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“I want to ask both of you something, but you have to promise to at least think about it before saying no.”
Morning light spills across the kitchen table, catching the steam from Xiao Zhan’s coffee and the faint clink of cutlery against ceramic. Yibo is leaning against the counter, arms loose by his sides. Their fourteen-year-old daughter sits across from them—too calm for someone about to clearly make some kind of daring request.
It’s hard not to smile. Especially when she looks so much like Yibo when she’s negotiating. Xiao Zhan has to bite back his grin, but the statement still puts them both on edge.
They are parents, at the end of the day.
“That depends. What’s the question?” Xiao Zhan says, sipping his coffee.
Yibo realizes at the same time that there's no milk on the table, so he pushes off the counter, walking around the island to grab it from the fridge, but he doesn’t disengage—not really. His attention stays focused on her, sharp and expectant, even when his back is momentarily turned.
“So..” she starts, quieter now. Her fingers tap lightly against the edge of the table, and Xiao Zhan notices the faintest blush creeping into her cheeks. “There’s a boy.”
“No.”
Xiao Zhan turns his head.
Yibo is halfway back to the table, milk carton still in his hand, already shutting it down before she can finish.
Xiao Zhan gives him that look with his eyes. “Don’t. She hasn’t finished yet.”
Then softer, turning back to her. “Go on, sweetheart, we’re listening.”
She clears her throat, shifting in her seat, swaying slightly. “There’s a boy in my math class. He sits beside me during the lectures, and we’ve been helping each other with the homework. The teacher is so awful! Every time we ask her a question, she says we should know it and if we don’t, then we’ll all fail.”
Yibo exhales through his nose, but says nothing yet.
“Anyway,” she continues quickly. “He’s really nice, and I like studying with him. His parents are here for busine—”
Yibo sets the milk down harder than necessary and leans forward against the island, cutting in.
“Where is this going?”
She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Well, he asked me to go on a study date with him! This Friday. It would just be at the library. We would grab food after and then I’d come home.”
Xiao Zhan and Yibo speak nearly at the same time.
“That’s great, sweetheart!”
“No.”
Too bad it was never going to be the same words.
Their daughter doesn’t even look at Xiao Zhan—her eyes go straight to Yibo, wide and wounded, her pout is painfully identical to his own.
“But, baba… why?”
Yibo shrugs almost too casually. It doesn’t match the tension in his shoulders. It’s obvious that it’s killing him on the inside to say no to her. She's their second child but surely the one who rules his heart. Spoiled beyond belief. There's almost nothing he would say no to other than this.
“Because you’re too young. And I said no.”
“But every other girl my age is going out!”
“And they don’t live in this house,” Yibo’s voice is firmer now. He leans forward and keeps his gaze steady. “I said no.”
She blinks at him, hurt flickering across her face before she strategically pivots, looking at Xiao Zhan instead. Her shoulders slump just enough and her eyes gloss slightly. It's almost impressive.
Xiao Zhan only exhales slowly. Because he doesn’t think it’s that bad of an idea. A study date seems harmless to him—best care scenario, their daughter is with someone kind, studying and doing well.
Worst case scenario? Yibo tracks the poor boy down and makes sure he never comes within a ten-foot radius of her again.
But parenting means alignment even when it’s hard. Over the years, this has become one of the most challenging parts of raising children: trying to be on the same page even when you’re not.
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Xiao Zhan says carefully. “It’s a study date. That sounds… productive.”
She perks up instantly. “Exactly! It’s not like a real date. We’re just studying, hanging out a bit after school. Being responsible.”
Yibo crosses his arms. “Who’s going to be there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who else is going with you?”
“What? No one. It’s just me and h—”
“No.”
Xiao Zhan lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yibo. Come on.”
Yibo points at her now. “She just said she likes him and they’ll be alone together. Absolutely not.”
“They’re in a public place,” Xiao Xhan argues. “Can you be a little reasonable?”
The second the words leave his mouth, Xiao Zhan realizes it was the wrong move.
Yibo’s gaze cuts toward him, sharp and immediate, before he turns back to their daughter. “No, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Tell him you can’t go.”
Her face crumples and suddenly she looks as if she’s about to bawl. “But that’s not fair! You never let me do anything, and I don’t ask for much to begin with!”
Her chair scrapes loudly as she stands. She grabs her bag, footsteps echoing hard against the floor as she storms out.
Xiao Zhan rubs the bridge of his nose. “Don’t slam the—”
The door crashed loudly.
Xiao Zhan sighs. “Too late.”
There’s a heavy silence that settles in the kitchen. Yibo turns back to the counter like nothing happened, fiddling with something pointlessly.
Xiao Zhan stares at him, incredulous, before walking over.
“What the fuck was that? Do you want her to be upset with you?”
Yibo looks at him now. “I should be asking you that. What happened to having my back?”
“I do have your back,” Xiao Zhan says, frustrated. “I just don’t think it’s that unreasonable for her to want to go on a study date with a boy she likes. She’s even being honest with you—would you rather her do things behind your back?”
“Don’t,” Yibo snaps. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“Exactly,” Xiao Zhan presses. “Because she’s a good kid. She does everything right. Why can’t you let her just have this one thing?”
“Xiao Zhan,” Yibo says, slower now. “She’s fourteen.”
“So?” Xiao Zhan throws his hands up. “She’s in high school. Every kid is high school has a crush. How old were you when you had your first one?”
Yibo looks away.
“That’s different.”
Xiao Zhan scroffs. “I was thirteen when I had my first kiss. It’s not that weird.”
Now Yibo looks as though he’s about to pass away. “You think he’ll try to kiss her?”
Xiao Zhan can’t believe him.
“You’re useless,” he says, grabbing his jacket. “I’m going to work. You deal with this.”
But as he walks out, Yibo calls after him.
“And don’t you dare say yes to her behind my back!” Yibo shouts. “I’ll know!”
--
Xiao Zhan truly wishes for a moment that he had just said yes and dealt with the consequences later.
Because how long could Yibo really stay mad at him?
Their daughter, though—she’s a different story.
She barely speaks to them. A word or two to Xiao Zhan if she has to. Nothing at all to Yibo. She’ll just make small noises; an “mhm”, a nod, or the quiet scrape of her chair against the floor when she gets up. The house feels off, like something essential has been pulled loose.
They let it go for a couple of days. Until Yibo can’t take it anymore.
He comes out down the stairs one morning with a laundry hamper balanced against his hip, clothes spilling over the edge. “Honey, have you seen your clothes in your bedroom? That chair is basically a mountain. When are you going to clean it?”
She sits at the table, staring down at her phone.
Yibo sets the hamper down on the couch with a soft thud and walks over to her, slower this time. His steps are a bit precautious.
“Hey,” he nudges her gently, fingers brushing her hair. “When are you going to clean your room?”
Nothing. Not even a glance.
Xiao Zhan watches from the kitchen, already sensing where this is going.
“Sweetheart,” he steps in, keeping his voice calm but firm, “answer when someone’s talking to you, please.”
She finally looks up at them.
“Why do I have to do things when you ask,” she says, voice tight, “when you don’t do anything I ask?”
It leaves them both speechless for a moment.
This isn’t the playful backtalk from when she was little. It’s not the kind that made them laugh or made Yibo melt and give in five seconds later. This is different and much sharper than anything they’ve ever witnessed from her.
Yibo’s eyes still. “Careful.”
He says it quietly. It’s a warning—but a soft one. Like he doesn’t know how to make it sound any harsher.
The truth is, he doesn’t. He never has, not with her.
Xiao Zhan watches it happen the way it always does—how Yibo, who has never taken shit from anyone, who pushes back at the world without hesitation, folds instantly when it comes to their daughter.
Every single time.
It hits him like a ton of bricks, not for the first time, how deep that runs.
--
He remembers a day years ago, as if it was only yesterday.
She was three. Tiny, unsteady on her feet, wearing a fluffy dress that swallowed her whole body, her hair pulled into two uneven pigtails that Yibo insisted on doing himself.
They’d gotten her one of those toy kitchens.
Yibo had complained about it endlessly. “What, are you trying to train her to cook and clean for the rest of her life? Over my dead b—”
“Our son uses it more than she does,” Xiao Zhan had cut in dryly. “Relax.”
That afternoon, she’d been “baking,”, her small face scrunched up in concentration as she slid a plastic cake into the oven, waited, then carefully plated it.
“Baba,” she said, turning to him, voice small and proud. “For you.”
Yibo had lit up immediately. “Thank you, angel.”
She watched him expectantly, taking the plate from her hands. Then she had braced one of her hands on his shoulder to steady herself.
“Eat!”
It came as a command, really.
Xiao Zhan remembers the way Yibo didn’t even hesitate—he took the biggest, most animated bite of that plastic cake.
“Woooooow!” he gushed, eyes widening for her. “SO GOOD!”
She looked at him with the cheesiest grin.
“So delicious,” he continued, fake chewing dramatically. “Are you going to make baba some coffee too?”
She huffed out loud, tiny and dramatic.
“Oookay!”
She pressed off his shoulder and went to pour imaginary tea into a cup from her fake kettle and handed it to him, watching his expression closely.
Yibo had taken a pretend sip and let out the loudest, theatrical sigh. As if it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Mmmmm. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“You welcome, baba.”
“How much do I owe you?” he’d asked, playing along.
She’d thought about it, swaying a little in place. The tulle in her dress shifted slightly with her movements and the look in Yibo’s eyes was nothing short of adoration.
“Four hundred five dollars, baba.”
Yibo had blinked at their daughter. “I think you’re overcharging.”
She'd ignored him completely, only yawned and stumbled straight into his arms. Yibo had dropped the act and caught her instantly, hoisting up until her arms were wrapped around his neck.
“Ah, okay, you’re tired now,” he’d murmured into her hair, voice softening completely. “You worked too hard. Baba’s got you.”
Xiao Zhan had watched from the doorway, smiling despite himself.
“Is she done working for the day?”
“Yeah,” Yibo had said. “Baking that cake really did a number on her.”
She’d lifted her head then, eyes half-lidded, pointing lazily behind her.
“Papa… castle.”
Xiao Zhan had raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you want a castle now?”
She nodded.
“I told you we should have gotten the castle,” Yibo’s voice was bitter.
“Hey! The kitchen was good for her motor skills.”
“Well, she wants a castle.”
And that had been that.
Needless to say, there was a castle fit for a princess in her playroom the next day.
--
It was true; they gave her everything. Every single thing he asked for.
Except this.
“Whatever,” she mutters now, pushing back from the table and before storming off into her room.
Her door shuts—not slammed this time, but firm enough to say everything that she won’t.
Yibo stares after her, then turns back to Xiao Zhan, almost in disbelief. “Can you believe her?”
Xiao Zhan huffs out an airy laugh. “I can, actually,” he glances towards the hallway. “She’s yours.”
--
It drags on longer than either of them expects. The silence and distance stretch throughout their home uncomfortably, like a sore wound.
Until one evening, when Xiao Zhan realizes they need some more groceries and figures he’ll make a quick trip down to the supermarket to grab some things ahead of the weekend.
He grabs his keys, shrugging on his jacket. “I’m heading out,” he calls out.
Their daughter appears almost immediately.
“Papa, where are you going?”
“Just grabbing a few things from the supermarket,” he says, slipping on his shoes. “Do you want anything?”
She shakes her head. “…Can I come with you?”
Before he can answer, Yibo steps into the foyer. He doesn’t say anything and only watches them intently.
Xiao Zhan hesitates, then reaches out, smoothing her hair back. “Why don’t you stay here? I’ll be quick anyways. Just in and out.”
She tugs on his sleeve. “Please.”
He glances at Yibo, who gives him a small nod.
But there's something else in his face—something heartbreaking—that makes Xiao Zhan’s chest ache.
Their daughter doesn’t want to be here.
Not with him.
Xiao Zhan tries not to linger.
“Okay,” he says gently. “Let’s go.”
--
The grocery store is bright with fluorescent lighting humming overhead. It’s not too busy, but there are still some customers rattling their carts across the titled floors in different sections. They grab some meat for grilling, packs of noodles, and some snacks for the kids.
They really don’t need much. Just enough to justify the trip, honestly.
Except Xiao Zhan knows why she came, and he knows this is his moment.
They sit in the car afterward, bags rustling softly in the backseat. The engine is still off and there’s an uncomfortable quiet between them.
He doesn’t know how to start. He settles for a soft exhale before he speaks, hoping his words will land no matter how they come out.
“You know he loves you, right?” Xiao Zhan says softly.
She finally looks at him with a guarded expression.
“Like, so much. He would die for you.”
She rolls her eyes now but there’s no attitude in it. “I know. I just—”
There’s a pause before she thoughtfully continues.
“I’m a good kid.”
It catches Xiao Zhan off guard.
“I do my homework. I come home on time. I don’t do anything bad. I just… I wish he wouldn’t treat me like I’m still a baby all the time.”
Nothing prepares Xiao Zhan for the first sniffle. His chest immediately tightens.
“Is it really that bad,” she whispers, “to go on a library date?”
Xiao Zhan smiles softly, reaching over to hold her hand. “You’ll always be his baby. Whether you’re fourteen or forty.”
His daughter lets out a defeated sigh.
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t trust you,” he adds.
She doesn’t answer immediately.
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
And God—Xiao Zhan wonders when she became old enough to say things like that. To feel things this deeply.
He can’t believe it sometimes—how fast kids grow up and mature—develop their own thoughts and feelings. It seems as though it was only yesterday when he held her in his arms and watched her face scrunch up as she yawned in her sleep, or when Yibo laid her on her play-mat and tried to get her to say baba first.
Xiao Zhan leans back in his seat, staring out of the windshield for a moment. Time moves too fast. It always has.
Their daughter won’t understand this now—what it feels like to see your child wanting things and people beyond yourself. One day, she will see how beautiful it is, and how much it can hurt as well.
“Be a little gentler with him,” Xiao Zhan says finally. “Okay? Don’t give him the silent treatment anymore. It hurts his feelings.”
--
When they get home, Xiao Zhan doesn’t waste time.
He finds Yibo in their bedroom, sprawled across the bed, phone in hand.
“We need to talk.”
Yibo glances up. “About what?”
Xiao Zhan gives him a look. “You know what. Go talk to her.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
“You’re the parent,” Xiao Zhan can’t believe he has to clarify. “Act like it.”
Yibo literally frowns.
“I just sat with her in the car for half an hour,” Xiao Zhan continues, climbing onto the bed behind him. “She thinks you don’t trust her.”
Yibo doesn’t really know what to say.
“She’s a good kid,” Xiao Zhan says, more quietly now. “So good. When has she ever given you a reason not to trust her? I’m just as protective of her. But I also don’t want her missing out on things like having a crush on a boy or going out with friends just because we’re protective of her.”
Before Yibo can say what he’s thinking, Xiao Zhan goes on. “I also really don’t want her feeling like she needs to lie to us or sneak around because we say no to things like this.”
He doesn’t answer. Xiao Zhan knows why.
Yibo is stubborn, just like her. So, Xiao Zhan knows he likely won’t budge.
Instead, Xiao Zhan softens, wrapping his arms around him from behind, resting his chin against his shoulder in hopes of coaxing him.
“Darling, why don’t you at least talk to her?”
“..I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m scared.”
Xiao Zhan stares at him. Yibo is afraid of his teenage daughter. Of course he is.
“You don’t know how it felt when she wanted to go with you rather than be home with me. I thought I was going to cry.”
Xiao Zhan has to laugh in now. Not because it’s funny, but because Yibo is so earnest about it.
“It’s not a fucking joke. My eyes were watering,” Yibo mutters. “And I had to wait until you two left!”
Xiao Zhan shoves him now. “Can you balls up and go talk to her? I’m tired of this weird tension.”
Yibo reluctantly gets up and lingers by their door before finally stepping out.
--
He stands outside of her room for ten whole minutes before mustering up the courage to knock.
“Come in!”
Her voice sounds normal. Cheerful even. It gives Yibo a boost of confidence to actually go inside and talk to her.
Except when he opens the door, he watches her face fall as soon as she sees him.
It hits him right in the chest. Suddenly he wants to run away.
“…Hi.”
“Hi.”
He shifts awkwardly on his toes. “Can I sit with you?”
Yibo thinks he won’t be able to stomach anymore heartbreak if she says no. She does hesitate—only for a split second—then scoots over. Yibo gratefully takes the spot beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“My English paper.”
“…Mm.”
The awkward silence stretches.
Yibo wonders if she can hear his heart thumping in his chest, threatening to jump out.
“You know I love you, right?” he says, unable to think anything else to say that would sum it up better. “So much. I would die for you.”
She sighs. “God, you two are so dramatic. Papa already told me that.”
Yibo can’t help but smile.
“Still true.” Yibo murmurs. “Me saying no to things doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”
Now, she closes her notebook, turning slightly toward him. She’s listening, and that alone makes his heart flutter.
And yet, it feels strange—because his heart is no longer inside him; instead, it's a tiny, beautiful girl with long dark hair and wide, wild eyes, sitting right in front of him.
“I know you want to go,” he says. “I know you like him. But… you have all the time in the world to do things like that. You don’t need to rush.”
This time, she doesn’t argue. She only gives a small, quiet nod. Yibo reaches out, brushing her hair back, cradling her cheek before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Can I have a hug?”
She doesn’t hesitate.
She climbs into his arms, wrapping herself around him like she used to, tucking into that space between his shoulder and neck.
And for that brief moment, she’s small again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “I didn’t mean to be hurtful or dismissive to you.”
Then more quietly. “…Forgive me.”
Now she pulls back just enough to look at him. “Forgiven.”
Yibo can finally exhale.
“Sorry for not talking to you for a few days,” she adds softly. “I wanted to! I was just mad.”
Yibo shakes his head, pulling her closer again. “I deserved it a little bit.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Go a little easier on me,” he mutters.
She gives him a faint smile.
He loosens his hold on her and tells her to put the books away and rest before going to sleep, to which she nods obediently.
But he doesn’t fully let her go. Not until she promises an “I love you” and a kiss.
She gives him both.
--
When Yibo goes back to their bedroom, Xiao Zhan glances at him from the bed and sits up immediately.
“How did it go?”
“…Good.”
There’s a pause between them.
“I still said no.”
Xiao Zhan nods slowly. “And? Is she okay?”
“She’s okay.”
Xiao Zhan covers Yibo’s palm with his own and squeezes. “See?”
Yibo leans back, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he feels it. The quiet, gnawing realization that this isn’t really about the boy. It’s about losing something, slowly and inevitably.
Or, the simple fact that he’s not ready to accept that his daughter is growing up, and that she isn’t going to need him forever. One day, she would move out. They might hear from her once a month, going from seeing her every day to once or twice a year.
There’s nothing that could have possibly prepared him for this feeling.
--
Rain taps softly against the windows through the night. By morning, sunshine peaks through the shutters. There’s a musky smell in the air but it’s fresh at the same time—almost like a reset from the night before.
Yibo rises first.
He moves slower than usual after having a restless night. He pads softly into the kitchen in loose sweats, steps still heavy from sleep. The house is still quiet and peaceful in that rare fleeting way it only ever is before the kids wake up. Xiao Xhan joins him a few minutes later, already pushing up his sleeves.
They fall into their usual rhythm smoothly.
Xiao Zhan cracks eggs into a bowl, adds salt, and begins to gently whisk while the oiled pan heats up on the stove. At the same time, he’s pulling out a packet of scallion pancakes from the freezer in case anyone wants it.
Yibo stands beside him, measuring out coffee, the rich smell of arabica beans filling the space as it brews. They settle into that comfortable silence that they’ve grown to love, especially during the early hours of the morning.
Their daughter comes downstairs not long after, dressed for school, backpack slung over one shoulder. Yibo notices her immediately, as he always does. He reaches for the bowl of mixed fruits—strawberries, watermelon, and grapes—and goes to rinse them under cold water before setting the bowl in front of her carefully.
“Eat,” he says softly, brushing his hand over her hair as he passes.
She glances up at him, just for a second. “Thank you.”
She eats quietly, the soft clink of her fork against the bowl filling the space between them. Xiao Zhan slides a plate in front of her too, filled with warm eggs, a scallion pancake folded nearly on the side.
“Don’t skip your actual breakfast,” he murmurs.
She nods obediently.
She finishes soon after, grabbing her jacket and moving to the entryway. Yibo follows and approaches her just as she’s crouching down to tie her shoes.
He lingers around her for a second, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“When will you be home?” he asks quietly.
She looks at him quizzically. “Class ends at four… so, like, four thirty? Same as always.”
“Don’t you have a study date to go to?”
Everything stills. She freezes mid-motion, fingers tightening slightly around her shoelace. Xiao Zhan is now leaning casually against the kitchen wall. He straightens just a little, arms crossing loosely as he watches this unfold.
“…What?”
She looks up slowly. There’s an uncertain expression on her face.
Yibo meets her eyes.
And then—
He smiles.
It’s a soft, gentle smile. The kind of smile he’s only ever reserved for her.
She’s on her feet before she even realizes it, running into his arms. Yibo crouches a bit to let her wrap herself around him. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days, pulling her close, one hand cradling the back of her head.
“Where are you going with him?” he asks, into her hair.
“The library,” she says quickly, like she’s afraid he’ll change his mind. “The central library. It’s only a five-minute walk from school. They have a café downstairs, so we’ll buy our snacks there and study upstairs.”
“Okay,” Yibo says.
She brightens instantly. “Really?”
“I want you home immediately after,” he continues, already slipping back into himself. “Text me when you leave school. Text me when you get there. Text me when you’re done so I can come pick you up.”
She nods excitedly. “Yes, baba.”
“Wait,” he catches her before she can turn. “I’m not finished.”
She groans quietly under her breath.
“No kissing,” he says firmly. “No handholding. You’re there to study. Make sure he keeps his hands to himself. And no—”
“Babaaaaaaa,” she whines, face heating up. “Stop.”
“Yibo.” Xiao Zhan chimes in, barely hold back a smile.
Yibo sighs in defeat. “Fine.”
Xiao Zhan pushes off the wall, walking over. “Do you need money, babe?”
She shakes her head. “I have some. Thank you, papa.”
Yibo rolls his eyes. “If he doesn’t pay for your snacks, you’re not seeing him again.”
She mimics his eye-roll instantly. Yibo sees it too.
This perfect, miniature version of him is going to ruin him in the best way possible.
“Okay,” she says, solely to appease him.
He huffs, but his hand comes up to cradle her chin gently. “What do you say?”
She leans up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I love you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Yibo sighs. “You’re welcome, angel.”
She grabs her bag again, calling out a quick “bye!” as she heads for the door.
“I love you!” Xiao Zhan calls after her. “Don’t be home late! Your brother comes back from camp today!”
The door shuts behind her. It's suddenly quiet.
Yibo turns slowly to look at Xiao Zhan.
“I lost.”
Xiao Zhan chuckles softly.
“You were never going to win.”
--
The study date goes well. Exactly as expected.
Their daughter texts when she leaves.
When she arrives.
When she gets her food.
When she finishes.
When she’s outside and ready to be picked up.
Yibo shows Xiao Zhan every message.
“She said he got noodles and seaweed crackers,” Yibo mutters at one point.
“Great,” Xiao Zhan replies dryly.
She comes home on time. Exactly on time.
They think nights like these might be something they’ll have to get used to.
Their son also comes back from camp. The house is suddenly loud again, and everything feels fuller, messier, and more alive.
Like everything they’ve always wanted.
But all that high energy catches up to them fairly quickly. A couple of weeks later, Yibo literally collapses onto the bed, half on top of Xiao Zhan, face pressed into his shoulder.
“I’m exhausted.”
“Me too,” Xiao Zhan murmurs, barely awake.
“…And I miss you.”
Xiao Zhan cracks one eye open. “Do you now?”
Yibo looks up to squint at him.
Then he leans in and kisses him.
Once.
Twice.
Again, and again and again.
Until it turns into something slower and deeper. Weeks of tension melt out of their bodies, only to get replaced with something warmer and arousing. Xiao Zhan exhales into it, letting Yibo’s tongue slip into his mouth. His hand slides up the back of Yibo’s neck, carding through his hair.
They finally sink into it.
The door swings open.
“Hey, do you guys have an extra ch—EW, what are you doing?!”
They both freeze.
Yibo groans loudly, rolling off him. Xiao Zhan doesn’t even move, just stares at the ceiling, exhausted.
“What do you need?” he asks flatly.
Their son stands in the doorway, horrified.
“I need you two to stop doing that ALL THE TIME!”
“It is not all the time,” Yibo snaps, dragging a hand down his face. “You just never knock.”
“What do you need?” Xiao Zhan repeats.
“A charger,” he mutters. “Mine broke.”
Xiao Zhan reaches into the drawer, pulling out a new one, and tosses it to him.
He catches it easily.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling. “..do we have a big duffle bag by chance?”
They both look at him now.
“What for?” Yibo asks slowly.
Their son brightens slightly. “Me and some friends are taking the train to Qinhuangdao. Junkai’s parents have a place there by the water—”
Xiao Zhan sits up instantly. “I’m sorry. Whose permission do you think you have? And whose money?”
“…Yours?” he says, confused and innocent.
“Absolutely not.”
“Like hell you are,” Yibo adds immediately.
Their son groans. “That’s not fair!”
“It is very fair,” Yibo shoots back. “Same rules for your sister.”
“That’s not the same!” he argues. “She goes out with her boyfriend all the time—”
Xiao Zhan swears he witnesses Yibo malfunction before his eyes.
“..Her what?”
Their son pauses before grinning. “You didn’t know?”
Xiao Zhan closes his eyes and drops back down against the pillows.
No.
No, no.
“I see them at school,” he continues, entirely too pleased with himself. “They hold hands and everything.”
Yibo looks like he might actually short-circuit. His eye visibly twitches.
“You,” Xiao Zhan says quickly, pointing towards the door, “go to your room. You’re not going anywhere. We’ll talk about this later.”
Their son throws his hands up and huffs. “I can’t do shit in this house.”
“Language!” Xiao Zhan calls after him.
The door slams.
Yibo turns to look at him slowly.
“This is your fault.”
Xiao Zhan lets out a disbelieving laugh. “My fault?”
“Yes,” Yibo says, dead serious. “Your fault for asking me if I wanted kids. Your fault for giving me two of them. Now they’re both stressing me out and prematurely aging me.”
Xiao Zhan reaches over, cupping his face lazily.
“You wanted more, remember?”
There was a time when both of their kids fit so easily into their arms, when the world felt smaller, contained within the walls of their home. Their little girl had been so tiny back then, delicate in a way that made Yibo refuse to let anyone hold her for the first few weeks after she was born. She was bright-eyed and curious, grabbing their fingers tightly and instinctively.
Their son—their first baby—had been the opposite: round, warm, and impossibly needy. Yibo joked that if anyone ever upset Xiao Zhan, they could unleash their little sumo wrestler on them. He had always reached for them, always wanting to be held, crying the moment they strayed too far, even within the same room. Now he’s tall, trying to sneak off on weekend trips with his friends without asking anyone’s permission. They argue, talk back, and are full of opinions. But they also listen, follow rules, and look out for each other.
The two fall silent, lost in memories, leaning back against the headboard. It creeps in so gradually that you barely see it coming, and then suddenly, everything feels different.
“Qinhuangdao,” Xiao Zhan mutters after a moment, shaking his head with a small laugh.
Yibo exhales slowly. “I’m still mentally and physically processing the boyfriend part.”
That part hasn't been sitting well with Xiao Zhan either.
Still, Xiao Zhan glances at him. “Ah… darling. What are we going to do when she gets married one day?”
He shouldn’t have said it. He knows it immediately.
Yibo just looks at him, soft and a little heartsore.
“…Right now,” he says quietly. “They're ours—both of them.”
There’s a soft pause.
“Everything else can wait.”