TPIL - 23

Luo Andi gently pressed on the wool felt, ensuring it was firm yet bouncy enough to withstand a drop onto the table. She held it up for Qi Xiaochuan to see, her eyes squinting and her lips curving upward as she asked cheerfully: “How is it?”

Qi Xiaochuan stared at her, his mind short-circuiting like a malfunctioning computer or an experimental animal struck by electric shock, though outwardly he appeared unchanged. He said: “Live with me.”

She slowly placed the felting needle and wool felt back on the table. This wasn’t the kind of invitation one could casually make or respond to immediately. However, Luo Andi still replied without hesitation, her voice bright and sunny: “No, thank you. My current lease hasn’t expired yet.”

A rejection was expected, but dismissing it so lightheartedly with such a reason was somewhat peculiar.

Luo Andi had no intention of deflecting.

Her rental contract was signed for a year. Initially, she shared the apartment with someone else, but her roommate, not being a local, soon decided to return home due to the inability to adapt to the pace of life. Rent, transportation, location—there were many factors to consider when renting. She hadn’t found a better place and had even considered quitting her job. However, upon hearing about her plans to resign, the shop manager personally provided a subsidy to help her through the crisis.

The boss’s intervention couldn’t exactly be called ulterior motives. It was just that encountering an employee like Luo Andi was exceptionally rare. Not long after joining, the number of members doubled, with more than half spontaneously requesting her service. Luo Andi was an irreplaceable talent. Even the most obtuse employer could draw this conclusion. All other employees combined couldn’t match her. Exaggerating slightly, even if she sold white radishes with the absurd claim of being “immune to all poisons,” she might still become a sales champion. If affability was a talent, Luo Andi was undoubtedly a true genius.

He left the unfinished wool felt at the shop, registered it, and departed. As he left, she walked him to the door, smiling and saying, “Welcome back next time.” Qi Xiaochuan turned around, unconsciously supporting his lower back. His coat’s hem lifted, revealing the thin shirt underneath. Suddenly, he felt a tug. Turning back, he saw her holding the edge of his coat, her expression entirely unaware until she realized what she was doing. Startled, Luo Andi quickly withdrew her hand, laughing and apologizing: “Sorry.” Without nodding or shaking his head, he got into the car.

The driver came to pick him up, and during the entire ride, he remained silent. Unlike his most frantic times, he didn’t squeeze in work during the journey, nor did he engage in idle chatter. He simply gazed blankly out the window.

In truth, he himself was somewhat bewildered. Why had he suddenly proposed such a thing? As a child, he never thought that far ahead. However, while others took for granted that they would marry and have children, he had already diverged from that path. Living with someone was expensive and terrifying. A spouse was ultimately another living being outside oneself. No matter how much communication occurred, there would always be disagreements, arguments, compromises, and divorces. There was nothing astonishing about it. In summary, marriage was meaningless, with risks inevitably outweighing rewards. He had never considered living with anyone throughout his life.

Originally, it should have been this way.

Returning home, Qi Xiaochuan moved like a zombie, drinking water from a glass, walking into the room, and turning on the TV. He saw Bridget Jones’s Diary automatically resuming playback. This time, he didn’t question it as he had before. Opening the playback history, he saw neatly listed chick flicks, from Legally Blonde to High School Musical , from The Princess Diaries to The Princess Protection Program . Qi Xiaochuan felt his blood pressure rising but only muttered a brief complaint: “Will this ever end? —”

He walked back to the living room, forcefully pulling the door open, then leaned closer to examine the lock position for a long time. Afterward, he circled the room, checking the placement of items, verifying them up and down. Finally, he pulled out his PC, simultaneously retrieving the entrance surveillance footage and redialing the housekeeping company’s number.

Unluckily, the same operator from last time answered the call. Qi Xiaochuan recognized her voice and confirmed his judgment by her consecutive employee ID. Still resentful about being told “no evidence” and “just speculation,” this time he prepared sufficient evidence.

While operating the computer, Qi Xiaochuan argued relentlessly: “I arranged the cups at a 135-degree angle when I left, but now they’re at seventy-something degrees. The door was left slightly ajar, about four centimeters, and I specifically instructed not to clean this area, yet it was opened. Can’t even a fool tell someone touched my stuff?”

The customer service representative maintained her professional demeanor, countering flawlessly: “Perhaps our staff didn’t tidy up properly, and we apologize sincerely. But to conclude that our employees tampered with your belongings seems rather hasty, doesn’t it? Our employees undergo systematic training, so please rest assured.”

“How can I possibly rest assured? Are you being sarcastic? What if tomorrow my playback history changes from chick flicks to Annabelle ? I’ve done many guilty deeds; I’m terrified of ghosts.”

“Ho ho,” the operator interjected at a critical moment, “If I may say so, with your temper, perhaps even a partner wouldn’t want to live with you.”

As if slamming on the brakes, Qi Xiaochuan abruptly choked.

But admitting defeat so easily wasn’t his style.

Just as the operator rolled up her sleeves, ready to flaunt her victory, Qi Xiaochuan made one final inquiry: “...Give me your company’s email.”

At that time, smart home technology wasn’t widespread. Regardless, people accustomed to solitude who installed surveillance cameras in their rooms were definitely a minority.

He sent the surveillance footage of the female housekeeper bringing several friends to his room to watch TV, eat fried chicken, sing, and dance as an attachment.

For the following week, the housekeeping company actively tried to contact him. After returning from his business trip, Qi Xiaochuan finally found time to respond. Senior management personally brought the involved employee to apologize at his company. He went over during lunch break, having not eaten yet, and ordered Vietnamese takeout that hadn’t arrived, making him irritable.

Zhu Peijie didn’t appear to be someone who risked everything out of vanity. On the contrary, she had a face of purity, dressed plainly, exuding strong self-respect. Her senior at the housekeeping company smiled apologetically, trying to explain on her behalf, but was interrupted before she could speak. The young woman stood up, unexpectedly insisting on speaking herself. Her reasoning was indeed clear: roughly stating that she had a vain sister who lied about her family’s financial status to impress classmates. As the elder sister, she was momentarily blinded and used her position to cover for her, bringing her sister’s classmates to a client’s home where she worked part-time as a housekeeper to eat, drink, and play.

She apologized, but strangely, the person being apologized to felt no sense of forgiveness. Before Qi Xiaochuan could speak, Zhu Peijie’s eyes welled up, vowing solemnly: “Whatever losses incurred, no matter how long it takes, I will certainly compensate Mr. Qi.”

His phone vibrated. He glanced at it; it was the secretary informing him that the takeout had arrived. Qi Xiaochuan prepared to leave but sensed something subtle. Nowadays, some employees called him “Boss,” while others called him “Mr. Qi.” Titles were just titles, and it didn’t matter how they addressed him. However, as his business expanded, the title “Mr. Qi” increasingly reminded him of a wholesaler carrying a snake-skin bag across the country, evoking nostalgia for the past.

He suddenly turned around, frowning, and asked her: “Have I met you before?”

Zhu Peijie had kept her head bowed low but reluctantly raised it now. She seemed to swallow hard before replying: “It was a long time ago. I once helped you sell women’s clothing...”

Qi Xiaochuan suddenly remembered.

Back then, he frequently visited warehouses. When orders increased, he hired some employees to handle customer service or packing, providing food and lodging. Zhu Peijie was one of them. She came from a rural area but was beautiful, not getting along well with other girls. At that time, Qi Xiaochuan was just a student, younger than some employees. Girls ganging up could be terrifying, collectively accusing her of theft. The commotion woke up the boss, who was napping on a military cot.

Zhu Peijie’s hair was disheveled, her luggage thrown out, leaving her utterly disheveled. Other colleagues united against her, indignant, waiting to overpower her with sheer numbers.

However, Qi Xiaochuan had no patience for maintaining harmony or muddling through situations.

He directly questioned who lost the item, when it was lost, when Zhu Peijie had the opportunity, and whether she truly needed it. Listing each point and categorizing deductions, their accusations, baseless rumors, crumbled under scrutiny.

Ultimately, yawning, he concluded with “If you keep arguing nonsense, let’s all disband,” then returned to sleep.

Zhu Peijie always remembered him, this boss a year younger than her, more ambitious than anyone she’d met and equipped with matching abilities.

According to the housekeeping company’s regulations, dismissal and affecting future part-time jobs were the probable outcomes. Qi Xiaochuan intended to proceed accordingly; mistakes required accountability—it was only natural. However, he recalled similar incidents. While at Luo’s house, children attempting to use similar tactics to drive him and even the Qi family away never ceased. He indeed coveted wealth, but not Luo Andi’s family possessions. Nonetheless, poverty itself was a sin.

Among nicknames, “child bridegroom” wasn’t much. “Son-in-law by reverse marriage,” “pretty boy,” and “kept man” carried more insult.

Faced with various opinions, Luo Andi rarely refuted them. The few objections she voiced were invariably related to him. She always played the role of helping others. Unfortunately, despite her intentions, everyone still viewed her actions as kindness towards Qi Xiaochuan. Yet, perhaps it really was just her nature.

Too considerate, too gentle. If it were Luo Andi, she would surely do the same.

Finally, Qi Xiaochuan decided to forgive Zhu Peijie.

Returning to the office, the takeout had arrived, but he had no appetite. Instead, he desperately wanted to meet Luo Andi immediately.