Sweet grafting

It was exactly noon when Ding Ding came home carrying a bag of groceries.

Bai Congming was wrapped in a quilt, leaning against the headboard and nodding off. Cartoons played on the television, and the standing air conditioner blew out air at twenty-six degrees, slowly warming him from the inside out.

At some point, home had stopped being a vague concept to Ding Ding. It had become something clear and warm: his Little Bai.

Hearing movement at the door, Bai Congming opened his eyes, got out of bed, and ran over to Ding Ding.

"Brother Ding!"

Ding Ding hummed in response, leaned over, and kissed him.

"What did you do while I was out?"

Ding Ding went to the stove to cook, and Bai Congming brought over a little stool to sit beside him, listing everything he had done while Ding Ding was away.

"Washed the quilt!"

"Wow." Ding Ding started washing the vegetables. "What else?"

Bai Congming counted on his fingers. "Swept the floor! Watered the flowers! Watched TV! Waited for Brother Ding!"

"You did so much." Ding Ding freed a hand to give him a thumbs-up, praising him in a tone meant for coaxing a child. "Little Bai, you're amazing!"

Bai Congming liked being praised like this. He chuckled a few times, then added,

"Went to the bathroom too! Washed my hands!"

"...Wow!" Ding Ding played along, pressing his wet hand against Bai Congming's face. "Great job!"

"Hehe..."

Little Bai couldn't eat spicy food, but Ding Ding couldn't enjoy a meal without it. One pot of red broth and one of plain water went onto the table, and the two no longer squeezed together on the same side as they had before.

The scene reminded Ding Ding of the past, the distant past, before he had even come to M City.

His mother preferred lightly seasoned food, while his father liked plenty of oil and salt. People who couldn't agree on food didn't get along very well either, and most of the arguments at home had been over the dishes on the table.

Ding Ding used to think that if he ever had a partner, he probably wouldn't be willing to compromise either. Only now did he realize it was simply a matter of not loving enough.

After eating, they held each other and took a nap. When they woke up, both of them dawdled, unwilling to get out of bed.

The flowers had been planted. This time, it was time for grafting.

(The stream-of-consciousness version still wouldn't pass after eight revisions. I'm really out of options.)

"Brother Ding..."

"Shh..." Ding Ding covered Bai Congming's mouth. "Don't call me Brother Ding."

Bai Congming was very angry. Why couldn't he call him wifey or Brother Ding!

"Call me hubby."

"What...?"

Ding Ding's breath brushed over the seedling. He bent lower, his posture almost a silent kiss.

"Just say it."

The wind rose again, and the leaves rustled without stopping.

"Hubby."

"..."

Nearly all the energy from the hot pot had been burned off, or perhaps the process had simply taken too long. In any case, by the time it was completely over, Ding Ding felt hungry enough to eat a whole cow.

His phone kept buzzing. Ding Ding picked it up and opened the food delivery app without checking any of the messages marked with red dots.

"Have a look, Little Bai. What do you want to eat?"

Bai Congming leaned over. The colorful pages made his eyes swim, and he pointed at a colorful one at random.

"This."

"A burger..." Ding Ding looked rather disdainful. "Pick something else. That's unhealthy."

Bai Congming didn't argue and pointed at another one.

"This works." Ding Ding tapped into it. "Then we'll have pot chicken. I'll ask them to stick twenty flatbreads around the pot!"

Bai Congming hummed, buried his head in the crook of Ding Ding's neck, and asked him what hubby meant.

"..."

Ding Ding couldn't explain it, so he vaguely told him it was a term of address that made someone happy to hear.

"Just like how you're happy when I call you baby, right?"

Bai Congming's cheeks were red as he answered brightly, "Right!"

"So when you call me hubby, it makes me happy too, but... you can't call me that at other times." Ding Ding was afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Bai Congming nodded, rolled around on the bed twice, then got up to wash.

Only then did Ding Ding open WeChat and see the messages from the "brother from back home" he had added earlier that day.

[Wang Lao'er]: When are you free, brother? You don't come by often. I've got to treat you to a meal!

[Wang Lao'er]: Please put some effort into this order, brother. Whether I have a good New Year is all down to you!

Closing the chat, Ding Ding switched back to his main account, where Xiao Li from AAA Housing Sales Agency had sent him several messages.

Ding Ding wasn't some domineering CEO with underworld connections who could casually give an assistant five minutes to dig up someone's entire background.

He was only asking around about what this man was like. No one in the city was better informed than real estate agents.

[Xiao Li from AAA Housing Sales Agency]: Documents.word

[Xiao Li from AAA Housing Sales Agency]: Take a look first, bro. A friend of my coworker's second aunt happens to live next door to him. He rented the place through another agency. Most of this is stuff he let slip himself when he was drunk.

Ding Ding sent a thank-you and a red packet, then opened the file.

Wang Lao'er was thirty-two this year. At twenty-two, he had gone to prison for eight years for negligently injuring someone and leaving them disabled. After he got out, his family had pulled some strings to find him a job at a flower nursery.

He led a very eventful life, dabbling in everything from drinking and feasting to prostitution and gambling, and owed some money on small loans.

Ding Ding had a clear picture now. He put his phone down and got out of bed, letting out three thunderous sneezes in a row.

People said one sneeze meant someone was cursing you behind your back, two meant someone missed you, and three...

There was no explaining that away. He had a cold.

After sleeping outside in the courtyard all night in temperatures in the teens, even someone made of iron wouldn't have held up.

Ding Ding dug the medicine box out from the bottom of the wardrobe, accidentally felt a clear document pouch, and saw Bai Congming's ID card facing up.

"July fifth..."

In the height of summer twenty-two years ago, Bai Congming's mother had given birth to a little wife for Ding Ding, who was heading to school with a schoolbag on his back.

The image made Ding Ding laugh. He casually popped out two cold tablets without knowing whether they had expired, swallowed them, then stripped and slipped into the bathroom.

Another gust of wind passed. By the time the two came out clean, it was nearly dark.

Ding Ding brought in the delivery from outside the door and warmed it up, then held a corn flatbread to Bai Congming's lips.

"Have a bite... I was wrong..."

"Hmph!" Bai Congming's eyes were very red. He turned his head away, refusing to look at him. "I'm not talking to you!"

After thinking it over, he felt he couldn't refuse to talk to him, so he amended it rather weakly.

"I'm not talking to you... for five minutes."

Ding Ding knew he had gone too far just now. It was just that... being around someone so mild-tempered always seemed to bring out a little of his mean streak.

Well, now he had brought out a temper.

"Five minutes is way too long!" Ding Ding wailed. "Have mercy, Little Bai. I'm sick!"

Bai Congming was softhearted, but he also felt he couldn't forgive him so easily. After all, even with him like that just now, Ding Ding still hadn't been willing to let him off.

"Then three minutes!"

"Make it one minute," Ding Ding coaxed him with a smile. "One minute, okay?"

"...Okay, then..."

And so the corn flatbread was held to his lips again, with Ding Ding's smiling face behind it.

"One minute's up!"

"..."