Ji Boting frowned deeply. No longer paying attention to Sang Li, he walked straight over to the desk, sat down, put on his gold-rimmed glasses, turned on the desk lamp, and began reading a thick stack of documents in the light.
Sang Li looked like an elementary school student standing in punishment, but he could not even last three minutes before he grew restless. Crossing his legs into an extremely difficult posture, he sat down and swayed left and right, admiring his adorable self in the French window.
“Get up.”
The ice-cold voice rang out as if Ji Boting had eyes in the back of his head.
Sang Li refused to comply. “I won’t!”
Ji Boting raised his head. “If you won’t study, get out.”
Sang Li found it utterly incredible. “Wow, Ji Boting, do you have any humanity? How can you have the heart to drive such a cute person like me out of the house in such cold weather?!”
Without a shred of emotion, Ji Boting pushed up his glasses. “This is my house.”
Sang Li was left speechless for a single second before he immediately crouched down to flip through the book and chattered away, “Your house is my house. It says right here that everything under socialism belongs to the people!”
With absolute righteousness, Sang Li patted his small chest. “Me. The people.”
Ji Boting was laughed into anger. “In that case, Sang Li, since my house is your house, is your son my son, too?”
Sang Li paused, then shook his head instantly like a rattle-drum. “No, no! The little one belongs to me and my husband. He cannot be your son!”
“Then my house cannot be your home either.”
Withdrawing his gaze, Ji Boting offered two ruthlessly cold choices. “Either you memorize and dictate this within half an hour, or you get out right now.”
Lili felt his entire world collapse.
Acting like a deeply abused, resentful grievance-bearer, Sang Li stood up, balanced the book on top of his head, straightened both arms, and looked over at Ji Boting with a hint of ingratiation. “Professor Ji, would you like me to perform some acrobatics for you?”
Sang Li walked toward Ji Boting step by step, going barefoot on the wooden floor with a pattering sound, playing the scoundrel all the way. With absolute sincerity on his face, he said, “It is not that I refuse to memorize it, but that I am currently starving and cannot commit anything to memory. Ji Boting, I want to eat.”
Ji Boting remained silent for a moment. “The kitchen is over there.”
Sang Li tilted his head, letting core values slide off his head to land heavily upon Ji Boting’s specialized monograph, and asked in shock, “Are you not going to cook?”
“You are the hungry one, not me.”
Ji Boting was thoroughly merciless.
Sang Li was dumbfounded. “Huh? But I do not know how to cook!”
Ji Boting answered, “Then go make instant noodles. They are in the fridge.”
Sang Li gave a polite refusal that moved him to tears. “My husband does not let me eat instant noodles. He says they are unhealthy.”
Ji Boting picked up his student’s assignment once more. “Then stay hungry.”
There truly existed such a cruel, cold-hearted, unfeeling, and utterly inhuman stinky man in this world!
I miss my husband.
Having been beaten up by knowledge and forced to go hungry since morning, Sang Li was utterly in despair. He sniffled, refusing to walk a single step further, and sat right down beside Ji Boting’s desk chair.
Ji Boting had just gathered his concentration to grade a doctoral student’s newly submitted thesis.
A sorrowful, lingering voice full of boundless melancholy sounded plaintively right beside his leg. “Hungry.”
Ji Boting took a deep breath to maintain his focus.
The voice took on a sobbing tone. “Hungry, wuwu, hungry, wuwuwu, hungry hungry, wuwuwuwu.”
Ji Boting lowered his head. “Sang Li, shut your mouth.”
“Oh.”
Sang Li pouted. “But Ji Boting, I am really so hungry.”
Ji Boting swore to himself that he would no longer engage with Sang Li.
Yet not even three minutes passed.
The person resembling a small mushroom beside him emitted a concerning onomatopoeia. “Gugu, gugu, gugu.”
Withstanding it no longer, Ji Boting stood up. “What on earth has Jiang Xiucheng even taught you if you cannot even cook a meal?!”
“I know how to do plenty of things!”
Seeing Ji Boting rise and head toward the kitchen, Sang Li immediately bounded after him happily like a little puppy tail. “I am exceptionally good at spending money! Do you have any useless money? I can help you spend it, and I will not charge you an extra fee.”
Ji Boting told himself he must lower his expectations of Sang Li, yet this person’s stupidity and superficiality still attacked his baseline without warning.
Fine.
One last time.
Ji Boting pulled open the refrigerator door. “What do you want to eat?”
“Anything at all?”
Sang Li’s eyes shone brightly. “Then I want baked lobster with cheese, scallion-flavored small lamb chops, sea urchin sashimi, grilled eel, eel soup, and just casually throw in two vegetable dishes.”
Taking out two eggs and three tomatoes, Ji Boting gained a hint of victorious relief in his tone. “There is only tomato and egg noodles.”
Sang Li pursed his lips with some reluctance, fearing that if he complained any further, even this single bite would vanish. “Then scald the tomato skins off, and make sure there is plenty of juice.”
He really has been raised by Jiang Xiucheng to be a little good-for-nothing.
Ji Boting suddenly thought this.
His gaze fell upon Sang Li. The warm, dim light of the kitchen spilled over his innocent and harmless face, making him look exceptionally young, as fragile as someone who had just reached adulthood.
Hot wok, cold oil, finely minced scallions frying to release their aroma, beaten eggs poured in to sizzle and bloom, the juices of the peeled tomatoes overflowing completely, brewing into a thick sauce with a unique, rich flavor.
Quick-cooking noodles boiled in another pot, rinsed in water, and placed into a wide-mouthed bowl. The tomato and egg sauce was ladled on top, finished with a final scattering of fresh scallions.
Sang Li stared with wide eyes, licking his lips as the very tip of his tongue peeked out. “Ji Boting, you are so amazing!”
“Carry the bowl.”
Taking off his apron, Ji Boting gave Sang Li’s face one more look. “Do you want orange juice?”
Reaching out to touch the bowl at the edge of the counter, Sang Li burned his fingertips instantly and pulled them back with a hiss, turning his head in hopeful inquiry. “Is there cola?”
Ji Boting’s gaze was disapproving.
“Fine.”
Sang Li’s small wish was slightly shattered. “Iced orange juice is fine too.”
Retrieving the orange juice, Ji Boting returned to the living room, waiting two or three minutes without seeing Sang Li follow.
He instinctively wanted to stand up, then forced himself to remain seated. Yet before he could even settle down, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen, followed immediately by a startled gasp from Sang Li.
His heart sinking, Ji Boting rushed into the kitchen in a few strides.
The wide-mouthed bowl that had been intact and filled with food just moments ago was now bidding farewell to the world, lying flat on the floor in a state of utter destruction.
Sang Li seemed frightened as well, curled up in a corner with a pale face.
Seeming to notice Ji Boting’s arrival, he hurriedly tried to stand up. “I am sorry. I did not mean to. I can clean it up for you. I will do it.”
Apologizing while reaching out to grab the shards of porcelain, his delicate fingertips cracked the moment they touched the sharp edges, blood staining them red.
Yet Sang Li continued to apologize. “I am sorry, Ji Boting. I did not mean to waste food. I will fix this.”
Ji Boting finally realized that something was wrong with Sang Li.
Taking a step forward across the mess on the floor, he reached out and easily pulled Sang Li up from the ground.
Sang Li was trembling all over, still trying to reach out for the ceramic shards as he shook. “Ji Boting, I am cleaning it up. I will be very quick.”
Ji Boting reached out and pressed down on Sang Li’s hands.
Their fingers intertwined. The hands in his palm were chillingly cold, and only the blood was warm.
Yet the usually pampered Sang Li acted as though he completely failed to notice the blood on his hands. His attention remained entirely fixed on the broken bowl as if faced with a catastrophe, tears slowly seeping into the corners of his eyes.
Unlike his past tears of coquetry, trickery, or deliberately feigned grievance.
These were the tears of fear.
Large droplets rolled down Sang Li’s beautiful face.
The person within Ji Boting’s arms was still trembling.
Trembling while pleading with him, “Ji Boting, I really will clean it up quickly.”
Finally, Ji Boting reached out and pulled him into an embrace.
The man’s voice had almost never been so gentle, carrying a sense of pity and soothing comfort. His broad embrace felt warm and reassuring, blocking out all the chaos and debris before Sang Li.
“It is alright, Sang Li.”
Ji Boting spoke. “It does not matter even if you do not clean it up. I am not going to blame you, and I am not going to hit you.”
The person in his arms flinched violently at the word hit, just for a single moment, as though it were an illusion.
Yet Ji Boting happened to be an expert in precisely this field.
He suddenly understood that this was no coincidence, but a stress response representing an unaddressed and long-untriggered trauma response.
Because Jiang Xiucheng had raised Sang Li too well.
So well that he was practically untainted by the mortal world, completely cut off from all distressing memories.
Ji Boting picked Sang Li up.
The person in his arms was actually very light. When he stopped acting up, carrying him felt remarkably docile.
The temperature in the living room was comfortable, and the lighting was just right.
He placed Sang Li on the central sofa, letting the blood from Sang Li’s hands stain his expensive antique sofa, and put a soothing instrumental track on the vintage vinyl record player.
Ji Boting fetched gauze and iodine to bandage Sang Li. His movements were extremely light, finishing off the dressing with a neatly tied butterfly knot.
“Do you still want to eat noodles?”
Ji Boting asked.
Sang Li shook his head.
Having just cried, tear tracks remained clearly visible on his face. The terror in his eyes had yet to fully recede, and even his tone lacked its usual arrogant spoiling, making him look pitiful. “I am sorry.”
Ji Boting asked, “What are you apologizing for?”
Biting his lip tightly, Sang Li lowered his head as another tear fell, which Ji Boting reached out to catch. “What are you crying for?”
“Before, I said you lacked learning, and I tricked you, and I was picky. I am sorry.”
Pushing Ji Boting’s hand away, Sang Li rubbed his face indiscriminately to force the remaining tears back. “You are a good person.”
Ji Boting was silent for two seconds before letting out a soft laugh. “Sang Li, this is the first good person card I have received to date. Should I say thank you?”
Sang Li shook his head again.
Ji Boting suddenly spoke up. “When you were young, you frequently went hungry, and if you made a mistake you were beaten, is that right?”
“No! I was not!”
Sang Li instantly refuted, then his distinct pupils dilated violently as he added, “I do not remember things from my childhood.”
Ji Boting understood.
He had seen far too many cases like this, and Sang Li was merely one of millions.
Empathy was heavily discouraged in his profession because empathy always brought pain.
Yet Ji Boting suddenly felt a pang of heartache.
He reached out to wipe Sang Li’s tears, but before touching him, his hand was pushed away.
“I know people like you look down on me.”
Sang Li stood up from the sofa, his jade-like face and brightly colored lips moving. “But I am meant to be raised by Jiang Xiucheng. If no one raises me with such meticulous care, I will die.”
Gathering his clothes, he walked toward the door, looked back at Ji Boting once more, and said, “My husband is back. Thank you for the noodles, even though I did not get to eat them.”
“Ji Boting, goodbye.”