The night was deep in the Jiang residence.
Moonlight slipped in through a tiny crack, spilling onto the tiled floor.
The room was monochromatic-white walls, white bedsheets, white pillows, and a white gaming chair where a blue-eyed young man sat.
Chan Qing chirped like a cicada: “Goodnight, Senior Jiang~~”
Jiang Chi picked up his phone indifferently, giving it a cursory glance.
The WeChat messages were densely packed with the other person’s “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” and “Good night.”
Ji Qingchan’s daily greetings were as punctual as clockwork, three times a day, never a second off.
Out of courtesy, Jiang Chi replied with a “Goodnight” before shifting his gaze back to the pair of hands dominating most of the computer screen-hands as flawless as mutton-fat jade, with distinct, elegant knuckles.
Those hands danced gracefully and nimbly across the keyboard, each keystroke carrying a unique rhythm.
His grip on the phone tightened, the muscles along his spine tensing as Jiang Chi leaned slightly forward, his deep, light-blue eyes fixated unblinkingly on those hands on the screen.
His gaze grew increasingly fervent, as if he could reach through the screen to seize those hands and savor them meticulously.
His breathing grew slightly ragged.
Unconsciously, he reached out his own hand, gently caressing the screen as if stroking those jade-like hands.
Of course, it would have been better without the obviously voice-modulated, gender-neutral trash talk ringing in his ears.
“You little brat, daring to steal my red buff?! Just you wait!!”
“What kind of noob are you? If you can’t play, then don’t!!”
“All you do is run your mouth, huh?!”
“Mad? Mad?!”
Meanwhile, Ji Yuenian sat with one leg crossed over the other, dishing out attacks both in-game and verbally.
This round was a lvl against some small-time streamer.
Ji Yuenian fully showcased his mastery of trash talk, provoking the other into a rage-though the rage amounted to nothing.
In the end, after being repeatedly cornered and killed at the base three times, the opponent’s mental state collapsed.
Without even mustering a final threat, they quit the game outright.
Once the match ended, Ji Yuenian promptly ended his livestream.
Picking up the “Ji Qingchan” phone with its cute bear case, he glanced at Jiang Chi’s “Goodnight” reply and couldn’t help but marvel.
The “Pamper Your Girlfriend” app downloaded online was truly useful-set the time, compose the text, and it auto-sends on schedule.
No more worries about forgetting to say goodnight to the girlfriend~~
Beep beep beep!
The phone belonging to “Ji Yuenian” vibrated, the devilishly muscular lines on its case seeming to ripple with the motion. Setting aside the bear phone, he picked it up.
Miao Miao Xia: “Bao Yue, you’re so amazing! Miao Miao learned so much today–I never knew trash talk could be used like that.”
Miao Miao Xia: “But, kitty feels like using trash talk on a teacher would get me beaten. Miao Miao scratches head JPG”
Bao Yue: “Pat pat Miao Miao Xia.”
Chi Long Bao Bao Ai Xi Zao: “Bao Yue, selling hand pics?”
Ji Yuenian’s lips twitched. Damn it! A hand fetishist, as expected.
Bao Yue: “Not selling. Also, I’m a guy-a buff one who can knock out thugs with one punch!”
Miao Miao Xia: “Bao Yue seems extra happy today?”
Bao Yue: “Yeah, pretty happy. Did a good deed, and soon I’ll get what I want.”
Chi Long Bao Bao Ai Xi Zao: “Congrats.”
Miao Miao Xia: “Congrats.”
Bao Yue: “Thanks, you two.”
After logging off, Ji Yuenian opened the school’s heartthrob voting app on the webpage.
He then took out the bruise ointment given by the school doctor, poured some onto his hand, and massaged his ankle joint.
A faint, fiery tingling sensation spread through the area.
Gazing at the screen where his votes were far ahead of the others, a slight curve formed at the corner of Ji Yuenian’s lips.
This time, I’m definitely going to win!
* * *
Meanwhile, at the Jiang residence.
After logging out of his account and shutting down the computer, Jiang Chi plugged in his phone to charge, took his medication as instructed by the doctor, and prepared to go to bed.
But shortly after lying down, a strange sound came from outside his bedroom-dense, layered, like the friction of cloth against the floor.
Jiang Chi got up and opened the door.
Outside stood a woman with short black hair, wearing an apron and plastic gloves, holding a mop.
She had an oval face, delicate features as if painted by an artist, a high nose bridge, and was wearing white slippers.
She appeared to be in her early thirties, well-maintained.
This woman was Jiang Chi’s mother, Chen Mengrou.
“Mom, it’s so late. Why aren’t you resting yet?” Jiang Chi asked softly from behind the door.
“Can’t sleep,” Chen Mengrou replied, bending over as she vigorously mopped the floor.
“That problem hasn’t been solved yet. I can’t sleep soundly.”
Jiang Chi fell silent at her words.
Everyone says geniuses have it good, but who knows the troubles they face?
Jiang Chi’s father had mild mysophobia, but that was beside the point.
His mother, a natural prodigy with top-tier mathematical thinking, had won countless awards since childhood and even represented the Huayuan Federation in international competitions.
Yet this very woman had a condition: obsessive-compulsive disorder related to problem-solving.
Specifically, whenever she encountered a math or physics problem she couldn’t solve quickly, she would become frantic about cleaning, wanting to rid her surroundings of all dirt and impurities.
According to Jiang Chi’s father, during their cohabitation days, all the cleaning in the house had been handled by him.
This situation eased considerably only after they married and had children.
One could say that living in this household-with its severe mental cleanliness obsession and extreme hand fixation-and still managing to attend school normally without ending up in a psychiatric ward spoke volumes about Jiang Chi’s mental fortitude.
“A-Chi, go check those old clothes I sorted out. Let me know if you want any. I’ll throw away the rest.”
“Okay,” Jiang Chi nodded and walked toward a cardboard box in the living room.
The box wasn’t large; he could carry it alone. Inside were some old household items.
Some were clothes he’d worn as a child, still carrying traces of his younger days.
Others were toys he’d once loved, now slightly worn with age.
Suddenly, Jiang Chi’s gaze landed on a somewhat faded silver bell half-buried under the clothes.
Picking it up with his gloved hand, he gave it a gentle shake, producing a crisp sound.
“Mom, what’s this?”
Hearing the noise, Chen Mengrou walked over, glanced at the bell, and after a moment’s thought, said, “I think this was a birthday gift from that Ji family boy when you were five.”
A birthday gift? From Ji Yuenian?
Jiang Chi searched his memories.
The two families had been quite close, with frequent visits between them.
But he’d been very young then, and his recollections weren’t very clear.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Jiang Chi tossed the silver bell back into the box.
“Throw it all away…”
“What are you throwing away?”
Chen Roumeng interrupted, grabbing the silver bell.
“Jiang Chi, you can’t be like this. You need to learn to cherish gifts from others, just like making friends.”
“Look at your father. Even though his skills are just average, he has a wide network and connections. That’s why the group has been thriving all these years.”
As she spoke, she washed the silver bell in the water, wiped it dry with a tissue, and tossed it to Jiang Chi.
“Originally, this bell was something Aunt Qingchuan and I bought together-one gold, one silver. When we were pregnant with you and the Ji family’s boy, I thought I’d have a daughter and even considered arranging a marriage alliance.”
“Too bad they were both boys, so we gave the pair of bells to Qingchuan. Who would’ve thought this silver one would end up back in my hands after all these twists and turns? Life is truly unpredictable.”
“Jiang Chi, keep this bell safe. If you ever meet a girl you like, give it to her.”