“—same?”
Chen Jian instantly felt the prayer beads in his hand turn a little hot—awkward to hold, awkward to put down. He could only keep holding them and pretend to examine them.
If they’re the same, why did you pack them in two different boxes?
“They’re not the same,” Liu Wu said. “I specifically put them in two different boxes.”
Chen Jian exhaled, quickly sneaking a look at Shan Yu’s wrist.
Then doubt crept back in—aren’t they the same?
They’re all wooden beads.
“What’s different?” Shan Yu fiddled with his as well.
“Look,” Liu Wu pushed up his sleeve, revealing several similar bracelets on his wrist. He took one off. “These three look alike, but…”
So there were three identical ones.
Chen Jian exhaled again.
It wasn’t that he minded having the same thing as Shan Yu—it was that subtle awkwardness. The past couple days had been so busy with guests and problems that he hadn’t had spare bandwidth to overthink; now that he finally had a little, Liu Wu showed up with two matching bracelets and—boom—his hair practically puffed up from static.
“This bead here is different,” Liu Wu pointed at one bead with a different tint. “This one has a character on it!”
“A character?” Chen Jian turned the bracelet a long while and found the bead with the different color.
He squinted at the abstract little carving.
If he didn’t already know his name was Chen Jian, he might not have recognized that tiny character as “Jian” (澗).
So the “difference”… is the carved character.
“Yú, right?” Shan Yu had also made it out.
“Right, mine has ‘Wu’ (悟) carved on it,” Liu Wu said. “I carved them myself.”
“Thanks,” Chen Jian said. Regardless of anything else, just that hand-carved character made the gift sincere enough to move him.
The last time he’d gotten a handmade gift was when little Dou’er wrote a few words on scavenged leaves and made him a card.
“No need to be polite—didn’t take much,” Liu Wu put his own bracelet back on. “Bro, how’s my writing?”
“Plenty good for puncturing car tires,” Shan Yu said. He opened his hand and slipped the loop off his fingers onto his wrist, the beads clicking together softly.
Chen Jian lowered his head and slipped his own bracelet on.
“What’s your plan?” Shan Yu threw a leg up on the table and switched into liaison mode; a roomful of Happy Beans without a lead Bean—he had to send their head Bean back to the group.
“I already told Chen Jian,” Liu Wu said. “Surprise—we’ve been in touch for ages.”
“Didn’t expect that,” Shan Yu glanced at him. “You told your mom, right?”
“…I did.” Liu Wu’s tone wobbled a bit.
Shan Yu didn’t reply. He just tapped a finger lightly on the table and watched him.
“I really told her,” Liu Wu grew anxious and tapped the table too. “I said I’m going on a trip with classmates.”
“Where to?” Shan Yu asked.
“I told her here,” Liu Wu said, then looked at Chen Jian. “She doesn’t know you’re here.”
Chen Jian tilted his head slightly.
Should’ve insisted on heading downstairs first.
Liu Wu still says everything out loud.
“As long as they know where you are,” Shan Yu didn’t press. “Go finish check-in and go have your fun.”
“We’re about to go buy groceries and meat. Manager Chen said he can marinate it for us,” Liu Wu, subdued moments ago, brightened the instant “fun” came up. “We’re barbecuing tonight! Are you coming?”
“No,” Shan Yu said. “Can’t compete with you sashimi-eaters.”
Phone to his ear, Liu Wu headed downstairs to regroup with the Beans. Chen Jian picked up the other box, ready to head down too, when Shan Yu called: “Chen Jian.”
“Mm?” Chen Jian looked back.
“If that…” Shan Yu pointed at his wrist, “feels uncomfortable, you don’t have to wear it. He won’t be watching.”
Chen Jian glanced down at the bracelet, hesitated. Since Shan Yu had put it that way, he couldn’t be overly precious either: “It’s fine, I’ll wear it. It’s hand-carved.”
“Alright,” Shan Yu smiled. “Go on.”
“What do you want for dinner?” Chen Jian asked. “We’ve got a lot of dine-in guests tonight, and Sister Zhao’s helping marinate meat for Liu Wu’s group, so I told her not to cook staff meals. I’ll buy dinner out.”
“Anything. Whoever’s order you’re copying, just get me an extra portion,” Shan Yu said.
“Okay.” Chen Jian nodded.
The bustle on the first floor could be heard from the third. Chen Jian didn’t go straight down but stepped into the third-floor gym. Busy or not, there wasn’t anything that required him right then.
At noon he’d messaged his dad to ask about his injuries, but there was still no reply.
He called directly.
In the past, if his dad didn’t reply, he usually wouldn’t call. When his dad finished working, he’d reply. Conversely, if Chen Jian didn’t reply for a day, his dad assumed he was busy and waited.
But this was different. He knew his dad was hurt—and not lightly.
When the message went unanswered, he worried.
The phone rang several times before his dad picked up.
“Hello!” His dad’s voice trembled a bit—clearly not resting.
“You’re not lying down?” Chen Jian asked at once. “Are you out?”
“Doesn’t really affect it,” his dad said. “I can drive.”
“With your hand like that you’re still driving!” Chen Jian kept his voice down, equal parts worried and helpless. “What if you fall again!”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” his dad said. “I won’t fall. I’ve been driving for years.”
“I’m making decent money now,” Chen Jian said. “I can cover what you bring in. Just rest a month.”
“I’ve got jobs lined up,” his dad said, a bit muffled.
Chen Jian fell silent and sighed softly. He knew his dad wouldn’t rest—and he knew he couldn’t talk him into it. He’d mostly called to make sure his dad wasn’t making the injury worse while delivering food.
His dad had nothing more to say either. A few seconds later, the call ended.
Chen Jian sat on a weight bench, head down, unmoving for a long time.
He just felt powerless.
He was grateful to Shan Yu for pushing him to break the old pattern of silent, mutually oblivious living between father and son—but facing the hard parts hurt.
He wanted to know how his dad was doing, but when the answer was “not well,” he didn’t know what to do.
When the phone screen went dark, the curtained gym fell into pitch black. Laughter and chatter drifted up from below, but in the dark it sounded unreal, like it came from another time and place.
The elevator chimed, doors opening and closing.
Then came footsteps—and the tap-tap of something knocking the floor.
His mind was a jumble; he heard the sounds and already knew it was Shan Yu, but his body didn’t move—just froze there.
Maybe because it was Shan Yu.
He was the person who had traded secrets with him.
Shan Yu appeared at the gym door, changed into a T-shirt, strolling in casually. He flipped his crutch, swung it back, and tapped precisely on the light switch.
As the light flicked on, Shan Yu saw Chen Jian on the bench. “Oh—shit!”
“Me,” Chen Jian blurted.
“You could’ve waited until tomorrow to speak,” Shan Yu muttered.
Chen Jian smiled.
“What’s wrong?” Shan Yu shut the gym door with a tap of the crutch.
“Taking a breather,” Chen Jian stood. “You working out?”
“Resting,” Shan Yu sat at the lat pulldown machine. “They’ll definitely invite you to the barbecue tonight—plus Hu Pan and the others.”
“Let them go have fun. I’ll mind the shop. Nothing much happening tonight,” Chen Jian said.
“Why the sudden low mood?” Shan Yu asked. “Work problem?”
After a moment of silence, Chen Jian said, “My dad’s out delivering again. Probably didn’t rest at all.”
He wasn’t sure if Shan Yu wanted to hear it—he was just frustrated and needed a listener.
“Can’t talk him out of it?” Shan Yu asked.
“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded. “I know he won’t listen—at most he’ll rest a day or two.”
“He figures the more he works, the less you have to,” Shan Yu said. “That’s probably it.”
Chen Jian sighed.
“You think the same way,” Shan Yu said, glancing at him.
Chen Jian turned, looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. “Mm.”
“There’s no solution,” Shan Yu said. “And there doesn’t need to be. Worrying, caring, being anxious—those feelings are inevitable. Just say them. Don’t bottle it up.”
“Mm.” Chen Jian answered softly.
“Since you’re free—was going to ask later,” Shan Yu said. “There’s a paper envelope in my office drawer. Bring it.”
“Now?” Chen Jian stood.
“Or I can wait until you’re swamped,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian smiled and left the gym.
It was a kraft envelope. The flap was open when he picked it up. He didn’t look inside, but the weight felt like cash.
What money?
Why money?
“Your salary,” Shan Yu said promptly, cutting off the runaway thoughts. “Everyone else’s went by transfer. I withdrew yours early—meant to give it to you the day we left on that trip…”
For reasons known to everyone and no one, that hadn’t happened.
Chen Jian did zone out for a second, but recovered quickly. “Didn’t I already get paid?”
“If you don’t care about money, then why did you inflate your past salary when we first negotiated?” Shan Yu clicked his tongue. “If you do care, then why are you okay working for free as manager?”
Chen Jian stared for a long beat. “…Huh?”
“Manager gets six thousand, but there’s only four in there,” Shan Yu said. “Because I deducted two thousand for the server’s pay. Same next month—deduct the server portion and pay four. If my leg’s better next month and you don’t have to wait on me, we’ll square it.”
Chen Jian looked at him.
“Can you follow the math, Manager?” Shan Yu asked.
“Yes.” Chen Jian nodded.
“I’m not only generous to you,” Shan Yu said. “From nothing to something—without these people, the inn wouldn’t exist. Pay what’s due and raise when needed. If business drops later, then we’ll cut—”
“Have some mouth-karma for your own business, Boss,” Chen Jian couldn’t help interrupting.
“So superstitious,” Shan Yu laughed.
“You’re willing to spend money—spare some words too. Shutting up doesn’t cost a cent,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu said nothing and mimed zipping his lips.
“I’ll head down,” Chen Jian said. “Liu Wu’s group should be off to buy groceries…”
Shan Yu tugged his invisible zipper again. “Since when does a store manager accompany guests to buy food? We don’t offer that service. Not for cousins—and not even for real brothers.”
“I’ll go down when they’ve left—it’ll be quieter,” Chen Jian said.
Not all the Beans went shopping; they split tasks clearly—several girls went to buy food with a few boys to carry it, while the rest stayed at the inn.
Some wandered the garden, some strolled the lane, some sat in the café.
Hu Pan was in the café making coffee for them.
“All checked in?” Chen Jian asked as he walked up.
“Mm,” Hu Pan nodded. “Want a latte, Manager? Got a little milk left.”
“You’re not drinking it?” Chen Jian asked.
“I got queasy while dialing in the machine,” she said cheerfully, handing him a latte. “I’ll probably be up all night.”
“Miss!” a girl ran over with a camera. “Can I take your photo?”
“Wow, a real camera—sure,” Hu Pan said generously, lifting the tamper and smiling at the lens.
Chen Jian stepped aside.
“You’ve got a special look—so pretty,” the girl said. “I’ll edit and send them to you.”
“Thanks,” Hu Pan smiled.
The girl took a few shots, then ran out to the garden with her classmates.
“Ah…” Hu Pan propped her chin on her hand. “They’re so happy.”
“Students…” Chen Jian smiled.
“Ugh,” Hu Pan glanced out the window and curled her lip. “Look at Lao Wu grinning like an idiot.”
Chen Jian looked out.
Not just Lao Wu—Erhu too, grinning like a cat. They were helping the student photographers—scattering leaves, fanning hats to create a breezy effect…
Dayin’s entire security system had collapsed.
“Panpan,” Liu Wu jogged over. “Free tonight? Come barbecue.”
Chen Jian looked at him.
“Manager Chen too,” Liu Wu added.
“Manager Chen is not going,” Chen Jian said. “Panpan can.”
“Really?” Hu Pan hesitated. “I’m on front desk tonight.”
“We’ll swap,” Chen Jian said.
“Thank you, Manager!” Hu Pan’s eyebrows flew up. “Then don’t buy dinner for me.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded.
And not just her dinner—Erhu’s and Lao Si and Lao Wu’s dinners were covered too. He had wanted to send Sanbing along as well, but Sanbing didn’t go.
“Chen Dahu’s people showed up yesterday. Someone should stay these two days,” Sanbing said. “Also… I want to perform better…”
He looked at Chen Jian.
“Hm?” Chen Jian looked back.
“I was going to tell you later,” Sanbing said. “I want to join the inn staff directly.”
Chen Jian paused. Right now, Sanbing and the others were technically “dispatched” by Boss Chen—Erhu’s people. Joining the inn directly would mean, in a way, leaving the Pigpen Gang.
“Did you tell Erhu?” Chen Jian asked.
“Told him,” Sanbing nodded. “He thinks it’s good.”
That surprised Chen Jian—Erhu actually agreed to let his best man “defect.”
“He wants to stay too,” Sanbing said. “Lao Si and Lao Wu might get sent to apprenticeships after New Year… he’ll be a boss with no troops.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian smiled. “So he’ll wait till they leave, then come over too?”
“Yeah,” Sanbing frowned. “What happened with his brother hit him hard—like he suddenly saw through things… Do you think Shan Yu will agree?”
“What’s there to disagree with?” Shan Yu said from the third-floor viewing terrace, a burger in hand. “Boss Chen officially becomes Guard Chen. Only good for me, no downside.”
“Mm.” Chen Jian took a bite of his burger and looked downstairs. The courtyard lights were on; the string lights along the lane flickered—peaceful and lively.
“What are Sanbing and Sister Zhao eating?” Shan Yu asked.
“Tomato beef over rice,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu fell silent and looked at him.
“What?” Chen Jian took another bite and looked back.
“What’s your reason for making me eat this?” Shan Yu asked.
“You said anything’s fine—just order extra of whoever’s,” Chen Jian said. “This is Western—and it comes with cola. The sugary kind.”
Shan Yu chuckled. “Fair.”
“If you don’t like it, swap with Sanbing,” Chen Jian said. “He’s still on patrol. Hasn’t eaten yet.”
“This is fine,” Shan Yu said.
“Aren’t you ‘not picky’?” Chen Jian asked. “I thought you really weren’t picky.”
“I’m not picky when there’s nothing to pick. No matter how bad, I eat,” Shan Yu said. “If there’s a choice beforehand, of course I choose what I think tastes good.”
“Right now, you don’t have a choice,” Chen Jian said.
“Mm.” Shan Yu took a bite.
“Have you always been like this?” Chen Jian asked at the same time as that bite.
Shan Yu looked at him without speaking, chewing slowly.
Chen Jian also took a bite and waited.
After swallowing, Shan Yu put the burger back in the box. “Since I was a kid. My dad’s rule.”
