The night was quite cold, but spirits in the garden remained high. Sporting her retro afro, Hu Pan led a group of guests dancing a retro disco around the fire barrel.
Yao Yi had been taking photos, but once she felt she had enough, she was pulled into the dancing circle.
Yue Lang held the camera, clicking away relentlessly at his wife.
“The fire isn’t big enough,” Shan Yu said. He was wearing Chen Jian’s coat—a long one at that—but to avoid the crowd, he had sat down a bit farther from the flames. When the wind blew, it was still somewhat chilly.
“I’ll go find something.” Chewing on a skewer of meat, Chen Jian stood up and gestured toward Sanbing.
Sanbing immediately broke away from the disco line and jogged over. “What’s up?”
“Let’s go find a barrel,” Chen Jian said. “Set up another fire pit.”
“Liangye has one,” Sanbing said. “I saw it in their kitchen.”
“You’ve even been wandering into other people’s kitchens?” Shan Yu asked.
“Borrowing vinegar for Zhao-jie,” Sanbing explained.
“Does Dayin not even have vinegar? You had to borrow it?” Shan Yu looked at the store manager in charge of purchasing, completely dumbfounded.
“The store manager bought the wrong thing,” Sanbing chuckled. “All three bottles he brought back were dark soy sauce.”
“They’re the same brand, they look almost identical,” Chen Jian said, stripping the last pieces of meat from the skewer into his mouth. Setting the skewer aside, he said, “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go.” Sanbing kicked a small stool out of the way and sauntered toward the back gate.
“We’re going to borrow a barrel,” Chen Jian said, “not loot one.”
As he walked, Sanbing shifted from swinging his shoulders to strutting like a cat.
“Did you not eat anything earlier and just drink booze?…” Chen Jian murmured.
Compared to Dayin’s bustling scene, Liangye felt exceptionally quiet. A window on the second floor was open; the guest hadn’t come down to join the party, but had leaned halfway out to watch Dayin and film it with their phone.
Da Li was in the courtyard smoking. Chen Jian greeted him and chatted briefly about the bonfire festival. Sanbing took half a lap around their courtyard, slipped into the kitchen, and emerged moments later dragging a large oil drum.
“Brother Li, lend us this for a bit,” Sanbing called out.
“Your fire isn’t big enough?” Da Li asked.
“Not enough at all.” Sanbing dragged the drum toward the exit.
“…Go ahead, take it, take it,” Da Li said, sounding slightly helpless.
“Sorry about this, Brother Li. We’ll clean it up and bring it back tomorrow,” Chen Jian said.
“No problem, no problem,” Da Li said. “We only used that drum for roasting sweet potatoes anyway. It’s meant for fires.”
“Thanks,” Chen Jian said. “Then we’ll settle the bonfire festival matter as discussed. Just draw up a list of the supplies we need to buy.”
“Sounds good,” Da Li nodded.
The document Da Li had previously sent suggested that every inn hand over a pool of cash upfront to cover venue, supplies, and other expenses. Shan Yu hadn’t agreed. The costs for venue, staff, and soft expenses could be paid in advance, but for actual supplies, an exact list had to be drafted, and Dayin would purchase their share directly.
“Nobody’s an idiot. We’ve already left them a margin; they shouldn’t even think about skimming off the procurement,” Shan Yu had said.
Dragging the barrel back into the garden, Sanbing looked like Prometheus returning with fire and received a thunderous welcome.
While everyone scrambled to get a fire going in the new drum, Chen Jian sat back down beside Shan Yu. Shan Yu had a bowl of stewed fish resting on his lap, eating it with his left hand using Xiao Dou’er’s children’s chopsticks.
Chen Jian picked up the bowl to hold it for him. “Who had the keen eye to bring you a bowl of fish?”
“Petty Yue Lang,” Shan Yu said. “Years ago when he wrecked his motorcycle and broke both arms, I encouraged him to learn how to eat with his feet. He still remembers it after all these years, out for revenge.”
Chen Jian couldn’t help but laugh, his hand holding the bowl shaking slightly. “You’re wicked.”
“I even found instructional videos for him,” Shan Yu said, picking up a piece of fish and chewing slowly.
“You really brought this on yourself,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu smiled without answering.
Breaking the rule about talking while eating was an occasional indulgence, and he kept it strictly occasional.
“I talked to Da Li about the money. They had no objections,” Chen Jian said. “He’ll send over the bank account and purchasing list tomorrow, and I’ll arrange it.”
“Mm.” Shan Yu swallowed the fish and nodded. “There’s something I’m a bit embarrassed to tell you.”
“What?” Chen Jian paused.
You actually get embarrassed?
“Burned a hole in your jacket.” Shan Yu set down the chopsticks, pulled up the hem of the coat, and showed Chen Jian a hole that had evidently been sparked by a stray ember.
“It’s fine,” Chen Jian said. “Just an old coat.”
“I’ll buy you a new one to make up for it,” Shan Yu said. “I need to buy some clothes for myself anyway.”
“No need,” Chen Jian said quickly. “With a hole like that, even if I snagged it myself, I wouldn’t bother fixing it.”
“Does this jacket hold any special meaning to you?” Shan Yu asked. “It looks pretty worn, yet you’re always wearing it.”
“The special meaning is that I don’t want to spend money on a new one,” Chen Jian said.
“…Oh.” Shan Yu chuckled, picking up the chopsticks to take another bite of fish.
Hu Pan came over carrying a tray, her cheeks flushed red. It was obvious she had downed quite a bit, yet impressively, alongside the freshly grilled skewers, the tray held two glasses of alcohol without spilling a drop.
“A cocktail I mixed, try it.” Hu Pan held the tray out in front of them.
Chen Jian set the bowl aside, swiftly confiscated the children’s chopsticks from Shan Yu’s hand, and took the tray.
“How’d you make it?” Shan Yu picked up a glass.
“Just red wine and lemon juice,” Hu Pan said.
Shan Yu smiled and took a sip. “Not bad.”
As Hu Pan turned to leave, Shan Yu called her back: “Panpan.”
“Yeah?” Hu Pan bent down.
“Thanks for your hard work.” Shan Yu pulled a red envelope from his pocket and pressed it into her hand.
“Ah!” Hu Pan took the envelope and pinched it several times. “At least two thousand! Long live the boss… Is this New Year’s money?”
“Who gives New Year’s money in November?” Shan Yu said. “It’s a bonus for your hard work. Keep it quiet, and call Zhao-jie over.”
“Got it!” Hu Pan stuffed the envelope into her coat and sprinted off.
“Didn’t you say you’d hand them out during a meeting?” Chen Jian looked at Shan Yu.
“I’m in a good mood right now, feeling hyped from the drinks,” Shan Yu said. “Whatever.”
Zhao-jie soon came trotting over. “Boss Shan, you were looking for me?”
“Thanks for your hard work, Zhao-jie,” Shan Yu said, pulling out a red envelope and handing it to her. “Cooking and cleaning every day—you have it the hardest.”
“It’s not hard at all, Panpan and the others always help me.” Zhao-jie tucked the envelope away, unable to stop smiling.
“You don’t need to clean up later,” Shan Yu said. “They’ll handle it together. Just eat well and have fun tonight.”
“Alright!” Zhao-jie nodded repeatedly.
Chen Jian didn’t say anything, sipping his drink from the side while watching Boss Shan win over hearts. Perhaps because everyone had been drinking and fooling around, their spirits were soaring, making them even more overjoyed upon receiving the bonuses.
Chen Jian half-wondered if Shan Yu had picked this moment on purpose.
When Chen Erhu received his envelope, tears practically welled up in his eyes, shimmering in the firelight.
“Boss Chen has taken a lot of grief lately,” Shan Yu said, patting Chen Erhu’s arm.
Chen Erhu didn’t say a word, just shook his head vigorously, turned around, and walked away briskly. Any slower, and he might have burst into tears right there.
Utterly devoted, truly devoted…
“Did Chen Erhu get more than the others?” Chen Jian asked softly.
“Store Manager has good eyes,” Shan Yu turned to look at him. “You could tell just from that?”
“I’m quite sensitive to money,” Chen Jian answered honestly.
“The others got two thousand; his has five thousand,” Shan Yu said. “He is Boss Chen, after all, and the money was extracted using his brother’s name. We can hand out another bigger batch for New Year’s.”
Chen Jian smiled.
“Thanks to Chen Dahu,” Shan Yu raised his glass, tilting it toward Chen Jian.
“Thanks to Chen Dahu,” Chen Jian raised his own glass and lightly clinked it against Shan Yu’s.
Shan Yu drained his drink and set the empty glass down by his feet. Chen Jian glanced down; there were already eight glasses there, a mix of beer mugs and wine glasses.
He originally wanted to warn him not to drink so much with an injured hand, but remembering how this guy had drank heavily even with an external fixator on his leg, he kept quiet.
Chen Jian finished his own drink and placed the glass aside, only to realize he hadn’t drunk much less than Shan Yu—seven glasses were lined up on the small stone ledge beside him.
It had been a long time since he drank like this. Though he didn’t feel particularly drunk, his mood was inexplicably lifted.
His mind was active.
Very upbeat.
When he turned back, Shan Yu placed a red envelope into his hand: “Thanks for the hard work, Store Manager.”
“Thank you, Boss,” Chen Jian took the envelope, then paused. “This much?”
His envelope was the thickest and the largest, heavy in his hand. Over the years, a lot of the money he paid back was in cash, so a single squeeze told him it was probably eight thousand.
“You’re the only management. You worry about every single detail in the inn,” Shan Yu said. “Free money—take a bigger cut.”
Chen Jian hesitated, said nothing more, and tried to slip the envelope into his inner coat pocket. Because it was so thick and he didn’t want to make obvious movements that might draw attention, several attempts failed.
Shan Yu let out a sigh. Using his bandage-wrapped hand, he parted Chen Jian’s coat and shoved the envelope straight into the inner pocket. “With your clumsiness, if you went out pickpocketing, you’d get beaten twelve times out of ten.”
“…Get beaten once and you improve your technique,” Chen Jian said. “Getting beaten twelve times—even Chen Erhu isn’t stubborn enough to be that stupid.”
Shan Yu leaned back in his chair and chuckled.
The movement was fairly broad, letting Chen Jian catch the scent wafting off him—the subtle ocean-water fragrance he had smelled the very first time he ran into Shan Yu in Room 307.
It smelled nice.
He leaned back into his chair too, gathering his thoughts.
“Isn’t it too much?” He returned to the earlier topic.
“I originally wanted to put ten thousand, but I was afraid you’d think it was too much,” Shan Yu said. “If you want valid reasons, there are plenty: the store manager carries heavy duties, and you barely take time off. If you want selfish motives, there are definitely those too.”
Chen Jian stayed silent.
“I reined it in as much as I could,” Shan Yu said, “but keeping it completely free of personal bias is impossible. Just remember this money came out of thin air; I wouldn’t do this with my own money.”
He spoke so bluntly and candidly that it left no room for Chen Jian to overthink.
After a moment of silence, Chen Jian said, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s what a great boss should do,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian paused, turned his head away, and laughed.
Upbeat.
“The snow season will definitely pull in more than the previous holiday,” Shan Yu said. “Now that you’ve taken my money, work hard. Let’s aim to make a fortune this winter.”
“Buying loyalty in advance,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu turned his head to look at him. “Mm.”
The inn had prepared plenty of meat; aside from what Zhao-jie cooked, they had bought plenty of pre-made skewers. Some guests from Liangye joined in as well. Probably to avoid looking like they were taking advantage of Dayin, Da Li had their kitchen send over some sweet potatoes and chicken wings.
The group ate and drank, partying wildly. Even Zhou Lecheng joined the bonfire jumping crew, dancing around the two fire pits for nearly an hour before collapsing into a chair to sip fruit juice, completely drained.
Hu Pan had terrifying stamina, dragging Sanbing and the others along to keep bouncing with the guests.
It was obvious Sanbing was exhausted—even his afro had wilted—but Hu Pan was still going strong, her own hair holding its volume perfectly, so he kept pushing through without stopping.
Chen Jian wondered if he should adjust tomorrow’s schedule to let Sanbing sleep in.
“We’re going on a night hike,” Yue Lang walked over holding a bottle of red wine. He tipped his head back, took a swig straight from the mouth, and looked at the two of them. “Coming?”
Chen Jian didn’t say anything, unsure of who the question was addressed to.
“What nonsense is that?” Shan Yu looked at Yue Lang.
“A night! Hike!” Yao Yi came over, draping an arm over Yue Lang’s shoulder and hanging off him. “You’re going to suffer your usual insomnia once you get back to your room anyway. Might as well take a walk to sober up and shoot some night scenery. I didn’t lug all these camera bodies and lenses here for nothing.”
“You weren’t the one carrying them anyway,” Shan Yu said. “You brought a pack mule.”
“We’re heading out then. Not going far, just that small viewing platform you mentioned, five hundred meters up.” Yue Lang raised the bottle and waved it at them, then walked toward the garden’s back gate with Yao Yi.
“Asshole,” Shan Yu muttered as he stood up, clearly uneasy and intending to follow.
Chen Jian stood up too.
“You coming?” Shan Yu asked.
“Yeah,” Chen Jian walked toward the back gate. “They’ve had too much to drink. If anything happens, nobody can count on that hand of yours.”
“You drank quite a bit yourself,” Shan Yu followed along. “Hold on to your money, don’t drop it.”
Chen Jian patted the red envelope in his left inner pocket, deliberately tilting his body dramatically to the left. “It’s this heavy, pretty hard to miss.”
Shan Yu looked at him. “A bit of alcohol and your ‘Chen Yu Luo Yan’ persona comes right out, huh?”
Chen Jian said nothing, letting out a laugh.
Upbeat.
The heavens were cooperative; as they walked up the mountain toward the small viewing platform, the wind actually died down.
Still, it was late at night and the temperature had dropped considerably. Walking ahead, Chen Jian glanced back at Shan Yu: “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” Shan Yu said.
“The one you took is thinner than the one I’m wearing,” Chen Jian said. “If you’re cold… we can swap.”
“Why don’t you wait until next summer to offer that?” Shan Yu said.
“If you don’t go crazy and hike a mountain in the middle of the night, that jacket is plenty,” Chen Jian retorted.
“…Not cold, let’s keep going,” Shan Yu smiled. “Alcohol really is a fantastic thing.”
Yue Lang and his wife had solid alcohol tolerances. After drinking all night, their footing on the mountain path was remarkably steady, and their pace wasn’t slow either.
Yao Yi could even sing.
“Sister Xiao Yi sings well,” Chen Jian said.
“Yeah, she was the campus belle back in our year. Good at singing, dancing, and top of her class,” Shan Yu said.
“Were you classmates?” Chen Jian asked.
“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded. “If not for my connection, how would Yue Lang have ever met her?”
“I heard that!” Yue Lang hollered from ahead.
Shan Yu smiled.
Before long, they arrived at the small viewing platform. The vantage point here wasn’t as expansive as where Shan Yu had slept before, but the night scenery was already stunning. Looking down, one could see the peaceful village bathed in moonlight, carrying a tranquil, serene beauty.
“So gorgeous. Totally worth the trip,” Yao Yi said, leaning against the platform railing.
“Chen Jian,” Yue Lang pointed to the village below, “is that your old village?”
“Yes,” Chen Jian walked over. “The side with more lights is the new village.”
Yao Yi pulled a tripod from the pack Yue Lang was carrying, mounted her camera, and started shooting down at the scenery. “We can come up again tomorrow night, just earlier. If the village had more lights on, it’d look just like a fairy tale.”
Shan Yu walked up beside Chen Jian, gazing downward with him.
“Have you been here at night?” Shan Yu asked.
“No,” Chen Jian said. “I didn’t even know it looked like this at night.”
“When you’re right in the middle of it, you stop noticing,” Yao Yi remarked. “Sometimes you need outsiders to spot the good stuff.”
“Come take a couple’s shot of us,” Yue Lang said.
The phrase made Chen Jian freeze momentarily.
“Little brother, help take our photo,” Yao Yi said.
“Oh,” Chen Jian caught on. “I don’t know how to use a camera.”
“No worries, I’ll set it up,” Yao Yi moved the tripod back a bit, adjusted the settings toward Yue Lang, and said, “You just press the button.”
“Can’t you just use a timer?” Shan Yu asked.
“A timer doesn’t leave her enough time to pose,” Yue Lang said.
“Exactly,” Yao Yi said, skipping back to Yue Lang’s side. She threw her arms around his neck and tilted her head up.
Chen Jian looked at the monitor screen—it was a lovely frame.
“Should I kiss you?” Yue Lang looked down at Yao Yi.
“No,” Yao Yi said. “Kissing ruins the vibe.”
“What’s the vibe right now?” Yue Lang asked.
“The smug vibe of ‘look how gorgeous my wife is,'” Shan Yu said.
“Fuck off,” Yue Lang laughed.
Right as Yao Yi laughed too, Chen Jian pressed the shutter.
Under Yao Yi’s direction, he proceeded to take a whole series of photos for them—various poses, some affectionate, some goofy…
“Shoot him, quick!” Yao Yi on the screen suddenly pointed to the side.
Chen Jian followed her gesture and shifted the camera slightly, catching Shan Yu in the frame. Leaning against the railing, Shan Yu was looking out toward the village.
Chen Jian pressed the shutter.
Only then did Shan Yu realize the lens was on him, turning his head to look back.
A gust of wind brushed past, lifting Shan Yu’s hair loosely into the breeze. The moonlight washed over him, tracing a profile that was both sharp and soft.
“Don’t move! Quick, shoot it!” Yao Yi bounded over.
Chen Jian pressed the shutter once more. The instant his eyes locked with Shan Yu’s through the lens, his breath skipped a beat, caught in the click of the shutter.
