ITC Chapter 58

On New Year’s Day, many people came to the house. Everyone looked at Bai Xizhou with examining eyes, but no one dared take a step forward to speak.

Although Bai Xizhou had met many people and handled many cases, the people in front of him were not clients. He had almost zero ability to interact with Wen Ruqing’s relatives, so he chose to go to the kitchen and help, and Wen Qing didn’t hold back either—directing him to do this and that.

Outside, Wen Ruqing didn’t have to work either—but that was hardly any better. A group of relatives surrounded him and Xie Yuzhu, giving the siblings scrutinizing looks, like a family tribunal.

At New Year’s family gatherings, questions about his job were inevitable. But because of the field he worked in—relatives didn’t really understand it, and Wen Ruqing couldn’t explain the industry’s worth. So he just offered some perfunctory responses. He peeled a mandarin casually and held it in his hand without eating it.

“Ahem… Ruqing, I heard from your aunt that you have a boyfriend.” It was Wen Ruqing’s eldest aunt speaking.

From her expression, she’d wanted to ask a long time ago but didn’t know how.

Wen Ruqing nodded.

“When your aunt told me that, I nearly fainted—how could going to a big city give you such a problem? How can you be together with a man… I heard men who are with men are more likely to get illnesses.” Another relative jumped in quickly once hearing his reply.

“Two men can’t have children. You’re not that young anymore. Later on when you’re old, who will take care of you?”

One person opened the topic, and others began agreeing:

“You young people are just riding on novelty—when that wears off in a few years, you’ll go back to living a normal life.”

“Being with a woman, getting married, having children—that’s normal. My neighbor’s daughter is about your age and works in Xin City. Want me to set you up?”

Relatives exchanged comments back and forth—even planning how many kids Wen Ruqing should have after marriage. Xie Yuzhu beside them was so angry she nearly snapped—but Wen Ruqing held her down.

He turned slightly to the next station and shook his head gently, signaling her not to act out. Today was New Year—he didn’t want trouble. He didn’t want to embarrass Wen Qing in front of relatives.

“I’m going to help Auntie.” Wen Ruqing stood and exited the circle, escaping to the kitchen.

Bai Xizhou was frying fish for Wen Qing, wearing an ill‑fitting apron. His fringe was clipped up by Xie Yuzhu’s hair clip. Wen Ruqing leaned in and smelled the fish’s aroma.

He tore a slice of mandarin and placed it into Bai Xizhou’s mouth. He bit it open—sweet and sour juice burst in his mouth. Realizing it had seeds, just as he wondered where to spit them out, Wen Ruqing’s hand reached and motioned him to spit them into his palm.

“Why come in? Aren’t you supposed to help entertain relatives?” Bai Xizhou didn’t take his eyes off the pan.

“I don’t want to go out. It’s annoying.” Wen Ruqing spoke very softly. The kitchen was noisy so Wen Qing didn’t hear him. But Wen Ruqing still called to her: “Auntie, are you going to Auntie Yi’s home tonight?”

By tradition, after lunch and ancestral rituals, they’d go to Auntie Yi’s to play Mahjong all night.

“We should, you and Xi Zhou can stay home and look after the house.” Wen Qing knew Wen Ruqing didn’t enjoy visiting relatives, so she let him off—but not Xie Yuzhu.

“I’ll take you to meet my parents first, then we’ll light firecrackers, then come back to watch the Spring Festival Gala.” Wen Ruqing outlined their itinerary.

Bai Xizhou didn’t object.

In Fujiang’s New Year custom, they have reunion lunch at noon. That meal counted as Bai Xizhou’s formal introduction to most of Wen Ruqing’s relatives.

Though everyone was curious about Bai Xizhou at the table, due to politeness they didn’t bring up what they’d said earlier to Wen Ruqing.

And once they learned he was a lawyer, their attitude noticeably improved—something Wen Ruqing reflected on:

The social status of a lawyer is really high.

After lunch they all went out for ancestor worship. Bai Xizhou and Wen Ruqing stayed behind; Wen Ruqing waited until everyone returned before going out.

Once everyone left, the house grew quiet. Bai Xizhou came out and sat beside Wen Ruqing. Seeing Ruqing in low spirits, he asked what was wrong.

“Nothing much—just heard some things I didn’t like.” Wen Ruqing didn’t share everything; he didn’t want Bai Xizhou to know.

“Don’t feel unhappy.” Bai Xizhou reached out and pinched the back of his neck. “I’m still waiting for you to take me to set off firecrackers.”

“I’m not unhappy. I will take you to set off firecrackers.” Wen Ruqing smiled. Bai Xizhou tickled him; he retracted his neck to avoid him. “At the table earlier I saw you so tense. Are you not used to this kind of scene?”

He knew that for many years Bai Xizhou had always spent New Year alone, and Wen Ruqing’s family gatherings were completely unlike anything he’d experienced. It was normal to feel uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to be so tense. After my parents passed, my closeness to family waned. Just take my aunt and them as family. You don’t need to care what others think.”

He could guess what the relatives thought of Wen Ruqing—and what they speculated about Bai Xizhou. But he didn’t care. His own family ties were already faint; Wen Qing’s family mattered most. So as long as Bai Xizhou treated Wen Qing’s family as family, that was enough.

He glanced at the time—it was almost right—and led Bai Xizhou upstairs to change before going out.

Wen Ruqing’s parents’ graves were far away; they drove from Yundaun Town for a long stretch before arriving.

The gravesite was clean. Wen Ruqing hadn’t brought offerings; he held Bai Xizhou’s hand. In the cold wind, the back of his hand felt reddened, but his palm was unbelievably warm.

“Mom, Dad—I didn’t come alone this year.” Wen Ruqing raised their hands—both wearing rings—as though presenting them. “His name is Bai Xizhou. He’s very good to me. I love him very much.”

After speaking, he suddenly fell silent. Bai Xizhou knew he needed a moment alone—but he couldn’t stand apart. His hand remained held; they both stood in silence, not interrupting.

In the quiet, snow began to fall suddenly from above.

“Qing qing, it’s snowing.” Bai Xizhou brushed the snowflakes off Wen Ruqing’s shoulder softly. “We should go home.”

Snow makes the sky gray and somber when it falls. The snow seemed to grow heavier.

“I still haven’t lived the way they hoped…but I think they wouldn’t be angry with me. After all, I’m truly happy now.” Wen Ruqing shook snow off his clothes and looked at Bai Xizhou, smiling brightly. “Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, they’d definitely hope to see you truly happy.”

A snowflake landed on Bai Xizhou’s eyelash, blurring his vision. He moved to wipe it away—but Wen Ruqing stopped his hand, leaned forward, and kissed the snowflake off his lash.

“It’s snowing harder now. Let’s go home.”

Because the snow continued falling, the plan to set off firecrackers fell through. There was still time before the Gala—he didn’t know what else to do.

Bai Xizhou sat in his room flipping through Wen Ruqing’s old books. He pulled out a scrapbook, and his interest picked up.

He brought the album to Wen Ruqing’s bed and sat down. No better way to pass time than looking at past photos of Wen Ruqing.

The first page showed two baby pictures. Babies all look similar—features scrunched together, impossible to see now.

Young Wen Ruqing had been well nurtured—chubby and pudgy-faced—instantly pinchable. Bai Xizhou looked and then turned to the person beside him.

Under his care, he’s put on weight again. Recently, when pinching his face, there’s actually some meat there.

“Was I cute when I was little?” Wen Ruqing came close. He hadn’t looked at this album in a long time.

“Quite cute. A little milk‑bun.”

Flipping further, there were elementary school photos, then middle school. The album mostly contained solo portraits. Over time, resolution varied, but he increasingly recognized current features.

Later photos were fewer—high school photos were scattered, maybe including graduation. Wen Ruqing seemed to dislike being photographed during high school.

After high school, none. The album was thick, but most photos were from childhood.

Bai Xizhou’s fingers came to a high‑school photo where Wen Ruqing wore a summer uniform, expressionless face, dull eyes, slightly raised mouth with no real smile. Hair almost covered his eyes.

“This was taken shortly after my parents passed—I first returned to school. My aunt took it.”

The photo wasn’t pretty—he looked frail in an oversized uniform, lifeless eyes, listless demeanor. But Wen Qing said it marked Wen Ruqing’s new beginning—so they kept it as a memento.

“There’s so much blank space afterwards.” Bai Xizhou held Wen Ruqing’s hand. “Let’s take more photos, fill it up, okay?”

Wen Ruqing looked at him. The emotion in his eyes was complicated—so complex Bai Xizhou could not parse.

Seen so plainly, Wen Ruqing closed the album and leaned in to kiss Bai Xizhou.

His kisses were always gentle—not probing—but compared to Bai Xizhou, they were superficial.

Bai Xizhou let him kiss. He reached one hand to cradle the back of Wen Ruqing’s head and deepened the kiss. In an instant, control shifted.

“Qing qing.” He called Wen Ruqing—but he did nothing but kiss. “Qing qing, ah.”

“Want me to help you?” Wen Ruqing leaned on the bed, panting softly. “But not all the way—we’re at Auntie’s house.”

Their bodies so close, breaths mingling. Bai Xizhou laughed softly, lightly patted his head, and sat up.

“I wasn’t thinking about doing it—I was wondering when you would take me to light firecrackers.” Bai Xizhou half‑joked, pulling him up. “Seems today won’t happen—the snow is too heavy.”

“It’s not just snowing—it’s windy too. When the weather gets better, I’ll take you.”

Outside, snow fluttered. Inside was soft whispered sweetness.

Wen Qing didn’t come home that night, so they made something simple to eat themselves. After a rushed supper, Wen Ruqing turned on the TV and said, “Dad—just come over when you can.”

Though the Gala was increasingly disappointing, watching it alone was different than watching with Bai Xizhou.

Perhaps because Bai Xizhou’s embrace was too warm—or because the Gala was poorer each year—Wen Ruqing fell asleep before the countdown.

Bai Xizhou sighed. He remembered last New Year was similar—last year because of drinking, this year was truly exhausting.

He carried Wen Ruqing to bed, covered him up. He heard low murmuring but couldn’t make out the words.

Unable to sleep, Bai Xizhou poured water and stood at the windowsill, looking out into the white expanse.

Last year fireworks reminded him of midnight—this year, firecrackers played the same role. Wen Ruqing was woken at exactly midnight, sat up, and then saw someone standing by the window.

“Bai Xizhou?” he called uncertainly.

Bai Xizhou turned. His expression was gentle. Wen Ruqing nearly drowned in that tenderness.

Though firecrackers exploded at his ears, he clearly heard Bai Xizhou’s voice as he said:“Qing qing, the wind has stopped.”