For a brief second, Chen Jian got a taste of the frustration his old teachers must have felt back in his school days when standing at the podium facing a room full of idiots.
Still, that made him feel a little less nervous; after all, in front of someone who’d press him on what a “Zhenxi expan” even was, as long as he didn’t stutter the whole time, he was already doing a stellar job as manager.
The rest of the content wasn’t hard to go over—it was mostly work assignments, with every role wearing multiple hats.
Besides check-ins and check-outs, the front desk needed to provide simple services to guests when it wasn’t busy. The cleaner had to handle cooking. Security… no, the security personnel, on top of what was previously discussed with Boss Chen, now had to help sweep the courtyard and the lane outside the guesthouse…
The manager also had the duty of trimming the trees and flowers.
On top of learning how to drive, the manager had to study landscaping because the boss didn’t have the money to keep hiring a gardener to take care of it.
The manager couldn’t help but shoot a glance at the boss.
“That’s the rough overview.” Chen Jian scanned the paper from top to bottom one last time, making sure nothing was left out. “If anyone has any thoughts or suggestions, you can bring them up now so we can discuss them together.”
“I have a suggestion.” Hu Pan raised her hand.
“Go ahead,” Chen Jian said.
“Can we set up the coffee bar again? That area next to the restaurant is a coffee bar, right? There are coffee cups and stuff, but no equipment,” Hu Pan asked. “I noticed there are no coffee shops in town—only bottled coffee sold at the supermarket.”
“Who drinks that stuff?” Chen Erhu chimed in. “A sophisticated guy like Boss Shan glugs down bottled Cola every single day.”
Chen Erhu’s observational skills were actually surprisingly good.
“Though the day we discussed the contract, he was drinking tea,” Chen Erhu added.
He was drinking Cola that day, too.
“He’s going to be selling tea leaves in the future,” Chen Erhu continued.
…Selling tea leaves? What?
“And how many sophisticated people have you ever met?” Hu Pan retorted.
“Now you’re just looking for trouble,” Chen Erhu said, staring at her.
“Didn’t you start it first?” Hu Pan shot back.
“Discussion,” Chen Jian interrupted them. “We’re having a discussion, not an argument.”
“We can give it a try.” Shan Yu leaned back in his chair, looking thoroughly relaxed. “Though who knows how to make it?”
“I know a bit—just average, but I can make the simple stuff,” Hu Pan offered honestly.
“People coming here to vacation aren’t going to be super picky about the taste of their coffee anyway. As long as we have it, it’s fine,” Shan Yu said. “Discuss the details with the manager after the meeting wraps up.”
“Okay,” Hu Pan nodded.
“I have a question too.” Zhao Fangfang raised her hand. “About cooking… should I stick to the old menu? There are some items on there I don’t know how to make.”
“Ditch the old menu. Write up a new one with the dishes you can make and hand it to the manager,” Shan Yu said. “It doesn’t need to be huge—just a few home-style dishes will do.”
“I can do that then,” Zhao Fangfang said, nodding.
With both Hu Pan and Zhao Fangfang having spoken, Chen Erhu—as a fellow “Boss Chen”—felt he was losing face after only bickering with Hu Pan and getting shut down by the boss. So, he raised his hand as well. “Boss Shan.”
“Go ahead, Boss Chen.” Shan Yu gave him plenty of face.
“About that… nighttime thing…” Halfway through, Chen Erhu suddenly switched to a secretive expression. “Tonight…”
“What about tonight?” Shan Yu looked at him. “Are you asking me out for dinner or a walk?”
Chen Jian couldn’t help letting out a laugh.
Chen Erhu glared at him. Having just declared he’d help Chen Jian, being laughed at by him now left him deeply dissatisfied.
“Boss Chen wants to talk about tonight’s special operation,” Chen Jian quickly played along, turning to Shan Yu. “Do we need to discuss the specific action plan?”
“Boss Chen, don’t hang around the guesthouse this afternoon—don’t show up again until tomorrow morning,” Shan Yu said. “Go get some blood. Not nearby—go to a farther village and get some pig blood or chicken blood.”
“Got it,” Chen Erhu nodded. After thinking for a second, he added fiercely, “Should we get some live animals, slaughter them on the spot, and splash it over? That’d look way more vicious.”
“Why don’t you just take a knife, slash your own wrists twice, and go fling it over yourself?” Shan Yu remarked.
Chen Jian desperately wanted to remind him not to talk to just anyone like that—Boss Chen might not catch the sarcasm.
“Right, right, right, I’ll find pre-packaged stuff,” Chen Erhu said.
Well, whaddya know—he caught it.
“Wait for my call tonight,” Shan Yu said. “Head straight in and do the job. None of our people are to go out—just sit back and watch the show tomorrow.”
“Do you need us to head over and shout tomorrow?” Sanbing was still keeping that detail in mind.
“I won’t let you guys miss out,” Shan Yu said, lightly tapping the table. “That’s all for the meeting. Manager, come up to my office for a moment.”
Chen Jian let out a breath of relief. Finally, the meeting was over.
He quickly folded the paper in front of him, slipped it into his pocket, and followed Shan Yu into the elevator.
Shan Yu leaned against the elevator wall, looking at him.
Chen Jian turned around and reached back to press the floor button.
Thinking back to Shan Yu’s blind, reverse-handed button press earlier, he hesitated. Turning his head back, he reached behind him and fumbled around the panel, trying to figure out how Shan Yu had hit it so accurately.
“Are you stupid?” Shan Yu said.
“I’m trying it out,” Chen Jian kept reaching back. “How did you hit it?”
Shan Yu raised the crutch in his hand and tapped it against the metal trim beside the elevator wall. “Look here, Manager. I’m only teaching you once.”
Chen Jian followed his gaze and realized the metal trim clearly reflected the buttons on the control panel.
“Holy crap,” he said.
“Impressive, right?” Shan Yu asked.
“…Pretty slick,” Chen Jian admitted.
To be honest, even with the reflection, it was still impressive. After all, it was done reverse-handed using the tip of a crutch, and he’d hit it dead-on in a single, lightning-fast tap.
The fourth floor was quiet; the lively chatter of the crew downstairs couldn’t be heard up here.
“What did you need me for?” Chen Jian asked as he entered the office.
“How does Day One as manager feel?” Shan Yu sat on the sofa, leaning slanting against the cushions. “Take a seat; let’s chat.”
Chen Jian sat down on the single-seater sofa nearby. “My brain’s a bit of a mess.”
“Got any thoughts on the staff under you?” Shan Yu asked, his fingers gently massaging his temples.
“Even though…” Chen Jian thought for a moment, “…everyone seems pretty enthusiastic about the guesthouse. I really didn’t expect Chen Erhu to be this cooperative.”
“He likely won’t last long,” Shan Yu said. “Right now he still has the novelty—it’s a lifestyle he’s never experienced. Once the work gets boring and he finds himself constrained at every turn, he’ll probably get fed up.”
“Is that so?” Chen Jian said.
“Sanbing is alright. Sanbing’s head is sharper than his boss’s,” Shan Yu remarked. “We can groom him a bit—maybe have him learn to drive later on.”
“Yeah,” Chen Jian nodded. “Lao Si and Lao Wu are probably similar to Chen Erhu. I think Hu Pan is pretty good.”
“She is,” Shan Yu said, closing his eyes as he massaged his head. “Hu Pan’s pretty interesting—she’s got her own ideas and keeps a clear head when it counts.”
Chen Jian didn’t say anything, feeling a bit concerned about Shan Yu’s headache. Xiao Dou’er’s grandmother got headaches sometimes, but usually a nap would fix it. Shan Yu’s had been going on for two days now.
“When you get a chance, ask Hu Pan if she needs an advance on her pay. Looks to me like she’s completely out of cash—we can advance her trial period pay,” Shan Yu said. “Make sure to keep it low-key—the girl’s got her pride.”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to her later,” Chen Jian interrupted Shan Yu as he was about to speak again. “About your headache… didn’t you say painkillers made it better? During the meeting, you seemed pretty…”
“Pretty considerate.” Shan Yu stopped his hands and opened his eyes to look at him. “Should I have lain back in my chair massaging my head during the meeting? Should we have just cancelled it?”
“If there’s an issue, you should get it checked out at a hospital,” Chen Jian said.
“Is there a massage parlor around here?” Shan Yu asked. “My head hurts so much; my neck and back are feeling sore.”
“A legit one?” Chen Jian asked.
“Given my leg right now, it’s not like I could handle an illegitimate one anyway,” Shan Yu said.
“…What the hell!” Chen Jian froze for a good few seconds before raising his voice. “I was asking about proper, licensed massage therapists!”
“Oh,” Shan Yu gave a small laugh. “Got any?”
“Nope,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu pressed his head, laughing even harder. “Damn it, laughing like this makes my head feel like it’s going to explode… Got any illegit ones then?”
“There’s an old bone-setter in the old village. Xiao Dou’er’s grandpa trusts him a lot,” Chen Jian said. “Plenty of people from neighboring villages and the town visit him—some even drive over from the city.”
“My head hurts, not my skull,” Shan Yu said.
“He does massages too,” Chen Jian said. “Though are you sure a massage will actually help?”
“Let’s go.” Shan Yu sat up. “Right now. I’m about to throw up from the pain.”
Buying the car had made getting around much easier, but currently, only two people in the entire shop held a driver’s license: Chen Erhu and Shan Yu.
For the sake of tonight’s plan, Chen Erhu had already left the guesthouse to lay low outside.
Which meant that even with his head splitting open, Shan Yu had to drive himself.
This was precisely where the importance of Chen Jian getting his license kicked in.
“How about taking the sidecar bike? Or I can carry you on my motorcycle?” Chen Jian asked.
“Motorcycle then. The sidecar will rattle my head right off,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian rode his motorcycle over, and Shan Yu straddled the back seat, resting his forehead right against Chen Jian’s back.
“What’s wrong?” Sanbing was sweeping fallen leaves in the courtyard when he saw them and immediately walked over to ask.
“Headache…” Chen Jian glanced back.
“Go see Chen the Masseuse—maybe a massage from him will stop the pain,” Sanbing suggested.
“That’s exactly where we’re headed,” Chen Jian said.
“Hang in there, Boss Shan!” Sanbing called out to Shan Yu. “You’ll feel better in a bit.”
“…Say two more words, and I doubt I’ll even make it to the intersection,” Shan Yu grunted.
“Let’s go.” Chen Jian twisted the throttle, and the motorcycle sped out of the courtyard gate.
Since his leg wasn’t hitched up on Chen Jian’s hands, Shan Yu had to hold his left leg up himself to keep it from banging against the footpegs. Once they hit the small road, keeping that posture became quite exhausting—especially with the headache.
Chen Jian let go of the left handlebar and reached down to his side, grabbing the fabric of Shan Yu’s pants near his knee.
“What are you doing?” Shan Yu asked.
“Relax your leg,” Chen Jian said. “Stop straining it. I’m worried your head might explode in a minute and splatter blood all over me.”
“Riding a motorcycle single-handed?” Shan Yu looked up at the road ahead. “On a garbage road like this?”
“On a garbage road like this, I can ride hands-free,” Chen Jian said, giving his pants another tug upward. “Relax. I won’t drop you.”
Shan Yu didn’t say another word, simply letting his left leg relax.
Chen Jian pulled up Shan Yu’s leg as he navigated into the village. Chen the Masseuse lived quite close to Xiao Dou’er’s place, so he and Shan Yu didn’t need to cross the busiest street in the center of the village looking like this.
Shan Yu was in luck—there weren’t many people at Chen the Masseuse’s place today, just a local auntie currently getting cupping therapy.
“I can’t fix a fracture like that,” Chen the Masseuse remarked the moment he saw Shan Yu’s leg through his pants.
He really is pretty sharp.
“Not for his leg. He has a terrible headache, and his neck and back are sore,” Chen Jian explained. “Could you give him a massage?”
“Headache, huh?” Chen the Masseuse stood up, walked behind a chair, and pointed at it. “Sit here. Where does it hurt or feel sore? How bad is the pain?”
“Feels like it’s going to explode.” Shan Yu sat down. “From my temples all the way to the back.”
“Haven’t been sleeping well lately, have you?” Chen the Masseuse rested one hand against Shan Yu’s forehead while using the other to knead the back of his neck in rhythmic strokes.
“Yeah, been dealing with some insomnia these past few days,” Shan Yu admitted.
Chen Jian shot him a surprised look. This man went back to his room before ten o’clock every single night and never came back out. Chen Jian had always thought his routine was more regular than the village oxen—and he had insomnia?
“It’s not just been a few days,” Chen the Masseuse said, switching to take his pulse at the wrist for a moment. “It’s been quite a while.”
Shan Yu remained silent.
“Is that true?” Chen Jian asked him.
“Mind your own business,” Shan Yu said.
“If I massage you for a bit, you’ll feel half-better right away. Go back, sleep, and you’ll basically be fine,” Chen the Masseuse declared with immense confidence. “But that insomnia of yours needs proper treatment, or the pain will just keep coming back.”
“Chinese herbal medicine…” Shan Yu had barely gotten two words out when Chen the Masseuse suddenly applied a sharp burst of pressure.
Shan Yu sat up straight from the intense pain, his hand blindly grabbing outward. Catching Chen Jian’s hand, he squeezed it in a vice-like grip, his pitch going way up on the final word: “…HU-U-U-URTS?!”
“Ow ow ow ow ow… holy crap…” Chen Jian’s face twisted in pain as he yelled out in a string of cries. Now he finally understood how Shan Yu had managed to throw a man over his shoulder just by grabbing his wrist—this grip strength turned his knuckles white. He rubbed at Shan Yu’s hand, hoping he’d let go: “Relax, relax, relax…”
“It hurts hurts hurts hurts…” Shan Yu knitted his brows tight.
Chen Jian hastily patted Chen the Masseuse’s arm: “Uncle Chen, go easy, go easy, go easy… He’s in pain pain pain pain…”
“Alright, that was just one spot.” Chen the Masseuse eased his pressure, scraping his fingers rhythmically down Shan Yu’s neck. “I haven’t even used much force yet—a young fella like you can’t take pain at all.”
The auntie getting cupping therapy nearby chuckled. “A boss looking like that—you can tell right away he can’t handle pain. When my head hurts, I can still work the fields!”
How on earth do those two things have a cause-and-effect relationship?!
Chen Jian looked at Shan Yu’s face. That auntie should see how this pain-intolerant boss beats people up.
Shan Yu slowly loosened his grip, but he still didn’t let go of Chen Jian’s hand.
“If you can’t take it, let’s stop?” Chen Jian felt a little uneasy. He had never been treated by Chen the Masseuse himself and worried whether this might cause Shan Yu new problems.
“Wait,” Shan Yu squeezed his hand slightly, signaling him not to rush, seemingly tuning in to his body. “It feels… less painful now.”
“That’s just fighting fire with fire,” Chen Jian remarked. “You cut your hand, and it hurts, so someone chops your leg with an axe and suddenly your hand doesn’t hurt anymore. Uncle Chen, do you actually know what you’re doing?”
“What the hell do you know?” Chen the Masseuse said as he released Shan Yu, patting his shoulder. “Alright, give it a feel.”
Shan Yu leaned against the chair, tilting his head back, and let out a long, slow breath.
Chen Jian looked at his profile. Whether from the headache or the ordeal he’d just been put through, Shan Yu’s face with his eyes closed, looked pale. Stripped of his usual relaxed, uncaring air, the Shan Yu who always seemed effortlessly in control suddenly appeared somewhat fragile at this moment.
“How is it?” Chen Jian asked softly.
Shan Yu let go of his hand, raised an index finger to his lips, and made a quiet “Shh” sound, remaining still with his head tilted back and eyes shut.
Chen Jian didn’t make another sound, taking the chance while Shan Yu wasn’t looking to give his squeezed hand a firm shake to restore circulation.
When chatting with Zhao Fangfang earlier, she had mentioned that the benevolent boss was handsome—the best-looking boss in the whole town.
Right now, after being put through a combo meal of massage techniques by Chen the Masseuse, Shan Yu didn’t even have the energy to run his mouth, and he really did look quite handsome.
After a short while, Shan Yu cupped the back of his neck, pulling his head back upright. “It doesn’t hurt much anymore.”
“Really?” Chen Jian asked.
“Why, can’t bear to see me get better?” Shan Yu shot him a glance. “It’s fake. Stand back—my head’s about to explode; watch out, or it’ll splatter blood all over you.”
“Looks like you’re cured,” Chen Jian noted.
“How much do I owe you, Master Chen?” Shan Yu turned back to ask Chen the Masseuse.
“Just a quick favor,” Chen the Masseuse replied. “No charge.”
Chen the Masseuse had his own principles; he generally didn’t charge for small quick-fix techniques like this. Chen Jian had been slightly worried that Shan Yu’s personality would make him insist on paying, but Shan Yu didn’t push. He simply had Chen the Masseuse pack a few doses of herbal medicine to regulate his insomnia.
“Know how to brew it?” Chen the Masseuse asked.
“Know how to brew it?” Shan Yu turned to ask Chen Jian.
“Of course he knows,” the auntie beside them chimed in. “Xiao Dou’er’s grandpa’s medicine is always brewed by him. There’s nothing this boy doesn’t know how to do—he’s been working hard since he was little.”
“…I know how,” Chen Jian said.
“He knows how,” Shan Yu nodded to Chen the Masseuse.
After picking up the medicine and stepping outside, Shan Yu showed no intention of getting back onto the motorcycle. Once they cleared the village entrance, he leaned on his crutches and strolled slowly along the riverside trail outside.
Chen Jian had no choice but to stay straddled on his motorcycle, using his legs to slowly paddle the bike forward along with him.
After paddling along for a bit, he couldn’t help asking, “Are we walking all the way back?”
“Breathing in some fresh air,” Shan Yu said.
“That medicine…” Chen Jian could only keep paddling. “…do you actually plan to drink it?”
“Nope. It’s too bitter,” Shan Yu said.
“I knew it,” Chen Jian said. “Then in case… is it because there are too many things to deal with at the shop, so the pressure’s keeping you awake?”
“That’s hilarious,” Shan Yu glanced at him. “A guy who doesn’t even know what an ‘expansion’ is isn’t losing sleep, so why would I? If this shop works out, great; if it doesn’t, I’ll just treat it as a villa to live in. What pressure could I possibly have?”
“Then why do you have insomnia?” Chen Jian asked.
Shan Yu sighed. “Were you really good at writing essays in school? You can circle all the way back to the main topic after such a huge detour?”
“Only if the boss is doing well can we make money,” Chen Jian stated.
Shan Yu gave him a smile and looked at him. “How much money does your dad still owe in total?”
“A trade,” Chen Jian said.
