Shi wanted mahjong and proposed a few rounds. Yu Tan agreed easily; they were here to play. He laced fingers with Hu Xiaoyu. "Do you know how?"
"I've heard of it," the boy admitted.
"I'll teach you," Yu Tan said, squeezing his hand.
Shi crowed, "Perfect. Nobody stole my seat. I'm winning all of Little Fish's chips back today."
"I don't have chips," Hu Xiaoyu said honestly.
Real money leaves real pain. Soon, Shi wanted the fox at the table—surely a rookie would trip the king once or twice. One rich kid offered his seat. Hu Xiaoyu scooped a handful of Yu Tan's chips and pressed them into the kid's palm. "For you. Thank you."
The exact amount he'd lost. Fox memory didn't miss.
Flustered, the kid pushed them back. Hu set them on Yu Tan's stack—only for his hand to be caught and toyed with. "You take my things without asking?"
"But that's how it is at home," he said, puzzled. Is it different outside?
Under that clear gaze, something itched behind Yu Tan's ribs. He kept his face smooth and shifted the frame. "Taking so little—people will think I don't treat you well."
Then, before a tableful of witnesses, he slid roughly ninety percent of his chips into the boy's drawer.
Ren: speechless. Shi: secretly thrilled—winning from Yu Tan was fantasy; winning from Little Fish felt legal.
Only—Little Fish was a genius. He'd sussed the rules from the side. One hand of coaching and he was off. In the first round, Ren went out. Second, the boy did. Then again. And again.
Even Yu Tan was a shade surprised. If not for the clumsy handling, he'd think the child a shark.
Shi trembled. "Do you… have X-ray eyes?"
A solemn shake. He could force that effect, but games had rules. Breaking them ruined the fun.
Ren guessed, "You remember every tile?"
A nod.
Shi groaned. "You two really are family. No wonder you don't want school. With that brain, who could teach you?"
When the dust settled, losses were heavy. Laughter rippled anyway. Cards made money—over a million, in fact. After confirming everything could be cashed out, Hu Xiaoyu pocketed the lot, then eyed Shi like a walking ingot. "Next time you play, call me."
"Quitting," Shi muttered.
Yu Tan watched his fox staring at the numbers on his phone, as if sheer will could spawn more zeroes. Silly thing. If he'd asked nicely, he'd have given him ten times that. The thought soured his mood. He hooked an arm around that narrow waist. "That fascinating?"
A sunny nod.
"Ever heard: 'When you drink water, remember the one who dug the well'?"
"Yu Tan, are you short on money?" the boy whispered—careful not to spread rumors.
Yu Tan turned and kissed his cheek. "Mm."
Without grasping the scale, the boy transferred 99% of his balance and mumbled, embarrassed, "I left fifty thousand. Grandma Cui's fees are due."
Yu Tan stared at the remaining ¥50,000.06. "All of it? For me?"
"What's mine is yours."
Looking into those earnest eyes, he couldn't say I was joking. For the first time, he understood how emotion could make blood move warm and fast through the heart.
He pulled that slim waist close, his nose, brushing the crook of his neck. "Good boy. I'll make it back and give you double. Ten times."
"It's okay," the boy whispered. "I can earn money too. Lots and lots. All for you."
Noticing glances, the boy didn't want anyone to see even a shadow of Yu Tan's low mood. He told Ren, "Yu Tan… he's sleepy."
Shi waggled his brows. Ren kept a straighter face. "Need a room? I can arrange it."
Yu Tan brushed a kiss to the boy's earlobe. "No." Fingers laced, he led his little fool away. No other thoughts—just the need to get home and have him wholly, undeniably his.
—
They were home before eight-thirty. Not early, not late—plenty of time.
Then Hu Xiaoyu was eaten clean. By the time he was allowed to sleep, it was past midnight.
Yu Tan towel-dried his hair and tucked him under the blanket. A soft rumble answered—his stomach.
"Hungry?" Yu Tan ruffled his hair. A fresh bite mark nicked his jaw—ridiculous on that severe face, and yet human.
"Want noodles," the boy rasped.
Yu Tan moved to lift him. The blanket swallowed him whole. "No. Tired. Don't move."
Sometimes, after it ended, Yu Tan changed locations and… began again. At that moment, the words little fox made his legs ache.
Yu Tan paused, then laughed under his breath. "We'll try another day, hm?"
"Mmph—go away!" came the muffled groan. … Though a picture had already sprung to mind. Not today. Another day? Maybe exciting.
At the door, Yu Tan took his phone. "Wait."
Downstairs, A-Jiu appeared. "It's fine," Yu Tan said. "Sleep."
He turned on the dining-room lights. A-Jiu followed, grinning when told to wash two tomatoes and a cucumber. While the water boiled, two texts went out:
—to his assistant: Bring the donation papers for the newly acquired convalescent home tomorrow.
—to Shi Jingyang: a line about harmless gigs through the Shi family's entertainment company.
If he hesitated, he might change his mind. Better to move fast. Let the boy wake to gifts; a reward for being so good.
Half an hour later, Hu Xiaoyu ate tomato-and-egg noodles. At the first bite, his eyes filled.
Yu Tan took the bowl, frowning. "Bad?"
He threw his arms around him and burst into tears. "It's good… So good. You made it, didn't you?"
The taste hadn't changed at all. Years later, it was the same.
"… That moving?" Yu Tan muttered, hands unconsciously gentle. "Shameless. From now on—depends on how you behave."
It wasn't only gratitude. It was finding something lost and precious—startling in its tenderness. He knew this Yu Tan was colder, sharper, pickier. Of course, he'd noticed. At times, it made him heartore. Which is why any echo of man from a century ago felt priceless.
Later, he sat blanketed on the bed, lashes wet, while Yu Tan fed him the entire bowl. Only after did Yu Tan fetch his own. The noodles had congealed; the soup was gone. He huffed and set it aside, dropped the dishes downstairs, and returned.
A cracked eyelid. "Not sleeping?" he asked.
A whisper: "I want to sleep against you."
Earlier, Yu Tan had cited the heat, insisting on separate blankets. Usually, the boy respected it. But tonight—after noodles—he wanted to get closer. Maybe he sensed a difference too, and leaned into a little spoiled boldness.
Looking into those pleading eyes, Yu Tan felt the pull to fold him close. He couldn't. The excuse about heat was a lie, but keeping a safe perimeter was his last rule. He wouldn't break it twice.
"No," his voice came back, cool.
"… Oh." A beat. "Then… can I have my pillow? It's in my room."
"That's my pillow," Yu Tan said, before he could stop himself.
He rose anyway, fetched it from next door, and stuffed it in the boy's arms. "Sleep."
Hugging his prize, Hu Xiaoyu smiled. "Goodnight, Yu Tan."
End of Part III.