Chapter 4
Even though he had just gone through a breakup, he had unexpectedly received a matcha croissant.
Jian Xingsong’s bleak mood seemed to be mostly dispelled by the pastry's sweet taste.
He was now someone who received treats from others, too.
But he never expected that, other than his grandmother, the first person to give him his favorite croissant would be Xie Zhijin—the guy who hated him.
What an incredibly good guy!
Jian Xingsong couldn't fathom someone having such good manners that they would give a housewarming gift even to someone they disliked. Xie Zhijin was truly a good person.
Taking a bite of the matcha cream, Jian Xingsong felt deeply moved. He decided he should try his best to keep his distance from Xie Zhijin. After all, he didn't have anything to give in return, so the least he could do was cause Xie Zhijin less trouble.
"I can't believe Xie Zhijin would move into such an old residential complex," Jian Xingsong muttered to himself. Just then, the loosely clipped knitted bunny hairpin slipped from his hair.
"Hm?" Jian Xingsong brushed aside the bangs blocking his vision and clipped the little bunny hairpin back into place. His line of sight instantly cleared up, and the hair no longer poked his eyes.
Belatedly recalling Xie Zhijin’s comment about the little bunny being cute, Jian Xingsong’s hand paused on his hair. Was Xie Zhijin complimenting him?
He unlocked his phone, removed Xie Zhijin from his blocklist, and opened their chat. The message—[Your profile picture is so cute, is it a new piece?]—was still there.
Jian Xingsong’s thumb hovered for a moment before he replied: [No, it's something I crocheted a while ago. Thank you for the compliment.]
After sending that, he changed Xie Zhijin’s WeChat alias to [Great Guy Xie Zhijin].
He was actually quite surprised to even have Xie Zhijin on WeChat. He had always assumed the account belonged to a spammer. Back when they graduated high school, before entering the real world, the students had followed the trend of passing around autograph books to leave their contact information for one another.
Jian Xingsong had left his too, though he assumed no one would actually add him. Surprisingly, many classmates added him after graduation.
Including Xie Zhijin.
He and Xie Zhijin had been high school classmates, and the only reason he ended up in the same class as someone like Xie Zhijin was purely due to his excellent grades.
Frankly speaking, their high school didn't carry as much prestige as the city's First High School, but it wasn't an ordinary school either. Ranking in the top three there came with extremely tempting scholarships.
Because his family was poor, his parents were divorced, and he relied solely on his grandmother to survive, he had studied desperately since he was a child just for those scholarships.
The monetary rewards in elementary and middle school weren't large, but for him and his grandmother, the money was enough to live on for a good while.
Because his high school entrance exam scores were so exceptional, that private school extended an olive branch, intending to invest in a future top scholar. The school recruited quite a few kids like him, operating on the principle of not putting all their eggs in one basket.
He wasn't naturally gifted with exceptional intelligence; his stellar grades relied entirely on studying himself into the ground. Fortunately, heaven took some pity on him. His diligent studying and bitter practice paid off. Even in that "aristocratic" high school, his grades consistently ranked in the top ten of his cohort.
The bonuses for the top ten students at that private high school were incredibly generous. A score of 600 points guaranteed a full year's tuition waiver, free accommodation, and a 6,000 yuan scholarship.
If you made it to the top three, third place received 10,000 yuan, second place got 30,000, and first place was awarded an astonishing 80,000 yuan.
Jian Xingsong studied solely for money. For the sake of a better life for him and his grandmother, he pushed himself to the absolute limit. Once, he secured first place, won the 80,000 yuan, and took his grandmother for a comprehensive physical exam.
Relying purely on scholarships and tuition waivers, Jian Xingsong managed to save up 150,000 yuan by the end of high school.
Later, because he got accepted into one of the top-tier universities in the country, his high school rewarded him with one million yuan, plus an additional 200,000 yuan from the city. He used that money to buy the apartment he lived in now.
If his grandmother hadn't fallen ill and passed away, perhaps he would have kept striving forward. But fate loved to play cruel jokes. Even after draining all his savings, he couldn't save the old woman from the clutches of her illness.
The doctor said his grandmother had overworked herself for most of her life; with her advanced age and a multitude of intertwined ailments, she was beyond medical help.
His grandmother refused to suffer through invasive treatments, nor would she allow him to sell the apartment to pay for medical bills. She insisted on conservative treatment, spending her final days with him until one clear, bright day, she fell asleep in their little courtyard and never woke up.
After his grandmother's passing, the parents he hadn't seen in years made a rare return. By then, Jian Xingsong already knew they had each started new families and had their own children.
Only he—the supposed crystallization of their past love—had been discarded like a worn-out shoe.
Jian Xingsong had grown up; he was no longer the child who cried for his mommy and daddy.
He gave them a cold, distant nod and finished arranging the funeral.
Perhaps it was true that a couple living in poverty finds everything tragic. The two people who used to fight viciously every day over money could now sit peacefully at the same table to talk.
Jian Xingsong knew that his father had married into a wealthy family, and his mother had remarried an eligible bachelor millionaire. They had also given him half-siblings.
He knew he was the child nobody wanted.
It had taken him ten years to accept this fact. Now, facing the man and woman whose faces were full of guilt, he simply accepted their 200,000 yuan with calm detachment, treating it as the severance of their familial ties.
Since his grandmother’s passing, Jian Xingsong forced himself to hold on until he graduated from university. Then he moved back to his hometown and lived alone. He found it increasingly difficult to interact with large groups of people, his social anxiety worsening by the day, so he became a crochet streamer.
Perhaps because the first half of his life had been too intensely high-strung, he now suffered from severe migraines whenever he overexerted his brain.
He chose to crochet because he used to make handmade hairpins with his grandmother to sell at street stalls; he was deeply familiar with the craft. Moreover, he had a natural talent for handicrafts. By a stroke of luck, he managed to build an account with a hundred thousand followers.
Now, he lived alone—no debts, no burdens. As long as he fed himself, his entire "family" was taken care of. His monthly income was more than enough to sustain him.
In truth, this wasn't a bad way to live. But deep down, he still felt incredibly lonely. Maybe he had been so starved of affection as a child that he desperately craved someone to love him deeply.
Then Shen Jinye appeared. Even though it was an online relationship, it left a profound mark on Jian Xingsong.
But what left an even deeper mark was the suffocating grievance that came from that unhealthy relationship—it had made him suffer immensely.
He originally thought that after graduating college, he wouldn't be abandoned ever again. Yet, in the end, Shen Jinye still chose someone else.
Jian Xingsong couldn't just close his eyes and keep blindly loving him. What he had always wanted was exclusivity, so he broke it off.
As his thoughts swirled, he finished the croissant in his hands.
A WeChat notification suddenly chimed. It was a message from Xie Zhijin.
[Great Guy Xie Zhijin: It’s very cute. Are you going to change it later? Was the croissant good?]
When Xie Zhijin typed out those words, what he was really wondering was if Jian Xingsong was still agonizing over that scumbag.
Jian Xingsong wasn't good at dealing with people. Faced with Xie Zhijin’s easy familiarity, he felt a bit flustered.
[Croissant's Bunny Head: Thank you, it was very good.]
After sending it, he felt like something was missing, so he hesitantly added another message: [Do you like crocheted dolls too? Can I make one for you?]
When Xie Zhijin received this message, his gaze involuntarily darted to the little pig on his keychain. Amusement overflowed in his eyes, and the corners of his lips quirked up uncontrollably. Still, he restrained himself and replied: [I do. What kind do you want to give me?]
Another message quickly popped up in the pinned chat.
He had set Jian Xingsong’s alias as a croissant emoji, since "Xingsong" sounded just like the word for croissant.
[Croissant: What do you like? Do you have any favorite cartoon characters? I can crochet them.]
I like you!
Xie Zhijin’s heart raced. He instinctively wanted to type exactly that, but he forced himself to suppress his surging excitement.
He couldn't rush it. He couldn't scare away his timid little bunny.
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