Fang Chi looked at Sun Wenqu. When Sun Wenqu said this, he still wore that same disdainful, mocking smile on his face, annoying as ever. But it was precisely because his attitude had never changed that Fang Chi felt he was telling the truth.
Sun Wenqu really hadn’t hit Fang Ying.
From the few encounters they’d had, Fang Chi felt he didn’t look like the kind of person who would casually get into a fight. If anyone had done it, Ma Liang seemed more likely.
“I… got it,” Fang Chi said in a muffled voice, then turned and went back to the kitchen.
“That’s it? Just ‘got it’? You punched and kicked me and now we just turn the page?” Sun Wenqu called out from where he lounged on the sofa.
“I didn’t kick you because of that,” Fang Chi came back out of the kitchen and looked at him. “You know very well why I kicked you. As for hitting you… if you want to hit me back, go ahead.”
“My hands hurt.” Sun Wenqu shook his hands. That part was true. He’d been rock climbing for quite a while today and had even increased the difficulty later; his hands were sore now.
“Then what do you want to do?” Fang Chi asked.
Sun Wenqu stared at him for a long time, then smiled. “Put it on hold for now. I’ll tell you when I’ve figured it out. Oh and I’m not eating stuffed bitter melon.”
“The bitter melon I make isn’t bitter.” Fang Chi frowned.
“Even if it’s not bitter, I’m not eating it. I’m not afraid of bitterness,” Sun Wenqu stretched lazily. “I just don’t like the taste of bitter melon.”
“Then what do you want to eat?” Fang Chi asked.
“Let me think.” Sun Wenqu propped a finger against his temple and pondered for quite a while. “Seitan?”
“Seitan?” Fang Chi looked at him. “The supermarket across the street doesn’t have it.”
“Supermarkets only sell dried seitan. Who eats that? It’s not good,” Sun Wenqu said.
Fang Chi was silent for a moment. “You’re not expecting me to wash and knead fresh seitan for you, are you?”
“That would be best,” Sun Wenqu replied immediately.
“What?” Fang Chi’s voice nearly cracked.
“Whoa, you scared me,” Sun Wenqu laughed. “Stuffed shiitake mushrooms with minced pork will do, right?”
Fang Chi glared at him for a long while, then headed for the door.
“Going on strike?” Sun Wenqu called after him.
“Buying mushrooms.” Fang Chi finished speaking and walked out.
Listening to his footsteps, Sun Wenqu inexplicably felt in a good mood. After flexing his wrists, he stood up and scratched Chief Huang on the head. “Come on, how about I write you a piece of calligraphy?”
Chief Huang meowed twice, jumped down, and followed him into the study with its tail held high.
“You know,” Sun Wenqu turned on the light and looked at the xuan paper on the desk, “the things I hate most are qin, chess, calligraphy, painting, and pottery. And yet these are exactly the things I’m best at, what other people see as my strengths.”
Chief Huang climbed up along his leg, then jumped onto the desk and curled up beside the brush stand.
“When I first learned these things, it wasn’t for fun,” Sun Wenqu said slowly as he ground the ink. “First, to temper my temperament. Second, to… well, just to learn them. So there was no joy in it.”
Chief Huang showed no interest in his words, only stared at the hand grinding the ink.
“Do you like them?” Sun Wenqu held his hand in front of its eyes. “Aren’t my hands pretty?”
Chief Huang reached out and hugged his hand with its paws.
“What should I write for you?” Sun Wenqu picked up the brush and slowly dipped it in ink. “You’re pretty ugly… How about ‘Chief Huang Is Super Cute’?”
Chief Huang ignored him. He lifted the brush.
The moment the tip touched the paper, he found that familiar feeling: discomfort, gloom, repression, and a faint, almost self-punishing pleasure.
When Fang Chi knocked on the door, Sun Wenqu was writing the last character and didn’t respond.
By the time he finished, Fang Chi had climbed in through the window.
Sun Wenqu set down the brush, scooped up Chief Huang. “Your Excellency, take a look. Do you like it?”
“You…” Fang Chi glanced toward the study, curious, and walked over. “You were writing?”
“Mm.” Sun Wenqu responded, set the cat down, and casually grabbed the paper, giving it a shake.
“‘Chief Huang…’ what?” Fang Chi only saw the first two characters. Before he could make out the last two, Sun Wenqu had already crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it aside. Fang Chi froze for a moment. “If you didn’t want me to see it, you could’ve just said so. Why go that far?”
“It said ‘Chief Huang Is Mighty,’” Sun Wenqu said, shoving the cat into his arms as he walked out of the study. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to see it. I just didn’t want to see it myself. Cook. I’m hungry.”
The calligraphy really was beautiful.
That was Fang Chi’s impression of the two characters “Chief Huang.” But Sun Wenqu’s strange behavior made him lose interest in the rest of the phrase. He turned and went into the kitchen.
It was hard to judge the portion size. He still hadn’t decided whether he was cooking just for Sun Wenqu or for himself as well.
Eat together with Sun Wenqu?
Tch.
The thought made him uncomfortable. Better to finish cooking and then leave with Chief Huang.
Stuffed shiitake mushrooms were easy to make. The minced pork was ready-made; mix in an egg, add some seasoning and let it marinate. He didn’t have time to soak dried mushrooms today, so he bought fresh ones, they weren’t as fragrant.
He had originally planned to make just one dish since it was only for Sun Wenqu. But considering he had inexplicably hit him earlier, let’s count it as an apology. After steaming the stuffed mushrooms, Fang Chi used the leftover ingredients to make a shredded mushroom and pork ball soup as well.
When he carried the dishes into the dining room, he heard Sun Wenqu on the phone. He couldn’t make out much of what was being said, but Sun Wenqu’s expression didn’t look good.
“I said I’m not willing! This isn’t something that can be solved just by me bowing my head!” Sun Wenqu suddenly kicked the coffee table irritably and shouted, “Why do I have to be the one to bow?”
Fang Chi hesitated, then turned back into the kitchen. It was better to avoid unpleasant phone calls like that.
After standing there blankly for a while, Sun Wenqu came in, still holding the phone, brows knitted. “If you don’t bring out the bowls and chopsticks, how are we supposed to eat?”
“I was waiting for you to finish your call.” Fang Chi took out a set of bowls and chopsticks and placed them on the table.
Sun Wenqu plopped down by the table and glanced at it. “One set?”
“I’ll go back to eat. I only made enough for one person.” As he spoke, Fang Chi went over, grabbed Chief Huang, and stuffed him into the cat carrier.
When he bent down to pick up his schoolbag from the floor, behind him Sun Wenqu suddenly swept the chopsticks and bowl off the table.
Fang Chi turned his head, glanced at the bowl split into two on the floor, then looked at Sun Wenqu. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How’s one person supposed to eat?” Sun Wenqu’s face was dark, and he gave the broken bowl a kick.
“I eat alone every day.” Fang Chi couldn’t tell if Sun Wenqu was picking a fight with him or just venting his bad mood.
“You eat with me.” Sun Wenqu frowned.
Fang Chi walked over, picked up the broken bowl and chopsticks, tossed them into the trash, then went into the kitchen. After a long search, he finally found a plastic bowl, light green with little pink flowers…
He washed the bowl, set it on the table. “I’m not used to eating here. You staring at me makes me uncomfortable too, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t you have any service spirit?” Sun Wenqu was still frowning.
“The contract doesn’t say anything about accompanying meals.” Fang Chi held back his irritation, after all, hitting Sun Wenqu the other day already left him feeling a bit guilty.
“Additions depending on the situation. I’m adding it now. Today you eat here.” Sun Wenqu’s tone grew impatient.
“Can’t you… not be like this?” Fang Chi frowned as well.
Without a word, Sun Wenqu swept the bowl to the floor again. This time it didn’t break.
Fang Chi gave him a glance, swung his schoolbag onto his back, picked up the cat carrier, opened the door, and walked out.
As the door closed, Sun Wenqu flung the chopsticks onto the floor again.
After sitting at the table for a few minutes, he let out a sigh, got up, picked up the bowl and chopsticks, washed them, and turned on the TV.
He ate while watching.
Fang Chi’s cooking was average. For a regular teenager, already quite decent, better than the auntie who used to cook at the construction site. But for someone as hard to please as Sun Wenqu, it was nothing special.
The meat wasn’t tender enough, the shiitake had too much moisture, the scallions were put in too early, the broth was a bit too salty…
Still, nitpicking aside, Sun Wenqu quickly finished all the dishes and soup. He was hungry, after all.
Fang Chi, though, was stewing inside. On the way out, even after two bowls of noodles, he couldn’t swallow down that knot of irritation.
Unhappy at school, and even after avoiding it, there was still the suddenly moody, temperamental Sun Wenqu waiting for him. And Fang Ying, the one who made him swallow his anger and face Sun Wenqu in the first place, after taking the money, hadn’t contacted him at all.
Fang Chi felt heavy all over. He didn’t want to go back home. Carrying Chief Huang, he strolled slowly along the side paths. After a while, he took out his phone and dialed.
The other end rang a few times before a man picked up. “Hello?”
“Uncle Zhang, it’s Fang Chi,” Fang Chi said. “Are you free now? I want to talk to my grandpa.”
“Free, free, wait a bit, I’ll head over to his place. Just this afternoon he was talking about you.” Uncle Zhang chuckled.
Uncle Zhang was Grandpa’s neighbor, practically watched Fang Chi grow up. The old couple never used cell phones, so every time Fang Chi called home, he had to dial Uncle Zhang’s number.
“Little Chi’s calling!” Through the receiver, Fang Chi could hear Uncle Zhang calling out as he walked. “Didn’t he just mention you this afternoon? Now here he is calling!”
“Little Chi?” Grandpa’s voice came through.
“Grandpa,” Fang Chi said, “have you eaten?”
“Yeah, finished. Your grandma cooked today,” Grandpa lowered his voice, “and ugh, it was terrible.”
Fang Chi laughed. “Then why don’t you cook?”
“She won’t let me.” Grandpa laughed too. “Your aunt came by yesterday. I said I’d cook, but your grandma insisted I don’t. Made your aunt eat to the point of tears.”
“Careful, Grandma will hear.” Fang Chi sat down on the edge of a flowerbed. “You and Grandma both in good health?”
“She’s asleep, can’t hear a thing. We’re both doing fine. Don’t worry about us, just come visit when you have time.” Grandpa said. “So you’re not guiding tours anymore?”
“Not tours, guiding,” Fang Chi corrected. “And it’s not that I’ve quit, if there are trips back to our area, I’ll definitely take them. That way I can come back and see you.”
“What’ve you been wanting to eat lately? I’ll cook something. Uncle Zhang said he’s heading into the city in a few days, I’ll have him bring it over to you. Won’t take long.”
“No need.” Fang Chi chuckled. “I want eggplant paste, how would you even bring that? I’ll just come back and eat when I can.”
“Then call ahead before you come. If you show up suddenly, no time to cook.” Grandpa laughed.
“Mm.” Fang Chi smiled.
After chatting for a while, the weight in Fang Chi’s chest finally eased. He stretched his arms, picked up the cat carrier. “Let’s go home.”
Inside the bag, Chief Huang was silent. Fang Chi sighed. He had to admit, Sun Wenqu really did have incredible cat luck.
Back home, he poured half a bowl of kibble for Chief Huang. The rascal just stared at it, unmoving, and looked up at him instead. At least it didn’t knock the bowl over, showing him some respect.
Fang Chi stared back for a while, then couldn’t resist picking up a piece and putting it in his mouth. “What’s the difference, huh? Isn’t it all cat food? Weren’t you acting all sissy before, how come now you’re not?”
Chief Huang gave the bowl a push with his paw. Fang Chi quickly held it steady, then mixed in some leftover canned food from earlier. This time Chief Huang sniffed, then finally lowered his head to eat.
Fang Chi went into the kitchen, planning to boil himself a bowl of dumplings. But when he picked up the pot, he remembered, he’d already eaten.
How come it didn’t feel like eating? He rubbed his stomach, left the kitchen, sat down at the desk by the computer. Reached for the power switch, then pulled his hand back and sat at the other desk instead.
Might as well study.
Still a pile of homework.
Around nine, his mom sent a text: How’ve you been lately?
Fang Chi replied: Pretty good. You two?
Mom texted back: We’re fine. Focus on studying.
Oh.
Fang Chi stared at the phone for a long time, and felt like everything that needed saying was already said.
Put the phone down, dazed. Somehow, with his parents, he never seemed to find anything to talk about. Not that he didn’t care, not that he wasn’t filial, but there was just nothing to say. He felt like his mom didn’t know what to say either.
With Grandpa and Grandma, he could chat forever, even say nothing and it wouldn’t feel awkward.
Maybe because, from childhood to now, the only time he’d really lived with his parents was those few years in middle school. Made him want to be close, but left him feeling awkward, estranged.
He was about to get back to homework when the phone rang again, this time, Liang Xiaotao. The moment he picked up, she blurted, “You okay?!”
“Hm?” Fang Chi froze.
“I just heard Class Six blocked you? I thought you skipped study hall ‘cause you took another gig.” Liang Xiaotao’s voice was worried.
“What job could start at night? I’m fine, I ran.” Fang Chi laughed.
“Why didn’t you fight! Xu Zhou just told me on the phone, said if you’d fought it would’ve been better. With him there, no way they could’ve won! Those jerks are so annoying!” Liang Xiaotao was indignant. “No, actually, even without Xu Zhou, you alone would’ve been enough.”
“Look how worked up you are.” Fang Chi smiled. “Next time there’s a brawl, I’ll have Xu Zhou bring you along.”
“Tch.” Liang Xiaotao clicked her tongue. “Fine. As long as you’re okay. I’ve still got a pile of papers to write.”
“Xiaotao,” Fang Chi thought for a moment, “bring me two youtiao from that old guy downstairs tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, craving his youtiao again? Fine, I’ll bring soy milk too.” Liang Xiaotao laughed.
“Mm.”
The youtiao downstairs at Liang Xiaotao’s place weren’t anything extraordinary. Youtiao, if fried well, all taste about the same. But Fang Chi often asked her to bring them.
Because the old man frying them looked just like his grandpa, talked like him, smiled like him too.
Fang Chi lay on the desk, tapping his nose with his pen again and again. He missed Grandpa and Grandma. Missed the countryside.
—
Sun Wenqu slept until afternoon. It wasn’t until Ma Liang called him from outside the door that he finally got up, feeling so hungry he thought he might puke.
“You…” Ma Liang pointed at him. “Tomorrow. Come to my place.”
“What for?” Sun Wenqu tugged at his pajama pants, still half-dazed.
“Work!” Ma Liang raised his voice, then smacked him hard a few times. “Look at yourself. Look. You’re a d*mn mess!”
“Such a handsome mess…” Sun Wenqu chuckled, walking toward the bathroom.
“Shut up!” Ma Liang barked again.
Only then did Sun Wenqu realize Ma Liang was angry.
“What’s with you?” He turned to look at him.
Ma Liang said nothing, just glared.
Feeling a bit uneasy under the stare, Sun Wenqu turned back into the bathroom.
After showering, he came out to find Ma Liang still glaring, only now from the sofa.
They stared at each other until Ma Liang lit a cigarette and clenched it between his teeth, still not looking away.
“I,” Sun Wenqu pointed to himself, enunciating each word, “don’t. Make. Pottery.”
“Then do… do something else.” Ma Liang said. “Don’t do pottery, do cattle, do horses, do… do anything. You’ve gotta do… do something.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Sun Wenqu crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“Think, thought about it for thirty d*mn years,” Ma Liang jabbed a finger at him. “Before you die, if you can at least figure out what kind of coffin you want, I’ll admit you’ve got talent.”
“You came here just to tell me this?” Sun Wenqu chuckled.
“I was just passing by. Wanted to have a meal with you.” Ma Liang sighed helplessly.
“Sure. But let’s not go out,” Sun Wenqu picked up his phone, checked the time. “Later, when school’s out, I’ll have Fang Chi come cook. We’ll eat here.”
“Fang Chi?” Ma Liang looked surprised.
“Yeah, that kid of mine,” Sun Wenqu said. “Borrowed a hundred thousand from me, signed a sell-yourself contract.”
“Like Xi’er and Huang Shiren?” Ma Liang was still stunned.
“What kind of comparison is that!” Sun Wenqu laughed. “He just cooks, cleans. I’m doing heaven’s work, eradicating evil, educating the budding flowers of our motherland.”
“Give it a rest.” Ma Liang shook his head. “You’ve lost it. You’ve got your eye on him.”
“No!” Sun Wenqu jumped, laughing as he said, “Really, no. That kid’s too much, doesn’t even know how to smile. Every time I see him, I feel like I must’ve committed some grave sin against him.”
“Probably slips you laxatives when he cooks.” Ma Liang muttered.
“Not that bad. But his cooking isn’t great either.” Sun Wenqu leaned against him. “Main thing is, I don’t feel like going out today. Let’s just drink and talk at home tonight.”
At school, Fang Chi and Xu Zhou stood at the gate, facing Class Six. Unlike yesterday’s ambush, this time they stood face to face, and Fang Chi wasn’t alone. Nobody dared come over.
His phone kept ringing. This was already the third call from Sun Wenqu, and he still hadn’t picked up.
“For god’s sake, if you’re not gonna answer, at least turn it off,” Xu Zhou groaned. “It’s driving me nuts.”
“Let’s go.” Fang Chi shoved the phone in his pocket. “Give me a ride today. Liang Xiaotao’s not going home.”
“Didn’t you say you measure the world by walking?” Xu Zhou laughed, patting the back seat of his e-bike. “Hop on.”
By the sixth call, Fang Chi finally answered.
“Why didn’t you pick up?” Sun Wenqu’s voice was annoyed.
“You need something?” Fang Chi asked.
“Hey? You on strike or something?”
“Mm.” Fang Chi gave a short reply.
“No way. I only broke a bowl. Didn’t break you, didn’t break your bowl. You serious?” Sun Wenqu couldn’t believe it.
“Serious.” Fang Chi huddled behind Xu Zhou, shielding himself from the wind, and said quietly, “About hitting you, I’m formally apologizing. What I mean is… if you’re still not satisfied, go ahead and beat me up. But don’t…”
“…I’ve got a guest today, come help me cook,” Sun Wenqu thought for a moment. “I drew a picture of you and Chief Huang.”
“A picture?” Fang Chi was a little surprised. Sun Wenqu’s calligraphy was good, but he could also paint?
Ink painting?
Ink painting of Chief Huang and his poop-scooping underling?
“You want it or not? If you do, come get it.” Sun Wenqu said.
“I want to add a clause to that contract,” Fang Chi said. “You agree, I’ll come. You don’t agree, forget it.”
“What, if I don’t agree you won’t work anymore?” Sun Wenqu’s tone turned sour. “Pretty bold of you.”
“Not bold,” Fang Chi said firmly. “Either agree, or whatever you want. Hit me, curse me, mess with me however you want, I’ll take it.”
On the other end, Sun Wenqu fell silent. After a while he said, “What do you want to add? Let’s hear it.”
“Those ‘case by case’ additions of yours, you have to discuss with me. You can’t just improvise whenever. I’m not playing house with you,” Fang Chi frowned.
“That’s it?” Sun Wenqu chuckled. “Fine, fine, no problem.”
“You said it.” Fang Chi double-checked, Sun Wenqu’s hot-cold, fast-slow, flickering nature always left him uneasy.
“I said it, it counts,” Sun Wenqu replied. “Now come over, see your cat and yourself.”
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