No one was home. Cotton Candy was the first to come out and greet them enthusiastically. The orange cat was sleeping in a corner of the sofa. Hearing the commotion, it lifted its head, confirmed it was them who had returned, then lowered its head again, turned its back, and continued to curl up and catch up on sleep.

Song Yu took off his school uniform jacket and told Yue Zhishi to go sit on the sofa. He asked him what he wanted to eat. Yue Zhishi, who had just picked up the dog, was stunned for a moment when he heard this. Then he put the dog down and followed Song Yu into the kitchen. "Brother Song Yu, are you going to cook?"

Song Yu took an apron from the wall and tied it on. "Is it strange?"

Yue Zhishi shook his head and sat down next to the kitchen island. The little Pomeranian followed, climbing up and snuggling into his arms.

"It's been a long time since I've eaten food you've made."

In the past, Song Jin's business was even busier than it was now, and Lin Rong also had to help manage the company, so they were often not home. Back then, the two of them were very young. They had hired a nanny, but one time the nanny was careless while cooking, and Yue Zhishi had an allergic reaction and was hospitalized. Since then, the family didn't dare to hire a nanny again. When Lin Rong was too busy, Song Yu would cook. Having learned by watching, he became quite skilled at it.

Two little kids, a small dining table, a few home-cooked dishes—this was a memory Yue Zhishi could see just by closing his eyes.

"I want to eat Maocai*." The little Pomeranian rested its head on the kitchen island, and Yue Zhishi stroked its fluffy head. "And cake."

*T/N: A spicy, stew-like dish from Chengdu.

Song Yu, who was opening the refrigerator door, looked back, raised an eyebrow, and pointed to the corner of his mouth.

Only then did Yue Zhishi remember. He touched the corner of his own mouth; it was a little sore. "But I want to eat it."

Song Yu didn't say anything, but he had already started taking out ingredients. Not wanting him to work alone, Yue Zhishi went over to help out. He wasn't good at cooking, so he could only wash the vegetables. The scrape on his fist stung a little when it touched the water. Yue Zhishi didn't make a sound, but his movements paused for a moment. The water from the faucet suddenly stopped.

"You won't get them clean." Song Yu pulled out a paper towel and handed it to him.

Yue Zhishi wiped the water from his hands. "Then..."

"Just stand here." He lowered his head and focused on chopping vegetables. "Just watch."

The little Pomeranian trotted over again and pawed at Song Yu's leg. Yue Zhishi bent down, picked it up, and held its little paws. "Don't bother your brother."

Song Yu cut a piece of the beef tallow hot pot base that Lin Rong had previously fried and frozen. The moment it hit the pot, the entire kitchen seemed to come alive with sizzling sounds. Ginger and garlic were dropped into the melting red oil, and the aroma filled the air. He poured in boiling water while it was hot, and the red soup bubbled and danced in the pot.

After adding some more seasonings, Song Yu tasted it for saltiness and then added the various chopped ingredients.

While the food was cooking, Song Yu separated two egg yolks and mixed them with gluten-free flour. Then he handed the egg whites and a whisk to Yue Zhishi, giving him a meaningful look.

Whipping egg whites was Yue Zhishi's favorite chore; it always cheered him up quickly. Because watching the egg whites go from liquid to fluffy, finally resembling a cloud, was a magical experience.

"Done." Yue Zhishi lifted the whisk. The whipped cloud was pulled into a small, stiff, curved peak—a sign of success. He was quite satisfied. "Perfect."

After dishing out the Maocai, Song Yu started making pancakes. "There's no time for cake. This is faster."

"A pancake is also a cake," Yue Zhishi said, nodding to himself.

After being busy for a good while, two bowls of rice, a small pot of steaming hot Maocai, and a serving of blueberry pancakes—a mix of Chinese and Western—were laid out on the kitchen island. The slices of fatty beef were cooked until they unfurled, each thin slice coated in shimmering red oil, awakening the appetite before it even reached one's mouth. Song Yu took out a small glass jar, drizzled golden osmanthus syrup over the pancakes, and pushed them in front of Yue Zhishi.

Yue Zhishi picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks and carefully brought it to his mouth. He chewed with extreme caution, which looked a bit comical.

The Maocai was cooked to perfection, both numbing and spicy. He was sweating lightly on his back from the heat. Taking advantage of the stimulation in his mouth, he stuffed a piece of syrup-coated pancake into his mouth. It was fluffy and soft, like a chiffon cake pressed into a thick slice, with a rich and mellow flavor.

The uneasy mood that had been with him since early morning was finally released in the red oil and sweet syrup.

There's nothing a good meal can't fix.

Song Yu ate in silence until he was halfway through, then suddenly left the table. When he returned, he was holding a gauze pouch filled with ice cubes. "Take this. Put it on your eye."

So he brought it up after all. Yue Zhishi took the ice pack and mumbled a "thank you". He propped his elbow on the table and pressed it to his eye. After a while, he couldn't help but look up. "Does it look really bad?"

Song Yu focused on his food. "You know it does."

Even though he didn't care at all about his marred appearance in front of others, Yue Zhishi was terrified of Song Yu seeing his swollen eye. He even felt disgusted with himself on Song Yu's behalf, though he couldn't figure out why. Sighing, Yue Zhishi said with great remorse, "I should have dodged that punch."

Song Yu put down his bowl. "Yue Zhishi, shouldn't you be regretting that you got into a fight with someone today?"

"I don't regret it." Yue Zhishi looked up. "I didn't do anything wrong."

This sight made Song Yu a little dazed, as if he were seeing his younger self—just as stubborn, refusing to admit fault even after being beaten until his head was broken and bleeding.

But Yue Zhishi didn't want Song Yu to misunderstand. Changing the tight-lipped attitude he'd had in front of the head teacher, he took the initiative to explain, "Brother, I didn't intentionally start a fight or cause trouble. I didn't mean to use my fists at first, this whole thing..."

Before he could finish, Song Yu interrupted him. "I know."

"The person you hit," he said, looking into Yue Zhishi's eyes as if he already knew the answer, "what did he say?"

Yue Zhishi suddenly choked up. His hand gripping the ice pack tightened, and his head drooped, like a plant wilting under the sun.

"He said... since my mom is dead, that's why I can go out and meddle in other people's business."

When Wang Qian asked him, he was unwilling to say. When Jiang Yufan asked, he didn't want to say either. Even if Lin Rong or Song Jin had been called to the scene, Yue Zhishi could have clamped his mouth shut and not said a single word. But for some reason, the moment Song Yu asked, he said it.

It seemed he could only show his weakness to Song Yu.

"I couldn't hold back then, so I threw a punch."

Song Yu had actually guessed it. The class representative from his class had been carrying homework downstairs and happened to see Yue Zhishi being reprimanded in the office. The news spread through their class in an instant. At first, Song Yu didn't believe it. He knew better than anyone that showing off wasn't Yue Zhishi's style. Even if he were helping a classmate, he wouldn't resort to hitting someone.

But later, when he heard that the bullied child had no parents to look after them, Song Yu had a good idea of the reason for the fight.

Even a small dog will bite if its tail is stepped on.

But he never wanted to be the kind of older brother who lectured his younger one. Adults had already done more than enough of the high-sounding rebukes. Sometimes, they couldn't even understand that children had their own troubles, let alone think that those troubles were important. That's why they would just endlessly lecture and force children to make reluctant promises, without ever caring about whether they were feeling upset at that moment, or just how upset they were.

Lecturing and caring—Song Yu was suited for neither.

Watching Yue Zhishi eat in silence with his head down, his eyes blinking rapidly a few times as if holding something back, Song Yu couldn't quite describe the feeling. He just realized that the Yue Zhishi sitting in front of him no longer seemed to be the child from his youth who would only hide behind him and cry.

"So, did you win, or did he?"

Yue Zhishi hadn't expected Song Yu to ask that.

He sniffled, raised his head, the uninjured side of his mouth stained with chili oil, but his expression was dead serious. "I won. I fought four people by myself. I just didn't dodge the last punch because someone yelled that a teacher was coming and I panicked a little. Otherwise, my eye wouldn't have gotten hit."

It seemed he was really fixated on that punch to the eye. Song Yu pulled out a tissue and handed it to him, but Yue Zhishi said, "I'm not crying. It was just the spiciness."

Song Yu had no choice but to reach out and, with a cool expression, wipe the oil from the corner of his mouth for him.

Perhaps it was the firsthand experience of protesting one's innocence too much, or perhaps it was Song Yu personally wiping his mouth, but Yue Zhishi's ears grew hot. He abruptly speared a piece of pancake with his fork, stuffed it into his mouth, and almost choked, coughing for a long time.

After finishing their meal, the two of them cleaned up together. There was still enough time for a nap. After icing his eye for a while, Yue Zhishi felt it was much better. He went back to his room and stared in the mirror for a while. It was black and blue, still very unsightly.

Song Yu drew the curtains and lay down on the bed. His phone was full of messages from Qin Yan, which he only glanced at. He had just closed his eyes when he heard a knock on the door. Without opening his eyes, he asked, "What is it?"

"I want to sleep with you," Yue Zhishi said directly, but he didn't take a single step inside.

Normally, Song Yu would have refused flatly, but today he didn't. He just moved to one side of the bed, as if in tacit agreement.

Having received permission, Yue Zhishi immediately climbed up. Song Yu opened his eyes, intending to give him a pillow, but saw that he had produced a single-sided eye patch from somewhere and put it on. He reached out and tugged the strap. "What's this for?"

Yue Zhishi covered his eye patch. "I want to wear it."

Song Yu didn't stop him again and turned his back to him. Yue Zhishi also lay down obediently, quietly gazing at Song Yu's back. He felt it had been a very long time since he had slept with Song Yu. When he was little, whenever it rained heavily, he would hug his pillow and climb into Song Yu's bed, pressing up close against him. That way, he wouldn't be so scared. And only at times like that would he not be refused.

But Song Yu couldn't stand the heat and would always complain that he was like a little scalding meatball, not letting him cling to or hug him. So, Yue Zhishi would just press his forehead against his back, satisfying his need for security with great restraint.

This seemed to be the first time he was sleeping with Song Yu on a clear day, and on top of that, his face was all messed up.

Yue Zhishi pressed his forehead against him. Through skin and bone, he could feel his brother's heartbeat. It was as if he could also smell that familiar scent of rain—damp, soft, and full of hope.

This illusion was like a released hypnotic agent, allowing him to fall asleep quickly and without any hindrance.

It only worked when he was lying next to Song Yu.

He couldn't help but indulge in a fantasy that he didn't need anything else; it would be wonderful if he could stay like this for a lifetime.

But he knew he couldn't. He was no longer the three-year-old child who would use any means to stop Song Yu from getting married. He couldn't cry without restraint, nor could he blurt things out just to satisfy himself.

As he thought about it, Yue Zhishi fell asleep. Everything in his dream was a blur—his parents who died young, the adults casting sympathetic gazes, and the children who pushed and shoved him. But their voices were very clear.

[A child with no parents is so pitiful]

[So you're an orphan]

The jumble of voices merged into a black shadow, chasing him through a winding, twisting dream that he couldn't escape. He wanted to call Song Yu's name, only wanted to call his name, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out.

"Yue Zhishi, Yue Zhishi..."

He woke up from the dream in a cold sweat. In his gradually focusing vision was the grown-up Song Yu, his brows tightly furrowed. Yue Zhishi took a few deep breaths. "I had a nightmare," he said, somehow recalling a term Jiang Yufan had mentioned a few days ago, "it was like sleep paralysis."

After saying that, he turned over, trying to look cool. "I'm going back to sleep."

Song Yu lay back down, the sweat from Yue Zhishi's forehead still lingering on his palm. He stared at the ceiling, the image of Yue Zhishi struggling to wake up just now before his eyes.

"Yue Zhishi."

Hearing Song Yu call his name, Yue Zhishi hummed in response. There was a slight nasal tone to it, making it sound a bit like he was whining cutely. He cleared his throat to cover it up.

"You were really delicate when you were little. You could cry so much. Every time, you'd cry until my head hurt, and I wanted to send you away."

Song Yu spoke these complaining words, but his tone was very light. With his back to him, Yue Zhishi unconsciously pursed his lips, wanting to retort, but then he heard him speak again, his voice carrying a trace of calm confusion.

"How come now that you're grown up, you don't like to cry anymore?"