TPIL - 20

Qi Xiaochuan felt like the protagonist in the movie The Bicycle Thief . He was dirt poor, with several mouths to feed at home, and the only means of livelihood he had—his bicycle—had been stolen. With no one to turn to for help, his only option was to steal a new one, but he lacked even that skill. It was an embarrassing moment, unable to sit on the saddle, so all he could do was stand there and stare blankly.

If killing were legal, he probably would have unleashed a flurry of attacks on Zhong Shiwei, slicing him up like fruit. However, reality was different. He was literally “The Catcher in the Rye,” standing motionless, watching as a dramatic scene unfolded—like Lin Pinru getting a mole removed in Temptation to Go Home and transforming dramatically. Despite screaming internally, “This is so absurd!” all he could do was continue watching, powerless to intervene, just another ordinary viewer.

The male and female protagonists of this stage play were Zhong Shiwei and Luo Andi, completely unrelated to him. If there was any connection to be made, it would be that they were Emperor Wu and Little Swallow, while Qi Xiaochuan was Fu’ertai. Not long after the plot began, he went off to Tibet to become a son-in-law, barely intersecting with the main storyline.

Luo Andi pressed her hand to her face, smiling bashfully, and said: “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Zhong Shiwei replied, his sincere gaze fixed on her. “I’ll wait for you.”

Then he turned and walked out without hesitation, tucking a black helmet under his arm. Stepping outside, he swung his long legs over an expensive and impressive motorcycle, revving the engine and speeding off with great flair. The people left behind in Paradise Handmade Shop struggled to recover from their shock, casting curious glances toward Luo Andi.

A faint blush colored Luo Andi’s cheeks. A colleague winked at her teasingly: “This is crazy, like Find Yourself .” She shook her head vigorously, awkwardly waving her hands: “We’re still on work hours!”

Unexpectedly, someone beside her asked, “Are you not firing her for this?”

Luo Andi turned her head, as if suddenly remembering he was still there: “What did you ask me to consider earlier, Xiao Chuan?”

Considering whether or not to accept a confession seemed much simpler than deciding whether to go eat a meal. Qi Xiaochuan’s decisiveness came too late: “Will you come over to my place for dinner? My parents miss you. Do you remember them?”

“Uncle Qi and Aunt Qi? Sure, I’ll definitely come.” True to form, Luo Andi agreed without hesitation.

She had to work until evening that day, so Qi Xiaochuan ate something and left. As he stepped out of the shop, he found the wind unusually biting and cold.

Back home, he washed up and wanted to collapse into bed immediately. Turning on the TV, he didn’t watch it. He was unfastening his belt, preparing to enter the bathroom when suddenly, the lively sounds and flickering lights caught his attention. Qi Xiaochuan took a few steps back, first relying on his hearing, then turned around, staring intently at the TV screen.

After a long moment, he impulsively pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

During the call, the discussion revolved around this issue. Qi Xiaochuan insisted that the last time he turned off the TV, he was watching a paid broadcast of a billiards tournament. Now, inexplicably, it had switched to the famous chick-flick The Princess Diaries , playing both the first and second installments consecutively. The housekeeping company clearly thought he was someone with paranoid tendencies, accusing him of being unreasonable and hindering their work.

“I don’t believe entrusting someone to clean my house grants them permission to tamper with my belongings,” Qi Xiaochuan paced back and forth. “You should thoroughly investigate your employees.”

The other party responded: “Perhaps you forgot that you changed the channel last time?”

“Are you joking? Or are you the type who can’t even remember what you had for breakfast? My memory might be better than yours. At least I recall that exactly this time last year, I was in Spain looking at an exhibition, holding a bottle of BEZOYA water, and asking the translator why it tasted so strange.”

“…I’m very sorry, but you might be mistaken. I’ll record your issue, and if there’s any follow-up, we’ll contact you again.” The customer service representative couldn’t admit such an error, so they stuck to the script.

“Follow-up? When? During the Spring Festival Gala when they cancel the chorus of ‘Unforgettable Tonight’?”

Qi Xiaochuan suddenly recalled encountering Su Yining at a summit before. Su had taken a private call afterward, possibly from a riding club or insurance company—it didn’t matter. Su Yining ended the conversation with the line, “Do you know who I am?”

That moment gave Qi Xiaochuan goosebumps. The scariest part was that he knew those words worked. And now, if he had enough nerve, he really wanted to drop that line, then hang up amidst the other party’s insults of “Who do you think you are, Li Ka-shing?” with three parts sarcasm, three parts indifference, and four parts nonchalance à la Ah Q.

He didn’t sleep well again. This time, he dreamed he was participating in group jump rope. Others jumped effortlessly, but he, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t keep up with the rhythm and could only stand aside, watching helplessly.

For some reason, he vividly remembered seeing Luo Andi’s face. She was still a child, with two braids, laughing as she looked up during a jump, sunlight kissing her cheeks.

The young girl radiated a warm, orange glow.

The next day, Qi Xiaochuan arrived at the office two hours early. While everyone else was chatting and laughing their way to work, he had already rolled up his sleeves and come downstairs to chase down documents. Casually, with an expressionless face, he picked up the arm exerciser in the communal area, twisted it to its limit, then released it and tossed it back into place.

The office chat group was immediately flooded with messages like “Gamera Returns,” “The Great White Shark Reborn,” and “The Boss Has Regressed Back to Elementary School Chicken.”

An employee still in their probation period, not fully aware of the situation, accidentally asked in the project group where the person in question was also present: “Who is Elementary School Chicken?” Dead silence followed, quieter than after a nuclear bomb detonates. Qi Xiaochuan saw it but, unable to find a three-section staff, had to abandon thoughts of revenge.

Having informed his parents that Luo Andi would visit, the two elders were thrilled, as if preparing to host foreign dignitaries. They cleaned the house and bought groceries, nearly hanging ribbons and installing an inflatable arch at the entrance.

Qi Xiaochuan had almost forgotten how he felt upon learning Luo Andi didn’t have a boyfriend. What remained more vivid in his mind was her response to Zhong Shiwei: “Let me think about it.” Witnessing that scene, he only had three words in his heart—”Why,” “Me,” and “Go”—plus a question mark. But upon reflection, he realized that to her, he truly was nothing.

Because they had agreed beforehand, she had already prepared, changing out of her shop uniform into a sleeveless solid-colored top and a pencil skirt. Her long, curly hair was tied up neatly at the back, like an elaborately arranged flower bed.

Such was Luo Andi when she said: “Xiao Chuan.”

Qi Xiaochuan opened the car door for her, settled her in, and then returned to the driver’s seat. Since they were going back to his hometown anyway, and future arrangements were uncertain, he decided to drive himself.

Luo Andi candidly admitted without reservation: “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Uncle Qi and Aunt Qi. I feel a bit nervous.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?” He suppressed the urge to tell her, “You look very beautiful today,” continuing with a stern face: “They’ve prepared your favorite dishes from before.”

Perhaps only Luo Andi could be so straightforward yet give no sense of arrogance, smiling like soft tulle: “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to eat.”

Encountering several red lights along the way, the waiting time wasn’t short. Qi Xiaochuan asked her: “Did that person come by again?” He meant Zhong Shiwei.

How could Luo Andi possibly know whom he ambiguously referred to? After pondering for a few seconds, she made a judgment and, without overthinking it, confidently replied: “You mean Mr. Su? He came by. A few days ago, he brought gardenias, which he cut himself from his garden with scissors. They were very beautiful.”

“Su Yining came too?” Qi Xiaochuan momentarily lost control of his tone, pausing briefly before explaining: “We don’t get along well at work. How did you meet him?”

Luo Andi hadn’t expected him to be unaware, given how familiar they seemed when they first met. Surprised, she explained: “You don’t know? He and the boss are friends, introduced through mutual acquaintances. He helped a lot during the early days of Paradise Handmade. Perhaps he even invested some money—I’m not sure. We only see each other occasionally.”

Her nonchalant tone irked him: “You’re too trusting.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you feel he treats you differently? Always hovering around you.”

She continued to smile carefree: “No, anyone can come to the shop. The things he gives me, others receive too.”

“But didn’t he invite you to dinner? Does he do that for everyone? Does he have that much free time to take every single person in your shop out individually?”

“Well… I’m not sure about that, but he’s a nice person.”

“How do you know?” Qi Xiaochuan’s tone was light. “Stop being so naive. Just because someone invites you to dinner doesn’t mean you should go.”

Luo Andi gazed at him silently for a long time. After a while, she softly laughed, saying listlessly: “So if Xiao Chuan invites me, can I go?”

He was instantly struck speechless, hesitating greatly before replying haltingly: “…That’s because I don’t have any ulterior motives towards you.”

She didn’t rush to respond. Her phone rang, and Luo Andi answered it—it was work-related. A customer privately booked a class with her, and she quickly jotted it down, sending the details to a colleague after hanging up. Their previous topic was quietly dropped.

The two entered the house. Qi Xiaochuan’s face was grim, while Luo Andi’s was radiant with smiles.

His parents eagerly greeted them at the door. Upon seeing Luo Andi, Qi’s father teared up, and his mother burst into tears on the spot. The scene descended into chaos—hastily handing out tissues, sulking bystanders, discovering fish still simmering on the stove. Everyone was in a flurry.

When they were young, the servants at the Luo household would also address Luo Andi as “Miss,” with exaggerated and petit-bourgeois sentimentality: “Miss, how have you been? Finally, we meet again.”

“Andi, knowing you were coming, Uncle hasn’t slept well. He even considered driving to pick you up. It’s been a while since you’ve ridden in Uncle’s car, hasn’t it?”

Qi Xiaochuan observed everything coldly, silently feeling it was time for him to leave again. He wasn’t good at handling lively, warm, or sentimental atmospheres—he couldn’t blend in, nor adapt. Just as he was about to leave, he heard himself dragged into the fray.

“Andi,” Qi’s father was always Qi Xiaochuan’s nemesis, whether wielding objects to punish children or simply using words, “Xiaochuan misses you a lot too.”

Qi Xiaochuan gritted his teeth: “When did I—”

The next second, he was pushed aside as Qi’s father earnestly continued: “Back then, he was always so stubborn, suffering silently, doing foolish things. He was a bit better when he was with you. Andi, he likes you so much, despite being so pathetic. You’re his savior.”