TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 30

Wen Chenxi had always believed there were only three things in this world that were infinite: the universe, time, and pi.

Until today.

Today, he realized there was something else infinite: awkwardness.

The two photos of Wen Chenxi printed on the body pillow were clearly found online by Comrade Lao Zhuang.

There weren’t many photos of Wen Chenxi on the internet, most of them being screenshots from news videos. Every time he appeared on certain financial news channels, some netizens would screenshot his image and post it on social media with captions like “This should be the standard for all CEOs.”

The two photos Lao Zhuang chose were both formal, with Wen Chenxi in a suit and tie.

One showed him standing, slightly turned, seemingly looking at something off-camera. The other showed him seated, focused on a document in his hand.

Since the pillow was two meters long, the standing photo looked fine—about life-size, just slightly stretched.

But the seated photo… was significantly distorted due to the elongation. His face, torso, and legs all looked comically warped, resembling something out of a cartoon villain’s design.

Staring at his own distorted image that vaguely resembled a character from Calabash Brothers, Wen Chenxi felt suffocated.

He suddenly recalled the first gift Zhuang Yanyu had given him—those two hand-in-hand figurines of little boys.

A thought surfaced in his mind: There’s no doubt they’re biologically father and son.

Wen Chenxi took off his glasses, his tone stiff. “Xiao Yu.”

Zhuang Yanyu was busy studying the body pillow, alternating between admiring the front and back.

Both versions of the “brother” looked so handsome.

For the first time in months of knowing each other, Zhuang Yanyu completely ignored Wen Chenxi.

Wen Chenxi: “…”

After waiting for a while, Zhuang Yanyu finally seemed to register someone calling him. Like a lagging system catching up, he slowly turned around and said, “Oh, did someone call me?”

Wen Chenxi smiled—though he had no idea how he managed to maintain his expression. Pretending to be nonchalant, he said, “No, carry on.”

Not only did Zhuang Yanyu seem completely enamored, but even Ji Zhiyuan was intrigued. “Our company once made small pillows for celebrities’ merch. I think I’ve seen one or two tiny ones, but I never thought about making one this big! I love hugging things when I sleep. Uncle Zhuang, you’ve inspired me! I need to get one made!”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

Lao Zhuang chuckled heartily, “As long as you kids like it, that’s all that matters.”

Uncle Liu, busy in the kitchen, came out to greet them when he heard the commotion. Noticing the pillow, he exclaimed, “Oh, isn’t this Boss Wen? Looks quite handsome.”

Zhuang Yanyu nodded earnestly, “Ah Xi is naturally very handsome.”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

So… is it just me who feels uncomfortable? Who finds this strange?

Should I remind them that I’m literally right here?

Glancing at Li Xi and Uncle Zhou, Wen Chenxi noticed Li Xi stifling laughter while Uncle Zhou discreetly covered his mouth with his hand as he sipped tea.

Great. It really was just him who felt out of place.

Out of sympathy for Wen Chenxi, Uncle Zhou hesitantly asked, “Hugging this to sleep… isn’t it a bit inappropriate?”

What he really meant was, Isn’t this just incredibly awkward?

Being an internet-savvy person, Uncle Zhou knew about custom life-size body pillows. These typically ranged from otakus printing their favorite “goddesses” to members of the gay community printing images of muscular men. There were also fandom enthusiasts printing couples’ images, anime fans printing their favorite characters, and idol fans printing their stars.

Regardless of the category, the underlying reason was always the same—they liked them.

Out of fondness, they’d get these made.

So when Uncle Zhou saw this custom pillow proudly displayed by the father and son duo, his first thought was: They’re a couple now? Has he met the family? Lao Zhuang knows about it? Is that why he specifically gifted his son this?

Otherwise, wouldn’t any ordinary parent find it odd for their son to hug another “boy” to sleep?

But judging by Li Xi and Wen Chenxi’s expressions, it didn’t seem like they’d reached that stage yet.

Hearing the question, the father and son both looked at Uncle Zhou in confusion and asked in unison, “What’s inappropriate about it?”

Uncle Zhou, seeing their identical posture and expressions, couldn’t help but burst into laughter, struggling to stop as he said, “Nothing, nothing—haha—it’s just that Wen Chenxi is right here.”

Only then did Lao Zhuang seem to realize—ah, yes, Wen Chenxi himself was present.

Scratching his head sheepishly, Lao Zhuang gave Wen Chenxi an apologetic smile. “Xiao Wen, do you mind? I saw online that many fans of celebrities make these because they like them, so I thought of this idea.”

Whether others found it strange wasn’t something Lao Zhuang had considered.

He only cared about whether Xiao Shi liked it.

This was Xiao Eleven’s first birthday in this world, and for him, Zhuang Yanyu’s happiness was more important than anything else.

Hearing Lao Zhuang’s question, Zhuang Yanyu immediately looked at Wen Chenxi, his face a little nervous.

He seemed worried that Wen Chenxi might not approve of him keeping the body pillow.

Wen Chenxi smiled, “It’s fine. As long as Xiao Yu likes it.”

Zhuang Yanyu instantly responded, “I really like it.”

Wen Chenxi exhaled lightly and maintained his polite demeanor. “Good. As long as you like it.”

After a brief pause, Wen Chenxi added, “But, Xiao Yu, holding it like that all the time might get it dirty. Should we put it in your room for now?”

He really couldn’t stand seeing “himself” being hugged like that anymore.

Though reluctant to let go, Zhuang Yanyu didn’t want to risk dirtying the pillow. He pursed his lips and got up, placing it on the bamboo bench in the main hall of his room.

When the pillow finally disappeared from his sight, Wen Chenxi visibly relaxed, exhaling quietly in relief.

However, while the pillow had been put away, Zhuang Yanyu kept sneaking back into the room to check on it. Each time, he’d take a quick look and even sneak in a hug.

When Lao Zhuang asked him to bring more of the tea he had dried himself, the first thing Zhuang Yanyu did after entering the room was to touch the body pillow. Only then did he search for the tea. Once he’d gathered the tea, he hugged the pillow again before leaving.

With this repeated back-and-forth, everyone could see how much he treasured the pillow.

Even Li Xi began to feel sorry for Wen Chenxi.

Here was the real Wen Chenxi, a full-grown man, sitting right there. Yet Xiao Yu seemed utterly captivated by the pillow, completely forgetting about the living person.

After saying hello to everyone, Uncle Liu went back to the kitchen to continue cooking. The group was so familiar with one another that Lao Zhuang didn’t stand on ceremony. He left them to chat while he went to help in the kitchen.

Once they left, Li Xi finally let out the laughter he’d been holding in.

Ji Zhiyuan, clueless, asked, “What’s so funny, Li Xi? What’s there to laugh about?”

Li Xi replied, “I’m laughing because… well, Xiao Yu has a real, live Wen Chenxi here, and he’s ignoring him to hug that pillow instead.”

Ji Zhiyuan shuddered. “How is Old Wen softer than a pillow? If it were me, I’d choose the big body pillow too. Besides, two grown men hugging each other—that’s just awkward.”

Li Xi chuckled and added, “Good thing Uncle Zhuang didn’t print his own picture on the other side of the pillow. Otherwise, every time Old Wen went to bed, he’d end up staring straight at Uncle Zhuang. Haha!”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

“Just imagining it is hilarious!” Ji Zhiyuan burst into laughter again. After a while, he added, “But don’t worry, Old Wen. You and Xiao Yu don’t even sleep together often, so—”

Before he could finish, Wen Chenxi kicked him, expressionless. “Shut your mouth.”

Ji Zhiyuan protested indignantly, “Li Xi started it!”

Meanwhile, Lao Zhuang hadn’t completely ignored his guests. After helping in the kitchen for a while, he returned to join them for tea.

Looking around and not seeing his son, he asked, “Where’s Xiao Eleven?”

Wen Chenxi replied with a blank expression, “Playing with the body pillow in the other room.”

Lao Zhuang chuckled heartily. “Don’t mind him. Xiao Eleven is still young.”

Never mind that Xiao Eleven’s past life involved guiding countless “chosen ones” in a cultivation world where hundreds or thousands of years passed with each blink of an eye.

Because of the fast flow of time, when the chosen one went into seclusion for cultivation, the system would go into a standby mode akin to hibernation to conserve energy.

It would only be reactivated in emergencies, when the host was in danger.

In Lao Zhuang’s eyes, Xiao Eleven was just a kid.

“How could we mind?” Uncle Zhou said with a smile. “Your son is adorable and handsome. I’d never met him before.”

At that, he paused briefly. Seeing that Zhuang Yanyu hadn’t come out of the room yet, he added, “I never heard you mention having a child before.”

Not wanting to lie outright, Lao Zhuang gave a vague reply. “After middle school, he went to study elsewhere, so I wasn’t the one raising him.”

Everyone immediately filled in the blanks, imagining the typical post-divorce scenario.

“I see,” Uncle Zhou murmured. “And the child’s mother?”

Lao Zhuang answered, “He doesn’t have a mother.”

The group’s imagination ran wild, crafting a story where Zhuang Yanyu had initially lived with his mother, who later either passed away from illness or remarried, leaving him now with Lao Zhuang.

Uncle Zhou patted Lao Zhuang on the shoulder, sighing, “You’ve had it tough.”

Feeling guilty about misleading his friend, Lao Zhuang decided to retreat to the kitchen, saying vaguely, “I’ll go help cook. You all make yourselves at home.”

Uncle Zhou chuckled. “This isn’t my first time here. Go ahead. If you need help, just call—there are plenty of us here.”

Lao Zhuang waved him off. “No need.”

Not long after Lao Zhuang left, Zhuang Yanyu finally emerged, his face slightly red, as if embarrassed for leaving the guests unattended.

He quietly sat in the seat his father had occupied earlier, methodically repeating Lao Zhuang’s actions to serve tea to the guests.

It was his first time serving tea, and without any experience, he simply “copied” his father’s method.

Uncle Zhou, noticing this, couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him. “Why don’t I make the tea instead, Xiao Yu? This is tea your father grew himself.”

Lao Zhuang didn’t sell his tea, and it wasn’t something you could buy anywhere.

Zhuang Yanyu put down the teapot and pursed his lips. “Did I do something wrong?”

Uncle Zhou smiled. “Not at all. I just enjoy making tea myself.”

Realizing Uncle Zhou didn’t want to hurt his feelings, Zhuang Yanyu replied, “Alright, please go ahead.”

Uncle Zhou brewed a new pot of tea while Zhuang Yanyu sat beside him, watching intently.

After Uncle Zhou finished brewing, he handed Zhuang Yanyu a cup. Taking a sip, Zhuang Yanyu gently pressed his tongue against the tea, sensing the subtle difference.

When Uncle Zhou finished that pot, Zhuang Yanyu quietly imitated his process to brew another.

Though he didn’t say anything, everyone noticed that he was meticulously replicating Uncle Zhou’s actions.

This time, Zhuang Yanyu remembered the water temperature, the technique, and every detail, committing each movement to memory.

Uncle Zhou was surprised. “Xiao Yu, you remembered everything so clearly?”

“Good memory,” Zhuang Yanyu replied, concentrating on the brewing process.

Wen Chenxi also noticed that Zhuang Yanyu had copied even Uncle Zhou’s minor habits.

Years ago, Uncle Zhou had injured his right hand. His ring and pinky fingers would tremble slightly, particularly when holding objects. Zhuang Yanyu had observed this and mimicked it perfectly, matching the tremor’s degree, angle, and even rhythm.

Seeing this, Uncle Zhou and the others were speechless.

Finally, Uncle Zhou laughed wryly. “Why are your fingers trembling?”

Zhuang Yanyu looked up, puzzled. “?”

Uncle Zhou pointed at his own fingers. “These two were fully severed once. They were reattached, but during rehab, I didn’t follow the doctor’s orders and got engrossed in research, so I ended up with this lingering tremor.”

He glanced at Zhuang Yanyu’s trembling fingers. “Did yours break too?”

Zhuang Yanyu froze.

“…Oh.”

His face inexplicably flushed with embarrassment.

He had assumed that the tremor was part of Uncle Zhou’s tea-brewing technique and thought…

Pressing his lips together, Zhuang Yanyu said, “I thought shaking them a bit would make the tea taste better.”

Uncle Zhou burst into laughter. “You’re an adorable kid.”

Though Wen Chenxi had initially laughed as well, seeing Zhuang Yanyu’s embarrassment, he suppressed his smile. He gently held Zhuang Yanyu’s hand, saying, “Xiao Yu, you’re already doing great. Uncle Zhou has decades of tea experience—it’s not easy to match his skill without practice.”

“Mm,” Zhuang Yanyu accepted the reassurance. As Wen Chenxi held his hand, he reflexively began to knead and press Wen Chenxi’s hand in various spots.

Wen Chenxi froze, his breath catching. “…Xiao Yu?”

This subtle, seemingly suggestive gesture was hard to ignore.

Murmuring to himself, Zhuang Yanyu remarked, “Not as soft as a pillow.”

Wen Chenxi: “???”

Zhuang Yanyu released Wen Chenxi’s hand abruptly. “I’m going inside for a moment.”

With that, he hurried toward the house in long strides.

Wen Chenxi: “…”

There was no need to guess—he was clearly off to play with his pillow again.

Why did pillows even exist in this world?

Li Xi watched Zhuang Yanyu retreat indoors and suddenly asked, “Uncle Zhou, have you been coming here to source medicinal herbs from Uncle Zhuang for a while?”

Since they were among trusted company, Uncle Zhou didn’t hold back. “Yes, it’s been nearly ten years.”

He glanced at Wen Chenxi as he spoke. “Have you looked into his background?”

Knowing Wen Chenxi’s thorough nature, Uncle Zhou assumed he would investigate anyone he was interested in—not for material compatibility but to understand the other person’s needs. If there was a need Wen Chenxi could fulfill, it would give him an edge in winning their favor.

Wen Chenxi calmly replied, “I did a bit of research but didn’t dig into Uncle Zhuang’s affairs.”

This was true. When he first met Zhuang Yanyu, he had done a cursory check, discovering only that Zhuang Yanyu’s father was a diligent farmer with a simple, hardworking life. Beyond that, he hadn’t delved deeper.

Uncle Zhou waved the herbal fan Zhuang had given him and chuckled. “Even if you tried, you wouldn’t find much.”

Reflecting, Wen Chenxi asked directly, “Are Uncle Zhuang’s herbs highly valuable?”

Valuable medicinal herbs are typically well-protected.

Uncle Zhou nodded. “Not only valuable, but diverse. You know how our country imports large quantities of medicinal herbs from Southeast Asia every year because some species only thrive in that climate? We’ve tried transplanting those species here, but most attempts fail.”

Li Xi was astonished. “So Uncle Zhuang succeeded?”

“Exactly. He has exceptional expertise in cultivation and a keen eye for plant health. Most of us notice something’s wrong with a plant only when it wilts or yellows, but Uncle Zhuang can spot issues at a glance.”

Speaking with admiration, Uncle Zhou continued, “What’s remarkable is how humble he is. If not for his need to sell herbs to afford better equipment for cultivating other plants, we might never have known about his skills. I noticed some rare, hard-to-grow species among the herbs he sold and started paying attention.

“He’s straightforward and honest—if you give him seeds, he’ll grow them for you without asking for payment. I had to insist on signing a contract with him; otherwise, he would’ve done it for free, as long as he had seeds to plant.”

Uncle Zhou wasn’t someone who liked to take advantage of others, especially when Old Zhuang possessed such remarkable farming skills. People like him deserved respect and protection.

That’s why Uncle Zhou insisted on drafting a contract with Old Zhuang, ensuring he wasn’t working for free.

The three were stunned to hear this. They never imagined that Old Zhuang, who appeared to be a simple, honest farmer, was actually a hidden agricultural expert—a man even Uncle Zhou found impressive.

Uncle Zhou suddenly pointed toward a mountain not far away. “See those two mountains? The land between them and the fields surrounding it have all been contracted by us. Old Zhuang manages them for free. That area has become the experimental fields for our research institute, with personnel assigned to guard and maintain it. On top of that, we provide him with an annual subsidy. All he has to do is plant the crops, and the income from the harvested medicinal herbs is his alone.”

Uncle Zhou chuckled. “Do you all really think I spend millions each year just to stockpile medicinal herbs for my family’s traditional Chinese medicine clinic? Part of it, yes, but most of it is to cover for the research institute. Very few people know about this.”

Ji Zhiyuan exaggerated, “So now that I know, will I be silenced? Hahaha.”

Uncle Zhou rolled his eyes. “Stop joking around.”

Ji Zhiyuan laughed awkwardly. “Do I need to sign a non-disclosure agreement or something?”

Uncle Zhou shook his head. “Not necessary. It’s not that dramatic. Just don’t go blabbing about it. We already have dedicated personnel to prevent any sabotage at the experimental fields.”

Old Zhuang was genuinely wealthy, though he preferred to keep a low profile. His true passion was farming, and he had little interest in anything else.

Wen Chenxi murmured, “That explains it.”

Li Xi asked, “Explains what?”

Wen Chenxi replied, “Xiao Yu mentioned that while nearby villages have all been redeveloped into urban areas, theirs hasn’t seen much development. Instead, the villagers turned to agritourism because of the beautiful scenery.”

Uncle Zhou smiled. “The feng shui here is excellent, and the land is fertile. Developing it would be a waste and would damage the environment. The institute has also contracted dozens of acres here, letting the villagers help manage them and providing them with generous annual dividends.”

Ji Zhiyuan smacked his lips. “I knew it! I love coming here. The fish I catch are so fresh, and the fruits Old Zhuang grows are unbelievably sweet and juicy. Turns out it’s the magic of this land.”

Uncle Zhou laughed. “It’s not just the land. Without Old Zhuang’s techniques, you wouldn’t taste anything this sweet.”

Ji Zhiyuan nodded fervently. “Absolutely, Uncle Zhuang is incredible. I had no idea he was such a hidden master. I’m humbled—I really couldn’t tell.”

As the three chatted, lunch was soon ready.

Uncle Liu and Aunt Liu joined them for lunch. Uncle Liu was familiar with Uncle Zhou and knew he came every year to purchase medicinal herbs from Old Zhuang, though he didn’t know the exact quantities.

Uncle Zhou’s full name was Zhou Baishu, and his family was a renowned lineage in traditional Chinese medicine.

Although Zhou Baishu was a premature baby, his parents had high hopes for him from a young age, wishing for him to continue the family’s legacy. Unexpectedly, while he started by studying traditional Chinese medicine, he later shifted to researching herbs, and eventually into cultivating them. Over a decade ago, he joined a research institute. Marriage and inheriting the family business were out of the question, as his sole focus was on his research.

Despite this, his family heritage remained strong. Every time he came to buy medicinal herbs, he would offer medical consultations to the nearby villagers.

As a result, Uncle Liu was always overjoyed when Zhou Baishu visited, eagerly calling on his extended relatives to get checked by him.

Zhuang Yanyu, who had only been living with Old Zhuang for a few months, still didn’t know much about his mentor.

He didn’t talk much at the table, eating quietly while intently listening to the conversation. He overheard Zhou Baishu and Old Zhuang discussing many past events.

It turned out that Old Zhuang had specifically chosen this village for its suitable soil and water when he “crossed over.” In the early years, he spent all his pension savings on equipment and rare medicinal seeds. When he ran out of money, he had to sell the herbs he grew, which was how he met Zhou Baishu.

Uncle Liu and Aunt Liu praised, “Thankfully, Xiao Yu is doing well now. In the future, Old Zhuang won’t have to work so hard and can move to the city with him.”

Old Zhuang chuckled. “I’m used to farming. I’d feel restless if I weren’t tinkering with plants. I’m not interested in city living.”

After lunch, Zhuang Yanyu slipped into his room and reached for the big, soft cushion, giving it a squeeze. It was so much softer than Wen Chenxi.

As he was absorbed in his thoughts, a voice suddenly came from behind. “Playing with it again?”

Zhuang Yanyu turned around to see Wen Chenxi standing there, looking amused.

Zhuang Yanyu bit his lip, his dimples faintly showing. “Just came in to take a look.”

Wen Chenxi asked, “You like it that much?”

Zhuang Yanyu nodded honestly. “Yeah, it’s comfy to hug.”

Wen Chenxi suddenly asked, “Is hugging it more comfortable than hugging me?”

Zhuang Yanyu froze. “You?”

They had hugged before. Lately, when they slept, there were a few times he had held his friend close.

Wen Chenxi pressed on. “Which is more comfortable, it or me?”

Zhuang Yanyu hesitated, biting his lip as he looked at Wen Chenxi. “I don’t want to lie to you…”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

Alright, no need to explain further—he got it.

Noticing Wen Chenxi’s slight displeasure, Zhuang Yanyu leaned in and hugged him, resting his head naturally on his shoulder. “You’re comfy.”

Wen Chenxi finally managed a faint smile. “Too late.”

Though he said that, Wen Chenxi still tightened his embrace slightly, as if finding solace in the moment.

The two stayed like that for a while, Zhuang Yanyu keenly aware of Wen Chenxi’s heartbeat steadily quickening.

He could feel Wen Chenxi’s hand moving up his back, eventually resting on the back of his head.

For some reason, he really liked this feeling—especially listening to Wen Chenxi’s heartbeat.

Zhuang Xianyu thought about it. A pillow might be soft, but a brother was still more comfortable.

Zhuang Xianyu snuggled in closer, repositioning himself until he felt cozy and closed his eyes in contentment.

After a long while, he spoke in a low voice, “Ah Xi, I suddenly—”

Wen Chenxi cut him off immediately, his tone serious. “Xiao Yu, I don’t want to hear any song titles.”

Especially that song—“Brothers, Hug It Out.”

He couldn’t bear to relive the trauma of that day and the impact of hearing it.

Zhuang Xianyu: “Oh.”

He added, “I wasn’t going to say that.”

Wen Chenxi finally let out a breath, realizing he might be overreacting. He softened his voice. “Then what were you going to say?”

Zhuang Xianyu reached out, his hand patting lightly as he said enviously, “I wanted to say, your chest muscles are pretty big.”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

Just then, a third voice sounded in the room—

“What are you two doing?”

It was Old Zhuang, walking in.

Old Zhuang had come to call Zhuang Xianyu out to open gifts. The others had brought him small presents, now sitting on the table, waiting for him to unwrap them. Zhou Baishu had even brought a cake, though that was reserved for dinner. They were all planning to share a meal together that evening.

But when Old Zhuang entered the room, what he saw was the two of them locked in a tight embrace. Who knew how long they had been like that?

Hearing the voice, Wen Chenxi instinctively released Zhuang Xianyu and, in the next instant, shielded him behind his own back.

He hadn’t expected Old Zhuang to walk in. In those few seconds, his mind raced as he came up with an excuse.

This was just a brotherly hug. Though it might look intimate or even ambiguous, it truly carried no other implications.

Uncle Zhuang, please don’t misunderstand. There is nothing beyond friendship between us.

Just as Wen Chenxi was about to explain, Zhuang Xianyu poked his head out from behind him and said, “Dad, I was just feeling Ah Xi’s chest muscles. They’re pretty big.”

Old Zhuang: “Oh? Really? That’s great—this is the kind of build that’s perfect for farming!”

Zhuang Xianyu nudged Wen Chenxi forward, urging his dad, “Go ahead, give it a feel. It’s true.”

Wen Chenxi: “…”

–

Author’s Note:

PS—Wen Chenxi, who swears to never yield: Remember this day next year and burn some offerings for me. (I’m so done—misunderstanding would’ve been better!)

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