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Luo Chuishun invited Qi Xiaochuan to his graduation ceremony. In private, he jokingly remarked, “This is what you’d call treating you like family,” while subtly nudging his head toward his sister nearby.
Qi Xiaochuan’s face darkened, clearly displeased, and he immediately reversed his stance, even going so far as to lecture him: “She’s your older sister. Whose side are you on?”
Luo Andi was genuinely happy for her brother’s graduation, even though she herself hadn’t yet entered high school.
They went to listen in on discussions among prestigious university students about their majors.
As they left, Qi Xiaochuan and Luo Chuishun continued their lively conversation.
They always had so much to talk about—their favorite authors, newly released games, how many goals Real Madrid had scored, moving from Spider-Man to Nikola Tesla, and then from energy drinks to Neptune.
They were deeply engrossed in their conversation, their steps quickening, even occasionally breaking into soft laughter.
At some point, Luo Chuishun lightly leaned sideways and deliberately bumped into Qi Xiaochuan.
They were very close friends.
There were moments when Luo Andi envied them.
Qi Xiaochuan would never act this way with her.
She thought, If only I were a boy, could I play with them like this too?
Luo Andi followed a few steps behind them—not exactly trailing closely, just maintaining a moderate distance.
The university campus had many stairs. She was so lost in thought watching them ahead that she accidentally twisted her ankle.
She slightly stumbled but didn’t make much noise, limping for a short while before recovering and continuing forward.
When they returned home and got out of the car, Luo Chuishun invited Qi Xiaochuan to see his newly purchased model airplane.
Money wasn’t an issue at home, and with no other use for his scholarship money, Luo Chuishun decided to spend it all on cultivating his hobbies.
This was one of them.
Qi Xiaochuan didn’t dismiss it outright. He nodded in agreement but said to wait a moment, letting him go first.
After Luo Chuishun entered the house, Qi Xiaochuan suddenly turned around.
Luo Andi had just gotten out of a different car and met his emotionless gaze.
Qi Xiaochuan crossed his arms and stood by calmly, observing.
Luo Andi was confused. As the driver handed her a pearl handbag, she looked back at him with an equally inquisitive expression.
It was at this moment that he made his decision.
Qi Xiaochuan suddenly walked toward her.
His lack of personal boundaries became glaringly obvious—he got too close.
Luo Andi had initially raised her head, but as he approached step by step, she involuntarily lowered it under the pressure of his presence.
What did Qi Xiaochuan intend to do?
She couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard she thought.
Suddenly, he reached into his chest bag.
Whether working part-time or going out casually, Qi Xiaochuan often carried that bag. To put it nicely, it gave off an air of maturity; to be blunt, it was somewhat rustic.
But unlike most of his peers, he truly didn’t care about appearances—only cleanliness and tidiness mattered to him, not trends.
Unfortunately, he happened to have such a face, making even something plain look handsome on him.
Qi Xiaochuan handed her a bandage.
Luo Andi froze.
“What’s this for?”
He grew impatient, shaking it twice and pretending to take it back. “If you don’t want it, fine.”
She quickly accepted it, grabbing it like a cat pouncing on a toy, smiling brightly: “Xiao Xiao, thank you for taking such good care of me.”
He hadn’t taken care of her.
The stormy expression on Qi Xiaochuan’s face loudly proclaimed otherwise.
But facing Luo Andi’s innocent smile, he ultimately couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Later, the only time he was truly honest was during their farewell.
After the meal that marked their impending separation, the adults stayed indoors to talk, while they went out to the courtyard.
Outside, her favorite yellow roses were planted, their flower language symbolizing parting.
At the time, he didn’t know this.
“Sorry for being such a bother in the past. You must have been so frustrated with me, right?”
Luo Andi smiled and said, “You’ll definitely be very happy in the future.”
Those few seconds as she spoke those words became the ending—a scene that would later appear countless times at the end of his nightmares.
Like dust settling, like the curtain falling on a play, no matter what had happened before—bankruptcy, the end of the world, or even alien invasions—the final image would always be Luo Andi apologizing to him with a smile.
Her words fell like tears—transparent and light—but when they struck Qi Xiaochuan, they turned into fragments of a meteorite, leaving an indelible mark on his heart.
Without needing to muster courage, she delivered her farewell.
Luo Andi wasn’t mature enough yet, and her understanding of love was vague. She liked him, perhaps simply because he seemed special to her, and his independence from her was perplexing.
He never showed vulnerability, always remaining strong, and her inability to find a crack in his armor left her feeling resentful.
As for what happened after they parted ways, perhaps no one really cared to know.
In the blink of an eye, their circumstances underwent a seismic shift.
For her, that summer passed amidst the deafening roar of water pumps.
Whenever she closed her eyes, the sound would easily drown out the cicadas and classical music.
Luo Chuishun’s death wasn’t entirely without warning.
His studies were abruptly interrupted, and he had to focus on company matters.
The situation at home wasn’t optimistic. There were more sighs than laughter, and the leisure they once enjoyed had greatly diminished.
He spent entire nights unable to sleep.
Luo Andi leaned against the doorframe and called his name. He got up and walked out, silently closing the door behind him.
It was an afternoon no different from any other.
Under the scorching sun, Luo Andi took a taxi home—by then, there was only one driver left in the household, mostly assisting her father, and most of the maids had been let go.
After paying the fare and getting out of the car, a sharp pain shot through her chest.
Luo Andi bent over, gasping for breath as she recovered, suddenly overcome by an ominous premonition.
Luo Chuishun’s body floated among the water lilies, like a small boat drifting asleep.
She couldn’t remember what she thought or did at that moment.
All she remembered was that both her parents cried.
All their efforts and sacrifices had been in vain.
Her father sank into despair, while her mother stepped up to hold everything together.
For a while, her mother transformed into the father she used to be—decisive, resolute, and brave.
Her father drank day and night, unable to recover from the loss of the son he had nurtured for years.
Luo Andi had secretly followed her father once, watching him grieve silently in the now-empty garden.
“Dad…” Luo Andi said softly.
She wanted to say something, but after hearing her father’s next words, she fell into complete silence.
Dad said, “If only you had been born a boy.”
The sudden news of her father’s passing reached them, and her mother rushed from the company to the hospital. On that very journey, an accident occurred.
Luo Andi disliked being on the water and hated hospitals.
She grieved for a long time, but life always goes on.
Even if she became someone others pitied in their eyes.
She continued to study diligently and live well.
Luo Andi’s first boyfriend was the president of the university student council.
The young man was popular, respected everyone, and had good grades. After being single for half a year, he inexplicably took notice of her among the new female students.
He made several attempts to show his affection, though he never forced anything.
At the time, Luo Andi would answer classmates’ questions by saying, “I don’t have anyone I like recently.”
But it was a lie.
It wasn’t just recently—she hadn’t liked anyone for a long time.
She didn’t dislike the student council president, and he was also preparing for graduate school entrance exams at a prestigious university.
Despite all this, he still found time to pursue her, which truly demonstrated his sincerity.
Luo Andi didn’t plan to live alone forever, so after some consideration, she agreed.
University is a place where you encounter all kinds of people, and many children gradually develop complete personalities there.
Some, after receiving kindness, became curious about Luo Andi: “Every time I see you, I find it baffling.
How can someone like you exist in this world?
How did you grow up to be like this?
Andi, are you really human?
Are you absolutely sure you’re not an angel?”
Other classmates who were close to her echoed these sentiments.
Luo Andi simply smiled and brushed it off.
Of course, with a larger sample size, variability increased too.
Among the many who adored her, there were inevitably those who stood out as exceptions, disliking her intensely, especially during certain periods.
As for the common traits of Luo Andi’s boyfriends, they were simply male and excellent.
In such circumstances, even if she herself didn’t care, it was inevitable that other girls would feel resentment.
Fortunately, there were always plenty of people around her to shield her from most risks.
The biggest incident happened during her sophomore year when a female student publicly criticized her for pretending to be a rich second-generation kid and juggling multiple relationships—”raising fish,” as she put it. Her words were harsh, even escalating to accusations of damaging the school’s reputation.
Luo Andi’s indiscriminate kindness toward everyone indeed came across as lacking boundaries, which was undeniably problematic.
However, no matter how you looked at it, it didn’t warrant being singled out for public criticism or facing disciplinary action.
In the end, the school intervened, suggesting that the girl apologize to Luo Andi since her intentions seemed more about targeting a romantic rival than addressing real issues.
Naturally, the girl was a thousand times unwilling. She threw a tantrum in the academic affairs office, continuing to hurl insults.
Yet, given the girl’s influential family background, the teachers could only stand by, unable to intervene.
Those dense, hurtful words pierced Luo Andi, bringing feelings of shame and embarrassment.
But soon, fragments of foreign classics she had read surfaced in her mind.
The heroines in those stories immersed themselves in fantasies to escape the absurdity of reality.
She forgave them because they didn’t know what they were doing.
When things got tough, the heroine would remind herself that because she was a princess, nothing could hurt or trouble her.
She forgave them.
Precisely because she was powerless, she had to think this way. Because she was alone, she had to console herself like this.
Such a foolish, pitiful, childish method.
Luo Andi suddenly smiled.
“What are you smiling at?”
The girl was enraged. “What are you laughing about?”
She smiled again, calm and composed, speaking from a lofty position: “I forgive you.”
Coincidentally, near graduation, she and this girl were paired together for an assignment.
By then, Luo Andi had already returned to being single. Time had dulled the unpleasantness, and with her continued warmth and a few timely acts of kindness, the girl astonishingly did a complete 180-degree turn, apologizing to her. During the graduation ceremony, the girl even hugged her and cried, acting like a close friend.
Luo Andi felt nothing but numbness.
Human hearts were complex yet surprisingly easy to manipulate.
In her over twenty years of life, it seemed no one was an exception.
The only one who might have been different now blurred in her memories, nearly fading away.
After all this time, perhaps he had changed, becoming like everyone else, reaching out to her for something.
When she was young and naive, she would have given him everything without reservation. But now, she had nothing left.
Except for gentleness, she had nothing.
Luo Andi didn’t want to see Qi Xiaochuan again.
After graduating, she rejected job offers from companies and stubbornly chose to work at a handicraft shop.
The work aligned with her interests, and gaining the favor of students came easily to her. Luo Andi thrived in this environment. Though her salary was modest, she lived comfortably each day.
Without anyone she liked, she stopped considering romance altogether. Perhaps, maybe, being alone was fine—it was something she had grown accustomed to over the years.
That day, there were many reservations. Not long after handing out trial coupons, a queue formed outside the door.
Luo Andi bent down to check a member’s work, then straightened up and glanced out the display window.
A homeless man stood by the trash bin, trying to rummage through it for food.
She slowly walked out, turned back, and retrieved a sandwich she had brought from home.
When she went out again, she greeted him: “Hello, please eat this.”
The homeless man accepted it, and she turned back to welcome the next group of customers into the store.
She didn’t notice the man across the street, nor did she see the figure stepping out from behind the power box at the street corner.
At this moment, less than twenty-four hours remained before the game of playing princess and knight would begin anew.
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