TPIL - 50

One afternoon during their childhood, under a sky filled with drifting grass seeds, Luo Chuishun gently swayed his knees, palms resting behind him, lazily tilting his head back. He closed his eyes as if dozing off and said softly, “Does it have to be Qi Xiaochuan?”

Luo Andi was playing with the freshly picked clovers she had just picked. Looking back, she smiled faintly and asked, “Don’t you like him?”

He shook his head, taking the book Parallel Worlds by Michio Kaku from his lap and casually draping an arm around her shoulder. The twins, both slender-limbed with slightly wavy hair and double eyelids, leaned against each other. He said, “No. It’s just hard to imagine why you like him—”

Is desperately seeking to be needed really considered liking someone?

On the way back, Luo Andi still sat in the passenger seat. A heavy bunch of keys had been added to her handbag, but compared to that, the feeling of reclaiming the house felt even heavier. She hadn’t yet decided what to do with it because it wasn’t just the residence where she once lived—it was also the place where her younger brother died.

Luo Andi suddenly spoke up, saying, “Does this mean you’ve become the person you hate the most?”

“…What?” Qi Xiaochuan glanced at the rearview mirror briefly.

“Before, you thought I confused liking you with pitying you and wanting to help. You always insisted that my feelings weren’t real affection, just sympathy for you,” Luo Andi teased him, enthusiastically scrutinizing his expression, deliberately slowing down her speech, “But now you really want to help me too, don’t you?”

Qi Xiaochuan, who was usually eloquent enough to battle various people in serious situations where his interests were opposed, fell silent this time. In the end, he didn’t refute her and admitted somewhat resignedly: “Yes.”

“‘Yes’?” She grinned mischievously, her nonchalant mischief reminiscent of the time in school when she openly admitted to the teacher that she liked him. The only difference was that back then, he was frantic and rolling his eyes in anger, whereas now he had abandoned all resistance.

Qi Xiaochuan stared ahead, and in the moment of admitting defeat, he felt a strange sense of relief: “Yes, sorry. I was wrong before.”

Luo Andi seemed surprised that she had actually made him bow his head obediently—it was quite a significant achievement, almost unbelievable. She couldn’t stop teasing him, grabbing his sleeve with twinkling eyes and saying, “Why are you so easygoing? Xiaochuan? Why are you being so nice? Am I dreaming?”

At the sound of her voice, he reverted to his usual unpleasant demeanor, pulling away forcefully and replying impatiently, “Stop it, I’m driving.”

Luo Andi got out of the car alone. Leaning over with an unreadable expression, Qi Xiaochuan said, “I’ll go back to the company to work overtime.” She nodded and watched the car leave before turning around.

As she walked back, her smile gradually faded. She took out her phone and easily found the number among her missed calls. As she dialed, her mood was neither good nor bad. She held the phone between her cheek and shoulder, reaching into her bag to find her access card. By the time the call connected, she calmly began speaking into the receiver: “Hello, this is Luo Andi. You mentioned before that I could contact you—

“Yes, yes. It’s not about that; I just have something I’d like to ask you,” Luo Andi said, “Mr. Qu.”

After being promoted to store manager, the most immediate change was the increase in workload. The store’s KPIs finally became her personal responsibility. Not only did she have to complete her own tasks, but she also had to care about other employees. To fulfill her responsibilities as a store manager, Luo Andi allocated forty percent of her time to helping her staff. However, her performance didn’t decline—in fact, it improved—but the beneficiary herself didn’t feel particularly elated.

It was another ordinary day.

Luo Andi was attending to customers when she suddenly received a call from the front desk, informing her that a customer requesting her as a lecturer was signing up for membership. This wasn’t uncommon, as anyone who had taken her classes generally wouldn’t choose another employee. In such cases, word-of-mouth often led to her name and employee number being passed along to friends. So, without giving it much thought, she went through the familiar process of introducing herself and then invited the four women to sit in their designated seats. While fetching fruit tea, she even overheard colleagues whispering, “How much commission does she get?”

Luo Andi remained unfazed, returning to her post with calm composure. As she handed out brochures and turned to the recommended catalog page, she vaguely felt like she was being observed. Smiling back, one of them suddenly said, “We were referred by Mr. Su Yining.”

Luo Andi froze—not exactly feeling repulsed but unsure how to react. With a half-frozen smile on her face, she managed to prevent an awkward silence.

After finishing her work for the day, while changing clothes in the manager’s private lounge, she carefully composed a thank-you message and sent it to Su Yining, along with some polite words expressing her willingness to assist him if needed.

She originally thought it was just a normal referral, but soon realized she was completely mistaken. Because the next day, the same process repeated itself—this time with three young women signing up for memberships and purchasing Luo Andi’s courses. When she thanked them with a polite “Thank you for visiting,” they unexpectedly responded with nearly identical lines to the previous group: “Just thank Mr. Su Yining.”

This time, Luo Andi was momentarily stunned but handled it more smoothly than last time, laughing lightly as if pushing water downstream: “Alright. Looking forward to your next visit.”

After seeing them off, she returned to the counter and continued selecting time slots in the system, busying herself with work. But after a short while, she couldn’t help closing her eyes, feeling dizzy.

Of course, this wasn’t the end.

For an entire week afterward, Luo Andi received new members every day. She hadn’t waited for the slots to fill up before proactively stopping further appointments. Even though she had sent a message politely declining the referrals the next day, Su Yining seemed to ignore it completely. That aside, there were other interruptions during the courses.

Midway through felting wool, one of the referred female customers initiated a conversation, excitedly asking, “I heard that your first meeting with Mr. Su was very romantic. What exactly happened?”

Luo Andi, who was explaining the method of shaping regular forms by poking, was suddenly interrupted. Though she tried to continue, it was obvious no one was listening. She could only force a smile and try to steer the topic back as gently as possible: “Let’s talk about personal topics later, okay? Let’s finish this part first.”

“Alright, alright,” the woman didn’t insist, but looked slightly disappointed as she popped a snack into her mouth.

Luo Andi noticed another customer’s work and offered guidance in a soothing tone: “If you tie a knot like I just showed you, it will be faster—”

However, the other person only smiled and asked her, “Miss Luo, do you have a boyfriend now?”

Luo Andi kept smiling and used the excuse of needing to work to stand up. Rubbing her temples as she passed through the bead curtain, she felt like she was being pushed into a maze, unable to find an exit while being chased from all sides, which was truly headache-inducing.

Returning to her seat after drinking some water, she unexpectedly found another person sitting at the table.

Zhu Peijie had arrived early for class by fifteen minutes and was waiting. She had initially intended to sit and listen to the content she would be learning in the future but ended up witnessing an increasingly infuriating scene. Not wanting to confront anyone directly, she struggled to suppress her frustration but eventually approached while Luo Andi was absent.

“You’re making the instructor uncomfortable,” Zhu Peijie tried to look serious.

The women exchanged glances but didn’t argue with her, choosing to avoid conflict by looking away.

Luo Andi listened for a while from behind the shelves before entering, smiling and nodding greetings to both sides before wrapping up the session. Afterward, she sought out Zhu Peijie. Through previous exchanges via business cards, their relationship had grown beyond mere acquaintances in the store—they greeted each other warmly like friends, chatting animatedly for a while.

“I’ll go grab some tools,” Luo Andi said, bumping into a colleague on her way out, startling her, “Xiaoruo, what are you doing here?”

The colleague smiled and handed her a leave request: “I want to see the dentist this Friday. Could you approve it, Sister Andi?”

Exhausted from work, Luo Andi collapsed onto the living room carpet upon returning home, unable to move her fingers. She didn’t know how long she rested before she vaguely heard footsteps and a man’s complaint about her lying there, but she was too tired to care and quickly drifted back to sleep.

She woke up to the smell of food. Having been too busy to eat during the day, she was already famished but had fallen asleep due to exhaustion. Opening her eyes, she didn’t rush to get up. Qi Xiaochuan had just finished showering and hadn’t put on a shirt yet, drying his hair with a towel while unpacking chopsticks and stirring noodles. Seeing her awake, he reached for the pineapple bun in the paper bag.

She noticed the scar on his waist, left by a knife wound, still clearly visible amidst his firm abdominal muscles.

Anticipating that she might not want to move, Qi Xiaochuan simply opened the packaging and brought it to her lips. Luo Andi tried to bite into it but couldn’t apply enough force, ending up with butter smeared across her face. Laughing, she wiped her hands and started eating. Chewing, she offered him the other half, which he accepted and continued eating.

Luo Andi wanted to take another look, but Qi Xiaochuan suddenly stood up, putting on a hoodie before returning. Sitting down to continue eating, she hesitated for a long time before squatting beside him and suddenly calling out, “Xiaochuan.” As he turned his head, she leaned over and kissed him.

Luo Andi felt a bit embarrassed and chuckled nervously. Qi Xiaochuan showed no reaction, staring at her blankly for a moment before suddenly asking, “Did you drink iced lemon tea?”

“Huh?” She was startled, quickly covering her face, her eyes darting behind her fingers. “Is there a smell? Is it strong?”

“Not really,” he replied indifferently, turning back to check messages on his phone. “I like that smell.”

Even after hearing his response, she still covered her mouth, tearfully complaining, “So embarrassing.”

He focused on the screen, swiftly resolving a few matters requiring replies, then tossed the communication device aside. Turning back to her, he said ambiguously yet calmly, “No, just open your mouth a little more.”

“So embarrassing—” she muttered shyly, still wallowing in self-pity.

Without warning, Qi Xiaochuan abruptly changed the subject, suddenly asking, “I gave the knitted hat I made last time to my dad. Next time, I’ll knit something for you, okay?”

Luo Andi didn’t understand the context but instinctively smiled: “Sure.”

At the tail end of her reply, he unexpectedly leaned in. It turned out that taking advantage of an opening was so easy. A kiss is a dual act of giving and taking, and in the moment their lips intertwined, Luo Andi’s shoulders slightly recoiled but were caught by his arms the next second. Qi Xiaochuan’s presence was dry and warm—the hands of someone who earns his living through his own efforts. His fingers brushed her earlobe, seemingly invading to fill a void.

Compared to the beginning, his kisses had become much more skillful. If spoken aloud, some people might get flustered and refuse to admit it, but Qi Xiaochuan was a natural-born romantic, easily ignited, quick to burn. Luo Andi continued to endure his kisses, mesmerized, unconsciously caressing the scar where the knife had struck him.