Chapter 29 They

Chapter 29: Them

Qian Song wouldn't let Xie Chong go home.

He deliberately sat at the entrance of the private room, pitching a fit: "If you want to leave, fine—over my dead body!"

Xie Chong rolled his eyes and tried to step around him, but Qian Song grabbed his leg and refused to let go.

"Listen!" Qian Song tried to speak, but Xie Chong shut him down: "Shut up."

Qian Song immediately clammed up and obediently followed Xie Chong outside. Once on the street, Xie Chong said while putting on his jacket: "We agreed you wouldn't say anything about my marriage. If you do, we're through."

Xie Chong hated being talked about.

They were all snobs who looked down on people. If they knew about Mou Wen's situation, they'd surely make up all kinds of nasty rumors. He hated that.

"So you're not gonna say anything either?" Qian Song said. "Today's get-together—dinner's at six, and you're leaving at six-thirty. People are definitely gonna ask."

"Tell them something came up at home."

"What?"

"Tell them my hen died." Xie Chong said deadpan.

Qian Song rolled his eyes: "No one's gonna believe that."

"Then that's that. Just say you don't know and tell them to ask me."

Xie Chong was dead set on getting home. No matter what Qian Song said, he wasn't budging. Xie Chong's marriage had freaked Qian Song out too—just the day before, he'd said he wanted to be a free spirit roaming the world alone, and the next day he's got a girlfriend.

The day he said he had a girlfriend was the day before they were supposed to leave on a trip. They'd planned to travel around China and abroad, spending the New Year that way.

The day before they left, they were hanging out at Xie Chong's place. Xie Chong went to the post office to grab a package and opened it right in front of him when he got back. The package was full of treats. When Qian Song saw the milk tablets, he pointed at them all excited: "Th-this... these are the milk tablets you wouldn't let me have!"

He lunged for them, but Xie Chong grabbed the box and ran into the bedroom, locking him out.

Qian Song pounded on the door and cursed Xie Chong out for hogging the snacks, but there wasn't a peep from inside. After a long while, Xie Chong came out looking serious and told Qian Song he had a girlfriend.

Qian Song stood there with his jaw hanging open like an idiot. Huh? What girlfriend? Who? Which girl? Don't tell me you got scammed by some ghost or something? What's going on? Spill it!

Xie Chong remembered every detail of that day. He'd thought it was just a box of snacks until he saw the card inside. Mou Wen had written: I miss you so much, can we be together?

In all his life, Xie Chong had never been confessed to so passionately. He couldn't put into words how he felt—his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might jump out of his throat. At that moment, he didn't even care if what the card said was true. No—he felt it was real. When Mou Wen wrote those words, she meant them with her whole heart. She was really thinking about him.

Then his face went red. He remembered Mou Wen kissing him twice in a row, on her own.

He couldn't say no.

Qian Song was still pounding on the door outside, trying to get his milk tablets: no way!

Xie Chong locked the milk tablets in the safe before opening the door. He didn't want to lie to Qian Song—Qian Song was his only friend. He said to him: "I'm seeing someone. I have a girlfriend."

Qian Song's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. But what shocked him even more was this: a few days after the New Year, Xie Chong suddenly told him he was getting married. Qian Song said, "Bro, you didn't get someone pregnant, did you? No wait—you're not the type." Xie Chong didn't explain. Qian Song just figured he was joking.

The morning before, Xie Chong had texted him: I got my marriage certificate.

Qian Song stared at the message and said "holy shit" like a dozen times, not believing it was real. He called Xie Chong to confirm, and Xie Chong said it was true.

Just like that, his best friend got married.

Qian Song had truly become a "lonely ghost." He wanted Xie Chong to stay with him a little longer, but Xie Chong said: "You should find someone to date and get married too. What's the point of drinking every day?"

Xie Chong didn't like drinking or social gatherings. Those people were all fair-weather friends—when you actually needed them, they'd run faster than anyone. A typical circle of vanity.

Home was different.

The "home" his grandmother talked about building—he hadn't even put much thought into it, and it was already there. In the morning, someone was happily bustling in the kitchen, her eyes curving into crescents the moment she saw him. That was far more interesting than those smoky, chaotic drinking sessions!

Qian Song was angry with Xie Chong.

He'd never truly been angry with Xie Chong before, but this time he was. The two had known each other since childhood—playing in the mud together in the alley in diapers, learning equestrianism together, getting sent to stand in the back of the classroom together... The only thing in Xie Chong's entire life that Qian Song didn't know about was the "wife" he kept mentioning.

Yes, Xie Chong said: "My 'wife' is waiting for me!"

Qian Song thought Xie Chong had been duped.

He kept insisting that Xie Chong had fallen for a "pig-butchering scam"—otherwise, how could someone as sharp as Xie Chong suddenly get married? And he, Qian Song, had never even met the girl.

He'd heard she came from a small fourth-tier city, that she was smart and got into a top university's flagship program on her grades, that she was an intern under the designer who did Xie Chong's renovation... She'd graduated less than a year ago and married Xie Chong, moving from a rental apartment to Wanliu, soaring to the top and living a life most ordinary people might never achieve no matter how hard they worked.

Never mind outsiders—even Qian Song couldn't get past it.

"I'm your best friend, so I have to give you a word of advice: keep your guard up. Watch your money, don't let someone swindle you out of everything. Are there any shortage of con artists in this world?" Qian Song shouted at Xie Chong from the curb: "You're so smart, how can you not see this clearly?"

Xie Chong squinted at Qian Song.

He was angry with Qian Song too.

He knew how others would view his marriage and Mou Wen, but he never expected Qian Song to think that way.

"Do you know what you're saying? We've been friends for so many years—do you really think I'm that muddle-headed?" Xie Chong asked Qian Song calmly.

"You're so clear-headed that you rushed into marriage with a con artist?"

"Shut up! Damn it! Qian Song, is that an appropriate thing to say?" Xie Chong really wanted to land one on Qian Song and knock out all those white teeth of his! He suppressed his temper and turned to leave, but Qian Song chased after him: "You'll have your day of tears! Mark my words!"

Xie Chong spun around abruptly and pointed at Qian Song's face, his expression murderous. If Qian Song said one more word, he might just punch him. His finger pointed at him, and finally he said: "Don't ever come to my house again. You're right—I was scammed, and I did it willingly! That's her home now! Don't come anymore!"

Xie Chong turned and left, got into his car, and saw Qian Song pick up a rock to throw at his car. He missed, and stood there fuming by himself.

Xie Chong didn't want to talk to him.

When he married Mou Wen, he didn't want anyone's blessings, nor did he want to confide in anyone—except Qian Song. He needed Qian Song's blessing because he was his only friend. But Qian Song looked at his marriage with those eyes. Even though he knew Qian Song meant well, he was deeply disappointed.

When he walked through the door, he saw two brand-new pairs of slippers on the doormat. One printed with an orange bob-haired little girl, the other with a blue crew-cut little boy. What terrible taste! Xie Chong thought to himself, but he put them on reluctantly.

He saw three new plant stands in the living room, with over a dozen pots of flowers. Those beautiful flowers were arranged in a staggered display on the stands, swaying their heads at him in the late-spring evening. A breeze blew, carrying the fragrance of the flowers to him. He sniffed—not bad. Not overpowering, quite subtle. He didn't mind it; he kind of liked it.

He heard noise coming from the kitchen and walked toward it. Pushing the door open, he was met with a rich aroma—Mou Wen was stir-frying hotpot base. On the counter beside her were a dozen or so plates of finely arranged meats and vegetables, large and small. The plates were either red-bottomed or red-rimmed, forming a complete set of red.

He gently closed the kitchen door and headed toward the bedroom.

He saw his bed covered with a red dragon-and-phoenix four-piece bedding set. There had almost never been red in Xie Chong's home. He felt that most reds in the world were garish and vulgar, and he disliked vulgar things. But his bed was covered in red. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over it. Fresh.

Now he was wearing matching couple slippers, there were new flowers on the balcony, two pillows side by side on the bed, and a woman busying herself in the kitchen.

This is what home is!

He heard Mou Wen carrying things out and walked out of the bedroom. Mou Wen heard the noise and turned around. Seeing him, she said happily: "You're back—why didn't I hear you come in?"

“I called you eight times and you didn’t hear me,” Xie Chong said, totally making that up.

Mou Wen chuckled and showed off the hot pot base she had made: “I learned this from my Sichuan classmate! It’s delicious! You better eat up later! I was going to make eight dishes and a soup, but since I got back late and worried I wouldn’t have enough time, I decided on hot pot instead.”

“But you didn’t ask if I was coming back for dinner,” Xie Chong said. “What if I didn’t come back—wouldn’t all this effort have been wasted?”

“If you didn’t come back, I could eat it myself—how would that be wasted?” Then she added, “I knew you’d come back. If you’re not home for dinner, where else would you eat?”

Xie Chong grinned, copying her expression, and chuckled.

The hot pot base Mou Wen made smelled amazing.

The two of them drank ice-cold cola in glass bottles, eating hot pot, totally satisfied.

Xie Chong asked Mou Wen how she’d gotten all those flowers home. Mou Wen said she bought a lot, and the shop owner had a truck and delivered them to her door. She’d never splurged on flowers like that before—those flowers cost nearly two thousand yuan in total!

“Compliment me,” Mou Wen said, crossing her arms with a proud look.

“You’re really… good at pinching pennies,” Xie Chong said.

After the meal, the two crouched on the balcony, tending to the plants.

Mou Wen had bought some small tools and was now wearing gloves, mixing her own potting soil. Seeing this, Xie Chong got a worried look: “You’re not going to grow vegetables on the balcony, are you?”

He had heard that many people liked to grow vegetables at home—cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes…

“That’s a good idea, totally green and organic…”

Before Mou Wen could finish, Xie Chong had already pinched her cheek: “You grow one and see!”

Mou Wen thought, you wouldn’t even recognize it, and once it grew, you wouldn’t have the heart to pull it out. Xie Chong’s worry was justified—she had bought a tomato seedling, hidden in a pot in the corner. But she didn’t say anything. She had always been like this since childhood: quietly “getting into mischief,” and only confessing when caught.

She crouched there, arms wrapped around her calves, face resting on her knees, looking at Xie Chong, who was doing the same: “Xie Chong, do you like how the place looks today? It’s different from yesterday.”

Xie Chong said honestly: “I like it.”

Mou Wen hugged her knees and waddled toward him like a little penguin, leaning her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her, and the evening breeze ruffled her hair.

No matter what weird situations lay ahead, at this moment, right now, she was so real.

“Should we do it again tonight?” Mou Wen suddenly asked. “Should we come here often?”

Xie Chong stared at her in shock—she really was always this direct! Every word out of her mouth never beat around the bush!

She really showed up.

After washing up, Xie Chong lay in bed, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine, when he saw the door open and a head peek in.

“I’m here~” she said, pushing the door open and throwing herself onto him.

Xie Chong nearly had the wind knocked out of him, letting out a “pfft.”

Mou Wen propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him, then leaned closer, her nose brushing against his.

The girl from Yakeshi was adorable, like a little lamb with long eyelashes. Xie Chong placed his palm on the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her.

He brushed his lips against hers, pulled back to look at her, then kissed her again and pulled away. She looked up, watching his approaching face, and playfully stuck out her tongue. He licked the tip of her tongue, then gently caught it between his lips.

He rolled over, positioning her beneath him.

She took his hand and guided it, letting him move slowly with her, her gaze gradually growing hazy, until finally she closed her eyes.

With her eyes closed, her senses became even more acute.

Xie Chong was so gentle. His hand moved slowly, lingering at the waistband of her pants, his fingertips brushing her skin, then slipping inside.

Mou Wen tensed up instinctively, but he kissed her.

His fingertips moved lightly, slick with moisture. He couldn’t help but rub against her, and she let out an “mm,” squeezing her legs together.

“Spread them,” he said. “Spread them, Mou Wen. Don’t be afraid of me.”

How could Mou Wen be afraid of him? He was Xie Chong. She slowly opened, feeling his fingers slide inside, then push deeper.

Xie Chong’s breathing got heavier.

His fingers explored territory he had never ventured into, every fold and crease feeling new and mysterious. He pushed in, and she let out a soft whimper.

He withdrew, then entered again, like tracing a path, with the sound of trickling water. His eyes were fixed on Mou Wen’s face—she seemed lost, parting her lips, waiting for him.

He suddenly quickened his hand, leaning down to muffle her moans. Mou Wen arched her back on the bed; she felt everything slipping beyond her control, her body no longer her own.

Xie Chong hit a certain spot, and she pushed at him hard, letting out a sharp cry. But Xie Chong didn’t stop. He seemed to understand a little now, knowing that spot was different, and kept targeting it.

Until Mou Wen stiffened, then collapsed back onto the bed, and only then did he slowly withdraw his fingers.

Mou Wen grabbed his wrist, pleading: “Xie Chong, Xie Chong.”

Xie Chong pressed his mouth to hers and asked: “What is it?”

“Xie Chong…”

Xie Chong cupped her face in both hands, tilting her face to look at him, and slowly entered: “Is it like this? Mou Wen, is it?”

Mou Wen took him in, nodding slowly.

She felt him, felt him fully inside her.

Closing her eyes, her head sank deep into the red pillow, her black hair spilling across it like a delicate flower in full bloom.

She was tireless, and so was he; they went at it until late into the night. Mou Wen wanted to go wash, but his arm lay across her shoulder, holding her in place.

Mou Wen tried to lift his arm, but couldn’t move it. She turned to look—he was already asleep. But the corner of his mouth curled up slightly. Mou Wen thought she had imagined it, but when she looked more closely, his expression had returned to normal.

A few days later, they were hanging out on the couch.

By then they had grown more familiar with each other. Mou Wen leaned back on the sofa, her legs draped over his lap.

Mou Wen asked if Xie Chong had many friends—she wanted to know more about him. Xie Chong was still mad at Qian Song, and just thinking about him made him angry, so he said he had no friends.

“Do you think we should invite your friends over for dinner?” Mou Wen asked. “I’m afraid if they suddenly show up one day and see me, they’ll be surprised.”

“No need to invite anyone—no one will come to the house. I don’t have friends,” Xie Chong said. “If you have friends you want to invite over, go ahead.”

“I do have friends,” Mou Wen said, thinking it over. “But we can go out to eat.”

Xie Chong wasn’t into this conversation.

He was an extremely aloof person, with no time for pointless socializing. For him, life was life, and work was work. As it happened, Mou Wen felt the same way.

She didn't want people to find out she'd gotten married so fast, nor did she want anyone to know she'd married a wealthy Beijing local. She felt it might stir up gossip, and she didn't want them looking at her with strange eyes.

She also wanted to keep her personal life separate from work.

Xie Chong sensed her thoughts, cracking his eyes open to look at Mou Wen. She seemed lost in thought, her face serious.

"How about we have all our meals at home from now on?" Mou Wen said. "I can make tons of dishes. As long as I have time, I'll cook at home."

"Cooking at home is cheaper and tastes better," Xie Chong called it out. "What do you plan to do with the money you save?"

"I don't know yet," Mou Wen said. "Sorry, I've never lived without worrying about money. Wait until I get used to it first!" She then turned over and rested her head on Xie Chong's lap. "Once I'm used to it, I'll think about what to do with the rest of the money."

Xie Chong looked down at this little Pixiu, then lay back again.

Qian Song said his marriage was a long-term "pig-butchering scam," but who would really throw themselves into such a scheme?

"With your credentials, is it a loss for someone to throw themselves in? Could she find someone like you anywhere else in Beijing?" Qian Song made a solid point.

"Stop it," Xie Chong told him to shut up. He didn't want to hear it.

# Days