In high school, there was a rich kid in our class. Filthy rich. He was always treating everyone. Fried chicken every three days, burgers every five. The year he was most generous, he lost a bet and casually handed ten grand to a random girl on the street. I relied on that money to finish high school and get into college. Only later did I find out that the "rich kid" persona was fake, and losing the bet was a lie too. All there was, was a teenage boy’s awkward, hidden, and unspoken crush. Four years later, his family went bankrupt, and he was living on the streets. I crouched in front of him and held out my hand: "Hey, wanna come with me?" 01 I have a notebook hidden in the deepest corner of my desk. It records all my wishes, big and small. The earliest one was: "I don't want to be beaten with a stick anymore." So, when I was ten, my mother resolutely filed for divorce. She took me and fled from my abusive father, escaping that small, backwoods town where I would have been sold off for a bride price by the time I was fifteen. My mother made that wish come true. The second one was: "I want to go to school." From then on, my mother worked three jobs a day—washing dishes during the day, running a street stall at night. She begged people to get my residency sorted out and sent me to school. In my young eyes, my mother was omnipotent; there was nothing she couldn't do. "I want a scarf that doesn't pill." "A two-dollar duck hair clip." "Gloves that actually keep my hands warm." I continued to write down my wishes in my childish handwriting. Until the twenty-eighth one: "I want to eat a delicious birthday cake with Mom." My omnipotent mother didn't make this wish come true. She suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage on the way to buy the cake and was rushed to the ER. I borrowed a lot of money, prayed to every god, and cried until the world spun, but it was all useless. When I was fifteen, I lost my last remaining family member. 02 That notebook was sealed away for a year. When I opened it again, I was already a junior in high school. The wishes in the notebook gradually became more trivial and frequent: "To finish all my worksheets before 10 PM." "To rank in the top five in the grade on the day after tomorrow's midterm." "To find another part-time job at night to pay next semester's tuition." Left all alone, I started fulfilling my own wishes. But occasionally, a little random thought would pop out in the notebook: "My desk mate ordered Popeyes for lunch again. What does it taste like? It smells so good. Is it delicious?" "A friend invited me to see a movie tonight. It's supposed to be the kind I like, but the tickets are too expensive." "I want to adopt a kitten. Never mind, I couldn't take good care of it." Financially strapped, having to budget carefully even for meals, these wishes were too luxurious for me. Later, a rich kid transferred from the class next door. His name was Liam. The first time we met, he treated the whole class to Popeyes. A week later, with a wave of his hand, he rented out an entire movie theater for the class. The class cheered, hailing him as the biggest baller in the whole school. Behind his back, though, they mocked him for having more money than sense and trying to show off. Those ignored, random wishes were quietly being fulfilled just like that. In my heart, I gave Liam a nickname: The Genie. Liam the Genie. And I was the impoverished Aladdin. Only, my Genie was exceptionally generous, exceptionally giving. The pizza place I had walked past several times but couldn't bear to go into? He treated the whole class to it every few days. My Genie seemed to have no three-wish limit. Every wish in my notebook was meticulously fulfilled by him. In the summer, he bought ice cream; in the winter, he brought hot cocoa. I learned what those heavily advertised fast-food chains tasted like. I was able to join the crowd when classmates talked about the most popular movies. Even the bitter cold that terrified me—he personally gifted me a down jacket. That was my most dignified winter. My ears didn't get frostbite, and my fingers didn't get chilblains. Near the end of my junior year, I wrote out a withdrawal application. The people I borrowed the three thousand dollars from for my mother's medical bills were showing up at my door every day, hounding me until I was physically and mentally exhausted. I packed my bags, ready to head south to work in a factory. The day before I left, I ran into Liam. He had lost a bet and had to give the first girl who walked by ten thousand dollars. And I was that girl. He shoved the money at me without a word: "Hey, don't make me break my promise. It's just a little money, not even enough for you to buy a new outfit." The crumbs that fall through the fingers of the rich are enough for the poor to work a lifetime for. I used that money to pay off the debt, finished high school, and got into college. In my plain and simple value system: Aladdin's Genie was omnipotent. Liam was also omnipotent. 03 So, when I heard that Liam had been kicked out by his family and was living on the streets... I was stunned for a long time. By this time, I had already graduated from college. Using the money I saved from working, I opened a small diner. Messages flooded the class group chat: "I heard his family went bankrupt. His dad took all the money and ran off with his mistress, leaving him all alone." "He was originally abroad, but he just dropped out and was sent back. I don't think he even got his degree." "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Remember how rich he was in high school? Now he doesn't even have a place to live. What goes around comes around." When I found Liam, he was sitting on a park bench, staring blankly into the distance. The person in front of me was a little different from my memory. His features, always proud and sharp, were slightly lowered now, revealing an inexplicable calmness. I slowed my pace, hesitating whether to go over. He had already sharply lifted his head. After four years apart, we faced each other in this quiet, secluded park, bathed in the setting sun. I wasn't sure if Liam recognized me. Probably not. After all, our interactions during those high school years were few and far between. We weren't friends; we couldn't even be called close classmates. Liam's life was so colorful; it would be hard for him to remember someone as ordinary and mediocre as me. Sure enough, he looked at me, his expression unchanging: "Can I help you?" I pointed to the flyer in his hand: "Excuse me, that's a flyer for my diner. We're hiring." "I saw you looking at it. Are you... looking to apply?" 04 Even after bringing Liam back to the diner, it still felt surreal. He stood a short distance away from me, his gaze sweeping over the storefront, his tone cold: "Where will I live?" Not long ago, when I said that, Liam looked at me very strangely. "Four thousand a month, benefits included, eight-hour shifts, two days off a week." It wasn't until I said room and board were included that his expression changed, and he agreed. The four thousand dollars that once barely covered a meal for him was now buying a month of his time. Maybe, like the group chat said, he really had nowhere else to go. I took over this diner from a friend. We sell chicken tenders and fried chicken cutlets. The location is good, and business isn't bad. The first floor is for business, the second floor is for living. There's one room for me, and one for storage. I cleared out the storage room, considering whether I should go buy a bed later. And I also needed to buy sheets, a toothbrush, a towel... Liam strolled over from behind me and helped me take a box. I said casually: "Just put it in my room, it's just some toilet paper, laundry detergent..." Only after Liam had taken two steps did I suddenly realize and hurriedly tried to stop him: "Wait a minute." But it was too late. Liam had already pushed open the bedroom door. The room was small; you could take it all in with one glance. When Liam looked up, he saw the desk by the window. He paused. His gaze swept over the photo displayed on it. He turned back and asked me: "Just put it next to the desk?" My nervous heart slowly relaxed: "Yeah." Liam probably didn't recognize me. After all, this photo was an accident. When we graduated, the school hired a photographer to take pictures for us. You could take solo shots, or take pictures with friends. When Liam was taking his picture, I happened to be standing nearby, spacing out. Startled by the photographer's shout, I turned my head in confusion. And thus, this unexpected photo was born. When the photographer developed the photos, he probably thought we had planned it that way. So he printed a copy for me too. I brought this photo with me to college, and after graduating, I brought it to the diner. I found a frame for it and carefully placed it on my desk. The Liam back then was a blond, with arrogant bleached hair, his bangs too long, covering half an eye. Wearing a skull t-shirt and ripped jeans, even though he was good-looking, he couldn't hide that era's emo/scene kid vibe. Now, he had short, neat black hair, and simple, clean clothes. The difference was too huge. So it was perfectly normal that he didn't recognize me. 05 After getting the room sorted, I took Liam out to eat. But his appetite was low; he took two bites and put down his chopsticks. It's understandable. With that kind of family tragedy, it's normal to be in a bad mood. But it went on like this for several days, and he was visibly thinner than when he first arrived. I was getting a bit anxious, so I dragged him to a steakhouse. It was about a hundred dollars a person. I ordered him a steak and a salad. Liam took two bites and suddenly said: "I've been here before." I paused, surprised he remembered. Back then, everyone laughed at him for having more money than sense, but after being treated so much, they eventually felt embarrassed. So, many people started taking the initiative to invite Liam out to eat after school. I mixed in with the crowd. On the day I got my paycheck from my part-time job, I carefully chose this steakhouse. I didn't expect him to accept my invitation. He always had an aloof personality. Annoyed by everyone asking, he closed his eyes and randomly pointed at someone: "You then. Just one meal. The rest of you, stop bothering me." I was the lucky winner. Liam ate that steak clean. He reviewed it: "The chef here is pretty good. It tastes no different from what I usually eat. I like it a lot." That compliment made me let out a smile I couldn't hold back. Aladdin was able to buy the Genie a meal. Aladdin was very happy. So, seeing Liam's current low spirits, I naturally thought of this restaurant. It was as if time had rewinded, bridging a four-year gap. The same seat, the same person. Liam seemed to have a better appetite, just like four years ago. He finished the steak and salad completely: "It's very good. I like it a lot." I smiled, just about to get up to pay the bill. When suddenly, Liam spoke from behind me: "You know me, and you know who I am." His tone was calm, yet decisive: "The photo frame on the desk... the person in it is you, isn't it?" 06 That night, the class group chat was already buzzing: "You say Liam's family went bankrupt. So is his engagement to Sarah still on?" "Definitely not. Before, they were a match made in heaven. Now, it's just a poor boy lusting after a rich girl. Only an idiot would stay together." "Sorry, you guys are really wrong this time. The rich girl is truly deeply in love. Even though Liam is broke, she's not abandoning him. She's currently adding people as friends asking for his whereabouts." Sure enough, there was a new friend request on my list, exactly from Sarah. I was hesitating whether to accept it when there was a soft knock on my door. "I'm out of shampoo." Liam's hair was half-wet, leaning against the doorframe looking at me. That meal not long ago had ripped away our facade of acting like nothing happened. Liam recognized the photo, and he recognized me. Thankfully, he didn't say much else, nor did he ask me why I kept our photo on my desk. Right now, water droplets were falling from Liam's brow. His dark eyes watched me quietly, displaying a strange kind of docility. I didn't dare to meet his gaze. I handed over the toiletries I had bought. "I forgot to give this to you earlier. Body wash and everything else is in here too." I was still feeling uneasy about Sarah's friend request. Suddenly, a sharp snap echoed in my ear. Liam had snapped his fingers. When I looked up in confusion, I saw him holding open the bag, revealing what was inside. Since we met again, he had always been aloof and silent. But now, his voice unexpectedly carried a hint of a smile: "Boss, you even provide your employees with Kérastase shampoo?" 07 In my heart, Liam is different from me. This difference is hard to describe in words. If I had to, it's... I can eat cheap street food; he can't. I can wear a nine-dollar t-shirt; he can't. But this reasoning was too bizarre to explain, so I told a lie: "I usually use this brand, so I just bought it together." But as soon as I said it, I regretted it. Because Liam had helped me move boxes before and definitely saw what was inside. A pile of bright green Pantene bottles easily exposed my lie. But Liam wasn't the type to embarrass people. He just said "hmm," easily accepting my explanation. Just like in my junior year, when I stained my pants during my period and was mocked by a male classmate. He suddenly stood up and beat the guy up. When making a public apology in front of the whole school at the flagpole, he just said casually: "I didn't like the way he looked. He was being too loud while I was trying to sleep." Everyone's attention was diverted by Liam, so no one noticed the slap I gave that male classmate. Genie, oh Genie, the most subtle Genie in the world. Liam took a few steps, then turned back: "The noodle place across the street is really good, the t-shirts from the wholesale market next door are great quality, and Irish Spring soap smells really nice." I didn't understand what he meant and looked up in confusion. "Just a little bit." Liam held up his thumb and index finger, making a gesture: "Just a little bit is enough to keep me alive." So he didn't need a steakhouse that costs hundreds a person, and he didn't need shampoo that costs thirty or forty dollars a bottle. After our reunion, Liam called out my name for the first time, his eyes curving into a smile: "Chloe, I'm very easy to take care of." 08 I didn't expect Sarah to show up directly at my diner. The first time she laid eyes on Liam, she practically threw herself at him: "Why didn't you answer my calls? I've been looking for you for so long." Her eyes were red. A pretty girl crying is very endearing. Sure enough, Liam raised his hands and placed them on her shoulders, a posture suitable for an embrace. But the next second, he forcefully pushed Sarah away. "Don't touch me." Sarah froze, her eyes getting even redder: "Are you still blaming me? I've already convinced my mom. Just hold on for another month, I can definitely convince my dad too. Our engagement still stands." "There is no engagement. I never agreed to it." Liam cut off Sarah's words, his voice very cold: "That was a unilateral decision by our parents, their own wishful thinking." After being chased away, Sarah came back several more times. Liam never gave her a good look. The most serious time, he called the police: "If you want to get married, go to a dating site. Harass me one more time, and I'll call the cops again." "Stop coming to find me. It's very annoying and severely affects my life." Even from an outsider's perspective, these words were incredibly ruthless. Sure enough, Sarah ran off crying and didn't come back for a week. Messages flooded the class group chat: "Tsk, the rich girl bravely pursues love, only to be rejected. It breaks my heart to see her cry. How could Liam bear it?" "Love without material backing is just loose sand. Liam can't even support himself right now, how can he support her? He can't even buy her a bag. Is he supposed to make the rich girl suffer with him?" "There's a kind of love called letting go. I get it. I broke up with my ex because of the huge gap in our family backgrounds too. Actually, I still think about her, but, sigh, dreams can't beat reality." I don't know who pulled Sarah into the group chat. She sent a crying emoji: "I know he just doesn't want to drag me down, but I really don't care. As long as I can be with him, even if we live in a tiny apartment, it doesn't matter. True love can conquer anything." Such words resonated with many people. It was like a novel plot coming to life—the trope of the rich, beautiful girl bravely pursuing love never gets old. I exited the group chat. Liam was frying chicken cutlets. Two girls, blushing, pushing each other forward, came up to ask for his number. "I have a girlfriend, sorry." Liam handed the chicken cutlets to them. His outstanding appearance, tall figure, and cold voice. Even wearing an apron, he looked completely out of place in this narrow, mediocre chicken cutlet shop. So even that sentence seemed like an excuse used to brush them off.
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