerable side had been exposed and his wounds tended to, Jing Mian suddenly felt the urge to confide in the man.
Mr. Ren seemed to be looking at him, his voice low as he said, “I know.”
Jing Mian was surprised: “How did you know?”
Though Mr. Ren was a man of few words, he seemed to be explaining seriously: “The way you look at her, and your tone when you speak, are different from usual.”
Jing Mian was even more astonished.
So Mr. Ren had noticed these details and had long been aware.
Jing Mian pursed his lips and said, “She always puts on a perfect act in public.”
“When I first met her, Li Qiao brought my favorite candy from childhood. She smiled warmly and introduced herself seriously. I thought she might not know about the past and could grow to like me.”
Jing Mian whispered, “Back then, I wanted to make a good impression. Even if she was my stepmother, she was still my future mother. I wanted her to not dislike me.”
“But that day, when Jing Guozhen wasn’t around, she grabbed my chin and warned me not to compete with her children, to remember that she was the lady of the Jing family.”
Jing Mian’s voice grew softer: “It hurt a lot. Later, when I looked in the mirror, I saw the wound was deep, and blood kept seeping out. I had to put on two band-aids.”
“Luckily, it didn’t leave a scar.”
Jing Mian stared at the ceiling. The complete darkness made it easier for him to pour out these secrets he had never shared before: “I thought about telling my father, but then I realized even if I did, he wouldn’t believe me. He’d think I was making up lies because I resented my stepmother.”
…
“It’s like I’m the only one in the world who knows what she’s really like.”
Jing Mian took a light breath and said, “It’s a lonely feeling.”
As Jing Mian spoke, he thought Mr. Ren was just silently listening and wouldn’t respond, but then he heard the man’s deep voice.
In the quiet night, Mr. Ren’s voice matched his in volume, soft and low: “Now I know too.”
Jing Mian’s brows twitched.
“So, you’re not alone anymore.”
Mr. Ren said.
Jing Mian was momentarily stunned.
Suddenly, he felt a surge of emotion, his nose tingling and his eyes welling up.
The air fell silent.
Jing Mian realized that talking with Mr. Ren felt good. If they had had such opportunities before, it would have been great. After their engagement, this seemed to be the first time they had chatted aimlessly like friends, sharing secrets from their hearts.
Jing Mian didn’t want to ask about Mr. Ren’s past.
After all, that past also involved him. Delving into it might stir up old wounds and reopen his own scars.
Jing Mian was like a turtle carrying its shell, slowly moving forward.
Occasionally, when encountering dew, it would peek out its head, savoring the sweetness, and when it felt comfortable, it might even stretch out its clawed limbs.
But the turtle’s courage only went so far.
If a downpour came, it would quickly retreat beneath the green leaves, no matter how much the rabbit on the shore tried to coax it into a race.
After all, winning wouldn’t bring any rewards, so it was better not to bring it up.
Jing Mian noticed that in the darkness, they had been silent for a long time.
He even wondered if Mr. Ren had already fallen asleep.
Jing Mian softly probed: “Mr. Ren?”
Shifting his gaze from the ceiling to the man beside him, Jing Mian heard Mr. Ren’s voice, deep and steady: “Hmm?”
So he wasn’t asleep.
It felt as though the darkness stretched one’s thoughts infinitely. Jing Mian wasn’t in a hurry to sleep, and Mr. Ren’s voice sounded clear, without any hint of drowsiness.
The young man hesitated. Should he continue the earlier conversation?
Lost in thought, Jing Mian pondered for a moment, then chose the lightest topic and softly asked:
“Will we have a baby in the future?”