Xiang Xi had always thought his skin was pretty thick. After years of hustling, cheating, and scraping by, he’d been chased off, cursed at, and beaten up more times than he could count—yet never once had he felt this embarrassed.

But in moments like this, when two people were interacting in such a subtle, charged way, he felt it deeply: even “thick-skinned” came in different styles, each with its own model.
He belonged to the doing-bad-things kind of thick skin.

Cheng Boyan belonged to the playing-the-rogue kind of thick skin.

And not just any model.

A premium one.
The extra-thick kind.

Xiang Xi had never really thought through the nature of his relationship with Cheng Boyan—or rather, how he felt about Cheng Boyan, and how Cheng Boyan felt about him. If Cheng Boyan wanted to kiss him, touch him… he wouldn’t refuse. He’d even find it pleasant. His heart would speed up, his face would flush, he’d feel excited.

But once those things were said out loud, he felt unbearably shy.

I want to kiss you.
Tongue exercice.
And even file a report.

He had no idea how thick-skinned Cheng Boyan managed to say things like that with a straight face. Xiang Xi just stared at him for a long while, unable to decide whether he should say “approved” or “not approved.”

In the few seconds while he was still turning it over in his head, Cheng Boyan had already leaned in, his lemon-scented breath brushing across Xiang Xi’s face.

“I haven’t approved it yet,” Xiang Xi said, staring straight at the bridge of his nose.

“I’m just filing it casually,” Cheng Boyan said. He braced one hand against the wall above Xiang Xi’s head and lightly touched his lips, his voice very low. “Whatever you approve makes no difference.”

Xiang Xi felt a little dizzy—he didn’t know if it was from being cross-eyed or from Cheng Boyan’s pleasant, low whisper. He didn’t speak again.

He leaned forward slightly to meet him, and Cheng Boyan’s lips pressed close in response.

“Moving the tongue” wasn’t unfamiliar to Xiang Xi. Cheng Boyan had done it before.
But this time felt completely different.

There was no shock, no panic. When Cheng Boyan’s tongue gently pushed in between his teeth, Xiang Xi only felt his heartbeat jump from thump-thump to thump-thump-thump-thump, then race forward like a trigger had been pulled—da-da-da-da-da-da—dragging his breathing into chaos along with it.

Good thing he didn’t have a cold—otherwise he’d probably have sprayed snot everywhere.

And then gotten beaten up by Cheng “Germaphobe Ninth Dan.”

Xiang Xi’s thoughts were a complete mess. Cheng Boyan’s tongue, flipping, stirring, teasing inside his mouth, touching and tangling again and again, made his body feel like there was a loach on fire writhing inside him, twisting and winding—everything it passed burned hot.

Cheng Boyan’s hand slid to his waist, then slipped under his shirt, slowly gliding from his waist to his back. Xiang Xi hugged him, grabbing at his back through the fabric without even knowing what he wanted to do.

That single move made Cheng Boyan tighten the arm around his waist. His hand rubbed and kneaded hard at Xiang Xi’s back and waist, and the kiss stopped being gentle.

Sucking.
Nibbling.
Tongue tip.
Teeth.

Xiang Xi was starting to run out of air.

But that wasn’t the strongest sensation right now.

Clinging tightly to Cheng Boyan, responding to his advances and teasing, Xiang Xi’s whole body felt like it was on fire. All he wanted was to set Cheng Boyan on fire too.

The two of them burning fiercely together—
you burn, I burn; only when everyone burns does it count as real burning…

It wasn’t until Xiang Xi suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to cough—no matter how hard he tried to suppress it—that he reluctantly pushed Cheng Boyan away.

Cheng Boyan let go and looked at him from very close.

Xiang Xi pushed Cheng Boyan’s face aside, turned his head, and broke into a violent coughing fit. Already short of oxygen, coughing like that nearly made him black out.

“What’s wrong?” Cheng Boyan patted his back. “Did I lick your throat?”

“If you really licked my throat I’d be throwing up,” Xiang Xi bent over, half laughing, half coughing, taking a while to recover. Finally he leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. “No idea what happened—I just suddenly wanted to cough.”

“I’ve got to go,” Cheng Boyan glanced at the clock on the wall. “We kissed for two minutes.”

“…Are you bored out of your mind?” Xiang Xi didn’t even know what to say. “You time this stuff?”

“No,” Cheng Boyan smiled, straightening his clothes. He smacked Xiang Xi on the ass, then walked into the kitchen. “I just checked the time beforehand to see if I’d be late.”

“Then go already—aren’t you going to be late? Delayed by two whole minutes, how terrifying,” Xiang Xi followed him into the kitchen and saw Cheng Boyan bent over the sink washing his face. “I seriously surrender—are you going to brush your teeth too?!”

“No need,” Cheng Boyan said. “I’m just washing my face. I can’t go out with saliva all over my face.”

“Was there…?” Xiang Xi touched his own mouth.

“No idea.” Cheng Boyan leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Alright, I’m leaving. Keep the spare key from now on—no need to give it to the doorman. And remember to charge your phone.”

“Got it!” Xiang Xi shouted.

After Cheng Boyan left, Xiang Xi went to wash his face. It wasn’t really because there was anything to wash off—he just felt like his face was burning. In the mirror, his face was still flushed red, water droplets clinging to his skin. Looking at himself, he had the odd feeling that there was no need to wipe it dry—relying on the heat of his face alone, the water would probably evaporate in less than a minute.

He tugged down a towel and wiped his face, then licked his lips. The earlier sensations immediately surged back up, and he hurriedly rubbed his face again with the towel.

When he went to hang the towel back up, he realized he’d grabbed Cheng Boyan’s towel.

Heh heh heh—he laughed to himself for a good two minutes before finally turning around and heading back into the kitchen.

The soy milk maker beeped; the soy milk was done. Xiang Xi grabbed a bowl, poured himself one serving, and took a sip. The taste was pretty good, just a bit bland.

He added two spoonfuls of sugar, took the bowl, and sat down at the table in the living room.

The bread Cheng Boyan had bought was whole wheat—ugly-looking, but it tasted decent. Xiang Xi buried his head in eating, one mouthful of soy milk and one mouthful of bread. His mind was still a bit of a mess, and every now and then the feeling from earlier would pop back up, making his whole body shiver like he’d been shocked with electricity, sweat prickling up all over his skin…

It wasn’t until he reached for another piece of bread and felt an empty bag that he realized he’d eaten the entire loaf.

“Ah…”
He slumped forward onto the table, one hand rubbing his stomach.

Xiang Xi didn’t know whether Cheng Boyan had ended up being late, but by the time he got to the supermarket, he was a few minutes later than usual. Yu Baoquan had already opened the door and was sweeping outside.

“Sorry, sorry,” Xiang Xi ran over. “I’m late.”

“You’re not late—still not time yet,” Yu Baoquan looked at him. “You weren’t in the shop yesterday?”

“Yeah.” Even though Song allowed him to be out one or two nights a month, Xiang Xi still felt a bit embarrassed and took the broom from Yu Baoquan’s hands.

“Went to a friend’s place?” Yu Baoquan asked as he opened up the sun umbrella, then thought about it and laughed, lowering his voice. “Or were you out with a girl?”

“Just a friend’s place,” Xiang Xi said while sweeping. “And I was by myself.”

“Eh… boring.” Yu Baoquan laughed and went inside.

Xiang Xi finished tidying up the store, then took his phone into the small back room to charge it. When he powered it on, several of Cheng Boyan’s text messages and missed calls popped up.

Besides the ones from last night, there was another message sent half an hour ago.

-Did you save the photos yet?

Xiang Xi froze for a moment, then laughed and replied: -Didn’t save them. Forgot.

He’d gone to Cheng Boyan’s place yesterday specifically to save the photos from his camera—yet ended up doing nothing and coming back.

Well… not nothing.

Xiang Xi clicked his tongue and bounced in place once or twice. The earlier embarrassment was gone now; instead, he was starting to savour it a bit.
Pretty thick-skinned after all.

-You can come save them yourself when you have time. You’ve got the keys anyway.

Looking at Cheng Boyan’s message, Xiang Xi pulled the keys out of his pocket and examined them: the building entrance key, the apartment door key, plus two keys he didn’t even know the purpose of. They felt unexpectedly heavy in his hand.

Xiang Xi had never really had any concept of “keys.” He didn’t have keys that belonged to him. Even when renting, it was only after leaving Zhao Jiayao—holding a key that had passed through countless hands, with no sense of belonging attached.

But the set of keys in his palm now belonged to Cheng Boyan’s own place. No landlord, no tenants. He could go anytime. He could cook, eat, watch TV, wander around, sleep in the bedroom—sure, there was a chance of getting beaten up by the germaphobe king, but yesterday he hadn’t been beaten at all.

It felt great.

No more feeling of having nowhere to belong.

***

There’d been events at the stadium next to the supermarket these past couple of days. Business was booming—more people buying things, more people browsing, and naturally, more people trying to steal.

This was something Xiang Xi was very experienced with. He’d done plenty of it himself before.

Pocketing cigarettes, alcohol, whatever—not because he lacked money or needed them, just because it was convenient.

He and Yu Baoquan slowly patrolled the store, each responsible for half. Whether Yu Baoquan could recognize a thief, he wasn’t sure—but he definitely could.

For example, the young boy who came in just before noon.

He looked like a student from a nearby school. After coming in, he lingered around the small appliance shelves, slowly walking, occasionally picking things up to look at.

On the surface, he looked like a normal customer browsing, but Xiang Xi could tell for sure that he planned to steal something. He was tense, his eyes never really focusing on the item in his hands, and the “looking” act was a bit too deliberate.

Xiang Xi moved into the aisle one shelf over and slowly approached, watching him through the gaps between shelves.

Sure enough, after just a few steps, the boy picked up a palm-sized electric fan, opened the packaging “to test it,” and slowly shifted it toward the bag at his side.

“Hey,” Xiang Xi called out from the other side of the shelf, not loudly—just enough for him to hear. “You can’t open the packaging on that.”

The boy jumped, his hand jerking upward, panic written all over his face.

“There are demo units over at the cashier,” Xiang Xi pointed. “You can try those.”

“Oh.”
The boy put the fan back on the shelf, then—eyes darting—pretended to browse while slowly moving toward the exit. In the end, he walked out of the supermarket.

Xiang Xi went over, put the fan back into its box, and placed it neatly on the shelf.

It really was crowded today. Xiang Xi didn’t even get a moment all morning to lean against a shelf and rest. There were deliveries in the middle of it too, and he helped carry boxes for quite a while.

There were still plenty of customers at noon—lots of people buying snacks to eat. Even at lunchtime, they couldn’t afford to leave just one person out front, so they took turns eating one by one in the break room.

Xiang Xi was the last to go eat. When he came back out, the store was still busy.

“If the stadium has events every day, Brother Song’ll be over the moon,” Yu Baoquan said with a laugh.

“He won’t be happy at all,” Zhang Xin came over with a mop. “You don’t even see him these days. He showed up this morning, said there were too many people and it was annoying as hell, then ran off. One of you drag the floor at the entrance—someone spilled milk.”

“I’ll go.” Yu Baoquan took the mop and headed over.

There was a big puddle of milk at the entrance. Yu Baoquan mopped a few strokes, and someone nearly stepped right onto the mop as they came in. He quickly said, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the person replied.

Xiang Xi was reorganizing the shelves that had been rummaged through. The moment he heard that voice, he whipped his head around.

When he saw who had walked in, he almost couldn’t believe his eyes, barely managing not to shout out loud.

Mantou?

Mantou met his gaze. He didn’t greet him, didn’t show any expression—just like a regular customer, he walked along the food aisle toward the inside.

Xiang Xi hesitated, put the items in his hands away, and slowly followed him.

Mantou had lost a lot of weight. He used to joke about Xiang Xi being skinny, but now he was thin like a fishing rod—no, a broken fishing rod.

His clothes were filthy, like they hadn’t been changed in days. From three steps away, Xiang Xi could already smell the sour stench of sweat on him.

Mantou hadn’t been like this before. The two of them used to be pretty particular—having body odour was absolutely unacceptable.

“Isn’t there a milk-flavoured version of this?” Mantou picked up a box of biscuits, looked at it, then turned and asked.

“There is,” Xiang Xi nodded. He went over, grabbed a milk-flavoured box, and handed it to him, lowering his voice. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I knew you were here a long time ago,” Mantou said, looking down at the box, then picked up another one, comparing the two. “And I knew you were looking for me.”

Mantou’s acting was far more professional than that kid from earlier. He looked exactly like a normal customer chatting with a store clerk while choosing products.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Xiang Xi repeated, laser-focused on that one question.

“At first I couldn’t get away,” Mantou tapped his fingers against the box, speaking quickly. “Then I got sick—almost died. After that, Er Pan started looking for me again, so I just kept hiding, bouncing around. Someone said you’d run off. I figured it had to be because of me, so I wanted to find you…”

“Get to the point,” Xiang Xi said. “Where’s the money.”

“Tan Xiaokang swindled my money away. I can’t find him…” Mantou said this very calmly, as if—because it had already been over half a year—he had gone numb to it.

“Tan Xiaokang?” Xiang Xi almost failed to keep his voice down. His hand clenched hard into a fist, his knuckles cracking twice with sharp pa-pa sounds.

“Let’s not talk about it. It’s over,” Mantou said. “I came today to see you, to say goodbye.”
He put the box back on the shelf and picked up a smaller box of cookies.

“Where are you going?” Xiang Xi stared at Mantou’s face, sensing that something was off. “Going home?”

“I think you’re doing pretty well,” Mantou turned his head and looked at him. “You’re doing fine, Xiao Zhan. People like us—having a road to walk at all isn’t easy, especially when it’s a good road.”

Xiang Xi didn’t say anything.

“You always say I’m not your friend,” Mantou continued. “I thought about it—maybe it’s best if I’m not. No one saw me come here.”
Holding the cookies, he limped toward the cashier, then tilted his head and spoke softly: “You do well for yourself. Don’t ever look for me again. It’s enough that you know you treated me as a friend.”

Xiang Xi stood where he was, neither moving nor speaking, watching Mantou limp to the register, pay, and then slowly limp out of the supermarket with that small box of cookies.

The midday sun was blazing. The bleached-white sunlight was so dazzling it was almost impossible to keep one’s eyes open.

By the time Xiang Xi followed out through the supermarket doors, Mantou’s figure looked as if it had melted away, disappearing into the white glare that filled his entire field of vision.

Mantou might be heading for trouble.

That was Xiang Xi’s first thought.

But he didn’t ask any further questions, and he didn’t try to stop Mantou.

People are different. He was different from ordinary people in this world. He was trying, little by little, to merge into a “normal” life—because he had Cheng Boyan.

From the moment Cheng Boyan reached out his hand to him, he and Mantou had already become different.

Both of them had come from Zhao Jiayao, yet Mantou struggled as he slid toward another, different road—helpless, and seemingly unable to change it. That road ran parallel to Zhao Jiayao’s path, perhaps crossing it, perhaps sinking even lower.

And he was not Cheng Boyan.

He didn’t have the capital or the strength to reach out a hand to Mantou.

Even if he did reach out, he wouldn’t have the power to pull Mantou back. And if he overestimated himself and tried anyway, he might even make Cheng Boyan—who was already pulling him forward—stumble.

Mantou understood this too.

“You do well for yourself.” He said it twice.

They both had this kind of self-awareness: people like them walked roads like this. That was the norm. That was the trajectory for people like them. Even Uncle Ping and Er Pan followed such roads—different paths, same destination.

Those who managed to walk onto a “good” road were exceedingly rare.

Just as Xiang Xi couldn’t bear to let a “normal person” like Cheng Boyan be affected by him, Mantou also didn’t want Xiang Xi to be dragged back into the darkness.

Even when the whole world is full of light, if you’re careless, you’ll still run into shadow.

Xiang Xi stood in the shop all afternoon, watching customers come and go. He never saw Mantou again, nor anyone who resembled him.

In this world, the past he shared with Mantou, and the future Mantou alone would face—no one could really see any of it, as if it had never existed.

Between him and Mantou, that tiny fork in the road might mean they would never see each other again.

After getting off work, Xiang Xi took a shower, went out to buy some take-out, and sat in his small room eating while watching TV.

He couldn’t quite describe the feeling.

Helplessness was the strongest sensation.

***

Cheng Boyan didn’t get off work on time again today. When he called, it was already past eight.

“Have you eaten?” Cheng Boyan asked.

“I got off work on time,” Xiang Xi said, glancing at the take-out box on the table as he got up to throw it into the trash outside. “You’re tired today, right?”

“Yeah, really tired,” the fatigue in Cheng Boyan’s voice was obvious. “Are you coming over tonight to save the photos?”

“No, I won’t,” Xiang Xi sighed. “Go home, eat something, and sleep. Aren’t you afraid you’ll die from overwork?”

“Not that bad. I’ve gone three days without sleeping before and didn’t die,” Cheng Boyan laughed.
“Oh—there’s something I wanted to tell you. I asked the boss today about Old Mr. Lu’s address. Do you… still want to go find him?”

“Yes,” Xiang Xi answered without hesitation. “I want to go.”

Yes. He had to go.

“You do well for yourself.”
“You do well for yourself.”

Mantou’s voice echoed over and over in his ears.

That was right. Doing well for himself—this was the most important thing he could do and should do. Any opportunity that could help him stay on this “good road,” he couldn’t afford to miss.

“Then write it down,” Cheng Boyan said.

“Just text it to me,” Xiang Xi scratched his head. “If I try to write it out, I’ll still be writing tomorrow morning.”

“Oh right, I forgot,” Cheng Boyan yawned. “I’ll text you in a bit. I don’t even feel like eating—might as well just go home and sleep.”

At the mention of sleeping, Xiang Xi suddenly remembered he hadn’t changed Cheng Boyan’s bedsheets yet and immediately felt a little guilty. “I forgot to change your bedsheets.”

“I didn’t actually ask you to,” Cheng Boyan laughed. “I’ll change them myself tomorrow when I have time.”

“But can you stand it?” Xiang Xi asked worriedly.

“I told you, I don’t have a cleanliness obsession,” Cheng Boyan sighed.

“Can we not say things that sound obviously fake?” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. “You saying you don’t have a cleanliness obsession is as fake as me saying I’m super cultured.”

Cheng Boyan didn’t answer; Xiang Xi could only hear him laughing on the phone for a long while before he finally stopped.

“Can’t you at least be sincere as a human being,” Xiang Xi added.

“I’m not bantering anymore,” Cheng Boyan said with a laugh. “I’ll head back now. If I’m still not asleep by ten, I’ll call you.”

“Mm,” Xiang Xi responded.

“Give me a kiss,” Cheng Boyan suddenly lowered his voice.

“Huh?”
Xiang Xi froze. Cheng Boyan’s voice was already pleasant to begin with; lowered and carried through the phone, it sent electricity crackling from Xiang Xi’s right ear all the way down his arm, waist, and leg. He collapsed straight onto the bed.
“Ah—shit, I’m paralyzed…”

“Paralysed?” Cheng Boyan was caught off guard. After a few seconds he said, “That’s fine. Even if you’re paralysed, your mouth isn’t. Come on, give me a kiss.”

“Is this sexual harassment?” Xiang Xi laughed. “I’m paralysed… say a few more things. Lower your voice like that.”

“Why?” Cheng Boyan cooperated and lowered his voice even more.

“It sounds good,” Xiang Xi lay on the bed and closed his eyes. “Say a few more lines.”

“Xiang Xi, are you about to be completely charmed by me… handsome, great voice…”
Cheng Boyan murmured, somehow managing not to laugh.

“Shameless,” Xiang Xi said, laughing.

“Then I’ll say something with dignity,” Cheng Boyan laughed again, then continued softly.
“But what if I’m actually pretty shameless behind the scenes? How about I read you a few orthopedic case studies from a book…”

Xiang Xi didn’t respond. He didn’t really hear what came after that—he only felt Cheng Boyan’s voice lightly scratching at his ear, sounding very good, and very… sexy.

“…the treatment effect was unsatisfactory, so the patient was discharged home to rest for over ten days before being readmitted. Ozone therapy was administered. The superior cluneal nerve…”
Cheng Boyan kept reading something.

“I don’t understand it,” Xiang Xi whispered. In just that short time, listening to Cheng Boyan’s voice, an uncontrollable sensation welled up inside him. “That’s enough.”

“Hm?” Cheng Boyan stopped. “Had enough listening?”

“Yeah. Had enough. Go home,” Xiang Xi said. “Bye!”

Before Cheng Boyan could say anything, Xiang Xi hung up.

Then he tossed the phone onto the bed, rolled onto his side, curled his body slightly, and reached down to tug at his pants.

Damn…
He really was young and full of raging hormones.

 

Translator : DarNan