Chapter 13

Page 1/3

Qiu Baozhu thought about throwing away the candy but felt it would be a waste of food. If he hadn’t experienced hunger before, perhaps he would have casually tossed it all into the trash without hesitation. After looking around, Qiu Baozhu picked up a piece of candy and unwrapped it discreetly under the table. It had a familiar vanilla scent.

Before the boy even put it in his mouth, a sourness prickled his tongue. He lowered his head and carefully picked up the candy with small, measured movements, cautiously placing it in his mouth. The outer layer still tasted of vanilla, but once dissolved by saliva, it revealed a flavor he hadn’t expected—not vanilla mint, but vanilla citrus.

It seemed not everything was exactly the same as in his previous life. Relieved, Qiu Baozhu boldly peeled and ate the rest of the candies on the table one by one. As he secretly savored the sweets, Qiu Fei suddenly tapped him from behind.

Qiu Baozhu turned around, puzzled. “I have something to do after school; you go home by yourself,” Qiu Fei said.

Qiu Baozhu nodded instinctively. “What’s the matter?”

“None of your business.”

Qiu Baozhu smirked slightly and didn’t press further. He knew what Qiu Fei was up to. Every time Qiu Fei went out alone, he either visited the city library or attended some aerospace-related exhibition.

“Do you want me to cover for you?” Qiu Baozhu asked again.

“How would you cover for me?”

“I’d tell mother you went to the library.”

“She won’t believe it because I usually only go on weekends, and the places I visit require ID card access. Sooner or later, she’d find out.”

Qiu Baozhu twisted the candy wrapper into various shapes with his fingers.

“It’s just a few scoldings; it’s nothing,” Qiu Fei said lightly, then glanced into Qiu Baozhu’s drawer. “Can you draw?”

“A little,” Qiu Baozhu answered, not entirely truthfully.

Qiu Fei said, “Mother probably won’t like you drawing; don’t let her find out.”

Qiu Baozhu dullly responded, “Oh.”

He recalled that a few days ago, Jiang Saiqiu said, “If Mrs. He disagrees, I hope to speak with her as well.” At the time, he was utterly certain that He Yingjie would agree.

Qiu Baozhu leaned back on the desk, turning a pencil in his hand, and sighed deeply. The lingering taste of sweet and sour citrus remained in his mouth. The afternoon sun blazed outside, and the classroom’s air conditioner hummed quietly. Someone played the languid tune of “Sweet” aloud.

Qiu Baozhu lowered his lashes; his eyes narrowed into a thin line of deep green, resting quietly. He dreamed of past arguments with He Yingjie.

The boy’s nature was gentle, or to put it bluntly, compliant. He had hardly ever lost his temper. Before he even knew how to get angry—what expression to make, what tone to use, how loud to speak—he worried that venting his frustration might hurt the other person.

Until He Yingjie repeatedly pierced him with her words and actions. During that time, he became extremely sensitive—far more so than the numbness and indifference he later developed in the Wei family.

“Mom, why do you say those things to me?”

Qiu Baozhu heard his own voice and saw himself with tears streaming down his face, feeling unfamiliar with how deeply saddened he had once been.

In the afternoon light, present and past blurred together, and the half-awake boy’s mind grew hazy.

Page 2/3

He Yingjie’s voice was sharp and thin, like the longest, finest fingernail scraping against one’s eardrum.

“I spent so much money on you, and what about you? You can’t even rank in the top fifty of your grade! But Xiao Fei has always been first in the grade!”

“You never made me feel proud. Now you’re even jealous of Xiao Fei.”

Qiu Baozhu flushed red, “No, I’m not! I’ve never been jealous of Qiu Fei!”

“Then what are you doing now? Don’t you think I should treat you better instead of Xiao Fei? Why should I like you? What do you have that’s worth liking?” He Yingjie’s face was like a fixed mask, always fierce and harsh.

Qiu Baozhu’s voice rose louder than before.

“That’s because you always took away my class and tutoring time for social engagements, while Qiu Fei could study at home. And the extracurricular activities you enrolled me in were useless, but Qiu Fei excels in chemistry and physics...”

He Yingjie shoved Qiu Baozhu to the floor; the living room was left with only his embarrassed, heavy breathing.

Tears slid down from the corners of his eyes to his ears; his green eyes no longer resembled gems but two patches of gray-green moss.

“Worthless trash.”

This was a swear he had learned from someone at the market.

Qiu Baozhu got up from the floor without changing his shoes and ran downstairs wildly.

He walked until he reached a street corner he did not recognize at all.

All his anger dissolved, leaving only helplessness and confusion.

Qiu Baozhu called Wei Shu on a second-hand phone he had bought himself, silently crying and choking on his words.

“A Shu, my mom hit me. Come pick me up. Hurry, come get me!”

Wei Shu rode his bike over. When he reached the intersection, he fell off, then ran to the tear-streaked Qiu Baozhu.

Qiu Baozhu squatted in the corner of a flowerbed; hearing footsteps, he looked up like a lamb lost from the flock.

After waking from a nap, Qiu Baozhu’s face was streaked with tears, and his school uniform sleeves were damp from crying.

—

Afternoon PE class.

While changing in the locker room, Xiao You draped an arm over Qiu Baozhu’s shoulder. “Today’s tennis class. You’ll be on our team.”

Pan Sheng, standing behind him, also eagerly hoped to be with Qiu Baozhu; his desire to play together was written plainly across his face.

“I’m with Qiu Fei,” Qiu Baozhu said, putting his uniform into the single locker and taking out his PE jacket.

As he zipped up, he glanced behind at the three boys.

There weren’t many people around Qiu Fei; his locker was at the back. When he heard Qiu Baozhu wanted to team up with him, Qiu Fei just raised his eyes briefly and quickly lost interest.

Xiao You looked at Qiu Fei and then at Qiu Baozhu with a bright expression. “Perfect.”

Qiu Baozhu zipped up to his neck. “What’s perfect?”

“You and Qiu Fei, plus me and Chen Chen—that’s exactly four people,” Xiao You said, automatically excluding Pan Sheng.

Pan Sheng’s face instantly darkened.

His complexion flickered between red and pale, and finally, his whole face swelled from embarrassment.

He looked at the group and stammered, “You guys can form a team. I-I can join with others too.”

Qiu Baozhu grabbed Qiu Fei, who was passing by. “Pan Sheng, you join me and Qiu Fei. We’re just one short.”

After speaking, Qiu Baozhu casually shut the locker and pulled Qiu Fei out.

Pan Sheng trailed behind like a lost puppy.

Xiao You’s face nearly fell to the ground. He took a couple of steps after them but stopped, feeling humiliated yet unwilling to give up. Then he shouted after their backs, “Wait, Qiu Baozhu, are you secretly crushing on Pan Sheng?”

No one looked at Qiu Baozhu; instead, all eyes turned to Xiao You.

His expression chilled, and he kicked the doorframe, swearing under his breath.

Qiu Baozhu arrived at the playground, sunlight blazing down. He took a long moment before opening his eyes.

Qiu Fei pointed at Qiu Baozhu’s lower half. “You didn’t change your pants.”

What pants?

Page 3/3

Pan Sheng also looked down, more surprised than Qiu Baozhu himself. “Hey, your pants!”

Only then did Qiu Baozhu realize he was still wearing the light apricot-colored school uniform pants, while the two in front of him wore navy blue tracksuit bottoms.

The PE teacher stood at a distance, arms folded, whistle hanging around his neck, eyes sharp as he inspected each student.

“I’ll go back to the locker room to change,” Qiu Baozhu said, turning to run into the building.

Most students were already finished changing and heading out; only Qiu Baozhu was running back.

As class time approached, the corridor grew emptier. When he reached the locker room door, it was ajar; Qiu Baozhu pushed it open.

Half-drawn curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a lush, young osmanthus tree outside. Its shade spilled into the locker room.

Wei Shu’s figure flickered in the dim light, shifting between clarity and shadow.

The first thing Qiu Baozhu saw was a patch of honey-colored waist and abdomen.

Hearing the noise, the boy changing clothes glanced toward the door. He stood slightly sideways; the light stretched his eyes into sharp, dragon-like slits—half-hidden, deep, and disdainful.

“Baozhu.”

Qiu Baozhu only saw Wei Shu’s lips move but didn’t catch the words.

A ringing filled his ears; Wei Shu’s gaze felt too familiar.

“You…” Qiu Baozhu looked around the dim room, knowing only he understood his own panic. He bit his tongue and said, “Why aren’t you dressed? How rude.”

Wei Shu seemed unsurprised.

He leisurely slid his hand under his waistband but didn’t move further. “This is the locker room. I’m about to be pantsless. What are you going to say then?”

Qiu Baozhu was speechless, eyes downcast. The last part of Wei Shu’s abdominal muscles disappeared beneath his waistband, veins faintly visible.

He had touched there countless times before, both willingly and unwillingly.

The boy’s face flushed quickly.

“I don’t like changing with others around. I’ll wait outside until you’re done,” Qiu Baozhu said.

Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door.

Wei Shu leaned against the wall; his mind replayed the look and tone Wei Shu had just given him.

So familiar.

In his previous life, from the moment he met Wei Shu, it had always been like this.

Qiu Baozhu’s thoughts were a mess.

But really, the expression and tone didn’t matter. He looked toward the shimmering swimming pool not far away.

As long as Wei Shu no longer liked him, everything would be fine.

The door handle twisted down; Qiu Baozhu turned his head. Wei Shu stepped out. Taller by half a head and broader in the shoulders, the harsh living environment had left him with a faintly fierce and obviously indifferent demeanor.

But he better not smile genuinely; when he did, his two tiger teeth gleamed brightly.

“Should I wait for you?” Wei Shu asked softly, looking into Qiu Baozhu’s wide, round eyes.

“No,” the boy quickly replied.

“Hmm.” Wei Shu’s tone was indifferent, as if he had just spoken in passing.

Wei Shu said, “You seem to hate me?”

Qiu Baozhu: “…No.” His palms were sweating.

Wei Shu tilted his head; his sharp browbones deepened the hollows of his eyes, making his gaze piercing.

“Good,” Wei Shu nodded, but the next moment, he suddenly grabbed Qiu Baozhu’s arm and pulled him close.

Qiu Baozhu stiffened in panic, unable to move or struggle.

He felt Wei Shu’s cool palm slip under his hem, pressing against the center of his sweat-drenched back, as if about to trace upward or downward, softly calling him, “Baozhu, Baozhu.”

Qiu Baozhu’s waist muscles tensed; he trembled, clenching his teeth tightly, face flushing and paling by turns.

“You’ve sweated a lot,” Wei Shu withdrew his hand quickly, eyes calm. “You might catch a cold like this.”