Chapter 23

As they were talking, an elderly woman, wrapped in a knitted shawl with half-white hair, opened the door and took a few steps out. She smiled and asked, “Xiao Chi, why didn’t you bring your classmate inside? I’ve heard you two talking outside for quite a while.”

“Grandma,” Mu Chi smiled and called out, stepping forward to support the elderly woman. He introduced her, “This is Song Wenzhou, the one I often mention to you.”

Song Wenzhou, a little awkward, half-bowed and greeted, “Hello, Grandma.”

“Good, good, good,” Grandma Mu smiled warmly. “Come in, it’s so cold out here.”

The house was a small two-story loft with visible signs of renovation from the outside.

The heating inside was quite strong. Mu Chi found a pair of new slippers for Song Wenzhou, hung up his coat and scarf on the wall, and then unzipped his own coat.

Grandma Mu had already gone inside. Song Wenzhou stood to the side, waiting for Mu Chi.

When Mu Chi bent down to change his shoes, he glanced up at Song Wenzhou and said, “It’ll be ready soon.”

He noticed that Song Wenzhou’s social skills weren’t the best. It wasn’t so bad that he would be nervous around strangers, but he found it difficult to start a conversation on his own.

Fortunately, Mu Chi had a natural knack for socializing, which complemented Song Wenzhou’s more reserved nature. If Song Wenzhou didn’t take the initiative, Mu Chi would do it for him.

Mu Chi thought to himself, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly. After changing his shoes, he smiled and said to Song Wenzhou, “Just keep being like you are now.”

Song Wenzhou: “?”

Sometimes, Song Wenzhou really couldn’t understand what Mu Chi was thinking.

Mu Chi didn’t take Song Wenzhou to the living room but instead went straight to the dining room. Grandma Mu was already sitting at the table, waiting for them. When she saw them, she smiled and invited Song Wenzhou to sit.

Song Wenzhou noticed a woman’s figure in the kitchen connected to the dining room, so he hesitated to sit down. He waited until the woman came out holding a large ceramic bowl, then hurriedly greeted, “Hello, Aunt.”

He reached out to take the bowl from her hands, but before he could, Mu Chi had already taken it.

“Hello, hello,” the woman responded, her clothes simple, and she didn’t resemble Mu Chi in appearance.

Mu Chi set the bowl down, then plopped down beside Grandma Mu, casually pulling Song Wenzhou to sit beside him. He called out, “Aunt Mei, come sit with us and eat.”

“Alright,” Aunt Mei replied while returning to the kitchen, “Let me check if the buns are ready.”

While she was away, Mu Chi leaned close to Song Wenzhou’s ear and whispered, “Aunt Mei’s house is nearby. My dad asked her to come take care of Grandma.”

Song Wenzhou nodded in understanding.

The ceramic bowl contained millet porridge. Mu Chi first filled a bowl for Grandma and then one for Song Wenzhou, saying, “Your stomach isn’t great, so don’t eat the fried dough sticks. This is easier to digest.”

He also poured half a cup of warm milk and pushed it toward Song Wenzhou. “Warm milk, it helps protect the stomach lining.”

During this, Grandma Mu smiled contentedly as she sipped her porridge and watched them.

Song Wenzhou felt a little awkward.

What was going on? Mu Chi was being so considerate, but he should tone it down a bit in front of his grandma—this made it seem like he was bullying Mu Chi.

Mu Chi didn’t know what was going through Song Wenzhou’s mind. Seeing him sneak a glance at him, he urged, “Hurry up and drink, no need to be shy. My grandma is really easygoing… right, Grandma?”

Grandma Mu wiped her mouth and scolded Mu Chi, “Don’t keep bothering him, let him eat in peace.”

Song Wenzhou blushed a little and gave Grandma Mu a shy smile.

“I’m not bothering anyone!” Mu Chi said, feeling wronged. “I’m clearly just taking care of my desk mate.”

“Other people can take care of themselves,” Grandma Mu pretended to glance at Mu Chi and said, “You just take care of yourself.”

Song Wenzhou held back a laugh and glanced at Mu Chi, then obediently said to Grandma Mu, “Thank you, Grandma.”

“No need to thank me,” Grandma Mu smiled at him, “Hurry and eat, don’t mind him.”

“Okay.”

As Song Wenzhou responded, he felt Mu Chi’s thigh bumping into his under the table. Not willing to be outdone, he nudged back.

Mu Chi, encouraged by the response, became more audacious. With a smile in his eyes, he and Song Wenzhou continued to bump each other back and forth.

After three rounds of this, Song Wenzhou, belatedly realizing, brought his legs together to avoid Mu Chi’s knee. He lowered his head and muttered in a breathy voice, “Childish.”

Mu Chi chuckled quietly, unabashedly loud enough for his grandmother to hear, and said, “Aren’t you the same?”

Song Wenzhou, feeling guilty, glanced at Grandma Mu to see if she had noticed. When he saw that she wasn’t paying attention to them, he sighed in relief. Turning his head, he shot Mu Chi a glare, determined not to acknowledge him for the rest of the meal.

After dinner, Grandma Mu asked Aunt Mei to help her pack, and before heading to her room, she asked Mu Chi to take Song Wenzhou to his room to play and also pack the things he needed to take with him the next day.

Mu Chi’s room was on the second floor. The room was full of various things, but surprisingly, it didn’t look messy.

Mu Chi crouched on the floor, packing things into a suitcase. After finishing, he reached out his hand toward Song Wenzhou, casually saying, “Pass me the bag next to you.”

Song Wenzhou stared blankly at Mu Chi. Upon hearing his words, he reached for the bag next to him, grabbed it, but didn’t immediately hand it over to Mu Chi.

“Hmm?” Mu Chi glanced up at Song Wenzhou and then at the bag in his hand, which contained underwear. He coughed awkwardly twice. “Uh… do you like it?”

Song Wenzhou frowned. “You’re lying to me.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you say your grandma wanted to see me?” Song Wenzhou didn’t even look at him as he handed over the bag. “It’s not even that.”

Mu Chi smiled as he took the bag, his head lowered. He admitted, “You caught me. Actually, I wanted you to come. We won’t see each other for a long time after tomorrow.”

Song Wenzhou’s heart stirred. He blinked, turned his head away, and muttered, “It’s not like we can’t meet again. Besides, we can still text, right?”

“But there’s the time difference,” Mu Chi said with regret. “And every time we chat, you just disappear.”

Song Wenzhou had explained before that he only didn’t reply when the topic had been finished.

Song Wenzhou thought for a moment and said, “Next time, I’ll let you know before I disappear.”

Mu Chi laughed and cheerfully responded, “Okay, you said it. Don’t forget!”

Song Wenzhou solemnly nodded, “Mm.”

Mu Chi quickly finished packing. There wasn’t much he needed to take—books, clothes… Then, as if remembering something, he hurriedly dug out his school uniform and took the keys out of his pocket.

“Almost forgot.”

Mu Chi waved the basketball in front of Song Wenzhou’s eyes, raising one eyebrow smugly.

Song Wenzhou rolled his eyes lightly. What’s there to show off about those ugly keys?

At this moment, there was a “bang” sound from the tightly closed glass window. Both Song Wenzhou and Mu Chi turned to look, only to see a burst of ice flowers forming at the center of the window, with melting water trickling down.

“Brother Chi—” Qi Ling’s voice called out from outside, “Get up—”

Mu Chi strode over to the window, and before fully opening it, cursed, “Qi Ling, are you an idiot?”

Qi Ling, curled up like a ball, stood in the middle of the yard with his arms wide open, laughing loudly as he yelled, “Look, it’s snowing!”

“I know it’s snowing!” Mu Chi looked down at Qi Ling and scolded, “If you break my window again, I swear I’ll—”

“I didn’t throw a rock, it’s just a snowball. Nothing will happen,” Qi Ling said, bending down to scoop up a handful of snow and tightly compacting it.

Curious, Song Wenzhou walked over to Mu Chi’s side. As he poked his head out of the window, a snowball came flying straight at him and hit him square on the forehead!

For a moment, all three of them froze.

In one day—no, in two hours—at the same place, Song Wenzhou had fallen twice. He was almost stunned by the hit.

It was Mu Chi who snapped back to reality first. As he pulled Song Wenzhou over to wipe the water marks off his forehead, he shouted downstairs, “Xiao Qilin, are you trying to kill me? You can’t even throw a snowball properly!”

“It’s not that,” Qi Ling said, a bit confused. “Why is Song Wenzhou in your room?”

“You don’t need to know,” Mu Chi said fiercely. “All you need to know is that you’ve pissed me off, and the consequences will be serious.”

Qi Ling: “…But I didn’t hit you.”

Mu Chi didn’t look at him anymore. He grabbed Song Wenzhou and turned around, grumbling, “Let’s go, I’m going to get revenge for you.”

Song Wenzhou saw how serious Mu Chi looked and couldn’t help but say, “I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

He had just been caught off guard for a moment.

Besides, when Mu Chi came to his house earlier, he threw snowballs at his forehead too. If anyone was to get revenge, he should throw three snowballs at himself first.

Mu Chi didn’t respond. He walked to the door, then turned back to the wardrobe, pulled out a woolen hat, and placed it on Song Wenzhou’s head. “Put it on.”

After saying that, he rushed downstairs in a hurry.

Song Wenzhou followed him down. Grandma Mu and Aunt Mei hadn’t come out of the room, but they must have heard Mu Chi and Qi Ling’s conversation. They were probably used to this kind of situation.

Song Wenzhou put on his coat in the entryway and, after thinking for a moment, wrapped a scarf around his neck. By the time he pushed the door open and stepped outside, the battle between Mu Chi and Qi Ling had already escalated.

There were several snowballs piled at Qi Ling’s feet, probably prepared while Mu Chi and Song Wenzhou were coming downstairs.

Mu Chi, going into battle empty-handed, was no match for his speed and seemed to be at a slight disadvantage.

When Song Wenzhou stepped outside, Qi Ling quickly took the initiative and said, “Song Wenzhou, I’m sorry for hitting you earlier. You can’t just help Brother Chi bully me alone.”

“Heh, I don’t need him,” Mu Chi said as he dodged a snowball. “I can handle you on my own.”

So, Song Wenzhou silently moved a little farther to watch the battle.

Soon, Qi Ling had thrown all the snowballs at his feet in a haphazard manner. It looked intimidating, but only a few actually hit Mu Chi.

Mu Chi, though he threw fewer snowballs, seemed to have calculated Qi Ling’s movements. Eight or nine out of ten times, his snowballs hit Qi Ling’s shoulders or back.

Especially after Qi Ling threw his snowballs randomly and had to pause for a moment to remold them, it became even easier for Mu Chi to hit him.

Song Wenzhou watched as Qi Ling, who was shivering from the snowflakes melting down his neck, cried out in cold. He shook his head inwardly—compared to Mu Chi, Qi Ling was still a bit weak.

Lost in thought, Song Wenzhou felt a hit on his leg. He turned to look, and saw Mu Chi slightly tilting his head, signaling a challenge.

Song Wenzhou sneered—did Mu Chi really think his head was made of snow?

Song Wenzhou bent down, quickly formed a perfectly round snowball, and skillfully hurled it at Mu Chi.

He had expected Mu Chi to dodge like he did during his battle with Qi Ling, but to his surprise, Mu Chi stood still, letting the snowball explode on his chest.

Song Wenzhou narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll let you have one,” Mu Chi said, reminding him with a touch of mock politeness, “Now I’m going to get serious.”