TPIL - EXTRA 3

Qi Xiaochuan was very skilled with his hands. Whether it was stitching a handmade book or making homemade ice cream soda, everything came easily to him.

No matter how complicated the steps were, he only needed a glance—or at most, a quick read-through—to effortlessly replicate them perfectly.

Luo Andi ate the cookies he made—their shapes, aroma, and taste were flawless.

She lavished him with unreserved praise.

Though she hadn’t expected him to be overly modest, Qi Xiaochuan’s reaction was still unexpectedly surprising.

He didn’t seem pleased with himself at all, instead letting out an almost instinctive sneer: “Of course. I spent an entire afternoon on Sunday figuring it out.”

“Did you do it with someone else?”

Luo Andi found it hard to believe.

After all, for most people, cooking wasn’t exactly fun. Even she had only completed her baking with the help of the household staff.

Especially considering the detailed recipe Qi Xiaochuan had provided—detailed enough to rival a professional cooking video challenging “Mouton Noir” (a famous Chinese cooking channel)—she couldn’t imagine how many times he must have practiced to perfect every step to such an extent.

But Qi Xiaochuan, as if misunderstanding her question, replied plainly: “What? I did it alone.”

It was hard to picture Qi Xiaochuan spending hours in the kitchen by himself, meticulously working on gingerbread men.

That was just the kind of person he was—someone difficult to judge using common sense.

Many around him thought he was strange, but Luo Andi simply laughed it off.

However, it wasn’t long before she began to feel heartbroken for him.

The cause wasn’t anything extraordinary—it was simply that Luo Andi’s accumulated actions over the years finally prompted Qi Xiaochuan to think he needed to do something about their situation.

In Aesop’s Fables, there’s a story where the wind and the sun bet on who could make a passerby take off their clothes.

The wind howled fiercely, persistently blowing at the pedestrian, but the person only wrapped their coat tighter.

Then the sun came out, simply shining warmly. It didn’t take long before the person loosened their clothing and eventually took it off.

In their relationship, Luo Andi played the role of the sun, and Qi Xiaochuan was the stubborn pedestrian who refused to take off his coat even when he was on the verge of heatstroke.

Luo Andi had a harmless obliviousness about her and openly admitted her feelings for him without hesitation.

Both teachers and classmates knew about it, and Qi Xiaochuan, as an unrelated party, involuntarily saw his personal space shrink.

Objectively speaking, he was indeed somewhat of a victim.

At the time, Qi Xiaochuan harbored some resentment.

On a whim, he decided to use a girl as a shield. He chose the class representative for Chinese and hastily arranged a poorly thought-out plan.

Luo Andi knew nothing about this. That day, she brought her violin, intending to play it for him.

She loved Qi Xiaochuan’s bedroom and often visited, clearly not minding lingering there for a while.

To prevent this from happening, Qi Xiaochuan preemptively cultivated the habit of heading to the Luo family estate whenever she summoned him.

Being forced to stay at her place was still better than having her overstay her welcome at his.

Luo Andi ran upstairs, knocked, and entered without waiting.

She had been practicing this piece for a long time.

But when she opened the door, what she saw was a girl a few years older than her sitting at Qi Xiaochuan’s desk, flipping through his Ancient Chinese Dictionary .

The girl, who was the class representative for Chinese, even turned her head and calmly whispered, “Isn’t this the one…?”

Qi Xiaochuan introduced only one person: “Oh, let me introduce you. This is Luo Andi from the junior high school division. My parents work for her family.”

The class representative gave a shallow nod.

Qi Xiaochuan gestured for Luo Andi to come in, but she only smiled awkwardly and said, “I’ll come back another time.”

Luo Andi heard Qi Xiaochuan’s agreeing response, then slowly backed out of the room.

To be honest, at that moment, Luo Andi was merely being instinctively considerate.

But as she turned her body to leave, her heart belatedly registered the pain.

It was the kind of tightening sensation she felt while reading Inuyasha —uncomfortable and painful.

After all, she was still just a middle school girl going through puberty. No matter how much she pretended to be mature and composed, she couldn’t escape the most ordinary emotional fluctuations.

She wore her spotless mask as she walked away, and at first glance, no one would have thought she was dispirited.

It was raining outside, and she didn’t have an umbrella. After taking a deep breath, she quickened her pace.

The roads were lined with jasmine flowers, their fragrance stinging her nose painfully.

Luo Andi returned to the building soaked, leaving trails like a snail wherever she walked.

A maid chased after her with a towel, but she had already collapsed onto her bed, silently burying her face downward.

The sharp pain in her chest had subsided, but it left behind a void that couldn’t be filled—a black hole.

That day, she developed a fever.

Luo Andi’s immune system had always been weak, susceptible to both physical and emotional viruses.

As for the latter, she only became aware of it at that moment.

Afterward, Qi Xiaochuan was scolded by his father.

It wasn’t entirely true that Luo Andi felt no guilt.

But she remained in the dark.

Being sheltered by her parents made her innocent and carefree, which was undoubtedly one of her biggest weaknesses during her childhood.

Qi Xiaochuan escorted Luo Andi home from school, specifically coming to her junior high classroom to pick her up.

She wasn’t without doubts.

Qi Xiaochuan’s expression was sour—but his usual expression was sour. His attitude was bad—but when was his attitude ever good?

Perhaps some might find it hard to believe, but at first, she had no idea what was going on. It wasn’t until a day later that she began to vaguely piece it together.

Luo Andi asked Luo Chuishun: “Was he forced by Uncle Qi to accompany me?

Xiao Xiao doesn’t really hate me, does he?”

Luo Chuishun, casually flipping through a picture book, responded indifferently: “Who knows?”

Luo Andi deflated like a punctured penguin balloon, her body slowly collapsing.

She stood there, staring blankly into the distance.

Luo Chuishun quickly glanced at her, flipped another page of his book, and then said, “How rare.”

“What?”

She looked at him.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know—you’re usually very good at reading the atmosphere.”

Luo Chuishun spoke, perhaps driven by a bit of mischief, deliberately imitating her way of addressing Qi Xiaochuan: “But when it comes to anything involving ‘Xiao Xiao,’ you suddenly turn stupid.”

She blinked at him like a doll and suddenly laughed.

Completely sidestepping the main point, Luo Andi said, “The nickname ‘Xiao Xiao’ sounds really nice, doesn’t it?

I really like it.”

Witnessing this instant display of obliviousness, Luo Chuishun desperately wanted to collapse backward like characters in old-school manga, legs shooting straight up.

At that moment, he finally understood just how deeply his twin sister liked Qi Xiaochuan.

It was utterly hopeless.

When Qi Xiaochuan took the college entrance exam, Luo Andi gave him an amulet she had obtained from a temple, strung onto a keychain she had woven herself.

He didn’t refuse it. After receiving it, he turned it over and examined it several times. The only words he used to express his gratitude were: “How did you make this?”

Luo Andi smiled and replied, “It’s a secret.”

But Qi Xiaochuan, completely oblivious to the sentimentality of the moment, held it up like he was inspecting a banknote against the sunlight and said, “You can just look it up online.”

At that time, they didn’t yet realize that the prelude to their separation had already begun.

Looking back later, Luo Andi would occasionally wonder if that prelude had been set to the tune of Air on the G String .

It was the piece she had originally planned to play for him but never got the chance to.

Qi Xiaochuan’s father resigned, and Luo Andi’s father agreed—these were all matters handled by the adults.

By the time Luo Andi found out, the decision had already been finalized.

She first heard the news from her mother. Though she immediately wanted to ask Qi Xiaochuan about it, she hesitated because he was still in the middle of his exam preparations and decided to wait.

During afternoon tea, Luo Andi deliberately took a detour to the first floor, watching Aunt Qi from behind as she busied herself with chores. Pretending to be casual, she asked, “Auntie, are you leaving? Will you no longer live with us?”

“Yes,” Aunt Qi had always been unguarded with her, and besides, there was nothing to hide about such matters. “We’re moving.”

In an effort to conceal the myriad holes piercing her heart, Luo Andi deliberately kept her voice bright and cheerful: “Will Xiao Xiao be leaving too?”

Deep down, she knew she had asked a foolish question.

After returning, she cried bitterly over her first heartbreak. She had never experienced such pain before.

Though others might find it childish and insignificant, she was still just a child.

Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, she had always gotten whatever she wanted. She had never gone hungry, never been cold, and had fallen only a handful of times in her life.

The sunset covered the azure sky and clouds, and the purple and orange hues of dusk descended. Luo Chuishun came to her bedroom, sat on her bed, and gently ran his hand through her curly hair.

He said, “Don’t cry. I’m still here, aren’t I?

If I’m here, I’ll stay.”

“But you’re my little brother.”

She raised her head, her eyes like glass balls clouded with mist, reluctantly conceding, “Alright, I guess you’re a bit better than a doll.”

In this memory, Qi Xiaochuan’s experiences could be considered a tangent.

He wasn’t able to take the college entrance exam in his original city. He transferred schools and moved, and his parents were overjoyed. As for the change in environment, he had no objections—it was something he had long grown accustomed to after years of constant upheaval.

Moreover, with the impending exams, he had no time to dwell on anything else.

Qi Xiaochuan was admitted to a prestigious university.

His parents were happier than they were during the New Year, but for him, it was simply the completion of a predetermined task.

During the summer break, he prepared various ways to earn money for the next few years. After entering university, he initially tried juggling both academics and business before eventually focusing solely on his career.

At first, he couldn’t afford to hire help, so he partnered with someone.

To speak formally, it was just a roommate.

There was nothing particularly wrong with him—except that he was carefree and mischievous. Once, when Qi Xiaochuan was discussing something serious with him, the roommate casually took off the amulet hanging from his bag and started playing with it.

At the time, Qi Xiaochuan was counting on him for funding, so he opened his mouth to say something but closed it again without uttering anything harsh. He reached out to take it back, but the roommate brushed him off with a grin: “I’ll just look at it for a bit. Did your girlfriend give it to you?”

“No.”

Qi Xiaochuan found such topics utterly uninteresting and politely declined to engage further.

“Does it work? No wonder you did so well on your exams.

I only got into this university because I bought my way in.

Tomorrow, I’m taking the TEM-8 exam,” his roommate and business partner declared without hesitation. “You should let it bless me too!”

With that, he took it. Qi Xiaochuan thought he was utterly ridiculous. If he had the time for superstition, why not spend it memorizing a couple more vocabulary words?

At the time, Qi Xiaochuan didn’t think much of it—after all, it was just a charm given to him by a little neighbor girl.

The next day, when he casually joked about it, he saw his roommate’s bright and carefree expression: “Ah, that charm doesn’t work at all! I didn’t even finish the TEM-8 exam, so in a fit of anger, I threw it away!”

And then, with a smirk, he added: “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Qi Xiaochuan had just received a transfer from him. Without any expression, he thought it over, weighed the pros and cons, and replied, “It’s fine.”

After that, they continued their partnership for another half year.

As it turned out, Qi Xiaochuan wasn’t lacking in business acumen, but his roommate-turned-partner was genuinely simple-minded. Seeing the profits in the business and thinking Qi Xiaochuan was managing things effortlessly, he decided to strike out on his own.

A month before their partnership officially ended, Qi Xiaochuan had already sensed it coming.

He felt no surprise at all—he had never expected their collaboration to last long in the first place.

Thanks to certain past experiences, Qi Xiaochuan was all too familiar with the ways of spoiled rich kids.

To be honest, even if this friend hadn’t taken the initiative to leave, Qi Xiaochuan would have subtly pushed him out.

As an aside, this college classmate inevitably went bankrupt after going solo.

Beneath Qi Xiaochuan’s seemingly effortless life lay countless thorny challenges.

On the day they officially parted ways, this roommate still hoped for an amicable farewell.

The male university student invited Qi Xiaochuan to meet downstairs at the teaching building, intending to commemorate their “hard-fought youth”—though Qi Xiaochuan didn’t consider it much of a struggle, especially since he had been the only one doing the actual work.

As Qi Xiaochuan descended the stairs, the realization that they would no longer have any vested interests between them suddenly stirred a strange impulse within him.

His steps grew faster and faster, and by the time he reached the other person, he was fully prepared. Without a word, he threw a punch.

More than half a year later, he finally lashed out without preamble: “That’s for touching my charm!”