What's Wrong With Rear-Ending Your Arranged Marriage Partner? He Totally Loves It - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Little Cun Cun

Song Cun sat dazed on the bed for a while before his phone buzzed.

It was a message from Chen Jie, reminding him that he had a grand banquet to attend that evening. Chen Jie would pick him up in the afternoon and had included a list of things to remember.

After replying, Song Cun scrolled through Lin Wan’s messages. They were a series of laments about being caught sneaking out of a business dinner to get drunk, and how his brother had lectured and punished him. Lin Wan was dreading what the coming days would be like.

Song Cun: “Then turn your anger into power. Once you inherit the family business, you can send your brother to Africa to mine.”

Lin Wan: “Ah? My brother isn’t that bad, actually. He’s pretty good to me…”

Song Cun: “…”

He instantly felt like a malicious villain trying to sow discord.

Lin Wan: “Can’t chat anymore, I’m in a meeting. My brother is watching me again!!! Terrifying!”

Song Cun: middle finger emoji.jpg

After chatting and joking with Lin Wan for a bit, Song Cun felt his hazy, throbbing head finally clear up a little. He tossed his phone aside and got up to take a shower.

When he looked in the mirror, he realized he was wearing a Patrick Star pajama set, and to make it worse, not a single button was aligned correctly. The mortifying memories came flooding back.

Last night, Qi Yan was going to help Song Cun clean up, but when he took off his jacket, Song Cun suddenly woke up and insisted on going to the bathroom to wash up himself.

“Teacher says, ‘do your own work.'”

Qi Yan was amused by him.

“Then I’ll go get the bathwater ready. Little Cun Cun can wait for me to finish, okay?”

Little Cun Cun nodded obediently, sat on the toilet, resting his chin on his hands, and tilted his head to watch Qi Yan fill the bathtub.

He dozed off midway and almost fell off the toilet, but Qi Yan quickly caught him. Song Cun blinked his eyes, which were still blurry from the alcohol. He looked at the tub, then at Qi Yan, and asked, “Where are the ducks? Why are there no little yellow ducks?”

This stumped Qi Yan. In the middle of the night, where could he find a little yellow duck? In the end, Qi Yan carried Song Cun downstairs, put him on the sofa closest to the kitchen, found two lemons in the fridge, and carved two duck shapes from the peels.

Little Cun Cun held his two lemon-scented ducks and was happily carried into the bathroom by Qi Yan. Qi Yan didn’t trust him to be in there alone. He waited outside the door, listening carefully to the sounds. Little Cun Cun played with his two little lemon ducks, splashing, talking, and telling stories, having the time of his life.

Qi Yan timed it to make sure the water temperature was right. Afraid Song Cun would get a chill from soaking too long, he knocked on the door. “Little Cun Cun, it’s almost time to get out, or you’ll catch a cold.”

He expected to have to coax Song Cun several times, but he immediately heard splashing as Song Cun stood up. “Okay…” His voice was drawn out with a slight nasal tone, sounding a little reluctant, but also very obedient. Qi Yan, afraid he would slip, listened carefully. “Little Cun Cun, go slowly. Don’t slip. Remember to dry yourself with a towel before you put on your clothes.”

Song Cun didn’t answer, but Qi Yan heard the sound of rustling fabric. After a moment, it was quiet. Qi Yan’s heart tightened, thinking Song Cun had fallen asleep. He was about to go in, but the bathroom door suddenly opened.

Little Cun Cun stood in the doorway, his hair a mess. He must have rubbed his hair when he was drying his body, and rubbed it hard, because Qi Yan had told him to “dry himself.” The pajamas he was wearing were the Patrick Star set he had specifically found before his bath. They were put on crookedly, with the buttons misaligned or skipped, revealing his collarbone and a large area of his chest.

“I’m all done,” Little Cun Cun said, rubbing his eyes. “Time for bed.”

Qi Yan was completely smitten by how cute he looked. “Okay, I’ll carry Little Cun Cun to bed.”

Once in bed, Qi Yan tried to re-button his pajamas, but Song Cun squirmed and wouldn’t let him. Afraid he would get a chill, Qi Yan just covered him with the blanket. Song Cun closed his eyes. Just as Qi Yan thought he was asleep, he suddenly opened his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Qi Yan asked.

“Tell me a story,” Song Cun said, blinking at him, his eyes as innocent as a child’s.

First the bath ducks, now a bedtime story. Drunk Song Cun was well-behaved, but he had a lot of requests. But Qi Yan was doting. Later, Qi Yan told him the story of The Little Prince and the Rose. “With so many roses, how did the Little Prince recognize his own rose?” Song Cun asked, half-asleep.

He couldn’t remember Qi Yan’s answer. He only remembered that as he vaguely closed his eyes, Qi Yan kissed the tear mole under his right eye and said goodnight.

…

His thoughts slowly returned to the present. Song Cun stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, then took off the crookedly-buttoned Patrick Star pajamas. He turned and walked into the shower. The bathtub was clean, and the two lemon little yellow ducks were sitting quietly on the edge, mouth-to-mouth. It was the happy ending he had directed for them last night.

All the socially mortifying scenes were still assaulting Song Cun’s mind. Song Cun closed his eyes, turned on the shower, and tilted his head back, letting the water hit his face. He wished he could drown himself in embarrassment. How could one night of drinking lead to so much humiliation…?

He didn’t know how long he showered, but he finally managed to calm himself down.

Whatever. As long as you’re alive, you’ll constantly lose face!