Lu Qingyuan didn’t say “Don’t play with idiots” without reason. Chen Annan’s good friend was honestly not too bright, and Lu Qingyuan was a bit worried his family’s little cabbage might get worm-eaten. But he soon discovered he was wrong—profoundly, utterly wrong.
First-grade curriculum was deeper than what kindergarten taught. Moreover, the school Chen Annan attended was the best Experimental Primary School in this area. Classmates had already learned the foundational knowledge for this age group back in kindergarten, and the teacher wouldn’t delay the overall progress just because a very few children hadn’t learned it before.
After quickly finishing the lower-grade content, they started teaching higher-grade knowledge. This led to a significant gap between Chen Annan’s grades and those of other students.
Many problems that others in the class could solve, Chen Annan always got wrong. Every time the teacher asked questions, the other kids actively raised their hands. Only Chen Annan kept his head low, arms folded, shoulders hunched, sitting very properly.
Chen Annan seemed truly not very sharp when it came to math. No matter how Lu Qingyuan showed him calculations, he could only count on his fingers. But there were only ten fingers; beyond that, he couldn’t figure it out.
If he were a naughty kid who simply refused to learn, that would be one thing. But unfortunately, he was so well-behaved. He’d just look at you with those round, big, watery eyes, then seriously count on his fingers earnestly. It made any anger impossible to vent, leaving only helplessness.
The two kids sat at the table. The scratch paper was completely covered with Lu Qingyuan’s arithmetic, filling an entire side.
His grades had always been top-tier since childhood, never requiring anyone’s concern. Competition certificates were all collected by Lu Wenyuan in the study, stored in a custom-made cabinet—countless in number.
The first time in his life hitting a wall with studying was here with Chen Annan. He was already doubting whether he had learned the wrong method himself.
“Stop erasing.” Lu Qingyuan watched Chen Annan lying on the table, pinching a thumb-sized eraser under the lamp, erasing the answers over and over. The paper was already frayed at the edges. Any more erasing and it would tear.
Lu Qingyuan patiently explained the problem-solving approach again.
Chen Annan, being scolded now, didn’t feel wronged. He propped his head up, thinking he must be the stupidest kid in the world for Brother to have to bother so much.
“Will you despise me?” Chen Annan asked.
“What?”
“No matter how I try, I just can’t figure it out.” Chen Annan rested his head on the table, his voice unable to hide his dejection. “I’m so useless. Why can everyone else do it, but I just can’t? I’m so incredibly stupid.”
Lu Qingyuan threw the scratch paper into the trash can and said, “Not everyone is smart, anyway.”
Besides, it was only first grade. So what if he couldn’t do it? He didn’t take this matter to heart at all. But Chen Annan was very distressed. He’d only been in school two months and already ranked last in every Monthly Exam.
Chen Annan’s sensitive little mind was full of twists and turns, truly hard to fathom.
The better they treated Chen Annan, the more Chen Annan feared they would be disappointed in him. He tried so, so hard, unwilling to disappoint anyone.
Lu Qingyuan looked at the child sprawled on the table, his eyes reddening, so utterly wronged. There was no need to guess how dejected he was right now.
“That’s enough for today.” Lu Qingyuan closed the notebook.
Usually, when they stopped studying, Chen Annan would be very happy. But right now, he was too upset at his own stupidity to be happy. He let out a low “Oh,” and didn’t move.
Lu Qingyuan glanced at him several times, then suddenly said, “Garfield is about to start.”
Only then did Chen Annan remember—it was already 8:30. The children’s channel was airing his favorite cartoon.
But he didn’t feel like watching it today. The Midterm Exam was coming up soon, and the problems he always got wrong made him feel useless, unable to muster interest in anything.
Lu Wenyuan was working overtime at school today and hadn’t returned yet. Lu Qingyuan said again, “Then let’s walk the dog.”
Hearing she was going out, Cotton Candy’s ears twitched. Grabbing her leash in her mouth, she trotted over, then nudged her little master’s pant leg with her head, whimpering and acting cute.
They usually walked the dog with Lu Wenyuan. This time, without Uncle, Chen Annan tugged the leash but was pulled forward by Cotton Candy’s charging momentum. To anyone watching, it looked more like the dog was walking him.
Finally, Lu Qingyuan grabbed his hood in one pull, took the leash, and held Chen Annan’s hand as they walked forward.
The river of years flowed smoothly through everyone’s world. In just two short years, the height gap between the two kids had widened considerably. Lu Qingyuan grew fast; his school uniform pants, once several sizes too big, had been let out and let out again. But Chen Annan was like a radish being pulled—barely uprooted a bit before needing a rest.
The temperature at this time was very comfortable. The evening breeze quietly brought the temperature of summer. The dim yellow halo of the streetlights enveloped them. Lu Qingyuan only had to lower his head to see a few unruly strands of hair on Chen Annan’s head, highlighted by the halo.
They walked along the street. Chen Annan had been dejected and unwilling to speak, until a tantalizing aroma wafted from nearby.
“Ah!” He immediately lifted his head, sniffing like a little dog. His eyes lighting up, he saw an old grandpa ahead setting up a carrying-pole stall.
The stall sold Ruyi Braised Dried Tofu. A rich chicken soup base, a handful of soybean sprouts and dried tofu added, cooked until the tofu was soft and flavorsome, then generously doused in chili sauce. So delicious you’d be reluctant to drop it even if someone slapped your ear.
“Why aren’t you walking?” Lu Qingyuan asked.
Having just eaten dinner not long ago, wanting snacks already made Chen Annan a bit embarrassed to voice it. His mind twisted, and he pointed at the old man’s stall, asking, “Brother, what’s that?”
Lu Qingyuan found him troublesome and said without looking, “That’s for adults. Kids who eat it drop dead.”
“Oh, okay…” Chen Annan pursed his lips, reluctantly taking two more glances. He kept thinking about it all during the dog walk.
Cotton Candy gleefully marked everywhere. Encountering another dog, she was even harder to drag away, her gaze even more passionate than Chen Annan’s toward the dried tofu. By the time they got home, both were drenched in sweat.
Chen Annan went in first to bathe. Lu Qingyuan ran the water for him, watching the child sit in the bathtub, playing with bubbles.
Not long after, Chen Annan heard another “Bang!”—the sound of the door closing. Brother had gone out.
Chen Annan thought Brother had gone to take out the trash. By the time he finished his bath and came out, Lu Qingyuan just happened to be coming in holding a large enamel mug. The two faced each other for a split second. Lu Qingyuan thrust the mug towards him, then headed straight into the bedroom.
Chen Annan froze for several full seconds before a delighted “Ah!” burst out of him—
That mug was actually filled to the brim with Ruyi Braised Dried Tofu.
Lu Qingyuan hadn’t initially understood why he asked that question. It was only on the way home that he realized the kid’s feet seemed rooted to the spot whenever they neared that stall, his eyes fixed intently on the small pot inside the carrying pole, as if his soul had been sucked right out.
Chen Annan finally ate the thing he’d been longing for. The fragrance made his eyes curve into shallow crescent moons, his voice softening by a few degrees. “So fragrant! Thank you, Brother.”
Chen Annan’s mood improved because of this small matter, but his grades did not.
After a Monthly Exam, Chen Annan’s test paper was marked with glaring red crosses, the force penetrating the thin paper to the back. The teacher knocked hard on the blackboard up front, saying, “This is a giveaway question. I’ve explained it eight hundred times. Nothing more to say. Anyone who got it wrong, copy it ten times.”
Ashamed, Chen Annan stared at the back of his hand, his lips pressed tightly together.
This child’s mindset was strange. He always refused to let Lu Wenyuan tutor him, instead clinging very much to Brother.
In his eyes, he seemed especially afraid of letting Lu Wenyuan see his stupid side. He even hid his exam scores, seeking out Lu Qingyuan to sign them.
After finishing his own studies every day, Lu Qingyuan still had to tutor this little one. The two of them often wore themselves out until past eleven at night before sleeping.
Only in elementary school and already studying so late, Lu Wenyuan’s heart ached. He said if this studying kept up, it’d be better to just transfer the two kids to an ordinary school together. What was the point of this damn Experimental Primary School? Nothing but torment.
He never cared about these two kids’ grades, nor would he give them any pressure. Childhood should be happy and fulfilling; why stuff it full of so many worries?
Of course, he didn’t know the torment actually came from Chen Annan. Lu Qingyuan learned quickly, finishing his own study plan within the limited time every day. It was his little brother who just couldn’t catch on.
Problems requiring inference from one instance to another—change the way it’s asked, and Chen Annan was stumped. He’d grunt away for ages without figuring it out. He seemed forever unable to reconcile with math. Despite studying very diligently, his mind was always a flat plain when faced with math problems, without any contours or elevations.
He was not good at analysis, not good at thinking, not good at formulating equations, not good at calculation. He was not good at anything requiring rational thinking. The gullies and twists in his brain seemed to be reserved entirely for emotions.
For instance, Chen Annan always liked to ask some silly questions before sleep: “Brother, are we still bestest friends?”
Here it came again. Lu Qingyuan truly didn’t know what was worth discussing about this question. So childish. If he had the energy to ponder this, why couldn’t he spend it figuring out exactly how long it takes for two construction teams to finish repairing a road at the same time?
Nevertheless, Lu Qingyuan still closed his eyes and gave a shallow “Mhm.”
Chen Annan covered himself with his little blanket and continued, “If I turned into a caterpillar, would you still be good to me?”
“…” Lu Qingyuan turned over, replying perfunctorily, “Yes.”
“What if it’s a black caterpillar?” Chen Annan asked again.
“…” Lu Qingyuan replied without emotion. “Also yes.”
“What if it’s a colorful caterpillar?” Chen Annan pursued relentlessly.
“…” Lu Qingyuan felt maybe he should just get up and do a couple of those construction team problems.
But Chen Annan shook his arm, his face full of expectation.
Lu Qingyuan: “…Won’t despise you.”
“What if it’s a dazzlingly colorful, highly venomous caterpillar?” Chen Annan emphasized further.
“…” Lu Qingyuan pressed his forehead. He’d been constantly participating in various provincial and municipal joint exams lately, and his mind currently held only the puzzle of why construction teams absolutely had to repair roads from both ends.
But Chen Annan was talkative and rapid-fire, refusing to give up without an answer. He could only say, “I can accept it.”
Who knew it was precisely this pause of several seconds that allowed Chen Annan to capture crucial emotion from the gap in his reply. Unhappy all over, he crawled over to Brother’s side, his gaze sorrowful, and said, “You answered two seconds slower. I knew you wouldn’t be good to me anymore. You despise me.”
Saying this, he pulled the blanket and turned away of his own accord, presenting his backside to him.
“…” Lu Qingyuan wanted to say something but stopped himself, finding this kid irritating yet funny.
Lying flat, he poked the kid’s head with a finger and asked, “Are you going to sleep or not?”
Chen Annan didn’t answer. He lifted his little blanket, covering the back of his head too.
Hearing him rustle and burrow into his blanket nest, Lu Qingyuan finally turned over, resting his head on one arm, facing the lump under the covers. Helplessly, he said, “Even if you turn into a highly venomous, black and dazzlingly colorful, ugly, and disgusting caterpillar, I’ll still be your bestest friend.”
He drew out his final words: “Alright?”
Chen Annan still didn’t speak.
In the darkness, Lu Qingyuan was organizing his words, hadn’t yet figured out what else to say, when suddenly he felt a warmth around his waist. Chen Annan had somehow been groping his way over from his own blanket, sliding along Brother’s arm forward, slowly wrapping around his waist, sticking to him like sticky candy.
“Hehe, I was just teasing you. I knew you couldn’t bear to leave me.” Chen Annan’s eyes curved into soft little crescents.
He laughed purely. All his emotions were like a vibrant oil painting—red distinctly red, white distinctly white—clearly defined, unable to hide any extra colors, vivid, deep, and fully expressed.
Lu Qingyuan tucked the blanket in properly for him: “Sleep properly. If you can’t get up tomorrow, I’ll spank your bottom.”
He spoke seriously, but Chen Annan just secretly laughed for a moment, then honestly nestled in Brother’s arms, like a quiet little cat, sinking into deep sleep.
