No Ghosting Allowed

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Liang Ying spoke casually, but dealing with Zhou Jianguo wasn’t so easy.

Although he would secretly wipe his tears in the kitchen when Zhou Qingbo wasn’t around, in front of Zhou Qingbo, he was still that old-fashioned and stubborn traditional patriarch. He wouldn’t budge, no matter what, and he refused to agree to Zhou Qingbo spending his life with a man.

Jiang Man was acting as an intermediary, trying to mediate and persuade both sides to come to terms with the situation several times, but Zhou Jianguo stubbornly held his ground. His resistance was unusually strong.

Zhou Qingbo wanted to find an opportunity to talk to him properly, but for some reason, in the past few days, Zhou Jianguo had started to “avoid” him. He paused Zhou Qingbo’s authority and position at Qing Shan, and kept him “confined” at Zhou Cangshan’s house, as if he wanted Zhou Qingbo to come to terms with things on his own through this approach.

Zhou Qingbo didn’t really mind not going to work; he wasn’t particularly interested in Qingshan’s authority anyway. But this feeling of neither here nor there was too uncomfortable. He would rather have Zhou Jianguo beat him up again than endure this inexplicable cold treatment.

He wanted to break this deadlock, but absurdly enough, even though they were occasionally under the same roof, Zhou Qingbo couldn’t seem to catch a glimpse of his father.

“Your dad is avoiding you,” Liang Ying peeled an orange and handed it to Zhou Qingbo, smiling as she said, “He’s afraid of getting into another fight with you and losing his temper.”

“I actually wish Dad would beat me up again.” Zhou Qingbo sat cross-legged on the bed, put a slice of orange in his mouth, and mumbled, “It’s better than being treated like this.”

“Silly child, there’s no good in getting beaten up.” Liang Ying folded the orange peel and held it in her hand, speaking in a relaxed tone, “It’s you who needs to relax. You’ve only been at home a few days, why are you getting impatient?”

Liang Ying glanced at Zhou Qingbo as she spoke, teasing, “Didn’t you say you were ready to spend your life with him? Why are you in such a hurry these days?”

Naturally, Zhou Qingbo knew she was talking about Pei You, and he pursed his lips, smiling somewhat embarrassedly.

In these past few days, Liang Ying often chatted with him, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally bringing up Pei You. As a mother, although she didn’t want her son to take a path that was entirely different from the norm, she was also trying her best to respect his choices.

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She was attempting to get to know Pei You a little better, and also trying to understand Zhou Qingbo a bit more.

“It’s not that I’m impatient.” Zhou Qingbo said, “It’s just that the atmosphere at home is too oppressive.”

Zhou Jianguo was avoiding him, Zhou Cangshan seemed uncomfortable when he saw him, they both knew the reality and yet the day of resolution was still not here. This was tormenting for everyone.

“It’s okay, give your dad some time,” Liang Ying advised, “I can’t forcefully change your perspective, and naturally, I can’t force your dad either.”

“I understand.” Zhou Qingbo forced a smile and said, “Anyway, Dad hasn’t confiscated my phone, so I’ll just treat it as a time to recover at home.”

“Indeed, resting is also good.” Liang Ying comforted, “But don’t worry, your dad is trying.”

Zhou Jianguo came and went mysteriously, coming back late and leaving early. He had an unpredictable daily schedule, and whenever he appeared, he wore a stern face. Zhou Qingbo observed for a couple of days but couldn’t see any signs of him “trying.”

So Zhou Qingbo assumed Liang Ying was trying to comfort him, and he didn’t take it to heart. He spent his days at home leisurely, occasionally exchanging messages with Pei You to lighten the mood brought by the tense atmosphere.

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It was only on the third day that Zhou Qingbo couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night. He tossed and turned in bed for over half an hour, and still feeling restless, he finally got up and wanted to go to the kitchen to get some water.

However, as he stepped out of his bedroom, he realized that the door to the study across the corridor wasn’t completely closed. A warm light spilled out from the crack under the door, casting a narrow streak of light in the pitch-dark corridor.

What’s going on? Zhou Qingbo wondered. Did someone break into the house?

The Zhou family had a regular schedule; apart from Zhou Qingbo, who was a night owl playing games, everyone else was adept at maintaining their health. It was already 2:30 in the morning Beijing time, and Zhou Qingbo couldn’t understand who in the house would be staying up and studying so late with the lights on in the study.

Faint rustling sounds came from the study, and Zhou Qingbo furrowed his brow alertly. He kicked off his slippers and, barefoot, silently tiptoed through the corridor, carefully approaching the study.

He moved closer along the wall, and the closer he got to the study, the clearer the sound became.

At a distance, the sound seemed like someone speaking, but up close, it gradually revealed a dull and mechanical quality. Zhou Qingbo only recognized the familiarity of the voice after reaching the study door. It wasn’t a person speaking; it was the pre-installed voice package of a mobile phone playing a text-to-speech message.

Zhou Qingbo hesitated for a moment, and a nearly absurd thought suddenly popped into his mind. He subconsciously held his breath and carefully peeked through the crack in the door to take a look. To his surprise, he saw that the person in the study was actually Zhou Jianguo.

He was wearing a gray-white robe, sitting on a small sofa with his back facing the door. The floor lamp was on, and he was earnestly looking at his phone, seemingly searching for something.

The voice narration on the phone was still playing, and Zhou Qingbo stood at the doorway, holding his breath and listening carefully for a while. He realized that his father was actually searching for information related to homosexuality.

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Zhou Jianguo’s expression didn’t look too good either. He had glasses hanging from a cord on his ears, and he was simultaneously looking and listening, appearing to be making a genuine effort to understand all the information being input.

Zhou Qingbo didn’t know what he was searching for, but based on the voice narration, the questions he asked were all over the place. They ranged from “Is homosexuality a disease?” and “Can this condition be cured?” to questions about the formation of sexual orientation and the legal protections for same-sex relationships. It seemed to be a jumble of questions, whether they were actively searched or automatically redirected by the system.

The answers from Baidu were disorganized and empty, mostly unrelated to the questions. Zhou Jianguo had to repeatedly input questions in various ways, attempting to extract something useful from the heap of rubble.

But for a sixty-something-year-old man, this was quite challenging. Zhou Jianguo’s efforts seemed awkward and even a bit comical.

This “comical” demeanor wasn’t supposed to be associated with Zhou Jianguo. In Zhou Qingbo’s impression, his father was an all-powerful figure who could handle anything, even if the sky were to fall. He had never shown weakness or been at a loss, not even once in his life.

Zhou Qingbo’s heart ached, and he gripped the doorknob tightly. He subconsciously wanted to go in and interrupt him, but just before taking action, he felt a sense of timidity.

Because he suddenly realized that the father he perceived as tough as steel in his memory wasn’t as unyielding as he thought.

He was already in his sixties, with gray hair on his temples, a slight build, and straight shoulders only when facing his juniors. He struggled with communication, not understanding how to sit down and talk with his son about feelings. He also didn’t know how to confront his ingrained beliefs. Therefore, he could only secretly research late at night, hiding away from everyone, trying laboriously to understand everything beyond his own perceptions.

But he was too far from the rapidly developing times. He was so distant that he not only failed to understand the thoughts of the younger generation but even found it challenging to look up information online.

The cold automated female voice continued to narrate from the phone, and Zhou Jianguo switched to another question, starting to search for information on “frauds in same-sex relationships.”

The results from Baidu were all over the place, sounding absurd and ludicrous. Zhou Qingbo felt a mix of wanting to laugh and wanting to cry.

I’d rather he just hit me, Zhou Qingbo thought. This was like cutting with a blunt knife, it’s so uncomfortable to watch.

For the young people, these search results might be dismissed with a scoff, but for Zhou Jianguo, they seemed like the gospel truth. He was taking them very seriously, so much so that he didn’t even notice Zhou Qingbo standing at the door.

Zhou Qingbo gently pushed the door open a bit wider, and he saw his father furrowing his brows, staring intently at the phone screen as if facing an undefeated enemy. Unable to hold back, Zhou Qingbo coughed lightly, interrupting his “research.”

Zhou Jianguo had been listening carefully to the search results, and he was startled by Zhou Qingbai’s voice. He instinctively wanted to exit the search engine, but his hand slipped, and the phone accidentally fell onto the carpet.

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The soft carpet absorbed most of the impact, and the well-made phone remained unscathed, still working diligently.

“On March 7, 2019, local police cracked down on a ‘homosexual dating’ fraud case, with over two hundred victims and involving hundreds of thousands in funds—”

Zhou Jianguo: “…”

This is truly annoying, Zhou Jianguo thought with frustration.

Coming out to research information in the middle of the night, he was unexpectedly caught in the act by his quarreling younger son. Zhou Jianguo’s aged face suddenly didn’t know where to hide. He gritted his teeth and was about to pick up the phone to destroy the evidence when he heard Zhou Qingbo suddenly call out to him.

“Dad.” Zhou Qingbo’s voice was soft, but it sounded gentle, with a subtle nasal tone. It was like a breeze brushing through the quiet night, a sigh in a half-voice. “Pei You isn’t a fraud. If you’re worried he might have bad intentions, I can introduce him to you.”

Zhou Jianguo was startled by Zhou Qingbo’s voice, and it took him a moment to understand what he was saying. He snorted coldly, bent down to pick up the phone and closed the voice narration. Then, he grabbed his cane and stood up, stiffened his neck, and said coldly, “What’s there to be worried about? Let me tell you, I won’t agree no matter who it is. So don’t bother.”

This time, Zhou Qingbo didn’t seem to be frightened by his cold attitude. He raised an eyebrow, deliberately said, “Then what concerns you most about my sexuality? You’ve already said no, so why worry about me getting deceived?”

Zhou Jianguo: …

Zhou Qingbo hit the nail on the head, instantly touching a sore spot for Zhou Jianguo. Actually, Zhou Jianguo himself felt very conflicted. On one hand, he absolutely couldn’t bear the thought of Zhou Qingbo being with a man, but on the other hand, he couldn’t control his desire to know whether Zhou Qingbo might be hurt in this relationship.

Zhou Jianguo couldn’t explain this internal conflict, and he couldn’t stand Zhou Qingbo’s gaze that seemed to see through everything. So, he furrowed his brows and said irritably, “I’m just casually looking into things. Who knows what you guys are thinking? Whether you’re deceived or not, it’s your business.”

While Zhou Jianguo was speaking, seemingly afraid that Zhou Qingbo would retort, he hurriedly brushed past him, heading towards his own bedroom. He grumbled in a frustrated voice, “Besides, it’s so late. Why aren’t you sleeping? Staying up every night, no wonder you’re slow to recover from your injuries. Get back to your room quickly and don’t wander around in the middle of the night.”

His way of changing the topic was awkward, but Zhou Qingbo didn’t expose him. He stepped aside, making way for Zhou Jianguo, and watched his father’s hurried descent down the stairs. He couldn’t help but sense a hint of “fleeing in panic” in his father’s departing figure.

Zhou Qingbo was slightly amused by this. He couldn’t help but purse his lips, revealing the first relaxed smile in the past few days.

“Understood,” Zhou Qingbo said softly. “Goodnight, Dad.”