Going Home

Song Wenxi's gaze lingered on Jimo.

This nouveau riche fellow He Zhenglin had mentioned really was interesting.

He was slender and fair-skinned, and he looked refined and gentle. Song Wenxi hadn't expected him to hit people so viciously.

It had been the same at the card table that day. Although he was clearly far beneath the others in social standing, no one seemed able to do anything to him.

"We're here." Jimo suddenly stopped, interrupting Song Wenxi's thoughts.

"Mm, thank you," Song Wenxi said, looking at him as though he wanted to say something else.

Jimo nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait..." The movement accidentally pulled at the cut on the corner of Song Wenxi's mouth. He hissed in pain before he could finish speaking.

Jimo said, "Put some ice on it when you get back. It'll help the swelling go down."

Before either of them could say anything more, someone who looked like a teacher came out of the academic affairs office and made a great fuss at the sight of the cut on Song Wenxi's mouth.

"Oh my, Second Young Master Song, what happened to your face? How did you end up like this so soon after getting back?"

"It's nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing? Come inside with me, quickly.

Jimo turned and left in silence. It seemed that even without his reminder, someone would have everything prepared and presented to him.

That pervert's good days were coming to an end.

By the time Song Wenxi finished answering, he turned around to see nothing but Jimo's retreating figure.

When Jimo returned to the dorm, he found that Zhuang Zhe was back and had brought him plenty of food his mother had made herself.

"You're back so early this time. I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

They still had one last PowerPoint presentation on a business plan the day after tomorrow. Zhuang Zhe had come back for that class, and once it was over, their break would begin.

"It's boring at home too. My mom keeps making me lose weight. Tell me, am I fat? Am I?"

Jimo didn't think Zhuang Zhe was fat, just a little fleshy.

As Zhuang Zhe spoke, he took food out of a bag. "Here, have a piece of fried vinegar pork. It was just fried today, so it's still crispy. My mom loves making this kind of thing, and she tells me to lose weight too. How am I supposed to lose any?!"

Jimo put his things down, picked up a piece, and ate it as he thought.

It was obvious that Zhuang Zhe was much luckier than Jiang Wangshu. He'd been born into a loving family, and every time he went home, he came back with his backpack stuffed full.

Jimo stopped after one piece. When he didn't take another for a long while, Zhuang Zhe urged him, "Have some more."

"No, thanks."

He really did eat just one piece and wouldn't touch any more, no matter what Zhuang Zhe said.

Jimo didn't want to waste his efforts. He had to strictly control his diet now, eating high-quality protein and keeping up his daily training. Even if he couldn't regain the physical condition he'd had at his previous peak, he at least had to be able to beat Ke Yueyi.

One piece was enough to satisfy his craving.

Meanwhile, after Jiang Wangshu parted ways with Jimo, he went straight back to the dorm without eating. Thinking of what his older brother had said earlier, he opened his chat with the coach at the riding stable. "Could I start work a few days later?"

The reply came quickly. "You can put it off for a few days, but don't leave it too late. There'll be a lot more customers during the break."

"Okay."

After quitting his part-time job at the milk tea shop, Jiang Wangshu had found another one as an assistant coach at a riding stable. This part-time job had come to him, and after he talked it over with them, the pay was quite a bit higher than at his previous job.

He had originally agreed to start work in a couple of days, but since his older brother's break was coming soon too, he would naturally put him first. He could go home with him and have fun for a few days, then come back to work afterward.

Only after Jiang Wangshu had made all the arrangements did he feel that life was something to look forward to.

But a message soon wiped out his good mood. His father always had that effect.

The message on his phone asked when he was coming back. Jiang Wangshu picked it up and looked at it, found it an eyesore, and simply deleted the message without replying.