It would be great if he didn’t have to go to the observation tomorrow.

For this remaining week of the observation period, he basically stayed back at the school dorms. Although they didn’t go to No. 7 High School every day, and even when they did, their mornings and afternoons weren’t always fully packed, they absolutely had to arrive on time in the morning, and the tasks were way more troublesome than regular classes.

Over the past few days, they had even hosted a class meeting, assisted with a blackboard newspaper, and played the role of caring older brothers, talking to confused tenth-graders about how they got through their three years of high school… All of these things had to be written into the report, accompanied by a bunch of photos.

“Li Zhiyue, you’re just sending the photos directly like that?” Liu Wenrui looked at the pile of photos Li Zhiyue had dumped into the group chat.

“Otherwise what?” Li Zhiyue said. “Do I need to drool over them first?”

“Aren’t you going to edit them before sending?!” Liu Wenrui raised his voice.

“They definitely need editing. The artistic photos we took last time couldn’t do without edits; the background poles were all right there,” Zhang Chuanlong chimed in while playing his game.

“No, wait,” Li Zhiyue was shocked. “It’s just photos for a text document, and you actually want to photoshop them? Who’s even going to look!”

“The teacher!” Liu Wenrui said.

“Does the teacher not know what he looks like?” Zhang Chuanlong asked again, still glued to his game.

Li Zhiyue collapsed onto his bed, bursting into laughter.

“Go back to throwing the match for your teammates and shut up,” Liu Wenrui glared at him, then turned back to Li Zhiyue. “Any photo that leaves your own phone should be edited! Though life doesn’t have that many audience members, what if one actually comes along? What are you going to do then?!”

“If they look at me, do I need to do anything? Should I beat them up?” Li Zhiyue said, laughing.

“Just take them and edit them yourself,” Zou Yang sat at his desk, his head throbbing just listening to them while typing. “All the time you spent nagging is enough to finish editing them. If you make Li Zhiyue do it, does he even know how? He posts pictures of himself completely distorted to his Moments anyway.”

“…Fine then.” Liu Wenrui sighed, sat down at his desk, and began touching up the photos.

Zou Yang let out a breath and continued writing his report.

Actually, it was understandable why Liu Wenrui wanted to edit the photos. During those activities, when you stood up there with dozens of pairs of eyes staring at you, accompanied by random, unexplained outbursts of laughter from time to time, it was hard for any of them to maintain good facial expression control—except for Zhang Chuanlong.

Liu Wenrui was quite efficient. Before long, the edited photos were re-sent to the group chat. Zou Yang dropped the photos into the report, formatted the layout, and added the captions…

He had already started writing the final section on insights and reflections. He just needed to wait for the small farewell party the school was throwing for them the day after tomorrow, so he could add the details and the sentimental bits.

In the past, he wouldn’t have been this proactive with assignments; he usually procrastinated until the absolute last minute. But this time he was exceptionally diligent and proactive, not because of the observation itself, but because if he stayed idle in the dorm and let his mind wander, he couldn’t help but think about his dad.

There had been no news from his dad’s side over the past few days. No one had contacted him, and his mom hadn’t said anything either—he didn’t know if no one had called her or if she just hadn’t picked up.

So the current atmosphere felt a little strange. It was as if everyone was silently waiting for his dad to inch closer to the finish line. Occasionally, he wished to hear an update, but given the circumstances, if the phone rang now, it would basically mean his dad’s death notice.

“Your practice is going well enough. We can tentatively start for real now, and I’ll help you fix any parts that don’t look right.” Xiao Long placed the iron sheet, which had undergone annealing and acid washing, onto the workbench. It already had the lines she had traced out yesterday. “Today, we’ll outline the contours first.”

“Mm.” Fan Jun nodded, tied on his apron, stood by the workbench, and picked up a lining chisel. “Use this to score the lines first, right?”

Yesterday, under Xiao Long’s guidance, he had already used a hammer to shape the basic contours of the iron sheet—the nose, the eye sockets, and so on. Today, he had to start on the outer lines.

“Mm-hmm,” Xiao Long responded.

Fan Jun took a breath, aligned the tip of the chisel with the outermost fine line, steadied his left hand, gripped it tightly, and then let the hammer in his right hand fall.

The chisel head vibrated slightly, cutting a small groove into the iron sheet. He slowly moved the chisel along the drawn lines, the hammer striking tap after tap as a fine line was gradually carved out. The lines broke at a few circles; these were corners where small, round raised dots needed to be punched out.

Fan Jun put down the lining chisel and reached out to grab a cup chisel, but Xiao Long spoke up: “What did I say before?”

“…Return the tools to their proper places once you’re done using them.” Fan Jun picked up the lining chisel and placed it back into the neatly arranged row of chisels.

“Very good,” Xiao Long said, hands on her hips. “Next step.”

Fan Jun glanced at her and picked up the cup chisel.

“What are you looking at? I’m your master right now,” Xiao Long said. “Old He said you used to be incredibly fierce when you were a coach, kicking people at the slightest provocation.”

“That’s defamation,” Fan Jun said. He flipped the iron sheet over to the back, took another breath, steadied his hand, and used the cup chisel to tap out a few small round indentations on the back. Flipping it back to the front, the small raised dots looked quite perfect.

“Your hand is pretty steady; it doesn’t look like it’s been injured at all,” Xiao Long remarked. “Your muscle strength is impressive.”

“It’s alright,” Fan Jun said.

“Not modest at all, are we?” Xiao Long laughed.

Fan Jun smiled, returned the cup chisel, and continued hammering the lines. His left hand was indeed steadier than before, but he couldn’t maintain static contraction for too long, otherwise, it would start to shake. With just these few lines, he hammered for an entire midday session, yet he had only just finished outlining the outer ring. There were still patterns and lines on the inner ring…

By the time he stepped out of the blacksmith shop, Fan Jun felt his left hand completely numb from the vibrations.

Just as he reached the antique street, He Chuan’s call came through: “Where are you?”

“At the end of the street,” Fan Jun said.

“Wait for me by the yogurt shop,” He Chuan said. “Come with me to that exceptionally terrible coffee shop we went to last time.”

“The coffee there really is exceptionally terrible,” Fan Jun stopped by the side of the road. “We don’t need to go back just to confirm it, do we?”

“Who’s going there to drink? We’re going to negotiate taking over the lease,” He Chuan said.

“Huh? They’re closing down?” Fan Jun was stunned. The shop had just opened after the New Year, and its location was excellent. He Chuan had tried to snatch the spot before but lost to them. He hadn’t expected them to call it quits so soon.

“Who knows. Anyway, they reached out to me. Let’s see if we can take advantage of their crisis,” He Chuan said.

The owner of the shop was a young man surnamed Li, around the same age as He Chuan, in his early thirties. A lot of money had been spent on decorating the place; it was very exquisite, aimed at being a prime photo-op spot. At this point, it was a question whether they had even made back their initial capital.

“Brother Li,” He Chuan greeted him as he walked in.

“You’re here,” Brother Li nodded at the two of them, turning to walk toward the espresso machine. “Have some coffee.”

“No thanks,” He Chuan said. “To be honest, the coffee here is truly the most terrible specialty coffee I have ever tasted.”

Brother Li smiled and sighed: “You guys are used to drinking tea…”

“I drink coffee too,” He Chuan didn’t spare his feelings at all.

[Zou Yang]: I’m on a class break, about to go watch a debate competition organized by their school. What are you doing?

Fan Jun leaned against the window, glancing over at He Chuan and Brother Li who were sitting by the table chatting.

[Fan]: Acting as a background prop for a negotiation.

He Chuan didn’t actually need him to talk. A lot of the times when He Chuan brought him along for business, it was simply to add +1 to their head count, and because of his intimidating appearance that made him look like a mob bodyguard.

Shrewd businessman!

Brother Li hadn’t reached out to He Chuan because he wanted to hand over the shop completely; he just knew He Chuan had been highly interested in the storefront before. Now that his cash flow was blocked and an emergency at home required money, he wanted to find a partner to alleviate some of the pressure.

Of course, He Chuan wasn’t about to do charity; he came explicitly to take over the whole place.

“Let me put it this way, if you really have financial pressure, the best way to solve it is to hand the shop over to me,” He Chuan said. “I can buy out all the equipment in your shop at a discounted price, ensuring you won’t take a total loss, and what you get in hand will be solid, cold cash…”

“But that would mean my business is completely over,” Brother Li was somewhat reluctant. “Boss He, I still hope we can…”

“I definitely won’t agree to a partnership,” He Chuan was very direct. “Even if someone else were willing, the money they invest wouldn’t go straight into your pocket; it would still depend on future operating revenue. That would drag the timeline out way too long. If you’re not in a desperate rush for cash, you can look around and ask other people.”

“I’ll… think about it a bit more.” Brother Li sighed.

Walking out of the coffee shop, He Chuan stretched his arms: “Ah—”

“Are you going to buy up all that equipment?” Fan Jun asked. “To open another coffee shop?”

“Not exactly. If he really agrees, we can drive the price down further,” He Chuan said. “Running a pure coffee shop won’t work. In this area, except for that big one over there, they go under one after another. I want to set up a shop to clear out some of our backlogged inventory—the small pieces, the ones suitable for a modern style. We’ll display them there and create a heavy artistic vibe, while selling coffee on the side. What do you call it? An art cafe.”

“Oh,” Fan Jun responded. “But the way you talked to him left absolutely no room for negotiation. He might go look for someone else.”

“Impossible. No one will partner up with him for this shop, and if they’re buying it out, the price won’t be low,” He Chuan clicked his tongue. “Times are tough right now, who’s willing to pull out that much cash all at once? Even if I want to take it over, I’ll have to borrow a bit from He Lu.”

“Borrow money?” Fan Jun looked at him.

“Yeah. Partnering up with her would work too, but right now she’s not willing to do business with me.” He Chuan sighed.

“Oh…” Fan Jun didn’t say anything else.

“What should we eat?” Liu Wenrui asked. “My treat!”

“Oh?” Li Zhiyue looked at him. “Let me check the per-capita cost first.”

“Eighty yuan!” Liu Wenrui waved his hand.

“Oh?” Zou Yang looked at him too.

“Oh your ass, my mom gave me an unexpected surprise, saying I’ve been working hard at my job,” Liu Wenrui said. “Are we eating or what!”

“Eating,” Zhang Chuanlong said.

Zou Yang pulled out his phone, preparing to send Fan Jun a text. Tomorrow was the last day of his observation, and he wanted Fan Jun to pick him up and head over to the rented apartment. Before he could unlock his phone, his oldest aunt’s call came in.

Zou Yang stared at the phone number, his hand trembling slightly, not daring to answer for a long time.

Liu Wenrui leaned over to take a look and asked, “Want me to pick it up?”

“I’m fine.” Zou Yang gritted his teeth and answered the call. “Aunt.”

“Zou Yang,” his aunt spoke with a heavy nasal tone, her voice raspy. “Your dad just… passed away.”

“…Mm.” Zou Yang stopped in his tracks and gave a low response.

“If we call your mom, she won’t pick up. If you still have a shred of conscience left, if you still consider him your father,” his aunt said, “come send him off tomorrow. Come straight at ten o’clock…”

“Understood.” Zou Yang didn’t listen closely to the rest. Once she finished, he hung up the phone.

“He’s gone?” Liu Wenrui asked.

“Yeah,” Zou Yang responded.

“Then you…” Li Zhiyue looked at him.

“Let’s go eat first,” Zou Yang said.

They found a pretty delicious small homestyle restaurant near No. 7 High School. They didn’t need eighty yuan per capita; forty yuan per person was enough to eat incredibly well. Zou Yang felt like his mood wasn’t affected much; he ordered food, ate, and chatted, everything completely as usual.

It was only when he saw Fan Jun walking in through the restaurant’s main door that he was first shocked, and then a sudden surge of an urge to cry hit him hard.

“How did you… get here?” He stood up.

“I was the one who called Fan-ge over,” Li Zhiyue stood up as well. “Don’t be mad…”

“We were mainly a bit worried about you,” Liu Wenrui said.

Zou Yang didn’t speak, just staring at Fan Jun. Only when Fan Jun walked right up to him did he finally ask, “Have you eaten?”

“No,” Fan Jun smiled.

“I’ll add a couple more dishes, let’s eat together,” Liu Wenrui immediately said, shouting while reaching for his phone, “Waiter! Add another set of bowls and chopsticks!”

The waiter brought the tableware, and Liu Wenrui ordered two more dishes.

“Did they notify you to go tomorrow?” Fan Jun asked in a low voice after sitting down, squeezing Zou Yang’s hand under the table.

“Yeah,” Zou Yang nodded.

“That was fast, they probably had things prepared in advance,” Liu Wenrui said. “Tomorrow when you go over, if anything happens, don’t hold back. If they dare to pick a fight with you on an occasion like that, there’s no need for you to care about the bigger picture. Flare up if you need to.”

“Mm,” Zou Yang smiled.

“Fan-ge will accompany him tomorrow, right?” Li Zhiyue asked.

“Yeah, I already asked for time off before coming out,” Fan Jun said.

Because he had left in a bit of a rush, he hadn’t taken the car from He Chuan; Fan Jun had ridden his electric scooter over. Which was actually fine. Zou Yang couldn’t say he was deeply miserable, but he felt somewhat suffocated; riding on the scooter to catch the breeze made him feel a bit better.

After Liu Wenrui and the guys left, just as Zou Yang was about to get on the scooter, Fan Jun pulled a small paper box from his pocket. “Want something sweet?”

Having just finished dinner, Zou Yang actually did crave something sweet. But…

“What’s this?” He took the small box and opened it. It was actually a tiny red velvet cake.

“You quite like eating this, don’t you?” Fan Jun asked.

“Yeah,” Zou Yang was stunned. “How did you…”

“Bought it on my way over. This was the last one left, and I was in a rush to get here,” Fan Jun said, “so I didn’t buy any for them.”

Zou Yang didn’t say a word. He stared at the cake for a few seconds, then reached out, pulled Fan Jun’s face toward him, and kissed him right on the lips.

Fan Jun’s instinctive reaction was to pull back slightly. But he quickly leaned back in.

Right behind them was the restaurant’s main entrance, where a large crowd of people who had just finished eating were stepping out. The streetlamp was right next to them, casting a bright glare. At past eight o’clock, the road was packed with pedestrians and vehicles. There were many people within their field of vision, and many sounds echoing in their ears.

It was extremely public. But in this split second, Zou Yang had absolutely no other thoughts in his head besides kissing Fan Jun. In this exact second, he only wanted to smell the grassy scent on Fan Jun’s body, wanted to lick that scar on his lip, wanted to bite down on the tip of his tongue…

If Fan Jun hadn’t grabbed his hand, he might have reached out to tear open Fan Jun’s clothes in the next second.

When he broke away from Fan Jun’s lips, a gentle breeze swept past, and the slight chill on his lips pulled him back to reality.

“Let’s go.” He climbed onto the scooter, tilting his head away, too embarrassed to look back toward the restaurant entrance.

“Mm.” Fan Jun started the scooter.

After riding past one intersection, he finally leaned close to Fan Jun’s ear and whispered, “Holy shit, was I insane just now? That’s so close to No. 7 High School, what if a student saw us?”

“Tomorrow is the last day of the observation, and you’ve already taken leave,” Fan Jun said. “You might not necessarily work at No. 7 High School in the future anyway. There’s… nothing to be afraid of.”

“Saying ‘it’s fine’ here actually means it’s fine.” Zou Yang burst out laughing.

“It’s fine,” Fan Jun said.

“Why didn’t you reject me a bit?” Zou Yang asked.

“How could I reject you?” Fan Jun asked.

“Dodge away,” Zou Yang said.

Fan Jun was silent for a moment. “…I didn’t want to.”

Arriving back home, Zou Yang felt that his previously suffocated mood had improved significantly, but he still lacked energy and felt sleepy. After playing with Xiao Bai and Da Hei for a bit, he took a shower and lay down on the bed. Fan Jun didn’t head back to the shop either. After washing up, he also got into bed.

“What time tomorrow?” He turned over to pull Zou Yang into his arms, his hand lightly tracing Zou Yang’s waist.

“Ten o’clock,” Zou Yang closed his eyes.

“Then there’s plenty of time. You can sleep peacefully,” Fan Jun said.

“The moment I saw you earlier, I already felt at peace,” Zou Yang said softly. “What did Li Zhiyue say to you anyway?”

“Just said your dad… that it felt like your mood wasn’t great,” Fan Jun’s nose gently rubbed against his ear. “Told me to come pick you up, and then sent a location pin…”

“Did it scare you?” Zou Yang asked.

“Not really,” Fan Jun smiled. “You’re not the type of person to fall apart when things happen.”

“Then why did you still come over?” Zou Yang clicked his tongue.

“Wanted to see you,” Fan Jun’s hand lightly squeezed his waist.

“You have an injury on your hand,” Zou Yang felt his left hand, lightly stroking his thumb. “How did it happen?”

“Got pinched while moving goods,” Fan Jun said.

“A workplace injury, huh?” Zou Yang turned his face.

“Yeah, Boss He compensated me,” Fan Jun said.

“Fan Jun, your skills at lying to me are way too shallow, you know that?” Zou Yang rubbed his fingers.

“Then wait until I cultivate my skills a bit longer.” Fan Jun tightened his grip around his waist.

Zou Yang smiled but didn’t speak, taking hold of his hand.

“Not letting me hold you?” Fan Jun asked.

Zou Yang still didn’t make a sound, guiding Fan Jun’s hand downward and pressing it onto his lower abdomen. Fan Jun paused for two seconds, his hand gently sweeping across, his fingertips tracing over the skin as they continued downward.

“Can I…” Zou Yang’s voice was very low, wrapped in breaths that were gradually growing short and shallow, “…slack off a bit tonight?”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun murmured.

“You help me,” Zou Yang said, “and then you… handle yourself.”

“Okay.” Fan Jun braced himself up, lowering his head to seal his lips.

As his downward hand tightened its grip, he used his knee to pin down the leg Zou Yang instinctively tried to bend.