Chapter 12: Who Needs Face? Having Your Brother is Enough.
Song Lingchen froze for a moment.
He knew Jiang Qing wasn’t the type to easily say such things. This revealed the impact of those two blank years far more profoundly than any direct accusation or complaint ever could.
He wasn’t the only one struggling in pain; there was always someone quietly and stubbornly waiting on the opposite shore.
And his return had finally put a period to this silent vigil, endowing it with value.
Song Lingchen opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found he couldn’t utter a single word.
His self-righteous “protection” and “cowardice” seemed so pale and clumsy in the face of Jiang Qing’s words.
“…Jiang Qing.”
“Those two years…” his voice was low, “I lived… very miserably.”
“Sometimes I would stand downstairs at your house for a long time. Under that sycamore tree, looking at the light from your window.”
“Once, it was raining heavily, and I was completely soaked. At the time I just thought… how great would it be if we could go back to the past. But I… didn’t even have the courage to ring the doorbell.”
He paused, his voice growing even lighter:
“I was afraid of seeing your worried eyes, and even more afraid… even more afraid that I would break down in front of you.”
He had never spoken these words to anyone before.
Until this moment.
Until Jiang Qing used the word “always” to strip away all his defenses.
“I’m sorry. For making you wait so long.”
When Song Lingchen finished the last word, Jiang Qing finally spoke slowly:
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know you were downstairs.”
“That night it rained, I saw you.”
This time it was Song Lingchen’s turn to freeze.
Jiang Qing continued: “I went downstairs, carrying an umbrella. But by the time I reached the door, you were already gone.”
Song Lingchen’s eyes widened.
So between them, it had never been a one-sided wait.
In a space and time he didn’t know about, Jiang Qing had also walked toward him. It was just a twist of fate—one left early, and the other arrived too late.
Perhaps in a certain fleeting moment, they had both stared at that chat interface for hours, separated by screens, thinking they had their backs turned to each other, only realizing today that back then, if they had both just taken one step forward, they could have embraced.
It turned out those restless nights tossing and turning, those moments of hesitating to speak, were never a one-man show. They were like standing on opposite sides of a two-way mirror, both thinking they were bearing the weight of separation alone, not knowing the other was just inches away, harboring the exact same feelings.
Song Lingchen’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
He looked at Jiang Qing, suddenly understanding—those tender feelings he thought had long been lost in time had actually been properly safeguarded by the person in front of him all along.
In the kitchen, Jiang Linmu was still busy, pots and pans clinking together, the aroma of food growing increasingly rich.
The time of this moment finally returned to its proper track.
Some regrets could not be compensated for, but some reunions were enough to make all the waiting worthwhile.
And a conversation in the living room that had been interrupted for two years finally picked up its rightful ending at this moment.
————————————————
“Little Mumu, if you hadn’t told me in advance that you were cooking Tomato Beef Brisket Noodles, outsiders might think you cooked Tomato Curry Dough Drop Soup.”
Jiang Linmu instantly flared up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on: “Song Lingchen, what do you mean by that! If you have a problem, then don’t eat it!”
“I’m just praising your unique creativity.” Song Lingchen leisurely picked up a spoon and stirred his bowl of slightly overly thick noodles. “Look at this color, this texture. If you said this came from India, people would believe you.”
“You!” Jiang Linmu angrily turned to Jiang Qing, “Brother! Look at him!”
Jiang Qing was looking down, quietly eating his bowl of noodles. Hearing his younger brother’s complaint, he looked up, glanced at the undeniably overly thick broth in Song Lingchen’s bowl, and then at Jiang Linmu’s expression which practically screamed “Hurry up and help me scold him”.
“It is a bit thick,” Jiang Qing said matter-of-factly.
Jiang Linmu’s expression instantly slumped.
“But,” Jiang Qing picked up a piece of beef brisket, “the heat control is great, the beef brisket is very flavorful.”
Jiang Linmu immediately beamed with joy. He smugly lifted his chin at Song Lingchen: “Did you hear that! My brother says it’s delicious!”
Song Lingchen scooped a spoonful of soup into his mouth and savored it for a moment under Jiang Linmu’s nervous gaze.
“Hmm…” He deliberately dragged out the syllable, watching Jiang Linmu subconsciously hold his breath, before finally smiling and saying:
“The taste is actually pretty good. Just let Aunt Lin cook next time, Little Mumu. With this culinary skill, if you marry into our Song family, nobody will want you.”
“Mind your own business!” Jiang Linmu refused to yield verbally, but the corners of his eyes quietly curved up. He picked up the poached egg from his own bowl and placed it into Jiang Qing’s bowl. “Brother, eat more, you’ve lost weight recently.”
“Why don’t you give me a piece? I feel like I’ve lost quite a bit of weight recently too.”
Jiang Linmu immediately shielded his bowl: “Dream on! My egg is only for my brother!”
“Tsk tsk, so biased.” Song Lingchen shook his head and sighed, but suddenly, with quick reflexes, picked up a slice of beef from his own bowl and placed it into Jiang Qing’s bowl. “Then I’ll only give Qingqing mine too.”
Jiang Qing looked at the suddenly extra beef in his bowl, then at the two people beside him bickering like elementary schoolers, and helplessly sighed.
“You two…” He paused, taking a tomato from his own bowl and giving half to Song Lingchen and half to Jiang Linmu. “Split equally. No more arguing.”
Jiang Linmu looked at the extra tomato in his bowl, froze for a moment, and then smugly showed it off to Song Lingchen:
“Look! My brother still dotes on me the most!”
Song Lingchen looked at the tomato in his bowl. Deliberately drawing out his tone, he took a slow, methodical bite, his expression so exaggerated it looked like he was tasting some rare mountain delicacy:
“Mmm… things given by Qingqing really do taste exceptionally good.”
Jiang Linmu was so angry at his pretentious act he started stomping his feet: “Song Lingchen, do you have no face!”
“Who needs face?” Song Lingchen said righteously, “Having your brother is enough.”
Seeing that the two were about to start arguing again, Jiang Qing tapped the table lightly: “If you keep arguing, both of you go eat outside.”
This sentence worked better than anything else. The two immediately quieted down and buried their heads in eating their noodles, though they didn’t forget to kick each other back and forth under the table.
————Mini Theater————
[Jiang Linmu: Dream on! My egg is only for my brother!!]
[Jiang Qing, Song Lingchen: …….?]
[Jiang Linmu: What are you looking at me for? Did I say something wrong……. wait, no……. that came out very wrong.]
[Hua (Author): So impatient, I’ll let you give it to him later. Don’t worry, Little Mumu, in the future, you’ll be giving him much more than just your egg…]
[Jiang Qing, Jiang Linmu, Song Lingchen: ?????????]
Translator’s Note:
- Dough Drop Soup (疙瘩湯): A traditional northern Chinese soup with little lumps of dough. Jiang Linmu’s noodles were so mushy and thick they looked like dough drops in thick Indian curry!
- Marry into (入贅): A term for a man marrying into a woman’s family (matrilocal residence), usually losing some face because he lives in his wife’s home. Song Lingchen is jokingly proposing that Jiang Linmu should marry into the Song family like a bride!
- My egg (我的蛋): The Chinese word for egg (蛋 – dan) is also slang for testicles. Jiang Linmu loudly declaring “My egg is only for my brother” caused a massive, hilarious misunderstanding! The author jumping in just makes it ten times worse!
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