When they returned to the gate of Dayin Inn, Sanbing was sitting on a rocking chair at the side of the courtyard gate, staring at the road outside.
“Started a part-time security job, huh?” Shan Yu braked at the entrance, rolled down the window and teased.
“Someone’s sneaking around spying on us from inside,” Sanbing got up, visibly annoyed. “Maybe they’re worried we’ll still try to lure customers away. So I just sit here. I won’t say anything, I won’t leave, and it’ll piss them off to death.”
“Go patrol the building,” Shan Yu said. “I’ll sit here later.”
“Huh?” Sanbing froze.
“You go inside,” Chen Jian got out of the vehicle, “help Lao Si and Lao Wu. All the guests are out, so they’re cleaning rooms—lend a hand.”
“Okay.” Sanbing headed in, but turned back to double check: “Boss Shan, you really are going to sit here later?”
“Doctor told me to get some sun,” Shan Yu replied.
“Got it!” Sanbing perked up and happily ran inside.
Chen Jian stood by the car, watching Shan Yu hop out on one leg: “So, sunbathing, huh?”
“Sanbing was that angry, so I’ll sit here for him.” Shan Yu said. “I’m idle anyway.”
“But if those guys come by and see you sitting here…” Chen Jian looked at him.
…Isn’t that basically provoking them?
The boss just couldn’t stay idle even for a single day.
“That’s exactly the point—I want them to see me,” Shan Yu said. “We’ve already cooperated. If they insist on pestering us anyway, then that’s them picking a fight, not us. This way, we give face and also smack back—two birds, one stone, plus helps vent Sanbing’s anger.”
“And sunbathe at the same time,” Chen Jian said. “Three birds, one stone.”
“Manager Chen—meticulous,” Shan Yu gave him a thumbs-up.
“…Thanks, Boss.” Chen Jian replied dryly.
Though limping, Shan Yu was surprisingly mobile for such things. He went inside, grabbed his sunglasses, then strolled back and dropped himself casually into Sanbing’s vacated chair.
Glasses on, lying back leisurely—it really gave off an air of relaxation.
“What’s Boss Shan doing there?” Zhao Fangfang asked in confusion when she returned with groceries.
“Sunbathing,” Chen Jian said.
“Wouldn’t it be cleaner to do that upstairs?” she asked.
“True hermits live right in the city,” Chen Jian replied.
“Aiyo, don’t understand.” Zhao shook her head. After putting the groceries away, she pulled Chen Jian aside to whisper, “Manager, could I bring my daughter here for a few days? She’s been home alone during vacation. Her father took some odd jobs he’s busy with, can’t watch her. I thought she could come here…”
“No problem, bring her,” Chen Jian said. “Also—we’re busy right now. If you know someone reliable, you can bring in temporary help for a few days.”
Zhao thought, then asked quietly: “Could it be… child labor?”
“What?” Chen Jian froze.
“Of course not,” Shan Yu drawled deliberately from his rocking chair.
“…Then maybe I should find someone else,” Chen Jian said, unable to see Shan Yu’s eyes behind the glasses.
“But if it’s just a little girl helping her mom during vacation, there’s no problem.” Shan Yu added.
Chen Jian looked over at him.
After a pause, Shan Yu tilted his head, hooked his sunglasses low to peer at him. “What’s wrong? Say something, Manager.”
“I was waiting for you to finish,” said Chen Jian.
“Good style.” Shan Yu grinned. “Let her come. During that dinner I saw she was quick and capable. She can help out. Obviously, no salary—but we’ll give her a red envelope. …Done speaking, Manager.”
“So we’re not hiring anyone else? Will Sister Zhao get too tired?” Chen Jian asked.
“Before opening, she handled all those rooms alone—wasn’t she already exhausted?” Shan Yu said. “She just really needs the money. After these busy days pass and most guests leave, she won’t even be able to tire herself if she wanted.”
Chen Jian fell silent. That was indeed true.
He felt the same—being tired was tiring, but earning money after the work made it worth it.
“These few days we won’t cook staff meals,” Shan Yu added. “Go talk to a fast-food joint, bun shop, something like that, have them deliver meals on schedule.”
“Okay, I’ll handle it.” Chen Jian nodded. As he was about to leave, someone came along the road, peeking into their courtyard.
Seeing the two of them, one standing, one sitting, the man hesitated, then nodded politely: “Boss, sunbathing?”
“Mm. Need to air out the back during the hottest season.” Shan Yu said.
The passerby left, looking awkward.
“There’s no hottest season—it’s the middle of winter,” Chen Jian pointed out. “And you’re sunning your face.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Shan Yu said. “He wasn’t really asking; I wasn’t really answering.”
“They’ve seen you already. You heading inside?” Chen Jian asked.
“I’ll wait ‘til mealtime. If I go in immediately, it looks insincere.” Shan Yu stretched lazily.
“I’ll go buy lunch now,” Chen Jian checked his phone. “Once I get back, you head in.”
“Mm.” Shan Yu lay back, arms behind his head, stretching his legs comfortably.
During holiday season, the town’s normally quiet atmosphere was overwhelmed by tourists. Streets once tranquil were now bustling, cars from self-driving travelers parked along both sides.
Chen Jian rode his motorbike slowly down the road. This kind of bustle only appeared a few times a year—it was rare for him to actually slow down to take it in.
He went to the same restaurant on Second Street—their freshly cooked fast dishes weren’t bad.
Sure enough, news about Dayin’s boss catching Chen Dahu had already spread across town. When the disabled boss had first taken over the haunted house, it was the talk of the town. Now, with Chen Dahu sent off to the police station, it had become the latest hot gossip in this small, uneventful town.
“Your boss is impressive,” the restaurant’s lady boss said, sitting with Chen Jian behind the counter while her husband stir-fried. “Wonder how long Chen Dahu will stay locked up. Usually he’s out in just days, but I hear this time it’ll be an actual sentence.”
“Police are still investigating. Nothing’s certain yet,” Chen Jian answered cautiously. Every time someone mentioned Chen Dahu, he remembered Chen Erhu’s choked plea echoing in his ears.
“They’ll have to jail him. That man stirred up so much trouble. At least things will finally quiet down.” The lady boss added, “You’re lucky. Your father’s lucky too, having a son like you.”
Chen Jian only smiled faintly, saying nothing.
Returning to Dayin with piles of dishes, he found Shan Yu still lounging in the rocking chair, motionless—looked like he’d fallen asleep.
Hu Pan rushed out to collect the takeout boxes. “So much?”
“Boss added two dishes free,” Chen Jian said. “He’ll handle deliveries from now on—Sister Zhao won’t need to cook staff meals.”
“Boss!” Hu Pan called over to Shan Yu. “Time to eat! Quit pretending to sleep!”
Shan Yu lifted a hand with an OK sign.
Sure enough, faking it.
That afternoon, Zhao Fangfang’s daughter arrived on her own by bus. She tucked her belongings into the dorm, then immediately began helping—cleaning, washing dishes, wiping surfaces.
She was just a primary schooler, but deft and efficient. Maybe not as capable as Zhao Fangfang herself, but certainly on par with Lao Si or Lao Wu.
Chen Jian thought to compliment the girl—but in the end said nothing.
Compared to the busy staff, the boss really did look idle, just as he claimed.
To avoid getting in the way, Shan Yu barely left the upper floors these days. If not in the gym hanging by those straps, he stayed in his office lying down or idly sitting, sometimes watching movies on his laptop, sometimes simply staring out the window for hours.
One hour later, still staring; another hour later—still staring.
The only person comparable to that state was guest 102.
Since the day he’d mistakenly gone up to the fourth floor “haunted house,” he’d only left his room twice in three days—to buy a coffee once, and eat in the restaurant once.
“Why hasn’t he checked out yet? Liu Wu and that lot have partied enough; they’re checking out tomorrow,” Chen Jian said, bringing freshly boiled medicine to Shan Yu during an office report. The only anomaly was 102. “If he stays even one more day, I won’t sleep easy.”
“Want a sip of this?” Shan Yu had been holding the bitter decoction for five minutes without drinking.
“Come on, down it,” Chen Jian urged. “Hold your breath, gulp a few times, done.”
Shan Yu carried it to the sink, inhaled deep, and forced it down. Seconds later, he set the bowl aside and retched into the sink, then let out a long shuddering exhale.
“Is this a fixed process?” Chen Jian asked. He hadn’t noticed before how Shan Yu took the medicine.
“Mm.” Shan Yu passed him the empty bowl.
“After all these times, still not used to it? Tastes that bad?” Chen Jian asked curiously.
“Next time, you take the first sip. Then I’ll go pick fights with He Liang’s lot.” Shan Yu quipped.
Chen Jian was left speechless—even mentally, he couldn’t find words.
“Store Manager, calling Store Manager.” Hu Pan’s voice buzzed through the walkie-talkie.
Chen Jian glanced at Shan Yu, pulled it from his belt: “What’s up, Hu Pan?”
“Guest 102 just left with a backpack,” she reported. “Do we need to…”
“I’ll head down,” Chen Jian said.
“Want to sneak into the guest room?” Shan Yu asked from the sofa.
“Just cleaning,” Chen Jian said.
“While secretly checking?” Shan Yu pressed.
“Normal cleaning, but look around, see if there’s anything unusual.” Chen Jian said firmly. “Aren’t you the boss?”
Shan Yu chuckled. “Ask Hu Pan how his demeanor was.”
“Just the same limp half-smile as always,” Hu Pan answered. “I asked where he was going, need help with tickets? He said no. Just wanted to walk into the mountain.”
“At this hour?” Chen Jian checked his phone: 3 p.m. “That’s when hikers go camping. Did he bring a tent?”
“No. Just a regular backpack.”
“You go clean.” Chen Jian pulled out his phone and began recording video. It was just normal housekeeping, but since this guest wasn’t acting like normal tourists, documenting it was safer.
Hu Pan unlocked the door, Chen Jian followed in.
The room looked nearly untouched: tidy, even the bed had been neatly made and smoothed. If not for a coat still hanging, one would think Sister Zhao had just serviced it.
“Doesn’t look problematic,” Hu Pan said, swapping towels.
Everything seemed too normal. Too pristine. It made one uneasy.
“…Something’s off,” Chen Jian frowned. “Hard to say.”
“What’s this medication?” Hu Pan, replacing toiletries, pulled a box from the drawer.
Chen Jian moved closer—but a voice behind them said, “Let me see.”
“Who?!” Hu Pan jumped.
Even though Chen Jian recognized the voice as Shan Yu’s, he too flinched in guilt like he was caught.
“Your boss.” Shan Yu leaned in the doorway.
Hu Pan carried the box out, but Shan Yu just gave it a glance and ordered: “Put it back. Then both of you come out.”
“Oh.” She slipped it back.
“Chen Jian, take two people into the mountain,” Shan Yu said, sitting casually at the front desk chair. “His ‘not yet’—probably means it’s time now.”
“‘Not yet’?” Hu Pan asked.
“He might commit suicide.” Shan Yu said flatly.
Chen Jian stiffened immediately. “Which path did he take?”
“The hiking trail. Saw him from the window heading in,” Hu Pan answered quickly. “But wait—how can you tell? What medicine was that?”
“Antidepressants,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian glanced at him grimly, but said nothing. He just grabbed his walkie. “Sanbing, Lao Wu—come to the front desk now.”
“Also, call Liu Wu,” Shan Yu instructed. “They’re still on the mountain. Tell them to keep an eye out. If they spot him, call you.”
“Okay.” Chen Jian nodded.
“And don’t mention suicide. Just say someone’s looking for him. Otherwise those college kids will drop their fun and launch a military-style rescue. Too much fuss invites chaos.”
“Understood.” Chen Jian confirmed. He asked Hu Pan what the man was wearing, then took Lao Si and Lao Wu out.
Just as they left the courtyard, bandaged-from-head-to-toe Chen Erhu came in.
“Erhu-bro?” Sanbing gawked. “Weren’t you taking ten days off?”
“I’m fine,” said Erhu gruffly. “Where are you going?”
“Into the mountain to find someone,” Chen Jian frowned. “You should rest. Your wounds are serious…”
“I’m going! Who are we looking for—Chen Dahu’s accomplice?” Erhu quickly asked, eyes wide under the wrappings.
“No, just a guest,” Sanbing cut in hastily. “Family’s calling urgently, looking for him.”
Erhu said nothing, then after a beat, smiled bitterly: “No need to lie. Don’t bother hiding it from me.”
“No really, Big Bro,” Lao Wu spoke anxiously. “We’re not excluding you. It’s true.”
Chen Jian gave Lao Wu a glance.
He had a knack for words…
“What did I even say?” Erhu bristled, even more upset.
“Erhu’s here?” Shan Yu appeared, leaning on his crutch, greeting warmly.
Chen Jian exhaled in relief, turning back.
Shan Yu tilted his chin toward him.
“Let’s go,” Chen Jian murmured, hurrying off with the others.
“Erhu-bro…” Sanbing called back as he shuffled out.
“Erhu,” Shan Yu fixed his gaze on him. “Perfect timing.”
Erhu stood stiff, silent.
“Come,” Shan Yu angled his head. “Let’s chat.”
Hesitant, Erhu followed, muttering, “About what?”
“Afternoon coffee.” Shan Yu led him toward the café.
“What kind of person is looking for him?” Liu Wu asked, voice curious. “Police?”
Listening, Chen Jian knew Shan Yu was right—they had to downplay this. Liu Wu’s thoughts were far too dramatic already.
“He’s a fugitive?” Liu Wu pressed excitedly.
“Fugitive??” the Beans near him perked up immediately.
“No, no, no, no,” Chen Jian sighed. Not just Liu Wu—the whole bunch of “Justice Beans” were still riding the high from catching a thief the other day. He had to spell it plainly: “Just normal. Someone needs him, family matter, but he left without taking his phone. If you see him, tell me, that’s all.”
“Why tell you? Why not tell him directly?” Though excited, Liu Wu was still sharp.
“Why didn’t you pick up your mom’s calls the other day?” Chen Jian countered.
“…So he’s avoiding family?” Liu Wu murmured, enlightened.
“Something like that. Just don’t make it a spectacle like a fugitive hunt. If you see him, inform me.” Chen Jian added a bit of persuasion: “Your brother worked hard to get Dayin reopened…”
“I get it! I know!” Liu Wu cut in. “Don’t make small stuff into big issues, or folks will think there’s trouble again.”
“Exactly.” Chen Jian said.
“Alright, we’re at Wanghai Pavilion. You’ll have to circle up past us.” Liu Wu reported his position. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
They happened to be opposite—if 102 wasn’t dashing straight down some hidden slope, chances were they’d run into him.
“How did you guys know he might be suicidal?” Sanbing asked seriously as they hiked fast, scanning the woods.
They didn’t.
Only the boss knew.
As to how the boss knew—
Better not ask. Some lines weren’t meant to be crossed.
