Ordinarily, no one would be so narcissistic as to grab someone else’s phone and go on a wild selfie spree.
Nian Le could vaguely sense that Huo Weiran was dissatisfied with the earlier photo-taking, which was why he acted this way.
Huo Weiran took more than a dozen photos and still didn’t stop. Nian Le stood quietly to the side, waiting for his younger brother to vent after all, the phone had plenty of storage.
Huo Weiran was clearly not very good at taking selfies. After snapping more than a dozen shots, he hadn’t even changed the angle once.
No one knew how many photos he took in the end. With a cold expression, Huo Weiran stuffed the phone back into Nian Le’s hand, turned around, opened his bedroom door, went inside, and slammed it shut with a bang.
Holding his recovered phone, Nian Le glanced at the door in front of him, then opened the photo album, every single picture was a selfie of Huo Weiran.
Back in the guest room, Nian Le searched for quite a while before finally sending over the full-body photo taken at the beginning.
At the international airport, Huo Huohuo saw that Xiao Niannian hadn’t replied for a long time and knew he had probably been put in a difficult spot. Given Huo Weiran’s temperament, it was already a miracle if someone could even knock on his bedroom door, let alone get him to cooperate with taking photos.
Madam Huo kept checking the time, her mind filled with thoughts of how she could help her youngest son recover from the trauma of the attack once she returned to China.
Should she take him to live with his maternal grandfather, where security was better? Arrange a few close-protection bodyguards for him? Or even provide him with some legally compliant weapons?
But those were all external, material measures. What about the psychological trauma?
Madam Huo grew so anxious that her head started to ache. She recalled those terrifying dreams in which her youngest son died, and her fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. No matter how tightly she clenched her other hand, she couldn’t stop it.
“Mom!”
Huo Huohuo suddenly called out. Madam Huo snapped back to her senses and realized she was drenched in sweat.
“Mom, look—quick!”
Huo Huohuo eagerly shoved his phone in front of her, his mouth hanging open in shock.
The image looked like it might be a photo of Huo Weiran. Madam Huo steadied herself and took a closer look and it really was Weiran!
She quickly grabbed the phone and zoomed in on the photo, hardly daring to believe her eyes.
His clothes had changed and he was even wearing an accessory.
His hairstyle had changed too: it had been trimmed, and a small section was tied at the back of his head.
Even his demeanor had changed. The gloomy, withdrawn aura from before was almost nowhere to be seen. Though his expression still wasn’t exactly friendly, it was much closer to how he’d been before the accident.
Huo Huohuo successfully witnessed his mother’s pupils quake in shock.
“See? I told you not to worry!” Huo Huohuo secretly let out a sigh of relief and turned to comfort her.
“Weiran’s way stronger than we thought. I told you, the attacker walked in upright and left horizontally, but you didn’t believe me.”
Grinning broadly, he grabbed his mother’s hand. “Don’t worry anymore.”
Madam Huo felt as though her worldview was being challenged. She looked at the flight number, then back at the latest photo of Huo Weiran.
“I feel like… after we left, Weiran actually started getting better, little by little,” Madam Huo said, unable to stop herself from reflecting.
“Could it be that when we were around, we were putting too much pressure on him?”
“It’s possible,” Huo Huohuo replied solemnly, his eyes darting around. “So… how about we stay and play for a few more days?”
Madam Huo looked at the photo, then at Huo Huohuo. After a moment, she smiled and nodded firmly.
They canceled the return flight tickets. Huo Huohuo took his mother back to the hotel. Seeing her finally relax, even falling asleep in the car, Huo Huohuo couldn’t help sending a message to Nian Le.
[Bro, you’re INSANE!!!]
Early the next morning, not long after Nian Le went downstairs, he stood in front of the refrigerator thinking about the day’s menu when a hand suddenly reached in and took out a box of Snake Fruit.
At some point, Huo Weiran had already arrived in the dining area. Seeing this, Nian Le stepped aside and watched him continue pulling out several kinds of fruit from the fridge, rinsing them one-handed in the sink.
“How did you sleep last night?” Nian Le took out the ingredients he’d need for breakfast and asked gently, making casual conversation.
Huo Weiran lifted his eyes to him, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Was that question Auntie asked you to pass along too?”
Hearing his tone, Nian Le understood immediately. This tall “little brother” was clearly still bothered by being asked by Madam Huo to take photos yesterday.
Nian Le knew very well that if he tried to reason with him now, talking about how Madam Huo was worried, Huo Weiran would hold a grudge for several more days.
When dealing with a rebellious teenager, coaxing worked far better than reasoning.
“No one told me to ask,” Nian Le said, smiling as he worked on the ingredients in his hands.
“If Auntie hadn’t asked me to take photos yesterday, I wouldn’t have noticed how well you’ve built your physique.”
As soon as Nian Le finished speaking, Huo Weiran’s hands slowed slightly as he washed the fruit.
Was his physique… really that good?
He’d spent so long in hospitals and bedridden before.
Out of the corner of his eye, Huo Weiran glanced at Nian Le thawing meat, then quickly lowered his head to look at his own body.
His muscle definition wasn’t as deep as before, but it was much smoother than half a year ago. Since he couldn’t leave the house, he’d only been able to train in the indoor gym. His abs were still fairly solid, and his chest muscles were reasonably full.
Ding—the meat finished thawing. Huo Weiran quickly looked up and scooped the washed fruit onto the cutting board one by one.
“If Auntie asks me to take photos next time and you don’t like it, you can just tell me directly,” Nian Le said, turning back to look at him, his voice clear and gentle.
“I won’t force you.”
Huo Weiran stayed quiet for a few seconds, lowering his eyes and continuing to cut the fruit one-handed. He neither objected nor agreed.
For Huo Weiran, this kind of ambiguous attitude was already a form of compromise.
The lean-meat congee was simmering on the stove. Nian Le went to the sink to wash vegetables. Not long after he lowered his head to rinse the leaves, a familiar hand suddenly extended from beside him, holding a plump, red cherry tomato.
The cherry tomato had already been washed. Nian Le lifted his gaze to his younger brother and understood, this was his gesture of reconciliation.
Nian Le used a piece of kitchen paper to dry his hands, took the cherry tomato from Huo Weiran, and popped it into his mouth.
This cherry tomato wasn’t a variety Nian Le usually ate. It was especially crisp and sweet, bursting with juice. When he bit into it, sweetness flooded his mouth.
His younger brother’s goodwill was subtle. After swallowing the tomato, Nian Le gave Huo Weiran a small smile and continued with the cooking.
Huo Weiran quietly watched those jade-like fingers pinch the bright red cherry tomato and place it between pale lips.
It must have tasted good.
Huo Weiran stared at the smile on the face in front of him for a moment, then unconsciously looked away yet a faint sweetness spread in his chest as well.
He had only been following his mother’s instructions. What fault was there in that?
Huo Weiran lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest. He knew that what bothered him wasn’t that Nian Le listened to his mother’s arrangements but that Nian Le was only kind to him, only stayed by his side, because his mother had asked him to.
Huo Weiran glanced at Nian Le, who was chopping vegetables, picked up a washed cherry tomato, and put it into his mouth. A fresh, sweet flavor surged instantly.
That was the taste he had just experienced.
No wonder he smiled.
Nian Le finished cooking three dishes and one soup. When he looked up, he saw that Huo Weiran had also brought over a plate of fruit salad and set it beside the dishes.
Seeing the yogurt drizzled over the fruit salad, Nian Le moved his chopsticks toward the dishes he had cooked. Suddenly, a light cough sounded from across the table. Nian Le looked up and saw Huo Weiran glance at him, then fix his gaze on the fruit salad.
The meaning was perfectly clear.
Your first bite should be of what I made.
The tips of Nian Le’s chopsticks paused. After a moment, he changed direction and landed on a piece of fruit lightly touched with yogurt. He lifted it and placed it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
“Very good,” Nian Le said with a smile after swallowing.
Nian Le had personally watched Huo Weiran prepare the fruit. Even though Huo Weiran’s hand was steady with the fruit knife, working with only one hand still took more effort.
The time Nian Le spent cooking three dishes and one soup was just enough for his younger brother to remove the fruit cores and cut everything into pieces. If not for the yogurt, Nian Le would have eaten more to encourage him.
Seeming to notice what Nian Le’s chopsticks were avoiding, Huo Weiran’s eyes shifted slightly. He quickly scooped the top layer of fruit salad into his own bowl and pushed the remaining portion toward Nian Le.
“Thank you,” Nian Le said as he picked up a piece of fruit untouched by yogurt. The smile in his eyes deepened slightly.
Breakfast was unusually quiet. Huo Weiran ate the fruit salad in his bowl, coated in yogurt, aware that Nian Le probably didn’t like yogurt.
But unlike his earlier self, he didn’t seize the chance to make a sarcastic remark. Instead, he picked out a piece with only a little yogurt clinging to it, forced it down, and even praised it as “good.”
Huo Weiran lifted his eyes and saw the person across from him lowering his head to eat the remaining fruit from the salad bowl. He himself hadn’t finished the three dishes and soup he’d made, yet Nian Le was determined to finish all the fruit.
The transparent salad bowl was quickly emptied, like a compliment to a fiancé’s cooking.
A strange sense of satisfaction mixed with guilt welled up in Huo Weiran’s chest. He glanced at the empty bowl, then, as if drawn by gravity, let his gaze settle on the person across from him, who was focused on eating.
Nian Le sat upright, holding his chopsticks farther back. His long fingers made the porcelain chopsticks look refined and lustrous. His movements were light and elegant, and when he picked up a dish with sauce, he would tap it lightly against the edge of the plate to remove excess liquid.
The white porcelain chopsticks lifted another slice of meat glistening with sauce, tapped it once on the plate, and then placed it steadily into Huo Weiran’s bowl.
Huo Weiran snapped back to his senses and looked up. The moment he raised his eyes, he met those amber, smiling eyes, gentle and shimmering, enough to make one fall in an instant.
It was like tasting a spoonful of honey: floral sweetness blooming on the tongue, smooth and rich as it slid down the throat.
Nian Le put food into his younger brother’s bowl, reminding him to focus again. After checking the time, he urged him to finish breakfast more quickly.
After the usual few reminders, Nian Le put on his coat and went out. Near the entrance of the residential complex, he found a small green shared bike, scanned the code, and rode off toward the competition venue.
Perhaps because he had yet to suffer a defeat, Nian Le looked up at the newly released matchups, his expression solemn.
This time, his opponent was also a player who had remained undefeated in the previous rounds. Nian Le studied the overall pairing list for a long time, his gaze lingering on several names.
More than ten minutes later, Nian Le found his table number. Seeing the seat opposite him still empty, he sat down and waited quietly.
Name placards for both players were placed beside the board. Before the match began, several reporters took photos of the placards and the empty seats, then casually glanced at the amateur player who would soon face the interviewee.
“Hello, Player Nian Le,” a reporter said, glancing at the name on the placard and holding a wireless microphone up to him.
“May I ask whether you are an amateur or a professional player?”
Nian Le’s gaze swept past the microphone thrust in front of him. He raised his eyes toward the camera and let a slight smile touch his lips.
“I’m an amateur 3-dan player.”
“Amateur 3-dan?” The reporter raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Do you know who the player you’re about to face is?”
