Qi Xu didn’t just stay—he even took the initiative to practice calligraphy in Grandpa’s study.
Though he was a beginner, his way of holding the brush was completely wrong, and he made a mess with the ink everywhere. Every day, the servants could hear Grandpa scolding loudly in the study.
“Wrong again, wrong again! How many times have I told you? Does your wooden head even get it? Do I have to punish you by making you copy until it sticks?”
“Did you grind the ink? You’re dipping in water too fast—writing with plain water! Who’s supposed to see the writing, you or me?”
“Hmph, your strokes look decent though—have you practiced before?”
Then a lazy voice came from the other side.
“Long time no practice. Maybe I’m just naturally gifted. In a past life, I was a calligrapher.”
Smack! The sound of a back massage hammer hitting his body, making noise but no real force.
“Smooth talker. The most important thing is humility. I praise you once, and you start climbing the pole.”
“Maybe in the life before last, I was a wall climber.”
“You little punk, you said ‘the life before last’ and ‘the life before the life before last.’ What about the last life?”
“I drank Meng Po soup and forgot.”
The two grandfather and grandson kept bickering, the old man’s scoldings sounding more like teasing laughter. Uncle Li stood at the door, shaking his head at the servants, signaling them not to disturb.
Since the young master came, the old house was filled with laughter again, no longer dull and lifeless.
At night, Uncle Li tidied up the old man’s bedding while saying, “The young master is a beginner, but he’s focused and willing to learn.”
The old man snorted slowly and said, “That kid just loves to get scolded. His brush holding shows he’s practiced before, but he pretends not to know anything when he’s in front of me.”
Uncle Li laughed. “The young master just likes when you teach him.”
That made the old man feel good inside—if it were someone else, he might not have been so willing to teach.
The old man cleared his throat, his tone serious but not angry—more like indulgent resignation toward the younger generation. “That damn kid.”
Uncle Li remembered something and said, “Xie Lao invited you for tea tomorrow. Should I let the young master know?”
The old man, sitting on the couch reading the paper, didn’t even look up. “Don’t call him. He won’t get up—how can someone so young need so much sleep?”
In his past life, this grandson might’ve been the reincarnation of a sleep god—couldn’t wake up in the morning, only getting up at lunch time.
And since he slept so long every day but still looked tired, they called an old Chinese medicine doctor who diagnosed Qi Xu with qi and blood deficiency—a weak body caused by premature birth.
When Zeng Yun went to the countryside for childbirth, it was an emergency birth before full term. After they returned to the capital, the old man worried about it, sent people to check on the child, and was told he was healthy.
Everything had signs to explain it, but everyone thought the kid was just lucky to be born.
Qi Xu stayed at the old house for a week. Every meal included supplements. Now he felt nauseous just smelling the herbs, but under the old man’s gaze, he had no choice but to drink them.
One day, after sleeping past noon again, Qi Xu lazily got out of the big bed. After staying here a few days, he realized the old house had one advantage over the Shen family home—the bed was more comfortable and bigger.
After washing up, Qi Xu went to the courtyard to burn incense—a habit that had become part of his daily routine.
A few days ago, the old man saw this and joked with him—wearing his agarwood bracelet, lighting incense every day without fail, living even more like an old man than himself, who’s already eighty.
To keep him living like a young man, the old man actually had some trendy exercise equipment installed in his courtyard—those bright yellow fitness machines you see everywhere on the streets, in parks and neighborhoods, promoted as “Get Moving for All.”
Set up in the front yard, it made the place look more like a retirement home.
Before lunchtime, Qi Xu stood on the walking machine, lazily moving his legs now and then, as if he was just swiping on WeChat to count his steps.
Two minutes later, he stepped down, stretched out back on a rattan chair, and casually tossed a ball on the table.
Just moving a little counted as exercise.
He was staying in the side courtyard, connected to the main courtyard by a hallway. There stood an old sweet osmanthus tree, decades old. It wasn’t blooming season, but the green leaves were lush, and its branches nearly filled the courtyard walls.
Under the shade, sunlight filtered through the leaves, and a soft breeze flickered the light into Qi Xu’s eyes. He threw the ball a bit too hard, and it got stuck in the tree.
He waited a couple seconds—it didn’t fall.
The ball was stuck.
Qi Xu didn’t want to move. He glanced up at the tree, and strangely, his hands felt itchy—he felt like climbing it.
At 28 years old, Qi Xu wouldn’t normally climb a tree, but 18-year-old Qi Xu might.
His climbing was clumsy but light-footed, carefully placing each step, and he managed to reach the trunk.
Once up there, he realized he couldn’t quite reach the ball. Going higher, the thin branches wouldn’t hold his weight, so he stopped.
Too lazy to climb down and find a stick, he sat on the branch, waiting for the servant to come call him to lunch, so they could bring a stick.
Whatever—sitting in the tree enjoying the view was nice too. Qi Xu tilted his head back, staring at the vast clear sky.
At a glance, it looked like he was just waiting for the ball to fall by itself—more patient than the classic “waiting by the tree stump” story.
Soon, a sharp laugh rang out from the neighboring courtyard—bold and loud, as if afraid he wouldn’t hear it.
Qi Xu looked over, and an unexpected face appeared—Xie Huai was sitting in the courtyard with a book flipped upside down on his lap. No telling how long he’d been watching the scene.
Xu Yichen had been yelling for nearly a week, looking everywhere for someone who turned out to be hiding right here.
Xie Huai raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get this ‘waiting by the tree stump’ thing, but today I’m witnessing ‘waiting for the ball to fall from the tree’—pretty impressive.”
Qi Xu: “…”
“Since you let me witness this historic moment, as thanks, find me a stick.”
Xie Huai actually went to find one… a cane.
He glanced at the wall and then at Qi Xu up in the tree. “You coming down or should I climb up?”
Qi Xu said, “I’ll come down.”
He climbed down from the branch to the wall and reached out to take the cane.
He thought it would be an ordinary cane, but looking closely, the handle was made of golden Phoebe wood, and the top was inlaid with imperial green jade. This cane was worth many times more than the ball stuck in the tree.
“Young master, don’t you have any other sticks at home?” the servant asked, a little helpless.
Xie Huai kindly asked, “Huanghuali wood? Rosewood? Or the family law cane?”
Each one more expensive than the last. Qi Xu held the cane like a hot potato, but with no choice, he had to force himself back up and hit the ball down.
Gotta say, there’s a reason why expensive things are expensive—the cane felt great in his hand. With one strike, Qi Xu knocked the ball into the neighbor’s courtyard.
Just as he called for Xie Huai to toss the ball back, before even seeing the herbal soup, the smell hit him. Qi Xu’s face changed, and his long legs climbed the wall again.
“Young master, lunch will be ready soon. Drink some soup first to settle your stomach—ah!” The servant saw Qi Xu climb the wall and cried out, “Young master, come down! It’s dangerous!”
Seeing the soup, Qi Xu panicked and jumped down into the neighbor’s courtyard.
Another shout rang out, followed by hurried footsteps and noise from his own courtyard.
Qi Xu landed just an arm’s length in front of Xie Huai, steadying himself with the cane.
They were only a few inches apart in height, their eyes meeting at the same level.
Xie Huai’s mouth twitched into a smile. “That’s the first time I’ve seen such a unique way of visiting. But hey, welcome to my home.”
Picking up a ball only to end up in someone else’s yard—and holding their six-figure cane—Qi Xu felt like a burglar.
The shouts from his own courtyard had just died down when another shout came from this side.
“Young master, who’s this?”
Xie Huai turned and gave instructions, “Set the table with an extra pair of chopsticks and bowls—looks like we have a guest.”
Nan Feng had been inside all along, and no visitors had come. Could this be a guest from out of nowhere?
He glanced at the young man holding the old master’s favorite cane, then nodded, “Alright, I’ll have someone prepare it now.”
Qi Xu frowned, “I never said I was staying for lunch.”
“What else is there to do when it’s lunchtime at someone else’s house if not to eat?” Xie Huai walked over and bent down to pick up the red ball. “Here to fetch your ball?”
He didn’t hand the ball back to Qi Xu, but instead walked inside holding it.
Refusing to take the cane but clutching his ball instead—Qi Xu wiped the dust off the cane and followed him in.
The servants inside were stunned to see a guest entering through the back courtyard. Had they been so careless as to let a guest come in through the back door?
Now that he was inside, Qi Xu got curious to look around. The Xie family’s old mansion was completely different in style from the Shen family’s. The Shen home was a blend of East and West, but the Xie mansion was a century-old traditional Chinese home, full of charm and antiquity.
Maintaining this mansion must cost an unimaginable amount every year, showing how much the Xie family valued it.
If Qi Xu was right, the cabinets were lined with antiques worthy of auction.
The flower vase on the table with the floral arrangement couldn’t compare even to Qin Yue’s antique shop.
The more he looked, the lighter his steps became as he walked.
Xie Huai didn’t hear the careful footsteps behind him and turned around, noticing Qi Xu was almost tiptoeing. “Are you a cat?”
Qi Xu said, “I’m a human.”
Xie Huai replied, “Is this how humans walk?”
Qi Xu snapped back, “None of your business.”
No matter what, it meant one thing—they were here to eat.
Sitting at the Xie family dining table, it finally felt real. He really was here to have a meal.
The two people at the table had only met four times since they first knew each other, and almost every time something unexpected happened. Maybe their vibes just didn’t match, or their fates were out of sync.
Last summer, for example, they only saw each other once at Fang Qian’s birthday party, and then not again until school started.
Well, that was because last life he hadn’t come to his grandfather’s house.
While still thinking about last life’s memories, Qi Xu heard Xie Huai say, “I didn’t know you were coming, so today’s dishes are all my favorites. Next time, let me know in advance.”
Qi Xu glanced over the dishes on the table—nothing he particularly liked.
“No next time,” he replied.
Before he could finish, a servant came in and announced that someone from the neighboring Shen family had come over.
Qi Xu thought the servants were just checking on his safety—felt like people in the yard cared about him.
He hadn’t expected to smell medicinal herbs from a distance, and then have that dreaded stew pot appear in front of him.
…
Why did they have to chase him all the way to someone else’s house just to make him drink soup? Did he really have no choice but to drink it?
Seeing the utterly defeated look on Qi Xu’s face, Xie Huai rarely got to see such a vivid expression.
He glanced at the black, medicinal-looking soup in the pot, then averted his eyes and asked, “Are you sick?”
Qi Xu replied in a half-annoyed, half-resigned tone, “No.”
A Shen family servant explained, “Young master is weak. This is his daily tonic.”
Qi Xu noticed Xie Huai’s gaze scanning him from head to toe, finally resting meaningfully on his waist. “Then you definitely need to be nourished more.”
