One Candy Can’t Buy a Heart

There was indeed a thermos in the kitchen, brand new, in a robin’s egg blue, with the plastic wrap and tags still intact. It sat quietly in the corner of the highest cabinet.

Ye Zhiqiu reached up and took it down, momentarily stunned.

The spot was quite hidden.

When he and Li Shaojun had reorganized the kitchen, they had cleaned it thoroughly, from top to bottom, with damp cloths.

But none of them had discovered this thermos tucked away in the corner.

How had Qin Jianhe, after cooking just one meal in his kitchen, managed to learn its layout so well? Was his observation that sharp?

The metal body felt cool against his palm. Ye Zhiqiu looked down, unpacked the thermos, and washed it clean.

Then he opened the soup pot on the stove and ladled in the half pot of duck soup that had been kept warm.

As he put on his jacket and reached for the door handle, he instinctively looked back.

His apartment was clean, every surface spotless. Under the light, the beige sofas and dining table glowed with a soft warmth.

It was very pleasing to the eye.

Although he had only lived there for a day, and it was just a rental, perhaps because it was the only place that truly belonged to him in both lives, Ye Zhiqiu felt an inexplicable sense of attachment.

It was a foreign feeling. He had never felt it for the Ye household, nor for his home with Qi Xin in his past life.

In that life, when Qiyun had prospered, Qi Xin had proudly bought a large, nearly two hundred square meter flat near the business district. The decoration was lavish.

But much later, out of his own caution, Ye Zhiqiu learned that the deed was in Qi Ruichang’s name.

That was why Qi Ruichang felt entitled to come and go as he pleased, to boss people around, to boast about his son’s abilities. In his eyes, Ye Zhiqiu was nothing but a freeloader.

Even though Qiyun had been built on Ye Zhiqiu’s own sweat, tears, and relentless work, in the end, he was the one pushed out.

It was the first time he realized that human nature could be so utterly shameless.

His efforts were never appreciated; his kindness was trampled.

Of course, he didn’t freeload for nothing. Qi Xin was picky and insisted he only liked Ye Zhiqiu’s cooking.

So, he later worked essentially as a live-in maid.

He had to clean the two hundred square meter apartment every day, constantly adjusting recipes to Qi Xin’s taste.

By then, he had lost the strength to resist, living like a zombie, performing routine tasks like a programmed machine.

Days repeated, but they no longer had meaning.

The ambitions of his youth, the stubborn pride with which he had confronted Ye Hongxian… all gone, without a trace.

So, even though that apartment was so lavish, he felt nothing but coldness.

It was only much later that he slowly understood: it was just a golden birdcage, and he was the cuckoo who had usurped the nest.

How could such a place inspire attachment?

Ye Zhiqiu stood quietly for a moment, as if trying to memorize everything in the room.

Then he turned off the light and walked out.

Outside, night had fallen. On the long street, the taillights of cars stretched in a long, luminous ribbon.

Ye Zhiqiu walked, carrying the thermos. After about a hundred paces, he reached Qin Jianhe’s complex.

Familiar with the place, he entered the gate and reached the elevator, only then remembering that he had returned the access card to Qin Jianhe.

He took out his phone and sent a message. A moment later, the elevator doors opened.

The elevator went straight to the top floor. Almost as soon as the doors opened, Qin Jianhe’s apartment door was pushed open from inside.

Qin Jianhe stood in the doorway, smiling at him.

“Come in,” he said, reaching out and taking Ye Zhiqiu’s wrist, pulling him inside.

“How did you time that so perfectly?” Ye Zhiqiu asked, curious, handing Qin Jianhe the thermos while adeptly changing into the slippers he usually wore.

“I calculated it,” Qin Jianhe said, looking down at him, his eyes full of laughter.

“I smell the crab,” Ye Zhiqiu said, looking up with a smile, and was pulled into the apartment by Qin Jianhe.

Steam billowed from the kitchen. The aroma of food drifted through the gap in the door, making the place feel incredibly warm.

Just as Ye Zhiqiu was about to go in, Qin Jianhe pulled him back by the hand.

He smiled and handed him something.

It was the magnetic card that served as both elevator and door key.

“Take it,” Qin Jianhe said. “Dinner’s ready.”

Ye Zhiqiu hesitated.

Eating at each other’s places was one thing, but taking Qin Jianhe’s access card…

“But…” he began.

“No buts,” Qin Jianhe said, looking at him ambiguously, brooking no argument. He pressed the card into Ye Zhiqiu’s palm.

“I really enjoy cooking,” he said, smiling. “When I’m not busy, I’d like to. But it’s wasteful to cook for one. If you come over, we can cook together.”

Seeing Ye Zhiqiu still hesitating, Qin Jianhe didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. “The crab is ready. Come help me get a bowl so we can pour out the duck soup.”

And sure enough, with a new task, Ye Zhiqiu had no time to protest.

“Okay,” he said, naturally reaching out and tucking the card into his coat pocket.

After a spring rain, the temperature had begun to rise steadily. Even Ye Zhiqiu had shed his heavy coat for a light, elegant windbreaker.

The pale haze blue suited him, making him look clean, fresh, and otherworldly, with a touch of ethereal grace.

Qin Jianhe watched his movements, a smile unconsciously flickering in his eyes.

They walked into the kitchen one after the other. Ye Zhiqiu immediately noticed the saucer of dipping sauce on the cutting board, with its finely shredded ginger.

He pressed his lips together, but a smile still surfaced in his eyes.

In the corner of the kitchen, in front of the refrigerator, was a foam cooler, containing over a dozen large, trussed-up crabs.

“Didn’t you go to the nursing home?” Ye Zhiqiu asked. “How did you end up with a box of crabs?”

“Someone gave them to my mother,” Qin Jianhe laughed. “There were too many. I stopped by to pick up a box on my way back.”

It was nice having a mother. With a mother, the refrigerator never seemed to run out of ingredients.

Ye Zhiqiu smiled at Qin Jianhe, unable to hide his envy.

But then he looked away, opening the disinfection cabinet to get soup bowls.

“Leave those for now,” Qin Jianhe said, placing the crabs on a shallow platter. His voice was gentle. “I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Ye Zhiqiu said, returning the bowls to the cabinet, then going back to carry the two saucers of dipping sauce to the table.

He then took off his windbreaker and hung it on the rack.

Once done, he looked toward the dining room window.

The plastic rose was still in the glass vase, as bright as the day it arrived, seemingly everlasting.

He was about to smile when he noticed that the real rose Qin Jianhe had given him was gone.

He was momentarily stunned. His gaze shifted, and he saw that the framed rose specimen now held two roses instead of one.

The two roses, their heads touching, reminded him of how Qin Jianhe loved to rest his forehead against his.

He was about to smile when he remembered that the original specimen had been given to Qin Jianhe by someone he liked.

For some reason, he suddenly didn’t feel like smiling anymore.

Just then, Qin Jianhe brought the crabs to the table. Noticing his somewhat unfriendly stare at the frame, he reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Professor Ye,” he said with a smile, “aren’t my skills quite good?”

“Not at all,” Ye Zhiqiu said.

He knew his own boundaries, so he didn’t want to delve too deeply into Qin Jianhe’s thoughts.

He decided to leave it at that.

But… putting the flower he had given him together with a flower from someone he used to like, their heads touching…

It was strange no matter how he thought about it.

Would anyone pose so intimately with a rival in love? Even with flowers?

Ye Zhiqiu’s thoughts churned, completely unaware that the words “rival in love” had even crossed his mind.

Crack. A soft sound. Qin Jianhe had pried open a crab shell.

He separated the top and bottom, put them on a plate, and pushed it in front of Ye Zhiqiu.

“Be careful when you eat,” he said, his voice low and pleasant. “Don’t prick your fingers.”

Ye Zhiqiu murmured in acknowledgment.

But thinking that Qin Jianhe might have been so attentive to someone else made him even more unhappy.

The small spoon was perfect for crab. He looked down and scooped out some roe.

“Ye Zhiqiu.” Across the table, Qin Jianhe called his name.

“Hm?” Ye Zhiqiu looked up.

“The dipping sauce,” Qin Jianhe reminded him. “You specially asked for it. Why aren’t you using it?”

Not only for taste, but ginger is warming, crab is cooling. They are perfect together.

“I am,” Ye Zhiqiu said.

Meeting Qin Jianhe’s dark, amused eyes, he slowly relaxed.

Oh well, whoever, he thought. Right now, he was the one sleeping with Qin Jianhe, not anyone else.

He was proud of it.

In a better mood, his appetite improved.

Crabs meant for Nie Fengjun, given her status, were naturally top quality.

Each was full of roe, and delicious with the ginger vinegar.

“Delicious,” Ye Zhiqiu said, his eyes curving.

Crab was cooling, and Ye Zhiqiu was very sensitive to cold. So despite the taste, Qin Jianhe didn’t intend to let him eat too much.

Besides the crab and duck soup, there were other dishes on the table.

Ye Zhiqiu ate one large crab, then, under Qin Jianhe’s watchful eye, drank a bowl of duck soup, ate some greens for vitamins, and then a few pieces of spare ribs…

When he thought about having another crab, he realized he was so full he could barely breathe, so he stopped.

After dinner, Qin Jianhe washed the dishes. Ye Zhiqiu wanted to walk off his meal, so he went upstairs and stood in front of Qin Jianhe’s bookshelf, reading manga.

He hadn’t been at it long when he found himself looking back toward the dining room downstairs.

When the study door opened and Qin Jianhe walked in, seeing him distracted, he came over and wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“What?” Ye Zhiqiu asked.

“Just holding you,” Qin Jianhe murmured, turning his head to give his cheek a light, gentle suck.

Ye Zhiqiu found him a little amusing, but still turned his head slightly, and they shared a gentle, lingering kiss.

“Do you have work to do?” Ye Zhiqiu asked.

“Do you want to read here?” Qin Jianhe countered.

Ye Zhiqiu blinked, not understanding what his reading had to do with Qin Jianhe working.

So Qin Jianhe explained, “If you stay downstairs, I’ll work on my tablet down there.”

“Hey, Qin Jianhe,” Ye Zhiqiu looked at him. “You’re being a bit clingy.”

“So?” Qin Jianhe asked. “Don’t you like clingy?”

Ye Zhiqiu closed the book. He had meant to say no, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come.

Seeing him seriously considering it, Qin Jianhe couldn’t help laughing.

The laugh was low, soft, brushing past his ear like a feather, making Ye Zhiqiu instinctively raise his hand.

Then that hand was caught in Qin Jianhe’s large, long-fingered one.

“I’m just teasing,” Qin Jianhe said, leaning in to kiss him again, then pulling back slightly. “I’ll go get you some snacks. You can read and eat.”

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t say anything, just nodded instinctively.

They had been messing around for a while, and he had walked off his meal enough. He chose a few books and went to sit in the lounge chair he had used before.

He had been thinking about the frame downstairs, but after that kiss, he completely forgot about it.

The manga had reached an exciting part of the game, and he quickly became absorbed.

He didn’t even notice that Qin Jianhe had placed a small dish of snacks beside him until a while later.

Probably because it was late, the dish didn’t have candy or chocolate, just a few pieces of dried fruit, a small handful of nuts, and beside the dish, a steaming glass of milk.

The study window was cracked open slightly, letting in fresh air, but the warm milk quickly filled the room with its sweet fragrance.

“I’ll drink the milk first,” he said, looking up at Qin Jianhe.

From this angle, his eyes looked huge. His questioning tone was obedient, making him seem especially like a child.

Hearing this, Qin Jianhe laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Whatever you like,” he said, his voice low and gentle, with a smile. “I’ll be right here. Call me if you need anything.”

Ye Zhiqiu nodded, sat up straighter, and began flipping through the manga while sipping his milk.

Qin Jianhe sat down at his desk, opened a proposal in his email, glanced at it, then found himself looking back toward the window.

The young man was completely absorbed in his reading, his thick lashes lowered. His fair cheeks seemed even paler and smoother than the milk in the cup, making his lashes look darker and his lips redder.

Reading and drinking milk, his movements were slightly slow. He would often hold the cup to his lips for a long moment before taking a sip, unaware of the milk mustache on his upper lip.

Qin Jianhe watched him quietly, first amused, then soft-hearted, and finally, his heart grew warm.

He pressed his lips together into a thin line. After a long moment, he forced himself to look back at the computer screen.

The study was very quiet, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Only the occasional sound of Qin Jianhe typing or the soft rustle of Ye Zhiqiu turning pages broke the silence.

After an unknown amount of time, just as Ye Zhiqiu was finishing his second volume, Qin Jianhe came over.

His tall frame blocked the light, casting Ye Zhiqiu completely in his shadow.

“That’s enough,” he said, bending to close Ye Zhiqiu’s book. “It’s eleven. Time for bed.”

“So fast?” Ye Zhiqiu looked down at his watch.

Time with Qin Jianhe always seemed to fly. It was indeed eleven.

“Let me finish this page,” he said, hurriedly trying to reopen the book.

Seeing this, Qin Jianhe sat down beside him and pulled him into his arms.

They finished the last few pages together.

“I’ve read this before,” Ye Zhiqiu said, turning his head to look at Qin Jianhe. “But it was a long time ago. I’ve forgotten a lot. It’s still really interesting.”

“Mm,” Qin Jianhe looked down at him. “Youthful passion. No matter when you look back, it’s precious.”

He had never asked, but Ye Zhiqiu guessed that Qin Jianhe must have loved basketball when he was in school. Just those few pairs of limited edition sneakers he kept told him.

What did Qin Jianhe look like playing basketball?

Ye Zhiqiu couldn’t help imagining.

A cold, sharp young man, racing across the court, completely indifferent to others’ fervor or frenzy.

It must have been very cool.

Instinctively, he thought of Qin Jianhe practicing MMA in the gym.

That was probably pretty sexy too.

“Qin Jianhe,” Ye Zhiqiu remembered something. “I’m going back to the gym in a couple of days.”

“Oh?” Qin Jianhe’s movement of holding his hand paused. He laughed softly.

“What?” he laughed. “Is Professor Ye asking for my advice on exercising?”

Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu paused, then understood.

“Hey, Qin Jianhe,” he scolded, amused.

But his waist was locked by Qin Jianhe’s arm, and he couldn’t move. He stopped struggling, leaned back against Qin Jianhe’s shoulder, and looked at him.

Just as he was about to let loose with some colorful language, Qin Jianhe turned his head and bit his lip.

“Hey,” Ye Zhiqiu laughed, a bit muffled, then was pushed down.

Damn. Every time he tried to argue, he couldn’t. Qin Jianhe was really cunning.

They messed around upstairs for a long time, until Ye Zhiqiu was out of energy, before going downstairs. That night, even though they didn’t do anything, Ye Zhiqiu was too tired to protest and fell asleep, curled against Qin Jianhe’s neck.

The soft glow of the wall lamp was warm, coloring Ye Zhiqiu’s sleeping profile, his fair skin touched with warmth.

Qin Jianhe reached out and gently touched his lowered, thick lashes.

It seemed that just holding Ye Zhiqiu was enough to make him feel content and happy. He was reluctant to close his eyes and sleep.

His finger traced down the smooth, soft skin, finally stopping at Ye Zhiqiu’s earlobe. Qin Jianhe gently rubbed it with his fingertip.

Ye Zhiqiu’s skin was thin. Soon, that little piece of soft flesh turned a light pink.

Qin Jianhe smiled, thinking of Ye Zhiqiu’s expression when he looked at the framed rose that evening. A little puffed up, but silent.

The smile in his eyes deepened. He leaned down and kissed Ye Zhiqiu’s hair.

“Good night, Ye Zhiqiu,” he said, reaching over to turn off the wall lamp.

The room fell into darkness. Qin Jianhe instinctively tightened his arms around Ye Zhiqiu, holding him closer.

In that moment, in the quiet of the night, his world held only Ye Zhiqiu.

****

At six-thirty in the morning, Ye Zhiqiu’s alarm went off. He opened his eyes, still half asleep, and saw that Qin Jianhe was already gone.

Today was Monday, his first day back at work since returning from abroad.

Ye Zhiqiu got up, changed, and went out. He heard a slight noise from the kitchen.

He didn’t go over right away. Instead, he opened his suitcase and took out the two tool kits.

“You’re up?” Qin Jianhe’s voice came from behind. Seeing him lift the two medium-sized metal boxes, he raised an eyebrow. “Gifts for friends?”

“One for me, to use at home,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “The other is for my senior. I’ll take them back to my place first, then bring the senior’s to school this afternoon.”

“Leave them,” Qin Jianhe said. “I’ll put them in my car later. At the office, I’ll transfer them to your trunk.”

“Then I’ll give you a key,” Ye Zhiqiu said, taking his car key off the ring and handing it to Qin Jianhe.

Qin Jianhe took it.

There was a proposal for a major project to discuss at the Monday morning meeting, so he needed to leave early. His breakfast was simple.

He steamed two crabs, made a pot of golden, fragrant millet congee, and two fried eggs.

As they left, Qin Jianhe pulled Ye Zhiqiu back by the wrist, straightened his collar, and let go.

The elevator stopped at the first floor, and they parted ways.

Ye Zhiqiu had no special plans for the morning and didn’t need to rush. He went back to his apartment first to pick up his car. Qin Jianhe went directly to the underground garage to get his car and drive to the office.

As Ye Zhiqiu walked out of Qin Jianhe’s complex, he received a call. It was Qi Xin.

From his voice, Qi Xin seemed to be feeling better, though he still coughed intermittently.

“Xiaoqiu,” he said, “is it convenient to meet today? I’m near your place…”

Ye Zhiqiu was confused for a moment, thinking that either Tang Le or Tao Ruoqing had given Qi Xin his new address.

Then Qi Xin said, “Don’t worry. I’m not at your door. I’m at the fork in the road at the end of the small road leading from your place. Your father won’t notice.”

Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu was silent for a moment.

“Are you out of the hospital?” he asked.

“I was discharged last night. I didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I didn’t contact you,” Qi Xin said, sounding very considerate.

“Oh,” Ye Zhiqiu laughed softly.

“Qi Xin,” he said, “I forgot to tell you. I’ve moved out of the Ye household.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, as if Qi Xin hadn’t understood. “What?”

“I’ve moved out,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “I wanted to tell you, but then your father called, and then you got sick, so I didn’t.”

Hearing Ye Zhiqiu mention Qi Ruichang, and thinking of his father’s attitude, Qi Xin instinctively felt a little guilty.

“Sorry,” he said. “My father was wrong about that. I’ve already talked to him. He shouldn’t interfere with us anymore.”

Ye Zhiqiu laughed, as if finally satisfied.

“Good,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Qi Xin.”

Ye Zhiqiu was rarely this gentle. Hearing his name spoken like that, Qi Xin’s heart leaped.

“My mother spoiled me,” Ye Zhiqiu continued. “I never suffered at home. I’m certainly not going to suffer outside.”

Qi Xin already knew what he was going to say and remained silent.

“I like you, and I’m willing to do things for you, that’s my business,” Ye Zhiqiu laughed, a little coolly. “But that doesn’t mean I can be humiliated, treated like a servant. I think you and your father should know that.”

“I know, I know,” Qi Xin quickly assured him. “I’ll make it clear to him.”

“Just saying it isn’t enough,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “Your father needs to understand that your family marrying into the Ye family is a step up, and you marrying me is an even bigger step up.”

He laughed. “Why do you think Gao Wenye chose Ye Zhixia?”

“To escape his humble background,” Qi Xin said. He didn’t like Gao Wenye, so he had no good words for him.

“Do you know that your family is even worse off than Gao Wenye?” Ye Zhiqiu laughed. “Gao Wenye can at least stand on his own in the entertainment industry. What about you, Qi Xin? Without me, Qiyun would still be buried in the ground.”

His tone was full of mockery and contempt, but every word was true. Qi Xin’s pride took a heavy blow. He didn’t speak for a moment, but unconsciously tightened his grip on his phone.

“Even Gao Wenye can act like a dog, enduring the Ye family’s contempt and disdain to improve his status. Your father…”

He laughed again. “You’d better tell him to take a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. After he’s figured things out, then we can talk about meeting.”

Ye Zhiqiu was simply too much.

Even if his father had overstepped, he didn’t deserve to be so humiliated and trampled.

And that was his father. Ye Zhiqiu showed him no respect at all.

His words weren’t just about his father; they were about him too…

Qi Xin held his breath, almost able to hear the grinding of his own teeth.

But at his last words, he felt himself go limp.

“He’s already figured it out,” Qi Xin said after a long moment, punctuated by harsh coughs. He sounded pitiful.

First, he had to calm Ye Zhiqiu down. They could work things out between themselves.

“Good,” Ye Zhiqiu said with a smile.

“Xiaoqiu…” Qi Xin started, but Ye Zhiqiu cut him off.

“I have to go to work today,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “My schedule is full. Tomorrow.”

Ye Zhiqiu was willing to meet. Qi Xin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t reply. He hung up.

Ye Zhiqiu could hold this over Qi Ruichang for the rest of his life.

And the smaller the issue, the greater the insult the other party would feel.

Ye Zhiqiu didn’t care if people said he was ill-mannered.

He wanted Qi Xin and Qi Ruichang to be humiliated, to be brought low.

In his past life, they had been so arrogant. In this life, they would be just as subdued.

After hanging up, Ye Zhiqiu, expressionless, entered his complex, changed his clothes at home, and drove to the office.

He had been away for a while, and a lot of work had piled up.

Especially Zhang Lan, who had accumulated many documents and data for him to process.

Knowing he had to go to school in the afternoon, Zhang Lan went to the cafeteria at noon and brought back two lunches. They ate in his office, then continued going over the data.

At two in the afternoon, Ye Zhiqiu checked his watch, closed his laptop, put on his jacket, and went downstairs.

When he reached the underground garage, he suddenly remembered the two tool kits.

He had arrived late that morning, and Qin Jianhe was surely busy on a Monday. He didn’t know if he had remembered to put them in his trunk.

He was about to call and ask, but instead, he opened his trunk first.

The two metal boxes were there, neatly arranged.

On top of them was a peach-flavored lollipop, pink, wrapped in clear cellophane, sparkling and very pretty.

Under the lollipop was a note with two characters scrawled across it in a bold, flying hand.

“Ye Zhiqiu, this candy is a bit like you.”

Ye Zhiqiu pressed his lips together. It was a little cheesy. He wanted to curse, but also couldn’t help wanting to laugh.

He tucked the lollipop into his coat pocket, then pulled out his phone and sent a message to Qin Jianhe.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: Is this how President Qin usually coaxes boys? But one piece of candy isn’t enough to win a heart.]