Lovely Allergen

Chapter 69: Peaceful Harmony

Yue Zhishi said yes without even hesitating.

He would always give Song Yu what he wanted.

Yue Zhishi’s personality was actually one that went with the flow, readily adaptable to anything that happened, and would rarely think about all the possibilities and what-ifs. Because to him, it was cruel to imagine alternatives to his life; things that were already lost to him remained lost. The more beautiful and peaceful things he imagined, the more cruel reality would be — which is why he so calmly accepted his reality of not having parents and accepted his own highly allergic body and asthma that made him unable to do so many things. As long as he accepted things easily enough, the less there would be to regret.

But as he remained in Song Yu’s embrace, Yue Zhishi really longed for something different — even if time couldn’t rewind back to before he turned three years old, even if he couldn’t have his own family again, that was fine too. He wouldn’t be greedy; he’d be happy for time to rewind just a little, tiny bit.

If he’d learned of Song Yu’s heart just a little earlier, then he wouldn’t have left him standing there by himself for so long. 

“Say, if we didn’t grow up together, would you still like me?” Yue Zhishi asked, nestled in Song Yu’s arms. He was reluctant to move away.

Song Yu nodded. “I would.” 

“Why?” Yue Zhishi couldn’t think of many things about him that would move Song Yu’s heart, but he pulled out a few reasons he thought were reasonable. “You think I have a decent face and have an acceptable personality, right?” 

Song Yu wasn’t too satisfied with Yue Zhishi’s ‘decent’ and ‘acceptable’. He didn’t understand why Yue Zhishi’s understanding of himself never seemed to match up with his true self when he’d grown up being pursued and flattered.

“You are the best-looking person I’ve ever seen, and you have the best personality I’ve ever met. But that’s just a small part of why you shine,” Song Yu said very steadily. The exaggerated praise that left his mouth was unusual, but he said the words heavily and with such strength that they left no room to be questioned. “You are a child born to be loved by everyone who sees you. It’s natural for me to like you.”

And besides, no one else would be like Yue Zhishi — his heart had been given only to him, and he never asked for anything in return as it released light and warmth for Song Yu. 

He’d clearly held it in for so long, but Yue Zhishi still ended up crying. Tears rolled down his face, but they fell silently, without noise.

After growing up and becoming an adult, being able to cry had turned into something of a luxury; it was embarrassing and private, and tears could no longer fall at any moment and at any time. They were meant to fall when alone, so that no one would be able to tell they’d cried. It was a basic rule of being an adult: to not create emotional burdens for anyone else.

But to Yue Zhishi, Song Yu was a secret time capsule. In his arms, Yue Zhishi, who was now an adult, could forever be a small child who cried whenever he wanted.

By the time Song Jin came back home, Yue Zhishi had already recovered his relatively mature appearance. He poured tea for Song Jin like a well-behaved child, and they sat together and chatted without a single hint of anything wrong. No matter who looked at them, they looked like a pair of father and son who had nothing they couldn’t say to each other. 

Song Jin had a habit of bringing home presents for his family no matter where he went, and everyone’s gift would be different. It was one of Yue Zhishi’s most favourite activities to have everyone sitting around the living room and opening their presents together.

He received a book this time, written by Justice Albie Sachs from the Constitutional Court of South Africa. It talked about how South Africa’s constitution was created and established, providing a view into the country as it transformed into a republic, and explored the concepts of human rights, freedom and equality. Song Jin liked buying books for the two boys, and especially for Yue Zhishi. He would always personally read through a selection of books, pick out the one he thought was worth reading and write, on the title page, three words: ‘To: Zhishi’. It was like an old-fashioned, traditional blessing. 

“I’ve already read it, and I think you’d really like it.” Song Jin swallowed some tea. “I used to think you wouldn’t really suit law. Your personality’s too gentle, and you’re too kind. But my previous biases have changed after reading that book — now, I think you’d really be suited for law. That profession really needs empathy, mercy and justice.” His loving face held a slight hint of delight, as though he was pleased about the change in his own thinking.

“Really?” Yue Zhishi was also delighted; it was very important to him to be able to get something similar to fatherly approval from Song Jin.

Within Yue Zhishi’s last ten-plus years of growing up, Song Jin had acted like a father figure — he’d worked and struggled to improve their lives and had given all of them an extremely solid material foundation and emotional support.

“Yes.” Even though Yue Zhishi hadn’t been truly questioning him, Song Jin still gave him a concrete response. He placed down his tea cup and leaned back against the sofa, gazing at the photo hung on the wall. “I sometimes think you’re so gentle and calm because you’ve grown up with me. Our family’s environment has definitely shaped your personality. If you’d grown up with Yue Yi, you might be more open and cheerful; you might even be a little adventurer ready to try anything.”

Only when he was talking about Yue Zhishi’s father would Song Jin’s face reveal a complicated smile. His lips were curled up, but his eyes were in pain.

“He might look down at me for teaching you to be so conventional.” Song Jin smiled as he said, “If it were him, he might’ve taken you mountain climbing, snorkelling; he would’ve taught you how to ski. But your body’s not too strong, so I would’ve been worried. If he’d wanted to take you to all those things, I definitely would’ve gotten into a big fight with him — I’d tell him to settle down, to learn how to be a reliable father. I was already talking about it when you were first born. He must’ve been so annoyed with me.”

Song Jin fell silent, staring at the crystal clear liquid in his tea cup. He then patted his knees. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, it’s time for dinner. I’m going to see what kind of delicious things Xiao Rong has made today.”

Yue Zhishi watched as Song Jin walked away, and he sunk into sadness and melancholy. But it wasn’t for himself.

To him, his father had only existed for three years. He hadn’t been able to create a cache of memories and an emotional base for his father as an infant — but for Song Jin, Yue Zhishi’s father had been the best friend he’d grown up with, an existence as close and as intimate to him as his own hands and feet.

Yue Zhishi didn’t know if his dad had been a reliable father, but he definitely must’ve been an extremely good friend.

The dining table remained wreathed in warmth and comfort. Lin Rong made a very large sea salt and Oreo cream cake, and even the Oreos were homemade. All different kinds of berries that Yue Zhishi liked eating rested on the top. The chiffon cake was made from a mixture of rice and almond flour, and it was soft and puffy with a light nutty fragrance. 

“I’ve tested this recipe four times, you guys will definitely like it. It’s a lot fluffier than the cakes from outside, and the texture’s also really delicate. Quickly try it.” Lin Rong cut out and gave Yue Zhishi the largest slice. “This birthday is the last year our Le Le will have a number one in front of his age. You have to stay healthy and sound.”

Song Jin nodded, “That’s right, next year will be the start of your fragile twenties.”

Lin Rong smacked him. “Don’t say the word fragile. He’s going to be healthy and strong.” 

“Healthy is possible.” Song Yu held Yue Zhishi’s wrist and arm that were narrower than his by an entire circle. “But I don’t know about strong.”

“I’m heaps strong, I even have abs.” Yue Zhishi lifted up the bottom of his shirt, wanting to show Song Yu, but he suddenly remembered something and rapidly pulled it back down again. He continued to eat with his ears reddened. 

“Abs are good, your brother’s abs are quite nice.” After giving everyone a piece of cake, Lin Rong sat back down. “Hurry and try it. This rice flour cake should be really good. Once your birthday’s passed, I’m going to make and sell mini versions at Yanghe Qizhe. I’m going to call it ‘Le Le’s Sea Salt and Oreo Chiffon Cream Cake’.” 

“Isn’t the name a bit long?”

“Hahaha true.” 

Yue Zhishi raised his fork, eating his first bite amidst the sound of laughter. Abruptly, he realised something he had never once noticed over the years.

To Chinese families, the dining table was a very special, very sacred place. Adults would always say things like ‘eat first, we’ll talk afterwards’ or ‘you can’t talk about unhappy things around the dining table’. It didn’t matter how hard life was — the dining table was a precious utopia. As everyone shared their food, they were also sharing in each other’s lives.

And in the Song family’s utopia, wheat did not exist. 

Only Yue Zhishi was allergic to it, and yet over the last ten-plus years, their entire family of four had eliminated this seemingly essential allergen — for him. 

If he hadn’t fallen in love with his own ‘older brother’, Yue Zhishi would’ve been the happiest child in the entire world. 

That night, Song Jin watched a basketball match; Lin Rong continued to knit her sweater. Yue Zhishi headed towards the sofa with a cup of warm milk and very docilely leaned against Lin Rong’s shoulder, watching as she used a pair of very thin knitting needles to double knit. Song Yu came over with a book, and he sat on the sofa next to them, reading.

“This is rare.” Lin Rong lifted her eyes and nudged Yue Zhishi with her shoulder. “Your brother’s not shut up by himself today.” 

Yue Zhishi looked over and happened to meet Song Yu’s eyes just as he looked up as well. He felt somewhat guilty, but he felt like having the entire family gathered together was just too blissful. 

“Maybe gege missed you,” Yue Zhishi said, leaning back onto Lin Rong’s shoulder.

“Are you serious?” The string of yarn was hooked around Lin Rong’s pinky. With a look on her face that said she intended to cutely whine, she said, “How am I supposed to know he missed me if he doesn’t tell me?” She gave Song Yu a meaningful look. “Learn from your dad. Humans are born with mouths in order to speak.” 

Father Song had been focused on his match, and after being suddenly mentioned, he reached out and squeezed Lin Rong’s shoulders without having a single clue about what was happening. He asked with some confusion, “What’s wrong, Xiao Rong?” 

Yue Zhishi and Lin Rong both laughed, and Song Yu grabbed and took a sip of Yue Zhishi’s cup of warm milk, completely acting as though the entire situation had nothing to do with him.

“Nothing, I was just teasing your son.” She stopped moving her hands and started throwing a bunch of praise at Song Yu. “Look at you. Your looks, your character — if you had just half of your dad’s gentleness and thoughtfulness, even a goddess would come down from the heavens for you.” 

Yue Zhishi felt a bit shy for no reason at all, and he didn’t dare make a noise. Song Yu, coincidentally drinking some milk, choked on her words and coughed twice before his face straightened out. He looked back down at his book and sedately said, “Comrade Song Jin has both looks and character and is gentle, thoughtful and kind. Even he couldn’t get a goddess, so how could I?” 

Lin Rong wasn’t able to respond after hearing what he said; her mind whirled and went wait a second, and she placed her two hands in her lap. As soon as Yue Zhishi saw her posture, he immediately went to rub her back, saying, “He did, he did — Aunt Rong is the goddess.” 

Lin Rong kicked Song Jin. “Your son’s provoking me every day. Aren’t you going to handle him?” 

The match was just about to reach match point, and Song Jin wasn’t able to split his attention both ways. He had only a general idea of what was happening, and he hugged his wife’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I will. You’re the queen mother after all.” 

Lin Rong pushed him away. “What does that have to do with anything. Go watch your basketball.”

Yue Zhishi had fallen over on the sofa from laughing so much, and he peeked a look at Song Yu, seeing the laughter also on his lips. For an instant, he felt like their life together as a family was truly very wonderful — he really hoped time could stop at this very moment. 

Seeing that even Song Yu was laughing, Lin Rong was both amused and annoyed, and she ended up releasing a long sigh. “Since my Xiao Yu is so picky, I think he might not even like the goddess even if she came down for him. I wonder what kind of person he might end up liking?”

Yue Zhishi continued to play dead, and he thought Song Yu would as well. Yet Song Yu unexpectedly opened his mouth, his eyes lowered onto his book, and with a calm and unperturbed face, he said, “Forget about the goddess.”

“But I wouldn’t mind an angel.” 

The author has something to say:
This might be the happiest family environment I’ve ever written