The five of them stayed overnight at the campsite. When Qi Xu saw the change of clothes inside the tent, he realized this was a planned trip.
The young masters refused to use public showers, washing up in Zhang Qi’s private residence.
Qi Xu wasn’t picky and used the public bathroom to shower.
Fang Qian finished washing first. The mountain air was cold at night, so she put on a jacket when she came out and saw Qi Xu on the terrace, looking at his phone.
As she idly checked her phone, the screen was full of missed calls—from the Shen family and even Old Master Shen.
Qi Xu had put his phone on silent the moment he left the banquet, completely unaffected by the barrage of calls and messages.
It was already past midnight. Qi Xu didn’t return Old Master Shen’s call but sent a message saying he’d return to the old residence tomorrow.
He ignored all other messages and calls—didn’t read or reply to a single one, and turned off his screen.
“This place really feels like you’re far away from all the noise. So peaceful,” Fang Qian said as she came over.
Qi Xu put away his phone and smiled, “Yeah, it’s quiet enough to hear a spirit calling in the wilderness.”
Fang Qian gave him a look. “How do you have zero romantic bone in your body? I thought finally someone would share a romantic moment with me.”
“Isn’t Jiang Zimu an art student? He should be full of romantic vibes.”
Qi Xu didn’t know much about Fang Qian at sixteen. The person he knew was a successful 28-year-old career woman who once told him Jiang Zimu had held a solo art exhibition to impress someone, using her venue and charging admission.
Fang Qian got annoyed when he mentioned her cousin. “You’re stuck in stereotypes. Who says art students are romantic? What if you got a sketch for your birthday full of nothing but a creepy close-up of your eye? Would you still think it’s romantic?”
Qi Xu: “…”
“Terrifying. Just thinking about it triggers my trypophobia.”
“It really is terrifying, but every eye in that drawing shows me in all kinds of moods—happy, angry, sad, joyful. I have to admit, my cousin put a lot of thought into it,” Fang Qian said, half laughing, half exasperated. “Maybe all his romantic cells got taken over by his art cells. I don’t open that painting lightly anymore. I’ll wait until he’s famous, then hold an art show and charge admission.”
Qi Xu knew that ten years later, Jiang Zimu would indeed become famous—live streaming his painting to tens of thousands of viewers on social media, becoming a role model for countless art students.
“You might make a killing then,” Qi Xu said honestly.
Fang Qian looked skeptical. “How do you know that?”
Qi Xu raised his hand and tapped his finger like a street fortune teller. “Because I have the gift of foresight.”
Fang Qian laughed out loud. “Xu Yichen said you weren’t in a great mood tonight, and I wanted to tease you a bit. But it looks like you’re actually doing better than me.”
Qi Xu frowned. “Why does he keep telling everyone I’m in a bad mood?”
Fang Qian leaned on the railing with both hands. “Go ask him yourself. You two came here in the same car.”
Qi Xu thought maybe what he said gave Xu Yichen the wrong impression—like maybe he felt he had no place in the Shen family.
It was understandable for others to take those words as a vent, after all, these were his biological parents—not something easy to just let go.
Xu Yichen and Xie Huai finished showering and walked over, seeing Qi Xu and Fang Qian chatting happily on the terrace.
“Handsome guy and beautiful girl, looks like—”
Before Xu Yichen could finish, Xie Huai cut him off, frowning. “Are you out of your mind? Can you just say whatever you want?”
Xu Yichen was confused. “I just meant it looks like you guys don’t know each other well. You can stand between us.”
Then Xu Yichen and Xie Huai stood on either side of Qi Xu and Fang Qian—perfectly positioned.
Xu Yichen pouted and complained to Fang Qian, “Ah Huai called me brainless, I’m really hurt. My heart aches and I need comfort.”
Fang Qian rolled her eyes. “You’re brainless. He’s right.”
Xu Yichen leaned his silly head on her arm, pretending to cry. “Why are you like this too?”
Fang Qian pushed him away with disgust—but couldn’t quite get him off.
Xie Huai lowered his eyes, his emotions hard to read.
But Qi Xu definitely sensed something off in Xie Huai—more obvious than when he was watching the fireworks. Unfortunately, Qi Xu didn’t know him well enough to figure out what was going on inside his head.
So he just asked directly.
“What’s wrong?”
Xie Huai was silent for a long moment, then said, “Xu Yichen isn’t the problem. I think I might be.”
Qi Xu: “…”
He furrowed his brow, utterly speechless.
Eighteen-year-old Xie Huai was even more unpredictable than he was at twenty-eight. At least back then, he didn’t say these weird things.
Xu Yichen was the happiest to hear this. He probably wanted to announce to the world: “Ah Huai, you finally admitted your issues! Out of all five of us, you definitely have the most problems.”
Qi Xu was too tired to keep going with them. His eyes were barely staying open. He turned and waved at them.
“I’m going to sleep. You guys keep chatting.”
Xie Huai left with him, heading toward his own tent.
Qi Xu glanced at him. “Not going to talk anymore?”
Xie Huai said, “There’s nothing to talk about with them.”
For someone who had known Xu Yichen for eighteen years, saying there’s nothing to talk about now was surprising enough to almost spark a fight.
Qi Xu asked with concern, “Do you need to see Old Xu about that? I think his medicine works pretty well. Maybe it could cure you.”
The two walked side by side. They’d spent nearly every day of their three-week military training together, but had never really gotten this close before—not physically, but emotionally.
From the moment Xie Huai heard “Huai-ge” (Brother Huai), he knew he had earned Qi Xu’s pass—permission to know everything about him, to have one more person by his side, and to enter his territory.
It was as if Qi Xu had left his scent on him, marking him as one of his own.
Should he feel happy about this? Not entirely. Human nature is greedy. Xu Yichen said Xie Huai had many flaws—one being arrogance, and another, the need to control everything he desired.
For example, when he was a kid, not wanting his mother to work so hard making dried fruit snacks, he bribed Xu Yichen and the others with toys and game consoles to lie and say they didn’t like the snacks.
Or when he was sixteen, his father wanted him to study abroad, but he had his own plans. He had his cousin in the U.S. quietly share posts in a private circle exposing young people’s drug problems, while he himself, in a rebellious phase, started smoking and causing trouble.
Finally, he wrested control of his life plan from his father’s hands.
Being allowed for the first time—this experience was novel to him. And he wanted more, greedily unsatisfied.
Xie Huai stepped onto the wooden stairs. “Old Xu can’t fix me.”
Qi Xu was stunned. Did this guy really have some illness? Surely not—he’d made it to twenty-eight in his previous life without rumors of anything like that.
Still, he said, “Don’t avoid treatment. Maybe it could help.”
He couldn’t help but glance downward—could it be a hidden illness?
“Where are you looking?” Xie Huai suddenly asked.
Qi Xu smiled. “The wildflowers by the roadside are quite pretty.”
Wildflowers in the pitch-black night you couldn’t really see.
When they reached the tent, Qi Xu ended the topic: “If you feel it doesn’t affect your life, then it’s not a big deal. Your Xie family probably arranges annual physicals anyway, so don’t overthink it. As long as it’s not fatal, it’s fine.”
With that, he yawned a big yawn. Without waiting for Xie Huai’s reply, he went inside the tent and closed the door.
Soon after, Jiang Zimu saw Xie Huai standing there and reminded him, “Brother Huai, your tent is back there. How’d you get all the way out here?”
Xie Huai turned and walked back. “Passed it.”
——
A night without dreams.
At dawn, the chirping birds outside and the sun shining on the unshaded tent made it impossible to stay in bed.
By ten o’clock, Xu Yichen and the others were already sitting in the common area having breakfast, but Qi Xu still hadn’t appeared.
Xu Yichen put on sunglasses and glanced at the time. “Why isn’t Qi Xu up yet? How long has he been on that herbal medicine? Still loves to sleep in. Maybe we should stop it. Feels like this is just his nature—no saving him.”
Xie Huai wiped his mouth with a tissue. “Stop the herbal medicine? Believe it or not, he’d sleep straight through until night.”
“I believe you, since you share a dorm with him,” Xu Yichen said, setting the milk in front of Fang Qian. “Should we go wake him up? Didn’t he say last night he wanted to go back to the old family home?”
Just as they were about to get up and call Qi Xu, two girls from the next table walked over together.
One of the girls nervously gathered courage and said to Xie Huai, “Hi, um, are you guys students at the nearby university? We’re from R University. Could we add you on social media?”
The three at the table exchanged a knowing glance.
Xu Yichen quickly declined for Xie Huai, “Sorry, he already has a girlfriend.”
The girl looked over at the only girl at their table, Fang Qian, and her face flushed red. Adding someone’s contact info right in front of their significant other—what an embarrassing move.
Fang Qian quickly explained, “Not me. His girlfriend’s still asleep.”
You can imagine how ambiguous that sounded. The two girls apologized and quickly left the awkward scene.
Jiang Zimu, the only minor present, was innocent enough to ask, “When did Huai-ge get a girlfriend?”
Xu Yichen and Fang Qian high-fived in silent agreement.
“If we didn’t say that, it’d be like last time at the amusement park—half the park suddenly ‘coincidentally’ added you, saying it was fate, and chased you every day asking about Huai.”
Jiang Zimu said, “My cousin already deleted her.”
Qi Xu, still sleepy-eyed, sat next to Xie Huai. Xu Yichen, clearly surprised, said, “Damn, did your tent catch fire or what? How did you wake up on your own?”
“Are you crazy? If I don’t wake myself up, do you want someone else to do it for me?” Qi Xu said, barely opening his eyes.
Xu Yichen explained, “We were just about to come get you. Looks like the herbal medicine’s working a bit.”
Xie Huai cleared the empty plate in front of him and placed a sandwich in front of Qi Xu.
Qi Xu took a bite. “Uncle Li called to wake me up. Hearing his voice triggered me.”
He looked at Xie Huai with mock grievance—the guy had successfully turned Old Master Shen and Uncle Li’s kindly voices into midnight death knells.
Xu Yichen, familiar with Qi Xu’s wake-up ringtone, laughed and said, “Next time, want to switch to Huai-ge’s own voice?”
Qi Xu sneered, “Go ahead. Our roommates would probably witness an earth-shattering fight over the bed first thing in the morning.”
Xie Huai didn’t participate in their banter; he kept his head down, scrolling his phone or handing tissues to Qi Xu.
After breakfast, Qi Xu finally couldn’t hold back. “Why is the table next to us staring over here? Do you know them?”
It wasn’t like Qi Xu was trying to be nosy. They were just way too obvious, and the way they looked at him made him feel both excited and thrilled.
He’d never experienced those kinds of looks before.
Jiang Zimu said, “They just came to ask for Huai-ge’s contact info.”
Qi Xu curiously asked, “Did he give it?”
“Nope. Said Huai-ge has a girlfriend,” Jiang Zimu replied, standing up with them.
Qi Xu knew it was just an excuse but still asked, “And they believed it?”
Jiang Zimu loved telling Qi Xu these things. “My cousin said his girlfriend was still asleep.”
Qi Xu laughed, then slowly realized something was off. Who was asleep? He was the one sleeping.
So who was Xie Huai’s girlfriend?
Ha, that excuse wasn’t funny at all. No wonder those two girls looked at him the way they did.
He never thought he’d one day become Xie Huai’s convenient excuse to fend off others—an unwitting shield.
Xie Huai, standing behind, overheard the whole conversation and said to Qi Xu, “Laugh all you want. Why’d you stop?”
Qi Xu shot back, “I’m naturally not a cheerful guy. Unlike you, who’s a born flirt.”
