What are you talking about? Yesterday Liu Wu asked for a chat, and today Shan Yu wants to talk again. Chen Jian really doesn’t know what to say.
Listening to Liu Wu and looking at Shan Yu’s attitude, he must have already taken over this haunted house. Saying it’s good here is a lie, but saying it’s bad seems too discouraging.
And the guy is still a cripple.
“You…” Thinking of this, Chen Jian couldn’t help but ask, “Did your leg break?”
“Otherwise?” Shan Yu turned his wheelchair around. “It didn’t break. My hobby is to put a brace on my leg to make it hard to move around.”
Chen Jian smiled. “You don’t need to answer so thoroughly, I was just asking casually.”
“Is your curly hair natural or permed?” Shan Yu asked.
“Don’t call me curly hair,” Chen Jian said.
“I didn’t call you curly hair,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian thought for a moment. It seemed like he hadn’t called him that: “Anyway, don’t call me curly hair.”
“Why not, little fur?” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian looked at him, unsure of what to say for a moment.
“Curly?” Shan Yu changed the nickname.
“I’m leaving,” Chen Jian slammed the table and turned to walk toward the door.
“Chen Jian,” Shan Yu finally used the correct name.
But Chen Jian didn’t stop, acting like he hadn’t heard and continued walking forward.
“Are you short of money?” Shan Yu asked.
Chen Jian stopped. Indeed, he was short of money.
Who isn’t short of money? It’s always lacking.
Chen Jian turned around.
“Help me out here for two months,” Shan Yu said. “I’ll pay you three times your original salary.”
In order not to turn around immediately, Chen Jian reached out to hold the doorframe and looked at Shan Yu. “Do you think I’m that kind of person?”
“If you don’t try, how do you know if you’re that kind of person?” Shan Yu adjusted his sitting position with his left leg. “So, are you?”
“…Today, yes,” Chen Jian let go of the doorframe and walked back. “But with conditions.”
“Mm, say it,” Shan Yu smiled.
“Don’t call me curly hair, little curly hair, curly, little fur, A-Mao…” Chen Jian said. “Anyway, don’t mention curls or fur, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay,” Shan Yu looked at the strand of hair hanging down from his forehead. “Then your…curved hair, is it natural or permed?”
Chen Jian was silent for a moment. “Natural curls, then permed.”
“Double standard,” Shan Yu said.
“As long as you know what it means, don’t play dumb,” Chen Jian sat down at the bar. “Let’s talk about the specific salary and job details…”
“Come down,” Shan Yu said.
The boss’s script was placed on the table.
Chen Jian cooperatively got back down, leaning on the bar. After all, he was truly the boss now.
“How much did Qian Yu pay you before?” Shan Yu asked.
“Three thousand one hundred fifty,” Chen Jian answered.
Shan Yu looked at him without speaking.
“Three times is nine thousand four hundred fifty, nine thousand is fine,” Chen Jian said.
“Do I look like Liu Wu?” Shan Yu asked.
Chen Jian didn’t reply.
“Didn’t I say that Qian Yu didn’t take anything?” Shan Yu said.
“Two thousand,” Chen Jian sighed. “I knew you were going to ask.”
“Just wanted to see how short of money you are,” Shan Yu said. “Six thousand a month, plus food, shelter, transportation, and someone to help with the preparations for the store.”
“Isn’t that a bit too much?” Chen Jian calculated.
“Money?” Shan Yu tilted his head.
“Work!” Chen Jian raised his voice.
“Just have someone come, didn’t ask you to do it yourself,” Shan Yu said.
“Hiring a nanny to take care of just you would cost five to six thousand,” Chen Jian tried to argue for himself.
“Then two thousand for you, and I’ll hire a nanny,” Shan Yu responded firmly.
“You…” Chen Jian looked at him, took a while to give him a thumbs-up and shake it. “Impressive.”
“You’re not short of money,” Shan Yu said, “I’m short of money too, let’s understand each other.”
You’re short of money, but you took over this money-losing business.
Chen Jian didn’t say this out loud, afraid that the six thousand would be lost again.
“When do I start work?” Chen Jian asked.
“Now,” Shan Yu said. “I’m going out for a walk. Just follow me and introduce me to this town along the way.”
“Driving?” Chen Jian asked. “Wait for Liu Wu to come back?”
“I’ll sit, you walk,” Shan Yu said.
“I’ll remind you first, boss,” Chen Jian glanced at Shan Yu and his wheelchair. “When there aren’t many tourists, people here love to watch a spectacle. If you go out like this, they’ll crowd around you so close they’ll be in your face.”
“My face isn’t something that can’t be looked at,” Shan Yu adjusted the control on his wheelchair and started rolling toward the door.
“Alright then.” Chen Jian followed.
Maybe because it was a sunny day, or because it was still morning, the town was noticeably livelier than the previous night. There were cars on the road, and pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks in small groups.
“It’s livelier than when I came out for breakfast,” Shan Yu said. “Earlier, none of the shops were even open.”
“Half the street is still closed now, but today’s the weekend,” Chen Jian said. “There’ll be more people—short-term vacationers, the kind who come today and leave tomorrow.”
“Where do they usually stay?” Shan Yu asked.
“It’s not too cold yet, so a lot of them bring tents and camp out,” Chen Jian answered tactfully.
“They’re not afraid of ghosts?” Shan Yu glanced back at the road leading to Zhenxi.
“The campsite is three kilometers from here,” Chen Jian said. “Ghosts don’t like traveling that far. They don’t have cars, or electric wheelchairs.”
Shan Yu chuckled and sighed.
“Zhenxi is closer to the ski resort,” Chen Jian felt he shouldn’t be too discouraging—at least let the boss keep this money-losing business running for two months—so he added, “Once the ski resort opens, more people will stay over.”
“Then why wouldn’t they just stay at the resort’s hotel?” Shan Yu asked.
“…You knew that already?” Chen Jian couldn’t hold back.
Shan Yu laughed.
“Wheelchair boss!” A voice called out nearby. “Had breakfast yet?”
Shan Yu turned his head toward the voice. A plump woman was cheerfully standing in front of her shop, munching on sunflower seeds. Above her, a sign read Xiao Pang (Little Fat) Noodle Shop.
“What are you shouting for?” Chen Jian said.
“They sell lamb noodle soup here too?” Shan Yu asked casually.
“Yes!” The woman immediately stuffed the sunflower seeds into her apron pocket.
“I—” Before Shan Yu could finish speaking, she had already strode over, grabbed the wheelchair handles, and started pulling him up the steps.
The wheelchair tilted forward, nearly throwing Shan Yu out.
“It’s electric!” Chen Jian quickly reached out to pry her hands away. He felt like he had been out of practice lately—yesterday at the thief-catching scene, he wasn’t as fast as Shan Yu, and now, at the customer-pulling scene, he wasn’t even quicker than Hu-jie.
“I’m just helping save some battery,” Hu-jie didn’t let go. With two quick pulls, she had the wheelchair up the steps, then yanked Shan Yu’s collar back a bit to keep him from getting jolted out. “Power’s out at that haunted house, right? Can’t even charge your wheelchair there.”
“Haunted house?” Shan Yu glanced at Chen Jian.
“Of course it’s a haunted house. My husband passed by the other day and heard a woman singing inside. Scared the life out of him,” Hu-jie settled him at a small table near the entrance. “Our lamb noodle soup portions are big. A small bowl is enough for you.”
“…Alright,” Shan Yu said. “Get him one too—”
“He already ate.” Hu-jie swiftly placed a kettle and a cup on the table before heading into the kitchen.
“I really… I already ate too…” Shan Yu muttered only after she disappeared. He shifted back in his wheelchair to adjust his position. “Maybe I should start using a cane.”
“Won’t help,” Chen Jian poured him a cup of water. “Even with a cane, she’d still carry you right in.”
“…Do all shop owners here run their business like this?” Shan Yu asked.
“Just her. She’s especially enthusiastic.” Chen Jian glanced toward the kitchen.
“You already ate?” Shan Yu asked.
“Yeah, grabbed two buns from the shop next door,” Chen Jian said. “Didn’t have noodles here, so she’s upset.”
“You know all the shop owners pretty well?” Shan Yu asked again.
“These few are all from the village up the way. I live over there too,” Chen Jian said. “That lady’s surname is Hu.”
“You’re a local?” Shan Yu kept asking.
“What, do I not look like one?” Chen Jian countered.
“No,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian chuckled and didn’t say anything.
“You all call Zhenxi the haunted house?” Shan Yu picked up his cup, turned it in his hand a few times, then put it down.
“Yeah,” Chen Jian nodded. Shan Yu would find out sooner or later anyway. “When business is slow, people like to spread ghost stories.”
“Her husband heard someone singing,” Shan Yu looked at him. “Was it you?”
“Hearing a woman singing? I can’t make that kind of sound,” Chen Jian said.
“So if they heard a man singing, that’d be you.” Shan Yu nodded.
Chen Jian didn’t respond. He just looked at him for a long moment before sighing. “Yeah.”
Hu-jie placed a bowl of lamb noodle soup on the table. “All the seasonings are here—add whatever you want.”
“Mm.” Shan Yu lowered his head and took a sniff. The mutton smell was strong.
“If you can’t finish it, just pack it up and throw it out later,” Chen Jian whispered. “If you don’t eat it here, she’ll scold you.”
“Mm.” Shan Yu picked up his chopsticks, stirred the noodles a bit, then lowered his head and started eating.
To be honest, Chen Jian thought the noodles at this shop weren’t great. And the rice noodles were even worse—he couldn’t eat a single bite of this lamb noodle soup.
Shan Yu probably wasn’t used to it either. He might even—
“Even if it’s bad, don’t say anything,” Chen Jian quietly instructed.
Shan Yu slurped a mouthful of noodles, then turned to look at him.
“What are you looking at?” Chen Jian said. “You’ve known that mouth of yours since the day you were born.”
Shan Yu swallowed the noodles, leaned back in his wheelchair, and laughed for a good while.
“Hurry up. Eat if you can, pack it up if you can’t,” Chen Jian said. “This town isn’t small—it’ll take a while to walk through the whole thing.”
Shan Yu didn’t say anything else and continued eating.
Chen Jian watched him, a little surprised.
Shan Yu was eating very seriously. Aside from occasionally blowing on the noodles, he didn’t stop, taking bite after bite. Even if Chen Jian hadn’t eaten for three days, he wouldn’t be able to eat like this.
“Did you skip dinner last night?” Chen Jian asked.
“Don’t talk while eating,” Shan Yu managed to say in between bites.
“You used up more time saying that than if you’d just answered,” Chen Jian sighed and dropped the subject.
Shan Yu ate fast. In just a few minutes, he had finished all the noodles. Then, he picked up the bowl and drank the soup too.
“Oh!” Hu-jie, returning from the kitchen, was briefly stunned before her eyes lit up with joy. “You finished everything? Was it good?”
“Mm.” Shan Yu responded while taking out his phone to scan the payment code.
“Twenty,” Hu-jie said.
Shan Yu turned to look at her.
“The lamb is fresh, not like the frozen stuff other places use,” Hu-jie said.
Shan Yu paid, but before he could say anything, Chen Jian quickly stood up and pushed his wheelchair toward the door.
“It’s electric,” Shan Yu reminded him.
“I know.” Chen Jian still hurried him out. “See you, Hu-jie!”
“Next time, come eat noodles at my place! Just eating a couple of buns—what kind of breakfast is that?!” Hu-jie called out from the shop.
After walking about ten meters, Shan Yu finally spoke again. “Last night, I had instant noodles from the storage room.”
“Hmm?” Chen Jian paused before realizing he was answering an earlier question. “Instant noodles aren’t bad. That batch was stocked right before Qian Yu ran off… But the way you just ate, I thought you’d gone two days without food.”
“No. Even if I don’t sleep, I still have to eat,” Shan Yu said.
“Was the lamb noodle soup that good?” Chen Jian asked, curious.
“It wasn’t. Too gamey,” Shan Yu said.
“…Then why did you eat it like that? I thought you liked it.” Chen Jian was shocked.
“It doesn’t matter whether it’s good or not,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian glanced down at him.
“This street is the main street, right?” Shan Yu drove his wheelchair as they walked the length of the street. The variety of shops was pretty complete.
From large supermarkets to small convenience stores, everything necessary for daily life was there. There were also many little specialty shops with a tourist-town aesthetic, selling wholesale souvenirs and mountain goods of questionable authenticity.
As Chen Jian had said, when there weren’t many tourists, the shop owners would sit outside their stores. As Shan Yu and his wheelchair passed by, every single one of them stared at him for quite a while.
“Yeah. Tourists enter through here,” Chen Jian said. “There are two other streets, both longer than this one, more residential. There’s also a light fountain plaza to the north, with a night market in the evenings.”
“Let’s go check it out,” Shan Yu ordered.
“Turn right up ahead, take the small alley,” Chen Jian said, glancing at the back of his wheelchair.
“What? Walked a little and you’re already tired? The same legs that can climb walls to the second floor?” Shan Yu tilted his head.
Does he have eyes on the back of his head?!
“I was just studying it,” Chen Jian said.
“That footplate can hold a person,” Shan Yu said. “You could stand on it and give the shopkeepers a real show.”
“…No thanks.” Chen Jian looked at the footplate. It did seem like it could hold a person, but he had no idea how much weight it could bear. He wasn’t about to be tricked into stepping on it, only to have the cost deducted from his salary if it broke.
Halfway down the second street, Shan Yu’s phone rang.
Without even looking, he answered—it could only be Liu Wu.
“Where are you?” Liu Wu’s voice was low.
“On the street. Why?” Shan Yu asked. “Did you see a ghost in broad daylight?”
“I just got back. There are a bunch of people in the courtyard,” Liu Wu said. “Did you cause some trouble?”
“What kind of people?” Shan Yu stopped his wheelchair.
“They look like bikers—five guys, six motorcycles, all the same model. Definitely a group,” Liu Wu said. “And one of them is missing. I don’t know where he went…”
“One of them is right next to me,” Shan Yu glanced at Chen Jian.
“What the hell?” Chen Jian asked.
“What? I don’t get it… What do we do, bro?” Liu Wu sounded nervous.
“Did they say what they’re here for?” Shan Yu asked.
“No. They’re not talking to me. They’re just playing cards in the courtyard…”
“Poker?” Shan Yu turned his wheelchair around, heading back.
“I don’t know—I didn’t dare look. And I don’t know how to play poker—is that the point, bro?!” Liu Wu said.
“Just leave for now. Go wait at that inn by the intersection. If they don’t let you leave, just lie on the ground and play dead,” Shan Yu said. “I’m heading back now.”
“They don’t seem to be stopping me. You should come meet me there—wait for them to leave, then we’ll go back.”
“What are you thinking? Just leave,” Shan Yu hung up.
“What’s going on?” Chen Jian asked, walking beside him. “If we’re heading back, go straight ahead. Turning around is the long way.”
“Is there some kind of special welcome ceremony for new people in this town?” Shan Yu asked as he changed direction again, following the shorter route.
“No.” Chen Jian could already guess what was happening, but it wasn’t the right time to call and ask. He was starting to get a headache.
“There are some guests in the courtyard, riding motorcycles just like yours,” Shan Yu said.
“Almost everyone here rides that model,” Chen Jian said.
“What do you think they’re here for? Locals,” Shan Yu asked.
“Looking for trouble,” Chen Jian frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go back just yet—I’ll check it out first.”
“Are they going to kill someone?” Shan Yu asked.
“No. Are you crazy? Kill someone?” Chen Jian said.
“Then what’s there to be afraid of?” Shan Yu said.
