Lu Ao looked up at him, the smile in his eyes deepening.
Only after Song Zhou pressed him did Lu Ao say, "When I was little, my parents probably calculated social obligations like this during the holidays too."
As he spoke, Lu Ao glanced at Song Zhou again.
They had placed only a watermelon-rind table lamp on the table. The light was dim, carrying an old-fashioned charm.
The atmosphere felt even more like the one from his childhood. Lu Ao sat in the chair that had more or less been his mother's place.
His father had sat across from her then as well, slowly discussing things with his mother.
This sort of atmosphere existed only within a family.
Outside, no matter how large or how many business deals they discussed, there would never be such a tender moment.
At times like this, even little thoughts and calculations over whether a gift was too light or too heavy became a special kind of beauty.
The moment felt so much like family that Lu Ao quietly tucked it away in his heart without mentioning it to Song Zhou, though the smile in his eyes never faded.
Song Zhou more or less guessed what he was thinking, but did not expose it.
When they turned off the lights and went to sleep, Song Zhou held him in his arms, pressed his lips to Lu Ao's ear, and said softly, "We'll have many years ahead of us. Every year, we'll live like this properly."
"Okay." Lu Ao wrapped his arms around his waist. "We'll take every year seriously."
Lu Ao got up very early the next day. He did not linger in bed at all, but rose full of energy for breakfast. After eating, he picked up the food container, kissed Song Zhou goodbye,