TBW - 20

20. How warm… Two patches of livor mortis faded away.

Shi Ying hesitated before Cheng Simin’s clothes, hastily hung the towel, and retreated back to the sofa to sit down.

Initially, he sat facing the balcony, but no matter how he tried to avoid it, his gaze inevitably landed on Cheng Simin’s boxer shorts. Though their design was rather frigid, he still cleared his throat twice and moved to the other end of the couch under Beibei’s watchful gaze.

He sat there, his eyes scanning Cheng Simin’s living space.

Cheng Simin’s home exuded her quirky personality. Though their public rental apartments shared the same layout and square footage, her living room appeared much larger than his.

Vividly colored decorative paintings, star-shaped bead curtains, a trash can designed to look like a milk bottle, and thriving snake plants and ponytail palms placed in front of pale pink blinds—all contributed to a lively atmosphere, brimming with evidence of a life well-lived.

In addition to bold and playful soft furnishings, Cheng Simin’s home boasted trendy appliances. By the entrance, piles of unopened delivery boxes lay stacked on the doormat.

Shi Ying’s eyes roamed, but his hands weren’t idle either. Initially, he intended to drape them loosely over his knees, creating an aura of languid beauty. However, Beibei wouldn’t let him pose alone, constantly shoving his snout under Shi Ying’s arm for attention.

Thus, he resumed giving the dog a free massage. Beibei, thoroughly enjoying the pampering, plopped his butt squarely onto Shi Ying’s foot and rested his head on his thigh, gazing intently at him.

Weighing forty pounds, Beibei felt like a sack of rice pressing down on Shi Ying’s foot. He subtly tried shifting several times, but to no avail. Though the dog’s eyes were fixed on his face, its butt was remarkably agile, automatically following the movement of his lower body.

Despite multiple attempts to free himself, the warm, furry butt always landed precisely back on his foot.

Fortunately, the massage session didn’t last long—no more than five minutes. Soon, Cheng Simin emerged from the bathroom, her head wrapped in a dry towel.

Seeing Beibei snuggled up close to Shi Ying, she laughed. “Don’t pet him—he’s clingy. Once you start, you can’t stop unless you give him a treat!”

Cheng Simin snapped her fingers and tossed a small treat to Beibei. At the sound of the snap, Beibei immediately abandoned Shi Ying, leaping into the air to catch the snack before trotting off to the bedroom to eat it.

Watching Beibei’s hurried departure, Shi Ying’s right eyelid twitched.

So this was how it was—Beibei had been playing him all along. The affection was real, but not particularly deep.

Cheng Simin got to work boiling water at the stove, standing in front of the gas range to cook the dumplings. Freed from his earlier “captivity,” Shi Ying walked over to the kitchen entrance, attempting several times to squeeze in and lend a hand.

However, the public rental apartment’s kitchen was tiny, barely enough space for one person to maneuver. If he entered, there would inevitably be physical contact with Cheng Simin. Out of gentlemanly courtesy, Shi Ying politely remained at the doorway, observing and learning Cheng Simin’s technique for cooking frozen dumplings.

She explained: once bubbles formed at the bottom of the pot, the cold dumplings were added. A small spoonful of salt was sprinkled into the boiling water to prevent sticking. After bringing the water to a boil over medium heat, half a bowl of cold water was added. This process was repeated three to four times until the dumplings were cooked.

As Cheng Simin spoke, Shi Ying listened attentively, occasionally chiming in with agreement to make her feel more accomplished.

On the surface, he appeared respectful and eager to learn, but truthfully, Shi Ying had already mastered these methods abroad. Cheng Simin might have had firsthand experience helping her mother with household chores as a child, but Shi Ying, though a late starter, had gained his expertise through trial and error in rented apartments—cooking dozens of pots of meat-filled noodle soup.

By the time the water had boiled twice, Cheng Simin turned around and saw Shi Ying still obediently standing at the kitchen entrance, feigning earnest curiosity.

“Ah, these little tricks are nothing,” she thought, slightly embarrassed. Quickly grabbing a pair of chopsticks, she poured some vinegar into a small glass bowl and handed it to him. “Don’t just stand there—take this to the sofa and sit down. The dumplings will be ready soon.”

“Alright. Thank you so much—it’s so kind of you to cook dumplings for me on such a hot day.” Shi Ying was deeply moved.

“It’s no big deal,” Cheng Simin thought to herself. It’s all about making money—it’s only natural.

Step by step, Shi Ying made his way back to the living room, setting up the bowls and chopsticks. But before his butt even touched the sofa, he turned back toward the kitchen, leaning in to chat with Cheng Simin. “Your place is decorated so stylishly—I feel like such a country bumpkin. I’ve never seen some of these appliances before.”

He was referring to the Bluetooth honeycomb lamp on the wall and the sweeping robot on the floor. Truth be told, Cheng Simin hadn’t bought these items herself. Since moving into the public rental apartment, she had diligently posted updates on her social media.

Initially, she created the account out of loneliness, documenting her struggles after quitting her job. But as she settled into her new home and began decorating, her follower count grew steadily with each small addition to her space.

By Day 189 of her “Little C’s Retirement Handbook,” she had amassed 5,000 followers. In addition to the nickname “C Treasure” given to her by regular commenters, she received her first business collaboration offer via private message. That’s how she ended up with the robotic sweeper-mop combo—a product she would never have purchased with her own money.

Soon after, she exchanged reviews for other products, receiving an ambient light, a floor washer, and various soft furnishings now scattered around her home.

For now, the joy of running her social media account outweighed the financial rewards. Most of the ads she accepted involved free trials and feedback-based promotions—in short, goods without cash compensation.

This wasn’t something worth bragging about, so Cheng Simin didn’t share her “side hustle” with Shi Ying. Instead, she modestly smiled and replied, “Not really—it’s just that you probably don’t use domestic social media much. These things are super trendy online these days.”

The same went for smart cooking machines, vanity mirrors, sunset lamps, checkered carpets, faux bird-of-paradise plants—just scroll through any lifestyle influencer’s page, and you’d find these items essential for staged photos.

Shi Ying nodded, glancing casually at the largest piece of furniture in the living room. “The sofa is really comfortable to sit on too.”

“Right? I think this sofa is great too! I bought it secondhand from a grandfather-grandson duo, and they even threw in a bunk bed for free!” Cheng Simin became animated as she spoke.

“Really?” Shi Ying struggled to suppress his laughter.

Thinking he didn’t believe her, Cheng Simin turned around while fishing out the dumplings and earnestly added, “What’s so funny? It’s true! At first, I thought the seller was a bit aloof, but they turned out to be so kind-hearted.”

“Yeah, sounds like good people,” Shi Ying said lightly, chuckling as he sat back down on what used to be his family’s sofa.

From the kitchen, Cheng Simin called out while searching for plates, “Exactly! Do you remember when I really wanted a bunk bed for a while? I wanted to invite you over for weekends during summer break. But my parents wouldn’t let me—they said we didn’t have an extra bed for you, and later they claimed it was because you were a boy. Looking back, I was so naive.”

No parent would allow a boy and a girl to have a sleepover party in the same room—even if they were the closest of friends, adults simply wouldn’t understand. Their thinking operated on an entirely different level.

Shi Ying’s gaze lingered on Cheng Simin’s bent figure as she searched for plates. Perhaps because she was hosting a guest, she wasn’t wearing her usual ragged clothes but had changed into a neat red-checked pajama set. Unfortunately, the top was a bit short, revealing a strip of soft, pale skin whenever she bent over. Not too wide, not too narrow—just the right curve, like lychee flesh, incredibly pleasing to the eye.

How could he forget the bunk bed Cheng Simin had mentioned?

Back then, Cheng Simin sighed endlessly about it, leaving elementary-school-aged Shi Ying feeling equally gloomy. By the time the bed was finally purchased, he still hadn’t figured out how to convince the adults to gift it to her. But then Cheng Simin told him she no longer needed the bunk bed because, no matter what, Shi Ying could never spend the night at her house.

The reason was simple: he was a boy, and she was a girl. As Mencius said, men and women should avoid undue familiarity.

Finally, Cheng Simin voiced her ultimate lament: “It’s all my parents’ fault for making me a girl. If only I were a boy too! Then not only could you stay over at my place, but I could also visit your house. Heck, I even thought we could become sworn brothers!”

“Never thought that the things I wanted as a kid would end up being mine when I grew up. Funny how life works, huh?” Cheng Simin carried the dumplings out of the kitchen. Shi Ying’s eyes were clouded with mixed emotions, but fearing he might give himself away, he quickly turned his head and pretended to fiddle with a stack of movie tickets on Cheng Simin’s table.

The ticket stubs were all single sheets, the most recent one from Ghost Festival night. Picking up his chopsticks, Shi Ying asked casually, “Did you go to the movies last Wednesday?”

Cheng Simin set the dumplings down and nodded. “Yeah, that night I got back from the cinema too late. There weren’t many Didi drivers around here, and I couldn’t hail a taxi either, so I messaged you, thinking we could share a ride.”

“But it’s fine now—I bought an electric scooter.”

Shi Ying’s chopsticks touched a dumpling but quickly retreated. He felt something off about the atmosphere but couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. His gaze drifted to the colorful stationery on the bookshelf behind Cheng Simin.

Scanning the items, he hesitated for a moment before asking, “Your stationery looks kind of familiar.”

Cheng Simin casually picked up her bullet journal and flipped it open to show off her hand-drawn illustrations. The notebook itself was beautiful, and the artwork even more so. Only Shi Ying’s face seemed to sour slightly as Cheng Simin added, “Oh yeah, it was for that Pinduoduo group buy. I asked if you wanted to join for pencils and watercolors, but you completely ignored me.”

Not a single dumpling had been eaten, yet Shi Ying’s spirit was already teetering on the brink of collapse. Still, his body clung to a sliver of hope. “What about the ice cream? Wasn’t that…?”

Surely it didn’t mean what he thought it meant?

“Mm-hmm, second cup at half price—who wouldn’t take advantage of that deal? It’d be silly not to.” Cheng Simin smirked mischievously, her playful expression brimming with mischief. “Not that you’re silly—you probably just don’t like sweets. But no big deal, I found a middle schooler nearby to split it with me.”

She then sighed genuinely, turning to Shi Ying: “Kids these days are so well-off! That kid was wearing AJ sneakers. Back when we were in middle school, only you could afford a full set of Nike clothes. The rest of us shopped at Chunhui Market for knockoffs: Kappa logos with the little men facing each other, Adidas with all Bs instead of stripes. Oh, and wow—didn’t you have an iPhone 6S in middle school?”

“If social media had been as developed back then as it is now, wouldn’t you have been the low-budget version of the ‘Wanliu Young Master’?”

Cheng Simin chattered on, tossing her dry hair towel back into the bathroom before heading to ladle some dumpling broth for Shi Ying.

“Soup helps digestion,” she called out cheerfully. “Drink a bowl of this—it’ll settle your stomach. You must be feeling better already.”

“Afterward, just scan me the money. One serving is 22 yuan. Not bad, right, old classmate? Beef’s expensive these days—even pork dumplings outside cost over 20 yuan per serving!”