Lan Xingchen watched in disbelief as Pei Qingjian, in the blink of an eye, returned the 600-yuan red packet he had just received.
All day long, these four had tried their hardest, yet this little golden canary had only netted a bit over one yuan!
It was enough to drive anyone mad!
This wouldn’t do, Lan Xingchen reasoned. With Pei Qingjian’s personality and his luck, if they kept sending red packets, Pei Qingjian might even end up losing money.
The solution had to come from work—only money earned through actual work would reliably make its way into his pocket.
Lan Xingchen remembered Pei Qingjian had mentioned his company this morning: Xinghe.
Though Xinghe Entertainment hadn’t collaborated with him before, it had worked with Anglai, so he had met Mr. Zhang from Xinghe and even still had his contact info.
The question was…
If he contacted Mr. Zhang directly and asked him to look after Pei Qingjian, would his uncle find out?
After all, the head of Anglai was his uncle. His acquaintance with Mr. Zhang existed because of his uncle.
Thinking of his uncle, Lan Xingchen hesitated.
Even though he had moved out three years ago, dealing with anything involving his uncle still made him anxious.
He feared his uncle might still care too much—or perhaps not at all.
He wanted to maintain their previous closeness but feared it might interfere with his uncle’s current family.
After lowering his eyelashes and thinking for a long while, he finally steeled himself. He picked up his phone and dialed Mr. Zhang.
Mr. Zhang glanced at the incoming call and frowned slightly.
What was going on today? Even Anglai’s little prince was calling?
“Hello, Xingchen? Long time no see,” Mr. Zhang said with a smile.
“Good afternoon, Uncle Zhang. Busy lately? I’d like to treat you to lunch.”
“Why the sudden invitation?”
Lan Xingchen’s tone was calm. “It’s like this, Uncle Zhang. I have a friend at your company, and I wanted to ask you to help look after him.”
“Friend?” Mr. Zhang asked, puzzled. “Which friend?”
“Pei Qingjian.”
Pei Qing? Who’s that?
Mr. Zhang wondered, but smiled politely: “No problem, Xingchen. If he’s your friend, I’ll naturally help look after him, don’t worry.”
“Thank you, Uncle Zhang.”
They spoke back and forth for a bit. Only after hanging up did Mr. Zhang look at his assistant in confusion: “Do we even have someone named Pei Qingjian at our company?”
The assistant was equally puzzled. “I’ll check right away.”
Soon, the assistant returned with the information and knocked on Mr. Zhang’s office door.
Mr. Zhang took the papers, glanced at the photo on top, and paused.
It was a simple photo: a young man standing neatly by the turquoise lake, his features clean and handsome, proud and youthful.
Looking pretty good—why hadn’t he developed further? Mr. Zhang wondered silently.
Flipping through the documents, Mr. Zhang fell silent.
Why not?
No connections, no acting skills, no background, couldn’t interact well with people—opportunities laid in front of him would likely be kicked away.
Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Zhang realized why Lan Xingchen had called.
Most likely, Pei Qingjian couldn’t endure it any longer. After eight months on the sidelines, he had probably woken up, realizing that his presence in this small company mattered little, and if the agent truly ignored him, he’d never have another chance.
Being Anglai’s little prince, Lan Xingchen’s face was enough to get Pei Qingjian a chance.
Pei Qingjian’s resume was unimpressive—but his looks were beautiful. With that face, he still had a chance.
The only question now: what kind of role should he be given?
“I’ve got it,” Mr. Zhang suddenly said to his assistant. “Notify Pei Qingjian’s agent—have him come see me tomorrow.”
Pei Qingjian, who had been the subject of so much discussion, had no idea about any of it and was busy editing photos.
After talking with his agent that morning, he had decided to return to his old work temporarily—earning money through photography and photo retouching until new job opportunities arrived.
Right now, he had no sample photos, no models, and not enough capital, so compared to photography, retouching was much simpler and more convenient.
Almost immediately, Pei Qingjian had a plan.
He opened a social media app and searched for specific keywords with clear intent.
Soon, he found what he wanted:
“Ahhhh! I spent 4,000 yuan on this photoshoot, and this is how it turned out. They said post-processing would fix it, but this is what came back! I said it wasn’t good, and they even hinted I was ugly! So angry! The more I think about it, the angrier I get! [crying][crying][crying]”
Pei Qingjian tapped on the post, examined both the original and edited photos, and quietly downloaded the originals.
He opened his computer and started retouching.
This was work he knew inside and out, and before long, he had finished editing two photos, saved them, and exported them.
He posted:
Sea: “Here you go, OP, calm down. I’m sending you two photos. You’re obviously very good-looking~ [image][image]”
After posting, Pei Qingjian didn’t linger. He continued browsing for other posts, editing photos for more people.
It wasn’t until five o’clock that he finally paused his retouching for the day.
Checking the time, he figured Lan Xingchen would be off work soon and sent him a message:
Pei Qingjian: “What time will you be back? What do you want for dinner?”
Lan Xingchen read the message and felt a fleeting daze.
The last time he’d received such a message was from his uncle.
But now, having repeatedly declined his uncle’s invitations, his uncle had understood and no longer called or messaged him to come home.
Lan Xingchen thought this was the right way.
No nephew lived at his uncle’s house forever; no nephew should linger after his uncle married.
Even the closest uncle-nephew relationship had its limits. His uncle could treat him like his own son, but he couldn’t take that for granted.
His uncle had devoted half his life to him; now that he had his own family, Lan Xingchen shouldn’t, and couldn’t, become a burdensome presence.
That’s why he agreed to help his roommate start a business, moved out the year he graduated, and reduced contact with his uncle.
Lan Xingchen didn’t think he had done anything wrong. But after over twenty years of shared feelings, deliberately stepping back naturally brought some melancholy.
Still, he told himself, his uncle’s happiness mattered most.
After so many years, it was finally time for his uncle to be happy.
Lan Xingchen: “Let’s have stir-fry.”
By the time he got home, Pei Qingjian had prepared three dishes and a soup.
Seeing him, Pei Qingjian clearly brightened. “Wait a second, I’ll make a cold dish too.”
“Okay.” Lan Xingchen’s mood lifted slightly as he watched the joy on Pei Qingjian’s face.
He remembered the phone call he made to Mr. Zhang that afternoon and asked, “So happy, did something good happen?”
Pei Qingjian smiled, eyes curling, waving his phone at him. “You didn’t grab it yet, right? Fang Ge sent another red packet just now—I got 0.66 yuan.”
Lan Xingchen: …That’s a huge sum!
He shook his head at Pei Qingjian’s luck—it was just hopeless.
He looked down at those fair, delicate hands. How could they be so unlucky?
Lan Xingchen: “Do you always get red packets like this?”
Others grab 100 yuan; he grabs 0.01?
Pei Qingjian: “I don’t usually grab red packets.”
Lan Xingchen: “Huh?”
Pei Qingjian tilted his head, thinking how to explain. He had grown up in a rural area with only his grandmother. Life was hard; without the help of generous people, he might never have made it to high school. Eventually, he got into college, but after his grandmother passed, all the family money went to her funeral. Luckily, he had student loans, which allowed him to attend university.
It wasn’t until sophomore year that he finally earned enough for his first phone.
But though he had a phone, he had no relatives to add. He only added classmates and roommates, who mostly communicated privately. There were no active group chats; the roommate chat was just for practical matters—rarely any red packets.
Lan Xingchen’s friend group was the first he had joined that loved sending red packets.
It was rare for him to be in such a lively group, and even rarer to grab so many red packets. It vaguely felt like reclaiming the happiness he had missed out on before, so he was happy all day.
Pei Qingjian: “I’m not close to relatives, there’s no one to speak for me, so no family group. Friends only talk about things, hardly send red packets. So I usually don’t grab red packets.”
Lan Xingchen was slightly surprised.
Back when he helped Pei Qingjian pack his things, he knew Pei Qingjian’s relationship with his father was strained. He hadn’t expected it to be this bad.
Which family wouldn’t have a group chat? The He family surely had one—but they were a happy trio, and he was excluded.
His father ignored him; his father’s relatives naturally didn’t care.
No wonder he rarely grabbed red packets.
Lan Xingchen’s heart softened.
Though he had lost his parents, his uncle treated him like a real son. His uncle cared, and others didn’t dare act rashly; if they did, it was only behind his back, never to his face.
Pei Qingjian, despite having a biological father, didn’t even have that.
Thinking of this, Lan Xingchen pulled out his phone and sent Pei Qingjian twenty-two red packets at once.
Pei Qingjian blinked in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Haven’t you rarely grabbed red packets? Twenty-two years, twenty-two packets—catching you up.”
Pei Qingjian froze for a moment, clearly not expecting this. He blinked, slightly stunned, and lowered his head.
On his phone screen was a clear stream of red packets, scrolling up and down endlessly.
This was the first time he had ever received so many.
He didn’t even know how to feel. He rarely participated in grabbing red packets, let alone receiving them.
Since he got his first phone, his only close family was gone.
His relatives feared he would bother them or become a burden, so no one wanted to contact him—and certainly no one sent him red packets.
Among friends, so-called red packets were mostly just a way to transfer money.
Pei Qingjian never felt he needed anyone’s red packets. He had always been content and didn’t want or dare to take what belonged to others.
Yet now, he had received twenty-two red packets from Lan Xingchen.
Twenty-two years, twenty-two packets—Lan Xingchen was catching him up.
And yet, why should he even be obliged to accept them?
His heart swelled with a mix of sweetness and bitterness, like biting into a juicy summer orange—the flavor lingering, delightful, yet making him hesitant to take a second bite.
Pei Qingjian stared quietly for a while before finally looking up. “I can’t take this.”
Lan Xingchen studied the clarity in his eyes, his tone softening. “I gave them to you, so you keep them.”
“It’s too much,” Pei Qingjian said. “And you don’t have to give me red packets—you’ve already given me money.”
Lan Xingchen: …
He pointed at himself. “Who am I?”
“Lan Xingchen.”
“What’s my relationship with you?”
Pei Qingjian: …
Embarrassed, he stammered, “A…sponsor relationship.”
Lan Xingchen nodded. “Do you know what a sponsor relationship means?”
Pei Qingjian: …
“Sponsor means I cover your living expenses—food, clothing, shelter. And support means I take care of your pleasures and fun. I don’t care if your dad ever gave you red packets. But now, I’m the one supporting you. I give, you accept. Got it?”
Pei Qingjian: ??? This explanation seems… a little off.
“No buts,” Lan Xingchen said, deciding to give him a proper lesson. “Do you know how to be a proper pet canary?”
Pei Qingjian: …
He thought seriously for a moment. “Eat yours, drink yours, use yours.”
“And?”
Pei Qingjian’s cheeks flushed slightly, a tinge of shyness. “Sleep…”
“Hmm?”
“Sleep with you.” he murmured.
Lan Xingchen: !!!
He hadn’t expected Pei Qingjian to be so bold—he couldn’t help but laugh.
He reached up and pinched Pei Qingjian’s cheek. “Sleep with me? You want to sleep with me?”
“Sure.” Pei Qingjian wiggled the soft flesh of his cheeks, voice playful. “When are you planning to come sleep with me?”