Chapter 23

“Is Miaomiao right there? Put him on. I’ll talk to him.”
Su Wan handed the phone to Jing Miao and deliberately said loudly, “Miaomiao, curse him to death!”
Jing Miao took the call and said softly, “Gege.”
Just hearing his voice made Xi Siyan go weak to the bone.
“Baby, did you miss me?” he teased warmly. “Did you go complain to Mom?”
“No…” Jing Miao answered weakly—though in his heart he admitted, okay, yes, a little. Then he asked honestly, “Did you miss me?”
Xi Siyan’s heart skipped half a beat. With people around, he couldn’t say anything too mushy, so he lowered his voice:
“Have Mom bring you to the institute in a bit, okay?”
Jing Miao bit his lip. “You still haven’t answered me.”
“Come here and I’ll tell you,” Xi Siyan murmured.
Jing Miao’s face heated up without him realizing.
Before he could speak again, Su Wan snatched the phone back.
“Xi Siyan! Miaomiao asked whether you missed him—why didn’t you answer? What are you doing?”
Xi Siyan: “...Mom, I kind of miss the days when you didn’t accept the two of us at all.”
Su Wan bristled. “What kind of thing is that to say!”
“Alright, Mom.” Xi Siyan cut in. “Send Miaomiao to the institute now.”
Su Wan cursed under her breath and posted a Moments update to complain:
*My eldest son is a useless little brat.*
In the car, Su Wan coached Jing Miao like she was training him for battle:
“Later, when you see your gege, don’t be all soft. Scold him. Check his whereabouts. Smell him—see if there’s perfume. Go through his phone. Point at his forehead and tell him if he dares come home this late again, he shouldn’t come home at all!”
Jing Miao was horrified. “That… doesn’t seem good?”
“You have to be like this!” Su Wan insisted. “Miaomiao, you’re too soft. Xi Siyan got spoiled by you! Look at him before—he couldn’t even go a few steps without you. Now he can come home at midnight. Next thing you know, he won’t come home at all!”
Jing Miao was stunned into silence.
Cold sweat started forming in his palms, and his chest began to ache.
When they reached the institute, he headed straight for Xi Siyan’s section, familiar as if by habit.
The lab door was open.
He saw Xi Siyan smiling and talking with an elegant, refined-looking woman.
Su Wan’s words echoed in his ears.
He was almost about to cry.
Xi Siyan turned and saw Jing Miao—wrapped in a light green down jacket like a piece of ice-carved jade. The coat made his face look even paler, beautiful enough to have stepped out of an anime.
He didn’t even say goodbye to the woman first. He crossed the distance in a few steps and reached Jing Miao.
“Baby!”
He didn’t care who was watching. He pulled Jing Miao into his arms at once. Xi Siyan being a wife-obsessed man wasn’t new to anyone at this point.
He took Jing Miao’s hand and found it slick with sweat.
“Why are your hands sweating?”
Jing Miao couldn’t hold it in anymore. He sniffled and started crying.
Xi Siyan panicked instantly. “Miaomiao—what’s wrong? What happened?”
Jing Miao only buried himself in Xi Siyan’s chest and cried harder, saying nothing—just crying.
Xi Siyan could only turn back and ask for leave.
“Professor Song…”
Song Fuxue held back laughter. “Alright, alright. Half a day off. Be back at eight sharp tonight. Go comfort your wife.”
Xi Siyan thanked her awkwardly, scooped Jing Miao up by the hips, and carried him off.
Jing Miao’s legs naturally wrapped around his waist; Xi Siyan carried him like a koala and coaxed him as he walked:
“Don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s too cold outside—your face will freeze. Bury your face on gege’s shoulder, okay?”
Zhong Yuan sidled over to Song Fuxue. “Professor Song, did you see that?”
“I saw it, I saw it.” Song Fuxue laughed until she held her stomach. “You all kept telling me Xi Siyan’s partner is a reincarnated crying spirit. I didn’t believe it. I’ve learned today.”
“I also admire Xi Siyan. Normally he’s so serious. The second he sees his wife, he loses all dignity. I swear he’s one step away from kneeling.”
Zhong Yuan sighed. “We’re used to it now. At first we were so shocked we could’ve swallowed a fist. He can stare down grad students into depression with a few cold lines. He can get furious over a data calibration deviation of 0.000001 and smash a tray.”
“But the moment his wife calls? ‘Baby, good baby,’ soft as hell.”
“He doesn’t even sleep or play games when he has a spare moment—he just video-calls his treasure.”
“When he first came back, I couldn’t help asking if his boyfriend was too clingy. He told me the kid wasn’t used to attending class alone.”
“Good. It’s been a year now. They wake up together, eat lunch together, go home together. And in the tiny gap between, they still call each other two or three times.”
Song Fuxue was stunned. “Seriously? That close? I’ve seen plenty of couples, but that’s a first.”
Another colleague, who hadn’t spoken, rolled his eyes and added, “It’s true. Three months ago, Xi Siyan was my idol. Three months in, I can barely look at him.”
“Also, Zhong Yuan, your question was biased. It shouldn’t be ‘is your boyfriend too clingy.’ It should be: is your boyfriend too clingy—or are you too clingy?”
Zhong Yuan laughed. “Fair, fair. But at the time, I didn’t know the whole story. Jing Miao has that face that makes men cry and women break hearts, sure—but no matter how you think about it, he shouldn’t be the clingy one. Right, Professor Song?”
“What?” Song Fuxue blinked. “Xi Siyan cries too?”
The colleague corrected politely, sticking to facts:
“Not like that. But sometimes—after finishing a call with his wife—he’ll get so frustrated he’ll slam a wall, curse himself, curse our institute, curse the whole world.”
“When I first arrived, I bumped into him like he’d gone mad—throwing things, yelling he didn’t care about this ‘stupid material’ anymore, he was going home, his baby was crying.”
Song Fuxue: “...What did he curse? Did anyone record it? Show me.”
Zhong Yuan shrugged. “Who’d dare? He’s really angry. What did he say… let me think.”
Then Zhong Yuan reenacted vividly:
“I’m such a fucking animal! My wife is home alone and I’m still stuck at this stupid job! Who’s forcing us to get results right now? Are we insane? What is this bullshit? I leave my wife at school, leave him at home, and I’m here fighting the damn atmospheric pressure of this world—what for?!”
“Something like that.”
Song Fuxue: “...Damn.”
The colleague laughed. “You’ve only been here a few days, so you haven’t seen it. He has an episode like this every so often. Recently he’s been working overtime to finish workload ahead of holiday. He’s about to lose it.”