The food Cheng Ye made turned out unexpectedly not bad; for picky-eater Jiang Shi, it was even quite good.

The claypot rice, simmered over a low wood fire, had a golden, crispy crust at the bottom. When Cheng Ye stirred it with a spoon, the aroma of lard mingled with the rice and toppings, and before he realized it, Jiang Shi had eaten more than half.

He really couldn’t eat another bite. He pushed the half-finished claypot forward. “I’m done.”

Cheng Ye ate the leftovers he couldn’t finish.

The evening breeze drifted in through the propped-open window. The light above their heads swayed gently. In the hearth, the not-yet-spent firewood crackled softly.

Jiang Shi suddenly felt something strange and wondrous.

It was just after the New Year then. The air in Jiangcheng still held the acrid scent of fireworks; red lanterns hung at every doorway, not yet taken down, and thick snow blanketed the ground.

After New Year’s Eve, only Jiang Shi was left in the Song family villa. His parents were always busy—busy making money, busy with their own lives. After discovering he was a child who seemed to learn nothing well, they rarely set their eyes on him.

In theory, after the thirtieth, Jiang Shi would only see his parents once when he turned fifteen.

But on the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, his parents came back.

Song Bo and Sun Wanyun both looked less than pleased; their gazes at Jiang Shi were complicated. In the end, they simply placed a paternity test in front of him, like handling official business.

“Song Shi, you’re not our biological child.”

In that report, the question of how a shrewd couple could have such a clumsy child suddenly had an explanation.

No one cared about how he felt. Over a decade of living together was, to Song Bo and Sun Wanyun, like a dream. Compared to Jiang Shi, they cared far more about their biological son, who had been missing for over ten years.

Jiang Xue arrived faster than Jiang Shi had imagined.

It didn’t snow in Jiangcheng that day, but the wind was fierce. A travel-worn middle-aged woman pushed open the restaurant door in a rush.

They looked at each other only once before tears spilled from Jiang Xue’s eyes.

It was the first time anyone had cried for Jiang Shi.

The Song family didn’t need him, so he left quickly. Just after turning fifteen, at the end of February, he shrugged off all the trappings of wealth, boarded a green-skin train, and sank into the poor yellow earth of Xiliu Village.

He hadn’t held any expectations of this place on the way over—if a wealthy family couldn’t accept a clumsy child, how could a poor mountain region?

Yet in the end, it was this barren mountain region that embraced everything about him. Here, no one looked at him strangely. Here, there were no ranks or castes—everyone was equal.

He hadn’t expected to meet someone like Cheng Ye in a place like this.

He was like a vessel—absorbing Jiang Shi’s bad temper, and accepting Jiang Shi as a person, as if anything he did in front of him was allowed.

Jiang Shi drifted off in thought and couldn’t help calling out to Cheng Ye.

“Cheng Ye, don’t you think it’s gross to eat my leftovers?”

“No.” Cheng Ye said, “No one looked after me when I was little, and my dad was often away. When we ran out of rice at home, I had to go beg in the village. At first people felt sorry for me, but over time, anyone would get fed up. Little by little, what I got were only scraps and leftovers.”

He spoke of it calmly, finishing every last bit of what Jiang Shi had left. “I got used to it.”

Jiang Shi was stunned. He hadn’t expected that. He cursed, “Your dad’s really a piece of crap!”

Cheng Ye chuckled and agreed, “He really is.”

After venting, Jiang Shi felt his past self wasn’t much better. He snatched the claypot from Cheng Ye’s hands. “You don’t need to eat leftovers anymore. If you’re hungry, I’ll buy you food.”

Cheng Ye’s gaze flicked over the boy’s lightly bitten lip, and he raised a brow. “Buy it for me? Does Young Master have money?”

Jiang Shi’s pockets were completely empty, but he insisted, “Of course I do. If I didn’t, how could I so easily fork over 20,000 for you?”

Grease from the pot smeared on Jiang Shi’s hand. Cheng Ye took the pot from him and used a paper napkin to wipe his fingers.

The boy’s fingertips were tender; a scrape from the coarse, by-the-weight napkins Cheng Ye’s family bought left a small patch of redness.

Jiang Shi withdrew his hand without much reaction, but Cheng Ye stared at those fingertips for a moment.

He crushed the napkin into a ball in his fist.

“That little money box looks old—its edges worn smooth. Looks like its owner often held it and rubbed it. Whatever’s inside must be his treasures.”

“After such a big upheaval, you came to Xiliu Village and never even made a call back. You’re even worried about Song Jian’an. Seems your relationship with them isn’t very good.”

“Knowing your temper, you probably didn’t take anything when you left, right? Such a cherished box, but it only had 20,000 inside. If I’m not mistaken, that 20,000 was your entire fortune, wasn’t it?”

“Young Master, the way you are now, with what are you planning to treat me to meals?”

Jiang Shi looked a little dazed. The firelight flickered in his eyes. He turned his face away to avoid Cheng Ye’s gaze.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

He was stubborn.

Cheng Ye didn’t argue. “Then take it as nonsense.”

Jiang Shi: “…”

Jiang Shi said, “You sure talk big, as if you’re some genius. If you’ve got the skills, give me my money back.”

“I don’t have the skills. You know better than anyone how broke I am.” Cheng Ye scooped a ladle of cold water and doused the burning kindling. He asked, “Wanna go sit outside?”

The weather had been nice the last two days. Outside, stars were scattered like salt, and the moon hung quietly.

But the nights were still chilly. Jiang Shi wore a thin long-sleeved shirt with one of Cheng Ye’s coarse jackets over it. The jacket was a bit small for Cheng Ye, but looked oversized on Jiang Shi.

A minute ago it had been on Cheng Ye; when it settled on Jiang Shi’s shoulders, it still held another person’s warmth and scent.

Jiang Shi drew the jacket tighter, feeling weird about wearing someone else’s clothes. He couldn’t help leaning over to sniff. “Cheng Ye, do you smoke? Why do I smell cigarettes?”

Cheng Ye tugged the jacket down a little, so the rough fabric wouldn’t chafe the boy’s delicate neck. Hearing Jiang Shi’s question, he didn’t deny it. He only said, “Are you a little dog?”

Jiang Shi glared at him. “Hey!”

Cheng Ye sat beside him, long legs sprawled without decorum. “Yeah. Occasionally one or two. Bad student posture—Young Master, don’t learn it.”

Jiang Shi, like a little dog, sniffed again, then frowned. “It stinks.”

“Hate the smell?” Cheng Ye glanced at him. “I won’t smoke anymore, then.”

He said he wouldn’t smoke as casually as eating or drinking; Jiang Shi didn’t believe it. He frowned, annoyed. “So you’ve got money for cigarettes, but not to pay me back, huh?”

“I really don’t have money.” Cheng Ye fished in his pocket and pulled out one yuan. “This is all I’ve got. Wanna take it?”

Jiang Shi never imagined someone could be so shameless. As things stood, he, the one who was owed money, was being treated like the lord.

He snatched the coin from Cheng Ye’s hand. “One yuan is still money. Don’t think I won’t take it just because it’s little.”

“Remember, you still owe me 19,999.”

“Got it. I still owe you 19,999.”

Jiang Shi: “…”

He kicked Cheng Ye. “You really don’t have any money at all?”

“Mm. None.”

None now, and none later. Jiang Shi would probably never see those 20,000 again in this lifetime.

March slipped by, and Qingming arrived in a blink.

There were three days off for Qingming. Every afternoon, Jiang Shi got restless. As soon as class ended, he grabbed his backpack and bolted.

Cheng Ye followed behind. In the crowded throng, he snagged Jiang Shi’s backpack and reeled him back. “What’s the rush?”

Jiang Shi, pulled off balance, watched helplessly as he fell behind the others by a big stretch. He couldn’t help swatting Cheng Ye. “Why are you pulling me? Not excited for break? You’ve got something wrong with your head.”

It was packed at that hour. When the crowd thinned, Cheng Ye let go and, by the way, took Jiang Shi’s backpack. “What’s the hurry? People won’t run away, and neither will the holiday.”

What Jiang Shi wanted was precisely this feeling of urgency. Getting cut off by Cheng Ye, he couldn’t make it now even if he tried. He could only walk ahead with a dark face, head down.

The tall boy trailed him unhurriedly, carrying his backpack.

Outside the school gates, Jiang Shi planned to head to their usual spot to catch a minivan home. But as soon as he turned from the gate, he unexpectedly came face-to-face with someone.

Huo Ji didn’t know how long he’d been leaning against a tree waiting. When he saw Jiang Shi look over, he stubbed out the cigarette in his hand, straightened up, and flashed him a smile.

“Little darling Jiang Shi, long time no see.”