This Mantou—Xiang Xi didn’t mention him very often, but Cheng Boyan knew that he counted as Xiang Xi’s friend. He knew that Mantou had wanted to run, but seemingly hadn’t managed to get away.

He also knew that because they’d had similar experiences yet were now walking completely different paths, Xiang Xi cared deeply about him.

“He doesn’t run fast,” Xiang Xi said, squatting by the roadside and watching the cars coming and going, his brows knitted. “He must be hiding somewhere.”

Actually, he ran fairly fast. Cheng Boyan still remembered the time Xiang Xi had picked his wallet—he’d only turned his head and Xiang Xi was already gone. But this time, even though Mantou had started running first, Xiang Xi still hadn’t caught up despite his speed. He had probably hidden somewhere.

“Why do you have to find him?” Cheng Boyan asked, standing beside him. He glanced around, wanting to find somewhere to buy Xiang Xi a bottle of water.

“Did I ever tell you,” Xiang Xi smiled faintly, “he took Er Pan’s money —thirty thousand—and only then ran. It was just a few days before I went to the parking lot to look for you.”

“Mm.” Cheng Boyan responded.

“Actually, I don’t even know why I insist on finding him,” Xiang Xi took a breath and slowly let it out. “I just want to know what’s going on with him—why he turned out like this, why he didn’t leave, the money! He took so much money—why didn’t he manage to leave? He wanted so badly to go home…”

“Does Mantou have a real name?” Cheng Boyan asked.

“He does. Li Zhenjie. He even wrote it out for me once,” Xiang Xi turned his head. “Am I being a bit crazy?”

“Only normally crazy,” Cheng Boyan said, gripping his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “Within a range I can understand.”

Cheng Boyan stayed with Xiang Xi by the roadside for a while, bought him a bottle of water, and then followed the route Mantou had taken when he fled, circling through several alleys and small streets.

“If he’s hiding somewhere,” Cheng Boyan rested his hand on Xiang Xi’s shoulder, half-pushing him forward as Xiang Xi looked listless: “and if he hasn’t gone far, he might have already seen you by now. Maybe he even knew it when you chased him earlier… If he wants to see you, he’ll come find you.”

In truth, Cheng Boyan didn’t want Xiang Xi to have any more contact with that Mantou. He didn’t want Xiang Xi to invite trouble again because of past experiences. But he still didn’t directly drag Xiang Xi away.

“Maybe,” Xiang Xi sighed softly, then smiled. “I was even thinking—if he really went home, found his parents, and then came back someday to show off to me, what if he couldn’t find me?”

“He’ll go back,” Cheng Boyan said. “Who knows—maybe one day he really will come looking for you to show off.”

“Then I’d definitely give him a good scolding,” Xiang Xi chuckled twice. “Just to spite me—knowing full well I don’t even know where to go to find my own parents.”

Xiang Xi’s smile was a little forced. He was stubborn about keeping the tear mole on his face and carefully guarding the pendant now locked away in a cabinet at his home. Cheng Boyan could feel his longing for family and parents.

“Let’s go eat,” Cheng Boyan patted his back.

“Mm, to the snack street…” Xiang Xi nodded, then froze when he looked over at him. “Hey—where are those flyers?!”

“I threw them when I chased after you,” Cheng Boyan smiled. “I can help you grab another round later.”

Xiang Xi thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Forget it. They’re too expensive. I want to earn more money, but earning - and then spending a big pile of it—I can’t quite bear that.”

“If you really can learn something, it’s not a loss—that’s called an investment,” Cheng Boyan said. “I’ll think about it for you too.”

The food on the snack street wasn’t very good, but its strength lay in the huge traffic. Even if the taste wasn’t great, vendors never worried about sales. Fortunately, Xiang Xi wasn’t picky about food—being full was enough.

Cheng Boyan ate with some difficulty. Although his sense of taste was also somewhat dulled, the snack street’s way of eating—no water, bowls wrapped entirely in plastic bags—made him uncomfortable. He put his chopsticks down after only half a plate of fried rice.

“Finish it—don’t waste,” Xiang Xi said, burying his head as he finished his own plate of fried noodles. When he looked up, he saw Cheng Boyan’s plate still covered with a layer of fried rice.

“I’m done,” Cheng Boyan said. “If I keep eating, it feels like I’m eating plastic bags.”

“Being this picky—how did you even grow up this big…” Xiang Xi hadn’t been full yet and had wanted a couple of grilled wings, but now he directly pulled Cheng Boyan’s plate over. “I’m not afraid of eating plastic bags.”

Cheng Boyan handed him a napkin. “Have some more of this too.”

After they finished eating, it was already afternoon. Cheng Boyan was on night duty, so he dropped Xiang Xi off at the supermarket and prepared to head to the hospital.

“You’re not going home? Isn’t it too early to go now?” Xiang Xi asked. “Won’t you get bored?”

“Going home and then heading out again is too much trouble,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile. “Once I get to the hospital, there’s naturally a pile of things to do. Whenever you go, there’s always work—no time to be bored.”

“That’s exhausting. Your arm’s still injured,” Xiang Xi hesitated, then pointed toward the supermarket. “Do you want to come sit at my place for a bit?”

Cheng Boyan looked at him and smiled. Just as he was about to speak, Xiang Xi suddenly pushed open the car door and jumped out. “Forget it. You go to the hospital.”

“Think about the training class thing some more,” Cheng Boyan leaned out of the car window.

“Mm,” Xiang Xi nodded, then took two steps away before stopping, running back to the car and saying softly, “My clothes are still at your place, right?”

“Come get them whenever you have time,” Cheng Boyan suggested. “I’ve already washed them.”

“Oh,” Xiang Xi responded. “You… washed my underwear too?”

“If I didn’t wash them, was I supposed to throw them away?” Cheng Boyan looked at him.

“I was actually afraid you’d throw out even my clothes,” Xiang Xi muttered quietly, then patted the car door. “Alright, go to the hospital.”

As for Xiang Xi signing up for training classes, Cheng Boyan didn’t particularly mind. If Xiang Xi wanted to sign up, then do it; if not, then don’t. In Cheng Boyan’s view, most of those training classes were more about muddling through than real substance.

What really made him spend time thinking was Xiang Xi’s desire to learn another skill—to get a better job and earn more money.

He had always worried that Xiang Xi would become content with the status quo. Someone who came out of Zhaojiayao, a street punk who knew nothing proper except cheating and rigging—having a supermarket job like this would probably already seem pretty good. But over time, the monotonous work and just-enough-to-get-by wages might push away Xiang Xi’s original drive to keep moving forward.

Now that Xiang Xi was having thoughts like these, Cheng Boyan felt quite comforted.

It was just that deciding what else to learn would need careful thought.

However, for several days in a row Xiang Xi showed no movement at all. When Cheng Boyan called and asked about it, he only said that he was still thinking.

“I need to think things through thoroughly,” Xiang Xi said very seriously.

Cheng Boyan didn’t know how deep this “thinking” still had to go, how “thorough” this consideration needed to be, or exactly what he was supposed to be thinking about—but he didn’t plan to rush him.

“I don’t have any clothes to change into anymore,” Xiang Xi added. “I want to go to your place to get my clothes. Is tomorrow okay?”

“I’m on duty tomorrow,” Cheng Boyan said. In fact, he wasn’t on duty, but his grandma had summoned all her sons and daughters to go eat at her place. He didn’t want to tell Xiang Xi—he was afraid Xiang Xi would think again about Mantou and family and such. “How about the day after tomorrow?”

“Sure. Oh, right,” Xiang Xi said. “One of my coworkers made some chocolate for me. I’ll bring it over for you to try—it’s really good. I also asked how it’s made. If you like it, I can make it for you.”

“…You watched people cook noodles and still couldn’t make the same thing, and you think just by asking you can make chocolate?” Cheng Boyan had completely given up any expectations of Xiang Xi’s cooking skills by now. That was also why he had immediately vetoed learning cooking as a training option.

“Just try it. Who knows—maybe I’m no good at main-dish cooking but great at pastry,” Xiang Xi laughed so hard he was practically cackling. “But I’d have to buy a set of molds first, all kinds of shapes—pretty fun. Later, when you cook, you can press the food into the molds and then take it out to eat… But where do you even buy this stuff?”

“I have some. Come over and play with them when the time comes,” Cheng Boyan proposed.

There really were molds—but they weren’t Cheng Boyan’s. They belonged to Tudui, Old Auntie’s kid. Cheng Boyan had seen them at Grandma’s place: this chubby little kid had pestered Grandma into buying them, then never used them even once.

Unused or not, when Cheng Boyan took the set of molds out of Grandma’s kitchen cabinet, Tudui took one look and immediately started wailing, “Mine! They’re all mine!”

“I’m just taking a look,” Cheng Boyan said. He had originally planned to take them directly, but seeing Tudui like this, he figured there was no way he could take them. So he patted Tudui on the head, preparing to put the molds back.

“Don’t touch me! Who said you could look! Why are you looking at my things!” Tudui punched him in the leg.

Cheng Boyan stopped the motion of putting the molds back. He lowered his head and looked at him, then held the mold box out in front of him and opened it, taking out two pieces and tossing them in his hands.

They were all stainless steel, and the quality was pretty good.

“Go die!” Tudui kicked hard at the back of Cheng Boyan’s knee.

Cheng Boyan was nearly knocked down onto one knee by the kick. He patted his pants. “Why would I go die? I’m not going.”

“Graaaandma—!” Tudui shut his eyes and started yelling.

“What’s going on now!” Old Auntie ran into the kitchen. “Boyan, how do you always manage to make him cry!”

“I haven’t even made him angry yet, and he’s already crying,” Cheng Boyan said, shaking the mold box in Tudui’s direction. “I’ll buy it from you. Selling or not?”

“Not selling! Go die! I won’t sell it to you!” Tudui shouted.

“Cheng Boyan!” Mom raised her voice from the living room. “What are you doing again!”

“One hundred. Sell or not?” Cheng Boyan asked Tudui.

“…Not selling!” Tudui spat at him.

“Two hundred?” Cheng Boyan asked again.

“Sell it to him,” Old Auntie pushed Tudui. “Tell him to bring the money.”

“Selling it to you. Hand over the money,” Tudui said, sticking out his hand at him.

“You,” Cheng Boyan bent down to face him, “dream on. I don’t even want your crappy thing.”

Cheng Boyan put the box back into the cabinet, turned around, and walked out of the kitchen. Tudui threw a tantrum at Old Auntie in the kitchen, crying and making a scene.

“Are you sick in the head?” Mom was sitting in the living room chatting with Li Yan. When she saw him come out, she frowned. “You’re already thirty, and you bicker with a kid all day long. Are you out of your mind!”

“Yes,” Cheng Boyan said, smiling and nodding.

“Did you grab something from him?” Grandma asked from the side.

“Didn’t manage to grab it—just that set of cookie molds you bought for him before,” Cheng Boyan said.

“Oh my god, Boyan, you’re really something,” Li Yan burst out laughing as soon as she heard. “Crazy! What do you want that for?”

“To play,” Cheng Boyan smiled.

“You’re going to anger your old Aunt to death,” Grandma frowned. “They sell that right downstairs at the supermarket. Go buy it yourself.”

“Downstairs?” Cheng Boyan bent down, wrapped an arm around Xiaoxi—who was lying on the sofa—and lifted her up. “Xiaoxi, come with Uncle to buy candy, okay?”

“Okay,” Xiaoxi was tucked under his arm and immediately started giggling, flailing her arms and legs. “Big brother buys candy.”

“Uncle,” Cheng Boyan corrected her as he carried her out the door.

“Uncle buys candy,” Xiaoxi said happily, waving her arms.

The small shabby supermarket downstairs actually did have molds, and several kinds at that. Cheng Boyan saw one that was exactly the same as Tudui’s set—a medium-sized one.

He thought for a moment, then took the biggest set. It had almost twice as many different shapes as Tudui’s.

Really childish… Cheng Boyan smiled to himself.

Li Yan didn’t let Xiaoxi eat much sweet food, so Cheng Boyan only bought her some milk candies. After thinking it over, he also bought a bag of Tudui’s favorite beef jerky.

Xiaoxi was very easy to please. With a milk tablet in her mouth, she held Cheng Boyan’s hand and hopped all the way back.

When they returned to Grandma’s place, Tudui immediately kicked up a fuss when he saw the large set of molds and then saw that Xiaoxi had snacks. Cheng Boyan handed him the beef jerky.

“I don’t want anything you bought!” Tudui shouted.

“Then put it on the table. I’ll eat it myself later,” Cheng Boyan said.

Tudui ran over, grabbed the beef jerky and ran off.

Today the whole family was gathered pretty completely— even the eldest uncle, who was usually so busy he was never seen, had come back. Right now he was chatting with Dad, each holding a tin of tea leaves.

“This is the kind I told you about last time,” Eldest Uncle tapped the tin. “Actually it’s a bit more astringent than the one I gave you before, but if I remember right, you like it a little astringent?”

“Mm,” Dad nodded. “Yes. Otherwise it tastes too bland to me.”

“When you’ve got time, the two of us should go sit at his tea estate,” Eldest Uncle said. “He sank quite a bit of capital into it—made it look pretty legit. A few days ago he was even talking about finding someone to perform Chinese-style tea ceremony. No idea if he managed to find anyone.”

“Chinese-style tea ceremony?” Dad thought for a moment. “You don’t really see formal performances of that very often. Isn’t it usually Japanese tea ceremony?”

“Isn’t that so,” Eldest Uncle laughed. “There aren’t many people who play with the Chinese style. But these days a lot of tea estates want to do this kind of thing. An old man sitting there, arranging and arranging the tea, all immortal-like air and bone —it’s got flavour.”

Cheng Boyan had been teasing Xiaoxi. Hearing this, he paused, put Xiaoxi down on the sofa, and sat next to Eldest Uncle. “Boss.”

“Hey, you’re not playing with little angel Xiaoxi anymore?” Eldest Uncle laughed and patted his leg. Cheng Boyan had called him “Boss” since he was little, and Eldest Uncle laughed every time he heard it. “You want to go drink tea with us?”

“I want to go take a look— that Chinese-style tea art,” Cheng Boyan said.

“Oh, then you’ll have to wait until they find someone. People who really do tea beautifully are hard to find now,” Eldest Uncle said.

“Is there anywhere to learn it?” Cheng Boyan asked again.

“There is. Over by the Tea Research Institute,” Eldest Uncle said. “Don’t be fooled by how few people study it— that old man is very picky. If he doesn’t feel a connection, he won’t let you learn from him.” He sized Cheng Boyan up. “You want to learn? Honestly, someone like you—put on a long gown and sit there, you’d really look the part.”

“A white lab coat?” Mom chimed in from across the room. “Our family has three of those. You could line them up in a row.”

Everyone in the room burst out laughing.

“Boss, I’ll call you again later,” Cheng Boyan said to Eldest Uncle with a smile. “You can tell me about it in detail then.”

“Sure!” Eldest Uncle loved drinking tea, and when someone was willing to talk about these things with him, he was especially happy.

Whether Xiang Xi was interested in tea or in learning Chinese-style tea ceremony, Cheng Boyan didn’t actually know. But he felt that learning this might work out—there were few people who did it, and tea estates nowadays, if they wanted to cultivate a certain taste or style, were all willing to include projects like this.

The next day, when Xiang Xi came in carrying a huge bag full of who-knows-what, Cheng Boyan stared at him for a moment, imagining what Xiang Xi would look like sitting behind a tea table, playing with tea.

“Give me a hand,” Xiang Xi shouted. “Otherwise I’m just putting it on the floor, and don’t blame me then.”

“Your clothes are in the study,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile as he took the bag. That shout instantly shattered his imagination—almost to the point of mental mosaic censorship. Xiang Xi sitting cross-legged behind a tea table, holding a teapot in one hand and yelling, “You drinking or not, you mother—!”

Just thinking about it made Cheng Boyan laugh uncontrollably. Carrying the bag, he laughed all the way into the kitchen.

“What were you laughing so hard about just now?” Xiang Xi asked as he changed clothes and came into the kitchen. “Is making chocolate really that funny?”

“No, I thought of something else,” Cheng Boyan said, smiling. “Do you drink tea?”

“Your mint tea?” Xiang Xi asked.

“No.” Cheng Boyan took out a few small packets of tea leaves he’d grabbed from Eldest Uncle’s bag yesterday. “Black tea.”

“Sure. Chocolate with tea…” Xiang Xi laughed. “You drink tea too?”

“Not much. Do you like it?” Cheng Boyan opened the bag and took a look. Inside was a whole bar of chocolate and several small jars—walnut crumbs and the like.

“Wouldn’t say I like or dislike it. Before… Uncle Ping always drank it, and sometimes I drank along with him. Where are the molds? And get me a frying pan too.” Xiang Xi laid everything out neatly, then took out a small pink heart-shaped box. “This is what my coworker made. Try it.”

“Wash the pan first. It hasn’t been used in a while.” Cheng Boyan handed him the frying pan. When he saw the heart-shaped box, he paused. Opening it, he saw that the chocolates inside were exquisitely made, all heart-shaped. He glanced at Xiang Xi. “Female coworker?”

“Huh?” Xiang Xi was washing the pan. “Yeah. What guy would make this kind of stuff?”

“Aren’t you making it right now?” Cheng Boyan smiled. “Did this female coworker give them to everyone, or just you?”

“She gave them to everyone. There are four of us on shift—she gave them to all of us,” Xiang Xi said. “Hurry up and taste it. There are two kinds—one with crushed peanuts, one with crushed walnuts.”

“All in boxes like this?” Cheng Boyan took out a piece and bit into it. It tasted pretty good, with added milk.

“No. Yu Baoquan’s was a round blue box, Zhang Xin’s was a flower-shaped one, bright red. Mine—” Xiang Xi stopped halfway through, turned his head to look at Cheng Boyan. “Mine is a pink heart.”

“Yes. A pink heart.” Cheng Boyan took another piece and put it into his mouth, crunching away.

“She…” Xiang Xi seemed to just realize it. “What does she mean by that?”

“How would I know.” Cheng Boyan took another piece and kept crunching.

“Hey, two pieces is enough. Leave some for me—if you eat all this, you won’t be able to eat what I make later!” Xiang Xi got a bit anxious seeing him eat piece after piece. “Are you hungry or what?”

“What’s it to you?” Cheng Boyan said. There were five pieces total in the box. He took out the remaining three and stuffed all of them into his mouth in one go.

“Hey! Are you crazy?” Xiang Xi’s eyes went wide.

“What,” Cheng Boyan said, looking at him, speaking indistinctly with his mouth full, “ you can’t bear to let someone else eat your little love cookies?”

“I…” Xiang Xi opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He stared at Cheng Boyan for a long time. “Fine. Eat it. I don’t want it.”

“Is this what you want?” Cheng Boyan took out the molds and opened them for him to see.

“Yes, these exactly.” Xiang Xi’s attention immediately shifted. He picked a few up and looked at them. “This one’s a cat head, this one’s a mouse, this one—”

“Use these.” Cheng Boyan took out three heart-shaped molds of different sizes and lined them up on the cutting board, then put all the other molds away.

Xiang Xi didn’t say anything. He stared at the three heart shapes for a full minute before finally turning to look at Cheng Boyan. “What does this mean?”

“Guess,” Cheng Boyan said, struggling to swallow a mouthful of chocolate. He turned and walked out of the kitchen. “Hey, I’m going to drink some water—this is choking me to death.”

“…You’re sick,” Xiang Xi muttered under his breath. He turned back and continued staring at the three heart-shaped molds.

He Xiaoru had said that making chocolate was very simple: melt the chocolate, add milk, then add crushed peanuts, crushed walnuts, and so on. After Xiang Xi finished the prep work, he took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator.

How much milk should he add?

Xiang Xi couldn’t remember. He Xiaoru didn’t seem to have said either—she’d just said “add a bit.” But how much exactly was “a bit”?

He mulled it over for a long time. Finally, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, planning to ask Cheng Boyan to help him look it up. But as soon as he entered the living room, before he could even speak, he discovered that Cheng Boyan was half-reclining on the sofa, already asleep, one arm draped over his eyes.

This was the first time Xiang Xi had ever seen Cheng Boyan asleep at this hour. He figured there must have been a lot of patients today. He stood there for a moment, then tiptoed over to the computer.
How much milk to add to milk chocolate—he’d just look it up himself.

The computer was on. Xiang Xi nudged the mouse and the screen lit up; before he arrived, Cheng Boyan had clearly been using it.

He glanced at the open page. Just as his hand was about to open a new tab, it stopped—this page looked a little strange. At first glance, it was full of photos.

What was this?

Xiang Xi stared at the words in the upper-left corner of the page, reading them character by character for quite a while.

When he finished reading, he froze.

Missing Persons Archive Database.

Who was Cheng Boyan searching for?

Xiang Xi glanced at Cheng Boyan, still asleep on the sofa, then looked back at the screen. On two pop-up pages, he saw the name Li Zhenjie.

Li Zhenjie? Xiang Xi’s hand trembled slightly. Cheng Boyan was searching for Mantou?

But it was obvious that neither of the two Li Zhenjies shown was Mantou. After the brief surge of excitement came a wave of disappointment.

When he saw another pop-up page, he suddenly felt like laughing.

The other page showed that Cheng Boyan had also searched for the name Li Mantou—of course, with no results.

Xiang Xi closed the pages. He stood in front of the computer for a long time, then tiptoed back to the sofa. Bending down, he lowered his head and stared steadily at Cheng Boyan.

 

Translator : DarNan