A thick stack of hundred-dollar bills sat before him, the impact utterly overwhelming. Qi Ji, both shocked and puzzled, finally asked the same question he had once heard from Qi Mingyu:
“…Where did you get so much money?”
Qi Mingyu leaned in; their noses were barely a hand’s width apart. At such close proximity, every detail of each other’s face was clear, yet Mingyu showed no hint of guilt.
He stared unblinking into Qi Ji’s eyes, without the slightest avoidance. “I earned it myself.”
Qi Ji frowned. “You earned it where?”
This wasn’t a small sum—it was ten thousand. Qi Ji’s monthly internship salary at Yuntu hadn’t even reached that, and Mingyu was just a senior in high school. How could he possibly make this much?
Faced with the key question, Mingyu fell silent.
He glanced at Qi Ji, then suddenly withdrew his arm, as if to step back. Qi Ji, still caught between shock and doubt, reflexively grabbed Mingyu’s wrist.
Mingyu had never trained in combat; Qi Ji’s grip twisted his forearm almost to a right angle.
“…!”
It had been a reflexive move, using his restraint technique. Sensing it might be wrong, Qi Ji quickly eased his grip.
“You okay?” he asked.
Mingyu didn’t even flinch. Seeing Qi Ji still holding on, as if afraid he might run, slightly amused him. After all, it had always been Mingyu chasing after others, never the other way around.
“I’m fine,” Mingyu said, countering, “Did you get the beef?”
Qi Ji hadn’t expected the sudden shift in topic and blinked, then nodded: “Got it.”
Mingyu tugged lightly on his wrist, not really using force: “I’ll make beef balls.”
“Beef balls?” Qi Ji echoed, confused.
Still held by the wrist, Mingyu didn’t rush to pull away, simply extending his hand: “Since you’ve been coming home alone from work, you’ve probably skipped meals again, right? Look at yourself—so thin, can’t even pinch a bit of flesh off your face.”
Seeing him up close, Qi Ji realized just how skinny Mingyu really was. His face was smaller than the girls in art class who starved themselves to lose weight, his chin sharp enough to irritate the eyes.
“Didn’t I leave you a week’s worth of dinners in the fridge last weekend? Did you eat them?”
“I did,” Qi Ji replied. Previously, with Pei Yusheng away, he had been living at home, eating lunch at Yuntu, and dinner was whatever Mingyu had left—sandwiches and dumplings.
Mingyu snorted coldly. “Eating that won’t put on weight. You’re just wasting food.”
Qi Ji frowned. “Don’t change the subject—what’s with this money?”
“Put it away first,” Mingyu said.
“No, I won’t take it until you explain,” Qi Ji insisted.
Mingyu clicked his tongue. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t explain. It’s a long story—you’ll have to listen slowly.”
Qi Ji finally let go. Mingyu glanced at him, slowly retracting his hand and rubbing his slightly reddened wrist. “Unlike you, I don’t run off before finishing a story.”
Qi Ji sighed, placing the money securely in the drawer. By the time he turned back, Mingyu was already in the kitchen.
Qi Ji followed and saw him tying a simple apron, taking the knife from the board, and expertly chopping beef.
The beef could have been ground at the supermarket, but Mingyu insisted on buying chunks and chopping them himself. Qi Ji couldn’t do it, so he helped wash the potatoes.
As he chopped, Mingyu explained: “Six thousand of that ten thousand came from livestreaming.”
Qi Ji paused mid-wash. “Livestreaming?”
He instinctively thought of something unsavory. “Where? What were you streaming?”
“Just on a livestream platform,” Mingyu replied, chopping without looking up. “Not gaming—self-study.”
“Self-study?” Qi Ji frowned. Could that even be livestreamed?
Apparently, it could. Some classmates had mentioned it before, suggesting Qi Ji could try eating broadcasts. But he had never pursued it, disliking the attention. He barely knew anything about livestreaming.
“Yes,” Mingyu said. “Platforms have everything. I streamed myself studying, sometimes explaining problem-solving, earned tips, and it didn’t affect my studies.”
Qi Ji nodded, half understanding. Once the potatoes were washed, he grabbed a peeler and asked: “When did this happen?”
Mingyu never needed tutoring, and Qi Ji had been busy with overtime and part-time work, so he didn’t know Mingyu could study and livestream simultaneously.
“Since summer vacation,” Mingyu said. “About two months. Then I went to competitions and stopped.”
Qi Ji was shocked. “Two months and you earned six thousand?”
Mingyu set the knife down and took the potatoes and peeler from Qi Ji: “Not six thousand—fifty thousand.”
“Fifty thousand?!” Qi Ji was genuinely stunned.
He hesitated with the peeler: “Wait—should I peel the potatoes? I’ll do it.”
Mingyu waved him off. “Forget it. I’m not eating human-blood potatoes.”
Qi Ji: “….”
“Wash the cabbage,” Mingyu assigned him a more suitable task. “Peel off the outer layer, separate the leaves, tear into small pieces. Keep leaves and stems separate.”
As Qi Ji bent to wash the cabbage, Mingyu continued: “After platform fees, tips amounted to fifty thousand. I only took the thousand from late June as a trial. July’s two thousand was delayed by a system issue, August another two thousand, still pending. By September, it was finally confirmed. The platform went bankrupt.”
Though he had gained followers, Mingyu’s inexperience and school obligations prevented him from focusing fully, which led to this issue.
“…And then an even bigger matter,” he added.
“I was planning to enter the IMO selection, and the livestream earnings helped cover the fees. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side—I didn’t succeed.”
Qi Ji looked at him. The kitchen light cast dim shadows over the tall, slender boy, highlighting his sharp profile. His side face showed determination, no longer the naive youth he had been.
Qi Ji reached out, rubbing the back of Mingyu’s head.
“What?” Mingyu said, not appreciating it. “There’s a knife here—move, don’t want me cutting you?”
Qi Ji stepped back. Mingyu’s ears might have flushed red in the dim light—he had always blushed easily, a true sibling trait.
Mingyu, clearly unwilling to admit it, waved him away: “Wash the cabbage properly. Tear wrong, and I’ll stew the whole head for you to eat.”
Qi Ji ignored him: “You said the platform went bankrupt—how did you get the six thousand?”
Mingyu turned back to the meat, shaping and marinating it: “Streamers collectively sued. I knew someone, joined in, and recovered six thousand last week. The rest will come later, maybe delayed a bit.”
He added before Qi Ji could ask: “I didn’t handle the payment personally, just signed in a few times, didn’t miss class.”
“…Oh.” Qi Ji, peeling cabbage, looked at him. “How could you sign with a platform underage?”
Mingyu had no excuse this time. He surrendered: “Used your ID.”
Qi Ji flicked a cabbage leaf against his back: “Got it?”
Mingyu bowed his head sincerely: “Yes… next time, I’ll…”
Before the second flick, he corrected: “…study properly.”
“And there’s still four thousand left. Do you want me to explain? You’d want to hear this.”
Qi Ji, blocked from speaking, listened as Mingyu directed him: “Eight leaves, remember? Too many, you’ll end up drinking cabbage soup.”
“Got it,” Qi Ji muttered. “What about the other four thousand?”
Mingyu started peeling potatoes, explaining: “That’s from IMO-related help.”
“I thought you gave me all the IMO prize money?”
The six national team members had collectively earned two top prizes, two first prizes, two second prizes at the International Math Olympiad. Mingyu got a top prize; its cash reward, plus school awards, had already gone into Qi Ji’s account.
“Not prize money,” Mingyu said. “This is from helping out recently.”
“Helping?” Qi Ji asked.
“Remember when I said I lost my phone in Buenos Aires?”
“Yes, what about it?”
During his trip for the competition, Qi Ji had just left the boxing arena. Mingyu had been calling constantly while he was unconscious, with Dr. Zhao answering.
When Qi Ji awoke and tried to contact him, Mingyu was unreachable. Qi Ji only confirmed his safety through the team’s coach.
After Mingyu returned, Qi Ji learned the phone was lost—keeping it secret due to the family’s financial situation until he returned.
“My phone was stolen while helping a local find directions,” Mingyu said. “Later, he felt guilty and insisted on buying me a replacement. It happened during free time, so the coach came along to the duty-free shop. He really did buy me a new phone.”
All the while, Mingyu worked steadily—slicing potatoes, splitting the braised pig trotter along the bone—while Qi Ji could only tear cabbage.
In culinary skill, Qi Ji and Mingyu were both exceptional. The difference: Qi Ji was the negative value, Mingyu the positive.
“And then?” Qi Ji asked.
Mingyu had mentioned parts of this before, but it didn’t seem related to the four thousand.
“Then, at the mall, I happened to save a little girl. She was on the escalator, looking around, slipped, almost fell. I caught her in time.”
The staff arrived quickly. Mingyu set the girl safely aside. Initially he wanted to leave, but the girl was frightened, her parents hadn’t come, and she clung to his sleeve crying. Staff tried sweets, nothing worked.
Mingyu, accompanied by the team, stayed with her. Forty minutes later, her parents arrived, nearly frantic. Grateful, they handed Mingyu a business card, offering help anytime.
Mingyu, a student in a foreign country, didn’t need it, but glanced at it and realized her father was the famous Ukrainian mathematician Tom Eric.
Coincidentally, Eric’s family was vacationing in Buenos Aires. Learning Mingyu was competing in the IMO, they spoke. Eric was also friends with Professor Xue, Mingyu’s mentor.
This connection, plus the power of mathematics, led to warm discussions. Had the coach not called back the team, Eric would have invited Mingyu to their vacation home.
The team stayed together, so Eric left his contact. Mingyu returned home and maintained the connection.
“I got a guaranteed admission to F University,” Mingyu said. “Seniors made a group for us. They post meetings and events with allowances. Of the four thousand, one thousand was from meeting allowances.”
Mingyu had the F University guarantee from summer vacation. Other top schools courted him, but he stayed to attend the same university as his brother.
“A few days ago, Eric came to F University for a lecture and invited me. The remaining three thousand came from his lecture allowance.”
After explaining, Mingyu finished preparing the beef balls. He added an egg to the marinated meat, forming perfectly shaped balls.
He spoke of calculus and quantum mechanics, of magnificent math and vast skies, yet never paused in seasoning and shaping the beef balls.
“To me, math and cooking for you are equally important,” he said lightly. “I saved up this month, so I could give you a rounded ten thousand. There are more scholarships and loans I can tap into—I can still earn, without affecting studies.”
Qi Ji opened his mouth to speak, but Mingyu went on: “I know, I won’t livestream before the college entrance exams. I did it just to cover competition fees—I didn’t mean to hide it.”
After forming the balls, Mingyu washed his hands and started heating oil. Calmly, he lit the stove, though it took him two tries to ignite the gas.
“You…”
Mingyu coughed lightly, not turning to Qi Ji: “You don’t have to do those things anymore—I can help.”
Qi Ji fiddled with the last cabbage leaf, unconsciously picking semi-circles with his nails.
He watched Mingyu; the boy’s side profile had shed its youthfulness, showing a subtle sharpness and determination.
Qi Ji suddenly realized something.
That little boy who always seemed so perpetually unhappy had, before he even noticed, grown up so much.
He remembered how he used to cry easily as a child. Their mother often said he was too delicate. Qi Ji would try not to cry, but couldn’t help it, so he developed the habit of shedding tears in secret. Once, when he was hiding in his room crying, the door suddenly swung open. Startled, he thought it was their mother—but instead, in came a tiny figure, shorter than him, who scrunched up his little face, lifted his shirt, and fussed over him, wiping away his tears.
Qi Ji could still clearly remember how small his younger brother had been back then, having to tiptoe just to reach his brother’s tears.
Now, in the blink of an eye, that brother had grown taller than him by more than a head.
The cabbage leaves, damp with water, lay cool in his palm. Qi Ji raised his hand, brushed his forehead with the back of his hand, and let out a soft sigh.
“Qingyu has grown up.”
“…”
Before Qi Ji could put down his hand, the bowl of cabbage was snatched away, and even the leaf left in his hand was pulled from him.
“Cut it out,” Qi Mingyu snapped. “You’re only two years older than me, yet you say stuff like that?”
“Three years,” Qi Ji corrected.
“Two and a half,” Qi Mingyu grumbled irritably, squeezing a tomato in his hand until it burst into the pan. “That’s not the point. Did you even listen to what I said?”
“I did,” Qi Ji replied. “But Mingyu, you know how it is—working for an internet company comes with a lot of overtime. When things get busy, all-nighters are normal. I really like this position; it’s not a burden. I get what I want out of it.”
Qi Mingyu stared at the tomatoes boiling and softening in the pan, silent.
He could fuss over other things, but he couldn’t deny that his brother genuinely enjoyed what he was doing.
“My part-time job, I’ve also signed a contract. I can’t quit until I finish it. But things are better now. Last summer was busy and stressful, but that won’t happen again,” Qi Ji continued. “When there’s no overtime on weekends, I’ll come home and spend time with you.”
“I’m not asking you to spend more time…” Qi Mingyu began to protest but trailed off.
Reflexively, he wanted to argue, but he didn’t want Qi Ji to think he was insisting on anything.
After fussing with the tomatoes several times, Qi Mingyu finally asked, “What about your rest?”
“I have enough rest. Don’t worry,” Qi Ji reassured him.
“And when will your part-time job end?”
Qi Ji couldn’t give all the details about the job. He only said, “Not long now, but I’ll have to prepare for my thesis project, so I’ll be busy for a while. After graduation, things should be much easier.”
Six more months to go.
Qi Mingyu didn’t speak.
Qi Ji could naturally see the discontent on his brother’s face, and in that familiar frown, he could still see traces of the child he once was.
But familiarity didn’t mean he knew how to comfort the one closest to him. Qi Ji, used to greeting the world with a smile, didn’t know how to soothe this particular person.
He could only stand by and repeat his promise: “After graduation, things will be easier.”
Qi Mingyu remained silent for a long while, until he had placed the meatballs one by one into the tomato broth, before finally speaking:
“When your part-time job is done, don’t do it again.”
Qi Ji nodded. “Okay.”
Graduation was next summer. If Mr. Pei’s insomnia problem got solved in the meantime, Qi Ji could possibly negotiate ending his part-time work early.
Satisfied with Qi Ji’s promise, Qi Mingyu finally relaxed a little.
He didn’t let Qi Ji linger in the kitchen to get in the way. “Fine. You’re not needed here. Your hands are cold and you’re just fussing. Go warm up by the air conditioner.”
And so, Qi Ji was ushered out of the kitchen.
Qi Mingyu moved efficiently, and soon the table was set with a hearty dinner: stir-fried pork hocks with potato slices, tomato meatballs, vinegar-braised cabbage, and tofu noodle soup—three dishes and a soup.
It wasn’t a luxurious feast, but all dishes were authentic hometown flavors Qi Ji had grown up with and loved.
The staple was fragrant rice from their hometown, steamed to perfection and glistening. Poured over with the bright, savory tomato broth, it was irresistible. With the handmade beef meatballs, it was Qi Ji’s favorite meal.
Handmade beef meatballs were their father’s specialty, and Qi Mingyu had learned the technique from him. The taste was identical—rich beefy aroma and a springy texture, impossible to resist. Qi Ji eagerly devoured three bowls by himself.
There were more meatballs than needed, and with the three other dishes, nearly half of the meatballs remained.
Qi Ji asked curiously, “Mingyu, why aren’t you eating these?”
Qi Mingyu frowned as he sipped the tofu soup. “Not hungry.”
“They make meatball soup in the cafeteria every day; I’m tired of it,” he explained.
“But yours tastes better than the cafeteria’s,” Qi Ji said.
Qi Mingyu snorted and lowered his head to drink the soup.
Though the bowl hid his expression, it was clear he appreciated the compliment. Yet, in the end, he didn’t touch the meatballs, only nibbling at the other dishes.
Making the meatballs had taken some time. By the time they finished eating, it was already past nine. Qi Ji intended to leave soon, knowing it would take about an hour to drive back to the Rose Villa.
When Qi Ji mentioned leaving, Qi Mingyu became upset again, storming into the kitchen with a clatter.
Qi Ji put on his coat and peeked in to see his brother packing the remaining meatballs into a thermal box.
“Why the box? Why not just put them in the fridge?” Qi Ji asked.
Qi Mingyu, still annoyed, only said after packing them, “For you.”
“For me?” Qi Ji was puzzled. “I’m full.”
“You’ll be hungry working overtime tonight,” Mingyu said bluntly, though the words carried concern. “You can heat them up after you finish.”
Qi Ji didn’t refuse.
Before he could take the box, Qi Mingyu added, “Don’t share them with anyone.”
“Anyone?” Qi Ji asked.
“You’ve got coworkers at your part-time job, right? Eat them yourself, don’t share.”
Seeing his brother’s gruff tone, Qi Ji added, “Because they don’t look good?”
“Exactly,” Mingyu said.
Qi Ji lifted the lid and looked carefully. “I think they look fine.”
The tomato broth’s color was bright and inviting.
Before Mingyu could get upset, Qi Ji promised, “I’ll eat them all myself. No one else.”
Only then did Qi Mingyu carefully pack the box.
Qi Ji took the box and heard him ask, “Will you be back tomorrow night?”
Qi Ji thought for a moment. “I’ll be back by lunchtime.”
There shouldn’t be any issues at Mr. Pei’s, and Yuntu wouldn’t require overtime.
Qi Mingyu nodded. “Then I’ll make you pork rib soup.”
“Okay.”
Cradling the still-warm food, Qi Ji left, reminding him one last time: “Lock the doors, do your homework, and get some rest.”
“I know,” Qi Mingyu replied.
Outside, it was cold. Qi Ji didn’t wait for a ride. After hearing the door lock behind him, he walked down and called Pei Yusheng.
Pei said he’d send someone to pick him up. Qi Ji assumed it was from Rose Villa. Since the two places were a bit apart, he planned to wait at the convenience store by the gate.
Before he even reached the gate, a black Mercedes G-Class approached.
“…Mr. Pei?” Qi Ji was surprised. So fast?
The rear window rolled down. Sure enough, it was Pei Yusheng, signaling for him to get in.
Qi Ji opened the door, and the warmth inside was immediately comforting.
“You’re fast. I thought I’d have to wait a while,” Qi Ji said.
Pei paused, then replied, “I’m not fast.” He explained, “I was just nearby handling something.”
Qi Ji nodded, tucking the food box safely under his arm. Pei glanced at it and asked, “What’s that?”
“A packed dinner,” Qi Ji answered.
“Did you make it?” Pei asked, intrigued.
Qi Ji explained, “Have you eaten yet? My brother made the meatballs.”
“…”
Pei Yusheng abruptly withdrew his gaze from the box.
“Already eaten,” he said.
Qi Ji didn’t insist further. After all, Mingyu didn’t want to share, and Mr. Pei might not be used to homemade dishes anyway.
The engine started, and the car began to drive away. Pei was about to close the window when his side mirror caught a figure.
Facing the Mercedes, the person was watching them from afar. But soon, noticing Pei’s gaze, they retreated into the shadows of the trees.
Pei Yusheng considered for a moment, then said, “Wait a moment.”
Qi Ji looked up. “Mr. Pei?”
“You go buy me a bottle of water,” Pei instructed. “There’s a convenience store at the gate. After you get it, wait there for me. I need to make a call.”
Qi Ji understood immediately—it was best for him to step away.
He got out and walked toward the gate.
Once Qi Ji disappeared from view, Pei Yusheng got out of the car.
A few steps later, sure enough, by a tree, he saw the same light-brown-haired figure.
Even in the dim light, Pei could clearly make him out.
His hair color was identical to Qi Ji’s.
Genes are truly remarkable, Pei thought.
Even as biological brothers, their temperaments were completely different.
Pei Yusheng stepped closer, the two figures a few meters apart—one in the lamplight, the other in the shadows.
Pei spoke first: “Looking for me?”
The other’s voice was lower, huskier than when last heard over the phone months ago.
“Was the person who broke my phone in Argentina sent by you?”
He dropped a heavy question right away.
“To stop me from contacting my brother.”
Pei Yusheng listened, but didn’t show the shock the other expected.
He smiled, replying with a question instead: “Why do you say that?”
Qi Mingyu’s jaw tightened, his gaze cold: “Not everyone is as slow as he is.”
Pei raised an eyebrow. “You’re sharper than I expected.”
“Not as thorough as you, of course. But to hire my brother, someone went to great lengths and planned all this carefully.”
As he spoke, he slowly stepped out of the shadows.
The surrounding trees remained dark; no lights pierced the night. Qi Mingyu’s expression grew even gloomier in the dimness.
“This scheme… how long has it been in motion? I suppose you won’t tell me. I only want to ask one thing.”
“How long do you plan to keep my brother employed?”