Chapter 4

Shen Jichuan’s gaze drifted downward, settling on Shen Zhi…

The next day.

Shen Zhi woke up.

His sprained ankle from yesterday seemed even more painful today. Rubbing his temples, he decided to go out in his cotton pajamas to buy some food.

Unexpectedly, when he opened the door, he found a three-layer metal lunchbox wrapped in a towel placed at his doorstep. A long note was attached:

Brother Shen, I bought this breakfast from the morning stall. Since I have to be at school by 6:10, I came by your place very early and didn’t knock to avoid disturbing your rest. If the food has gone cold, please heat it up. With your injured foot, you should minimize going up and down stairs. If you don’t like the food, just draw a cross on this note – I’ll come pick up the lunchbox after school.

At the end was drawn a little sun that resembled a fuzzy burr.

In his youth, he could still naturally show concern for strangers with such ease.

Shen Zhi brought the lunchbox inside – it contained simple breakfast items: soy milk, steamed buns, and fried dough sticks.

Probably unsure about his preferred bun fillings, the boy had bought various kinds.

Shen Zhi heated the breakfast in a pot. Having woken up late, he hadn’t finished eating long before someone knocked on his door. Instead of opening directly, he called through the door, Who is it?

It’s me, Old Zhou!

It was the bookstore owner from downstairs.

Shen Zhi put on his mask and opened the door to find Boss Zhou carrying rice and dishes upstairs. Surprised, he asked, What’s this?

Seeing Shen Zhi favoring one leg, Boss Zhou explained, It’s from Little Shen – the kid who accidentally bumped into you yesterday. He told me this morning that he won’t have time to come at noon or evening, so he asked me to deliver your breakfast and dinner these few days.

Shen Zhi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

That’s not necessary, I can manage my own meals.

Boss Zhou waved him off: Don’t stand on ceremony! Little Shen already paid me. My wife will cook whatever we’re having and I’ll bring some over for you. That kid is very thoughtful – he often comes to my store to read and buy materials. Helping out like this is no trouble at all.

The bookstore owner kept enthusiastically praising Shen Jichuan, repeatedly apologizing on the boy’s behalf, insisting the collision must have been accidental, mentioning how the kid came from a difficult background but remained exceptionally hardworking and positive – truly a good youngster, and so on.

Boss Zhou placed the steaming rice and hot dishes on the dining table, instructing, No need to wash the dishes – I’ll collect them tonight. If you need anything, just let me know and I’ll buy it for you. You can leave trash by your door. Okay, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now.

The door clicked shut.

Shen Zhi: …

In his memory, Boss Zhou was somewhat mercenary but good-hearted, someone who had helped him later on. But with time’s passage, he’d forgotten how talkative the man could be.

From beginning to end, he hadn’t managed to get a single word in edgewise.

On the dining table sat braised pig trotters and trotter soup, both in generously filled bowls, with rice packed so tightly it formed a small mountain.

He felt a headache coming on.

Having just finished breakfast, he had no appetite at all.

Shen Zhi stored the rice and dishes in the refrigerator. By 6 PM, Boss Zhou came up again with dinner: shrimp scrambled eggs, stir-fried broccoli, and millet porridge.

Light yet nutritious – perfect for recovery.

Boss Zhou was ordinarily a simple man who wouldn’t normally eat meat and shrimp with every meal. Clearly, this had been specially prepared for him.

Not wanting to reject such kindness, Shen Zhi mentioned he hadn’t finished lunch and would combine it with dinner.

By nine o’clock, he went into the kitchen to reheat the food.

Senior year evening dismissal.

Been testing all day, and we still have more tomorrow. I’m exhausted! After Ji Su complained, he noticed no one was responding. Brother Chuan, what’s wrong? You seem distracted.

Shen Jichuan was riding his bicycle, with Boss Zhou’s bookstore just ahead. He said, Go on without me later. I have something to take care of.

Ji Su: Can I help?

Shen Jichuan stopped at the bookstore entrance: No need.

Are we still brothers? Ji Su also braked, grabbing his handlebars. Brother Chuan, be honest with me. Are you in some kind of trouble? You even borrowed money from me. It can’t be for study materials, right?

He and Shen Jichuan were close friends, and he knew his temperament—under normal circumstances, he would never borrow money, let alone two hundred yuan at once.

Shen Jichuan tugged at the handlebars but couldn’t free them. He sighed and turned back: Alright, I’ll tell you.

It was raining yesterday, right? The road was slippery, and I accidentally bumped into someone…

What! Ji Su stared in shock.

Shen Jichuan: It wasn’t serious, and the person didn’t ask for compensation. But he’s alone, and it’s inconvenient for him to cook and such. So I promised the bookstore owner two hundred yuan to buy some nutritious food to make for him.

He patted his pocket. I’m giving the money to the owner now. I also need to check on how he’s doing.

So that was it.

Ji Su looked worried: Maybe I should go with you.

No, no, lending me the money is already more than enough, Shen Jichuan waved him off and headed into the bookstore.

The bookstore owner greeted him cheerfully: Here you are?

Here. This is for the meals.

Ah, good. Just leave it there. The gentleman upstairs hasn’t gone out today.

Thanks, Uncle Zhou. I’ll go up and see him.

Fragments of the conversation reached Ji Su’s ears. He watched Shen Jichuan exit the bookstore and climb the narrow external staircase.

The roadside parking area was lit by streetlamps, making the bookstore entrance appear dimmer, and the stairwell corner even darker. For a moment, Ji Su suddenly felt like his friend was a lamb entering a tiger’s den.

He shook his head, got on his bicycle, and rode away, muttering to himself, Just my imagination, just my imagination.

Knock, knock, knock—

Shen Zhi opened the door and looked at the youth outside: You’re here.

The person standing at the door had just come upstairs, his gaze fixed intently on Shen Zhi. His features still carried the unblemished sincerity of youth, his skin a healthy light honey tone. Dressed in a school uniform, he exuded the clean, untarnished youthful energy hidden within his sturdy frame.

Hello, Brother Shen.

Shen Zhi smiled slightly and stepped aside: Come in.

An unwitting lamb had entered the wolf’s den.

The aroma of food mingled with faint steam, hazing the living room.

The lunch dishes—braised pork knuckles and trotter soup—along with the dinner of shrimp fried eggs and stir-fried broccoli were laid out on the table.

The untouched bowl of rice was pushed toward Shen Jichuan.

Shen Zhi: Thank you for asking Boss Zhou to look after me, but I really can’t finish all this by myself.

Shen Jichuan looked at the nearly untouched meals: You barely ate at lunch or dinner. Does it not suit your taste?

Shen Zhi smiled: No, it’s due to personal health reasons. I don’t eat much.

Shen Jichuan then studied him closely.

Mr. Shen did indeed appear somewhat unwell. Though the two bore a strong resemblance, Mr. Shen’s complexion was pale. Dressed in black sleepwear, he seemed aloof and mature, which only accentuated his lack of color.

Especially noticeable were the faint shadows under his eyes—a sign of chronic poor rest. Even when smiling, his face seemed veiled in an inescapable weariness and listlessness.

Shen Jichuan’s gaze drifted downward, settling on Shen Zhi’s neck and wrists.

He was extremely thin, with paper-thin skin where the bluish-purple veins beneath were more visible than in most people.

Shen Jichuan couldn’t help but feel grateful—this was surely fortune smiling upon them. Given Shen Zhi’s fragile physique, his earlier collision could have easily resulted in broken bones.

You should eat more. It’ll help you recover faster.

Keep me company then. It’s boring eating alone, and this way nothing goes to waste.

Seeing that Shen Zhi wasn’t just being politely modest, Shen Jichuan stopped refusing. At his age, he was constantly hungry from growing, and after a full day of exams, his stomach was already empty.

Boss Zhou was a good man. When Shen Jichuan had asked him for help yesterday, he hadn’t even paid him yet—the pork trotters and shrimp alone would have cost more than the two hundred he’d offered.

As Shen Zhi watched him eat with relish, his own dulled taste buds gradually caught the aroma in the air. He picked up a few pieces of broccoli with his chopsticks and began eating slowly.

While eating, he kept his eyes fixed on Shen Jichuan, who was focused on his meal.

For a moment, he became lost in thought, barely noticing whether he was chewing vegetables or something else entirely.

When Shen Jichuan happened to look up, he met Shen Zhi’s dark, penetrating gaze. He froze, feeling an odd sense of unease, followed by inexplicable awkwardness and embarrassment.

Was he eating too much? Or was his table manners poor?

He immediately averted his eyes and noticed the cooled millet congee at the corner of the table, seizing it as a casual topic. Oh, Brother Shen, you don’t like millet congee?

Shen Zhi glanced at it indifferently. Do you like it?

Shen Jichuan replied instinctively, Yes, my grandmother and younger brother both do. We have it often at home.

Shen Zhi fell silent for a moment. I don’t like it.

Shen Jichuan said, Then I’ll tell Boss Zhou not to make millet congee these next few days.

Shen Zhi smiled faintly. Alright, thank you.

No problem, Shen Jichuan ate with him a while longer before checking the time. He hurriedly finished the last of his rice. Brother Shen, I should get going. My family will worry if I’m home late.

Mm, I’m full too.

Shen Jichuan washed all the dishes, planning to return them to Boss Zhou on his way out. He also cleaned the metal container he’d used for breakfast and packed it into his backpack—clearly intending to bring meals again tomorrow.

Shen Zhi didn’t stop him. He saw him out, then returned to his bedroom window, watching as Shen Jichuan dashed out of the bookstore, leaped onto his bicycle, and sped away.

His faint breath fogged the glass. Leaning against the window, the young man quietly watched the retreating figure, until long-buried memories pierced through from the depths of his mind—

Neither Shen Zhi nor Shen Jichuan liked millet congee.

They always felt it scratched their throats, and drinking it too quickly made them choke.

Yet despite hating it, he had consumed millet congee throughout his childhood.

Before turning four, he refused to drink it and was called a picky eater, though his family had humored him.

After four, following the deaths of Father Shen and Grandpa Shen, the family could no longer afford to keep him—a child with no blood relation.

The first time his grandmother carried him out and abandoned him outside the door, he learned in terror and fear that he wasn’t his mother’s biological son.

He had always had an excellent memory. Even after being abandoned, he found his way back home, weeping and pleading, I was wrong, don’t leave me. I was wrong, please don’t leave me…

He didn’t actually know what he had done wrong, just as Mother Shen and Grandma Shen only knew raising him was a burden, unaware that abandoning a child was against the law.

The second time, Mother Shen waited until he was asleep, carried him in her arms, and abandoned him even farther away.

He had been awake the entire journey, holding back tears, desperately memorizing the landmarks around him and the way home.

On his way back, a heavy snow began to fall. The faint footprints of a four-year-old trailed behind him in the snow. This time, when he reached home, he didn’t cry or make a scene. Instead, he curled up outside the door, tucking his icy hands into his sleeves.

The next morning, when Mother Shen opened the door, his hair and eyelashes were covered in snow—he had become a tiny snowman.

Having raised him for four years, Mother Shen still held some maternal affection in her heart. She hugged him tightly and burst into tears.

With his frozen arms, he clung to her desperately. Don’t abandon me, please don’t abandon me!

In the end, Mother Shen and Grandma Shen couldn’t bear to cast him out completely. They discussed it and decided not to abandon him again but to give him away instead, hoping to find a good family willing to take in a child.

A distant relative agreed to adopt him and came to pick him up. But on the way, he ran away again.

No one could have imagined that a four-year-old child could be so stubborn, nor did they understand how he managed to find his way back home. Like a loyal puppy that refused to leave no matter how harshly it was beaten, even when hurt badly, he would only whimper softly before curling up again to guard the doorstep.

At that time, the family was having lunch.

He stood at the door, dirty and sniffling, holding back tears, too afraid to enter.

Grandma Shen, Mother Shen, and his younger brother all saw him. For a moment, they were stunned, then overwhelmed with mixed emotions. Finally, Grandma Shen, as the head of the household, relented and sighed. Come in.

Only then did he step inside.

Grandma Shen scooped him a bowl of millet porridge. You must be hungry.

Mother Shen said, He doesn’t like it. I’ll make him something else.

As if finally discovering another reason for his abandonment, the child snatched the bowl and began gulping it down frantically. Alarmed, Mother Shen tried to take it back. It’s hot! You’ll scald yourself!

But she couldn’t wrest it from him. The child drank the porridge like a fierce little wolf cub, only letting go when he had finished. His eyes reddened again, his head drooped, and he began to sob, tears falling one after another.

I like millet porridge. It’s my favorite. I won’t be picky anymore, Grandma, Mom… please don’t abandon me… I’ll be very, very good…

Everyone in the Shen family loved millet porridge—except him. If he could learn to like it, then he would truly be one of them.

After a long silence, Grandma Shen remarked, When you’re starving long enough, you’ll eat anything.

He was finally allowed to stay in the household, and no one ever brought up abandoning him again.

Elsewhere.

Shen Jichuan returned home.

Brother, why are you back so late? Did something happen on the way? Shen Chengzong emerged from his bedroom, yawning.

No, I stayed at school a bit longer to work on some problems.

Oh, Shen Chengzong didn’t question it further. He lifted the woven rattan cover from the dining table. Millet porridge, eggs, and pickled radish. It’s still warm. Hurry and eat, Brother.

Not wanting to waste his kindness, Shen Jichuan ate the egg, stirred the pickled radish into the millet porridge, and prepared to drink it all in one go. But as soon as he took a sip, a grain of millet caught in his throat. He shoved the bowl away abruptly and broke into a violent coughing fit.

He coughed until his face turned red and tears streamed down, looking utterly disheveled. Alarmed, Shen Chengzong patted his back. Brother! Are you okay?

After finally calming down, Shen Jichuan looked up at the bowl of porridge on the table.

His throat burned fiercely, making even the porridge seem difficult to swallow and nauseating.

Shen Chengzong: Brother, what’s wrong?

I don’t know, Shen Jichuan stared blankly for a long moment before lowering his head. Wiping away the tears coughed up from the corner of his eyes with his palm, he murmured in confusion, Maybe…

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

Maybe this time… I’m just not hungry.

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