Cheng Boyan had a soft heart, and being a doctor—a profession rooted in compassion—he instinctively helped those who were injured or sick. Plus, he had a talent for acting pitiful himself, so…

That was what Xiang Xi used to think—the reason Cheng Boyan would go so far to help him.

And it was exactly because he had grasped that point that, when he was desperately trying to break free from the entanglements of his past life, he thought of turning to Cheng Boyan for help.

But after watching one of Cheng Boyan’s “refreshing little videos” and finding out that Cheng liked men, he suddenly started doubting his earlier assumptions.

Tan Xiaokang’s awful stunt that night had genuinely shaken him. Although Cheng Boyan had never done anything even remotely inappropriate to him—and even if Cheng had done something, he probably wouldn’t have felt as grossed out as he had with Tan Xiaokang… because Cheng was handsome. No—because he was a good person…

Anyway, whatever the reason, Xiang Xi still wanted to ask. The question had been on his mind ever since he saw that video, and now he finally couldn’t help blurting it out.

But the second he asked, he regretted it.

He really ought to get the water in his brain checked. How could someone like Cheng Boyan ever be interested in a street punk like him? Birds of a feather flock together—someone like him, even if someone was interested, it’d probably only be someone like Tan Xiaokang…

He suddenly hoped Cheng Boyan hadn’t heard what he said clearly.

"What do you think?" Cheng Boyan asked, standing in the doorway.

The room was already dark. Cheng’s face was backlit, so Xiang Xi couldn’t make out his expression. His tone was calm and gave nothing away.

"What do I think?" Xiang Xi pulled the blanket up. "I think… I probably overthought it."

"Yeah, you overthought it," Cheng said with a chuckle. "Don’t worry."

"I’m not worried!" Xiang Xi quickly clarified. "Brother, that’s not what I meant! I mean, sure, I overthought it, but I wasn’t worried. Seriously."

"Hard to believe someone who’s been out on the streets this long can still be so careless." Cheng Boyan clicked his tongue.

"So do you want me to worry or not?" Xiang Xi clicked his tongue right back. "I just don’t guard myself when it comes to you."

Cheng thought for a moment. "Because..."

"Because you’re handsome," Xiang Xi cut in immediately. "Because you’re handsome."

Cheng laughed and gently closed the door, saying, "Good night. If you feel sick later, call me."

"Good night," Xiang Xi replied.

The light from the living room spilled in through the crack under the door. Xiang Xi stared at it for a long time, wrapped in a wave of embarrassment and regret. His whole body felt hot—he wasn’t sure if it was from the fever or sheer humiliation.

He didn’t know if Cheng Boyan would think he was ridiculous. He was practically the poster child for wishful thinking.

He touched his forehead. A whole day of fever had really fried his brain. On a normal day, there was no way he’d have such a self-delusional thought.

He turned over a few times in the blanket before realizing—Cheng Boyan had completely diverted the question he actually wanted to ask!

Yes, he might’ve had that thought, but what he wanted to ask wasn’t “Dr. Cheng, are you into me?”

What he wanted to know was—why?

Damn it! Cheng Boyan was way too sneaky…

After his shower, Cheng Boyan strolled through the living room, checking if all the plugs were unplugged and the trash was properly bagged. Then he washed his hands and went into the bedroom.

There was a bottle of red wine in the night-stand. He poured himself a glass, planning to read a few pages before going to sleep.

As he reached for a book, his eyes landed on a photo frame lying face-down on the shelf. After hesitating a moment, he righted the frame and leaned on the bookshelf, staring at the photo of Cheng Boyu for a long time.

Why are you so good to me?

Xiang Xi’s question echoed again in his mind.

Yeah—why?

He had told Xiang Xi from the beginning: “I have my own reasons.”

The answer was Cheng Boyu. Even though he had never really liked his younger brother much, it didn’t make sense that just one “brother” from Xiang Xi could stir him this deeply.

But the truth was—it was because of that “brother,” because of that look in the parking lot that reminded him of Cheng Boyu. That hopeful, pleading gaze that Cheng Boyu had in his final days when he looked at everyone.

Was it just because of that?

If Xiang Xi hadn’t asked, Cheng wouldn’t have given it another thought. He had already given himself an answer and wasn’t planning to revisit it.

But now that Xiang Xi had asked—he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Maybe, aside from guilt, there was something else. Maybe it was the tenacity in Xiang Xi, that wild, weed-like resilience—how he struggled to grow out of the darkness, the defiant pride laced with insecurity and helplessness... Of course, given his background, the kid had a million bad habits too.

If not for his guilt toward Cheng Boyu, Cheng Boyan would never have taken Xiang Xi home.

Even if there was some sympathy or admiration beyond the guilt, Xiang Xi’s way of life and personality were so at odds with his own that after just two days, Cheng already felt overwhelmed.

They were like characters from entirely different stories. His whole rhythm of life had been disrupted.

“Brother.” The bedroom door suddenly creaked open. Xiang Xi, still wrapped in his blanket burrito, poked his head in.

Cheng Boyan, who had been leaning on the shelf deep in thought, was startled. Living alone for so long, he never got in the habit of locking his door—just left it ajar. Even though Xiang Xi had already been staying here for two days, the sudden noise still gave him a jolt.

“Knock.” Cheng said, turning to look at him.

“Oh.” Xiang Xi ducked his head back out, closed the door—and then knocked twice.

"…What is it?" Cheng Boyan closed the cabinet and put down his wine glass.

"I just went to the bathroom…" Xiang Xi pushed open the door and poked his head in.

"You don’t need to report that," Cheng Boyan said.

"That’s not what I’m reporting," Xiang Xi pointed at his own face, "I just wanted to ask—did you take off my band-aid?"

Cheng Boyan, a bit helpless, walked over, opened the door, and pushed him toward the computer desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out a small pouch: "I already put them here. If you need one, just get it yourself."

"Great," Xiang Xi looked relieved. He dug through the pouch for a while before pulling out a Rilakkuma band-aid and sticking it on. "I thought I’d lost them all."

(NT: Rilakkuma is a blend of words meaning ‘relaxed bear’ (rirakkusu - Kuma). Popular Japanese character created by San-X in 2003)

"You and this weird obsession of yours are basically like me with washing my hands," Cheng Boyan turned to head back to his room. "OCD."

"No," Xiang Xi quickly replied. "It’s not that."

"Then what is it?" Cheng Boyan turned back to look at him. "If you think the mole’s unlucky, why not just have it removed? The amount you've spent on band-aids over the years is probably enough for ten procedures."

"I can’t remove it," Xiang Xi pressed on the band-aid on his face. "And I don’t think it’s unlucky."

"Then why?" Cheng Boyan paused. Xiang Xi’s strange habit had piqued his curiosity.

"You answer my question first—why?" Xiang Xi said.

"Oh?" Cheng Boyan was slightly surprised, then smiled. "You want an exchange?"

"Not an exchange. I came here to ask you again anyway," Xiang Xi rubbed his nose and hopped back and forth in the living room wrapped in his blanket burrito. "I don’t have my guard up around you, but someone like me who's been on the streets for so long—some things, I have to get an answer to. No one’s good to you for no reason. I’ve seen people smile while patting your head then stab you in the back. You’re a really good person, but I still need to know—why?"

"You think I shouldn’t be helping you like this?" Cheng Boyan squinted slightly.

"No, I just think… you don’t even know who I am, yet you’re going out of your way to help?" Xiang Xi pointed at himself. "Do you even know what kind of person I am? Scamming, cheating, stealing, fighting, brawling—"

"Get to the point," Cheng Boyan interrupted, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, clearly interested.

"Even if you don’t know everything, you’ve probably figured out most of it. When I walk down the street, most people avoid me," Xiang Xi bared his teeth. "For you to help me like this—if you're not a fool, then you have a reason. And you said it yourself, you do have a reason. So I have to ask: why?"

Xiang Xi said all this with a straight face while still wrapped in his blanket. It was kind of funny—but Cheng Boyan didn’t laugh.

Aside from how different his aura was from when he usually called him “brother,” Cheng could also understand this kind of questioning. For someone like Xiang Xi, this was the most basic level of vigilance.

Or maybe, that’s exactly why Xiang Xi occasionally made him stop and think a bit more—that deep-rooted insecurity, the belief that no one could genuinely be good to him, was... a little heartbreaking.

"I had a younger brother," Cheng Boyan said, looking at him.

"A brother?" Xiang Xi was stunned. "You’ve never mentioned him."

"There wasn’t much to say," Cheng smiled. "He died years ago."

Xiang Xi’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Sometimes, you remind me of him," Cheng said simply. "I didn’t like my brother, but I felt guilty toward him."

"Oh..." Xiang Xi opened his mouth but said nothing. He turned, grabbed a glass, poured some water, took a sip, and then continued, "When I called you 'brother,' yeah... it was kind of me trying to get close. But it’s a high-level way of getting close—I don’t call just anyone that... I don’t know, I... should I stop calling you that?"

"Doesn’t matter," Cheng Boyan smiled. "You can call me Dad and I’d still respond."

"Damn," Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. "Not letting you get away with that one. Who knows what my dad’s out there doing—he might be begging on the street. That’d be a loss for you."

So Cheng Boyan had a brother.

And he’d been dead for a long time.

How old was he when he died?

How did he die?

Was it illness, or an accident?

Xiang Xi felt his brain was racing with all kinds of thoughts. He could probably tweak a few details and spin this into some nonsense to scam people with.

Cheng Boyan went back into the bedroom, came out with a glass of red wine, and sat on the couch.

"That mole—tell me about it."

"Huh?" Xiang Xi hadn’t caught up yet. "What mole?"

"The mole. It’s not like I asked about haemorrhoids, why are you playing dumb?" Cheng Boyan frowned.

“Haemorrhoids?” Xiang Xi still had his head full of thoughts about Cheng Boyan’s brother. He was deeply moved, but also a little confused at how casually Cheng had spoken about him.

“You freeload at my place, and now I’ve got to take care of a sick person too,” Cheng Boyan took a sip of wine. “I’m trying to read, and you’re chanting scriptures beside me. Just wait until you’re asleep before I can read. You even report it when you go to the bathroom…”

“I didn’t report going to the bathroom!” Xiang Xi said.

“Anyway, you’ve messed up everything around here,” Cheng pointed at him. “Now I just want to hear why you’re still playing dumb…”

“Hey! The mole! The mole! Got it,” Xiang Xi finally caught on. “The mole, right? That’s my tear mole.”

Cheng Boyan didn’t respond, just looked at him. Xiang Xi moved to sit down next to him on the couch. After thinking for a moment, he smiled: “Actually, there’s not much to say. Just… don’t laugh at me, okay?”

“Mm, you’ve given me plenty to laugh at already. One more won’t make a difference.” Cheng nodded.

Xiang Xi chuckled awkwardly and was quiet for a while before speaking again: “That mole—Uncle Ping said it was unlucky. When I was little, he said I brought him bad luck and wanted to get it removed.”

“Uncle Ping?” Cheng asked. He’d heard that name a few times before—Tan Xiaokang had also mentioned it.

“An old gangster,” Xiang Xi said with a small smile. “The guy who took me in and raised me.”

“Oh.” Cheng responded softly.

“But I didn’t let him get rid of the mole. If it’s unlucky, I can just cover it, right? I got beaten up a few times over it. I still have scars on my back. Anyway, I’ve been covering this mole for over ten years now… You know, I just think—if one day I go looking for my biological parents, they might remember that I had a mole here, right?”

Cheng Boyan had been about to take a sip of wine but paused when he heard that.

“Sounds kind of ridiculous, huh?” Xiang Xi tilted his head and smiled at him. “That’s how it always is on TV. Birthmarks, moles, stuff like that.”

“You could do a DNA test,” Cheng Boyan said, not sure what else to say.

“DNA? What’s that?” Xiang Xi picked up a glass and took a sip of water. “I only know NBA.”

(NT: National Basketball Association, premier professional basketball league in North America)

“It’s… a blood test,” Cheng explained. “Honestly, knowing the NBA is already pretty good.”

“Really? I even know WBO,” Xiang Xi said proudly. (NT: World Boxing Organization)

“You watch boxing?” Cheng Boyan smiled and asked.

“…Mm.” Xiang Xi nodded. In truth, he didn’t watch it—Mantou liked it. Back when they went to internet cafés, Mantou watched it often. But Xiang Xi didn’t want to bring up Mantou. Just thinking of him left a bitter taste.

After that brief tangent, both fell silent again.

The silence lasted quite a while. Cheng Boyan finished the last sip of wine, tapped his fingers lightly against the glass, and asked: “Is that also why you won’t let anyone touch that pendant?”

“Yeah,” Xiang Xi patted his leg. “It’s the only piece of evidence I’ve got. Gotta keep it safe, right? Otherwise, if someone suddenly shows up wanting a blood test to prove kinship, who’s gonna believe it, huh?”

“Right,” Cheng looked at him. “But now, you don’t need to cover the mole anymore. No one’s calling it unlucky now.”

“I’m used to it,” Xiang Xi touched the band-aid on his face. “If it’s not on my face, I feel weird. I actually woke up just now because I touched my face and didn’t feel it there—it freaked me out.”

“Go to sleep. You need rest with your condition. Don’t stay up late,” Cheng said.

“Any more?” Xiang Xi pointed at the glass in front of him. “Can I have a sip?”

“You’re practically a walking case of tuberculosis, and you still want to drink?” Cheng raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Xiang Xi got up and walked toward the study, sighing as he went, “So tragic—a TB patient with a metal rod in his leg…”

*

Xiang Xi really did have a strong vitality. Though skinny, his body recovered quickly. The first two days he had some recurring fevers, but by the third day, he was already bouncing around again.

At noon, after Cheng Boyan finished his rounds and returned to the office, someone knocked on the door. He turned and saw Xiang Xi standing outside.

“Doctor Cheng.”

“What are you doing here?” Cheng smiled.

“I went to the clinic, didn’t see you there. Figured you’d be in inpatient care,” Xiang Xi walked into the office and placed a bag on the desk. “I brought you lunch.”

“You could’ve just eaten it yourself. Why’d you buy for me?” Cheng looked surprised. “Did you get your injection today?”

“Yeah, finished it. They gave me another three-day of injections,” Xiang Xi waved his hand in front of Cheng’s face. “But I feel like I’m already better. Do I really need more?”

“Listen to the doctor. If they say to do it, then do it. Give me the receipt—I’ll go pay for it later. You can owe me for now,” Cheng opened the lunch box. Braised pork rice. “More debt doesn’t make a difference when you already have a ton.”

“Dr. Cheng!” a nurse called from outside the door. “What are you eating for lunch? I’m ordering now.”

“Don’t order for me today,” Cheng replied. “I’ve already got lunch.”

“Oh wow, someone brought you food?” The nurse glanced at Xiang Xi and laughed. “Isn’t that Xiang Xi? Come to repay kindness?”

“Yep,” Xiang Xi smiled and nodded.

Cheng stepped out briefly, grabbed two boxes of milk from the nurse’s station, and came back into the office. He handed one to Xiang Xi.

“Drink this, then go back and rest.”

“Can I go out for a walk this afternoon?” Xiang Xi asked. “It’s not cold today, and there’s no wind.”

Cheng glanced at him: “Don’t be out too long.”

“Got it. I’m off then.” Xiang Xi took the milk, waved, and briskly walked out of the office.

These past couple of days when Xiang Xi went to the hospital for injections, he saw a community bulletin board about two bus stops away from the hospital. It was covered with lots of papers that looked like job postings. He planned to go over and take a closer look.

The fruit shop from a few days ago still hadn’t contacted him. He called them in the morning, but the person on the other end didn’t even remember him and just said they had already hired someone.

He felt a bit disappointed that even a simple job like watching the store wasn’t available for him.

But Cheng Boyan had said once you move, you’re no longer in the same place, so Xiang Xi didn’t think too much about it and kept looking.

Sure enough, there were quite a few job listings on the bulletin board, but not all were legitimate—some were for making fake invoices and counterfeit certificates…

Xiang Xi couldn’t read all the characters on the listings, but as long as it didn’t say anything about invoices or certificates, he called the numbers to inquire. After a few calls, he discovered some ads recruiting for “one-room hostesses” who warmly invited him to try out... Aside from those, there were two calls where the people on the other end couldn’t understand him at all and just hung up with repeated “Hello? Hello?”

“Piece of junk!” Xiang Xi muttered, looking at his phone in frustration.

He stood by the bulletin board for a long while, then clenched his teeth and decided to buy himself a new phone—the cheapest one, just capable of making calls. He didn’t even need texting functionality.

After jotting down all the useful numbers he found on the board, he turned to head back to the bus stop to catch a ride and get some money from Cheng Boyan. Just then, the door of a black SUV parked by the roadside swung open, and someone jumped out and shouted at him: “Xiao Zhan!”

Xiang Xi didn’t respond or immediately turn around. Years of habit had taught him not to react instantly when hearing his name called out on the street—who knew if it was some enemy suddenly appearing? Someone who couldn’t even recognize his face calling his name just to confirm, and then maybe the next second would come swinging a stick.

“Xiao Zhan?” the person called again.

From the tone and voice, it sounded like an old friend reunited. Xiang Xi turned his face.

A man holding a cannon-like camera ran over, his face beaming with a smile: “Xiao Zhan! It really is you! Don’t you remember me?”

 

Translator : DarNan