It wasn’t too late, just half-past eight in the evening.
Walking almost shoulder to shoulder with Chi Mo, Li Ran truly realized just how big the difference in their builds was.
Their shadows on the ground—one tall, one short; one broad, one narrow. The shadow on the left looked intimidating at first glance, while the one on the right seemed easy to bully. Li Ran walked on the right side, feeling a bit depressed.
Due to the angle of the streetlights, Li Ran’s frail shadow was occasionally engulfed by Chi Mo’s dominant one, completely wrapping him into his personal territory. It looked just like an unreasonable, highly aggressive beast.
…Though it was just a matter of the streetlights.
The next time Li Ran’s shadow was fully enveloped, as if swallowed whole, he quietly tilted his head to the side and watched a strand or two of his curly hair emerge at the edge of the shadow.
Good. Half his head was out.
No one spoke along this stretch of road. Chi Mo watched every little movement of the kid beside him with wide-open eyes, curious to see what tricks he would pull. When half a curly-haired head poked out from his shoulder, it looked like Li Ran fully trusted him, intimately leaning his head against it.
A cuddling posture.
But Li Ran didn’t notice this at all. Seeing his curly hair victorious, he quietly clenched the hand hanging at his side, secretly celebrating.
On the ground, his shadow hand clenched at his leg side, about the same size as his real one. Chi Mo observed it closely.
The two walked unhurriedly, almost like a post-dinner stroll. They slowly ambled along and soon reached the apartment building in the old neighborhood.
Chi Mo suddenly asked, “Why have you been avoiding me lately?”
Li Ran’s just-clenched fist loosened instantly, hanging at his leg side as he lightly picked at his pant leg.
He wore a pair of dark jeans, loose and straight-cut, rolled up twice at the ankles to reveal the slightly lighter fabric on the inside.
It was a design choice.
On someone with long, straight legs like his, even such plain pants looked good.
“Hm?” Chi Mo had a bad temper—he was fierce but self-aware and wouldn’t scare people for no reason. At this moment, he deliberately softened his tone, even infusing it with a hint of amusement. “I don’t like silence as an answer. If you don’t speak up, you won’t get past me, and I won’t let you go home. Not until you answer.”
“…”
Li Ran had never lied to anyone face-to-face.
When report cards came out and Bai Qingqing asked how he did, if it was pretty good, he’d boldly reply “about average”… that didn’t count.
He knew that was a kind of white lie too, and he deserved a scolding for it.
But over the phone, Bai Qingqing couldn’t detect his guilt.
Face-to-face was different.
If Bai Qingqing asked him in person whether his studies had been going well lately, he’d choke before saying “about average.”
Chi Mo pressed him sincerely, adding a bit more weight to his tone. “Why were you avoiding me?”
“…I wasn’t avoiding you.” Li Ran murmured, almost inaudibly, burying his entire face downward, his gaze level with the ground.
Chi Mo, standing in front of him, couldn’t see his face at all, but he could see the two ears peeking out from beside his sideburns, and the increasingly visible nape of his neck the lower he bowed—very white and delicate, a small section.
At that moment, it matched the color of his ears. Pink.
Probably the first time in his life he’d lied. Inexperienced, shameful, guilty.
Anyone with a conscience or a shred of perceptiveness would know to stop there, not press the interrogation further, and give the naive kid some time to recover.
But Chi Mo wouldn’t. He was absolutely the most ruthless executioner.
“Bad kids lie.” When Chi Mo’s cold voice fell from above, it formed a verdict, sentencing the bad kid Li Ran to an even deeper red. The visible skin turned a tender pink at a visible speed, including his fingers.
The sensitivity made Chi Mo raise his brows—one a bit higher than the other. He watched the scene in surprise, staring openly without reservation.
Having finally lied for once, only to be called out face-to-face, Li Ran felt utterly mortified. He placed his hands in front of him, wanting to twist his hem but restraining the pointless little action. He still kept his head down, his eyes not on the ground but on the string of Bodhi beads on Chi Mo’s left wrist.
Not the same strand from last time.
Though both were dark, this one was a single strand, not needing to be looped into two.
What hadn’t changed was how tightly the Bodhi beads constricted Chi Mo’s wrist skin. Through the dim, yellowish light of the old neighborhood, Li Ran seemed to see the beads pressing half-circle indents into Chi Mo’s wrist.
Only after removing the beads and waiting a few or a dozen minutes could the compressed skin recover. Li Ran also spotted faint red marks beside the beads, like snap-back traces.
The elastic cord stretched slowly, then released sharply with a crisp snap against fragile skin. A few more times, and it left marks like that.
It hurt quite a bit.
As for Chi Mo’s question, Li Ran didn’t know how to respond.
Fortunately, the merciful Bodhi beads came into play. Their wearer finally allowed a ripple of compassion and stopped pressing step by step for a third time.
In the silence, a few minutes or perhaps just seconds passed. Li Ran decided to turn things around, unwilling to be seen as a bad kid in Chi Mo’s eyes. He told the truth: “…I was avoiding you. That day, you gave me two chocolates, and I didn’t thank you properly… I even seemed to make you really angry.”
“So that’s why I avoided you…”
Chi Mo, having gotten his answer, felt a mix of exasperation and amusement but suppressed the rising delight, worried Li Ran would think he was mocking him.
He asked, “Just for that?”
“…Isn’t that enough?” Li Ran lifted his face a little—not quite looking at Chi Mo, more like peeking timidly. His straight, slender lashes fluttered up, dense like a little black brush. “What if you see me and get even angrier?”
He was so bad with words, couldn’t sweet-talk at all.
Besides, he and Chi Mo weren’t that close.
Though after eating a full meal today… they were a bit closer.
Chi Mo said, “You have a point.”
Li Ran relaxed. “Right…”
“But you said I was angry, so shouldn’t it be me ignoring you?” Chi Mo rigorously pointed out the logic flaw in his words. “You made me unhappy, but then you ignored me and avoided me. Is that right?”
Li Ran tensed up again, immediately patching the logic hole in his own unique way. “These past days, you didn’t talk to me, so… you were the one ignoring me.”
The ball kicked back to Chi Mo. He chuckled. “That makes sense too.”
Li Ran relaxed. “…Right.”
“You still remember you owe me a favor, right?” Chi Mo said suddenly.
Li Ran dared not relax anymore, stiffening warily. “I remember.”
“Will you still avoid me?”
“…No more avoiding.” Li Ran didn’t understand how owing a favor related to avoiding Chi Mo, but to reassure Mr. Chi, he even raised three fingers in a vow. “Really, no more.”
Chi Mo was indeed reassured. He nodded toward the stairwell. “Go home then.”
“Okay.” Li Ran felt a huge weight lift, turned to leave with a step.
But Chi Mo called him back.
“Wait.”
Honest Li Ran stood straight like facing the strictest dean at school. He turned back ramrod straight, awaiting more scolding or instructions. “Is there more, Mr. Chi?”
Chi Mo unlocked his phone, looking at something. “Message me every day from now on.”
“Huh? Why?”
“To make sure you don’t forget to repay the favor.” Chi Mo, having seen all sorts of worldly cunning, said it dead seriously without joking. “Some people forget completely if not reminded often. You have to keep nudging them constantly for them to remember you’re the benefactor. Of course, I’m not saying that’s you with the avoiding thing—don’t overthink. I just want you to message to prevent it happening again.”
“You’re a good kid, right?”
The last sentence was as gentle as the first breeze of spring, laced with tempting persuasion. Of course Li Ran was good—he’d been his parents’ good boy as a kid, the teachers’ good student now.
After graduation, entering society, he’d absolutely be the most obedient, honest citizen.
“Of course. Though for you, this might seem unreasonable. You can refuse.” Chi Mo offered options amiably.
He was actually looking forward to Li Ran’s refusal a bit.
Li Ran needed to learn to refuse.
But Li Ran said, “…I’ll message you.”
After a full meal, Li Ran kicked off his slippers at home and flopped onto the soft big bed.
Mr. Chi was so weird.
But he couldn’t pinpoint where.
He just felt… this person.
This person who should have had zero intersection with him, so impressive and smart, seemed to be infiltrating his life bit by bit.
Fiercely, unstoppable.
Li Ran lay still, eyes open staring at the pillowcase pattern— a few white clouds.
He tugged the four corners of the pillow into various ear shapes, recalling how before going upstairs, he’d thanked Mr. Chi for the lavish dinner and asked why he’d invited him.
Asking the reason after the meal was done.
His reaction time long enough to circle the Earth twice.
Chi Mo had been straightforward: “You avoided me, so I sought peace.”
…Never seen peace-seeking like this. Li Ran mangled the pillow corners into bizarre shapes, then hammered it flat.
The next day, Sunday, Li Ran rallied and got up early again, hopping on his mountain bike to the market.
Before leaving, he hugged his phone and pondered for ages. The screen showed Chi Mo’s chat window.
He’d forgotten to ask what to send yesterday.
His fingers typed and deleted, not settling on a single word.
In the end, Chi Mo messaged first.
Chi Mo: [?]
Li Ran replied instantly: [Mr. Chi.]
Chi Mo: [Mm.]
Li Ran racked his brains for a while, still blank: [Good morning.]
Chi Mo: [Mm. Good morning.]
Topic ended.
Li Ran’s task for the day complete, peace of mind.
After buying veggies and returning, he saw Chi Mo driving to work. The driver’s window was down, and Li Ran even proactively greeted him.
Rare.
“Mr. Chi.”
Chi Mo nodded back, then issued a new task: “Just one ‘good morning’ a day doesn’t pass. Hope you improve tomorrow.”
“Or I’ll teach you personally.”
