For Fan Jun, Nanzhouping was a very safe place.
Completely different from the alleyway he lived in when he was young.

Especially this residential area around North Small Street: chaotic and disorderly, occasionally prosperous within its dilapidation. Neighbors, under the pressure of life, were familiar with each other yet kept a guarded distance.

If you didn’t reveal any cracks, no one would pry into your past.
Where you came from, how long you planned to stay—no one cared. Everyone was like this, and so was he.

From childhood to adulthood, the unchanging street scenery, the familiar faces that slowly disappeared.
No one cared about your scars, let alone about what you feared, what you despaired of, what you hoped for.
The sense of safety that loneliness brought.

Aside from Uncle Lü’s family, even Sister Shan had never probed too deeply into his past.
And Zou Yang was the only person who had tracked him down wanting to know those secrets of his.

Even though those pasts, buried with him at the bottom of the abyss, were things he didn’t want to mention—every time they flashed through his mind, they brought a chill with them.
But when Zou Yang asked him questions with a somewhat matter-of-fact forcefulness, he would still feel a small measure of warmth in that “rudeness.”

It made him want to carefully pry open a crack, to release some of the solitary pain that had nowhere to go.
He was afraid Zou Yang would keep asking, and he was also afraid Zou Yang would stop asking.

“Your dad is…” Zou Yang was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Does he have some kind of mental health problem?”

“He’s completely sane,” Fan Jun drank a large mouthful of beer. “It’s better that he’s not mentally ill.”

“Hmm?” Zou Yang looked at him.

“What if he passed it on to me?” Fan Jun said.

“Fuck,” Zou Yang paused for two seconds and laughed. “You don’t look like you’re genuinely afraid of that.”

“What if he really killed someone and wasn’t sentenced to death because of a mental illness defense?” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang went quiet.

Fan Jun gently pressed the beer can repeatedly: “Do you get scared of your parents?”

“I did when I was little,” Zou Yang nodded.

“Scared of what?” Fan Jun asked softly.

“Scared they’d ignore me, scared I couldn’t meet their expectations, scared they’d fight, scared they’d blame each other for affecting me,” Zou Yang pushed up his glasses. “Scared my dad would say I didn’t seem like his son, scared my mom would say I was just like my dad…”
Scared of having no home.
But also scared of going back to that oppressive home.

“You’re probably nothing like either of them,” Fan Jun said.

“Maybe,” Zou Yang glanced at him. “What about you?”
That question was pretty unnecessary, but Zou Yang still asked it.
Just like on the roller coaster—if he hadn’t made Fan Jun cry out, Fan Jun might not have made a sound even if he could.

“I was afraid of my dad,” Fan Jun said. “My dad… doesn’t drink, only smokes. But when I was little, I really hoped he was an alcoholic. I thought that way I might be able to predict in advance whether he was going to hit someone or not.”

The mouthful of barbecue Zou Yang had been chewing stopped mid-chew.
Fan Jun rarely said so much at once, and the content was so… despairing.

“He just seemed to… really enjoy hitting people, like a kind of… entertainment, a way to relieve boredom.” Fan Jun’s beer was finished again. When he reached out, Zou Yang passed a can into his hand.

“Don’t you have any other relatives?” Zou Yang asked. “Your grandparents on either side—nobody took care of things? Nobody could take you away?”

“Aside from my grandfather, I’ve never met any other relatives,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang didn’t speak again. He extended his beer can toward Fan Jun. Fan Jun picked up his own can and lightly clinked it against his, and the two of them tilted their heads back and drank a few gulps together.

Zou Yang had never drunk such suffocating beer before.
But he also noticed that Fan Jun hadn’t finished a single skewer of barbecue, yet he hadn’t put it down either.

“Why don’t you try another bite,” Zou Yang said, “or try a different kind—it’s not that bad.”

“For anything that isn’t especially delicious,” Fan Jun looked at the barbecue in his hand, “I get conflicted about whether to waste my caloric intake on it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Zou Yang burst out laughing. “Who are you calling out?!”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun turned his head to look at him.

“If you know a place with good food, just say so,” Zou Yang stood up and reached for his jacket. “I’ll go buy it for you.”

“Hey,” Fan Jun quickly reached over and grabbed his wrist. “That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s exactly what you meant,” Zou Yang said. “Running ten kilometers tomorrow for barbecue this bad isn’t worth it.”

Fan Jun smiled and tugged him downward: “Today’s meal was worth it.”
As soon as he said it, he immediately took a bite of the meat skewer in his hand.

Zou Yang sat back down on the rug and leaned against the sofa, taking another sip of alcohol.
He actually still wanted to know quite a bit—like how he got through those years, like how his mother passed away…
But he didn’t ask any more. Especially about his mother; if Fan Jun didn’t bring it up, Zou Yang would absolutely not ask again. It wasn’t a matter of tact or being too forward anymore—it would simply be too cruel.

“This bracelet—what is it made of?” Fan Jun had moved on from the previous topic, looking at his left wrist as he asked.

“Peridot,” Zou Yang took off the bracelet and handed it to him. “Lucky stone.”

“Is that so…” Fan Jun held the bracelet up and examined it against the light. “It’s very pretty.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Zou Yang blurted out.

“Hmm?” Fan Jun froze, quickly pulled his hand back, and returned the bracelet. “No, no, no, no, no… it’s fine.”

Even though Zou Yang felt it was a bit inappropriate the moment he said it, the words were already out. Even if it was awkward, he couldn’t take it back in the very next second…

“It’s not really… something expensive,” he quickly scooped up Da Hei, who was sleeping on the sofa, and very busily rubbed the cat back and forth. “It’s just a fun thing, supposed to bring luck. You…”

Fan Jun grabbed his hand and slipped the bracelet back onto his wrist in a single clean motion, not leaving him any chance to pull away—as expected of the coach who had just given him a lesson.

“Keep it for yourself,” Fan Jun said. “Keep the luck for yourself.”

Zou Yang looked at him, his hands still rubbing Da Hei back and forth. After a long while, he finally responded: “…Mhm.”

“He’ll bite you, you know,” Fan Jun glanced at the cat.

Zou Yang hurriedly looked down. The cat was flicking its tail back and forth with great displeasure, its gaze sharp.

Such a tiny little cat, with such a terrible temper!

He put the cat back on the sofa.
The cat turned around, jumped off the sofa, and trotted back into its little bed without looking back.

The atmosphere hadn’t changed with Da Hei’s departure—it was still slightly awkward.
They still weren’t familiar enough.

If it were Liu Wenrui instead…
…Liu Wenrui would definitely not want his bracelet either. Liu Wenrui would tell him to go buy a new one to give him on his birthday.

Tsk.
Birthday.
Right. Birthday.

Fan Jun’s birthday was in the ID number on his disability certificate.
He didn’t know why he had suddenly become fixated on giving Fan Jun the bracelet.
Maybe it was because the act of trying to give a bracelet was so inexplicable that the awkwardness would linger until it was successfully given away.
He had to find a way to dissolve this awkwardness…

“Are you going home tonight?” Fan Jun asked.

The way he phrased that.
Zou Yang glanced at him. Fan Jun was probably just as awkward as he was.
Li Zhiyue should come and take a look at this grown man.

“What I mean is…” Fan Jun also caught himself.

“I’m not going. In a bit I’ll sleep on the doormat outside your place,” Zou Yang said.

“It’ll be cold,” Fan Jun smiled.

“No it won’t,” Zou Yang said.

“Just now when I touched your hand, it was ice-cold,” Fan Jun said.

“Was it?” Zou Yang placed his hand on his own neck to feel.

Indeed.
But if Fan Jun hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have noticed at all. He had only been aware that Fan Jun’s hand was very warm.

“Do you want it?” Fan Jun took the heated cape off himself and offered it to him.

“That thing isn’t that warm either…” As Zou Yang was about to refuse, he touched the cape, and immediately froze. He reached out and grabbed it. “What the hell? Why is this thing hot?”

“Electrically heated,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang was stunned. He took it and examined it for a while. It really was electric-heated, and it even came with its own built-in power bank.

“Wear it for a bit,” Fan Jun picked up a lamb skewer and took a bite.

Zou Yang held the cape up and held it in the air for a moment, then finally put it back on Fan Jun. “…Never mind.”

“There’s only two of us,” Fan Jun said. “Is your pride as a handsome guy really that heavy?”

“How did you even think to buy something like this?” Zou Yang had a hard time imagining Fan Jun buying an electric-heated cape to curl up on the sofa listening to music every night.

Right, he was listening to music.
…Wouldn’t that damage his hearing?

“This was…” Fan Jun hesitated. “A gift from someone.”

“Who?” Zou Yang instinctively followed up.

Fan Jun didn’t answer immediately—he took a bite of meat first.

“It wasn’t my mom, was it?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun looked at him without saying a word.

“Pretending you can’t hear from this close is a bit of a stretch,” Zou Yang leaned in toward his face. “You can’t hear but you can’t see either?”

Fan Jun sighed with a smile.

“My mom’s taste,” Zou Yang pulled up the cape and looked at it again, clicking his tongue.

“It’s quite pretty, actually,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang looked at him: “What you’re wearing today—don’t tell me you didn’t put that together yourself?”

“I did,” Fan Jun said.

“And you think this looks good?” Zou Yang held up a corner of the cape and shook it.

“You’re jealous,” Fan Jun said.

“Oh, get out of here,” Zou Yang reclined backward to lean against the sofa, head resting on his arm, staring at the ceiling.

“Sometimes…” Fan Jun shifted slightly toward him and passed him the beer. “Paying a little extra attention to someone you’ve just met is also because…”

“I know,” Zou Yang took the beer. “Did she buy one for Lü Ze?”

“No,” Fan Jun said. “Lü Ze would refuse.”

“He’d better not dare,” Zou Yang squeezed the can.

Fan Jun just smiled and said nothing.

“Actually I can sort of understand Lü Ze,” Zou Yang clicked his tongue. “I’m a bit better than him. What I find frustrating is that he’s too immature. Even when I was in middle school, I wasn’t this… How old is he?”

“Two years older than me,” Fan Jun said.

“He’s only 25?” Zou Yang sat up straighter, slightly surprised.

“You were just saying he was immature, and now you think 25 is young?” Fan Jun asked.

“He just looks a bit aged. He already has white hairs,” Zou Yang mused. “Age hasn’t come for him yet, but the gray hair already has… No, wait, he doesn’t deserve that line…”

“He and Uncle Lü are similar—a bit of premature graying,” Fan Jun laughed. “You’re pretty funny.”

“I try,” Zou Yang nodded.

“Do you have more?” Fan Jun asked.

“More what?” Zou Yang didn’t follow.

“Poems like that, that come to you off the top of your head,” Fan Jun said.

“‘Gray before your time’?” Zou Yang thought for a moment. “Born fragile from the start, his body aged before his years were old… A rutted path through life like a single-wheeled cart, gray-haired and worn-down before old age had started… There are quite a few.”

“Impressive,” Fan Jun said.

“Decent enough,” Zou Yang said. “All to pacify my dad—to keep the peace before the divorce, then to keep the money after.”

“Your dad…” Fan Jun hesitated and didn’t finish.

“A somewhat-cultured scoundrel with an inflated ego,” Zou Yang summarized. “Married my mom for her looks, and yet deluded himself into chasing some so-called spiritual resonance.”

“But you really are…” Fan Jun said. “Even if it was just to appease him, that’s still impressive.”

“I’m smart,” Zou Yang sniffed.

“Not a shred of modesty,” Fan Jun laughed.

“I was modest when I played billiards,” Zou Yang said. “You didn’t believe me then either.”

“That was you being modest?” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang smiled and turned to look at him: “Let’s play a proper round again someday. Today your mood was off and you didn’t play your best.”

“Yeah,” Fan Jun nodded.

“Can we call Liu Wenrui and the others?” Zou Yang asked. “More people makes it more fun.”

“Sure,” Fan Jun nodded.

“Call those two… neighbors from today too,” Zou Yang added.

“No need,” Fan Jun said. “They’re… not used to it. They’re all college students; they probably won’t have anything to say.”

After that sentence, both of them fell quiet.
Zou Yang reclined against the sofa again and stared at the ceiling for a long while before he opened his mouth: “What about you? Are you used to it?”

“It’s alright,” Fan Jun said. “I really envy you guys.”

“Then it evens out,” Zou Yang said. “They think you’re incredibly cool.”

Fan Jun laughed, said nothing.

Eating and drinking, twelve cans of beer would normally be gone quickly when he was with Liu Wenrui, but tonight they drank all the way to almost one o’clock.

The main reason was that he and Liu Wenrui were chatty—sipping between frequent gaps in conversation.
With Fan Jun, they spent more of the time silently lost in thought. He spaced out while turning over Fan Jun’s words in his mind; Fan Jun seemed to be spacing out while slowly drifting to sleep.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. It just felt very quiet.

“Do you have a toothbrush and things?” Zou Yang asked.

“Yes,” Fan Jun nodded. “I have fresh towels too. If you want to shower…”

“I won’t,” Zou Yang said. “I’ll shower when I go home tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Fan Jun stood up. “I’ll get them for you.”

Just as inexplicable as Fan Jun’s electric-heated cape was the fact that Fan Jun changed into pajamas when he came home.

Zou Yang also had pajamas—when his mom bought them for his dad, she would scroll through the same product listing and pick a more cheerful color for him. So he had several sets of middle-aged-man-style lapel pajamas in colors like light blue and pine green.

He never wore them.

Fan Jun’s pajamas were definitely self-bought. They were quite cute: a pullover top with a little bear and a color-blocked pair of pants.

A delicate kind of person—the type who wouldn’t be strange at all for taking an hour in the shower.

“I left them by the sink,” Fan Jun returned to the living room.

“Okay,” Zou Yang nodded.

Fan Jun walked over toward him, probably wanting to chat a bit more, so Zou Yang didn’t stand up right away.

But before Fan Jun could sit down, Zou Yang couldn’t hold back a yawn.

Fan Jun paused. His motion to sit down became a crouch instead, and he started tidying up the empty cans on the table: “Go wash up.”

“…Mhm,” Zou Yang responded.

The sink was very clean, everything neatly organized, and there were almost no water spots on the mirror.

Mom would probably love a son like Fan Jun. Every time Zou Yang used the sink, his mom would scold him at length about not wiping it dry properly.

Zou Yang smiled, picked up a new cup and new toothbrush that had been left on the counter. There was also a fresh towel beside them.

When he came out after washing up, Fan Jun was waiting in the living room. The table was already cleared, and a pillow and a thin blanket had been placed on the sofa.

“You sleep in my room,” Fan Jun pointed to his bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Zou Yang looked into the bedroom. Xiao Bai was sitting upright beside the bed.

“Are you joking,” Zou Yang said. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“I’ll tell it to…” Fan Jun raised his hand.

Zou Yang hurriedly grabbed his arm and held it down: “Don’t bother. You go sleep in your room, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Are you… comfortable with that?” Fan Jun looked at him.

“Comfortable. Your sofa is very nice,” Zou Yang said, and without waiting for Fan Jun to say anything else, he lay straight down on it.

Fan Jun still looked at him, seeming to hesitate.

“You have a slight thing about cleanliness, don’t you,” Zou Yang laughed.

“Don’t you find it uncomfortable to sleep in all those clothes?” Fan Jun said.

“Should I take them off in front of you?” Zou Yang asked.

“Then… just get some sleep,” Fan Jun went to get his prize, turned off the living room light, and walked into his bedroom.

“Good night,” Zou Yang said.

“Good night,” Fan Jun looked back.

---

Zou Yang didn’t have the problem of being picky about where he slept. He could fall asleep anywhere. But tonight, even though he had already felt drowsy and had even been drinking, lying on this very comfortable sofa, he couldn’t quite fall asleep.

His mind was full of a chaotic crime scene of domestic violence.
But he couldn’t picture what young Fan Jun looked like. Every image in his head was Fan Jun as he was now.

Strange, unsettling.

He took out his phone. The group chat had a pile of unread messages—all of them discussing what outfits to bring for the photo shoot tomorrow.

…They’re still changing into multiple outfits?
What energy.

Zou Yang closed the chat window and opened Moments to scroll through.

He saw that Fan Jun had posted something today, right around the time he had been buying the barbecue.

Two very simple words: Prize.

The picture underneath was of the eye patch, and you could tell from the photo that it had been taken at the amusement park.

A little dinky eye patch, and Fan Jun had thought it worth posting a Moment about.

Underneath was even a like from his mom.

He knew his mom’s habit was to scroll through and like everything in a row without even looking at the content—she had once hit like on his sister-in-law’s miscarriage post without even reading it.

But even so, this still left him feeling a little off.

Yet he didn’t dislike Fan Jun.

Which made him feel even more off.

He felt a little petty. Quite childish.

He put down his phone and closed his eyes. Time to sleep.

He had been thinking just a moment ago how comfortable Fan Jun’s place was and he almost didn’t want to leave—and now here he was lying on the most comfortable sofa in the house. He might as well enjoy it.

He had to admit, this sofa was quite comfortable—both soft and supportive…

Zou Yang quickly stopped thinking and started dreaming chaotically.

A strangled yelp from the dog came from the bedroom, muffled and suppressed. From within his dream, Zou Yang judged that this sound was not part of the dream—he never dreamed about dogs…

Is there a burglar?

Zou Yang bolted upright.

Then he saw the bedroom door open, and Fan Jun tiptoed out.

Zou Yang was still a little out of it, sitting on the sofa watching him.

Fan Jun crept carefully and silently toward the small refrigerator in the living room.

“What happened to the dog?” Zou Yang couldn’t help asking.

“Oh shit,” Fan Jun was startled, jumping abruptly to the side. He stared in this direction for a while before asking, “Zou Yang? Do you sleepwalk?”

“Isn’t it you who sleepwalks?” Zou Yang was somewhat speechless. He picked up his phone and checked the time. “Four-ten in the morning, wandering around the whole apartment.”

“I’m getting some water,” Fan Jun turned on a small nightlight plugged into the wall socket and said in a low voice. “Did I wake you up?”

“Why did the dog yelp?” Zou Yang asked.

“I stepped on him when I got out of bed,” Fan Jun opened the fridge and took out a cool water bottle, pouring a glass.

“Didn’t you have your light on?” Zou Yang glanced at the bedroom. The small nightlight by the bed was on.

“I was wearing the eye patch and forgot to take it off,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang didn’t speak. He glanced at the eye patch on Fan Jun’s forehead, and after a long moment, he leaned back against the sofa and started laughing.

“Go to sleep,” Fan Jun started walking back. “Do you have class in the morning?”

“I do,” Zou Yang said.

“Then sleep quickly,” Fan Jun said. “If you don’t get enough sleep, you’ll just get beaten up all through class.”

Zou Yang lay back down and closed his eyes again: “I wasn’t making it up—that platform really is for beating students.”

“Mhm,” Fan Jun replied.

---

The first to wake up in the morning was the dog.
He yanked the thin blanket off Fan Jun and dragged it away. Only when he couldn’t hold his bladder anymore would he do something like this.

Fan Jun sat up, pulled off the eye patch, and got out of bed.
The eye patch was actually quite useful. He had never known before that wearing one could give you such a solid sleep.

This building’s soundproofing wasn’t great, so Xiao Bai had developed the habit of making basically no noise after coming inside. Right now he was desperately urgent but still sitting silently by the front door waiting, the only sign of his emotional state being his continuously rotating ears.

Fan Jun didn’t even have time to wash up. He tiptoed first over to Da Hei, who was still sleeping, refilled his food bowl, then took the leash.

Zou Yang was still asleep. Maybe he hadn’t slept well last night. There was no sign of him waking up; his right leg had come out from under the blanket and was resting on the small table in front of the sofa.

Although last night Fan Jun had thought that if Zou Yang needed to change out of his jeans, he could find him a set of pajamas—but Zou Yang hadn’t said anything, and Fan Jun had assumed… He hadn’t expected that this person would be so completely at home, having simply taken off his pants and gone to sleep in just the T-shirt he was wearing…

And he also caught a glimpse of a small gold coin threaded on a red string around Zou Yang’s ankle.

When Fan Jun clasped the collar around Xiao Bai’s neck, the dog let out an excited little squeak. Fan Jun immediately raised one finger, and opened the door.

The morning air was quite nice today. The temperature had dropped a bit again yesterday, and the morning air smelled like it had mint in it—clean and cool.

Fan Jun pulled up the hood of his jacket and ran out with the dog.

Morning runs followed by breakfast—that had been his routine for all these years, barely changing. Roughly the same time, essentially the same route, roads he knew by heart.

Usually he’d deal with breakfast on the way, but today he packed up some steamed buns, fried rice cakes, pot stickers, soy milk, and lamb offal soup—he wasn’t sure what Zou Yang liked, so he just bought a little of everything.

When he got home, the sleeping deity Zou Yang still hadn’t woken up. If he hadn’t been staying here, today’s lesson would have been more than just late—it would have been outright canceled.

Fan Jun moved Xiao Bai’s bowl to the bedroom and fed him, then went to the kitchen to arrange all the breakfast items onto plates and into bowls.

The dishes were ones he’d bought himself—simple white, which looked like they shouldn’t make food look appetizing, but were just nice to look at.

They hadn’t gotten much use after he bought them. Usually he either ate at the hall or ordered takeout. Using this full a set was a first.

He carried all the plates out to the living room, and when he tried to put them on the small table, Zou Yang’s leg was still occupying the space.

He placed all the plates on the dining table instead.

He checked the time on his phone. Seven-fifty. Time to wake up.

Just as he was about to rouse Zou Yang, Zou Yang’s phone—tossed by the side of his head—rang.

A soul-piercing blast of suona horn music.

Zou Yang was jolted awake. He grabbed his phone and spent quite a while adjusting the distance to get it in focus. When he made out the name “Liu Wenrui” on the screen, he answered and immediately cursed: “Did you eat shit last night and stay up all night from the indigestion?!”

“Decent guess. You up yet?” Liu Wenrui sounded cheerful on the other end. There was also a honk of a car horn—clearly he had taken his family’s car out again.

“What ti—” Zou Yang squinted and sat up. When he turned and saw Fan Jun, he froze for a moment. “—me is it?”

Eight o’clock.

Fan Jun didn’t make a sound, answering with lip movements.

“It’s only eight!” Zou Yang yelled into the phone. “What are you trying to do at eight?!”

“I know you need to train in the morning!” Liu Wenrui said. “We’re going to buy clothes first—want us to pick something up for you?”

Zou Yang took at least five seconds before asking: “Buy… what clothes?”

“Clothes for the photos,” Liu Wenrui said.

“No, thank you,” Zou Yang said.

“Alright then,” Liu Wenrui said. “You…”

“Are you driving right now?” Zou Yang asked.

“Yeah,” Liu Wenrui answered.

“Why are you on the phone while driving?!” Zou Yang said. “Are the other two out of their minds, letting someone with your skill level drive and talk on the phone?!”

Without waiting for Liu Wenrui to respond, he hung up.

Afraid that if he waited any longer, that half-baked driver Liu Wenrui would rear-end someone.

“Lunatic,” Zou Yang stood up, grabbed his jeans from the sofa, and pulled them on.

“They’re buying outfits just for photos?” Fan Jun asked.

“Yeah,” Zou Yang walked over to the table. He stared at the spread of breakfast, then went back to the sofa to get his glasses, put them on, stared at the food again before finally saying, “Did you make this?”

“Bought it,” Fan Jun said.

“You went out?” Zou Yang looked at him.

“Running,” Fan Jun nodded.

“…I’ll go wash up first,” Zou Yang said.

When his mom wasn’t home, Zou Yang wouldn’t bother making breakfast himself, let alone plate up takeaway food he’d brought back.

This whole table was nothing but very ordinary breakfast shop food, yet arranged like this, everything looked several times more elevated—at least twenty yuan more expensive.

The most astonishing thing was that Fan Jun, a single man, actually had an entire matching set of dinnerware.

“Do you always eat like this?” Zou Yang picked up a steamed bun.

“Can’t eat this much on my own,” Fan Jun said.

“I mean the plating,” Zou Yang said.

“Not usually,” Fan Jun smiled. “There was so much that I thought plating it out would make it easier to tell what everything was.”

“Thank you,” Zou Yang said.

“Don’t mention it,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang didn’t reply. After a while, he laughed: “What’s going on with you.”

“You started it,” Fan Jun ate a fried rice cake. “How’s the taste? This place has the best business around here.”

“It’s delicious,” Zou Yang nodded.

He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t eaten enough last night, but this breakfast really did taste good. It could also have been that he hadn’t slept well—even though he hadn’t woken up all night, he knew he’d been dreaming chaotically for the whole stretch.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Fan Jun asked.

He hadn’t slept that well.
But Zou Yang immediately understood what Fan Jun was getting at by asking.

“Slept great,” Zou Yang said. “My sleep quality has always been good.”

“Mhm,” Fan Jun smiled, didn’t say anything more, and lowered his head to take a sip of soy milk.

He had been about to say that the things he’d talked about last night were a long time ago, and Zou Yang didn’t need to worry. But after thinking about it, he ultimately chose to stay quiet.

Some things—once the moment had passed, once the atmosphere had faded—you no longer had the courage to bring up again.

---

After breakfast, Zou Yang was in the living room playing with the cat.

The dog came out of the bedroom. But just as Zou Yang was about to get up, Xiao Bai sat down squarely in the doorway.

“Going to work?” Zou Yang held himself back from moving. Xiao Bai was too smart; he was afraid of hurting his pride.

“Mhm,” Fan Jun smiled.

Going to work was understandable. Going to work by running there, on the other hand, was incomprehensible.

Zou Yang stood outside the building and watched Fan Jun: “I’m on May Day holiday right now. Holiday—which means right now I’m supposed to be a useless creature that does nothing but eat and sleep.”

“Then cancel today’s lesson,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang looked at him and said nothing.

“Run over here now, or come to the hall and…” Fan Jun said.

“I’ll run at the hall,” Zou Yang said immediately.

Running five laps inside the hall was still better than running all the way from here…

“Six laps of frog jumps,” Fan Jun said.

“…What?” Zou Yang was speechless.

“Pick one,” Fan Jun said.

“Go to hell,” Zou Yang moved his ankle, and ran forward.

Today’s sun was still lovely. Nanzhouping in the daytime was still full of life. The air on the streets smelled different from the school—small shops along the road all had their doors open. Each shop you passed carried a different scent: steamed bun fragrance, braised meat fragrance, motor oil, fish smell, chicken droppings…

Just like this place itself—chaotic and disorderly, but carrying the flavor of another kind of life.

All the way there, he and Fan Jun didn’t say a word. Except when he ran alone, he rarely ran with this much focus.

The main reason was that Fan Jun wouldn’t let him talk. He’d barely open his mouth before he was cut off.

“Watch your breathing.”

And Fan Jun’s pace was not slow. To keep up, you had to mind your breathing and your stride—completely unlike the clattering chaos of running with a group at school.

By the time they reached the mall, Zou Yang had broken into a sweat.

“Why are you two…” His mom was wiping down the front desk. When she saw them both walk in, she stopped in surprise. “You didn’t go home last night?”

“Mhm,” Zou Yang suddenly felt a little unsure how to answer.

“You played billiards all night?” his mom asked.

“Come on,” Zou Yang laughed. “No—I just couldn’t get a car.”

“You stayed over there?” His mom looked at Fan Jun again.

“Yeah,” Fan Jun nodded.

For some reason, Zou Yang suddenly felt a bit awkward: “I… have class.”

“Go, go,” his mom said.

Even though it was still the May Day holiday, there were still people taking lessons. Tan Ru was giving a class to the student who had asked Zou Yang a few days ago how many years he’d been training.

That person had been there yesterday too, taking a lesson with the Iron Coach.

Today Iron Coach had a day off, so he’d scheduled a session with Tan Ru.

So eager—is he trying to challenge Lü Ze for the championship?

“Little bro, you’re keen too!” the man greeted him.

“…Mhm,” Zou Yang replied.

“How come he gets to train in jeans?” the man asked Tan Ru.

“Mind your own business,” Tan Ru crossed her arms. “Besides, you couldn’t pull it off anyway.”

“Wear mine,” Fan Jun said in a low voice behind him.

“Your what?” Zou Yang paused.

“My pants,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang looked down at his own jeans. They really did restrict his movement. His skill level was already just so-so; if he also trained in jeans, Fan Jun would definitely kick him to pieces.

There was a locker dedicated to the coaches in the changing room. Fan Jun opened it and rummaged through, then picked out one pair of training pants from several and handed them to Zou Yang.

“The others haven’t been washed?” Zou Yang asked offhandedly.

“This one pairs better with your white T-shirt,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang swept his eyes over the inside of the locker. All the pants looked about the same to him—black, gray, dark blue. Fan Jun had given him the dark gray one.

“I don’t care either way,” Zou Yang said while taking his pants off.

“I’m the one watching for an hour,” Fan Jun said.

“Oh ho,” Zou Yang laughed. “That guy who walks around in front of you every day with a bowl-cut on his head—why don’t you sort him out?”

“If you’d just come in wearing your own jeans, I wouldn’t have said a word,” Fan Jun smiled.

The pants fit well. Zou Yang threw a few kicks into the air toward Fan Jun: “What are we drilling today, Coach?”

“Footwork,” Fan Jun said.

“A bit boring,” Zou Yang said.

By the sixth time Fan Jun had kicked him off the training platform, Zou Yang just lay there and didn’t get up.

This lesson had been going for forty minutes, and he had been sent flying in every imaginable direction six times.

“Still boring?” Fan Jun walked over and looked down at him.

“…Pretty entertaining, actually,” Zou Yang said.

“Your previous coach had a problem with his footwork,” Fan Jun said. “You need to correct it.”

“How many lessons will it take to fix?” Zou Yang asked. “Even I have my limits. I can’t just keep getting kicked like this.”

“Kicking you is to show you where you’re going wrong,” Fan Jun smiled. “It’s not going to be like this forever.”

“Oh,” Zou Yang still lay there not moving. “I thought you were trying to silence me.”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun paused.

Zou Yang felt a pang of regret the moment it came out.

I know your secrets, so you’re going to silence me.

A joke that came out reflexively.

But having said it out loud, it felt inappropriate.

“I…” Zou Yang looked at Fan Jun.

Fan Jun crouched down: “Then I’d have to silence Sister Shan first—she knows a bit too.”

“Ha,” Zou Yang let out a small laugh.

“It’s fine,” Fan Jun said. “If you feel uncomfortable having heard any of that…”

“I don’t,” Zou Yang cut him off.

Fan Jun looked at him without speaking.

“Hey, Prince,” Li Zhiyue’s voice suddenly came from nearby. “Did he eat a poison apple?”