Cheng Boyan acted quickly. After speaking with Song Yi, the next day, as soon as Song Yi got off work, he called Xiang Xi into his office.

“This month’s salary,” Song Yi said, holding a cigarette in his mouth as he handed him an envelope, “I calculated it as full attendance, plus night shift subsidies and all that.”

“But I haven’t worked a full month yet.” Xiang Xi took the envelope, hesitating a little.

“There’s only a week left anyway, those few days don’t matter,” Song Yi said. “It’s not just you—when others leave here, I calculate full attendance for them too. Even if business doesn’t work out, goodwill remains.”

“Oh,” Xiang Xi smiled. “Thanks, Song ge. Really, thank you for everything during this time.”

“No need to be polite. When you’ve got money later, treat me to a meal,” Song Yi glanced at him. “But I’m not as easy to satisfy as Boyan—noodles and barbecue won’t cut it for me.”

“No problem,” Xiang Xi stuffed the envelope into his pocket and chuckled. “You can pick the place when the time comes.”

“Alright,” Song Yi picked up his car keys. “Got your stuff packed? I’ll take you over.”

“You’re even giving me a ride?” Xiang Xi froze for a moment. Cheng Boyan was about to get off work but had an emergency surgery case, so Xiang Xi had planned to just take a ride there himself. His former boss suddenly offering to drive him made it feel a bit over-the-top.

“Yeah, I am. Someone told me to take you to eat first, then deliver you to your place, and even watch you go inside safely,” Song Yi waved his hand. “Let’s go—food first.”

Xiang Xi had no choice but to grab his things and follow him to the car.

Song Yi drove differently from Cheng Boyan. Cheng Boyan drove steadily, never competing or cutting in. Song Yi… was also okay—he didn’t compete or cut in either—but he cursed. Whenever someone cut in or drove slowly and blocked the road, he would curse non-stop.

“See that kind of idiot? Cutting in at every gap, like squeezing ahead will make him ascend to immortality. But after three intersections, you’ll see he’s still just three cars ahead, ‘cultivating’ there, idiot,” Song Yi said irritably. “Someone like that should run into an e-bike that suddenly swerves into the fast lane—let them ‘practice’ together. After that, both will feel better.”

“Song ge,” Xiang Xi laughed, “this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.”

“Usually I’m very dignified,” Song Yi said. “But once I’m driving, I can’t keep it up. I have to curse—if I don’t vent, I might just chase them down and crash into them. That wouldn’t be good.”

“Like how it was between you and Lin He back then?” Xiang Xi asked casually, then immediately felt it was inappropriate and turned his head.

“Boyan told you, right?” Song Yi laughed. “Back then I rode a motorcycle, not an e-bike. Lin He insisted on provoking me—if I didn’t hit him, who would?”

“He seems to have a pretty good temper. If someone shoved my head into a car window and beat me, I definitely couldn’t take it,” Xiang Xi thought about it. “That’d be too humiliating.”

“He didn’t take it either. As soon as I let him go, he turned around and kicked me three times—so fast, really sneaky. He’s no saint either,” Song Yi said with a grin, then added after a moment, “Among our group, there’s only one ‘good bird’, and you happened to pick him up.”

“Really.” Xiang Xi suddenly felt a bit flustered hearing that, then wanted to laugh. A “good bird”? If Song Yi knew what he was like in private, who knew what he’d say.

Song Yi took him to a rather refined little restaurant for a meal. Just as they were about to leave, Song Yi’s phone rang. He took it out. “Probably Boyan.”

But it wasn’t Cheng Boyan. After listening for a couple of sentences, Song Yi frowned and said while walking, “No wonder you can’t even get a girlfriend. Doing something this simple is such a hassle—just two or three people, one or two months, it’s not like I asked you to lead a soccer team to Antarctica…”

Xiang Xi followed behind, unable to hear clearly, but it was a mix of scolding and sarcasm. Then Song Yi hung up.

Song Yi had definitely been in rough circles before—Xiang Xi could tell from the way he spoke. Not as extreme as those in Zhaojiayao, but more than just crude language. There was a bandit-like air about him—just like Xiang Xi himself.

Xiang Xi looked at his back. No matter what Song Yi used to be like, now he had a supermarket, drove a car, and lived a pretty good, stable life…

Maybe he could too. Opening a supermarket was too far off to imagine, but as long as he could get through this period, he should be able to truly settle down.

Learn tea, work at a tea house, take photos in his spare time—maybe even learn something else. Wander around a bit… and have Cheng Boyan. How nice.

“Get in,” Song Yi called from the car. “What are you thinking about?”

Xiang Xi smiled, snapped out of it, and got into the car.

Song Yi strictly followed Cheng Boyan’s instructions and drove Xiang Xi all the way to his door.

“Song ge, come in and sit for a bit?” Xiang Xi took out his key and opened the door.

“I’m not going into his place,” Song Yi said. “Entering that place is as troublesome as climbing onto the emperor’s bed. I’m leaving. Don’t go out—stay safe.”

“Mm,” Xiang Xi smiled. “Thanks, Song ge.”

Song Yi waved and turned into the elevator.

Xiang Xi closed the door, threw his bag on the floor, changed shoes, put them away neatly, rubbed his hands together, went into the study to change clothes, then came out and hung them properly in the cabinet by the door.

After finishing this whole sequence, he stood in the living room and laughed—it really was quite a hassle.

After taking the camera out of his bag and placing it on the desk, the rest were just clothes. He looked at them, hesitating where to put them. The study?

There wasn’t a closet in the study. Before, he had just thrown his bag stuffed with clothes beside the sofa—there weren’t many anyway… but now? Where should he put them?

After thinking for a long time, he still carried the bag into the study and dropped it beside the sofa.

Cheng Boyan hadn’t returned yet. Xiang Xi sat on the sofa watching the news for over an hour. The fire had already been reported on several channels, but there was no new progress. Just as Cheng Boyan had worried, the suspect was still at large.

Sitting cross-legged, he frowned at the TV. Did Uncle Ping and Er Pan run together as a pair, or split up?

Where could they even run to?

He had followed Uncle Ping for over ten years. Uncle Ping had never gone on the run before—he’d been caught a couple of times, but as a small-time local thug who stuck to petty scams and tricks, his crimes were never serious. He’d get out soon enough—no need to flee.

But this time… Xiang Xi suddenly had no idea where Uncle Ping could go.

Thinking about it, he felt something hard to describe. He didn’t know how Uncle Ping had viewed Er Pan in recent years, but Xiang Xi had watched Er Pan’s status steadily rise, day by day—until he finally pushed Uncle Ping to the point of having to flee.

If Er Pan wasn’t an undercover cop, then he had to be someone else’s mole—so dedicated and dutiful, it could bring tears to one’s eyes.

Only after the news ended and there was no more related coverage did Xiang Xi stand up, grab his clothes, and head to the bathroom to shower.

Everything in the bathroom was neatly arranged. Seeing his toothbrush and Cheng Boyan’s placed side by side in the holder made him want to laugh—Cheng Boyan had this habit, not necessarily perfect, but things had to be as symmetrical as possible.

He took off his clothes. It wasn’t as hot as before, and when the cold water hit his body, goosebumps rose all over. He quickly turned off the water to adjust the temperature.

“Xiang Xi!” Cheng Boyan’s voice came through the bathroom door, sounding like it came from the living room.

He’s back?

Xiang Xi instinctively grabbed a towel to cover himself, then realized the door was closed, so he dropped it and responded, “I’m showering!”

“Have you eaten?” Cheng Boyan’s voice came closer to the bathroom door.

“Yeah,” Xiang Xi said. After hesitating, he grabbed his pants and put them on, then opened the bathroom door. “Song Yi brought me here.”

“Mm,” Cheng Boyan leaned against the door frame and smiled. “Brought all your stuff?”

“Yeah, threw it in the study,” Xiang Xi felt an indescribable comfort seeing his smile. He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around him, stretching lazily while leaning on him. “Not much anyway.”

“Then go shower,” Cheng Boyan patted his back, then tugged his pants down slightly before letting go—the elastic snapped back with a snap against his butt.

“Are you crazy?!” Xiang Xi immediately let go of him, stepped back, and pulled up his pants.

“Go shower,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile.

“Mm,” Xiang Xi stood holding the door for two seconds. Seeing that Cheng Boyan didn’t move away, he nudged the door. “I’m showering, okay?”

“Go ahead and wash.” Cheng Boyan said calmly.

“I’m going to close the door—move aside.” Xiang Xi said.

“Oh,” Cheng Boyan finally moved away from the door frame. “Won’t let me watch?”

“What’s there to watch about someone showering!” Xiang Xi glared at him. Sometimes Cheng Boyan was just impossible.

“Alright then, go wash. I’ll watch some TV.” Cheng Boyan said. Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly turned back, stepped into the bathroom, and quickly reached out to lightly pinch Xiang Xi’s nipple.

Before Xiang Xi could react, Cheng Boyan had already jumped back out into the living room and lazily added, “Man, today’s surgery exhausted me—more tiring than carpentry work…”

“Cheng Boyan!” Only then did Xiang Xi snap back to his senses. A strange tingling numbness mixed with shock spread from his chest through his body. After shouting, he didn’t even know what to say. He covered his chest for a moment, then felt the gesture was kind of stupid, and quickly lowered his hand. “If you’re sick, go take your medicine!”

“I am taking it.” Cheng Boyan walked over holding a cup, with a few pills in his hand.

They were just the vitamins Cheng Boyan took every day. Xiang Xi was at a loss for words and slammed the bathroom door shut.

“Careful,” Cheng Boyan laughed from outside, “that door was just fixed.”

When Xiang Xi came out after showering, Cheng Boyan was leaning on the sofa, propping his head up with one hand, watching TV.

“Have you eaten?” Xiang Xi walked over and asked.

Cheng Boyan didn’t answer. Xiang Xi walked closer and saw his eyes were closed—he looked like he had fallen asleep.

“Cheng Boyan?” Xiang Xi called softly. “Doctor Cheng? Took your medicine… the kind for treating craziness…”

Cheng Boyan didn’t move.

Xiang Xi reached out and pushed his shoulder. “Cheng—”

Before he finished, Cheng Boyan suddenly snapped awake, as if startled. Before Xiang Xi could pull back, Cheng Boyan grabbed his wrist, pulled and twisted it.

Xiang Xi felt a numbness shoot through his arm, and the next second he was pinned face-down onto the sofa, his face pressed into the cushion.

“Nice… skills.” Xiang Xi said into the cushion, raising his other hand to give a thumbs-up.

“Did I hurt you?” Cheng Boyan was startled, jumping off the sofa. He really had fallen asleep—living alone for so long, when someone suddenly pushed him, his reflex was to think a thief had come in.

“No,” Xiang Xi stood up and shook his arm. “I didn’t even have time to get scared before I was already down.”

“There’s usually no one here,” Cheng Boyan pulled him over and rubbed his shoulders and arms. “Getting pushed like that out of nowhere startled me.”

“You’re not used to having someone else in the house, are you?” Xiang Xi looked at him.

“Having others, no. Having you—I’ll get used to it quickly.” Cheng Boyan rubbed his nose lightly against Xiang Xi’s forehead.

“Have you eaten?” Xiang Xi smiled.

“No,” Cheng Boyan dropped back onto the sofa. “I’ll just cook some noodles later.”

“I’ll cook,” Xiang Xi immediately said.

“…Suddenly I’m not that hungry anymore.” Cheng Boyan lay on the sofa and laughed.

“Egg noodles?” Xiang Xi ignored him and kept asking.

“With that much enthusiasm, why not mop the floor for me…” Cheng Boyan said.

“Then egg noodles it is,” Xiang Xi went into the kitchen. “I’ll add some vegetables too.”

Xiang Xi enthusiastically cooked noodles in the kitchen, refusing any “visiting”. Cheng Boyan didn’t want to watch either—Xiang Xi’s cooking process was a bit too challenging: when cutting vegetables, scraps would scatter everywhere, and cooking noodles would splash water all over the stove…

He went into the study, picked up Xiang Xi’s bag, took out the clothes, then went into the bedroom and hung them in the closet.

Back in the study, he looked at the sofa bed, unsure whether to set it up.

Xiang Xi liked staying close to him. As long as he didn’t get suffocated, it would be better to sleep together in the bedroom. But after just teasing him earlier, he wasn’t sure whether Xiang Xi would still want to stay close.

In the end, he didn’t set it up and returned to the living room.

Xiang Xi came out of the kitchen holding a bowl of noodles, proudly saying, “Didn’t burn it and didn’t ruin the pot. I saw some scallions in the fridge and added some—it smells pretty good. Try it!”

“Alright.” Cheng Boyan washed his hands and sat down.

The noodles smelled good. They looked… acceptable. The egg wasn’t broken, and with lettuce and scallions, it looked fresh—only the soup looked like plain water.

He picked up a bite, chewed it, then another bite, then took a sip of the soup.

“How is it?” Xiang Xi asked from across the table.

“Pretty good,” Cheng Boyan gave a thumbs-up. “Nice flavour, it’s just…”

“What?” Xiang Xi immediately sat up straight.

“Has my sense of taste completely failed?” Cheng Boyan took another sip. “Or did you not add salt?”

“I did,” Xiang Xi said. “Just a little. Didn’t you say three to five grams a day? I just pinched a few grains and put them in.”

“…A few grains? You even counted them?” Cheng Boyan laughed helplessly. “Even MSG isn’t measured grain by grain like that.”

“Too bland? I’ll add some.” Xiang Xi jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

“Bring soy sauce,” Cheng Boyan said. “Add some colour.”

“Okay,” Xiang Xi came back with the soy sauce bottle, opened it, and started pouring into the bowl while asking, “How much is enough?”

“That’s enough!” Cheng Boyan shouted.

Xiang Xi stopped and looked at the bowl. “I don’t see any colour yet?”

Cheng Boyan didn’t say anything. He lifted the noodles with chopsticks—the soup had turned brown. He glanced at Xiang Xi and said in a deliberately exaggerated tone, “Wow, what a surprise!”

Xiang Xi burst out laughing. “How did it suddenly turn this colour! How would I know how much soy sauce to add… what do we do now, rinse it?”

“It’s fine,” Cheng Boyan mixed the noodles and took another bite. “Good thing it wasn’t dark soy sauce.”

“It’s salty… right?” Xiang Xi looked at him.

“Not salty,” Cheng Boyan said, continuing to eat. After a few bites, he looked up again. “Is there more soup?”

Xiang Xi sighed, went to the kitchen, brought the pot out, and poured some more soup into the bowl. “Am I completely hopeless at cooking from now on?”

“If you want to cook, then cook,” Cheng Boyan said while eating. “I can eat whatever you make anyway.”

After eating and resting for a while, Cheng Boyan went to shower. Xiang Xi sat in the living room watching the evening news. Compared to the afternoon, there was some progress: the police had begun pursuing the suspects at stations and highways in nearby cities, and had released photos, asking citizens to report sightings.

Xiang Xi stared at the photos of Uncle Ping and Er Pan on the TV.

“Liang Chuanping, Xiao Jun,” Cheng Boyan came out after showering, standing beside the sofa and reading the names on the screen. “So that’s what they look like.”

“First time I’ve seen their ID photos,” Xiang Xi said softly. “So ugly. With Er Pan’s temper, I’m surprised he didn’t smash the photo studio.”

Cheng Boyan didn’t respond. He walked over and ruffled Xiang Xi’s hair.

“That pendant of mine,” Xiang Xi looked up, “is it here?”

“It’s here. I locked it in the cabinet,” Cheng Boyan nodded. “Want to take a look?”

“Mm, suddenly I feel like seeing it.” Xiang Xi said.

“Wait a second,” Cheng Boyan turned and went into the bedroom. After a while, he came back with a small box and handed it to him. “What’s wrong?”

“If Uncle Ping gets caught,” Xiang Xi opened the box and stared at the pendant inside, “then ordinary people won’t be able to see him anymore, right?”

“You want to see him?” Cheng Boyan glanced at the pendant.

“I don’t know… actually I don’t want to,” Xiang Xi frowned. “But I originally thought, if I had the chance, I’d ask him… whether I was picked up, stolen, or… I just want to know where I came from…”

Cheng Boyan didn’t say anything. He pulled him into his arms and gently patted him twice.

Leaning against him, Xiang Xi kept frowning. “But thinking about it, even if I asked, it’d be useless. He wouldn’t tell me. I know what kind of person he is. He wouldn’t let me live comfortably. If there’s even the slightest chance, he’d want this thorn stuck in my heart for life, not knowing who I am or where I came from.”

“Xiang Xi, I’m going to say something you might not like,” Cheng Boyan said, fiddling with his hair. “You need a haircut. It’s gotten long—and it’s all sticking up.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re going to say?” Xiang Xi smiled.

“People live for a sense of direction. The road is ahead, and hope is ahead too. When you think or act, you have to look forward,” Cheng Boyan gently tugged at his hair again and again. “Zhaojiayao, where you came from—that’s all behind you. It’s fine to think about it, but don’t let it drag you down.”

Xiang Xi didn’t speak. After a long silence, he tilted his head back and looked at Cheng Boyan with a smile. “Who am I?”

“You’re Xiang Xi. You’re also Xiao Zhan. You’re also my son—none of that conflicts. No matter where you came from, how you got here, or what you’ve been through, you’re still you,” Cheng Boyan lowered his head and kissed his lips lightly. “You—”

“Don’t take advantage while lecturing,” Xiang Xi quickly leaned up and bit his lip lightly. “Are you getting addicted to being a dad or what?”

“Well, I’ve never been a dad, and I probably never will be,” Cheng Boyan smiled. “So I’ll just get my fill with you.”

Neither of them spoke anymore. Xiang Xi really enjoyed this feeling of being pressed together—no need to talk, no need to move. Just staying like this was already enough.

But Cheng Boyan, whether from exhaustion or because that bowl of noodles was “poisonous,” soon started dozing off, his eyes half-closing.

“You’re sleepy?” Xiang Xi asked.

“Hm?” Cheng Boyan opened his eyes. “A little.”

“Then… go to sleep.” Xiang Xi sat up.

Cheng Boyan went to wash his face. When he came out, Xiang Xi was standing at the study door.

“You sleeping too?” Cheng Boyan walked over and poked the tear mole under his eye.

“Of course I am. I’m not reading. If you sleep, what am I supposed to do alone?” Xiang Xi said.

“Sleep in the study?” Cheng Boyan put an arm around him and slowly swayed as they walked toward the bedroom. “Sleep on the big bed. Don’t you like my bed?”

“Back then, one of the rules was that I wasn’t allowed to sleep on your bed,” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue.

“We’ll revise it now,” Cheng Boyan smiled. “You mentioning it reminded me—we should make a new set of rules.”

“I’m practically becoming a clean freak because of you, and you still want rules? And three of them?” Xiang Xi turned his head.

“Three isn’t enough. You’ve got quite a few bad habits. After living together for a while, they’ll all show, and I’ll fix them one by one,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile, nudging him into the bedroom and toward the bed. “After showering, you don’t even rub the towel before hanging it back up.”

“How do you know whether I rubbed it or not?” Xiang Xi said, then suddenly widened his eyes. “You bastardhave been peeking at me showering?”

“Say ‘you bastard’ one more time,” Cheng Boyan pushed him from behind and pressed him down, the two of them tumbling onto the bed. “I don’t need to peek—you do the same thing when you wash your face. You wipe and just hang it up. You think you’d rub it after showering?”

“So troublesome.” Xiang Xi chuckled.

Cheng Boyan smiled too, kissed his face, and slipped his hand under his shirt, touching his waist, then moving lower along his leg.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Xiang Xi twisted slightly, reaching forward, trying to crawl out from under him.

“Listen, Xiang Xi,” Cheng Boyan pressed his shoulder and whispered by his ear, “not letting me sleep is one thing—but if you won’t even let me touch you, are you even human? If I can’t even touch you, I’m about to stop being human myself.”

Xiang Xi froze for a moment, then laughed. “What nonsense. What if you get worked up from all that touching?”

“Then I’ll just go to the bathroom and take care of it myself.” Cheng Boyan’s hand slid along his leg again, reaching further forward.

 

Translator : DarNan