Chapter 23

Near noon, Zhang Bowen and the other two finally arrived.

Lunch together, naturally—and this time the three absolutely refused to let Qiao Ning pay. They’d eaten his fruit for free too many times; they insisted on treating him.

Qiao Ning couldn’t out-stubborn them, so he gave in, and while they debated what to eat, he washed a plate of blueberries for them to snack on.

One bite later—no elaboration needed—three more humans conquered by blueberry popping boba.

Watching them eat without pause, Qiao Ning clamped the box shut. “However good it is, you can’t eat it as a meal. Take it home and savor it.”

Completely forgetting the days he himself had gorged on strawberries and cherry tomatoes and refused proper meals.

“Third Brother and Fourth Brother really are unlucky—no such fortune.” Qin Hao savored the aftertaste and sighed.

Lu Zeyu cherished the last blueberry in his hand, then agreed: “That’s why we brothers are one body. I’ll eat their share for them.”

Zhang Bowen gave him a look, hesitating to speak.

Truly heartless. If Third Brother and Fourth Brother heard that, they’d be furious.

Still, Sixth Brother had a point. As the eldest, helping his brothers eat a bit more was a sacred duty.

Blueberries done, they debated lunch.

A boys’ gathering meant meat, so barbecue came up first. Qin Hao refused over and over: “No can do. I can’t eat it.”

Qiao Ning was puzzled—Qin Hao loved barbecue most of all.

Lu Zeyu grinned. “Look at his face. Breaking out again.”

Qin Hao pulled a long face. “You think I want this? It’d cleared up a couple days ago—I was actually happy. Then ONE bowl of crossing-the-bridge noodles and boom, new pimples. It’s driving me crazy—I still want to find a girlfriend! One look at my face and the girls don’t even want to talk to me.”

Qiao Ning gave him a sympathetic glance. Qin Hao did seem prone to breakouts, stubborn ones too—his face always looked red and inflamed, making it hard to notice his actual features.

“Then let’s eat something light,” Zhang Bowen said. “How about Northeastern iron-pot stew?”

Lu Zeyu: “That works. Stews are nice and light.”

The meat that went into the pot went unmentioned—but their meals were certainly going to include meat.

Qin Hao was used to it by now; he grumbled once and dropped the subject of his face. But Qiao Ning had a spark of inspiration.

“Second Brother, I have aloe vera gel. Want to try it?”

“Aloe gel? On my face?” Qin Hao said. “I’ve tried it. Useless.”

Qiao Ning thought: this was gel made from aloe watered with Spirit Spring Water—maybe it worked better?

He couldn’t exactly explain that to Qin Hao, so he only said, “I hear this one works pretty well.”

Qin Hao had agonized over his acne-prone skin forever, tried every method, nothing worked—and some anti-acne products had made things worse.

Still, aloe gel was relatively gentle. Qiao Ning meant well, so Qin Hao said indifferently, “Fine, I’ll try it.”

Qiao Ning fetched his homemade gel and first dabbed a bit on Qin Hao’s wrist.

Qin Hao waved it off. “It’s fine. I’ve used aloe gel before. Not allergic.”

Qiao Ning wasn’t taking chances. He waited until he was sure the skin on Qin Hao’s wrist showed no reaction before handing over the bottle and sending him to the bathroom to apply it.

“Fifth Brother, are you going somewhere?” Zhang Bowen had spotted the suitcase pulled out of Qiao Ning’s room.

Qiao Ning had planned to tell his roommates today anyway: he was moving back to his hometown.

But he couldn’t exactly announce he was going home to Lying Flat. They didn’t know he’d been a Corporate Beast of Burden worked to death in his past life, let alone that he had a Golden Finger. Unexplainable.

So Qiao Ning planned a white lie. “Yeah, I was about to tell you—I returned the Tripartite Employment Agreement. I’m heading home to prep for exams.”

Studying for exams was of course pure fiction—one excuse at a time. Once he’d Lying-Flat for a couple of years, his roommates would have given up on him anyway.

“What?” Lu Zeyu panicked. “You already returned it? Then you’ll owe a breach penalty! Fifth Brother, how could you be so rash!”

“Easy, easy,” Zhang Bowen soothed. “Hear Fifth Brother out. He must have his reasons.”

Qiao Ning smiled at the dorm’s eldest brother, half-true, half-false. “You all know how I’ve lived these past few years. I always figured, young body, I could take it. Then a while back my chest suddenly started hurting. I went to the hospital—arrhythmia. The doctor told me to rest…”

Hearing it was his health, the two were badly startled. “It’s fine now, right? Does it still hurt?”

They all knew Qiao Ning had no one to lean on—if he got seriously ill, his family was worthless.

“All fine now.” Qiao Ning moved his limbs to show them. “Didn’t you all say I looked better lately? I’ve been eating and sleeping well, and honestly I feel far more energetic. So I thought—working myself half to death into an illness, what’s the point? I’ve saved up a bit of money anyway. Might as well take a breather and try for the civil service exam or something.”

Anyone planning the civil service route should have started prepping last year—like their dorm’s Third Brother, currently at home waiting for his interview.

Qiao Ning was late to the party, but he hadn’t started working yet, so he still held fresh-graduate status. The impact was manageable.

Zhang Bowen and Lu Zeyu had only been anxious out of care for Qiao Ning. Hearing this, they didn’t dare push further.

“True enough,” Zhang Bowen said. “In our field, once you enter the factory you can’t treat yourself as human. You grind yourself to death.”

If Fifth Brother’s body couldn’t take it, better to switch tracks early.

“What are you all talking about?” Qin Hao came in wearing a face of aloe gel, tilting his chin at Qiao Ning. “Fifth Brother, this aloe gel is actually good. My face feels so much better. What brand? I’ll buy some.”

Qiao Ning glossed over it. “A gift from someone. I’m not sure. I’ve got two more bottles—you can have them if it works for you.”

Qin Hao happily agreed. “Deal.”

Once the gel dried a bit it wasn’t sticky anymore. They tidied up and headed out to eat.

They found a supposedly authentic Northeastern iron-pot stew place—authentic or not, unclear, but the food was tasty regardless.

Full and happy, Zhang Bowen and company carried their blueberries back to school, and Qiao Ning continued packing.

He’d bought a high-speed rail ticket for tomorrow. No flights went direct to the third-tier city of his hometown, and transferring through another city was worse than a direct train.

Qiao Ning originally had one suitcase, but with his potted plants to bring, one wasn’t enough.

He bought a second, larger suitcase, carefully dug each plant out of its pot with the root ball and soil intact, wrapped them layer by layer in plastic wrap, and finally boxed them in cardboard—plenty of spare fruit boxes, just cut to size.

Those few potted plants alone filled a whole suitcase. Qiao Ning’s personal belongings went into the other.

There wasn’t much, honestly: his laptop, some new clothes—not even two pairs of shoes. He’d lived too frugally, always short of money, always afraid to spend.

All packed up, there wasn’t much to load after all.

The afternoon was free, so Qiao Ning shut his suitcases and went out shopping.

He had money now!

The latest-model pad: buy! The max-storage version!

Watching movies in bed beat hugging a laptop by miles.

Two new comfortable pairs of shoes as well. Qiao Ning didn’t know brands and had no aspirations—comfort above all.

Though shoes sold in malls weren’t exactly cheap. Back in school, Qiao Ning would never have bought clothes or shoes in a mall.

With money in hand, a person naturally grows at ease. Qiao Ning didn’t check brands—anywhere the shoes looked good, he’d go in and try them, and if he liked a pair, a slightly higher price was worth paying.

He’d bought clothes last time; no new ones needed for now. The seasonal wardrobe could wait until he’d settled in back home.

At the supermarket he bought snacks—everything he’d enjoyed lately: nuts, biscuits, Spicy Gluten Strips, chocolate, and so on. Shopping without checking prices felt AMAZING.

Dried fruit he skipped. Spirit Spring fruit had spoiled his palate—he’d make his own when the craving hit.

He wandered the mall until dinnertime, and Qiao Ning didn’t shortchange himself: milk tea, fried skewers, plus a single-serve stone-pot bibimbap set. Thoroughly satisfied.

On the way home he also bought a small cake—one recommended by group members in his Regular Customers Group as delicious and made with real ingredients.

Back home, Qiao Ning couldn’t resist trying a bite first. Genuinely good—a hundred times better than the cake Qiao Rui had once smashed into his face on his birthday.