There was no MSG, and Xiang Xi was told to put in only a tiny bit of salt. He figured the reason Cheng Boyan’s cooking tasted so bad was probably because of this—no seasonings at all, and everything he ate was so bland it had practically no flavour. How could it possibly taste good?

“I’ll make a topping,” Xiang Xi tried to argue for this meal of claypot rice that he still wasn’t sure what shape it would take. “Without MSG, how can it have any taste?”

“Use oyster sauce,” suggested Cheng Boyan, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

The moment he stepped in, he froze. The cutting board was piled with chopped-up vegetables in complete disarray, plenty had fallen onto the board and even the floor, and around the two claypots boiling on the stove were splashes of rice and water everywhere.

“You…” Cheng Boyan couldn’t even get the words out.

“I’ll clean it up later,” Xiang Xi shoved him out of the kitchen. “I just asked you about MSG, you don’t need to come in.”

“Don’t you dare pick up the stuff off the floor and eat it!” Cheng Boyan said in pain. “And the stuff that fell off the board is no good either! The stove—”

“Got it, nothing that fell off the cutting board,” Xiang Xi slammed the kitchen door shut.

Cheng Boyan sat on the living room sofa glaring at the TV. Xiang Xi kept banging away in the kitchen, though judging from the noise it sounded like he’d moved past the stage of chopping and prepping vegetables as if he were about to demolish the place.

Thinking back, when he first stepped into the kitchen, he had actually smelled the aroma of rice cooking—it seemed like it should be better than the scorched egg from last time.

Another half an hour went by. Cheng Boyan was almost tempted to peek through the crack of the door when Xiang Xi finally opened it, poking his head out: “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.” Cheng Boyan was so hungry it hurt a little; he stood up at once.

“Sit at the table and wait,” Xiang Xi said.

The kitchen scene—like it had been ransacked—flashed through Cheng Boyan’s mind. He hesitated, squeezed out a bit of sanitizer and slowly rubbed his hands, then sat down at the table.

Xiang Xi brought out a claypot, its original color nearly unrecognizable, the rim all charred black. He placed it in front of Cheng Boyan on a trivet. “Try it.”

“What about yours?” Cheng Boyan picked up his chopsticks.

“Coming right up. Same ingredients as yours, but mine…” Xiang Xi walked back into the kitchen and carried out another claypot. Unlike Cheng Boyan’s, this one wasn’t set on a base but instead had a big stainless-steel bowl slipped under it.

“What’s that?” Cheng Boyan blinked.

“Where’d you buy these claypots?” Xiang Xi sat down and lifted the lid on his.

“The supermarket,” Cheng Boyan said, still looking at the claypot in front of Xiang Xi. “Why?”

“The quality’s no good, not like the ones from the vegetable market,” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. “Just when I took it off the stove and was about to pour on the topping—crack! The old man split open. Scared me half to death, I thought I’d smashed your fancy cutting board. Luckily the rice inside stuck together so it didn’t fall apart, and I just slipped a bowl under it to hold it.”

Cheng Boyan was speechless.

“It’s still edible,” Xiang Xi said as he removed the bowl under the pot, quickly poured the sauce that had leaked into it back into the pot, then just as quickly slipped the bowl back under. “Just wasted a claypot, that’s all…”

“Oh my god!” Cheng Boyan shouted, unable to even describe how he felt. “You really are… I’m done with you.”

“Eat yours, don’t worry about me. I didn’t mess with your pot,” Xiang Xi stirred his rice with chopsticks. “Can’t help it—Doctor Xiang, specialist in curing OCD.”

Cheng Boyan stopped looking at him, turned back to the TV, and ate. But after a couple bites, he still remembered to compliment Xiang Xi’s cooking: “It’s pretty good, way better than last time.”

“You’re really easy to feed,” Xiang Xi sighed. “If customers ate this in a restaurant, they’d probably smash the place up.”

The rice was half-cooked, probably from too much water, and in addition to being underdone it was watery. The sausage was steamed through, but once the topping was poured on, it became too salty.

The sauce for the topping was a mystery, probably oyster sauce diluted with water, with some chopped ginger thrown in.

To be honest, the dish was still hard to describe, but you could see Xiang Xi had put real effort into it.

“Really, it’s better than last time,” Cheng Boyan said again seriously after another bite. “You can tell it’s made by someone who’s apprenticed in claypot rice.”

Cheng Boyan had wanted to finish the pot, but couldn’t. The bottom had burned to a layer nearly two centimeters thick. Amazingly, the sauce from Xiang Xi’s pot had managed to leak through cracks in that much scorched rice.

“This pot has to be thrown away” Xiang Xi said after wiping his mouth.

“Mm.” Cheng Boyan glanced at him. “Might as well throw this one out too, it’s a pain to wash.”

Xiang Xi grabbed a tissue from the side, wiped his mouth twice, then wiped the grease off his hands as well.

“You’re something else—when it’s my turn to cook and your turn to wash, you actually just throw all the bowls away…” Xiang Xi laughed.

During the meal, Cheng Boyan hadn’t once looked at Xiang Xi, because the so-called expert in treating OCD kept pouring the soup that had spilled back into the pot, and he couldn’t bear to watch.

But when he looked at Xiang Xi’s smiling face just now, he suddenly noticed a little red spot beneath the band-aid at the corner of his eye.

“What happened to your face?” Cheng Boyan leaned in, trying to get a closer look.

“My face?” Xiang Xi touched his face, his fingers brushing against the red spot. At once he winced, baring his teeth as he sucked in a breath. “Oh, that. When I was frying the ginger, some oil splattered on me.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? Does it hurt?” Cheng Boyan stepped up to him, holding his chin and turning his face to the side. “Let me see.”

“It’s okay, not that painful. Just a bit of burning,” Xiang Xi said. “A dab of soy sauce will fix it.”

“That thing about soy sauce or potato slices is all nonsense,” Cheng Boyan frowned. “Was it splattered oil or poured oil? That blister’s so big…”

“So what should I do?” Xiang Xi asked, a little nervous now. “Will it leave a scar?”

“Who knows,” Cheng Boyan said seriously. “Might leave a big one… hey, then you’ll have a whole bunch of things on your face you’ll need band-aids to cover. Why not switch to an eye mask instead? I’ve got one—you could cut out two holes in it…”

“What kind of doctor talks like that!” Xiang Xi shouted.

Cheng Boyan pulled out a small first-aid kit and found a little bottle of burn ointment. “Disinfect it and put some of this on. It won’t leave a scar. Look at you, all worked up.”

“I’m not upset about the scar,” Xiang Xi sat in the chair, obediently tilting his face up while waiting for treatment. “I’m upset because you’re making fun of me.”

Cheng Boyan chuckled, then picked up some saline, wet a cotton swab, and dabbed it on the blister.

“Ahh,” Xiang Xi frowned, one eye squeezing shut. “Your surgeon’s hands are something else—using that much force…”

Cheng Boyan looked at him silently.

Xiang Xi’s face was tilted up, the distance between them very small. Their breaths brushed against each other in that narrow space. Cheng Boyan could even make out the faint downy hairs on Xiang Xi’s smooth skin.

Pretty.

Xiang Xi wasn’t the type who struck you as stunning at first sight, only delicately handsome. But the longer you looked, the more attractive he became.

Especially at this distance, and for this long.

Cheng Boyan suddenly realized Xiang Xi actually looked quite good.

And just as suddenly, it felt a little awkward.

From this position, it seemed like if he lowered his head just slightly, he could kiss him.

“Doctor Cheng…” Xiang Xi had been looking at him all this time. “Your eyes are brown?”

“Is that strange?” Cheng Boyan tilted his head, picking up the burn ointment and twisting it open.

“My eyes are really black,” Xiang Xi blinked, then widened them at him. “See?”

“…Yeah, I see,” Cheng Boyan dabbed ointment on his face. “Wow, so black.”

The moment he touched the blister, Xiang Xi, who had just widened his eyes, instantly squinted them shut, shouting in a chain: “Lighter! Lighter! Lighter!”

“Okay, okay,” Cheng Boyan nodded. “I didn’t even realize I touched you.”

“You nearly popped the blister!” Xiang Xi complained.

Cheng Boyan said nothing, carefully applying a little more ointment. Xiang Xi also fell silent, just staring at him.

After a moment, he spoke softly: “Doctor Cheng, your eyes and your nose bridge are really beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Cheng Boyan gave him a glance, then set the medicine bottle back on the table.

“It’s just… your eyes… and your nose bridge…” Xiang Xi suddenly seemed a bit self-conscious. “They’re just… really beautiful.”

“That’s the dullest compliment I’ve ever heard,” Cheng Boyan laughed, straightening up and walking away. “Want me to dig them out and give them to you?”

“Damn.” Xiang Xi laughed.

Cheng Boyan tidied the table, threw away both clay pots, and checked the kitchen. The vegetable scraps that had been scattered everywhere were already cleaned up by Xiang Xi, but just to be safe he crouched down and wiped the floor again.

When he came back to the living room, Xiang Xi was sitting cross-legged on the sofa watching TV. Seeing him come out, Xiang Xi scooted to the side:
“You gonna read now?”

“No,” Cheng Boyan sat down, picked up the remote, and started flipping through channels. “Why?”

“Well, um…” Xiang Xi turned around half a circle on the sofa so that he was facing him, still cross-legged. “Do you have… a dictionary here?”

“Hm?” Cheng Boyan turned his head.

“Today I really felt it—working a proper job like this, not recognizing words is pure torture,” Xiang Xi sighed. “My coworker asked me to write my name on my uniform today and I was too embarrassed to, just scribbled a couple of squiggles instead…”

“You don’t know how to write your own name?” Cheng Boyan grabbed a small notebook and pen from the coffee table.

“I can write it. But, you know, it’s ugly, it’s slow, and…” Xiang Xi took the notebook and very slowly wrote down his name. “See? It takes up so much space. The collar’s so small, and the pen’s so thick, I couldn’t even fit it.”

Cheng Boyan looked. The characters were correct, but they did take up a lot of room. Even though the notebook was palm-sized, the two characters sprawled across a whole line horizontally and four lines vertically.

“Really bold…” Cheng Boyan commented as he looked at the writing.

“The supermarket is full of words. Whenever someone asks me something, I’m just guessing. If it’s toothpaste or towels, that’s easy enough. But in the food aisle, everything looks the same. Just the biscuits alone—ten different kinds. One glance and I’m dizzy,” Xiang Xi scratched his head, embarrassed. “So I thought, maybe if I had a dictionary, I could learn more characters.”

“I don’t have a dictionary,” Cheng Boyan said, looking at him. “Buying one is fine, but using a dictionary to recognize words is too slow. With your situation, you need something faster.”

“Faster? How do you mean?” Xiang Xi perked up. “There’s a shortcut? That’s perfect—I already find studying words a pain.”

“You’ll see… tomorrow,” Cheng Boyan thought for a moment. “The day after, I’m on duty. Tomorrow night I’ll still have time. I’ll take you to buy something.”

“Buy what?” Xiang Xi asked.

“Crash-course materials,” Cheng Boyan said.

Xiang Xi spent the whole next day in a cheerful, excited mood. He had no idea how “crash” Cheng Boyan’s crash course would be. Maybe by tomorrow he’d be able to recognize all the price tags in the store, maybe even learn to use the cashier machine with Zhang Xin.

Yesterday when Song Yi said he should go learn from Zhang Xin, he’d really gotten nervous. He played games in internet cafés by recognizing icons instead of words—facing a computer screen full of characters was daunting.

On Cheng Boyan’s computer, the only thing he could manage was opening videos… videos…

Suddenly a flash of Shu Bo crossed his mind, nearly making him walk headfirst into a shelf.

Carrying his anticipation for the crash course, he finally got through the workday, changed clothes in a rush, and left before Yu Baoquan could even walk out with him.

But Cheng Boyan’s car wasn’t parked across the street like yesterday. He called, and Cheng Boyan said he was running late—still stuck in traffic after seeing a patient.

Xiang Xi ran to the street corner and waited nearly twenty minutes before spotting his car.

“So where’s this crash course?” Xiang Xi pulled open the door and hopped in.

“The book mall,” Cheng Boyan said. “Want to grab something to eat first?”

“Let’s eat after crash course,” Xiang Xi pulled a big bar of chocolate out of his pocket. “Our shift leader gave me this. If you’re hungry, have some first?”

“…Okay,” Cheng Boyan reached out for it. “Half each—it’s huge.”

“I’ll peel it for you,” Xiang Xi lowered his head, tore half the wrapper, and held the chocolate to Cheng Boyan’s mouth. “Just take a big bite.”

“This service is way too sloppy.” Cheng Boyan leaned forward and bit into it.

To make sure the bite was big enough, Xiang Xi pushed the chocolate toward his mouth. When Cheng Boyan bit down, his teeth grazed Xiang Xi’s fingers, and his lips brushed against them too.

“Hey!” Cheng Boyan mumbled around the chocolate. “Why don’t you just stick your fingers straight into my mouth while you’re at it!”

“I was just making sure you got a proper bite,” Xiang Xi popped the rest of the chocolate into his own mouth. “My hands are clean, I washed them after lunch. Want me to get you some sanitizer to wipe your mouth?”

“Cut it out.” Cheng Boyan sighed and swallowed the chocolate with some difficulty.

Xiang Xi didn’t say more. He leaned back against the seat, head turned toward the window.

He’d never noticed it before, but the past two days he’d been aware of a faint lemon scent around Cheng Boyan. It was just the disinfectant he used, of course. But how come he’d never smelled it before?

Xiang Xi lightly touched his fingers. The damp, soft feel of Cheng Boyan’s lips still lingered there.

He wasn’t used to being touched, and he rarely brushed against others either. But this accidental bit of contact didn’t make him uncomfortable at all.

Instead, he felt an inexplicable sense of intimacy inside, like the feeling of holding a kitten or puppy in his arms—very comfortable.

Cheng Boyan took him to the book mall. As soon as they walked through the entrance, Xiang Xi caught the faint fragrance of paper and couldn’t help lowering his head to look at himself.

A book mall! A place he’d never set foot in before!

Even when passing by a newsstand, Xiang Xi never felt that the magazines or newspapers inside had anything to do with him—at most, he’d go in to buy a pack of cigarettes.

But today he had actually entered a book mall properly, and for the purpose of buying books. No, buying textbooks.

Textbooks!

Xiang Xi felt that this thing, like everything called “materials,” was even more awesome and higher-level than ordinary books.

He couldn’t believe there would be a day when he would need to buy textbooks.

The book mall was huge—five floors. Looking at the endless rows of bookshelves and the books piled up like bunkers in the middle, Xiang Xi suddenly felt like he was going to get lost.

Words everywhere, filling the sky and earth.

All he could do was follow right behind Cheng Boyan. If Cheng moved forward, he moved forward; if Cheng stopped, he stopped.

“Excuse me, which floor are literacy books on?” Cheng Boyan didn’t bother with the floor map and casually asked a sales assistant as they passed.

“Are they for a child at home?” the sales assistant asked.

“Mm, yeah. A child,” Cheng Boyan glanced at Xiang Xi. “My son.”

Xiang Xi whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Fifth floor,” the assistant said. “To the right is the children’s play area, to the left is the book section.”

“Thanks.” Cheng Boyan nodded and headed for the escalator.

“Wait a sec,” Xiang Xi followed behind him. “Wait a sec.”

“Mm?” Cheng Boyan replied, stepping onto the escalator.

“Children’s books?” Xiang Xi stood at the bottom, staring up at him.

Cheng Boyan was already on the escalator, waving at him as he rose: “Yeah. Come on, kiddo.”

There were people behind trying to get on, so Xiang Xi couldn’t keep blocking the way. He had no choice but to step on too, quickly closing the distance until he was standing one step below Cheng Boyan.

“You messing with me? My crash-course literacy materials are children’s books?” Xiang Xi lowered his voice. “I waited all day for this, and you bring me here to buy children’s books? Daddy!”

That set Cheng Boyan laughing for a long while. “Exactly.”

“I want proper textbooks.” Xiang Xi was a little upset. He had thought he’d finally get to feel high-class, but in the end he was stuck with children’s literacy books. “I don’t want children’s books. It’s not like I can’t read any characters.”

“Let me ask you something.” Cheng Boyan patted his shoulder. “In your whole life, have you ever actually read a book? Other than that magazine when you were in the hospital.”

Standing one step above, Cheng Boyan—who was only half a head taller normally—now loomed over him by a full head. With that pat on the shoulder, Xiang Xi really felt like a little kid next to him.

“No, never.” He stepped up beside him. “Didn’t even finish that magazine. So what?”

“If I give you a dictionary, or a book that’s all text, and you can manage to finish ten pages, I’ll buy it for you.” Cheng Boyan stopped when they reached the second floor. “How about it?”

Xiang Xi didn’t answer. He folded his arms and stood at the entrance of the second floor, thinking.

Cheng Boyan didn’t rush him, just waited quietly.

After a long time, Xiang Xi lowered his head, thought hard, then finally looked up: “Forget it. Let’s just… go to the kids’ section.”

The thought of a book crammed with dense text made him feel uneasy. He didn’t even bother with words in magazines that had pictures. Recognizable or not, he didn’t want to read them. Let alone ones without pictures…

Cheng Boyan didn’t just randomly grab a few books to make do. He carefully went through the brightly coloured little picture books clearly meant for children, selecting seriously.

“Is there even a difference?” Xiang Xi picked one up too. He could read the words on the cover: Zoo.

Opening it, he saw all sorts of animals with accompanying words. He thought he could recognize most of them, but after only two pages he came across crane. If not for the picture, he wouldn’t have known that character at all.

He clicked his tongue. “Kids learn characters this hard?”

“I was looking for storybooks,” Cheng Boyan glanced at him. “That one’s for preschoolers. Want that?”

“I want storybooks.” Xiang Xi quickly tossed the one in his hands back onto the shelf.

Cheng Boyan chuckled but didn’t reply.

After more than half an hour of browsing, Cheng Boyan made his selections. Besides storybooks, he unexpectedly found one called Going to the Supermarket with Mom.

“This one’s perfect,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile, flipping through the pages. They were full of different supermarket goods. “And it even comes in three volumes. You can start with this set.”

“Really perfect.” Xiang Xi leaned in close to look. “I—”

Before he could finish, a man’s voice came from behind, hesitant and uncertain: “Boyan?”

 

Translator : DarNan