AGRCIW CH5

Chapter 5: They Really Are Alike.

“Is it cash flow or a money pit?” Lin Songyu crossed his arms, scrutinizing Xie Zhuo. Xie Zhuo still had six months left until graduation before he could officially start working at Yanshi Group. How could ¥100,000 last half a year? That wasn’t even enough for after-school tutoring.

Xie Zhuo taught Tang Huhu not to accept gifts, and he was just as stubborn himself—refusing money from others. Lin Songyu wanted to give Tang Huhu money but had no way to do it. It’d be better to find a way to get back that loan.

He even considered some less-than-legal debt collection methods.

Counting on Xie Zhuo to recover the debt? Maybe in his next life.

“Money pit?” Tang Huhu sat between the two men, tilting his head. “What’s a money pit?”

Cough, cough, cough! Li Xiuyu suddenly coughed loudly, giving Lin Songyu a sharp look. This isn’t a company audit—why are you digging so deep? Bank balances and debts were like the color of a man’s thermal underwear—private stuff. Just let it go.

“Uncle, did you choke?” Tang Huhu instantly forgot about the “money pit” and looked at him in concern.

“I’m fine.” Li Xiuyu touched his face. He was only a few months older than Lin Songyu—so why did Tang Huhu call him “Uncle” and the other guy “Uncle-Brother”? Did he look that old? People always said he had a cheerful fox-like face. Kids don’t lie—maybe he had been drinking too much lately.

At that moment, Professors Zhou Yong and others from Yanshi Group’s R&D department came into the private room after their socializing outside.

School-enterprise collaborations were common. Xie Zhuo had participated in Yanshi Group projects during school, though he’d stayed in the lab and never handled negotiations or evaluations. They were all familiar faces, and after some warm greetings, the conversation turned to the only child present.

Professor Zhang joked, “Is this Xie Zhuo’s kid? Like father, like son. Zhou Yong, live a few more years and take him as your apprentice someday.”

Zhou Yong replied, “He’ll definitely be less of a headache than Xie Zhuo.”

A female professor added, “So cute. Just looking at him makes people happy. No wonder…” No wonder that chemistry professor couple once wanted to adopt him—Xie Zhuo being unwilling made total sense.

Xie Zhuo still wasn’t great at responding when others praised Huhu.

But Tang Huhu very naturally invented formal titles as he greeted the guests: “Hello, Sixth Great-Uncle.”

“Sixth Great-Uncle? Hahaha—” Professor Zhang burst out laughing. “That makes me part of the clan. When you study medicine in the future, your uncle will mentor you.”

Xie Zhuo explained, “Huhu gets confused with titles sometimes.”

The female professor teased, “What about me?”

Without hesitation, Tang Huhu replied, “Third Auntie!”

Professor Wang asked, “And me?”

Huhu responded confidently, his round face without a hint of doubt: “You’re… Big Uncle!”

Teasing toddlers was a natural delight for the older crowd, and everyone burst into laughter.

Even Li Xiuyu couldn’t help but laugh. No wonder he’d been promoted to “Uncle”—this little rascal was just handing out titles randomly.

Only Lin Songyu’s smile was a bit forced. He suddenly remembered that Xie Zhuo had lost both parents early. That meant Huhu had no relatives apart from his dad.

While other kids were struggling to remember who their various aunts and uncles were, Xie Zhuo had only ever taught him broad terms like “uncle,” “auntie,” “big brother,” and “big sister.”

When other children called “Uncle” or “Auntie” and got sincere hugs and smiles in return, did this little guy just watch silently and memorize which titles worked?

He didn’t understand their meaning, didn’t know they indicated blood ties—he was just innocently copying.

And while others got to be “Great-Uncles” and “Big Uncles,” Lin Songyu only got called “Uncle.” Nothing more.

From the corner of his eye, Lin Songyu glanced at Xie Zhuo and noticed a hint of dimness in his eyes too.

Lin Songyu’s mother came from the Tang family, and his maternal grandmother from the Li family—both large, thriving clans. Growing up, he was overwhelmed with relatives during every New Year. As he got older and work got busier, he kept in touch with fewer of them.

He reached out and stopped the lazy Susan at the table, positioning a plate of steamed fish in front of Tang Huhu. “Huhu, do you eat fish?”

“I do!” Huhu had been eating a chocolate gifted by a young Yanshi Group technician, and at the mention of fish, his face lit up without even looking up.

Lin Songyu let go of the lazy Susan and let it spin until the plate stopped in front of Xie Zhuo.

He can’t pick out fish bones—let his dad do it.

Xie Zhuo looked at the big plate of steamed yellow croaker in front of him but didn’t immediately move his chopsticks. His expression was one of hesitation.

What is he hesitating for? Steamed fish had high-quality protein—any normal parent would give their kid a piece the moment it was served.

And Huhu clearly loved it. You could hear the excitement in his voice.

“What kind of fish is this?” Huhu asked.

“Yellow croaker,” Lin Songyu answered.

Li Xiuyu chimed in, “This yellow croaker grew in the sea for five years. Eat it and you’ll grow taller.”

Huhu pointed at the fish, eyes wide. “Uncle, did he come from the sea too?”

Li Xiuyu laughed. “Yup, it grew up in the sea. It’s a saltwater fish.”

Huhu said, “My dad is allergic to saltwater fish.”

Seafood was a big category. If someone was allergic, a lot of the best dishes were off the table.

Lin Songyu glanced up. If you’re allergic, just say so—why hesitate?

Wait a minute—food allergies were often inherited. Could Huhu be allergic too?

“Huhu, can you eat sea fish?” Lin Songyu asked, looking toward Xie Zhuo.

Before his dad could reply, Huhu’s eyes spun like marbles and he chirped, “Huhu’s allergic too!”

As a kid who regularly listened to grocery market broadcasts, Huhu knew the price differences between freshwater and saltwater fish. Saltwater fish cost twice as much!

Dad had bought saltwater fish before and always let Huhu eat the whole thing himself—because Dad said he was allergic.

Huhu was price-allergic to saltwater fish. He repeatedly reminded Dad to only buy fish they both could eat.

If Dad couldn’t eat it, Huhu would be “allergic” too.

A trace of helplessness flashed across Xie Zhuo’s handsome face. He picked up his chopsticks, skillfully separated a piece of fish belly meat, checked it for bones, and placed it in Huhu’s bowl. “You’re not allergic. Eat up.”

Lin Songyu was baffled by the father-son duo’s shifting claims. “So are you allergic or not? Have you ever taken Huhu for an allergy test?”

There were child-sized spoons and chopsticks on the table, but Huhu skillfully picked up the adult-sized ones and neatly delivered the fish to his mouth before asking, “What’s an allergen?”

Everyone at the table—big names in the industry—could’ve given a technical definition on the spot. But it was too complicated. So non-specialist Li Xiuyu casually said, “It’s the thing that makes you allergic.”

Huhu replied without missing a beat, “Sea fish is too expensive!”

Li Xiuyu couldn’t help bursting into laughter. Out of the mouths of babes.

Lin Songyu suddenly gripped his silver fork tightly.

Xie Zhuo gently reminded, “Don’t talk while eating fish. Focus on whether it has bones.”

Huhu: “Okay.”

Lin Songyu scorned how Xie Zhuo was always correcting the kid—but still couldn’t help scanning the milky-white fish in Huhu’s bowl with sharp eyes, double-checking for any bones before he took a bite.

After a while, the waiter started serving alcohol. Li Xiuyu filled his glass, and just as he was about to pour for Lin Songyu, a pale, jointed hand covered the rim.

Lin Songyu pushed the bottle away and poured himself a glass of floral tea.

In the end, only Xie Zhuo, Lin Songyu, and Huhu stayed sober. The others had a round of drinks and drifted out to the banquet hall to catch up with old friends.

Professor Zhou Yong turned red-faced after just one glass.

Huhu, not used to seeing people drink, ran over and looked up at him. “Grandpa, why is your face red?”

Xie Zhuo said, “It means he’s allergic. Allergic to alcohol—he shouldn’t drink.”

Zhou Yong snapped, “I’m just happy! You’re finally graduating—what’s wrong with me having a drink?! Do you know how worried I was that you’d drop out for good?”

“When you got into that car accident and couldn’t do research anymore, that old man Wang Xin tried to steal your spot and data for his student. Tang Yu cursed him out for you. I thought you were so devoted to the project… but then you quit school entirely!”

Xie Zhuo handed him a glass of plain water. “You’re drunk.”

Zhou Yong: “I’m not drunk.” Every time he thought about how Xie Zhuo had looked after the accident, Zhou didn’t know how to put it into words. How could a promising young genius turn into a shadow of himself over one winter break? His body was wrecked, but worse—his spirit was gone. Only when he heard Xie Zhuo speak firmly about giving Huhu the best life did Zhou Yong feel a sliver of hope that the man might still persevere.

Xie Zhuo: “…”

Zhou looked around and realized Li Xiuyu had already left, but Lin Songyu was still here.

You could vent about your student in private, but in public, you had to defend them.

“Mr. Lin, I do want to keep Xie Zhuo at the institute. I’ll even apply for a special exception to retain him. Don’t think you’re the only one willing to offer a six-figure signing bonus.”

He was joking—he couldn’t offer that, there was no precedent.

Lin Songyu replied, “You sound like a father trying to marry off a daughter. Bit overboard, don’t you think?”

Zhou Yong frowned. That tone—ugh.

Just then, two people entered. One pulled Zhou away to discuss an academic forum. The other was Lin Songyu’s assistant, telling him he had an urgent call.

Zhou said to Xie Zhuo, “Wait here for me.”

Lin Songyu pressed his lips together but said nothing.

“Mm.” Xie Zhuo took out a packet of cold medicine from his pocket, poured warm water from a thermos, and stirred it.

“Huhu, time for medicine.” He handed over the cup while opening the “Story King” app on his phone. Once the door closed, all the noise from outside vanished.

Huhu finished his medicine and curled up in his dad’s lap to listen to a story.

Cold medicine makes you drowsy. Gradually, the little boy’s long, inky lashes fluttered and slowly lowered.

The private room was warm.
Xie Zhuo gently laid the little one flat across his lap, letting him rest his head on his forearm. He covered him with his own jacket and remained perfectly still in that posture.

By the time Lin Songyu finished his calls—one after another—it had already been over forty minutes.

Xie Zhuo must’ve left with the kid by now, he thought.

But when he pushed the door open, he saw that Xie Zhuo was still there. He was just about to speak when he noticed the child was already fast asleep in his arms.

His gaze was drawn to Xie Zhuo’s profile, lost in thought.

He noticed Xie Zhuo’s phone sitting on the table, stopwatch still running. The minute count had ticked past 34.

For these past thirty-something minutes, while holding Tang Huhu as he slept, Xie Zhuo had been as silent and unmoving as a bronze candelabrum forged in fire—guarding a single, flickering flame.

He was staring quietly at Huhu’s face, as if trying to find someone else within it.

There was quietness, gentleness—and a still, deadened grief about him.

Lin Songyu stood there in silence for a moment, then knocked lightly on the doorframe. “Don’t wait for Zhou Yong anymore. They’re in a meeting. You should head home.”

Xie Zhuo turned his head. “Alright.”

Whenever he took Huhu out, he always carried a backpack filled with essentials.

The noise from the banquet hall faded away. The night air made things feel calmer. Lin Songyu asked in a gentler tone, “All of that yours?”

Xie Zhuo immediately replied, “Yes. I packed it myself.”

Lin Songyu: “…”

Xie Zhuo expertly sat Huhu upright to hold him one-handed, while using his other hand to gather his phone, bib, thermos…

Lin Songyu offered, almost begrudgingly, “I’ll hold him for a bit.”

Xie Zhuo politely declined: “He’s not even forty-five minutes into his nap. If someone else holds him, he’ll cry.”

So Lin Songyu could only cross his arms and stand to the side, watching the little guy sleep peacefully. No matter how his father moved, he didn’t even stir.

He’s bluffing, Lin Songyu thought.

Finally, Xie Zhuo slung the backpack onto his arm and carefully cradled the boy in his arms again.

Suddenly, a golden necklace slipped off Huhu’s body and clinked onto the floor.

Xie Zhuo froze for a second, staring at the unfamiliar object.

Lin Songyu said casually, “You’re not going to pick up something you dropped?”

Xie Zhuo looked at him and said, “It’s yours.”

Only Lin Songyu had been close enough to Huhu for something like this to fall on him.

Lin Songyu looked slightly uncomfortable. “I gave it to Huhu. Because… I scared him and made him cry.”

The handsome young man furrowed his brow. Admit that I scared him? Not a chance. But the situation being what it was, there wasn’t a better excuse.

Xie Zhuo replied, “You didn’t scare him.”

Hearing this, Lin Songyu’s lips curved into a smile. He decided to own up boldly, “No, I did scare him.”

Xie Zhuo said, “The institute has rules against accepting expensive gifts.”

Lin Songyu replied, “What, you think I’m a spy? You’re going to be working at our company soon. And we have a rule that says you can’t reject a boss’s reward.”

Xie Zhuo: “That’s six months from now.”

Lin Songyu had never met anyone so stubborn. Would Huhu grow up to be a little square too, just like him? He picked up the longevity lock from the floor. “Once I give something away, I don’t take it back.”

Xie Zhuo recognized the necklace’s design and fell silent. A gift was still a form of persuasion. He knew the difference.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said. “How much was it?”

Lin Songyu smirked and said, “103,050 yuan.”

It was the exact amount he’d just learned was in Xie Zhuo’s bank account. He was doing it to mess with him.

Xie Zhuo responded calmly, “Then I’ll be left with 30 cents.”

Lin Songyu’s lips twitched into a grin. He took a step closer, placed his fingertip lightly against the longevity lock, and pried open the edge of Xie Zhuo’s suit pocket. With a soft flick, the gold necklace slipped in.

The light fabric gave a subtle jolt at the weight of the solid gold, and Xie Zhuo’s body stiffened slightly.

You might need to reason with the little one. But with the father? No reasoning necessary.

There’s no such thing as fairness in the adult world—just like the inexplicable attention Lin Songyu found himself giving this father and son.

After that little act, Lin Songyu was feeling bold. He even reached out and pinched the sleeping boy’s rosy cheek.

Bully the dad, then bully the son.

The day’s lingering irritation dissipated.

Feeling refreshed and content, he turned and strode out of the room.

It was the first time Xie Zhuo saw his back.

Anyone seeing Lin Songyu from the front would naturally focus 90% of their attention on his strikingly noble, sunlit face—and only the remaining 10% would go toward noticing his posture or gait, wondering whether it reflected the refined upbringing of a prestigious family.

But if one looked at Lin Songyu from the back, they’d notice his graceful steps—steady and unhurried.

That day, it had always been Lin Songyu watching Xie Zhuo’s back.

Now, it was Xie Zhuo’s turn.

He was shaken.

There was a flicker of recognition—something deeply familiar in that back.

And yet, when he looked more closely, there were differences.

Too similar.

Xie Zhuo didn’t know whether the resemblance was a coincidence, or if he had simply been out of touch with other people’s worlds for too long—and maybe everyone out there was like this.

He lifted his right foot, hesitating for a moment as if he’d forgotten how to walk.

Then he tightened his grip around his son and firmly turned in the opposite direction.