The Daily Life of a Depressed Salted Fish Chapter 102

Jiang Wu picked up a small steamed bun from the side and took a gentle bite.

No matter what Yin Wuzhi did, he always managed to do it perfectly—even grilling buns turned out with a crispy exterior and a soft, tender interior.

But it was a bit sharp on the mouth.

“The outside is too hard.”

“That’s called crispy,” Yin Wuzhi corrected as he took the bun, peeled off the outer crust for him, and handed it back. “You still haven’t told me who this ‘Empress’ is.”

Jiang Wu waited until the peeled custard bun was handed back to him. Only then did he start eating and ask, “Have you ever heard of past lives?”

“Why?”

The custard was sweet, pairing perfectly with the soft bun interior. Jiang Wu ate slowly, his expression content. “In my past life, I was an emperor. I had an exceptional empress—smart, diligent, and skilled in strategy. Not only did they manage my daily life, but they also took care of state affairs.”

A hint of nostalgia appeared in his eyes as he continued, “It was they who taught me the scent of osmanthus, showed me how snow crunches underfoot, and made me understand why I exist and why life is worth living. And then—”

“The chicken’s done,” Yin Wuzhi interrupted him.

Jiang Wu closed his mouth. Yin Wuzhi handed him a skewer of sizzling, juicy chicken, and Jiang Wu accepted it. Then Yin Wuzhi asked, “Is this all part of your roleplay character in those online groups? Do your parents know?”

Jiang Wu: “.”

Yin Wuzhi couldn’t help but laugh and added, “Stop messing around with that stuff. Those fictional ships are all fake.”

“I’m serious. I really was an emperor.”

“Oh yeah? Which emperor from history?”

“From the Xia dynasty.”

Yin Wuzhi thought back to a history class and hesitated. “That one?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not about to tell me I’m Yin Wuzhi from history and you’re Jiang Wu, are you?”

“Exactly.”

Yin Wuzhi looked at him with a complicated expression and said, “Just eat your food.”

Jiang Wu knew Yin Wuzhi didn’t believe him. Feeling deflated, he bit into the grilled chicken. The chicken was incredibly well-cooked—juicy and tender with a lingering aroma—but it didn’t soothe his bruised feelings.

His ex boyfriend remembered nothing, while he remembered everything vividly.

He hadn’t felt much about it before, but as life grew more stressful, Jiang Wu missed his devoted Empress Yin more and more.

But the current Yin Wuzhi wasn’t his Empress Yin.

“I’ll grill some spicy enoki mushrooms for you,” Yin Wuzhi said.

Jiang Wu didn’t respond, his expression looking a little forlorn. Yin Wuzhi brushed chili sauce over the mushrooms while glancing at him. “Have you found your Empress in this life?”

Jiang Wu looked at him, aggrieved. “I have.”

“…you, did you work so hard to get into a top school because of them?”

“Yeah.”

Yin Wuzhi pressed his lips together. “No wonder you suddenly started trying so hard—it was all for them, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Yin Wuzhi added more chili to the mushrooms until they were coated in red sauce. “Have I met them?”

“You have.”

“Why don’t I remember them at all?”

Jiang Wu said sadly, “Because my Empress doesn’t remember anything.”

Yin Wuzhi set the enoki mushrooms aside and started grilling something else. “Then it seems like they don’t care for you as much as you do for them. Maybe you should just forget about them.”

He glanced at Jiang Wu, who looked more and more dejected. The lazy egg muttered, “They said they’d always love me no matter how I turned out.”

Yin Wuzhi snorted. “That’s not guaranteed. Look at you now—too lazy to even peel a steamed bun. If I were them, I wouldn’t bother taking care of you either.”

Jiang Wu stared at him.

Yin Wuzhi’s eyes darted around, and he asked, “What do they look like?”

“Good-looking.”

“I mean, any distinguishing features?” Yin Wuzhi said. “Tell me about them. Maybe I can help you win them back.”

“I’m not sure if I should try to make them like me again,” Jiang Wu said hesitantly. “They’ve lost their memories, so even though I know they’re still them, they don’t. Wouldn’t loving them for their past self be disrespectful to who they are now?”

Yin Wuzhi replied without hesitation, “You’re absolutely right.”

Jiang Wu: “?”

“A person is shaped by their memories. Your Empress doesn’t exist anymore. Even if you’re still reminiscing about them, you have to accept that they’re gone and have become someone new. If you pursue them now and they don’t like you, fine. But if they do fall for you, your love won’t be pure. You’d only be approaching them because you know they were your Empress, not because you truly like who they are now.”

Jiang Wu was so upset he couldn’t finish his bun.

“Then what should I do?”

“You,” Yin Wuzhi said, “should try to forget them and move on to your next relationship.”

He paused, realizing how ridiculous he sounded for believing Jiang Wu’s story. 

“Next relationship.”

“With someone else?”

“Yeah,” Yin Wuzhi said. “Look around. Maybe there’s someone who likes you. At our age, it’s normal to start feeling things. You might find a new love and new happiness.”

Tears welled up in Jiang Wu’s clear eyes.

Yin Wuzhi sighed. “Alright, don’t cry. Eat the enoki mushrooms.”

Jiang Wu picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of the spicy enoki. “But they’re really great. Even if they don’t remember me, they’re still so good to me.”

“Maybe they’re just good to everyone?” Yin Wuzhi suggested.

Jiang Wu thought about it and shook his head. “No, they’re only good to me.”

“If they’re so good to you, why did they make you work so hard? Why didn’t they just agree to attend regular high school with you?” Yin Wuzhi said. “I don’t know how you came to learn about your past life, but you need to understand—your view of them is clearly filtered by those past memories.”

“I never asked them to go to regular high school with me.”

“You shouldn’t have to ask. If they really liked you, they would’ve chosen to be with you on their own.”

If anyone else had said something like that, Jiang Wu would have found it ridiculous. But if it were Empress Yin, it wasn’t impossible for them to go to such lengths for him. He still couldn’t let go. “I don’t want to find someone else. I just want to find them.”

Yin Wuzhi frowned. “Stop thinking about it and eat.”

Jiang Wu could handle spicy food, but enoki mushrooms were hard to chew. After eating only two, he switched to the tender chicken instead.

The salty sea breeze blew over as Jiang Wu silently ate, occasionally lifting his gaze to the stars in the sky.

Yin Wuzhi flipped skewers on the grill while watching him.

After a while, he asked again, “What’s their name?”

Jiang Wu thought of Yin Wuzhi’s earlier words and said, “You’re right. I shouldn’t disrupt their life.”

“Just tell me secretly. I won’t bother them.”

Jiang Wu took small bites of the grilled food but didn’t answer him.

After they finished eating, Yin Wuzhi carried him on his back as they headed home. Jiang Wu rested his chin on Yin Wuzhi’s shoulder, his fingers dangling lazily as if casting a net—though it came up empty.

When they got home, the adults hadn’t returned yet. Yin Wuzhi set him down and said, “You’ve got sand all over. Take a shower before getting in bed. I’ll find you some clothes.”

Jiang Wu nodded.

See? How could he give up on his Empress Yin? Even though they no longer remembered him, they were still good to him, even if they fell a little short compared to the Empress of his past.

Jiang Wu went to shower. He liked sitting or squatting while washing because standing was too tiring. Shampooing? Rest. Body wash? Rest. It took him at least an hour to finish a shower unless someone helped.

Yin Wuzhi knocked on the door and entered. “Need help?”

“Head.”

To avoid getting his clothes wet, Yin Wuzhi took off his shirt, walked over, and started washing Jiang Wu’s hair. Foam from the shampoo quickly covered his head.

Yin Wuzhi said, “Your Empress couldn’t have pampered you like this.”

“They could do everything.”

“Even wash your hair?”

“Even bathe me.”

Expressionless, Yin Wuzhi grabbed the showerhead and rinsed Jiang Wu’s head clean. Just then, a voice called from outside—it was Father Yin. “Yin Wuzhi!”

Yin Wuzhi turned off the water and responded.

Father Yin said, “Come out. I need to talk to you.”

Yin Wuzhi handed the showerhead to Jiang Wu, quickly dried himself off, put his shirt back on, and headed out. Before closing the door, he said, “I’ll call Uncle Jiang up to help you.”

Uncle Jiang soon came upstairs to take over. Jiang Wu let him help, but Uncle Jiang suddenly asked, “Did Ah Zhi tell you about his exams?”

“No.”

After his shower, Jiang Wu changed into fresh clothes and went downstairs, a towel draped over his head. He sat silently on the stairs, his gaze fixed on the room where Yin Wuzhi’s parents were talking.

He recalled his father’s earlier words. “Ah Zhi didn’t do well on his exams.”

“The teacher had high hopes for him and didn’t expect him to underperform at such a crucial moment.”

“When the scores came out, everyone thought he’d done well. If the class teacher hadn’t called, we’d still be in the dark.” His father sighed. “Just three points short. How could he be so careless at such a critical time?”

Someone sat beside Jiang Wu and took the towel from his head to help dry his hair. It was his mother.

“Did he tell you about it?” she asked.

“No.”

“That boy keeps everything bottled up. No wonder he wasn’t happy when he saw how well you scored that day.”

Jiang Wu didn’t respond.

He thought of what Yin Wuzhi had said earlier.

“If they really liked you, they would’ve chosen to be with you.”

Yin Wuzhi had, in his own way, chosen to stay with him.

Even if he remembered nothing, he was still doing everything he could for Jiang Wu in true Yin Wuzhi fashion.

When Yin Wuzhi came out, Mother Jiang had left. Jiang Wu was curled up by the staircase railing, fast asleep. The towel draped over his neck partially covered his head, highlighting his fair face.

Yin Wuzhi crouched down to look at him, then gave him a gentle nudge. Jiang Wu opened his eyes, saw the red mole at the corner of Yin Wuzhi’s eye, and reached out, grabbing at the air near his chest.

Jiang Wu’s hand came up empty, but for a moment, Yin Wuzhi felt as if someone had yanked his hair.

He blinked in confusion. “What are you doing sitting here?”

“Yin Wuzhi.”

“Mm?” Yin Wuzhi said. “Come, upstairs.”

Jiang Wu let Yin Wuzhi pull him up and asked, “Did your parents scold you—ow!”

Yin Wuzhi: “What now?”

“Foot numb.”

“Who told you to sleep here?”

“It’s numb, ow, Yin Wuzhi! Numb, numb—Yin Wuzhi….”

“Alright, alright!” Annoyed by Jiang Wu’s dramatic cries, Yin Wuzhi quickly sat him back down and massaged his leg. “There, better now?”

As the pins and needles sensation faded, Jiang Wu said, “It’s fine now.”

The sudden calmness of his tone, compared to his earlier yelling, was like the static of a radio suddenly tuning into a clear station.

Yin Wuzhi pulled him to his feet. Jiang Wu said, “Carry.”

“You wish. Walk on your own,” Yin Wuzhi replied.

Jiang Wu: “.”

A minute later, Yin Wuzhi was carrying him on his back.

“Troublemaker.”

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