Chapter 75 Confession of My Gift

Chapter 75: A Confession Belonging to My Gift

The peach vinegar wasn't very sour, with a faint, subtle sweetness.

Shen Ci loved the taste, but Shen Shiyan didn't even take a sip.

That night, Shen Ci thought about it and decided to knock on Shen Shiyan's door, but got the same response. This left him frustrated and pissed off. Standing by the bed, staring at that familiar, blank face, he scowled and reached into Shen Shiyan's suit pocket, pulling out a chocolate he'd snuck in during dinner and the gold foil paper folded into a heart.

Even though Shen Shiyan had given them to him, in Shen Ci's mind, he had the final say on where those three chocolates went.

He'd been generous enough to give one to his favorite d-ddy.

Now, he didn't want to.

Shen Ci's moodiness lasted from when he got back until a week after school started.

"Still mad?" Shen Shiyan, as if giving in, leaned against the car at the school gate at six, watching Shen Ci open the back door.

Shen Ci leaned forward, puffed his cheeks, and fought back a smile.

On the back seat was a limited-edition skateboard he'd been wanting.

Shen Ci cleared his throat, slid out from under Shen Shiyan's hand, which was shielding the car roof so he wouldn't hit his head, stood up straight, and tilted his head. "D-ddy, are you trying to win me over?"

Shen Shiyan straightened up, pulled his hand back, and said nothing—which was as good as a yes.

"Fine then." Shen Ci looked reluctant, then graciously opened the passenger door, which he hadn't touched since coming back. "I'm over it."

Shen Shiyan grunted, walked around to the driver's seat, and started the car. "What do you wanna eat?"

"Let's eat at home, I don't wanna go out." Shen Ci buckled up and eagerly pulled out his phone, scrolling to his chat with Fang Yuexun to show Shen Shiyan. "I barely talked to him, just said two things to be polite."

One was replying to Fang Yuexun joking that Shen Shiyan seemed hard to get along with.

"Shen Ci: My d-ddy's great."

The other was replying to Fang Yuexun's follow-up—"Really?"

"Shen Ci: For real."

Both were about Shen Shiyan.

Shen Ci stressed the word "polite."

It was like he couldn't let this go. Shen Shiyan sighed quietly, catching Shen Ci's expression out of the corner of his eye—like he was waiting for a compliment.

Since coming back from Yitai Si, everything was the same, but Shen Ci's little moods showed up everywhere. Like messing up the two pairs of slippers that were always together by the door before leaving, Shen Shiyan's would usually end up pitifully tossed in a corner of the living room. Or during meals, he'd sit at the far diagonal of the six-person table, even if he had to stretch to grab food. Or he'd draw ugly cartoons in Shen Shiyan's meeting notebook.

Shen Shiyan never felt annoyed or mad seeing these; he just found them cute.

He firmly believed that how someone expresses emotions is the best sign of whether they've been well taken care of.

From cautiously testing the waters at eleven to schemingly acting cute, and now showing all his emotions, even turning the tables and getting mad at him.

The slippers were always put back neatly, the dishes were pushed toward Shen Ci, and the drawings were kept.

He'd planned to use this chance to hide his feelings, but Shen Shiyan couldn't help making up with Shen Ci. Nothing else seemed to matter, but when Shen Ci was mad, he barely talked to him. He wasn't as cold as Shen Ci; he couldn't take it.

This realization made it even harder for him to get out of the whirlpool.

Living together and being raised by him were two completely different things.

To Shen Shiyan, Shen Ci wasn't just his life; every trace of their life together was carved into his bones, and losing even a bit felt like being cut open.

Shen Shiyan looked at the road ahead. It should've been rush hour, but he got green lights the whole way.

"Mm," he nodded slightly, turning smoothly at the intersection. "I know."

For a moment, Shen Shiyan dared to think that maybe his worries were unnecessary, that maybe Shen Ci could see him as more than just a father figure.

He suddenly added, "Fang Yuexun likes men."

Shen Ci didn't hear any talk of interference or freedom from him, and his good mood shot up another level. He put away his phone, swung his legs, and said, "Yeah."

Shen Shiyan was a bit surprised by his calm attitude, but given the precedents with Song Xianghan and Gao Mengying, this nonchalance seemed perfectly reasonable.

"What's your relationship now?" Shen Shiyan pursed his lips. "Friends?"

Shen Ci glanced at him. "Not really, just an acquaintance, or someone I know."

As if knowing what Shen Shiyan was about to say next, Shen Ci cut in first, "We'll stop here at most. He's good-looking, and his eyes are pretty, but I don't like the look in them. Still, after coming back, he hasn't said anything crossing the line or making me uncomfortable. Most importantly, Sister Xianghan said his family background is decent, and I'm worried it might cause resentment and bring you trouble, so I haven't deleted his WeChat yet."

Shen Shiyan didn't need Shen Ci to be so understanding.

He opened his mouth to speak but heard Shen Ci add,

"Besides, why do you all keep emphasizing that he likes men? He likes men, but I don't like men. I don't even want to be in a relationship right now."

Although he had barely spoken to Shen Shiyan since returning, on WeChat and at school, Song Qiuchi and the others had already asked him several times about his emotional state and his views on Fang Yuexun. Shen Ci found it baffling and strange.

He thought that a man liking another man wasn't anything unusual, and neither was being liked or pursued himself.

He had the right to choose and refuse.

Besides, Fang Yuexun hadn't even shown any intention of pursuing him yet.

Shen Shiyan swallowed the words he hadn't said.

Doesn't like...

The phrase echoed in his mind—Shen Ci's straightforward and firm declaration. Though it was no surprise, he still felt himself sinking little by little.

"Good mindset," Shen Shiyan parked the car. "No dating before you're an adult."

From this sentence that seemed to sentence his feelings to death, Shen Shiyan barely found a foothold—a reason to keep Shen Ci's heart from wandering for anyone else, to keep it whole and with him for a few more years.

Shen Ci got out of the car, took a few photos of his new skateboard against the evening glow, then smoothly stepped onto it.

"Got it!" As he spoke, he pushed off the ground with one foot, letting the skateboard glide forward steadily. "Studies come first!"

Having already skated some distance, Shen Ci's voice was loud. Shen Shiyan watched his figure shrink, stop, and then turn back to glide toward him. The wind lifted his long hair and billowed into his loose white T-shirt, puffing it up—a spirited, unrestrained youthful posture.

Those sparkling peach-blossom eyes came closer and closer.

Shen Shiyan caught Shen Ci as he stumbled over a small stone after stepping off the board.

In the late summer, the wind and his embrace carried a hint of green apple scent.

Sweet and sour—the taste of an unripe heart.

“Still making rookie mistakes.” Shen Shiyan let him go, his voice flat. “If I weren’t here, you’d have fallen.”

Shen Ci picked up his new skateboard, flashed a smile at Shen Shiyan, and proposed a fair deal: “I can’t date—so, Dad, you can’t disappear either. You have to be there every time—and catch me.”

Though the two conditions were utterly unequal, and Shen Ci had no idea what Shen Shiyan truly meant by forbidding him from dating, Shen Shiyan still smiled and nodded.

When Shen Ci got home, he posted on social media.

It was a photo of his new skateboard, a hand with defined knuckles, and a pinkish-orange sunset.

The caption read eight words: “My gift’s confession.”

Before going to bed, Shen Ci noticed many comments under the post—most asking what “confession” meant.

He wasn’t about to explain.

Shen Ci always had so many quirky ideas.

“Confession” breaks down into “kou” (mouth), “ren” (person radical), and “gong” (together).

He split and reassembled it himself, hinting at a hidden meaning: “Someone is coaxing me.”

Shen Ci turned off his phone and tucked it under his pillow. The room darkened, and he looked at Shen Shiyan—whose eyes were already closed.