Chapter 26

The next day.

The consequences of neglecting to close the window last night became apparent when Song Wenzhou woke up, feeling some discomfort in his throat.

However, aside from that, he felt fine—no headache, no stuffy nose. He guessed that after he fell asleep, he must have curled up under the blanket due to the cold, and his body hadn’t caught a chill. It was just that the cold air he breathed in had caused his throat to itch.

He didn’t expect his body to be this strong. Song Wenzhou wasn’t sure whether he should be happy or annoyed.

After lying in bed for a while, Song Wenzhou reluctantly got up and dressed. The house was quiet, and once again, he was the only one at home.

After freshening up, he opened his phone and saw a message from Ren Suyi, saying she was warming up breakfast in the kitchen and reminding Song Wenzhou to make sure he ate well.

Sometimes, Song Wenzhou thought that Ren Suyi really worried too much. Even though he was already quite obedient compared to his peers, she still enjoyed treating him like a child.

After breakfast, Song Wenzhou had nothing to do, so he watered all the flowers and plants that Ren Suyi had planted on the balcony, then cleaned the floor in the front and back of the house. When he checked the time, it was still not even 10 a.m.

The vacation was dragging on painfully. Song Wenzhou sighed. He never realized before how few hobbies he had. He didn’t feel like going out, didn’t want to play games, and his quiet phone was boring.

Helpless, Song Wenzhou finally sat back down at his desk and buried his head in his favorite math worksheets.

After completing two sets of exercises, he finally felt like time had moved forward. Song Wenzhou solved the last big problem and happily put down his pen.

At noon, neither Ren Suyi nor Song Chenglang came home for lunch. Song Wenzhou, always reluctant to cook for himself, nearly considered just having instant noodles for lunch every day.

But that was only a thought. Not to mention that his stomach wouldn’t allow such laziness, even if he were healthy, Ren Suyi would still scold him if he ate instant noodles every day.

In some ways, Ren Suyi was very much a traditional Chinese parent, believing that food from outside was unhealthy and that if he could cook, he shouldn’t eat out. Therefore, the refrigerator at home was always stocked with ingredients.

Song Wenzhou glanced around and, after some deliberation, decided to make the simplest dish—tomato scrambled eggs.

Anyway, it was just for himself, so there was no need to worry about whether it would taste good.

After years of eating lunch alone during holidays, Song Wenzhou had become adept at preparing just the right amount of food for himself.

While washing the dishes after lunch, the doorbell rang. Song Wenzhou, wearing the pale blue apron chosen by Ren Suyi, walked toward the entrance while wiping his hands dry.

At the door stood a delivery man in work clothes, holding a fairly large package.

After Song Wenzhou signed for it, the delivery man handed the package to him. He tensed his arm in preparation but was surprised to find that although the box looked large, it wasn’t very heavy.

No wonder the delivery man had kept holding it instead of putting it on the ground.

Song Wenzhou thanked the delivery man, then placed the box on the coffee table in the living room after entering the house. After tidying up the kitchen, he carefully took a small knife to open the package, slicing through the plastic tape.

He didn’t bother checking who the sender was, but since Mu Chi had mentioned sending him something last night, he didn’t need to look to know what it was.

The large box was opened, revealing… a smaller box inside.

Song Wenzhou: “…”

Russian dolls never go out of style.

However, there wasn’t just one small box. Each box had a sticky note on it. Song Wenzhou took the topmost one, which had the label “For Uncle.”

That was thoughtful, Song Wenzhou thought.

He placed the gift for his father aside and noticed that the next several boxes all had different notes on them: “For you,” “Handsome me,” “A warm and tummy-friendly gift”…

It was all so messy. Song Wenzhou could understand every word, but he had no idea what was inside the boxes.

The second-to-last box had a label that said “For Aunt,” so Song Wenzhou placed it beside the gift for his father. The rest of the items were packed back into the large box, and he bent down to pick it up, carrying it into the room.

All the test papers on his desk were swept aside as Song Wenzhou set the small boxes one by one on the desk, humming a song as he slowly began to open them.

“Warm and tummy-friendly,” the ugly custom thermos mug. Song Wenzhou suspected that the design on it was drawn by Mu Chi himself, and it was… really ugly.

“Handsome me,” the name gave Song Wenzhou a rough idea of what was inside. When he opened it, sure enough, there were about ten photos of Mu Chi.

Very good, Song Wenzhou nodded, it was just Mu Chi’s usual narcissistic style.

Song Wenzhou flipped through the photos one by one. In each picture, Mu Chi seemed to be trying to create an impression of being caught candidly, but it was clear that they were all staged, with no trace of authenticity.

He didn’t know how long Mu Chi had planned to send these photos, but the timeline seemed to go back to when he had just arrived in the UK. There were photos of him studying, doing things with his parents, and traveling.

The photos were mostly carefully selected by Mu Chi, because in every single one, his natural curls obediently curled in the same direction.

Mu Chi had a mysterious obsession with his hair.

When Song Wenzhou reached the last photo, he paused. On the left side of the picture, there was the side profile of a blonde boy, waving at Mu Chi.

Song Wenzhou only glanced at it before putting the photo down and picking up another box to open.

“Something I want to tell you,” this was the most unexpected gift for Song Wenzhou. Inside the box was a voice recorder.

Curiously, Song Wenzhou picked it up, but before he could press the play button, a tiny piece of paper fell out of the recorder.

He picked up the paper and unfolded it, reading: “Don’t listen.”

Song Wenzhou: “…What the hell.”

Should he listen to it or not?

He pouted, took out his phone, and snapped a photo of the two sentences, sending them to Mu Chi with a question mark.

Remembering that Mu Chi was still probably asleep, he tossed his phone aside after sending the message, holding the voice recorder in his hand. He hesitated for half a minute but ultimately resisted his curiosity and didn’t listen to it.

However, Song Wenzhou couldn’t focus with the matter on his mind, so he kept unlocking his phone every few minutes, repeatedly adjusting the volume of the message notifications, afraid he might miss the message.

Even his beloved math test papers lost their appeal.

After what seemed like the hundredth time he looked at his phone, it finally rang with the notification sound for a new WeChat message. Song Wenzhou eagerly threw his pen aside.

Mu Chi had sent him a voice message: “Good morning, I’m awake. Ah—”

His voice was hoarse and lazy from just waking up, followed by a long yawn.

Song Wenzhou responded with a single word.

【Song Wenzhou: Morning】

The moment the message was sent, a voice chat popped up, and Mu Chi’s profile picture and nickname appeared at the top of the screen.

“Morning, Zhouzhou,” Mu Chi asked with a smile in his voice, “Did you get the stuff?”

“Yeah.” Song Wenzhou answered, but all that came out was a breathy sound.

He hadn’t spoken all morning, and with his throat still feeling uncomfortable from when he woke up, it felt like his throat had a draft.

“Hm?”

Song Wenzhou coughed lightly twice to shake off the initial discomfort and replied, “I got it.”

Mu Chi, on the other end of the call, furrowed his brows, putting away his lazy posture, and asked with concern, “Are you coming down with a cold?”

“No,” Song Wenzhou said softly, “It’s just my throat… it’s a little hoarse.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Mu Chi hung up. Still a bit confused, Song Wenzhou was about to process what had just happened when Mu Chi called back, but this time it was a video call instead of a voice call.

Song Wenzhou licked his dry lips and, with a slight hesitation, tapped to answer the call.

The first thing he saw was a messy head of hair. After the screen wobbled for a couple of seconds, Mu Chi’s face came fully into view.

Mu Chi was leaning back against the headboard, his brows furrowed as he stared at Song Wenzhou’s face. He said unhappily, “You’re still saying you’re fine? Why is your face so pale?”

Song Wenzhou pursed his lips and didn’t respond.

He looked pale because his desk was by the window, where the light was good. And since both his and Mu Chi’s faces appeared on the same screen, he just happened to look a bit paler in comparison.

However, to Mu Chi, this appearance meant something entirely different—“me and my stubbornness.”

“Did you take your temperature?” Mu Chi said sternly. “Have you taken any medicine? Have you seen a doctor?”

Song Wenzhou could hear the concern in his tone.

He lowered his eyelids and softly said, “No.”

“Then go now,” Mu Chi’s gaze was fixed on him, “You should take care of your body.”

Song Wenzhou quickly glanced up at him and then lowered his head again, not saying anything.

Mu Chi was at a loss for words. Seeing Song Wenzhou looking so “weak,” he couldn’t bring himself to be harsh anymore. Instead, he softly coaxed, “If you’re not feeling well, go see a doctor. It’ll get worse if you wait, be good.”

Song Wenzhou secretly smiled to himself and made his tone even more pitiful, “I don’t want to go by myself.”

“But,” Mu Chi sounded frustrated, “But I….”

“It’s fine,” Song Wenzhou pretended to clear his throat, “I’ll be fine after a nap.”

Mu Chi was both anxious and helpless, so he could only try to coax him again: “You were fine before bed last night, and now you’re sick today. That means sleep isn’t enough—you need to take medicine and get an injection.”

However, no matter what he said, Song Wenzhou wouldn’t listen.

The issue of Song Wenzhou “being sick” took priority, and the matter of the voice recorder was completely forgotten by both of them. In the following days, Mu Chi reached out to Song Wenzhou more often, and each time, his first question was, “Have you gotten over your cold?”

Song Wenzhou didn’t say whether he was feeling better or not, but he acted a little tired on the surface, making Mu Chi constantly worry about him, asking every now and then.

Days passed, and with the Chinese New Year approaching, Ren Suyi and Song Chenglang took time off for the holidays and spent more time at home.

Two days before the New Year’s Eve, Ren Suyi asked Song Wenzhou to go shopping for New Year’s goods with her. As a result, he couldn’t reply to Mu Chi’s messages in time. To prevent him from worrying, he told Mu Chi that he had fully recovered.

Only then did Mu Chi relax.

On New Year’s Eve, Song Wenzhou received many red envelopes and messages, but unfortunately, Mu Chi, who used to send him the most messages, hadn’t contacted him at all.

He spent a little time with his parents in the living room watching the Spring Festival Gala, but his mind wasn’t on it. He didn’t even remember what was performed, only that he had sent two messages to Mu Chi without getting a reply.

He probably got busy, Song Wenzhou thought.

Mu Chi had told him that even though they were in the UK, his grandmother still celebrated the Chinese New Year according to domestic time every year, and many of Mu Chi’s Chinese business partners would meet up on New Year’s Day to celebrate together.

Perhaps Mu Chi had a lot to do.

At 11:50 in the evening, Song Wenzhou, feeling tired and distracted, went back to his room.

There were numerous group messages with New Year’s wishes on his phone. He boredly sat on his bed and forwarded one of them.

After sending it out, he quickly received several replies from old and new classmates. However, the chat window he had been keeping an eye on remained eerily quiet.

Song Wenzhou’s patience was slowly running out.

At 11:58 PM, Mu Chi, who had been absent for most of the day, finally returned to Earth and sent Song Wenzhou a video call.

Song Wenzhou was displeased in his heart, but he waited half a minute for the phone to ring before answering it in a deliberately indifferent manner.

“Why did you pick up so slowly, Zhouzhou?” Mu Chi asked anxiously.

Song Wenzhou snorted inwardly, playing the victim first!

Mu Chi continued his complaints: “I thought you didn’t hear it, and if you waited any longer, it would be past midnight.”

Well, if it was past, then it was past. What’s the big deal?

The sky on Mu Chi’s side hadn’t completely darkened, he was outside, the sky was a deep blue, and Mu Chi stood in front of a natural backdrop, dressed in a suit with a bowtie, his hair carefully styled.

He looked like he had just come from some grand occasion.

Mu Chi asked the silent Song Wenzhou, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Song Wenzhou replied, “I don’t have anything to say.”

“You don’t, but I do,” Mu Chi nervously swallowed, “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Song Wenzhou blinked. “Go ahead and say it.”

Mu Chi stared directly at him, and he didn’t back down, staring right back. The two of them silently gazed at each other for nearly a minute, until the stroke of midnight.

“Suddenly I don’t want to say it anymore,” Mu Chi laughed, “I want to say it to your face when I get back.”