DMMB Chapter 4

A low, cool voice carrying a natural sense of distance.

It wasn’t the kind of voice that should be saying that word, yet it sounded so effortless, as if he had long grown used to indulging and accommodating without limits.

So natural, in fact, that for a moment, none of the three adults nor Sheng Yan himself reacted.

Did Qin Zigui just… bark?

Did he just admit he’s the puppy?

Did that mean he’s going to take care of him now?

Maybe the two shots of Maotai had really gone to his head, because Sheng Yan’s brain neurons started slacking off, processing everything painfully slow.

He blinked blankly at Qin Zigui.

Then, in the next second, the sharp sting in his throat dragged his consciousness back, making him double over coughing again.

Qin Zigui’s gaze showed a trace of helplessness. He crouched down, gently rubbed Sheng Yan’s back, handed him the cup, and said softly, “I’m the puppy. Now drink your water.”

Maybe because the elementary-level war had finally ended in victory, Sheng Yan didn’t put up another tragic resistance this time. He took the cup and gulped the water down.

Then came the chilled pear drink, followed by a light saltwater rinse.

Finally, he opened his mouth and let Qin Zigui carefully spray his throat with the medicated spray.

After that whole process, Sheng Yan looked noticeably better.

And more and more cooperative by the end, he could almost be described as obedient.

Feeling the dumbfounded, astonished, and slightly admiring gazes of the three adults around them, Qin Zigui peeled a throat lozenge, placed it into Sheng Yan’s mouth, stood up, and calmly explained, “He’s always liked sneaking spicy snacks since he was little, but his airways are narrow he tends to choke easily.”

Xu Qingrong was a single mother who also ran a large company so naturally, her schedule was packed. Qin Ru and Jiang Ping had built their own business from scratch too; when they were younger, they barely had a moment to rest, and even now, they had no children of their own. So, these two boys were mostly raised by nannies.

And since Qin Zigui was a year older and far more mature, you could say Sheng Yan was practically raised under Qin Zigui’s care.

That’s why, at times like this, the three adults were all outdone by one kid.

When Xu Qingrong recalled her son’s stubborn insistence earlier—that Qin Zigui had to admit he was a “puppy” and how Qin Zigui had actually barked, she felt a twinge of guilt.

“Well, you know, Zigui,” Xu Qingrong said, gesturing toward her head and twirling a finger, “Xiao Yan’s brain… works a little differently from most people’s. Don’t take it to heart.”

Sheng Yan’s thought process had always been… unconventional. He often came up with ideas so strange that both adults and kids were caught off guard but somehow, he always managed to make it endearing rather than annoying.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Xu,” Qin Zigui replied calmly, his tone simple but strangely reassuring.

Xu Qingrong couldn’t help feeling both emotional and grateful.

Look at other people’s children—sensible, talented, good-tempered, and even considerate. Meanwhile, her own son aside from his pretty face that could charm anyone was a walking headache.

While she was sighing inwardly, Qin Ru nudged her. “Look at Xiao Yan something doesn’t seem right.”

Both Qin Zigui and Xu Qingrong turned their heads and sure enough, Sheng Yan had somehow slumped back over the table, chin resting on his folded arms, his long lashes fluttering lazily, eyes glazed and dazed.

He looked… blank.

After a short pause, Xu Qingrong asked tentatively, “Is the alcohol kicking in now?”

Qin Ru glared at her. “He’s your son, why are you asking me?”

Jiang Ping squinted and examined him for a bit. “Unfocused eyes, slow movements—yeah, he’s definitely a little drunk. That’s some quality liquor you’ve got there.”

A brief silence followed.

Xu Qingrong didn’t deny it. “The Maotai I brought is authentic.”

Qin Ru frowned. “But they still have school tomorrow.”

Jiang Ping waved a hand. “Eh, doesn’t make much difference whether Xiao Yan goes to class or not. Just call in sick.”

Another pause.

Xu Qingrong: “You’re right.”
Qin Ru: “Good idea.”
Jiang Ping: “I’ll call the teacher.”

Qin Zigui: “…”

Was every adult in this family like this?

“I’ll take Sheng Yan upstairs to rest,” Qin Zigui said, deciding he was the only sensible one here. He picked up Sheng Yan’s backpack with one hand and helped him up with the other. Sheng Yan leaned lazily against him, arms loosely around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

Qin Zigui turned back and asked, “Aunt Xu, did you bring all his toiletries and clothes?”

“Yes, yes,” she said quickly. “Toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, shampoo, body wash it’s all in your bathroom. Pajamas are hanging in the first cabinet, underwear’s in the bottom drawer.”

“Got it. Aunt Xu, Aunt Qin, Uncle Jiang you three go ahead and finish eating. Keep some light dishes in the fridge; I’ll heat them up for him when he wakes.”

“Alright,” Qin Ru said warmly. “I’ll make some porridge later and leave it on the stove. If you need anything, just call us.”

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to take care of him personally but after all, Sheng Yan was already a teenage boy. Things weren’t the same as when he was little.

Xu Qingrong sighed as she watched Qin Zigui guide Sheng Yan down the hall. “Our Xiao Yan’s grown so tall, yet his temperament is still like a kid’s. And tell me, why couldn’t your Qin Zigui have been a girl? He’d make the perfect daughter-in-law for our family. At least then someone could inherit my company.”

She shook her head, genuinely regretful.

She and Qin Ru had joked about that for years if one of the boys had been a girl, they probably would’ve held the engagement party long ago.

Too bad both of them had grown into solid, six-foot-tall men.

Qin Zigui, unfazed by the conversation downstairs, led Sheng Yan into his room, closed the door, and set him down on the bed. He glanced at the cut on Sheng Yan’s forehead, reopened from all the coughing.

“Sit still. Don’t move. I’ll disinfect it.”

He turned to the drawer.

But just as Sheng Yan had been sitting properly, he suddenly perked up, raised one arm high and stretched the other straight down, indicating a full arm’s length apart. Then he said seriously, “This much.”

Qin Zigui turned around with the iodine bottle in hand. “This much what?”

Sheng Yan crooked a finger. “Come here.”

Qin Zigui leaned closer.

Sheng Yan beckoned again.

Qin Zigui bent down.

Then Sheng Yan leaned in close and whispered mysteriously in his ear, “Wife… dowry… fund.”

Qin Zigui: “…”

Yeah, he was definitely drunk.

A teenager, talking about dowries.

And that much dowry.

Qin Zigui chuckled faintly. “Which fairy are you planning to marry?”

Sheng Yan hummed proudly. “I’m gonna marry a fairy who’s really pretty and really smart, one who always ranks first in our grade.”

Qin Zigui: “?”

Sheng Yan narrowed his eyes, fierce and triumphant. “Then our family will finally have a number one too, and I can beat you!”

Qin Zigui: “…”

What kind of lifelong grudge was that?

Still, he wasn’t about to argue with a drunk kid. Dipping a cotton swab into iodine, he lifted Sheng Yan’s chin and humored him softly, “Alright, sure. You’ll marry a fairy, one who ranks first in the grade.”

Sheng Yan seemed to accept this easily, maybe because he was already used to the picture. He lifted his head, eyes squinting mischievously, and whispered again, “I’ll tell you another secret.”

Qin Zigui was applying ointment. “Go on.”

“That thing I said earlier, my birthday wish about wanting all those pretentious jerks to stay away from me that was fake. I lied.” Sheng Yan sat at the edge of the bed, hands braced on the mattress, swaying slightly. “That wasn’t my real wish.”

Qin Zigui pressed down on his head and kept applying the medicine without replying.

Sheng Yan asked, unwilling to give up, “Don’t you want to know what my real wish is?”

Qin Zigui said casually, “Sure.”

“But I’m not telling you.”

Qin Zigui pressed harder on his head. “…”

Why was this drunk brat so impossible?

So impossible that Qin Zigui wanted to unscrew his head just to see what on earth was inside it.

Sheng Yan, completely unaware of the danger hovering over him, kept mumbling, “You’re the one who said it we have to keep our distance, draw a clear line so I’m not telling you. Insert picture: Dumbledore shaking his head.”

As he said that, his head started wobbling side to side under Qin Zigui’s palm, looking proud yet serious.

Qin Zigui stared at him for three seconds before finally failing to hold back a small smile.

Like thin ice melting under sunlight—soft, tender, completely disarmed.

Sheng Yan, who was still being Dumbledore, suddenly froze and blinked.

Qin Zigui’s smile faded slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Sheng Yan blinked again. “You smiled.”

Qin Zigui: “?”

Sheng Yan drooped his head. “You haven’t smiled at me in so long… not since you started hating me.”

Qin Zigui’s fingers holding the cotton swab paused for a moment.

Before he could think of a response, Sheng Yan suddenly stood up straight, looking dead serious. “I’m going to study.”

Even Qin Zigui, who was used to Sheng Yan’s bizarre logic, was caught off guard.

What now?

Sheng Yan looked at him earnestly. “You must think I’m dumb and always fighting, that I’m hopeless that’s why you don’t want to hang out with me. But I’ll study. I’ll study hard. When I get good grades, you won’t hate me anymore.”

He started to go get something, but the alcohol had clearly hit him hard his head was heavy, his balance off and after two clumsy steps, he nearly fell.

Qin Zigui quickly caught him and sat him back on the bed. “What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

“My schoolbag. I’m gonna study.”

Sheng Yan sat back down, eyes half-lidded with sleep but still stubbornly determined.

Well… at least his drunken rampage involved studying.

Feeling slightly comforted, Qin Zigui fetched the heavy bag and placed it on his lap.

Sheng Yan unzipped it solemnly.

Inside were: a power bank, a small Lego set, an iPad, a bottle of iced Coke, three cans of cat food, two packs of wafers…

A whole bag full of nonsense, and only one book.

A thick, yellowish brick of a book titled After Getting the Wishing System, I Reached the Peak of Life.

Qin Zigui realized he’d been comforted too soon.

Sheng Yan, seemingly surprised by his own bag’s contents, shook it upside down. Not a single notebook or pen fell out.

After three seconds of awkward silence, he picked up the yellow book, patted it solemnly, and said seriously, “This one—yeah, this one—uh, what’s it called again? Oh right, the one where the student council president gets sent to a nightclub as a male host. It’s great. Super satisfying.”

He sounded completely certain.

Qin Zigui thought he didn’t deserve that much punishment.

Thankfully, young master Sheng was merciful. “But I wouldn’t send you to be a host.”

Finally, a bit of relief. “Oh? Why not?” Qin Zigui asked.

Sheng Yan snorted proudly. “Because someone who looks like you would make too much money as a host. That’s not satisfying. I’ll send you to feed pigs instead! In the countryside!”

Qin Zigui: “…”

What had he expected, really?

This kind of drunken brat deserved to be tied to the bed and left alone before he drove someone insane.

He was just about to do exactly that when Sheng Yan, clutching his big yellow book, suddenly slumped over and went completely still fast asleep.

Qin Zigui reached out, meaning to touch his face, but halfway there, Sheng Yan suddenly opened his eyes again and mumbled, “Why don’t I have a wishing system?”

Qin Zigui: “?”

“That guy in the book has one why don’t I?” Sheng Yan looked pitiful, patting the yellow book. “I even wished last year to make all my dreams come true. It’s been a whole year why hasn’t it worked? It always used to work before. Is it because Guanyin, like you, doesn’t like me anymore?”

Sheng Yan had always been proud, flashy, and fearless never sentimental, never short of friends or attention.

So when Qin Zigui had told him they should keep their distance, Sheng Yan had only sulked a few time never showing any real sadness. It had looked more like pride and temper than hurt.

Qin Zigui had never imagined he’d think this way.

That even the cheerful, adored young master could worry that no one liked him anymore.

In that moment, Qin Zigui suddenly wondered if the choice he made a year ago had been wrong.

He’d thought it was for the best.

He looked at Sheng Yan for a while, then rubbed his hair gently. “No. Guanyin still likes you. Some wishes just take longer to come true. The one you made last year… maybe it’ll come true this year. You just have to wait a little.”

Sheng Yan blinked. “Really?”

Qin Zigui nodded. “Mm, really.”

Sheng Yan seemed comforted. His eyes drooped, and he rested his chin on the thick book, asking uncertainly, “Then… will last year’s wish to make all my dreams come true—still come true?”

Qin Zigui lowered his eyes, gently wiping away the excess iodine from Sheng Yan’s temple with his fingertip. “It will. Get a good night’s sleep, and when you wake up tomorrow, it’ll come true.”

“And… this year’s wish? Will it come true too?”

“It will too. But you have to say it out loud only then can Guanyin hear it and find a way to make it happen.”

The alcohol had made Sheng Yan unbearably sleepy; his gaze was unfocused, his thoughts sluggish. After a long moment of drowsy thinking, he nodded slowly. “Then Guanyin, please listen carefully my birthday wish is… I hope Qin Zigui won’t fight with me anymore. I want us to be like before… forever… good.”

His words came slower and softer, until by the time he said the last “good,” he was already leaning sideways on the bed, hugging the thick book, eyes closed in deep sleep.

His breathing soon turned calm and even. On the nightstand, the old clock’s hour and minute hands quietly met at twelve, clicking together with a solemn tick.

Qin Zigui reached out, brushing aside the strands of hair on Sheng Yan’s forehead. His voice, low and steady in the darkness, said softly:

“Happy birthday, A-Yan.”

“All your wishes will come true.”

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