Shan Yu didn’t say anything, still leaning against the desk with his arms folded. The coffee mug in his hand obscured the lower half of his face, the rising steam veiling his eyes.
After speaking those words, Chen Jian had no strength left to open his mouth again.
“Chen Jian,” Shan Yu lowered his gaze to the coffee in his cup, “you’re a bit outside my expectations.”
“So there are times when your calculations are off too,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu smiled, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
Chen Jian fell silent once more.
“Leave the quilt,” Shan Yu said. “Where were you going to take it?”
“Doesn’t it need to be thrown away?” Chen Jian asked.
“…That free money was only a hundred thousand,” Shan Yu said. “I’m not filthy rich enough to throw away a quilt just because it sat on the floor for one night. Just wash it.”
“I thought you’d find it dirty,” Chen Jian said. “This carpet hasn’t been replaced either; Qian Yu used it all that time.”
“Did he take a shit on the carpet?” Shan Yu asked.
“Hey!” Chen Jian shouted. “I slept on it all night!”
Shan Yu chuckled and took a sip of coffee.
“Then I’ll… take it to be washed,” Chen Jian said.
“Mm.” Shan Yu nodded.
Chen Jian bent down, scooped up the pillow as well, bundled them in his arms, and walked out of the office.
The moment the office door closed, Shan Yu set down his coffee mug and let out a soft breath.
He walked over to the window and looked down. The courtyard was empty except for Mushroom chasing fallen leaves—whenever the wind blew, he ran after the leaves; whenever the wind stopped, he stuck his rear in the air and waited…
Yue Lang’s car was gone. Those two truly had boundless energy: partying so late yesterday, and heading out early again this morning claiming they wanted to see an ice waterfall on the mountain.
Was there even an ice waterfall on the mountain?
Shan Yu really had no idea. He didn’t even know if there was a waterfall, let alone if it froze over.
His deepest knowledge of this mountain forest extended only as far as that boulder midway up, and wherever Chen Jian’s godmother was.
And Chen Jian.
His phone chimed from somewhere in the room.
He did two laps around the office before finding it on the shelf by the sink after a second chime.
It was a text from Chen Jian, which surprised him a little.
The boss has ended his business trip and is sitting in the office watching the store; has the store manager finally thought to report on work?
Leaning against the wall, he tapped open the message.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: I never had the time or opportunity to like someone, so I don’t really know what the right way to do things is. Sometimes I feel a bit awkward, only because I don’t know what counts as normal.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: I didn’t know how to say this to your face just now, so I’m adding it now.
Shan Yu stared at the two messages for a good while.
How Chen Jian had grown up—sometimes Shan Yu felt he could imagine it, and sometimes he felt he couldn’t imagine it at all.
Chen Jian had no friends and no life of his own. After his mother died, he seemed unable to build a genuine, intimate bond with anyone—whether his father, Xiao Dou’er’s family, or Tang Rui and Chen Xiaohu…
Let alone liking someone. There was no time, and no opportunity.
Still… Shan Yu sighed softly. Although he could sense a great deal behind those two lines, Chen Jian’s grades in Chinese literature back in school must not have been great; the two sentences read like they were written by a foreigner.
He sent a reply.
[Fa Shan Ke Chen]: Just be yourself. Do what you originally wanted to do; say what you originally wanted to say.
Chen Jian’s reply came almost instantaneously, a rapid-fire sequence, though the subsequent lines had nothing to do with the conversation.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: Mm
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: ?
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: !!?
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: WTF! What happened to your profile picture????
Shan Yu tapped on his avatar to take a look. Wasn’t it great?
His previous picture had been a random photo from his album—a stray kitten he had met at a small grocery shop.
Now it was replaced by the best shot from Chen Jian’s “crime scene” photos.
It was genuinely good-looking, snapped before he had messed with Chen Jian’s hair.
[Fa Shan Ke Chen]: ?
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: When did you take that!
[Fa Shan Ke Chen]: Last night.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: …………………………………………………………
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: Impressive.
After a few seconds of silence, a GIF of a husky clapping arrived.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: Truly amazing.
“Did you confirm the quantities with them?” Chen Erhu leaned over to ask. “Lao Si and I are ready to go.”
Chen Erhu didn’t look at the phone screen, but Chen Jian still jumped a little, hurriedly backing out of the chat.
“Confirmed,” Chen Jian said. “Are you going right now? Or after lunch?”
The purchasing list had been sent early in the morning, and the items Dayin was responsible for had to be assembled within three days.
“Right now,” Chen Erhu said. Having probably cried yesterday, his eyes were still swollen and he likely hadn’t slept enough, but his state of utter devotion kept his energy brimming. “We’ll just grab a bite when we get there. There are so many things to buy, and after buying them I have to go straight to fire safety training this afternoon.”
“Alright,” Chen Jian glanced at Lao Si, who, having zero brainpower to worry about anything, had clearly slept much better than Chen Erhu. “Don’t skimp on lunch either; there’s a meal allowance.”
“Mm,” Chen Erhu grunted.
Chen Jian watched them drive off, took a lap around the courtyard, and stepped outside the main gate.
The lane by the entrance was carpeted with fallen leaves, remarkably pretty. Sanbing and Lao Wu were cleaning them up, though not sweeping them entirely away—they were clearing the rotting leaves by the roadside and brushing the fresh ones to both sides.
“Looks nice, huh?” Sanbing leaned against his broom, resting a hand on his hip with pride.
“Nice, a golden lane,” Chen Jian said. “Panpan’s idea?”
“Why does it have to be her idea?” Sanbing protested.
“Because we don’t have that aesthetic sense,” Lao Wu remarked from the side.
“Fuck, don’t extinguish your own courage to feed others’ prestige!” Sanbing shot him a glare, paused for a beat, and then nodded after all. “Yeah, it was Panpan’s idea.”
Chen Jian smiled.
“The bookings starting today are higher than usual,” Sanbing said. “Make the path pretty. Once another snow hits the mountain, tourists will start pouring in.”
“Mm.” Chen Jian looked toward the distant mountain crest.
Sunlight pierced through the shifting clouds, casting patches of bright light across the woods. One more snowfall and the crest would turn silvery white; it would look stunning at sunrise.
“Yo, what happened to Brother Li?” Sanbing looked behind Chen Jian, his expression a mix of shock and an irrepressible grin.
Chen Jian turned around. He saw Da Li turning the corner onto the road on a scooter with a dark face. In such freezing weather, Da Li was soaking wet.
Well, not entirely wet—it looked as if a basin of water had been splashed over him.
It bore the distinct hallmark of the signature move used by town aunties during arguments.
Not just Sanbing—even Chen Jian could barely hold back a laugh. Driven by overwhelming curiosity, he asked, “What happened, Brother Li?”
“Fuck, I was just looking for you.” Da Li pulled over beside him.
“What, our store manager did it?” Sanbing’s interest was piqued instantly.
“I just went over to the barbecue grounds…” Da Li shot Sanbing a look. If he weren’t an ordinary guy who felt somewhat intimidated by the pigpen crew, he probably would have smacked Sanbing.
“Why go there alone?” Chen Jian pressed, eyes locked on him.
“Not alone, I went with…” Halfway through, Da Li realized the slip, but the words were already out, so he awkwardly fudged the phrasing, “…with them. Just to see how to arrange the venue…”
“Oh.” Chen Jian gave an acknowledgment, smiling faintly.
“Those barbecue joint owners,” Da Li scowled, “actually chased us out!”
“Why?” Chen Jian paused. “Didn’t you say the venue was settled?”
“Some of them disagree,” Da Li grumbled.
“Who disagrees!” Lao Wu bellowed.
Da Li, likely still rattled from the water-splashing skirmish, was startled so hard by Lao Wu’s roar that he almost lost his grip on the handlebars. He glared at Lao Wu: “What are you shouting for!”
“Who disagrees?” Sanbing repeated gently.
“Seven or eight places—I can’t name them all at once. Old Lyu’s wife spearheaded it,” Da Li said.
“Didn’t you negotiate with the village committee before?” Chen Jian asked.
“Now they’re claiming the village can only manage people surnamed Chen, not those with outside surnames,” Da Li said, deeply disgruntled.
Chen Jian looked at Sanbing, then at Lao Wu.
Chen Jian.
Chen Jiali.
Chen Ziyang.
The three villagers surnamed Chen couldn’t help but exchange glances.
“You’re all surnamed Chen, aren’t you?” Da Li finally grasped the critical detail.
“Mm,” Sanbing nodded.
Except for Lao Si, Liu Yiting, the entire pigpen crew belonged to the Chen clan.
“So I was thinking,” Da Li turned to Chen Jian, “could you guys go negotiate with them?”
“Why didn’t you ask us to come along in the first place?” Sanbing asked.
Da Li gave an awkward smile. “Figured it wasn’t a big deal, just checking out the grounds.”
“Before talking about venues, you should have settled things with those owners first,” Chen Jian said, completely annoyed. “This is a village. Things aren’t handled like that here.”
“If we can’t secure the venue, we can’t host the bonfire festival. Forcing it will only cause trouble,” Da Li said.
“Then just don’t host it,” Lao Wu said.
“We’ve already been promoting it for a while,” Da Li furrowed his brows. “Right now it depends on whether you guys can help out… Can your Boss Shan…” Da Li lowered his voice. “Does he have some underhanded tricks up his sleeve…”
“I’ll set up an altar and perform a ritual in a bit.” Shan Yu leaned back in his chair, slowly swiveling side to side—half turn to the right, half turn to the left.
“They’ve been discussing this for ages, and even started promoting before finding us,” Chen Jian stood before the desk, utterly disgusted. “Now that they’ve made a mess of things, they want us to fix it. In their dreams!”
“If they want shit, we can spare them some,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words, before leaning against the desk and laughing.
“What should we do?” Shan Yu looked at him.
“You’re asking me?” Chen Jian looked back.
“You’re surnamed Chen, after all,” Shan Yu said.
“The ones refusing to cooperate are the non-Chen households,” Chen Jian said.
“Are you familiar with those owners?” Shan Yu asked.
“Somewhat,” Chen Jian said. “I’ve worked odd jobs at a few of them.”
“Can you tell who’s who and understand the local ties?” Shan Yu asked again.
“Mm.” Chen Jian nodded.
“Let’s go.” Shan Yu stood up, grabbing Chen Jian’s coat from the sofa. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
“Should we call their people along?” Chen Jian asked.
“Are you dumb?” Shan Yu said. “If we settle it, do we share the credit with them?”
“What if we can’t settle it?” Chen Jian asked.
“If nobody settles it, whoever promoted it looks like a fool,” Shan Yu said, walking out of the office. “Their early promotions definitely didn’t mention us anyway.”
“Actually…” Chen Jian furrowed his brows, “letting the whole thing fall through is fine. We can just take our money back…”
“Not thinking about business anymore?” Shan Yu glanced back at him with a smile. “Store Manager.”
Chen Jian didn’t speak.
He wanted to, but Shan Yu’s smile threw him off balance. For a brief second, he actually forgot what he was going to say.
Fuck.
“Where’s my car?” Shan Yu stood in the courtyard, looking at the empty parking spot.
“That’s Dayin’s car,” Chen Jian said.
“Where’s Dayin’s car then?” Shan Yu asked.
“Chen Erhu and Lao Si drove it off,” Chen Jian said. “Purchasing supplies. At two-thirty this afternoon Chen Erhu has to attend training; they won’t be back until tonight.”
“Starting a business is tough—only one car to haul goods, pick up guests, and run errands…” Muttering, Shan Yu walked past two guest vehicles and stopped at another empty stall, pulling out his phone. “Fortunately, there’s a backup.”
“Didn’t they drive out early this morning?” Chen Jian asked.
“Let’s ask first.” Shan Yu dialed Yue Lang’s number. As soon as it connected, shouting came through the line.
Even Chen Jian could hear Yue Lang’s voice: “Hel—loooo—”
“Did you take poison?” Shan Yu pulled the phone slightly away from his ear. “Where did you park the car?”
“Rafting launch point—didn’t find any ice waterfall—” Yue Lang was still yelling. “This rafting is pretty—”
“Do you have a spare key?” Shan Yu cut him off.
“In my wife’s backpack,” Yue Lang finally stopped shouting. “You need the car?”
“Mm,” Shan Yu grunted.
“Open the door and grab it yourself,” Yue Lang said. “Her bag is just dumped on the floor by the bed.”
Shan Yu hung up and reached a hand out to Chen Jian: “Let me use the room keycard.”
“Going straight into a couple’s room?” Chen Jian pulled out the keycard, suddenly feeling like a burglar.
“That’s our room.” Shan Yu took the card and turned back inside.
Chen Jian followed him.
“You can wait for me downstairs,” Shan Yu said.
“Better if… both of us go,” Chen Jian said.
Speechless, Shan Yu gave him a look. “Why don’t you turn on video recording while you’re at it?”
Chen Jian laughed, saying nothing.
“Fair enough,” Shan Yu mused. “They’re registered guests after all, and they paid.”
After just one day, Yue Lang and Yao Yi’s room looked as if it had been ransacked. The contents of their luggage were scattered everywhere. Chen Jian felt stressed on their behalf wondering how they would pack it all back up when leaving…
Fortunately, the backpack was right where Yue Lang said it would be. Shan Yu reached inside the empty bag and found the car key immediately.
“Let’s go.” Shan Yu flipped the key, snapped his fingers, and caught it midair.
According to Shan Yu’s plan, they would ride the scooter to the rafting launch point, take Yao Yi’s car, and head over to the barbecue grounds.
As for why they needed a car, the logic was simple:
“Because the guy who went to negotiate on a scooter already failed,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian started the scooter, glancing at Shan Yu who was about to get on: “Wearing enough clothes?”
“More than enough,” Shan Yu tugged at the scarf around his neck. “I even choked myself with this.”
“Mm.” Chen Jian zipped his coat up to the chin.
“Isn’t your neck cold?” Shan Yu swung his leg over the back seat. His left arm wrapped around, resting against Chen Jian’s waist.
“I’m not—used to it,” Chen Jian said. Even though he had braced himself mentally, that embrace made his core tighten instantly, causing his voice to rise in pitch. Clearing his throat, he added, “Lost three scarves back when doing odd jobs. Had to take them off to work, and once off, they were gone. Stopped using them.”
“Oh,” Shan Yu acknowledged.
Chen Jian twisted the throttle, and the scooter surged forward.
The road to the rafting launch was newly paved; though narrow, the surface was smooth. Chen Jian was grateful for the road quality—otherwise, with half his attention fixated on his waist, he might not have reacted in time to a pothole.
Whenever tourists arrived, they almost always tried the icy creek rafting. Although very few sections had frozen over, the parking lot was packed with cars.
Yao Yi’s car was parked right on the edge of the rafting shuttle stop. It was obvious those two couldn’t be bothered to walk a single extra step.
They got into the car. The moment the doors shut, the wind and rushing sounds vanished. Chen Jian leaned back and exhaled deeply.
“Cold?” Shan Yu started the engine and turned on the heater.
“I’ll thaw out in a bit,” Chen Jian said. “Didn’t wear helmets; it’s much better with a helmet.”
“Wouldn’t a helmet mess up your hair?” Shan Yu glanced at him with a smirk.
“A couple of ruffles fixes it, my hair is coarse,” Chen Jian ruffled his hair, then suddenly remembered Shan Yu’s profile picture and glanced over. “That avatar of yours…”
“Got a problem with it?” Shan Yu picked up a badge from the center console, examining it. “Hold on to this. If things go south, let’s see if we can bluff our way through.”
“What is it?” Chen Jian asked.
Shan Yu showed him the badge before slipping it into his pocket.
Printed on it was: Provincial Tourism and Culture Conference — Attendee Pass.
“Yao Yi’s?” Chen Jian was taken aback. “Who are you going to fool with that? Doesn’t the other side have a photo?”
“Who’s letting them see the other side?” Shan Yu said. “Just keeping it handy, just in case.”
“If they catch on, they’ll beat you up,” Chen Jian warned.
“I’ll spot them an arm and a leg,” Shan Yu said.
According to Da Li, the instigator at the barbecue grounds was Old Lyu’s wife, which meant the real mastermind was Old Lyu.
Old Lyu wasn’t typically an overbearing bully; it was just that in a small town where most villagers were surnamed Chen and tightly knit, doing business without a fierce edge was impossible.
Shan Yu parked the car right in front of Old Lyu’s shop.
There were several people inside. As Chen Jian stepped out, someone lifted the curtain to peer outside, then dropped it back down.
When Chen Jian reached the entrance, Old Lyu walked out.
“Uncle Lyu,” Chen Jian greeted him.
“Why’d they send you over again?” Old Lyu said flatly. “Let me tell you, it doesn’t matter who comes.”
“Our boss is here.” Chen Jian glanced back at the car.
For some reason, saying those words gave him the absurd illusion of announcing, Our gang leader has arrived.
What a pity: because the store manager couldn’t drive, the boss would have to emerge from the driver’s side with a crippled arm, looking somewhat less imposing than a true boss.
“Your boss?” Old Lyu looked toward the car. “That Boss Shan?”
“Yes,” Chen Jian nodded.
The very same Boss Shan who had recruited the entire pigpen crew, taken down Chen Dahu using high-tech surveillance, and was currently a former-crippled-leg, now-crippled-hand owner.
A flicker of expression finally crossed Old Lyu’s face: “What’s he doing here?”
“To chat,” Chen Jian said.
And if talking fails, to bluff.
