Chapter 6: I’m Hungry

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Xia Chiyi had originally been dragging Zhou Zhexiao toward the subway station, but unexpectedly, the latter stopped after only a few steps.

“What’s wrong?” Xia Chiyi turned back and asked.

Zhou Zhexiao raised his hand to clutch his abdomen and said softly, “I’m hungry.”

Xia Chiyi paused for two seconds, suddenly realizing that they had played basketball for ten minutes without having had breakfast. It was lucky Zhou Zhexiao hadn’t suffered from hypoglycemia.

“Alright! Since you performed well today, consider this a reward: Ningchang specialty breakfast!”

Zhou Zhexiao followed Xia Chiyi to a food cart. On the cart was a stove with a large round iron griddle on top.

“Boss, two King of Kings ham sausages and two eggs, packed separately.”

Zhou Zhexiao watched intently as the vendor skillfully spread the batter.

That earnest expression was somewhat endearing.

When Xia Chiyi handed him the paper bag containing the crepes, the rich aroma of sauce made Zhou Zhexiao lean back reflexively.

His brows furrowed, eyes lowered as if calculating the calories in his mind.

“There’s nothing in this world that lifts the spirit like carbs—except boiled chicken breast,” Xia Chiyi said with a cheeky smile.

Zhou Zhexiao took the paper bag, then, like a snail extending its antennae, he frowned slightly and took a bite.

Xia Chiyi walked to the intersection and glanced back to check if Zhou Zhexiao was keeping up, only to find the paper bag already deflated.

“Not enough,” Zhou Zhexiao said, looking at Xia Chiyi.

His eyes were pure and innocent.

Xia Chiyi smiled and put his arm around Zhou Zhexiao’s shoulder. “Wait, I’ll make sure you’re full.”

Zhou Zhexiao watched Xia Chiyi’s retreating back; this boy was easy to understand—he was sharing with him all the delicious things he loved.

It was a unique experience. The last time he had eaten so freely, disregarding nutrition plans, was many years ago with a certain boy who loved to laugh and act spoiled.

The warmth and the subtle vibrations from Xia Chiyi’s chest were conveyed to Zhou Zhexiao, who felt like a piece of candy melting under the sun, where a slight touch would wrap transparent, warm, resilient threads around his heart layer by layer.

Even standing in the shadows, those delicate, crystal-clear threads flexibly connected his heart to another bright, warm world.

Xia Chiyi lifted his chin and crossed the street with Zhou Zhexiao to a breakfast cart by the roadside. “Boss, two baskets of soup dumplings, two servings of mixed noodles, and two bowls of clay pot meat pie soup!”

“Sure thing!”

Behind the cart were a few folding tables and chairs. Both Xia Chiyi and Zhou Zhexiao were tall with long legs, so when they sat down, they naturally spread their legs. Xia Chiyi accidentally brushed Zhou Zhexiao’s leg, who quietly shifted aside.

“Tsk, classmate, you eat my food, drink my drinks, even sleep in my bed, and still have the nerve to be picky?” Xia Chiyi pouted slightly, feigning displeasure.

Zhou Zhexiao remained silent. Outside of basketball, every subtle detail in the world seemed magnified: the other boy’s short, thick lashes; the curve of his pout; the warmth on his knee when they touched.

Xia Chiyi grabbed a pair of disposable chopsticks, broke them apart, ready to pick up a dumpling, but Zhou Zhexiao said, “Wait.”

“What’s up?”

Zhou Zhexiao took the chopsticks, rubbed the splinters off both sticks, then handed them back to Xia Chiyi.

Xia Chiyi laughed. “Hey, didn’t expect you to be so experienced.”

“You once got a splinter stuck in your thumb when you were little,” Zhou Zhexiao said, then opened another pair of chopsticks to pick up a soup dumpling.

Xia Chiyi froze, wondering how Zhou Zhexiao knew such details—like that he couldn’t master the sinking ball ten years ago, or that a splinter had pierced his thumb as a child... Only his mother could have shared all these tiny details with her close friend.

Zhou Zhexiao lowered his eyes, steadily picking up a soup dumpling, taking just a tiny bite before blowing on it gently.

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This scene suddenly overlapped with one from ten years ago, a familiar and warm feeling flooding Xia Chiyi.

At the youth training camp a decade ago, Sheng Xingming not only taught Xia Chiyi how to sink the ball but also showed him the Euro step layup. The star’s time was precious, but Sheng Xingming stayed the whole morning.

Xia Chiyi’s head was drenched in sparkling sweat; Sheng Xingming draped his towel over Xia’s head and gently massaged it. Xia Chiyi still remembered the sun-warmed scent of that towel.

Sheng Xingming’s voice descended from above: “Let’s go eat.”

Young Xia Chiyi had never been used to Western food and resisted it. Sheng Xingming immediately noticed and asked, “What do you want to eat?”

“I want Chinese food—soup dumplings! Fried rice! Beef chow mein! And so much more...” After saying this, Xia Chiyi felt light-headed. Asking such things of a stranger was sure to get him scolded.

Moreover, the rules forbade children from leaving the training camp.

“Okay, wash your hands and face, then wait for me.”

“Wait for you?”

“Yes, wait for me.”

Sheng Xingming drove to Chinatown and bought everything Xia Chiyi had requested.

In the camp’s dining hall, Xia Chiyi’s eyes widened as he looked at the table full of food, feeling infinitely cherished for the first time.

Yet Sheng Xingming wore a natural, matter-of-course expression throughout.

Joy turned to sorrow when Xia Chiyi, breaking open his chopsticks to pick up a soup dumpling, got a splinter stuck in his thumb, causing him to gasp in pain.

He held back from complaining but Sheng Xingming noticed.

He fetched a first-aid kit, skillfully removed the splinter with tweezers, applied medicine, and gave him a band-aid.

Xia Chiyi still remembered Sheng Xingming’s gentle, attentive expression, eyes lowered with warmth.

Just like Zhou Zhexiao sitting across from him now.

Zhou Zhexiao’s cheeks gradually flushed, water shimmering in his eyes. His deep, clear gaze seemed hurt; he eagerly sipped the soup but then burned himself.

“Can’t you eat spicy?” Xia Chiyi suddenly remembered he forgot to tell the vendor to leave out the chili in the mixed noodles.

“Yeah.” Zhou Zhexiao nodded.

Seeing him about to wipe his eyes with his hand, Xia Chiyi quickly held his wrist, grabbed a tissue from the table, and pressed it to his eye corner. “Don’t touch it, there’s chili oil.”

Through the tissue, Xia Chiyi could feel the tickle of Zhou Zhexiao’s eyelashes brushing against his fingertip.

“Wait here a moment.”

Xia Chiyi got up, ran across the street, and bought meat floss twists, egg-stuffed pancakes, and golden sesame balls, placing them in front of Zhou Zhexiao.

“Eat these.”

Zhou Zhexiao stared at the table full of carbs without moving.

“Seriously? You really listen to your nutritionist? Indulgence is for better restraint.”

With a smile, Xia Chiyi picked up an egg-stuffed pancake. His eyes seemed to hold countless joyful seasons, and just by looking at him, one could become part of his happiness.

Carbs should be limited; athletes should maintain a high-protein diet.

But Zhou Zhexiao, inexplicably, parted his lips and let Xia Chiyi feed him the pancake.

As Xia Chiyi sat down, his knee once again unconsciously brushed against Zhou Zhexiao’s leg.

This time, Zhou Zhexiao lowered his eyes, completely still.

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The small patch of skin where they touched radiated a gentle warmth, innocently signaling goodwill to Zhou Zhexiao. Each subtle, restless movement from Xia Chiyi sent inexplicable tension through his nerves—part of him wishing the closeness would end soon, the other part hoping it would cross boundaries and stretch endlessly.

“Full now? Let’s get your luggage!” Xia Chiyi stood up.

Zhou Zhexiao looked up and said, “You haven’t paid yet.”

Xia Chiyi smiled, holding up the vendor’s QR code. “It’s the era of electronic payment now.”

Zhou Zhexiao lowered his eyes, seemingly trying to understand the connection between the QR code and electronic payment.

By then, the subway had passed rush hour; the airport line was nearly empty, with only a few passengers carrying suitcases.

As they entered the platform, the first thing that caught their eyes was a massive poster of Sheng Xingming’s tenth-anniversary commemorative basketball shoes, issued by a sports brand.

Such an overwhelming subway advertisement must have cost a fortune—the brand had really invested heavily to sell these shoes.

Xia Chiyi took a deep breath and nervously looked at Zhou Zhexiao beside him, afraid the guy might be triggered.

After watching for a while, he found Zhou Zhexiao just had his hands in his pockets, expressionless. A relief.

The poster showed Sheng Xingming during the championship finals.

His hair fluttered wildly over his forehead as he dribbled at high speed; his gaze was sharp and focused forward. His deep-set eyes, chiseled features, and determined expression conveyed resilience breaking through all barriers. Power and speed surged through the poster.

Forever legend.

“How long are you going to stare?” Zhou Zhexiao spoke.

Xia Chiyi smiled and tentatively asked, “Aren’t you going to say you’re Sheng Xingming now?”

“That would make me look crazy.”

Looks like he really accepted reality.

“Isn’t he incredibly handsome?” Xia Chiyi nudged Zhou Zhexiao’s arm.

“There’s a scar missing under his left cheek.”

“Maybe it’s been photoshopped,” Xia Chiyi frowned. “Hey, you even know about that scar under his left cheek? You must be a fan. Will you buy this commemorative shoe?”

“No, it’s ugly,” Zhou Zhexiao bluntly replied.

“Ha! I think it’s hideous too! He likes solid colors, like red, black, and white. What’s with those flashy circles on the shoe surface? Olympic rings?” Xia Chiyi tilted his head, clearly disapproving.

Zhou Zhexiao looked at him. The boy had a slightly upturned nose, and whenever he pondered something, his upper lip would instinctively curl a bit.

“How do you know he likes solid colors?”

“Just a guess,” Xia Chiyi smiled.

Zhou Zhexiao: Well, you guessed right.

The subway arrived; the doors opened, and they sat in the nearly empty car. Across from them was yet another dynamic advertisement of Sheng Xingming.

One static image after another unfolded in the subway tunnel, and once the train moved, it formed a dynamic film of Sheng Xingming shooting baskets—very stylish.

He was once hailed as the strongest two-way guard, capable of both orchestrating the offense and feeding teammates, as well as scoring from distance himself.

Xia Chiyi watched intently, as if this was his way of accompanying Zhou Zhexiao.

Until the fourth stop, Zhou Zhexiao raised his hand and blocked his eyes.

“Stop looking, you’ll get eye strain.”