Chapter 95: Generous

When Chi Xiao was in kindergarten, there was a day when he came home from school to find both his parents present. The two of them sat on opposite sides of the sofa like strangers, each holding a small booklet. They were flipping through pages that had been compiled by professionals, summarizing course introductions and teacher qualifications, as they decided which music class to enroll their son in.

Chi Xiao sat on a small stool beside the coffee table, holding a toy hammer in his hand. He tapped away at the playdough on the table, occasionally sneaking glances at his parents out of the corner of his eye.

In a family like theirs, cultivating a child’s interest in music at three or four years old was practically a required task. Jiang Liyuan handed the booklet to Chi Xiao, pointed at the pictures of musical instruments, and asked him which one he liked.

Chi Xiao went through the entire booklet but wasn’t interested in any of them.

Jiang Liyuan said, “Since you don’t like anything, let’s go with the piano. Everyone learns that.”

After saying that, Jiang Liyuan asked Chi Yanpeng for his opinion. Since he had no objections, Chi Xiao was enrolled in piano lessons without even attending a trial class. His parents directly arranged for him to start formal lessons—two classes per week, with two hours of practice required every day. Their home now had a dedicated piano room just for him, with a grand piano placed right in the center. Because Chi Xiao was too short, he had to use a tall footstool to reach the pedals while sitting on the piano bench.

The piano room’s windows faced west, and not far outside was the community’s children’s activity center. While practicing, Chi Xiao often heard the sounds of children playing. Sometimes, he really wanted to go out and play too. But he had no friends in the neighborhood, and his parents didn’t like mischievous, playful children. So, he decided to stay home and practice instead. Rather than chasing the temporary joy of playing outside, he wanted to make his parents happy. Maybe if he behaved well enough, they would argue a little less.

Chi Xiao’s piano teacher was a nationally renowned young pianist. Under his guidance, Chi Xiao learned quickly and excelled, reaching the highest performance level before even graduating elementary school.

Just before Chi Xiao was about to enter middle school, his piano teacher submitted his resignation, saying he was going abroad to pursue his musical dreams.

During Chi Xiao’s last piano lesson, his teacher played a piece he had composed himself. Then, he asked Chi Xiao, “Do you like the piano?”

Chi Xiao remained silent for a long time.

His teacher seemed to have anticipated his reaction and said gently, “Anyone who wants to persist on the path of music must carry some kind of longing in their heart. It could be a pure love for music, a desire to showcase oneself, the pursuit of honor, or even emotions tied to someone—like family or friends… Only with such a longing does music gain true meaning.”

“If you truly have no aspirations for music, then what you’ve learned up to this point is enough. You’re already very skilled.”

After that lesson, Chi Xiao decided to stop learning the piano. When he told his father, the reaction was minimal—as if all the years Chi Xiao had dedicated to practicing had never been something particularly remarkable to him in the first place.

In the blink of an eye, many years passed.

That night, he sat in the Ming family’s banquet hall, playing this simple piece. For the first time in his life, he seemed to feel a sense of longing for the piano.

He wanted to accompany her.

He wanted to stand behind her and create something beautiful together.

Ming Can stood slightly turned to the side, her slender yet graceful figure accentuated by a long, apricot-colored dress. Her cheek rested against the violin, her left hand gripping the neck of the instrument while her right hand guided the bow in smooth, fluid motions. Strength and elegance intertwined within her, making her radiate brilliance.

The piece wasn’t long. As the final note faded, Ming Can let out a soft breath. Before turning to acknowledge the audience, she looked back at him first—and smiled.

Applause filled the banquet hall, but Chi Xiao seemed oblivious to it.

Only one thought echoed in his mind—

If she was the sun that brought the dawn, then he was the rising seafoam upon the ocean at sunrise. No longer drifting aimlessly, he had finally become part of the light.

–

On the way home

The night outside was deep and quiet. Ming Can sat in the passenger seat, humming a tune while counting the passing streetlights. She seemed to be in a great mood.

Starting next week, she wanted to return to the orchestra and continue playing. She truly couldn’t bear to part with her title as the youngest concertmaster in B University’s history.

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind. She turned to Chi Xiao, who was driving, and asked, “Did your dad really agree to letting the child take my surname? You didn’t just go ahead and decide on your own, did you?”

Ming Can had always felt that getting their child, Miaomiao, to bear her surname was something she had fought hard for after marriage. But right now, she and Chi Xiao weren’t even married yet—they were just two young students. How could Chi Yanpeng have agreed to something like that in advance?

“I talked to him about it. He had no objections.” Chi Xiao answered casually, deliberately omitting the part about his father’s face turning black with displeasure when he first heard the request. “My grandfather took his mother’s surname too, so my dad didn’t think much of it. In his eyes, whether an heir has real ability and can bring greater economic benefits to the family is far more important than a surname.”

Ming Can nodded, quite in agreement with this perspective.

After a moment, she asked, “What was your grandfather’s father’s surname?”

“Hao,” Chi Xiao replied.

“Hao Xiao.” Ming Can burst into laughter. “Hahaha, that’s actually so funny. Good thing he took your great-grandmother’s surname instead. Hahaha…”^[1]Ming Can laughed because the name “Hao Xiao” (郝潇) sounds exactly like “好笑” (hǎoxiào) in Mandarin, which means “so funny” or “hilarious.” The … Continue reading

Chi Xiao: “…”

By the time they got home, it was past nine. Miaomiao had already fallen asleep under the care of the nanny. Chi Xiao and Ming Can changed out of their formal attire and quietly sneaked into Miaomiao’s room. They saw that Xiao Xiao was also there, curled up asleep. As soon as it spotted them, it excitedly ran out of its bed. The two of them quickly made a shushing gesture, signaling for it to stay quiet.

Xiao Xiao obediently stayed quiet, circling around their feet. Its long, shaggy fur made it look like a mop without a handle.

Chi Xiao and Ming Can sat on either side of Miaomiao’s bed, watching him sleep.

“His eyes look like yours,” Ming Can said, staring at Miaomiao’s delicate little face.

“Only when they’re closed. When they’re open, they look like yours,” Chi Xiao replied. “Big and round, like grapes.”

Maybe Miaomiao heard his parents whispering in his dreams, because his tiny lips smacked a few times, as if responding to them.

“He’s too cute,” Ming Can murmured, pulling out her phone and snapping a dozen close-up shots of Miaomiao’s chubby little face.

Lately, whenever they had free time, Ming Can and Chi Xiao would sneak into Miaomiao’s room to watch him sleep. No matter how many times they did it, they never got tired of it.

Ever since Miaomiao started dreaming about scenes from another world, Ming Can and Chi Xiao had a feeling—his arrival in this world was like a strange and wonderful journey, but in the end, he didn’t truly belong here. Putting themselves in his shoes, they knew that if Miaomiao couldn’t return to the parents who had truly given birth to him, that already fragile family would completely collapse. And that was certainly not something Miaomiao would want to see.

They kept these thoughts buried deep in their hearts, never speaking them aloud. “Come here,” Ming Can waved Chi Xiao over. “Let’s take a group photo.”

They already had at least a few hundred family photos, but Ming Can still seized every opportunity to take more.

The two of them leaned in toward the sleeping Miaomiao, kissing his cheeks from both sides, capturing the moment in a photo.

“Pout your lips a little, like this.” Ming Can checked the picture and wasn’t satisfied, so she demonstrated for Chi Xiao. “Make it cuter. Don’t look so stiff.”

“I’m not stiff.”

“If you don’t pout, you look stiff.”

“…Fine, fine.”

After taking a few more shots, Ming Can was finally satisfied. She tucked Miaomiao’s blanket snugly around him before reluctantly leaving the room.

Chi Xiao followed behind her, pulling out his phone to check the pictures Ming Can had just sent him.

Something soft and furry brushed against his feet. Without thinking much of it, he turned back and gently closed the door—unaware that Xiao Xiao had silently slipped out behind him.

Xiao Xiao’s fur was too long—when it wasn’t tied up, it would droop down and cover its eyes, making it hard to see. After struggling to shake its head and clear its vision, it suddenly realized that it had followed the two adults into a much larger room. The door had closed behind them. Now, it couldn’t get out.

Just as Xiao Xiao was about to bark to get their attention, the scene in front of it left it completely frozen in shock.

They—they were fighting!

The two adults had barely taken a few steps into the room before they started wrestling with each other. Their breathing grew heavy, their limbs tangled together, and even their mouths were biting at each other. They were fighting so fiercely, it was terrifying!

Xiao Xiao trembled, pacing anxiously on the floor. Gathering its courage, it finally rushed over to break up the fight—only for something dark to suddenly fall from above. One piece of fabric after another draped over its head, surrounding it. “Yelp!” Xiao Xiao let out a frightened whimper as its body got wrapped up in layers of soft, fragrant cloth. It tumbled helplessly across the floor, rolling around in a panic.

“What was that sound?” Chi Xiao lifted his head from Ming Can’s neck and glanced toward the floor. At that moment, Xiao Xiao had just rolled behind the bed, completely out of sight. Seeing nothing unusual, Chi Xiao withdrew his gaze and gently bit Ming Can’s collarbone. “Was that you?”

“I wasn’t the one making noise.” Ming Can kicked him lightly. “If you want to hear something, make your own sounds.”

She was curious to hear them herself. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she teasingly provoked him.

“What should I say?” He suddenly released her, turning her around to face the window. Pressing against her back, he nipped at her ear. “Can I call you Cancan?”

Ming Can shivered. “Why are you calling me that…”

Ming Can lifted her gaze, and saw the floor-to-ceiling window spanning the entire wall. Beyond it, the night stretched out, dotted with countless glowing windows. In the distance, the city streets pulsed with the movement of cars, their neon lights flickering like scattered jewels. Only a thin layer of sheer curtains stood between them and the outside world, diffusing the lights into a hazy, dreamlike glow.

Soon, she heard the sound she had been waiting for. It was their first time trying this kind of close-contact communication, and the person behind her was holding back with extreme restraint. It was as if she were torturing him—yet he willingly endured it, murmuring in a breathy voice about how petty she was. They weren’t strangers anymore. Why couldn’t she be a little more generous?

The result of being “generous” was her hands pressing against the window, fingers clutching the sheer curtains. The sounds escaping her throat soon drowned out the soft rustling beneath the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. At last, Xiao Xiao managed to free itself, emerging from under the fabric like a puffed-up, disheveled mop. Hearing the intense noises coming from nearby, it cautiously peeked its head over the edge of the bed. Its round, shiny puppy eyes widened in confusion, a giant question mark practically floating above its tiny head.

For a dog, biting was a fundamental part of a fight. If no one was biting, then it probably wasn’t a real fight. Seeing that the two humans had finally moved their mouths away from each other, Xiao Xiao felt a lot more at ease. Even though the big one who brushed its fur every day looked like he was stabbing the other person, Xiao Xiao didn’t consider it too terrible of a thing.

Since it often slept with its little master, Xiao Xiao had developed a very steady routine. Now, it was slowly getting used to the patter-patter and crash-crash of the “rainstorm” in the room. Its fluffy little head started to sway—sleepiness creeping in.

Curling up on a pile of soft silk fabric, Xiao Xiao lowered its head, its eyelids drooping. Just as it was about to doze off, something sparkly flew through the air between the two humans. If it were a kitten, it might have been curious. But it was a dog. And dogs only cared about meat and bones…

Just as Xiao Xiao was about to slip into sleep, another dull thud echoed against the window glass.

Ming Can’s hands could no longer hold on. Her body and face crashed against the window, bringing her so close to the sheer curtain that she could see the nightscape outside with perfect clarity. Her heart clenched with nervousness—what if someone outside could see inside, too?

Xiao Xiao lifted its head again. It didn’t quite understand the principles of glass, only that it was an invisible yet solid barrier. The sheer curtain was right against that unseen layer. They had been slamming against it again and again, heavy and fast. Wouldn’t they break it at this rate?

But a little dog’s head couldn’t hold too many thoughts. Soon enough, its mind drifted to a much more important question—what would it eat tomorrow? Burying its platinum-blond mop of fur into the soft silk fabric beneath it, its light-colored coat blended in almost perfectly.

As its eyelids finally drooped shut, it heard someone say, “It’s still early, no need to rush to sleep…”

Xiao Xiao strongly disagreed. It was in a hurry to sleep. With a slight tilt of its head and thoughts of tomorrow’s breakfast filling its dreams, the little dog drifted off completely.