As in previous years, Su Jingming spent New Year’s Eve with Su Qicheng. The only difference was that this year, Su Qicheng didn’t hit him or hurl insults.
In the past, Su Qicheng would spend half of New Year’s Eve beating and blaming Su Jingming, and the other half slumped over, dead drunk.
At ten in the morning, Su Jingming opened his bedroom door to the sound of considerable commotion in the kitchen. Still wearing a face full of exhaustion, he shuffled lazily to the kitchen in his slippers and poked his head in.
Su Qicheng was preparing the reunion dinner.
The countertops were already crowded with plates of prepared ingredients. A freshly slaughtered fish lay in the sink, and a pot of soup was simmering on the stove. The scene felt familiar—so familiar that he couldn't quite place the memory.
Su Jingming froze for a moment, wondering if he was dreaming. Su Qicheng turned to look at him. "Why didn't you sleep a bit longer? Just find something for yourself to eat for lunch."
According to the old Su family tradition, the New Year’s Eve dinner was always served promptly at six in the evening.
Su Jingming gave a dry "oh" in response, rubbing his temples as he went to the bathroom to wash up. Emerging refreshed, he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching Su Qicheng bustle about, sweat beading on his forehead. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Do you need help?"
Su Qicheng’s hand, holding a spatula, stiffened. He didn't quite dare to turn and look at Su Jingming. "Alright."
Su Jingming pursed his lips and walked to the counter with downcast eyes. "What do you need me to do?"
Cooking was not one of Su Jingming’s strengths.
"Then... just wash those vegetables over there." Su Qicheng’s finger trembled slightly as he pointed to a bag of greens.
Su Jingming gave a faint hum of affirmation and began washing the bag of vegetables. He was meticulous, not letting a single leaf go uncleaned.
During this time, Su Qicheng stole several glances at Su Jingming. He straightened his back and asked, "How is school?"
It was the question every parent asked; for children in their adolescence, it was the kind of concern they supposedly needed most.
Su Jingming assumed Su Qicheng was asking about the incident during the intensive training.
"It's fine now," he answered coldly.
Su Qicheng’s grip on the spatula tightened. He wanted to say more to show his concern, but Su Jingming turned off the water and wiped his hands. "Is that all?"
"That's all."
Su Qicheng wanted to keep the conversation going, but Su Jingming clearly had no such intention. He raised an eyebrow and walked out to sit on the sofa.
Since that morning, Su Jingming’s phone had been vibrating incessantly. Even though he knew it was just group chat messages, he hadn't turned on "Do Not Disturb."
Every vibration felt like a flicker of hope.
He glanced at the window. He didn't know when Su Qicheng had bought and put up the red window paper-cuts. Even the curtains had been replaced with clean ones, and a new cactus sat on the windowsill. The television had been on since morning, broadcasting festive programs and the countdown to the Spring Festival Gala.
Su Jingming could hardly remember how many years it had been since he last watched these programs. When he was a child, the New Year was what he looked forward to most—a time for family harmony and reunion.
As noon approached, bursts of firecrackers began to echo outside. Su Qicheng ran out of the kitchen, spatula still in hand. "Jingming, quick, close the window!"
Su Jingming was startled. Before he could react, Su Qicheng had already rushed forward to shut the living room window.
"It’ll be bad if the smell of gunpowder from the firecrackers drifts in."
Su Jingming stood silently behind him. When Cheng Hui was still alive, she used to do exactly what Su Qicheng just did—rushing out the moment she heard firecrackers.
So that was it.
The sense of familiarity Su Jingming had felt upon stepping into the kitchen that morning was because Su Qicheng had begun to resemble Cheng Hui.
He found it ironic.
He wanted to laugh, but the laughter wouldn't come.
Su Qicheng turned around to find Su Jingming standing behind him with a dark expression. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes; he wanted to ask what was wrong, but the words stayed in his throat.
"If you're hungry, just have some snacks."
Su Jingming nodded and stepped aside to let Su Qicheng pass.
For as long as Su Qicheng was busy in the kitchen, Su Jingming sat on the sofa staring at his phone. He scrolled through his messages countless times, but there was never a notification from *that* person.
He opened his chat window with Wen Yan, typed "Happy New Year," then deleted it. He typed it again, then deleted it again.
After repeating this several times, Su Jingming let out a self-deprecating scoff. How was he any different from a madman? He was the one who had walked away first. What right did he have to go back now with such thick skin?
Just as Su Jingming was about to exit the chat, his phone vibrated. This time, it wasn't a group message.
**Wen Yan:** What are you trying to send?
Su Jingming’s eyes widened. He hadn't thought of a reply yet.
**Wen Yan:** If you're planning to write me a long-winded New Year's essay, don't bother.
**Salted Egg:** ...
**Salted Egg:** It's not an essay.
**Salted Egg:** Happy New Year.
At that moment, Wen Yan was sitting in his study, supervising Wen Miao’s homework. His brows arched slightly, and a hint of a smile hid in his eyes as he typed.
**Wen Yan:** You too. Happy New Year.
Su Jingming fiddled with his phone for a long time, unable to decide how to respond. Su Qicheng brought the final dish out from the kitchen. "Jingming, time to eat."
"Coming." Su Jingming sighed, locked his phone, and tossed it onto the sofa before going to get the bowls and chopsticks.
Having received no further reply from Su Jingming, Wen Yan glanced at Wen Miao’s work. He pointed at a problem with his finger. "Don't you think you should read the requirements for this question more carefully?"
Wen Miao looked up. *Why do I feel like my brother is in a bad mood? He looks exactly like a resentful spouse.*
Under Wen Yan’s coercion and inducement, Wen Miao studied right up until dinner.
It was Mother Wen who finally came to her rescue, grumbling as she led her daughter out of the study, "What is wrong with your brother? It's New Year's Eve, and he's still forcing you to do homework."
Wen Miao made a tearful face. "Mom, look at how he treats me even when you're home. If you guys were away, then..."
Before she could finish, Wen Yan coughed twice behind her.
"Mom, actually, I think my brother doing this is good for strengthening my self-control," Wen Miao said with total seriousness. "I quite like it. Right, Brother?"
Wen Yan lowered his gaze slightly and gave a soft "mm."
Mother Wen rarely interfered between Wen Yan and Wen Miao, but she couldn't help turning to Wen Yan. "Your sister is a girl. Don't be too strict sometimes."
"I know where to draw the line." Wen Yan gripped his phone, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Just as Su Jingming had imagined, the Wen family’s New Year’s Eve was full of joy and harmony. With a little "spoiled brat" like Wen Miao at the table, the atmosphere never cooled down.
Father Wen took it upon himself to pour some white liquor for Wen Yan. Before Mother Wen could object, he said, "The boy is almost eighteen. Having a couple of drinks with his dad won't hurt."
Wen Yan raised an eyebrow and took the glass. "Thanks, Dad."
He clinked glasses with his father and took a small sip. Father Wen said, "You two really put our minds at ease. Especially Wen Yan, taking care of his sister like this allows your mother and me to focus on working hard away from home."
The Wen parents had been working away for several years now, and Wen Yan had been the one looking after his sister most of the time. Wen Miao was also sensible and didn't go out of her way to defy him.
"It's just that as parents, we feel we spend too little time with you. We're afraid you'll resent us."
Hearing this, Wen Miao’s eyes reddened. Beside her, Mother Wen had already begun to shed tears.
After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere became mellow and slightly tipsy. Father Wen, bolstered by the alcohol, spoke many heartfelt words to the siblings. In the end, he just hoped they wouldn't blame their parents for being away all year.
Wen Miao was sobbing uncontrollably. She sniffled as she clutched Mother Wen’s hand. "How could we blame you? I know how hard you work. That's why I listen to my brother."
Father Wen nodded. The glass in front of Wen Yan was now empty. He didn't flush when he drank; he propped his chin on his hand, his eyes still appearing somewhat clear.
Wen Yan was no longer listening to what his father was saying. He suddenly thought of Su Jingming, wondering if he was having a good New Year.
After the time Su Jingming had been kicked down the stairs, Wen Yan hadn't asked about his family situation, and Su Jingming hadn't seemed inclined to talk about it.
It was now nearly ten o'clock, and the Spring Festival Gala on TV was halfway through.
Father Wen continued to talk as he drank himself into a stupor, eventually nearly collapsing onto the dining table. Wen Miao and Mother Wen were whispering secrets to each other. Only Wen Yan seemed to have carved himself out into a separate space, as if surrounded by an invisible barrier.
He suddenly really wanted to see him.
Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but Su Jingming’s face filled Wen Yan’s mind. He wanted to see him, to personally say "Happy New Year" to him.
The thought came from his mind, but the action was fueled by impulse.
Wen Yan stood up abruptly. Mother Wen and Wen Miao both looked at him. "Mom, I'm going out for a bit."
"Where are you going this late at night?"
Wen Yan pursed his lips, unable to think of a suitable excuse.
Wen Miao stepped in to help. "He's probably going to set off fireworks. I heard him mention it yesterday."
"Going to set off fireworks without taking your sister?"
Wen Miao: "I'm not going. I'll come back smelling like smoke. Besides, it's a bunch of guys; why would I want to join that crowd?"
Wen Yan looked at Wen Miao with a hint of gratitude. He hurried to his room to grab a jacket, snatched his keys, and headed out the door.
Father Wen was startled awake by the sound of the door closing. He woke up clutching his wine glass. "Where's my son? My son..." Before he could finish, he drifted off again.
***
The father and son of the Su family sat awkwardly on the sofa watching the Gala. Su Qicheng tried to strike up a conversation several times, but Su Jingming only gave brief, lukewarm responses.
Su Qicheng didn't push it. The fact that Su Jingming hadn't retreated to his room immediately after dinner was already the biggest step forward he had taken.
Su Jingming was slumped on the sofa, fighting off drowsiness, when the phone on the coffee table began to vibrate wildly.
He sat up with a start. It was Wen Yan calling him.
In that instant, Su Jingming’s heart nearly leaped into his throat.
It was so unexpected.
Su Qicheng asked, "There's a call, why aren't you answering?"
Su Jingming dithered for a second before standing up and heading into his bedroom. The moment he pressed the answer button, the sound of heavy breathing came through the phone.
"...?"
As a "flower of the new era," it was hard for him not to let his mind wander. Wen Miao’s words about Wen Yan being in a relationship seemed to echo in his ears.
"Su Jingming." Wen Yan swallowed hard. "Are you home?"
"Yeah." Su Jingming could now hear clearly—it wasn't just breathing; there was also the sound of whistling wind. "Are you outside?"
"Yeah."
Wen Yan gradually slowed his pace to steady his breathing. He tilted his head back, his gaze slowly drifting upward. The streetlights on this New Year’s Eve were exceptionally bright, casting his shadow long against the pavement. He curled his lips into a smile, his voice carrying a gentle warmth and a trace of an imperceptible tremor.
"I'm downstairs at your place."
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