Chapter 83 Go Find Your Daddy

Chapter 83: Go Find Your Daddy

When Shi Zai finally found him, he was torn between exasperated laughter and a pang of heartache.

In the children's bedroom.

Under the faint moonlight, a tall, long-legged man was propped against a small bed. Too long for it, his legs from the knees down rested on a small cabinet at the foot. One hand dangled off the bed, while the other was held before his eyes, clutching something. One glance was all it took for Shi Zai to recognize it.

It was the little rabbit plush that Wang Wang had slept with every day until he was two, and which Zhaozhao had then clung to for another two years.

It was very, very old. The house was full of plush toys, but the two brothers had always insisted on sleeping with this one. Shi Zai had thought it had long been discarded, along with the truckloads of old toys they had outgrown. However, while searching for something on the third floor one day, Shi Zai had stumbled upon an entire room filled with toys—both familiar and unfamiliar—including this little yellow rabbit. He had no idea when Shu Yangkuo had stored them away in that room.

Nor did he know when the rabbit had made its way back downstairs.

Cracking the door open just enough to peer through, Shi Zai had intended to joke, "What, does big brother want to be a kid again?" But the words died in his throat. The tall man lying on the bed looked devastatingly lonely and distressed. Suddenly, he shifted, lifting the hand that had been hanging down to press against his forehead or eyes. His other hand clutched the rabbit tightly, slowly bringing it to his chest and holding it close.

Just as Shi Zai was about to call out softly, the man’s hand loosened its grip on the rabbit and gave it a gentle pat.

Instantly, Shi Zai’s eyes welled up with tears. By the second pat, they were streaming down his face. His voice choked to nearly a whisper as he cried, "Ge—" (big brother), then he pushed the door open and rushed over. Through tear-blurred vision, he saw the man sit up abruptly, trying to hide the rabbit but failing in his haste—it fell to the floor. He quickly snatched it back up, and in that moment, Shi Zai threw himself into his arms.

His face was wet with tears.

Shu Yangkuo’s chest burned with sudden warmth, and somehow felt fuller.

After a moment of surprise, Shu Yangkuo paused, composing himself almost imperceptibly, then gently set the rabbit aside. He wrapped both arms tightly around the person in his embrace, leaning back against the wall as he looked down at the top of Shi Zai’s head. Soft sobs reached his ears, and he tried to ease the tight knot in his chest.

"Ge… ge was just… checking what still needed arranging in here. I was a bit tired… so I lay down for a bit."

"……"

After crying quietly for a while longer, Shi Zai wiped his tears and looked up. All the angry words he had wanted to say were swallowed back. Instead, he cradled Shu Yangkuo’s face and kissed him—from his slightly damp eyelashes to his lips and chin. He already understood: this man had been feeling this underlying loneliness for a while now.

In that moment, Shi Zai felt it resonate deep within himself, and it broke his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to criticize him any further.

He took a deep breath, made Shu Yangkuo look him in the eyes, and gently brought his pain into the open.

"Ge, Wang Wang and Zhaozhao are because…"

"Darling!"

Shu Yangkuo interrupted a bit loudly, then apologetically kissed Shi Zai’s large eyes and shook his head.

"Darling, you don’t need to say it. Ge understands. Well… tomorrow at noon… let’s go eat…"

"Ge, why do you have to keep it all bottled up?"

His voice thick with tears, Shi Zai buried his face against Shu Yangkuo, then looked up again.

"Ge, how many times have you secretly come to their room by yourself?"

"……"

"What can’t you tell me? Why be so prideful in front of your wife and sons… Ge, why did you sneak into their room alone? Why were you holding their rabbit? Why…"

Before he could finish, Shu Yangkuo pulled him even tighter into his arms, squeezing so hard his back and waist ached.

Shu Yangkuo closed his eyes, lowered his head, and after calming himself slightly, said with difficulty:

"Ge really can’t say, darling. Since you know, please don’t ask. It’s nothing. It’ll pass soon enough."

"…Ge, tell me, please. I'm begging you."

"Ge is a grown man. How can I… No, really, don’t ask. Ge is begging you too—don’t force me to talk about it."

Hearing this, Shi Zai began to weep softly again, unable to stop. His heart ached just as much.

Why wouldn’t he talk about it? Sharing would at least make it easier to bear. They could figure out what to do next, together.

The sound of his wife crying made Shu Yangkuo’s heart clench with each sob. No matter how he kissed or softly comforted him, Shi Zai wouldn’t stop. Shu Yangkuo grew anxious—he never meant to make his wife suffer like this… He had planned to leave in five minutes, never expecting the two little ones to fall asleep so quickly tonight… He cupped Shi Zai’s face, kissing away his tears over and over, but they flowed endlessly.

Shu Yangkuo clenched his fist hard, bit his own arm, and then, pressing close to Shi Zai’s ear, blurted out in desperation:

"What does darling want to hear from ge? That Wang Wang said, ‘I want Daddy to put me to sleep, not Father’? Or that Zhaozhao pushed me away with a stern little face… That the two little ones I held for so long don’t want ge anymore? Or that ge waits until you’re all asleep night after night and sneaks out… That ge feels superfluous? Or…"

There was more, but he couldn’t continue.

Shi Zai blinked through his eyes streaming with tears, his shoulders suddenly heavy. A low, muffled, ragged breath reached his ears. It was very low, but clearly full of pain.

Trying his best to wrap his arms around the man’s broad shoulders and back from behind, Shi Zai patted him gently. Even though he'd suspected as much, hearing Shu Yangkuo voice his pain out loud made Shi Zai’s heart ache even more. He even felt a bit at a loss.

The two little ones… weren’t just children; everyone was the same, sharing the same nature—unconsciously choosing what was better.

Before they turned two, they needed round-the-clock companionship, careful nurturing, gentle soothing… As they grew older, they needed more playfulness, interaction, and conversation… Shi Zai couldn’t provide 24-hour care before they turned two due to work… Shu Yangkuo’s nature made it hard for him to play and laugh with them when they needed it… Gradually, Shi Zai, who was playful, lively, and talkative, naturally became their favorite—both Daddy and their best, closest playmate. In comparison, the more reserved Father seemed boring. They now preferred running around on the ground to explore the world, rather than learning about it from Father’s arms.

To put it bluntly, for the little ones at this stage, they needed Daddy’s new contributions more.

It wasn’t that the children had no feelings for Father—that was impossible, after nearly two years of being held by him. But one unfair aspect was that children’s memories before three or four are fuzzy. They enjoyed the sense of security and stability from the warm embraces but didn’t remember whether it was Father or Daddy who provided it. If, over time, the children continued to only play with Daddy and share their little thoughts only with him, then the memories of Father holding them for two years might truly fade away. In the end, it would seem as though Daddy had given everything.

It wasn’t that Shu Yangkuo didn’t want to be involved. Just as when they were younger and only wanted "Father," Shi Zai had thought the little ones knew how to pick—now the man felt jealous, hurt, lonely, even heartbroken. Feeling unneeded by the little ones left him at a loss, unsure how to re-engage. Shi Zai, being more adaptable by nature, had handled it better back then. He knew children go through phases, and since he hadn’t provided constant care, it was natural they needed Father. Now it was different. Sigh. Like the man said, "the two little ones I held for so long don’t want me anymore." Anyone would feel hurt.

If it were up to Shi Zai, if roles were reversed, he would deliberately go up to the children every day and say, "Why don’t you want Daddy? Daddy held you for so long…" But such assumptions were pointless. Everyone had their own nature; Shu Yangkuo wasn’t the type to demand recognition.

—"Ge is a grown man. How can I… in front of my wife and sons…"

That’s what he had said earlier. Sigh. He had to save face in front of his wife and sons. But Shi Zai could understand. Setting aside pride, the sudden feeling of being unneeded was truly painful. After patting the man silently for a long time, Shi Zai turned it over in his mind, then suddenly his eyes lit up—he had an idea! He whispered in Shu Yangkuo’s ear, "Ge, don’t worry, your wife has a plan." The man held him back, telling him not to say anything to the children. Shi Zai chuckled softly. "Don’t worry, I’ll make the two little ones seek out Father on their own. I won’t say anything out of line."

The next evening during playtime, the family of four was on the glass terrace stargazing. The two little ones each had a telescope but didn’t really know how to use them. Usually, Daddy would make up stories about the stars to make it fun. But tonight, Daddy didn’t tell them stories. Instead, he leaned back in a deck chair, cracking sunflower seeds, and paid no attention to their calls. How strange.

Unable to bear the constant cries of "Daddy! Daddy!" any longer, Shi Zai said to Wang Wang with a laugh:

"Go find your Father. He knows more about stars than Daddy does."

"No, Father doesn’t tell stories as well as Daddy."

"…One noon when you weren’t here, Father held your brother and told stories for a long time. Zhaozhao loved it. Ask him if you don’t believe me."

Shi Zai almost said, "It’s you who doesn’t want Father," but afraid of reinforcing Wang Wang’s impression of Father as "quiet," he held back.

But now, Wang Wang seemed a bit competitive about vying for Father's attention over his brother. Shi Zai had deliberately mentioned Father holding Zhaozhao to provoke him gently, to make him seek out Father actively. In the future, let them compete… It’s the same as them competing for Daddy and Father—they need to learn to express their needs actively. It’s not just about parents not playing favorites; children should also learn not to suffer in silence or feel shortchanged. Shi Zai’s eyes lit up again. Right! He didn’t need to mediate everything. He just needed to guide them to speak up so they wouldn’t feel wronged. Over time, they would say, "Brother hit me" or "Little brother hit me," asking for mediation themselves, instead of him having to be constantly vigilant and actively intervene.

Yes, make them speak up and compete. Good. And their role was to accompany and guide—that kind of love would make them strong.

Soon, the tall man, fighting back a smile, came up carrying his eldest son, too embarrassed to look at Shi Zai. Shi Zai secretly smiled—one reason for the recent imbalance was actually himself. He had thought the man couldn’t give long explanations or play actively, and felt that since the man had given so much in the early years, he should take on more now. For various reasons, he had never encouraged the children to seek out Father.

That shouldn’t be the case. He should guide them to Father. Both of them should be indispensable to the children, not divided by roles or years. That was wrong. Once he realized this, Shi Zai felt relieved watching them interact.

The man had prepared astronomy-related knowledge and stories in advance. He talked about the stars with Wang Wang, discussed his recent interest in space exploration, then told Zhaozhao about constellations, suggesting he could draw them as little dog stars or rabbit stars… He spoke softly and slowly, making it interesting. Before long, the two little ones were calling, "Father, come here!" and "Father, tell me!"

From that evening on, "Go to your daddy" became a phrase often on Shi Zai's lips, while "Daddy wants to play with Wang Wang, is that okay?" and "Zhaozhao, teach Daddy how to play, alright?" became two phrases frequently spoken by Shu Yangkuo.

Children's Art Studio.

It had been three minutes since the teacher assigned the pre-class interactive activity: "Kids, what do your family members look like? Please draw them." Zhaozhao had been using colored markers to draw circles, and it was unclear what exactly he was drawing.

Zhaozhao didn't like being disturbed during his free creative time; otherwise, he would frown and say, "No questions," or "No laughing." Shu Yangkuo flipped through his sketchbook for a while. For the first time in over half a year—since he had learned about the child's quirks—he hesitated, then turned his head. Seeing that Zhaozhao had drawn a blue dog poop, he slightly raised the corner of his mouth and asked, "Is that drawing of your brother?" Zhaozhao glanced at Daddy with slight surprise, feeling both a bit unhappy and somewhat embarrassed. His small hand moved, covering the two dog poops he had drawn, and he turned slightly away before continuing to draw a fourth dog poop.

They were red, black, blue, and green respectively.

There was no particular reason—he just felt like drawing them that way today. It seemed he was missing Qiaoqiao a little—Qiaoqiao had been taken on a road trip by Uncle and Second Uncle. How old was he, still competing with him for Qiaoqiao’s attention? Really. Before drawing, he had thought of this, so he drew it.

He didn’t know how to draw Qiaoqiao, only how to draw his poop—Dad had taught him to draw it. Dad only knew how to draw dog poop, cute dog poop.

Without further interruption, Zhaozhao sat up straight and added three more piles next to the four. Scratch, scratch—Zhaozhao couldn’t help but glance sideways. Daddy was actually drawing with him! Daddy used to draw with him, but after he once got upset because Daddy used the green marker he wanted, Daddy stopped drawing. What a petty guy. Now, Zhaozhao moved a little closer, couldn’t hold back a laugh, and quickly covered his mouth. Luckily, Daddy didn’t notice or laugh at him—Daddy was also drawing dog poop, but his were more interesting. Each pile had a different expression: he himself had raised eyebrows and looked cool; Wang Wang had squinting eyes and a big laugh; Dad had blinking eyes and a stuck-out tongue; and Daddy—hahaha, Daddy was actually crying! Today, Daddy was a bit different, quite cute.

As for Daddy in the past—how should he put it? Zhaozhao calmly continued watching Daddy draw the remaining three piles, thinking to himself that Daddy in the past wasn’t "strict" or "intimidating" as Sheng Sheng described. In his view, Daddy was very gentle with him, but often made him feel—when he was unhappy and didn’t want to talk, Daddy would also fall silent, as if dealing with an unreasonable child by giving him the silent treatment.

He didn’t like that version of Daddy. Dad wouldn't think he was being unreasonable; he would help him express his unhappiness.

Today’s Daddy was much better.

Zhaozhao watched for a while longer. After Daddy finished drawing, he took Daddy’s drawing, smeared one crying poop pile into a black blob, then secretly smiled and returned the drawing to Daddy. Finally, he submitted his own drawing of seven dog poops.

After taking it back, Shu Yangkuo felt a warmth spread through his chest. He stared at the drawing for a moment, then redrew a smiling dog poop over the blacked-out one and gave it back to Zhaozhao. The little one looked at it for a while before tucking it into his sketchbook.

For the rest of the class, Shu Yangkuo’s mind wandered. When it came to Zhaozhao, who, like him, preferred quiet, he had never known how to communicate better. When Zhaozhao didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t even make eye contact, and if you pushed, he'd get mad. If Shi Zai could get six or seven responses out of him with ten sentences, Shu Yangkuo sometimes couldn’t even get one in return. Because of this, Shu Yangkuo had secretly taken him for a check-up, but there were no issues—it was just his nature. After receiving Yan Wei’s diagnosis of "Your son is fine; I think the one with autism is you," Shu Yangkuo stopped worrying about it. Since he was perfectly fine himself, he stopped forcing Zhaozhao to communicate. Who would have thought it would lead to a situation where Zhaozhao not only refused to communicate with him but also pushed him away? Now, it seemed that what Zhaozhao wanted wasn’t a "question-and-answer" interaction.

Not a parent-child relationship—but an equal footing, like the way he interacted with his brother and Dad.

Very much like a little adult.

Much like he'd been himself at three or four years old, disliking being treated like a child. Shu Yangkuo smiled slightly. Fortunately, Zhaozhao also had half of his wife’s genes, so he wasn't as serious as he'd been. If handled properly, Zhaozhao had his own innocence and charm.

After class, Shu Yangkuo took Zhaozhao to the supermarket across the street. This time, he let Zhaozhao choose instead of asking him if he liked something. While crossing the street, Zhaozhao kept looking at the sky. Shu Yangkuo also looked up—a hawk flew far away, and there was a trail left by a passing plane... He thought for a moment and said, "Zhaozhao, how about taking an aerospace class like your brother?" Zhaozhao didn’t respond, still expressionlessly staring at the distant sky. Shu Yangkuo picked him up and asked, "Do you want to fly high?" Zhaozhao paused, then nodded.

Shu Yangkuo hoisted him onto his shoulders. The traffic light turned green, and they crossed the street with the crowd. Suddenly, Zhaozhao said, "Wang Wang won’t like it." Shu Yangkuo gently pinched his calf and said, "He’s your brother." Then he quickly corrected himself, "If Wang Wang doesn’t like it, it might be because you’re taking two classes. But he can also join the art class. How about that?"

It wasn’t until they entered the supermarket that Zhaozhao kicked his feet gently to indicate agreement.

Shu Yangkuo let out a quiet sigh of relief. Fortunately, at two years and four months—he probably forgot that his brother was still in kindergarten. Most children don’t like classes, medicine, or injections. But these two little ones competed for them. When Wang Wang started kindergarten, Zhaozhao was only ten months old and didn’t understand anything. Seeing his brother go to kindergarten, he threw a rare fit, insisting on going too, clinging to the railings and refusing to let go... Eventually, they had no choice but to tell him, "Zhaozhao has his own kindergarten," and took him to the art studio, which calmed him down. Later, when he understood more, he learned that his brother was taking aerospace classes and wanted to join too. But he was too young, and no one would accept him. They had to explain that it was only fair for each to have their own class, and that he could join kindergarten when he turned three. Only then did he relent.

When they were sick, it was best for both to be sick at the same time; otherwise, the one who wasn’t sick would cry until they were bribed with candy.

It wasn’t that he and Shi Zai were pushing their children too hard—it was just that the two little ones were so competitive. Since there was no harm in it, and they could meet their needs, it was fine for them to attend classes at such a young age. As for the future... as long as they didn’t grow to dislike learning, it was okay.

Inside the supermarket, Shu Yangkuo placed Zhaozhao in the shopping cart. Zhaozhao steadied himself with one hand while using the other to pick out snacks he wanted. When choosing for himself, he was much more cautious—he had to select the one he wanted most. Daddy had said not to eat too many snacks, as it wasn’t good for his health, and Daddy didn’t eat them either. Zhaozhao wasn’t particularly greedy—there were plenty of delicious treats at home—but at just over two years old, the colorful wrappers were just too tempting. He couldn’t resist it. If Daddy were choosing, he could control himself, but choosing for himself was really fun. He decided to choose carefully. Besides himself, there were also Dad and his brother to consider.

He wondered what gift his brother would bring him today. Zhaozhao might not necessarily give the chocolate corn bucket to Wang Wang.

That evening, Wang Wang once again brought out the aerospace model to tease his brother. To his surprise, after accepting it, Zhaozhao directly gave him the snack he wanted. Wang Wang, in turn, gave his brother the small biscuit prize he had received at kindergarten. After happily munching away for a while, Wang Wang felt something was off. "Zhaozhao, if it’s like this, Brother has one less gift, and you have two. Brother should have two too, right?" Zhaozhao thought for a moment, then placed the small biscuit and the airplane model in front of him, letting his brother choose one... Wang Wang pouted slightly. The biscuit was something he had intended to give to his brother anyway, but the airplane model... his brother had asked for it for the first time, and he was really happy about it. He didn’t want to take it back.

After thinking it over for a while, Wang Wang cheered up again. "Zhaozhao, next time you have to give Brother an extra gift. Because Brother likes to give you two, you should do the same for Brother. Otherwise, Brother will be unhappy. Understand?" Zhaozhao hesitated, then said, "Okay." As soon as he spoke, his brother hugged him tightly, shaking him so much that he felt uncomfortable. Zhaozhao quietly moved away a little.

While snacking, Daddy and Dad returned from dinner at the restaurant. Zhaozhao brought out the snacks he had for them. For Dad, he had coconut chips—which Dad didn’t like much. For Daddy... he had strawberry-flavored crispy-filled balls, sour and sweet, soft and fluffy, with a fragrant taste in the mouth. Zhaozhao licked his lips and handed them to Daddy. Daddy probably wouldn’t like them.

Shu Yangkuo took them, paused for a moment, and noticed both little ones staring at him. He handed the snack back to Zhaozhao and said, "You eat it." Zhaozhao immediately shook his head. Then, Wang Wang chimed in, "Little Brother already has one snack, and he even got an extra model!" Zhaozhao nodded and said, "This is for Daddy." Shu Yangkuo looked at them for a moment, tore open the package, and put one in his mouth.

Shi Zai, who had been watching in astonishment, coughed abruptly:

"Ahem, ahem... Shu Yangkuo, how can you have the nerve to take snacks from a child!"

"...I didn’t take it."

"Oh, so how did you trick Zhaozhao into buying it for you? You glutton!"

"......"

Shu Yangkuo fell silent. He had only eaten one, afraid that if he didn’t, Zhaozhao would be upset and think he was teasing him. Without explaining further, he divided the remaining crispy-filled balls equally into two small bags, telling them they could have them tomorrow. He also promised Wang Wang that he would buy his favorite snack next time for them to share. The two little ones, while munching on their current snacks, tightly clutched the extra bags.

Nearby, Shi Zai burst into laughter. This was really amusing.

After clearing the air, with his help and Shu Yangkuo’s own efforts, the latter was gradually learning to let go of his pride and interact with Wang Wang and Zhaozhao as equals. The two little ones were starting to like Daddy again, but seeing Shu Yangkuo like this was such a contrast—it was hilarious.

After turning two, children prefer playmates over authoritative parenting. They learn new things through equal interaction. Previously, Shu Yangkuo had always felt he needed to care for them more as a father, which made the children find him boring. Shi Zai couldn’t help but laugh at the image of the man expressionlessly eating snacks—it was like a lion eating strawberries, visually hilarious!

Crooking his finger, Shi Zai stood on his tiptoes as soon as they entered the bedroom, kissed him, and even swirled his tongue inside the man’s mouth:

"Mmm, not bad. Our Yang Kuo baby is strawberry-flavored today, hahahahaha..."