This pizza place—Fan Jun had come here once before with He Chuan.

He Chuan had praised it to the skies. Fan Jun, though, didn’t know whether it was because his sense of taste had been born defective or because his mood had killed it, but in any case, that day he hadn’t tasted anything special.

Still, this shop had apparently been in the trade district for more than ten years, and business had always been good. Judging by those old staple shops in Nanzhouping, it was probably genuinely tasty.

It was just that his own sense of taste had gone dead.

At this hour, wedged between meal times, there weren’t many people in the store. They sat in a booth near the back door facing the courtyard.

Zou Yang scanned the code, set his phone on the table, propped one hand against his temple, and slowly scrolled through the menu with the other.

Since Fan Jun’s taste was shot, he had no intention of ordering for himself. Whatever Zou Yang ate, he’d just eat the same. So he leaned back in his chair and watched Zou Yang.

From the moment Zou Yang had suddenly appeared in the shop until now, he had the feeling he hadn’t really looked at him carefully. Maybe he had—but it still felt like he hadn’t.

Like right now, staring at Zou Yang, inch by inch—from his forehead, to his brows, his eyes, then the bridge of his nose, his lips, his chin… head lowered, chin out of view…

From this angle, Zou Yang looked especially good. His face and hands were both beautiful.

Fan Jun’s gaze shifted again to Zou Yang’s left hand propping his temple, to the bracelet slanting over the bone of his wrist, making him look especially sexy.

It was that very hand, just now, on his waist…

Zou Yang said something, but he didn’t hear it.

At this distance, with the surroundings relatively quiet, in theory, as long as Zou Yang wasn’t whispering, he should’ve been able to hear.

But he hadn’t.

“Hm?” he answered.

“What kind did you get last time?” Zou Yang looked up at him. His glasses had slid to the tip of his nose.

There was something indescribably sexy about it, somewhere between bright clarity and temptation.

“I don’t know,” he said, picking up the lemon water on the table and taking a sip.

“You don’t know?” Zou Yang paused, then lowered his eyes to the phone again.

“I don’t remember,” he added uselessly.

Zou Yang looked at him, hooked his left pinky under the bridge of his glasses, and pushed them back to the middle of his nose. “Who did you come with?”

“Boss He,” Fan Jun said.

That motion of Zou Yang’s was absurdly beautiful. It was like his fingertip had hooked one of Fan Jun’s nerves. His heartbeat caught in his throat and he was almost short of breath.

He turned his head aside and cleared his throat.

“Then I’ll just order randomly. Margherita, I guess—it’s their signature,” Zou Yang said, sliding the phone over to him. “And this baked pasta.”

Fan Jun leaned over to take a look. “There’s no… meat.”

“Hm?” Zou Yang froze, turned the phone back to look at it, then leaned into his chair and laughed. “Then let’s add some wings or something.”

“Mm.” Fan Jun nodded.

After ordering, they just sat across from each other in a daze.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window beside them was the back courtyard, with a small water feature. The flowers and plants were a little bleak this time of year, but when sunlight poured down, it was still pretty.

But neither of them looked outside much.

Fan Jun stretched his hand toward Zou Yang and pinched the tip of his left pinky.

Zou Yang looked at him.

Fan Jun said nothing, only kneaded at his fingertip over and over, and after a while tugged it toward himself.

“What are you doing?” Zou Yang asked softly, but he still followed the pull and lay down on the table.

Fan Jun couldn’t help glancing at the tabletop first to see whether it was clean, though he still hadn’t let go of Zou Yang’s fingertip.

Luckily, the table at least looked clean.

“Nothing,” he said with a smile.

“What are you thinking about?” Zou Yang asked, chin resting on his own arm as he looked at him.

“Don’t know.” Fan Jun lay down on the table too, pressing Zou Yang’s hand beneath his own arm.

“Nothing decent, I bet,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun didn’t answer, only clicked his tongue.

When the server brought over what they’d ordered, they were both still sprawled over the table and hadn’t had time to sit up properly.

Standing by the table, the server asked, “Where should I put it?”

Fan Jun straightened up and let go of Zou Yang’s hand.

Sure enough, the trade district still didn’t have the same sense of service as downtown—too eager to serve.

“Put it on his head,” Zou Yang said, drawing his arm back and leaning into his chair again.

The server laughed and set the plates down. “Fresh out of the oven—careful, it’s hot.”

“Thanks,” Zou Yang said.

After the server walked away, he hissed and started shaking out his left hand.

“Numb?” Fan Jun reached out.

“Yeah.” Zou Yang didn’t know what he meant, but still held his hand out.

Fan Jun grabbed it, held it tight, and suddenly started shaking it up and down.

The numbness in his arm instantly turned feral, tingling so hard and painfully that Zou Yang’s eyes almost watered. Bracing himself against the table with his right hand, he ground out through clenched teeth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“Better now?” Fan Jun let go of his hand.

Zou Yang pulled his arm back and let out a long breath. “If this were Liu Wenrui, he’d already be dead here three times over.”

Fan Jun laughed. “That brutal?”

For one instant, Zou Yang felt like he understood the suffering of Fan Jun’s left arm not working properly.

“Your arm,” he said after a moment, “when do you usually go for treatment?”

“Usually afternoons. Too many people in the morning,” Fan Jun said.

“When’s the next time?” Zou Yang asked. “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Fan Jun said.

“Hm?” Zou Yang blinked.

“No need,” Fan Jun looked at him. “It’s pretty boring, and I also… don’t want you seeing all that.”

Zou Yang didn’t say anything. After a while he only nodded. “Okay then.”

“Eat,” Fan Jun said, pushing the pizza in front of him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Hungry.” Zou Yang took a wet wipe from the table, wiped his hands, picked up a slice of pizza, and bit into it. “Mm…”

“Not good?” Fan Jun immediately grabbed a slice too.

“It’s good,” Zou Yang said, raising his brows. “A little unexpected. Way better than the coffee and ice cream that day.”

Fan Jun smiled and took a bite as well.

“How do you usually eat?” Zou Yang asked.

“If He Chuan’s around, I eat with him—at the shop or somewhere outside,” Fan Jun said. “If he doesn’t come, I just sort it out myself.”

“Does he come every day?” Zou Yang asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Oh.” Zou Yang said nothing and lowered his head to eat pizza.

“What, planning to steal something?” Fan Jun asked. “There are cameras in the shop—twenty-four-hour coverage.”

Zou Yang laughed. “Psycho.”

Fan Jun smiled and took another bite of pizza.

“Planning to fool around,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun choked, turned away coughing for quite a while, then took a drink of water. “You really just say anything the moment it comes to mind.”

“How else am I supposed to say it with my mouth shut?” Zou Yang said, picking up a chicken wing.

There really were cameras in the shop. After all, the place was full of old objects—not quite antiques, but all things that had taken a lot of effort to collect.

Except for Fan Jun’s little room upstairs, most of the place was covered by surveillance.

“Does He Chuan always watch the cameras?” Zou Yang squatted in the back courtyard, watching Little White and Big Black eat.

Little White finished the dog food in a few bites and sat beside Big Black patiently watching him eat. Big Black chewed each mouthful about eight hundred times, absurdly slow. Even after wandering for so long, his eating speed hadn’t improved in the least.

“Normally no. Who stares at surveillance footage when there’s nothing to do?” Fan Jun smiled. “Inside and out, the only thing he’d see is me wandering around here.”

“Mm,” Zou Yang replied.

Fan Jun turned to head back inside.

Zou Yang suddenly sprang up from the ground, grabbed his arm, and yanked him halfway back around.

The ground in the back courtyard was paved with old blue bricks and wasn’t very even. Fan Jun nearly got pulled off balance, stumbling back half a step until he hit the wall.

Before he could say anything, Zou Yang was already on him, right arm sweeping across his chest and pinning him to the wall.

“Zou—” Fan Jun could feel, from the corner of his eye, Little White’s stunned gaze.

He didn’t even get to finish the word. Zou Yang had already hooked his glasses up with his left hand and leaned in hard, kissing him on the mouth.

In an instant, Fan Jun felt everything around them disappear—sounds, scenery, all of it turning vague, trembling in sync with his heartbeat.

The moment their tongues brushed, Zou Yang’s hand slid straight inside his clothes and found his waist, gripping hard.

Zou Yang’s hand was cold, but the shiver it stirred where it touched carried heat, burning his breath scorching hot, burning his mind dizzy…

Little White barked once toward the back door of the shop.

Zou Yang snapped back to himself, let go of Fan Jun, braced a hand on the wall, and used the leverage to pull quickly back a step. He lifted a hand and hooked at his glasses, which dropped neatly back onto the bridge of his nose.

“He Chuan’s here,” Fan Jun said in a low voice. He rubbed at the corner of his mouth and quickly pushed open the back door into the shop.

“…Good dog,” Zou Yang muttered, lowering his hand to pat Little White on the head. “Good dog.”

Big Black was still chewing slowly. Zou Yang squatted and rubbed his head too. “Good cat.”

So it wouldn’t look too unnatural, after Fan Jun had gone in and a little time had passed, Zou Yang went inside too.

He Chuan wasn’t by the back door—he’d probably gone into the inner room to make tea as soon as he entered.

When Zou Yang went over, Fan Jun was talking to him.

“Zou Yang, come have some tea,” He Chuan said. “Fan Jun said you know tea, and I figured you probably do. You’ve even got your eye on my little stash of Bingdao.”

Zou Yang glanced at Fan Jun, a little guilty, and rubbed at the corner of his own mouth too before looking down at his clothes.

His clothes were neat. Fan Jun hadn’t been like him—hadn’t just gone straight for putting his hands inside someone’s shirt…

He quickly looked at Fan Jun’s clothes too. His coat was off, but his shirt was neat as well.

“You must not usually get to drink much good tea,” Zou Yang said, taking off his coat and walking over to the tea table. “I drink a little of your Bingdao, and you’re already all pained and weepy…”

“Damn,” He Chuan looked at him. “You really just say anything.”

“Can’t say it with my mouth closed,” Fan Jun said.

“Drink tea!” He Chuan laughed. “Oh right, put on that incense I made the other day.”

Fan Jun took the incense from the shelf, lit it, then expertly pinched it between his fingers and, with a light swift pull through the gaps between them, snuffed the flame at the tip before placing it in the holder.

Zou Yang stared at his hands, a little spellbound.

“How’s the scent?” He Chuan asked.

“Hm?” Zou Yang came back to himself and nodded. “Smells good.”

“I’ll give you a tube before you go,” He Chuan said.

“And that roof beast ornament too,” Zou Yang said.

“Hey, I remembered. You can take both later,” He Chuan said.

“Thanks, Boss He,” Zou Yang said.

After two sips of tea, He Chuan looked at the tabletop and asked, “Where’s that vase?”

“Sold it,” Fan Jun said. “They didn’t even bargain.”

“Not bad,” He Chuan said, immediately getting up. He searched around at the shelf nearby for a while, then brought over a bottle about the same size, set it on the table, and looped a string of bodhi beads around the neck. “This bottle’s pretty good too, older piece…”

Boss’s private stash vase +1.

Honestly, Fan Jun’s job wasn’t bad. If he didn’t have to go out on runs, he mostly just stayed in the shop. When customers came, he’d receive them; the rest of the time, he burned incense—not bathed—and drank tea.

Sometimes the owners of neighboring shops would come by too, and a whole bunch of them would sit around the tea table, burning incense—not bathing—but drinking tea and chatting.

He Chuan was the type who got along well with everyone. At noon, someone had even brought over a whole pot of local chicken to eat together.

Zou Yang leaned against a lounge chair by the window, very comfortable. Granted, he wished all these people would hurry up and leave, leaving just him and Fan Jun behind…

But it wasn’t as though he was immersed in lust every waking second.

After all, this was Fan Jun’s work. Fan Jun was on the job.

And as long as he could stay here, that alone was enough to satisfy him.

He’d kissed him, held him, touched him, bitten him…

Just being in the same space, in Fan Jun’s life, hearing his voice, feeling his presence—that was already a kind of pleasure.

Toward evening, Liu Wenrui sent a message.

[Respect Bro] ?
[Zouyang] ?
[Respect Bro] Still remember who I am
[Zouyang] Liu Bye-Bye
[Respect Bro] In a pretty good mood?
[Respect Bro] Bleep—are we renewing the friend card or not?
[Zouyang] Renew it when school starts
[Respect Bro] Screw you, Zou Sheep, you’re a purebred love-brain! Get lost get lost get lost
[Respect Bro] Heh ~ ptui!

Zou Yang laughed and called him.

“Heh~ptui!” Liu Wenrui answered the phone.

“That mad, huh,” Zou Yang said.

“Not mad,” Liu Wenrui said. “I’m singing later anyway.”

“Didn’t go out?” Zou Yang asked with a smile.

“None of your business, fake concern,” Liu Wenrui said. “In a couple days when Zhiyue and the others are back, I’ll completely forget you exist.”

“I’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow,” Zou Yang said. “We literally just ate together yesterday…”

“Today,” Liu Wenrui said. “What does eating yesterday have to do with today? I barely saw you all winter break while you acted half-dead! You see me two days in a row and already you’re sick of me, is that it?”

“Tomorrow,” Zou Yang said.

“You’re still with him right now, aren’t you?” Liu Wenrui asked.

“Mm.” Zou Yang glanced at Fan Jun, who was talking to a customer outside the inner room. The curtain in the middle had been torn down by Little White and hadn’t been replaced yet—pretty good.

“You’re not coming home tonight either, right?” Liu Wenrui asked again.

“…Mm.” Zou Yang hesitated.

He absolutely wanted to stay here. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to cling to Fan Jun.

But he didn’t know what was going on with his mom. After saying all that this morning, he genuinely hadn’t thought about any of it again until now, when a sudden unease hit him.

He’d gotten his relief.

He didn’t know how his mom and Uncle Lü were doing.

“What attitude does your mom have now?” Liu Wenrui asked. “Yesterday it kind of felt like she had some thoughts…”

“I came clean this morning,” Zou Yang said.

“What?” Liu Wenrui asked.

Zou Yang didn’t speak.

“What? Holy shit,” Liu Wenrui’s speech sped up. “Holy shit, what? Did you mean what I think you mean?”

“Mm.”

“I’m fucking serious!” Liu Wenrui was practically gnashing his teeth. “Something this huge! This huge! You bastard, you didn’t even let out a fart to me! Not even one little fart, Zou Yang. We should cut ties, seriously…”

Fan Jun saw off the customer, turned and glanced at him, just about to come over when his phone rang.

“We’ve known each other how many years? I was the third person to know your dad cheated,” Liu Wenrui was still ranting in his ear. “And now this, I didn’t even…”

“Uncle Lü,” Fan Jun said into the phone with a smile as he walked over.

Uncle Lü?

Was something wrong with his mom?

Zou Yang immediately fixed his eyes on Fan Jun.

“So how is your mom? What’s her attitude?” Liu Wenrui asked. “If you’re not going home tonight, did she kick you out or something…”

“Mm, I’m at the shop,” Fan Jun stood by Zou Yang’s side and lightly ruffled his hair. “Been here the whole time… Mm, Sister Shan… then she didn’t say anything? Mm, I know, mm…”

Zou Yang looked up at Fan Jun and mouthed a question.

How’s my mom?

“Sister Shan went home,” Fan Jun said after hanging up, lowering his voice. “Uncle Lü means… maybe you should go back and check on her, keep her company. After all…”

“Mm.” Zou Yang answered immediately, cutting off Liu Wenrui, who was still rambling on the phone. “Come to my house for dinner tonight.”

“Huh?” Liu Wenrui froze. “That sudden?”

“I’m going home for dinner later. My mom’s home…”

“You’re worried it’ll be awkward, so you’re dragging me along to ease the atmosphere,” Liu Wenrui said.

“…You really do get it,” Zou Yang said.

“What am I, some kind of cheap person?” Liu Wenrui asked.

“You’re my bro,” Zou Yang said.

“What, a cheap bro?” Liu Wenrui asked.

“Stop talking nonsense and bring some food over,” Zou Yang said, then hung up and looked at Fan Jun. “My mom’s okay? She suddenly went home?”

“She should be okay. Uncle Lü said she looked alright. But after all, for her, this whole thing…” Fan Jun pulled a chair over and sat beside him, speaking quietly. “It’s not exactly something happy.”

“Mm. I’ll go back and keep her company.” The moment Zou Yang said that, he suddenly didn’t want to leave.

He grabbed Fan Jun’s hand and kept squeezing it.

“She definitely hasn’t had an easy few days,” Fan Jun said. “She’ll need time. Didn’t you want to go on that work trip with me the day after tomorrow…”

Zou Yang’s brows lifted as he looked at him.

“You going?” Fan Jun asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then stay with her these next two days,” Fan Jun said. “Don’t let her feel like you just dropped those words and then stopped caring about anything.”

“Mm.” Zou Yang sighed softly. “I know.”

“I’ll drive you back later,” Fan Jun said.

“Don’t bother. I’ll call a cab,” Zou Yang said with a smile. “You were off yesterday, and today I’ve already spent the entire day hanging around here. If Boss He comes wandering back and finds the shop empty again… that’s too mean to Boss He.”

“It’s normal to hang around here. His place is basically a gathering point,” Fan Jun said with a laugh.

“If nothing comes up tomorrow, I’ll come over,” Zou Yang said. “Though Liu Wenrui will definitely follow me.”

“That’s fine,” Fan Jun said.

“Kiss me,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun paused.

Floor-to-ceiling windows on the left, surveillance camera on the right—Zou Yang knew that request wasn’t exactly easy. But he didn’t take it back.

Fan Jun leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Just as he was about to pull away, Zou Yang raised a hand, pinched his chin, drew him back, and kissed the scar on his lip.