The Daughter-In-Law Is So Pitiful? Just Take Her Home and Pamper Her! - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Change

At the first light of dawn, Chen Mi woke up.

A sliver of golden sunlight leaked through the attic window, landing right on his eyelids. He groggily rolled over, and his fingers brushed something beside his pillow—a fresh mint leaf, with a note underneath:

“Come downstairs when you’re up. Don’t dawdle. —Xu”

The handwriting was messy, clearly written in a rush. Chen Mi picked up the mint leaf; its surface was still slightly damp and cool—it must’ve been freshly picked.

He climbed out of bed slowly, feet bare against the wooden floor. The chill crept up from the soles of his feet, waking him fully. Memories of the previous night trickled back—
The store anniversary.
The stormy night.
The ledger.
All the things Xu Yao had hidden about him…
And that dried mint leaf.

His heart suddenly skipped a beat.

Downstairs, the barbershop was already open.

Xu Yao had his back to him, cutting a customer’s hair. His buzzed head caught the morning light with a faint sheen, and the tattoo on the back of his neck flickered in and out of view with every movement. Chen Mi stood at the top of the stairs, silent, simply watching.

Xiao Hei came out from under the counter, holding a dried fish in its mouth. It swaggered over to Chen Mi’s feet, dropped the fish on his slipper, and looked up as if saying, “Here, for you.”

Chen Mi squatted down and rubbed its head, whispering, “Where’s your mom? Snuck off again?”

The cat flicked its tail, looking like it understood perfectly, then slinked away.

“You’re up?” Xu Yao’s voice came from behind.

Chen Mi jumped, almost falling on his butt. He turned and saw Xu Yao had finished the haircut and was standing there with arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“…Yeah.” Chen Mi ducked his head, pretending to fuss with the dried fish on his slipper, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Eat.” Xu Yao tossed the word out and turned toward the kitchen.

Chen Mi followed and saw a bowl of steaming beef noodles on the table. The broth was clear, the scallions vibrant, and on top lay two soft-boiled eggs—his favorite kind, with yolks that oozed when poked.

He blinked and looked up at Xu Yao. “You made this?”

“Who else?” Xu Yao grunted as he pulled out a chair. “Sister Lin didn’t open shop today. Make do with this.”

Chen Mi stared at the bowl for a few seconds before suddenly asking, “…You didn’t sleep last night?”

Xu Yao’s hand paused mid-air with the chopsticks, then resumed casually stirring the noodles. “I slept.”

“Liar,” Chen Mi shot back. “You’ve got dark circles.”

Xu Yao raised his eyes, his look sharp. “What, you’re keeping tabs on when I sleep now?”

Chen Mi shut his mouth, bowing his head to shovel noodles into his mouth, but his ears turned red.

There was a short silence.

Then Xu Yao suddenly asked, “…You looked at the ledger?”

Chen Mi froze mid-bite, his heart thudding wildly. He mumbled a vague “Mm” and pretended to focus on eating.

Xu Yao stared at him for a moment, then suddenly reached out and wiped a bit of broth from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. His tone was calm. “So what if you saw it? Don’t overthink it.”

Chen Mi froze, the noodles still in his mouth, forgotten.

Xu Yao pulled his hand back and continued eating like nothing had happened—but the tips of his ears… seemed a little red?

Outside, sunlight streamed in fully. Xiao Hei jumped onto the windowsill and lazily yawned.

A new day had begun.

…

Ever since that stormy night, something between Chen Mi and Xu Yao had subtly changed.

The barbershop’s spinning light still cast its rainbow glow each day, but now, Chen Mi would purposely flick suds onto Xu Yao while washing customers’ hair.

And Xu Yao no longer smacked his head with the ledger. He’d switched to flicking his forehead with wet fingers instead—cool droplets would slide down his nose bridge, and somehow, it still made Chen Mi’s ears burn.

The calico cat became the most observant witness—

When Chen Mi sneakily added an extra sugar cube to Xu Yao’s coffee, the cat would hop onto the counter, tail curled high, green-gold eyes full of knowing amusement.

Xu Yao would pretend not to notice. But when he drank the overly sweet coffee, a faint smile would curl on his lips.

One afternoon, Chen Mi fell asleep sprawled over the barber chair.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting colorful shadows on his face. His eyelashes left delicate patterns on his cheeks.

Xu Yao put down the razor, gently draped a thin blanket over him, and turned to leave—
Only to find his shirt hem tightly clutched.

Chen Mi had grabbed it in his sleep, fingers clenched like holding on for dear life.

Xu Yao stood silently for a while. In the end, he didn’t pull away. He leaned against the barber chair, letting Chen Mi hold on… until the sunset stretched their shadows long across the floor.

The open ledger on the dye station displayed the latest entry:

“Napping on the job -50”
“…But the way he won’t let go ∞”

And beneath it, in even smaller, barely visible handwriting:

“Just keep holding on. Don’t let go.”

But perhaps the biggest change… was Chen Mi’s sleeping arrangements.

At 2 a.m., the attic stairs creaked—creak, creak.

Xu Yao had just closed the ledger when he heard three soft knocks on the door.

“…What is it?” He opened the door to find Chen Mi standing there, hugging a pillow. The boy was barefoot, his oversized pajamas hanging askew, exposing a pale neck and delicate collarbones.

“…The attic… has a draft,” Chen Mi mumbled, staring at his toes. It was the same excuse he’d used for three nights straight—all thunderstorm nights.

But tonight…

Xu Yao raised a brow and glanced out the window—clear skies and a star-filled night.

“…”

“…”

Silence stretched between them. At last, Xu Yao stepped aside. “Come in.”

Even though he’d already slept in Xu Yao’s bed several times, Chen Mi still lay stiff as a board—arms crossed neatly on his chest, breathing carefully, afraid to take up too much space.

“If you stay that stiff,” Xu Yao said hoarsely, voice laced with sleep, “I won’t even need to pose your corpse tomorrow.”

Chen Mi peeked over.

Moonlight filtered through the curtains, tracing the profile of Xu Yao’s face—
The scar on his brow, his tightly pressed lips, and the Adam’s apple that bobbed gently with each breath.

His arm rested atop the blanket, the tattooed mountains rising and falling with the dark.

Almost without thinking, Chen Mi reached out, his fingertips hovering just above the ink—so close—

“Sleep,” Xu Yao suddenly grabbed his wrist, eyes still closed. “Move again and I’ll tie you up and toss you back in the attic.”

Chen Mi immediately withdrew his hand and obediently shut his eyes. But not long after, like a sneaky little cat, he began inching closer bit by bit—
First his elbow, then his shoulder, and finally even his knee pressed lightly against Xu Yao’s leg.

Xu Yao didn’t move, but his breathing… grew just a little heavier.