Ever since I was little, I’ve had one burning question about my parents: why did other kids’ moms and dads call each other “honey” or “sweetheart,” while mine only ever used “Gege” and “Meimei”?

They weren’t siblings at all—just a normal married couple.

I’d asked Dad this many times, trying to dig up clues, but always failed.

Every time my thirty-something Dad heard the question, he’d put down his phone, flash me a weirdly eerie smile, then pat my head and say, “Why ask this, Tangtang? You’re just a kid. Be good—don’t pry.”

It never changed. Today’s attempt ended in failure again.

---

Ugh, adults are the worst!

After another defeat, I sat on my bed’s edge, pouting and sulking.

I’m grown up now—why do they always say I’m “too young” and brush me off with excuses whenever I ask about this?

My frustration grew. I spun around, grabbed a pillow, and flopped face-first onto the bed, burying my face to keep stewing.

Mid-sulk, a thought struck me.

I’d only ever asked Dad—he was hiding something. But I hadn’t asked Mom. She must know too.

After all, she calls Dad “Gege” in the sweetest voice.

Decision made: I’d get intel from Mom!

No time to waste. I tossed the pillow aside, slipped on my slippers, and tiptoed toward my parents’ room.

Dad was scrolling on his phone in the living room; Mom was likely tidying their bedroom.

I dodged Dad’s gaze, creeping up the stairs—thankfully, Mom’s soft-soled slippers muffled my steps. Otherwise, he’d have caught me halfway.

…Wait. I didn’t need to sneak like a thief. I could just walk normally.

I sniffed, embarrassed by my own stupidity.

Finally at their door, I pressed my ear to it. Faint humming drifted out—yep, definitely Mom!

She’d hummed that same tune since I was little, always cheerful while doing chores or daydreaming.

I never understood its charm.

I turned the knob and stepped in.

Sure enough, Mom sat on the bed, folding clothes and humming.

I waved. “Mom! I’m here!”

She—looking barely older than me—paused her folding, smiled up at me, and asked, “Tangtang, why aren’t you asleep? What brings you to our room so late?”

She finished folding, stood, took two steps, and sat back down on the bed.

I scooted close, snuggling against her, arms outstretched. “Mom, hug me!”

She shook her head, grinning. “How old are you? Still begging for hugs—shameless!”

I stuck out my tongue but stayed quiet.

She loosened her hold, and I clung to her like a little sloth.

“You!” She laughed, poking my cheek. “Spill it—what do you want this time?”

I remembered my mission, straightening my face seriously. “Mom, why do you call Dad ‘Gege’?”

Her smile froze. She sighed, then—just like Dad—patted my head softly. “Silly child. You’re too young. I’ll tell you later.”

Ugh…

Why won’t she tell me either?

Hurt, I pouted, wriggled free, and ran off.

Hmph! Fine—I don’t care anyway!

I dashed back to my room.

Someday… I’ll uncover the truth.

---

“What was Tangtang’s fuss about…?” Bai Su asked, holding a water glass.

“The little one? Nothing. Just curious about how we address each other,” Bai Susu murmured, tucking clothes into the wardrobe.

At that, a boyish grin spread across Bai Su’s face. He kicked off his slippers, scrambled onto the bed, and yanked Bai Susu down from behind in a sudden hug.

“What are you doing?!” she huffed.

“Tangtang reminded me—I’d forgotten. Since we married, you’ve called me ‘Gege’ less and less,” he teased, mischief in his eyes. “Come on. Call me ‘Gege’—in Japanese!”

“In your dreams!” Bai Susu rolled her eyes. “We’re adults—no silly pet names. No!”

“Refusing?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Fine. I just got back from a business trip… so prepare to stay in bed all tomorrow.”

“Ah! Bai Su, you pervert! Let go!”

“Will you call me?”

“Ugh… O… Onii-chan…”

“Awooo! Nope—still not letting you out of bed tomorrow!”

“What?! You liar!”

“Liar? Remember, Susu—you were tricked into marrying me!”