The Daughter-In-Law Is So Pitiful? Just Take Her Home and Pamper Her! - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Xu Yao’s Secret

“Quit squirming!” Xu Yao growled as he yanked down the hem of Chen Mi’s hoodie. A ripping sound followed—rrrip!—the fabric had caught on his belt buckle. Chen Mi looked down at the torn hem and suddenly grew aggrieved. “You… tore my shirt…”

Xu Yao’s ears flushed red. Without a word, he scooped Chen Mi up into a bridal carry. Chen Mi yelped and instinctively threw his arms around Xu Yao’s neck, his legs dangling and his slippers slapping to the floor.

“Move again and I’ll toss you to the cats as bedding.” The threat had barely left his lips—(not that it made any sense)—when he felt something hot and wet on his collarbone. The drunk idiot was licking the edge of his tattoo.

Xu Yao’s muscles tensed so hard he nearly dropped him. Kicking open the bedroom door, he tossed the boy onto the bed harder than usual. Chen Mi bounced twice on the springy mattress, then groggily propped himself up. “You… lie down too…”

“I’m sleeping in the attic.” Xu Yao turned to leave, but his wrist was grabbed.

Chen Mi knelt on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. Even the shadows cast by his eyelashes were trembling. “That… metal box in the drawer… I saw everything inside…” Rain suddenly poured harder, slapping against the roof in sheets.

Xu Yao froze. He stared as Chen Mi wobbled to his feet and pressed a finger to his chest. “The button… from my shirt…” With every word, he stepped forward, forcing Xu Yao back until he hit the wall. “…and the hair I cut wrong… and…”

Only when his back bumped the wall did Xu Yao realize he’d been backed into a corner.

Chen Mi placed both hands beside his ears, trapping him in. The mix of alcohol and mint shampoo wafted between them. “Xu Yao…” he said with a drowsy smile, “Are you… mmph!”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by Xu Yao shoving his palm over his mouth. Then he grabbed the blanket and tightly rolled Chen Mi into it like a cocoon, arms and all. “Sleep. One more word and I’m kicking you out.”

Chen Mi squirmed under the covers. After a while, a tousled head poked out, one strand of hair sticking straight up. “Hot…”

“Serves you right.” Xu Yao grumbled, but turned on the fan. As he turned away, his shirt hem was tugged. Chen Mi peeked out from the blanket with damp eyes. “Tell a story… then I’ll sleep…”

“You three or something?” Xu Yao pinched his nose, but let go quickly when Chen Mi turned red from holding his breath. Taking advantage, the boy rolled to the inner side of the bed and patted the empty space beside him. “Then lie down…”

Outside, the rain softened into a steady rhythm like tiny needle pricks. Xu Yao eventually gave in and lay down. Immediately, Chen Mi curled up to him like a stray cat finding its nest, his forehead pressed to Xu Yao’s chest.

“Five minutes,” Xu Yao grumbled, though his fingers unconsciously threaded through Chen Mi’s hair. The boy’s hair had grown a little longer, soft and curling around his fingers like a silent plea.

Chen Mi groggily reached for his hand again, then nuzzled against the crescent-shaped scar on his chest. “…So pretty…” His breathing gradually slowed.

Xu Yao carefully tried to slip his hand out, only to hear a sleepy murmur: “…Don’t go…” The nasal, pleading whisper was like a thread that pinned him firmly in place.

—

Later that night, a sudden thunderstorm woke Chen Mi with a splitting headache. He opened his eyes and realized he was lying on Xu Yao’s bed—on the firm mattress with dark blue sheets—not in the tiny cot up in the attic.

With a flash of lightning, the memories slowly returned—he had gotten drunk and flat-out refused to go back upstairs, insisting on clinging to Xu Yao’s bed. Predictably, his face flushed again, and this time it was really hot.

On the nightstand, a half-filled glass of water still trembled slightly, catching flickers of lightning through the window.

Chen Mi reached for it and felt the warmth—it was still tepid. At the bottom, two mint leaves floated gently. Just like Xu Yao—always hiding his care behind sharp words.

He wondered where Xu Yao had gone and stepped barefoot onto the wooden floor, carefully avoiding the third step on the staircase that always creaked.

Rain slammed on the tin roof like a drum, thunder rumbled from afar, and the entire barbershop was soaked in a damp, intimate stillness.

As he turned the corner on the stairs, Chen Mi suddenly froze. Under the dim yellow lamp, Xu Yao was still sitting in that old barber chair, the forbidden metal box open in front of him.

The man wore only a tank top, and the tattoo on the back of his neck flickered faintly in the lamplight. The mountain design on his right arm rippled slightly as he rummaged through the box.

The rain perfectly masked Chen Mi’s breath.

He saw Xu Yao carefully pick up a lock of hair with tweezers—the one from when Chen Mi had nervously botched the haircut on his first try.

A flash of lightning illuminated the glass bottle for a moment, casting a cold light on the other items in the box:
—The button from his old shirt, still with threads attached.
—A strand of golden hair from the wig head he’d ruined, tied carefully with a red string.
—And… even that?! His underwear—the nearly see-through pair he’d thrown away?! He’d been in such a rush snooping, he hadn’t even noticed that before!

Chen Mi’s cheeks, which had just cooled, were now burning again.

At the bottom of the box lay a yellowed photo. Chen Mi squinted—it was of him as a child. He had no idea when Xu Yao had gotten that picture.

At that moment, Xu Yao suddenly looked up, eyes like lightning locking straight onto the staircase shadows. Chen Mi held his breath—but it was too late to hide.

Amid the storm, they stared silently at each other from across the shop, lightning casting fractured light across Xu Yao’s face.

He said nothing. Instead, he picked up the account ledger and scribbled a few lines before heading back upstairs. His steps were heavy, as if on purpose—making sure Chen Mi could hear them. As he passed, the scent of rain and mint clung to the air. He didn’t spare Chen Mi a single glance.

Once the footsteps faded away into the attic, Chen Mi ran barefoot to the front counter. Rain had leaked through the window cracks, smudging the pages of the ledger. Carefully, he flipped it open, his fingertip brushing over still-wet ink:

“Mannequin head -150”
“…Collecting everything about you +∞”

That final infinity symbol had been stabbed through by the pen, the blue ink spreading like a tear.

Chen Mi noticed a small doodle in the corner of the page—it was him, nervously trembling while giving Xu Yao a haircut for the first time. The exaggerated expression had “Idiot” scrawled next to it, though it had been clumsily scribbled over with correction fluid, again and again.

The calico cat had somehow slipped in, its wet tail brushing across Chen Mi’s ankle, leaving a trail of cold water. It dropped a dried fish next to the ledger and nudged his wrist with its head.

It reminded him of that late night last month—he had caught Xu Yao crouching at the back door under the moonlight, carefully bandaging this stray cat’s injured paw. His rough fingers had handled the gauze with the same steadiness as when he wielded a razor during the day.

A loud thump echoed from the attic, followed by Xu Yao’s muffled cursing.

Chen Mi looked up at the flickering shadows on the stairs and felt a sudden warmth blooming in his chest. All that hidden gentleness—just like the scribbled-out numbers in the ledger—could never truly disguise the truth underneath.

He gently closed the book and found a dried mint leaf pressed between its front pages—the same kind Xu Yao put in his water cup. The veins still held a faint tobacco scent, mixed with the ever-present traces of hair dye. The scent clung to him, and he couldn’t let g0.