Mistaken Canary Chapter 30 (Part 2)
Chapter 30.2
Meanwhile, at the Zhuo Family Residence:
The family interrogation was still going strong.
Zhuo Fu: "Come clean."
Mu Qing: "That mark on your neck."
Zhuo Zi: "Who stamped their seal on you?!"
Zhuo Shu: "…"
"You guys ever heard of sleep paralysis? You know, a paranormal phenomenon?" Zhuo Shu touched the bite mark on his neck. "Same thing happened here. I just went to sleep, and when I woke up, it was there. I suspect it’s a birthmark given to me by the heavens."
The other three: "…"
Zhuo Zi sneered. "Do you think I’m still a gullible little kid? Based on my recent observations, you’ve been coming home less, sneaking out in the middle of the night more, and staring at your phone with a stupid grin. It’s obvious you’ve got someone outside!"
Mu Qing developed her daughter’s deduction, "There’s no trace of perfume or lipstick on you, and no stray hairs on your clothes. That rules out frequent close contact with a woman. Now, when we examine this bite mark closely, the jaw size is slightly larger, and the mark is deeper than usual. My reasonable conclusion? It was a man."
Zhuo Fu nodded in agreement. "Mm."
Zhuo Shu: "…"
Wait, no—listen to my excuses!
Mu Qing nudged Zhuo Zi. "A’Zi, time for your bed. What we discuss next might not be suitable for young ears. Go get some sleep and leave the rest to us.”
"Alright." Zhuo Zi had just gotten off a flight today, barely eaten dinner, and now, the house was in chaos. She hadn’t even had a chance to properly unwind.
As she passed Zhuo Shu, she patted his shoulder. "Ge, if you really like men, I can introduce you to someone. Our homeroom teacher, lao (old or very)—"
She didn’t even get to "shuai" (handsome) before Zhuo Shu shot her a glare and shoved her aside.
"Get lost. Do you think I’m that desperate? Even if I went blind, even if it were the end of the world, even if he were the last man on Earth—I would never be with your old homeroom teacher." Zhuo Shu grumbled, exasperated.
"Hmph, my homeroom teacher probably wouldn’t even look at you twice!" Zhuo Zi retorted, stomping back to her room and slamming the door shut with a bang.
Mu Qing and Zhuo Fu jumped, startled by the sound.
Zhuo Shu anxiously checked his watch. "The minor's gone now, so you can talk about whatever adult stuff."
Mu Qing glanced at Zhuo Zi’s closed door, then turned back to him, her gaze sharp. She leaned over the table, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "So, did you really get yourself a boyfriend?"
"I didn’t," Zhuo Shu sighed.
Zhuo Fu’s expression hardened. "Then what does this mean? If you didn’t get a boyfriend, how do you explain those marks on your neck? Did you pick up some bad habits from those rich second-gens, keeping some little lover on the side?"
Zhuo Shu’s heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm, his voice firm. "I didn’t."
"Well, then explain yourself! Don’t waste any more time." Mu Qing smacked the table in frustration, her brows furrowed tightly, her tone intense. She glanced at the clock, looking even more impatient than him. "K.F.C. is about to go live!"
Zhuo Shu: "..."
Both his parents were honest, straightforward people who wouldn't tolerate any shady dealings, so they couldn't stand the behavior of those rich young heirs. If he admitted to keeping someone, he’d definitely get a beating with a feather duster.
After a long pause, Zhuo Shu finally managed to squeeze out a few words, "Mm...a boy—boyfriend."
Mu Qing's expression softened as she patted her husband's shoulder. "OK, I’ll leave the rest to you then. I got to go watch the match." With that, she quickly slipped away.
The father and son exchanged glances.
After a while, Zhuo Shu prompted, "Is there anything else?"
Zhuo Fu asked, "Who is he?"
Zhuo Shu replied, "You wouldn’t know him anyways."
Zhuo Fu pushed up his reading glasses. "How wouldn’t I know? I bet it’s that English-speaking Chinese guy, right? The one you were taking those ‘heart’ pictures with at the hotel?"
Zhuo Shu fell silent, giving a slight nod in tacit admission.
Zhuo Fu sighed. "I suspected it that day. I didn’t believe your story then. You’ve always hated family photos since you were little—why would you go out in public and pose for those kinds of pictures?"
Zhuo Shu let his father's words go in one ear and out the other, his head dipping to check the time, his anxiety growing with each passing second.
Zhuo Fu noticed the urgency in his son's demeanor and asked, "It's so late—do you still have business?"
"Yes, meeting with a client."
"In the middle of the night, you're meeting a client?" Zhuo Fu squinted, his shrewd eyes narrowing.
Zhuo Shu: "So, are you going to let me leave or not?"
"Go, go," Zhuo Fu sighed dramatically.
Zhuo Shu stood up, preparing to leave, but Zhuo Fu called after him, "Wait a minute. Do you have the necessities?"
Zhuo Shu turned back, puzzled. "What?"
Zhuo Fu took off his reading glasses and wiped them, offering some elderly advice. "Stay safe, and use protection."
Zhuo Shu: "..." Thanks, Dad.
The streets were clear at this hour, so Zhuo Shu smoothly made his way to Wimbledon Hotel. Inside the elevator, he straightened his clothes and smartened his slightly disheveled hair in the mirror.
Reaching the familiar door of Room 2808, he paused, took a few steadying breaths, and then knocked with deliberate elegance.
A second later, the door opened, and a clear, melodious voice called out, "Come in."
Something felt off to Zhuo Shu. He stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind him.
Turning around, he was met with Ying Tongchen, dressed in a white coat, two pens clipped to his breast pocket, a stethoscope looped around his neck, and a medical chart in hand—looking every bit the part.
Zhuo Shu froze. "This is...?"
Ying Tongchen pulled out one of the pens and flipped open the medical chart. "Your name?"
After a beat, understanding dawned on Zhuo Shu. He pressed his lips together, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite himself. "Zhuo Shu."
"Birthday?"
"August 15th, same year as you," Zhuo Shu replied without hesitation.
Ying Tongchen, absorbed in his little act, suddenly paused, his pen hovering in mid-air. Slowly, he raised his head and fixed his gaze on Zhuo Shu.
A small smile curved on Ying Tongchen’s lips. "My birthday is August 13th—is that why you never wanted to reveal your birthday before?"
Zhuo Shu: Crap!!
Ying Tongchen stepped closer, tapping his pen against Zhuo Shu's chest pocket before slowly sliding it in. His voice was laced with amusement as he said, "Oh, so you're the didi."
"I... um, I was just kidding. Actually, I’m three years older than you," Zhuo Shu countered, a flush of guilt rising.
Ying Tongchen lowered his head and let out a soft chuckle.
Zhuo Shu lowered his eyes, taking in Ying Tongchen's current attire. The white coat amplified his naturally cool demeanor, making him appear even more captivating. Without thinking, Zhuo Shu reached out and gently squeezed Ying Tongchen’s long fingers, asking softly, "Dr. Ying, are you going to treat me?"
"Of course," Ying Tongchen replied, gazing at him gently. "This is neurology; I specialize in treating the brainless."
Zhuo Shu’s face immediately fell: Was that a jab at me?
Ying Tongchen smiled, loosening Zhuo Shu’s suit jacket. "Let’s check your heartbeat first."
Zhuo Shu: Suddenly excited.jpg
Ying Tongchen slipped the stethoscope under his collar, and to his surprise, he could actually hear something.
Dong, dong—
Just then, Zhuo Shu’s phone rang—a call from the front desk.
Dong, dong, dong, dong—
"Your heartbeat sounds a bit irregular," Ying Tongchen looked up, only to see Zhuo Shu on the phone, looking like he was about to choke. "What’s going on?"
Zhuo Shu pressed the speakerphone button, and the receptionist's calm, polite voice echoed through the room. "Mr. Zhuo, your parents have arrived, and they’re holding a thermos of chicken soup."
Zhuo Shu immediately cut the call, his face paling. "My parents are here! They know I always book this room!"
"Holy f*ck." Ying Tongchen was equally alarmed. "Grab the stuff!"
He had ‘borrowed’ quite a few things from Meng Gong, and getting caught now would be a disaster.
They scrambled to pack, and in the chaos, Ying Tongchen accidentally knocked over his bag of ‘goods’.
Zhuo Shu stared at the exotic practical items scattered on the floor, his ears burning as he looked at Ying Tongchen in disbelief. "I really underestimated you."
"Yes, you did, didi," Ying Tongchen was serene as he gathered the items.
Zhuo Shu scowled. "Don’t call me didi!"
"Let’s go, quick," Ying Tongchen said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Still in costume, he grabbed Zhuo Shu’s wrist and dragged him out.
As they neared the elevator, Zhuo Shu saw the doors about to open on their floor. Panicked, he spun around. "Let's go the other way."
The elevator doors opened, and Mu Qing saw two men hurrying away down the corridor—one dressed in a sharp suit, the other in a white coat.
She quickly snatched her husband's presbyopic glasses and put them on. "Honey, isn’t that our son?"
Zhuo Fu squinted, puzzled. "Where do you see a resemblance? Our son’s back isn't as tall and graceful as that."
"No, something’s off. We should go down and check. Maybe we can meet his boyfriend," Mu Qing said, hitting the button to close the elevator doors and then pressing the one for the first floor.