AGRCIW CH6

“Mommy went to the bottom of the sea…”

When Xie Zhuo returned to the room, he first placed the little one on the bed, took off his coat, wiped his face, hands, and feet, and finally tucked Tang Huhu in with the blanket.

With the winter holidays approaching, he planned to take Huhu back to his hometown for the New Year, let him run wild in the open countryside, be free and carefree, and not be forced to accompany his father in a place full of intense academic atmosphere where he didn’t even dare talk loudly.

The winter before last, Xie Zhuo hadn’t gone home to pay respects due to Tang Yu’s incident. Last winter, Tang Huhu was too young, so they didn’t make the trip either.

He contacted an auntie neighbor from his hometown via WeChat and transferred her a thousand yuan to help clean up the house. The key was with her anyway—she could go in anytime.

In previous years, Xie Zhuo had done everything himself. Near the New Year, he’d return home, sweep the graves on the mountain, then clean the house below, staying busy until New Year’s Eve when he’d set off a string of firecrackers. By the second day of the new year, he’d be back at the university.

After buying the train tickets online, Xie Zhuo grabbed his pajamas and went to shower, and in doing so, his hand brushed against the gold pendant in his suit jacket.

A stone cast into the deep sea would cause barely a ripple—but gold wasn’t a stone. It didn’t oxidize or dull. It would quietly sink to the bottom and still shimmer with light. All it took was a glance down to see it.

Xie Zhuo couldn’t help but think of Lin Songyu’s back again. He even had the impulse to boldly ask whether the man had a brother.

But he knew—it was meaningless.

Gold wasn’t Tang Yu. He wouldn’t find Tang Yu in the depths of the sea.

He placed the longevity lock at the head of the little one’s bed and silently deducted 20,000 from his mental bank balance.

It felt like it weighed about 20 grams. At the current gold price, that’d be about 20,000 yuan. If President Lin had bought it at some luxury boutique counter, Xie Zhuo couldn’t afford that—and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to pawn it either.

Just imagining Tang Huhu opening the banking app next time and seeing the six-digit figure turn into five, and the little guy reacting like the sky had fallen, gave Xie Zhuo a headache.

In the end, he decided to stick with the old excuse—“borrowed” by Yang He.

—

The next day.

Lin Songyu stood at the breakfast buffet area, coldly scanning the room and asked his assistant, “Didn’t you say he was sitting here eating yesterday?”

The assistant, Gao Yang, was at a loss. “He was. Yesterday.”

Lin Songyu: “So today they don’t need to eat?”

Gao Yang quickly improvised: “Maybe the kid woke up late. Why don’t you sit down and eat first? Save a seat—there’ll be more people soon, all the talented ones will have nowhere to sit.”

After a pause, Lin Songyu sat down at the same round table from yesterday, his expression saying “stay away,” which made no one dare sit with him.

Gao Yang brought over a bowl of noodles and enthusiastically pitched it: “Xiao Huhu’s favorite.”

Lin Songyu gave it a look, slightly curious about the taste. He never ate from the hotel buffet before. Was it really that good?

He asked the server for a bowl as well. When it arrived, it was a small, plain-looking portion—but piping hot and light.

He began eating the same noodles Tang Huhu had enjoyed.

And yet—no sign of the father and son.

They must’ve overslept. The dad oversleeps, the kid misses breakfast—maybe little Huhu was sitting there with an empty belly, quietly using his pillow to cover his stomach while waiting for Dad to wake up.

Lin Songyu: “Which room is Xie Zhuo in?”

Gao Yang couldn’t wait to get him out of the way—he wanted to eat all the fried rice and fried noodles in peace. “1302. Out the elevator, straight to the end, second door on the left.”

Lin Songyu left.

A minute later, he was at Room 1302, ringing the doorbell. After a pause, he knocked twice more.

Finally, the door opened—along with a strange-sounding radio broadcast.

[This week, cauliflower, green peppers, and string beans have shown significant price increases. Weekly price change rates are 5.4%, 4.0%, and 2.7% respectively…]

Prices going up again!

Tang Huhu was sitting alone at the table with a bowl of congee, a few plates of greens, and an egg with the yolk scooped out and dropped into the congee.

When Xie Zhuo had something to do, he’d let Huhu eat while listening to the radio.

He had also checked food prices in the cafeteria ahead of time and picked only the cheaper vegetables to help maintain Tang Huhu’s dining mood.

Finally, they announced a price drop in cabbage—great, there was some on his plate! Huhu immediately beamed, scooped up a big chunk with his long-handled spoon, and stuffed it into his mouth without hesitation.

Price drops make veggies taste better.

“Just vegetables? How is Huhu supposed to grow tall?” Lin Songyu stepped in casually, frowning at the sight of the little one inhaling cabbage like his life depended on it.

Huhu looked up from his bowl. His cheeks were puffed out like two sticky rice balls with traces of congee and egg yolk on them.

Upon seeing Lin Songyu, his round eyes crinkled into smiling crescents. He swallowed the cabbage and asked brightly, “Uncle, did you have breakfast?”

Lin Songyu had eaten a small bowl of noodles—half full. Seeing the spread on the table, he replied, “Not yet.”

Huhu patted the empty chair beside him. “Uncle, come sit and eat.”

Lin Songyu hesitated slightly, glancing at Xie Zhuo, who hadn’t spoken a word.

Xie Zhuo, packing for check-out, turned off the radio when he heard this, observing Huhu’s reaction—the little guy, now fully focused on eating with Uncle Lin, completely forgot the radio. So Xie Zhuo said, “Go ahead and eat with us.”

Lin Songyu sat down. There was another pair of chopsticks on the table—he wasn’t sure if they’d been used. His fingers hovered awkwardly.

Xie Zhuo silently set aside the folded blanket in his hands, took the chopsticks, poured boiling water from the kettle over them to disinfect, and placed them back.

Lin Songyu took them without another word.

Huhu had just woken up and was bundled in a warm padded vest inside the heated room. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a chubby little arm like a lotus root section, with two silver bracelets that barely moved on his plump arm.

Lin Songyu stared, wanting to buy him a pair of gold bangles now.

Huhu recommended helpfully, “Uncle, eat cabbage—it’s one yuan fifty.”

Lin Songyu hesitated—was he supposed to pay for this? He picked up a chopstick’s worth to test.

The little one then pushed a plate of potato slices over. “Uncle, eat this—potatoes are two yuan fifty.”

So every dish had a secret price tag.

And Huhu’s pricing was surprisingly reasonable—about the same as the cafeteria.

In terms of consumer power, who could compare?

Lin Songyu ate freely. As an adult, he had enough appetite to finish everything with Huhu.

He pulled out a napkin to wipe the congee and yolk off Huhu’s cheeks, his expression softening in an unfamiliar way. “Are you really full?”

Huhu nodded. “Mm!”

Seemed like the portions were just right. Lin Songyu also happened to feel full. Wait—had Xie Zhuo eaten?

He looked at him.

Xie Zhuo: “Want more food?”

Lin Songyu cleared his throat. “Add me on WeChat.”

Xie Zhuo considered it, then pulled out his phone and added him. He planned to transfer 20,000 after check-out.

Ding dong.

[Lin Songyu has transferred 15.5 yuan to you.]

Xie Zhuo looked puzzled.

Lin Songyu explained, “Didn’t Huhu say just now—cabbage 1.5, potatoes 2.5…”

Xie Zhuo: “That’s the supermarket price, not a bill for you.”

Lin Songyu raised an eyebrow and said coolly, “I see. And here I was, adding your WeChat just to pay.”

Of course, halfway through the meal he’d figured something was off. He just confirmed the numbers with Huhu. The kid had a sharp memory—just like him.

The WeChat add was clearly deliberate.

He flipped through Xie Zhuo’s Moments, expecting lots of posts about Huhu’s growth.

[User only shares posts from the past three days.]

Hmph.

Zhou Yong called to invite Xie Zhuo to a small interdisciplinary academic seminar.

“I told you to wait up last night. I had something to tell you.”

Xie Zhuo replied calmly—he’d already heard the seminar topic from a junior colleague. “Never heard of biomedical cross-history humanities.”

Zhou Yong gave a hearty snort. “They dug up a thousand-year-old corpse! Come on, we’re short on time!”

Xie Zhuo remained expressionless.

Zhou Yong dropped the act. “Okay, fine. It’s Professor Liu from S University’s history department. His daughter’s a tenured journalist. She divorced her ex-husband because she didn’t want kids, but she doesn’t dislike children. Doesn’t mind being a stepmom. You should meet her.”

Xie Zhuo: “……”

He’d previously refused Zhou Yong’s matchmaking because he didn’t want to divide his attention away from Huhu.

Zhou Yong said, “Now that you’ve got a stable job, if I can see you settle down, I’ll feel good about recruiting new PhD students.”

Zhou Yong often acted like a father figure to Xie Zhuo—especially when matchmaking.

Xie Zhuo: “I don’t want to date.”

As Lin Songyu was pinching the little one’s cheeks, his ears suddenly perked up, and he took a small step back.

Zhou Yong didn’t want to directly describe how beautiful or exceptional the girl was, so he tried to jog Xie Zhuo’s memory: “Last Lunar New Year’s Eve, you didn’t go home and stayed at the institute instead. A journalist came to interview you as a dedicated researcher sticking to his post—do you remember that?”

Xie Zhuo: “No.”

Zhou Yong had never met someone so impervious to persuasion. He switched to his advisor tone: “Get over here and put on that suit of yours.”

“The girl’s entire family is here in Hangzhou for a trip and staying at this hotel. No matter how you look at it, you should at least sit down for a cup of tea. You can’t seriously expect an old man like me to entertain three of them by myself, right?”

The meeting had already been arranged by the professor—it wasn’t optional. Show your face, be polite, make things clear, and there won’t be a next time.

After hanging up the call, Xie Zhuo turned around to see Lin Songyu standing unusually close to him, his almond-shaped eyes serious.

Xie Zhuo looked away and said to Tang Huhu, “Come on, let’s get dressed. Daddy’s taking you out to play.”

Tang Huhu ran over barefoot with a patter, came to a sudden stop in front of his dad, then wobbled forward and hugged his leg, stretching out his arms for his coat.

After dressing his son in a down jacket, Xie Zhuo went to fetch the suit from the closet.

Lin Songyu assumed he was going to wear it and suddenly felt a flare of irritation. His tone was far from friendly, and his words were quite rude: “You really think that suit looks good? Wore it all day yesterday and you’re still wearing it?”

He had even carried a kid all day—the suit must be full of creases. Lin Songyu himself would never wear the same suit two days in a row.

But Xie Zhuo just placed the suit into the open suitcase—clearly, he wasn’t planning to wear it.

Only then did Lin Songyu notice the luggage, realizing that this brief encounter with Xie Zhuo and Tang Huhu, born from an academic conference, was about to come to an end.

But he… he still felt like there was something left undone.

“You’re bringing your son on a blind date?”

Xie Zhuo couldn’t tolerate any criticism of Tang Yu’s aesthetic choices. He folded the suit and placed it at the bottom of the suitcase, adjusting the angles and folds carefully. His tone turned cold: “Yes. It doesn’t matter if I get along with her. What matters is if Huhu likes her.”

Lin Songyu lowered his gaze and fell into thought.

Tang Huhu’s ears were completely covered by a knitted hat, half of his face looking dazed and innocent. He looked at one person, then the other.

Suddenly, Lin Songyu bent down and picked the little guy up, smiling cheerfully. “Your dad has to work. Uncle will take you to the hotel’s play area.”

Without asking for permission, he simply carried the child away. “You go on your blind date. I’ll watch him for a while.”

Xie Zhuo was stunned and instinctively reached out to take Huhu back.

But halfway through, he remembered the image of Tang Huhu hiding behind the curtain at the conference venue.

Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to bring Huhu along—he just didn’t trust anyone else to watch him. He had promised not to take Huhu to those kinds of occasions again. And wasn’t a blind date just another kind of formal gathering?

But… hand him over to Lin Songyu?

To someone who had never looked after a child? Yet Tang Huhu, bundled up like a glutinous rice ball, was resting comfortably on Lin Songyu’s left arm. Though slim and elegant, Lin’s hold on the child was steady and firm.

Sitting on his left arm, Huhu leaned on Lin Songyu’s left shoulder and asked, “Daddy’s going to work, huh?”

Whenever Xie Zhuo carried him, Huhu always leaned to the right. But actually, the left side felt quite natural too.

Xie Zhuo asked, “Tang Huhu, do you want to play with Uncle Lin for a while? Daddy will pick you up later.”

Huhu nodded. “Okay.”

And with that, Lin Songyu carried him off.

The hotel was packed with conference attendees these days, so the children’s play area was fairly empty. Only one other kid was playing.

Lin Songyu placed Huhu into the ball pit and slide area, watching him climb up and down. After a while, he even took off his shoes and joined in, sliding down the slide alongside him.

Tang Huhu was clearly even more excited, shouting “Uncle! Uncle!” every time he slid down.

Lin Songyu was enjoying himself too—until Li Xiuyu showed up.

“Good grief, you’re here? Where’s your phone?”

Lin Songyu glanced at his phone lying by his leather shoes, kicked aside some balls, and stepped out. “What is it?”

Li Xiuyu dragged him a bit further away—still close enough to see the kid but far enough not to be heard. “Xie Zhuo already signed the contract, and you’re still babysitting for him? Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for his face.”

Lin Songyu: “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Li Xiuyu was a people-reading expert. If he sensed something brewing, and it didn’t seem good, he’d tear it out with sharp words before it could take root. “I’m being serious. Never mind your mom’s long list of blind dates lined up for you—Xie Zhuo himself likes women. His ex left him with the kid, yeah, but she could come back any day and take him away. With a kid as cute as that, the mom’s probably stunning.”

Lin Songyu: “Shut your mouth.”

Li Xiuyu raised his hands. “Alright, I’m shutting up. I’m just here to relay a message from the chairman. Dinner tonight at Feida Palace. Just the two of you.”

Lin Songyu grew annoyed. “Why is there matchmaking everywhere I go?”

Huhu slid down by himself once but didn’t think it was as fun as doing it with Uncle. So he toddled through the ball pit, stopped at the raised edge, and clambered over it—first one leg, then the other.

He’d taken off his socks when he went in, and now that he was out, he sat on the floor trying to put them back on.

He could manage loose old socks, but these newer ones had tighter elastic bands and needed more effort.

Oops. Failed again.

Lin Songyu couldn’t help but laugh. Just as he was about to go help, a staff member approached, looked around, and, seeing both men in sharp suits and clearly out of place, asked with a kind smile, “Sweetie, where’s your mommy?”

Tang Huhu looked up and answered very seriously, “Mommy went to the bottom of the sea.”

The staff member was confused. Bottom of the sea? Like an aquarium?

Lin Songyu froze, as if plunged into icy seawater. He quickly stepped in to stop the conversation. “I’m the guardian.”

Li Xiuyu turned it over in his head. He’d always heard gossip that Xie Zhuo’s ex-girlfriend had run off. But he’d never bothered to dig deeper. Regardless, the man was a single dad raising his child alone.

So the truth was—she’d passed away?

So Xie Zhuo was… widowed?

Li Xiuyu’s earlier remark about the ex coming back for the kid was instantly slapped in the face. Feeling vaguely guilty toward the deceased, he didn’t continue the conversation, quietly answered a phone call, and left.

Lin Songyu sat on the ground helping Huhu put on his socks, but his mind kept drifting back to that dinner scene—when Huhu had asked if the yellow croaker was “also from the sea?”

At the time, it had just sounded like a child’s way of describing a fish. But now he remembered that word—“also.”

Had Xie Zhuo told Huhu a fairy tale about a mermaid mother, one who came from the sea and returned to it?

He never corrected Huhu when the boy called random people “uncle” or “auntie,” yet he had told Huhu that his mother went back to the sea—was that so the child wouldn’t call anyone else “mom”?

Just as he finished putting on one sock, a slender, defined hand lifted Huhu’s other foot and quickly slipped the second sock on—faster than Lin Songyu—and even tucked the thermal pants neatly into the top.

Since the other sock hadn’t been tucked in, he redid that one too.

“Daddy!” Huhu shouted.

“Mm.” Xie Zhuo responded, now helping him put on his shoes.

“Are you really allergic to sea fish?” Lin Songyu asked abruptly, eyes fixed on the back of his head.

Was it really an allergy? Or was it that your wife died in the sea, and ever since then, you’ve had a quiet reverence for all things oceanic?

Everyone had a different theory about Xie Zhuo’s ex, which meant she’d likely gone missing. He had never publicly spoken about her fate—was that because no body had been found, and he didn’t dare declare her dead?

Xie Zhuo kept his head down, fastening shoes without responding—as if he hadn’t heard—but his silence was answer enough.

Lin Songyu quickly added, “I just remembered the steamed buns this morning had fish roe. I was worried it might make you feel unwell.”

Xie Zhuo looked up from his crouch and said, “A little’s fine.”

Lin Songyu understood now—when it came to his wife, Xie Zhuo would avoid the topic completely. But when it came to others’ concern, he’d respond politely.

“I still really like seafood,” Lin Songyu muttered, then waved to Huhu. “Uncle has to go to a meeting. Bye-bye, Huhu.”

Huhu, now in shoes, ran over and gave him a hug. “Bye-bye, Uncle.”

Lin Songyu took a deep breath, gently patted his head, and turned to leave.

His footsteps echoed farther and farther away, each one vibrating through the floorboards, resonating in Xie Zhuo’s bones like a rhythm engraved into the marrow.

Still kneeling, Xie Zhuo slowly picked up the candies that had fallen from Huhu’s coat pocket. His movements grew slower and slower.

Tang Yu had liked seafood too.