MMLDU Chapter 19

On this particular Children’s Day, the orphanage seemed unusually quiet.

Though the space was modestly decorated and many kind-hearted individuals had sent gifts, the children’s joy was fleeting, cautious, and markedly different from the lively celebrations elsewhere.

This year, however, was special. The dean had promised to bring their beloved “uncle” to perform for them. This uncle had a warm and gentle demeanor, with a beautiful voice they adored. Since the dean left to pick him up, the children had been eagerly watching the tightly closed front gate, hoping for the arrival of a kind and caring figure. But when the gate finally opened, the person who entered wasn’t the “uncle” they imagined. Instead, it was a stylishly dressed young man, whose face was partly obscured but whose presence was undeniably different.

Their hopeful expressions immediately dimmed, like kittens left waiting by a broken promise. But conditioned by their environment, they didn’t cry or throw tantrums. The pure smiles on their faces, however, quietly faded.

Pei Lang didn’t know how many children lived here or their clothing sizes. So, he had only bought toys and snacks. After stepping into the yard and once the dean closed the gate, he removed his mask and sunglasses.

The dean looked momentarily amazed before smiling and leading him to the children. “Can you guess who’s here?”

“What a beautiful older brother,” a child standing at the front exclaimed in wonder.

Other children echoed the sentiment, their previously dim eyes now sparkling with renewed light. Their gaze was so pure that even the smallest joy seemed to shine brightly.

Pei Lang felt a bit awkward at being called “beautiful”. He would have preferred to be called “handsome”. But children spoke without filters. Their innocent words touched the softest part of his heart. Pei Lang, who had a fondness for cute kids, found his gaze growing kind and gentle.

The dean smiled broadly, her eyes narrowing with warmth. “The uncle you’ve been waiting for is here.”

Her phrasing was deliberately ambiguous. The reality didn’t quite align with the children’s expectations and they stared blankly for a moment. That was until Pei Lang spoke.

“Hello, everyone. Happy Children’s Day.”

His voice was unmistakable. The children’s eyes widened in surprise.

“So, you’re not an uncle. You’re a brother?” one child asked, astonished.

“Brother is so beautiful! Brother, sing a song! Sing a song!”

…

The children suddenly became lively, chattering away as they swarmed around Pei Lang. He gently set the guitar down beside him, squatted to their level, and patiently answered every question they asked.

The weather was pleasant. This city, cradled by nature’s embrace, boasted not only stunning scenery but also a perfectly balanced climate—not too cold, not too warm—making it ideal for outdoor activities.

On the lawn in the orphanage’s yard, tables were adorned with an array of fruits, snacks, toys, and treats. After eagerly sharing some snacks with each other, the children couldn’t wait any longer and clamored for a song. Pei Lang sat cross-legged on a blanket on the grass, cradling his guitar. As a gentle breeze carried the warmth of the sun, he strummed the strings and began to sing with the softest, most soothing voice.

The moment he started singing, the children fell silent, resting their chins in their hands as they listened intently. This fleeting moment of pure joy was worth more than anything.

The director sat nearby, watching with a smile. When the song ended, the children erupted into enthusiastic applause, shouting for an encore. Since he had come to perform, Pei Lang couldn’t stop at just one song. He quickly transitioned into another, letting the music flow once more.

His singing always left people wanting more. Although he seemed untouched by worldly cares, Pei Lang was just an ordinary person who needed rest. After finishing his fourth song, the director brought over a glass of water.

“Alright, let’s give Brother a break, okay? You can chat with him instead,” the director suggested as she handed the water to Pei Lang.

“Thank you. Since the other caregivers aren’t here, you must be working hard all on your own. You should take a break too,” Pei Lang said, taking a sip of water to soothe his throat.

To protect Pei Lang’s privacy, the director had given the caregivers a day off, which left her to handle all the children alone—a tiring task indeed.

“It’s not hard at all, especially since you came. May I ask, how should I address you?” she inquired politely, careful not to ask for his real name, respecting his privacy.

“Just call me Xiao Lang,” he replied with a casual smile.

“Brother Xiao Lang~”

“Brother Xiao Lang~”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the children chimed in, sweetly calling him “Brother Xiao Lang”. The cheerful cries warmed his heart and he couldn’t help but smile. But then his gaze shifted to a teenager standing at a distance. Unlike the others, this child remained apart, watching him with a somber, shadowy expression.

Pei Lang had noticed him earlier, but the younger children had kept him too busy to dwell on it.

“That child… why isn’t he joining us?” Pei Lang asked casually, steering the conversation with the dean. The boy, the oldest among the children, seemed to be in his early teens.

“You mean Xiao Chi? That child has been unsociable and reluctant to communicate since he was young,” the dean said, her expression clouded with worry. “Xiao Chi grew up in the orphanage. Despite his excellent grades and good looks, no one has adopted him. Every time he’s taken in, he’s returned within two days. The reasons are always the same—he doesn’t talk much, his gaze is unsettling, and his temper is peculiar.”

Children raised in orphanages often carry some psychological issues, which is why the director tells them stories, plays soothing music, and invites people like Pei Lang to perform. But Xiao Chi was different. No matter how much she tried to guide or engage him, it never worked. He would stay silent for long periods and then suddenly explode in anger, without any apparent trigger for his outbursts.

As the dean, she hoped all the children would grow up healthy, and Xiao Chi was no exception. Whenever prospective adoptive parents visited, she would praise Xiao Chi. But after he was returned repeatedly for the same reasons, she grew hesitant to promote him.

She feared that frequent rejections would harm Xiao Chi’s already fragile psyche, making him even more withdrawn.

Over time, as Xiao Chi grew older, the likelihood of adoption decreased. People were less willing to adopt older children. In truth, many children in the orphanage never found homes, but Xiao Chi’s case was unique. Despite his academic excellence, his personality hindered normal interactions with others.

Now, with his eighteenth birthday approaching, Xiao Chi would no longer be allowed to stay at the orphanage. Although the dean planned to find sponsors to support his education, his solitary and introverted nature made her worry that he would struggle and face hardships once he left.

Even with his difficult personality, Xiao Chi was still a child she had watched grow up. Her concern for him was deep and genuine.

“Dean, why don’t you tell the children a story? I’ll go talk to Xiao Chi,” Pei Lang said after finishing the water in his glass. He set the cup down and walked toward the boy.

Xiao Chi had been watching from afar the entire time. As Pei Lang approached, the boy grew visibly tense and wary, his cold expression rigid but showing no signs of wanting to flee.

The sunlight around him dimmed as Pei Lang’s shadow fell over him. Backlit by the light, Pei Lang gave a soft smile and asked gently, “Hello, what’s your name?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

“…” Pei Lang felt a twinge of frustration. This kid was going to be a tough nut to crack. “Why aren’t you playing with everyone else?” he asked, trying again with patience.

“It’s Children’s Day. I’m not a child anymore,” Xiao Chi replied with an air of maturity beyond his years. In a few months, he’d be eighteen—in his eyes, he is far too old to celebrate a children’s holiday.

Hearing this, Pei Lang finally realized what was on the boy’s mind.

That’s true, he’s no longer a child, Pei Lang thought.

“So, does Xiao Chi not enjoy my singing?” he asked, his tone light.

“It’s not that. I like it,” the boy replied curtly. His words were few, proving he truly wasn’t much of a talker. But no matter how reserved, he was still a child. Pei Lang had met all kinds of people—surely, he could manage to connect with one.

“Xiao Chi, your hair looks so soft. Can I pat your head?”

Xiao Chi froze for a moment, his ears suddenly tinged with red. After a pause, he gave a small nod, signaling permission. He was like a proud but bashful kitten.

With the boy’s consent, Pei Lang gently placed his hand on Xiao Chi’s head, ruffling his hair softly. His fingers tousled it into disarray before carefully smoothing it out again.

Xiao Chi felt a peculiar sensation, a tingling warmth where Pei Lang’s hand had touched. It was an odd yet pleasant feeling as if his hair itself could sense the touch.

When Pei Lang had tidied the boy’s hair to his satisfaction, he withdrew his hand and praised him with a smile. “It really is as soft as it looks. Since Xiao Chi likes my singing, how about I sing a song just for you? Would you like that?”

Pei Lang was always respectful toward children, ensuring he had their consent before doing anything.

He could tell that Xiao Chi had a strong sense of self-esteem and carried an air of defensiveness. But beneath that prickly exterior, the boy wasn’t as cold as he seemed.

“Will you sing it just for me?”

“Yes, just for you. You’ll be the first to hear it,” Pei Lang replied warmly. He hadn’t planned on singing anything new today—he’d only partially written a new song—but since Xiao Chi asked, he decided to bring it out. “Though I have to warn you, it’s been a while since I wrote a new song. If it doesn’t sound great, don’t be too hard on me, okay?”

“I won’t!” Xiao Chi answered quickly, then added earnestly, “You could never sing poorly.”

That was unmistakable praise and recognition, a rare sentiment from Xiao Chi.

Without his guitar on hand, Pei Lang began to sing softly, just using his voice. Since Xiao Chi had distanced himself from the other children and Pei Lang kept his singing quiet, none of the others overheard.

This song was truly only for Xiao Chi—he was the sole listener.

Focused on his performance, Pei Lang didn’t notice the fleeting smile that graced Xiao Chi’s lips, subtle yet genuine.

After finishing the song, Pei Lang fetched some snacks and sat down beside Xiao Chi. Pei Lang, in truth, had been craving the treats for a while but had refrained out of decorum.

In the past, snacks like these were a rare indulgence for him, something he had only dared to sneak occasionally but never enough to satisfy. Now, eating them openly felt like a luxury—a delightful satisfaction. Even Xiao Chi’s watchful gaze didn’t bother him anymore.

The dean, seeing that Pei Lang and Xiao Chi were able to talk, asked Pei Lang to spend more time chatting with the boy. Afterward, Pei Lang joined the children for some games. Before they knew it, the afternoon had arrived—it was time for Pei Lang to leave.

With so much to manage at the orphanage, the dean couldn’t spare the time to see Pei Lang off. To everyone’s surprise, Xiao Chi volunteered to accompany him. Both the dean and Pei Lang were taken aback by his initiative.

After bidding farewell to the other children, Pei Lang put his sunglasses and mask back on, walking side by side with Xiao Chi as they left. Xiao Chi wasn’t very tall, barely reaching Pei Lang’s shoulder, making their departure together look harmonious.

“When it’s your birthday, can I come to your party?” Pei Lang asked suddenly. Xiao Chi’s birthday was only a few months away, marking his eighteenth year. At the orphanage, every child turning eighteen had a birthday party—it was both a celebration and a farewell, as they were expected to leave the orphanage once they came of age.

Hearing this, Xiao Chi abruptly stopped walking, staring at Pei Lang in a daze. Pei Lang stopped as well, patiently waiting for a reply.

Pei Lang’s question was sincere, not the hollow politeness of someone merely putting on a show. Xiao Chi could tell the difference.

“Alright. You have to come—I’ll be waiting for you.”

“It’s a deal, then.”

“It’s a deal.”

When they reached the bus stop, Pei Lang urged Xiao Chi to head back while he stayed to wait for the bus.

He had already arranged for a private car to pick him up for the return trip. He didn’t dare take the high-speed train or a long-distance bus—both required ID checks and Yan Xiuyuan was still searching for him. Using his ID would risk exposing his whereabouts.

Even though taking the private car meant arriving home late, he couldn’t risk staying overnight. Hotels also required real-name registration, making them just as unsafe.

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