The Daughter-In-Law Is So Pitiful? Just Take Her Home and Pamper Her! - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Warming the Bed

The red glow of the spinning barber pole filtered through the glass window, casting shifting reflections on the cashier counter.

“Grrr—”
Chen Mi’s stomach let out a low growl. Embarrassed, the boy lowered his head, the tips of his ears glowing red beneath his messy hair.
He heard Xu Yao chuckle softly, followed by the sound of footsteps fading away.

Chen Mi sat on a small stool in the barbershop’s back kitchen, eyes fixed on Xu Yao’s back as he cooked noodles.

His stomach no longer ached—it had moved past pain into an empty numbness, like someone had scooped out his insides with a spoon, leaving behind a cold, hollow cavity.

When the smell of beef noodles drifted over, his mouth began salivating uncontrollably.

But then a sharp taste of iron spread across his tongue—he’d bitten the inside of his cheek for the third time today, trying to distract himself from the hunger.

When Xu Yao set down a steaming bowl of beef noodles in front of him, the broth was still rippling.

Chen Mi looked at his bowl, then at Xu Yao’s. The tips of his chopsticks hovered over the edge, tapping three times—an old habit from home, waiting for his father to take the first bite.

“Eat,” Xu Yao knocked on the table, “Starving to death counts as a workplace injury.”

The soup was hot.

Chen Mi sipped cautiously, the rising steam blurring his vision. Then came a soft clink—Xu Yao had pushed all the beef from his own bowl into Chen Mi’s.

His earring caught the steam and glinted dully.

“What are you staring at?” Xu Yao suddenly shoved the chili jar across the glass countertop with a screech.

“I don’t eat fatty meat.”

“You sleep in the attic,” Xu Yao said abruptly, pointing his chopsticks toward the ceiling. “The sheets are new.”

Chen Mi paused just as apprentice Ahei passed by, stirring hair dye.

Hearing this, he shrieked, “Boss! Last time I crashed in the attic after drinking, you gave me a cold, damp army blanket!”

Xu Yao picked up the accounting book and smacked him with it. “Scram! What, not enough work to do?”

“…Thank you,” Chen Mi said softly.

The attic was cleaner than expected.

A single bed sat beneath the sloped window, where the rotating pole’s colored light flowed gently across the ceiling.

At the head of the bed was a faded teddy bear, its left arm stitched back with crooked seams.

“Don’t touch that,” Xu Yao’s voice called from the stairwell. He was holding a set of gray pajamas. “Put these on.”

The pajamas were huge, like a potato sack. Chen Mi had to roll the sleeves up three times just to see his fingers.

He caught a faint scent of bl00d at the collar and, under the light, noticed a brown stain on the right sleeve.

“The bathroom’s working. Shower if you want. Lights out at ten.” As Xu Yao turned to go, Chen Mi noticed the tattoo at the back of his neck, faintly visible beneath the collar. “Try staying up late and see what happens…”

Chen Mi stood outside Xu Yao’s bedroom door, hugging his pillow, hesitating before knocking.

Click—The door opened.

Xu Yao was lighting a cigarette.

The flame from the lighter flared, casting half of his surprised face into view.

“What are you doing?” he asked, cigarette between his teeth.

Chen Mi bit his lip, his fingers nervously gripping the edge of the pillow.
“…You said I was here to warm the bed.”

Ash fell to the floor.

Xu Yao stared at him for three seconds—then suddenly laughed.
“Damn.”

He grabbed Chen Mi by the collar, dragged him to the bed, and shoved him under the covers.

Chen Mi sank into the softness of the quilt, his nose brushing against the lingering scent of aftershave mixed with faint tobacco.

“Fine, warm it.” Xu Yao stubbed out his cigarette on the nightstand. “But if you squirm around, I’ll throw you out.”

Chen Mi curled up under the blanket.

It hit him, belatedly, that the whole “warming the bed” thing had probably just been a joke.

Lying with his back to Xu Yao, he felt a little tense. He didn’t know what Xu Yao intended by letting him into the bed. Could it be…?

The mattress shifted slightly.

Fabric rustled behind him—Xu Yao had lain down too.

But he was far away. It felt like a boundary—like a river that separated nations.

Chen Mi was weak. He felt cold at night. Instinctively, he scooted a little closer to the heat source.

“If you come any closer,” Xu Yao’s voice was low and raspy in the dark, “you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Chen Mi froze and didn’t move again.

A long time passed—so long that Chen Mi thought Xu Yao had already fallen asleep—Then he heard a soft sigh behind him.

A blanket dropped down over his head, wrapping him up like a silkworm cocoon.

“…Idiot.”

Chen Mi was woken up by the heat.

Groggily, he opened his eyes, only to find that at some point during the night, he had turned over. His whole face was now pressed against Xu Yao’s chest.

Xu Yao’s arm was slung over his waist, his palm resting on Chen Mi’s back, as if trying to keep him from falling off the bed.

Light slipped through the gap in the curtains, landing across Xu Yao’s face.

He was asleep, but his brows were still furrowed.

The scar over his right brow bone stood out clearly under the soft light.

Chen Mi glanced up, secretly.

Xu Yao’s eyelashes cast small shadows beneath his eyes, his breathing steady, Adam’s apple rising and falling gently.

Suddenly, Chen Mi thought—This version of Xu Yao, asleep like this, felt very different from the sharp-edged barber who’d threatened people with razors by day.