Chapter 17

Qiu Baozhu poked Qiu Fei’s shoulder, prompting Qiu Fei to open his eyes. Before the young man could speak, Qiu Fei said, “Someone like Wei Shu… his thoughts run too deep; he’s not a match for you.”

“Besides, the things a person like him desires are usually beyond what someone like you can give.”

Qiu Baozhu felt tangled and confused.

Momentarily dazed, he recalled the day Qiu Fei left Ningkang, when heavy snow was falling.

That day, Wei Shu was caught up in family affairs, so Qiu Baozhu went alone to the airport to see Qiu Fei off. Qiu Fei carried his suitcase, the bracelet on his wrist still handmade by Qiu Baozhu himself.

“Brother, sometimes I wonder how twins can look so different and have completely opposite personalities.”

Qiu Baozhu grinned cheekily. “If we looked alike, I’d be the better-looking one.”

“Better to look like me,” Qiu Fei replied coolly.

The young man didn’t elaborate but said, “When the time is right, I want to talk to Wei Shu.”

Qiu Baozhu was lost in thought, while Qiu Fei soon fell fast asleep.

It seemed Qiu Fei never really liked Wei Shu.

But Qiu Fei was right: Wei Shu wanted things Qiu Baozhu simply couldn’t provide.

Those around them seemed to have some understanding of Wei Shu, and their opinions were completely opposite to Qiu Baozhu’s.

He once thought Wei Shu was pitiable—without a father, and a mother who was indifferent.

It would be better if he wasn’t so pitiable.

If Wei Shu weren’t so pitiable, Qiu Baozhu wouldn’t be so easily swayed by him. His heart had always been soft.

—

Qiu Baozhu was well-liked. Even before his birthday arrived, people had been asking how he planned to celebrate.

“I’ll spend it at home. Invitations will be sent out later.”

Qiu Baozhu’s birthday parties were always lively and grand; he enjoyed festive occasions.

If he suddenly said he wouldn’t celebrate this year, friends who had attended every year before would find it strange.

Even He Yingjie and Qiu Fei would immediately notice something was off.

“Who are you planning to invite?” Xiao You asked, coming closer again. “Ever since you left those groups, don’t expect your birthday to be as lively as before.”

Qiu Baozhu drew a hunched old man with a pencil, his expression serious but his tone casual. “Too many people is bothersome.”

“...Hmph.” Xiao You twisted the corner of his mouth into a sarcastic smile, as if saying, “I know you well.”

“What are you drawing? Let me see.” The boy snatched the drawing from Qiu Baozhu’s hand.

Qiu Baozhu reached out to grab it back, but Xiao You leaned backward, nearly causing Qiu Baozhu to fall into his arms.

Seeing the boy’s displeased expression, Xiao You said, “My sister studies art; I have some appreciation for it.”

Then he seriously examined the drawing.

“I can’t say what’s good about it,” Xiao You admitted, lacking professional terms, “but the old man’s expression is particularly vivid, and the gesture is very natural.”

Qiu Baozhu took the drawing back and slipped it into his sketchbook.

“Going out tonight?” Xiao You lay his head on Qiu Baozhu’s desk, looking up to see Qiu Baozhu’s soft, tofu-like pale face. No other boy at school had such a face; only Qiu Baozhu.

“No, I’m going home to do homework with Qiu Fei.”

“Qiu Fei?” Xiao You glanced at the back seat where Qiu Fei looked like a stern scholar, utterly uninteresting. “Since when did you fall in love with studying?”

Qiu Baozhu was unwilling to continue talking with Xiao You. Being too well understood made the distance shrink, and that easily destroyed his sense of security.

He lay down, leaving only the back of his head to Xiao You, his hair whorl flicked like a silent snub—a strand pointed straight at Xiao You’s position.

—

Xiao You remained seated.

After a few seconds, he could no longer stay still, and his expression turned sour.

“Hey.” He nudged Qiu Baozhu’s shoulder.

“I’m going to take a nap,” the boy mumbled.

Xiao You was forced to suppress his anger, with no outlet.

Just then, Pan Sheng’an returned from the supermarket with two cans of iced cola—one for himself, the other specially bought for Qiu Baozhu.

Xiao You caught sight of Pan Sheng’an, propping his chin on his hand, and gave him a mischievous smile.

Pan Sheng’an cautiously approached.

“Brother You, want some cola?” Pan Sheng’an asked nervously, stepping forward.

He had always followed behind Xiao You but hadn’t done so since that day in gym class; Xiao You forbade it, and Pan Sheng’an dared not disobey.

Though Xiao You never explicitly said he felt differently about Qiu Baozhu, Pan Sheng’an sensed it—there was a real difference.

Xiao You’s rejection was because Pan Sheng’an was too close to Qiu Baozhu.

Xiao You’s furrowed brows looked especially unfriendly at that moment.

But the boy said nothing, only smiled softly, took the cola Pan Sheng’an offered, and pointed at the other can. “Give me that one too. Shen Chen might want some.”

Pan Sheng’an hurriedly handed over the second can.

Quite sensible.

Xiao You’s expression improved slightly.

But before he could grab the cola, a hand from beside him took it first, opened the tab, and the boy tilted his head back to drink.

Qiu Baozhu’s hair was messy from lying down, his face tense, trying to look fierce but clearly inexperienced.

Xiao You was stunned, but when he recovered, he felt no anger and licked his lips.

“Thank you,” Qiu Baozhu said to Pan Sheng’an.

Pan Sheng’an momentarily forgot that Xiao You, despite his foolish grin, was sharp and perceptive. He waved his hand. “No need, no need—the cola was meant for you anyway.”

Xiao You cast a sideways glance but said nothing.

—

The birthday party invitations were personally hand-drawn and written by Qiu Baozhu. He first made a list of the people he intended to invite, one invitation per name.

The base color of the invitations was green.

The background featured a simple black pen sketch of him and Qiu Fei. The two figures looked similar, but Qiu Fei’s always wore glasses and held an umbrella, while Qiu Baozhu’s figure sported a pair of green glasses.

After sealing the envelope, a wax stamp bore the faint engravings “fea” and “boosu.”

“How beautiful! Mom never knew you could draw so well!” He Yingjie exclaimed in surprise and delight upon receiving the invitation. Qiu Jinyan also praised it repeatedly.

However, the thin stack of invitations was fewer than usual.

He Yingjie counted them, “Sixteen?”

Qiu Baozhu nodded. “I don’t want to invite people I don’t particularly like.”

“But…” He Yingjie frowned. “You used to invite dozens of people; this few will feel so lonely.”

“Then there’s no need to specially decorate the venue; we could just have it in your room,” He Yingjie joked, covering her mouth with the invitation.

Unexpectedly, Qiu Baozhu looked thoughtfully serious and then nodded earnestly. “That could work.”

“That won’t do,” He Yingjie said firmly. “What kind of birthday party is held in a bedroom…”

Qiu Baozhu smiled.

—

In the previous life, after the Qiu family’s bankruptcy, He Yingjie and Qiu Jinyan never celebrated his birthday again. They hadn’t truly lacked money to buy even a cake, but everyone, including Qiu Baozhu himself, had lost the will to be happy.

Yet at that time, Qiu Baozhu was dating Wei Shu, who would buy him cakes and thoughtful, if not expensive, birthday gifts.

The first birthday after the family’s bankruptcy was celebrated in the stairwell of the small rented apartment.

Wei Shu took out a string of pearls, each perfectly round. Usually aloof, he lowered his head at such a moment and said, “These are artificial pearls. When we have money, I’ll get you natural ones.”

At that time, Qiu Baozhu clutched the pearl necklace, his eyes red, nodding earnestly. “It’s okay if we don’t have money. Ah Shu, I’m with you for life.”

Later, Wei Shu continued to put great effort into cheering him up, wanting every day to feel like a birthday. But Qiu Baozhu always felt that Wei Shu had changed; he no longer understood him well.

Wei Shu ought to understand him—or rather, Wei Shu understood him from the start. Wei Shu knew what he truly wanted.

After all, he was clever, and Wei Shu was even cleverer.

In his idle moments, Qiu Baozhu often pondered why they had ruined such good days.

He loved Wei Shu and felt that Wei Shu loved him too, but he couldn’t figure it out.

The only conclusion Qiu Baozhu could reach was that he absolutely did not want a life like a bird in a cage or a captive sparrow.

Therefore, he only sent birthday invitations to those who had “passed” the test in the previous life.

Xiao You was the first to receive an invitation. He propped his legs on the desk, humming, “Talking to the moon… the reason I can’t let go, is it because I’m afraid of becoming a beast?”

“Qiu~ Bao~ Zhu~,” he called out in a drawl from the back of the classroom.

Several people glanced his way.

Qiu Baozhu, called by Xiao You, gave no response, sketching faster with his pencil.

Xiao You never expected a reply; Qiu Baozhu always responded to him half-heartedly.

He just wanted to shout.

Pan Sheng’an sat in the corner of the classroom, quietly feeling his pocket, then cautiously pulled out his invitation, not daring to be as showy as Xiao You.

Qiu Baozhu only gave invitations to ten people in the class. He was not familiar with most of the rest and hadn’t even played with them before.

But after the previous bankruptcy, some of these people had offered help to Qiu Baozhu.

“I might not be able to come. I have violin lessons on the weekend,” Zou Ni said, surprised when she received the invitation.

She hadn’t spoken much with Qiu Baozhu but was willing to greet him warmly because of his good looks.

Those who received invitations gathered around Qiu Baozhu’s desk, clustering together.

“Where did you get these invitations made? Introduce me—I want my mom to use them for her wedding.”

“What do you like?”

“Is it Saturday? You didn’t write any dress code. So anything’s fine?”

“This one is you, and this must be Qiu Fei, right?”

“I’ve never heard what Qiu Fei likes…”

Surrounded, Qiu Baozhu answered every question calmly and unhurriedly, his youthful appearance and demeanor tempered by years of steady warmth.

In the other corner of the classroom near the back door, Wei Shu sat at his desk, expressionless, leaning against the wall.

The wounds on his face had completely healed, but dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed sleeplessness, making his eyes even darker and deeper, his complexion cold and sharp.

Watching the warm and radiant youth surrounded by others not far away, Wei Shu tilted his jaw slightly. His fingers casually probed under the desk but found nothing beyond textbooks and a bag.

He had not received an invitation to the boy’s birthday party.