It wasn’t on purpose.

Zou Yang looked at the glob of ice cream on the tip of Fan Jun’s nose, feeling a bit flustered, a bit guilty, but mostly apprehensive.

It wasn’t on purpose.

But it wasn’t completely unintentional either.

After all, only when something has been repeatedly thought about countless times in one’s head can it slip out so effortlessly.

And only when facing Fan Jun could he be so unguarded and “speak without a filter.”

Fan Jun looked at him, stunned for a moment, picked up a tissue to wipe the tip of his nose, and then lowered his head to scoop another spoonful of ice cream.

“Actually… I just…” Zou Yang knew that the life Fan Jun faced was far more complex than his own. There were many things Fan Jun couldn’t just blurt out as easily as he could.

“Mm.” Fan Jun responded.

Zou Yang became a bit incoherent: “As long as you know, you…”

“Me too,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang abruptly stopped.

Fan Jun’s voice was very low. For a second, Zou Yang wondered if he was having auditory hallucinations.

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask, blurting it out again, needing confirmation.

“Me too,” Fan Jun looked at him.

Zou Yang didn’t make another sound. He lowered his head, picked up the ice cream dish, and took a huge bite directly from it.

His mind was buzzing; he even felt like he was starting to get tinnitus.

He didn’t even notice when someone had stepped up beside them.

It was only when he heard Fan Jun speak that he snapped out of it.

“His name is Xiao Bai,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang turned his head and saw a boy who looked like a college student standing next to them, petting Xiao Bai’s head.

“It’s like this,” the boy pointed to a table a few spots away from them, “that’s my girlfriend. She really loves Dobermans and wanted to ask if we could take a few photos with Xiao Bai? Right here, we won’t go far.”

A girl sitting at that table waved at them, smiling a bit shyly.

“…You can,” Fan Jun handed the leash to the boy, “Take him over.”

He patted Xiao Bai’s head again: “Bai, be good.”

Xiao Bai sniffed the boy’s hand and tapped it with its paw.

“Thanks!” The boy happily took Xiao Bai’s leash. “Xiao Bai, come here.”

The boy led Xiao Bai over. The girl indeed really liked Xiao Bai; she didn’t rush to take photos, but squatted down and started petting Xiao Bai, stroking from its ears to its tail, back and forth.

The boy stood to the side, recording a video with his phone, wearing a smile.

It was quite sweet.

Zou Yang was in a very good mood today; seeing a scene like this, he didn’t feel the urge to boil the two of them for a snack to go with his drinks.

He took out his phone, opened the camera, held it up backwards, and looked at himself and Fan Jun in the frame: “Smile.”

Fan Jun leaned in closer and smiled at the camera.

Even though the coffee and ice cream on the table were no longer aesthetically pleasing, the two of them smiled very well.

Zou Yang checked the photo, then leaned back in his chair and took a few more shots of Fan Jun.

“Send them to me,” Fan Jun said.

“Later, after I edit them,” Zou Yang said.

“So particular? Isn’t it just a casual snapshot?” Fan Jun smiled.

“Casual snapshot, not casually posted,” Zou Yang said. “Though your photos are very easy to edit.”

“I just want… the one of the two of us just now,” Fan Jun said.

“I know,” Zou Yang smiled.

They sat in the coffee shop for an unknown amount of time. In short, it was only when the sunlight started to fade that Zou Yang lazily stretched: “Treat me to dinner.”

“He Chuan just said he bought groceries. Do you want to eat at the shop?” Fan Jun checked his phone. “If you don’t want to, I’ll tell him…”

“That works,” Zou Yang said immediately. “Hot pot?”

“Mm,” Fan Jun nodded. “Is spicy okay? He and his sister love spicy Sichuan hot pot, and they make it pretty well.”

“No problem,” Zou Yang said. “He has a sister?”

“Yeah, the two of them have always run the shop together,” Fan Jun replied to He Chuan’s message.

Actually, Zou Yang was quite willing to eat at the shop.

This street, this shop, was the place where Fan Jun had lived for the past few months, and where he would continue to live for an unknown amount of time in the future.

To Zou Yang, this place was already different from anywhere else.

It was a place that carried Fan Jun’s scent and traces.

“Are you familiar with this whole trade city area now?” He followed Fan Jun, walking slowly back along the street, occasionally stepping close to the display windows of certain shops to take a look.

There were quite a lot of interesting things, mostly handicrafts.

There were also a few shops that looked similar to He Chuan’s, selling antiques, though judging from the prices, most were replicas.

“I’m alright with the area near this street,” Fan Jun said. “Haven’t really been to the other streets. It’s too big, walking a lap is quite tiring.”

“You run at least five kilometers at a time, running along the streets…” Zou Yang paused, turning to look at him. “Do you still run now?”

“I do,” Fan Jun laughed. “But I can’t run through the commercial streets, people would think I stole something and am running away.”

“Then where do you run?” Zou Yang asked.

“I do laps around the outside perimeter,” Fan Jun said. “Basically, one lap is about enough.”

When they returned to He Chuan’s shop, Zou Yang took out his phone and snapped a photo of the shop’s exterior.

Chuan and Lu.

The shop name was very straightforward. He Chuan’s sister was probably named He Lu.

“How is it, my shop?” He Chuan walked out. “After dinner, have Fan Jun show you around. If there’s anything you like, I’ll give you one as a gift.”

“Really?” Zou Yang asked.

“One of the cheap ones,” He Chuan immediately added for clarification.

“Is that one expensive?” Zou Yang pointed to the small stone beast that looked like Da Hei.

“That one’s fine, it’s a deformed lion,” He Chuan said. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you, Boss He,” Zou Yang said.

“You’re too polite. Hurry up and come in to eat, it’s all ready,” He Chuan went inside.

“Why did you want that one?” Fan Jun asked. “Is it because you think it looks like Da Hei?”

“Mm, huh?” Zou Yang turned to look at him. “You think so too?”

“Yeah. I can’t say exactly where the resemblance is, it just feels like him,” Fan Jun smiled.

“Next time you see one that looks like Xiao Bai, ask him for another one,” Zou Yang said.

“…Can’t you just buy it?” Fan Jun said.

“No, we have to be fair,” Zou Yang entered the door.

He Chuan’s sister was indeed named He Lu. She talked less than He Chuan, looked sturdier than him, and gave the impression that if they ran into trouble while out collecting goods, she would be safer to have around than He Chuan.

It was still the New Year holiday, and right after dinner time, the streets were empty. Many shops had simply closed, while others, like He Chuan’s, had a few friends inside eating hot pot.

It was quite lively. The condensation fogging up the glass made things look a bit hazy, but the people and sounds inside the room were very real.

During the meal, He Chuan basically did all the talking. If Zou Yang brought up a topic, he would run with it all the way.

If Zou Yang asked Fan Jun about his work directly, Fan Jun probably wouldn’t want to talk about it much. Even if he was willing to talk, it certainly wouldn’t be as… thrilling as He Chuan made it sound.

“Don’t let the fact that his hand can’t grip things with much force right now fool you,” He Chuan pointed at Fan Jun. “He’s got technique. Hand can’t grip, right? Just hooks you directly around the neck with his elbow…”

He Chuan hooked his elbow around He Lu’s neck, pointing his fingers at her eyes: “Just like this, pokes the eyes!”

“Go drop dead,” He Lu was speechless.

“It’s the New Year,” He Chuan said.

“Then stay alive properly for the New Year,” He Lu said.

“Poked the eyes?” Zou Yang turned to look at Fan Jun.

“No, it’s exaggerated,” Fan Jun said. “I just pointed at them.”

Zou Yang thought about it for a moment, deciding it wasn’t appropriate to ask further in front of He Chuan.

But after dinner, when Fan Jun took him on a tour around the shop, he leaned close to Fan Jun’s ear and whispered, “Is your job a bit dangerous?”

“I only ran into it that one time,” Fan Jun smiled.

“How much subsidy do you get for one trip?” Zou Yang asked.

“It varies, two or three thousand,” Fan Jun said. “Usually, it’s about one trip a month, sometimes two when we’re busy.”

Zou Yang didn’t say anything. He had never had a job, let alone this kind of job, so he didn’t know the going rates.

But this shop perhaps suited Fan Jun well. Although it looked overwhelmingly chaotic at first glance—filled with all sorts of wood carvings, stone sculptures, jars, pots, little boxes, and ornaments—being surrounded by these objects bearing the scars of time gave a very quiet feeling.

“Want to go look at the backyard?” Fan Jun glanced at Xiao Bai, who was still following at his leg. “Check out Xiao Bai’s new home.”

“Okay,” Zou Yang nodded.

“Bai, take brother Xiao Yang to your house,” Fan Jun said.

Xiao Bai immediately came over, nudged Zou Yang’s hand with its nose, and gestured for him to follow.

The backyard was quite large, with a sunroom set up over it. Half of it looked like He Chuan’s studio, while the other half housed a small wooden house wrapped in old padded jackets, lined with a very thick plush cushion. At the entrance, there actually was a small, carved stone slab, and next to it, a stone brick with a hole in it—the kind built into the walls of old houses.

“Is that a hitching post for a horse?” Zou Yang asked.

“Mm, hitching post for a dog,” Fan Jun said.

Xiao Bai stepped on the stone slab to enter the little house, and stepped on it again to come out, as if demonstrating, with a bit of smugness.

“You’re such a badass, Bai,” Zou Yang rubbed Xiao Bai’s head.

“Do you…” Fan Jun hesitated before speaking. “Want to go see the second floor?”

“You live on the second floor, right?” Zou Yang asked.

“Mm,” Fan Jun nodded. “It’s not all for me to live in, there’s also a section where goods are stored.”

“Let’s look,” Zou Yang said.

The second floor was smaller than the first. Going up a very narrow and steep staircase, a small corridor divided the second floor into two spaces. Half of it was piled high with goods and cardboard boxes, while the other half was sectioned off with a wooden partition.

When Fan Jun pushed the small door open, Zou Yang glanced inside, and a familiar feeling washed over him.

Although most of the furniture wasn’t what Fan Jun had in his old room, it was still entirely Fan Jun’s style. You could tell at a glance that this was Fan Jun’s little room.

Since there was no living room, as soon as you entered, you could see a bed shaped like a dog’s nest—thick and soft.

The ceiling on the second floor was low, so Fan Jun didn’t set up any chairs. A few cushions thrown on the floor served as seating, and by the window facing the street, there was a beanbag chair.

“This is really comfortable,” Zou Yang collapsed onto the beanbag, spreading his arms, looking at the moon outside the window. “He doesn’t charge you rent for living here, does he?”

“No rent.” Fan Jun squatted down next to him. “Want some tea?”

“Yeah,” Zou Yang thought for a moment. “Let’s go steal some of Boss He’s Bingdao tea. I saw it on his shelf.”

“This house isn’t soundproof,” Fan Jun started laughing. “They can hear you downstairs.”

“Fuck, really?” Zou Yang jumped in surprise.

“Yep,” He Chuan’s voice came from downstairs. “You want to drink Bingdao, huh? Come down and get it! There’s also some New Year’s snacks, tea pastries and stuff… Fan Jun! We’re heading home.”

“I’ll go get it,” Fan Jun said.

“Mm,” Zou Yang smiled.

Listening to the sound of Fan Jun going down the stairs, Zou Yang closed his eyes.

The comfortable feeling of leaning back like this and stretching out his legs transported him, for a moment, back to the little room on the rooftop.

Skipping past the memories filled with blood and fear, to the night before Fan Gang arrived.

He felt as if he could still hear the heartbeat in his ears.

He gently let out a breath.

Even though it was mixed with all sorts of flavors, at least now he knew that his memories wouldn’t just stop at that one night.

Tomorrow, he could reminisce about tonight’s crescent moon.

He took out his phone, tilted his head up towards the window, and took a picture.

Fan Jun carried a wooden basket into the room.

Zou Yang laughed as soon as he saw it: “Why is it so… cute.”

“It’s all stuff Boss He collected but didn’t sell.” Fan Jun dragged over a small, low table and took everything out of the basket—the tea set, the tea leaves, the snacks—spreading them all out on the table.

While boiling the water, he sat down shoulder-to-shoulder with Zou Yang and started prying the tea cake.

Zou Yang quietly turned his head to look at him.

Fan Jun’s left hand was slightly deformed before, but it was basically unnoticeable now. However, its movement was clearly restricted, and his grip wasn’t very flexible. While pressing on the tea cake, his hand slipped twice.

“It’s strenuous doing delicate work,” Fan Jun said.

“Mm,” Zou Yang responded.

“Good thing you’re not waiting for me to cook,” Fan Jun smiled.

Zou Yang originally wanted to say, “How about I do it,” but he hesitated and didn’t speak. That was probably what Fan Jun least wanted to hear.

He didn’t know how he could ease the heartache he felt seeing Fan Jun struggle with these most common daily actions.

Reaching his hand over was completely completely thoughtless.

His brain didn’t work at crucial moments anyway, so it was better not to use it, it was unreliable.

Right now, his hand was much more resolute than his brain. It reached past the teacups, past the gaiwan, past the tea cake…

When it hovered over Fan Jun’s left hand, Fan Jun’s movements stopped, and he turned his head to look at him.

He grasped Fan Jun’s left hand.

“Mm?” Fan Jun’s voice was right by his ear, carrying a slight tremble that matched the frequency of his hand in this very moment.

His voice was very low, slightly carrying a hoarse grit that scattered in that slight tremble, sweeping past Zou Yang’s ear along with his breath.

Zou Yang didn’t dare to turn his head, only staring at his own hand.

“Squeeze it,” he said softly, “my hand.”

Fan Jun didn’t speak. He turned his hand over and grasped Zou Yang’s hand.

“Use some strength,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun’s fingers tightened. The raised veins on the inside of his wrist pulsed slightly due to the exertion.

“Using all my strength,” Fan Jun said.

“Mm,” Zou Yang responded, also gripping Fan Jun’s hand tightly.

Neither of them spoke again. Zou Yang didn’t know what he was doing or what he wanted to do, and he certainly didn’t have the spare brainpower to think about what Fan Jun was thinking.

He just held tightly onto Fan Jun’s hand like that.

Most of the training calluses on Fan Jun’s hand had disappeared, making it much smoother than before. Since he had just washed the tea set, his hand still carried a warm moisture.

The water boiled, steam spewing from the spout of the kettle, quickly permeating their surroundings. The air was filled with a warm, moist ambiguity.

Fan Jun moved slightly, his body leaning towards him.

In the steam, dyed a warm golden color by the light, Zou Yang could feel Fan Jun’s breath. He could also feel the hair on Fan Jun’s forehead sweep past the corner of his eye, the slightly cool tip of his nose brushing past his ear…

He didn’t dare to move, didn’t even dare to think.

He was afraid that any little change would disturb this very second.

Fan Jun’s lips landed on the side of his neck.

He kissed the side of his neck, right on that pale red scar passing over his pulsing artery.

First a light touch, followed by a brief withdrawal, and then it landed again, pressing down firmly.

Zou Yang had always felt that those scars had no sensation, but in this second, he clearly felt Fan Jun’s lips—soft, warm, carefully yet firmly pressing down.

Time seemed to solidify a bit.

In the room lit only by a warm yellow bamboo lamp, it was so quiet that even the moonlight spilling in seemed to carry a sound.

It wasn’t until the water in the spout of the kettle started bubbling that Fan Jun’s lips left the side of his neck. He said very quietly, “This kettle doesn’t stop automatically.”

“Mm,” Zou Yang slowly came back to his senses and responded, “I can see that.”

Fan Jun reached over and turned off the switch on the kettle.

He paused for a few seconds, then began to brew the tea.

Warming the cups, putting in the tea leaves, washing the tea…

Fan Jun’s movements weren’t particularly skilled, but watching them intently induced an inexplicable hypnotic effect. When he reached back and handed the lid of the gaiwan to Zou Yang, Zou Yang was a bit dazed: “Do I drink from this?”

“Smell it,” Fan Jun said.

Zou Yang snapped back to his senses and quickly took a sniff: “Fragrant.”

Fan Jun smiled, put the lid back, and placed the brewed tea in front of him: “Drink.”

“Mm.” Zou Yang picked up the cup and took a small sip.

The tea was very fragrant, and for some reason, it carried a heat that felt far greater than the water’s temperature. With one small sip, he felt his face grow hot and his head become a bit dizzy.

After finishing this cup of tea, he put the cup down, leaned back, and gently let out a breath: “Am I getting tea drunk?”