MFMH C110

Chapter 110 — Extra

In the end, the boy still sent a return gift.

That unsmiling man, at a glance, was clearly someone cold and self-willed. Once such a person decided to do something, no one could stop him. The letter the boy had written, the man would read, yes, but it would not make him change his mind about sending gifts simply because the boy said he disliked it or needed no repayment.

Since he genuinely liked the things sent, then sending a gift in return would allow him to accept them with peace of mind.

Thus, the boy once more went out to the streets to seek treasures!

This time he again included a letter, thanking the man for the trinkets, saying he truly liked them.

As the saying goes, one act begets another.

Soon enough, the boy received yet another chest sent by the man. Judging from the boy’s reply, the man seemed to have discerned his tastes. This time, the gifts delighted the boy even more — he loved them to no end.

But along with his joy came a new worry.

What to do? These gifts so perfectly suited his tastes, yet he could not possibly manage each time to find something equally interesting to send back.

Another person might have racked their brains over this, but the boy chose differently. This time, he sent no gift. Only a letter.

His thoughts were simple. The man had gone to great lengths to send gifts he liked. Rather than respond perfunctorily and disrespect him, he would be honest instead.

I truly enjoy your gifts, but I cannot think of what to send in return, and that troubles me greatly.

The boy smiled faintly, his brows curving.

If the man knew how much he cared, surely he would reply with a solution!

As expected, the next time the man sent something, a reply came with it. Just two simple lines, cold and concise, like the man himself:

It is enough that you like the gifts. You needn’t trouble yourself to repay me. There is nothing in particular that I desire.

The boy held the letter and read it over and over.

Nothing he liked?

His round face scrunched up, recalling the man’s bedraggled state when he had first found him. Suddenly, he felt a pang of pity.

The man bore an extraordinary air, and to send such priceless ornaments showed he came from no ordinary family. In such great houses, struggles ran fierce. Those who grew up in such an environment, saying they liked nothing, was no idle talk. Their hearts were consumed by the fight for power, leaving no room for thoughts of joy or pleasure.

If he could not stop him from sending things, nor accept them with a clear conscience by doing nothing in return, then he would share his own likes with him instead!

If you have nothing you like, then I shall share with you the food and amusements that bring me joy. That way, you too may feel what it is to like something. That will be my gift in return.

Happily, the boy wrote his letter, happily sent it off, and happily enjoyed the trinkets he had received. Though the flesh on his body still clung stubbornly, it did not stop him from savoring the delights of life.

Over a month later, another gift arrived, together with a letter.

Last night, at the third quarter of Hai hour, on my way back to the residence, I encountered an old man selling wontons. I tried a bowl. The taste was rather good.

The boy froze, then smiled, his eyes curving.

See! He had always said it — noodles bought from a street stall still open late at night were the most delicious!

Feeling affirmed, the boy gleefully tore into the gift, and was soon rolling about his bed in delight.

Ahhh, this man truly knew how to strike his heart! How could he send such fun, such interesting things!

In great spirits, the boy immediately penned a reply, telling him of his own recent finds and sending along some things he thought the man might find useful.

Gradually, exchanging gifts and letters became a habit.

The boy felt as though he had made a friend. Over time, besides sharing his joys in food and play, he began, without realizing, to ask after the man’s well-being, and to tell him of matters around him.

Some things he could not speak of to his family — but with the man, it was no issue.

The man seemed very busy. Sometimes, a long time would pass before a letter came. Yet the gifts always arrived at regular intervals.

And when the boy opened a chest and found only gifts but no letter, the joy of receiving them dimmed.

More than the gifts, he discovered, what he truly longed for was the man’s letters.

He did not know how the man regarded their correspondence, but for him, the man had already become someone to share both joy and sorrow with.

He was the Su family’s young master, yet in truth he had no confidants. Those around him cared for his family’s name, not for kindred spirit. Their talk of clothes, cosmetics, and ornaments was meaningless to him, while the things he loved, no one else cared for.

His family indulged him, letting him follow his whims, but for a long time he had only amused himself alone. Now, to share his joys with someone who understood and even praised him — it made his happiness double.

So though he felt disappointed at the lack of a letter, he still gladly accepted the gifts.

But when it happened again, a gift with no letter, his smile faltered.

It was not displeasure at the lack of reply. It was worry.

What had happened to him? Was his situation so perilous he could not even send a letter?

The boy’s round face sank into worry, and even meat no longer tempted him.

“Young Master, look at this braised prawns dish, it’s mouthwatering. Why won’t you eat?” the servant fretted.

“No appetite,” the boy sighed, troubled.

Their letters had never been proper letters — no salutations, no signatures. After receiving so many gifts, he still did not know the man’s name, his home, or his origins. Should calamity truly befall him, he… he would be powerless to do anything!

How could things go on like this?

The servant looked about, spotted performers across the street, and eagerly said, “Young Master, look, there’s a troupe performing tricks! Shall we go watch?”

The boy listlessly shook his head. “Just fire-breathing. I’ve seen it plenty. Nothing worth watching.”

The servant’s face turned grave. What was wrong with his master?

Not eating meat, not drawn to excitement? Unthinkable!

The street bustled with the night market crowd. The servant looked around for something to lift his spirits, when suddenly, he noticed a richly dressed young man approaching.

His dark hair was tied high, his thin lips pressed firm, his handsome, cold features carved like ice, exuding an aura that kept others at bay. Yet when those narrow, frosty eyes fell upon the troubled boy, his face softened.

The servant gasped, “Y-Young Master, look!”

The boy cast him a weary glance. “Didn’t I say I’ve seen it all before? Nothing new!”

“No, not the tricks!” the servant tugged at his sleeve. “Look behind you!!”

The boy blinked, turned his head — and his eyes flew wide.

The man stood there, gazing at him deeply.

“You…” The boy blinked, dazed. “Why are you here, weren’t you…”

Glancing past him, he saw the man flanked by two attendants, and held his tongue.

“What about me?”

The man’s voice was gentle. The boy looked at him, then murmured slowly, “You hadn’t replied to me for so long, I—I thought something had happened to you…”

There was a note of grievance in his tone, almost like a complaint. The man’s eyes flickered, and in a low voice he said, “Forgive me. I did encounter some matters, and for a time it was not convenient to reply.”

The boy blinked, startled at the apology. After all, he had been the one to write of his own accord. He was merely a sharer; the man was under no obligation to respond.

Flushing red with embarrassment, he quickly said, “I wasn’t blaming you. I just worried if something had happened, I’d be helpless… I don’t even know who you are!”

At fourteen, his frame had yet to stretch out. Plump and round, he looked like a dumpling, his voice still carrying the soft lilt of childhood. It warmed the heart.

The man reached out and ruffled his hair, voice soft. “Mm. I know.”

The boy blinked, startled by the familiar gesture, and quickly pushed his hand away, scolding in all seriousness: “Don’t touch my head! It’ll stop me growing taller!”

The man’s lips twitched, as though he smiled, though perhaps not.

The boy’s dark eyes were earnest. “You’ve sent me so many things… We… we’re friends, aren’t we?”

The man raised his brows, gave a slight nod.

The boy exhaled in relief, then said, almost in a tone of complaint, “I don’t even know your name…”

“You Heng. Zhao You Heng,” the man replied, his gaze deep. He had just been enfeoffed as a prince, received his coming-of-age rites, and was granted this name.

“Brother Zhao?”

The man frowned. “There’s no need for such distance between us.”

Brother Zhao was too distant? The boy blinked, thinking perhaps he ought to call him You Heng? But that sounded strange. Then…

“Ah Heng?” he tried.

“Mm.” The man assented, his eyes softening.

Delighted, the boy said, “I’m Su Qingze. At home, everyone calls me Qingze!”

“Qingze,” the man repeated smoothly. At once, the boy’s eyes lit up like stars.

Seeing the table before him empty, the man asked, puzzled, “Why aren’t you eating?”

Too shy to admit it was worry for his safety that had spoiled his appetite, the boy muttered, “I’m already fat enough. I shouldn’t eat too much meat…”

The man frowned, saying firmly, “You are not fat.” He had carried the boy before — he was not heavy, merely soft and tender, leaving imprints with the slightest pinch.

Hearing this, the boy’s eyes shone even brighter.

A true friend would never scorn one’s appearance, never despise one’s figure!

This meant the man truly regarded him as a friend! Joy bubbled in his heart, his round, tender face radiant with a smile, his eyes curved like crescent moons.

“I left in haste last time, without seeing Qingzhou properly,” the man said as he naturally sat at his side. “This time, I will stay a few days.”

The boy’s delight overflowed. “That’s wonderful!”

In the days that followed, the boy dutifully played the role of guide, leading the man to every delicacy and amusement the city had to offer. Though he had always enjoyed these things alone, sharing them with someone else was altogether different.

The man, though reserved and unsmiling, listened patiently to all he said, occasionally offering his own thoughts. He accompanied him in activities beneath his station, and did not mind his slow pace. To the boy, it was joy unlike anything before.

This was the friend he had wished for so long!

As he watched the boy’s bright, carefree smile, the man’s hand lifted, wanting to pat his head again. But recalling the boy’s earlier warning, he withdrew.

The boy was still young. He ought to grow taller — at least enough to reach his chin.