Fang Zhuo wasn’t sure whether Yan Chengli had realized this mistake — and most likely he had not. Because the next day, Ye Yuncheng also stopped playing games.

Fang Zhuo asked him why. Ye Yuncheng gave a vague answer: “Yan Lie is pretty busy today. The gaming schedule isn’t very fixed… and besides, I don’t really want to play games with Mr. Yan.”

He was essentially branding the word “terrible” across the man’s forehead without actually saying it.

If even Ye Yuncheng couldn’t take it, then presumably this father-son bond was hanging by a very thin thread.

Fang Zhuo, with a genuinely caring heart, sent a message to her boyfriend asking how he was doing.

Yan Lie was deeply troubled.

Lord Lie Name: I have never in my life felt such a strong urge to study. [Haggard]

Little Sun: …

Lord Lie Name: [Image] My dad’s stats from the first few rounds.

Fang Zhuo looked at those glorious death numbers and could only produce one line of commentary.

Father: full of loving kindness. Son: the picture of filial piety.

Both of them were quite pitiable.

Fang Zhuo felt too sympathetic to stand by and do nothing. She went online, searched around, found a suitable article, and forwarded it to Yan Chengli, hoping he might still turn from his ways before it was too late.

Little Sun: [Link: The Ten Harms of Internet Gaming Addiction]

Yan Chengli must have been at leisure, because five minutes later he sent her one back.

Yan Li: [Link: Are Online Games Really Ruining Children? Parents Are the Ones Who Should Reflect!]

Fang Zhuo: “…” All signs pointed to: barring any unexpected developments, there was no saving this man — not even a celestial being could help.

Better to study.

That afternoon, Yan’s mother called Yan Lie for her regular check-in.

Yan Lie responded distractedly to a couple of things, but when the subject of what he planned to eat that evening came up, he suddenly perked up and said with great energy: “This afternoon I have to play games with Dad!”

Yan’s mother was thrown off by his abrupt change of topic and asked: “Why are you playing games with your father? Since when did he start playing games?”

“He asked me to bring him along,” Yan Lie said, subtly probing: “Is Dad under too much pressure lately? Is he using games to relieve stress?”

Yan Lie’s QQ updates had blocked his father — but not his mother.

Yan’s mother had previously been puzzled by what that complaint post of Yan Lie’s meant. Now, putting it all together, she suddenly understood.

She hurriedly ended the call and went to find Yan Chengli.

Yan Chengli was off work at that hour, sitting on a small stool on the balcony, watering his flowers. When he heard Yan’s mother’s rapid footsteps approaching, he glanced back — because he could tell from the rhythm that something was off. Sure enough, the moment the glass door was pushed open, her signature tone struck up.

“Yan Chengli, what are you doing? Going to your own son to play games?”

Yan Chengli said innocently: “What’s wrong with playing a game? I just didn’t want him to be bored.”

“You think he’s bored so you go and trouble him, is that it? What’s wrong with you?” Yan’s mother said without any softening. “Who in the world would want to play games with you? Do you enjoy bringing new employees up to speed at the company? Can you even keep up with those top graduates that just joined? With your level?”

Yan Chengli was left speechless and could only glare at her with furious eyes.

In their early years, the two of them argued often, and when it got heated they’d even throw things, creating great scenes. Now that they were older, they both found it pointless.

Neither one ever won, and they’d only end up with their blood pressure sky-high. And getting sick and going to the hospital was not as convenient as it used to be.

Yan’s mother stood beside him, looking down with a sideways glance. Seeing his indifferent, take-it-or-leave-it expression, she let out an amused and exasperated laugh, then said: “Can’t you find a game that’s easy enough for both old and young, and not too hard to play? What about cards? What about mahjong? At this rate, do you know how much your son is going to resent you?”

Yan Chengli raised his head. Her words landed like a light going on.

“Oh — cards would work!” Yan Chengli set down the watering can, clapped his hands together as he stood up, and said with excitement: “We could connect via voice call and bring Ye Yuncheng in too — let’s see what kind of sportsmanship he has at cards.”

Yan’s mother furrowed her brow, studied him with complete sincerity, and said: “Are you out of your mind?”

Yan Chengli waved a hand: “You don’t understand. I’ve figured it out now — if something can’t be refused, you have to learn to convince yourself to accept it.”

Yan’s mother followed him into the living room, at a complete loss: “Are you sure your head is all right?”

Yan Chengli changed the game session he’d arranged with Yan Lie for that afternoon to a card game, and contacted Ye Yuncheng to invite him to join in for some entertainment.

The one drawback of home quarantine was exactly this: it was very hard to find a convincing excuse to get out of anything.

At dusk, Ye Yuncheng set his phone up on the table in the living room and, at Yan Lie’s invitation, entered the game room.

Yan Chengli alternated between side-probing him about the household situation and losing hand after hand of cards.

Yan’s mother watched from the sidelines, her composure increasingly undone by his dreadful card playing — going from keen interest to biting her tongue, until she could no longer hold back. Throwing the rules of decorum to the wind, she cut through his rambling small talk and mocked him: “How are you this bad? The only possible way to lose with that hand and you found it. Do you even know how to play cards?”

Yan Chengli had painstakingly cultivated the conversation’s atmosphere, and she had demolished it completely. He snapped back: “Would you please stay out of this? I was about to win!”

Yan’s mother tapped her finger on the screen, firing back with the indignation of someone whose dignity had been affronted: “You think the people on the other side are as slow as you? With that hand, you think you can win? How were you going to get past that pair of sixes?”

“Am I even playing cards right now?” Yan Chengli roared inwardly. He was socializing! She had completely shrunken his perspective!

Yan’s mother shot back shrilly: “If you’re not playing cards, what are you doing — sleepwalking? Don’t make excuses for losing!”

The two of them started arguing. Ye Yuncheng forced a laugh and tried to smooth things over.

After only a few exchanges, the two of them went quiet without any warning.

This couple’s way of interacting with each other was genuinely baffling to an outsider.

Ye Yuncheng stood there in awkward bewilderment — and then, looking more carefully, he realized it wasn’t that they’d called a truce. The voice system had been muted.

Yan Lie quietly sent him a text message telling him not to worry about it.

Fang Zhuo pressed her ear toward the door to eavesdrop. After a moment, from the gap in the open door, she caught Yan Lie’s slightly distorted voice: “Mom, I’m going to look up some material. You keep Dad company for a while. I need to finish up the next part of the course first so I can follow along with the advisor’s project — things are a bit busy lately.”

Yan’s mother immediately said: “Go, go — don’t worry about your father.”

Yan Chengli let out a mournful sigh and said: “Never mind, I won’t bring you next time.”

“Hmph — as if I care!” Yan’s mother shifted her tone, turning gentle. “Little Ye, you play very well, don’t you? Can you play mahjong?”

Ye Yuncheng struggled to answer: “I don’t really…”

Not long after, Fang Zhuo received a message from Yan Lie with a shower-of-confetti emoji.

Lord Lie Name: That’s my actual mother!

Little Sun: [Sheepish grin]

Lord Lie Name: Finally free! I’ll look at books with you for a while.

Little Sun: Okay.

Fang Zhuo realized that this liberation had come at nearly the price of sacrificing Ye Yuncheng. Yan’s mother was already planning to bring him along to play mahjong with her circle of friends.

…She hoped he’d enjoy it.

After some time, Ye Yuncheng’s food delivery business resumed.

The two employees he’d taken on before had both stayed in City A. Too embarrassed to keep collecting his pay for nothing, they immediately indicated they were ready to start working again as soon as he gave the word.

So Ye Yuncheng’s shop reopened, focusing primarily on delivery orders.

To ensure food safety — and also because residents at that time were all a little on edge — Ye Yuncheng suspended all ingredients that had not undergone high-temperature processing. He expanded the range of braised dishes and rice bowls, and filmed the entire preparation process to upload to his short video channel.

At the request of followers, he also added drinks to the menu: longan and red date soup, chrysanthemum tea, and others.

During the time off at home, Ye Yuncheng had been continuously studying video editing. After doing a systematic study of the editing styles of several popular food bloggers together with Fang Zhuo, he decided to add more rhythm and pace to his videos. The quality of his recent short videos had improved significantly, and both the number of likes and the amount of exposure had begun to stabilize.

After consulting with Liu Qiaohong, Ye Yuncheng tried accepting his first sponsored advertisement. His followers’ reaction was relatively calm — some were even a little happy for him, saying he was finally getting paid, and hoping he could make it steadily through the epidemic.

Ye Yuncheng specifically went online to look it up, and only then discovered that the slang term “chī fàn” — literally “eat a meal” — had come to mean accepting advertising sponsorships.

No wonder the comments section had always had followers asking when he was going to “chī fàn” — and he’d always replied “I’ve already eaten,” prompting a whole crowd of people to burst out laughing in the comments.

One morning, Ye Yuncheng went out to buy groceries, and on the way back sent Fang Zhuo a photo with the message: “Spring has come.”

It was a cluster of purple flowers, small blossoms bunched together. They were planted along the roadside — the kind you’d normally walk past without noticing.

Fang Zhuo didn’t know what they were called, but she thought they were lovely.

When Ye Yuncheng returned home, he placed the small cart at the door, unwrapped his scarf, and peered inside while calling out: “Zhuozhuo, did you see the photo I took for you?”

Fang Zhuo came out and said: “I did.”

Ye Yuncheng smiled: “You can’t go out, so Uncle took a photo for you to look at.”

Fang Zhuo helped him sort through the things, lifting out several ice packs from the small cart.

“Stopped by Lielie’s place. His parents sent over a lot of things, and his fridge is too full — he said half of it was for us.” Ye Yuncheng gave a helpless laugh. “All seafood and beef. I’m not great at cooking those… This bag looks like dried sea cucumber. Let me go online and find a recipe, and once I’ve stewed it I’ll send some over to Lielie.”

Fang Zhuo sensed something was slightly off, and watched as he put things away piece by piece into the freezer, narrowing her eyes as she asked: “Are you already on such good terms with Yan Lie’s parents?”

“Hard to say exactly.” Ye Yuncheng’s back stiffened slightly. His movements became less natural, and he mumbled: “His mom is very warm and friendly.”

Fang Zhuo’s mind, at critical moments, was always particularly quick. She instantly understood — this was probably the kind of friendly gesture typical of a warm-hearted middle-aged woman, and she asked with curiosity: “Did she try to set you up with a potential match?”

Ye Yuncheng quietly continued organizing the stored goods.

“That’s nice,” Fang Zhuo said. Her impression of Yan’s mother brightened considerably, and she asked cheerfully: “Did you see anyone you liked?”

Ye Yuncheng turned around and gave her hair a vigorous tousle, laughing as he chided her: “Now you’re worrying about my affairs? How old are you?”

“You’re not getting any younger, you know,” Fang Zhuo said with perfect seriousness. “If you had elders around, they’d be pressuring you to marry by now.”

Ye Yuncheng asked: “Do you know what that kind of marriage pressure is actually about? Do you know its purpose?”

He closed the freezer door, propped both hands on his knees, and waved off Fang Zhuo’s hand that reached out to help him, standing up on his own.

“Even when you get older, Uncle won’t pressure you into marriage. Marriage is absolutely not something to be careless about. Even the most easygoing person can’t muddle through decades of it — and it would just hold the other person back too. People who are unlucky, like your mother, didn’t end up better off because of marriage.”

“If you can’t find someone you genuinely like, living alone is far better than forcing two ill-matched people together, isn’t it?”

This kind of thought had crossed Ye Yuncheng’s mind when he first met Fang Zhuo.

He felt that Fang Zhuo was very much like Ye Yaoling, and yet Fang Zhuo was even more independent and solitary — someone with a personality not made for romance, who perhaps wouldn’t easily find a person who truly liked her.

He had thought he would be like an old father, and that when Fang Zhuo was lost, he would impart to her words of advice about the future. He would tell her all kinds of things — unimportant, rambling, the small and scattered truths he hoped she would come to understand.

“That was what I’d once wanted to say to you,” Ye Yuncheng said, meeting Fang Zhuo’s eyes, with a hint of embarrassment and a hint of feeling: “But I don’t suppose I’ll have much of a chance to say it anymore.”

Because of Yan Lie, he had long since lost any right to nag her about marriage.