TBS Chapter 43

Xie Min had always been gifted at making a mess — as though his eyes were on top of his head. The moment he came in and saw them, he only took two steps, but each one crushed blueberries on the floor until they burst juice everywhere.

Still, Xie Min wasn’t completely without merit; at least he was self-aware.

He changed into slippers, put his juice-stained sneakers into a bag, tied the bag tightly, set it aside, took off his jacket, and with long strides went straight to the bathroom to find a mop.

While Xie Min handled the cleanup, Xu Miao dealt with the problem of his and Xie Ge’s “improper appearance.” He pushed Xie Ge back into the bedroom, dug through the wardrobe for a while, and pulled out an outfit for him.

A black turtleneck base layer, matching casual pants.

Xie Ge didn’t change right away and asked, “What about you?”

Xu Miao threw on a white T-shirt and shrugged. “I’m done.”

“Why do I have to change completely? And you’re choosing my clothes too.”

“Why so many ‘whys’? I like to see you in certain things, so I have you wear them. Why ask so much?” Xu Miao said as he suddenly noticed a white fuzz at Xie Ge’s temple. He reached out for it; as his hand was about to touch, Xie Ge lowered his head slightly, as if bracing for something in advance.

Xu Miao patted his head, plucked off the lint, and said with a cheerful tone, “Forget delivery. How about noodles for lunch?”

“You’re cooking?” Xie Ge asked.

“Yep.”

“Then sure,” said Xie Ge.

As long as it wasn’t cooked by Xie Min.

It wasn’t discrimination or prejudice — it was just that Xie Min’s cooking was *catastrophically* bad. Almost any ingredient met its unjust end in his hands, yet he loved to cook and loved even more to make Xie Ge taste his experiments.

Shennong tasted hundreds of herbs; Xie Ge tasted hundreds of poisons.

And worst of all, he never got any of the *good* dishes — those, Xie Min would happily pack up and send to his girlfriend.

So why was Xu Miao still standing here? Shouldn’t he be cooking noodles already instead of watching him change clothes? Wasn’t that going too far?

Resolved to make his point, Xie Ge looked at Xu Miao and, with plenty of force in his tone, said, “Can you go cook the noodles now? I’m hungry.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

Xu Miao just smiled. “Alright, I’ll be quick.”

Watching someone change once might be playful; watching all day loses its charm.

Leaving Xie Ge to change, Xu Miao went back to the living room. Xie Min had cleaned the entryway and was now sitting at the table cracking walnuts. He worked fast and skillfully, producing mostly intact halves, already covering the bottom of a bowl. Xu Miao greeted him and went into the kitchen.

As the water was heating, Xu Miao glanced toward the bedroom to see if Xie Ge had come out — only to catch sight of Xie Min tipping the bowl of walnut halves straight into his mouth.

Chewing furiously, Xie Min swallowed and said, “I brought two kilos — plenty. If my brother wants more, I’ll shell new ones for him later.”

“Where’s your brother?” Xu Miao asked.

“No idea, hasn’t come out. I’ll check.”

Efficient as ever, Xie Min set down what he was holding, stood up, and strode off. He opened the bedroom door without knocking, startling Xie Ge, who had his shirt halfway off.

Xie Ge quickly pulled it down.

He’d known it. He’d known!

How could Xu Miao have possibly been so well-behaved as to leave him alone — this was clearly him coming back mid-change. Good thing he’d already put on his pants just in case, or else— wait.

If he hadn’t stalled and had changed right after Xu Miao left, he’d have been done long ago — maybe even had time for a single-player game.

Maybe his head really had been knocked loose.

Turning around, he found it was only Xie Min.

Xie Min gave him a once-over and clicked his tongue. “Do you really have to match with Xu Miao — both of you in the same set? Doesn’t the cartoon-print top look ridiculously mismatched with those pants? Even poison mushrooms couldn’t dream up this combo.”

“It’s not *that* bad,” Xie Ge frowned.

Sticking to his view, Xie Min elaborated, “Compared to how you normally dress, this outfit is hideously mismatched — incomparably ugly.”

“What do I normally wear?” asked Xie Ge.

“Pretentious stuff,” said Xie Min, finally letting out what he’d been holding back. “No, *super* pretentious! Before the accident, every time I saw you, you had different clothes on, supposedly styled by a professional, smelling fancy, hair done up in some… whatever it was. I can’t even describe it — but it looked great, so great that when you stood next to me I looked like a country bumpkin. One time you and Xu Miao picked me up from school, and the next day a bunch of girls asked if you were an idol.”

“What’s an idol?” Xie Ge didn’t follow.

Speechless, Xie Min said, “It means celebrity. Even if you’ve lost your memory, don’t give up on the internet, okay?”

Looking down at himself, Xie Ge persisted, “I still think this is fine — not as bad as you say.”

“Typical straight man’s taste,” Xie Min snorted.

Then, remembering another opinion in the house, he said, “Ask Xu Miao — he’ll definitely say it’s ugly.”

Xu Miao, busy running the cooked noodles through cold water, was suddenly joined by both men.

“Question for you,” said Xie Ge first.

“Go ahead,” Xu Miao replied, putting the noodles into a pot of boiling water and heading to the fridge for seasonings. In passing, he noticed Xie Ge was still wearing his old pajamas. “Why not wear what I gave you?”

“I want to wear this. And it’s my turn to ask — don’t ask me things yet.”

“Alright. Ask.”

“Do you think I look ugly like this?”

Without turning around, Xu Miao stirred the pot and answered earnestly: “No, you look cute.”

Pleased, Xie Ge raised his brows at Xie Min, who rolled his eyes. “Is it actually worth being proud of for a 1.9-meter man to be called cute?”

…Why was he proud?

Still, he told Xie Min, “Doesn’t matter what you think — it’s not ugly. Your taste isn’t that great.”

At mealtime, Xie Min naturally got a bowl of noodles too, and couldn’t resist commenting after two bites: “Xu Miao, how did you cook this? It tastes fresher than restaurant noodles.”

*Science,* thought Xu Miao, but he shared his secret: “Once the water’s boiling, add a small spoonful of soup base. Two if you want it richer. Even plain water will taste like chicken broth — works great.”

“Fancy,” said Xie Min.

“I’ll give you a couple boxes when you leave — you can try cooking with it,” came the cheerful offer.

The conversation was lively, full of things Xie Ge didn’t remember. But as he listened, something in his mood shifted; his face darkened, and he nearly snapped his chopsticks.

“It’s not *that* good,” he said with a pointed tone, “Just ordinary — about the same as what you get outside.”

The chatter stopped. Xu Miao turned, still speaking with the same convincing sincerity as in the kitchen. “Honestly? Your outfit is really ugly. I only said cute so you wouldn’t feel bad.”

Stunned, Xie Ge slapped the table — then sat back down, feeling guilty. Xu Miao had spent the time and effort to cook for him; how rude was it to say that?

He picked up his chopsticks again in silence. After a few bites, he muttered, “Tastes better after a few more tries — not that ordinary.”

Xu Miao admitted he had little talent for cooking. In bad times, he’d settle for just filling up, and in better times, he’d grab meals from Liang Dong without issue. After marrying Xie Ge, he hardly cooked at all — which made today’s decent noodles an accomplishment.

Still, Xie Ge’s comment stung, especially since the first time Xu Miao had cooked for him, he’d used the exact same noodles and seasoning. Back then Xie Ge had hugged him after eating, saying it was the best bowl of noodles in the world, and that he’d carry the memory to his grave.

Now it seemed both parts of that statement had been lies.

Xu Miao took the chopsticks right out of Xie Ge’s hands and carried off the half-full bowl, setting it aside.

Since both their phones were still in the bedroom, he borrowed Xie Min’s and handed it to Xie Ge. “If you don’t like it, order whatever you do like.”

Xie Ge returned the phone unused, then said softly, “I wasn’t finished… Can I have it back? I’m hungry.”

When there was no response, he tried another plea, quieter still: “I’m a patient… even if I said something wrong, you shouldn’t hold it against me.”

His tone held real self-reflection, but it didn’t move Xu Miao. Across from them, Xie Min efficiently cracked open another walnut for Xie Ge. “Bro, you should eat more brain food right now. Mom bought loads; I’ll bring two more kilos for you tomorrow.”

He passed Xu Miao a handful of blueberries. “Here, have some — good for cooling down. Don’t get worked up over my brother; you see how the accident scrambled his brain — look at how ugly he’s dressed today.”

Xie Min’s playful banter lightened the mood considerably.

“Who’re you calling ugly?” Xie Ge protested, eating the walnut meat.

“You, you, you,” Xie Min replied, cracking another walnut. “And it’s not just me — everyone thinks so! Manage your image, bro. Face alone won’t last; men hit sixty the moment they pass twenty-five.”

The only one at the table over twenty-five, Xu Miao: “…”

That reminder froze the table into silence.

After half a minute, the “sixty-year-old” finally broke it: “Since the opportunity’s here, I’ve got two things to say.”

They were originally pre-accident matters, but now he had a new plan.

Turning to Xie Ge, he said, “One’s good news, one’s bad.

Good news: I start a new job next week. The company’s far, so to cut down on commuting, we might have to live apart — you won’t have to eat my ‘ordinary’ cooking anymore.

Bad news: Even with separate living, I won’t divorce you. I’ll be home on weekends; weekdays I don’t care where you are, but weekends you have to be here. That’s the condition.”

Living apart hadn’t been a necessity — 45 minutes wasn’t unreasonable. But he now saw some merit in Xie Ge’s earlier points: they weren’t in a five-year relationship anymore. Distance could give him the space and adjustment time he seemed to need.

“Live apart?” The abrupt phrase made Xie Ge wonder if he misheard. His tone rose. “You mean once you start work, you won’t live here? You’re renting elsewhere?”

Xu Miao couldn’t tell if his agitation was happiness or anger — at losing the daily teasing he disliked, or at being informed rather than consulted.

Maybe both. Maybe neither.

“Mm,” said Xu Miao.

“What job makes you give up coming home?”

“It’s nothing special,” Xu Miao said vaguely. “But I need money — I have to eat too.”

Not to mention, keeping you entertained hasn’t been cheap.

“Do you have to take it? You said it’s ordinary — couldn’t you wait for something less ordinary?”

“Will you support me if I don’t work?” Xu Miao asked casually.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Xie Ge replied seriously.

“I wouldn’t let you,” Xu Miao said.