When the box was opened, the beanie wasn’t immediately visible; it was wrapped in a layer of pink tissue paper, with a card resting on top.
The formal packaging made Chen Jian slightly regret not tying a giant bow around Erge’s terrarium.
He picked up the card first.
Written on it with a calligraphy brush was just a single character: Jian. One look and he knew it was Shan Yu’s hand—beautiful brushwork done in colored ink, the blue strokes shimmering with fine silver flecks.
“Jian,” Chen Jian read aloud, holding the card.
“Chen Jian,” Shan Yu said.
“Hm?” Chen Jian glanced at him.
“Include your surname,” Shan Yu said. “Without it, it sounds like an insult.”
Chen Jian laughed, slipping the card into his inner coat pocket.
“You’re actually saving that?” Shan Yu said. “I only tossed it in as a little garnish because the plain paper packaging looked too bare.”
“I even keep tags from new clothes for a while,” Chen Jian said. “A card like this is definitely a keeper. It has your handwriting on it.”
“Mm.” Shan Yu leaned against the car door, watching him.
Chen Jian looked down and parted the wrapping paper, revealing a charcoal-gray knit beanie inside.
“Like the color?” Shan Yu asked. “I noticed your sweaters are mostly gray.”
“I like it. Gray and blue are my favorites.” Chen Jian picked up the beanie.
It was a simple, minimalist knit hat in a solid color, except for a tiny, single-line embroidered bow at the brim—no larger than a fingertip, stitched in bright red.
The yarn was incredibly soft, yielding beneath his fingers with a cozy warmth. As he pulled it onto his head, he asked, “What kind of yarn is this? It feels completely different from the knit hats in stores. It’s so comfortable.”
“Cashmere, what else would it be?” Shan Yu smoothed the hair across Chen Jian’s forehead, then gently tilted his chin up. “Damn… you look great in a hat.”
“Really?” Chen Jian touched the beanie, adjusting the tiny bow so it sat right at the arch of his eyebrow.
Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Shan Yu to be this skilled. If he hadn’t known beforehand, he would have assumed it was bought from a boutique. The fit was spot-on, unlike the one he bought last winter that gave him a pounding headache after an hour and pressed his natural curls flat.
Shan Yu pulled out his phone, shoving the lens in Chen Jian’s face and snapping several shots. “Time to change my profile picture.”
“Again?” Chen Jian looked at him.
“Mm,” Shan Yu said. “Fresh-faced young stud.”
“Let me see.” Chen Jian leaned in.
Shan Yu turned the screen toward him. “Pick one.”
Chen Jian looked over the photos. They really did look… quite sharp. In the past, he only wore hats to block the freezing wind, never caring what he looked like, and certainly never adjusting his hair after putting one on like Shan Yu just did.
The hat Shan Yu had crocheted was genuinely well-made. Though the little bow on the brim was tiny—from a distance, it probably looked like a mere speck of red—that single accent brought the muted gray to life.
“Do you really like bows that much?” Chen Jian pointed at a photo. “Use this one.”
“Mm. When I was a kid, I thought bows always belonged on gifts,” Shan Yu set the chosen photo as his avatar. “Seeing a bow made me feel like something good was about to happen.”
“Tomorrow I’ll tie a late bow on Erge’s tank,” Chen Jian said.
“Why don’t you tie a bow on a mealworm and serve it to Erge instead?” Shan Yu suggested.
Chen Jian imagined the scene and figured Erge would probably curse them out.
“Come on, assistant,” Shan Yu patted the hood. “Take it for a spin.”
Chen Jian slid into the driver’s seat, clicked his seatbelt in, and sat completely still.
“Hm?” Shan Yu glanced at him.
“How do I start it?” Chen Jian asked.
“Button over there.” Shan Yu pointed.
Chen Jian followed his finger and spotted a push-button near the instrument cluster. He pressed it, and both the gauge cluster and the center console display lit up simultaneously—two screens loaded with a dizzying array of icons and readouts.
“Holy crap,” Chen Jian muttered in awe. “I might not actually be able to handle this car.”
“Ignore the extra bells and whistles,” Shan Yu said. “Just drive.”
Compared to the driving school’s beaters, once he grasped the basic controls, this car was remarkably easy to drive; his hands and feet barely had to work.
After two laps down the road, Chen Jian was already harboring the delusion that he was a seasoned driver with ten years under his belt.
Aside from slightly misjudging the car’s width and length—nearly scraping the curb twice while pulling over—everything went smoothly.
“How was that?” Chen Jian glanced at Shan Yu. “First time in my passenger seat, not bad, right?”
“Mm,” Shan Yu turned his head to look back at him. “First time sitting behind my wheel, and those several times I reached over to steer for you weren’t bad either, were they?”
Chen Jian couldn’t help laughing. “Hey! I just don’t have a clear feel for the dimensions of this car yet!”
“You did great,” Shan Yu said. “When Liu Wu first got his license, he had nothing going for him except sheer courage.”
“How courageous?” Chen Jian asked.
“Kept barreling into the oncoming lane. You couldn’t yank him back even if you tried,” Shan Yu said.
“I haven’t driven on a real road yet,” Chen Jian said. “Might end up the same way.”
“No chance,” Shan Yu reached over and hooked a finger under his chin. “When I practiced with him, he wasn’t anywhere near as relaxed as you.”
“Hey!” Chen Jian shouted. “I’m driving! Don’t harass the driver!”
“Whoa,” Shan Yu jumped at his sudden outburst, his hand jerking back instantly. “Yelling like that—anyone listening would think I was feeling you up down below.”
Chen Jian fell silent. After a few seconds, he broke into laughter. “You make it impossible to respond.”
“Yet you never miss a beat,” Shan Yu said.
They drove back and forth along the stretch of road for over half an hour before switching seats so Shan Yu could drive them back. If it weren’t time for lunch, Chen Jian wouldn’t have wanted to leave.
Driving a luxury vehicle really did feel different.
“Is President He and his team heading back to Dayin tomorrow?” Chen Jian asked, poking at various buttons on the console.
“Mm,” Shan Yu acknowledged. “They originally planned to head straight back to the city, but I asked them to stay an extra day.”
“Why?” Chen Jian asked. “Didn’t they finish touring our routes?”
“Need to ask about the other legs of their trip,” Shan Yu said. “Hongye Town is just the starting point; there are several stretches after this.”
“Are you… planning to invest in something else?” Chen Jian asked.
“Don’t have the cash right now,” Shan Yu said. “Just doing reconnaissance. Once a travel route is mapped out, there are always a few key focal points. I want to see if our town is one of them. If it is, there’ll definitely be favorable policies…”
“And if it’s not?” Chen Jian asked.
“Find a way to make it one,” Shan Yu said.
“What way?” Chen Jian pressed.
Shan Yu laughed at his relentless questioning. “Haven’t figured that out yet.”
Chen Jian smiled, saying nothing.
People are strange sometimes. When the boss was checked out, he felt insecure; now that the boss was taking the business seriously and aiming for big things, an entirely different wave of insecurity crept in.
Back at Dayin, the moment Chen Jian crossed the threshold, Hu Pan grabbed his arm.
“Where did this handsome guy come from?! Let me see!” Hu Pan reached up to feel his beanie. “Where’d this hat come from? You weren’t wearing it when you left! Weren’t you practicing driving? Did you go shopping?”
Before Chen Jian could fabricate an origin story for the hat, Shan Yu walked in behind him: “I crocheted it.”
“What?” Sun Nana jogged over from the front desk. “No way! Why don’t I believe that?”
“Holy shit,” Sanbing leaned in, looking from Shan Yu to the hat, and back from the hat to Shan Yu. “Did you pay someone to custom-make it? That handmade knitwear shop at the end of the street?”
“That shop isn’t handmade,” Hu Pan said. “They use knitting machines; they just customize the patterns and styles.”
“Stay on topic,” Sun Nana said, giving them an exasperated look.
“What was the topic?” Sanbing asked, grabbing Chen Jian’s arm just as Chen Jian tried to slip away.
“Did you really crochet it?” Sun Nana looked at Shan Yu.
“Mm,” Shan Yu smiled.
“I want one too,” Sun Nana said immediately.
“Hm?” Shan Yu blinked.
“I want one too!” Hu Pan caught on instantly. “Me too!”
“Count me in then,” Sanbing chimed in right away. “Erhu-ge needs one too, and if both of us get one… Lao Si and Lao Wu definitely need them…”
“We want one too—” Zhao-jie’s laughing voice called out from the kitchen.
Chen Jian looked at Shan Yu.
Show off, go on.
Keep showing off.
“I crocheted the hat.”
Now you can slowly crochet hats for the entire staff.
Forget focusing on the tourism route; your focus now is crocheting eight hats.
“…It was actually bought,” Shan Yu backpedaled.
Oh don’t do that. How could it be bought? You crocheted it, after all.
“The boss plays favorites,” Hu Pan pouted.
“Playing favorites makes sense,” Sanbing said.
What the hell! Chen Jian glared at Sanbing.
“He is the store manager, after all,” Sanbing sighed, his voice dropping low. “His workload isn’t the same as ours.”
“Are you being serious or are you acting?” Chen Jian couldn’t help asking.
“Do I look like I have that kind of acting skill?!” Sanbing demanded.
Sun Nana burst out laughing.
“Hats are too difficult,” Shan Yu finally spoke up. “How about scarves?”
“Really?!” Hu Pan’s voice shot up an octave.
“Mm. New Year’s gifts,” Shan Yu nodded.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Hu Pan chanted in rapid succession.
“If everyone gets one, does that count as Dayin’s official uniform?” Sanbing asked. “People are constantly walking in and out on the ground floor and the heat escapes. Having a scarf would keep us warmer.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sun Nana turned to look at Shan Yu, who was already briskly walking toward the elevator. “Can we pick our colors, Boss?”
“…No!” Shan Yu called back.
Just as Chen Jian was about to flee with him, his phone rang.
He whipped it out and answered without checking the caller ID, terrified that once Shan Yu vanished, the crew would turn their interrogation on him about the hat.
“Hello? Chen Jian?” An elderly woman’s voice came through the line.
Chen Jian paused for two seconds before realizing it was Xiao Dou’er’s grandmother. She rarely called him, so hearing her out of the blue threw him off.
“It’s me, Grandma,” Chen Jian said.
“Grandma has a favor to ask,” she said.
“No trouble at all,” Chen Jian walked to the side. “What is it, Grandma?”
“Do you have time today to take Xiao Dou’er to the city?” she asked. “Chen Bin asked a friend to meet her at the shuttle stop…”
“To the city?” Chen Jian paused. “To visit?”
“To spend the New Year in the city,” Grandma said.
“What about you two?” Chen Jian asked immediately.
“We aren’t going,” Grandma said with a small laugh. “The apartment they rent in the city is tiny; there’s no room for us.”
“They aren’t coming home for the New Year?” Chen Jian frowned.
“Chen Bin picked up some holiday work and can’t make it back,” Grandma said. “Said it pays quite well…”
An inexplicable surge of anger flared in Chen Jian’s chest. Technically, Xiao Dou’er’s family matters were none of his business—her parents, her family… But after boarding with her grandparents for so many years and living together for so long, emotionally, they were essentially his own grandparents.
“Unbelievable,” Chen Jian sat in the car, scowling. “Her grandparents looked forward to this all year, prepped all the holiday supplies, and now they must feel terrible.”
Shan Yu drove with him toward the village to pick up Xiao Dou’er, bringing along a share of the New Year specialties he had hauled back from home. He planned to drop them off for his father to pass on to the older man he stayed with, as a thank-you for looking after him when he was injured.
“Why don’t we bring her grandparents over to the inn for the holidays?” Shan Yu suggested.
“They’d definitely refuse,” Chen Jian sighed. “Joining the fun on regular days is one thing, but this is the New Year. Their own house would be empty, and having to spend the holiday at someone else’s place…”
Shan Yu sighed as well, remaining silent.
Xiao Dou’er had little interest in the city under normal circumstances. Being separated from her grandparents right at the New Year made her even more sullen, her lips pursed the entire time, refusing to speak.
Only when the car rolled out of town did she hang her head and begin to sob quietly.
Chen Jian sat with her in the back seat, pulling her into his arms and patting her back gently. He didn’t offer any empty platitudes; no words could comfort her right now.
“I don’t want to go,” Xiao Dou’er cried softly.
“Don’t you miss your mom and dad?” Chen Jian asked her.
“No,” Xiao Dou’er wiped her tears. “I don’t even know them.”
Chen Jian looked down at her. “How could you not know them?”
“I don’t remember them,” she sobbed. “I want Grandma and Grandpa…”
The car’s speed abruptly slowed. Chen Jian looked up at Shan Yu.
Shan Yu pulled over to the shoulder, turned around, and looked at Xiao Dou’er: “If you don’t want to go, just tell them you aren’t going. I’ll make the call for you.”
Xiao Dou’er froze, staring up at Shan Yu.
Chen Jian was stunned too. After a few seconds, he began to understand why Shan Yu had said that.
Xiao Dou’er had grown up with her grandparents; emotionally, her bond with them was far tighter and more intimate than with her parents…
Being shipped off to parents she barely saw for a few days a year probably felt remarkably similar to a young Shan Yu being sent off to his eldest aunt’s house.
Yet it wasn’t entirely identical.
After a long pause, Xiao Dou’er murmured, “I should still go.”
“Why?” Shan Yu asked.
“I’m afraid they’ll be upset,” Xiao Dou’er said. “They’ll get mad at Grandma and Grandpa.”
Shan Yu looked at her without a word. After a moment, he turned back around and pulled the car back onto the road.
“Did you bring your watch?” Chen Jian asked her.
“Yes,” Xiao Dou’er nodded.
“Call me whenever you’re unhappy,” Chen Jian said.
“Mm.” Xiao Dou’er leaned against his chest, and after a while, began to cry again.
Handing Xiao Dou’er over to her parents at the shuttle stop, Chen Jian wanted to say something, but held his tongue in the end. He simply watched them settle Xiao Dou’er onto an electric scooter and ride away before returning to the car.
“You okay?” Chen Jian looked at Shan Yu.
“I’m fine,” Shan Yu smiled faintly. “Just suddenly annoyed.”
“A lot of kids in the village… grow up like that,” Chen Jian said.
Shan Yu said nothing, reaching out to gently massage the back of Chen Jian’s neck. “Call your dad. Let’s head over to see him.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian acknowledged.
By all logic, his dad should still be at the same delivery dispatch station, but when Chen Jian called, his father hemmed and hawed for ages before finally coughing up an address for a budget motel.
“He’s definitely keeping something from me again,” Chen Jian frowned.
“Did he switch jobs?” Shan Yu asked.
“It won’t be as simple as switching jobs,” Chen Jian said.
“Take your time asking him,” Shan Yu said. “No matter how big the issue is, at least he’s still answering your calls.”
Chen Jian bit his lip. The phrasing was a bit blunt, but it was true.
Seeing his dad standing outside the budget motel with all his limbs intact, Chen Jian let out a breath of relief. Not injured, not sick…
Save for the wind-chapped skin on his face and an aura that looked even more worn down than before.
“Didn’t you say you’d visit over the New Year?” his dad asked. “Why run all the way out here now?”
Chen Jian glanced back at the car and Shan Yu inside. “Dropped Xiao Dou’er off and brought over some holiday goods. The older guy who stayed with you took good care of you when you were injured… Are you two still working together?”
“He moved in here too,” his dad hesitated, letting out a sigh. “Couldn’t keep up with rent over there. Rooms here are thirty a day…”
“You aren’t delivering anymore?” Chen Jian asked.
“The station got bought out by a new owner. Pay-per-order got slashed again, and late deductions are worse than before,” his dad said. “Didn’t pay out this month’s wages either. Over thirty couriers are waiting on back pay. Stopped working; everyone’s leaving once we get paid…”
His dad wasn’t angry as he explained; his tone was remarkably flat. Over the years, he had encountered this routine plenty of times; it barely registered as a shock anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me? If they haven’t paid you, why were you still depositing money into my card?” Chen Jian asked.
“After the New Year, we’re planning to switch to crowdsourced delivery instead of dedicated shifts…” his dad dodged the question.
“Dad,” Chen Jian cut him off.
“Don’t worry about me,” his dad looked at him. “You don’t have it easy either. Jobs like yours are hard to come by. As long as you stay steady and secure, that’s enough…”
“I’m doing great! The inn literally can’t run without me right now,” Chen Jian said, growing agitated. He didn’t know how to put it so his dad would truly relax and believe he wasn’t being dragged down. “I make good money now. I can clear all our debts this year. You’re the one who needs to stop worrying about me!”
“I know you’re doing well,” his dad said. “Your boss values you… Go on, get going. Don’t make your boss wait, it looks bad. Take the holiday goods back too…”
“Dad.” Chen Jian looked at him.
His dad looked back at him.
“…Wait for me a second.” Chen Jian turned on his heel and walked straight back toward the car.
Seeing him stride over with an unreadable expression—a mix of fury, panic, and something else—Shan Yu quickly rolled down the window and leaned out.
“What is it?” Shan Yu asked.
“I’m going to tell him,” Chen Jian said, gripping the windowsill and staring at him.
“Tell him what?” Shan Yu paused.
“I’m going to tell him,” Chen Jian repeated.
By the time Shan Yu realized what he meant, Chen Jian had already spun around and was storming back toward his father.
“Chen Jian!” Shan Yu hissed in a sharp, urgent whisper.
Chen Jian didn’t look back.
“Fuck.” Shan Yu threw open the door and stepped out of the car.
