Chapter 19
Today, the school held a Winter Solstice event, aiming to relieve students’ stress and spread warmth before finals. All the teachers had to arrive early to prepare, so Xiao Yao got up at the crack of dawn. Besides, he was already in the habit of morning runs.
The Winter Solstice is the shortest day and longest night of the year.
When he went out for his run, the sky was still dark. A faint sliver of light appeared in the east, not nearly enough to contend with the lingering night.
After changing into his running gear, Xiao Yao stood by the door. The light on the fourth floor was broken, but the faint glow seeping through the stairwell gaps barely illuminated Ti Xiao’s tightly shut front door across the hall.
He jogged a few laps around the park near the neighborhood, glancing across the street at a gym with its lights still on. The discount and promotional offers on the billboard were crystal clear.
On his way back, he took a detour to buy a voice-activated light bulb.
While making breakfast, Xiao Yao kept thinking about the promise he made to go to the gym with the little ponytail guy.
But multitasking had its price — a careless slip of the hand, and he added too much glutinous rice and water. A breakfast meant for one turned into enough for two.
He couldn’t bear to waste food, and with that little thought lingering in his mind, he dug out a plastic container from his cupboard. He reheated a few sweet custard buns, stir-fried some vegetables, and stuffed everything into the delivery box outside Ti Xiao’s door.
He often saw the delivery guy drop off breakfast there when he returned from his morning runs.
But today, the delivery guy was nowhere in sight, and the box was completely empty.
Yesterday’s events still played vividly in his mind — meeting Li Yi while having dinner with the little ponytail guy, then Xiao Yu suddenly falling ill.
He was the one who offered to treat them to dinner, yet he was also the one who left them behind to handle other matters.
Xiao Yao took out his phone and turned on the WLAN. When he saw the Wi-Fi name, “No connection for you, haha,” he couldn’t help but smile and casually took the trash down with him.
“On the winter solstice, the sun is directly overhead at the Tropic of Capricorn, making it the day with the shortest daylight and longest night in the Northern Hemisphere,” the geography teacher, an older woman with a dignified presence and slightly plump figure, lectured in the office, her chubby hands clasped behind her back.
“Ms. Li, give it a rest,” the young math teacher said, eyebrows raised playfully. “Come on, Mr. Chen, let’s go make dumplings in the cafeteria. Whoever makes the fewest has to sleep in the office tonight.”
The chemistry teacher, Mr. Chen, shot him a disdainful look. “Childish,” he scoffed before striding out, the math teacher trailing behind.
Today’s so-called stress-relief activity was for the teachers to make dumplings for their students.
Several classes of girls crowded around Xiao Yao, chirping excitedly.
“Mr. Xiao, can you sneak a coin into my dumpling? I promise I’ll score over 120 next time!”
“I want a coin too!”
With the weight of their expectations, Xiao Yao stood at the cafeteria counter, holding a dumpling wrapper with a mound of filling, utterly bewildered.
He couldn’t make dumplings.
Sure, he could cook—frying, boiling, roasting, you name it.
But when it came to dough, he was utterly clueless.
Maybe because no one taught him as a kid.
“Like this,” the geography teacher demonstrated patiently. “Fold the wrapper in half, then…”
Xiao Yao tried several times, but none of his dumplings turned out right—they either wouldn’t stand up, or they burst open from too much filling. They looked pitifully misshapen, completely unworthy of their maker’s good looks.
Not that it mattered. No matter how they turned out, the girls would still fight over them.
But Xiao Yao had a little secret.
The other day, Little Jiujiao had drawn the winter solstice on the class blackboard. And winter solstice meant dumplings.
“Mr. Xiao, someone’s looking for you outside,” a staff member called.
Outside were Naomi and Xiao Yu.
It was break time, and many students were spilling out of their classrooms to stretch their legs. The sight of two foreigners standing on campus quickly drew curious glances.
“Brother, hug!” Xiao Yu cried out, arms outstretched as soon as he spotted Xiao Yao.
“Walk by yourself,” Xiao Yao said, brushing flour off his clothes. He’d rushed out of the kitchen, still dusted in white.
But Xiao Yu wouldn’t give up, hopping around like a little bunny with his arms raised, demanding to be picked up.
The growing crowd of students started to gather, some even offering snacks to the adorable little guy.
“Let’s go,” Xiao Yao sighed, wiping his hands with a tissue Naomi handed him before scooping Xiao Yu up in his arms and heading toward the cafeteria.
The private high school had state-of-the-art facilities, including a four-story cafeteria. The top floor was a café, where Xiao Yao ordered hot milk for Xiao Yu and coffee for himself and Naomi.
“Why did you come to school today?” Xiao Yao asked, fingers loosely interlocked on the table.
Naomi had always contacted him through phone or WeChat, even last night when he went to the hospital because of Xiao Yu’s fever.
“Dad came back today,” Naomi said, her voice quiet.
Xiao Yao’s fingers tensed, clasping tighter as her words lingered in the air. Naomi, sensing the shift, didn’t push the subject.
Xiao Yu, oblivious to the heavy silence, tugged at Xiao Yao’s sleeve and chirped, “Pudding!”
After a long pause, Xiao Yao reached out to pat Xiao Yu’s head. “Did he say anything?”
Meanwhile, back at his apartment, the room fell into stillness after Ti Nan left. Ti Xiao coughed, his forehead burning up. Even his usually clingy cat wouldn’t snuggle close when he was sick.
Thankfully, his recent projects were finished, and aside from the promised fan benefits, he didn’t have much on his plate.
His family group chat buzzed with messages, reminding him to come home for dumplings that night. But grown-ups living away from home often only report the good news, not the bad. If his mom knew he was sick, she’d worry herself sick too.
So, Ti Xiao lied, saying he had deadlines to meet.
That afternoon, the north wind howled outside, rattling the windows. Ti Xiao sat inside, clutching a mug of hot water, debating whether to brave the cold for the hospital.
When the thermometer crept close to 40°C, he finally gave in. Survival came first. He bundled up in layers, looking like a human dumpling himself, and trudged off to get medical help.
There was a small clinic about a fifteen-minute walk from the apartment, and the gym Ti Xiao had mentioned happened to be on the way.
Health came first — but a chance to flirt couldn’t be missed either.
Ti Xiao pushed open the gym door, nearly colliding with someone on their way out.
“Hey there, handsome—” The gym trainer, ever the salesman, greeted him with practiced enthusiasm, only to falter when he took in Ti Xiao’s bundled-up, mask-covered appearance.
Still, a pitch was a pitch.
“Thinking of getting a membership? We’ve got a great winter deal. Sign up for a quarterly plan, and we’ll throw in a bonus worth 388 — super worth it!” The trainer fanned out a glossy flyer, thrusting it under Ti Xiao’s nose.
“Our equipment’s top-notch, the treadmills are brand new, and we just opened a pool and badminton court downstairs.”
“If a quarter’s too much, we also have annual plans with even better perks,” he rattled on, voice as relentless as a sales robot.
The trainer’s endless chatter drilled into Ti Xiao’s pounding head, each word making his temples throb harder. The flyer’s jumble of promotional numbers blurred in front of his eyes. He squinted, barely making out a four-digit figure starting with a “1.”
His fever-fogged brain was sluggish, and all he wanted was to sign the papers, grab his medicine, and crawl back to bed. He fumbled for his wallet, just as the door behind him opened, letting in a gust of icy wind.
The cold air, sharp and laced with the scent of snow, cleared his head for a fleeting second.
That was when Xiao Yao walked in.
The moment he spotted Ti Xiao — a grayish-blue ball of layers standing stiffly at the counter — his mood inexplicably lifted.
Ti Xiao, on the other hand, didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in his hazy daze. He stood frozen, fingers clumsily digging through his bag.
“Ti Xiao?”
The sound of his name, spoken in that familiar low voice, made Ti Xiao jolt. He turned, wide-eyed, and found himself face-to-face with Xiao Yao.
“Oh! You… you’re here to sign up too?”
Even burning with fever, Ti Xiao’s brain miraculously retained its one-track focus on flirting. A dim memory of boasting about joining the gym flickered to life.
He coughed, scrambling to save face. “I, uh… I was just renewing my membership.”
Xiao Yao raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Really?”
There was a small clinic about a fifteen-minute walk from the apartment, and the gym Ti Xiao had mentioned happened to be on the way.
Health came first — but a chance to flirt couldn’t be missed either.
Ti Xiao pushed open the gym door, nearly colliding with someone on their way out.
“Hey there, handsome—” The gym trainer, ever the salesman, greeted him with practiced enthusiasm, only to falter when he took in Ti Xiao’s bundled-up, mask-covered appearance.
Still, a pitch was a pitch.
“Thinking of getting a membership? We’ve got a great winter deal. Sign up for a quarterly plan, and we’ll throw in a bonus worth 388 — super worth it!” The trainer fanned out a glossy flyer, thrusting it under Ti Xiao’s nose.
“Our equipment’s top-notch, the treadmills are brand new, and we just opened a pool and badminton court downstairs.”
“If a quarter’s too much, we also have annual plans with even better perks,” he rattled on, voice as relentless as a sales robot.
The trainer’s endless chatter drilled into Ti Xiao’s pounding head, each word making his temples throb harder. The flyer’s jumble of promotional numbers blurred in front of his eyes. He squinted, barely making out a four-digit figure starting with a “1.”
His fever-fogged brain was sluggish, and all he wanted was to sign the papers, grab his medicine, and crawl back to bed. He fumbled for his wallet, just as the door behind him opened, letting in a gust of icy wind.
The cold air, sharp and laced with the scent of snow, cleared his head for a fleeting second.
That was when Xiao Yao walked in.
The moment he spotted Ti Xiao — a grayish-blue ball of layers standing stiffly at the counter — his mood inexplicably lifted.
Ti Xiao, on the other hand, didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in his hazy daze. He stood frozen, fingers clumsily digging through his bag.
“Ti Xiao?”
The sound of his name, spoken in that familiar low voice, made Ti Xiao jolt. He turned, wide-eyed, and found himself face-to-face with Xiao Yao.
“Oh! You… you’re here to sign up too?”
Even burning with fever, Ti Xiao’s brain miraculously retained its one-track focus on flirting. A dim memory of boasting about joining the gym flickered to life.
He coughed, scrambling to save face. “I, uh… I was just renewing my membership.”
Xiao Yao raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Really?”
The trainer, oblivious to the tension, cheerfully chimed in, “Actually, new members get a discount! It’s a great deal, especially if you haven’t signed up yet.”
Ti Xiao wanted to disappear on the spot.
His meticulously crafted persona of a fitness-loving go-getter crumbled to dust. Not even his brother, Ti Nanyi, could spin this disaster into a win.
Xiao Yao, meanwhile, stood there, holding a paper bag — the faint scent of dumplings wafting through the air. He pieced things together quickly, the corners of his lips tugging upward in quiet amusement.
He glanced down, taking in the flush on Ti Xiao’s exposed skin, the uneven breaths, the way his words tripped over themselves.
“You’re burning up,” Xiao Yao said, voice low and steady. He stepped closer, placing a hand against Ti Xiao’s forehead.
The sudden, cool touch made Ti Xiao’s eyes snap wide open. It was like ice meeting fire — a jolt of sensation so sharp it momentarily cleared the fever haze.
Xiao Yao leaned in, brow furrowing. “You’ve got a fever. Why are you out here?”
