CS - 17

How could there be someone as boring as Chi Yao in this world???

He was so bored that he even went out of his way to change his in-game username just to mock her.

The next afternoon, after finishing lunch, Lin Zhe Xia went over to Chi Yao’s place to confront him: “You changed your game name. Now, immediately, change it back.”

Chi Yao was filling a glass with water in the kitchen. Holding the glass casually, he said indifferently, “Fine.”

Just as she was wondering why Chi Yao was being so agreeable today, he added:

“A name-change card costs five bucks. Pay me, and I’ll change it right away.”

“…”

“Why aren’t you talking?”

“…”

His voice remained calm as he pressed further: “WeChat or Alipay?”

“…”

“Cash works too,” Chi Yao extended a hand, leaning slightly toward her. “Pay up.”

Lin Zhe Xia stared at his outstretched hand. After a moment of silence, she said, “Actually, I’ve suddenly realized that ‘Little Pig Drowning’ is a pretty good name. You can keep it.”

“It’s cute, like a pig.”

Unwilling to shell out the five bucks, Lin Zhe Xia quickly moved on from the topic.

A few minutes later, she was curled up on the sofa under her blanket, scrolling through her phone. Changing the subject, she said, “I bought something. I used your address. When it arrives in a few days, can you help me pick it up? And remember, this is a secret between us—don’t tell anyone.”

Chi Yao: “Beg me.”

“Please, please!”

“‘Please’ who?”

“No, I meant, please, the most handsome guy in the world.”

“My mom’s birthday is coming up soon,” she continued. “It’s a surprise gift for her. If anyone finds out beforehand, it won’t be a surprise anymore.”

Lin He’s birthday was next week.

Every year, Lin Zhe Xia prepared a small gift for her. Chi Yao didn’t ask any more questions.

Since Lin Zhe Xia’s interest in gaming hadn’t faded yet, they occasionally played together during the few days while waiting for the package to arrive.

After a few days, Lin Zhe Xia had become more familiar with the game and could occasionally pull off some decent moves without dragging Chi Yao down.

During one session, a classmate she wasn’t particularly close with sent a request to join their team: “Oh, you play this game too? Let’s play together next round!”

“I have a classmate who wants to join,” Lin Zhe Xia said, lying on Chi Yao’s couch. “Should I let her in?”

Chi Yao didn’t react.

Lin Zhe Xia clicked “Accept.”

Seeing classmates online and inviting them to play together was perfectly normal.

The girl’s voice came through the team chat: “Hi, Xia Xia.”

Lin Zhe Xia greeted her back.

Chi Yao didn’t turn on his mic, remaining silent like a professional carry player hired to boost the team.

The classmate asked, “Why isn’t the other person talking?”

Lin Zhe Xia: “Don’t worry about him. He’s mute.”

“Huh?”

Since Chi Yao wasn’t using his mic, Lin Zhe Xia made up an excuse: “His phone broke, and his family is poor. It’ll take a while before he can get a new one that supports calls.”

“…”

The match ended quickly.

After effortlessly winning alongside the girl, she remarked before leaving: “Your friend is really strong.”

Then she asked, “Which classmate from our class is this? I don’t think I’ve added them as a friend.”

Lin Zhe Xia fell silent for a moment, unsure how to explain that the person she’d been playing with was Chi Yao from Class One.

In the end, she could only say, “…Not from our class.”

________________________________________

A few days later, the deliveryman arrived at Chi Yao’s door: “Is ‘Chi Yao Big Stupid Pig’ here? Sign for the package and write your name here.”

The package was small and light.

Chi Yao, who had just woken up, took the pen from the deliveryman without much expression.

After the deliveryman left and Chi Yao closed the door, he smirked faintly and muttered, “Childish.”

Lin Zhe Xia, who had been keeping a close eye on the logistics of her gift, rushed over to Chi Yao’s house in slippers: “Did my package arrive—”

“It’s here,” Chi Yao replied, preparing to head back to his room to continue napping. Before turning away, he stood by the door and warned her, “If you use such ridiculous names for future deliveries, don’t blame me if I throw your stuff out one day.”

Lin Zhe Xia: “You were the one who changed your name to insult me first.”

Chi Yao: “Which word did I use to insult you?”

“You’re sneakier than me when it comes to insults,” Lin Zhe Xia said. “You didn’t use a single swear word, but you still managed to offend me.”

Chi Yao sneered: “Do I need to praise your straightforwardness now?”

“Sure,” Lin Zhe Xia waved dismissively. “I’m just that kind of honest person.”

With that, she crouched by the entrance of Chi Yao’s home to open the package. Then, with great seriousness, she pulled out…

A ball of yarn.

Besides the yarn, there were also a few thin knitting needles and a small booklet titled How to Knit a Scarf.

To avoid Lin He discovering that she was knitting, Lin Zhe Xia could only secretly work on it at Chi Yao’s place.

At first, she was excited, exclaiming, “This gift is perfect! Practical and creative. I’m like her little cotton coat. Once I finish knitting it, it’ll keep her warm all winter!”

But this enthusiasm didn’t last more than three days.

Because knitting a scarf was, quite frankly, very difficult.

She had always been terrible at hands-on tasks. Back in middle school, during labor class, she struggled for a week to complete a plaster assignment and eventually begged Chi Yao to finish it for her.

And knitting a scarf? That level of precision was far beyond her.

She watched the tutorial videos where people breezed through the process in no time, while her hands felt like malfunctioning robotic arms—completely uncooperative.

The video looped endlessly: “Cast on… Skip the first stitch, place the yarn on the right needle, and transfer the second stitch from the left needle to the right needle…”

“…”

Math problems seemed easier than this.

After listening to it once, Lin Zhe Xia silently dragged the progress bar back to the beginning: “Cast on…”

She sat on the carpet, surrounded by balls of yarn.

Chi Yao lay on the couch taking a nap, still covered with her flowery-patterned blanket.

The black sweater he wore clashed uniquely with her dainty floral blanket—it was jarring, yet somehow naturally harmonious.

The air conditioning kept the room warm.

After hearing the phrase “cast on” for the fifth time, the person on the couch slowly opened his eyes.

“Lin Zhe Xia.”

Lin Zhe Xia, overwhelmed by the tutorial, didn’t have the energy to deal with him: “What do you want?”

Chi Yao raised a hand to shield his eyes, incredulously asking, “You still haven’t learned?”

Lin Zhe Xia snapped back: “I’ve only watched it five times. It’s hard, okay?”

“Hard?”

He said, “Five times? You should’ve memorized it by now.”

Lin Zhe Xia put down her knitting needles and looked at him, mimicking his tone: “Are you still half-asleep?”

“If you’re not awake, I suggest you go back to sleep. This isn’t a dream, so don’t act cool. Lightning might strike you.”

Chi Yao ran a hand through his hair, then sat up.

One of them sat on the couch, the other cross-legged on the floor.

Lin Zhe Xia tilted her head up. From this angle, his legs looked even longer. Her gaze shifted upward, taking in his sharp jawline and the slight movement of his Adam’s apple as he spoke.

The boy’s voice was tinged with sleepiness: “Give me the needles.”

…

Was he really planning to show off?

Lin Zhe Xia gritted her teeth.

She didn’t believe for a second that he had mastered it just by sleeping and listening.

“Fine, you try,” she handed him the tangled mess of yarn. “Let’s see how you knit.”

Chi Yao took the tangled yarn, unraveled the part she had knitted, and started over.

After re-preparing the needles, he hooked the thin thread with his fingers, adjusted his grip, and with a few casual movements, successfully cast on.

As he knitted, he figured things out along the way. Twice he stumbled, but after undoing a few stitches, he quickly finished a row.

The beige yarn was neatly wrapped around the needles, almost identical to what was shown in the tutorial.

Chi Yao lifted his eyelids slightly: “Did you see that?”

“…”

After a long pause, Lin Zhe Xia refused to admit defeat: “Nope, I’m blind.”

Upon hearing this, Chi Yao paused his movements.

Then he stood up, slipped into his slippers, and squatted in front of her. Even at this height, their gazes didn’t meet due to the difference in their heights. He shoved the needles into her hands: “Here, hold this.”

When Chi Yao squatted, Lin Zhe Xia’s gaze inadvertently landed on his unbuttoned collar.

She absentmindedly held the needles and asked, “What now?”

Chi Yao reached out and adjusted her posture: “Now I’ll teach you, little blind girl.”

Teaching knitting required hands-on guidance.

The boy’s fingers rested on hers, guiding her as she looped the yarn.

Chi Yao’s fingers were longer than hers, completely covering them when placed on top. This contact was more direct and prolonged than any of their previous interactions.

Whenever she made a mistake, Chi Yao lightly tapped her knuckles with his fingertips.

“Blind people like you can’t see,” he said. “Your other senses should be sharper. Memorize the movements yourself.”

Lin Zhe Xia’s claim of being blind was obviously exaggerated.

But now, she couldn’t shake off a strange, indescribable feeling.

It was somewhat similar to being blind.

Because she truly felt her vision fading, while other sensations were amplified.

The warmth of his hands.

The subtle movements as he gently squeezed her fingers.

…

Even his shallow breathing.

Lin Zhe Xia’s fingers grew increasingly stiff, and she forgot even the steps she had previously memorized.

The air seemed to stop flowing.

Caught in the stagnant atmosphere, she felt uneasy.

Until Chi Yao noticed she kept making mistakes and stopped.

Seizing the moment to catch her breath, Lin Zhe Xia broke the tension: “You… You really didn’t secretly practice beforehand?”

Chi Yao raised an eyebrow, seemingly asking why he would bother practicing in secret.

Lin Zhe Xia said slowly, “Because you wanted to show off your superior scarf-knitting skills in front of me and crush me with your talent.”

After hearing her words, Chi Yao was silent for two seconds.

Then he said, “I did learn.”

“I started knitting scarves in a textile factory when I was one year old.”

“At three, I could knit fifty scarves a day and was an outstanding employee.”

“How’s that answer?” Chi Yao said. “If you’re not satisfied, I can come up with another one.”

“…”

Lin Zhe Xia shook her head: “No need. That story is already absurd enough.”

Chi Yao lowered his eyes to the tangled mess in her hands, exasperated: “Look at this disaster.”

Before he could finish, Lin Zhe Xia suddenly stood up.

“I—I’m tired of knitting.”

She stammered: “That’s enough for today. I’m going home.”

By the time Lin Zhe Xia left Chi Yao’s place, it was already dark outside. To cover something up—or perhaps herself—she rambled nonsense by the door: “Remember to hide the knitting stuff well. Don’t let anyone find it. If He Yang comes over, make sure he doesn’t see it… Though he probably wouldn’t tell anyone, I just don’t want him to know. No one should know. Keep it hidden.”

Without waiting for Chi Yao’s response, she turned and pushed open the building door, running back home.

Once home, she grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen to calm herself.

It must have been because she got too close earlier.

She wasn’t used to it.

After all, Chi Yao was still a boy.

Feeling awkward was normal, right?

Even the closest of friends would feel awkward sometimes.

Yeah.

Awkward.

She took deep breaths while sipping water.

As she held the cup, she accidentally noticed the bathroom light was on, and there were faint sounds coming from inside.

It seemed… someone was vomiting.

Dim light, soft retching sounds, followed by the sound of running water.

The lock clicked open.

Lin Zhe Xia met Lin He’s slightly weary face.

“Mom, are you feeling unwell?” she asked worriedly.

“It’s nothing,” Lin He said, surprised to see her. She smiled. “I must’ve eaten something recently that didn’t sit well. I’ll take some medicine, and I’ll be fine.”

In the past, Lin He had to juggle work and raising her alone, often skipping meals. For a while, her stomach issues were severe. Even though she had been trying to take care of her stomach, it hadn’t improved much.

Lin Zhe Xia didn’t think too much about it. She poured a glass of warm water for Lin He and reminded her, “Make sure you take your medicine. If you’re still not feeling well, I’ll go to the hospital with you tomorrow.”

Over the next few days, Lin He didn’t show any unusual symptoms.

Lin Zhe Xia reminded her a few more times, then continued working on the gift at Chi Yao’s place.

However, the scene at Chi Yao’s home was completely different from a few days ago.

Lin Zhe Xia had managed to knit two rows, but the subsequent steps became increasingly complicated, including intricate patterns. Unable to handle it, she decisively gave up, curling up on the couch with a bag of chips, acting as the supervisor: “You’ve done a great job on those two rows. Maybe you can work at a textile factory in the future. Keep it up.”

Chi Yao had several balls of yarn beside him, holding the needles with a cold expression: “Are you done resting yet?”

Lin Zhe Xia: “Not yet. I might need to rest a bit longer. Just keep knitting for me.”

“Three days of rest? Did you break your arm?”

“…”

“Internal injuries,” Lin Zhe Xia said. “They do require recovery.”

Chi Yao tilted his head slightly: “Whose gift is this supposed to be, anyway?”

Lin Zhe Xia: “Mine.”

Chi Yao: “So why am I the one knitting?”

Lin Zhe Xia carefully answered: “…Because, the capable bear more responsibility?”

“…”

“I really can’t learn,” Lin Zhe Xia, fearing he’d throw the needles at her, explained, “I really want to knit it myself. I even thought about changing the gift, but there’s no time now. The delivery won’t make it.”

And…

Chi Yao’s teaching method.

She didn’t have the courage to attempt it again, subconsciously avoiding the thought.

Before Chi Yao could sternly refuse, she tore a piece of paper from the workbook on the coffee table, scribbled two lines on it, and handed it to him: “Here, payment.”

Chi Yao assumed it would say something like “one million.”

Lin Zhe Xia had tricked him countless times with such “checks” when they were kids.

But when he took it, he saw the words “Wish Card” written on it.

Below it read: You can make one wish to me.

There was a note in parentheses: Murder is illegal, and coercion is not allowed.

He let out a soft snort but still tucked the wish card away.

Lin Zhe Xia finished her chips and started scrolling through her phone.

She saw a few messages from her classmate:

Classmate: What are you doing?

Classmate: Have you done that test paper for winter break homework? I want to compare answers with you.

Lin Zhe Xia wiped her hands and started typing: I’m at Chi Yao’s place watching him knit a scarf. The test paper isn’t with me.

Halfway through typing, she paused, then deleted the message.

Chi Yao’s reputation at school was that of someone no one dared approach.

Saying she was watching him knit a scarf…

It sounded kind of terrifying to this classmate.

Thinking about it, Lin Zhe Xia glanced up at Chi Yao.

It was hard to associate this face with the idea of knitting a scarf.

Even while knitting, the boy looked indifferent, his sharp features betraying a hidden edge. Those hands—hands that had thrown punches, broken bones, and left scars—were now holding knitting needles.

She felt a sudden jolt, quickly averting her gaze, and replied: I’m at a friend’s place. I’ll send you a picture when I get back.

Right after sending the message, Chi Yao noticed her lingering gaze: “Stop staring. It won’t help you learn.”

Lin Zhe Xia instinctively retorted: “Who’s staring?”

“It’s not the scarf you’re looking at,” Chi Yao paused briefly. “Are you looking at me?”

Lin Zhe Xia, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on: “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve seen your face for years. It’s not fresh anymore.”

Chi Yao finished the row he was working on, set the yarn aside, and leaned back lazily, cracking his knuckles: “My apologies. I forgot you’re blind.”

“…”

“Blind people not noticing obvious things is normal.”

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

Today’s Chi Yao knits scarves!

P.S., the knitting instructions are from Baidu Baike.