The mountain night view was indeed breathtaking. For the first time, Chen Jian took this long to genuinely appreciate the scenery he had lived alongside for twenty years.
His steps felt light. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Shan Yu or the alcohol, but it felt as though he could ride the wind and dive straight into that shimmering silver world beneath the moonlight.
Yue Lang and Yao Yi each held a bottle of wine, chatting as they drank and snapping photos every now and then.
Chen Jian and Shan Yu stayed quiet. Shan Yu would occasionally toss in a word or two, but mostly he just stood there, gazing out into the distance alongside him.
It was just like that time they came out of the old village, when he had seen Shan Yu lost in thought on the riverbank—standing in the wind, wrapped in a long silence.
Chen Jian didn’t know what he was looking at, nor what he was thinking.
Chen Jian wasn’t thinking about anything at all. He just stood there quietly, not wanting to move, not wanting to leave.
Even through the thick sleeve of his coat, he could feel the occasional brush of Shan Yu’s arm. Amid the wind rustling past his ears, he could hear the faint friction of their clothes rubbing together.
Reassuring.
And there were other feelings he couldn’t quite name. Every gentle touch felt like sparkling water poured over skin—a field of tiny bubbles, bursting continuously.
Subtle, yet distinct.
“Turn around,” Yao Yi’s voice drifted from behind.
Chen Jian and Shan Yu turned around at the same time.
Holding her drink, Yao Yi stood behind the tripod, watching the screen. She pressed the shutter. “The moon is just right now.”
When the moon slipped behind the woods at the mountain crest, the group slowly made their way back down.
The wind began picking up, turning sharp. Chen Jian gradually felt the chill cutting right through his clothes; thankfully, the descent was only a few hundred meters.
He glanced at Shan Yu beside him.
Shan Yu looked fine—calm and composed, walking with an easy posture, unlike Yue Lang and his wife who were hunched over and practically glued together.
Before Chen Jian could pull his gaze away, Shan Yu turned his head. “Yeah?”
“Nothing.” Chen Jian looked ahead.
“Fucking freezing,” Shan Yu muttered under his breath.
“You’re cold?” Chen Jian turned his head back.
“Not at all. In weather like this, I usually wear short sleeves,” Shan Yu said.
“…Take mine,” Chen Jian said.
“Forget it. It’s just a few steps back anyway. Taking it off and putting it back on…” Shan Yu gave his bandaged hand a slight wave. “With this hand, we might reach the door before my arm even finds the sleeve…”
Chen Jian chuckled. “Stripping down just to catch the wind.”
“Pretty much.” Shan Yu smiled. “You really can’t hold your liquor, Store Manager.”
“I don’t get many chances to drink normally.” Chen Jian didn’t argue. At first, he hadn’t felt much—just a bubbly, upbeat mood. But after catching the wind for a bit, the alcohol kicked in. His feet were growing unsteady, and his vision carried a slight double edge.
“I’m feeling a bit dizzy myself.” Shan Yu glanced at Yue Lang and his wife walking ahead. “Those two can really drink.”
Indeed. They had downed another two bottles up on the mountain, and still managed to snap photos afterward.
They had taken quite a few. Chen Jian was actually eager to see them. Besides Shan Yu and the night scenery, he also wanted to see what he looked like through such a fancy camera.
After all, the only photos taken of him with a real camera before were his ID card and his high school student badge…
Halfway down, Chen Jian received a message from Hu Pan saying the garden barbecue had wrapped up.
Chen Jian sent back a voice message: “Just make sure the fires are put out. Leave the stuff in the yard and we’ll clean up tomorrow. Go get some rest.”
Hu Pan replied with a wildly ecstatic meme.
The bunch really had partied themselves to exhaustion. When they got back to Dayin, the garden was entirely deserted, though someone upstairs could still be heard singing, not quite ready to let the night go.
“You guys head up first,” Chen Jian said. “I’ll do a round in the back.”
“Mm,” Shan Yu acknowledged, walking into the lobby with Yue Lang and Yao Yi.
Chen Jian looped around to the backyard. Dayin’s most energetic creature, the perpetual-motion Mushroom, trotted at his heels.
First, he inspected the fire pits. Both barrels were still warm, but the flames had been doused with water, and the leftover barbecue on the adjacent tables had been cleared back into the kitchen.
Nothing was amiss; he could rest easy.
He led Mushroom over to the doghouse. This shelter was in a perpetual state of upgrades: first, Hu Pan had stuffed two old pillows inside; then someone had wrapped the wooden frame in waterproof tarp to block the wind; and today, a thick cotton curtain had been added. When Mushroom slipped inside, Chen Jian reached in to check and discovered the interior was actually warm.
Lifting the curtain, he found a small plugged-in heating pad tucked beneath the pillows.
“Living the good life, aren’t you?” He was slightly amazed.
Mushroom curled up into a ball on the pillow and closed his eyes.
“Nobody’s at the front desk tonight,” Chen Jian said. “Don’t bark. No one will come even if you do, got it?”
Mushroom ignored him.
Chen Jian headed back inside and locked the front entrance and both back doors. Even though no guests were likely to arrive in the dead of night, he still hung a sign on the front glass door.
The sign was made by Hu Pan, reading: Open for business. Please call the front desk for assistance, with Chen Jian’s cell number listed below.
The interior was warm. Chen Jian had been chilled to the bone without fully feeling it, but once the indoor heating wrapped around him, a sudden wave of dizziness hit. The alcohol had truly taken hold; he was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open.
Walking toward the elevator, his foot caught on something unseen, sending him stumbling forward.
“Fuck.” He turned around to check the floor, found nothing, and threw a karate chop at empty air. “Hah!”
As he turned back, he caught the faint sound of a chuckle.
“Who’s there?” Chen Jian asked, and in the same breath, spotted Shan Yu leaning against the elevator door frame. Stunned, he asked, “You didn’t go up?”
“The elevator can’t fit a couple and a third wheel,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian smiled, stepping forward to press the button.
“Wrecked like this, and you still didn’t skip a single chore,” Shan Yu said.
“Take someone’s money,” Chen Jian leaned a hand against the wall, “solve their problems.”
“Is the money still there?” Shan Yu looked at him.
“Holy shit.” Startled, Chen Jian patted down his chest frantically, letting out a breath only when his fingers found the thick envelope. “It’s here. You just scared me half-sober.”
The elevator doors slid open. Shan Yu smiled and stepped inside.
Chen Jian followed, leaning against the wall.
The elevator was notoriously slow. Chen Jian had always found it sluggish and preferred taking the stairs, but tonight, the ride to the fourth floor felt excruciatingly long.
In the confined space, the alcohol made his hearing hyper-sensitive.
He could hear his own breathing, and he could hear Shan Yu’s.
He looked at Shan Yu.
Shan Yu was looking at him too.
The warmth enveloped him… mostly clustering in his head.
Chen Jian felt that not just his face and ears, but his entire head was burning hot. He couldn’t resist glancing sideways at the reflective metal panel.
To his surprise, there was no beet-red face staring back—only his eyes, the tip of his nose, and the edges of his ears were flushed pink.
He exhaled in relief. Not too bad.
A little drunk, completely upbeat, but his brain was still running.
Even if it stuttered a bit.
The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and Shan Yu stepped out.
Chen Jian stared at his back, rooted to the spot. Only when the doors began sliding shut did he lurch forward, getting pinched by the door panels.
Shan Yu glanced back at him. “Hurry to the dorm and sleep. If you pick a fight with the elevator right now, you might not win.”
Chen Jian smiled without a word. He could hear voices from the dorms; everyone was still awake.
He was exhausted, but he didn’t want to sleep.
He hadn’t talked much all evening. He thought his mind had been blank, just spaced out.
Only now did he realize he had been thinking about a whole lot. Fueled by the alcohol, thoughts he dared to entertain and thoughts he never dared to touch had all surfaced.
Without hesitation, he walked toward the office.
Brushing past Shan Yu, he muttered, “Let’s talk.”
Without waiting for Shan Yu’s reply, he kept walking forward.
Shan Yu didn’t answer either, simply following him into the office.
Once inside, Chen Jian came to a halt, turned around, and looked at Shan Yu.
Shan Yu stood by the doorway, shutting the door behind him with one hand, and stayed put.
After a moment of silence, Shan Yu spoke first: “Talking on our feet?”
“Mm.” Chen Jian nodded. “Just a couple of words.”
“Alright then.” Shan Yu smiled.
“I’m a little… maybe drank too much today…” Chen Jian looked at him. As he spoke, his voice sounded distant, somewhat surreal.
“High probability you’re just hammered,” Shan Yu said.
“Don’t talk yet,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu turned his head with a slight chuckle, then looked back at him. “Mm.”
“What I wanted to say is…” Chen Jian took a step forward, wanting Shan Yu to hear his hazy voice clearly. “I said before, boss and employee, no other entanglements…”
Shan Yu didn’t speak, merely leaning back against the door, watching him.
“Actually, all along…” Chen Jian thought through it earnestly, “neither of us really managed that, right?”
“Did you fail at it, or did I?” Shan Yu asked.
“I don’t know,” Chen Jian said. “Me, probably.”
“Maybe,” Shan Yu said.
“This kind of thing… it’s impossible to pull off anyway, isn’t it?” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu was silent for a beat before answering: “Depends on how you look at it.”
“I… might…” Chen Jian felt like he had endless things to say, clear in logic and perfectly structured, but when he opened his mouth, his brain and tongue were like freshly installed parts, jamming up together.
He stopped.
Shan Yu had no particular expression, just waiting quietly.
“Toward you, I…” Feeling an urgent push, Chen Jian took another step forward. His foot caught on the carpet, throwing him off balance once more, stumbling straight into Shan Yu.
Fortunately, though his brain was lagging, his body still functioned.
He threw out an arm to brace against the door. With a heavy thud, the door rattled.
He startled even himself.
Shan Yu had even shifted his injured hand aside to dodge…
Chen Jian let out a soft breath. “I have thoughts.”
This time he heard it clearly. His voice no longer felt distant; it was crisp, spoken face-to-face with Shan Yu.
“Mm,” Shan Yu replied.
Equally clear, barely twenty centimeters away.
“But,” Chen Jian lowered his head, trying to figure out how to put it into words. He clearly hadn’t had that much, yet it felt as if the alcohol had been poured directly into his skull, leaving everything scrambled. “I don’t know how to say it, I…”
“Chen Jian,” Shan Yu called his name.
“Mm.” Chen Jian lifted his head, looking at him.
“Feelings aren’t ever completely equal,” Shan Yu said. “Some give more, some give less. Some start earlier, some start later. It’s never going to be identical, and it doesn’t need to be…”
Chen Jian didn’t speak, submerged in the sound of Shan Yu’s voice.
“You’ll never know how much the other person puts in either—thirty percent, fifty percent, or everything,” Shan Yu said. “So when I say I like you, it’s just a simple expression. It doesn’t need to be quantified, and it doesn’t need an equal trade.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian acknowledged softly.
“When you wake up tomorrow, you might not even remember what you said,” Shan Yu said. “But you’d better remember what I just told you.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian looked at him. “Will you remember what I said?”
“If you don’t remember, I won’t remember,” Shan Yu said.
“I…” The arm bracing against the door began to lose its strength. Chen Jian could feel Shan Yu’s breath drawing closer, yet Shan Yu’s face before him was gradually slipping out of focus.
They were too close.
“Do like you.”
As Chen Jian spoke those words, he felt his lips brush against the corner of Shan Yu’s mouth.
Immediately afterward, the arm bracing the door gave out completely. His last memory was clutching Shan Yu as he slid into a kneeling heap on the floor.
“Whoa.” Shan Yu reached out to catch Chen Jian.
Still, he couldn’t stop Chen Jian’s downward slide.
Clinging to Shan Yu’s clothes, the guy slid all the way down as if knocked cold. Shan Yu had no choice but to crouch down with him; otherwise, his clothes would have been ripped clean off.
Chen Jian knelt on the floor for a few seconds before his grip finally went slack, toppling sideways onto the carpet.
“Chen Jian?” Shan Yu bent down to look at him, lightly patting his cheek. “Store Manager? Curly?”
No response.
Shan Yu sighed, stood in silence for a moment, and started toward the bedroom. After two steps, he looked back: “Chen Yu Luo Yan?”
Chen Jian didn’t twitch, his breathing slightly heavy but steady.
Shan Yu went into the bedroom, brought out a quilt, shook it out, and draped it over him, then grabbed a pillow to slide beneath his head.
He had originally considered heading to the dorms to grab Sanbing or someone to haul Chen Jian back, but on second thought, if he actually did that, Store Manager Chen would probably silence the entire dorm to protect his dignity come morning.
Still, Chen Jian’s state didn’t look purely like alcohol intoxication. It looked more like whatever internal energy had been propping him up had suddenly drained away, compounded by the booze…
Shan Yu stood over him for a while, pulled his phone from his pocket, and snapped a few photos looking down. He even squatted down to take several close-ups of Chen Jian’s face.
If Chen Jian ever got the chance to see these crime-scene-like photos, who knew if he’d hunt him down.
Shan Yu tossed the phone onto the sofa, squatted by Chen Jian, and spaced out for a moment. He reached out to part the bangs on Chen Jian’s forehead, his fingertip tracing a gentle line from the brow down to the tip of his nose.
After a bit, he retrieved his phone, parted Chen Jian’s hair down the middle, and snapped a photo; then slicked it all back into a pompadour, and snapped another… Admittedly, Chen Jian had great features. On anyone else, Shan Yu wouldn’t have let those hairstyles sit in his camera roll for thirty seconds.
He had never had such a chaotic dream.
Chen Jian could feel the glaring sunlight in front of him, clearly aware that he was drifting awake, yet still unable to break free from the confusion.
He forced his eyes open. Dazzling sunlight stretched across a broad, flat expanse before him.
He pulled the quilt around himself, shut his eyes again, and slowly opened them…
Though his mind was still fuzzy, as his vision sharpened, he noticed something was off.
When had the bed become this hard?
When had the bed become so vast… Tracing his gaze across the floor, he saw a pair of shoes.
To be precise, a pair of sneakers on someone’s feet.
And they were fucking level with his line of sight.
Looking up from the shoes, there was a pair of loose sweatpants. He recognized them—Shan Yu’s.
There was no need to look any higher.
Shan Yu was leaning against the desk looking down at him, holding a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee or tea.
Coffee, most likely. He caught the aroma.
“Morning,” Shan Yu said to him, taking a sip of coffee.
“Fuck.” Chen Jian snapped fully awake, leaping straight off the floor tangled in the quilt.
As the quilt dropped to the ground, he looked down. He had spent the entire night sleeping on his boss’s office floor… He pulled out his phone to check the time. Not just a night—a night plus half the morning.
“Ten-thirty?!” He looked at Shan Yu, dumbfounded.
“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded.
“…Are they all up?” Flustered, Chen Jian scooped up the quilt, bundling it haphazardly. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked like you were sleeping deeply, so I didn’t wake you,” Shan Yu said. “Since I arrived here, I’ve never seen you sleep in.”
“There’s a mountain of things to do today.” Chen Jian went to toss the quilt onto the sofa, but thinking it might be a bit dusty from the floor, he ended up just clutching it.
“They’re all up,” Shan Yu said. “Everything is running smoothly. Your Dayin won’t collapse just because the store manager went missing for a few hours.”
Chen Jian didn’t speak.
Shan Yu took another sip of coffee, remaining silent as well.
After the initial panic faded, his head cleared completely.
The memories began rushing back.
He remembered everything. Even though it felt like recalling a dream, he remembered it all.
Chen Jian felt holding the quilt was the right move; otherwise, his hands wouldn’t even know where to settle.
He looked at Shan Yu.
When you wake up tomorrow, you might not even remember what you said…
“I remember,” Chen Jian said.
“Hm?” Shan Yu asked. “What?”
“Everything,” Chen Jian said.
