Chen Jian pushed himself up, hands braced beside Shan Yu’s head, his breath still ragged and uneven.
Shan Yu turned his head and pressed a kiss to his wrist: “Get off.”
“Wait.” Chen Jian hastily hitched up his trousers and leaned back. Just as he tried to tumble over into the passenger seat, his rear landed squarely on the steering wheel.
A sharp honk blared through the darkness.
“Fuck.” He felt like his heart was about to burst right through the top of his skull. Scrambling across into the passenger side, he rolled halfway over and collapsed into the seat.
His face had already synchronized back into a deadpan expression of absolute composure.
Shan Yu was still half-reclined in the driver’s seat, watching him with a silent, breathless laugh.
Chen Jian let out a long exhale. “Frightened me into hallucinating. I thought that tree up ahead was a person.”
“See it clearly now?” Shan Yu adjusted the seatback upright.
“Yeah.” Chen Jian buckled his seatbelt, then couldn’t resist looking up to check again, confirming it was indeed just a tree.
“Driving off now,” Shan Yu said.
“Drive. I’m worried your dad’s frozen solid by now.” Chen Jian expertly tied off the garbage bag in the car and stashed it by his feet.
“Don’t worry. If it got truly unbearable, he’d have called my mom.” Shan Yu buckled up, and the car rolled forward again.
“He probably hasn’t caught a fish yet. If he had, even just one, he’d be hollering to go home already, right?” Chen Jian asked.
“Mm.” Shan Yu smiled. “You’ve already got Professor Shan all figured out.”
“He looks so… refined and scholarly,” Chen Jian said. “Never expected him to be so stubborn.”
“Only on the surface. My dad is actually quite strong-willed,” Shan Yu said. “Academics just have a different way of showing it.”
“Never really spent time around academics before,” Chen Jian said. “The highest educated people I know right now are Nana and Liu Wu. Oh, plus Yue Lang and Yao Yi.”
“Yue Lang even spent a few days studying overseas before coming back,” Shan Yu remarked. “The shining beacon of our Moments feed.”
Chen Jian laughed softly, falling silent.
“What is it?” Shan Yu eased off the accelerator, glancing over at him.
“Watch the road,” Chen Jian said.
“What’s on your mind?” Shan Yu turned his eyes back to the road ahead.
“Just feeling a bit reflective,” Chen Jian paused for a few seconds, looking out the window, speaking quietly. “If it weren’t for you, people like this would probably never have crossed into my world. My life now, and whatever comes after, would have remained completely out of reach.”
“Did President Liu say something to you?” Shan Yu asked.
“Hm?” Chen Jian quickly turned his head to look at him. “No.”
“Then why are you overthinking out of nowhere?” Shan Yu asked.
“I’m not an idiot,” Chen Jian said. “Anyone in my position would feel a little contemplative.”
“What did you two talk about while I was off fetching the dog?” Shan Yu pressed.
“Nothing much. President Liu even thanked me,” Chen Jian said.
“Thanked you for what?” Shan Yu said. “For your ongoing rehabilitation of a released convict?”
Chen Jian burst out laughing. “You really are hopeless.”
“Did she spend half an hour thanking you?” Shan Yu said. “Can’t be. She doesn’t have that much fluff in her vocabulary.”
Chen Jian let out a sigh, hesitated for a beat, and leaned back against the headrest: “She just said she’d recommend some books for me to read when I have time.”
“What books?” Shan Yu asked. “Did you put on that modest act again? Saying you have plenty of shortcomings in management and need to learn?”
“Fuck,” Chen Jian looked at him. “You really do know me.”
“You… Next time you two talk about this, just tell her that without you, this inn would have gone under ages ago relying on Shan Yu alone,” Shan Yu tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Say you’re a natural-born management prodigy, and she won’t tell you to read books.”
“Then she’ll tell me to go see a psychiatrist,” Chen Jian retorted.
Shan Yu laughed out loud.
“She has a point, though,” Chen Jian said. “Doesn’t she? Honestly… a high school graduate running a guesthouse as store manager is a bit…”
“Who are you insulting?” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian paused, then chuckled: “You’re different from me. You have perspective, you have a sharp brain. The environments we grew up in are worlds apart.”
“And didn’t we both end up in this exact same guesthouse anyway?” Shan Yu said. “I’m the one who gets fired by the staff on a daily basis.”
Chen Jian smiled without answering.
“It’s not a big deal,” Shan Yu said. “If President Liu really recommends some books, read them if you can digest them. If you feel lacking somewhere, patch it up. An uncultured, thick-headed store manager from a rough background still managed to build this inn into what it is today, didn’t he? How hard could leveling up a bit more be?”
Chen Jian fell silent for a few seconds: “Are you talking about me?”
“Just repeating your own words back to you,” Shan Yu said. “Hearing them come from someone else’s mouth—feeling a little indignant now, aren’t you?”
Chen Jian clicked his tongue.
It really was true.
“Which proves you don’t actually believe those limitations define you,” Shan Yu said. “Competence is competence. If you want to improve, just go improve.”
“Alright,” Chen Jian murmured.
“Good boy,” Shan Yu said.
“Honestly speaking,” Chen Jian thought for a moment, “what do you think… President Liu’s impression of me is?”
“I’ll ask her later,” Shan Yu smiled.
“You haven’t asked before?” Chen Jian asked.
“No,” Shan Yu said. “When it comes to the person I like, I don’t really need other people’s opinions.”
Chen Jian didn’t speak. After a quiet pause, he added, “Better not ask, then.”
“You sure?” Shan Yu asked.
“As long as you think I’m good, that’s enough, right?” Chen Jian said.
“Mm.” Shan Yu reached over and lightly hooked a finger under his chin.
The frail scholar Professor Shan, aka the Master of Fish-Feeding, was perched alone on a rock by the riverbank. He had shrunk himself into a tight little ball, staring intently at the water’s surface.
Floating on the dark water were two glowing specks of red and green—night bobbers.
Professor Shan had truly come fully prepared. Anticipating that he might fish past sundown, he had brought luminous floats and had even cast a second rod.
Hearing approaching footsteps, he whipped his head around, pointed a sleek silver gadget right at them, and Chen Jian was instantly blinded by an intense wall of blazing white light.
Welcome to paradise.
Everything around them was bleached of color—not just stripped of color, but erased of shape, collapsing into a solid wash of blinding glare.
He couldn’t see a single thing.
“Oh my!” Professor Shan gasped in genuine shock, and the brilliant light snapped off immediately.
Chen Jian remained rooted in place. It took five full seconds before the scenery around him, seemingly frightened away by the glare, slowly crept back into his field of vision.
“Where on earth did you get a gadget like that?” Shan Yu was equally astonished.
“My apologies,” Professor Shan said. “Bought it and never used it; had no idea it had that kind of firepower.”
“Didn’t you test it when it arrived?” Shan Yu walked over.
“No, tossed it straight into the bag. Thought it was just a slightly brighter flashlight,” Professor Shan chuckled. “Gave you two a fright, didn’t it?”
“Not too bad,” Chen Jian said. “Just felt like I successfully survived a heavenly tribulation.”
Professor Shan let out a hearty laugh.
“Scared the fish away,” Shan Yu crouched down, reached for the keepnet by the water’s edge, and gave it a tug upward.
“Empty,” Professor Shan stated.
“Any bites?” Shan Yu asked.
“None.” For all his stubbornness, Professor Shan was remarkably honest.
“How about…” Chen Jian thought about it. “Tomorrow I’ll ask Xiao Dou’er’s grandfather for some of the groundbait he uses? Maybe these fish are just used to his recipe.”
“Makes sense!” Professor Shan agreed immediately.
“Head back now, then?” Shan Yu asked.
“Let’s head back,” Professor Shan sighed. “Tomorrow Xiao Chen can fetch me some bait, and I’ll come right back to resume.”
Chen Jian helped haul the mountain of fishing gear back to the car.
Seeing Professor Shan reach for the front passenger door, Chen Jian’s mind instantly flashed to the garbage bag on the floor. Just as he lunged forward to intercept and move the bag to the back, Professor Shan doubled back on his own, opened the rear door, and climbed inside.
Chen Jian breathed an internal sigh of relief.
“Are they playing cards?” Professor Shan asked.
“Yeah,” Shan Yu nodded. “Fancy a few hands when you get back?”
“Sure,” Professor Shan smiled. “Is your aunt playing?”
“She was the one who suggested it,” Shan Yu said.
“Then I definitely have to play. She’s the Goddess of Wealth,” Professor Shan said.
“Does she always lose?” Chen Jian asked.
“Always,” Professor Shan laughed. “Yet she never gets tired of playing. His uncle balances it out—one loses, one wins, keeping the household budget in equilibrium.”
Back at the inn, a young couple was chatting in the cafe, two families of guests were watching television in the dining area, and Sun Nana was standing at the front desk. Everyone else had gathered in the conference room for cards.
“Going to play?” Chen Jian asked. “I can hold down the fort here.”
“Sounds good. Uncle Chen just took Shiwu out for a walk; he’s curled up in the doghouse squeezing in with Mushroom right now. Shout if you need anything,” Sun Nana lowered her voice. “I’m going to watch the showdown between Sanbing and Liu Wu.”
“At cards?” Chen Jian chuckled. “Then Liu Wu might not stand a chance against Sanbing. Sanbing’s actually pretty good at cards.”
“Can’t let him be overshadowed in every single category, right?” Sun Nana flipped her hair with a grin and trotted off toward the conference room.
Professor Shan hung his damp fishing gear in the backyard to dry, then rubbed his hands together and headed for the conference room as well. He hadn’t caught any fish, but playing cards looked like a solid bet for reclaiming some dignity.
Chen Jian flipped open the logbook to review the day’s call records and shift duties.
Shan Yu reclined onto the lounger behind the front desk, propping his head on his arms as he watched him.
“Not going to play?” Chen Jian glanced at him. “Card Saint?”
“In case something comes up, I need to lend a hand,” Shan Yu said. “I’m the boss, after all.”
“Standing by to say ‘Hello, sorry, I don’t know’?” Chen Jian smiled.
“Bringing a bottle of water or grabbing some toiletries is well within my skillset,” Shan Yu clicked his tongue.
“Should be quiet by now anyway,” Chen Jian said. “Probably just…”
Mid-sentence, a car pulled into the driveway, coming to a halt right in front of the main entrance.
“No spots left out front. I’ll go guide them,” Chen Jian stepped toward the doors. “Hold the fort here.”
“Mm,” Shan Yu acknowledged.
“Hello,” Chen Jian greeted as he reached the car.
The window rolled down. Driving was a young man, with a girl in the passenger seat and two others seemingly in the back.
“Looking for a room. Where can we park?” the driver asked.
“Pull a bit further inside, there are spots in the back,” Chen Jian turned to lead the way.
“Excuse me, is this Dayin?” the girl in the passenger seat leaned out to ask.
“Yes, it is,” Chen Jian replied.
Once the car was settled into an open bay, Chen Jian returned to the lobby.
“Guests checking in at this hour?” Shan Yu asked.
“Probably spent the whole day driving and sightseeing along the way,” Chen Jian said. “Quite common.”
“Oh.” Shan Yu nodded.
“Why don’t you intern at the front desk for a week after the New Year? Get a feel for things,” Chen Jian suggested.
“Pass,” Shan Yu answered crisply.
When the four young travelers stepped into the lobby, Chen Jian paused slightly.
All of them carried technical backpacks, sporting a distinct outdoor aesthetic. But unlike ordinary tourists, the man and girl trailing behind carried gear—one holding an action camera, the other gripping a smartphone mounted on a gimbal stabilizer, both aimed directly at the lead girl.
“We’re here,” the girl said, walking in while looking back at the lens. “The interior looks great too, very cozy…”
Travel vloggers, most likely.
Shan Yu stood up. Before Chen Jian could say a word, he was already gliding toward the elevator: “I’ll go hang out in the conference room.”
Chen Jian clicked his tongue, saying nothing.
Ever since the bonfire festival, visitor numbers had steadily climbed, and seeing people recording video on their phones had become routine. But someone traveling with a dedicated camera crew was a first.
Over the past few days, the front desk had received a steady stream of calls sending well-wishes to Dayin. After the holidays, there would likely be all sorts of travelers dropping by.
“Hello,” Chen Jian greeted them. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No,” the girl leaned against the counter. “Do you have two rooms available?”
The action camera and phone flanked her from either side, recording continuously. The other girl stood slightly further back holding a portable fill light—presumably an assistant.
“Let me check for you. One moment, please. How many nights are you planning to stay?” Chen Jian quickly pulled up the system. “We have both twin and king rooms available. However, only the king rooms have river views; the twin rooms face the mountains.”
“Two nights to start,” the girl said. “One king, one twin, please.”
“Certainly. May I please see your ID cards?” Chen Jian said. “If you’d like to switch to a river-view twin room later, one will open up tomorrow afternoon.”
“That works! Please hold it for us when it frees up,” the girl handed over two ID cards. “Are you the store manager?”
Chen Jian glanced at her: “I am.”
“Oh,” the girl offered a small smile.
The group seemed quite polite. Once checked in, they headed straight to their rooms and didn’t come back down.
Just as Chen Jian was about to call Shan Yu to tell him the coast was clear, Shan Yu walked over from the hallway.
“Timing is impeccable,” Chen Jian said.
“I can check the security cameras on my phone,” Shan Yu said.
“…You were actually monitoring the cameras?” Chen Jian looked at him.
“That bunch seemed odd,” Shan Yu said. “Keeping an eye out to see what they’re up to.”
“Probably just travel vloggers,” Chen Jian said. “A couple plus two girls. Their packs and boots looked pretty specialized.”
“Still had to ask about the store manager, though,” Shan Yu noted.
“That’s… fairly normal, isn’t it?” Chen Jian said.
“True. After all, the comments on that handsome store manager photo are closing in on two thousand,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian stared at him.
“Just checked,” Shan Yu’s lips quirked up.
“Can’t answer a single question about the inn,” Chen Jian muttered, “yet your intelligence network on gossip is lightning-fast.”
“Gossip is infinitely more compelling than proper business,” Shan Yu said.
The card game in the conference room didn’t break up until nearly 2:00 AM. Everyone had a blast. To avoid disturbing guests, they skipped the post-game chatter and retreated to their respective rooms.
Liu Wu walked Hu Pan all the way to the women’s dorm door, looking thoroughly reluctant to part.
Sanbing swaggered past the two of them, strutting victoriously into the men’s dorm.
An absolute, decisive triumph in this round.
To avoid being subjected to Liu Wu’s bedtime rambling, Shan Yu stayed seated in the lounger behind the front desk all the way until 3:00 AM.
At 3:05, Liu Wu called his phone: “Dearest cousin, aren’t you going to sleep yet?”
“…Are you possessed? Still awake at this hour?” Shan Yu was entirely exasperated.
“Let’s chat for a bit,” Liu Wu said. “I haven’t caught up with you all day.”
“Fine, got it,” Shan Yu hung up and looked at Chen Jian. “Got milk?”
“Yeah,” Chen Jian looked back. “Want some?”
“Warm up a cup so I can dissolve a sleeping pill for Liu Wu,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian burst out laughing: “Why are you like this?”
In the end, there was neither warm milk nor sleeping pills. Shan Yu dragged his heavy feet up the stairs.
Chen Jian did his customary patrol of the premises, then returned to the front desk, curled up on the lounger, and pulled a light quilt over himself.
Who knew how long Shan Yu ended up talking with Liu Wu, or whether he managed to fall asleep; Chen Jian, for his part, was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.
Around 6:00 AM, Mushroom let himself out to use the bathroom and returned. Tied up outside, Shiwu grew anxious and let out two booming howls, jolting Chen Jian awake.
Yawning, Chen Jian dashed out to the backyard, topped off the kibble, and unhooked Shiwu’s leash.
“Let’s go,” he led Shiwu outside. “Time for your morning walk.”
The crisp morning air carried the distinct scent of mountain forests and damp earth. As the cold breeze rushed into his nose, it proved remarkably refreshing.
By the time he cleared the back gate, Chen Jian was wide awake.
He led Shiwu along the mountain trail. Shiwu sniffed happily along the ground, lifting his leg three times within ten paces.
“You sure have a lot to pee,” Chen Jian muttered.
Footsteps sounded from behind.
Wondering if it was early-rising hikers, Chen Jian pulled the dog aside and glanced back.
Shan Yu was trailing behind him, holding up his phone.
“Are you…” Chen Jian jumped in surprise.
“Recording video,” Shan Yu said. “Watch your language.”
“Why are you recording video?” Chen Jian asked.
“I have an idea,” Shan Yu looked at him, smiling.
