Before Mr. Ren boarded his flight, Jing Mian also received the breakfast that had been pre-ordered.
Jing Mian took the delivery from the courier and placed it on the dining table. There was a steaming basket of small soup dumplings, their tops dotted with crab roe filling, alongside several other breakfast items—quite lavish yet still refined, all freshly made.
In the distance was a paper cup filled with soy milk.
Jing Mian wiped his hands.
There weren’t many breakfast places nearby. He had occasionally eaten at one near the park behind the middle school with Mr. Ren before, and Jing Mian particularly loved their crab roe soup dumplings. He always felt a bit unsatisfied after finishing them, but the shop was over a kilometer away, requiring a drive.
Jing Mian never mentioned it, thinking it wasn’t worth the fuss just for breakfast.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Ren had remembered.
And even specially ordered it for him.
Before picking up his chopsticks, Jing Mian couldn’t resist taking a couple of photos with his phone because the spread looked so appealing.
Flipping through them, he noticed the faint steam rising from the soup dumplings had been perfectly captured in the shots, making them look like those polished promotional photos from breakfast shops.
He didn’t delete them and saved them instead, though he wasn’t sure who to send them to.
Jing Mian estimated that Mr. Ren would already be on the plane by now.
So he sat down and slowly began eating.
The club wasn’t open today, and he couldn’t stream either, leaving Jing Mian suddenly unsure of what to do.
He watered the small potted plant, trimmed its leaves—enough to last for at least half a month.
Jing Mian lay on the sofa, basking in the sunlight, and soon drifted into a drowsy sleep.
He was woken up by knocking at the door.
Jing Mian sat up and hurried to open it, only to find Aunt Yu standing outside.
“Hungry?”
Under Jing Mian’s surprised gaze, Aunt Yu smiled as she stepped inside, changing her shoes while carrying a full bag of groceries. “Tell me what you’d like for lunch, and I’ll make it for you.”
Jing Mian blinked in confusion. “It’s already noon?”
Aunt Yu turned to look at him, amused by his sleep-tousled hair sticking up in places. “Our little one slept till noon, huh?”
Jing Mian blinked again, unsure how to respond.
His ears gradually turned red.
Aside from his mother, it had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like this.
Standing by the kitchen, Jing Mian watched as Aunt Yu placed fresh green vegetables on the cutting board and tied on her apron. Softly, he replied, “Mm.”
Aunt Yu didn’t usually come over often. Most of the time, she would tidy up the house when they weren’t home, occasionally prepare dinner, or water the plants and air out the bedding.
Jing Mian guessed that Aunt Yu’s sudden visit around lunchtime was likely arranged by Mr. Ren.
Though he had eaten quite a bit in the morning, Jing Mian still obediently ate a lot since it was Aunt Yu’s cooking.
“No school today?”
Jing Mian picked up a piece of diced chicken and answered, “It’s almost finals. There aren’t any classes.”
“I see.”
“My daughter is coming home from school soon.”
Aunt Yu spoke with a gentle smile, her voice softening. “They didn’t have many exams this semester. She just finished her last one yesterday and immediately booked a train ticket. She’ll arrive tonight by high-speed rail.”
Jing Mian asked, “What time does she get to Lincheng?”
Aunt Yu replied, “5:10 p.m.”
After a moment’s thought, Jing Mian said, “Aunt Yu, you don’t need to come here tonight. Go pick up your daughter.”
Aunt Yu shook the water off her hands after washing the vegetables and wiped them on her apron. “How could that be? Dinner is a must. She doesn’t have much luggage and can just take a taxi home. No need for me to pick her up.”
Jing Mian remembered Mr. Ren mentioning that Aunt Yu was divorced, coming from a broken family, and usually worked alone to earn money while taking care of her daughter.
If she came to make dinner for him, she wouldn’t be able to pick up her daughter from the station.
Jing Mian shook his head. “Aunt Yu, I made plans with a friend tonight. We’re eating out.”
The aunt was taken aback. “Not eating at home?”
Jing Mian nodded.
Aunt Yu sounded concerned. “You really made plans with a friend?”
Jing Mian smiled. “Really.”
Aunt Yu advised, “If you’re going out, don’t eat at street stalls—they’ll upset your stomach. Find a nice restaurant.”
Jing Mian nodded. “Okay.”
Aunt Yu’s expression softened. “That’s good then. I’ll go pick up Yuanyuan from the station. It’s better than her taking a taxi alone.”
Jing Mian smiled in response.
The sky gradually darkened.
The floor-to-ceiling window cast the warm hues of the setting sun, blending with the dimming night as they seeped into the tall curtains.
Aunt Yu had left long ago.
When Jing Mian felt his stomach growl, he checked the time—it was already past seven in the evening.
The house was eerily quiet.
He watched TV for a while, browsed through food delivery apps, but couldn’t decide.
Even though he was hungry, he didn’t have much of an appetite.
Jing Mian thought it was probably because… Mr. Ren had spoiled his taste buds.
He got up, rummaged through the fridge, ate half a box of fruit, then sat on the sofa in a daze.
Before long, he dug out a few packs of instant noodles he had stocked up.
Picking a spicy sour-flavored one that caught his eye, he poured hot water over it, waited five minutes, then ate while watching TV on the sofa.
After finishing, before he could clean up the disposable bowl, his phone suddenly rang.
Jing Mian glanced down—
It was a call from Mr. Ren.
He froze, his previously relaxed nerves suddenly perking up. Sitting up straight, he realized it was already eight o’clock.
He and Mr. Ren had agreed to call each other every day.
Jing Mian stood, hastily tidying the coffee table, throwing the noodle container into the trash bag, and wiping the surface. Only after finishing did he realize it was pointless.
It wasn’t a video call—Mr. Ren wouldn’t know he had eaten instant noodles.
Perhaps it was the guilt from being specifically warned against it, but Jing Mian let out a quiet sigh, picked up the phone, and steadied his breathing. “Mr. Ren.”
“Has the event ended?”
“Yes,” Mr. Ren replied. “I’m in the parking lot.”
Even though they had only been apart for a day, it somehow felt much longer.
Maybe it was because time at home stretched endlessly after Mr. Ren left.
On the sofa, the glow from the TV screen flickered across Jing Mian’s face, casting alternating light and shadow. He joked, “Will I see Mr. Ren on TV tonight?”
“No.”
Mr. Ren answered seriously, “It’s not a TV event. It’s a film and television awards ceremony.”
Jing Mian: “…”
Their senses of humor didn’t quite align.
But somehow, perhaps because he was already familiar with Mr. Ren’s personality, hearing such a straightforward response felt… a little endearing.
After a brief pause, Mr. Ren asked, “Why did you call me ‘teacher’?”
Jing Mian pressed his lips together, slightly embarrassed. “Because… you’re highly respected in the industry. You’re amazing.”
“Amazing people should be called ‘teacher.’”
He wasn’t sure if that explanation worked, but Jing Mian faintly heard what sounded like laughter on the other end of the line.
Through the receiver, it was as if it had sounded right by his ear.
“Then, Teacher Jing, what did you do today?”
Mr. Ren’s voice was soft.
Jing Mian’s gaze shifted to the television screen where images flickered, his pupils illuminated by the changing lights, yet his heart raced slightly faster.
Was he being flirted with by Mr. Ren?
Jing Mian replied, “Watching TV.”
“Have you eaten?”
Jing Mian held his breath briefly before answering, “Yes, I went to a small restaurant near the park.”
Before Mr. Ren could ask what he had eaten, Jing Mian quietly added to lend credibility, “I ordered sweet and sour spare ribs, stir-fried cauliflower, and a bowl of rice.”
…
“You ate well.” Mr. Ren chuckled softly. “So good.”
He was being praised.
His mood inexplicably lifted.
But this time, Jing Mian felt a twinge of guilt—after all, he had just hastily thrown away an instant noodle cup.
Pausing, Jing Mian asked, “What about you, Mr. Ren?”
There seemed to be a slight hesitation on the other end before the man answered, “I’m at the science museum store.”
Jing Mian: “?”
At this hour?
Jing Mian inquired, “Are you looking to buy something?”
“Yes,” Mr. Ren said. “It’s a gift.”
A gift?
More importantly, Jing Mian was surprised to learn that Mr. Ren was the type to give gifts.
“Have you decided what to get? Is it for someone’s birthday?”
“Mhm.”
“But not a birthday.” Mr. Ren’s voice paused before lowering slightly. “I just saw it and thought he might like it.”
Unable to resist, Jing Mian asked, “Then what’s making you hesitate?”
“He loved it as a child. Whenever he saw it, he’d stare and couldn’t bear to leave.” Mr. Ren said. “His eyes would light up.”
Jing Mian listened.
He thought to himself, Mr. Ren remembers so clearly.
Then, he heard his husband’s voice:
“I’m just not sure if he still likes it now.”
…
The two continued chatting like this for nearly half an hour.
By the time Jing Mian hung up, the movie playing on TV had also ended, the screen fading to black.
Silence settled around him as the night deepened.
Lost in thought for a while, Jing Mian stood up to return to his bedroom when he noticed the small nightlight hanging on the second floor.
It illuminated every step of the staircase he needed to climb, stretching endlessly ahead.
Suddenly, he remembered the first day he moved into the villa, when Mr. Ren had asked if he ever got up at night.
Back then, Jing Mian had nodded slightly.
His husband had said:
“Then leaving the light on has meaning.”
As the semester neared its end, Jing Mian needed to return home.
Jing Guozhen, though strict in other matters, was unusually insistent on family gatherings during holidays.
Christmas was approaching.
Originally, they didn’t celebrate such Western holidays, but Li Qiao loved them. She would decorate the house with bells and ornaments, even bringing in a Christmas tree, and every year she would prepare gifts for Jing Luo and Jing Mian.
Thus, Christmas had also been added to Jing Guozhen’s list of mandatory holidays.
So, before exams began, Jing Mian was still required to make time to visit home.
Come to think of it, since their encounter at the wedding, he and his father hadn’t been in contact for an entire month.
In the past, Jing Mian would have considered returning home a burden. But now, having built a family with Mr. Ren, going back to his father and stepmother’s house felt more like an obligation—one that, even if not fulfilled perfectly, he could retreat from by returning to the home he shared with Mr. Ren.
Even if everything went wrong, he had a way out.
Mr. Ren was his safety net.
Yet last time, he had been puzzled—Li Qiao hadn’t been at the wedding.
When he asked his father about it, Jing Guozhen had remained tight-lipped, as if the topic were something inauspicious.
At that time, Jing Mian vaguely wondered if the two of them had some kind of conflict.
But even if he asked directly, Jing Guozhen wouldn’t answer him. Besides, Jing Mian wasn’t particularly interested in their affairs anyway.
Perhaps the only person in the Jing family he truly cared about was the young Jing Luo.
Though reluctant, returning during the holidays to see Jing Luo wasn’t a bad idea.
So after packing his things, Jing Mian slung a bag over his shoulder containing a few daily necessities, prepared to stay overnight if needed.
Jing Mian also mentioned that Mr. Ren was away on a business trip and couldn’t accompany him home.
But during their phone call, Jing Guozhen seemed somewhat resistant to the idea of Mr. Ren visiting—more than resistant, it was as if he was wary of something.
During the days Mr. Ren was away, the driver picked up Jing Mian and dropped him off at the Jing family’s doorstep.
As usual, the family’s housekeeper opened the door to welcome him in, calling for Jing Guozhen and the others to come down and see who had arrived.
Every time Jing Mian returned home after marriage, he noticed a more pronounced warmth than before, with extra dishes he liked added to dinner. Jing Mian figured the reason was likely the Ren family’s influence—even his usually stern father seemed cautious of the power behind Jing Mian now.
Amid all these complexities, the only one untouched by it all was the youngest, Jing Luo.
Jing Mian bent down and picked up the little one who had latched onto his legs. After just over a month, Jing Mian could already feel that Jing Luo had grown a bit taller and slightly heavier.
But Jing Luo’s voice remained as soft and childish as ever, clinging to Jing Mian’s neck and refusing to let go.
With dinner still a while away, Jing Mian went upstairs to the second floor, returning to his old room, which felt like it had been abandoned for ages. Running his fingers over the desk, he found no dust—it was as clean as ever.
The housekeeper must have kept it well maintained.
Not many essentials remained in the room. Most had been packed into suitcases when Jing Mian returned to school, and a large portion of the rest had been moved after he started living with Mr. Ren.
Now, only a desktop computer remained, connected to older streaming equipment that couldn’t be transferred with a laptop, so it had been left behind.
Thinking back, during those two years of streaming, this somewhat outdated computer had been his companion through the lows.
Lying on the bed, Jing Mian stared blankly at the room’s layout, realizing that in just a few months, he had gained another home.
…A place that felt even more like home than this one.
Lost in thought, Jing Mian suddenly noticed a small figure climbing onto the bed, pressing against his chest and wrapping tiny arms around his neck.
Out of habit, Jing Mian reached out to hold him.
Sitting up, Jing Mian rummaged through the cabinet under the computer for some old game discs he used to play. Though he rarely touched them now, they were worth keeping as mementos.
But soon, he sensed that Jing Luo had something to say.
Whatever it was seemed difficult to voice, leaving the young boy struggling, hesitating, unsure how to bring it up to his brother.
Jing Mian crouched down. “What’s wrong?”
Jing Luo sniffled and whispered, “You and Mom had a fight.”
“Wanted to give Brother blueberries.”
Only then did Jing Mian understand the gist of the matter.
It turned out that last time, when Jing Guozhen brought up the idea of Jing Mian and Mr. Ren considering having a baby during dinner, Jing Mian had left the Jing household afterward, and Li Qiao had chased after him. They had a severe argument, during which Li Qiao even mentioned Jing Mian’s mother.
He had thought that conversation was just between him and Li Qiao.
Unexpectedly, Jing Luo had overheard it as well.
Jing Mian was taken aback, unsure how to react. He held his breath slightly and said softly, “This is a matter between me and your mother. It won’t affect you. You’re still young—don’t waste your emotions on these things. Let the adults handle it.”
Jing Luo blinked and suddenly asked, “Does ‘adults’ mean Brother?”
Jing Mian: “??”
He didn’t know how the topic had suddenly shifted to Mr. Ren.
Jing Mian’s Adam’s apple moved unconsciously as he asked, “By ‘adults,’ I mean me, your dad, and your mom… Why did you suddenly bring up Brother?”
Jing Luo looked up and recalled earnestly, “Because Brother once sent his subordinate here to stand up for you.”
Jing Mian: “?!!”
Subordinate?
First of all, “subordinate” definitely wasn’t meant literally. Jing Luo was too young to describe someone like an assistant or agent properly. So Jing Mian tentatively asked, “Was his surname Yang?”
Jing Luo shook his head, his memory impressively sharp: “His surname was Chen.”
Jing Mian froze.
Chen Ke?
Why would Chen Ke come here? Did Mr. Ren send him?
While stunned, Jing Mian was also utterly confused. He asked Jing Luo why Mr. Chen had come.
Jing Luo recounted the events of that day. Though his wording was childish, his logic was clear.
So, Mr. Ren had actually recorded the conversation back then?
And he had sent Chen Ke to the Jing household, where—just before the wedding—Chen Ke played the recording of Jing Mian and Li Qiao’s argument in front of the entire family?
The more Jing Mian heard, the more shocked he became, his pupils trembling.
Mr. Ren had quietly done all this without Jing Mian’s knowledge.
And he had never mentioned it to him even once.
No wonder Li Qiao had been unusually quiet this time when Jing Mian returned home, no longer putting on her usual act of fake concern for him.
After the family came downstairs, she had only watched him from afar, avoiding much interaction even during casual chats and meals.
As if wary of something.
At the same time, did that mean his father also knew what Li Qiao had said to him?
A strange feeling inexplicably rose in Jing Mian’s heart.
So now, besides himself, his father also knew Li Qiao’s true nature?
After all, in Jing Mian’s memory, Jing Guozhen had always admired Li Qiao’s gentle and refined personality, which was why he had married her. And for the past decade, Li Qiao had hidden her true self flawlessly.
If she hadn’t harshly warned Jing Mian during their first meeting, even he might never have seen through her.
Compared to being exposed right from the start, how would Jing Guozhen—who had lived with Li Qiao for nearly ten years—react upon learning such news? Would he remain indifferent?
Jing Mian wasn’t sure how he felt about this.
But once hope took root in his heart, he couldn’t help but want to uncover the truth.
After dinner, Jing Mian went to the study. Jing Guozhen often worked and read here, but Jing Mian knew it was also his father’s way of avoiding conversation.
In his young mind, once his father entered the study, it meant he didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone.
Jing Mian knocked on the study door.
Hearing a voice inside say, “Come in.”
Jing Guozhen was holding a book, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His expression relaxed when he saw Jing Mian, even revealing a rare smile. He pulled out a nearby chair and motioned for Jing Mian to sit beside him. “What is it, MianMian?” he asked.
After sitting down, Jing Mian’s gaze lingered, noticing the wrinkles at the corners of Jing Guozhen’s eyes had deepened considerably compared to before.
His memories seemed forever frozen in the past, when he was still a child—his father had been tall and strong, going out to work and start businesses to support him and his mother during their poorest days. He had been the pillar of the family, making Jing Mian feel from a very young age that Jing Guozhen was a steady and powerful father, unmatched by any other.
But those memories now seemed distant.
After his mother’s death, the family had scattered. His father had formed a new family, and now, Jing Mian could hardly glimpse any trace of the man from those bygone days in his eyes.
Jing Mian got straight to the point: “You already know what Aunt Li Qiao said to me that time.”
The topic seemed to catch Jing Guozhen off guard.
The previously warm atmosphere instantly turned cold. Recovering from his surprise, the man maintained his composure and asked, “Why bring this up so suddenly? Did your husband mention it?”
“No,” Jing Mian replied. “Mr. Ren has never brought it up.”
Who had mentioned it didn’t seem to matter much anymore.
Jing Guozhen’s expression grew complicated. “Why did you just listen quietly when your aunt said those things?” he asked.
The man sighed softly. “On one side is my wife, on the other is my son. If there are misunderstandings and conflicts between you, it’s difficult for me as a father to take sides. Neither position is appropriate.”
“…”
Jing Mian’s lips parted slightly, his eyes flickering with surprise and a hint of confusion.
Misunderstandings… and conflicts.
Everything that had happened over the past decade seemed to be blown away lightly by these two words.
Dismissed just like that.
Noticing Jing Mian’s expression, Jing’s father coughed awkwardly. “I knew Li Qiao’s temperament before. She wasn’t like this back then. Maybe these years of marriage have worn down her enthusiasm. I’ve been working outside, while she’s been stuck in this house day after day. Life has become too dull for her, and her personality has grown sharp and difficult.”
Jing Mian’s throat moved as he slowly said, “So what you mean is, it’s not her fault.”
Jing Guozhen: “Don’t twist my words.”
Jing Guozhen: “I’m thinking of you.”
“Jing Mian, when you encounter problems, you need to learn to stand up for yourself. Don’t just bottle things up like a mute. People’s nature is to take advantage of those who are too soft. If you hadn’t kept giving in to her, she wouldn’t have become so domineering toward you.”
…
Jing Guozhen: “I’m saying this because I worry about you being bullied when you enter society and start working. Even though you have the Ren family’s protection now, people aren’t reliable. That Ren Xingwan—if he isn’t steadfast, he might protect you in everything now.”
“But who knows about the future? He might not always be there to shield you. I’m just worried about you. If you don’t want to be bullied, you have to become strong yourself.”
“…”
This was hardly standing up for him.
What truly astonished Jing Mian was his father’s attitude toward the matter—and toward Li Qiao.
It turned out that even after learning about Li Qiao’s true nature and character, Jing Guozhen didn’t actually care.
Instead, as if to maintain family harmony, he tacitly allowed it. Even when confronted directly, he turned a blind eye—even defended Li Qiao, twisting the blame and shifting the focus, turning the tables entirely.