Chapter 9
Chapter 9
I ended up spending a little more time at home, and most of it was spent grinding through practice questions.
My neighbor’s bar was doing great business. More often than not, he didn’t get home until nearly six in the morning.
One night, I was still wide awake at four a.m. I got up to use the bathroom, and in that brief moment, I suddenly heard a thud outside the door.
If there was any noise out there at this hour, it could only have been Xing He.
I hesitated for a few seconds, then carefully opened the door. When I poked my head out, the voice-activated light in the hallway was still on, and Xing He was collapsed on the floor.
I froze, then hurried out and crouched down beside him.
“Brother He?” I called softly, giving him a shake.
Xing He reeked of alcohol. He was obviously wasted.
“Brother, wake up.” I patted him down, but I couldn’t find his keys anywhere.
Xing He did react, though he didn’t open his eyes at all. The only thing I could be sure of was that he was probably fine.
I glanced down the hallway. There was no way I could leave him out here by himself, so I gritted my teeth, hauled him up with all my strength, and half-carried, half-dragged him into my place.
Xing He was tall and solidly built. He was heavy.
It took every ounce of strength I had to get him into my room.
After taking off his shoes, I turned around, closed the door, turned off the lights, and went into the master bedroom.
The result of staying up all night was that I slept until the sun was high in the sky the next day. The moment I woke up, I got out of bed and went outside, only to see Xing He sitting in my living room. I had no idea how long he’d been there.
“Brother He, you’re up this early?”
Xing He turned to look at me. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Rubbing his brow, he asked, “How did I get in here last night?”
He had completely blacked out.
Well, that made sense. He’d been drunk to the point of unconsciousness.
I briefly explained it to him, including the part where I hadn’t been able to find his keys on him.
Xing He checked his pockets, then concluded, “I probably left them at the bar.”
I found him a disposable toothbrush and other washing-up supplies from around the house.
“Brother He, I’m ordering delivery. What do you want to eat?”
The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped, and his voice came from inside. “Whatever you’re having.”
When Xing He came out, he looked at the takeout boxes on the dining table, then at the instant noodles I had stockpiled in the corner, and asked, “When you’re on break, do you usually survive on takeout and instant noodles?”
“What’s wrong with that?” I looked at him, confused.
Once school started, I could eat in the cafeteria. At home, takeout was just more convenient. I could cook a little, but I wasn’t exactly good at it.
Xing He didn’t say anything else.
After he finished eating, he took out his phone and sent someone a message, then left, taking the trash with him on his way out.
Originally, it was just a perfectly ordinary day.
Until the next evening, when Xing He sent me a message: [Come over for dinner.]
?
It was my first time entering Xing He’s home.
Several dishes were already set out on the dining table.
The aroma was mouthwatering.
Xing He, wearing a black tank top, came out carrying soup.
“Sit.”
“Brother He, you know how to cook?” I still hadn’t quite processed it.
Xing He gave a hum of acknowledgment and set a bowl of soup he’d ladled out in front of me. “Eat more. I can’t finish it all by myself.”
There wasn’t a single bad dish on the table. As I ate, I kept giving Xing He a thumbs-up.
“Brother, you’re amazing!”
Xing He didn’t bother being modest. The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Of course.”
It had been a very long time since I’d felt like I was eating a home-cooked meal. Even though it was in my neighbor’s home, it still moved me.
I lowered my head and focused on eating. Xing He couldn’t tell anything was different about my mood.
And from that day on, my Tattooed Neighbor would show off his cooking skills from time to time and invite me over for meals.
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Chapter 9
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The Tattooed Muscle Man Next Door
The year my parents died in an accident, I was a sophomore in high school.
My relatives had their eyes on the inheritance and compensation money they left behind, and they kept coming by to...
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