TPIL - 3

Qi Xiaochuan, of course, replied: “How is that a benefit?”

He had never been someone who paid attention to trends. His previous politeness was merely to avoid conflict, not out of flattery. Add to that his current exhaustion, his sleepy eyes barely open, and he simply said whatever came to mind.

Luo Andi didn’t look embarrassed in the least. She continued to smile, her hands clasped behind her back, swaying like a parachute. She said: “Mom and Dad have gone to work. Walk me upstairs, okay?”

Without giving it much thought, Qi Xiaochuan complied and escorted her up, yawning repeatedly along the way. He helped the young girl, still wet behind the ears, settle into bed. As soon as she was tucked in, he turned to leave. Luo Andi lay entirely under the covers, only her head peeking out. She patted the edge of the bed and spoke before he could leave: “I can’t sleep.”

“Then why don’t you get up and do some Olympiad math problems?”

“No!” She pulled the blanket over herself tighter.

Qi Xiaochuan grabbed a chair and sat down. His yawns gradually subsided, but drowsiness kept bubbling up like soap bubbles, one after another. He randomly picked up a book from the table—it was Anna Karenina .

Luo Andi, naturally, didn’t miss this detail. “Are you going to read to me?”

“Go to sleep,” he said bluntly. Then, with a low voice, he began reading from the first page.

She interrupted him, asking: “Has anyone ever told you your voice is nice?”

He countered: “Has anyone ever asked if you’re a boy?”

“How is that the same?” She seemed oblivious to his sarcasm, her eyes wide and earnest. “Your voice really is nice!”

He ignored her and continued reading.

The noble Anna Karenina, the adorable Anna Karenina, the foolish Anna Karenina.

It was a long time ago—back when Luo Andi was still in elementary school. For a period, she loved playing princess-and-knight role-playing games set in medieval Europe. It wasn’t unusual for little girls to want to be princesses, but what made it unbearable was that Qi Xiaochuan had to play the knight. When the princess extended her hand, he had no choice but to obey, bowing respectfully and kissing the back of her fingers—not the back of her hand, but the tips of her fingers. His lips brushed against them. The first time, he resisted fiercely, but eventually gave in.

Qi Xiaochuan found it utterly absurd. He respected his parents’ jobs and understood why he had to kowtow to their financial providers. You could make him eat, sleep, and play games with a child, but playing house? That was crossing the line. Especially since he hated playing house. Moreover, it was the 21st century—how neurotic did that gesture seem?

Luo Andi’s explanation was simple: “It’s just a game.” As she said this, her eyes sparkled, her dark lashes fluttering prettily, making her look like the sole doll displayed on a luxury store shelf.

Back then, Qi Xiaochuan had just moved into the Luo household. If it were three months later, he could’ve come up with five hundred ways to escape within three seconds, including unconventional methods like knocking Luo Andi unconscious with a karate chop. But at the time, being new, he hadn’t yet mastered such tactics. Plus, even ducks testing the water needed to check the temperature first. In short, he ended up with only two options: comply or jump out of the second-story window, eight meters high, and die.

The next day was the day the school distributed scholarships. Thinking about that, Qi Xiaochuan ultimately decided against following Sun Wukong’s example.

Luo Andi had already extended her hand.

He bent down, took her hand, pressed his lips to her fingertips, paused for a few seconds, released her hand, straightened up, and asked: “How was that?”

He looked at her face. Luo Andi’s hair had a natural curl, but because she took care of it regularly, it wasn’t messy—instead, it was soft and fine. When she smiled, revealing her neat, white teeth, she exuded an innocent sweetness.

“It wasn’t good,” Luo Andi said, her tone not sounding sharp or critical. “It felt… emotionless.”

Internally, Qi Xiaochuan rejoiced but suppressed his happiness, careful not to let it show on his face. “Then let’s play something else.” Unfortunately, almost simultaneously, she said, “Let’s try a few more times.”

Chivalry was all about honor, humility, sacrifice, bravery, fairness, and compassion. Great. Qi Xiaochuan was petty, nitpicky, obsessed with material things, friendless by choice, and would stop at nothing to escape trouble he couldn’t solve. His tolerance for others was practically nonexistent. To him, so-called chivalry was nothing but a nobleman’s game, where only the peasants suffered. It was hypocritical, meaningless nonsense.

By the time they reached page fifty of Anna Karenina , Luo Andi’s breathing had gradually steadied. Qi Xiaochuan glanced at her, quietly closed the book, returned it to the shelf, left the room, and shut the door behind him.

A voice from behind startled him slightly.

“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,” Luo Chuisun said.

Qi Xiaochuan turned around. The light from the downstairs foyer filtered through the gaps in the staircase, illuminating the young man’s face. Luo Chuisun briefly glanced at the door before saying, “My sister likes you? Must be troublesome, huh.” No wonder he was a genius with both a child’s and an adult’s perspective—he effortlessly saw through Qi Xiaochuan’s predicament.

Qi Xiaochuan couldn’t exactly say, “Yes, your sister likes me, and it’s driving me crazy,” so he simply replied, “Good night.”

As Qi Xiaochuan descended the stairs, Luo Chuisun didn’t seem to mind. But then he added, “You should treat my sister better.”

Long after Luo Chuisun had left, Qi Xiaochuan was still hesitating. He hadn’t said anything, so how had the conversation shifted to give him the feeling of being a brother-in-law talking to his sister’s younger brother?

“What do you mean?”

Luo Chuisun smiled at him and said before closing the door, “Good night.”

Scratch that—kids who were too mature were annoying too.

Luo Andi was a total shadow-follower, and soon enough, she joined the student council. Weekly meetings were held jointly between middle and high school students. Back when she auditioned, Qi Xiaochuan had coincidentally gone to the vice principal’s office to pick up a long-term leave slip—wasn’t sacrificing self-study time to run for student council president all about being able to leave school early to work? Because of that, when he finally received the list on Monday, Luo Andi’s name was glaringly on it.

And during their first meeting, as soon as he walked in, he saw a group of people sitting around her—some from the high school division, even—actively sharing snacks with her. Things like spicy gluten, popsicles, and candies bought from the school store.

Qi Xiaochuan’s face turned ashen, like rust on the Eiffel Tower. At the sight of him, Luo Andi jumped up, ignoring everyone’s stares, and rushed toward him: “Xiao Xiao!”

“Hmm.” While keeping his response minimal, he shot murderous glances at the other students looking his way, immediately causing a group to awkwardly glance around.

“I got into the student council! Isn’t that great?” She smiled sweetly, not appearing smug at all—just genuinely happy. “And everyone is so nice!”

“They’re not nice—they’re just decent to you,” Qi Xiaochuan sneered, offending nearly everyone with a single sentence. Of course, people either dared not express their anger or were simply used to it.

He wasn’t tyrannical enough to forbid people from gossiping behind his back—in fact, he was quite lenient about it. Qi Xiaochuan slammed the work report he’d prepared during his free time onto the student council secretary’s desk, grabbed Luo Andi, and walked out. He didn’t stop until they reached a corner in the corridor. His mood was sour: “Do you eat whatever they give you? You get uncomfortable eating snacks, and then when you go home, how am I supposed to explain to your parents?”

Luo Andi calmly looked at him and said, “Xiao Xiao, are you worried about me? Thank you!”

“…” Qi Xiaochuan felt like a deflated cactus, suddenly at a loss for words. “Fine.”

He turned to leave, and she followed behind him.

“Xiao Xiao, can I wait for you outside your classroom today? Let’s go home together… Xiao Xiao. When I’m in high school, can I run for council president too?” Luo Andi’s voice was soft and gentle. Despite saying so much, she didn’t come across as chatty—it felt more like she was telling a story, speaking slowly and deliberately.

Qi Xiaochuan abruptly stopped, turned around, and looked at her. Frowning, he enunciated each word carefully: “Downstairs is fine.”

“Okay,” Luo Andi smiled, pressing her lips together. “Then I’ll wait for you downstairs after school.”

Luo Andi gazed out the window for a while, then couldn’t help but step outside. After a moment, she silently turned around, went back inside, retrieved something from behind the counter, and came back out.

Standing by the trash can next to the handmade shop entrance was a homeless man, bending over to rummage through it for food.

Luo Andi seemed to say something. The homeless man turned around, took the sandwich she had brought from home, and accepted it. Luo Andi smiled, then turned back as if nothing had happened, welcoming the next batch of customers into the shop and guiding them to their seats.

Qi Xiaochuan witnessed the entire scene.

He didn’t know why he chose to hide, but in that moment, instinct drove him to do so.

Emerging from behind the power box on the street, he felt utterly foolish, an unbearable lump in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to rush back to the office and work overtime for several more hours to vent his frustration.

And that’s exactly what he did.

When Qi Xiaochuan returned to the office, he immediately noticed the central air conditioning was a few degrees cooler. Employees who had planned to leave hesitated. Without saying a word, he entered his office with a stern expression. Though his efficiency remained as high as ever, his secretary keenly sensed something was off and cleverly adopted a survival strategy: working overtime alongside him. Being the partner of a workaholic was indeed a high-risk profession.

His office was fully equipped with a bathroom and kitchen. Contrary to popular misconception, Qi Xiaochuan didn’t particularly enjoy his work, nor did he consider it a hobby. It was simply the most reliable way to hold happiness firmly in his hands—like how ancient men dreamed of climbing the ranks and getting rich; it was only natural.

Working until his mind cleared, he finally managed to wash away the inexplicable sense of defeat. Only then did he decide to go home.

On his way to the elevator, he passed the lounge area where female employees were chatting over coffee cups. They greeted him briefly upon seeing him and continued discussing trivial matters. How admirable—to have so much leisure. Qi Xiaochuan sneered as he turned away, but unexpectedly, they forcibly pulled him into the conversation: “Boss Qi looks so tired. Shouldn’t you go heal yourself a bit?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, adopting an expression that said, “What kind of idiotic thing is that?”

“You know, camping, hot springs, feeding small animals—that sort of thing. Doesn’t it feel healing?”

Qi Xiaochuan couldn’t help but snort, unhesitatingly voicing his biased opinion: “Struggling to the point of exhaustion just to earn money, only to spend it on those pointless activities?”

The employees, seasoned veterans, neither got angry nor complained. Instead, they muttered behind his back about how “he doesn’t understand romance,” “he’s a typical ‘straight male,’” and “who knows whether he’ll die alone or from overwork first.” Of course, the last comment was made only after Qi Xiaochuan had entered the elevator.

As the elevator descended, the weight seemed to descend abruptly onto his shoulders without warning.

It wasn’t until he reached the parking lot that he remembered the driver informing him that morning—the car had been sent for repairs. Walking down the street, he inexplicably felt like he was lost, circling around aimlessly, only to end up back where he started. The warm yellow lights felt like a dog’s wet tongue—he disliked animals, so he felt no affection for them.

The queue barriers outside the handmade shop had been removed, and the interior was empty. A group of women, around forty years old, stood together near the entrance. One on the steps was on the phone, but no one was answering. She had time to explain to those around her: “She probably isn’t coming. I specifically reserved a spot for four people in the embroidery class.”

“This is so annoying. Why didn’t she say something earlier?”

“Why isn’t she answering the phone?”

Someone suggested: “Let’s go in anyway.”

Another countered: “But then she’ll fall behind the next time, won’t she?”

Embroidery—a truly excellent game for self-inflicted boredom. Just hearing about it made Qi Xiaochuan want to yawn. He had zero interest in any leisure activity typically associated with housewives. Yet here he was, unable to move, unsure of what he was doing or why.

“Ladies,” he heard his own dry voice.

They looked at him, regarding him curiously and somewhat strangely.

Qi Xiaochuan guessed he just didn’t want to go in alone: “Can I join your class?”