Li Sui pretended nothing had happened, taking the tissue to dab the corner of her mouth.
The next second, she smoothly changed the subject: "So, um… Ge… I’m going back to the old house today to tutor Chengcheng. Did Mom ask you to come back too?"
Zhou Jinghuai: "Mn."
"Then you… be careful." Li Sui lowered her voice in warning. "Don’t let it slip."
Zhou Jinghuai pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, leaning lazily against the backrest as he lifted his eyelids slightly. "Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself?"
"What about me?"
Zhou Jinghuai opened the rice cooker, scooping half a bowl of congee for himself, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. "Calling me ‘Ge’ over and over—is it a custom where you’re from to refer to the other half on your marriage certificate as ‘Ge’?"
She fell silent. Given their relationship, at least in front of his mother, calling him "Ge" really wasn’t appropriate.
Honestly, whether it was "husband" or "Ge," it was just a matter of parting her lips.
"Hu… Hu… Hu…"
Li Sui steeled herself, straightening her back with an air of confidence, but her thoughts oscillated wildly between "husband" and "Ge," resulting in a verbal stumble.
"Old man!"
"Nice." Zhou Jinghuai chuckled, nodding in approval. "More straightforward than yesterday’s insult."
"...I’ll practice on my own later."
As soon as Li Sui finished speaking, Zhou Jinghuai seemed to realize he hadn’t grabbed a spoon and stood up to head into the kitchen.
"It’s really not that easy to change how you address someone," Li Sui retorted defiantly, following him. "Don’t believe me? Try it yourself—call me something."
His tall figure remained motionless. Li Sui, as if seizing his weakness, gloated. "See? You can’t say it either, can you?"
Zhou Jinghuai glanced back at her, pulled something from the utensil holder, and turned around. Li Sui, defensive to the max, immediately retreated until her back hit the wall.
Zhou Jinghuai leaned down slightly, bringing his lips close to her ear, and murmured softly, "Wife."
His posture was natural, his tone practiced.
And yet…
Li Sui glanced down at his right hand, her eyes brimming with amusement. "Zhou Jinghuai, is it a custom where you’re from to drink congee with a single chopstick?"
Zhou Jinghuai: "..."
"Chopsticks are generally used in pairs. During the Sui and Tang dynasties, they were also referred to as ‘zhu’ or ‘zhu’."
A prompt sounded from the tablet in the Zhou family’s old house.
Aunt Zhang smiled warmly at the child playing games on the sofa. "Chengcheng, the weather’s so nice today. Do you want to go outside for a walk?"
Zhou Jingcheng lifted his gaze to the floor-to-ceiling window, then turned back after two seconds. "No."
Aunt Zhang wasn’t surprised.
Despite sharing the same parents and being only eleven years old, Zhou Jingcheng’s personality was nothing like Zhou Jinghuai’s.
She had worked for the Zhou family for six years, seeing Zhou Jingcheng almost daily, yet the words she heard from him were always the same.
Mostly "Mn" and "No."
Zhou Zhiyu had once worried whether it was a lingering effect of the near-drowning incident years ago and took him to the hospital for a checkup, but the results showed nothing unusual.
The doctor said he might just be genuinely disinterested in engaging with the world.
With a resigned sigh, Aunt Zhang glanced out the window again. When she spotted a figure in a white sweater approaching, her heart leaped with relief—the savior had arrived!
She hurried to open the door, handing Li Sui a pair of slippers. "Should we stay in the living room, or go to the study?"
Li Sui smiled sweetly, her demeanor gentle and well-mannered. "Either is fine. The living room works."
"Alright, I’ll go cut some fruit." Aunt Zhang grabbed an apron from the rack and disappeared into the kitchen.
Before her sat what looked like a miniature version of Zhou Jinghuai—similar features, but with an air of precocious solemnity, his demeanor icy. He kept his head down, absorbed in his iPad, as if completely unaware of her presence. Or perhaps he just didn’t care.
Li Sui sat beside him. The game’s audio cues rang out clearly in her ears—
"Game start! Try your best to escape!"
She watched silently as a series of frustrated prompts popped up on the screen:
"Nothing here!"
"Nothing here!"
"Nothing here!"
Clearly, he was just randomly tapping the screen in search of clues.
Li Sui cleared her throat, speaking softly and tentatively. "Can I play with you? We’ll do this together before starting the lesson."
Zhou Jingcheng looked up at her. Just as Li Sui expected a "No," he gave a slow nod instead.
Whether he was secretly softhearted or simply hated tutoring, she couldn’t tell.
But Li Sui immediately scooted closer.
Zhou Jingcheng was on Level 16 of the escape room game—already mid-to-high difficulty. Li Sui was surprised. "Some of these puzzles involve high school poetry and advanced math. You haven’t learned those yet. How’d you solve them?"
Zhou Jingcheng tapped the screen with his index finger. Li Sui looked down to see an NPC sibling duo in dialogue.
"Ge, can we get out?"
"Don’t worry."
Li Sui understood.
"Well, you don’t need to ask your Ge today. Jiejie will help you."
Zhou Jingcheng’s eyes brimmed with skepticism, as if saying, Can you really?
But that doubt vanished completely after they cleared two levels together.
Li Sui could clearly sense that, thanks to her slight age and academic advantage, Zhou Jingcheng’s fondness for her had risen to new heights.
When the door finally swung open, a blinding white light flooding the dark room, Li Sui grinned smugly. "Jiejie’s pretty amazing, huh?"
Zhou Jingcheng nodded. "Mn."
"Am I better than your Ge?"
"No."
"..." This kid. Such a loyal little brother.
Li Sui didn’t press further, picking up the glass of milk on the coffee table and sipping thoughtfully.
Zhou Jingcheng was even harder to handle than Zhou Jinghuai—unprecedentedly so. Despite interacting with him countless times, the words she heard from him never strayed beyond a handful of syllables.
It wasn’t until later that Li Sui noticed his fondness for historical-themed games—escape rooms set in ancient times, treasure hunts, and the like. To bridge the gap, she started playing them in her free time too.
So far, the strategy seemed to be working.
Riding the momentum, they clicked into the next level—a tomb-raiding theme, even tougher than the last.
Too absorbed in the game, Li Sui blurted out after their fifth failed attempt: "F—"
The moment the word left her lips, the living room plunged into dead silence.
Shit.
Definitely too much time around Zhou Jinghuai last night. She’d slipped up.
Li Sui turned her head at an agonizingly slow pace. Zhou Jingcheng was staring at her with wide, pitch-black eyes, full of bewilderment.
She knew exactly what that look meant—it was the same expression she wore when watching horror movies and witnessing the beautiful heroine suddenly morph into a pig.
After all, up until now, in front of the Zhou family (Zhou Jinghuai excluded), she’d always been the picture of demure sweetness, soft-spoken and gentle.
"F—or us two, this level’s probably impossible." Li Sui salvaged her dignity with a strained smile. "Maybe you should ask your Ge for help after all?"
Zhou Jingcheng seemed to buy it, nodding before screenshotting the puzzle and sending it to Zhou Jinghuai.
Soon, Zhou Jinghuai replied with a handwritten solution—sharp strokes, clear reasoning.
Zhou Jinghuai: [Weren’t you tutoring? Why not ask your sister?]
Zhou Jingcheng: [Sister couldn’t solve it.]
?
Before Li Sui could say anything, she saw Zhou Jingcheng send another message: [She even cursed but still couldn’t solve it.]
Li Sui: "..."
Dear heavens, just bury me already.
This kid is usually so quiet in real life, but online, he’s oddly sharp-tongued.
"Ahem, Chengcheng," Li Sui cleared her throat, trying to defend herself, "I was just too focused earlier… I’ll be more careful next time, I promise."
Zhou Jingcheng turned his head to look at her. For once, instead of just "Mm" or "No," she heard something different:
"It’s fine if you do."
Li Sui froze for a moment, feeling as if her heart had been warmed by the spring sunlight outside. Staring at the face so similar to Zhou Jinghuai’s, she suddenly remembered something important.
Taking advantage of Zhou Jingcheng’s unprecedented goodwill toward her, she lowered her voice and whispered, "By the way, Chengcheng, how many days is your brother staying in Fuchuan this time?"
Zhou Jingcheng, absorbed in solving a puzzle, tapped the screen in response.
On the screen was a quaintly decorated bedroom, with a neatly folded quilt on the bed.
And Zhou Jingcheng’s finger was resting right on that quilt.
One quilt.
One night’s quilt.
"O-one day?"
So after dinner tonight, she could just say goodbye to him?
Li Sui’s eyes lit up. So it was just a short visit—no wonder he hadn’t even brought luggage yesterday despite staying over. But just as she was secretly celebrating, Zhou Jingcheng suddenly shook his head and deadpanned three words:
"One. Quilt. Forever."
"...?" Li Sui’s lips twitched.
And here I thought you were mature beyond your years—turns out you’re just a pun master in the making.
The two studied until evening, when Zhou Zhiyu returned home.
As a renowned agent and star-maker in the industry, Zhou Zhiyu spent about 300 days a year working out of town.
When she did come home, it was usually just to dine and shop with her wealthy socialite friends.
Sure enough, she was carrying several large shopping bags, looking quite pleased.
The moment she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes and called out excitedly, "Sui Sui! Chengcheng! Come here! Look what I bought for you!"
The two set down their pens and went over.
For Zhou Jingcheng, it was an Iron Man toy. He took it, mumbled a stiff "Thanks, Mom," and carried it back to the living room.
Zhou Zhiyu sighed silently. Boys were so boring.
She turned and pulled Li Sui closer, opening a shopping bag to reveal a pair of black suede stilettos—sleek, mature, and undoubtedly expensive.
"Try them on!" Zhou Zhiyu shoved the shoes into her hands.
"Okay." Li Sui slipped off her slippers and carefully put them on, her toes squeezed uncomfortably.
She glanced down and smiled brightly. "Mom, they’re gorgeous. And they fit perfectly."
Li Sui’s fair skin contrasted strikingly against the dark shoes, making her feet look even more delicate.
"Right?" Zhou Zhiyu beamed. "I knew at first glance in the store. Do you like them?"
"Of course I do."
Just then, the door swung open—
It was Zhou Jinghuai.
He wore a black thin hoodie, matching straight-leg sweatpants with white stripes, and black-and-white sneakers, radiating youthful energy.
Thankfully, she’d rehearsed this. Li Sui blurted out, "Hubby, do you think they look good?"
He gave her a measured glance, his expression unreadable. "Passable."
Zhou Zhiyu, though she’d moved on from yesterday’s incident, wasn’t exactly warm either. She scoffed, "No taste," and went back to gushing about how hard the shoes were to get.
Li Sui’s gaze flickered toward Zhou Jingcheng, quietly doing homework nearby.
Zhou Zhiyu treated her incredibly well—better, it seemed, than her own sons. While grateful, Li Sui couldn’t ignore the distance between Zhou Zhiyu and her boys.
It made her feel guilty sometimes. And she wondered if Zhou Jinghuai’s earlier look held a hint of displeasure over it.
After changing back into slippers, she returned to find Zhou Zhiyu and Zhou Jinghuai discussing company matters.
Zhou Zhiyu was down-to-earth with her, but a woman who’d earned the title "Queen" through sheer grit was no pushover.
Listening to their conversation, Li Sui felt lost—this was way beyond her liberal arts background.
Finally, after endless jargon, she caught something she understood.
"Everything in the capital’s settled?"
"Mm," Zhou Jinghuai replied simply.
"Good." Zhou Zhiyu’s tone turned stern. "What kind of husband disappears for two months? If it weren’t for Li Sui’s grandfather saving Chengcheng back then, our family would’ve fallen apart. I promised him before he passed that I’d treat Li Sui like my own daughter. If you let her down again, I’ll skin you alive."
Li Sui quickly jumped in with a smile. "Mom, it’s fine. Work comes first. A man shouldn’t sacrifice his career for love."
Kidding—if he stopped traveling for work, how would she enjoy her freedom?
"Sui Sui, don’t cover for him." Zhou Zhiyu took a sip of water, then added, unusually concerned, "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Use this time to discuss having kids."
Li Sui’s heart skipped a beat.
Here it comes.
The inevitable parental pressure to procreate.
She gripped her cup, unsure how to respond, when Zhou Jinghuai casually picked up the remote and turned on the TV. "Can’t."
Zhou Zhiyu frowned. "Why not?"
Zhou Jinghuai: "Got a vasectomy."
"Cough." Li Sui nearly choked on her water, staring at him in shock.
Zhou Zhiyu’s face was pure horror. It took her several seconds to recover. "What? A vasectomy? Why would you do that?"
Zhou Jinghuai scrolled through channels, unfazed. "Saw a limited-time 20% off. Seemed like a waste to pass up."
Li Sui: "..."
