The crybaby nanny was bullied and cried again by her yandere husband.

Isa laughed out loud upon hearing this, her smile open and honest. Her exquisite makeup made her even more dazzling, and Lin Zhao unconsciously looked up at her.

"The Qing Dynasty is long gone. What era are we living in now? Clothing and dressing have never been about gender. If you like it and feel comfortable, that's the best way to dress."

As he spoke, he twirled around, his skirt swaying gently in the air, his posture composed and confident.

Lin Zhao stared blankly at him, seeing the confidence radiating from his face, and became even more timid. He spoke softly.

"Some people used to say that this was bad, that it wasn't like a proper man."

Seeing that his head had lowered again, Isa walked straight to his side and sat down, her fingertips lazily twirling her hair.

"Okay, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, is that alright?"

Lin Zhao nodded slightly.

"Can."

"First of all, what do you think a decent man is like?"

Thinking of the past insults and accusations, Lin Zhao pursed her lips and whispered.

"They said a man should act like a man, wear trousers, wear sturdy clothes, and not act weak or effeminate, and he shouldn't cry..."

He paused, his eyes quickly welling up with tears, but he quickly wiped them away and added in a very low voice.

"Someone like me doesn't count."

Seeing this, Shang Yu, who was in the corner, hurriedly wanted to come out, but Isa reached out and gestured for him not to come over.

He moved closer to Lin Zhao, took his hand, and touched his Adam's apple.

"Feel it, do you think I'm a man?"

Lin Zhao held a stranger's Adam's apple in his palm, which bobbed up and down. His face quickly flushed red. He looked up at the person in front of him. Although the man was handsome, he was indeed a real man.

He nodded slightly. Isha looked at the man in the corner, his face dark as he stared at her hand. She almost rolled her eyes to the heavens. Money was hard to earn, and life was tough.

She quickly let go of Lin Zhao's hand, and then asked him.

"So, do you consider me a decent man? Or what are your standards for judging a decent man?"

Lin Zhao looked at him, unable to explain himself either. In his mind, it really wasn't proper for a man to wear a skirt...

Seeing that he didn't speak, Isa knew what he was thinking, so she took out her phone and showed him some photos, all of which were of his clients.

Inside were all sorts of men. Some wore casual clothes, some wore skirts with exquisite outfits, some had a gentle and refined style, and others had a strong and assertive presence. There was a wide variety of outfits and appearances.

"I've been a stylist for so many years and I've met a lot of people. Look at them, everyone has a different style, but they all go about their work and their lives, and they're all living well."

"What's the point of having a uniform look for men? What they wear, whether they're gentle or not, doesn't matter at all."

"As for what you said about men not being able to cry, Xiao Zhao."

He changed his tone abruptly and asked a question.

"May I call you that?"

Lin Zhao was already immersed in these photos; everyone in them seemed different from the people he knew.

Hearing Isa say that, he quickly nodded.

"Can."

Isa found his dazed look amusing and couldn't resist rubbing his little face.

"Xiao Zhao, have you ever thought that everyone cries when they are born? If you don't cry, the doctor will make you cry. So the idea that men can't cry is simply not true."

Lin Zhao was stunned by his words. No one had ever said these things to him before. People would just tell him not to listen to others, that what they said was not important, or something like that.

But even if you say that, how can you not listen, not see, and not feel sad when it really happens to you?

His mind was in turmoil; his deeply ingrained beliefs were suddenly shattered, leaving him somewhat at a loss.

Her nose began to sting, and her eyes started to well up with tears. Seeing this, Isa lowered her voice and added another sentence.

"Xiao Zhao, these are the words I'm saying today, but the person who truly wants you to hear them is behind you."

After saying that, Isa stood up. Lin Zhao looked back sharply. Before Shang Yu could dodge, he simply stood up and stretched out his hand.

Lin Zhao paused for a second, then jogged over. Shang Yu caught her steadily, exchanged a glance with Isa, and then carried her upstairs in his arms.

Isa wasn't in a hurry; she took out her phone and sent a message to her dear husband.

He really liked Lin Zhao, mainly because she resembled his former self.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Upstairs in the bedroom, Shang Yu gently placed the person on the bed. As soon as he let go, the person held him tightly around the neck.

"Don't go..."

The boy's voice came through, choked with sobs. Shang Yu's eyes darkened. He knew that Isha was unreliable. Why did she make his baby sound so sad?

He knelt on one knee, keeping his eye level with him, so that he could hug him more comfortably.

The boy in his arms kept sobbing, and the wetness on his chest made Shang Yu's heart ache.

He reached out and stroked his back, gently helping him catch his breath, not in a hurry, waiting for him to calm down on his own.

After an unknown amount of time, the person in his arms stopped trembling. Shang Yu then took a tissue, gently cupped his chin with his thumb and forefinger, and wiped away his tears again and again.

Watching her husband's delicate movements, Lin Zhao couldn't hold back her tears. Her heart felt like it was filled with something bittersweet.

He lunged forward, cupped his face, and haphazardly kissed those thin lips.

Why do we say "nibbling"? Because the boy's movements were so stiff that his teeth hit Shang Yu's lips, causing him to gasp in pain.

The boy in front of her was completely oblivious to propriety; his eyes were red-rimmed, his eyelashes were wet with glistening tears, and he still had a sob in his throat.

He held Shang Yu's face tightly in his hands, his movements clumsy, yet it was as if he had grasped the only salvation, refusing to let go even a little.

Shang Yu stood frozen in place, his lips aching, with a faint taste of blood seeping out, but he did not push the boy away even half a step.

His once gentle eyes darkened, and he raised his hand to grab Lin Zhao's slender waist.

The next moment, the person who had been passively accepting the kiss took the initiative, her fingertips tracing the back of the boy's neck, deepening the kiss.

Lin Zhao, who had been holding his face, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her whole body against him, their chests almost touching. But it seemed that wasn't enough, and she kept trying to get closer.

This kind of dependence, this burning love, was something Shang Yu had never seen in Lin Zhao before. He was so excited that he almost cried, his desire growing stronger and stronger, and his actions becoming more and more intense.

He finally waited for the moment when the boy expressed his love, and although it was clumsy, he was happy to accept it.