The takeout containers and empty bottles from the night before hadn’t been cleaned up yet, and the room was thick with an unpleasant smell.

This being Zhu Wenshu’s first time ever getting drunk, she still felt a little lightheaded, and the smell only made it worse, so she went quiet for a moment.

She hadn’t really followed what Ying Fei and Shi Xue’er’s exchange had meant, but it didn’t matter anymore — clearly they already knew everything, and she no longer had to figure out how to bring it up herself.

After a moment, Zhu Wenshu calmly nodded.

“Ling Chen said he’s fine with it.”

The room fell dead silent.

Ying Fei and Shi Xue’er stood there, dumbstruck, only their eyes managing to track Zhu Wenshu’s movements.

She took off her coat and started cleaning up the dining room.

She threw all the empty cans in the trash, tied up the bag, and as she passed by Shi Xue’er, her sleeve was tugged.

“Is it really… what I saw?”

Zhu Wenshu set the trash bag by the door and went back to clearing the table, answering with her back to them. “Yes.”

Another long silence, and when Zhu Wenshu had finished packing away the takeout and turned around, the two of them were still frozen in the exact same positions, staring at her.

Zhu Wenshu thought about it and said, “I’m the one. Classmate Little Silkworm.”

“……”

Ying Fei was about to say something when, beside her, Shi Xue’er’s eyes rolled back and she fainted—

Shi Xue’er fainting gave Zhu Wenshu quite a scare.

Zhu Qisen wasn’t even in Jiang City, and she didn’t dare bother Ling Chen at a time like this either, afraid of alarming him into rushing over.

Fortunately, she and Ying Fei managed to haul Shi Xue’er downstairs and get her to the hospital, and she came to on the way.

Part of it was the shock, but the main cause was that Shi Xue’er already had low blood sugar to begin with, and after a night of drinking followed by a full day without eating, her body simply couldn’t keep up anymore.

The nearby clinic wasn’t busy. Once she was hooked up to a glucose IV, Shi Xue’er lay in bed, too overwhelmed to speak, gripping Zhu Wenshu’s hand and making small whimpering sounds, like someone on the brink of death.

Once her blood sugar levels came back up, she inexplicably started laughing and crying at once, and finally, incoherently, insisted she had absolutely no inappropriate feelings for Ling Chen, that she’d only been running her mouth, and that from now on she wanted to be Zhu Wenshu’s sworn sister.

Even the usually more reserved Ying Fei got swept up in the mood, rambling on about how she’d only hated on Ye Shaoxing because she was mad he could never beat Ling Chen, and that she was going to delete all her Weibo posts right now so Ling Chen wouldn’t sue her for defamation.

And Shi Xue’er, even in this state, still found the energy to snipe back at Ying Fei, who fired right back without missing a beat.

The two of them went back and forth, bickering, drawing the nurses in repeatedly to check if something was wrong.

Zhu Wenshu felt like her head was about to explode, and realized her instincts had been correct — these two learning the truth really was more than a little overwhelming to handle.

By the time the IV had finished, Zhu Wenshu had finally managed to calm down her hater-turned-fan and fan-turned-hater.

By then it was late at night. After seeing Shi Xue’er off, Zhu Wenshu and Ying Fei, both utterly drained, walked home in silence.

After cleaning up the apartment again, just before they each headed to their own rooms, Ying Fei leaned against her door, opening it only a crack.

“One last question.”

Zhu Wenshu turned back. “Yeah.”

Ying Fei: “Is it true what people are saying online, that Ling Chen has a son?”

Zhu Wenshu: “?”

Ying Fei paused, then glanced down at Zhu Wenshu’s stomach.

“You haven’t had a kid before, right?”

Zhu Wenshu: “……”

Because of Shi Xue’er’s medical scare, Zhu Wenshu once again lost an entire evening of work time.

Over the following days she rushed to catch up, finally finishing her online course materials and course packets two days before New Year’s Eve, and packed up to head back to Huiyang.

Zhu Wenshu had a maternal uncle, and every year the New Year’s Eve dinner rotated between the two families’ homes — this year it was their turn to host.

A little after six in the evening, her father and grandmother were busy in the kitchen.

Zhu Wenshu got Ling Chen’s video call while playing with her nephew in the living room.

Seeing how lively and chaotic the house was, she decided to take the call out on the balcony.

But her little nephew wasn’t having it — he refused to leave her side for even a moment, so Zhu Wenshu just carried him out onto the balcony with her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be going on stage soon?”

The moment she picked up the video call, her nephew was squirming around in her arms, and she was too busy trying to hold onto him to properly look at the screen.

Only when a voice came through the phone did Zhu Wenshu turn her head and look properly.

On screen, only Ling Chen’s upper body was visible, dressed in a black-and-white formal suit, a stylist working on his hair, his gaze fixed intently on the camera.

In just those two or three seconds, several crew members had already gathered around to peek at the screen, including an actor Zhu Wenshu recognized quite well.

Ling Chen hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering behind him, until he saw Zhu Wenshu on his phone looking a little uncomfortable and coughing awkwardly — only then did he turn around.

A single glance sent the onlookers scattering like startled birds. The stylist went back to working on his hair, while the actor grinned and waved cheerfully at the camera.

“Backstage. Almost time.”

Saying this, Ling Chen felt a bit uncomfortable and reached up to loosen his bow tie.

He actually hated wearing formal suits for work, much preferring the loose hoodies that seemed practically fused to his body most days.

But Zhu Wenshu, looking at him in the suit — sharp lines, perfectly matching his crisp, striking features — found it added a certain confidence and flair.

Especially when he loosened his tie like that…

Unfortunately, before he could finish loosening it, the stylist rushed over to stop him from fidgeting.

Ling Chen pressed his lips together and, looking a little helpless, lowered his hand.

“Haven’t eaten yet?”

He asked.

“About to. The table’s already full of food.”

As they spoke, Zhu Wenshu saw Lu Manman hand him a cup of black coffee.

“You still haven’t eaten?”

“Not really.”

Ling Chen took a couple sips of coffee. “Running on this instead.”

“Why don’t you eat more? Today’s—”

Zhu Wenshu trailed off halfway through, then sighed.

He probably didn’t feel much of a New Year mood at all — even this dinner was just another work meal for him. If it were her, she wouldn’t have much of an appetite either.

“What’s with that face?”

Ling Chen saw the sympathetic look on hers and laughed. “I just don’t want to eat too much because—”

Zhu Wenshu looked up. “Hm?”

“I might burp on stage.”

“……”

Zhu Wenshu tried to hold it in for two seconds, but couldn’t, and ended up laughing into her nephew’s head.

“Are you going out there to do a comedy sketch or something?”

“If you want, I could switch careers.” On screen, Ling Chen said. “Though other people are there to make the whole country laugh — I’m only there to make you laugh.”

Zhu Wenshu didn’t have time to respond to that; while she was still laughing, her nephew asked, “Auntie, who’s that big brother?”

Zhu Wenshu suddenly looked up and pinched her nephew’s cheek.

“Why do you call me Auntie, but call him Big Brother?”

Not that she wanted to take advantage of Ling Chen or anything — she just suddenly felt her age catching up with her.

Her little nephew blinked, not understanding what Zhu Wenshu meant.

“Then what should I call him?”

Zhu Wenshu looked at her phone. Ling Chen tilted his head, watching her with a knowing, almost teasing look, the answer practically hanging on the tip of his tongue.

After the two of them stared at each other through the screen for a moment, Zhu Wenshu leaned down to her nephew’s ear and whispered, “Call him Uncle.”

Her little nephew looked at the phone, bewildered and shy, unable to get the word out for a long while.

“Hm?”

Ling Chen raised an eyebrow. “So, what are you going to call me?”

Just then, her aunt called from the living room for Zhu Wenshu to come eat.

So Zhu Wenshu just said, “Just call him Big Brother.”

She looked up and noticed a faint, lingering smile in Ling Chen’s eyes, and repeated, “Big Brother.”

The video call froze due to a network glitch, the last frame capturing Ling Chen turning his face away.

But if it hadn’t frozen on that frame, Zhu Wenshu might never have noticed that he’d blushed a little.

With so many people, Zhu Wenshu’s family New Year’s Eve dinner lasted a full hour and a half.

Not until the TV started playing the opening song of the Spring Festival Gala did the family gradually move from the dinner table to the living room.

The gala these past few years had grown increasingly unfriendly to middle-aged and elderly viewers, mostly featuring young celebrities the older generation didn’t recognize.

Only the comedy sketches managed to hold the elders’ interest even somewhat; the song and dance segments had become increasingly conservative, and most of the family just half-listened while burying their faces in their phones, grabbing red envelopes in various group chats.

Zhu Wenshu was the only one in the whole living room watching the TV attentively, not wanting to miss a single shot that panned over the guest seating.

After a little over an hour, Ling Chen came on stage.

Her little nephew was running back and forth in front of the TV with a ball, repeatedly blocking Zhu Wenshu’s view, so she called him over and held him in her lap, refusing to let go no matter how much he squirmed.

Eventually her nephew gave up struggling and settled quietly into her arms.

Looking at the TV screen, he suddenly pointed at Ling Chen and shouted, “Uncle!”

The adults nearby, drawn in by the shout, all turned to look at the screen too.

“Oh my, our little Jiajia is really looking out for his auntie,” her aunt said with a laugh. “Already picking out an uncle for her — you’d better work hard, auntie.”

Zhu Wenshu sat there smiling amid the lively chatter, not saying anything, her eyes curving into crescents.

Zhu Wenshu’s mother looked up from her phone, glanced at the TV, and frowned. “Isn’t that your high school classmate? What was his name again… Ling something?”

“Ling Chen.”

Zhu Wenshu said. “The chen like in fine jade.”

“I know, I’ve heard your school’s teachers mention him before.”

Her little nephew was still shouting excitedly, “Uncle! Uncle!”

Zhu Wenshu’s mother reached over and ruffled his hair, then teased, “If your auntie had just worked a little harder back in high school, maybe she really would be your uncle by now.”

“Don’t say that kind of thing in front of a kid.”

Her father chimed in. “If she’d actually dated someone in high school, I’d have broken his legs.”

“You talk too much.”

Her mother shot her father a glare, then turned and wiggled her eyebrows at Zhu Wenshu. “Did anything happen back in high school?”

“Nope.”

Zhu Wenshu said with a smile. “We weren’t even close back then.”

Her mother clicked her tongue, sounding disappointed. “What a waste — you inherited my looks, you know. I had the whole class swooning over me back in my day.”

“So should I—”

Zhu Wenshu turned to look at her mother. “Go seduce him now?”

“You’re a schoolteacher, watch your mouth.”

Her mother slowly turned back to the TV, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Although, if there were an opportunity… it wouldn’t be entirely out of the question.”

“No opportunity left. He already has a girlfriend.”

Zhu Wenshu said.

“Well, never mind then.”

Her mother shook her head, eyes still fixed on the TV. “Such a shame — such a handsome cabbage, snatched up by some other pig.”

“…Mom.”

Zhu Wenshu tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That pig would be me.”

At half past midnight, the gala ended with the grand finale chorus.

Her uncle and aunt had already left with the kids before ten, and her grandparents on both sides had also left one after another, leaving just the family of three at home.

Ever since Huiyang had banned fireworks, New Year’s Eve had grown noticeably quieter each year, with only the distant suburbs still lighting them off.

Zhu Wenshu leaned on the windowsill, watching the faint bursts of color on the horizon, her phone buzzing nonstop with new messages, almost all mass-forwarded New Year greetings.

After a while, urged along by her parents, Zhu Wenshu went back to her room.

Lots of people had posted to their WeChat Moments tonight; Zhu Wenshu scrolled for a long time before finally spotting one her mother had posted over two hours ago.

[Mom]: My son-in-law! [sunglasses][sunglasses][sunglasses]

The attached photo was of Ling Chen on TV.

Below it were a few comments Zhu Wenshu could see.

[Auntie Wang Hong]: Oh, looks like we’ve got the same son-in-law.

[Mom, replying to Auntie Wang Hong]: ???

[Auntie Chen Feiyan]: My daughter says he’s her son-in-law too.

[Mom]: For the record, everyone — this really is my son-in-law!! Our Shushu said she’ll bring him home for dinner sometime soon.

Zhu Wenshu rolled over under the covers, buried her face in the pillow, and called Ling Chen.

No one picked up the first time. After a while, he called back.

“All done?”

Zhu Wenshu asked.

“Mm.”

The other end was still noisy. Ling Chen said, “Chatting with a few senior colleagues, then heading back.”

“Back where?”

“The hotel.”

Hearing those two words, Zhu Wenshu felt an odd twinge in her chest.

Never mind that she’d never stayed in a hotel alone before — even with someone accompanying him, the thought of Ling Chen spending this reunion-filled night by himself made her a little sad.

“Ling Chen.”

“Mm.”

“My dad’s cooking is really good.”

Zhu Wenshu rolled over, saying slowly, “My mom’s fried pork is really tasty too.”

Ling Chen didn’t quite understand what she was getting at, but he listened quietly anyway.

“My grandpa likes to sing after he’s had a few drinks, even though he’s not very good at it.”

“I have a little nephew too, you met him today, he’s really cute.”

“Everyone in my family is really kind. My uncle and aunt treat me like their own daughter.”

“Mm.”

Ling Chen said, “I could tell.”

“So—”

Zhu Wenshu felt like this thought was coming out of nowhere, so her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Next year, on this day — come to my house for New Year’s.”