Liang Jin’s words reminded Li Wenshui of the lawyer’s slander. He almost blurted out that he had always considered Luo Jianan a good friend and wasn’t a liar. But just as the words were about to leave his mouth, he held them back. Liang Jin had already decided he had ulterior motives, and explaining wouldn’t change anything.

Li Wenshui stiffened his face and shot Liang Jin a sharp glare, his eyes like knives: “Got it, open the door.”

Liang Jin thought he still liked the Li Wenshui who had once been in his arms, desperately holding back his voice, trembling all over, his skin flushed, obedient, and endearing. The car door opened, and Li Wenshui quickly got out. As soon as his feet touched the ground, his body fell uncontrollably, his legs and waist completely lacking strength.

The fall he expected didn’t happen, though. An arm wrapped around his waist, and he was pulled back into the car, his back pressed against a warm chest.

Liang Jin’s comforting voice came from above: “My aunt keeps a close eye on Jianan. Isn’t it you who said An arm can never wrestle down a leg^[1]not in the same league.? And,” his tone softened, a smile in his voice, “if you’re too close to my cousin, I’ll get jealous.”

Li Wenshui wasn’t foolish enough to believe Liang Jin’s nonsense. He pushed Liang Jin away, feeling wronged, his voice stiff: “Anyway, you’re all in it together. I’m just a nobody. Whatever you say, goes.”

Liang Jin turned his face to Li Wenshui. Li Wenshui still had a bit of baby fat, and when angry, his cheeks puffed slightly. His eyes were sharp, like a cat baring its claws—somewhat dangerous, but not too much. Liang Jin kissed his cheek gently, as if comforting a kitten, and stroked his soft black hair: “Baby, I’m doing this for your own good.”

Li Wenshui: “…”

Baby. The term was one Liang Jin had used for someone else before. It seemed like a standard phrase.

Liang Jin took Li Wenshui’s wrist and placed a card in his hand: “When you come here to see me, the address is on the back.”

Li Wenshui gripped the card tightly and leaned against the car door as he slowly got out. The high beams lit up the muddy alley, and Liang Jin sat in the soft, comfortable sedan, watching Li Wenshui leave. Proud and noble people didn’t step into the mud.

After working all day and being worn out by Liang Jin, Li Wenshui’s legs were sore and numb, his waist too painful to straighten, and other parts of his body burned from overuse. As soon as he got home, he was so exhausted that he collapsed onto the sofa without even bothering to turn on the lights. His eyelids grew heavier, and a voice from the bed broke the silence:

“Gege, I made food for you. Do you want to eat?”

Li Wenshui suddenly opened his eyes and glanced at the bed, where a girl was hugging her knees, leaning against the headboard, her face hidden in the moonlight. Li Wenshui was very hungry but had no appetite: “I’ve eaten. What about you?”

“Hmm.” Li Wenqing sounded upset.

Li Wenshui forced himself to sit up, sighed: “I’m not angry, you are. I know you just want to save more money. I shouldn’t blame you.”

He blamed himself for not being capable, for not having money. He knew Li Wenqing couldn’t see his face, but still, he turned his back, unable to rest at ease.

“Gege, I promise I won’t see Dad again,” Li Wenqing said solemnly.

“Sleep,” Li Wenshui’s voice was hoarse, “You’re a high school graduate. Don’t stay up late.”

Li Wenqing finally felt at ease and lay down. After the heavy rain, the clouds parted, and through the small window, a small piece of sky was visible. The moon was bright, the stars sparse, the leaves swayed, and everything was silent.

—

“Gege, I’ll get into the best university. I’ll stand out. I’ll take you away from here.”

Li Wenshui breathed heavily and had already fallen asleep.

The next day was the evening shift at the hotpot restaurant. Li Wenshui rarely had the chance to sleep in and didn’t get up from bed until noon. His joints in his waist and legs cracked with every movement, though some of the discomfort had eased.

Li Wenqing was hunched over the dining table, doing homework, and asked curiously, “Gege, why did you sleep so late today? Does your back hurt again? Should I put a patch on it?”

As she spoke, she dug out a worn shoe box from under the bed, opened it, and rummaged through the messy collection of basic medicines. She pulled out a patch and checked the expiration date. “You’d better use it soon; it expires in two months.”

Li Wenshui’s back injury was a result of doing heavy labor during his growth period. He lifted his shirt and skillfully applied the patch. “Are you hungry?”

“I made noodles, and I left a bowl for you.”

Li Wenqing’s sharp eyes caught sight of the red marks on his back. The marks were hard to describe—neither bruises nor scratches, but faint red spots, as if something had pressed against him.

“Gege, how did you get those red marks on your back?”

She began to move closer to check, but Li Wenshui hurriedly pulled his shirt down and explained, “It’s from mosquito bites. It’s nothing, no need to look.”

Li Wenqing returned to her seat, still puzzled, and went back to her workbook. She was suspicious—it didn’t look like mosquito bites.

Li Wenshui ate the swollen, sticky noodles, got himself together, and dressed in his formal attire with his resume for an interview.

After Yu Zizhuo was no longer in his way, many companies were eager to hire an outstanding graduate like Li Wenshui. He selected a few companies offering the highest salaries for further discussions.

However, the actual salary was much lower than what had been advertised—after tax, it was less than 10,000, which was even lower than what he earned from odd jobs in a month.

When he turned down the last company, an older HR who was keen to hire him persuaded him, “The starting salary for fresh graduates in finance is never very high. Many business areas will need us to guide you, and training new hires also involves costs. Unless you choose sales, IT, or e-commerce, salaries for this position in Beijing are generally the same. Newcomers need to be diligent and gain experience, so don’t set your expectations too high.”

After leaving the company, Li Wenshui checked his growing loan interest. He agreed with the HR’s words, but he wasn’t being unrealistic; he just wanted to support himself.

For the next few days, Li Wenshui continued to attend interviews, but none offered the salary he hoped for.

—

When summer arrived, the air became humid and hot.

On the last day of the college entrance exam, Li Wenshui had never felt so nervous—more nervous than when he took his own exams. On the way there, he kept talking nonstop, checking if he had brought pencils, erasers, and a ruler, asking if anything felt uncomfortable, and whether he should eat a piece of candy.

Li Wenqing noticed her brother’s anxiety and gave him a big hug before entering the exam hall. “Gege, you have to believe in me. I’m the top student in the school!”

Li Wenshui smiled widely. “You’re much better than me.”

After Li Wenqing entered the exam hall, Li Wenshui sat under a tree, fanning himself, surrounded by parents and teachers caring for the students.

He looked at them enviously. When he took the exam, his grandfather was hospitalized, and Wenqing was still young, so no one accompanied him. He took the bus to the exam center alone. As he arrived, Li Liyan was getting out of a luxury car, Wu Dongya handed him water, and Li Qun fanned him. Li Wenshui looked at them from afar, and Li Qun saw him but didn’t react.

What made Li Wenshui feel proud was that he scored 120 points higher than Li Liyan, ranking first in the city. His excellent results were published in the high school’s newsletter, and he became the “perfect” child that teachers spoke of.

That was the only thing he was proud of during his three years of high school.

When he posted his score on social media to show off, Li Liyan also posted a status. Wu Dongya rewarded him with a car worth nearly a million.

Li Wenshui remembered searching for reviews about the car’s flaws and then commenting to Li Liyan:

“Is this the car? Don’t you know? The dual-clutch gearbox has obvious low-speed jerks, the fuel consumption is high, and it has low resale value. It’s just a flashy, impractical car.”

In fact, even he himself didn’t know what the professional terms he had posted meant.

His first boyfriend saw his reply and responded to Li Liyan: “Don’t mind him, he’s just sour grapes^[2]used to refer to an attitude in which someone adopts a negative attitude to something because they cannot have it themselves..” Thinking about this now, he admitted that it was indeed sour grapes—he was just unhappy.

His phone rang, pulling Li Wenshui’s thoughts back. A red dot appeared next to the WeChat profile picture of a character from a Japanese anime. This was the first message Liang Jin had sent him since he added him.

Liang Jin: [Come over now.]
Li Wenshui: [I can’t, I’m with my sister for the college entrance exam. I’ll be free after the exam around 1 PM, can I come then?]
Li Wenshui: [Is that okay?]

He waited for a while, but Liang Jin still didn’t reply. After thinking for a bit, Li Wenshui called, but no one answered. Li Wenshui muttered a few curses about Liang Jin.

At 1 PM, Li Wenshui still went to the address Liang Jin had given him earlier—a clean, bright, spacious apartment. The interior was minimalist, with all the necessary furniture and appliances, but it didn’t look like anyone had actually lived there.

Li Wenshui entered and sent Liang Jin a message: [I’ve arrived. When will you be here? If you’re not coming, I’ll leave.]

—There was still no response.

Li Wenshui thought to himself that he couldn’t waste an hour on the bus for nothing, so he took a photo of the apartment and posted it on his social media, then raided the fridge for all the expensive alcohol.

By 10 PM, he still hadn’t heard from Liang Jin.