Feeding plan
When he returned home in the evening, the air was filled with the aroma of food. His mother was busy in the kitchen. When she heard the door open, she poked her head out and said, "Are you back? Wash your hands and have dinner."
"Yeah." Jiang Yibai responded and threw his schoolbag on the sofa. It was a bit heavy.
He washed his hands and sat down. The table was filled with delicious dishes: glistening sweet and sour pork ribs and stir-fried green vegetables. His father came out with the soup and saw him: "How was school today?"
"Just like that." Jiang Yibai picked up his chopsticks and picked up a piece of pork ribs. The meat was stewed until tender, sweet and sour, and the juice was thick.
As he chewed the ribs, another image inexplicably flashed through his mind—Lin Xiyan squatting in the corner, his thin shoulder blades jutting out through his old school uniform like broken wings. The fingers feeding the cat were thin and white, with little meat.
Too thin.
He felt that he could crush that wrist with just a little force.
And those eyes, amber in color, were often covered with a layer of gray mist, occasionally brightening but quickly dimming, hiding a hint of panic and resigned fatigue. It was as if he had never been truly happy.
Pessimistic. Like the grass growing in the gutter, afraid of even the slightest light.
He chewed slower.
"What are you thinking about? You're distracted while eating." His mother picked up a piece of vegetable for him with chopsticks.
Jiang Yibai came to his senses, put the vegetables into the bowl, and said nothing.
After dinner, his father watched the news while his mother cleared the dishes. He carried his schoolbag upstairs to his room.
The room was large, sparsely populated, and tidy to the point of being a bit desolate. He threw his schoolbag on the carpet, collapsed onto the bed, and stared at the chandelier on the ceiling.
Lin Xiyan lived alone in that shabby rental house. What did she eat? Instant noodles? Steamed buns? Or maybe nothing at all? No wonder she was so skinny.
Is the scholarship enough to cover food? I still have to work.
He rolled over and grabbed a notebook and pen from the bedside table. It was a brand new, leather notebook, bought by his mother, who said he had to write something down.
He unscrewed the pen cap, paused his fingers, and then wrote a few words at the top of the blank page.
Yanglin Xiyan Project
After he finished writing, he was stunned. What the hell is this? The cat and dog plan is more like it.
But the pen didn't stop.
There was a blank line below, so he started a new line and wrote:
First week goal: Weight reaches over 90 catties.
He thought back to the pile of bones he had seen during the day, and ninety kilograms might be an optimistic estimate.
How to raise it?
He frowned, the pen cap resting on his chin.
That creature may look docile, but it's actually quite wary, retreating into its shell at the slightest touch. Give it money? Offer it food? It'll likely be rejected or scared away.
I have to find a reason. Something that's logical and doesn't make him feel like he's being given charity.
The tip of the pen tapped the paper, making a slight clicking sound.
He recalled Lin Xiyan's frown as she stared at a physics problem under the library tree that day. He also recalled the surprised and flustered look in his eyes when he took the note in class, and the quick, quiet "thank you" at the end.
I'm not stupid, I just tend to get stuck in a rut.
Jiang Yibai sat up a little and wrote in the notebook:
1. Feed the child under the pretext of giving a lecture. (Note: Bring double the amount of snacks/milk, and be serious in your tone, neither too soft nor too hard.)
Lectures were a good excuse. It was a good excuse. A good student like Lin Xiyan probably wouldn't refuse help with his studies. And he certainly seemed to need it.
What should I feed him? I need milk, for growth. Snacks... something that's good for starving people and high in calories. Chocolate? Cookies? I guess he wouldn't normally buy those.
He also wrote:
1. Identify their eating habits and dietary restrictions. (Avoid waste and causing resentment.)
Don't do something good with bad intentions and buy something that people don't want to eat or can't eat.
1. Observe their mental state and provide timely verbal guidance. (To prevent them from dwelling on negative emotions.)
This was a bit difficult. Jiang Yibai himself wasn't a talkative person, let alone someone who could enlighten others. But he thought of Lin Xiyan's eyes, which were always a bit hazy, and felt that this was something he couldn't skimp on.
How should I guide them? Should I say, "Just be more open-minded"?
He crossed out "verbal guidance" and changed it to: interrupt their dazed/depressed state at the right time, assign them learning tasks, or mention neutral topics (for example: cats.)
Cats seemed like a good place to start. When he fed the cats, his expression relaxed a little.
After writing these three points, he stared at the notebook.
It seemed like the plan was plausible, but also a little silly, and completely out of character with the cool guy stuff he usually did.
If Lu Panji saw this, he would laugh at him for a whole year.
But Lin Xiyan's thin wrists and drooping eyebrows flashed before his eyes again.
He closed the notebook and tucked it into the bottom drawer of his bedside table. Out of sight, out of mind.
After a shower, his hair still dripping with water, he picked up his phone, swiped it open, and clicked on the address book. There were only a few names in it. He slid his finger down, stopping at the beginning of "L". Empty.
He didn't have Lin Xiyan's contact information. He didn't seem to be in the class group chat either. That person was like a ghost, with no trace left in the online world.
He threw away his phone and picked up a towel to wipe his hair.
The next morning, Jiang Yibai left home ten minutes earlier than usual. His mother was quite surprised: "So early today?"
"Yeah, something." He replied vaguely, with a schoolbag slung over one shoulder and a paper bag in his hand.
He didn't go directly to school, but instead went to a bakery on the street behind it. The shop had just opened, and the aroma of bread was rich. He chose a large croissant with pork floss and ham, which looked very hungry, and also picked up a carton of pure milk. When it came time to pay, he hesitated for a moment and said to the clerk, "I want another croissant of the same kind, and another carton of milk."
The clerk packed it into two bags for him.
He walked to the corner by the school's back wall and paused. The cat was still there, meowing. But Lin Xiyan wasn't there. At this hour, could he already be in the classroom, or working? Jiang Yibai wasn't sure.
He placed one of the paper bags in a clean corner, broke off a small piece of the croissant and threw it to the cat, who was staring at him eagerly. "It's his," he said to the cat, not knowing who he was explaining to, "Don't touch it."
The cat took the small piece and ate it happily, ignoring him.
He carried another paper bag and walked towards the teaching building.
There weren't many people in the classroom yet. He glanced over and saw Lin Xiyan already sitting in his seat, still in the same corner, with his head down, reading a book.
Jiang Yibai walked over without stopping. When he passed by Lin Xiyan's desk, he placed the paper bag in his hand on the pages of his open book with a "pop", not very gentle, just covering the densely packed words.
Lin Xiyan's shoulders trembled with fear, and he jerked his head up, his eyes filled with a dazed look. Seeing it was Jiang Yibai, a hint of nervousness mingled with his bewilderment. He stared at the paper bag with the bakery logo printed on it, motionless, as if he hadn't reacted.
"Breakfast," Jiang Yibai said in a low voice, with a normal tone, as if to say that the weather was nice today, "I bought an extra portion."
Lin Xiyan stared blankly at the paper bag, then at him. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. A blush crept up the tip of her ear.
"Eat yours." Jiang Yibai added impatiently, turned around and walked back to his seat. His back looked cool, but in his heart he was thinking: Just try to refuse.
He walked to the back seat and sat down, took out his cell phone and pretended to look at it, but glanced over there out of the corner of his eye.
Lin Xiyan remained frozen, staring at the paper bag as if it were a bomb. After a long moment, he extended a slender white finger, lightly touched the edge of the bag, and quickly retracted it. He glanced around, as if afraid of being noticed.
No one looked at him except Jiang Yibai.
He hesitated for a few seconds before slowly dragging the paper bag under the table, lowering his head and carefully opening it. He took out the still warm pork floss and ham croissant and the carton of milk.
He took the milk, studying the packaging for a long moment before inserting the straw and taking a tiny sip. His eyes widened slightly, as if in surprise. Then he lowered his head and nibbled at the croissant, eating slowly but attentively, like a small animal storing food for the winter.
Jiang Yibai watched him finish his food, carefully folded the empty milk carton and wrapper, stuffed it back into the paper bag, and put it in his drawer. Then he took out a tissue and wiped his hands and the corners of his mouth.
After finishing all this, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. He picked up the pen again, but seemed a little restless, the tip of the pen unconsciously drawing circles on the draft paper.
After a while, he suddenly raised his head and glanced quickly in the direction of Jiang Yibai's seat.
Jiang Yibai immediately lowered his head to look at his phone, his fingers swiping across the screen.
When he raised his eyes again, Lin Xiyan had already lowered her head again, and only a trace of blush still remained behind her ears.
Jiang Yibai threw his cell phone onto the table and leaned back in his chair.
OK. Step one, feeding is successful.
He felt inexplicably better. It felt even better than solving the final problem in a competition.
The support plan doesn’t seem that difficult.
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