chapter 5

chapter 5

At breakfast one morning, neither Pei Zhen nor Zhao Wan was present.

Pei Nian had begun greeting me of her own accord.

But one glance at the table showed nothing except a cold Western breakfast.

She solicitously sliced bacon for Pei Qingchuan. When she saw that I had not touched my food, tears spilled from her eyes again.

“Are you unhappy with me, Big Sister?”

“I knew you wouldn’t be used to knives and forks after growing up in the countryside, so I specially prepared chopsticks and a bowl for you.”

“You don’t think I did this to embarrass you, do you?”

“We always have a Western breakfast on Tuesday mornings.”

“I got up early today just to make Big Brother’s favorite meal.”

She chattered on while I remained still, smiling as I studied Pei Qingchuan.

My stare made him uneasy. The hand he had raised to wipe Pei Nian’s tears stopped in midair.

“What is it?” he asked.

Only then did I politely look away.

“You don’t look well. Have you been especially tired lately?”

Pei Qingchuan touched his face, suddenly nervous.

“Is it that obvious?”

To be noticed is a human need.

In this house, every eye revolved around frail, sickly Pei Nian.

As the heir, Pei Qingchuan was expected to be strong, restrained, and indestructible.

No one cared whether he was tired.

Not even Pei Nian.

She cooked breakfast for him and wept pitifully in front of him, but beneath it all, she was still demanding emotional labor. She was not truly concerned about him.

He had always known. Yet Zhao Wan had drilled the duty of caring for his fragile little sister so deeply into him that it had become instinct.

My question had not judged him. It had told him I could see his weakness.

That was why he was nervous.

“This breakfast isn’t suitable for you.”

I shook my head.

“How long do you expect your stomach to tolerate iced Americanos on an empty stomach?”

“Nian may not know better, but Big Brother, shouldn’t you take better care of yourself?”

Pei Nian went pale, her eyes already reddening again.

I spoke first.

“Don’t cry, Nian. I know you meant well.”

“But Big Brother works this hard to hold the family together. As his sisters, we can’t be so absorbed in our own good intentions that we ignore what he needs.”

Pei Nian forced her tears back.

Pei Qingchuan withdrew the hand that had been reaching to comfort her and turned to me.

“Then what should I eat for breakfast?”

“Nourishing congee.”

I met his eyes.

“There’s an old shop in the south of the city that makes excellent pumpkin congee and soup dumplings. Healthy and delicious. You really should try it.”

“It’s too far. I don’t have time today.”

He looked at me expectantly, probably hoping I would buy it and bring it to his office.

The original heroine would have done precisely that.

The eldest Pei son had a weak stomach. In the novel, she bought stacks of nutrition books, devised different balanced meals every day, and delivered them to his company in rain or shine.

She had wanted to join this family.

I did not.

I was an employee, and employees came to work to extract value from the company.

Chin resting on one hand, I regarded him earnestly.

“Time is like water in a sponge. There’s always more if you squeeze.”

“Walk me through today’s schedule. I’ll optimize your time management.”

Pei Qingchuan showed me his appointments.

I rearranged them until he had time to detour to the old breakfast shop.

When he finally returned, travel-worn, and set the hot congee before me, I took a sip and closed my eyes in bliss.

“Wonderful. Breakfast bought by the mighty President Pei really does taste better than anything made at home.”

The corners of his mouth, usually held tight, lifted as he watched me savor it.

Before leaving, he even gave me a grateful look.

“Thank you, Pei Li. That congee really did settle my stomach.”

I dabbed my mouth with a napkin.

See? He had bought my breakfast, and he was thanking me for it.

The old heroine had noticed his stomach problems too. But excessive one-sided devotion rapidly depreciates in any relationship.

If you wanted a foothold in this family, you could not act like their servant. You had to act like the client.

Give them assignments. Create chances for them to feel needed. Guide them into investing time and emotion in you.

He did not invest in you because you were important.

You became important because he had invested in you.

Economists call that the sunk-cost effect.