AD CH47

The moment he wrapped his arms around Chen Jian, their ears brushed gently against each other.

In that tiny, almost imperceptible touch, all the quiet sounds around his ears vanished.

He couldn’t hear the flowing river, the blowing wind, or the low chirping of night insects. Everything—including the sound of Chen Jian’s breathing—disappeared the moment he embraced him.

Yet, one sound quickly returned from the silence, softly brushing past his ear.

It was Chen Jian’s breath.

For twenty seconds, Shan Yu heard nothing other than that breathing.

He didn’t move, didn’t release Chen Jian, and didn’t speak.

Time felt as though a long while had passed, yet it also felt like merely a few seconds.

When Shan Yu tilted his head slightly, he touched the tip of Chen Jian’s ear again. In this night wind so cold it made him want to shiver, the tip of Chen Jian’s ear was scalding hot.

Shan Yu loosened his hold around Chen Jian slightly. In this face-to-face embrace, Chen Jian couldn’t slap his face, but he could use an elbow strike, a heavy knee strike, or even slam his head straight into him…

Just as he was preparing to let go and step back, Chen Jian moved.

Chen Jian’s arms lifted, reached behind his back, and held him.

Unlike the lingering hesitation when he had reached out to block Shan Yu’s eyes at the hospital, this embrace was solid and wholehearted.

First, a gentle wrap, a brief pause, and then a firm squeeze.

Shan Yu’s arms, midway through pulling away, froze in midair, not daring to move—afraid that if any joint was held at an ungraceful angle, it might startle Chen Jian into pulling away.

“What happened to your hand?” Chen Jian’s voice was very low, right beside his ear.

“Nothing,” Shan Yu said. “I’ll tell you when we get back.”

“Mm,” Chen Jian responded.

After a few seconds of silence, Chen Jian released his arms.

Shan Yu unclasped his hands as well.

The moment he relaxed, he felt his back aching from stiffness.

“When…” Chen Jian looked at him. “…did you get back?”

“Twenty minutes ago,” Shan Yu said.

Chen Jian froze for a moment, then turned around to walk toward the motorcycle. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” Shan Yu said.

Chen Jian paused in his tracks and glanced back at him. “Why didn’t you… eat first?”

“Did you sell your phone to pay off your debts?” Shan Yu asked.

Chen Jian stopped, pulled out his phone from his pocket, and lit up the screen. After waiting a few seconds, the screen went black again.

“No signal. Wait for me to restart it,” Chen Jian lowered his head to look at his phone. “This phone is old. Sometimes even if there’s a signal, it can’t connect, so it needs a reboot.”

Shan Yu didn’t say anything, silently waiting together with Chen Jian for the phone to restart.

After a short while, the phone screen lit up again, followed by a sudden series of dings, jingles, and beeps from various notifications.

“You sure have a busy business,” Shan Yu said.

Chen Jian didn’t speak. He tapped the phone twice, likely opening the message from Plain & Simple. After glancing at it, he walked back over toward Shan Yu.

“Just now… I was up in the mountains,” Chen Jian said. “No signal.”

“Does your godmother live in the mountains?” Shan Yu asked.

“Hmm?” Chen Jian looked at him. “Who told you that?”

“My sister,” Shan Yu said. “Xiao Dou’er told me.”

Chen Jian smiled, thought for a moment, and nodded. “Sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” Shan Yu asked. Chen Jian’s answer basically confirmed that his godmother wasn’t a godmother in the traditional sense, or that “godmother” was just an excuse. “Is your godmother a mountain spirit?”

Chen Jian let out a sigh and remained silent.

“Let’s go,” Shan Yu walked toward the courtyard gate of Xiao Dou’er’s house, where Sanbing’s motorcycle was parked right at the entrance. “Let’s go visit your godmother.”

“…Maybe tomorrow,” Chen Jian said. “It’s already dark.”

“Are you afraid of the dark?” Shan Yu asked.

“No,” Chen Jian noticed Sanbing’s motorcycle. “Did you drive Sanbing’s bike over?”

“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded.

Chen Jian didn’t speak, feeling somewhat at a loss for how to describe his emotions.

Amidst a wave of caught-off-guard confusion was the most genuine sense of grounded peace he had felt over the past few days.

The instant the headlight illuminated Shan Yu’s face, amidst his own astonishment, he had felt that sense of peace—the feeling that everything had finally landed firmly and securely in place.

“I’ll drive you,” Chen Jian said. “Once we leave the village, there are no streetlights, and the road is hard to navigate.”

Shan Yu turned and walked back.

Chen Jian mounted the bike and turned it around. Shan Yu sat on the back seat, leaning his right elbow on Chen Jian’s shoulder, his bandage-wrapped hand positioned right in front of Chen Jian’s right side.

“Hold on tight,” Chen Jian said.

Shan Yu’s left hand held onto the side of his waist.

Chen Jian wanted to say he could wrap his arm around his waist if he liked. If it were Sanbing or the others riding behind him, they would definitely be hugging his waist right now—this road was extremely bumpy, and holding on with just one hand would make it hard to sit steadily.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Shan Yu spent his free time hanging from chin-up bars in the gym anyway; maybe his core strength was powerful enough.

He twisted the throttle, and the bike rode out.

The village roads were newly paved and very smooth, but once they left the village, the path immediately turned into a dirt road, full of potholes under the glare of the headlight.

As they went over the first bump, he slowed down, but the bike still gave a violent jolt.

“Fuck!” Shan Yu swayed, and the hand holding Chen Jian’s waist grabbed onto him firmly.

“Hey!” Chen Jian felt a sudden pang of pain and quickly reached back to grab Shan Yu’s wrist, pulling it forward.

Shan Yu wrapped his arm around his waist.

“The road’s like this all the way back,” Chen Jian said.

“Mm,” Shan Yu responded from behind.

Chen Jian said no more, keeping his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

When riding alone, he didn’t care much whether the road was smooth or bumpy—a few jolts wouldn’t overturn the bike anyway. But with the condition of Shan Yu’s right hand, he definitely couldn’t put any weight on it. With only one hand, if the jolt hit wrong, he really might get thrown off the bike.

Shan Yu didn’t say another word the whole way, and Chen Jian remained silent as well.

The surrounding lights had completely disappeared, and the moonlight began to gradually spread a blurry silver glow across the ground.

Chen Jian brought the bike to a stop at the end of a fork in the road.

“Not that far, after all,” Shan Yu got off the bike.

“Mm, I used to walk here in the past,” Chen Jian said. “If it were too far, I wouldn’t be able to walk it.”

This was the place his mother used to bring him when he was little. Back when her health was still good, she would bring him here to pick various kinds of mushrooms.

He couldn’t remember the exact details anymore; in his mind, there was only a memory like a chapter summary, alongside his mother’s smiling face.

Whenever he was in a bad mood, though, he would come here.

Chen Jian pulled out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and guided Shan Yu a dozen meters into the woods before stopping.

Shan Yu looked at the forest in front of him, a bit baffled.

Chen Jian walked over to a tree before them, patted the trunk, and turned back to look at him. “This tree.”

“Godmother?” Shan Yu asked.

“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded. “My mom brought me here to recognize it.”

Shan Yu froze in place.

It actually was a godmother, but it actually wasn’t a person.

“This godmother…” Shan Yu hesitated, “…what purpose does she serve?”

Chen Jian didn’t speak, leaning against the tree trunk as he sat down.

After a short while, he finally said, “Psychological comfort.”

Shan Yu remained silent.

To Chen Jian, who didn’t even have a home anymore, this tree was probably the only tangible connection to his mother he could still touch.

He walked over slowly and squatted in front of Chen Jian. Since his left leg couldn’t bear weight, he had to brace his right knee against the ground.

Chen Jian looked at his leg.

“Did something happen?” Shan Yu asked. “Over the past two days.”

Chen Jian’s gaze quickly swept over his face before shifting away. “Nothing really. Just… wanted to take a day off. Haven’t come to visit here in a long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when asking for leave?” Shan Yu asked.

“…You were busy, weren’t you?” Chen Jian said. “There wasn’t much going on here anyway, so I approved it for myself.”

“I wasn’t busy,” Shan Yu said.

Chen Jian glanced at him. “I thought you were busy. You said two or three days…”

“What about two or three days? Didn’t I come back in two or three days?” Shan Yu asked.

“…Today is the fourth day,” Chen Jian said.

Hah.

His sense of time sure was strong.

Shan Yu actually wanted to push the questioning further, but in the end, he chose to keep his mouth shut—he was merely taking advantage of Chen Jian having his guard down at this moment.

He found a rock nearby to sit on, joining Chen Jian in silently enduring the mountain breeze.

He didn’t know what Chen Jian was thinking about.

Nor did he know what he himself was thinking about.

At any rate, the chill had soaked right through his clothes, leaving him somewhat numb with cold.

Chen Jian, who hadn’t moved all this while, suddenly reached out toward him, pinched his clothing, and froze. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Shan Yu said. “Technical term: jacket.”

“An unlined one?” Chen Jian asked.

“Mm,” Shan Yu acknowledged. “Did you only just notice?”

So that hug was for nothing—he hadn’t even noticed back then.

“Let’s go,” Chen Jian stood up. “You’re definitely going to catch a cold.”

By the time they returned to Dayin, Sanbing was patrolling the small path outside.

Seeing Shan Yu return sitting on the back of Chen Jian’s motorcycle, he was stunned. “Boss Shan, where’s my bike?”

“At Xiao Dou’er’s house,” Chen Jian said. “I’ll take you over tomorrow to drive it back. His hand can’t handle driving.”

“He managed to drive it all the way over there, though,” Sanbing said.

“You shouldn’t have let him drive it over in the first place,” Chen Jian said.

“As if I could stop him!” Sanbing glanced at Shan Yu, who had already walked indoors. “You didn’t tell him when you took off, right? He was so pissed off when he left that he didn’t even let me finish talking. Me, stopping him… as if anyone could stop him!”

Was he really that angry?

Chen Jian didn’t say a word as he walked into the building.

“Boss Shan asked to cook some sweet glutinous rice balls,” Hu Pan said, leaning against the front desk table and bouncing on her feet. “Are you eating? If you are, we’ll cook them together.”

“Cook extra; everyone eat,” Chen Jian said. “Add some brown sugar and ginger. If you guys aren’t used to it, just add it to his portion.”

“I’m used to it,” Hu Pan waved her hand. “Add it to all of them, I’ll go cook. Zhao-jie just went home.”

“Mm, she told me she was going home for the night,” Chen Jian said.

“I’ll help you,” Sanbing immediately said.

“You can just stand beside me and cheer me on,” Hu Pan said.

Chen Jian was about to head toward the elevator when his phone chimed.

He pulled it out and looked.

[Fa Shan Ke Chen]: Come up and report on work, Manager Chen.

Chen Jian replied as he entered the elevator.

[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: Okay.

The office didn’t look any different from two days ago, but because Shan Yu was sitting on the sofa, it suddenly didn’t feel so deserted.

“Inside here are gifts for everyone—local specialties, snacks, and stuff,” Shan Yu pointed to the suitcase resting on the coffee table. “Take it downstairs later to distribute. There’s also a portion of snacks for Xiao Dou’er.”

“Mm.” Chen Jian walked over and carried the suitcase to the door. “You bought another suitcase?”

“Otherwise, was I supposed to carry them back in a fertilizer sack?” Shan Yu said. “How’s the dog?”

“Fine during the day, but it always barks at night—needs someone to keep it company,” Chen Jian said. “Whoever is on night duty at the front desk keeps it with them.”

“Mm.” Shan Yu leaned back against the sofa, letting out a soft sigh.

Earlier, it was dark and hard to see clearly, but now he could plainly see the exhaustion on Shan Yu’s face. Just as he was about to say they could do the report tomorrow instead, he caught sight of the bandage on Shan Yu’s hand—blood had seeped out near the center of his palm.

“Your hand.” He frowned.

“Hmm?” Shan Yu lifted his hand in front of his eyes to look at it, then lowered it again. “Oh.”

“Let’s rewrap it.” Chen Jian walked over and brought out the medical kit from before. Fortunately, the medicines in this kit were fully stocked; he had even gone to the pharmacy to replenish them once in between.

“It’s fine,” Shan Yu said. “We can do it tomorrow.”

Chen Jian didn’t speak, placing the medical kit on the coffee table.

Let’s do it now.

Mainly, he wanted to see what kind of injury this was.

The boss goes on one business trip, and the limp gets transferred somewhere else.

Shan Yu didn’t refuse further and let him unwrap the bandage around his hand.

It was clear that this bandage had been wrapped at a hospital or clinic, which allowed Chen Jian to breathe a sigh of relief.

However, when the gauze covering the palm was removed, he was still stunned.

A knife slash ran straight across his entire palm.

“How did this happen?” He looked at Shan Yu. “Fang Xu?”

“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded. “Tried to stab me. I grabbed the blade.”

Chen Jian knit his brows, staring down at the wound.

Something’s not right.

You’re not telling the truth, Boss.

“Hey,” Shan Yu hooked his finger. “Are you taking a tour or helping me change the dressing?”

“Who stabs someone with the blade facing upward?” Chen Jian looked at him.

“Hmm?” Shan Yu froze for a moment.

“If he tried to stab you and you grabbed the knife, it’s possible your palm was facing upward,” Chen Jian said. “If he didn’t stab you, it means you reached out to grab it before he could thrust it forward, right?”

“Ah,” Shan Yu looked at him.

“Even if you blindly grabbed the blade, reaching out to grab a knife would definitely mean your palm was facing downward,” Chen Jian stared back at him. “Was he holding the knife with the blade edge facing up?”

“Then couldn’t my palm have been facing upward when I grabbed it?” Shan Yu let out a tsk.

“Not for a seasoned fighter like you,” Chen Jian answered quickly. “He stabs for your stomach, and you raise your hand upward—so you can let him stab your chest instead?”

Shan Yu fell silent for a moment. Thinking through the scenario Chen Jian described, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fuck.”

Chen Jian looked at him.

“You haven’t gotten into a few fights yourself, have you?” Shan Yu said with a smile, “Manager Chen?”

Chen Jian didn’t reply, lowering his head to take a cotton swab to disinfect his wound.

Shan Yu waited for him to ask further, but Chen Jian didn’t speak again.

Presumably, if he didn’t offer the truth himself, Chen Jian wouldn’t press him.

The fact that this wound only had a few stitches was definitely because Shan Yu hadn’t been willing to get more. Once Chen Jian finished disinfecting it, he rewrapped his hand with fresh gauze and bandages.

“Manager! Manager!” Hu Pan’s voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Ask Boss Shan how many glutinous rice balls he wants to eat?”

Chen Jian glanced at Shan Yu.

“Ten,” Shan Yu said.

“You haven’t eaten dinner, and you’re only eating ten?” Chen Jian asked.

“I told them I ate,” Shan Yu said. “Otherwise, they’d have to fuss around cooking a full meal for me.”

Chen Jian picked up the walkie-talkie. “He’ll have ten.”

“What about you?” Hu Pan asked.

Chen Jian hesitated for a moment. “I’ll have thirty.”

“Oh my, you sure can eat,” Hu Pan laughed. “I’ll give you the whole pack then.”

“It’s fine if you go buy some Western food back for me, too,” Shan Yu said.

“Everything’s closed,” Chen Jian said.

Shan Yu let out a tsk. “Fine then, I’ll eat thirty.”

“You can eat them all if you want,” Chen Jian stood up. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

After packing up the items, Chen Jian picked up the suitcase to head downstairs.

Shan Yu leaned against the sofa, turning his head to look at him. “Chen Jian.”

“Hmm?” Chen Jian stopped.

“You can send a text for anything,” Shan Yu looked at him. “You don’t have to wait until the shop catches fire or Chen Dahu gets out of prison to cause trouble before you can send a message.”

“…Mm,” Chen Jian responded, then quickly walked out of the office.

In the few steps it took to reach the stairwell, he felt his ears burning up.

Without even bothering to call the elevator, he carried the suitcase and dashed straight down the stairs.

Just as he reached the last flight of steps, Shan Yu’s voice came through the walkie-talkie: “Do we have any cold medicine?”

What the hell, why didn’t you say so just now?

Chen Jian felt he had only zoned out for a fraction of a second when his foot missed a step.

He slid all the way down to the first floor in a full split, right leg forward and left leg back.

“Holy shit!” Sanbing stood at the entrance of the stairwell, holding a bowl of glutinous rice balls as he stared at him, so shocked he forgot to come over and pull him up. “What are you doing?!”

“An act for the New Year’s Gala.” Chen Jian stood up, bracing himself on the suitcase.

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