The Young Master's Three Warmths Study Companion - Chapter 2

I was six when my parents sold me to the Wen Family, and I became Wen Zhuoyu’s study companion.

My parents took the bank card, held my older brother, and beamed with joy, saying to me: “Youyou, going to the Wen Family means a good life. From now on, you’ll eat well and live well, much better than staying with us.”

A good life?

I was little, but I wasn’t a fool. If it was such a good life, how would it ever fall to me?

Back then, I was bewildered; I only knew I was leaving home, and I was terrified.

Then I met Young Master.

Wen Zhuoyu was five years older than me.

At eleven, he already had a tall and straight figure, dressed in a clean, neat white shirt. His features were cool and refined, and when he looked at people, he carried an inherent noble air that brooked no offense.

For the first time ever, my mother put me in new clothes. The fabric was coarse, but it was better than I’d ever dared dream of-before, I’d always worn my brother’s hand-me-downs.

But standing before the dazzling, prince-like Young Master, I still felt like a dusty little mongrel, not knowing where to put my hands and feet.

Young Master looked at me, his brows slightly furrowed.

My heart clenched; I thought he was disgusted with me.

Tears welled in my eyes. I hung my head, picking at my little hands harshly, trying not to cry out.

A pleasant voice came from above: “Little brother, come here.”

Timidly I looked up; through blurred tears, I saw Young Master wave at me.

All my fear melted away. I ran over with my short legs, scampering happily.

Young Master took my hand, pulled out a clean, soft handkerchief, and wiped the tear stains from my face.

“This is your home now. Don’t cry anymore.”

They called it being a study companion, but my head wasn’t that smart, and I was so young-what could I really accompany Young Master in studying?

More often, I’d drag a little stool over next to his desk, read picture books or draw on my own, or simply sprawl over and sleep.

When Young Master studied, he was very focused, but the slightest stir from me would make him glance over and ask: “Thirsty? Hungry? If you’re sleepy, go sleep on the bed.”

I’d shake my head, mumble something unintelligible, and just keel over asleep.

All I’d hear was the helpless soft laugh of Young Master beside me.

But whenever I woke up again, I’d always be lying in Young Master’s fragrant, soft bedding.
Young Master laid down three rules for me, counting them off on his fingers one by one.

“First, never skip meals. Snacks in moderation, but they must not affect proper meals.”

“Second, never sulk silently. If something’s upsetting you or you’re uncomfortable anywhere, speak up. Ah You, Young Master cannot read minds.”

“Third,” he bent down, his fingertip lightly tapping my nose, “never lie to me.”

I looked at his handsome face so close by and nodded eagerly: “I remember, Young Master.”

“Except for these three, everything else is up to you.”

For many years after that, Young Master indeed interpreted “up to you” very broadly.

When I got into trouble, I’d shrink my neck and blink at him with wide eyes.

He’d always pull me over, pinch my cheek, and couldn’t even bear to make me stand as punishment.

“Don’t pretend to be pitiful.”

Perhaps feeling that lacked deterrence, he’d ask me another thing: “Do you know you did wrong?”

I’d nod like a pestle pounding garlic: “I know I did wrong.”

“Will you dare do it again next time?”

I’d hesitate, then say in a tiny voice: “…No, I won’t.”

Then, the next time I caused trouble again, he’d chuckle lowly, call me a “little brat,” ask me again “Do you dare?” and I’d answer timidly once more: “No, I won’t.”

And that would be the end of it.

He always told me: “Ah You, I don’t want anyone, including yourself, to look down on you. Our Ah You naturally deserves the best.”

Sometimes I even wondered: did Young Master get a study companion, or did he raise a son?

He was like a tree growing silently, spreading a canopy of shade over me early on.

Under that shade, I grew up year by year, from that timid little wretch into someone slowly confident and composed.

What Young Master gave, I took. What Young Master wanted, I gave.

That was probably the simplest and most solid rule between me and Young Master.