TPIL - 52

Qu Guozhong wasn’t a celebrity or a scientific expert, so his return to the country or appearance anywhere didn’t count as a major event. However, it just so happened that these women were employees of Su Yining’s enterprises, so someone recognized him but was unsure whether they should acknowledge him. The standoff dragged on, and amidst the confrontation, Luo Andi was the first to speak.

“Hello,” Luo Andi said with a sideways tilt of her body, her smile resembling an expression programmed by some electronic system—a thin sheet of tissue paper, neatly hanging in front of her forehead. “It’s best to register for the course outside before coming to this area.”

Qu Guozhong didn’t find this even slightly offensive and got straight to the point: “Is Miss Luo busy at the moment?”

“I’m currently at work,” she replied calmly, neither humble nor arrogant.

Without another word, he signaled for his assistant to step forward and placed a blank check in front of her, indicating, “I hope to borrow a bit of your working time.”

Luo Andi’s gaze lowered, and after a long pause, she reached out, gently plucked the check, and smiled as she lifted her head again, folding it lightly in her hand: “There’s no need. Everyone has their break times anyway. Besides...

“It was I who invited you here.”

Before getting into Qu Guozhong’s car, Luo Andi paused at the door, naturally allowing someone beside her to open it for her. Once seated, she casually mentioned the drink she wanted, even remembering to remind them not to add ice. She was utterly accustomed to being taken care of—this aura of someone who had lived in privileged conditions from childhood couldn’t be faked. She was used to the highest level of treatment, accustomed to others handling even the smallest details for her.

Qu Guozhong spoke earnestly: “You’ve come to a decision, and you’re willing to reach out to me, Uncle. I’m very pleased.”

“You misunderstand,” Luo Andi replied, sipping her lemon soda slowly and deliberately. “To say I’ve never blamed Mr. Qu would be a lie, but to say I harbor deep hatred or resentment—that’s also not true. My reason for contacting you isn’t to accept your kindness; it’s simply to find out one thing.”

When she turned him down, Qu Guozhong didn’t immediately show any dissatisfaction.

“A few days ago, Xiaoxiao… Qi Xiaochuan mentioned to me that he had some unpleasantness with you. It’s true that he lacks warmth in dealing with people, but he’s not the type to offend those with vested interests without cause.” Luo Andi spoke in a tone so ordinary it was almost dismissive. “If I asked him, I wouldn’t get the truth, so I wanted to consult you. Mr. Qu, you are not my enemy, correct?”

She turned to look at him.

It was as if she pitied someone, yet it didn’t feel disrespectful. Her compassion was without arrogance—it was exactly the same as the firm and gentle gaze of the little girl who had handed him candy under the shade of a tree on a hot summer day years ago.

Having spent so many years alone, Luo Andi considered herself relatively optimistic, sunny, and proactive. If there was anything that set her apart from the girls around her at school or work, it was probably her frequent visits to cemeteries. She didn’t know if this counted as a subconscious lack of independence, but all in all, even after so many years since her family passed away, she still often thought about visiting their graves. To her, it was like other people going home to visit their parents.

But this time, Qi Xiaochuan had also said he wanted to go. She had to prepare more carefully. No need to take the bus—someone would pick them up, which made things much more convenient. When Luo Andi came out carrying an irregularly shaped bag, the driver quickly stepped forward to help, casually asking what it was.

“It’s a violin. I haven’t played in a long time, so my hands are a bit rusty. But today is Mom and Dad’s wedding anniversary,” Luo Andi said with a smile. “Our family always held a small recital on this day.”

Awkwardly enough, it turned out that Qi Xiaochuan was hearing for the first time that the Luo family’s string performances weren’t just randomly scheduled for any day.

Throughout the journey, the atmosphere was both light-hearted and heavy. The light-heartedness came from Luo Andi and the driver chatting animatedly, laughing and enjoying themselves. The heaviness, on the other hand, came from Qi Xiaochuan, who was making the most of the car ride by reviewing documents.

“Xiaoxiao,” Luo Andi said, “though this car is indeed comfortable, don’t you think our talking is quite noisy? Won’t this affect your efficiency?”

Qi Xiaochuan glanced at her, unconcerned, and replied, “When efficiency is low, I’ll just spend more time. Doing something is better than doing nothing.”

“Did you study like this when you were in school?” Luo Andi couldn’t help but bring up old memories, recalling how Qi Xiaochuan had always ranked at the top during their student days. By the way, she had only been above average initially, but inspired by him, she worked hard and laid a solid foundation in her early years of middle school, developing good study habits.

However, Qi Xiaochuan had a natural talent for provoking envy: “Studying doesn’t require such effort. Scoring high in standardized tests isn’t that difficult if that’s all you want.”

“…Do you realize,” Luo Andi said, resting her cheek on her hand with a bitter smile, “how many students would hate you for saying things like that?”

Qi Xiaochuan confidently replied, “I don’t know.”

The driver stayed near the parking lot while Qi Xiaochuan and Luo Andi entered the cemetery. The weather was clear, and the steps seemed to stretch endlessly. Luo Andi had visited many times before, so everything felt ordinary to her. However, Qi Xiaochuan turned back and couldn’t help but gaze at the distant scenery. From the elevated suburban area, the bustling city they had poured their efforts into appeared so small—insignificant in every way.

She didn’t tell him that once, she had considered inviting him along. They soon arrived at the graves of her parents and Luo Chuishun. She followed the usual routine of paying respects for a while, while Qi Xiaochuan simply offered a brief moment of mourning. As Luo Andi busied herself, she said, “Actually, according to tradition, it seems I shouldn’t visit the graves this often. It’s said that doing so might disturb the deceased.”

In response to this superstitious belief, Qi Xiaochuan could only sneer and dismiss it with disdain: “People are already dead; how can they be disturbed? I hate being bothered, so it’s better not to hurry toward death.”

Luo Andi was amused by his sarcastic remark and laughed as she bent down to open the violin case, casually agreeing with him: “I think so too. If Chuishun is that petty, then when I get there, I’ll definitely give him a good beating.”

“Would you really hit someone?” This piqued Qi Xiaochuan’s interest.

“Don’t underestimate me.” Luo Andi smiled as she prepared the violin.

Qi Xiaochuan knew nothing about pitch or fingering techniques, but he still listened silently to her performance. Luo Andi wasn’t a prodigy; when she first started learning, she was just average among her peers. Several princesses and princes were also studying music at the time, but she had one more goal—to play with her parents and younger brother. That’s why she persisted. However, when the opportunity to perform family string quartets vanished, so did the conditions for learning music. The violin she played today was temporarily borrowed from a music store.

There were moments when her intonation wavered, but she persevered until the very end. As the music faded, Qi Xiaochuan stood beside her and couldn’t help but ask, “…Was that The Witch’s Dance Variations ?”

“Mm, it was my mother’s favorite piece,” Luo Andi replied, somewhat surprised. “Do you know it too?”

“Oh. Mm.” His response was rather indifferent.

His introduction to the violin came from her sudden question during childhood, when she had insisted on playing a short excerpt of Paganini for him and then asked excitedly, “What do you think of my bowing technique?”

At the time, he had shown little interest and replied, “You should ask your teacher about that kind of thing.” But secretly, he began paying attention to violin performances. Since he didn’t know what piece she had played that day and felt too embarrassed to ask directly, he ended up listening to classical music piece after piece in private.

That casual comment of Luo Andi’s—she had long forgotten it, but Qi Xiaochuan had kept it buried in his mind. It wasn’t something he cherished, nor was it a particularly fond memory. He just happened to never throw it away—that’s all. Qi Xiaochuan attributed this to his idleness; even though classes and part-time work filled up twenty hours of his waking day, he somehow still found gaps to think about her. Secondly, he was simply too lazy to clean out his mental storage—otherwise, how could he still remember such trivial details about her after so many years?

After finishing at the gravesite, Luo Andi asked the driver to take a detour so they could stop by a familiar cold noodle shop.

It seemed there was construction nearby, so the shop was crowded, with seats covered in dust and powder—not very clean. While Luo Andi was scanning the place with her eyes, searching for the shop owner, Qi Xiaochuan walked straight to a seat, took off his jacket, and casually tossed it onto the seat before sitting opposite. Luo Andi reached for the jacket to sit down but met his quiet gaze. Qi Xiaochuan said, “Just sit on it.”

When the cold noodles were served, both of them lowered their heads to eat.

The icy noodles paired with the sweet-and-sour broth slid into their mouths.

Luo Andi suddenly thought that this was the first time someone other than family had accompanied her to eat here. She looked at him, intending to thank him, but Qi Xiaochuan showed no sign of understanding. After a moment of confusion, he suddenly realized what she meant, hastily pulled out a napkin and handed it to her, then continued eating. He wasn’t like anyone else she knew—perhaps that assessment carried some emotional weight—but he truly was unique.

She said, “Xiaoxiao.”

Qi Xiaochuan didn’t look up or respond verbally, clearly hearing her but giving only a glance. That was his reply.

“I went to see Qu Guozhong,” Luo Andi said. “I always felt something was off between you and him, so I went to ask.”

He set down his chopsticks and looked at her indifferently. Qi Xiaochuan rarely lost his composure.

She continued, “There was a bit of a dispute at first, but he didn’t make things difficult for me, so he told me. About your parents. They’ve passed away. Their home was in a remote mountainous area, so they never saw your news and weren’t easily found by you either. If you wish, you can still contact other relatives.”

He hesitated for a few seconds, ultimately cutting through the matter quickly, though it felt like trying to cut water with a knife: “You didn’t need to deal with Qu Guozhong. I’ve said this before—I want you to only do what you want to do. Anything you don’t want to do, I’ll handle it for you—”

“This is what I wanted to do,” Luo Andi interrupted him, slowly lowering her head. She said, “I know you don’t need me, and I know you don’t want my help. So this is just my own wishful thinking. Helping you has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to dwell on it.”

After paying for the meal, the two of them walked out.

There was still some distance to the parking spot. Qi Xiaochuan and Luo Andi didn’t hold hands, maintaining a certain space between them as they walked forward. She couldn’t guess what he was thinking, nor did she try to. Just before reaching their destination, he finally asked her, with only a few words: “Did they ever come looking for me?”

She chose not to lie and shook her head, saying, “There were six other siblings in the family, but they’ve all scattered now. That’s just how the culture is there.”

Qu Guozhong hadn’t expressed much regret when he informed her. He had seen more storms and ups and downs than she had. Sometimes, this world isn’t filled with grand tragedies, overflowing emotions, or abundant love. More often, it’s just numbing reality. The sheer act of living is enough to crush some people. They hadn’t noticed the disappearance of a son, hadn’t searched for him, and had easily forgotten his name. In their lives, it wasn’t an event worth pausing for.

“Your mother was indeed a bit overweight. Do you want to see a photo? You’ve been waiting for them, haven’t you—” Luo Andi began rummaging through her bag.

He pressed his hand over hers, gripping it tightly, and flashed her a fleeting smile.

Breaking the spell, the frog remained a frog—fairy tales really are just fairy tales. Whether knowing the truth was fortunate or unfortunate, he couldn’t say. He remembered a life-or-death moment from years ago when he, still a child, kept diving underwater and resurfacing. At that moment, he hadn’t thought of his parents. He was used to relying on himself.

“I don’t know,” Qi Xiaochuan’s expression was calm, like a needle piercing the pitch-black night, silent and unnoticed, leaving the world in complete stillness. “Perhaps… the person I’ve been waiting for all along is you.”