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Tms 9

 Time quickly passed, and the New Year was approaching.


Sun Qi and the others under Duan Zhuang had all left to go home.


Ji Mian had no concept of the New Year, and the original “Ji Mian” had never experienced this for over a decade. In his common knowledge, the Spring Festival was the most important holiday for the people here, a time for family reunions.


Since Ji Mian had no family, he thought the Spring Festival had nothing to do with him.


He originally planned to stay in the room on the third floor for a few days until everyone returned after the holiday. Then he could continue whittling his wood shavings and return to his simple yet happy life.


Until the evening of New Year’s Eve, when his door was knocked on.


Opening the door, he found Duan Zhuang standing outside. He was dressed rather lightly, wearing a black short coat over a low-neck white sweater. In the depths of winter, it looked especially cold.


Ji Mian glanced at him, instinctively pulling his down jacket closer, and quietly asked, “Brother? What’s up?”


Duan Zhuang's response was always brief, consisting of just two words:


“Come down.”


So, Ji Mian followed him down to the second floor.


On the second floor was another person—Mu Yuman.


As Ji Mian entered the room with Duan Zhuang, he happened to see Mu Yuman walking out of the kitchen, holding a plate of braised fish.


The room was filled with a mouthwatering aroma.


Ji Mian secretly swallowed.


Upon seeing Ji Mian, her eyes lit up like autumn water: “Ji Mian is here!”


In the dining room, the table was laid out with six or seven dishes that were colorful and fragrant. Mu Yuman placed the plate she was holding in the center, looking like she had just finished serving.


After bringing Ji Mian in, Duan Zhuang ignored him and coldly sat down at the dining table.


Ji Mian hesitated for a moment and slowly walked over, but he didn’t dare to sit down.


“Brother.” He stood in front of Duan Zhuang, asking earnestly, “You called me here. Is there any work to do?”


“…” Duan Zhuang silently looked at him, his gaze expressing something hard to articulate, “Are you an idiot?”


“I’m not…” Ji Mian was about to retort when he remembered the first requirement Duan Zhuang had mentioned when he allowed him to stay—he had to be obedient.


He swallowed his rebuttal and nodded hesitantly.


“Pfft…” Mu Yuman couldn’t help but laugh, “On New Year’s, how could we make you work? Sit down and enjoy the New Year’s Eve dinner!”


New Year’s Eve dinner...


Oh, so that’s what it was.


Ji Mian fidgeted with the hem of his clothes and sat down across from Duan Zhuang and Mu Yuman.


Ji Mian liked to eat fish, and he was very good at it.


He picked up a piece of fish, chewed a few times, then lowered his head and spat out the small bones into the bone plate, leading one to wonder if there was some special structure on his tongue that humans didn’t possess.


“Yuman, your cooking is really delicious.”


Mu Yuman smiled, “That was cooked by Duan Zhuang. He called you up just as he was finishing up. I just took care of turning off the heat and bringing out the dishes.”


Duan Zhuang never cooked, so Ji Mian hadn’t thought of him.


“Oh…” Ji Mian steeled himself, “Brother, your cooking is really delicious.”


A few seconds passed, and no one responded.


A few more seconds passed before they finally heard Duan Zhuang lazily say, “Hmm.”


Having spent a few months whittling wood with Duan Zhuang, Ji Mian naturally knew his older brother’s stubborn temperament, how he could be indifferent to everyone at times.


He lowered his head and shoveled a mouthful of rice, nearly burying his face in the bowl out of embarrassment.


He liked the New Year. It was even better than a birthday.


Halfway through the meal, Mu Yuman suddenly cleared her throat gently and spoke in a warm tone: “Ji Mian, have you thought about going home to take a look during the New Year?”


“Going home?”


“You’ve been out for so long; your parents might miss you.” In the poor area, Mu Yuman had seen many people from all walks of life, including those who ran away from home during their rebellious teenage years after conflicts with their parents.


Mu Yuman would never say a word to these people; they were as stubborn as donkeys and as foolish as donkeys, oblivious to their fate and unwilling to turn back.


But Ji Mian was different. He was a good kid; he should go back.


Ji Mian happened to be chewing a mouthful of rice, pondering how to respond.


If she knew about his family situation, Yuman would definitely feel bad. He didn’t want to make Mu Yuman sad, so he had never mentioned it in the few months since he came here. But lying also made him uncomfortable. Ji Mian was reluctant to lie, especially to Mu Yuman.


After hesitating for a while, he decided to tell the truth: “My mom left a long time ago, and my dad has a new family. He doesn’t want me. No one will miss me.”


Ji Mian was worried that Mu Yuman might think he was lying, so he softly added, “Really.”


The air suddenly fell silent, and Mu Yuman’s hand holding the chopsticks froze.


Even Duan Zhuang stopped chewing and looked at him.


Mu Yuman had never expected this. She knew Ji Mian wouldn’t lie.


Then it hit her: yes, Ji Mian was definitely sensible. If his family were normal, why would he have left?


Mu Yuman’s lips pressed tightly together, regretting what she had said, especially bringing up such a topic at the New Year’s Eve dinner table.


The atmosphere at the dinner table seemed to grow heavy in an instant.


Ji Mian felt uncomfortable; he thought he had ruined the most beautiful holiday of the year for others.


He was indeed a thief, stealing warmth and happiness from Mu Yuman and Duan Zhuang, while giving them only oppression and gloom in return.


His panicked gaze flitted between the two of them, finally locking onto Duan Zhuang’s dark eyes.


Ji Mian had eyes that couldn’t hide his feelings; his transparent pupils couldn’t cover up his emotions—anxiety and guilt were clear as day in his gaze, visible to the man opposite him.


He looked at Duan Zhuang with a confused expression, his face displaying a signal of distress that he wasn’t even aware of.


But the person he was looking at received it.


The next moment, Duan Zhuang spoke softly, “Eat.”


Once those words landed, it was as if an invisible valve had been switched off, forcefully isolating the heavy past and the air from the present.


After the New Year’s Eve dinner, Ji Mian took it upon himself to clean up the kitchen, letting Mu Yuman rest in the living room.


He stacked the dishes and put some in the sink, beginning his work.


After a while, Duan Zhuang also came in, silently organizing the clean dishes on the counter and taking out the trash.


“Brother?”


“Hmm.”


“I can handle it myself.”


Duan Zhuang ignored him.


Normally, when Sun Qi came over to mooch food, he wouldn’t bother helping. But today, there were a lot of dishes, and it would take Ji Mian a long time to clean them up alone.


Moreover...


Duan Zhuang fixed his gaze on the back of Ji Mian’s busy head.


Just now, he had seen him from outside the kitchen, a thin figure all alone, as if he had suffered a great injustice at home.


“...I’m sorry, Brother.” As the dishes clinked together, Ji Mian spoke up.


He tilted his head down, his beautiful brown pupils reflecting Duan Zhuang’s figure.


“I ruined what was supposed to be a good holiday.”


“…”


Duan Zhuang stared at him for a few seconds before suddenly looking away.


He thought to himself: “What a fool.”


Chapter 9: TMS

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