Mistaken Canary Chapter 71
Chapter 71
Outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, Noe Name trailed behind her parents, watching the couple holding hands affectionately. She awkwardly turned to Ying Tongchen and apologized, “Sorry, Mr. Ying, I didn’t know their divorce was just to buy a house*.”
(TLN: During China's regulation of the housing market between 2009 and 2016, many married couples would purposely divorce to bypass housing purchase restrictions and acquire additional properties. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/351403338_Housing_market_regulations_and_strategic_divorce_propensity_in_China)
Ying Tongchen smiled. “It’s okay, as long as you’re no longer feeling down.”
Noe Name scratched her nose in embarrassment, “I won’t cry anymore.”
Her parents stopped ahead and said with a smile, “Since you went out of your way to bring her here, Mr. Ying, let us treat you to a meal.”
“No need, I have other matters to attend to. I won’t disturb your family dinner,” Ying Tongchen courteously replied.
Noe Name waved her hand, then quietly said, “Mr. Ying, can I come visit you at Zhuo Zi’s home sometime?”
Ying Tongchen was taken aback, then chuckled softly and said quietly, “Or you can come to my home to visit Zhuo Zi?”
Noe Name’s eyes widened, nodding eagerly, bursting into laughter, “Okay, okay! I’ll definitely come!”
Following his farewell to the Noe family, Ying Tongchen went back to the Yale Lexis Translation Studio. He busied himself with work for a while before finally finishing and driving home.
The old man was watching an American drama and, seeing him return, got up to heat up some food for him.
“Why so late today?” the old man asked.
“Things at the studio are stacked up right now. I expect the next few days to be even more hectic.”
Ying Tongchen sat down at the table, exhausted, and rested his head on it for a moment. It wasn’t until he caught the aroma of the food that he slowly roused, glancing at a plate of crabs on the table and smiling.
“Teacher, you’re eating too?”
“Of course.”
The old man sat opposite him, and the two quietly picked at the crabs for a while. Ying Tongchen suddenly asked, “How are you so good at cooking crabs?”
The old man chuckled, “What are you trying to say? That all my other dishes are terrible?”
“No need to say it aloud. I think you should already know,” Ying Tongchen replied, taking a bite of crab. “This doesn’t seem like a dish an ordinary person can make.”
The old man paused in his motions, lowering his eyes to the crab in his hand, then after a moment of silence said, “It’s because he liked it.”
Ying Tongchen froze for a moment, then realized who he meant. “Mister Lae?”
“Mhm,” the old man smiled softly. “It took me years to perfect. And when I finally did… he wasn’t there to taste it.”
Ying Tongchen quietly continued eating the crabs, the soft slurping sounds filling the room.
“I’ve been dreaming about him a lot lately. I’m starting to forget what he even looks like. When we were young, we used to say a lot of cheesy things—like ‘I’ll never forget you’ and all that… If he doesn’t come back soon, I’ll have broken my promise,” the old man said with a self-deprecating smile.
“A bit too salty,” Ying Tongchen said, tossing aside a crab shell.
“Nonsense,” the old man clicked his tongue. “I could make this dish perfectly, even while blindfolded.”
Ying Tongchen pursed his lips.
Then, as if remembering something, the old man asked, “Do you know why I’ve been dreaming about him so much recently?”
Ying Tongchen glanced outside. “Because spring’s coming soon?”
“Utter rubbish,” the old man joked. “It’s because you and that kid Zhuo Shu keep hanging around in front of me all day, filling the air with a foul odor."
Ying Tongchen: “Utter rubbish.”
Old man: “You’re the rubbish.”
Ying Tongchen: "You are the smellest rubbish."
“Alright, alright, enough,” the old man said, feeling tender. “Don’t let my crabs hear this—its journey to the underworld has been anything but peaceful.”
Ying Tongchen: "......"
“By the way, why did you come back alone today? Didn’t that kid see you off?” the old man asked.
“I didn’t go to his company today,” Ying Tongchen met his teasing gaze. “Before, it was just because it was on the way.”
The old man didn’t buy it and threw a sarcastic remark, “You didn’t even give him a call. Keep at it and he’ll start giving you the cold shoulder.”
“...I’m done eating,” Ying Tongchen said, getting up and heading to take a shower.
The old man laughed heartily and leisurely finished the remaining crab. After washing the dishes, he saw Ying Tongchen smoking on the balcony.
“Why so troubled?”
Ying Tongchen glanced at him, placed his cigarette in the ashtray, then looked out at the community below and the faint city lights in the distance. He said, “Teacher, let’s move somewhere else.”
“Where to?” the old man asked.
Ying Tongchen looked down, smoldered out the cigarette, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “A villa in the western suburbs.”
The old man nodded in understanding. “Near Zhuo Shu family’s place?”
“Mm.” Ying Tongchen rested both hands on the railing. “This way, you’ll have company in your old age. Uncle and Aunt are good people. Otherwise, being alone here… the mind tends to wander.”
“That is indeed a very good suggestion,” the old man smiled without pressing further. “But the housing prices aren’t cheap there.”
“I’ll work hard,” Ying Tongchen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them, eyes shining. “Very soon. Very soon, we’ll be able to move to a better place.”
The old man patted his shoulder. “Okay. By the way, does your company need a janitor? I think I could do that.”
“...” Ying Tongchen replied, “You’d better stick to proofreading at home.”
…
Before sleeping, Ying Tongchen checked his phone again—no missed calls or unread messages.
He took the initiative to make a call. After a while, the other side answered.
“What’s up?” Zhuo Shu asked.
Ying Tongchen fell silent for a moment. Since there didn’t seem to be anything worth mentioning, he replied, “Nothing much, shall I hang up?”
“Okay.”
“?”
Ying Tongchen paused, then ended the call, set the phone aside, and closed his eyes to sleep.
After a long while, the pitch-black room echoed with a sharp curse. “F*ck.”
On the other side, Zhuo Shu had no idea he had angered Ying Tongchen again. He was busy scouring the internet—‘how to make a romantic proposal’.
Since making up his mind, he’d resolved to prepare a proper proposal ceremony. After all, same-sex marriage wasn’t yet legal here, so getting a certificate at the Civil Affairs Bureau was impossible. So he had to give Ying Tongchen an unforgettable proposal memory instead!
After hours of filtering and research, he boiled it down to a few essentials:
Fresh flowers, balloons, a ring, and vows.
So easy.
He immediately drafted Plan A—
Order flowers online, then when work ended, bring Ying Tongchen to the car. Opening the trunk would reveal it packed with flowers. Seeing such a romantic scene would surely melt even the toughest heart! (Note: No more sending study guides or health supplements—he didn’t like those.)
Next, take him for a candlelit dinner, then bring him back to his home. The place would be decorated—balloons everywhere, romantic candlelight lighting the way.
Seizing the warm, romantic atmosphere, he’d pull out the ring, drop to one knee, sincerely ask his hand in marriage, and maybe shed some genuine tears.
Everything would go perfectly.
Zhuo Shu had already imagined how they would celebrate afterward—making sure the study, living room, bedroom, balcony, and living room again would all get their fair share of lovemaking.
The thought made him giddy with excitement, unable to sleep, so Zhuo Shu started cleaning instead.
With every place he passed, Zhuo Shu could vividly picture what would unfold there tomorrow evening, which made him speed up and scrub the floor with extra vigor.
The downside of being so excited was sleep deprivation.
He only went to bed around three or four in the morning, then had to get up at seven to go to the office.
Zhuo Shu simply called a taxi driver to pick him up downstairs, as he dozed briefly in the backseat.
Only upon entering the office did he suddenly remember one thing: the flowers weren’t ordered yet! The venue wasn’t arranged!
And, most importantly—the ring?!
He hurried to a premium flower shop in the mall and ordered: “No roses, too cliché. Please wrap all of your bestselling flowers in the store.”
The clerk asked, “Are you sure you want our bestselling product?”
“Yes.” Zhuo Shu glanced at the time and quickly added, “I need them by this afternoon.”
“Alright,” the clerk nodded.
Next, he headed to the most extensive diamond jewelry store in the mall, browsing for a long time.
The sales assistant recognized him as an easy cash cow and approached. “What style are you looking for?”
“Do you have any suitable for a proposal?” Zhuo Shu asked.
“Yes, we do.” The sales assistant led him to a display case. "This series is quite popular. The diamond rings are—"
Zhuo Shu interrupted, “No. I’m proposing to a man.”
Sales assistant: "."
Fortunately, the sales assistant was a highly versed lady who had seen it all, including countless gay films. She quickly brought him to another section. "These matching rings are more suitable for men. May I ask your lover's ring size?"
Zhuo Shu fell silent.
Oh no! He didn’t know!
He thought carefully about his partner’s hand and, following his memory, drew a rough circle on a piece of paper. "About this thick."
Sales assistant: "."
You really are the most difficult customer I’ve ever had!
“S–Sir, we really can’t tell the size that way. I recommend this style. If it’s too big, you can always get it resized,” the clerk smiled kindly.
“Alright then.” Zhuo Shu picked out a pair of rings with a decent design and headed to pay.
Next came decorating his apartment.
With the upcoming holiday making everything this hectic, where would he find anyone with spare time...
Before long, he thought of three rice tubs*.
(TLN: rice tub (饭桶), from which cooked rice or other food is served, is a slang for fathead or a good-for-nothing. It makes sense because all you can do is fill it up with rice, meaning the person is only good at eating.)
Zhuo Zi was busy updating her fanfic at home, her mind still full of those domineering CEOs from JJWXC, when her bogus-domineering CEO brother’s call came through. He barked orders in true domineering style, “Bring Mom and Dad with you to decorate my apartment.”
“Decorate for what?” Zhuo Zi asked.
“For a marriage proposal.”
“Rest assured, I’ll get it done perfectly!” Zhuo Zi saluted and unhesitatingly suspended her writing.
Back at the company, Zhuo Shu also instructed an employee to fetch the flowers and load them into his car.
After finishing all the arrangements, he finally felt at ease and focused on work.
…
At noon, he went alone to the cafeteria for a meal. It tasted terrible—really terrible!
It was the same food as always, so why did it taste so bad today?
At that moment, an employee nearby asked, “Did Mister Ying not come today either? We miss him so much.”
“Miss him? Don’t you dare,” Zhuo Shu said, scowling as he returned to the office. Looking at the empty desk beside him, he sighed quietly.
He had thought they were growing closer, but after just a few days apart, even the food seemed unappetizing.
Unable to control his longing, he called Ying Tongchen. The other side answered, “What’s up?”
Zhuo Shu replied, “Nothing much, I guess.”
Ying Tongchen said, “Then hang up.”
“Okay.”
Zhuo Shu hung up the phone, a question mark slowly forming in his mind.
This cold, indifferent scene felt all too familiar.
He wanted to call back, but thinking of the surprise planned for tonight, he decided to hold back.
“Director Ying, are you waiting for a call?” The secretary noticed Ying Tongchen glancing at his phone occasionally. “Why don’t you make the call first, then come back for the meeting?”
“No need,” Ying Tongchen said grimly, shutting off his phone. “Carry on.”
It wasn’t until after eight o’clock that Ying Tongchen finished work. Heading downstairs, he turned on his phone and saw a dozen missed calls—all from Zhuo Shu.
He returned the call. “What’s up?”
“I’m outside your company,” Zhuo Shu said.
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Half an hour.”
“I’m on my way.”
Zhuo Shu had just hung up when Zhuo Zi’s call came through. “Ge, when are you guys coming back? Mom and Dad are about to faint from starvation!”
“Go ahead and eat something first,” Zhuo Shu said. “We still have to go for dinner.”
Mid-conversation, he spotted a familiar figure not far off. Ignoring whatever was still being said on the other side, he ended the call and walked forward. “What do you feel like eating tonight?”
“Anything’s fine.” Ying Tongchen tightened his coat and was just about to open the car door when Zhuo Shu held his hand.
“Wait, I have something for you,” Zhuo Shu said. “Do you know what today is?”
Ying Tongchen paused, thinking carefully, but couldn’t remember what day it was...
“Semi-anniversary of when we started dating?” he guessed cautiously.
Zhuo Shu shook his head with a smile.
“Kiss-anniversary?”
Zhuo Shu shook his head again.
“...Then what day is it?” Ying Tongchen’s tone weakened.
Zhuo Shu looked at him with disappointment: “It’s Friday.”
“...Oh! So?!”
“So I prepared you a present.”
“?”
Zhuo Shu held his hand and walked toward the trunk, just about to open it.
Ying Tongchen suddenly tensed up. Haunted by past trauma, fear gripped him out of nowhere. He slammed a hand on the trunk door. “You know what? Maybe it’s safer if you don’t.”
“No, I have to. You’re definitely going to like this gift,” Zhuo Shu said confidently as he opened the trunk. He carefully watched Ying Tongchen’s reaction, expecting surprise, delight, gratitude, maybe even tears of joy...
But none of that came.
Instead, Ying Tongchen’s face grew paler and paler, his fists clenched tightly.
Something’s wrong.
Zhuo Shu abruptly turned to look inside the car at the flowers—and his own expression froze.
He had deliberately avoided the cliché roses and specifically asked for the store’s bestselling flowers...yet who would have thought their bestseller was chrysanthemums?
(TLN: While we all know the innuendo associated with chrysanthemums, please note these flowers are usually given to the dead, similar to how white flowers are traditionally used for western funerals.)
And so, the trunkload of white and yellow chrysanthemums trembled in the cold wind—eerily mirroring his withering life...
Ying Tongchen gave a cold snort. “I don’t know what day today is—”
Zhuo Shu: “Darling, please let me explain—”
Ying Tongchen: “But this day next year, is your death anniversary.”
.
.
.
TL Note: Poor Zhuo Shu lmao, he should have heeded Ying Ying’s request.