Chen Jian looked at Shan Yu for a long while before finally speaking. “You really don’t cherish that one good leg of yours at all, do you?”
“What?” Shan Yu asked.
“Is that even a question?” Chen Jian said.
“Too blunt?” Shan Yu took another bottle of orange juice from a nearby box, twisted it open, and poured it into a cup. “If I were more subtle, you wouldn’t have understood me anyway.”
“You were sub…” Chen Jian thought about it for a moment. Well, maybe he was.
He sighed. “I live alone, but I’m not an orphan.”
“Mm.” Shan Yu took a sip of juice. Chen Jian’s wording was quite delicate.
Not exactly.
At the very least, he probably had some direct relatives—barely enough to count.
Shan Yu didn’t ask any further.
“There’s still some left,” Chen Jian didn’t give him the chance to continue either. He grabbed the half-full bottle of juice next to him and shook it. “Why’d you open a new one? These aren’t expired. This is stock, not some freebie from the sky.”
“You two keep taking turns spitting into the bottle. Who the hell would still want to drink that?” Shan Yu said.
“I didn’t—” Chen Jian looked at the bottle in his hand, then tossed it into the trash.
Liu Wu walked back into the lobby with his backpack. “We’re not staying on the third floor tonight, right, bro?”
“Whatever you want.” Shan Yu said.
“I’ll set up a room on the second floor… No, the first floor… I’ll stay on the first floor…” Liu Wu was torn.
“The second floor is too close to the ghosts, so you’re scared. The first floor is too far from your brother, so you’re also scared,” Chen Jian said. “Why don’t you just go back to Luo-jie’s inn and book another night?”
“No,” Liu Wu said. “If there are more people around, I won’t be that scared.”
“There aren’t many people—just the two of you,” Chen Jian said.
“You’re not staying here?” Liu Wu was surprised. “My brother said you’re working here now.”
“I got hired, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get off work at night!” Chen Jian raised his voice. “You two really are brothers, huh? Same level of brain damage!”
“After work, you should stay in the dorms. I saw two employee rooms on the fourth floor,” Liu Wu said.
“Employee dorms are a benefit, not a way for the boss to have someone available to boss around 24/7,” Chen Jian said.
“I know. I’m not saying he has to. It’s just nice to have some company at night,” Liu Wu said.
“…Then go get settled?” Chen Jian sighed.
“I will,” Liu Wu said. “I’ve been cleaning up my own place since I was a kid.”
“Just change the sheets, swap the pillowcases, and sweep up a little,” Chen Jian said. “Don’t do any extra cleaning—just enough to sleep in. I’ll arrange for someone to come do a proper cleaning.”
“Got it! King bed or twin room?” Liu Wu put down his bag, ready to start.
“Twin room!” Chen Jian said.
Now that the power was back, they could finally start working.
Shan Yu was flipping through the booklets left behind by Qian Yu at the first-floor window. Liu Wu had his head down, tidying up the guest room closest to the entrance. Chen Jian headed up to the fourth floor.
None of the facilities in this building had been used in half a year. He had to check for anything broken or short-circuited. He worked his way down from the top floor, roughly estimating the amount of cleaning needed, plus all the sheets, blankets, and curtains that would need washing.
It didn’t seem like much, but by the time he had checked each room from top to bottom, he was starving. When he looked at the time, it was already past 1 PM.
“Are you eating?” Chen Jian walked to the window and asked Shan Yu.
“No,” Shan Yu said. “I’m cultivating immortality.”
“…If you’re hungry, you can tell me, you know?” Chen Jian said.
“When an employee is so busy they forget to eat, how could a heartless boss possibly interrupt such productive labor?” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian sighed, put the notebook with his room condition notes on the bar counter, and asked, “Anything in particular you want to eat?”
“Anything but lamb rice noodles.” Shan Yu said.
“Still got PTSD from that?” Chen Jian laughed as he walked toward the door. “I’ll just pick something out then.”
“Where are you going?” Shan Yu asked.
“To buy lunch,” Chen Jian stopped.
“Just order delivery.” Shan Yu said.
“Boss Shan, this town doesn’t have delivery,” Chen Jian said. “If you want food delivered, you have to call the restaurant, and if they’re free, they’ll send someone. If they’re busy, they’ll ignore you. Plus…”
“Then call and ask,” Shan Yu said.
“I wasn’t finished. Plus, no one delivers here.” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu paused, then chuckled after two seconds. “They don’t deliver to haunted houses, huh?”
“Yep. I’ll just go buy it myself.” Chen Jian took a few steps but then stopped again, turning back. “Didn’t you say salaries were being paid today?”
“Yes,” Shan Yu said. “I’ll give it to you when you get back—including whatever you spend on food.”
“No need. If I’m getting paid today, this meal’s on me.” Chen Jian walked out cheerfully.
Business in the town was slow, but there were still plenty of places to eat. There were a few good small restaurants on Second Street, and he was familiar with one where the owner lived in the nearby village.
But by the time he got there, it would be close to 2 PM—kind of late for lunch around here…
As he calculated what he wanted to order, he rode his motorcycle out of the inn’s side road and onto a shortcut to Second Street. It would save him five or six minutes.
Halfway there, he regretted it.
This road was a favorite hangout spot for Chen Erhu’s crew—an old, deserted path with few passersby.
And sure enough, fresh from getting schooled by Shan Yu, Chen Erhu and his older brother, Chen Dahu, were gathered outside an abandoned pigsty. San Bing and the others were sitting on their motorcycles in the middle of the road, waiting.
Chen Jian immediately hit the brakes, preparing to turn around. But Chen Dahu had already spotted him.
“Chen Jian!”
Chen Jian stopped, put one foot on the ground, and turned his head toward Chen Dahu.
“Haven’t seen you in ages, and now you’re acting distant? Running away when you see me?” Chen Dahu climbed over the broken pigsty fence, laughing as he strode over and clapped a friendly hand on Chen Jian’s shoulder. “Not cool, man!”
It had been a while. Chen Dahu rarely came to town—he spent most of his time in the old district or the city, bouncing between odd jobs and street fights, living a drifting life.
“Dahu,” Chen Jian greeted. “What brings you here?”
“Heard you landed a nice gig?” Chen Dahu slung an arm around his shoulder.
“Just regular work,” Chen Jian replied. “Same as before.”
“Managed to score a job at the haunted house so quickly,” Chen Dahu shook his shoulder. “Pretty close with the new boss? How’d you meet?”
“Didn’t know him before he came.” Chen Jian kept it short. He was starting to worry if he waited too long, he wouldn’t be able to buy lunch.
“What’s his connection to Qian Yu?” Chen Dahu asked.
“No idea.” Chen Jian said.
“Chen Jian.” Chen Dahu looked at him.
“Yeah.” Chen Jian met his gaze.
“Don’t go looking for trouble,” Chen Dahu said.
“We all know whether I look for trouble or not,” Chen Jian said. “Right now, trouble is looking for me.”
“Fu-ck.” Chen Dahu let go of him and gave him two heavy slaps on the back. He stared at him. “Still this tough, huh? So fu-cking annoying. Can’t you be a little more agreeable?”
“You don’t need my kindness,” Chen Jian said. “Fear is enough.”
“Damn, you really know how to talk,” Chen Dahu said. “I can’t even tell if you’re being serious or sarcastic.”
“It’s probably serious,” San Bing chimed in. “Everyone’s scared of you anyway.”
Chen Dahu glanced at him, seeming satisfied, then turned back to Chen Jian. “It’s fine, I won’t make things difficult for you. Just figure out what this Shan Yu guy is all about for me.”
You could just have your brother take some guys over as security for a few days and figure it out yourself.
After knowing Chen Dahu for years, Chen Jian still couldn’t understand how he managed to turn every simple matter into something unnecessarily complicated. No wonder he had trouble even walking sideways in the old town, let alone running things. And in the city? He could only scrape by doing odd jobs.
“Dahu, I’m just here to make a living,” Chen Jian met his gaze, not avoiding it. “Wherever there’s money to be made, that’s where I am. Wherever pays more, that’s where I go. I don’t care about anything else.”
“What did you just say?” Chen Dahu narrowed his eyes.
“I just want to earn money and not deal with anything else,” Chen Jian repeated, summing up his main point.
Chen Dahu stared at him for a moment before letting out a cold chuckle. “Alright.”
The atmosphere felt a bit dry. Chen Jian didn’t say anything else. He also didn’t turn back—just twisted the throttle slightly, making the motorcycle lurch forward.
Chen Dahu didn’t stop him, so Chen Jian wove his way through San Bing and the others’ bikes.
He gradually picked up speed as he rode forward. Once he finally exited the old road, he let out a long breath.
If he had known Chen Dahu was there, he wouldn’t have taken that route.
Dealing with Chen Erhu and his gang was manageable—just exchanging a few words would get him through. But against someone like Chen Dahu, who practically had a membership at the local police station and still never suffered any real consequences? Even though Chen Jian hated confrontation, he had no choice but to stand his ground.
Some people just wouldn’t back off no matter how much you tried to avoid them. After all, Chen Dahu was the kind of guy who had sent his own father to the hospital multiple times.
The difficulty difference between dealing with Chen Erhu and Chen Dahu was about the same as the IQ gap between Liu Wu and Shan Yu.
Luckily, he hadn’t wasted too much time. By the time he reached the restaurant, the place was empty, and the chairs had already been flipped onto the tables. But the kitchen hadn’t closed yet, so the owner could still cook.
Chen Jian ordered a few of his favorite dishes.
“That’s a lot—how many people are eating?” the lady boss asked as she swept the floor.
“Three.” Chen Jian sat behind the cashier’s counter.
“For that paralyzed boss at the haunted house?” she asked curiously. “Is it reopening?”
One day, and the limping boss has already been upgraded to paralyzed. Chen Jian sincerely hoped Shan Yu’s leg would heal soon. A few more months, and he might get called the “zombie boss,” which would match the haunted house theme even better.
“Yeah,” Chen Jian nodded. “Still needs some cleaning up. I’m looking for people.”
“Who would dare work there…” The lady boss looked horrified. “I heard it’s haunted even in the daytime.”
“Not during the day,” Chen Jian said. “Ghosts haunting places in broad daylight doesn’t even fit their usual behavior.”
“You staying there? You’re not scared?” she asked.
“What’s there to be scared of?” the owner called from the kitchen, scooping food into takeout containers. “This guy could sleep in a coffin and not care… How old were you back then?”
“That wasn’t bravery! He just had no other choice!” the lady boss rolled her eyes at her husband.
“I’m not scared.” Chen Jian smiled.
As he was about to pay, his phone rang—it was Shan Yu.
“Bring a case of beer.”
“How much?” Chen Jian turned up the volume. “A case?”
“Yeah, a case,” Shan Yu said.
“Boss Shan,” Chen Jian paused for two seconds, “I’m treating you guys to lunch, not stocking the bar.”
“The beer’s on me.” Shan Yu chuckled.
“You two can finish a whole case?” Chen Jian asked.
“You’re not drinking?” Shan Yu sounded a bit surprised.
“It’s the middle of the damn day. Who drinks now?” Chen Jian said.
“If you don’t like it, you can just drink until night,” Shan Yu said.
“…I’m not that addicted,” Chen Jian sighed, glancing at the small supermarket across the street. “Any brand preference?”
“Does this tiny place even have brand options?” Shan Yu sounded amused. “What do they have?”
“Just a local brand,” Chen Jian said. “So if you have a preference, I can’t get it. If you don’t care, I’ll just bring that.”
“That’s fine,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian returned to Zhenxi with a case of beer and the food.
Liu Wu was in the courtyard, cleaning up the scattered playing cards on the ground.
“I told you not to bother. I was going to have someone clean it up,” Chen Jian said.
“It was annoying to look at,” Liu Wu put down the broom and walked over to take the beer from him. “When’s the cleaning crew coming?”
Chen Jian didn’t answer and carried the food inside.
Who knows?
Maybe no one’s coming at all.
“When are they coming?” Liu Wu followed him inside, asking again.
“You in a hurry?” Chen Jian asked.
“No,” Liu Wu replied. “That room on the third floor—are they cleaning it too?”
“They’re not,” Shan Yu said. “You are.”
Liu Wu froze, still holding the beer, staring at him.
Chen Jian quickly put the takeout boxes on the table, walked over, and grabbed the case of beer from him—just in case Liu Wu got so frustrated that he threw it on the ground.
Shan Yu hadn’t even paid for it yet.
“Cash?” Shan Yu had already rolled his wheelchair to a table in the first-floor café area.
The table was still covered in dust. Liu Wu grabbed a rag to wipe it.
“Don’t bother,” Chen Jian stopped him. “That rag’s probably dirtier than the table. Save it for the cleaning crew.” He spread out the food containers on the table, laid out the plastic bag as a makeshift tablecloth, and placed the meal boxes on top. “As long as we’re not licking the table, the dust won’t be an issue.” He sat down across from Shan Yu. “Pay up.”
Shan Yu pulled out an envelope and handed it to him.
It was thick.
Chen Jian had never received such a large sum all at once—he was only used to handing out money.
He didn’t even bother pretending to be modest. He opened the envelope and quickly counted the bills.
Fourteen thousand yuan, exactly.
Boss Shan kept his word—he had paid him two months’ wages on the first day, even after the raise.
But the beer still wasn’t paid for.
“Liu Wu, send the beer money to Chen Jian. I don’t have small change,” Shan Yu said.
“Alright.” Liu Wu nodded, added Chen Jian as a contact, and transferred the money.
“I’ll add you too,” Chen Jian said, holding up his phone.
“He doesn’t use that,” Liu Wu said. “I just call him when I need him.”
Chen Jian paused. What kind of caveman is this?
Liu Wu pulled up a chair next to Shan Yu and carefully lifted his left leg, resting it on the chair.
Watching this precise, almost habitual motion, Chen Jian felt an inexplicable sense of unease.
Sure enough, before he could ask, Liu Wu spoke. “If he sits too long, his leg gets congested. It’s more comfortable this way.”
“…How long until the brace comes off?” Chen Jian rephrased his question slightly.
“At least two months,” Shan Yu said. “Covers your entire contract period.”
Chen Jian looked at him.
“More or less,” Liu Wu opened the food containers and handed Shan Yu a box of rice. “It’s only been a month since he got it. The doctor said to check after three months and see if it can be removed.”
“How’d you even get hurt this bad? Couldn’t even get a cast—had to use external fixation?” Chen Jian couldn’t hold back from asking.
Liu Wu, usually an open book about his brother, didn’t answer this time. He only glanced at Shan Yu before silently eating his food.
“Got beaten up,” Shan Yu said.
The answer was so straightforward that Chen Jian couldn’t even tell if he was joking.
But he chose to believe him.
With that mouth of his, it’d be understandable if he got both legs broken.
Chen Jian didn’t drink. Shan Yu had two cans.
What surprised Chen Jian was that Liu Wu drank seven or eight cans by himself—and still seemed like he could go for more.
Looks like the beer was actually for Liu Wu.
The meal was mostly silent. Shan Yu still followed the rule of “not speaking while eating.” He treated every dish equally, eating with an almost deliberate seriousness, making it impossible to tell what he liked or disliked. Liu Wu wasn’t completely silent, but he didn’t say much either—his mouth was too busy drinking.
Just as they finished eating, the sound of running water came from the bar area.
“The water’s back! The water’s back!” Liu Wu jumped up excitedly and ran over.
Shan Yu leaned back in his wheelchair. Having water was even better than having electricity.
“I need a shower,” he said.
“Do we have hot water?” Liu Wu asked Chen Jian.
“The first floor has instant water heaters,” Chen Jian suddenly realized—compared to taking a shower, propping up someone’s leg on a chair was nothing. “Can you even shower with that leg?”
“Yeah,” Shan Yu replied.
“How?” Chen Jian asked.
“I take it off, put it aside, shower, then put it back on,” Shan Yu said. “I wash my body with water, and my leg gets wiped down with alcohol swabs.”
It took Chen Jian two seconds to process that half-serious, half-joking statement.
Basically, his leg couldn’t get wet—it had to be disinfected separately.
“…Do you need help?” he asked.
“Just need to cover the wound,” Liu Wu said. “He can wash himself.”
“Oh.” Chen Jian let out a breath of relief.
