Resisting Arranged Marriages: Starting with Myself - Chapter 18

It was already afternoon by the time they returned home from the supermarket. Ye Jiming turned and headed into the kitchen to organize the groceries into the refrigerator one by one. Meanwhile, Le Xiao had nothing to do; he drifted aimlessly around the house like a restless spirit.

From the corner of his eye, Ye Jiming caught glimpses of him in this state. He sighed quietly to himself, unsure of how to start a conversation.

He decided to try a casual approach, popping his head out from behind the fridge to ask, “Xiao Xiao, what do you want for dinner tonight?”

“Huh? Anything is fine,” Le Xiao replied after a dull moment, finally snapping back to reality.

“Braised fish in brown sauce, osmanthus honey lotus root, and baby cabbage in superior broth?”

“Anything is fine.”

Ye Jiming was completely at a loss. It felt like facing a piece of unfeeling wood; no matter how hard he tried, he could not elicit an emotional response.

This sense of helplessness was unpleasant, deeply unpleasant.

It was as if sunlight could not warm withered wood, or fire could not thaw cold ice.

He looked at Le Xiao quietly. After a long pause, he simply said, “Okay.”

The house was extraordinarily quiet that afternoon. There was only the sound of Ye Jiming working in the kitchen; not a single word was spoken.

After dinner, Ye Jiming sliced a plate of fruit and brought it to the coffee table. He turned on the TV, tuned it to the right channel, and pulled Le Xiao down to sit on the sofa.

The only “hard task” for today was to watch the premiere of “Thread of Emotion, Heart of Craft” at exactly 8:00 PM.

At 8:00 PM sharp, the theme song played from the television, and the program officially began.

Despite it being the premiere, fans of various stars had timed it perfectly, crouching in front of their screens early. By the time the intro finished, the screen was already covered in a flood of bullet comments, accompanied by the excited “Ahhh!” screams of the fans.

Before showing the actual trip to Nanfeng Village, the production team played a pre-recorded interview. This had been filmed individually before they left for the village, with each guest answering the same question: “What are your expectations for this trip?”

Le Xiao’s answer was quite childish: “Eat well, play well, just be happy.”

That was truly what he had thought back then. He felt that although being around Ye Jiming made him uneasy, as long as the scenery was beautiful and the food was good, the trip should be decent.

But no one could have predicted the events that followed, nor the fluttering heart of a young man.

When Le Xiao gave his answer, a long string of [Hahahaha] floated across the screen, along with “mom fans” crying out, [Xiao Xiao baby is too cute!]

Then the scene cut to Ye Jiming’s shot.

Subconsciously, Le Xiao turned his face away slightly, using his peripheral vision to steal a glance at Ye Jiming’s expression.

On the TV, Ye Jiming said, “I do not have any special expectations. As long as I am with the person I love, anything is fine.”

Le Xiao shuddered slightly.

In truth, Ye Jiming was also quietly observing Le Xiao.

He felt it the moment the boy’s gaze flickered toward him.

He wanted to tell Le Xiao that his words were sincere, not just sentimental acting for the camera.

He wanted to ruffle Le Xiao’s soft hair and pinch his slightly reddened earlobes, but he hesitated, not daring to move.

He still remembered Le Xiao’s panicked cry in the car earlier that day.

In the end, he did nothing.

Two awkward people sat together awkwardly, awkwardly continuing to watch the loving scenes on the screen.

Watching one’s own smiles and movements on screen felt very different from experiencing them firsthand. It was like having a “God’s perspective,” standing by as a cold observer, watching everyone’s every move.

Whenever the camera cut to himself and Ye Jiming, Le Xiao would focus intently, putting all his attention on Ye Jiming’s demeanor. Like a stern detective, he tried to find a single shred of evidence to prove that this relationship had been hypocritical from start to finish.

However, no matter when the camera panned over or how hard he looked, Ye Jiming’s expression remained steadfast, perfect without a single crack. The bullet comments matched the mood perfectly, filled with: [Ahhh!], [Help, this is so sweet!], [This is way too doting!]

Occasionally, a longer one would appear:

[The “Ye-Xiao” pair is a perfect match! No matter how much Xiao Xiao fusses, President Ye spoils him unconditionally! Just pure doting!]

[This is the charm of an older partner. First they listen to your needs, then they offer comfort, and finally they solve the problem for you perfectly. Who would not fall for this kind of “one-stop” service!]

Sweet? Doting? Perfect match? Heart-fluttering? Le Xiao watched the comments float by, his eyes scanning between his own face and Ye Jiming’s on the screen, his brows furrowing unconsciously.

In the eyes of onlookers, is this what we look like?

He began to meticulously recall every detail of their time in Nanfeng Village, attempting to compare the Ye Jiming on screen with the Ye Jiming in real life.

To say Ye Jiming treated him poorly would be nonsense. Le Xiao was not an unfeeling block of ice; otherwise, he would not have fallen so quickly.

But as for whether this “kindness” was real or fake, he still could not be sure.

The first episode lasted two and a half hours, ending just as the guests finished their incense-making and returned to their rooms for a midday nap.

Only after the ending credits finished and the TV automatically jumped to the next program did Ye Jiming pick up the remote and turn it off.

In an instant, silence returned to the house.

After two seconds of silence, Le Xiao stood up from the sofa, stretched, and started to walk upstairs.

Watching his retreating back, Ye Jiming instinctively called out, “Xiao Xiao!”

Standing two steps up, Le Xiao turned around and looked at him quietly.

Ye Jiming suddenly had an intuition that he had to say something right now.

The questions that had troubled him for days, the reactions that left him helpless and baffled, the desire to walk into Le Xiao’s heart; if he did not speak now, he might not get another chance.

“Xiao Xiao, can we talk?”

Seeing Ye Jiming’s earnest look, Le Xiao suddenly felt a surge of fear.

He was not ready to “talk” with Ye Jiming yet.

Xiang Nan told him to “talk,” and Ye Jiming wanted to “talk,” but he just did not know how to do it.

The issue seemed impossible to voice, much like those secrets buried deep in his heart that were difficult to speak aloud; he did not know how to expose them to the light of day.

“I do not want to,” he refused instinctively.

He turned again to go upstairs, but felt a force stop him.

Looking down, he saw Ye Jiming’s hand gripping his wrist.

Ye Jiming had stepped closer, standing below the stairs, making him half a head shorter than Le Xiao.

His expression was urgent, almost pleading, “Xiao Xiao, let us talk.”

“Talk about what?”

He finally relented.

Suddenly, Ye Jiming did not know how to begin either. Thousands of words were blocked in his heart, seemingly impossible to pour out in an organized way.

After a moment of hesitation, he spoke: “Xiao Xiao, you have something on your mind lately.”

It was not a question.

Le Xiao instinctively wanted to argue, “I,” but unexpectedly, Ye Jiming cut him off: “Xiao Xiao, do not be in a hurry to deny it. I can tell. Xiao Xiao, I can tell that these past few days you have had a lot on your mind that you have not told me, right? Is it because I did something to make you unhappy? I am too dull to see it clearly. Can you tell me?”

Listening to his words, Le Xiao felt an inexplicable tremor in his heart.

You can actually tell. You actually know I have many, many things I have not said.

But why can you not see the whole picture?

How am I supposed to speak to you? How am I supposed to ask you for an answer?

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

At the corner of his lips, he tasted a hint of salt and instinctively stuck out his tongue to lick it.

He had not realized when he had started crying.

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