Half an hour later, Yang Haoran knocked on his mother’s door, his heart filled with anxiety.
“Come in.”
The familiar voice reached his ears. Hearing his mother’s cool, clear tone, Yang Haoran suddenly felt a sense of relief.
He pushed the door open and walked in, only to find the room dark. He fumbled for the light switch and turned it on, seeing his mother lying on the bed with her eyes slightly closed, as if she were taking a short nap.
“Mom, are you okay?”
Yang Haoran walked to the bedside and sat down, reaching for his mother’s delicate hand. It felt soft and cool to the touch.
“What are you groping for?” Liu Ruoxi opened her eyes, her sharp phoenix eyes glaring with an intimidating aura that immediately made Yang Haoran let go.
Seeing the coldness in his mother’s eyes, he offered an awkward smile and explained sheepishly, “I was just checking your temperature. I didn’t mean anything else.”
For some reason, he felt as though the way his mother was looking at him was as if she wanted to hit him. Clearly, he hadn’t done anything to upset her—or was she still holding a grudge over him roughly pinching her nipple earlier today?
If it was because of that, he could only admit he had it coming. He wasn’t entirely innocent.
“Hmm!” Liu Ruoxi seemed to accept his explanation and said faintly, “What are you here for?”
“Mom, I was worried about you.”
Seeing an opportunity to curry favor, Yang Haoran certainly wasn’t going to let it slip by. He continued, “You have no idea how scary you looked earlier. It really frightened me. I even asked Dad if you have any old health issues, thinking you might have had a relapse.”
“Mom, please don’t ever be unwell. I’ll serve you diligently from now on. I want you to enjoy a life of comfort in the future.”
His son’s intentions were blatantly obvious. These seemingly “heartfelt” words did not move Liu Ruoxi; instead, she let out a scornful laugh and said, “From the sound of it, you’re saying Mom has to lie in bed to receive your diligent service and enjoy comfort? That kind of comfort from lying in bed is not something Mom wants.”
What did his mother mean by that? Was she subtly mocking him? Why was she so angry? He hadn’t offended her, had he? Once again, he thought of the nipple-pinching incident and could only force an awkward smile.
He began to miss the mother who had lain in the hospital bed—back then, she had been so gentle with him, speaking in soft, tender tones.
It was a shame it had been so fleeting.
Seeing that one tactic had failed, Yang Haoran changed the subject, determined to make his mother feel his sincerity.
“Mom, how are you feeling now? Is there anywhere you feel unwell?”
“Yes!” His mother’s answer made Yang Haoran’s eyes light up, and he eagerly pressed, “Where?” Liu Ruoxi glanced at her son and replied with a single word.
“You.”
Yang Haoran’s heart sank. With a crestfallen expression, he said, “Mom, do you really find me that annoying?” He felt wronged. Was it just because he had been a bit too rough with her nipple?
Was she really going to hold a grudge over that?
Seeing her son’s dejected expression, Liu Ruoxi felt she might have been too harsh. Her tone softened slightly as she said, “Alright, alright, Mom is fine. Stop asking all these questions. Go back to your room and get some sleep. You have school tomorrow.”
Yang Haoran was unwilling to leave just like that, mainly because he was afraid his mother would continue treating him this way. He took the initiative to apologize: “Mom, I’m sorry. Today was my fault. I don’t know what came over me—I was just possessed and used too much force. It won’t happen again, Mom, I promise.”
His earnest assurance was met with a cold glare from his mother.
Liu Ruoxi looked at her son and said sharply, “You think there will be a next time? And besides, there are some things Mom clearly resists and doesn’t want to bring up, yet you keep mentioning them again and again. Is your brain filled with water? Do you have no sense of reading the room?” His mother’s words jolted Yang Haoran to his senses. She was right—what was he saying? He was so focused on seeking forgiveness that he failed to realize his mother clearly wanted to avoid the topic altogether.
Yang Haoran slapped himself hard twice across the face, then put on a cheeky smile to apologize to his mother: “Mom, I was wrong. I’m a pig-head, a big pig-head.”
The crisp sound of the slaps rang out before Liu Ruoxi could stop him. Seeing the faint red handprints on her son’s face, her anger only intensified. She scolded him furiously, “Who told you to hit yourself? We were just talking—do you think slapping yourself will make Mom happy and make me accept that you’re a pig-head? It seems your brain isn’t filled with water; it’s filled with paste.”
Faced with his mother’s rage, Yang Haoran didn’t dare make a sound. He had only punished himself to show his mother how seriously he was taking his mistake—who knew it would make her even angrier?
After his mother finished reprimanding him, Yang Haoran timidly asked, “Mom, can I speak now?” Seeing her son’s pitiful expression, Liu Ruoxi sighed and said, “Let Mom teach you something. If you want to win Mom’s favor, remember: less talking, more doing. The more you talk, the more mistakes you make. Punishing yourself only makes me think you’re psychologically immature—it’s a childish behavior. When interacting with the opposite sex, you need to understand proper boundaries. Know when to advance and when to retreat. Learn to read the situation. If you endlessly try to please the other person, they won’t think highly of you. Instead, they’ll think you need them, that you can’t live without them. They’ll take you for granted, and you’ll end up with nothing.”
“Of course, Mom isn’t teaching you how to have a puppy love or how to chase after girls. I am your mother—there’s nothing wrong with you trying to please me. The mistake lies in your method.”
Yang Haoran said plaintively, “Then what method should I use to please you?”
“Weren’t you quite clever before? How come you don’t know now?” Liu Ruoxi shot her son a sidelong glance.
“But you’re lying in bed right now. I can’t give you a back rub.”
“That’s the limitation of your thinking. Mom is lying down—couldn’t you say you want to massage Mom’s shoulders? If you say that, would Mom really refuse?” Yang Haoran’s eyes lit up, and he immediately put this lesson into practice: “Mom, I want to massage your shoulders. Can you sit up?” He looked at his mother expectantly, only to be met with an eye-roll. “No.”
“Then it still doesn’t work.”
Yang Haoran felt like crying. “I’m teaching you this not so you can please Mom, but to teach you how to think and solve problems.”
Worried her son wouldn’t understand, Liu Ruoxi explained further: “Thinking has its limitations. When you encounter a difficult problem, use your brain more. It’s not that using your brain will necessarily lead to a solution, but it helps you develop the habit of thinking. For many things, you’ll naturally start to consider how to do them, how to solve them. The more you think, the more your mind will expand. Then you’ll realize that many things aren’t actually that complicated and are quite easy to resolve.”
Yang Haoran listened and began to ponder: How could he please his mother while she was lying in bed? After spacing out for a moment, he lowered his head in frustration. This wasn’t something he could learn in a short time.
Still, he took his mother’s words to heart, and they had some effect. He comforted himself inwardly.
Seeing that her son seemed to have taken her words seriously, Liu Ruoxi finally felt a bit more at ease. She then waved him off: “Alright, no need to stand around here anymore. Go back and tell your dad I’m fine.”