Chapter 331: Chapter 302 I Don’t Have a Mother
"Auntie Qili, Auntie Qili." Tongtong’s little hand reached over, gently wavering in front of her eyes, "Auntie Qili, do you also think Niannian is handsome, that’s why you got distracted."
Gu Qili hurriedly cracked a smile: "I’ll go make you a pancake that you can eat with your hands, so you won’t need utensils."
Just as Gu Qili was about to get up, Mu Qinian suddenly pointed to the white porcelain spoon in the plate, his large black eyes looking at her: "Is this the one you used?"
"Yes." Gu Qili was about to clean up the fried rice when suddenly, a little chubby hand snatched the spoon and also took the plate, sitting cross-legged on the sofa and started eating heartily.
Gu Qili felt she had developed a heart of steel over these years, but seeing this little cutie eat, she couldn’t help thinking of the first time Mu Shuoqian used her lunch box and spoon in the school cafeteria.
He had such a severe obsession with cleanliness that he would always have an assistant carry his bowls and cutlery when going out. If the assistant wasn’t around, her bag would always be prepared with his tableware. He disliked everyone else, but never her.
He would use her spoon to drink soup, he would use the straw she bit to drink milk tea, he would eat the apple she had half eaten...
When she realized what she was thinking, Gu Qili quickly shook her head vigorously, she had said before, her and him were like fire and water, incompatible. After he caused Niannian’s death, they could no longer share the same sky, her feelings towards him were only intense hatred.
While Gu Qili was lost in thought, Mu Qinian had already eaten a big plate of fried rice. He was truly famished, devouring it quickly, and a few grains of rice even hung at the corner of his mouth.
The sound of the spoon hitting the plate brought Gu Qili back from her memories; she saw Mu Qinian with rice all over his little face, and she couldn’t help but reach out to carefully remove the grains.
Mu Qinian flinched, lifting his large black eyes to look at her. She smiled, her voice soft and mushy: "Eat slowly, eating too fast will affect digestion."
Mu Qinian bowed his head again and continued to eat, but a slight ripple was in his eyes.
From childhood to adulthood, apart from Uncle Yu who always nagged by his ear, no woman had ever cared for him like this. The feeling was amazing, like wrapping up in a blanket on a cold winter day, like savoring his favorite lollipop, like opening a pig’s trotter meal to find it filled entirely with pig’s trotters and no soybeans.
"Auntie Qili, I’m full." Tongtong put the plate on the coffee table, patting her round tummy.
"I’m full too." Mu Qinian took the plate and hopped down from the sofa, heading straight for the kitchen.
Gu Qili didn’t know what he was planning to do and followed him, only to see him put the plate into the sink. As the sink was too high, he had to drag over a little stool to stand on to reach and turn on the faucet.
He was actually washing the plate himself.
"I can do the washing." Gu Qili hurriedly walked over with large strides.
He lowered his head and refused her: "My dad said, one should do things themselves, this is called ’the strength one can muster.’
The strength one can muster?
Gu Qili laughed and corrected him: "It’s ’within one’s capabilities,’ not ’the strength one can muster’ get it?"
"But you understood what I meant by ’the strength one can muster,’ didn’t you?"
Gu Qili: "..."
His reasoning was sound, she found herself at a loss for words.
At this moment, she suddenly remembered that she had an investment meeting tonight. The dinner was important, but she couldn’t just leave these two little ones here alone. After considering, she still made a call to the investor. Surprisingly, the person did not get angry but instead negotiated with her to move the meeting to Friday.
After hanging up the phone, Gu Qili saw that Tongtong had already dozed off on the sofa. She promptly went over to carry her to the bedroom, helped her out of her jacket, tucked her into bed, and concerned about her fear of the dark, she turned on a small bedside lamp.
When she finished all of this and turned around, she collided with Mu Qinian’s piercing gaze. For a moment, she felt an eerie familiarity with those eyes, almost as if they were etched into her bones. He was just staring at her quietly, yet it brought her an invisible pressure. He was still so young, how could he possess such a strong presence?
"Are you always this gentle with everyone?" Mu Qinian suddenly opened his little mouth, and even before Gu Qili could reply, he pouted and walked away. Gu Qili chased after him, but he had already closed the door of another bedroom and deliberately slammed it loudly.
Gu Qili knocked on the door, somewhat unable to figure out this little guy.
"Niannian, open the door, your backpack is still outside!" Gu Qili went to grab his large backpack, weighed it and was secretly astounded by its heaviness. Is the academic pressure on kids these days so great?
There was no response from inside the room, so she knocked a few more times: "Niannian."
"I’m not called Niannian?" The door swung open, and Gu Qili was taken aback, "I’m called Niannian, it’s the fourth tone not the second, don’t always get it wrong. It’s very impolite to mispronounce someone’s name."
He pouted, reaching out to take the backpack she handed over, but they fumbled the exchange and the backpack fell to the ground with a "thud," with a zip not fully closed, and a document fell out.
"Sorry." "It wasn’t intentional."
Mu Qinian stared at the fluffy head in front of him; her hair was black and sleek, unlike his father’s—stiff, short, and particularly prickly.
Suddenly, he really wanted to reach out and touch it.
As Mu Qinian thought this, his hand involuntarily reached out.
Gu Qili felt a small hand placed on her head,
Having no choice, Gu Qili flipped through the books that had fallen out, trying to find a bit of information about him, worried what his family would become without a word from him.
Just as she opened a book, she asked with some surprise, "Are you going to participate in a speech competition?"
Mu Qinian, who was preparing to climb onto the bed, was startled and turned his head to ask, "How did you know?"
Gu Qili raised the materials in her hand, "Just looking at the content, I can tell. You’re learning French?"
"You speak French?" The little guy’s eyes widened, his curiosity about her growing even stronger.
"A little."
"I’m participating in the Aus City children’s French speech competition the day after tomorrow."
"How’s your preparation going?"
Mu Qinian shook his head. Today, he had secretly taken a hundred yuan and sneaked away from Uncle Yu to run away from home. As soon as he went out, he wanted to eat Li Ji’s pig trotter rice, so he hailed a taxi. By the time they arrived at Li Ji, the fare was sixty-five yuan. He handed the driver a hundred yuan, and the driver gave him thirty-five yuan in change. He then bought pig trotter rice from Li Ji, and when he came out, he only had five yuan left.
He thought a hundred was an astronomical figure and that one hundred yuan should be enough to last until his dad returned from France, but could someone tell him why he only had five yuan left after just one taxi ride and one meal?
In the end, those five yuan turned into five lollipops.
So, penniless Mu Qinian ended up meeting Gu Qili while sitting in the little park.
He’d been running wild outside all day; how could he possibly prepare for the speech competition? Besides, he had already made up his mind that he wouldn’t give it his all this time. He didn’t want to come in first.
Because, every time he got first place, his dad would just take his report card and certificates, say "Not bad," and then leave. But he wanted to talk more with his dad, even if it was just to be scolded. So, he intentionally scored last in his class at the training, and if he didn’t get first place this time, maybe his dad would take the initiative to talk to him.
"If you don’t mind, I can tutor you," suggested Gu Qili, looking at him with gentle eyes.
Mu Qinian didn’t really want to practice seriously, but seeing her squatting there looking at him with hopeful eyes, he still pouted, "I’m very good, you know. Can you handle it?"
Gu Qili smiled, stood up, and sat beside him on the bed, "Let’s encourage each other."
"What does ’gong mian’ mean? Sleep together?" Mu Qinian blinked his dark large eyes, a hint of red appearing on his ears, a sign of shyness, just like a certain man. He was thick-skinned, but occasionally showed shyness. When he was shy, his ears would turn red.
Gu Qili found herself frequently thinking of Mu Shuoqian because of the child’s arrival, somewhat annoyed at her own weakness, yet because of the child’s presence, she couldn’t show herself a cold face.
Gu Qili: "...."
Not knowing how to respond, Gu Qili just flipped through his notebook, "Let’s practice together."
"Is your name Qili? What are the characters?" Mu Qinian’s mind wasn’t on the book at all.
"Qili, ’qi’ as in ’seven days’ and ’li’ as in ’kilometers.’ What about you?"
Mu Qinian was about to say his full name, but since her name was two characters, he didn’t want to be one character more; that would be mismatched.
"Qinian, ’qi’ as in ’prayer’ and ’nian’ as in ’miss,’ not with the second tone."
So, it’s Niannian, not Niannian, huh. She must have been pining for Niannian to mistakenly associate the two names. If Niannian was still alive, she would be about the same age as Qini.
Gu Qili’s nose tingled, and she rubbed it with her finger, "Come on, read it through once and I’ll correct any pronunciation issues."
"Ali, like the fox? Can I call you Ali? I like Ali."
He was eager to please her, and she smiled warmly, "You can call me whatever you like."
Mu Qinian climbed down from the bed and picked up the topics that Bruno had prepared for him.
"Did your French teacher pick these for you?"
"Mhm."
"Many of the kids participating probably prepared fairy tales like these. Would you like to try something more unique?"
"Like what?"
"For instance, topics about parental love, like ’My Daddy’ or ’My Mommy’."
Suddenly, Mu Qinian’s face darkened, and he frowned unhappily, "I don’t have a mom, and I don’t have much good to write about my dad either."