UNCLTRD chapter 21

For some reason, seeing Chen Qiusu’s exposed body triggered a reactive response in Yang Shao. Without thinking, he slammed the bathroom door shut.

Underneath his usual polite and composed demeanor, Chen Qiusu’s physique was a stark reminder that he was an alpha.

Perhaps their time together had improved Yang Shao’s impression of him, building trust in his character. Yet, the image of Chen Qiusu from his memories remained vivid.

Yang Shao clutched the door handle, feeling a strange heat rising in his cheeks, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead.

Heat?

It was cold outside, and the temperature difference was noticeable. When he opened the bathroom door, Yang Shao had felt a chill. The water in the tub glistened without any steam rising from it.

Startled, he realized that Chen Qiusu had been soaking in cold water.

“Chen Qiusu!” He yanked the bathroom door open again. In this weather, even the sturdiest body couldn’t endure prolonged exposure to cold water.

Chen Qiusu hadn’t been asleep, merely feigning it. From the moment Yang Shao entered, he had been aware. However, his body and mind were both in a state of lethargy, struggling even to open his eyes.

Through the haze, he saw Yang Shao’s silhouette at the door, lips moving as if speaking to him.

“Chen Qiusu?” Yang Shao frowned, crossing his arms. Chen Qiusu’s sluggish reaction worried him. Had he frozen himself numb? “What were you thinking, sitting in cold water?”

Staring blankly at Yang Shao, a strange thought suddenly surfaced in Chen Qiusu’s foggy mind—he wanted to move closer, to hear what Yang Shao was saying.

Chen Qiusu shifted his arm slightly and instinctively lowered his head. He gripped something in his hand that hadn’t softened yet and paused for a moment. After a long while, he finally remembered what he had done in the bathroom. His head jerked up, his eyes locking onto Yang Shao.

Yang Shao furrowed his brows and tilted his face slightly toward the bedroom. He had seen everything the moment he opened the door. After wrestling with his thoughts, he ultimately decided to wake Chen Qiusu.

Yang Shao didn’t care about Chen Qiusu’s physiological needs as long as he didn’t involve him in any of it. He wasn’t sure about Chen Qiusu’s exact condition, but it didn’t seem necessary for him to stay under cold water.

At that moment, Yang Shao showed remarkable tact. He didn’t say anything to embarrass Chen Qiusu and simply turned to leave, heading toward the bedroom and leaving the bathroom to him.

The sound of running water filled the bathroom. Moments later, Chen Qiusu emerged wrapped in a bath towel, his upper body bare, beads of water still clinging to his chest. His breathing was slightly labored, his chest heaving noticeably. Water droplets slid down from his chest to his abs. He grabbed a bathrobe and put it on, adjusting his breathing. “Didn’t I ask you to stay with Yang Tao tonight?”

If Yang Shao hadn’t caught a flicker of panic in Chen Qiusu’s eyes, he might have been fooled by the calm tone he forced. He was pretending to be composed.

“Yang Tao was worried you’d delay his performance on Friday,” Yang Shao replied, unwilling to admit that he had come over because he was worried about him. “If I’d known you were so… occupied, I wouldn’t have disturbed you.”

“I wasn’t…”

Yang Shao cut him off immediately. “No need! No need to explain! It’s only human.”

Though Yang Shao had learned plenty about physiology from books, he couldn’t truly empathize with an alpha in heat. He understood it physiologically, but mentally, he couldn’t help but think—wasn’t a bit of self-control possible?

Chen Qiusu could tell Yang Shao was mocking him. He tightened his grip on his bathrobe, his hands unconsciously clenching within the loose sleeves. “It’s fine. Get some rest.”

After watching Yang Shao leave, Chen Qiusu locked the door behind him and exhaled heavily. He was far from okay. In fact, his condition was beyond his control. The last time it had been this bad was when he first met Yang Shao.

Life had been busy lately. He had to prepare for Yang Tao’s parent-child event, host Yang Shao’s uncle and aunt, and deal with the end-of-year company workload. He didn’t want his physical condition to cause any delays, so he called his primary physician late that night.

…

The parent-child event arrived as scheduled. Yang Shao’s uncle’s treatment was also progressing smoothly. Early Friday morning, the Chen family’s car picked them up and brought them to the Chen residence.

Though it was just a kindergarten event, the Chen family seemed to be going all out. Yang Tao had brought quite a lot of things—sportswear, dance costumes, a prop for playing a tree, and a paper gun for display.

If it weren’t for the relay race and his curiosity to see Chen Qiusu dance, Yang Shao wouldn’t have wanted to join the commotion. He sneaked a glance at Chen Qiusu’s state. He seemed perfectly composed in front of others, so maybe he was fine.

Nowadays, children were precious—most were only children in their families. The Chen family’s preparations weren’t too over-the-top compared to others. Everyone participated as a family unit. Childhood comes only once, and they took it seriously.

The kindergarten entrance was jam-packed with private cars, making it nearly impossible to move. The principal and teachers were already outside, welcoming parents and children.

“Let’s not drive in. The car won’t get out later anyway.”

Everyone followed Yang Shao’s suggestion and walked to the kindergarten on foot. As they reached the entrance, the principal immediately recognized the Chen matriarch.

“Mrs. Chen, thank you and your family for participating and supporting this event. I’ve already asked Yang Tao’s homeroom teacher to arrange seats for you.”

It was then that Yang Shao realized the matriarch had secretly donated to Yang Tao’s kindergarten. The lively and grand parent-child event was largely thanks to her sponsorship. Not only had she ensured Yang Tao’s role in the performance remained unchanged, but she had also secured the best seats in the audience for the family.

The Chen family had brought plenty of things besides Yang Tao’s gear. Everyone had a camera, and they even hired a photographer to document Yang Tao’s performance.

Poor Yang Tao. His embarrassing childhood moments were being recorded in high definition. They’d surely be played at his wedding someday—especially the dance he performed with Chen Qiusu.

Once all the parents and children had arrived, the principal gave a speech, reporting on the kindergarten’s achievements that semester and sharing their vision for the future. Finally, he publicly thanked the matriarch (Chen Qiusu’s grandmother) for her sponsorship.

All eyes turned toward the Chen family, who were accustomed to such attention and maintained their grace.

Yang Tao, being Chen Qiusu’s son, waved enthusiastically at the people around him, seemingly unaware of the concept of sponsorship or why others were looking at him.

Yang Shao, on the other hand, wished he could dig a hole and hide. He wanted to distance himself from the Chen family entirely.

Yang Shao’s uncle and aunt, curious, asked, “Sponsorship? Must’ve been a few thousand at least?”

A few thousand? As if the Chen family would settle for such a small amount! Yang Shao finally understood why there had been no mention of costume fees for this event—it had all been covered by the Chen family.

The first performance was a group routine—a kindergarten exercise. A sea of children filled the stage, and by the time they managed to locate Yang Tao, the performance had already ended.

Yang Tao was busy. He immediately had to change into his tree costume and hurriedly informed the family that his class’s performance was next, so they should get ready.

The play didn’t have much of a role for Yang Tao. He simply stood obediently on stage, serving as a background tree. Normally talkative and active, he surprisingly stayed still in his role as a “big tree.”

Yang Shao couldn’t help but laugh as he watched. Yang Tao’s best trait was his passion—whether his role was big or small, he gave it his all. Even if it was just playing a tree.

Sometimes, Yang Shao felt grateful. Despite growing up in a single-parent household, Yang Tao had remained optimistic and cheerful.

As Yang Shao’s mind wandered, the play ended, and the next performance was being prepared.

Glancing at Chen Qiusu, who sat upright, watching the kindergarten performances with an intense seriousness, Yang Shao couldn’t help but smirk. What’s with the tense jaw?

“Hey?” Yang Shao nudged Chen Qiusu’s waist with his elbow and teased softly, “Are you nervous?”

Chen Qiusu didn’t respond but relaxed his posture, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t nervous—he just hadn’t performed in front of people for a long time.

The more Chen Qiusu tried to maintain composure, the more amusing Yang Shao found it. He couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire. “People should know their limits. If you had refused Yang Tao in the first place, there wouldn’t be an issue now. But the arrow’s already on the bowstring; nervous or not, you’ve got to go through with it. Just remember the moves, and half the battle is won.”

Hearing Yang Shao’s gloating laughter, Chen Qiusu felt both annoyed and amused. He turned to look at Yang Shao—did it really make him so happy to see him embarrassed? What was so funny?

Yet, for some reason, seeing Yang Shao laugh, Chen Qiusu couldn’t help but feel a bit amused himself.

Before long, Yang Tao pulled Chen Qiusu backstage to prepare. Soon after, Chen Qiusu was the first to take Yang Tao onto the stage, followed by other fathers holding their children’s hands.

There were only two rows, and Chen Qiusu and Yang Tao were positioned in the center. After bowing to the audience, the venue fell silent.

The familiar music began to play. Since Chen Qiusu struggled to keep up with the rhythm, Yang Shao had listened to the song so many times he felt his ears were about to grow calluses. Chen Qiusu stood stiffly, upright like a resilient bamboo shoot. It was more like he was standing guard than dancing. Meanwhile, Yang Tao’s steps were large, his movements exaggerated. Among the many father-child pairs, their duo stood out, drawing quiet laughter from the audience.

Yang Shao buried his face in his arm, shaking with laughter. If Chen Qiusu’s enemies got hold of this video, they could definitely extort him with it.

“Doesn’t Yang Tao look just like Qiusu?” Chen’s mother, holding up her camera with a loving expression, asked.

Realizing she was speaking to him, Yang Shao hesitated. “Uh… yeah?” Just where exactly did they look alike?

Chen’s mother kept taking pictures until her arms ached. “Qiusu was always serious and reserved as a child, but he loved participating in group activities in kindergarten too. It wasn’t until he grew up and became more self-conscious about embarrassment that he stopped. As his mom, I haven’t seen him dance in over twenty years. He was much cuter back then.”

Embarrassment? Chen Qiusu’s lack of coordination and tone-deafness weren’t exactly secrets in the Chen family, were they?

“Looking at Yang Tao now, it’s like seeing a younger version of Qiusu. Apart from being a little more lively—which he must have gotten from you—the rest is like he was cast from the same mold.”

Yang Shao’s smile froze as he turned to look at the two on stage. Were they really that similar?