This question left Shan Yu somewhat stumped for an answer.
It wasn’t that there was no answer; it was just that to an outsider, this answer might… No, Chen Jian couldn’t be considered an outsider. Not an outsider, not an outsider…
Given Chen Jian’s sensitivity to crossing boundaries, even when merely turning it over in his own mind, Shan Yu had to be very mindful. Chen Jian is an insider, he’s an insider, no lines were crossed.
Realizing what he was thinking, Shan Yu felt like an idiot and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Hm?” Chen Jian looked at him.
“Nothing.” Shan Yu smiled.
It was just that this answer might be incomprehensible to many people. They’d think it shouldn’t have reached this point, that it wasn’t that serious.
It was just about having no face to see his parents.
And he had lacked that face for many years, not just because of the years he spent in prison.
The life he led before going to prison wasn’t exactly positive or uplifting. He was an uneducated, aimless slacker waiting to die—a useless lump of mud that couldn’t be plastered to a wall. The scars on his body, the looks acquaintances gave him—they were all evidence of those muddled, wasted days.
Perhaps because they truly had no expectations for him anymore, or perhaps out of guilt for neglecting him over the years, or perhaps because they had already exhausted every possible effort—when faced with the person he had become, two fiercely proud individuals became infinitely tolerant.
And the more they acted like that, the more terrified he was to face them.
But your parents love you. Even when you’re like this, they still accept you. As long as you go back to see them, they’ll be happy.
Really?
How could so many years of disappointment and worry be wiped away that easily? It was nothing more than yet another instance of tolerance born from having absolutely zero expectations in the first place.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” Shan Yu looked at the sunlight outside the window, closing his eyes to feel the golden light bathing the world. “I just don’t have it in me to face two family members who are so disappointed in me that they have zero expectations. I hadn’t seen them for two years before I went in, and now even more so…”
“The longer you drag it out, the harder it will be to face them,” Chen Jian said. “Unless you truly, genuinely don’t care, it’ll be a thorn in your side for the rest of your life.”
Shan Yu opened his eyes and turned to look at Chen Jian.
This was the first time someone hadn’t tried to persuade him from the angle of “As long as you go back, they’ll be happy.”
“I’ve always felt that even though you act like an honorary boss most of the time, you still make people feel secure,” Chen Jian looked back at him. “Because normally, whenever we run into trouble, you never hide. No matter how difficult it is, as long as you’re here, it can be solved.”
“This isn’t an ordinary problem like the ones we normally run into,” Shan Yu said.
“The longer you wait, the harder it is to face,” Chen Jian said. “Once they’re dead, you won’t have the chance.”
Shan Yu raised an eyebrow, speechless.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Chen Jian suddenly realized how it sounded and hurriedly tried to explain. “I didn’t mean it like that…”
“I know,” Shan Yu said.
“I… I just spoke exactly what popped into my head, but the point isn’t about dying or not dying,” Chen Jian looked at him. “You know what I mean, right?”
“I know,” Shan Yu smiled. “It’s good.”
“That was slightly out of line.” Chen Jian felt a bit embarrassed.
“I like it when you’re a bit out of line,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian didn’t speak.
Shan Yu pulled him into a hug. Chen Jian paused for two seconds before wrapping his arms around his waist as well.
He patted Shan Yu’s back gently.
Hu Pan was walking over from the conference room, wiping her face as she went.
When she glanced in their direction, her footsteps faltered. Shan Yu could practically feel her fluffy afro puff up even more.
He held Chen Jian without moving.
He simply raised his index finger to his lips.
Hu Pan looked back toward the conference room; Chen Erhu and the others were following right behind her.
Shan Yu let go of Chen Jian.
Hu Pan walked briskly toward the front lobby.
When Chen Jian turned around, he caught sight of Sanbing walking down the hallway, talking excitedly to Chen Erhu.
“Holy shit,” he jumped in fright. “That was close.”
“Mm,” Shan Yu smiled.
“That diagram,” Chen Jian said, “where exactly did you say to chop? Might actually come in handy one day.”
Shan Yu raised a hand, intending to press it against Chen Jian’s neck, but after a second thought, he pressed it against his own: “Here.”
“Your tattoo…” Chen Jian’s eyes followed the movement, his first glance falling on those thin black lines. “Does it have a special meaning?”
“To look cool,” Shan Yu said.
“…Oh,” Chen Jian replied.
The answer was, admittedly, rather obvious.
“But why a bow? Why not a spider or something?” Chen Jian asked. “Aren’t these usually meant to be intimidating?”
“Do I need to rely on a tattoo to be intimidating?” Shan Yu clicked his tongue.
“Fair point,” Chen Jian nodded.
“Besides, bows are cute,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian started laughing.
“Go back to work,” Shan Yu stretched and walked toward the stairs. “I’m going to hang myself for a bit, then rest. Yue Lang and the others are definitely going to drag me to the bonfire festival tonight.”
“Earlier you said about the New Year… whether they stay open or not is fine?” Chen Jian followed him, asking in a low voice.
“What about it?” Shan Yu asked.
“There are quite a few tourists during the New Year…” Chen Jian said.
“If those two really stay here for the New Year, do you think they’ll choose to close?” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian paused. “Holy shit.”
“Whether I say it or not, they’ll stay open. I just have to make it sound nice,” Shan Yu said. “We capitalists know how to put on a show.”
“What if they really decided to close up and rest?” Chen Jian asked.
“Then we rest,” Shan Yu glanced back at him. “We’ll have made plenty before the New Year anyway.”
“Have you made your initial investment back yet?” Chen Jian asked.
“Not yet,” Shan Yu said. “What’s the rush? If we go bankrupt, I’ll just take you all out on the streets to mug people.”
“Let’s not,” Chen Jian said. “That’s illegal.”
Shan Yu laughed. “What should we do then?”
“Might as well beg for food together,” Chen Jian said.
“Can you two be a little more auspicious!” Hu Pan heard their last few sentences from the front desk. “You’re the boss and the store manager, for crying out loud… Besides, if we really went begging, would we still need a boss? Would we have to hand over our earnings?”
“He’d still be needed. If we’re begging professionally, we’d still need a team to provide security,” Sanbing chimed in. “They have turf divisions too…”
“What kind of nonsense is this!” Hu Pan yelled. “Might as well bring you guys along then.”
“Then we might need to practice a bit…” Lao Wu said, glancing at Sanbing.
“Why are you looking at me? You aren’t much better,” Sanbing said.
“Everyone shut up, my god,” Hu Pan waved her hand.
Perhaps because she had successfully chased away her despair-inducing parents, or perhaps because she would now consider Dayin her true home from now on, Hu Pan worked with exceptional vigor today.
There was a lot to do today. Even during the previous long holiday, they hadn’t hosted this many tourists. By noon, Chen Jian felt like there were people everywhere.
The cafe was also packed. Hu Pan’s lattes and Americanos were starting to fall behind the demand, so Sun Nana threw on an apron and stepped in to help.
“She knows how?” Chen Jian asked.
“She only knows one more drink than me—the cappuccino,” Hu Pan said. “But she’s much better at talking than I am.”
“Hm?” Chen Jian looked over.
“Hi, I don’t know what kind of beans you prefer?” Hu Pan started mimicking Sun Nana. “Then she lets them smell the beans. No matter which one they pick, she says, ‘Mm, I love that one too. This roast is perfect for a cappuccino, would you like to try it?’ This morning, as long as she was there, we only sold cappuccinos.”
Chen Jian laughed. “Isn’t recommending a latte easier to make? You don’t even have to froth the milk as much.”
“I don’t know, I think she just really enjoys the process,” Hu Pan said. “Elegantly crafting a cup of coffee. If it’s too simple, she can’t fully express that elegance.”
Chen Jian looked at Hu Pan, smiling without a word.
“I really like Nana. I hope she stays for a long time,” Hu Pan said.
“Mm.” Chen Jian cast another glance in that direction.
In the afternoon, the crowd inside the inn began to thin out as everyone headed toward the barbecue grounds. Although there was still some time before the event officially started, many tourists decided to have dinner there, eating while they waited.
Chen Jian knocked on the office door. Yue Lang’s voice answered from inside: “Store Manager? Come in.”
“Boss Yue is back?” Chen Jian entered the office.
“Exhausted,” Yue Lang was lying on the sofa.
“Where is Sister Xiao Yi?” Chen Jian asked.
“Washing up,” Yue Lang said. “That’ll take at least an hour. I can get some sleep.”
“I’m going over to the barbecue grounds now,” Chen Jian leaned against the desk. “To check on things. There are fireworks tonight, so I need to double-check the fire safety setup.”
“Didn’t Chen Erhu already go?” Shan Yu asked from his chair.
Chen Jian tilted his head, trying to figure out how Shan Yu had managed to prop the back of the chair upright again. He realized Shan Yu had simply wedged the backrest against the cabinet behind him.
Shan Yu caught on to his intention, failing to suppress the smirk at the corner of his mouth.
Chen Jian stifled a laugh as well. “Chen Erhu is… I’d better go keep an eye on things.”
“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded. “I’ll head over with Lang-ge and the others a bit later.”
The barbecue grounds were already bustling. Many local vendors from the town had shown up—setting up stalls, selling trinkets, selling snacks. They were all quite cooperative, sticking to the previously designated zones.
Chen Jian did a lap. The event preparations were perfectly on track, but one detail annoyed him immensely.
When he regrouped with Chen Erhu and Sanbing at the barbecue stalls, they had noticed it too and were equally pissed off. If Sanbing hadn’t held him back, Chen Erhu would have gone straight to Da Li and his crew to start trouble.
“You don’t pull crap like this. When people take photos later, these will definitely end up in the shots. It’s basically free advertising for them.” Chen Erhu was holding two small fans—the cheap, promotional kind. One had Liangye’s logo printed on it, the other Guanshan’s.
These were probably leftover stock from those inns. Chen Jian had seen them before. They likely didn’t want Dayin stealing all the spotlight, so they were using this chance to promote themselves.
Handing out fans in winter was a bit weird, but the tourists didn’t care. Since they were free little gifts for the bonfire festival, many people had taken them and were carrying them around the grounds.
“What do we do?” Sanbing asked. “Do we have anything like this?”
“No, and even if we did, they’d all say Zhenxi,” Chen Jian said. “Dayin just changed its name a few days ago.”
“Go snatch them,” Chen Erhu slapped the wall next to him.
“Erhu-ge, Erhu-ge,” Sanbing quickly held him back. “We’re Dayin employees now, and you’re Dayin’s Director of Fire Safety. We can’t handle things like that.”
Since when was there a Director of Fire Safety?
Chen Jian patted Chen Erhu’s shoulder. “It’s fine. It’s not that serious.”
“I can’t swallow this,” Chen Erhu said. “Always pulling these petty tricks. Even us street thugs wouldn’t stoop to this.”
You guys weren’t exactly real street thugs either…
“It’s not hard to swallow,” Shan Yu said unhurriedly over the phone. “Just trade them out. Most people won’t want to carry those things around all night anyway once they start having fun.”
Chen Jian immediately caught onto the idea: “How about trading one fan for a bottle of cola? The glass bottle ones aren’t expensive, and not everyone wants to drink alcohol. If they can trade it for a soda, a lot of people will definitely do it.”
“Have someone go buy some and stock them at the stalls. Just have the owners mention it,” Shan Yu said. “Do you have money on you?”
“Won’t cost much,” Chen Jian said. “I’ll front it for now.”
“Remember to get a receipt, or it won’t be reimbursed,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian hung up the phone, smiling.
The minor crisis was swiftly resolved. The barbecue stall owners were doing even better business today than anticipated, so barely anyone refused to help mention the fan-for-cola trade.
By the time Shan Yu, Yue Lang, and the others arrived before the event kicked off, there were hardly any small fans left in the tourists’ hands.
“Actually, we could have just ignored it. Did we really need to crush them entirely?” Chen Jian and Shan Yu sat in Old Lü’s barbecue tent, watching the bonfire starting to roar in the distance.
“Had to be done,” Shan Yu said.
“Why?” Chen Jian asked.
“Because of this.” Shan Yu tilted his head slightly, nodding toward the left.
Chen Jian turned his head and saw He Liang, followed closely by Boss Liu and Boss Yang.
“Boss Shan,” He Liang walked into the barbecue tent with a smile. “We were looking for you for ages. You didn’t even tell us you were here.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Shan Yu said.
That’s not how you use that idiom, Boss.
Chen Jian shot him a look.
But considering it was Shan Yu who said it, it wasn’t all that surprising. He Liang wasn’t even embarrassed; he was probably used to it.
“I’ll go check on things over there,” Chen Jian murmured to Shan Yu.
Although he really wanted to stay and listen, all three men on the other side were bosses, and they hadn’t brought Da Li or the others along. It looked like a peace talk, so it was best to keep the optics balanced.
“Mm.” Shan Yu didn’t stop him, merely nodding.
“Then I’ll leave you bosses to chat. I’m going to see if there are any issues elsewhere,” Chen Jian stood up.
“A capable right-hand man,” He Liang said. “If I had a store manager this competent, my life would be a lot easier.”
Hearing that made Chen Jian feel bad for Da Li.
“Then fire Da Li,” Shan Yu said, “and hire Chen Jian part-time.”
“…Boss Shan is joking again,” He Liang still couldn’t escape an awkward laugh this time.
Chen Jian wandered around the grounds. Quite a few villagers had shown up, along with people from the town management office whom he rarely saw on normal days. He greeted them as he walked.
“Why did you leave your boss all alone?” Yue Lang’s voice came from behind.
“The bosses from the inner inns are chatting with him,” Chen Jian turned around. “I just came out for a stroll.”
Yue Lang was chewing on a meat skewer. Beside him, Yao Yi was holding her camera, looking around.
“I’m going to go look for some shots,” Yao Yi said.
“Mm,” Yue Lang nodded.
“Lang-ge, you guys are heading back tomorrow?” Chen Jian stood by the edge of the grounds with Yue Lang, watching the bustling crowd.
“Yeah,” Yue Lang nodded. “We’ve had our fill of fun. The main point was to see Shan Yu, and we’ve seen enough. If we don’t leave soon, he’ll start chasing us out.”
“Have you guys also… not seen him in a long time?” Chen Jian asked.
“Since he went in,” Yue Lang said. “Who knows when the next time will be. Probably not until I come visit again.”
“Is he not going home for the New Year?” Chen Jian tried asking again.
Yue Lang smiled. “Whether he goes home or not, shouldn’t you know better than me?”
Chen Jian didn’t speak.
“He hasn’t been home in six or seven years,” Yue Lang said. “He didn’t want to go back even before he went in, and now that he’s an ex-con, he’s even less willing to.”
Chen Jian sighed softly. “It’s probably not that he truly… doesn’t want to go back.”
“Mm,” Yue Lang glanced at him. “If you try persuading him, it might actually work.”
Chen Jian remained silent.
To be honest, he wasn’t very confident.
“You’re somewhat different to him. After all, in the past…” Yue Lang hesitated, glancing in Shan Yu’s direction.
“Hm?” Chen Jian looked at him.
“We all know his… situation, but honestly, we’ve never seen him like anyone before,” Yue Lang said. “He used to have a pet leopard gecko. Sometimes I feel like if he told me he fell in love with that gecko, I’d believe him.”
Chen Jian couldn’t help but laugh.
“Give it a try,” Yue Lang said. “Before I came here, I actually met with his mom, though I didn’t dare tell him. Auntie has aged visibly. She’s in her fifties but used to look incredibly young. These past two years… she looks at least forty-eight.”
Chen Jian knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he really wanted to.
After holding it in for a bit and stifling the laugh entirely, he suddenly felt a wave of profound melancholy.
And an inexplicable, distant sorrow.
