TPIL - 8

“Are there any exceptions?” Luo Andi didn’t look like she was being clingy or desperate. Instead, it felt like an adult teasing a kindergartener.

Qi Xiaochuan didn’t feel offended in the slightest. He was indifferent to such non-substantial harm: “Maybe.”

“Unless what?”

Luo Andi looked at him. Qi Xiaochuan’s face held no smile; instead, it was filled with an overly righteous solemnity. He said, “You should go back.”

Luo Andi hesitated for a moment but didn’t press further. She nodded firmly. As he watched her retreating figure, she turned around again, raised both hands into fists, and gave an encouraging gesture: “Good luck!”

Qi Xiaochuan obligingly nodded.

Later, when he thought about it, he realized he had been passive from the very beginning. Whenever she was present, he always seemed foolish.

During the long holiday, Qi Xiaochuan originally hadn’t planned to take leave. It wasn’t because he had a bad relationship with Luo Chuisun—it was simply because he valued his hourly wage too much. However, his father played a decisive role at this time, wielding a clothes-drying rod and ordering him, “How did I raise such an ungrateful brat? If you don’t go tonight, don’t bother coming home.”

Sleeping outside wouldn’t have been so bad, except that the Luos’ landscaping was excellent—everywhere except the residential areas was teeming with mosquitoes. Spending a night outdoors would have meant being bitten alive. In the end, Qi Xiaochuan still got into the car his father drove, naturally joining the Luos.

A graduation ceremony—how could the ritual-conscious Luos not attend en masse? If it weren’t for the venue being the university auditorium, he suspected they would have even worn evening gowns.

The car was spacious. Luo Andi wore a rust-red pinafore dress, her hair styled into an intricate braid. When he got in, the adults discreetly pushed him to sit across from her. Luo Andi’s mother even personally poured him orange juice. Qi Xiaochuan barely touched the rim of the glass, feeling the atmosphere grow increasingly awkward.

Fortunately, they arrived at their destination soon.

Previously, Qi Xiaochuan had been recruited for a university winter camp, but after weighing the pros and cons, he ultimately decided not to go. On the other hand, Luo Andi received an invitation to a gathering at an elite high school and accepted without much thought. “Because their club has an observatory,” Luo Andi said with a smile, “I really wanted to see it.”

Her interest in it likely stemmed from her twin brother, Luo Chuisun. Luo Chuisun was in the Physics and Astronomy Department—he had always been fascinated by stars, and his thesis topic was related as well.

However, whatever she chose had nothing to do with Qi Xiaochuan. He was just glad that she wouldn’t be home for nearly half a month. During the holidays, he could finally focus on what he needed to do.

When they got out of the car to tour the campus, Qi Xiaochuan remained silent, his demeanor more serious than usual, even more so than during review classes. The campus was filled with towering tropical trees. As he wandered around, Luo Andi suddenly appeared behind him and asked brightly, “Do you want to apply here?”

“Ah… somewhat,” he replied. “The cutoff score is within reach.”

She continued with great interest, “What do you care most about in university?”

“All aspects?” Saying that was equivalent to saying nothing, but he genuinely wasn’t brushing her off. Perhaps because he was in a good mood, he even casually added, “What about you?”

The answer he received was both expected and unexpected. Luo Andi smiled sweetly and said, “If Xiaoxiao is willing, I’d like to go to the same school as Xiaoxiao.”

After all these years, he no longer reacted excessively like he did when they first met. Instead, he looked upwards, trying his best to avoid meeting her gaze: “You should worry more about yourself.”

When it was time to enter, they filed into the university auditorium and sat in a row. The students preparing for graduation wore academic robes and gathered in small groups, chatting and sitting down.

Luo Andi’s mother took photos with a digital camera while her father happily pointed out to Qi Xiaochuan and Luo Andi, “Look, Chuisun is in the third row, fifth column.” Mr. Luo had served in the military and had once risen to the rank of platoon leader, so his use of terms like “row” and “column” was precise.

Qi Xiaochuan also spotted Luo Chuisun. In fact, he wasn’t hard to find. There weren’t many young prodigies in university, and he stood out with his short stature and boyish face. Not to mention, like his sister, Luo Chuisun was a child raised under extremely privileged material conditions. His back was straight, his chin slightly raised, exuding pride and drawing attention.

From start to finish, Luo Chuisun didn’t converse with those around him. When it was his turn to go onstage to receive an award, he stood up, resembling a noble heir about to inherit a title.

Truly impressive.

Mr. Luo enthusiastically stood up and clapped, Mrs. Luo wiped away tears repeatedly, and Luo Andi smiled. Qi Xiaochuan joined in the applause.

After the ceremony ended, they didn’t rush to leave. Mr. and Mrs. Luo went to meet a professor introduced through connections, and Luo Chuisun was supposed to join them, but he had promised his classmates to attend a small internal discussion. The adults respected his decision, so they split up. Since Luo Andi had no interest in socializing, she tagged along with Luo Chuisun.

He introduced her to the others: “This is my twin sister, Luo Andi.”

The classmates were already adults. A girl wearing glasses as thick as beer bottle bottoms swayed slightly, speaking in a manner that showed discomfort with public speaking: “I know you. Louis once showed family photos during a public lecture, and your name used the character ‘Di.’ I’m not sure if this qualifies as sexism, but honestly, it made me uncomfortable.”

Luo Chuisun’s English name was Louis, taken from the founder of the Omega watch brand, associated with words like “time” and “moment.” At this point, he added, “Amy studied abroad before.”

“Ah, actually, it’s not like that,” Luo Andi said with wide eyes, still smiling and waving her hand lightly. She responded naturally, “My parents do think boys can inherit the family business, but they’re still very good to me.”

The girl pressed on: “That’s still a form of sexism.”

They were about to delve deeper into this topic when the other classmates called out, “Hurry up and come over.”

Afterward, their discussion revolved around professional topics. Luo Andi didn’t understand much, and Luo Chuisun noticed this. He opened a laptop for her. But since she didn’t enjoy going online, she got up and went out for a walk. Outside the classroom, there was a pavilion. She went in, walked around twice, found the wind too strong, and decided to head back. When she returned to the classroom, she was surprised to find Qi Xiaochuan, who had initially been on the periphery, now seated among the department students.

He listened attentively and occasionally even spoke up. Not only that, when he spoke, the people around him would stop to listen. Logically, he shouldn’t have possessed their level of knowledge. As the discussion progressed, he even sat on the desk, hugging his left knee, his brow furrowed in a thoughtful expression, while others seemed to deliberately speak for his benefit.

It wasn’t until a teaching assistant entered and knocked on the door to remind them that class was starting that the students reluctantly dispersed.

Qi Xiaochuan and Luo Chuisun were deep in conversation as they walked out, almost forgetting Luo Andi behind them.

She didn’t interrupt until they were far away, when Qi Xiaochuan suddenly stopped and turned around. She followed at a distance, smiling and saying, “If you two keep this up, I’ll get jealous. Were you talking about coursework?”

“No,” Qi Xiaochuan said. “His classmates were just saying they wanted to commercialize their technology, but the costs are impossible. So they started arguing.”

“The atmosphere in the classroom earlier didn’t seem like an argument,” Luo Andi said curiously.

“It’s because Qi Xiaochuan was too fierce,” Luo Chuisun couldn’t help but laugh.

Compared to someone who completed four years of college normally, Qi Xiaochuan, still a high school student at the time, should have been considered a junior. However, he carried an overly assertive attitude and a maturity beyond his years—worldly yet not annoying, sharp-tongued yet impossible to fault. These traits allowed him to remain calm in any situation, conversing with everyone on equal footing, never faltering.

What had he experienced to become such a person? And what would his future hold?

To those from vastly different backgrounds and environments, such questions were easy to arise.

The differences caused by gender were often greater than imagined. While Luo Andi had to make three visits to get Qi Xiaochuan to listen to her play the violin, Luo Chuisun effortlessly invited him over. The two boys read books, played the cello, and chatted in the room. They discussed Wang Xiaobo’s The Unconventional Pig , took a football signed by many star players to practice dribbling on the lawn downstairs, and Luo Chuisun told Qi Xiaochuan that he should aim for a better university. Qi Xiaochuan indeed learned a lot about independent admissions.

In reality, Luo Chuisun wasn’t just the boring “other people’s child” that others perceived him to be. He had favorite scientists, manga he loved to read, pieces he was good or not so good at playing, like Debussy.

Qi Xiaochuan unexpectedly got along well with him, and their bond was strong.

One afternoon, while reading together, Luo Chuisun said, “I really admire Brooke Shields. What about you?” Qi Xiaochuan, who was reviewing for exams, slowly looked up, pondering as if considering something of national importance, then replied, “Celebrities? I like Shen Dianxia. Watching her movies makes me feel good.” Who even asked him this? Truly, one could lament that this young man was beyond teaching.

Like his sister, Luo Chuisun was three years younger than Qi Xiaochuan. Back then, they were close friends.

Later, Qi Xiaochuan didn’t choose to become Luo Chuisun’s junior or alumnus. They lost contact. A few years later, after graduating from university, the blueprint he once envisioned slipped away like sand through his fingers due to unfavorable circumstances. Even so, in the end, he still secured an offer coveted by every fresh graduate and landed a job where he thrived.

However, life couldn’t remain so tranquil. At least not for him.

There, he met his future business partner, Zhou Hanyao Cheng, who was twenty-one years older than him. Initially, Qi Xiaochuan only remembered that the man’s name had four characters. Over time, however, they became close enough to stay over at each other’s homes—an unlikely friendship across generations.

“You haven’t had a friend this old before, huh, hahaha. An old friend!” After drinking, Zhou Hanyao Cheng often lay on the floor, letting out a slightly aged sigh. His wife helped clean up nearby, muttering as she moved around.

“The last one…” Qi Xiaochuan didn’t fully understand the definition of “friend,” but hazily replied, “Was three years younger.”

Qi Xiaochuan spent years working overtime in the office. Even when his secretary mentioned needing to take leave to meet a lover, it took him a long time to process it.

This secretary had been working for many years and was marginally competent as his right-hand person. But if you asked Qi Xiaochuan when he most wanted to fire him, it would definitely be the moment the secretary asked, “Are you gay?” Hearing that question, Qi Xiaochuan was genuinely grateful that his expensive self-defense classes hadn’t gone to waste.

“Boss Qi hasn’t been in a good mood lately.”

At first, the cleaning lady said this, prompting a chorus of boos from the other employees in the office. “When is Boss Qi ever in a good mood? And he’s the type to wear his emotions on his face.” After all, you couldn’t force someone with average color perception to judge the degree of his scowl.

His attitude toward others had always been cold, giving off a distinct sense of “I’m my own country, and you’re all foreigners.” When pointing out mistakes, he never altered his approach based on irrelevant factors like age, gender, or work experience. He reported neighbors for letting their bulldog bark and defecate everywhere and fired his housekeeper for eating a box of handmade chocolates he himself had no interest in. To him, kindness, warmth, and humanity were like the optional condiments at a Jiangxi rice noodle shop—often overlooked, entirely dispensable.

New employees often described their boss as “good-looking,” but once they truly interacted with him, they realized that even if Mongolian worms grew into Chow Yun-fat, they’d still be monsters.

However, in reality, Qi Xiaochuan’s mood recently hadn’t been particularly good.

But at the same time, he felt a sense of relief.

After finishing work early for once, with no overtime that day, Qi Xiaochuan planned to go running when his secretary asked, “Do you want to go to Paradise together?”

Before Qi Xiaochuan could call the psychiatric hospital, the secretary quickly clarified, “‘Paradise Handmade’! It’s the handicraft store downstairs! Boss, do you even look at the signs when you shop?”

“I didn’t shop there,” he replied. Strictly speaking, that was true—he had only used a trial class coupon.

“Do you want to go?” The secretary glanced at his watch. “Their chairs are super comfortable—you sink right into them. The lighting is great, and their cakes and milk tea are delicious. I’ve been doing embroidery lately, but I can’t seem to get it right. Even though the staff can help, it feels like it’s not mine anymore.”

Qi Xiaochuan was speechless: “Isn’t it the same if I help you? It’s still not yours.”

“It’s different. The staff are women. You’re a man.”

“What difference does that make?”

Unknowingly, the two had already started heading downstairs.

What would he do when he got home? Qi Xiaochuan couldn’t help but wonder.

Take off his socks and jacket first, then shower, close the curtains, lie down on the bed, turn on the TV but not watch it, and fall asleep to the moderate volume of a program.

Would he have nightmares tonight?

The sign above the store read “Paradise Handmade.” When they arrived, a group of customers was just leaving. People dressed in warm, fuzzy clothes, smiling and looking happy.

That voice said, “We look forward to your next visit.”

That voice.

Sweet, soft, soothing—it reminded one of freshly baked bread or the warmth of a palm.

Luo Andi smiled. She said, “Hello, how can I help you?”