The morning after Cen Wei woke up, he carefully examined the house. Even though it lacked much liveliness, it still gave off a sense of being frozen in time. It felt like Chu Lai himself was stubbornly keeping himself trapped in the past. When Cen Wei embraced Chu Lai and kissed him, it became clear that Chu Lai’s desire for affection still outweighed his desire to take things further.

In the storage room, Cen Wei found some tools typically used by carpenters. Remembering what the elderly lady from the neighborhood had mentioned, he confirmed that these belonged to Chu Lai’s father.

After finishing breakfast, Chu Lai still seemed a bit sluggish. It had been a long time since he’d gone through anything like this, and maybe it was also due to Cen Wei’s gentleness being at a near-scam level when it came to that kind of thing. Even though sleep had restored some of his energy, Chu Lai’s responses were still slow. He stared blankly as Cen Wei walked toward the door and asked, “Where are you going?”

Cen Wei replied, “Taking out the trash.”

Chu Lai let out a faint “Oh.” Then Cen Wei cautiously asked, “Can I open the toolbox in the storage room?”

He wasn’t exactly being overly careful and added, “That should be your dad’s, right?”

Chu Lai nodded, “Feel free to look.”

After finishing his meal, he popped a mint into his mouth. The fatigue weighed so heavily on him that even keeping his eyes open felt like a struggle. He didn’t even feel like playing on his phone and headed back to sleep.

Not long after, with Chu Lai’s phone still on silent, Grandma Hong called Cen Wei, asking, “Where did you and Lai Lai go? Are you not coming back home for dinner tonight?”

In the background, Cen Jiansun’s voice could be heard: “It’s fine if the two lovebirds don’t come back, let them enjoy themselves!”

Grandma Hong snapped back, “Take your medicine and live a few more years so the whole family can go on a vacation together.”

Cen Jiansun chuckled awkwardly.

Cen Wei answered, “We’re at the house Lai Lai used to live in. We might come back later tonight.”

Grandma let out a soft “Hmm.” She was quite pleased with the wedding. Apparently, many people had mentioned yesterday that Chu Lai looked too skinny. She added, “You and Lai Lai should stay at home more often. He’s really too thin, so make sure to nourish him well.”

“And you, too! You’re always so busy and never home. Work is important, but your health is more important. Don’t be like your grandpa.”

Cen Jiansun couldn’t resist chiming in: “I’ve already lived a long life!”

Cen Wei smiled and replied, “I will. I’ll talk to Lai Lai about it once he wakes up.”

Grandma asked, “He’s still asleep?”

“Yeah, he had breakfast and went back to sleep,” Cen Wei explained. He added, trying to cover up, “He just really likes to sleep.”

The elderly lady immediately caught on, chuckling, “Don’t bully him too much. You’re together now, you need to treat him well.”

“I will,” Cen Wei assured her.

Chu Lai slept soundly, even dreaming sweetly, and in his dream, he saw his father. When he was little, his father loved playing with wood, as carpentry was a craftsman’s trade, unlike the big business world.

Yu Ruimei had married Chu Lai’s father out of true love, and after their marriage, they worked hard together to make a living. Life was pretty decent, but she didn’t want their son to follow in his father’s footsteps as a carpenter. Carpentry was a rough trade, and whenever little Chu Lai picked up a saw, Yu Ruimei would scream in fear that he might get hurt. Meanwhile, the man sitting nearby would scold them, saying, “How could you let a toddler play with something so dangerous?”

Chu Lai’s father would smile and say, “He likes it. I’m watching him.”

His father’s job involved making custom furniture, and sometimes, when he had an out-of-town job, he’d be gone for several days. Chu Lai had once gone with him to do house renovations, seeing rooms filled with wardrobes.

Woodcarving was his father’s hobby, and there was still a row of small wooden animal carvings on the windowsill in Chu Lai’s room, all made by his father.

While Yu Ruimei hoped for Chu Lai to excel academically, get into a prestigious university, and land a stable job, his father only asked if he liked what he was doing.

Chu Lai had forgotten if he had ever said he liked it.

Perhaps because Yu Ruimei had repeated countless times that you couldn’t survive on “liking” alone, his father stopped pushing the subject. Weekends for father and son meant sitting side by side, with Chu Lai watching his dad carve wood.

Sometimes, Chu Lai would try his hand at it, from rough beginnings to finished products. He even enjoyed carving patterns into bamboo, turning bamboo tubes into chopstick holders. Despite her concerns, Yu Ruimei secretly loved them and always reminded Chu Lai not to get hurt.

After his father passed away, with the main source of income gone, Chu Lai also lost those moments. He sealed away all the tools and didn’t even open them when gifting a willow woodcarving to Liu Yuan; he used new tools instead.

The things stored in the cluttered room were too special, so Chu Lai allowed Cen Wei to open it, just like he allowed their relationship to go deeper. It wasn’t just a physical connection but also an opening to the future that Chu Lai had kept hidden in his heart. He hoped their feelings could grow even stronger.

In Cen Wei’s workshop, there were also carpenters, and when he saw the intricate small wooden carvings in the storage room, he realized they were no less impressive than the ones made by the craftsmen he had hired for his handcrafted umbrellas.

This wasn’t a field where mass production was possible. It was all about brand value. Cen Wei’s reform plan was ongoing, and he had always hoped to carry on the legacy of his ancestors’ craftsmanship.

Each wooden carving had engravings on them. Some were made by Chu Lai’s father, and others were made by Chu Lai himself.

Chu Lai’s father’s carvings were marked with neat, square characters, while Chu Lai’s laziness was evident even as a child—he had used pinyin, probably because he thought his name was too difficult to engrave.

Thinking about the gift Liu Yuan had mentioned before, and looking at how much of the past had been sealed away in Chu Lai’s storage room, Cen Wei guessed even Shen Quanzhang probably didn’t know about Chu Lai’s woodworking skills.

Yet Liu Yuan had received a one-of-a-kind handmade gift, which naturally made Cen Wei jealous.

He scanned a few photos and, while waiting for Chu Lai to wake up, tried his hand at replicating one of Chu Lai’s father’s works. However, his skills were lacking, and the umbrellas he made didn’t involve intricate carving, so he failed.

The team leader who had worked overtime yesterday sent him an email. Deciding not to leave, Cen Wei sat down and handled some work there.

By the time Chu Lai woke up again, it was already evening.

Yesterday’s heavy snow had cleared, and the smell of stir-fried food from the neighbors had drifted in. Chu Lai opened the door, washed his face, and saw Cen Wei sitting on the sofa, playing with his phone.

On the coffee table, there was a misshapen object. Chu Lai asked, “What did you do?”

Cen Wei’s hands were covered in bandages, and he replied in frustration, “I failed. I hope Teacher Chu has time to teach me.”

It was cold inside too, so Chu Lai put on a heavy coat, walked over to check on Cen Wei’s hand, and then examined the result of his day’s work.

After looking at it for a long while, Chu Lai asked, “What kind of animal is this?”

“It’s a person,” replied Cen Wei.

Chu Lai went silent. Cen Wei turned his face away. “I’m really useless, aren’t I?”

For someone like him to say something like that had quite an impact. Wrapped in a thick coat, his frustration was evident. Chu Lai lifted his face gently and said, “Of course you can’t be perfect the first time.”

“Is that really what you think?” Cen Wei asked, pausing. “So, when you said you felt good, were you lying?”

The topic shifted too quickly, and he pulled Chu Lai into his arms before the latter could even react. Realizing what he was asking, Chu Lai couldn’t help but laugh. “You care about that so much?”

“Of course I care,” nodded Cen Wei.

Chu Lai, still rubbing his sore neck, replied, “I’m not that good of an actor. It still hurts when I talk, thanks to you.”

Cen Wei reached out and touched Chu Lai’s Adam’s apple, and Chu Lai let him. He leaned against Cen Wei’s chest, closing his eyes, and listened to his heartbeat.

The heartbeat of the man holding him asked, “Can I have a gift that’s even better than Liu Yuan’s woodcarving?”

In a low voice, he added, “It’s not about comparing.”

His voice was deep, and his chest vibrated slightly when he spoke. The awkward explanation made Chu Lai laugh, unable to hold it in.

Cen Wei insisted again, “I just…”

Having grown up in a well-off family and basically getting whatever he wanted, Mr. Cen was asking for something for the first time. Lacking the skill, he only ended up making the person in his arms laugh softly.

“You’re just jealous,” Chu Lai teased.

“I’m not,” Cen Wei denied.

He had worked on wooden umbrellas with his grandfather, but when it came to carving and decoration, his skills were far inferior to his experienced grandfather.

After a few seconds, Cen Wei gave up his struggle and nodded, “Okay, I am.”

Chu Lai replied, “But you haven’t even seen the finished product of Liu Yuan’s carving.”

“I saw it on his Moments,” said Cen Wei.

Chu Lai wrapped his arms around his waist, burying himself in his chest like a child, forcing Cen Wei to collapse onto the sofa. Chu Lai asked, “When did you add him on WeChat?”

“A few days ago, to get some information,” Cen Wei replied.

“Couldn’t you ask me instead?”

“How could I just ask directly? He was showing off the gift you gave him, practically asking if I had one.”

The sofa was old, and if it weren’t covered by a sheet, it would have looked terribly worn, with bits of leather peeling off—small marks left by the passing of time.

Cen Wei sighed, “Your friend was really showing off to me.”

Holding Chu Lai, he rubbed his chin against the top of his head, like he was reporting a grievance. Chu Lai chuckled, “Liu Yuan is a good friend of mine.”

“And before university?”

Chu Lai closed his eyes, speaking while listening to Cen Wei’s heartbeat. “Friends? I didn’t have any friends.”

“I liked being alone.”

Cen Wei gave a simple “Oh” in response. “So he has a reason to be so proud.”

“Liu Yuan’s just too friendly,” Chu Lai said, thinking back to how they were assigned dorms in college. “He was too kind to me. I stayed at school during the holidays, and he always brought me food.”

“So you can’t resist when someone’s a bit proactive toward you, huh?” teased Cen Wei.

Thinking of Shen Quanzhang and how Liu Yuan had mentioned that Chu Lai had chosen someone who wasn’t particularly outstanding among the people pursuing him, it made Cen Wei wonder if Chu Lai was just too soft-hearted and didn’t know how to reject people. Had Shen Quanzhang’s average appearance been what secured his spot?

Chu Lai quickly refuted, “Of course not. It’s just hard to say no to food.”

“So love doesn’t necessarily follow a first-come, first-served basis. It’s more about…”

He paused for a while, struggling to find the right word, and finally blurted out, “Fate.”

“You don’t seem like someone who believes in that.”

It was almost dark outside, and Chu Lai loved this time of day the most. It was the time between dusk and night, the time when he used to go home for dinner as a child. If his father wasn’t busy, he would pick him up from school.

His parents took turns cooking. Sometimes, they would buy a fish from the market on their way home. Yu Ruimei would complain about the hassle of preparing fish, but she’d still go ahead and make the marinade. Chu Lai would sit in his room, supposedly doing homework, but secretly hiding a comic under his workbook, ready to stash it away at the sound of the door opening.

If it was his father who opened the door, there was no need to worry about getting caught. If it was his mother, though, he’d have to come up with an excuse, especially since the rental shop would charge an extra yuan if he didn’t finish reading the book on time.

Occasionally, in his chats with Liu Yuan, they’d reminisce about the past. Liu Yuan would say how growing up was better because you could earn your own money and spend it however you liked. Asking your parents for money was such a hassle.

But Chu Lai still preferred his childhood. Back then, both his parents were there, and he had a home—not just a cold, lifeless house.

Now, he rested against the man who had become something else to him. Outside the window, the sky was growing darker, but the snow on the rooftop across the street still hadn’t melted, reflecting some light.

Cen Wei took Chu Lai’s hand, their fingers interlocked in a quiet activity. They held tight, then released, and interlocked again.

It was a bit like the rhythm of how Cen Wei moved deep inside Chu Lai, slow like a deliberate grind, fast like a devouring force. Chu Lai patted his hand and said, “I do believe in it. I even draw my fortune in the game every day.”

With a low hum, the tail of Cen Wei’s reply stretched a little, carrying a hint of lingering affection. “And what’s your fortune for today?”

Suddenly sitting up straight, Chu Lai exclaimed, “You reminded me! I can’t miss today’s draw.”

Amused, Cen Wei shook his head, realizing that his attempt to ask for a personal woodcarving gift from his “wife” had instead prompted Chu Lai to remember his game.

The man who had just been complaining about feeling sore seemed perfectly fine now, deciding to head home while still looking at his phone.

The elderly lady that Cen Wei had seen in the morning passed by, pushing her bicycle. She greeted Chu Lai, and Cen Wei stood off to the side, watching Chu Lai awkwardly make small talk. The elderly woman managed to talk about everything from Chu Lai’s father to his remarried mother, finally resting her gaze on Cen Wei and marveling, “In the blink of an eye, you’re married. And such a handsome one too.”

Chu Lai responded with a simple “Mm,” tugging on Cen Wei’s coat from behind, signaling for him to hurry up and leave.

In the end, it was Cen Wei who quickly bid the lady goodbye and whisked Chu Lai away. As they got into the car, Chu Lai buckled his seatbelt and rattled off a series of numbers.

“What?” asked Cen Wei.

“The code for the house. I forgot to have you register your fingerprint. Next time.”

Listening to the car’s music, Cen Wei nodded slightly.

From the corner of his eye, Chu Lai noticed the man’s tight jawline, looking a bit unhappy. He remembered what Cen Wei had asked earlier and glanced at the bandage on his left index finger, still visible as he gripped the steering wheel.

“What kind of woodcarving do you want?” Chu Lai asked.

“Huh?” replied Cen Wei.

“A woodcarving,” Chu Lai repeated. “Just to let you know, I haven’t done this in a long time, and my stuff doesn’t look as good as my dad’s. The one I gave to Liu Yuan was a lucky fluke.”

Cen Wei nodded. “Can’t you make a lucky fluke for me?”

Chu Lai was certain, “No, you can’t force it.”

He was so honest that even saying sweet nothings was a struggle. “Anything is fine,” Cen Wei insisted.

Then, in the next second, he asked, “Did your ex-boyfriend know you could do this?”

Chu Lai thought back to his childish comparisons earlier in bed, unsure if he had truly felt comfortable or not.

In that area, it was hard to explain. Cen Wei was considerate, but after a while, he took control of everything, to the point where Chu Lai didn’t need to guide him. He knew all of Chu Lai’s sensitive spots as if he had always known.

Chu Lai shook his head, “Only my husband knows.”

After he said it, he chuckled, clearly recalling the conversation earlier that morning with the neighbor.

“Really?” asked Cen Wei.

“Who else would?” replied Chu Lai.

As the car drove back toward the Cen family’s home, Chu Lai glanced at the old neighborhood in the rearview mirror. His father’s toolbox was in the back seat, along with some unfinished wooden carvings.

The dusty storage room had been opened, and someone had finally unlocked that door in his heart, choosing to share all the sweetness, bitterness, and sorrows of his life with another person. But once that person started loving, they loved deeply and earnestly.

As they drove onto the overpass, Cen Wei replied to his mother’s urging in the group chat. The next second, someone leaned over, placing a kiss on his cheek, like a drop of melted snow on a potted plant.

But it wasn’t cold at all.

He heard the person next to him say, “You’re special.”

The man driving was clearly overjoyed, even though his ears were red. Still, he tried to act serious, reminding, “No kissing while driving.”

Chu Lai responded with a playful “Oh,” and said, “Then I guess it’s just a one-sided kiss.”

Cen Wei couldn’t help but ask, “Can we continue tonight?”

“No way. I don’t want to end up in the hospital because of this,” Chu Lai replied. “Can’t you be a little nicer to me?”

For a long moment, Cen Wei didn’t say anything. Then Chu Lai added thoughtfully, “Once.”