Before He Xiu’s group departed, Pei Yusheng spoke first. “No need to trouble yourselves. This is for my family—getting a little wet doesn’t matter.”
Taking advantage of the pause, he added, “And the store only had this one pre-made strawberry bouquet; making a fresh one would take some time.”
Qi Ji waved his hand. “I don’t need it, sir. You go on ahead—don’t let this delay anything important.”
He Xiu finally relented.
Once everyone left, He Xiu’s subordinates helped place the strawberries into Pei Yusheng’s car, while the driver drove Qi Ji back to his company.
Only then did he finally exhale.
He could finally relax.
With Pei Yusheng gone, Qi Ji allowed himself to loosen up. He knew the fault was his—he’d been too selfish, letting his own inexplicable emotions weigh him down at a time he should have been happy for others.
That slip of the tongue calling out “Mr. Pei” had ultimately stemmed from seeing Wen Chuming walking alongside Pei.
He despised this side of himself, yet found no way to fix it.
So he chose avoidance.
Avoidance had shaped him into this person.
All signals from the outside world relating to it were filtered out. Not listening, not thinking—then he wouldn’t get hurt.
This instinctive self-protection allowed him to quietly observe others’ actions and respond appropriately.
But the mental shield was draining—it was exhausting.
Only after moving far enough away, out of sight and out of mind, did he feel slightly better.
Qi Ji shrugged out of his oversized cloak, hugged his own coat, and curled up like an ostrich.
With Pei Yusheng gone, the partition between the front and back seats remained down. Seeing Qi Ji’s movements, the driver increased the car’s heat. The warm air rustled the paper around the strawberries; Qi Ji buried himself for a while before remembering that fresh fruit shouldn’t be exposed to warm air.
He straightened, moved the strawberries to a safe spot, and slowly pulled on his coat.
The wet spots had dried, though the lingering dampness from the rain still left him feeling slightly chilly.
He missed the warmth of the oversized cloak he had just shed.
But he couldn’t reach for it—it wasn’t his.
Qi Ji rubbed his face, trying to sweep away the tangled emotions. He called Dr. Zhao, informing him that Wen Chuming was alive.
Dr. Zhao had been unaware and double-checked several times, barely containing his excitement. “Wonderful! Now Second Young Master’s wounds can finally be treated!”
Qi Ji echoed, relieved. Yes, wonderful.
He also sincerely hoped that Mr. Pei would recover soon, so he could return to care for Mingyu.
After such good news, he had to feel happy.
Really happy.
Only the encounter with He Xiu had been too brief—they hadn’t had time to catch up.
He decided he would talk more in the evening.
Focusing on that, Qi Ji shifted his attention to work: how to preserve the rain-soaked strawberries, what to buy his younger brother for the weekend.
He successfully crowded out the thoughts he shouldn’t dwell on.
A victory.
Returning to the company, work occupied him, and the afternoon passed quickly. By evening, He Xiu called, inviting him out to eat.
As Qi Ji was gathering his things, He Xiu added, “Oh, and Second Young Master Pei said he knows you and wants to come along.”
At the mention of Pei Yusheng, a buzz went off in Qi Ji’s mind, and all the carefully controlled emotions from the afternoon collapsed.
Instinctively, he wanted to refuse, resisting the idea of being drawn into such tangled feelings again. Rationality felt powerless, completely at the mercy of others’ actions.
Yet the words froze on his lips.
Qi Ji understood the relationship between Pei Yusheng and He Xiu—having Lieutenant General Pei in the picture meant strengthening connections and networking. Even if there was no immediate benefit, the relationship mattered.
He couldn’t let his own emotions hinder this.
And the reason he wanted to refuse wasn’t even justifiable.
In the end, Qi Ji clenched his palm and gave a quiet, “Okay.”
Having long practiced self-restraint, he could still manage, even if tired.
Qi Ji was picked up by He Xiu’s people and brought to a local restaurant serving traditional dishes, elegantly decorated with the unique charm of the water town.
Upon arrival, he realized another guest was present—a subordinate of He Xiu named Jing Wei.
Both He Xiu and Pei Yusheng were there, so Qi Ji focused on He Xiu’s introduction to avoid Pei.
He Xiu said, “Little Jing is local. He recommended this place; their hairy crabs are famous. He’s also skilled at cracking them, so he came along to help.”
Jing Wei was young, barely in his early twenties, with the delicate features typical of Jiangnan. He smiled shyly, “Thanks to Captain He, I’m just tagging along for the meal.”
Qi Ji remained expressionless but, following lessons He Xiu had taught him in childhood, noticed a bulge under Jing Wei’s black suit.
Judging from the noon encounter, he guessed some things. He Xiu’s companions were not just subordinates—they were also bodyguards, serving as personal security.
And being able to speak directly with a lieutenant general suggested He Xiu had reached a significant position.
Still, none of this concerned Qi Ji much. He greeted Jing Wei briefly.
The four of them entered a reserved round-table room. He Xiu seated Qi Ji on his left. Just as he tried to relax, he saw the man he had been avoiding pull up a chair to sit directly to his left.
Qi Ji stammered, “Mr., Mr. Pei, aren’t you sitting with He Xiu?”
Pei glanced at him.
The look was so complex it was hard to read. Qi Ji shivered and looked away.
He only heard Pei say, “Jing Wei is over there; easier for the crabs.”
“Oh, okay.”
They sat. Thanks to a local guide, ordering and explaining dishes went smoothly, and the atmosphere was pleasant. But sitting between these two key figures, Qi Ji felt uneasy.
Especially with the man on his left—it made him restless.
With no way to move, he shifted slightly to the right. He Xiu didn’t mind and began chatting.
“Try this crab meat lion’s head. How is it?”
Qi Ji nodded. “Delicious, very fresh.”
Even distracted, the full crab feast was undeniable.
“Good. That’s what matters.” He Xiu smiled but shook his head. “Though asking you is pointless—you like everything. Even my cooking never gets complaints.”
After a long pause, Pei interjected, “Captain He can cook?”
“I can, but not well.” He Xiu pushed a crab soup dumpling toward Qi Ji. “When I was little, learning to cook big meals, my mom said my food was rejected by both cats and dogs. Basically wasted. Qi Qi was the first to genuinely appreciate it.”
“Really?” Qi Ji said blankly. “I think He Xiu’s cooking is pretty good.”
“You’re just giving me face,” He Xiu laughed. “Later, back in the unit, when the mess hall went out on training and we stayed behind, I promised I’d cook. Every meal I made was eaten clean.”
Qi Ji nodded.
Pei’s gaze darkened slightly as he looked at the back of Qi Ji’s head.
The boy leaned so far to the right, if it weren’t for the seat, he’d be facing completely away from Pei toward He Xiu.
He Xiu continued, “That one time, no one wanted to touch the fried rice, so I ate the cucumbers alone for a day and a half.”
Qi Ji thought: Really that extreme?
Not picky, certainly—most people’s cooking was better than his.
“After that, we mutually agreed never to cook again. I haven’t touched a stove since,” He Xiu said, rubbing his chin. “By this logic, Qi Qi is among the few who’ve actually had my cooking.”
Qi Ji considered and said, “I’m honored.”
“All right, all right,” He Xiu waved his hand. “If you compliment me one more time, I’ll want to go cook right now.”
He tapped the table. “But the main question—why did you suddenly vanish back then?”
Qi Ji paused with his chopsticks. “I… was busy starting college. Later, letters I sent were all returned.”
He Xiu frowned. “Where did you send them?”
“To the address after your rehiring—Lan City Military District.”
“I was transferred to B City Military District later,” He Xiu recalled, calculating the timeline—it matched Qi Ji’s freshman year, just over three years ago. “Wasn’t a new address given?”
Qi Ji blinked. “New address?”
“The one I sent after your college entrance exams…” He Xiu realized. “You didn’t receive it? Had your family already moved?”
He Xiu had limited leave in special forces. That year, after Qi Ji’s exams, he visited him once before Qi Ji had even applied for universities. They had spent a brief time together nearby.
Though the trip was long for a child, leave was only three days. The visit itself took up two days of travel.
Not long after, He Xiu was transferred to B City, closer to Qi Ji’s old home in Province L. But due to closed training, he didn’t have time to write until three months later, sending the new address to Qi Ji.
The letters never received a reply.
He Xiu guessed Qi Ji might have gone elsewhere for school and sent letters to universities Qi Ji might apply to, but without specifics, those too went unanswered.
A year later, He Xiu went to Province L on leave. Returning to his hometown, he found high-rise buildings where the old house once stood.
Inquiries revealed the family had had local troubles and moved. He tried contacting Qi Ji’s aunt, but she slammed the door upon seeing him in uniform, refusing to meet and speaking harshly, even threatening him to leave.
He Xiu never received news from Qi Ji, relying on the boy to take the initiative.
Two years had passed.
Qi Ji, hearing this, blinked. “Sent to home?”
“Yes, and no return receipt. It should have arrived.”
Otherwise, He Xiu wouldn’t have kept hope alive.
Qi Ji shook his head. “I never received it.”
“Maybe… your aunt got them.” He Xiu forced a smile. “We weren’t in contact afterward, so I didn’t know. As for the letters I sent to Lan City Military District—they were returned.”
The timing coincided with the moment Qi Ji’s parents were deceived and severed ties with relatives.
Recalling this visibly drained Qi Ji. The debts and loss of his parents were enormous burdens, compounded by letters to the only person he could rely on being returned. Even now, he couldn’t help but dwell on it.
Yet he hadn’t told He Xiu about his parents’ deaths. Though unavoidable, it was still a wound to his heart.
Qi Ji opened and closed his lips several times, unable to form the words, when a rich, golden crab shell was placed before him.
He froze. “M-Mr. Pei?”
Pei Yusheng had just put down eight crab pieces, and seeing him finally look, said calmly, “Even if you don’t like me, you don’t have to call me ‘peh peh’ every time, do you?”
Tonight had already been twice.
Qi Ji’s ears flushed red.
“N-No… sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to…”