“Are you working?”

“Just looking around.”

These two lines of dialogue, placed beneath the photo of Xiang Xi standing with his head tilted back, seriously reading the job postings on a bulletin board, filled Cheng Boyan with a sudden, uncontrollable anger.

Xiang Xi could barely recognize a few characters; those job postings were probably a blur of words to him. Until he saw this photograph, Cheng Boyan had never realized — out of pure habit — that he’d never once thought about how Xiang Xi managed to pick out the truly useful information from those things, and then somehow find that clay-pot rice restaurant job.

And Fang Yin, when he had that conversation with Xiang Xi, undoubtedly knew that this kind of answer couldn’t have been true.

“Just looking around.”

That answer came from Xiang Xi’s self-respect, wrapped tight beneath his sensitivity — it was the last little layer of protection his subconscious gave to shield his own struggling reality.

Fang Yin understood that perfectly; that’s exactly what his photo tried to convey.

Just like that day at dinner — when an offhand mention of Shaxian (NT: a chain of cheap eateries) made Xiang Xi suddenly snap — Cheng Boyan knew what Xiang Xi was sensitive about. What would he think, seeing himself in a photo like this?

Fang Yin had gone to the supermarket several days in a row and even talked to Xiang Xi. Xiang Xi must have known he was taking pictures.
If that was the case, if Xiang Xi had agreed — then had he seen these photos?

What was this kid thinking?

Cheng Boyan, frowning, poured himself a glass of water, drank, then sat back at the computer and scrolled down the page.

“When I took this photo of little Z, he had just come out of the hospital — pneumonia.
I told him about the project, but he wasn’t interested, didn’t want to do it.
He even flicked his cigarette butt into my coffee cup.
But in the end, he agreed.
Maybe it was curiosity about being frozen in someone’s lens for a while.
Or maybe, I think, simply because I promised to pay him a little every day.”

“Of course it was for the money,” Cheng Boyan murmured softly, leaning back in his chair.

Following this paragraph was another photo — Xiang Xi sitting in a café, leaning back, a cigarette between his lips, afternoon sunlight slanting across his face. His eyes were half-closed, his expression a mix of disdain and faint impatience.

The Xiang Xi in this shot looked strange, unfamiliar — gone was that open, bright smile he’d grown used to seeing.

This was how he had looked the first time Cheng Boyan met him: sitting in a hospital chair, face calm and indifferent; or on the street, when he used to scam people with his buddies — rough, cocky, full of that unmistakable street style.

There were more photos below, but Cheng Boyan didn’t want to see them. He scrolled straight to the bottom.

There were hundreds of comments. He skimmed a few and closed the page.

The initial anger slowly subsided, replaced by something more complicated. Whether it was anger, worry, or caution — none of it gave him the right to interfere.

Xiang Xi wasn’t a child.
How he lived, what kind of people he met, what he chose to do — those were his own decisions.

But Cheng Boyan still couldn’t convince himself to just stand by and watch.

After sitting in front of the computer for a while, he picked up his phone and called Song Yi.

“I’ll ask for a leave on Xiang Xi’s behalf.”

“Take as much as you want,” Song Yi said. “What’s going on?”

“The pins in his leg need to come out. He told me he couldn’t get time off when he was working before,” Cheng Boyan chuckled. “Now that he’s at your place, it should be easier to get leave.”

“Sure, no problem. He can come back once he’s healed,” Song Yi laughed. “But you owe me a meal. My employees already think he’s my secret boyfriend.”

“Deal,” said Cheng Boyan.

*

When Cheng Boyan told Xiang Xi on the phone about removing the screws, Xiang Xi sounded genuinely startled.

“I’m not ready yet!”

“Come on,” Cheng Boyan laughed. “What do you even need to prepare? I’m the one who should be preparing.”

“I’m scared,” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. “Last time when you hammered the pins in, I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a minor surgery.”

“No, no, no!” As soon as he heard the word surgery, Xiang Xi tensed up. “I can’t! You said the timing didn’t matter, right? Let’s leave the pins for a while longer. I’m scared of pain — and I think I still limp a bit!”

“We’ll do spinal anesthesia; you won’t feel a thing.”

“But I’m ticklish,” said Xiang Xi.

“What does being ticklish have to do with spinal anesthesia?” Cheng Boyan sighed helplessly.

“So how do you even numb it?”

“We inject the anesthetic into your lower back — your lower body won’t feel anything.”

“Lower body, huh?” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue again. “What if my lower body stops working after that…”

“Come to the hospital tomorrow morning,” Cheng Boyan cut him off, not wanting to argue anymore. “Just call Song Yi for the leave — I already told him. No breakfast, nothing to eat before surgery.”

Being hospitalized again, Xiang Xi felt oddly familiar with it this time. Hospitals used to scare him — now they just felt kind of warm.

Cheng Boyan said this time it was just a minor operation, only a week’s stay. He had been nervous at first, but after chatting with a few familiar nurses, he relaxed.

“You’ve healed really well,” Cheng Boyan said, standing by his bed, holding up the latest X-ray.
“We’ll remove the pins this afternoon.”

“You’re doing it yourself?” Xiang Xi asked again to be sure.

“Mm.” Cheng Boyan bent over slightly. “Still scared?”

“A little,” Xiang Xi smiled, “but if you’re the one doing it, I’m not that scared.”

“Doesn’t matter who does it — nothing to be afraid of.”

“Only if you do it. Really.” Xiang Xi rubbed his nose.

“Didn’t take you for the timid type.” Cheng Boyan held up his pinky finger before his eyes, pinching the tip. “Only this much.”

“That’s exaggerating,” Xiang Xi laughed, swatting his hand away.
He peeled off the band-aid at the corner of his eye and pointed at the little mole by his tears.
“Actually, just this much.”

“Stay here and rest,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile. “I’ll come back at noon.”

Xiang Xi had wanted to bring his literacy workbook, but then thought better of it —
a grown man, sitting in a hospital bed seriously learning ‘Mom went to the market’ — that was a bit embarrassing.
So he only brought a notebook and a pen.

Leaning against the bed, he wrote over and over the words he’d learned these past few days.
The handwriting was still ugly, but at least smaller now — no longer taking up two or three lines per word.

Close to noon, Fang Yin called.

“Not at work today?”

“Nope. What, you want to photograph me at work again? You’ve already shot me for days — still not satisfied?”

“None of them really captured the feeling. I wanted to take a couple more today,” said Fang Yin.
“You have the day off?”

“Not exactly — I took leave,” Xiang Xi said. “They’re taking the screws out of my leg this afternoon. Surgery.”

“Oh, really?” Fang Yin paused a moment. “I’ll come and see you then.”

“What are you looking at, huh? You’re here to take a few more shots, aren’t you?”
Xiang Xi glanced at the time, hesitated a moment, then said, “Fine, if you come right now it’s okay — but you’ve got to leave before the doctor comes at noon. I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Got it, I’ll be there right away,” Fang Yin replied.

*

After lunch, Cheng Boyan went back to his office, finished up the remaining medical records, and then headed to the ward.

On the way, he ran into a patient hiding near the elevator window, sitting in a wheelchair and sneakily smoking.

“Uncle,” Cheng Boyan walked over, plucked the cigarette straight from his mouth, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “How many times have I told you!”

“Hey!” The man reached toward the trash can, clearly heartbroken.

“Where’s your pack? Where did you even get that cigarette?” Cheng Boyan asked, frowning.

“It’s gone!” The man patted the armrest of his wheelchair. “I’d hidden that one last stick — and you threw it away!”

“Good. It deserved to be thrown out.” Cheng Boyan clapped his hands and called over a nurse’s aide who had just returned from washing dishes. “Don’t let him smoke again. He just sneaked one.”

“You’re hopeless!” the aide scolded as she wheeled the man back to his ward.

“But I wanted to enjoy the scenery!” the man shouted.

“Then look from your room!” the aide retorted. “You came out here just to smoke! Talking about ‘enjoying the scenery’ — so cultured, huh? You don’t care a bit about your health!”

Cheng Boyan laughed to himself and continued on toward the wards.

When he passed the elevator again, the doors opened and a man rushed out, carrying a large black shoulder bag — nearly bumping straight into him.

“Sorry, sorry!” the man said quickly, apologizing over and over as he strode down the hall toward the wards.

“It’s okay.” Cheng Boyan glanced at the bag and frowned.

It was a camera bag.

When Fang Yin entered the ward, Xiang Xi was lying back in bed, resting a notebook on his legs and writing. He looked up just in time to see Fang Yin pull a camera from his bag.

“Hey…” Xiang Xi sighed.

“Keep writing,” Fang Yin said, clicking the shutter twice.

“That’s enough, get going,” Xiang Xi muttered, scratching a few more lines in the notebook. When he heard the shutter again, he looked up. “We done here?”

“Can you eat?” Fang Yin asked, packing away the camera. “If not, I could get you something.”

“No need. They said I have to fast for eight hours — I didn’t even eat breakfast,” Xiang Xi replied.

“All right then. Rest well after they take out the pins.”
Fang Yin patted his shoulder, then took out an envelope and set it on the bedside table.
“That’s your pay for the past few days. I’ll head out — I’ll call before I come by next time.”

“Mm.” Xiang Xi picked up the envelope and tucked it into his bag beside the bed.

Cheng Boyan was standing by the ward door.
He watched Fang Yin come out, then followed him down the hall.

At the elevator, Fang Yin pressed the button and glanced at his phone to check the time.

“Mr. Fang.” Cheng Boyan called from behind.

“Huh?” Fang Yin turned. “Were you talking to me?”

“Fang Yin?” Cheng Boyan looked straight at him.

“Yes.” Fang Yin nodded. “And you are…?”

“No photography allowed in the ward,” Cheng Boyan said.

“Ah—” Fang Yin froze for a moment. “Sorry, I didn’t know that rule. I’m… Xiang Xi’s friend. I just came to visit.”

“I see.” Cheng Boyan smiled faintly.

Fang Yin pulled out a business card and handed it over with both hands. “Please, let’s stay in touch.”

Cheng Boyan took the card, glanced at it, and slipped it into his pocket. “Xiang Xi’s surgery is very simple, nothing to worry about.”

“All right.” Fang Yin nodded, then hesitated before asking, “How did you know my name?”

“I’ve seen your work,” Cheng Boyan replied.

“Oh, I see.” Fang Yin smiled. “May I have your surname?”

“Cheng.” Cheng Boyan pointed at the elevator. “It’s here.”

“Ah, thank you.” Fang Yin stepped inside. “If you’re interested, Dr. Cheng, I’d appreciate your feedback.”

“Will do.” Cheng Boyan smiled again, then turned away.

Back in the ward, Xiang Xi was sitting up, spinning his notebook in one hand and his pen in the other.

“What, switching careers to join a circus?” Cheng Boyan joked.

“Pretty cool, right?” Xiang Xi grinned, still spinning the notebook.

“Impressive,” Cheng Boyan said. “I can do that too.”

“No way! Show me,” Xiang Xi tossed the notebook over. “Let’s see.”

Cheng Boyan balanced the notebook on his index finger and gave it a spin. The notebook began to whirl, faster and faster, as he flicked it lightly.

“…Not bad,” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue in admiration.

“Back in school,” Cheng Boyan said, smiling as he watched the notebook spin, “I used to spin books so much I wore holes in the pages.”

“What about adding the pen?” Xiang Xi handed him the pen.

“No idea, let’s try.” Cheng Boyan took the pen and gave it a twirl —
it immediately flew out of his fingers and smacked Xiang Xi right in the forehead.

“Ow!” Xiang Xi yelped, clutching his forehead. “Right on target!”

“Sorry!” Cheng Boyan stopped quickly and reached out to rub the spot. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really — just startled me,” Xiang Xi laughed. “Guess you’re not that good after all.”

“Mm,” Cheng Boyan nodded. “I’ll tell Song Yi — forget the supermarket, I’m off to join the acrobat troupe.”

“You’re nuts,” Xiang Xi flopped back on his pillow. “Check out my notes — see if my handwriting’s improving.”

Cheng Boyan flipped through the notebook. In just a few days, Xiang Xi had filled almost a third of it — partly because his letters were so big, but he’d definitely been practicing a lot.

“Looks better and better toward the end,” Cheng Boyan said, giving a thumbs-up.
“You could almost write your name on a uniform now.”

“I’ll practice a bit more,” Xiang Xi said with a grin.

“Someone came to see you earlier, right?” Cheng Boyan set down the notebook. “I think I saw someone leaving this room.”

“Huh?” The smile on Xiang Xi’s face froze for a split second before returning. “That photographer I mentioned before — he just came… to check on me.”

“Oh,” Cheng Boyan smiled faintly. “You two still in touch?”

“Once in a while,” Xiang Xi rubbed his nose, smiling. “He’s got a friend in this hospital too. He heard I was having the pins taken out, so he stopped by to say hi — we chatted a bit. He even wanted to buy me food.”

Xiang Xi’s lying skills were still refined to the level of the furnace fire (NT: idiom, as smooth as ever).
If Cheng Boyan hadn’t been watching his face closely — catching that fleeting flicker in his expression — those words would have sounded completely natural, flowing like clouds and water (NT: idiom meaning “smooth, effortless, and natural,” often used to praise someone’s speech or actions for their seamless flow).

Cheng Boyan didn’t ask further. Xiang Xi clearly didn’t want him to know about this matter, and whatever the reason, Cheng Boyan didn’t press.

“Rest for a bit; the nurse will come before the surgery,” Cheng Boyan said.

“Mm,” Xiang Xi nodded.

After Cheng Boyan left the ward, Xiang Xi let out a sigh. He didn’t know whether Cheng Boyan believed what Fang Yin had told him.

Xiang Xi scratched his head, closed his eyes, and worried Cheng Boyan might sense something.

But he still didn’t want Cheng Boyan to know he had Fang Yin following him every day to take photos. It wasn’t a pleasant thing — he didn’t want Cheng Boyan to think that while he was trying to escape his past, he was simultaneously letting Fang Yin observe his life using that past as a reference.

A hard-to-describe frustration lingered.

*

The surgery was scheduled for three in the afternoon. The nurse came at noon for routine checks, helped him change into the surgical gown, and said: “Don’t wear your pants.”

“Ah?” Xiang Xi was startled, instinctively grabbing his waistband.

“What’s wrong?” the nurse laughed. “You can’t wear pants during surgery either.”

“I thought it was just rolling up my pant legs…” Xiang Xi suddenly remembered his previous surgery. “Sister! Was my last surgery like this too?”

“Yes, it’s always like this. Last time, you didn’t even have surgical clothes — that injury was serious. This time, it’s just removing the pins, a minor procedure. Don’t worry,” the nurse said.

“…Oh.” Xiang Xi murmured.

When Xiang Xi was pushed into the operating room, he felt a mixture of emotions. Last time, after surgery, he had been in all sorts of discomfort, never thinking about these small details. Now, seeing Cheng Boyan in the operating room, he felt a little embarrassed.

“Don’t be nervous,” Cheng Boyan said.

“I’m not nervous…” Xiang Xi frowned and glanced down at his legs.

Cheng Boyan followed his gaze, then suddenly laughed. “Surgery is always like this.”

“Don’t laugh!” Xiang Xi whispered, glancing at the anaesthetist. The anesthetist had previously chatted with him, asking about his weight, and Cheng Boyan was quite familiar with him.

“It will hurt a little,” the anesthetist said, “but it’ll be over soon.”

Xiang Xi had always been tolerant of pain. The anaesthetic's sting was nothing to him, and it wouldn’t last long. It was only the sound of Cheng Boyan preparing the surgical tools that made him slightly nervous.

“You can sleep a bit,” Cheng Boyan said, standing beside the bed.

“Can I really sleep…?” Xiang Xi closed his eyes. “This noise alone is scary.”

“Then close your eyes and recite your lessons. I’ll keep you company,” Cheng Boyan joked.

“Damn,” Xiang Xi laughed.

The surgery wasn’t as frightening as he thought. His lower body had no sensation; if he hadn’t been hearing the noise, he would have thought it hadn’t even started.

Xiang Xi kept his eyes closed. He had wanted to peek at Cheng Boyan during surgery but felt too embarrassed. Even though Cheng Boyan’s attention was on his legs, he thought opening his eyes would make it too obvious that he was lying his butt naked.

Thinking about it made him chuckle a little. If he kept his eyes closed, was he really still naked in front of Cheng Boyan?

Lost in these random thoughts, he gradually became drowsy.

He didn’t know when the surgery ended. Only when the nurse pushed him back to the ward did he sleepily ask: “Finished?”

“Mm, it’s done,” the nurse replied.

“I think I fell asleep,” Xiang Xi said, seeing Cheng Boyan standing by the bed and smiling.

“I told you it was a minor surgery, very simple,” Cheng Boyan bent over. “Now lie flat. You might feel a little headache or nausea — that’s normal. If it’s uncomfortable, tell the nurse.”

“I feel like vomiting already,” Xiang Xi muttered.

“It’s okay,” Cheng Boyan touched his face gently. “Rest well.”

Cheng Boyan’s hands were warm. When he touched Xiang Xi’s face, Xiang Xi felt a wave of comfort and squinted slightly. He even said without thinking: “Touch it again.”

Cheng Boyan paused, surprised. Xiang Xi immediately realized he had spoken out of impulse and quickly glanced at the nurse. Luckily, no one noticed.

“Lie still,” Cheng Boyan flicked his finger lightly on his face. “I need to check other wards. I’ll come back when I’m done. If you feel uncomfortable, tell the nurse.”

“Mm,” Xiang Xi closed his eyes again.

Like his previous surgery, he only mentioned nausea once at the start, then stayed obediently lying flat while Cheng Boyan went on his rounds.

When Cheng Boyan returned after his shift, Xiang Xi was asleep.

Cheng Boyan had some food, then came back and sat by the bed for over an hour. Xiang Xi didn’t wake up. Cheng Boyan figured he would sleep through until morning, then went home.

At home, Cheng Boyan tidied up and sat at his computer. He originally just wanted to browse casually, but opening the browser reminded him of the photos he’d seen last night and Fang Yin’s eloquent yet somehow uncomfortable writing.

He clicked his tongue and pulled out Fang Yin’s business card.

He stared at the phone number on the card for a long time before finally dialing.

“Hello,” Fang Yin answered.

“Mr. Fang, hello. My surname is Cheng,” Cheng Boyan said. “We met at the hospital today.”

“Ah, Dr. Cheng, hello,” Fang Yin sounded surprised. “Is there something you called about?”

“If you don’t mind,” Cheng Boyan twirled a pen on his desk. “Can we talk?”

“About what?” Fang Yin asked.

“About Xiang Xi’s 30-day project.” Cheng Boyan opened the blog.

Fang Yin was silent for a moment, then said: “He mentioned a friend he stayed with before — that must be you, right?”

“Probably,” Cheng Boyan said.

“What aspect do you want to discuss?” Fang Yin asked again. “The purpose of the project?”

Fang Yin was clever — Cheng Boyan could tell he had already guessed the reason for this call.

“I just want to understand why you sought out Xiang Xi,” Cheng Boyan said.

Translator : DarNan