041: Man-Mom
Tang Yu really had no way out of it. There was no shaking Sang Zhao off, so he could only go downstairs to move the car hand in hand with him.
His face was serious, but inside he was secretly delighted.
Once they stepped out the door, Sang Zhao still didn’t let go. That was one thing. But even after they got into the elevator, he still refused to let go.
Honestly, Tang Yu liked it a lot. He liked it so much it was almost an obsession, this clingy way Sang Zhao had of sticking to him… But he was an adult, and adults were terrified of awkward situations.
So he had to be sneaky about it.
With how guilty he looked, compared to bold and upright Sang Zhao, he really did seem like a thief, not like someone holding hands, but like someone having an affair.
Meanwhile, Sang Zhao was totally justified and relaxed, swinging their joined hands as they went, thrilled to bits.
After all, he wasn’t human, he was a cat. He didn’t have that much shame or sense of awkwardness. It really didn’t bother him.
What, when he’d only had paws and no hands, he could only rub up against people. Now he had hands and he still wasn’t allowed to hold someone’s hand?
He kept Tang Yu’s hand in a righteous grip all the way until the elevator stopped on the first floor and they crossed the lobby.
Only when they stepped outside and Tang Yu actually needed his hands to drive did he finally let go.
By the time they got back to where they’d parked before, there was already a guy with slicked-back hair standing there, jittering one leg.
As soon as he saw them, the guy waved frantically. “Come on, come on, hurry up, bro! Hurry! I’m in a rush to go eat!”
Tang Yu had already felt bad about inconveniencing someone. Now, hearing that, he hurried into the driver’s seat, moved the car and swapped it into another space, hands flying.
Sang Zhao had wanted to use this window while Tang Yu was maneuvering to quietly hint to the guy to watch what he said and not slip up.
But the guy’s mouth was busy nonstop.
“Okay, okay, back it up a bit! Turn the wheel hard right! Still got room! Turn it all the way, all the way!”
…He gave up.
Forget it, just take me out instead.
Could this guy look at him for one second so he could get a word in?
Tang Yu was in such a hurry to free up the space that he finished in under thirty seconds, hopped out, and that was that.
By the time Sang Zhao opened his mouth, everything was already over. There hadn’t been a single opening.
“All done. I’m really sorry for the trouble,” Tang Yu said as he got out, apologizing again.
He was an adult. Adults felt obligated to exchange a few polite words after making someone wait.
So he repeated the man’s earlier line as small talk. “You’re in a rush to go eat, right?”
The guy took a look at the new space between the cars, nodded in satisfaction, and answered, “Yeah, I’m going out of town to eat.”
He slapped the hood of his car with a big laugh.
“Haha, going out of town for a big meal, nice and full, eating a few rows of field mice! It’s just the Bureau’s stricter now. I used to just fly straight there. Now they make me drive to the farm before I can fly. Total pants-off fart.”
…
Was that even Chinese anymore?
Where was any of that supposed to connect in Tang Yu’s head?
He didn’t even know where this guy’s logic was going.
Meanwhile, all of Sang Zhao’s fur had exploded.
He wanted to lunge over and cover the guy’s mouth, but the guy talked too fast and never gave him the chance. In the blink of an eye, he was done.
All Sang Zhao could do was let out a fake laugh. “Ah, yeah, I get it! You should get going! Go on, you’re in a hurry, right? Go!”
The guy nodded, waved them off, hopped into his car, and whooshed away.
Tang Yu was left standing there in total confusion. “Huh? Get what? What did I miss?”
Playing innocent, Sang Zhao put on a face that said he had no idea what Tang Yu could possibly be confused about.
Faced with that puzzled look, he just blinked back at him. “Hm?”
Tang Yu really wanted to write it off as a joke…
But who went that hard with a random stranger you’d only asked to move a car? Who joked like that over nothing?
“What ‘out of town’? What ‘Bureau’? What ‘field mice’?” Tang Yu fired off three questions in a row. “You heard what he said, right?”
His instincts were screaming that something was off.
He couldn’t make sense of it, so his imagination kicked into overdrive. “Is that some kind of code name for a restaurant? He’s not going to eat wild animals, is he?”
As soon as he got that far, he clearly felt like he’d found the key to the whole thing.
Corn Bean was about to start thinking for real.
Hold it. No thinking. Thinking is banned.
In a panic, Sang Zhao rushed to cover for the guy. “No way, no way, impossible. They’re super strict nowadays.”
He covered and crashed at the same time.
Great. At work he had to cover for the pelican. At home he had to cover for the guy who ate field mice.
He tried very hard to look relaxed and natural, but his insides were shaking.
Sure, he wanted to start swaggering around and testing the Yao Bureau’s bottom line.
But he hadn’t planned to stick his head out, fail, and end up with his butt hanging out instead.
Watching the guy’s car peel away, he secretly ground his teeth.
Another bird.
Were all birds like this? No sense of danger, always flapping around, absolutely zero secrecy training.
Just because you showed up in front of a yaoguai apartment building didn’t mean you had to dump all this out of your beak the second you opened it.
Thankfully, time was tight and he’d been talking fast, so the details were blurry. Otherwise the guy might’ve spilled everything.
Tang Yu was so timid that if he found out this building was full of yaoguai, he might actually collapse on the spot.
That settled it. From now on, if Tang Yu was hanging out with him, he was not allowed to talk to any other yaoguai.
Of course, he felt guilty too. He was the one who’d brought Tang Yu here.
He didn’t have any more secrecy training than that bird did, so… Cat and bird, half a catty each.
He didn’t really have the right to complain too much. Besides, the bird was starving and in a rush to eat.
While Tang Yu was still trying to make sense of things, Sang Zhao did everything he could to scramble his thoughts.
He dragged insistently at him to go back upstairs.
They could not just stand around down here. What if another yaoguai wandered over and showed a tail right in front of him?
This was Tang Yu’s birthday. Why traumatize him today of all days?
“Come on, Gege, let’s go,” Sang Zhao said when he ran out of arguments and switched to pure cling mode.
His clinginess went off the charts and Tang Yu started losing his resistance.
He held back a laugh, and his gaze on Sang Zhao turned all soft and warm.
“Stop thinking about that guy. What’s so interesting about some rough, bear-blinded slick-back bro? If you’ve got time and brainpower, you should spend it thinking about me. Think about me more.”
“I am thinking about you,” Tang Yu said, meaningful. “I’m thinking maybe you’re a little strange.”
“Strange where? Just strangely cute,” Sang Zhao muttered.
That made Tang Yu laugh for real.
He let out a low sound in his chest as his shoulders moved, laughter rolling up from his throat.
They went back upstairs together and the takeout showed up right on cue.
Fried chicken.
While Tang Yu set it out on the dining table, opening up boxes and sauces, Sang Zhao tiptoed over to the fridge and took out the ice cream cake he’d ordered in advance.
Ice cream cakes were expensive. This one had cost 498.
He bought it anyway. First, Corn Bean was worth it. Second, he wanted to eat it.
In a way, celebrating Corn Bean’s birthday wasn’t just for Corn Bean.
It was also for himself, for the version of himself who no longer had a mom to throw him a party, grabbing any excuse he could to still have birthdays.
So when Tang Yu turned around, he saw Sang Zhao quietly holding a cake.
He was full of surprise, but what he said was, “Why do you move around without making any sound? Are you a cat?”
The hands holding the cake gave a tiny tremble.
…Please don’t force me to puff up at my happiest moment.
But compared to the old days, Sang Zhao had already improved a lot.
At least now he knew that lines like “Are you a cat?”, “You’re a little cat,” or “You’ve got a cat tongue” weren’t direct slide-tackles meant to rip off his “I’m human” disguise.
They were just another way humans said “you’re so cute.”
So he actively tried to get used to it and acted natural.
The ice cream cake was yogurt-flavored and frozen just right. Inside there was cranberry, strawberry, and blueberry. On top, decorative toppers spelled out “happy birthday” among the flowers.
Pointing at the cake, he showed off his English. “Hai-pi ber-sdei.”
Tang Yu touched the corner of his eye and broke into laughter.
Rummaging in the bag, Sang Zhao found the lighter that had come with the cake and shoved it at him. “Here, you light the candles.”
He’d never used a lighter.
What if the flame burned his bright gold hair?
No way. Tang Yu was the reliable human. Give it to him.
All he had to do was say pitifully, “I’m scared of fire.”
Tang Yu took the lighter, lit the candles, and then, in the glow of flame and the fancy cake, looked quietly at Sang Zhao over the candlelight.
Right now, it was just the two of them here, but he didn’t feel lonely at all.
This moment felt more grand than any big gathering he’d ever been to.
Quick as anything, Sang Zhao slapped the lights off.
In the dark, Tang Yu pressed his fists together under his chin.
What should he wish for? What should he ask for?
In the end, he made a very serious wish.
Then he opened his eyes, lifted his head, and blew the candles out in one breath.
Sang Zhao moved around easily in the dark without even feeling for anything. A quick flick and all the lights were back on.
He wasn’t really curious about what Tang Yu had wished for.
He was curious about something else.
Watching how Tang Yu had used the lighter, it hadn’t looked that dangerous. So now he wanted to play with fire.
He poked Tang Yu’s arm. “Let me try.”
Tang Yu handed the lighter over and watched from the side.
Pressing on it, Sang Zhao sparked the flame, fascinated, then leaned back toward him.
“Gege, blow out the candle,” he said.
Tang Yu blew, and as soon as he did, Sang Zhao released the lighter. The flame vanished like a candle going out.
“Wow, happy birthday!” he cheered.
He’d already given his blessing, but still had to say it again.
One round wasn’t enough. He played it five or six times in a row, and Tang Yu went along with him each time, blowing when he was supposed to.
Every time he blew, Sang Zhao shouted “happy birthday” all over again.
He made such a racket, but Tang Yu never ran out of patience.
He kept him company the whole time, smiling with that gentle look in his eyes that made everything feel like warm water.
Once he’d had his fun, they finally started on the cake.
Tang Yu took a bite.
It was cool and soft, the yogurt flavor rich and smooth.
It wasn’t like he’d never had this kind of cake before. Cake was cake, no matter how good. There was a limit to how far the flavor could go.
But today’s cake slid over his tongue especially light, dropped into his throat happily, and landed in his stomach.
Somehow, it tasted like standing in the sun. Like a physical, solid feeling of happiness, he thought.
For Sang Zhao, this was his first ice cream cake.
He was over the moon.
Think about it.
He liked yogurt, he liked ice cream, and he liked cake. Now there was something that combined all three like magic.
Bang, yogurt ice cream cake.
Holding his spoon, he shoved a huge bite into his mouth. It was cold, sweet, and soft.
He let out a sigh, then flopped back with the spoon still in his mouth and lay there in silence.
After a while, a faint voice floated out. “So… so good… Why is it this good…”
Then, with a sudden bounce, he sat up again and dug in like mad.
He ate more than half of Tang Yu’s birthday cake and basically all the fried chicken.
When he finally got full, he snuck a look at Tang Yu and realized Tang Yu had stopped eating a while ago.
Now he was just sitting on a floor cushion by the rug, leaning on the coffee table with his weight tipped forward, one hand propping up his head.
The cake and chicken were right by his elbow, but he didn’t look at them.
He just watched Sang Zhao eat.
Wiping his mouth, scratching his cheek, meeting that gaze, Sang Zhao smiled.
Then he twisted around on the sofa and started feeling around in the cushions for something he’d hidden earlier.
“I got you a birthday present, Gege,” he said with a grin. “I put it… hmm, where did I… oh, here it is.”
He pulled out a cookie tin he’d scrubbed clean himself, used it as a gift box, and held it out to Tang Yu.
When Sang Zhao had invited him over for his birthday, Tang Yu had already guessed there’d be a present.
But guys’ gifts were all pretty much in the same range.
If you were going for official, you sent electronics, fancy pens and ink, honey, tea.
If you were going for intimate, you sent shirts, belts, sunglasses, watches, cologne, or skincare.
There wasn’t much way to get outside that box.
He was prepared for that.
He’d even prepared himself mentally: if Sang Zhao gave him something he already had, like a fitness band, earbuds, or a smartwatch, he’d put on his most touched, delighted face and give him full emotional support.
But then out came a cookie tin from the corner of the sofa.
That was already past anything Tang Yu had imagined.
He lifted a hand and tapped it with one finger before he even took it, choosing instead to look up at Sang Zhao’s face.
Sang Zhao looked very smug.
That alone was enough for Tang Yu to realize that whatever was inside the tin, it definitely wasn’t cookies.
He took the tin and looked it over.
It was a bright yellow, star-shaped metal cookie tin, about the size of his palm, with a raised cartoon milk bottle on the lid.
He forced a line out. “You really like milk, huh.”
He remembered the lollipop he’d gotten before had been milk-flavored too.
“Why not? Cows can drink it and I can’t?”
“Not only do I drink it, I drink a lot. I don’t just drink milk, I eat dairy,” he said, brain going off in a weird direction.
Tang Yu waved a hand. “Drink away. Cow’s milk, goat’s milk, camel’s milk, drink them all.”
As he said it, he popped the lid and looked inside.
Sure enough, it wasn’t cookies.
It was a little wool-felt figurine, a needle-felt piece.
Most of those were white, but this one wasn’t.
This one was orange, because it was a corn cob.
Not the usual yellow corn, either.
Its color was about the same as Sang Zhao’s hair, bright and vivid orange.
“It’s my… cat’s fur. I felted it,” Sang Zhao said, stumbling over the words.
Tang Yu looked down at the tin, then at him.
His expression went subtle. His lips pressed together.
Everything that was happening now had blown right past the edge of his expectations and was sprinting at full speed in the cutest direction possible, never to return.
He rubbed at the edge of his shirt between his fingers, then very carefully reached into the box and poked the chubby little corn.
After a second’s hesitation, he picked it up.
It was tiny, just about the size of two finger joints.
“I had to learn how to make it. It was such a hassle. Lucky I’m smart,” Sang Zhao said proudly.
His cleverness was secondary. The main thing was that his paws were nimble.
For a cat, anything involving yarn, fiber, or handcrafts came with natural advantages.
“How is it? Way more artistic talent than the little dog’s grass braiding, right?”
He still remembered the whole situation with the dog’s little grass toy.
His corn had to be way better than that little grass dog made with dog-tail grass.
Tang Yu loved it.
He was so happy he stood up, lifted it toward the lamp, and studied it against the light.
He took a long look, then slowly drew his hand back.
His voice was low and muffled when he spoke. “I really like it. I really, really like it.”
Staring at the corn in his hand, he sighed. “But the ‘Yu’ in my name…”
“The ‘Yu’ in ‘zhong ling yu xiu’!” Sang Zhao cut in, copying his tone, rocking his head as he repeated what he’d heard before.
“So what does that actually mean?” he finally asked.
Tang Yu thought for a moment, then explained. “Basically, it’s wishing I’ll be spiritual and talented, outstanding and accomplished. That kind of ‘Yu.’”
Oh. Sounded very cultured.
But that didn’t impress Sang Zhao that much.
He thought it over, then copied the structure of the explanation and turned his own thoughts into words.
“Then I hope you’ll be crisp and sweet, just like corn,” he said. “That’s the ‘Yu’ I’m wishing for you.”
Tang Yu froze, then let out a breath of sound in reply.
“Thanks. I’ll do my best to be crisp and sweet,” he said, one word at a time, very serious.
He looked straight at Sang Zhao, heavy and focused.
Meanwhile, Sang Zhao wasn’t that clever.
He didn’t wish the birthday boy success or achievement, just happiness.
And that made it rare and precious, which only made Tang Yu more delighted and more protective of it.
Earlier, he’d jumped up to hold the corn up to the light.
Now he was still on his feet as he spoke.
Since Sang Zhao was still sitting, Tang Yu was standing above him and it was easy to spot the tuft of hair sticking up on his head.
“It’s messy here.”
He bent down, carefully trying to smooth it.
But today he was wearing a shirt and tie.
When he bent, the tie dangled down and swayed right in front of Sang Zhao’s nose.
And how was he supposed to ignore that?
That tie was swinging right in front of him.
Two-faced Corn Bean, not only did he have a toy on his head, now he had a tie waving back and forth in front of him. Was everything on him a cat teaser or what?
With that right there, how was the little cat supposed to not bat at it? It was pure instinct.
Without thinking, Sang Zhao grabbed the tie and yanked, pulling Tang Yu off balance.
He stumbled and had to catch himself on the back of the sofa.
When he finally steadied himself, he realized his face was very close to Sang Zhao’s, separated by just a breath.
At this distance, he was looking straight into his eyes.
Sang Zhao stared back without blinking, his heart muddled, his eyes clear.
His skin was pale and fine, no flaws anywhere, like a piece of smooth jade or the yogurt ice cream cake he’d just eaten.
He was really too pretty, golden hair fluffy over his forehead, covering a bit of his brows.
He looked over with clueless eyes, a little silly and with a vague guilty look, then laughed.
…What, he wasn’t going to let him play with it? Stingy.
While the little cat was secretly grumbling in his heart, Tang Yu finally moved.
Slowly, he leaned in.
His fingertips curled on the sofa back.
He closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to Sang Zhao’s forehead.
…
Sang Zhao was still processing that when Tang Yu jerked back like a spring, retreating in one big step.
Hands over his mouth, his eyes filled with disbelief.
That lit Sang Zhao’s temper on the spot.
“What, is my forehead spicy? Did I burn your mouth?”
“Or do I have spikes growing out of my skull and they stabbed your lips?”
The other hand went to his chest as he furrowed his brows and muttered, “God… I’m so sinful.”
Sang Zhao glared.
You rescued a dog and got a mouthful of fur, and that didn’t stop you from kissing the dog.
Now you kissed a cat in human form and suddenly it’s a crisis?
The vague something that had just been bubbling up in his chest was instantly burned off by anger.
He was mad.
Really mad.
Which left the mood in a pretty weird place.
Tang Yu refused to say anything else, sat there with his face covered for a while, and since it was getting late, he ended up leaving.
To avoid any yaoguai in the elevator or downstairs making small talk with him, Sang Zhao walked him down without a word and stayed until he saw him drive off.
Once Tang Yu was gone, he crossed his arms and stood there in the dark for a while.
That delayed wave of discomfort slowly rolled up out of the night and seeped into his thoughts.
He just couldn’t figure out why Tang Yu had suddenly kissed him or why he’d reacted like that afterward.
But he knew for sure that Tang Yu didn’t hate him.
That part was crystal clear.
So instead of going back to his own place, he went one floor down and dragged a dog out of bed in the middle of the night.
Sitting in Ye Ye’s dog bed, he poured out his little cat-heart.
“Corn Bean kissed me. You get it? Not the ‘mwah, you’re the cutest cat in the world’ kind of kiss. It was… the kind that really doesn’t want to let me go.”
Thinking back on it now, it really had been soft and light, like a raindrop on his forehead.
Reluctant, attached, protective, all of it packed into that one little kiss.
He shook his orange fluff. “What’s that supposed to mean? It’s one thing if he kisses the cat. But how can he kiss the human-shaped cat? He doesn’t even know the human is the cat. Aren’t humans not supposed to just kiss other humans like that?”
Rubbing his face, Xia Moye pointed at himself.
“Huh? You’re asking Ye Ye? Do I look like I understand this kind of stuff?”
He yelped, “Ye Ye is just a fluffy, soft big white dog!”
Cold and ruthless, Sang Zhao kept pushing.
“Cats really have to ask dogs this?” Ye Ye groaned. “First of all, a dog is a dog. Second, the dog is a kid. How am I supposed to answer this?”
Still, for his sake, he tried to get his little dog brain running.
Which was hard, because it wasn’t exactly overpowered to begin with.
He tilted his head left, then right, peeking at the blue, red, and white shades flickering across Sang Zhao’s face, then scratched his head.
He really didn’t see the problem. “Is there anything wrong with it? He kissed me too.”
“You’re a dog. You’re a kid. I’m not,” Sang Zhao said, choking.
“I’m…”
He set the back of his hand against his forehead, pressing the spot Tang Yu had kissed.
“Before this, only my mom kissed me. How can he just kiss me,” he muttered, still feeling wrong about it no matter how he spun it.
That was all Ye Ye needed.
He should’ve said so earlier, then Ye Ye would’ve understood earlier.
Everything clicked into place.
In a flash of straight-to-the-point dog wisdom, Ye Ye said, “Then he’s filling in for your mom.”
He thumped his little paw down. “Got it. He wants to be your mom.”
“…Really?” Sang Zhao said, half convinced.
“Can a man even be a mom?” he went on, still suspicious of Ye Ye’s reasoning.
“You clearly don’t read or keep up with current events,” Ye Ye said. “There’s a whole term for that. It’s called ‘man-mom.’”
Author’s Note:
Juanjuan is glug-glug-glug chugging straight from the bottle!
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