Chapter 7

With the earlier experience under his belt, Qiao Ning watched for people emerging and cut two strawberries in advance as samples. Anyone who balked at the price got a sample.

Never failed.

Each wave of exiting passengers cost him several jin of strawberries. Twenty-some jin total—half an hour of selling, and apart from what he’d bagged during downtime, it was all gone.

When anyone else asked, he simply shook his head and denied selling strawberries at all. Wouldn’t even quote a price.

“You’re not selling these anymore?” the sandwich seller asked.

During lulls, Qiao Ning had chatted with him. The big bro’s surname was Zhuang—Zhuang Cheng—between jobs, hadn’t found new work yet, hence the stall. Like Qiao Ning, today was his first day out, though his prep had been far more thorough than Qiao Ning’s.

Qiao Ning: “I’m saving some for a friend.”

A flicker of regret crossed Zhuang Cheng’s eyes—should’ve bitten the bullet and bought a box. The strawberry stall had drawn the crowd; business had been decent today, and he’d made some money.

Well, he had added Little Qiao on WeChat. There’d be other chances.

Another ten-plus minutes. Qiao Ning, head down playing a mini game—recommended by the plush-stall owner; he’d never played games before—felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Well, well, our Fifth Brother’s learned to play games.” A head leaned in beside him. “Let Big Brother see what you’re play… a dress-up game?”

Qiao Ning calmly submitted his outfit, scoring a solid seventy-six. On screen, the little character happily went off to a date with friends in her new clothes.

Lu Zeyu muttered, “Only seventy-six?”

He was a closet competitor. Exams—not necessarily. Games—always.

Qiao Ning put his phone away and handed over the strawberries: “Here. Strawberries.”

Lu Zeyu: “Hold on—where are the ones you were selling? I’ll come with you.”

He peered into the cargo bed. There were crates and basins, sure—but all empty.

“Where are your strawberries?”

“Sold out.”

The sandwich seller chimed in: “Little Qiao’s business was fantastic.”

Lu Zeyu eyed the bright berries in the bag. “If business was that good, don’t share with us. Your strawberries are obviously a premium variety. Those rough brutes in our dorm—cows can’t appreciate fine fodder.”

Qiao Ning snorted, shoving the bag at him: “There’s plenty. Taste my fine fodder first.”

Lu Zeyu grinned. “These weren’t cheap, were they? I smelled them from a mile off. Your older brother really treats you well. How come I’ve never heard of him…”

He popped a strawberry in his mouth mid-sentence, bit down, and forgot every word he was saying—mouth closed, chewing, chewing, chewing.

“How is it? Good, right?” Qiao Ning beamed. His Spirit Spring strawberries were the most delicious, period!

Lu Zeyu was busy inhaling berries, no time for words. Swallowed, stuffed another in, then gave the thumbs-up: “This fodder is fine-fine!”

He swallowed, gazed longingly at the bag, and held back. No more. This was for everyone in the dorm. He couldn’t hog it.

“Hey, does our big brother want any more little brothers? College-educated, recommended into grad school soon.” Lu Zeyu flashed a shameless grin.

Qiao Ning rolled his eyes. “Get lost.”

Lu Zeyu put on a theatrical sigh: “Tsk tsk. Gets himself another big brother and starts looking down on us old ones.”

Qiao Ning ignored him and mounted the Tricycle. “Hop on. Your Fifth Brother made a little money today—time to treat you to some consumption.”

“Spare me. I’m heading back to school.”

“I really did make money.” Thinking Lu Zeyu was worried about his wallet, Qiao Ning pulled out his phone to show him the last half hour’s payment records.

Lu Zeyu lifted the strawberry bag high: “It’s not that I won’t go—give me any more time and I’ll have eaten this whole bag myself. What’ll be left for Eldest Brother and the others?”

Qiao Ning laughed. “Next time I’ll pack you more.”

Lu Zeyu nodded rapidly. “Deal. Anything you need help with, just say.”

Hauling his big bag of strawberries, he headed back the way he’d come.

Qiao Ning pedaled his Tricycle home too. He’d planned to come in the early afternoon and sell slowly until eight or nine, then head back regardless of stock.

Now? Forget eight or nine—he hadn’t even made it to dinner time.

What to do now? Qiao Ning didn’t much feel like going straight home.

The old him was forever rushing. Always pressed for time—between sleep, study, and part-time work, life was accounted for to the minute. Eating was mere survival fuel. He’d had neither the money nor the time to sit down and savor good food.

Well. He had time now. All the time in the world to waste.

No—not waste. Savor.

Just thinking about it made him happy.

First, return the Tricycle. He locked it up downstairs and knocked on the third-floor door. No one home—the landlady was out.

Qiao Ning didn’t go up to the fifth floor. Straight back down, scanned a shared bike at the community gate, and rode toward the nearby shopping mall.

Only when he pulled out his phone to scan did he discover Lu Zeyu had messaged him—on the subway, someone had asked where he’d bought the strawberries.

Also that he was surviving purely on paternal love for his “sons,” resisting the urge to inhale all the strawberries himself.

And a few mobile game recommendations for Qiao Ning, with instructions to stop playing that dress-up game.

Qiao Ning read and laughed, casually downloading every game Lu Zeyu had recommended—until his phone ran out of storage.

Time for a new phone, Qiao Ning thought.

His current one was from freshman year—his second phone ever. The first had been a hand-me-down from his half-brother Qiao Rui, screen cracked by Qiao Rui himself but still functional, so Qiao Chenggong had given it to him. Qiao Ning had used it two-plus years.

Then came university: his major required a computer, so his savings went to that first. But many part-time jobs needed a phone, and by second semester of freshman year the old phone was genuinely getting in the way—Qiao Ning had to buy his current one.

Three years of use and it still looked new. Just a small storage capacity.

At the mall, he bought a cup of milk tea—a new item the clerk recommended. Quite tasty, with a very long name he didn’t bother memorizing. Next time he’d try a different flavor!

Straw of milk tea between his teeth, he found a crab claypot restaurant that looked delicious and had a proper feast.

Fed and watered, he strolled the mall and bought a new phone—big storage, fast, feature-packed. The price was also “beautiful”: over six thousand yuan of Qiao Ning’s money.

Stung a little. But then he’d remember his Golden Finger, remember the two-thousand-plus yuan that had come in today, and it stung less.

Money exists to be spent, after all. This time, he would absolutely finish spending it before he died.

He pedaled home leisurely. No part-time job to rush to, no clock to watch. The unhurried pace let Qiao Ning’s whole being unclench.

Back at the community, passing the third floor, he knocked again, planning to return the Tricycle keys.

This time she was home. The moment the door opened and she saw him, before he could speak, the landlady rapid-fired: “Little Qiao! Any more of those strawberries?”

Qiao Ning shook his head. “All sold out.”

The landlady looked crestfallen. “Knew it. Strawberries that good sell themselves. Next time you have any, tell me first—I’m buying.”

Qiao Ning promised on the spot: any new strawberries, she’d be the first to know.

The landlady went on—a friend had spontaneously invited her out for Mahjong that afternoon, and she’d brought some strawberries for the ladies to try.

Good grief. The tiles had barely been dealt before her strawberries were devoured.

Her friends even blamed her for bringing too few—then heard she had more at home and straight-up divided the rest among themselves.

She’d barely gotten a few herself!

Qiao Ning laughed as he listened. It reminded him of his roommates—the strawberries Sixth Brother brought back were also wiped out. Three grown men wolfing and shoving, nearly coming to blows over them. Lu Zeyu even filmed it and posted it to the group.

Eldest Brother had started with dignified restraint. One bite later, all notions of eldest-brotherly grace and brotherly love evaporated—he used his height and strength to grab the most.

The far-away Third Brother and Fourth Brother, desperate in the group chat, kept asking: how good can these strawberries be, to cause a brawl like this?

Fighting over meat, they’d never seen a battle this fierce.

After a nice chat with the landlady, Qiao Ning went upstairs.

He opened his door—and the conversation inside cut off abruptly.

The cohabiting couple was back. Qiao Ning greeted them politely. The male housemate, whom he’d spoken with just that morning, turned his head away with a cold sniff.

Baffled, and unwilling to press a warm face to a cold butt, Qiao Ning ignored him and looked down to change his shoes.

The female housemate nudged her boyfriend and spoke up herself: “Little Qiao, the landlord’s wife came by looking for you.”

“I know—I borrowed her Tricycle. Just returned the keys. Thanks.”

Seeing his good attitude, she continued: “Little Qiao, did you buy strawberries? We smelled them the second we walked in. So fragrant.”

Qiao Ning used his standard line: “Mm, my older brother sent me some.”

She was about to say more, but Qiao Ning had already reached his door, let himself in with his key, and shut it.

Inside, the strawberry scent was even thicker than outside. Breathing it in, Qiao Ning’s cravings stirred again.

A little regret at not having saved some for himself—he could’ve had after-dinner fruit tonight.

Looking at the pots on the balcony, Qiao Ning’s fingers itched. He had a Spirit Spring now—charity starts at home, after all.

But—

From the living room behind him came perfectly audible voices:

“Seriously such a cheapskate. Buys one fish and a few shrimp and hides them in his room with the door locked. Poorer and stingier by the day.”

“Keep it down.”

“Down? If he can do it he can take people talking about it. Eating a few strawberries hiding in his room—hilarious. Like anyone wants them.”

“Well, to be fair, we did buy extra food planning to invite him to dinner.”

“Right? Braised tofu with fish—perfect match. And your cooking’s so good… though thank god he’s a cheapskate. My girlfriend’s cooking isn’t something just anyone gets to eat.”

“Oh, stop. I just threw it together.”

“My wife’s ‘thrown together’ beats five-star chefs.”

The voices lowered. Through the thin door panel, some odd sounds filtered through.

…

Qiao Ning: “…”

He was mildly speechless. But he’d been a Corporate Workhorse for years before rebirth—he’d met stranger specimens. A certain world-weary calm settled over him.

He walked over and checked the fish, shrimp, and clams in their basins and bowls. All still alive and well.

He’d been in such a rush to go sell strawberries that afternoon, he’d forgotten to move them to the kitchen. He hadn’t intended to keep them in the bedroom—worried about the fishy smell.

Now the idea of moving them was thoroughly dead. Fishy it is. A few more days and he’d eat them.

Leave them outside, and one careless moment later, someone else might eat them.