President He didn’t stay too long on his return leg, spending most of his time chatting with Shan Yu. The team members he brought along had also grown quite familiar with everyone, so by noon, the whole crew was having a barbecue in the garden with the Dayin staff.
Da Li came over twice midway through, claiming he was just grabbing a bite, but everyone knew he was really fishing for intel.
Although Shan Yu planned to loop the inner inns in on the details later anyway, that information had to come directly from Dayin; they couldn’t just snoop it out themselves.
The dynamics were entirely different.
So during both of Da Li’s visits, Chen Erhu kept him company with excessive hospitality. When Da Li left the second time, Sanbing even chased after him to hand over a full plate of barbecue.
“Stuff him full in one go, saves him the trouble of inventing another excuse to pop over.”
“Speaking of which,” Lao Si remarked, “him coming over to watch Boss Shan crochet scarves is practically a tourist spectacle. Wanting to check it out isn’t strange at all.”
“You’re one to talk,” Chen Erhu glared at Sanbing. “Asking for one for yourself is one thing, but how did you have the nerve to ask for four?”
“I didn’t expect him to actually agree,” Sanbing said.
“He won’t work himself sick, will he?” Lao Wu suddenly started worrying.
“It’s almost the New Year, don’t jinx it!” Chen Erhu snapped at him.
Compared to whether Shan Yu would work himself sick, Chen Jian was far more worried that President He might suddenly chime in with: I’d like one too.
Fortunately, because Shan Yu spent virtually every minute outside of eating crocheting away—without it hindering his conversation with President He in the slightest—it created the illusion that the crochet hook and yarn were simply natural extensions of his body, leading everyone to mentally tune them out.
Shan Yu’s phone rang, but he didn’t have it on him. Chen Jian picked it up from the bench nearby and handed it over.
After hanging up, Shan Yu hooked a finger toward him.
“Hm?” Chen Jian walked over.
“Got an update on yesterday’s call. Headquarters’ efficiency is decent,” Shan Yu murmured. “They’ve already ‘fixed the system error.’ The dispatch station will pay out the wages normally by tomorrow. Let your dad know, tell them to stay on top of it.”
“Was there really a system error?” Chen Jian asked.
“Let them say whatever they want. They can claim the Americans are invading and started their attack with that beat-up computer at your dad’s station for all I care,” Shan Yu said. “The point is the wages are getting paid.”
“Mm.” Chen Jian smiled and nodded.
“When you tell him…” Shan Yu glanced at him. “Need me to coach you?”
“Yes,” Chen Jian said.
“Didn’t you say learning from me would get you stabbed into a watering can?” Shan Yu asked.
“That was about learning your brand of ‘tact,’ which always ends in a brawl,” Chen Jian replied earnestly. “That was strictly about that, nothing else.”
“Tell your dad you’re the one who solved it,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian looked at him.
“You know how to frame it, right? The call went just like that,” Shan Yu looked back. “Just take all the credit yourself.”
“Didn’t you say yesterday…” Chen Jian squatted beside him, whispering, “…that you wanted him to see what kind of person you are? You handled this whole thing, and now you don’t even want the credit?”
“Are you dumb, Store Manager? Do I need to prove my competence to your dad when I have this massive guesthouse sitting right here?” Shan Yu said. “What I need him to see is that I’m a good person. Nothing else.”
Chen Jian broke into a smile. “Then I’m taking the credit, okay?”
“Take it.” Shan Yu tilted his chin.
His dad picked up faster than ever before. Before the dialing tone even finished ringing on Chen Jian’s end, his father’s voice boomed through: “Chen Jian!”
He sounded in exceptionally high spirits.
It caught Chen Jian off guard. It had been ages since he had heard his dad sound like this; he couldn’t even remember the last time his father had been so energized.
“Dad, about your…” Before Chen Jian could finish, his dad cut him off.
“I was just about to call you!” his dad said eagerly. “Our wages are already being processed! The owner announced in the group chat for us to pick up our money tomorrow! It’s never gone this smoothly before!”
“That’s actually what I was calling about,” Chen Jian smiled. “Pretty fast, huh?”
“You knew?” His dad paused.
Chen Jian hesitated for a split second before launching into claim-jumping mode: “Yeah. I called your headquarters yesterday.”
“To file a complaint? Some of our guys complained, it didn’t do anything,” his dad said, taken aback.
“No, I called headquarters…” Chen Jian paused. “…as legal aid, demanding they resolve the unpaid wage issue immediately…”
Throughout his life, he had told his dad plenty of white lies, or rather, withheld the truth most of the time.
But this was the first time he had ever lied so brazenly.
“Really?” His dad was stunned. “You can do that?”
“Yeah. Reminded them that withholding wages before the New Year is a sensitive issue. They just followed up with… me, saying it’s taken care of,” Chen Jian repeated Shan Yu’s points. He still felt somewhat guilty and didn’t dare go into too much detail, unable to replicate Shan Yu’s breezy, effortless nonchalance. “So I called you right away.”
“You… impressive, son!” His dad was thrilled. “No wonder it happened so fast! Takes a sharp mind like yours to get things done! Hey, Old Zhong! Old Zhong…”
His dad was likely still at the motel with Old Zhong. His voice rose with pride: “It was my son! My son solved our wage problem…”
“Dad, Dad,” Chen Jian felt his face flush red, “don’t go bragging to everyone.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them how you did it,” his dad said. “Just that it was my son… My son is a store manager, after all, handling this kind of stuff is a walk in the park… Old Zhong!”
“What! Your son pulled it off?” Old Zhong’s thick accent filtered through. Chen Jian could only catch the first bit before it dissolved into a string of unintelligible dialect.
“Just wanted to check on that,” Chen Jian said. “Pick up your wages tomorrow, wrap up your affairs, and head over. I was going to pick you up, but I won’t get my driver’s license until the twenty-seventh…”
“No worries, I’ll wait for you,” his dad said. “I’ll wait for you to come get me. Old Zhong has a ticket home on the twenty-seventh anyway, so I can see him off.”
“Sounds good then.” Chen Jian smiled.
Hanging up, Chen Jian sat on the bench in the corner, basking in the sun and staring into space with a strange, surreal feeling.
It took him a good while to process it.
Getting his wages so fast was reason enough for his dad to be happy, but hearing that his own son had pulled the strings elevated his mood so much he sounded like a completely different person.
Chen Jian half-expected him to march down the street yelling at the top of his lungs.
My son did it!
My son did it!
…Can’t yell that, though. Sounds like his son ought to turn himself in to the police.
“How’d it go?” Shan Yu’s voice drifted down from above.
Chen Jian looked up. Shan Yu was standing in front of him, crochet hook in one hand and a scarf in the other, with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sight of slate-blue yarn feeding smoothly out of a gym bag was so absurd Chen Jian couldn’t help laughing.
“I’ll look up what medication you need for that condition in a bit,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian leaned back against the bench, looking up at him: “My dad is probably bragging up a storm in their courier group chat right now.”
“Did they tell them to get their money?” Shan Yu asked.
“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded. “When I called, he was just about to call me.”
“Then that’s settled,” Shan Yu said. “Once he has the money in hand, he’ll feel at ease.”
“Shan Yu.” Chen Jian looked at him.
“Hm?” Shan Yu hummed in response, meeting his gaze while his hands kept moving—a true seasoned artisan.
Chen Jian wanted to say thank you.
Yet saying thank you at a moment like this felt both distant and cheap.
Hesitating for two seconds, he switched gears.
“I want a scarf too,” he said.
The seasoned artisan’s hands froze.
“Just saying,” Chen Jian quickly added.
“Just saying?” Shan Yu’s face was deadpan as his crochet hook resumed its frantic pace.
Chen Jian smiled.
“Do I look like the type of guy who takes things lightly?” Shan Yu asked.
“Huh?” Chen Jian couldn’t read his reaction for a second.
“Once I finish these,” Shan Yu said, “there’s still a bit of that gray yarn left over…”
“I was really just making an offhand comment,” Chen Jian said, startled. “I…”
“Don’t want it?” Shan Yu shot him a look.
“I want it,” Chen Jian said.
“Before the Lantern Festival, then. Finishing these will probably take half of my remaining lifespan,” Shan Yu said.
“Don’t jinx yourself,” Chen Jian said.
“Finishing these will probably bless me with half a month of good fortune,” Shan Yu corrected himself smoothly.
Chen Jian laughed.
“When is your dad coming?” Shan Yu asked. “Need to pick him up?”
“He originally said he’d take the shuttle bus, but the moment he heard I’m getting my license on the twenty-seventh, he immediately decided to wait for me to pick him up,” Chen Jian said.
“Then go pick him up,” Shan Yu said. “Take some New Year goods to your relatives along the way…”
“Why are we bringing gifts if we’re going there to spite them?!” Chen Jian asked.
“Spiting people with utmost politeness is what stings the most,” Shan Yu said. “If you choose to be obnoxious, do a thorough job of it.”
Only two relatives were worth bothering: his uncle and his aunt.
Under normal circumstances, Chen Jian might not have agreed to Shan Yu’s plan to show off and settle scores. But the dynamic among his dad’s siblings was unique: their parents had passed away early, and his father had worked to pay for his younger brother’s and sister’s tuition.
Back when their family was doing well, they still kept in touch. But once his mother fell ill, they gradually cut ties. As his father said, family members knew better than anyone how hard it would be to pay back the money, so it was only natural they avoided them.
Still, thinking about all those years of hardship, Chen Jian couldn’t help harboring some bitterness.
He wanted to vent a little.
Going into the city on the twenty-seventh of the twelfth lunar month with just him and Shan Yu was out of the question. Chen Erhu had taken leave to visit family and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, Lao Si was in the neighboring town, and Sanbing and Lao Wu—still at the inn—insisted on coming along. Last time Hu Pan and Sun Nana had gone; this time, it was their turn.
“Exactly four of us, plus Chen Jian’s dad makes five—a full car,” Sanbing said, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “My scarf needs a trip to the city.”
“Fine, fine, fine, let’s go, let’s go,” Shan Yu nodded.
“Need anything brought back?” Sanbing yelled toward the front desk.
Sun Nana, standing at the desk, turned and yelled toward the storage room: “Panpan, need anything brought back?”
“Milk tea—” Hu Pan yelled.
“Milk tea,” Sun Nana echoed, propping her chin on her hand.
“Got it!” Sanbing shouted back.
Picking up the driver’s license was completely hassle-free. The very first thing Chen Jian did upon receiving the booklet was snap a picture and send it to his dad.
His dad replied with a row of six thumbs-up emojis.
“Drive,” Shan Yu patted the driver’s side door.
“Can he handle it? Boss Shan isn’t driving?” Sanbing turned cautious instantly. “Brother Erhu drove Brother Rui’s car’s front-right wheel straight into a ditch on his first day with a license.”
“Chen Jian isn’t Brother Erhu,” Lao Wu said. “He rides a motorcycle better than Brother Erhu too. Last time we chased him in the car, all four of us couldn’t catch him…”
Sanbing glared at him: “Stop bringing up ancient history.”
“First time I’ve brought it up,” Lao Wu said.
“Are you the straight man in a comedy duo?!” Sanbing hollered. “Does the last word always have to be yours?!”
“Not really,” Lao Wu said, climbing into the car.
“Screw you!” Sanbing climbed in too.
“Not really,” Lao Wu repeated.
“…Fine, you win,” Sanbing muttered.
“Mm,” Lao Wu nodded.
Sanbing spun around and threw a flurry of punches at him.
“Took the wrong meds,” Chen Jian chuckled, slipping the license into his pocket and patting it securely.
“You guys used to street race?” Shan Yu asked.
“They used to do all sorts of trashy things.” Chen Jian’s hand rested on the door handle, then paused as he looked at Shan Yu. “I’m really driving, okay? I haven’t driven on a real road yet, and this car…”
“I’m right beside you, what are you afraid of?” Shan Yu opened the passenger door. “If we crash, consider it hitting the jackpot; if we don’t, smooth sailing all the way. Let’s roll.”
Chen Jian smiled and got in.
Having driven it a few times on the abandoned road, he was reasonably familiar with the vehicle. Starting the engine and pulling out went smoothly.
The trouble started once they hit the main roads. There was so much going on—a car here, a pedestrian there. Traffic and foot traffic before the New Year were far heavier than usual. By the time Chen Jian navigated out of the DMV’s street, his palms were soaked with sweat.
“Pretty steady,” Sanbing remarked from the back.
“Mm,” Chen Jian felt noticeably reassured.
“Turn signal,” Shan Yu murmured beside him.
“Right,” Chen Jian clicked the indicator on hurriedly, his calmed heart immediately jumping back into his throat.
Still, having Shan Yu in the passenger seat proved remarkably effective. Every prompt landed at the exact split-second Chen Jian needed to make an input—far more precise and timely than his instructor: turn signals, lane merges, overtaking…
Just as they approached his aunt’s convenience store, Sanbing finally asked, “Where are we going?”
“Store Manager is visiting relatives,” Shan Yu said, reaching over to steady the wheel as Chen Jian prepared to mount the sidewalk parking spaces, guiding it slightly to the right. “Alright, give it gas, hop up.”
The SUV rolled onto the curb.
“Parking might need to be you…” Chen Jian glanced at Shan Yu.
“Why bother with a parking spot? Park right in front of the shop,” Shan Yu said. “We’re leaving in two minutes anyway.”
“Mm.” Chen Jian bit his lip, easing the car to a halt right before the convenience store’s glass entrance.
Through the glass, he spotted his aunt tidying shelves.
Chen Jian stepped out, popped the trunk, and pulled out a small gift box of tea leaves—samples President He and his team had brought back from a neighboring town during their route survey. The packaging was exquisite; whether it tasted good was anyone’s guess.
Seeing a massive SUV pull up right against her door, his aunt walked over, parted the plastic draft curtain, and poked her head out.
“Auntie,” Chen Jian called out.
Following the voice, his aunt looked over, freezing instantly. Her eyes darted from him to the luxury SUV, then back to his face, utterly flabbergasted: “Chen Jian?”
“Yeah.” Chen Jian walked up to her. “Running the shop alone?”
“Ah, yes,” she peered past him toward the car. “Your uncle is home. What brings you…”
“Ran into town on business, stopped by since I was in the area,” Chen Jian handed over the tea. “It’s almost the New Year, after all.”
“Oh, this…” Taking the tea, his aunt hesitated before holding the curtain open. “Want to come in and sit for a bit?”
“No, I need to check on my uncle in a bit, then pick up my dad to take him back for the New Year,” Chen Jian said.
“You’re doing… well these days?” she asked.
“Yeah, not bad,” Chen Jian said.
“This car… is yours?” His aunt took two steps forward, eyeing the vehicle.
It wasn’t.
But he could say it was.
“Yeah,” Chen Jian responded.
Completely shameless, Chen Jian!
Yet it felt magnificent.
“In such a rush to leave?” his aunt asked. “Have your dad join us for a meal! It’s been… years since we last saw each other, right?”
Just as Chen Jian was wondering how to make an exit, the car window rolled down. Sanbing poked half his face out, sporting dark sunglasses: “Director Chen, President Shan is on the line asking for you.”
His aunt recognized Sanbing. Even though a decade had passed, Sanbing was essentially a direct, scaled-up copy of his childhood self. The sunglasses were probably worn specifically to avoid being recognized; after all, even if she didn’t visit the village, word of the Pigpen Gang’s exploits still reached town.
Throwing around “Director” while carting Sanbing around instantly gave off the vibe of a shady operation.
So the moment Sanbing delivered his line, he snapped his head back inside.
“So busy,” his aunt looked at Chen Jian. “You’ve really… made something of yourself.”
“A lot to wrap up before the holidays, so I’ll take off now,” Chen Jian said. “Give my best to Uncle.”
“Sure,” she replied. “Is your dad doing well?”
“Doing great.” Chen Jian smiled, opening the door and climbing back in.
His aunt remained rooted at the entrance, staring fixedly at the car.
Pulling out required a three-point turn on the spot. Under her intense gaze, Chen Jian’s already unpolished maneuvers grew even clunkier.
Any slip-up right now would make his aunt suspect the car was stolen.
“Full lock to the left,” Shan Yu instructed. “Ease on the gas. Good, straighten out, reverse, full lock to the right. Okay, gas, stop. Back to the left, full lock, drive forward…”
The parking sensors beeped frantically. Chen Jian hit the brakes.
“I’m going to hit that car’s rear,” he said.
“Miles away, enough room for Sanbing to lie down in,” Shan Yu said. “Keep rolling, you won’t touch it.”
Chen Jian pressed the accelerator. Sure enough, the car cleared it effortlessly, pulling off a smooth, clean turn. Glancing at his aunt still standing by the door, he drove forward.
“Looked legit!” Sanbing slapped the back of the front seat. “How was my performance?”
“Flawless,” Chen Jian chuckled. “Who scripted that?”
“Boss Shan, of course, worried you wouldn’t be able to shake her off,” Sanbing said. “Man, your aunt got so old. Back when she came to my house to beat me up as a kid, she didn’t have a single wrinkle.”
“It’s been over ten years,” Chen Jian said.
“Satisfying!” Sanbing clapped his hands. “Your aunt and uncle… they really deserved a little flex to balance the scales.”
“Head to your uncle’s now?” Shan Yu asked.
“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded.
He had been nervous when pulling out, but after that stunt, his driving suddenly felt considerably smoother, bringing with it the easy confidence of a veteran driver.
Halfway there, Chen Jian’s phone rang. It was his dad. Lao Wu answered it for him: “Uncle Chen, it’s Lao Wu, Chen Jian is driving… Go ahead. Oh? Oh? Oh?”
“What are you ‘oh-ing’ about over and over?” Sanbing stared at him.
“Oh?” Lao Wu continued. “Oh! Got it, I’ll tell him. We’re heading over to pick you up now, get your stuff packed and get ready to…”
“Depart! Get ready to depart!” Sanbing, knowing Lao Wu far too well, cut him off right before he could utter the funeral phrase shang lu (hit the road / pass away).
Lao Wu hung up: “Chen Jian, your uncle called your dad saying he’s not in the city, went on vacation, and told you not to bother coming.”
“Fuck,” Sanbing laughed out loud. “What a terrible excuse.”
“Then we don’t go,” Shan Yu smiled. “He’s definitely already heard about your situation.”
“Doesn’t want to see you. Has zero desire to see you.” Sanbing cackled, looking as if he were the one getting all the satisfaction.
“Off to pick up my dad, then,” Chen Jian said.
“Need navigation assistance, Director Chen?” Shan Yu asked.
“No need, I know this route,” Chen Jian said. “Xiao Shan.”
