Chapter 15

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In the changing room, Qiu Baozhu took out a clean school uniform and waited for a while until a shower stall was free. He slipped inside and had just taken off his clothes when Qiu Fei’s voice came from outside.

Qiu Fei was standing right outside the door.

“Qiu Baozhu, since when did you get so good at tennis?”

Although the brothers weren’t particularly close, they understood each other deeply, like branches growing from the same root but separate trees.

Qiu Baozhu’s tennis skills were barely enough to get by in a beginner’s group; he was far from being good, and Qiu Fei knew this better than anyone.

The sound of water flowing covered up the boy’s hesitant murmurs behind the door.

Qiu Baozhu squeezed out a small handful of shower gel. “Suddenly, everything just clicked…”

“…” Qiu Fei fell silent for a long while, and then said nothing further.

If he didn’t want to talk, that was fine.

“I’m not playing tennis. I’m heading back to the classroom first.”

The voices outside faded away. Qiu Baozhu lowered his head, gazing at the foam pooling around his feet.

He wouldn’t tell Qiu Fei anything about his past life now, nor would he ever.

There was still one more class in the afternoon, so Qiu Baozhu quickened his pace rinsing off.

As he put on the blue-trimmed short-sleeved school uniform, water kept dripping from his hair in large drops. He stepped out and used a towel to dry his hair while reaching for the last hairdryer remaining in the basket.

There were only three hairdryers in the changing room in total. The other two were currently in use; the one in his hand was the last available.

He pressed the button and bent his head forward, preferring to dry the back of his head first.

Behind him, the door of the shower room slid open, and a slender, toned leg stepped out, water still streaming down.

There was a scar about ten centimeters long on the left side of the calf — not like a centipede’s crawl, but a white streak brushed on like a stroke of paint.

Qiu Baozhu kept his head lowered, eyes downcast, but caught sight of it just perfectly.

Wei Shu later told Qiu Baozhu that it was Li Caiping who had done that.

Wei Shu then came silently to stand behind the boy.

Qiu Baozhu grew tense and fearful without control.

His breathing became fast and hot, but the noise of the hairdryer helped mask it somewhat.

“Can you hurry up?” the person behind suddenly said.

Most of the fear dissipated.

Qiu Baozhu tightened his expression, holding the hairdryer, thinking that Wei Shu was probably picking a fight with him because he had just lost in tennis.

The hairdryer’s strongest wind was only so powerful.

No need to rush.

His movements drying his hair were clearly awkward, the fingers he used to part his hair reddening from the hot air. Sweat formed a thin sheen on the back of his neck, gleaming against his pale skin.

Growing more anxious, he blew his hair into increasing disarray, but the strands remained wet, clumped together so tightly they could still be squeezed for water.

Qiu Baozhu’s mind flashed back to a conversation with Wei Shu from his previous life.

“What do you like about me?” he had sometimes asked, like any couple would.

“I like you.” Wei Shu loved to run his hands through his hair, from root to tip, pressing gently against the scalp and massaging softly.

“What do you like about me?” Qiu Baozhu asked, puzzled.

“I like you — your whole self, everything, all of it.”

Whole, everything, all of it…

What about now?

Wei Shu was standing right behind him, watching.

Qiu Baozhu secretly lifted his eyelids. In the mirror before him, Wei Shu’s gaze was calm, looking sideways.

As if sensing someone watching, Wei Shu shifted his eyes to meet Qiu Baozhu’s reflection in the mirror.

A gaze through glass was still a gaze.

Qiu Baozhu’s heart contracted sharply. The hairdryer's nozzle pressed right against his fingers.

He yelped softly in pain, dropped the hairdryer, and plunged his burnt fingers into the sink, turning on the faucet with his other hand.

Wei Shu seized the hairdryer left on the side, stepped forward half a step. “You can’t dry your hair like that. Let me help.”

Still dazed from the stinging in his fingers, Qiu Baozhu didn’t react as his hair fell into Wei Shu’s hands.

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Wei Shu’s fingertips parted the semi-damp hair, lowered the temperature of the hairdryer, and began drying the roots of the hair underneath.

The warm air was much more evenly distributed than when Qiu Baozhu dried his own hair.

When he dried it himself, it was hot then cold; he’d dry the outer layer, then underneath would still be damp. It was a struggle to get it dry, and often he’d end up with hair looking like a messy chestnut.

In his past life, his hair was mostly dried by Aunt Wan, or just left half-dry.

Boys’ hair wasn’t long anyway; a few steps outside, and it would dry on its own.

Later, Wei Shu forbade this, saying that as he got older, he might develop headaches.

But Wei Shu was even less willing to entrust hair-drying — which involved physical contact — to anyone else.

So Wei Shu had always done it himself, for ten years without ever handing the task over.

Wei Shu’s hair drying was softer and smoother, leaving no trace of dampness.

Strands of hair flew up before Qiu Baozhu’s eyes, drifting near and far, and between the strands, Wei Shu’s slender eyes seemed to smile.

The warmth felt like it blew right into his heart, and Qiu Baozhu shivered all over suddenly.

The boy hurriedly escaped the shower room.

Most likely, Wei Shu was falling for him again!

The hairdryer hummed in the shower room for a while longer. The others drying their hair glanced curiously. Only then did Wei Shu unplug it.

The towel Qiu Baozhu had just used lay on the washbasin. Wei Shu took it casually and tossed it into the laundry basket with his own used towel.

—

The remaining two classes in the afternoon, Qiu Baozhu was distracted.

His hair still wasn’t completely dry; he sat by the window basking in the sun for a few minutes until the dampness finally evaporated.

The teacher noticed his daydreaming and specifically called on him to answer a question. Fortunately, Qiu Baozhu’s grades weren’t bad, and with the advantage of having lived an extra thirteen years, he replied fluently, though the teacher’s expression showed no sign of approval.

After sitting down, his mind wandered again.

Indeed, if he wasn’t in a relationship with Wei Shu — who was sharp, accomplished, cunning, and patient — Qiu Baozhu would have a high opinion of him.

Whether it was growing up under Li Caiping’s harsh hand or dealing with the Wei family later, even being friends with Wei Shu was better than dating.

Like Zeng Mingxi, whom Wei Shu slowly distanced himself from over time, but when Zeng Mingmei caused a scandal and Zeng Mingxi came to negotiate, Wei Shu didn’t make things difficult for the Zeng family and even helped negotiate Zeng Mingmei’s divorce with Wei Li.

Qiu Baozhu clutched his pencil, doodling in his sketchbook, deflated.

He thought, if Wei Shu truly liked him, they could just be friends. More friends, more paths. Especially a friend like Wei Shu.

Dating was out of the question.

After class, Qiu Fei grabbed Qiu Baozhu as he dashed out of the classroom.

“Where are you going?”

Qiu Baozhu: “The hair salon. I want to dye my hair.”

“…” Qiu Fei hesitated, then said, “Mother asked me to remind you to come home early today.”

Qiu Baozhu stopped, wearing a puzzled expression.

Soon, the brothers were driven home by the driver. Aunt Wan was crouched in the yard, pruning hydrangeas. A small pile of cuttings lay by her feet.

“Hey!” Seeing the two boys, Aunt Wan put down her shears and ran over, waving the grass clippings off her hands.

“Yingjie brought a middle-aged man home today. They don’t seem very familiar. They sat in the living room all afternoon, talking about something related to Baozhu…”

Qiu Baozhu looked through the floor-to-ceiling window. Though he couldn’t see anything, he already had his answer.

“It might be Huang Huazhu.”

He Yingjie sat in the living room sipping Pu’er tea, dressed simply, with a jade hairpin and matching jade tassels in her hair.

Hearing the door open, He Yingjie leaned to look towards the entrance, finger pointing excitedly, “Baozhu’s back!”

Qiu Baozhu saw Huang Huazhu as soon as he entered, no longer as arrogant as that day.

The boy first changed his shoes at a leisurely pace, then approached without bothering to meet Huang Huazhu’s eyes.

Huang Huazhu greeted him but got no response. He didn’t feel awkward.

People like them had heard every insult and seen every ugly expression.

This coldness from a pampered young master was nothing to him — at worst, just a cat showing its claws or a lamb kicking.

He picked up a dark green velvet square box from the table in front of him and handed it to Qiu Baozhu.

“That day, Uncle Huang was in the wrong for quarreling with a kid like you. Today, Uncle Huang specially came to apologize and make amends.”

Qiu Baozhu’s hand was held by He Yingjie, who tilted her head and smiled, “Take it and open it.”

He made no move.

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He Yingjie was in no rush. She stretched out her arm, took the apology gift, and opened it in front of Qiu Baozhu.

Inside was a fist-sized stone with a narrow window cut open. Through the strip-shaped opening, the blue-green texture beneath was visible.

She picked it up, feigning exaggerated surprise, “Oh, just what you like.”

Qiu Baozhu had long disliked these types of situations. The wine he drank that day had long lost its taste.

He snatched the box away and pressed the stone back inside with a cold tone, “There’s too much cotton inside. I prefer it clearer. Take it back.”

He showed no respect, put the box back on the table, and strode upstairs.

Soon, a heavy door slammed upstairs.

Huang Huazhu’s eye twitched uncontrollably.

But when his gaze met He Yingjie’s knowing look, he forced a smile, “Baozhu’s temper isn’t small.”

He Yingjie suddenly smiled too, more sincerely than Huang Huazhu.

“Spoiled, spoiled. Don’t take it personally.”

He Yingjie didn’t invite Huang Huazhu to dinner but politely saw him to the door. Her skirt brushed the floor as she walked, the sunset casting long shadows.

The smiles between the man and woman carried an inexplicable menace.

Huang Huazhu put on his sunglasses, his mouth twitching into a thin smile while his eyes narrowed coldly.

“President He, what about my matters…”

He Yingjie crossed her arms and smiled gently, “Don’t worry, I always keep my word. But you should be careful too, right? No incidents this time, but who knows next time? Those places of yours should just be shut down early.”

Huang Huazhu responded with several “Yes”s, then bent down and slipped into a black Mercedes. Once inside, he spat viciously at the house outside the window.

But then, recalling the boy’s green, cold gaze just now, his heart trembled involuntarily. Today’s sight was much clearer than in that dimly lit bar.

Green eyes were rare in this country.

Huang Huazhu had heard from Qiu Jinyan that He Yingjie’s mother was from an ethnic minority.

Qiu Baozhu’s green eyes were a genetic inheritance through generations, greener in childhood, fading slightly with age.

Moreover, this pigmentation was only in Qiu Baozhu’s eyes; Qiu Fei hadn’t inherited it.

Whether this was a blessing or not, uniqueness often meant being an outcast.

—

Qiu Baozhu had often been bullied because of his eyes when he was young.

So he always wore glasses until he was with Wei Shu, when he finally took them off.

Just now, Huang Huazhu had been staring at his eyes, making Qiu Baozhu’s stomach churn.

He turned on the faucet and rinsed his eyes twice with cold water.

The cold water soaked his eye sockets, chilling him.

Qiu Baozhu drew back the curtains in his room.

Standing on the balcony, he looked at the blooming flowers and the setting sun in the yard.

He recalled Wei Shu saying his eyes were like green hydrangeas, peridots, lakes, and oases lost in the desert.

He also remembered the way Wei Shu had dried his hair that afternoon.

The young Wei Shu wasn’t much different from the Wei Shu of his past life because Wei Shu didn’t change into an arrogant, haughty person simply because of his status.

So when Wei Shu wanted to register their marriage later, Qiu Baozhu refused to get in the car, no matter how much Wei Shu coaxed or persuaded.

It took Wei Shu several hours, but he never got angry.

Qiu Baozhu clearly remembered how scared he was that day.

He thought they were going out to play and was excited to get into the car, but when he found out it was for marriage, he panicked and ran away.

He knew no one listened when he spoke and was reluctant to talk. When held close to the car door, he refused to get in no matter how he tried to open the door.

Tears rolled down his cheeks one after another.

This wasn’t the life he wanted, nor was marriage, and he didn’t want this version of Wei Shu at all.

Seeing him silently crying, Wei Shu stopped insisting and wiped the tears from Qiu Baozhu’s face with the back of his hand.

“If you cry, your eyes get even greener. Don’t cry. We won’t get married.”

So until Qiu Baozhu’s death in the past life, they remained just lovers.

If Wei Shu insisted on liking him again this life, things wouldn’t end well.

Thinking of how even the ruthless Wei Shu had things he couldn’t accomplish, Qiu Baozhu stood on the balcony feeling refreshed and at ease.