All the Cubs I Raised Became Big Shots – CH91

Chapter 91

“…Driving?” Fang Huai rubbed the tip of his nose with a bent finger, looking puzzled. “I haven’t gotten my… driver’s license yet.”

He thought to himself—wait, is it a legal requirement to get a driver’s license before getting married? That doesn’t make any sense.

Back when he was doing construction work, he had learned a bit about operating excavators and tractors. Maybe that would help when he finally took his driving test?

Qiao An hadn’t expected Fang Huai to be completely clueless.

“Forget I said anything.” Qiao An sighed in exasperation. “You’ll understand when the time comes.”

“…Alright.”

Fang Huai didn’t push for answers. Instead, he silently added “learn to drive and get a license” to his to-do list.

“Isn’t your President Ye coming to pick you up?” Qiao An asked as they walked forward. “Do you want me to give you a ride—”

Just as they stepped out of the terminal, Qiao An abruptly shut up.

“BABY, LOOK AT ME!!!”

“HUAIHUAI, I LOVE YOU—WAAAHH, PLEASE LOOK AT MOM!!”

“Mr. Fang, can you answer a few questions—”

Flashes erupted like fireworks, and multiple microphones were shoved toward Fang Huai’s face.

Fang Huai: “……”

Qiao An: “……”

The entire airport was packed with fans waving banners and wearing support T-shirts. The staff tried to hold back the surging crowd but could barely manage.

Fang Huai’s assistant quickly opened an umbrella to block the cameras, while Shi Feiran finally caught up to them, shouting at Fang Huai to go back.

Fang Huai and Qiao An retreated back into the terminal.

Fang Huai had never expected such an enthusiastic welcome upon his return after three months away. His mindset was still stuck in the days when he was just an obscure, low-tier celebrity. Seeing so many people gathered for him in person left him momentarily stunned.

Am I… getting famous? Fang Huai wondered in disbelief.

“The Song of the Nameless” is wrapped up, Fang Huai said to Shi Feiran. Can I take a break now?

“Hold on a second.” Shi Feiran gestured for him to wait and answered his phone. “Hello? It’s me.”

As he spoke, he suddenly gave Fang Huai a strange look.

Meanwhile, Fang Huai and Qiao An were chatting. Qiao An asked why Fang Huai hadn’t let Ye Yuyuan pick him up.

“I didn’t tell him on purpose,” Fang Huai answered seriously. “I wanted to—”

Before he could finish, Qiao An’s eyes widened as he stared behind Fang Huai in shock.

“What are you thinking about?” A low voice sounded behind him.

The man hesitated for a moment before resting one hand on Fang Huai’s shoulder. His other hand slid from Fang Huai’s hair down the side of his neck, then finally grasped Fang Huai’s empty left hand.

The words in Fang Huai’s mind vanished instantly.

Under the airport’s terminal lights, he looked at Ye Yuyuan. It had been two weeks since they last saw each other—separated by an entire Pacific Ocean. Only now did Fang Huai realize just how much he had missed him.

For most people, passion gradually fades into something more subdued over time. But Fang Huai felt like his love for Ye Yuyuan didn’t follow that pattern. It was like a tiny spark that had slowly ignited, eventually setting his entire world ablaze.

It wasn’t until they got into the car that their hands finally separated. Ye Yuyuan hadn’t brought a driver today, so he had to drive himself.

“Teacher Ye, I missed you so much,” Fang Huai said as he looked at him. He wanted so badly to tell him everything he was feeling, but he couldn’t find the right words. In the end, all he could do was say, “You have no idea how much I like you.”

Fang Huai was never one for subtlety. Since they started dating, his words had always been direct and passionate—like a strong wine that left people intoxicated.

Even after all this time, Ye Yuyuan still found himself breathless because of it.

He curled his index finger slightly and, after a long pause, finally murmured, “Not that much, apparently.”

Fang Huai: “?”

“You got on a plane yesterday. And you’re only telling me now.”

Ye Yuyuan’s tone wasn’t accusatory—just calm as always. But for some reason, Fang Huai sensed a hint of dissatisfaction, like Ye Yuyuan cared about this more than he let on.

The truth was, Fang Huai had wanted to sneak back home first to pick out a ring and prepare for other things. He hadn’t expected Ye Yuyuan to find out so soon. But, of course, he couldn’t say that. So at the next red light, he leaned over and kissed Ye Yuyuan in an attempt to gloss over the issue.

In the end, though, he wasn’t sure if it worked—Ye Yuyuan still seemed a little unhappy.

*

When they got home, Fang Huai saw something unexpected.

“I just picked it up today,” Ye Yuyuan explained. “The restoration was completed last week, and the younger members of the Lin family brought it back.”

It was Lin Shuheng’s notebook.

During the typhoon, it had nearly been ruined by water. Ye Yuyuan was the one who had retrieved it, but the writing had already been blurred. He had immediately sent it to the proper institutions for emergency restoration.

The repair was finished last week, and after some discussion, the Lin family decided it would be safest for Fang Huai to keep it.

Fang Huai held Lin Shuheng’s notebook, unable to put his emotions into words. He truly wanted it, but in terms of both sentiment and reason, he had no justification to ask the Lin family for it. After all, to Lin Shuheng, Fang Huai was nothing more than a stranger.

That night, Fang Huai started reading the notebook.

He didn’t avoid Ye Yuyuan, but Ye Yuyuan also didn’t come over to look—he simply stayed quietly by his side.

Since it was Lin Shuheng’s personal notebook, Fang Huai initially felt he had no right to read it. But after flipping a couple of pages, he suddenly understood.

He understood why the younger generation of the Lin family had decided to give the notebook to him.

Lin Shuheng’s handwriting was as dignified and upright as the man himself. Just by looking at the strokes, it was easy to picture a young officer in uniform, standing tall as he carefully wrote each word. The text was a mix of traditional and simplified Chinese, but Fang Huai had no trouble reading it.

On the third page, there were only a few simple words.

“Written for Fang Huai.”

Fang Huai’s heart skipped a beat. He felt as if he were about to uncover something beyond comprehension.

It seemed impossible. He was only eighteen this year. Lin Shuheng had died decades ago—even Fang Jianguo had only been in his twenties or thirties at the time. Fang Huai shouldn’t have even existed back then.

He wasn’t sure how others would react to seeing those words, but to him, it was completely… illogical.

Suddenly, Fang Huai was afraid to keep reading.

In his memories, Lin Shuheng existed—so vividly, so undeniably real. But if all of that were true, then what did that make him?

Had he really lived for decades yet remained eighteen all this time?

Fang Huai had always been certain of his own age. He had grown up step by step, year after year, just like any other person. Except for the blurry memories before the age of four or five, the rest of his childhood had followed a normal timeline.

At six, he moved to the countryside in the mountains.
At seven, he raised a few small animals.
At eleven, he left the country with Fang Jianguo and lived in seclusion abroad.
At sixteen, Fang Jianguo was diagnosed with lung cancer.
At eighteen, Fang Jianguo passed away in a small clinic.

Fang Huai closed the notebook.

He needed time to process this. He wasn’t ready yet.

He had never encountered something so utterly unbelievable before. Had Lin Shuheng somehow foreseen that a child named “Fang Huai” would be born many years later?

Or…

Had he really lived for countless years without realizing it?

Had he already walked a lifetime’s worth of time, yet remained an eighteen-year-old boy, both in body and mind? Had time abandoned him?

Fang Huai didn’t want that.

He needed to be normal. He wanted to be normal.

He still had to propose to Ye Yuyuan. He wanted to spend his life with him.

Otherwise, it would be too cruel for both of them.

*

Fang Huai had rushed back to the country right after finishing filming because he had to attend the Silver Birch Awards.

The awards ceremony was set for late April—just a couple of days away.

Fang Huai had been nominated for six categories. Skipping the event wouldn’t have been appropriate.

Besides, this year’s Silver Birch Awards were particularly special—

The two people most likely to compete for the most prestigious award were Fang Huai and a rising foreign singer named Jason.

This was the first time a foreign artist had participated in the Silver Birch Awards. Before submitting his album for competition, Jason had already declared, “Aside from Duan Yang, all Chinese musicians are garbage.”

That one sentence instantly offended most of the Chinese music industry. But the awkward thing was… when you thought about it carefully, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The Chinese record industry had been in decline for years. Of course, art didn’t have rigid standards, but in terms of overseas sales, concert performance, and overall influence, things hadn’t been ideal. The legendary singers of the previous generation had aged, while new talent had yet to emerge, creating an uncomfortable gap.

At this point, only Duan Yang was holding up the industry. Overseas, the name “Duan Yang” had practically become synonymous with “Chinese music.”

The award ceremony was scheduled for the day after Fang Huai returned to the country.

He was nervous. A lot of people were.

This year’s Golden Tree Award would either go to Jason or Fang Huai—there was no third option. While many weren’t exactly fond of how quickly Fang Huai had risen to fame, the idea of a cocky foreigner walking away with the award was even more unbearable. It was a matter of national pride.

Online discussions were intense:

[It’s really up in the air this time. The judges aren’t showing a clear preference. If we go by sales and quality alone, Abyss Moonlight and Sin are on the same level. Honestly, Sin might even be more in line with current trends.]

[Let’s not forget, Jason has already won a Grammy…]

[I don’t even like Fang Huai, but I seriously hope he wins this time. Sigh. The domestic music industry has been declining for way too long. It’s painful to watch.]

[Setting aside personal bias, from an artistic standpoint, Abyss Moonlight completely outclasses Sin by miles.]

[Let’s take a moment to appreciate this guy’s actual words: ‘Honestly, the songs I wrote when I was six are better than anything in the Chinese music scene.’]

Jason’s attitude largely reflected how the international music industry viewed China’s record business.

They saw it as dull, outdated, and stagnant, propped up only by disposable idol culture. In their eyes, the songs produced weren’t even real music—just shallow, manufactured hits that were doomed to be crushed at any serious award show.

For Jason to win the Golden Tree Award would be like rubbing salt in the wound. It would be a public humiliation.

But if he lost, it had to be in a way that left him completely convinced—otherwise, he’d go around claiming the awards were rigged.

—

On the day of the ceremony, Fang Huai walked the red carpet alone.

Shi Feiran had advised him to bring a female companion, but he refused.

The Maybach stopped a short distance from the venue.

“Are you nervous?” Ye Yuyuan asked.

“A little,” Fang Huai admitted. Then, shamelessly taking advantage of the moment, he added, “If you kiss me, I won’t be nervous anymore.”

Ye Yuyuan didn’t respond. He simply lowered his eyes and adjusted Fang Huai’s collar.

Outside, the city lights flickered in the early summer night. Unknowingly, another summer had arrived.

Fang Huai thought Ye Yuyuan was still upset about him secretly returning to the country the day before. He felt a little uneasy. But after fixing Fang Huai’s collar and fastening the buttons neatly, before Fang Huai could react, Ye Yuyuan suddenly leaned down and kissed him deeply.

Fang Huai’s back pressed against the car window, his breath coming fast in disbelief. In the midst of the chaos, his hand accidentally brushed against Ye Yuyuan’s left hand.

With his eyes closed, he followed his memory, feeling his way to the base of Ye Yuyuan’s middle finger, and slowly slid off the jade ring.

Ye Yuyuan closed his palm, not wanting him to take it away. His lips pressed tightly together, as if he was feeling a little sad.

“It doesn’t fit,” Fang Huai whispered. “It’s too small.”

When he had given it to Ye Yuyuan, he never expected him to actually wear it all the time.

He had thought Ye Yuyuan would either hang it on a chain as a necklace or just keep it somewhere safe. As long as he held onto it, Fang Huai would’ve been happy.

He never imagined Ye Yuyuan would treasure it this much.

The ring size was obviously wrong—it dug into his flesh, leaving red marks. It looked painful.

Ye Yuyuan was silent for a long time before stubbornly saying, “Even if it doesn’t fit, it’s still mine.”

Fang Huai felt an aching sadness and didn’t know what to say.

He needed to find the perfect ring—one that fit just right, looked beautiful, and was comfortable to wear.

He wanted to replace Ye Yuyuan’s ring.

—With a diamond one.