Burying her head in his arms, she shook her head, rubbing against him, her muffled voice: “…No.”

Ian Mitchell wanted to pry her hands away to see what was going on with her, but Mason Scott refused to let go, instead hugging him even tighter.

“Mason Scott!” His tone was helpless, not understanding why she was suddenly so clingy.

“If you act so spoiled at your age, people will laugh at you.” Ian Mitchell lowered his head and whispered in her ear.

Nonsense! She wasn’t!

“Um… I just want to see if the coat I bought is warm enough.”

Let her be. Ian Mitchell let her hold him, helplessly accepting the ambiguous or envious glances from passersby.

On a snowy night, in the bustling city streets, for the first time, Christmas actually felt like a holiday.

Chapter Twelve: So That’s How It Is

This year, the Lunar New Year came especially early. Christmas had barely passed, and in the blink of an eye, it was already Spring Festival.

Naturally, they had to return to Y City for the New Year. Y City wasn’t far from A City; usually, it only took a little over three hours by car. But with the holiday traffic, Ian Mitchell and Mason Scott set out in the morning and didn’t arrive in Y City until after one in the afternoon.

Noticing the person beside him had been quiet for a long time, Ian Mitchell couldn’t help but turn his head. She’d been nervous since yesterday—why did she seem fine now that they’d arrived in Y City?

Mason Scott was staring blankly out the car window, not even noticing Ian Mitchell’s gaze lingering on her for a long time.

A strange emotion flashed in Ian Mitchell’s eyes. After a pause, he suddenly called her: “Mason Scott.”

“Uh…” It took Mason Scott a moment to react. She turned and asked, “What?”

“Do you know how to play mahjong?”

Mahjong? Mason Scott wondered if she’d misheard.

“Auntie loves playing mahjong. If you don’t know how, she’ll probably be disappointed.” Ian Mitchell’s tone was casual, but he deliberately made it sound serious.

Mason Scott was stunned. The thoughts that had been swirling in her mind vanished, leaving only the word “mahjong.” “What should I do? I’m not very good at it.” Mason Scott was extremely frustrated. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I wasn’t prepared at all.”

“There’s still time to prepare.” Ian Mitchell’s lips curled into a faint smile as he parked the car.

“Mason Scott, we’re here.”

How long had it been since she’d had such a lively New Year?

Outside, snow was falling thickly. The sound of firecrackers echoed nonstop. The whole family sat together, eating New Year’s Eve dinner, listening to the elders’ endless chatter.

“You two are getting more and more unfilial as you grow up. One of you gets a boyfriend and doesn’t tell your mother, the other goes so far as to get married without saying a word…”

Amy Mitchell made a face at Ian Mitchell: “Mom, you’ve been saying that all afternoon.”

“It’s rare for the kids to come home. Let them enjoy a good meal and stop nagging.” Dad Mitchell said.

“I think you’re just tired of me…” Mom Mitchell turned to complain about Dad Mitchell, who, having feared his wife all his life, immediately put on a long face.

Over there, Zach Wright couldn’t understand the dialect and kept pestering Amy Mitchell to translate. Amy Mitchell, annoyed, watched as this grown man actually started to act spoiled.

Mason Scott listened with a smile. Having gotten used to cold and quiet New Years abroad, she actually felt too shy to speak in such a warm atmosphere.

After dinner, Mom Mitchell did indeed organize a family mahjong game. Ian Mitchell had already escaped to the study, and Amy Mitchell volunteered to do the dishes, so only the unresisting Dad Mitchell, Mason Scott, and the soon-to-be son-in-law took the table.

Mom Mitchell was a veteran with decades of experience, and Dad Mitchell, having been her sparring partner for just as long, was no slouch either. Amy Mitchell’s boyfriend was a businessman—calculating by nature. Poor Mason Scott, after so many years abroad, only had a vague idea of the game. Thrown in at the last minute, she lost miserably.

When Ian Mitchell came out of the study, he could hardly believe it: “In less than an hour, you managed to lose this badly?”

Mason Scott was mortified, mumbling, “Just bad luck…”

Ian Mitchell patted her shoulder and told her to get up: “Let me.”

Now it was a fair match. Mason Scott watched from the side, finding it more and more interesting, and refused to go to bed even after one o’clock. Ian Mitchell tried twice to send her off, but it didn’t work. Finally, he put on a stern face, and Mason Scott had no choice but to go to sleep.

That night, Mason Scott was half-asleep when she heard the door open. She turned on the bedside lamp: “Is it over? Did you win or lose?”

Ian Mitchell lifted the covers and got in, looking exhausted: “Auntie was the only one who lost.”

Mason Scott glared at him: “How could you three grown men do that!”

“The Mitchell Family Creed, there are no fathers and sons at the gambling table. Besides, Auntie won’t stop until she’s lost everything.” Ian Mitchell pulled her into his arms. “Go to sleep, I’m exhausted. It’s all your fault for not being any good.”

Mason Scott immediately felt terribly guilty. He was already so busy with work, and now he had to suffer this kind of torment during the holidays—so pitiful. So she obediently snuggled into his arms and stopped bothering him.

After a while, though, she felt his warm lips moving along the back of her neck. Mason Scott gasped softly: “Aren’t you really tired?”

“Mm!” Ian Mitchell’s voice was muffled. “I can be even more tired.”

On the morning of the first day of the New Year, Mason Scott woke up a little after seven, sat up to get dressed, but was pulled back into bed by Ian Mitchell.

“Why are you getting up so early?” Ian Mitchell said sleepily.

“To make breakfast… Let go.” Mason Scott tried hard to pry his big hand off her waist, but Ian Mitchell didn’t even move a finger. Mason Scott gave up in frustration. “Ian Mitchell!”

“Stay with me a little longer.”

Really! Mason Scott muttered. “Ian Mitchell, you’re acting a little strange today.”

Ian Mitchell’s body stiffened, and after a few seconds of silence, his voice sounded a bit unnatural: “How am I strange?”

“You’re just like a little kid.” Mason Scott complained.

Ian Mitchell’s fingers relaxed slightly. “Stop it, go to sleep.”

It seemed no one was up outside. Mason Scott gave in—she couldn’t break free anyway: “Then I’ll sleep a bit more.”

But… this sleeping position was really uncomfortable!

She closed her eyes for less than a minute before she started fidgeting again, trying to push away Ian Mitchell’s arm from under her head.

How could a girl be so restless in her sleep? Ian Mitchell opened his eyes: “Can you stop moving around?”

Mason Scott looked miserable. She wanted a pillow—it was softer and more comfortable.

“…Ian Mitchell, if we sleep like this, your arm will get really sore.”

She really did “think of him.” If he let her sleep on her own, they’d probably both catch a cold. Better to hold her tight so they could both sleep soundly. Ian Mitchell simply pretended not to hear, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

Mason Scott glared at him for a long time, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t fall asleep, so her eyes wandered around the room, finally settling on the handsome face in front of her.

Ian Mitchell… really was good-looking.

She secretly gave him a kiss, and finally started to feel sleepy, vaguely thinking she should get up earlier later…

But when she opened her eyes again, it was already past ten. Ian Mitchell was no longer in bed. Mason Scott hurriedly got up, dressed, and went out of the room. Ian Mitchell and Dad Mitchell were playing chess in the living room.

Mason Scott called out “Uncle” a little shyly. Dad Mitchell smiled and nodded at her.

Mason Scott walked over to Ian Mitchell and complained in a low voice: “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Mm, mm.” Ian Mitchell was holding a chess piece, his mind on the board. After making his move, he looked up and said, “Go help Auntie in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Mason Scott peeked into the kitchen. Only Mom Mitchell was busy inside. “Okay.”

When Mom Mitchell saw Mason Scott come in, she smiled warmly: “Xiao Sheng, you’re up? Did you sleep well last night?”

Mason Scott nodded quickly. She was probably the last one up—how could she not sleep well? “Auntie, let me do this.” She took the kitchen knife from Mom Mitchell and started slicing the meat into thin strips.

Mom Mitchell picked up some vegetables to wash and chatted with Mason Scott, talking about this and that. After a few sentences, she suddenly exclaimed, remembering something she should have asked earlier: “Look at me, so forgetful. Xiao Sheng, your parents-in-law are also in this city, right? When should we all get together for a meal?”

Mason Scott froze, almost cutting her finger. She bit her lip—should she say it? Looking up at Mom Mitchell’s kind and gentle smile, Mason Scott really didn’t want to lie, so she decided to tell the truth.

“My father…”

“Mason Scott.”

She was interrupted before she could finish. Ian Mitchell appeared at the kitchen door, his face a bit pale, jaw tightly clenched.

“You child! You startled me, suddenly popping up like that.” Mom Mitchell patted her chest.

Ian Mitchell’s expression softened a little, but his eyes were still tense: “Mason Scott, where did you put my coat? I can’t find it.”

“…Oh.” Mason Scott was dazed for a moment, then went to the room after washing her hands.

The coat was hanging right on the rack by the bed, in a very obvious spot—anyone would see it upon entering. Mason Scott stood in front of the rack, lost in thought, not sure what she was feeling.

Ian Mitchell took the coat from behind her.

“Don’t overthink it. I just don’t want them to have any ideas about you.” He sighed softly. “Mason Scott, you need to have a little more faith in me.”

There was a faint bitterness in his words that made Mason Scott feel a pang of sadness. She’d overthought things again.

“Ian Mitchell…”

“I’d rather you be a little careless and muddled, don’t think so much.”

Mason Scott looked up at him. “But then you’d find me troublesome.”

“At least you’re self-aware.” Ian Mitchell ruffled her hair. “You are troublesome.”

But he wouldn’t stop caring.