Zou Yang had apparently worn himself out from the morning’s training session; he was sleeping so soundly that even Fan Jun’s ringing phone didn’t wake him.

Fan Jun didn’t look at the screen. He first put it on silent, then walked into the kitchen with the phone in hand.

The call was from Lü Ze. Fan Jun had sent Lü Ze a message on the way back, but Lü Ze hadn’t replied the whole time, and only now called back.

His tone was a little off.

“Was it just you there when he showed up?” Lü Ze asked.

“There was also… Zou Yang and his classmate.” Fan Jun hadn’t wanted to say it, but Lü Ze looked at the class attendance records every day; even if he didn’t say it, Lü Ze would know anyway.

“Well, that was a lot of trouble for you all,” Lü Ze said, with a cold laugh. “So what did you tell Old Liu?”

“Asked him what the deal was,” Fan Jun said, “and said we’d discuss it when you got back.”

“What’s there to discuss,” Lü Ze said. “There’s no reasoning with him at all.”

“How much does he want to raise it by?” Fan Jun asked.

“Forty-five. All the property fees, management fees, this fee, that fee—all on top of it,” Lü Ze said. “There’s no way I’d agree to that. If it weren’t for my dad stubbornly holding onto the old venue and it being convenient to go back and forth between the two, I would never have stayed in a dump like this…”

Fan Jun said nothing.

Lü Shu had been grinding it out at that dump for over a decade.

“If he shows up again, just close the door on him,” Lü Ze said.

“His contract with the mall is up in August, and you won’t be able to carry on anyway,” Fan Jun said. “What’s the plan for when that time comes?”

“We’ll figure it out then. Worst case, we shut down for a while.” Lü Ze said.

“Are you kidding?” Fan Jun said.

“I’m already looking for another place,” Lü Ze said.

“…Actually, it’s not like we can’t afford a rent increase. If you move out, all the renovation and transfer costs go up in smoke, and even if you want to seek compensation from the mall, who knows how long that’ll drag on…” Fan Jun said.

“Don’t worry about me,” Lü Ze said. “Even if I lose everything, it won’t come back to bite you.”

“I’m not worried about you.” Fan Jun rarely argued with Lü Ze, but right now he was having trouble keeping his temper in check.

“And my dad doesn’t need you guys worrying about him either,” Lü Ze said.

“Lü Ze, do you have muscles in your brain or something?” Fan Jun said.

“What did you just say?” Lü Ze’s voice immediately shot up.

“Are you hard of hearing too?” Fan Jun said.

“…Say that again!” Lü Ze roared.

“Which part?” Fan Jun asked. Without waiting for Lü Ze to respond, he raised his own voice too: “You have muscles in your brain!”

Then he hung up.

Lü Ze called right back. Fan Jun put the phone on silent, watched the call disconnect on its own, and only then put his phone back in his pocket and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

The moment he opened the door, he saw that Zou Yang had woken up at some point and was sitting leaned against the sofa, looking at him.

Fan Jun paused: “Awake?”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang nodded.

“When did you… wake up?” Fan Jun glanced at the time. It was still twenty minutes before three.

“When your phone rang,” Zou Yang yawned.

“…I thought you didn’t hear it.” Fan Jun sat down next to him.

“Pretended to be asleep for a bit to avoid the awkwardness,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun took out his phone and declined the call that Lü Ze had made again.

“Did Lü Ze curse you out?” Zou Yang turned his head to look at him.

“Not directly,” Fan Jun said.

“But you directly cursed him out,” Zou Yang said, picking up his unfinished coffee and taking a couple more sips.

“…Yeah,” Fan Jun nodded.

Zou Yang smiled: “I thought you wouldn’t curse at him.”

“I do too,” Fan Jun said, “when we were kids, we even used to get into fistfights.”

“Who won?” Zou Yang asked.

“I…” Fan Jun looked over at him.

“Oh yeah?” Zou Yang raised his eyebrows.

Fan Jun smiled and said, “Never won once.”

“Damn,” Zou Yang was taken aback. “That can’t be right?”

“Really. Never beat him once, from childhood all the way to now,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang wasn’t buying that.

Even though Fan Jun said it with such complete acceptance.

“The fact that you even dared to fight him as a kid is already impressive,” Zou Yang said. “You were, after all, living under someone else’s ro—”

—of.

As a guest in someone else’s home.

Next time, don’t just go napping whenever you feel like it. Your brain goes scrambled.

“Send a thousand tears of longing after me…” Zou Yang raised a hand and rubbed his face.

“Huh?” Fan Jun looked blank.

“…They flow not to the rivers of Chu in the east.” Zou Yang cleared his throat and reached over to put his glasses on.

“Huh?” Fan Jun kept looking at him.

Zou Yang maintained silence, fixing his gaze on the big black cat in its cat bed across the room.

Fan Jun let a moment pass before giving a small smile: “Living under someone else’s roof?”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang responded in a muffled voice—it was already out of his mouth anyway. “You didn’t even dare to win against him. And back then, your… physical condition probably wasn’t as good as his either.”

Fan Jun said nothing.

“And after you grew up…” Zou Yang thought for a moment.

“After growing up, I genuinely still couldn’t beat him,” Fan Jun reminded him. “Don’t be blindly confident on my behalf.”

“Damn.” Zou Yang laughed.

“And now there’s no fighting to be done, either,” Fan Jun added. “Not without you here.”

“Get out of here.” Zou Yang laughed—and nearly spilled the last mouthful of coffee he was about to drink all over his clothes.

Fan Jun glanced at his phone. Just a few minutes until three.

Zou Yang also slowly got to his feet: “Alright, I’m off.”

“Let’s go together,” Fan Jun also stood up. “I’m heading to the new venue. Lü Ze’s probably going to show up there to start a fight this afternoon.”

“I’ll say something that might not sound great,” Zou Yang said. “This thing of his—don’t get involved anymore. He won’t appreciate it. If it works out, the credit’s his. If it doesn’t, the blame’s yours.”

“Yeah.” Fan Jun tossed the empty coffee bottle into the trash. “I can’t manage it anyway.”

The barbecue stall in front of the mall entrance was already set up by three in the afternoon. Zou Yang stood with his back to that direction.

“Which stall is it?” Fan Jun stood facing him, glancing that way.

“The first one!” Zou Yang said. “Stop looking.”

“Yeah.” Fan Jun smiled and brought his gaze back, settling it on Zou Yang.

Zou Yang looked down at his phone. The car was five hundred meters away.

“Are you guys going hiking tomorrow?” Fan Jun asked.

“Not sure,” Zou Yang said. “There’s talk of going to a bar tonight—if things get wild and nobody can drag themselves out of bed tomorrow, we might end up not going anywhere.”

“Oh.” Fan Jun nodded.

“And the next two days for you, are you still… teaching?” Zou Yang asked.

“Tomorrow’s off,” Fan Jun said. “The day after, I have classes all day.”

“Oh, so you…” Zou Yang started to ask, then stopped. He knew Fan Jun rarely left Nanzhou Ping—his mom had mentioned it—but since Fan Jun had never brought it up himself, he probably didn’t know that he knew. Stopping mid-question like that might seem even more…

“If you want a class any day,” Fan Jun said, “just let me know a little bit ahead of time.”

“Okay.” Zou Yang nodded.

He had the feeling there was more he wanted to say, but in the end he let it go.

Forget it. Scrambled.

In the elevator, Zou Yang sent his dad a message to let him know he was there.

His dad usually replied. But not today.

Zou Yang’s puzzlement was answered the moment he stepped out of the elevator.

From inside the door came the sound of a woman yelling, accompanied by the crash of breaking glass.

Zou Yang stood at the doorway, now in an awkward position. There was no way he wanted to walk in at a moment like this—but turning around and leaving was just as impossible.

He was at least a little curious about what was being said.

But before he could make out the words, the front door was suddenly flung open and a woman came charging out.

Zou Yang quickly stepped aside just in time to avoid a collision.

The woman still had tears on her face. When she saw him, she froze for a beat—then let out a shout: “What are you doing here!”

“Visiting my dad,” Zou Yang said.

“Get out!” The woman shoved him hard.

Zou Yang didn’t dodge. He stumbled back into the wall, and the bag on his shoulder slipped to the ground.

From inside, his dad heard the commotion and followed out, keeping his voice low: “What are you doing! You’ve got nowhere to put your anger so you’re taking it out on him?!”

“You—” The woman wheeled around, pointing at his dad.

Zou Yang didn’t say anything or move. He watched the woman’s hand.

Slap me. Hit me.

But the woman just kept pointing—she didn’t actually strike.

Zou Yang let out a quiet inward sigh.

“Zou Yang, wait for me at the pavilion.” His dad looked over at him.

“Okay.” Zou Yang acknowledged it, picked up his bag from the ground, turned around, and headed toward the elevator.

The elevator was up on several floors above, so he turned and pushed open the fire door next to him instead and walked through.

The pavilion his dad mentioned was in the apartment complex garden. When he was younger, his dad used to drag him there all the time—to have heart-to-heart talks in front of the longtime neighbors who would occasionally walk by.

Failed exams.

Talking back.

Playing video games.

Coming home late.

All manner of reasons, big, small, or completely baffling.

Every time he stood there, the feeling—that indescribable mix of anger and humiliation—Zou Yang still remembered it clearly, even now.

This time he didn’t stand. His dad didn’t do the solemn heart-to-heart talk, either.

He let out a sigh as he sat down beside him.

“What happened?” Zou Yang asked.

“Forget it,” his dad waved it off. “Not a single one of them is easy.”

Zou Yang said nothing.

“Have you been home all these days?” his dad asked. “Didn’t go out?”

“Went to lunch with some classmates today. Too many people around to feel like going out,” Zou Yang said.

“You take after me,” his dad said. “You like quiet. Staying home with a good book and a cup of tea—that’s the greatest pleasure in life.”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang left it at that.

“Though now even that’s starting to feel like too much to ask,” his dad said, then paused partway through. “If Tiansui were…”

Even if it was just for show, even knowing his dad was trying to give him a compliment, Zou Yang wasn’t in the mood to hear Zou Tiansui’s name. He cut in the moment his dad hesitated: “Different things have their own nature. People are different. No point forcing it.”

His dad didn’t continue. After a short silence, he gave Zou Yang’s shoulder an emotional pat.

“I was originally going to ask you to have dinner together today,” his dad said, “but looks like it’ll have to be another time.”

“It doesn’t really matter whether we eat or not,” Zou Yang said. “Having tea and a chat like this is just as good.”

“No, it does matter,” his dad said. “It’s just that sometimes I worry your mom won’t like it—thinks I’m stealing her son.”

“She doesn’t interfere with these things,” Zou Yang said with a small smile.

“…Yeah.” His dad nodded.

Just as Zou Yang was thinking about finding some casual topic to chat about for a bit before leaving, two figures appeared on the small path in front of the pavilion. It was Zou Tiansui and her mother, who looked like they were heading out through the complex’s back gate.

Even though walking toward the pavilion was clearly deliberate, neither of them glanced in its direction as they passed by.

When his dad had told him to come by this afternoon, he probably hadn’t anticipated the household blowing up like this. It was clear even now that he wasn’t in much of a mood to chat.

“Maybe we could…” Zou Yang seized the moment to start making his exit, “reschedule the tea for another day. You…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” his dad patted him. “Don’t mind all this.”

“Dad, your own life in front of you is what matters most.” Zou Yang looked at him, sincere.

“You… Xiao Yang, you…” his dad looked at him, and his eyes suddenly began to go red. “You really are…”

“I’ll head back now.” Zou Yang didn’t give him time to keep building up to whatever that was—he stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the pavilion.

One more second and he was afraid his dad might actually start crying, and then he’d have to do the consoling.

On the ride-share home, several messages came in on Zou Yang’s phone in quick succession.

His dad had transferred two sums to him. One was living expenses.

The other was eight thousand yuan.

Zou Yang raised an eyebrow. Then another message followed:

—Don’t just shut yourself in at home all the time either. Go out and have fun with your classmates. If you need money for anything, just ask Dad. Don’t be too frugal.

Zou Yang didn’t reply right away. He turned to look out the car window and let out a soft breath.

His dad had probably hit a rough patch in his relationship with that woman he’d been devoted to for over a decade. There was, inexplicably, a trace of satisfaction in him somewhere.

When he opened the front door to his home, Zou Yang saw his mom’s shoes in the entryway.

“Mom?” he called out.

“You’re back this early?” his mom poked her head out of the kitchen. “I thought you’d gone out with Liu Wenrui and his crowd—figured you’d all at least eat dinner before heading back.”

“No,” Zou Yang didn’t mention the detour, and tossed his bag onto the sofa. “What are you doing home?”

“I’ve been home these past few days.” His mom turned and went back into the kitchen.

Zou Yang paused, and followed her in, watching her wash vegetables.

“Did some—” He was about to ask if something had happened at the martial arts school.

But his mom opened her mouth at almost the same time, pointing at the pot: “Standing there staring like you’re watching a show. Not an ounce of initiative. Go start the rice.”

Zou Yang went over, scooped some rice and tipped it into the pot, then stood at the sink waiting for his mom to finish with the water.

“What are you loitering around for now?” his mom turned to look at him.

“Washing the rice,” Zou Yang said.

“Only one tap in this house?” his mom said.

“About eight hundred of them, actually.” Zou Yang took the pot off to the bathroom.

After setting the rice to cook, he went back and leaned against the counter, watching his mom chop vegetables.

“Out of the way. What are you hovering around for?” his mom said.

“What’s going on at the martial arts school?” Zou Yang asked.

“Nothing’s going on,” his mom said, brows furrowed. “It’s none of your business. If you’ve got classes to go to, go.”

“Is it because of the rent thing at the new venue?” Zou Yang asked.

His mom didn’t answer. The knife in her hand rang out against the cutting board—chop, chop, chop. She got through a whole row of vegetables before finally saying one thing: “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in his business.”

“Like I wanted to get mixed up in his nonsense!” Zou Yang had been sitting on a low, directionless ember, and it flared up instantly. “Even a fart carries more weight than his problems! Me, get involved in his stuff? Who does he think he is to even deserve that from me?!”

His mom’s knife stopped. She turned to look at him.

Zou Yang looked back at his mom.

After a moment, his mom suddenly started laughing: “Look at you, no manners at all.”

“Impressive?” Zou Yang asked.

“Yes, yes, very impressive…” his mom went back to chopping. “Now get out of my way. Go on.”

Zou Yang pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message to Fan Jun, asking him for the full details.

But Fan Jun was either in the middle of a class or in the middle of an argument with Lü Ze, because he didn’t reply.

“Is it that Lü Ze told you not to come back over?” Zou Yang asked.

“Everyone’s still hot under the collar,” his mom said. “Give it a few days.”

Zou Yang leaned a little closer: “Everyone? Who’s everyone?”

“You just want to see a spectacle, don’t you,” his mom glanced sidelong at him. “Hoping it’ll turn into a proper disaster.”

“Am I really that kind of person?” Zou Yang said. Two seconds later he asked again, “Did Fan Jun and Lü Ze get into a physical fight?”

“See! I wasn’t wrong, was I?” his mom said, then paused. “Those two won’t come to blows. Fan Jun wouldn’t lay a hand on him. It was just one thing leading to another… Lü Ze’s temper, I don’t know who he gets it from. Once he flares up, his mouth runs with zero filter.”

Zou Yang frowned. “Did he bring up things from Fan Jun’s past?”

“He brought up a couple of things,” his mom set the chopped vegetables in the colander and let out a sigh. “Fan Jun flipped the refrigerator.”

“Holy—” Zou Yang raised his eyebrows. “He used the fridge to smash Lü Ze?”

“What are you thinking!” his mom shot him a look.

But Zou Yang quickly pieced it together—Fan Jun exploding because Lü Ze brought up something from the past…

What past?

The way Fan Jun talked about things with his dad felt… pretty calm, actually.

“Did he say something about Fan Jun’s mother?” Zou Yang asked.

“No, nobody would dare go there,” his mom started to say, then stopped. “You know about this?”

“I don’t know the details. Fan Jun’s never brought her up to me—just said she’s gone.” Zou Yang hesitated for a few seconds, then asked in a low voice, “What happened to Fan Jun’s mother?”

“She hanged herself. Old Lü doesn’t even know the full story. He just knows that…” his mom’s brows were pulled tight together. “Don’t ever bring this up in front of Fan Jun, okay? This really can’t be mentioned. That child has been through so much…”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang nodded. He felt his breath tighten in his chest.

“When Old Lü and his people found her, she was just hanging there,” his mom’s voice trembled a little as she spoke. “And Fan Jun was sitting on the floor next to her. No one even knew how long he’d been sitting there…”