By Zephyria 
The night was deep.
Jing Mian stared at the moon outside the window.
He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but before parting ways, Chen Xi had mentioned Dawn’s name.
After returning home, his husband seemed much more silent than usual tonight.
Though their daily conversations were never particularly warm, tonight felt different. Jing Mian faintly sensed this illusion, though he couldn’t guess the reason.
Mr. Ren wasn’t familiar with the esports circle and naturally didn’t know who Dawn was. He had probably been mistaken by Chen Xi as an esports player, which might have displeased him.
Given the man’s profession and status, even if it was a misunderstanding, he wouldn’t appreciate having his identity exposed by a stranger. Jing Mian understood this very well.
The young man’s eyelashes trembled slightly in the darkness.
As if being cautious, Jing Mian silently counted from “1” to “699” in his mind.
This process took a long time. Jing Mian remained quiet, his breathing soft and light, his thoughts not wandering but as clear as the night around him.
For the past two nights, he had fallen asleep in Mr. Ren’s embrace.
Jing Mian wasn’t sure if his husband enjoyed this closeness, nor did he know how to bring it up.
Once he confirmed the man was asleep, the young man shifted forward slightly, his soft pajamas brushing against the sheets as he nestled into his husband’s arms.
His husband wasn’t sleeping with his back to him.
Jing Mian hoped he’d be this lucky tomorrow as well. But tonight, at least, he could sleep soundly.
Perhaps due to lingering tension, Jing Mian didn’t fall asleep as quickly as usual. He took a light breath, inhaling the pleasant scent of his husband, and a contradictory drowsiness washed over him, his consciousness growing hazy.
After lying stiffly for over ten minutes, Jing Mian finally drifted into a light slumber.
The night was deep and still.
Half-asleep, Jing Mian felt an arm wrap around his waist.
Then, it seemed as though he was kissed on the brow.
And after that… his ear was bitten.
Even in his own dream, he couldn’t escape—his waist was held firmly, warm lips capturing his ear like a hunter seizing prey, licking him until he trembled.
Then, teeth replaced the softness, heat mingling with sharpness, biting until Jing Mian shivered on the verge of tears. Only then did it stop, as if it had been a punishment.
Jing Mian jolted awake.
He sat up abruptly, finding the night still serene, a gentle breeze drifting past the curtains. Everything was silent, as if only his own heartbeat was loud and frantic.
Jing Mian: “?”
In the darkness, Jing Mian steadied his breathing. His husband beside him was still asleep.
His breaths were uneven, more out of confusion than anything else. The dream had felt so real—the sensitive flesh of his ear still tingled with the phantom sensation.
“What’s wrong?”
Mr. Ren’s voice came through the darkness, roused by his movements.
“Mm…” Jing Mian swallowed and whispered, “Nothing.”
“Sorry for waking you.”
“It’s fine.”
Feeling awkward, Jing Mian lay back down, this time leaving a small gap between himself and Mr. Ren.
Ren Xingwan asked in the dark, “Did you have a nightmare?”
Jing Mian didn’t know how to answer, so he simply said, “Sort of.”
“Do you want me to hold you?”
Mr. Ren’s tone gave nothing away.
Yet his voice carried an inexplicable sense of reassurance.
Jing Mian’s throat moved slightly.
His heart skipped a beat.
Softly, he answered, “Yes.”
As the arm wrapped around his waist again, Mr. Ren’s fingers brushed lightly over Jing Mian’s ear—a natural motion as he pulled him closer.
In the darkness of night, the young man’s faintly reddened earlobe bore the lingering marks of teeth.
Moonlight brushed over it, glinting with traces of moisture that had been hastily wiped away.
“Mr. Jing, this box is milk, and the smaller one with the grid pattern is fruit.”
Yu Nian bent down, carefully arranging the bags and packages by the entrance. “You can take some snacks to the club every day. This bag is ground coffee beans. Although the next match isn’t far off, you should still take care of your health. If you can avoid staying up late, then—”
Yu Nian rambled on with reminders, while across from him, Jing Mian stood somewhat at a loss.
The young man hesitated before finally asking uncertainly:
“Mr. Ren… is only leaving for three days, right?”
Due to unavoidable business commitments and an important project meeting, Mr. Ren had to leave Lincheng for three days. The man had only just arrived in City S, yet the very next day, Yu Nian had shown up with an overwhelming amount of supplies.
And most of it… was stuff a kid would love.
But Jing Mian couldn’t help being tempted anyway.
Yu Nian smiled. “Mr. Ren knows that if left to your own devices, you probably wouldn’t buy your favorite snacks or fruit. Plus, with long streaming hours, you often forget to eat, and when you do remember, you might just grab instant noodles instead.”
Jing Mian: “…”
The young player pursed his lips slightly, embarrassed and at a loss for words.
“Oh, right.” Yu Nian beamed. “Mr. Jing likes blueberries, so these two boxes have a mix of sweet and tart ones—pick whichever you prefer.”
“But try not to eat too many at once. Your blood sugar might not handle it.”
Jing Mian nodded.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“No need, no need, it’s part of my job…”
After Yu Nian left, the villa fell back into silence.
Jing Mian crouched down, picking out some perishable fruit to store in the fridge. Then he sat on the floor and ate a few blueberries—whether sweet or tart, they were delicious.
He had trained late into the night yesterday and ended up dozing off on the couch. He only woke up when Yu Nian called, realizing it was already 9 a.m.
He had taken leave from the club’s afternoon training session because he had somewhere else to be during the day.
Jing Mian left the things Yu Nian had brought untouched for now. Instead, he went out to buy some supplements and fruit, carrying three or four full bags. The address was far, and since Master Ye was likely busy taking care of his child, Jing Mian didn’t call him, opting to hail a taxi instead.
The driver asked where he was headed.
Jing Mian replied, “No. 155, Liukou Alley, Linshui District.”
The location was remote. The driver entered it into the GPS, waited for the route to load, and then slowly set off.
Since reaching adulthood, Jing Mian had visited this place almost every three months.
Each time, his feelings about going there seemed slightly different.
In fact, before this trip, he had almost convinced himself he would never have another reason to come here—to visit Li Chang’an, the Jing family’s driver from twenty years ago.
During the car accident when he was eight, his mother had passed away.
And Driver Li had lost a leg.
Jing Mian stared out the window, his pupils beneath his lashes frozen, lost in thought.
The taxi stopped at the edge of the alley, and Jing Mian got out.
After some wandering, he finally found the familiar door. Setting down the bags in his right hand, he raised his hand and knocked.
It took a while before footsteps sounded from inside.
The door opened.
The moment Jing Mian saw Li Chang’an, the words “Uncle Li” caught in his throat. The young man’s eyes flickered with surprise and confusion.
No reason—except that… the man had grown much thinner.
Rather than saying he was thin, it would be more accurate to say that under the morning light, Li Chang’an’s skin beneath his stubble appeared sallow and sunken, his cheeks hollowed out to the point of being almost unrecognizable.
He looked like a completely different person compared to their last meeting.
And this was only three months apart.
Jing Mian was ushered inside. He slipped on a pair of oversized slippers and placed the items he had brought on the wooden table and floor nearby.
The room was empty and worn, the walls gray with peeling paint. The furniture and decor seemed to belong to a much older era, typical of an old-fashioned hutong house.
Driver Li walked very slowly. The house was small—so small that opening the door immediately revealed the bed where he usually slept. Yet even for such a short distance, Li Chang’an took nearly half a minute, moving sluggishly with the aid of a cane, looking utterly exhausted.
He pulled out a stool for Jing Mian. “MianMian, have a seat.”
Jing Mian nodded.
It was the most basic backless stool, but the young man sat upright with perfect posture. Before Li Chang’an could sit on the edge of the bed, Jing Mian quickly stood up to help him down, taking the cane and propping it against the wall.
After a moment of hesitation, unable to find the right words, Jing Mian simply asked directly, “Uncle Li, how have you lost so much weight? Are you feeling unwell?”
“…Just lost my appetite, so I slowly got thinner.” The old man’s voice was subdued when answering, as if he was reluctant to address the question, his tone indifferent and terse.
“Want some tea?” Li Chang’an gestured toward the kitchen. “You know I love tea. There’s still plenty of the Longjing you gave me last year.”
Jing Mian didn’t look away but shook his head.
“Uncle Li, let me take you for a check-up,” Jing Mian said. “You’ve lost so much weight—it might be your stomach or…”
Li Chang’an also shook his head. “No need.”
…
Neither of them was particularly talkative, and for a while, the room fell into silence.
A breeze drifted through the window, rustling the plastic bags filled with fruit on the floor. Li Chang’an glanced over, his gaze settling on them.
“You brought so much again.”
Jing Mian, who had been trying to think of a way to persuade Driver Li, paused. He murmured, “It’s not much.”
Li Chang’an: “I really owe you these past few years.”
Even after all this time, Jing Mian still couldn’t bring himself to look directly at the missing leg. A familiar wave of guilt and discomfort tightened his throat. He said quietly, “No… It’s the least I can do.”
Li Chang’an fell silent for a long time.
So long that Jing Mian began to wonder whether he should try persuading him again or simply take his leave. Then, suddenly, he heard the sound of a lighter flicking as Li Chang’an lit a cigarette. Exhaling smoke, the old man finally spoke.
“Did you know? When you were born, Mr. Jing wasn’t there.”
“Back then, Madam suddenly threw out her back while going down the stairs—she said the baby was coming. To this day, I still shudder remembering that night. I remember helping the nanny carry Madam into the back seat, then flooring the gas pedal all the way, running four red lights. My head was drenched in sweat. Luckily, we made it from home to the hospital in just five minutes.”
“Who would’ve thought such a well-behaved, beautiful child could make such a dramatic entrance into the world?”
Jing Mian listened quietly, stunned into silence.
“Afterward, the traffic police fined me and deducted points. Madam was so grateful—she gave me a huge red envelope and even let me hold you.”
Li Chang’an suddenly laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with fine wrinkles, yet his lips curved into a serene and peaceful smile, as if recalling that moment from the past. Through the haze of smoke, he reminisced slowly, “You were so tiny back then—fair and pink, with such long eyelashes. Your little hands could only grasp my thumb. I was so stiff, afraid to move a muscle. Uncle Li was terrified that even the slightest movement might break your fragile bones. Madam laughed at us for ages afterward.”
Jing Mian froze.
The usually reticent man now seemed lost in memories from years ago, speaking freely as if immersed in the past.
Jing Mian opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words. He faintly sensed something unusual about Driver Li today. “Uncle Li…”
Moreover, Driver Li had glossed over one fact.
Song Zhinian had suffered a postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth naturally and nearly didn’t survive. From the moment he was born, his mother’s health had deteriorated, leaving her frequently weak and ill.
“Thank you,” Jing Mian said.
“No, young master. You shouldn’t thank me.”
Li Chang’an lifted his head, took one last drag of his cigarette, and stubbed it out. The final ember flickered and died. In a low voice, he murmured, “There was no need to help me all these years or treat me so kindly.”
“I’m not a good man.”
At these words, Jing Mian’s eyes flickered with surprise, though mostly confusion. The clock in the room ticked mechanically, its dull sound filling the silence. Just as Jing Mian hesitated, the old man spoke again, slowly:
“Perhaps… this leg of mine is my retribution.”
Then, he watched as Li Chang’an raised his gaze to meet his own and uttered, word by word:
“Actually, Mr. Jing had been unfaithful long ago.”
“Before you were even born.”
“And on the night Madam was giving birth, the reason he wasn’t by her side wasn’t because of overtime work.”
In the tremble of Jing Mian’s pupils, Li Chang’an finished his final sentence:
“He was meeting your stepmother—Li Qiao.”