Fan Jun’s hand trembled slightly as he cut the meat.

It wasn’t just trembling now; it had been like this for the past two days. Ever since hearing the news about Fan Gang, just thinking about the name made him tremble uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was unease, or perhaps it was a bizarre sense of excitement before a nightmare arrived.

Because of this, he cut the meat very slowly, always having the illusion that his next slice would cut into his own hand.

Zou Yang was sitting at the doorway, intently searching his phone for any news reports or gossip that looked related to murder or robbery.

It probably wasn’t easy to search for. There was no specific time and no specific location. Although they both guessed this “criminal case” was a murder, they weren’t entirely sure if it actually was.

The scope was too broad.

However, compared to the broad scope of “what exactly Fan Gang did,” the fear that “from today onwards, Fan Gang could appear in front of him at any moment” was far more precise.

Fan Jun finished cutting the meat, then grabbed a head of Napa cabbage and began slicing it slowly.

Over there, Zou Yang tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter next to him and let out a soft sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Fan Jun asked without turning his head.

He didn’t really want Zou Yang to find any specific case, whether Fan Gang did it or not. Once those vicious crimes could be connected to an actual person, their impact was no longer as simple as just ordinary social news; it would carry a much stronger lethal blow.

He knew this all too well himself.

“I guess I didn’t find anything,” Zou Yang took off his glasses and tossed them onto the counter as well. “It’s unlikely there’d be any public information for a case still in the investigation phase, and there are no other news reports either… We don’t even know exactly when he committed the crime.”

“Mm,” Fan Jun nodded. “Do you want some water? There’s some in the fridge.”

“I want sparkling water,” Zou Yang spun his wheelchair. “Do you have any?”

“No,” Fan Jun said. “If you want some, I can make it for you.”

“Boiled water with baking soda?” Zou Yang clicked his tongue. “No thanks. I’ve made that before, and even Liu Wenrui, my childhood friend of over ten years, couldn’t stomach it.”

“Try mine.” Fan Jun put down his work and walked over to the fridge. He pushed the wheelchair, along with Zou Yang and Da Hei, to the side, took some ice-cold purified water and a lemon from the fridge, and returned to the kitchen.

“You’re really making it?” Zou Yang couldn’t be bothered to use the wheelchair anymore. He tossed Da Hei back onto its own mat and hopped on one leg into the kitchen to watch.

“Yeah, it’ll be quick.” Fan Jun swiftly unscrewed the bottle cap, weighed an unknown amount of baking soda with a gram scale, poured it into the bottle, and started slicing the lemon.

“I’m not paying if it tastes bad,” Zou Yang said.

“If it tastes bad, I’ll give you one of Boss Lu’s classes for free,” Fan Jun replied.

Zou Yang paused, then started laughing: “Has Boss Lu stopped picking on you recently?”

“He’ll have to finish this busy period first. Lately, it’s like we’ve gone out of business.” Fan Jun took out a very pretty, wide-bellied glass from the cabinet.

Then he poured a little salt onto a small saucer, rubbed a slice of lemon around the rim of the glass, and inverted the rim onto the saucer.

“You…” Zou Yang looked at him in some shock. “Don’t tell me you used to work at a bar?”

“Looks like you’re someone who goes to bars often.” Fan Jun smiled, arranging the lemon slices into the glass piece by piece. The glass was still empty, but it already looked very pretty.

Next came the sparkling water and ice cubes. When Zou Yang finally saw him take out a bar spoon and a jigger to pour the honey, he couldn’t help but whistle.

Soon, a honey lemon sparkling water—with a salted rim and a lemon slice garnish—was placed in Zou Yang’s hands.

A glass of sparkling water made from baking soda had actually been elevated by Fan Jun to look like it cost over twenty bucks. If it weren’t for the fact that he used the kind of black straw that comes with takeout, it could have passed for even more expensive.

Zou Yang placed the honey lemon sparkling water on the kitchen counter first. Just as he was about to take a picture, Da Hei jumped up, lowered its head with its ears pinned back, and sniffed it earnestly.

He just took a group photo of the cat and the lemonade, then directed Fan Jun: “Turn off the kitchen lights, let me borrow your phone.”

Fan Jun handed him his phone and turned off the kitchen lights. Zou Yang turned on the flashlight on Fan Jun’s phone, placed it on the counter, and then set the lemonade on top of the glowing light.

The light pierced through the glass from below. Inside the crystal-clear sparkling water, delicate strands of pale amber honey swirled slowly.

“Looks good,” Zou Yang snapped a few continuous shots. “That’ll do.”

“So much effort just to take a picture.” Fan Jun turned the kitchen lights back on and resumed cooking.

“Gotta do justice to your craftsmanship,” Zou Yang edited the photo a bit and tossed it into his dorm group chat first. “You still haven’t answered me, did you work in a bar?”

“Mm.” Fan Jun nodded. “Not for long.”

“I thought you were always at the martial arts gym?” Zou Yang looked at him.

“I have been,” Fan Jun said. “The bar was a part-time job, I just went at night.”

“As a bartender?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun glanced back at him and smiled: “No, a bouncer.”

“Holy crap?” Zou Yang was a bit shocked. “Watching the floor?”

“Be civilized, a security guard,” Fan Jun took out a block of tofu and began slicing it. “The boss of that place is a friend of Big-Head Fish. When they first opened, there were always people causing trouble…”

“So it was watching the floor,” Zou Yang said.

“…Fine,” Fan Jun smiled and nodded. “Watching the floor.”

“You actually did such a… cool job?” Zou Yang looked at him with some awe. “Did you have to get physical?”

“There wasn’t really… much chance to,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang thought about it and laughed: “Probably didn’t get to the point where the other side could throw a punch, right.”

“One slap hurts enough to sober them up,” Fan Jun said.

“Damn.” Zou Yang leaned against the doorway, resting his plastered leg on the wheelchair, and visualized it while drinking his sparkling water.

His phone dinged once, then a few more times. Zou Yang grabbed his phone and glanced at it.

First was a message from his mom, asking how things were. Zou Yang replied directly with a voice message: “It’s fine, we’re just about to eat.”

Then it was the guys from his dorm, making a fuss in the group chat after seeing the picture. Liu Wenrui also sent him a private message.

[Respect]: How come you’re drinking without calling us
*[Zou yang]: Fan Jun made it*
*[Respect]: How’s he doing?*
[Zou yang]: He’s okay
*[Respect]: Holy crap he made that?*
[Respect]: He knows how to mix drinks?
[Respect]: He doesn’t look like a guy who’d know how to mix drinks
*[Respect]: He’s that awesome?*
[Respect]: You coming back? Playing ball this afternoon

Over there, Fan Jun had already taken out a pot and started putting the ingredients inside.

“Need help?” Zou Yang asked while replying to Liu Wenrui.
[Zou yang]: Tell you later.

“Sure.” Fan Jun nodded and stepped aside.

“What should I do?” Zou Yang hopped on one leg to the stove.

“Put this pot on the stove,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang lifted the pot onto the stove, ignited the flame, and then turned to look at Fan Jun, waiting for his next instruction.

“That’s it,” Fan Jun said. “Go wait in the living room, it needs to simmer for a while.”

“…That’s all?” Zou Yang said.

“Yeah,” Fan Jun put the lid on the pot. “That was the only step left.”

“Alright then.” Zou Yang hopped back to the living room. At least he could say he contributed a little to this meal.

“Should we eat at the dining table later?” Fan Jun glanced at his leg.

“I like that small table of yours.” Zou Yang said as he hopped over to the sofa. He really liked nestling on the carpet and leaning against the sofa.

Fan Jun hesitated for a moment, came over and grabbed his arm, and helped him sit down slowly on the carpet.

The next second, Da Hei ran over and jumped onto the cast. It felt like this little creature had been wanting to step on it to test the texture for a long time.

Fan Jun set up the small table, grabbed a bottle of coffee, and sat down next to him as well.

“Still drinking coffee? Aren’t you going to rest a bit after eating?” Zou Yang took a sip of the sparkling water. Honestly, this sparkling water was made amazingly well. It tasted no different from the bottled ones, and was actually even better because of the added honey and lemon.

“It’s fine,” Fan Jun said.

“You haven’t slept well these past few days, have you?” Zou Yang asked.

Fan Jun hesitated before responding: “Mm, can’t really fall asleep.”

“These past two days…” Zou Yang glanced at the tightly drawn curtains. “Have you just been… like that?”

“Like what?” Fan Jun turned to look at him. “Waiting in full battle readiness?”

“Yeah.” Zou Yang nodded. The baton was just resting on the sofa; just looking at it was startling.

“Not really,” Fan Jun squeezed the bottle repeatedly. “It’s just… I go check whenever I hear a noise.”

“You’re on the top floor here. I’d get it if someone was at the door and you went to check,” Zou Yang said. “But running to the window… can those ears of yours even hear sounds from downstairs? Don’t scare yourself.”

“You…” Fan Jun smiled, resting his forehead against his fingers as he looked at him. “That mouth of yours is really annoying.”

Zou Yang only then realized, feeling a bit embarrassed: “My reflexes are just too fast.”

“There’s a platform on the fifth floor,” Fan Jun said. “It would take me less than a minute to climb up from there.”

“Is there?” Zou Yang froze for a moment, then braced himself against the sofa to stand up. “Let me see.”

Fan Jun stood up, pulled him to his feet, and half-carried, half-supported him over to the window.

Zou Yang lifted a corner of the curtain and looked outside. He instantly became speechless, not even knowing how to comfort Fan Jun anymore.

Below the windowsill, at the fifth-floor level, there really was a platform—the roof of another building. In various flower pots and styrofoam boxes, unknown plants and vegetables were growing, and quite a few clothes and bedsheets were hanging on clotheslines strung up in all directions…

“Actually, I know it won’t be that easy for him to really find me,” Fan Jun whispered behind his ear. “But it’s… not entirely impossible either.”

“You should think of it this way,” Zou Yang looked at the platform outside. “Maybe he’s long forgotten that sentence. Even if he remembers… he wouldn’t necessarily carry it out over ten years later.”

“He’s someone who really enjoys the fear of others,” Fan Jun’s voice was still very low, carrying a faint tremor. “He said that my mom and I…”

He stopped halfway, his voice trailing off.

Zou Yang turned his head. Fan Jun was standing behind him. He couldn’t see Fan Jun’s face and could only sense him in his peripheral vision. He didn’t know what Fan Jun was going to say, nor did he know whether he should ask and prompt him to continue.

He could only wait in silence.

“He said one of us had to die,” When Fan Jun spoke again, his voice was suddenly hoarse. “When my mom… died… he was beating me. After he left, I went into the room to look for my mom, and she was… just hanging there…”

Zou Yang felt a chill run through his body as he listened. He turned around and looked at Fan Jun.

But Fan Jun showed no expression; he looked very calm: “He probably doesn’t know my mom is already dead. If he feels he can’t escape, he’ll come looking for us. If he can’t find my mom…”

“Fan Jun,” Zou Yang quickly interrupted him. “Even if that’s the case…”

Fan Jun looked at him silently.

“You aren’t the same as you were back then. You aren’t alone. You now have Uncle Lu’s family, Big-Head Fish, Lao Si, friends, and colleagues,” Zou Yang paused. “And you have me.”

Fan Jun didn’t speak. The light filtering in through the corner of the curtain faintly illuminated the side of his face. The scar on his lip was visible, but his expression couldn’t be seen clearly.

After a long silence, Fan Jun let out a very low “Mm.”

Zou Yang could tell that these words had little effect on Fan Jun, who had gone through such an experience, but he didn’t know what else he could do.

His feelings in that moment were so complicated that even if he wanted to “recite poetry”, he couldn’t find a fitting line.

He sighed softly and raised his hand. His fingertips paused beside Fan Jun’s face for two seconds, then gently descended, touching the scar on Fan Jun’s lip.

It was a slightly sunken scar with uneven edges. There was a distinct sensation when lightly gliding over it, traveling from his fingertips down his palm to his wrist, then inching up his arm, until it connected with his breathing and heartbeat…

Zou Yang’s fingertips slowly and gently shifted, brushing past the corner of the mouth, then onto warm skin, and further towards the side of the neck. When his knuckles touched Fan Jun’s somewhat cold earlobe, he started to feel breaths.

His own, Fan Jun’s, brushing across their faces in an interwoven rhythm.

He looked at Fan Jun’s lips.

The next second…

“Zou Yang.” Fan Jun tilted his head back slightly.

Zou Yang didn’t answer. But he was instantly pulled back from his daze.

Heartbeat, breathing, his raised hand—a burst of chaos out of rhythm.

“I’ll go check…” Fan Jun took a step back, turned, and walked toward the kitchen, “…if the stew is ready.”

“Mm.” Zou Yang replied, standing rooted to the spot.

A moment later, he realized that his left leg—the one in the cast—was resting on the ground and seemed to be bearing weight.

“Holy crap!” He jumped in fright, lifting his leg while simultaneously leaning his entire body back against the window.

Fan Jun, who had already walked into the kitchen, lunged over in a few strides, grabbed his arm, and yanked him away from the window: “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Zou Yang curled his leg up. At that speed, he felt like he was entirely dragged away by Fan Jun. His left foot kept uncontrollably wanting to stomp on the ground to maintain balance.

“Were you standing on both legs?” Fan Jun realized, looking down at his leg.

“…Yeah.” Zou Yang also looked down at his own leg.

Why was he standing on both legs at the same time?

Because…

Feeling that opening their mouths would inevitably lead to this exact conversation, neither of them spoke again.

After a while, Zou Yang said: “It’s fine, it didn’t bear much weight. Plus, it’s been healing for ten days; this one instance won’t hurt it.”

“Just sit down,” Fan Jun said.

“Mm.” Zou Yang grabbed his wrist, sat back down on the carpet, picked up the sparkling water, and took a huge gulp. Refreshing.

Fan Jun returned to the kitchen. There was no sound coming from it.

Zou Yang could tell from the ingredients he prepped earlier that he was making a pot of stew. Besides waiting, there was nothing else to do.

So right now, he was probably just standing blankly in the kitchen.

Zou Yang suddenly felt a bit panicked, lightly tapping his fingers against the glass. His whole mind was blank.

Just as he was pondering, Fan Jun suddenly came out of the kitchen.

The hand that had been tapping the glass suddenly became inexplicably busy, feeling around back and forth on the table.

“Here,” Fan Jun reached out, handing over his glasses. “Sister Shan said your prescription is only a bit over 300, how can it be this severe without your glasses?”

Zou Yang took the glasses and lowered his head to put them on: “I go blind occasionally.”

Fan Jun didn’t speak. Zou Yang looked up at him.

“Zou Yang,” Fan Jun hesitated, sitting down opposite him. “I…”

“Mm?” Zou Yang looked at him.

“I’ve never told anyone about my past like this, not even Uncle Lu or Aunt Li,” Fan Jun said.

“Mm,” Zou Yang replied.

“You’re the only one,” Fan Jun said very slowly and earnestly. “I’ve always been terrified of bringing these things up…”

“Sometimes, it feels better when you say it out loud,” Zou Yang said. “Keeping it bottled up inside is agonizing.”

“Mm.” Fan Jun nodded.

But.

There should be a turning point.

But.

Zou Yang waited for this turning point.

But there wasn’t one. After speaking, Fan Jun got up and went back to the kitchen.