Xie Qian openly admitting he didn’t like Chen Li caught Lin Lin by surprise.
Reflecting on the two times Xie Qian had seen Chen Li, she realized they’d never interacted. How could dislike form without a word exchanged?
Could it be their auras clashed?
It seemed plausible. Xie Qian was aloof, almost otherworldly, while Chen Li, running a small business and raising two kids, was the epitome of earthy domesticity.
Stifling a laugh, Lin Lin said, “Chen’s actually decent. She’s not our crowd, but her straightforwardness beats the pretentious types in our circle. Sigh, if you don’t even like someone like her, dealing with others will be tougher… Never mind, my mistake. You don’t have to deal with people you don’t like.”
In Lin Lin’s eyes, her cousin Xie Qian was exceptional in every way, free to choose his company.
She’d misunderstood, but Xie Qian had no urge to clarify.
He’d come to Chengdu to accompany their grandmother for treatment, but she’d made friends at the sanatorium and didn’t need him. Claiming the mountains weren’t for young people, she’d sent him away—her tough stance rooted in concern. The sanatorium was near Qingcheng Mountain, a Taoist hub. Xie Qian’s cool demeanor was already pronounced; if he absorbed Taoist ideals, he might genuinely consider a hermit’s life.
So, she’d firmly sent him to Lin Lin, tasking her with his care.
Care meant more than food and shelter—it included his emotional well-being.
Grandmother’s directive was clear: keep Xie Qian from loneliness, arrange fun activities young people enjoyed, and help him make friends his age.
Lin Lin welcomed Xie Qian’s stay—her in-laws adored him too. But planning entertainment was tricky.
As a high school teacher, she knew boys Xie Qian’s age loved basketball, gaming, or hitting internet cafes in small groups. Arranging these for Xie Qian felt odd.
Basketball was exercise, but Xie Qian had no friends in Chengdu.
Like their grandmother, Lin Lin believed Xie Qian didn’t need to network with adults yet—he needed peers.
Peers… Lin Lin’s thoughts turned to Chen Li, who’d just left.
Chen Li’s niece, Wen Ying, was Xie Qian’s age.
Wen Ying had a round, cute face, spoke politely, and was charmingly witty, clearly well-raised. Lin Lin’s first impression of her was positive.
Same age, same neighborhood—Wen Ying could keep Xie Qian from boredom all summer.
Lin Lin kept this to herself, approaching Xie Qian from another angle. “I know you’ve self-studied the first-year high school curriculum and are starting the second-year’s. I’m not speaking as your cousin but as a teacher: you’re moving too fast. Your progress is great, but your foundation might not be solid. Slow down, review the first-year material. You saw Chen, who came about her niece’s tutoring. She’s my friend, and the tutors I recommended are solid. Would you like to join her niece’s lessons?”
If Xie Qian declined, Lin Lin wouldn’t push.
Wen Ying was just a convenient option, having recently crossed Lin Lin’s path.
Xie Qian disliked Chen Li. If he also disliked her niece, Lin Lin had other choices.
Her mother-in-law was a vice-principal at a provincial key high school, her father-in-law a publishing group’s GM—a well-connected family in Chengdu. Finding age-appropriate “friends” for Xie Qian was no issue.
Whether to tutor with Wen Ying was entirely Xie Qian’s call.
He didn’t think he needed tutoring.
But this was Lin Lin’s kindness.
Xie Qian, though reserved, knew nobody owed anyone kindness innately.
After a few seconds, he nodded. “I can try a couple of lessons. When do they start?”
“I told Chen it’s the day after tomorrow. If you don’t want to study with her niece, we can stagger the times.”
Xie Qian shook his head. “No need for the hassle. Together’s fine.”
His impression of Wen Ying, from two encounters, was simple: a girl who didn’t throw herself at him.
As long as she kept that up, he didn’t care about her looks, smarts, or whether she spent her free time catching cheaters.
…
Wen Ying raced home, devouring two watermelon slices to cool her flushed face.
She was clueless about Lin Lin’s plan for her to tutor with Xie Qian, let alone the hope that they’d become friends.
If she knew, what could she say?
She’d thank Lin Lin for the high expectations. Befriending Xie Qian was the ultimate dream of his entire Baidu fan forum.
Indeed, the forum was mostly fangirls. Perhaps due to the era, they hadn’t adopted later fan-circle antics, like claiming to be Xie Qian’s wife or girlfriend.
They adored him but didn’t expect to “own” him.
A divine young master dating a mortal?
Get real. Without his ethereal charm, he wouldn’t be the captivating Xie Qian.
Forum members, including the old Wen “Super Cringe” Ying, were thrilled to share his merch. Xie Qian wasn’t anyone’s possession—he belonged to everyone. Ahem, that was her past-life teenage logic. Now, as a rational adult, Wen Ying knew Xie Qian was neither someone’s property nor “everyone’s.” He was just Xie Qian, his own person.
When Chen Li returned from Lin Lin’s, she told Wen Ying the tutoring schedule was set, starting the day after tomorrow.
“Math, physics, and chemistry all in one day. You study one day, rest the next. The free day’s yours to plan. How’s that?”
Wen Ying nodded enthusiastically.
It was a great setup!
Her aunt hadn’t brushed off her summer job at the company, carefully balancing tutoring and work.
Deng Shangwei didn’t return until after 9 p.m., saying he’d sorted the Commerce Bureau issue and then went fishing with Boss Qin.
“Boss Qin’s fishing skills are awful, but he loves wild fishing. If he doesn’t catch anything, he won’t stop. Guess how I got away today? We fished till dusk, visibility poor. One of Qin’s bodyguards secretly swam from the other side of the reservoir, hooking a fish onto his line. Even then, Qin nearly lost it pulling it in…”
Deng Shangwei sounded exhausted.
Wen Ying’s first thought wasn’t Qin’s stubbornness but his wealth. Only a big shot had people going to such lengths to humor him!
