Cheng Boyan glanced at him but didn’t say anything, turning into the kitchen.

Xiang Xi had a unique kind of aura. Even if you were fully aware of what kind of person he was, knew all the shady things he’d done in his hooligan days, remembered the unruly air that sometimes slipped out unconsciously—when he spoke in this tone and wore this expression, he could still soften your heart.

Cheng Boyan didn’t know whether this was because Xiang Xi was incredibly skilled, or because he himself had a soft spot. In any case, just because of what Xiang Xi had said earlier, he now poured all his cooking effort into this pile of ingredients.

Of course, all his cooking effort consisted of was washing, cutting, and tossing everything into a pot.

Lean pork congee was the easiest to make. There was already some minced lean pork in the fridge. He washed the rice, threw it into the pot with water, and pressed the congee button. Done.

When he had a fever, he could hardly eat anything, maybe just a bowl of congee at most. But Xiang Xi didn’t seem to lose his appetite even when sick, so Cheng Boyan also made the egg drop honey soup (NT: sweet medicinal soup), and finally stewed a pot of lean pork with Chinese cabbage hearts.

He had never made this much food at once. After dawdling about and finishing everything, the congee was ready. Knowing Xiang Xi had a heavy taste, he added more salt than usual, feeling that after all this effort, the taste should at least see some improvement.

He took a bite.

And sighed.

He probably would never figure out why his cooking always tasted so bad.

“Just make do and eat it. What matters is the nutritional content,” Cheng Boyan called Xiang Xi from the bed, watching him sit down at the table. “As long as you get the nutrients, that’s good enough.”

“Thanks, brother,” Xiang Xi smiled, rubbing his hands together. “I just sweated a bunch and feel much better… Your cooking actually looks really nice.”

“Eat,” Cheng Boyan placed a bowl of congee in front of him. “I think so too. It looks great. Just imagine it tastes good while eating it.”

Xiang Xi laughed for a long time. “You’re kind of fun when you’re not being so serious.”

Xiang Xi ate quickly. The congee was still pretty hot, but he finished a whole bowl in just a few bites. Then he gave Cheng Boyan a thumbs-up. “This congee’s really good, brother. I’m not just saying that to make you feel better—it’s legit.”

“Mhm, that’s because I didn’t interfere with it,” Cheng Boyan smiled. “That’s why I usually just have multigrain congee in the morning.”

“These two dishes are good too,” Xiang Xi served himself another bowl. “Mainly because I can actually taste the salt. If we go by Director Xu’s standards, the salt intake from this one meal alone probably already exceeds the daily limit, huh?”

“If it already tastes bad and there’s no salt at all, that’s just too cruel for the patient,” Cheng Boyan looked at him. “Drink the congee a bit slower. Let it cool down.”

“Why?” Xiang Xi held the bowl. “You’re supposed to drink congee while it’s hot and steamy.”

“It can burn your oesophagus,” Cheng Boyan replied. “And slurping loudly doesn’t sound nice.”

Xiang Xi blew on the congee and sighed. “You just can’t stand the noise, can you?”

“It’s mainly because it’s bad for your health,” Cheng Boyan emphasized, going into the kitchen and bringing back a spoon for him.

“Okay, I’ll slow down.” Xiang Xi scooped up some congee carefully without making any noise. “I’m the kind of person who eats pretty... uncivilized. Sometimes I’ll squat at the entrance of an alley slurping straight from a bowl.”

“What kind of person?” Cheng Boyan frowned.

“The rough kind. A thug. A street punk. Someone who grew up in Zhaojiayao,” Xiang Xi laughed. “If you hadn’t pointed it out, I wouldn’t even notice these things myself.”

“You don’t want to be ‘that kind of person’?” Cheng Boyan asked.

“Who would want to? You don’t know how much I…” Xiang Xi trailed off. “Anyway, if I did want to stay that way, I wouldn’t have let Uncle Ping…”

He stopped mid-sentence, buried his head, and drank a few silent spoonfuls of congee. “Some things… it’s been ten-plus years. They’ve become part of me, like bones and flesh—inseparable.”

“Then change it. Thinking and talking alone won’t do anything. Do what you can. Change what you can,” Cheng Boyan picked up a piece of cabbage with his chopsticks and chewed slowly. “Even if it’s just a little, the moment you start moving, you’re no longer stuck in place. There’s no reason to get discouraged. You already stopped faking accidents to scam people, didn’t you?”

“I only did that occasionally on the side,” Xiang Xi chuckled, then his smile faded. “But I haven’t done anything else, really. I mean it.”

“Well, that’s pretty good already,” Cheng Boyan smiled. “Eat up. Then go back to sleep.”

Xiang Xi finished the meal earnestly. While Cheng Boyan cleared the dishes to wash them, he sat at the table, unmoving.

It was the first time someone had said something like that to him. The first time someone had acknowledged the little efforts and changes he had made, told him “that’s pretty good.” It felt… strange.

A photographer who once interviewed him had also talked about the life of “people like him,” but that was just observation and documentation—followed by a passing sigh. Cheng Boyan was different. He had no interest in Xiang Xi’s past, hadn’t asked a single question, yet when Xiang Xi was lost, he gave him the first affirmation he’d heard in more than ten years.

Even if it was just a little.

"Nothing to be discouraged about."

"Pretty good."

“Go lie down,” Cheng Boyan said as he came out after washing the dishes and saw Xiang Xi still sitting there. “If you catch a chill again in a bit, it’ll be troublesome.”

“I’ve just spent months lying down in the hospital. I don’t feel like lying down all the time now,” Xiang Xi scratched his head. “I’ll just put on more clothes and sit on the sofa—okay?”

Cheng Boyan glanced at him and sighed, “Fine, I’ll get you a warm piece of clothing. Don’t wear the stuff you wear outside.”

“I’ve got clean ones too,” Xiang Xi laughed. “You really are…”

Cheng Boyan went into the room, came out with a piece of clothing, and tossed it to him. Xiang Xi shook it open and froze. “What is this thing?”

“Something to wear while watching TV in winter,” Cheng Boyan said. “I bought it for fun. Never needed it with the heater on. But now it’s perfect for you.”

“No, I mean… this is clothing?” Xiang Xi looked at the thing in his hands that resembled a sleeping bag. “Isn’t this just a big tube? How do I get in?”

“There’s a zipper in the back. Just unzip and crawl in. One hole for your head, the other two for your legs,” Cheng Boyan came over, unzipped it, and spread it open. “Get in.”

“Let me just say first, brother, I’m still sweating. If I get in there, I’ll soak it with sweat. You’ll probably have to wash it with sulfuric acid,” Xiang Xi hesitated. “If you can’t take it, just throw it out—it’d be a waste otherwise.”

“Get in,” Cheng Boyan shook the outfit. “I’m not that dramatic. Worst case, I’ll give it to you.”

Xiang Xi climbed into the cotton tube. It was long. Once his legs and head poked out from the holes, he realized it wrapped down to his calves. It really was… warm. The moment he got in, heat surged over him.

“Not bad. Fits.” Cheng Boyan zipped him up from behind.

There was an obvious smile in Cheng Boyan’s voice. Xiang Xi turned to look at him, “Is there a mirror? What do I look like right now?”

“Gorgeous,” Cheng Boyan laughed outright, unable to hold it back. He flopped onto the sofa and pointed at him, “Come on, walk a few steps. Let me see.”

“Cheng Boyan!” Xiang Xi looked down at himself. He felt like a cotton-wrapped mailbox—a floral one at that. “You totally made me wear this on purpose!”

“Of course I did. I didn’t want you to catch a cold,” Cheng Boyan rested his finger against his temple and grinned as he examined him. “There’s a mirror in my room. Go take a look.”

“I will,” Xiang Xi headed toward the bedroom, but stopped right after taking a step—he couldn’t move. So he shuffled in tiny steps, hopping toward the room, waving his arms, then paused. “Wait, I can’t get my hands out?”

“If your hands come out, it ruins the overall look,” Cheng Boyan laughed for a while before explaining, “There are slits on both sides. You can stick your hands through—just look for them.”

Xiang Xi found the slits, stuck his hands out, waved them around, and bounced into the room: “Where’s the mirror?”

“In the wardrobe door,” Cheng Boyan called from the living room.

Xiang Xi opened the wardrobe door and found the mirror behind it. At the same time, he saw himself in it—and froze for a long while before slowly shuffling back into the living room. “Brother, can you tell me what your motivation was for buying this thing?”

“Thought it was fun,” Cheng Boyan said.

“You ever worn it?” Xiang Xi stood in front of him. “You’ve actually worn this thing?”

“Nope. Just tried it on once after I bought it,” Cheng Boyan waved a hand. “Now go sit over there.”

Xiang Xi shuffled over and sat down. After a while, feeling more comfortable all curled up, he took off his shoes, pulled his legs back into the tube, laughed, and tucked his arms in too. Curled up at the end of the sofa, he said, “Brother, don’t I look like a silkworm cocoon?”

Cheng Boyan glanced at him. “You’ve got an extra head.”

Xiang Xi fiddled for a bit, then tucked his head into the cotton tube as well. “Now do I look like one?”

Cheng Boyan looked at him but didn’t say anything. Xiang Xi called out from inside, but still got no response.

“Do I look like one or not?” he continued asking, curled up.

Still no reply from Cheng Boyan.

Eventually, Xiang Xi stuck his head back out: “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Seeing how long you could hold your breath,” Cheng Boyan replied, casually picking up a book and flipping it open.

“…You’re really something. Who messes with a patient like this? You got no conscience?” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself just fine,” Cheng Boyan pulled an MP3 player from under the coffee table, put on headphones. “Keep playing, little cocoon.”

With his headphones in, Cheng Boyan kept reading and didn’t look at him again. Xiang Xi lost interest too. After all, he still had a fever and was feeling unwell, so he curled up on the sofa and watched TV.

The TV was set to a news channel. He found it boring, but the remote was on the coffee table. Wrapped up in the cotton tube, it was too much trouble to reach it. After struggling a bit, he gave up and just glared at the news.

After a while, Cheng Boyan reached over, picked up the remote, and tossed it onto him.

“How’d you know I needed this?” Xiang Xi grinned, picked it up, and started changing channels.

Cheng Boyan didn’t respond, eyes still on his book—probably couldn’t hear him with the earphones in.

“Brother,” Xiang Xi flipped through a few channels, didn’t find anything good, and stopped at a sports channel to watch snooker. “Were you one of those top students back in school?”

No answer from Cheng Boyan, still absorbed in his reading.

“You can still concentrate on reading while listening to music?” Xiang Xi asked again.

When he still got no response, he tried, “You can’t hear me, huh? Brother? Doctor Cheng? Cheng Boyan?”

Cheng Boyan kept his head down, eyes glued to the pages.

“Deaf,” Xiang Xi muttered. “Can you hear me if I curse you? OCD freak?” (NT: OCD for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder)

He leaned his head back against the sofa. “Thing is, I don’t even know what I could curse you for. If it were someone else, I could go on and on, fill a whole garden with my insults. But you… you don’t have any damn flaws. You’re a good guy. A really good guy… the best person I’ve ever met in my life. Before I met you, I never even imagined someone like you could exist…”

“Mhm. And so handsome, too,” Cheng Boyan suddenly said, still looking down at his book.

“What the f—?!” Xiang Xi jumped, sitting up straight to stare at him. “You could hear me?!”

“Who did you just curse?” Cheng Boyan turned his face.

“Me,” Xiang Xi hurried to say, then dragged out his voice with a sigh, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I just said it out of habit. I’m careless sometimes… Wait, you can hear me? Weren’t you listening to music?”

“I forgot to turn the music on,” Cheng Boyan pulled off his earphones.

“…Then why didn’t you respond when I was talking to you earlier?” Xiang Xi was stunned.

“It was all nonsense, didn’t bother replying.” Cheng Boyan took a notebook and pen from beside him and jotted something down.

“Then why are you replying now?” Xiang Xi thought Cheng Boyan was totally crazy.

“You praised me so enthusiastically,” Cheng Boyan smiled, “I just wanted to add something.”

“Brother,” Xiang Xi glared at him, “You’re not only the best person I’ve ever met, you also have the biggest face I’ve ever seen.” (NT: means ‘you are shameless’)

Cheng Boyan laughed as he stood up, took a thermometer out of a drawer, and handed it to him: “Take your temperature.”

“Seems like no need to measure it,” Xiang Xi took the thermometer and clipped it in. “I feel much better now…”

“You’re probably still running a fever,” Cheng Boyan sat down. “Some people get extra talkative when they have a fever. I think you’re one of them. You’re so chatty that this tube can’t even contain you.”

“Really?” Xiang Xi smiled shyly. “Maybe so. Actually, I’m usually not talkative, nothing much to say. I don’t know why I always want to talk when I’m with you.”

Cheng Boyan glanced at him: “Because…”

“Because you’re handsome, right? I know,” Xiang Xi quickly said. “You’re definitely going to say that.”

Cheng Boyan didn’t continue but got up to fill a small thermos with water, then put it together with Xiang Xi’s cup on the coffee table. He went into the kitchen and brought out a few washed apples. “If you’re not sleeping, drink water and eat fruit.”

“Oh.” Xiang Xi nodded.

Cheng Boyan waited a moment, checked the thermometer, saw the temperature had dropped below 38 degrees, then took his book and notebook and went into the bedroom.

“You going to sleep?” Xiang Xi asked.

“Reading. You’re too noisy,” Cheng Boyan said from the bedroom. “The parrot opposite you made you seem all soft and tender.”

Cheng Boyan didn’t close the bedroom door. Xiang Xi could see him putting on his earphones, leaning back in the window-side lazy chair, legs stretched long.

Even reading could look so comfortable.

Though he never went to school, Xiang Xi thought Cheng Boyan must have been the kind of student who was really good at studying.

If Ping Shu had let him go to school, Xiang Xi himself might not have amounted to much. Ping Shu would probably drag him to school every day. If he wasn’t dragged three times, he’d probably become a school dropout.

The TV was boring, and Cheng Boyan didn’t bother listening to him talk. Xiang Xi didn’t want to lie down either, so he just curled up in the sofa tube and stared blankly at Cheng Boyan reading inside.

Come to think of it, Cheng Boyan was indeed quite handsome. The first time Xiang Xi saw his ID card, he thought this guy looked good. Looking at his profile, when he wasn’t talking or smiling, he seemed a bit cold, giving an unapproachable vibe to strangers.

Actually, he was quite funny.

But what a pity — he liked men. Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. Such good genes going to waste… maybe thinking too far ahead.

Xiang Xi touched the phone in his pocket. He kept it close all the time, afraid he might miss a call asking him to go to work, but it never rang.

He took the phone out, saw it had power and signal.

As long as it started working, that would be fine. He was moving, and pretty actively at that, though changes were slight. He didn’t know when he’d really get on track. He had no hope of being like Cheng Boyan, but he would be content just to be like the lowest people hustling on the streets for life.

Like helping out at the fruit shop at night, that was already a good step.

Pretty good.

Cheng Boyan found reading professional books no fun, but having been self-disciplined all his life, he had formed the habit of studying.

Even dull professional material could hold his attention for two or three hours straight. When the music in the player had finished playing once, he closed the book, leaned back to stretch his neck, then stood up and walked out of the bedroom.

It was already 11 o’clock. Xiang Xi held the remote, curled up in the cotton tube, and was already asleep.

His complexion no longer flushed like before; basically normal now. Cheng Boyan reached out and touched Xiang Xi’s forehead — his temperature had dropped.

Xiang Xi had eaten three apples from the coffee table. Probably because he didn’t want to move, he hadn’t thrown the apple cores in the trash. But he didn’t leave them on the table either; he put them in a cup.

Cheng Boyan dumped the apple cores into the trash can, rinsed the cup, then returned to the sofa and patted Xiang Xi on the face: “Go sleep in the room.”

“…Huh?” Xiang Xi drowsily opened his eyes, glanced at him, then shut them again.

“Go sleep in the room. If you sleep on the couch all night, your back’s definitely going to hurt tomorrow.” Cheng Boyan patted his face again.

Xiang Xi frowned and turned his head to the side, this time not even opening his eyes.

“Hey, wake up first,” Cheng Boyan lightly flicked his face with his fingers. “Get up.”

Xiang Xi opened his eyes and mumbled vaguely, “Don’t bother me… I’m a sick man…”

“Oh, now you remember you’re a patient?” Cheng Boyan said. Seeing that Xiang Xi had fallen asleep again, he reached out and quickly tore off the band-aid at the corner of his eye. “Wake up.”

Xiang Xi’s hand emerged from a hole in the cotton sleeping tube beneath his neck and scratched at his face, then stopped moving again.

Cheng Boyan stood by the sofa for a moment, then bent down, slipped his arms under Xiang Xi, and picked him up.

He wasn’t particularly kind or considerate, but if Xiang Xi ended up sleeping the whole night on the couch and his illness got worse, Cheng felt he wouldn’t have the energy to deal with it. Just cooking congee for a sick person already wore him out.

Maybe because of the sudden sensation of being lifted into the air, Xiang Xi suddenly opened his eyes wide, stared for two seconds, then shouted: “Ah!”

Then he started struggling inside the cotton tube, trying to leap to the ground.

“Hey! Stop flailing around!” Cheng Boyan shouted, quickly walking into the study and tossing Xiang Xi onto the sofa bed. “If you break a bone I can reset it, but if you hit your head I’ll have to go find you a doctor!”

“You scared me to death! I was dreaming I was standing on the roof, then suddenly I was floating in the air!” Xiang Xi stuck a hand out from a gap in the sleeping tube and waved it a few times. “Scared the hell out of me! Why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve walked in myself.”

“You think I didn’t try waking you?” Cheng Boyan pulled a blanket over him. “Alright, get back up on the rooftop in your dream.”

“I could’ve just slept on the couch,” Xiang Xi said quietly. “What if you hurt your back carrying me?”

“Just how much do you think you weigh? Who’s throwing out their back for your measly few pounds?” Cheng Boyan turned off the light and walked out.

“Hey, brother,” Xiang Xi shifted a bit inside the sleeping tube, adjusting his sleeping position, “there’s something I’ve been thinking about… I was thinking and thinking, and then I fell asleep.”

Cheng Boyan looked at him without speaking.

“It’s just… you said before, the reason you’re helping me like this… is because there’s a reason,” Xiang Xi rubbed his nose. “You’re treating me so well… why is that?”

 

Translator : DarNan