19: Not Fully Useless, Still Half Useless
Maybe because the call wouldn’t go through, another text message popped up on the screen.
Only the first part showed:
“Dear user No. 203427*****578, regarding the application you submitted, there is already…”
The rest of the words cut off abruptly due to a display issue.
Shen Jin walked in through the back door with a shipping box in his arms.
Qian Kun calmly set the phone down without showing anything. He noticed that in Shen Jin’s always-cold gaze, there was a trace of hesitation. Seeing that on him was genuinely rare.
He looked perfectly normal before leaving. How had it only been a short while, yet his brows were already knotted up like a ball of yarn?
Shen Jin put the package on the desk, folded his arms, and stared at it.
When he’d gone out earlier, the senior had teased him, saying it was shipped internationally, and the sender was Huai-ge’s mentor.
Judging by the sender address, it looked like the mentor had bought it at a shop, then had the shop mail it on their behalf.
Back when they were still engaged, Ke Minghuai liked sending gifts from time to time.
Now that Shen Jin had even received the formal annulment papers, it didn’t feel right to accept anything else.
He decided to wait until Ke Minghuai returned and give it back.
A pale, long-fingered hand knocked lightly on the desk, pulling Shen Jin’s attention over.
“Your phone.”
Qian Kun tossed the phone to him, looking completely at ease.
When Shen Jin looked over in confusion, Qian Kun explained slowly, “It rang too many times. I was about to hang it up for you, but it cut off on its own.”
Shen Jin immediately glanced toward the podium. Luckily, there was no teacher supervising evening study right now.
“Oh, it’s fine.”
Shen Jin took one look. It was the matching office number. They called every day with those routine check-ins.
As a state institution, they really did give equal care to this awkward group of unmatched individuals.
Qian Kun saw that Shen Jin seemed distracted tonight. He pulled out a notebook, tore off a sheet of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it over.
Inside the paper ball was just a smug, cheap-looking smiley face.
Shen Jin flicked a glance at that young master.
Qian Kun then showed him the classical Chinese textbooks he’d borrowed from the reading room yesterday.
“How about these? Are they suitable?”
Once the topic turned to studying, Shen Jin perked up and helped him evaluate them.
Even if he didn’t say it out loud, Shen Jin did admire that Qian Kun was willing to make up for gaps instead of indulging himself without restraint.
However, the books in the little reading room were mostly donations. Shen Jin wrote down a few titles and leaned in.
He pointed at several lines. “These two, borrow them from the school library. It’s closed right now, so go tomorrow during the day. The last three, buy them at a bookstore, but online shopping is cheaper.”
Shen Jin’s eyelashes were long. His eyes were lowered, and one ear still had a white earbud in it. The earbud cord swayed with his movements. He was listening to English vocabulary.
Qian Kun drew his gaze back and asked again, “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Shen Jin explained the characteristics of each book again. Feeling the other person’s presence, he realized they were standing too close. Qian Kun was listening so intently that Shen Jin quietly eased back then asked, “Did you understand?”
“Thanks, Class Rep. I’ll treat you to milk tea tomorrow.”
“No need.”
We’re enemies. We literally just argued yesterday. You think we can casually do milk tea?
Think about it. Is that appropriate?
Near the end of evening study, Shen Jin received a text from Xie Ling and went outside to call back.
When Luo Ying went to the back of the room to dump trash, she saw the package sitting beside Shen Jin’s seat. The cardboard box had a brand logo printed on it, with a cute chubby bunny on top. She shouted in surprise, “Wow, it’s Snowball!”
Qian Kun’s foot, which had been about to step forward, stopped.
He looked at Luo Ying. “Who did you just say?”
Every day, he applied for friend requests.
Shen Jin’s WeChat nickname was Snowball.
Luo Ying was surprised Qian Kun had actually spoke to her. This big shot usually acted like he couldn’t be bothered with anyone in class. She guessed that a steel-straight Beta like him probably didn’t know this kind of girly brand.
So she explained, “The bunny on the package! The white one is called Snowball. Its gender is male Alpha. There’s also a pink one called Beika, male Omega. They’re super famous. This was even shipped from the UK flagship store! Our Huaguo has brands that made it overseas too, I’m standing tall with my little chest!~”
An Alpha in the front row received an invitation from Zhou You to play games at his house tonight and asked if Qian Kun was going.
There was no reply.
Qian Kun had already walked out of the classroom, completely ignoring the question behind him.
Shen Jin was standing on the first floor. Moonlight spilled down. He stood in the shadow at the border where light and darkness met.
He was speaking softly on the phone. Xie Ling had received his latest report card. Every monthly exam, midterm, and final, the school mailed report cards home.
Ever since Shen Jin had found the school letters thrown in the trash, he’d changed the mailing address to Xie Ling’s place.
Xie Ling had just gotten back from overtime at the company. Seeing the sender was Nanhu High School’s second-year grade office, he took the envelope from the butler and went into the study.
He carefully opened it with a paper knife, then unfolded the thin sheet inside.
Each subject had a score, plus a comparison chart against the previous score, so parents could better understand their child’s academic situation, even though many students deeply resented the school doing this.
On this one, the most eye-catching thing was that glaring First Place.
Xie Ling fell silent for a long time, then murmured, “Just like me.”
The butler, standing to the side, almost thought he was about to add: “Pity you’re not my kid.”
You’re only his cousin, sir. The ages don’t match!
Then Xie Ling sent his little cousin a “keep it up” text.
Shen Jin received the message and remembered he’d put his cousin’s address in the guardian section.
He was especially embarrassed. He’d been afraid his cousin would scold him harshly and asking why, when he had parents, yet he filled in his cousin’s address instead.
Unexpectedly, Xie Ling didn’t ask about his parents at all. He only praised him. “Not bad.”
Warmth poured into Shen Jin’s heart like a current.
Had he been waiting for those words for a long time?
Every time he saw Shen Xie'an do poorly, get “bamboo shoots stir-fried with meat” from their parents, sometimes even a mixed double beatdown from both of them, while Shen Xie'an wailed with snot and tears everywhere, Shen Jin had, in fact, envied him.
When Shen Jin was little, he often wondered if he shouldn’t have had such good grades.
Whether he improved or slipped, there was never praise, and never disappointment.
Xie Ling asked, “What do you want?”
Shen Jin took a long moment before realizing Xie Ling meant what reward he wanted.
Wasn’t doing well just what he was supposed to do?
He could have a reward too?
Shen Jin stared blankly for a while, thinking of the first time he’d shown his report card to his parents.
Back then, what he’d wanted was…
“Can we… eat a meal together, is that okay?”
Xie Ling didn’t expect such a simple request. He agreed without hesitation.
After the call ended, Xie Ling took a photo of the report card, opened the company’s “Life” group chat.
The Xie Company promoted humanistic care. Work matters were discussed in the work chat. After getting off work, casual conversation belonged in the life chat.
Xie Ling, who usually lurked, suddenly appeared, and the lively life chat immediately froze.
He’s resurrected!
So the deputy GM has been in the group the whole time?
He’s never spoken before. I’m so scared, what do I do?
Does this count as slacking?
We’re off work, chatting won’t deduct bonus, right?
Just as everyone was panicking, Xie Ling posted a report card photo.
Nanhu High School was one of the province’s key schools, with a consistently high advancement rate. Getting first place at a school full of top students was genuinely impressive.
Then came a flood of rainbow farts. Some employees even posted their own kids’ grades, and compared to that, theirs was getting tossed straight into the trash.
Xie Ling patiently looked through them one by one, and only at the end did he say, extremely humblebragging, “It’s fine. There’s room to improve.”
Shen Jin stared blankly at his already-dark phone screen until footsteps sounded behind him.
Moonlight shone across half his face. In Shen Jin’s eyes, it was like a sky full of stars had fallen in, dazzling and bright.
Qian Kun forgot about the Snowball thing for a moment. He simply watched him.
The two of them walked under the moonlight. The whole way, neither of them spoke. The autumn wind brushed over them, lightly lifting their uniform hems.
Back in the dorm, Shen Jin realized Qian Kun’s “I spilled water” was a very polite way of putting it.
Looking at the soaked patch in the middle of the quilt, it looked like you could squeeze water out of it.
Shen Jin stood on the ladder. “What you spilled wasn’t a bottle. It was a basin, wasn’t it.”
Qian Kun: “…”
That idiot Liu Qimai. What kind of work does he do?
Qian Kun had told a small lie on the fly. Of course he had to make it make sense. He directly called Liu Qimai back and had him pour water on the bed.
Liu Qimai had lived this long and never heard such a bizarre request.
Since it was Brother Kun’s order, it had to have a reason. He climbed the wall into the dorm in the middle of the night.
Don’t ask. Just do it.
“Do you have a spare quilt?”
“No…”
“Then how are you sleeping tonight?”
“It’s fine. I’ll just cover myself with whatever.”
Qian Kun acted like he didn’t care at all.
Shen Jin was about to suggest he go home to sleep, but Qian Kun had already seen through him.
“I told my family I can at least stick it out on campus for a month.”
Qian Kun was an absurdly proud person. He wasn’t going to do something that would let his family laugh at him. He refused to compromise.
Shen Jin said, “Then your family really does have foresight.”
Shen Jin remembered waking up that morning and going into the bathroom, only to see this young master studying how to squeeze toothpaste onto his toothbrush.
He glanced at the trash can. Inside were countless toothpaste “corpses” in different lengths.
The trash bag was black, and the toothpaste was a crushed silver-blue. It stood out painfully.
Shen Jin asked patiently, “What are you doing?”
Qian Kun didn’t even lift his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”
At home, Qian Kun’s bathroom had an automatic toothpaste dispenser. You just put your hand near it and it sensed you.
He’d gotten up early on purpose. Since today was their first day sharing a room, it should have a bit of ceremony.
So on a whim, he wanted to squeeze a perfect toothpaste swirl like in a TV ad.
He hadn’t expected “creation” to be that hard. After a long time and a pile of failures, it lit up Qian Kun’s competitive spirit. He had to squeeze it out no matter what.
Shen Jin reminded him, “You’re using my toothbrush.”
The bathroom was small. The sink counter was visibly a tiny patch of space, and their toiletries were jammed together. It wasn’t strange to mix them up.
Qian Kun said, “Relax. The toothpaste is mine. It’s new.”
He finally squeezed out a “perky butt” shape, looked reasonably satisfied, and handed the toothbrush to Shen Jin, whose face clearly said, “Do you have some kind of illness?”
After that brief morning contact, Shen Jin more or less understood.
This was someone who looked like he handled everything effortlessly, but in reality he was utterly helpless at daily life.
Not fully useless, still half useless.
Qian Kun wanted to argue that he wasn’t as useless as Shen Jin thought.
This morning had just been pursuing artistic effect but seeing Shen Jin rarely showing him a bit more patience, he swallowed the words back.
Shen Jin glanced at the quiet Qian Kun.
Your image is in pieces in my eyes already, you know that?
Author’s Note
Kun-kun: I’m very useless. I’m just pretending.
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