Isn't This a Contract Marriage? Why Are You Sneaking Kisses! - Chapter 4

“Dad, the food at that restaurant today was so delicious. I want to go there again next time,” a girl’s voice rang out coaxingly.

“You brat, are you saying your mom’s cooking is terrible now?” A woman set down her keys, her voice a mix of laughter and mock scolding.

The girl immediately turned on the charm. “Oh, no! Mom’s cooking is obviously the best.”

The woman snorted, her footsteps drawing closer and closer.

Shen Silie held his breath.

The sound of the doorknob being rattled followed, along with the woman’s irritable cursing from outside. “Shen Silie! Are you asleep? If you’re not, get up and help me tidy things up! Shen Silie!”

The door was hammered with a series of loud thuds.

The violent pounding made Shen Silie’s body stiffen for several seconds. Once he recovered, he was about to get up to open the door.

Then he heard the man speak: “Stop knocking. It’s this late; he’s definitely asleep. Whatever it is, let him tidy it up tomorrow.”

The woman gave a cold huff, and her footsteps receded.

Only then did Shen Silie’s tense body relax.

Yu Fenping sat back down on the sofa. Looking at the indifferent Shen Nanhai, a surge of anger rose in her face, and she slapped the man’s arm hard.

“He earns money all day long, yet I haven’t seen him bring much back to us. We raised him for so many years! Now that he’s graduated and finally made a bit of a name for himself, he shows no gratitude and doesn’t bother to repay us. And you’re saying I shouldn’t scold him!”

Yu Fenping stood with her hands on her hips, her voice sharp and resentful.

Shen Nanhai glanced at the closed bedroom door and soothed her in a low voice: “Silie sends money back every month, doesn’t he? Why get so worked up?”

“Cool down, cool down. Keep your voice down; he’s sleeping in there. He’s usually busy and finally came back to stay for a few days—let the boy rest.”

“Stop playing the saint,” Yu Fenping spat, sneering. “Don’t tell me you don’t mind too!”

An awkward look crossed Shen Nanhai’s face, and he rubbed his nose sheepishly.

“Is the pittance he gives enough to cover my years of sacrifice?! Every day all he thinks about is paying back the debts of his dead parents.”

Yu Fenping looked toward the bedroom door, intentionally raising her volume: “I think his wings have grown strong now, and he wants to be an ungrateful wretch. Who knows if the money he earns is actually going to pay those people back, or if it’s just an excuse because he’s afraid we’ll ask for it.”

Shen Yunya sat lazily on the sofa, indifferent to her parents’ bickering. She scrolled through her phone with one hand while tearing open a bag of potato chips with the other, eating slowly.

“Enough,” Shen Nanhai sighed. “Since high school, which part of Silie’s tuition or living expenses hasn’t he paid himself? He doesn’t usually stay home much anyway; he’s just here for a few days to handle some business. Give it a rest.”

Yu Fenping glared at him and continued her complaints: “Fine, your deadbeat brother left behind a mountain of debt, and that woman he married—god knows where she died—just dumped the kid on us.”

“Raising Yunya alone was tiring enough, but we had to take in another one.”

Shen Nanhai coughed a few times, signaling her to stop.

Shen Yunya said lazily, “Mom, I found a perfume I like. Buy it for me?”

Shen Yunya turned her phone screen toward the two of them. Yu Fenping saw the price tag of three thousand and was about to scold her.

Shen Nanhai waved Shen Yunya off. “Fine, fine, fine. Go to bed. I’ll have your brother Silie buy it for you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Shen Yunya grinned, tossed the half-eaten bag of chips aside, and headed into her room.

“Brat, buying all this useless junk every day. We’re going to run out of space in the house.”

Yu Fenping complained while cleaning up the mess.

Shen Nanhai turned on the TV, no longer paying the woman any mind.

The warm yellow light from the bedside nightlight spilled across his face.

Shen Silie blinked his dry, aching eyes. He turned over gently, hugging a tattered stuffed wolf beside him, and slowly curled into a ball.

“Goodnight.”

Shen Silie buried his head in the wolf’s embrace, closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep.

The night was silent; even the wind had fallen into a dream.

The little wolf, covered in crooked stitches and patches, tilted its head, quietly watching the person beside it.

Warm tears wet its belly once again, slowly soaking into the soft cotton layers.

It left behind a patch of bitterness that seemed as though it would never dry.