TPIL - 5

Luo Andi came crashing into him, and the tip of her umbrella nearly grazed his skin. Though he didn’t erupt into a string of curses, it was hard not to feel irritated when misfortune struck out of nowhere. Qi Xiaochuan turned around, but any sarcastic remarks got stuck in his throat. She deepened her smile, and even on such a gloomy day, her eyes still sparkled like gemstones.

He couldn’t find his voice, yet she handed him her umbrella without hesitation. It was that same kind of warmth she always exuded—never considering whether she might be rejected—and that same naïve innocence as if she had never known worry.

Instinctively, Qi Xiaochuan reached out and pulled her under the umbrella without giving her a chance to protest. In the confined space, dodging the rain, he forgot to maintain his usual composure, making him look unusually stern. Finally, he managed to speak, though what came out was: “What about you?”

“It’s fine,” she said with a bright smile, tilting her head and leaning in conspiratorially, then joked out of the blue, “Actually, I’m the Powerpuff Girl, so no need to worry! Welcome next time.”

Of course, she wasn’t the Powerpuff Girl, and she couldn’t just fly back. Watching as raindrops fell onto Luo Andi, Qi Xiaochuan stood rooted to the spot, watching her disappear at the shop entrance. Before stepping inside, she paused beneath the eaves, shook out her skirt, and entered. Even from just her profile, her face was brimming with joy.

He lingered under the umbrella for a while, lost in thought. When he finally got into the car, the driver remarked guiltily, “Earlier, you specifically said you didn’t need an umbrella—”

Qi Xiaochuan brushed it off absentmindedly, his mind fully occupied by other thoughts. It wasn’t until they had driven several kilometers away that he belatedly realized she hadn’t recognized him.

He didn’t care.

Upon reflection, more than a decade had passed since their last encounter. It wasn’t surprising that he could still recognize her. While not overly confident about his memory, Qi Xiaochuan prided himself on having a photographic one. Luo Andi, however, was different. With her clueless grin and bumbling ways, she’d even tripped over flat ground in third grade.

He wasn’t dwelling on it.

Qi Xiaochuan couldn’t help but try to recall what impression he might have left on Luo Andi back then for her to mistake him for some disheveled stranger who forgot his coat at someone else’s store.

The trouble she had caused him went far beyond accidentally scratching his neck with an umbrella.

Without malice, Luo Andi had absolutely no concept of things like “early romance is forbidden,” “teachers are authority figures,” or “people can be good or bad.” Her affection for Qi Xiaochuan was as simple as a sunflower following the sun. Whenever anyone asked, she answered honestly, as if it were no different from being questioned about how many points she scored on the second-to-last math problem. Even when teachers confronted her, she remained disarmingly pure. She often showed up at Qi Xiaochuan’s classroom door, repeatedly spotted by his homeroom teacher. One day, when the teacher casually asked, she responded with bold honesty: “I like Xiaoxiao.” The crowd gathered around was stunned; she truly was fearless among the brave.

And perhaps because she harbored no ill intentions, others extended extra kindness toward her. Once, when Qi Xiaochuan went to the principal’s office to get a signature, he ran into the vice principal upon leaving. After exchanging pleasantries, he heard a conversation as the door closed behind him: “This year’s student council president comes from a lower grade—so impressive.” “Yes, and his little girlfriend in the middle school division is incredibly adorable.”

In short, this one-sided relationship initiated by the girl could only be described as smooth sailing. Despite his reluctance, no one seemed to care.

Out of the five weekdays, Luo Andi delivered snacks to him at least four times. Qi Xiaochuan’s mother worked as a maid in her household—not in the kitchen—but knew how high the family’s standards were for hiring chefs. So, she constantly nagged a sullen Qi Xiaochuan, saying, “Are you too proud to accept anything?”

Her words may have been harsh, but objectively speaking, his behavior did warrant some criticism.

When she brought him food late at night, he thanked her coldly before turning around and feeding it to the Pekingese dog raised by the gardener. This act earned him suspicion, and the old man wielding garden shears chased him half a kilometer, threatening to throw him into the pond to dig up lotus roots if he pulled another stunt. That wretched old gardener who tended to the Luo family’s garden was particularly nasty. Years ago, when Qi Xiaochuan and Luo Andi passed by the pond where he was planting lotuses, she innocently asked, “Grandpa, what are you doing?” Qi Xiaochuan quipped, “Playing in the mud,” which led to years of resentment.

The next day, after feeding someone else’s pet dog, he resorted to eating soybean paste noodles and vegetables in the classroom.

Whether Luo Andi noticed or not, she soon changed tactics, delivering meals directly to his classroom during lunch. He tried politely refusing, but when that failed, he distributed the food to the boys sitting nearby. Before they could even wipe their mouths clean, the girls began whispering among themselves, labeling him a “player” or “heartbreaker.” The boys, guilty from eating her food, refrained from piling on but only managed to stifle their laughter slightly quieter.

Qi Xiaochuan snapped his chopsticks in frustration.

He hadn’t expected them to break so easily, so after school, he went to a boutique to buy a new pair and returned them along with the washed lunchbox to Luo Andi. Smiling, she asked, “Did it taste good?” He replied curtly, “Don’t bring me food anymore.”

Her smile faltered instantly, her eyebrows dropping, but her eyes remained clear and innocent. “Was it not tasty? I’ll try harder next time.”

For no apparent reason, he suddenly choked up. “Did you make this yourself?” he asked.

“I’m just starting to learn,” she admitted bashfully, lips pressed together in a shy smile. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

“...” He struggled to respond. “It wasn’t bad.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “Really?”

“It was pretty good.” Qi Xiaochuan couldn’t figure out why his words had taken such a turn.

His resistance to her wasn’t limited to these incidents.

Seventy percent of Luo Andi’s fame in school ultimately stemmed from Qi Xiaochuan.

Even in high school, Qi Xiaochuan was legendary. As the student council president, he secretly worked part-time at a car wash outside school to minimize encounters with faculty members and their vehicles. Not only that, but he soon realized the shop frequently faced broken water pipes due to high demand, so he sourced a batch of pipe protectors, marketed them to various car washes, and made a substantial profit. After testing, he even had the factory customize the best-performing model, which a company eventually bought outright. Despite making considerable money this way, he continued working diligently at the small car wash as if nothing had happened.

Until one fateful day when a loose-lipped classmate accidentally spilled the beans. The adults were astounded by such an unusual story. Half the school leadership descended upon him like hunters tracking wild game. Rolling down the car window, he was holding a polishing cloth and leaned in to say, “SUV cleaning prices vary,” only to see the car filled with school teachers. Too lazy to flee, he was caught red-handed and arrested on the spot.

He wrote a three-thousand-word self-criticism but avoided the customary public reading at the flag-raising ceremony. Instead, he resigned as student council president. However, he was already nearing his final year of high school and would have stepped down soon anyway, rendering the punishment ineffective.

After weathering these storms, he naturally garnered attention. Though Qi Xiaochuan wore a perpetual scowl, he wasn’t a neurotic and communicated effortlessly with others.

During that time, other girls confessed their feelings to him.

Unaware of his own appeal, Qi Xiaochuan was indeed considered popular. The prettiest girl in the grade once invited him to the cafeteria, mistakenly thinking she wanted to borrow his meal card. Irritated, he retorted, “Why should I?” Meanwhile, the representative of their Chinese literature class—a top student with a gentle demeanor and articulate speech—had grown close to him.

Struggling with Chinese, he often borrowed her notes and study guides, gradually becoming familiar.

She was a classic example of intelligence and didn’t care about the rumors surrounding him and Luo Andi. They interacted openly and freely. Initially, Qi Xiaochuan thought nothing of it until male classmates nudged him suggestively, asking, “Are you ditching your little wife for a big one?”

“Watch your mouth,” Qi Xiaochuan shot back.

Reflecting on it, he suddenly realized something: Luo Andi had indeed quieted down for a while. Indifferent to campus gossip, he remained oblivious even when hailed as the “car beautification tycoon.”

Miraculously, Luo Andi seemed to read the atmosphere better now. Just like the clever protagonist in the movie Flipped , Qi Xiaochuan realized he could emulate the idea. There was no need to confirm a relationship with anyone; all that mattered was discouraging Luo Andi.

He invited the Chinese literature representative to his house.

And he knew that unless violin lessons or other commitments interfered, Luo Andi would come to visit.

That day, Luo Andi burst into Qi Xiaochuan’s bedroom, only to find him seated with another girl, discussing a Classical Chinese Dictionary .

“Xiaoxiao,” she said, standing at the doorway, still smiling. “You have a guest.”

“Oh, let me introduce you,” Qi Xiaochuan said, gesturing between them. “This is Luo Andi from the middle school division. The entire estate-like yard belongs to her family. My parents work for her family.”

The representative nodded faintly.

Qi Xiaochuan invited Luo Andi in, but she hesitated. Smiling, she gripped the doorframe lightly and said, “If you’re busy, I won’t disturb you. I’ll come back another time.”

“Mm.”

He watched as she stepped back, then turned sideways.

Even her troubled expression was beautiful, exuding a sincere romanticism. For a moment, Qi Xiaochuan remembered that Luo Andi wasn’t entirely free of worries. Her only concern, likely, was him.

Suddenly, he walked out. The girl representing the Chinese literature class asked, “What’s wrong?” He replied, “It’s raining. She doesn’t have an umbrella.”

Qi Xiaochuan grabbed an umbrella and chased after her. The path was lined with jasmine bushes the gardener adored, though it wasn’t yet blooming season—the lush greenery stood out vividly. Walking ahead, he didn’t see Luo Andi and, with guests waiting upstairs, promptly turned back.

That evening, Luo Andi developed a fever. Her constitution adhered strictly to princess-like frailty; even a pea under layers of down blankets could bruise her, and minutes in the rain gave her a severe cold. As the culprit, Qi Xiaochuan was beaten mercilessly by his father using an itchy scratcher. The next day at school, people avoided talking to him, assuming he’d offended loan sharks.

Silent and brooding, Qi Xiaochuan’s face remained dark enough to mine coal. As soon as classes ended, he headed straight to Luo Andi’s classroom, walking past everyone until he reached her desk.

Wearing a mask, she smiled and spoke before her classmates could alert authorities: “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, his usual arrogant demeanor intact. “Let me take you home. Do you need help packing your bag?”