By now, the trunk was already popped open, and Sanbing and the others were actively hauling fireworks out. Chen Jian had no choice but to step out of the car, trailing behind Shan Yu.
Under normal circumstances, Shan Yu would swiftly dodge scenes of messy physical labor, standing as far away as possible. Right now, however, he remained planted stubbornly beside the car.
Chen Jian followed him over, but couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Every time he turned his head to look, Shan Yu averted his face, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Chen Jian leaned in close to his ear. It was pitch-black anyway, and with everyone bustling about, a slightly bolder action wouldn’t be noticed—in fact, it carried an inexplicable thrill.
Shan Yu ignored him, bracing a hand against the trunk door as he earnestly supervised everyone working.
“Boss Shan,” Lao Wu carried a crate of fireworks out, turning around only to come face-to-face with him. “If you’re not working, scoot aside a bit. You usually hate crowding around like this anyway…”
Shan Yu had no choice but to step aside, leaning back against the car.
“I’ll take that,” his dad offered, seeing that Lao Wu’s crate looked rather heavy, stepping forward to relieve him. “This one’s heavy.”
“Ah, I’ve got it.” Startled, Shan Yu sprang forward before his back had even settled against the car, gently edging Chen Jian’s dad aside to take hold of the crate with Lao Wu.
“Dad, take this one instead.” Chen Jian immediately grabbed a lighter crate from the trunk and handed it to his father.
His dad had done manual labor for decades; nobody here had more experience moving heavy loads than he did. If they didn’t let him carry anything now, Chen Jian worried he’d feel out of place and unable to fit in.
“Alright.” His dad took the box with practiced ease, turning to walk down to the riverbank.
Lao Wu and Shan Yu carrying that crate together, however, suffered from an utter lack of chemistry. The two of them twisted and turned in awkward circles, stumbling across the loose gravel in a painfully clumsy shuffle.
After a few paces, Shan Yu gave up, shoving the crate entirely onto Lao Wu: “Hold steady, I’m letting go.”
“Mm,” Lao Wu nodded.
Shan Yu let go and walked back toward the car.
“Without you, I’d have reached the spot ages ago,” Lao Wu muttered, hugging the crate and striding forward.
“How long have you had this condition?” Shan Yu looked back at him. “Chen Erhu sure has a mild temper.”
Chen Jian hauled the final crate of fireworks from the trunk. It wasn’t overly heavy, but the box was enormous and wedged all the way in the back; taking it down definitely required two people.
Hu Pan and Sun Nana had already bagged up the smaller fireworks—sparklers and fairy wands—and carried them off. This crate was clearly left for him and Shan Yu.
Yet Shan Yu stopped in his tracks several paces away from the car, refusing to budge.
“Come carry it,” Chen Jian dragged the crate to the edge of the trunk, looking at him.
Shan Yu shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his head to gaze out over the dark river.
“I’ll explain it to you right now,” Chen Jian said, resting a hand on the crate.
“Not listening,” Shan Yu said, his eyes still fixed anywhere but on Chen Jian, refusing eye contact at all costs.
“Look at me, Boss,” Chen Jian said. “Are you afraid that if you look at me for one second, you won’t be able to keep from breaking character and laughing?”
“Fuck.” Shan Yu broke into a laugh instantly, turning around and taking long strides straight toward the car.
“I told you about that photo before! That day Lao Wu got complained about for smok—” Before Chen Jian could finish, Shan Yu stepped right in front of him, reached out, and shoved the crate back into the trunk.
Then he grabbed Chen Jian’s collar, yanked him forward, and kissed him.
The night wind was biting cold, the lips meeting his were cool and damp, and the tip of Shan Yu’s nose was freezing.
Yet the warmth emanating from Shan Yu’s body was palpable, his breath scorching hot. When Chen Jian wrapped his arms around him, it felt like leaning against a blazing hearth.
As Shan Yu pressed him back against the crate, Chen Jian’s hand instinctively moved to slide beneath Shan Yu’s clothes. But the moment his fingertips brushed Shan Yu’s waist, he felt Shan Yu’s breath hitch for a split second.
…His hands were too icy.
So he kept his hands inside Shan Yu’s coat instead, rubbing firmly across his back over the wool sweater.
When Shan Yu released him and stepped back, Chen Jian finally glanced toward the riverbank. Because Sun Nana had parked rather haphazardly, with the car’s nose angled toward the water, the people down on the rocks couldn’t see what was happening behind the trunk.
Chen Jian wiped the corner of his mouth. “Still jealous?”
“You actually have the nerve to smile,” Shan Yu said.
“…Once I agreed to take a photo, I had to offer a polite smile, didn’t I?” Chen Jian turned to drag the crate back out.
“Have you looked at that photo yourself?” Shan Yu asked, taking hold of the box with him.
“No,” Chen Jian said. “Only saw it just now when you showed me.”
“I’ll forward it to you in a bit so you can examine it at your leisure,” Shan Yu said.
“Don’t want it,” Chen Jian said.
“Tons of comments,” Shan Yu said. “I looked through them. Out of all the handsome-guy photos people post, yours has the most comments by far—several hundred.”
“…When did you see it?” Chen Jian asked.
“A long time ago,” Shan Yu said.
“You saw it ages ago, and you’re only pulling it out to be jealous today?” Chen Jian looked at him.
“What’s wrong with that? I saw it back when it only had thirty-something comments and bookmarked it right then,” Shan Yu said. “I was just waiting to see how many people it would end up with…”
“You’re crazy,” Chen Jian couldn’t help laughing out loud.
“Stuff like this has to be saved for critical moments to be leveraged effectively,” Shan Yu said. “I’ve got plenty of other material saved up.”
“Why did it have to be today?” Chen Jian asked.
Shan Yu glanced at him without answering.
“Oh,” Chen Jian caught on.
Thinking about it, he smiled softly: “I feel a lot better.”
Zhou Lecheng had always been gentle and optimistic. Though reluctant to part with the world, he had accepted it with grace, leaving behind far more hope than sorrow for those who knew him.
Realizing that, Chen Jian genuinely felt much better.
Still, as they unpacked the fireworks from the crate, he could see Hu Pan surreptitiously wiping away tears, and Sanbing’s eyes held a subtle glint.
Thankfully, the roar of an approaching motorcycle behind them diverted everyone’s attention.
Chen Erhu had arrived.
“Brother Erhu!” Sanbing waved at him.
“Rush, rush, rush. It’s not like I wasn’t coming, kept rushing me.” Chen Erhu parked his bike flush alongside their motorcycles—an old habit of his, likely because he felt it projected an imposing aura.
Sanbing chuckled without replying.
“Why the sudden fireworks?” Chen Erhu asked. “Weren’t we saving them for tomorrow?”
“Boss Shan said we light them whenever we want,” Lao Wu chirped happily. “If we run out, we buy more. On my way over, people upstream were already setting some off.”
“Guaranteed theirs aren’t as big as ours,” Hu Pan clapped her hands. “Hurry up! Which one do we light first?”
“Light two bigger ones,” Shan Yu said. “Then wait a bit.”
“Wait a bit?” Sanbing looked at him.
“Wait for the crowd to gather,” Shan Yu said.
“Oh, right!” Hu Pan realized. “Let everyone watch together so we can steal the spotlight again.”
“A little more tactful, please,” Shan Yu said.
“Dayin’s joy should be shared with everyone,” Sun Nana chimed in. “The whole town is one big family.”
“…You’re better at this than me,” Shan Yu laughed.
Lighting fireworks had a way of turning grown adults straight back into children.
To decide who got the honor of lighting the first one, Sanbing, Lao Wu, and Hu Pan actually played rock-paper-scissors.
Hu Pan had the best luck, handily winning lighting rights. Snatching the lit cigarette straight from Sanbing’s mouth, she dashed forward: “Is everyone ready? I’m lighting it!”
“Watch your footing,” his dad cautioned from the side.
“Got it!” Hu Pan nodded.
Chen Jian pulled out his phone, opened the camera, and aimed it at the night sky.
“All set. Light it,” Sun Nana said.
Hu Pan brought the burning cigarette tip to the fuse, holding it there for what felt like an eternity with zero reaction.
“Did you fall asleep?” Shan Yu called out.
“Cigarette almost went out… Ah, it’s lit!” Hu Pan shrieked, leaped into the air, and bolted: “Holy mother of—!”
With a resounding thump, the mortar launched a streak of golden light high into the sky, vanishing into the pitch blackness.
Chen Jian watched the black expanse on his phone screen. Two seconds later, a brilliant golden peony blossomed across the night, illuminating the shimmering, rippling river below.
Holding their phones high, the crew cheered in unison.
Then came the second shot, and the third.
Five shots in total.
The cost-to-performance ratio on this thing is shockingly low.
After that one finished, it was Sanbing’s turn to light. His was a multicolored display—alternating red, green, and silver blooms. The intervals between shots were shorter than the first, though it didn’t launch quite as high.
It felt as though a shimmering, colorful night sky had unfolded directly above their heads.
Recording the video, Chen Jian yelled along with the crowd a few times. Whether it was the wind blowing against his face or something else, his eyes stung with a faint ache.
Once three large fireworks were spent, everyone began distributing the smaller hand-held ones.
Lao Wu had cheered so violently that he began coughing, holding a small firework in one hand while aiming his phone camera at his face with the other: “Can you see it? I’m gonna light it for you right now…”
“Who’s that?” Sanbing asked.
“Hold on a sec…” Lao Wu ignored him, beaming brightly at the video screen before shoving the firework in front of Sanbing, gesturing for him to light it.
“Who are you showing off for?” Sanbing grumbled under his breath, clicking his lighter to spark the fuse.
The moment sparks began showering out, Lao Wu scurried to the side: “Here it comes, look!”
“Fuck,” Sanbing cursed.
“Does Lao Wu have a girlfriend?” Shan Yu leaned close to Chen Jian, asking in a whisper.
“No idea,” Chen Jian whispered back. “He makes occasional phone calls in the dorm… Probably not, though. Doesn’t sound sappy or affectionate at all…”
“Guess you’re not dating anyone either, then,” Shan Yu shot him a sideways glance.
“Wha—” Chen Jian looked at him. “Am I not affectionate?”
Shan Yu’s lips curved faintly without replying.
“Well, you’re pretty average yourself, Boss—not affectionate at all, utterly crisp and detached,” Chen Jian retorted.
Shan Yu laughed out loud. “What is with that mouth of yours tonight?”
As they bantered, the noise from Lao Wu’s side suddenly vanished.
Chen Jian looked over and saw that on Lao Wu’s raised screen, the video call had cut out, dropping back to a text chat interface.
Yet Lao Wu hadn’t lowered his phone; he kept holding it aloft, the bright smile still plastered across his face, frozen in place.
The firework in his hand was still spewing golden sparks as he turned around, continuing to talk to the screen: “Is it pretty?”
“Damn,” Chen Jian paused.
“Got dumped, looks like,” Shan Yu said.
Watching the persistent smile frozen on Lao Wu’s face made Chen Jian’s chest tighten with sympathy. He turned to look at Chen Erhu, wanting to see if the big boss knew whether his underling had hit some romantic wall.
The instant Chen Erhu caught his gaze, he seemed to make up his mind, marching straight toward Chen Jian and Shan Yu with broad, determined strides.
“What’s going on here?” Chen Jian felt bewildered. The aggressive momentum made him wonder if he ought to step forward and clock Chen Erhu first just to secure the upper hand…
“Boss Shan,” Chen Erhu addressed Shan Yu.
“Mm,” Shan Yu turned his head.
“Caused you trouble today,” Chen Erhu said. “I went back hoping to talk to my dad, waited for ages for him to sober up…”
Hearing this, Chen Jian hesitated for two seconds, preparing to step away.
Chen Erhu grabbed his arm firmly: “No need to leave. You already know anyway; you know our family’s mess.”
“Oh,” Chen Jian stayed put.
“Did you talk it through?” Shan Yu asked.
“Don’t know,” Chen Erhu furrowed his brow. “I don’t have your silver tongue. Half the time, the second he starts yelling, I lose my train of thought. But today, I didn’t let him speak.”
“Hm?” Shan Yu glanced at him.
“I chopped a cleaver right into his headboard. Told him he could only open his mouth once I was completely finished,” Chen Erhu said.
“Whoa.” Shan Yu raised an eyebrow, trading a glance with Chen Jian.
“You…” Chen Jian was entirely at a loss for words.
“Learned that from Boss Shan,” Chen Erhu said. “Learned a lot from him.”
“Does this count as slander to my face?” Shan Yu laughed. “Have I ever pulled a stunt like that?”
“The principle of not letting the other person speak,” Chen Erhu explained.
Chen Jian sighed inwardly.
Shan Yu shut people up with razor-sharp tongue-lashings, not by hacking a cleaver into their furniture. Even if he did “chop,” he used his hand.
← Chop here.
Draws no blood, maximum efficiency.
“Anyway, I said my piece today: my brother was going to end up in prison sooner or later, and going in for theft is better than going in for murder,” Chen Erhu said. “I won’t go visit him, and my dad doesn’t need to either. Once my brother gets out, if he hasn’t reformed, my dad and I will just have to unite against the common enemy…”
Chen Erhu paused: “Was that an okay way to put it?”
“As long as you said it, it’s fine,” Shan Yu said.
“I also told him not to come harassing people at the inn again, or I’ll chop him. We’ve got violent genes in our family anyway; if we really throw down, who beats whom is anyone’s guess,” Chen Erhu added.
For the second time in a short span, Chen Jian was left completely speechless. Even Shan Yu couldn’t immediately formulate a response.
“You…” Shan Yu cleared his throat. “Alright. It’s fine. It’s the New Year—have a good holiday with your dad.”
“Mm,” Chen Erhu nodded.
Over by the water, Lao Wu suddenly roared at the top of his lungs, howling toward the heavens: “Aaaah—!”
“Good grief, that racket,” Shan Yu flinched. “Chen Erhu, go chop Lao Wu instead.”
“What happened to him?” Sanbing jogged over.
“Nothing,” Lao Wu stuffed his phone back into his pocket.
“Aaaah—!” Hu Pan, having the time of her life, didn’t care what was happening over there; she tilted her head back and let out a ringing, piercing screech of her own.
“Wooo-hooo—!” Sun Nana cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered as well.
In the distance, an answering roar echoed from someone across the way, followed by a chorus of shouts erupting across the riverbank.
Villagers and town residents from nearby had come down to watch the fireworks.
“Light the big ones, light the big ones, quick, quick, quick! Town family, sharing time has arrived!” Hu Pan hopped and bounced toward the crates. “Uncle Chen, help me pick a big one!”
“How about this one,” his dad chuckled, lifting a box. “I just checked, this one has ten shots.”
“Did Lao Wu get scammed out of money?” Chen Jian frowned, turning it over in his mind. “Last time he was reported for smoking, he said it was over money.”
“This bunch,” Shan Yu sighed, crouching down and finding a rock to sit on. “What ‘lending a hand’? Right now I just want to kick them all back down one by one.”
Chen Jian laughed, crouching down beside him: “What about me?”
The large firework his dad had helped Hu Pan pick was ignited. A cascading sequence of golden and silver blossoms rocketed into the night sky, bursting overhead.
“Hold on tight to me,” Shan Yu whispered against his ear.
Chen Jian caught his hand, squeezing it firmly.
By the time they returned to the inn, it was nearly 2:00 AM. The carload of fireworks had been almost entirely spent, drawing an audience of at least a hundred late-night onlookers who had sacrificed their sleep to watch.
Plenty of locals knew Dayin’s boss had just bought a whole mountain of fireworks, claiming tomorrow’s show would definitely be even grander.
Shan Yu had originally planned to call the vendor for another delivery tomorrow, but ended up calling past midnight instead.
Fortunately, the vendor hadn’t gone to sleep yet. The moment he saw a call from his VIP customer, he readily agreed to haul another van-load over first thing in the morning.
Back in the dorms, the guys were still buzzing with excitement, their phones packed with videos. Unable to wait until morning, they refreshed Moments only to find their feeds flooded with fireworks.
“I’m taking a shower. Does anyone want to go first?” his dad asked.
“Go ahead, Uncle. I’ll take second,” Sanbing said.
Chen Jian looked at Lao Wu: “Are you showering?”
“No,” Lao Wu lay flat as a board on his bunk.
“What about you, Erhu?” Chen Jian asked.
“Showering. Got bad luck from my dad all over me today,” Chen Erhu said.
Chen Jian sighed: “Let me go first, then. I’m on duty tonight.”
“No way. Last one into the room goes last,” Chen Erhu said, carrying an unusually domineering air tonight.
“Fine,” Chen Jian said. “I…”
“Just go shower in Boss Shan’s room,” Lao Wu said, still lying board-straight. “You’re management; why crowd in with us regular staff?”
“Exactly,” Sanbing agreed.
Management member Chen Jian backed out of the dorm, gathered his fresh clothes, and headed straight for the office.
Truthfully, he had been thinking about showering at Shan Yu’s place all along, but felt awkward bringing it up out of nowhere. Since everyone was practically shoving him out the door…
Heh.
He knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Shan Yu called from inside.
Chen Jian pushed the door open. Shan Yu had a towel draped over his wet hair, walking out of the bathroom shirtless, droplets of water still clinging to his bare skin.
“Here to shower?” Shan Yu asked.
“Yeah. The line in the dorm won’t clear until tomorrow morning.” Chen Jian shut the door behind him.
“Just to shower?” Shan Yu asked again.
