Chapter 36: Underwear Part 1

In the end, Li Ran still lent out the notebook—”the non-original version.”

He bought several thick notebooks of the same size and painstakingly “rubbed off” a one-to-one copy of the precious notes, transcribing them verbatim. It took him seven or eight days to finish.

He kept the original version selfishly for himself and generously lent the copy to his classmates.

Li Ran quite liked writing, so whenever he didn’t want to tangle with exam papers, he would doodle in the blank spaces. Small turtles appeared most frequently—slowly crawling ones, ones flipped upside down after falling into a pit, ones holding hands on a date after locking eyes. There was practically every kind imaginable.

Even the most beloved things became painful when turned into tasks. Recently, after writing so much, his right hand truly couldn’t take it anymore. The callus on his finger from holding the pen had thickened, and even his favorite little turtles were cast aside. He got annoyed just looking at them.

Chi Mo suffered the same neglect.

After evening self-study, once he finished dinner, Li Ran didn’t need to be called; he hugged his backpack and went straight to the study to find Chi Mo. The place was practically becoming their shared living room.

He handed over all the test papers he needed to complete that day with both hands for Chi Mo to check. Wrong answers were circled in red pen, and before bed, he corrected them all. Then he sat quietly across from him, unfolded the key points Chi Mo had summarized, and copied them diligently into another B5 notebook with furious scribbling. He had no time to talk to his brother.

The process was rather boring, but Li Ran had recently become a good student. As he copied the notes stroke by stroke, all the key content was etched deeply into his brain in bold relief, cultivating a skill where “even forgetting was a bit difficult.”

Chi Mo knew why he was copying the notes.

But he still asked, “What are you writing?”

Li Ran was reciting key points while writing, fully immersed. It took a good while before he caught the voice drifting by his ear. “…Huh? Bro, did you say something? What was it?”

The last sentence inevitably carried a tone of guilt and fawning.

Chi Mo fell silent, his face expressionless.

Then he said, “You’re ignoring me for others?”

His face showed no joy or anger. With that perpetually haughty, million-dollar face he dragged around every day, someone as sensitive as Li Ran—practically living inside other people’s emotional charts, terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing to upset them—had honed his skills at reading expressions to near perfection. Yet even he couldn’t quickly tell if Chi Mo was happy or not.

He could only confirm from his little habits.

When Chi Mo was in a good mood, he liked to tap his fingers on the desk, armrests, or steering wheel—whatever was at hand. The rhythm was light and regular, closely tied to the buoyant pleasure floating to the surface, like a cheerful tune.

When his mood was poor, Chi Mo loved to flick the tightly strung Bodhi Beads against himself. His left wrist had suffered plenty. Later, Li Ran boldly confiscated and disassembled dozens or hundreds of strings of beads, resizing them. That bad habit was somewhat curbed at the source.

The Bodhi strings no longer dug tightly into Chi Mo’s wrist skin, so they couldn’t hurt him anymore. But his habit of fiddling with the beads and trying to flick them lingered for the time being.

Whenever Li Ran saw him rubbing the Bodhi Beads, he knew Chi Mo was unhappy.

Fortunately, though, Li Ran rarely saw what Chi Mo was like with outsiders. When they were together, Chi Mo never made him guess. Like now—it was clearly CEO Chi in a displeased mood, wanting to teach Li Ran a lesson.

“I’m not ignoring you, Bro. I was reciting notes just now. Since I’m recopying them anyway, I can’t do it for nothing,” Li Ran said immediately.

The study lights were everywhere, illuminating the two of them like daylight. A certain thread of emotion, once suppressed into darkness, was like this light—visible yet intangible, radiating out to envelop and draw Li Ran in.

Ever since Chi Mo had confessed his feelings, he seemed unchanged toward Li Ran—treating him the same as before. In reality, his possessive and expressive desires had strangely eased briefly, now seeping into Li Ran bit by bit.

It was inevitable for one person to ignore another; no one could be someone’s everything. Before, when Chi Mo had no name or status and Li Ran was unaware of his feelings, being ignored didn’t bother him. Now, Chi Mo still had no name or status, but Li Ran knew the depth of his affection. Being ignored again truly irked him.

His pitch-black eyes held something as dense as the light itself. Chi Mo gazed deeply at Li Ran and said, “No next time, got it?”

His tone was clearly gentle, yet it gave Li Ran goosebumps.

He nodded repeatedly. “Yeah, yeah! I got it!”

The kid sometimes had a hopelessly carefree heart. He superstitiously believed in first impressions—people you didn’t like at first sight probably never would, unless a second impression turned it around.

For example, when Chi Mo first moved in, Li Ran’s first impression was that the guy looked fierce; he didn’t even dare glance at him. But after spending time together, he discovered Chi Mo was a great guy—giving him a place to live, teaching him about friends and studies. Even his parents hadn’t been that good to him. He immediately superstitiously trusted the second impression. The old first one was long buried in some dusty corner, forgotten. Chi Mo’s shining, righteous second impression sparkled brilliantly in Li Ran’s mind. He never once thought his brother was a bad guy.

When Chi Mo himself said he wasn’t a good person, Li Ran just took it as modesty.

Wasn’t that a form of “brother-obsessed brain”?

Since the unrealistic “I love you” incident had passed long ago, Chi Mo had been gentlemanly, considerate, and self-restrained, never crossing the line. Li Ran hadn’t realized at all that this man had silently gained many privileges.

“I bought you a few pairs of underwear. Try them on today,” Chi Mo said.

Once, during a team-building event at Moran Technology, Li Ran watched the big brothers and sisters happily splashing in the outdoor pool and wanted to learn swimming. Chi Mo hadn’t let him run out in just swim trunks to join everyone; they went to a pool just for the two of them.

By then, they had both seen each other’s bodies, so Li Ran wasn’t too shy. He just paused slightly, lifted his head from the notebook, and asked, “Why buy new ones? I just bought some not long ago.”

Chi Mo: “Regular replacement.”

“Oh, okay.” Li Ran tapped his chin with the pen holder, then belatedly realized this was very personal. His voice was soft and hesitant as he asked weakly, “You didn’t even ask me when you bought them. Do you know my…?”

“Bro, do you know what size underwear I wear?” Li Ran said almost inaudibly.

Chi Mo flipped through files, acting oblivious. “Try them tonight.”

The boxer style wasn’t much different from before—basic men’s style, no fancy designs, just right for Li Ran’s size. The fabric was more skin-friendly and comfortable, holding everything in place without riding up during high kicks.

Chi Mo didn’t knock, entering Li Ran’s bedroom like it was his own. He brought back a textbook Li Ran had left in the study and happened to catch him coming out of the bathroom. The bathrobe hung loosely over his shoulders. He focused on drying his hair; the black boxers clung to his thighs, the inner flesh seemingly squeezed into a faint line.

That bit of tension wouldn’t burden the wearer but created a visual feast for the beholder.

Seeing the item he’d personally picked worn on Li Ran filled Chi Mo with a secret, satisfying thrill coursing through his body.

“—Bro.” Li Ran had just reached the middle of the bedroom when he spotted the figure and jumped in fright.

“Mm.” Chi Mo shook the thick textbook in his hand. The pages rustled open a few, as if protesting being deliberately hidden. “You forgot your book. Need it tomorrow, right? Don’t forget to bring it.”

Li Ran took it and smiled. “I was just looking for it earlier. Couldn’t find it.”

“Mm. Sleep.” Chi Mo turned to leave, closing the door behind him. “Good night.”

“Good night, Bro.”

The two elders at home hadn’t been able to properly “good night” each other for days. It worried them gray-haired, scheming day and night how to pack up Chi Wei and toss him out. Ye Chengwan was their son, their genuine flesh and blood. They saw him only a few times a year and truly missed him. But who let him be married to that big pervert Chi Wei? Cheng Ai Mei, unyielding to kin, teamed up with Ye Ze to decide on packing off the unworthy grandson Ye Chengwan first—naturally taking Chi Wei with him.

Chi Wei’s annual leave was a month long, and he took it every year—but always in this season, not over New Year. While others reunited at home for the holiday, he worked at the company. Weirdo.

After arriving here, Chi Wei dug out his full set of fishing gear from storage and went winter fishing where there was ice.

Black and White Impermanence spotted the giant net beast that had once netted them and reacted like facing a great enemy, leaping extra high.

Discovering this amusement, Chi Wei’s playful side surged. He immediately unfurled the net to play hide-and-seek with Black and White Impermanence—and specifically when Li Ran and Chi Mo weren’t around, to avoid their scolding about bullying the little cats. Ye Chengwan caught him and smacked the back of his head twice before he stopped.

After fifteen days of fishing, he came back empty-handed fourteen days—a true display of “bad student’s stationery abundance,” leaving Li Ran sighing. Turns out his little uncle wasn’t a genius either, unlike his brother who excelled at everything.

Ye Chengwan told Chi Wei to quit fooling around and rest properly. Waste of a man, no affinity with fish.

Better recognize reality early.

After fully tormenting Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze for a full 28 days, Chi Wei booked tickets and finally rolled out with Ye Chengwan.

Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze had devised dozens of countermeasures but hadn’t implemented any when they got this great news. They nearly set off fireworks for a day of nationwide celebration. Remembering the city ban on fireworks, they regretfully canceled and bought hundreds of balloons instead. Once delivered, they blew them all up and stomped them flat—popping away festively.

And super eco-friendly too.

When Chi Wei was young, the two elders had blocked his love, and his path with Ye Chengwan had been bumpy. Nearly twenty years later, he still “held a grudge.” Once his son-in-law status was secure, he didn’t hide his foul temper. Before leaving, he smirked coldly at the two elders who wanted to weep with joy. “Blood pressure’s high at your age—don’t act like old kids all day. Always losing things on trips, getting scammed clean. Ye Chengwan takes after you completely.”

He practically pinched his nose as he snarked, “Dad, Mom, take care of yourselves when A-Wan and I aren’t around. If you really won’t behave, come stay with us for a few days. Let A-Wan keep you company more.”

The two elders’ faces turned green like they’d eaten greens. They smiled through gritted teeth, cursing him behind his back to get lost quick.

Li Ran was immersed in the bitter sea of studies all day, unable to look back or see the shore. In the blink of an eye, the deadly Gaokao countdown loomed. He raced against time desperately, with few real chats with Little Uncle or Late Uncle. Logically, their comings and goings shouldn’t stir much emotion.