Isn't This a Contract Marriage? Why Are You Sneaking Kisses! - Chapter 17

The sun broke through the dawn after six consecutive days of heavy rain. The roads were covered in puddles, the clear water reflecting the fragmented light of the sky.

At the end of the street, the old willow tree’s wet branches hung low. Rainwater, carrying fallen leaves, created ripples as it splashed into the standing water.

After winding through the alleys of the residential area, Shen Silie knocked on the door.

The old apartment complex offered little in the way of soundproofing; the sound of footsteps echoed from inside.

The door opened to reveal Shen Nanhai.

“Uncle.” Shen Silie was wearing a long trench coat, the hem stained with light watermarks. His thin frame appeared somewhat fragile in the dim hallway.

Seeing it was him, Shen Nanhai turned and shouted toward the interior: “Xiao Yue is here.”

Shen Silie stepped inside. The entryway mirror reflected his pale profile—his high bridge, pale lips, and a weariness in his eyes that he couldn’t hide.

Yu Fenping and Shen Yunya were already seated at the table eating; two-thirds of the meal was already gone.

Shen Nanhai rubbed his nose awkwardly.

Shen Silie showed no reaction, pulling up a chair to sit down. As soon as he was seated, Shen Nanhai brought him a bowl of rice and sat down beside him.

Looking at the spread of food.

Yu Fenping kicked Shen Nanhai under the table. A second later, Shen Nanhai spoke up: “Xiao Yue, Yunya is about to graduate. Your aunt and I are planning to buy a new house.”

He paused, his palm rubbing the porcelain bowl that had already grown cold. “Housing prices are expensive now. We’ve raised two children all these years, so our hands are a bit tied…”

Before Shen Nanhai could finish.

Shen Silie pulled a bank card from his pocket and placed it on the table.

All three people at the table looked up simultaneously.

“Two hundred thousand.”

Shen Silie lowered his head to eat a mouthful of lukewarm food, his eyelashes casting a small shadow that hid the churning emotions in his eyes. “From now on, I will deposit ten thousand into this card every month.”

Shen Nanhai’s eyes flickered. He hurriedly stood up, took the card, and fetched a fresh bowl, filling it with soup and placing it before the youth.

“It’s cold out, isn’t it? Your aunt woke up early to stew this chicken soup. Drink some to warm up.”

Shen Silie didn’t look up, only nodding.

Instead, Yu Fenping put down her bowl with a clatter. “Don’t go acting like you’re miserable. We’re old, but we aren’t stupid.”

“We all know that the entertainment industry makes a lot of money. If it weren’t for Old Shen and me being kind enough to take you in after the mess your parents caused, you wouldn’t be where you are today.”

Shen Yunya picked up a piece of braised pork, the oily meat wobbling at the tip of her chopsticks.

“We’re family. You can’t just watch your sister suffer, can you?” Yu Fenping shifted her tone. “Jobs are hard to find now. You’ve been in that circle for so long, you must have some connections. Find your sister a job when you have the time.”

Shen Silie, who had been silent until now, finally spoke: “I will find a way to get her a different job.”

Shen Yunya looked up, her tone irritable: “You’ve been acting for so many years. Is it really that hard to get me signed to a company?”

Shen Silie continued eating in silence.

Shen Nanhai gave a forced laugh: “That’s right. Your sister doesn’t have any other hobbies; she’s loved performing since she was little. We don’t want to trouble you, but since you have the connections, we wanted to ask for your help.”

Yu Fenping wiped her mouth with a tissue, preparing to continue.

“The entertainment industry isn’t a game.” Shen Silie finally spoke again, his voice neither high nor low. “It’s a hard place to survive.”

In the ensuing silence.

Shen Silie stared at the congealed oil in his bowl, his voice very soft and tinged with bitterness.

“She’s still too young.”

Yu Fenping suddenly sneered: “Weren’t you younger than your sister when you started acting?”

The air stagnated instantly. Shen Silie pursed his lips and pushed the rice around his bowl, unable to swallow a single bite.

“Xiao Yue,” Shen Nanhai tried to smooth things over frantically. “Your aunt is just like that, don’t take it to heart…”

Shen Yunya suddenly let out a mocking laugh: “You aren’t afraid I’ll steal your spotlight, are you?”

“Your reputation online hasn’t been great lately, after all.”

Shen Nanhai suddenly interrupted: “The boy finally visits, and you have to make the meal miserable?”

Shen Silie’s eyelashes trembled. Outside the window, the rain started up again, pitter-pattering against the glass.

“Mom, are the blankets still out in the yard?” Shen Yunya said leisurely.

“Old Shen, Shen Silie,” Yu Fenping commanded rudely, “the two of you go bring the blankets in.”

As if relieved of a great burden, Shen Silie put down his chopsticks and stood up to head out.

The damp wind, carrying the scent of earth and plants, washed over him. The blankets on the clothesline were soaked through with rain, sagging heavily.

Shen Silie reached out habitually to untie the hemp rope.

Shen Nanhai followed him out hurriedly with a small cart, still wearing flip-flops, a flattering smile plastered on his face: “Xiao Yue, your aunt is blunt, she says things without thinking. Don’t take it to heart…”

He reached out to pat Shen Silie’s shoulder, but the youth moved away subtly.

“Let’s get the blankets first.”

Shen Silie took down the wet blankets and placed them in the cart.

Shen Nanhai watched him, testing the waters: “Xiao Yue, about your sister’s matter, is it convenient…”

He suddenly realized he had misspoken and quickly changed his tune. “No, I mean, Yunya’s job. See if there are any channels. If it’s truly too difficult, then forget it.”

Shen Silie collected the blankets in silence. The sound of rain echoed in their ears; neither of them spoke.

Shen Nanhai sighed silently and didn’t push further.

Just as he thought Shen Silie wouldn’t respond.

“The environment there is too chaotic.”

“She’s still too young; she’ll be bullied.”

Shen Silie broke the silence, his clear voice carrying a raspy edge. It wasn’t an outburst of emotion, just a normal, everyday expression of concern from a family member.

Shen Nanhai started to speak but stopped himself.

“I will find a way to get Yunya a different, stable job.”

Shen Silie straightened his back. The water droplets clinging to his eyelashes slowly fell as he forced a faint smile, winding down from the corner of his eye onto the long-decayed ground.

“I’ll be busy again after the New Year. I likely won’t have time to come back and see you. Next time something comes up, just call me.”

“Uncle, take care of your health.”

With those final words, Shen Silie turned and disappeared into the rain.

Shen Nanhai froze, watching the youth’s silhouette vanish.

Suddenly, something fell from one of the duvet covers, hitting his leg. Shen Nanhai bent down to pick up the small object.

It was a toy ball, only the size of a thumb.

Shen Nanhai looked dazed for a moment.

After a long while, he remembered. This was a “Wishing Ball” that had been popular among children years ago.

An afternoon from years past surfaced in his mind.

A child who had just finished kindergarten looked at him expectantly: “Uncle, I accidentally lost the blue one. Mommy won’t buy me a new one. Uncle, please, buy one for me.”

He had looked at his younger brother and sister-in-law, who were busy chatting while accompanying the then-pregnant wife, and slipped into a store to secretly buy a new toy ball, stuffing it into the child’s backpack.

He had no memory of what the child said to him then; he only vaguely remembered that children back then would write their wishes on paper, stuff them into the ball, and keep them under their pillows every day.

What adults saw as a trick to fool kids, children back then saw as incredible magic. Nearly every kid in school had one.

They wrote wish after wish, the most childish and earnest of desires. Believing they would certainly come true.

The weather had finally cleared, and his wife had decided to do a deep clean on a whim, pulling out all the old duvet covers from the basement and throwing them in the washing machine.

Likely, this ball had been accidentally lost inside a cover by Shen Silie and never taken out.

What had the young Silie written?

Driven by a strange impulse, Shen Nanhai slowly opened the small ball and pulled out the slip of paper inside.

The paper was swollen from years of moisture, and the pencil lead had blurred into varying shades of light gray.

The childish handwriting contained misspelled pinyin and crooked characters. The ink had long been blurred by the rain, making the specific contents illegible.

Only a few fragments could be made out.

Baba, Mama, Uncle, Auntie, and me—to be together for-e-er, hap-y and joyful.

The rain grew heavier. Shen Nanhai looked down and crumpled the paper into a ball, tossing it into the trash heap along with the Wishing Ball.

The small ball rolled with the force of the throw, falling into the deepest part of the filth.