TPIL - 35

Several years ago, Qi Xiaochuan was invited back to his alma mater to give a lecture under the title of an outstanding entrepreneur and successful founder. His former college counselor, who used to tattle on him to his father, bombarded him with relentless requests. Initially reluctant, he couldn’t ignore the KPIs of the company’s publicity department and eventually accepted.

Being sparing with words didn’t mean he lacked eloquence. That day’s work was completed as planned, and amid thunderous applause, the Q&A session began. Perhaps due to Qi Xiaochuan’s popularity with the opposite sex, seventy percent of the eager hands raised belonged to female students, and most serious questions were already asked. Near the end, a male student, pushed up by his roommates, jokingly asked, “I’ve heard that you started your business in college. How many girlfriends did you have during that time?”

Qi Xiaochuan replied: “It depends on what you want to do within the limited time.”

The college student had just made a bet with his classmates, refusing to sit until he got the designated answer. His peers were stifling laughter, joy radiating from their youthful faces. He dodged the staff’s follow-up question: “So how many? What’s the usual cycle for changing partners?”

Qi Xiaochuan, who had already put down the microphone, picked it up again, silently stared at them for a few seconds, then calmly spoke: “Classmate, do you have body odor? What’s the nickname your mother gave you? Any issues with your urethra?”

The young man standing among the audience immediately changed color, not yet speaking, while the man on the podium continued: “If you’re cursing me in your heart right now, you might as well grab a bamboo stick to catch cicadas on campus. It’s so noisy in the summer anyway. Since you’re idle, why not make use of your time?”

Qi Xiaochuan said this lightly, then gestured for the staff to conclude the event. After returning, for some unknown reason, this exchange spread more widely on Renren.com than the content of the lecture itself, leaving a profound impact. In a short time, several university newspapers requested interviews, with some even suggesting making a column with “sharp-tongued” as the keyword.

Qi Xiaochuan felt that either he or these free-spirited youngsters must die soon. Believing he couldn’t outlast these numerous and endlessly creative younger generations, he might as well bang his head and die on the spot. His secretary, who had long wished him dead to take over, added fuel to the fire: “Next time, maybe the medical school will invite you to teach a course on how to catalyze myocardial infarction.”

Returning to the present, after infuriating strangers upon first meeting, he promptly drove Luo Andi away from the scene.

She still had some concerns: “Xiaochuan, how did you survive until today? We don’t even know who those people are. What if their dad is the mayor?”

To which Qi Xiaochuan confidently responded: “Those kinds of people have their eyes on the top of their heads; they wouldn’t come to this kind of restaurant to eat.”

This statement wasn’t baseless speculation.

When the company first started making money, in order to scout for investors, Qi Xiaochuan was also pushed by Zhou Hanyao to attend numerous social events. The main reason he had to do such things was his age. While Zhou Hanyao handled adults, occasionally, Qi needed to accompany second-generation heirs to eat, drink tea, play poker, and shop.

At that time, Qi Xiaochuan wasn’t poor, but he could never match their family backgrounds. Among these young people, the biggest gap wasn’t the amount of cash in their wallets but the confidence to spend it all on coin-operated gashapon machines without blinking an eye. Among them, he was a laughingstock, though the butt of the joke himself didn’t care. Even knowing he was looked down upon, he couldn’t be bothered to react. He never cared about insignificant small fry.

Gaps can change. Just a year later, he was already dealing with their fathers.

Upon entering home, she was first urged by him to change clothes, yet she still had the leisure to look out at the garden and say: “Is that small-leafed gardenia? It’d be nice if we could plant yellow roses.”

“An ambulance would be noisy. If you catch a cold, I won’t call 120.” Qi Xiaochuan only cared about other matters, probably due to the shadow left by her frequent illnesses when she was young.

Honestly, after moving into Qi Xiaochuan’s house, Luo Andi didn’t experience any particularly clear changes.

Because there were multiple bathrooms, showers, and even separate rooms for rest, it was like drawing an imaginary line down the middle—each minding their own business.

Qi Xiaochuan went to work much earlier than Luo Andi, much earlier than most people. He was accustomed to exercising, quickly having breakfast, and rushing to the company, starting the day like a war without pause. After moving in, because she had to rush to the bus stop, Luo Andi initially planned to wake up earlier. Unexpectedly, she received a call from the driver the previous night, informing her that he usually chauffeured Qi Xiaochuan and now had a new task: to help drive her to work every day. If needed, she could also contact him after work. Because of this, Luo Andi ended up delaying her departure.

In the evenings, Qi Xiaochuan worked overtime late into the night eight out of ten days, while Luo Andi returned home on schedule. Their routines could be said to perfectly avoid each other. Even Qi Xiaochuan’s hospital visits to change bandages were scheduled, and by the time Luo Andi found out, it had already happened twice.

They coincidentally met at the door on weekends. At that time, Luo Andi had just returned home and didn’t pay attention to the cars passing by. However, one, two, three times cars passed, almost making her wonder where so many residents came from, only to realize it was the same car repeatedly driving past and turning around, circling the area.

Qi Xiaochuan parked the car, and upon getting out, he seemed unsure of what to say, averting his gaze and asking: “Do you have to work tomorrow? Do you get four days off a month? Have you eaten anything?”

Luo Andi looked at him for a moment, sighed, then continued walking forward, answering his questions: “Yes, I have to work. I ate something from the convenience store.”

“I’ve booked a new housekeeping interview at home. You can help check it out when the time comes. I bought clams; I’ll bring them over tomorrow for us to eat.”

“Thank you, Xiaochuan.” Though saying such solemn words, she didn’t look at his face, “But tomorrow I should be at the store, probably eating staff meals.”

He followed her inside, more or less sensing something unusual: “Are you unhappy?”

She wasn’t complaining, just feeling a bit down, and didn’t beat around the bush to let him guess. After entering, she turned around and sincerely yet sorrowfully told him: “A little. But just a little. I’ll adjust myself.”

After speaking, she smiled, pushed his shoulder, pressed him onto the seat, and resumed her usual energetic self: “Don’t worry. Haven’t you eaten yet? Are the clams in the fridge? I’ll heat them up for you.”

As Luo Andi was about to leave, her arm was suddenly grabbed. Qi Xiaochuan, sitting down, looked up at her with unexpectedly clean eyes: “What are you pondering alone again?”

This line came out of nowhere, leaving her puzzled, so she just froze and looked at him.

“Aren’t you always like this?” Qi Xiaochuan had no expression, but he wasn’t stern, even finding leisure to mimic her tone, “‘Let me think about it,’ ‘I’ll consider it a bit’... Then you ponder alone.”

Completely hitting her habitual behavior, she originally wanted to retort but couldn’t find her voice, like unexpectedly sliding into deep lake water. She should have struggled, but surprisingly found the water temperature just right, comfortable and peaceful. Luo Andi didn’t answer.