TPIL - 27

I don’t know if others have ever experienced this—usually, one’s rationality feels as strong as an impenetrable fortress, yet at certain critically important moments, it inexplicably falters. Qi Xiaochuan could clearly sense his own discomposure. For instance, despite the somewhat extreme temperature fluctuations in Toronto, he somehow completely forgot to add a layer of clothing for himself, resulting in a splitting headache when they arrived at their destination. He strongly suspected that by morning, he would be suffering from a severe cold.

The drive took longer than expected, though it was also possible that Qi Xiaochuan had lost his way midway due to a lapse in judgment. In any case, by the time they arrived, there was no time left to see the nighttime waterfall. Ultimately, they didn’t even have time to eat dinner. Since they had already scheduled a check-in with the landlord, their plan to admire the illuminated falls had to be postponed. They first went to complete the check-in process.

The white landlord spoke English and led them on a brief tour of the house. Before leaving, his gaze swept over the two of them, accompanied by a faintly disapproving click of his tongue. Luo Andi, trailing behind, quietly leaned in and whispered in Mandarin: “The reviews said he doesn’t like couples under thirty-five.”

“Then why did he accept our booking?” Qi Xiaochuan retorted with his usual attitude. When he was in the right, he generally preferred not to consider the other party’s feelings too much—it was human nature to take advantage of every inch gained.

Only after the door closed and they were left facing the peephole and the hanging decorations did Qi Xiaochuan belatedly realize the misunderstanding they had tacitly agreed upon just moments ago.

The room was bathed in warm light, which reminded Qi Xiaochuan, oddly enough, of his childhood home. Of course, whenever his childhood came to mind, it was impossible not to associate it with Luo Andi. His home had been located within hers—not a particularly noticeable corner, but still technically a standalone building. He lived on the second floor, where the ceilings weren’t very high, but the atmosphere was cozy when it was cold.

Two beds were placed side by side in the same room. Qi Xiaochuan deliberately walked through the bedroom, the floor creaking underfoot. After Luo Andi finished washing up and drying her hair, she wandered around but didn’t see anyone. She sat down, spacing out for a while, and flipped through a French book on the bedside table—completely incomprehensible to her. When Qi Xiaochuan entered, he was carrying a first-aid kit; he had gone to fetch it because he was worried about catching a severe cold the next day. Instead of sitting on the bed, he leaned against the wall and rummaged through the kit for medicine to prevent typhoid fever. Qi Xiaochuan looked striking—he had rolled up his sleeves, and his overall demeanor was comfortable and pleasant. Yet here he was, standing stubbornly close to the wall despite the presence of both a bed and chairs in the room. Under the soft lighting, he unwrapped the medication and chewed on the tablet directly.

She watched him, initially intending to ask something else, but instead smiled and asked, “Isn’t it bitter?”

“Hmm?” He seemed not to have heard clearly, his brow furrowed. But then again, he often furrowed his brows even under normal circumstances.

“Isn’t it bitter?”

“A little,” he admitted. In truth, it was very bitter.

Luo Andi pulled out the nearby book and earnestly asked, “Do you know what this means?”

Qi Xiaochuan’s French wasn’t good. If Gao Jie had been there, perhaps she could have read a page or two for them. But all he could do was lean forward slightly, trying not to get too close to her, and squint at the text in the dim light for a moment. He finally said, “‘A Girl’s Memory.’”

She looked at him: “Hmm?”

He explained, “It’s the title of the book.”

“What’s it about?” she pressed.

He extended his hand, and she passed the book to him. Qi Xiaochuan’s reading and writing skills were slightly better than his listening and speaking, though his learning had only involved skimming through books belonging to colleagues during business trips. His excellent memory certainly helped. As best as he could, he paraphrased the publisher’s summary in simpler terms: “More or less... it’s about a woman going to a summer camp in another city and spending a night with a man.”

Her gaze caught his, but Luo Andi didn’t seem to dwell on the implications of the story. Instead, she silently deepened her smile. Qi Xiaochuan silently returned her gaze, unusually calm, and said lightly, “I’ll go put the first-aid kit back.” He walked out, and she returned the book to the shelf before slowly lying down. The bed was quite comfortable, but perhaps due to jet lag and having slept well on the plane, she didn’t feel particularly sleepy.

Qi Xiaochuan boiled water downstairs to make instant noodles. While waiting, he balanced his laptop on his knees and typed away. Just as the noodles were ready, he picked up his chopsticks to retrieve the cup. Before he could start eating, he noticed Luo Andi peeking into the room like a bat, half her face visible at the doorway.

She said, “You’re hungry, so you’re secretly eating something here.”

“...” He replied, “Not exactly secretly.”

Since she had already seen him, Luo Andi decided to come in fully. She bent down and sat beside him. He had only stirred the noodles twice and hadn’t started eating yet. After a moment’s thought, he pushed the cup toward her, tentatively asking if she wanted some. Luo Andi accepted it. Even after all these years and despite the drastic changes in their circumstances, her grace remained impeccable. Her grip on the chopsticks was particularly elegant, and she ate without making a sound—a fact that irritated him. When he took the cup back, the noodles were barely touched, and he naturally finished them off.

Luo Andi didn’t linger. She stood up, supporting herself on her knees, and cheerfully said, “I’m going to sleep now. You should rest early too!” Qi Xiaochuan took a sip of the soup, set the cup aside, and instinctively straightened his upper body to see her off, as if treating royalty.

The room fell silent. Opening the window brought in a cool breeze. Having eaten something, Luo Andi felt better and found her stomach more at ease. Finally, she turned to sleep.

Before closing her eyes, she lay flat on her back. When she opened them again, she was still in the same position. Luo Andi sat up, yawning as she checked the time. Surprisingly, she had slept for four hours. Perhaps crossing the ocean had taken its toll on her body. However, the most unexpected thing was that the other bed still showed no signs of use.

Twelve hours of time difference meant that skipping extra sleep wasn’t a big deal, but Qi Xiaochuan had worked the entire day. Surely, he needed to rest his eyes.

Luo Andi went downstairs and looked around but couldn’t find Qi Xiaochuan anywhere. His laptop was gone, the kitchen was spotless, and the trash had been neatly sorted. She returned and even called out softly, “Xiao Xiao? Are you here?” But there was no response.

She wandered around, suspecting he must have gone out. Just as she was about to give up, she impulsively grabbed the bathroom doorknob and pressed it down with an inexplicable feeling. When she opened the door, she held her breath.

Qi Xiaochuan was sleeping in the bathtub, his knees bent and sticking out. His sleep seemed restless, his expression as stern as when he was awake.

Luo Andi stood at the doorway, suddenly lowering her head and breaking into laughter. Her laughter was irrepressible, spilling out through her fingers and eyes even as she tried to stifle it. After laughing quietly for a moment, she turned and went to fetch a thin blanket for him. She tiptoed closer, half-expecting him to wake up suddenly—after all, it wouldn’t be the first time. But until she closed the door again, he hadn’t opened his eyes.

Though she still wanted to sleep a bit more, they decided to leave early to adjust their biological clocks. For breakfast, they went to eat crepes. Luo Andi poured too much maple syrup, drawing Qi Xiaochuan’s attention for a moment. She didn’t care, however, and immediately picked up her phone to read messages from Gao Jie, who was currently on a private jet. The photos she sent were ostentatious, but the accompanying text revealed none of the leisurely mood one might expect. Gao Jie’s messages vividly displayed the chaos of her inner thoughts, inserting “I really like him” every three sentences. Most of the rest revolved around what the boy she liked had done, painting a clear picture of a young girl with hearts in her eyes.

“Hahaha,” Luo Andi chuckled as she typed out a reply, casually bringing up past events without hesitation. “Gao Jie is so cute. But I’ve never been on a private jet either—not even when I was a child. Our family wasn’t that extravagant.”

Qi Xiaochuan casually asked, “Do you want to ride one?”

She shook her head and countered, “Do you often travel, Xiao Xiao?”

“Not really,” he replied, understating the truth. How could it be described as “not really”? Strictly speaking, traveling was a form of entertainment, and in his life, he had only been to karaoke twice—and that was for team-building events. Throughout those outings, everyone else had been cheerful, while he had buried himself in his computer, diligently clearing client information. By midnight, he had already complained about the noise, paid the bill, and left. Traveling was far too luxurious for him; he didn’t think it suited him.

Qi Xiaochuan asked, “You attended the same university as Zhong Shiwei, so it must have been decent, right? Why did you choose your current job?”

Even classmates from university who had once been friendly tended to reveal dissatisfaction and sympathy when asking such questions. Working at a private store wasn’t widely accepted by the public. However, coming from Qi Xiaochuan, these words carried no such connotations and didn’t make her uncomfortable.

Luo Andi took a sip of tea and smiled as she replied, “Because I really like crafting, and I don’t have any other interests I want to try. So I decided to do it.”

“...Is that so?”

“Mm,” she said, slowly bringing her hands together, interlacing her fingers and resting them under her chin. In a deliberate tone, she continued, “Things made by hand carry special meaning.”

When he had first stepped into the Tian Tang Handicraft classroom, the shop owner had spoken to him in a similar tone, saying, “Handmade items have warmth.” At the time, his only thought was, “What doesn’t have warmth? Haven’t you studied physics? Even zero degrees Celsius can’t be described as having no temperature.” Luo Andi’s phrasing was even less embellished, yet it made him uncontrollably want to agree, muttering things like “Yes,” “That’s right,” and “They do have meaning.”

Luo Andi didn’t want to take a boat onto the water, so in the end, they only admired the waterfall from afar.

The rushing torrent cascaded downward, forming a silvery barrier that stood unbroken, enduring and majestic. There were tourists from all over the world. They sat at an outdoor café. A monk appeared from the crowd, still wrapped in orange robes despite the weather, gradually approaching them. He scrutinized Luo Andi’s face and recited a string of words. Qi Xiaochuan’s expression darkened, and he looked up, bluntly telling the monk in English to leave. Luo Andi, on the other hand, turned back in confusion and laughed awkwardly, asking him to slow down.

If he hadn’t invited them, it would have been fine. But once invited, how could a wandering monk like this easily be swayed by Qi Xiaochuan’s harsh words? He even sat down with a smile, locking eyes with Qi Xiaochuan.

The monk said, “In your life, you will give more than you receive, and hardships will outnumber joys. Those around you will become happy because of you, but you yourself will find it difficult to be truly happy.”

By the time he got to this point, Qi Xiaochuan could no longer suppress his irritation, tapping his fingers forcefully on the table.

However, the monk stopped there, stood up, and extended his hand, confidently stating a price. Meanwhile, Luo Andi, still processing the content of the fortune-telling, hadn’t fully grasped it when she was already being asked for payment. Bewildered and unable to reach for her wallet in time, Qi Xiaochuan slammed the paper money onto the table on her behalf, glaring daggers to drive the monk away. He was a senior member of the No Superstition Association, after all. If he believed in fate, he’d probably be dead by now—or at best, living as a disabled person relying on welfare.

The monk smiled faintly, composed, bowed to Luo Andi, and said something to Qi Xiaochuan in French: “But after you obtain the diamond mine, you should go see her.”

Qi Xiaochuan found this cryptic and didn’t dwell on it. He simply turned to Luo Andi and said, “You shouldn’t believe such nonsense. He’s targeting you.”

“Eh? Why do you say that?”

“You look like someone who can’t refuse and is easily swayed,” he said irritably. “If it were me looking around here, I’d purposefully approach someone like you.”

Luo Andi let out a bitter laugh, somewhat indignant. “What? Are you saying I’m gullible and easily influenced?”

“Mm.”

“You’re underestimating me,” she suddenly became serious. “When I was younger, I might not have been very smart and was well-protected by my family. But now, I’ve been navigating society for several years. People change—after three days apart, you should look at them with new eyes.”

Qi Xiaochuan lifted his eyelids slightly at the edge of the coffee cup, exhaling nonchalantly. Suddenly, he spoke: “Actually, I’m out of money too.”

Luo Andi laughed, “Are you starting to trick me already? I won’t believe it.”

“Believe it or not, it’s up to you,” he leaned back, unconsciously letting his hands slide off the table and rest folded at his side. His gaze dropped, replying indifferently, “When I started my business, I had a friend about twenty years older than me. He was very reliable, and at first, he managed the finances.”

“Mm, mm,” she absentmindedly nibbled on a piece of pancake.

“But he passed away. You can search on Google or Baidu—it’s true. He died a few years ago from illness.”

At this point, Luo Andi became somewhat skeptical, pretending she was about to look it up. She didn’t detect any signs of guilt or unease on Qi Xiaochuan’s face.

Instead, he continued, “After he left, I made quite a bit of money. But recently, the global situation has been bad, and there are plenty of people calling for my resignation. My educational background isn’t impressive either. When I first started, I was naïve and got tricked into signing some documents. In short, sooner or later, I might be out of money. Nowadays, urban management is so strict that even begging isn’t allowed. I don’t know what the future holds.”

“So what if you’re out of money?” she said, her expression betraying more worry than she realized. “Stop joking around.”

“I’m not joking. Whether you believe me or not,” he gazed deeply at her, effortlessly piercing through her heart with his eyes, “when I have nothing left, I’ll go deliver pizza... Do you remember those days? I hope you’ll still be willing to see me occasionally.”

Luo Andi finally couldn’t hold back and responded, “Of course I’ll stay by your side.”

However, in the blink of an eye, the despair and sadness on Qi Xiaochuan’s face vanished, replaced by a calm demeanor as he sipped his latte and casually remarked, “See?” Even though she realized she had been tricked, Luo Andi wasn’t angry at all. She suddenly understood, then laughed and teased him, “How sneaky!” She quickly moved on from the topic.

They prepared to return, and he naturally took charge of all the luggage-carrying tasks. Something must have happened on Gao Jie’s end, as Luo Andi’s phone kept vibrating incessantly. She stood on an open patch of land not far from the car to check it.

Suddenly, a group of young men approached, enthusiastically greeting her with a “Hi” and then bombarding her with questions like “Your clothes are so cute,” “What’s your name?” and “Would you like to hang out with us?” Luo Andi wasn’t incapable of communication, but she lacked experience dealing with situations like this. Her smile carried traces of distress as she politely declined.

Just then, a firm “NO” rang out. Qi Xiaochuan strode over with a menacing aura, not giving them a chance to protest. He grabbed Luo Andi’s hand and started walking. The distance they needed to cover was long, and noticing her hesitation, he turned back, pulling her closer until his fingers intertwined with hers, firmly locking their hands together. Only then did he continue walking.

They got into the car, and she buckled her seatbelt, still somewhat dazed. He, however, acted as if everything was perfectly natural, so ordinary that there was nothing worth discussing.

Yet Qi Xiaochuan still said, “I don’t need you to stay by my side.”

Caught off guard, she glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

When they were young and naive, Luo Andi loved playing princess and knight games from Western Europe. Though Qi Xiaochuan detested them, he still played with her over and over again. However, his role was perhaps even lower than a knight—a mere beggar, unable to touch the hem of her skirt. He said, “Don’t worry, and there’s no need to believe in that nonsense about fate. Whatever hardships come, I’ll handle them for you. Wherever you need to make sacrifices, I’ll take care of it for you.

“You don’t need to worry about anything,” Qi Xiaochuan glanced at her, feeling awkward and quickly averting his gaze. “Just think about how to be happy.”