Chapter 8

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Qiu Baozhu had done a good deed with a clear conscience. Feeling elated and drenched in sweat, he hurried through the front door. Aunt Wan exclaimed twice, “Oh my!” and handed him a large cup of hot water. She took Qiu Baozhu’s schoolbag and hung it on her arm, then suddenly frowned and sniffed. “Baozhu, why do you smell of both smoke and alcohol?”

She was shocked. “Oh!…”

Qiu Baozhu quickly put down the cup and raised a finger. “Shh!”

“Where did you go?” Aunt Wan lowered her voice, eyes full of caution.

“To the arcade to play video games,” Qiu Baozhu answered only partially, his eyes flickering cleverly as he changed the subject. “Where’s Qiu Fei?”

“Fei didn’t go to the library today. He came back early and should be in the study now.” Aunt Wan glanced upstairs. “You were out playing—did you eat dinner?”

“I ate fries,” Qiu Baozhu answered honestly.

“Fries?!” Aunt Wan’s face fell. “How could you eat that kind of thing?”

“...” Qiu Baozhu continued sipping his water. “They’re tasty.”

He drank the water but couldn’t swallow it. His throat choked on Aunt Wan’s nagging.

Her words sounded painfully familiar.

In the previous life, Aunt Wan hadn’t been fully aware of their family’s situation—only that after bankruptcy, life at the Qiu household was far from what it once was.

She had come to their rented home carrying a canvas bag and couldn’t hide her shock from the moment she stepped inside. When she saw Qiu Baozhu, her face was filled with pity.

Qiu Fei warmed up leftover food from the fridge for Qiu Baozhu, and Aunt Wan loudly scolded, “Baozhu, how can you eat that kind of food?”

Forget leftovers—in Aunt Wan’s eyes, even fresh asparagus was food Qiu Baozhu had only ever eaten the tenderest, sweetest tips of before.

Unlike Aunt Wan, Qiu Fei was calm. “This is my portion. He doesn’t have to eat it.”

Qiu Baozhu hastily said, “I can eat, I can eat…” His voice grew faint.

At the time, the boy didn’t feel humiliated by eating leftovers.

What truly made him feel disappointed and hurt was not the transformation of wine-soaked foie gras into tasteless stew, but that all the attention and love he once received had vanished in such a short time.

Aunt Wan still loved him—she always had.

Catching sight of Aunt Wan’s worried and disapproving expression from the corner of his eye, Qiu Baozhu rubbed his stomach. “I don’t think I’m full. I want risotto.”

Aunt Wan’s face lit up as if she had been waiting for him to say just that.

She went to the kitchen and took out a piece of boneless black pork ham from the fridge. Quickly, she sliced and chopped porcini mushrooms, matsutake, onions, and carrots, pouring a small glass of gin to enrich the aroma of the risotto.

She cooked with a special joy, humming as the scent of the risotto drifted into the dining room.

Qiu Baozhu didn’t return to the study but sat nearby at the dining table to do his homework.

On the table, several glass bottles held clusters of crepe myrtle flowers so dense that hardly any green leaves could be seen—these were He Yingjie’s favorite flowers.

The boy was mostly hidden behind the flowers, his green school uniform blending in, so when Qiu Fei came down the stairs, he didn’t even notice him.

Qiu Baozhu heard footsteps and poked his head out. “Hi.”

Under the round lamp above the table, his eyes were a tender green, like two newly sprouted leaves of the crepe myrtle.

“...” Qiu Fei still thought Qiu Baozhu was rather naive.

Qiu Fei glanced toward the kitchen. “I came down to eat something. Is Aunt Wan in the kitchen?”

“She’s making risotto. We’re eating together.” Qiu Baozhu pushed his workbook across. “Help me with this question first.”

Qiu Fei, holding a cup of water, came around and stood beside Qiu Baozhu. He didn’t sit but leaned slightly forward, pointing to the exercise.

His expression unchanged, he picked up a pen and quickly jotted down the formulas on scrap paper, speaking slowly and without warmth, “Given that the momentum before and after the collision of two balls is conserved, let the collision velocity be v.”

He explained straight through, writing out the formulas hastily and roughly until he reached the solution.

“Did you understand?” Qiu Fei kept his explanation as brief as possible because he didn’t believe Qiu Baozhu could grasp even a word.

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For Qiu Baozhu to take the initiative to ask questions was like the sun rising in the west.

So Qiu Fei was merely going through the motions, thinking Qiu Baozhu was either bored or just whimsically curious.

Qiu Baozhu lowered his head. “I understood.”

He did understand; in the previous life, Qiu Fei often tutored him.

His grades slowly improved from average to top tier, largely thanks to Qiu Fei.

But at this stage, Qiu Fei probably looked down on him, hence his terse explanations that combined three steps into one.

“Have dinner with me,” the boy looked up, his green eyes shimmering like swaying willow leaves under the light. “I only ate fries earlier. What did you have for dinner?”

Under Qiu Fei’s indifferent gaze, Qiu Baozhu grew nervous and stumbled over his words.

If he knew nothing of the real Qiu Fei, he wouldn’t be so anxious.

But, as it happened, he knew exactly what Qiu Fei was really like.

The Qiu family’s bankruptcy was far from dignified.

In the turmoil, He Yingjie and Qiu Jinyan abandoned Qiu Baozhu and Qiu Fei, hiding away quietly.

Several of their residences had been sealed awaiting auction, leaving only grandma’s modest self-built house to shelter the two boys.

During that time, creditors lined the courtyard every day, ranging from private financial firms to others.

Qiu Baozhu, timid, often hid upstairs, afraid to come down, leaving Qiu Fei to face them alone.

When Qiu Baozhu finally mustered courage to stand beside Qiu Fei, Qiu Fei locked him upstairs.

“Brother, you staying upstairs is helping me.”

Such harsh words, Qiu Baozhu had felt both wronged and angry then.

Their parents had changed, and so had Qiu Fei.

Unable to face the creditors alongside Qiu Fei, Qiu Baozhu tried to help in other ways: cleaning the house, learning to cook, washing clothes.

But he was bad at everything, and in the end, Qiu Fei had to do it all.

So Qiu Baozhu went door to door in the eastern part of the city, collecting garbage, picking up plastic bottles, cans, and cardboard along the streets.

They both needed to eat.

When he had money, he didn’t consider himself superior; when he didn’t, he didn’t feel inferior. He even changed several social media signatures to “Contentment is true abundance.”

Qiu Baozhu knew Qiu Fei understood far more than he did.

Just then, Aunt Wan came out of the kitchen carrying a small pot of risotto.

Qiu Baozhu looked at her eagerly. “Aunt Wan, I’m eating with Qiu Fei.”

Qiu Fei said nothing but pulled out a chair and sat opposite Qiu Baozhu.

Aunt Wan added a pair of chopsticks and bowls, stir-fried two small plates of vegetables, and poured two glasses of peach juice, placing one in front of each.

She nagged, “Fei, you should’ve said if you wanted to eat. I didn’t make much. Don’t eat instant food alone in the kitchen at night, okay? If you’re hungry, just tell me—I’ll cook for you.”

Qiu Baozhu took a mouthful of rice, watching the glistening ham, blowing away the steam above it, and looked at Qiu Fei across the table. “Qiu Fei, you should thank me.”

“You cooked this?”

“...”

—

The next day at school, Pan Sheng’an had become like a beacon at the school gate, eagerly watching the traffic at the intersection.

Qiu Baozhu got off behind Qiu Fei, walking slowly with his head down, his hands rummaging in his pockets as if searching for something.

“My badge—where is it?”

Qiu Fei heard him from ahead. “Mine’s in the backpack.”

“Is that what you mean?” Qiu Baozhu pulled his backpack in front of him and unzipped it but couldn’t find his badge either.

“Qiu Baozhu!” Pan Sheng’an ran over, looking at him with much warmer enthusiasm than before. “Thanks for yesterday. If it weren’t for those two stones you gave me, my mom would’ve kicked me hard a few times!”

Pan Sheng’an usually saved up to buy little trinkets.

But he couldn’t afford anything of good quality because even a half-fist-sized stone could be worth a million or two without any processing.

The two small stones Qiu Baozhu gave him glowed yellowish-green under a strong flashlight—jadeite like juicy orange flesh, with only the edges cracked while the center was mostly whole and translucent.

Pan Sheng’an knew Qiu Baozhu was helping him.

With those gifts, his family’s attitude toward him wouldn’t be too harsh.

Qiu Baozhu kept rummaging through his backpack without looking up and said hurriedly, “I’ve heard about your family’s situation. It was nothing.”

In the previous life, he met Pan Sheng’an at the Ningkang auction house with Wei Shu. Pan Sheng’an came with his elder brother.

Qiu Baozhu heard Pan Daxun scold Pan Sheng’an not to be greedy—that just being allowed to come and see the world was enough, and not to expect to buy anything.

Qiu Baozhu went to look at what Pan Sheng’an wanted to buy—just a string of moonstones.

It wasn’t expensive; in fact, it was cheap.

Pan Sheng’an’s face was flushed.

He wasn’t embarrassed that his identity was known.

It was the first time someone helped him—and it was Qiu Baozhu, a little master adored both at home and school.

Pan Sheng’an was so moved his heart pounded wildly.

“What are you looking for?” Pan Sheng’an tilted his head, eyeing what Qiu Baozhu held.

Qiu Baozhu now confirmed his badge was missing. He looked up. “My badge’s gone.”

He was sure he put it in his backpack or school uniform pocket after school yesterday. It definitely wasn’t in the classroom.

And after coming home, he hadn’t taken it out.

Did it fall on the road?

Dropped it on the road?

Suddenly, a possibility he least wanted to consider flashed through his mind.

In an instant, the boy’s face turned pale, like a rice cake left too long in the fridge under the sun.

“W-what’s wrong?” Pan Sheng’an, skilled at reading expressions, shifted from cheerful to cautious.

“Tell the discipline committee. They probably won’t give you a hard time,” Pan Sheng’an said.

The Discipline Committee was a unique feature of Jicai School, with powers directly delegated by Jiang Chunren, much like an ancient minister wielding the emperor’s sword to govern.

Such a powerful organization required oversight to prevent abuse.

So Jiang Chunren appointed Wei Shu and Zeng Mingxi.

Mostly Wei Shu, Jiang Chunren’s favorite.

The one troubling Qiu Baozhu was not the Discipline Committee but Wei Shu.

Once targeted by the Discipline Committee, one inevitably had to deal with Wei Shu.

His badge was now lost; hopefully, not on the bar street.

If he crossed paths with Wei Shu again at the same place, the chances of Wei Shu’s infatuation with him growing uncontrollably would become infinitely high.