Compared to the expansive and elegantly decorated Feng family estate, the Sang family home is more like a small yet charming IKEA showroom.
In the finer details, you can always find traces of this family’s enjoyment of life.
On the refrigerator, there are magnets from the couple’s travels.
A half-read autobiography lies face down on the desk, with a pair of glasses standing beside it.
Window decals are stuck on both sides of the glass, the latest New Year designs from the Forbidden City’s cultural creations. Around the corner, you can see several Spring Festival couplets, one at the bedroom door that says "Blessings," and another at the main entrance that reads "Peace"...
Feng Yan followed Sang Lu to the balcony.
Sang Lu pointed with her chin to a pot in the corner.
"Look, my mom planted garlic here. She actually bought narcissus seeds, but the seller sent the wrong ones, and only when they grew did she realize they were garlic."
With a cheerful glance, she continued:
"Those pots over there are tended by Comrade Sang. He usually fiddles with the flowers and plants here, while Ms. Lin lounges on the chair, directing him, and listening to novels on her phone."
In a conversational tone, Sang Lu introduced the Sang family to Feng Yan, the sunset glow spreading warmth in her eyes.
Feng Yan slowed his pace, following Sang Lu, observing the layout of the Sang home, his gaze moving with her intriguing introductions.
She talked about the time she fell at the study door and cried all afternoon.
She also recalled how, in kindergarten, she covered an entire white wall with crayon drawings. Instead of scolding her, her parents stood in front of the wall, making peace signs for a family photo.
Sang Lu's words painted a picture of everyday life that Feng Yan could never have imagined.
It sketched out the traces of her growing up in this house.
Feng Yan's gaze fell on Sang Lu's face, through her bright and lively features, he imagined what she looked like as a child.
Suddenly, his eyes moved past Sang Lu's head to a half-open door.
A blackboard hung on the door, with some crooked letters written in fluorescent pen — "Miss Lu Lu's Room."
Sang Lu followed his gaze.
Suddenly, her mouth twitched.
Her expression was awkward.
"Ha~ I scribbled that when I was little. I liked calling myself a lady back then."
While Sang Lu awkwardly dug her toes into the floor, Feng Yan had already stepped into "Miss Lu Lu's Room."
The room wasn't large, about twenty square meters.
It was clean and tidy.
Even though no one lived there, Lin Yueyin still kept up the habit of cleaning it weekly.
Feng Yan lifted his gaze, casually scanning the room.
The bedspread's lace draped softly over the bed.
The wool seat cushion on the bay window was piled with throw pillows.
The cabinet by the desk was covered with various stickers.
Judging by the wear and tear, it seemed to span Sang Lu's childhood to her high school years.
Among the lower stickers, Feng Yan could barely recognize some names.
Chibi Maruko-chan, Doraemon.
Higher up, they gradually turned into anime characters he didn't recognize.
He had seen those in her social media circle.
A cold-faced man holding a sniper rifle.
A cold-faced man wearing a fur-lined cloak.
Under the glass of the desk lay two outdated class schedules.
Next to them was a row of old magazines and CDs.
The tall, imposing man stood in the room full of girlish charm, like a stranger intruding into a private space.
All his senses were overwhelmed by the aura that belonged to her.
It felt as though he was seeing a different version of her—more vibrant, more alive.
The room was bright and colorful, the vivid hues reflecting in his deep, dark eyes, illuminating the depths of his soul.
It wasn’t until the voice from the kitchen announced that the meal was ready that the stern-faced man finally lowered his heavy gaze.
...
The entire dinner was relaxed and pleasant.
As soon as they sat down, Comrade Sang inexplicably started a conversation, pulling his son-in-law into a discussion about recent international affairs.
It was a one-sided, enthusiastic monologue.
From that moment, Sang Lu struggled to hold back her laughter.
She exchanged a knowing look with Mrs. Lin, a silent “Dad’s putting on a show” signal, and chuckled quietly while picking up food with her chopsticks.
During the meal, Feng Yan was polite as always. Despite his naturally cold demeanor, his responses—whether a nod or a brief reply—were consistently composed and courteous.
Gradually, Comrade Sang shifted the topic unexpectedly, reminiscing about his daughter’s childhood.
“When Lu-Lu was in middle school, a bunch of rowdy boys would chase after her, shouting her name downstairs in our neighborhood. I chased them all away with a broom,” Sang Changfeng said proudly.
Caught up in the moment, he turned to grab a bottle of white liquor from the cabinet nearby, chuckling smugly.
“Hmph, those punks weren’t good enough for our Lu-Lu, were they? Come on, Yan, let’s have a drink.”
Sang Lu froze for a moment upon hearing this.
Instinctively, she glanced at Feng Yan.
She had never seen Feng Yan drink alcohol.
Nor had she ever seen him come back tipsy from a dinner party.
The Feng Yan she knew was always composed, restrained, and distant.
Naturally, she assumed he didn’t drink at all.
Just as Sang Lu was about to speak, she saw Feng Yan’s cold and distant expression soften slightly. To her surprise, he took the bottle from her father’s hand, effortlessly twisted it open, poured a drink for her father, and then poured one for himself.
Sang Lu was stunned.
Well, well.
The Ice Block Brother must be in a good mood tonight!
She hadn’t expected him to get along so well with her father.
Any lingering worries she had quietly melted away.
Feeling cheerful, Sang Lu grabbed herself a can of beer.
Perhaps it was the magical effect of alcohol, but Sang Lu felt that Feng Yan’s entire aura had shifted tonight.
Every now and then, she caught fleeting glimpses of warmth in his otherwise sharp and stoic features.
The conversation at the table gradually transitioned from Sang Lu’s childhood to the younger days of Comrade Sang and Mrs. Lin.
Lin Yueyin laughed as she recounted, “When your dad was pursuing me, he’d come to my house every few days. If something was broken, he’d fix it. If nothing was broken, he’d find something to repair anyway. That month alone, we went through three light bulbs.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Sang Changfeng coughed lightly, correcting her. “It was four.”
Sang Lu burst into laughter.
She had never heard this story before.
Perhaps now that she was married, her mother saw her as a fully grown adult and felt comfortable sharing these tales in front of her.
Sang Lu took a sip of her beer, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she urged them on.
“What else? What else? What else did Dad do?”
“Oh, there’s plenty! Fixing water pipes, cleaning toilet tanks, coming over to help with the big household clean-up before the holidays…” Lin Yueyin reminisced, listing one thing after another.
Sang Lu's cheeks were flushed pink from the alcohol, her smile radiant. "Thanks to Dad's hard work, otherwise, I wouldn't exist."
Sang Changfeng responded proudly, "That's right."
The older couple grew more animated as they chatted, while Sang Lu drank more enthusiastically.
Just as she was about to pull open the tab on her fifth can of beer, a wide, firm hand lightly intercepted her wrist.
Sang Lu froze.
After a few seconds, she glanced at the clock on the wall.
9:50 PM.
Oh no, it’s so late.
No wonder Feng Yan reminded her.
It was getting late, and she had work tomorrow.
Sang Lu put down the beer.
She chatted a bit more with her parents before saying goodbye and leaving.
When she walked out of the building, the driver was already waiting by the car door. Seeing them approach, he bent slightly and opened the car door.
Sang Lu was mildly surprised.
She hadn’t even noticed when Feng Yan had notified the driver.
He seemed to have had his fair share of drinks with her parents too, yet he maintained his composure and still managed to take care of all these little details.
The car cruised toward Qinghe Bay.
The night was serene, and stars twinkled brightly.
The interior of the car was silent.
Both seemed lost in their thoughts.
Sang Lu felt content.
She hadn’t expected Feng Yan to get along with her parents so effortlessly and harmoniously, even better than she had imagined.
Feng Yan’s deep black eyes were unfathomable as he slowly turned his head to look at Sang Lu, who was gazing out the window at the passing scenery.
Her earlobes were slightly red from the alcohol, and under the night sky, the skin on her neck appeared as pale as snow.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he shifted his gaze away.
He lowered the window on his side slightly, turned his face away, and let the breeze cool his somewhat tipsy head.
Not long after.
They arrived at Qinghe Bay.
The Rolls-Royce pulled into the garage.
The two of them walked toward the elevator lobby.
Feng Yan’s gaze inadvertently swept across something, and he suddenly stopped.
At the end of his line of sight was an orange electric scooter.
He stared at the scooter, lost in thought.
A strong urge suddenly surged in his heart.
The tires looked a bit worn.
They needed replacing.
