AD CH120

Chapter 120: Someone Comes Out (Extra 4)

“Dad,” Chen Jian looked at his dad, sliding the tissue box across the table toward him. “This thing… Sun Nana only went to talk to him this morning. We still don’t know the outcome, or whether…”

“I know what you mean,” his dad pulled out a tissue and dabbed at his eyes. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter whether we can get it back or not. It’s enough for Dad to know you’ve been keeping it in your heart.”

He had kept it in his heart all along; every time he returned to the village and passed that intersection, a dull ache would tighten in his chest. Yet all he could ever do was keep thinking about it.

“If it weren’t for Shan Yu,” Chen Jian said softly, “I don’t know when I would’ve actually been able to bring this up.”

“He’s capable,” his dad nodded, sighing with emotion. “Skilled, and good-hearted, too.”

“Yeah.” Chen Jian smiled faintly.

“If we can buy the house back, the money…” Only now did his dad suddenly remember this detail, looking at Chen Jian with worry. “We can’t afford that, can we?”

“For now… it’ll go on the company’s books,” Chen Jian said. “We went to negotiate under the banner of the town’s tourism development anyway. If we don’t live in it ourselves, we can hand it over to the company to run—set up some kind of shop or something.”

“Oh.” His dad let out a sigh of relief.

“If we get it up and running,” Chen Jian leaned in and lowered his voice, “you could consider moving back to the village. Do your own thing instead of toiling so hard out here.”

“I’m not toiling, not at all,” his dad answered reflexively, then paused and leaned forward too. “Do my own thing… what could I even do?”

“Anything,” Chen Jian said. “Sell some goods, open an agritourism diner, whatever.”

His dad thought about it and gave a quiet chuckle.

A couple of seconds later, he sighed again. “Forget doing business. I’m not cut out for that. But if Shan Yu’s company sets something up there, I could help out—that’d be fine.”

“That works too,” Chen Jian said. “Better than running all over the city.”

“And I could live in our own home,” his dad added.

“Yeah.” Chen Jian smiled and nodded.

For this morning tea, Chen Jian ordered a lot of dishes. At first, his dad ate slowly, just like before, wanting him to eat first. But when he realized the food kept coming without end, he abandoned his plan to let his son fill up first and buried his head to eat, terrified of leaving leftovers to waste.

“Look at you—life just started getting a little better, and you order like this,” his dad mumbled around a mouthful. “If things get even better in the future, what are you gonna eat?”

“Dragon meat,” Chen Jian said.

His dad glared at him.

“Then a five-hundred-yuan-a-head buffet,” Chen Jian offered.

His dad couldn’t keep a straight face and burst out laughing.

Last year, after Qian Yu skipped town, Chen Jian couldn’t find work and went to the city to visit his dad. His dad had wanted to take him somewhere nice to eat and comfort him. They had spotted a seafood buffet, thinking Chen Jian had always possessed a big appetite and could eat enough to make it worth the price. But when they walked over to look, it was four hundred and eighty-eight yuan per person. The price shocked father and son so badly they spun right around and walked away.

His dad had brought it up and nagged about it for ages afterward.

Now, bringing it up again, their mindsets were entirely different; his dad could laugh about it like a joke.

It was truly moving.

Walking out of the teahouse, his dad stood by the curb and exhaled comfortably. “That was actually pretty good.”

“Wanna go browse the shops?” Chen Jian asked. Since his dad had taken a rare day off, he wanted to buy him some clothes; his dad hadn’t bought new clothes in years.

“Sure,” his dad nodded. “The underground market? It’s close enough to walk…”

“Not there,” Chen Jian turned toward the car.

“Where then?” His dad followed.

They were driving a Big Benz; why go to an underground market?

That was where Chen Jian bought things back in middle school—cheap, cheap, and only cheap, perfectly illustrating the phrase “you get what you pay for.”

While they didn’t need to go anywhere super high-end now, stepping into a slightly nicer shopping mall was definitely on the table. Mostly, he wanted his dad to experience it; it felt like his dad hadn’t set foot in a proper mall to shop in over a decade. Whenever he entered one, it was usually just to pick up a delivery order…

His dad was quite cooperative today, not yelling that it was too expensive and dragging him away. He just felt a bit awkward and self-conscious because his clothes were so worn out.

“If you’d said we were coming here,” his dad whispered beside him, “I would’ve put on my good clothes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chen Jian said. “We’ll buy a new set and change into them right now.”

Considering practicality, he didn’t pick anything formal, sticking to sportswear brands. In the end, he chose two pairs of sweatpants and two athletic jackets for his dad.

When his dad stepped out after changing, he stood before the mirror and said a little self-consciously, “Is this too youthful?”

“You’re only in your forties to begin with,” Chen Jian said.

The moment he said those words, Chen Jian suddenly felt an urge to cry. Only now did it hit him that his dad was merely in his forties; usually, whenever he thought of his dad, all he felt were the heavy marks of age and hardship.

“It really does look different,” his dad turned around in front of the mirror.

“Yeah,” Chen Jian nodded. “Let’s pick out a pair of shoes too—ones that are comfortable to walk in.”

His dad hesitated for a second, then nodded vigorously. “Alright.”

Walking out of the mall in new clothes and new shoes, his dad looked to be in great spirits. Chen Jian could even feel the man standing taller. His dad, who was usually half a head shorter than him, almost seemed about the same height right now.

“These shoes really are comfortable,” his dad looked down at his feet. “Lightweight, and bouncy when you walk. Makes you wanna hop.”

“Go ahead and hop twice then,” Chen Jian teased.

His dad chuckled, looking at him, and reached up to pat his shoulder. “You…”

“Hm?” Chen Jian turned to look at him.

“You really have changed,” his dad said. “Can’t quite put my finger on it, but you’re just different.”

“Different in a good way or a bad way?” Chen Jian asked.

“Good, of course,” his dad said. “You barely used to talk before.”

“You didn’t talk much either,” Chen Jian said.

His dad smiled, silent for a moment before speaking again. “Boss Shan is your… benefactor.”

“Mm.” Chen Jian responded. The slight pause in his dad’s sentence made Chen Jian’s breath hitch in unison.

“If not for him,” his dad sighed emotionally, “who knows how long you would’ve had to struggle… A true benefactor.”

“He’s more than just a benefactor,” Chen Jian said.

“Huh?” His dad blinked.

Chen Jian didn’t make another sound, startled by his own words.

The impulse in that split second was just as fierce as it had been outside that small budget motel back then. He gritted his teeth to keep from blurting it all out immediately.

He needed a little time to figure out how to say it.

Yes.

It was another split-second decision. Yet it could hardly be called an impulse anymore; he had been thinking about this for a long time—far too long.

“Let’s go take a walk over at Green Island,” Chen Jian suggested.

His dad probably sensed the shift in his mood, but out of long habit, if Chen Jian didn’t bring something up, his dad wouldn’t pry. He simply nodded.

Chen Jian took the shopping bags from his dad’s hands and walked toward Green Island.

Green Island was a quiet patch of lawn tucked inside the bustling commercial district, quite small. Because it wasn’t a weekend, there was hardly anyone around, just two elderly ladies basking in the sun on a bench over there.

Chen Jian and his dad silently walked a full lap around Green Island along the stone path, neither saying a word. To outside observers, it must have looked bizarre; the two old ladies glanced over in their direction from time to time.

In the end, Chen Jian sat down on the bench furthest from the ladies.

His dad sat down beside him, rubbed his hands together, drew in a breath, but maintained his silence.

On the surface, Chen Jian remained silent, but a raging storm battered his brain. He still hadn’t figured out how to frame the first sentence, nor the second. To be exact, every single word in his head had been blown to pieces by the hurricane, refusing to piece back together.

As for how his dad might react once he knew, he had already envisioned several scenarios:

Cursing.

Silence.

Beating him.

Chasing him in circles around the stone path, hitting him as they ran.

The old ladies would call the police.

And what would he say when the cops arrived?

No idea.

The words were all blown apart…

“Chen Jian,” his dad rubbed his hands together, finally unable to hold back, “you… have something on your mind, don’t you?”

Yes, Dad.

A huge thing.

With his dad opening the door, Chen Jian had no retreat left. After all, he didn’t possess Shan Yu’s nimble brain that could invent a plausible, unsuspicious excuse in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah,” Chen Jian answered.

His dad’s words hadn’t heightened his impulse, but his own “Yeah” sounded like a crack of thunder, startling him so much he shot straight to his feet.

His dad leaned back, looking at him in confusion.

Say it, right now.

But.

How to start?

Dad, I’m sorry.

Because of me, the Chen family line ends here.

The Chen family line is finished with me.

Dad, Shan Yu isn’t just my benefactor.

He’s also my boyfriend.

Dad, I…

The words originally scattered by the storm now flooded back in a chaotic, monotone jumble. Spurred by this barrage of opening lines, before Chen Jian could even open his mouth, he dropped straight to his knees in front of his dad.

“Dad…” When he spoke, his throat constricted with sheer nerves.

“Chen Jian…” His dad was clearly overwhelmed with shock and confusion. His hands fluttered in the air for a second before he slid right off the bench, dropping to his knees directly in front of him. “Dad is sorry to you!”

Chen Jian’s mouth hung open in total shock, unable to utter a sound for half a beat.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the two old ladies looking just as flabbergasted, shakily struggling to their feet.

“Dad?” Chen Jian stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I… I don’t know,” his dad looked utterly bewildered, seemingly unable to comprehend why he had suddenly dropped to his knees either. “Why… why did you…”

“Dad, get up!” Chen Jian finally snapped back to reality, grabbing his dad’s arms to hoist him up. “What are you doing?!”

“You get up,” his dad stood up in a daze, tugging Chen Jian upward as well. “You get up…”

“I’ll get up after I finish talking.” Chen Jian realized he wasn’t even nervous anymore—only baffled and disoriented.

Just like his dad.

“Alright, speak,” his dad stared at him, feeling backward for the bench and sitting down, though his hand still held onto Chen Jian’s arm.

“Dad, there’s something I need to tell you. You…” Chen Jian glanced at the surrounding street. The reason Green Island was called Green Island was because it was essentially a massive traffic roundabout, encircled by lanes of cars. Even if there were no people on the lawn, there were cars all around.

With him kneeling there, two passing cars had visibly slowed down.

Why the hell did I even kneel?!

I could’ve said it first and knelt later!

Chen Jian, your brain really… you have no right to look down on Sanbing.

You’re both about the same.

There was no more time to overthink; any later, and a traffic cop might stroll over.

Gritting his teeth, he looked his dad dead in the eye and said:

“Dad, Shan Yu is my boyfriend.”

“Ah?” His dad stared at him, blinked, and continued tugging on his arm. “Oh. Got it. Get up.”

…Got it?

Dazed, Chen Jian stood up and sat back down beside his dad.

“You… really,” his dad brushed the dirt off Chen Jian’s trousers. “How big a deal could it be that you had to go and kneel down!”

What?

Chen Jian genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around this. He leaned in closer: “Dad?”

“Yeah, go on.” His dad nodded.

“I said, Shan Yu is my boyfriend,” Chen Jian repeated. “He’s my boyfriend. We’re dating.”

The moment those words left his mouth, a sharp ringing pierced his ears. Even the cars passing by lost their sound. The world seemed to freeze for three seconds, leaving only that high-pitched tinnitus.

As the ringing gradually faded, Chen Jian felt a sensation of lightness.

A relief he had never known before.

The kind of relief where consequences no longer mattered in the slightest.

Like the soaring sensation of jumping off a cliff right before hitting the ground.

A reckless, unburdened relief.

His dad looked at him, silent.

Once the tidal wave of relief receded, Chen Jian returned to the reality of the park bench on Green Island. His strength seemed to drain away. Propping his forearms on his knees, he suddenly lost the courage to look at his dad again.

“Dad,” he stared at the ground where he had just knelt, “I’m sorry.”

His dad still didn’t speak. Chen Jian didn’t dare look over, merely fixing his eyes on the pavement, silently waiting for the next second.

And the next.

And the next.

“Ah,” his dad finally let out a sound. “Go ahead and date.”

What the hell?

Chen Jian couldn’t resist turning his head to look.

His dad was looking at him too, his expression perfectly calm, his eyes tranquil.

In that instant, Chen Jian strongly suspected his dad hadn’t understood a single word he had said.

“Dad,” Chen Jian took a breath. “Did you understand what I just told you?”

“Yeah,” his dad replied evenly. “I understood. You’re dating. That’s fine.”

“Did you hear who I’m dating?” Chen Jian pressed.

“Shan Yu,” his dad said.

…So he didn’t mishear.

Rather than a beating, curses, agonizing silence, or bitter endurance, this reaction—a calmness that seemed like he hadn’t grasped the gravity of it—actually made Chen Jian panic a little.

“Dad,” Chen Jian cleared his throat. “This thing… I know that in many people’s eyes, it’s… very hard to accept. I… I didn’t expect it either…”

His dad looked at him, nodded, and patted the back of his hand gently. “As long as you’re well, that’s all that matters. Just be well.”

Chen Jian had nothing left to say. He locked eyes with his dad.

Only after a full ten seconds did he finally confirm: this was real. His dad had simply accepted it with this visible calm.

“You aren’t even…” Chen Jian had no idea how to articulate it. While he certainly hadn’t wanted his dad to be enraged or silently suffer for his sake, this scene was leagues apart from anything he had imagined.

Even someone with Shan Yu’s unhinged brain probably wouldn’t have anticipated this.

“Over all these years, after going through so much,” his dad spoke slowly, “anything is fine. As long as you’re safe and well, that’s enough.”

Chen Jian remained quiet, a tangle of complex emotions swelling in his chest.

“My son,” his dad said, “has been able to shoulder burdens and take responsibility since he was a kid. Anyone who knows me says having a son like you is my blessing…”

Chen Jian sniffled, taking his dad’s hand.

And finally, from the faint trembling in his dad’s hand, he sensed the underlying emotion.

“None of it is a big deal anymore,” his dad said softly. “It’s not a big deal.”

Shan Yu jogged down the stairs and halted in front of Hu Pan’s camera. Per her instructions—or more accurately, according to Student Liu Wu’s script—he tilted his head down slightly, looking past the lens.

Then, a dramatic spin, the hem of his coat whipping up.

To ensure the coat hem fluttered indoors with no wind, Chen Erhu had tied a thin string to the bottom of his trench coat. As Shan Yu spun, the hem was pulled upward; Chen Erhu let go, and Shan Yu strode toward the elevator with his artificially billowing coat.

Lao Si had pressed the elevator button in advance, so Shan Yu walked right inside.

“Cut!” Hu Pan shouted. “Awesome!”

“Did we get it?” Shan Yu took off his mask, asking from inside the elevator.

“Got it!” Hu Pan called back.

Shan Yu didn’t exit the elevator, letting the doors close and riding it straight up to the fourth floor. Director Hu’s opportunistic filming method was remarkably efficient; Shan Yu had only passed through the first floor twice all morning, and two scenes were already in the can.

The phone rang in his pocket. Shan Yu pulled it out to check—it was Chen Jian.

He had been about to call Chen Jian anyway. Sun Nana had just relayed the update: the initial talk went pretty well, and they scheduled a meeting for the afternoon to go over agreement details. It would be best if Chen Jian’s dad could be there.

He answered: “Talk about telepathy. I was just about to call you.”

“I told him everything.” Chen Jian’s voice carried an indescribable excitement, yet clearly suppressed.

“What kind of torture did they put you through to make you turn traitor this fast?” Shan Yu bantered casually.

“I told him,” Chen Jian repeated. “Just now. I told my dad.”

Shan Yu froze. When the elevator doors opened, he forgot to step out, just staring at the fire hydrant on the wall in the corridor outside.

Then the elevator doors slid shut again.

Only when the elevator started heading back down did he ask, “What did you say? About us?”

“Yeah,” Chen Jian answered.

“How did your dad react?” Shan Yu asked.

“No real reaction,” Chen Jian said. “Pretty much the same as if I told him I was dating some girl.”

“…Did you say Shan Yu?” Shan Yu said. “You weren’t so nervous your tongue slipped and you said Hu Pan, were you?”

“Even if my tongue snapped in half, I wouldn’t say Hu Pan, okay?” Chen Jian retorted.

Shan Yu fell silent, momentarily at a loss for words.

“I thought he was gonna beat me,” Chen Jian said. “He just said, ‘Just be well, it’s not a big deal.'”

“Really?” Shan Yu furrowed his brows, genuinely taken aback.

“We’re heading back to town in a bit,” Chen Jian said.

“Mm,” Shan Yu replied as the elevator doors slid open once more.

Lao Wu stood there with a bedsheet tied around his waist, one arm propped against the elevator frame in a profound pose, with Director Hu filming on the other side.

“…Why’d you come back down?” Lao Wu turned his head, staring at him intensely, still fully in character.

Shan Yu didn’t say a word. He hit the door-close button and pressed the fourth floor again.

“I’m hanging up then,” Chen Jian said.

“Hold on,” Shan Yu leaned against the elevator wall, mulling it over for a few seconds. “Your dad couldn’t bring himself to hit you, so is he saving up his strength to come over and beat me up instead?”

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