FQ chapter 12

The charcoal in the fire pit burned steadily. Luan Ye sat on a low stool, imitating the others and warming his hands over it.

His pants and shoes gradually dried from the dampness, and he felt toasty all over—very comfortable.

Earlier, the restaurant owner had tossed a few potatoes into the fire. By now, they should be cooked. Across from him, Fan Qing used metal tongs to stir the coals, then pushed the potatoes to the side. Once they’d cooled a little, he picked one up, brushed off the ash, and handed it to Luan Ye.

Luan Ye took it, slowly peeled off the skin, dipped it in a small plate of dried chili powder beside the fire pit. It smelled great.

This was from a small restaurant near the ranch. The place was small, with four or five square tables, kept quite clean. The owner probably knew Fan Qing; upon seeing Fan Qing enter, he spoke briefly with him. Seeing them soaked through, he hurried to prepare the fire pit.

The mushrooms they picked had already been taken to the kitchen. After washing them, the owner peeked out and said the mix was too varied—he was worried about uneven cooking. He asked if they wanted to just kill a chicken and make hot pot.

Fan Qing looked at Luan Ye. Luan Ye nodded: “Sure.”

“How much?” Fan Qing asked for him.

“You brought them in, so including prep, 60 yuan per jin (half kilo),” the owner said loudly. “All free-range, mountain chicken. Not like those city ones.”

Fan Qing looked at Luan Ye again. Luan Ye nodded.

“Not too big,” Fan Qing added. “We won’t finish it.”

“Got it,” the owner replied cheerfully. “You want a few veggie dishes for the hot pot too?”

“You decide,” Luan Ye said. “Just make sure they’re fresh.”

“Four or five will do,” Fan Qing added.

After the owner went to the kitchen, Luan Ye laughed.

“You’re pretty thrifty.”

“You—” Fan Qing didn’t smile. “You come on a trip and don’t ask about anything.”

“Yeah.” Luan Ye finished the last bite of potato and clapped his hands. “Easy to get ripped off?”

“Very,” Fan Qing said, handing him a few tissues. “Do you know why that family we came with didn’t eat with us?”

Before they came to the restaurant, Fan Qing had asked the family of three if they wanted to join. They discussed among themselves and politely declined, saying their kid had a sensitive stomach and couldn’t eat mushrooms. They’d find food on their own.

“They were worried the mushrooms we picked were poisonous,” Luan Ye smiled. “It’s fine they didn’t join. They’ve got a kid—if something happened, it’d be trouble.”

“That’s half the reason. The other half was they worried the guide would overcharge.”

Fan Qing stirred the coals. “Some guides strike deals with restaurant owners—bring in tourists, then get kickbacks from the meal cost.”

He looked up to observe Luan Ye’s reaction.

“Oh,” Luan Ye looked like he understood, not surprised at all. He looked at Fan Qing: “So did you get a kickback for this meal?”

The question was so blunt that Fan Qing frowned and was about to reply when Luan Ye interrupted:

“I know you didn’t. But next time, make sure you do,” Luan Ye said. “Then split it with me.”

“…I’ve never done that,” Fan Qing was dumbfounded by the first half, but amused by the second.

“Are you this bored?”

Luan Ye wiped his hands and threw the tissues in the trash: “Kind of.”

Fan Qing glanced at him but said nothing more.

After confirming the mushrooms were fully cooked, the hot pot was brought out. A copper pot heated by charcoal beneath, the aroma rich and fragrant. Chicken and mushrooms simmered together in the bubbling broth.

Luan Ye drank two bowls of soup right away, warming him inside and out, then picked up some mushrooms.

All were thinly sliced and boiled in the broth. Luan Ye couldn’t tell which were which anymore. He tasted two slices; they had soaked up the soup, and the flavor was incredibly fresh—unlike anything he’d had before.

Maybe the mushrooms tasted better because he picked them himself.

The chicken the owner chose was just right—barely anything left between them. They ate for an hour, and by the end, Luan Ye felt a little stuffed.

Fan Qing had put his chopsticks down early. When he saw that Luan Ye was done, he asked, “So?”

Luan Ye thought he meant the hot pot. “Pretty good.”

“Would you call it meaningful?” Fan Qing asked.

Luan Ye was momentarily stunned, surprised. “Huh?”

“You worried you wouldn’t find mushrooms, or that you wouldn’t know how to cook them, or that they wouldn’t be edible… But none of that happened. You found them, you ate them, and you’re full—does that count as something meaningful?”

Luan Ye realized Fan Qing was referring to what he’d said earlier when he wanted to go back.

Fan Qing had said quite a bit, but his face remained emotionless, like it was just a casual remark, nothing serious.

“That counts as meaningful…? That’s too easy,” Luan Ye laughed.

“Not everything meaningful has to be like winning the lottery.”

Fan Qing stood up and checked his phone.

“At least, when you were heading up the mountain, you didn’t look very happy. But now you seem to be in a good mood. That’s meaningful too.”

He didn’t look at Luan Ye, and his tone was calm. “Let’s go. Time to head back.”

……

On the way back, Luan Ye was very quiet.

The kid in the backseat was noisy, crying the whole way. Even Fan Qing was getting fed up and turned to glance at Luan Ye in the passenger seat. He had his eyes closed, clearly not asleep, but lost in thought.

Mountain roads were bumpy at night, but Luan Ye didn’t open his eyes.

Fan Qing wondered if the things he’d said during dinner had crossed a line and upset him.

He sighed quietly. He had been a bit too talkative—normally, unless necessary or directly addressed, he didn’t engage much with tourists.

But for some reason, after a few interactions, he found Luan Ye to be… lonely, bored, and just sort of worn out.

And the conversation they had on the snowy mountain, plus that scar on Luan Ye’s hand, kept resurfacing in Fan Qing’s mind.

So when Luan Ye was clearly happy today, Fan Qing also felt… inexplicably relieved.

After dropping the family at their hotel, Fan Qing drove Luan Ye back.

As he got out of the car, Fan Qing finally spoke: “You should take a hot bath when you get back.”

Luan Ye paused while closing the door. Through the half-open window, he looked inside.

“You got rained on today,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye understood. “Got it.”

“I’ll transfer you half of the meal cost when I get back.”

“No need,” Luan Ye shut the door. “Consider it my treat.”

“You’re already paying every month—”

“Because I was happy today,” Luan Ye said, cutting him off.

Fan Qing’s words trailed off as he sat in the car, locking eyes with Luan Ye.

The sky was completely dark, and the car’s headlights were bright and harsh.

Luan Ye smiled at him. “Really, I treated you to dinner today because I was happy. It’s not a common thing. Just cherish it.”

He waved and turned around. “I’m going in.”

When he got back to his room, Luan Ye sat on the sofa for a few minutes.

There was still a faint smell of hotpot clinging to him. He used to hate when his clothes smelled like food, but tonight he found it comforting.

Instinctively, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, but his fingers first touched the leaves and the round berries.

He paused, realizing only then that he was still wearing Fan Qing’s jacket. He took the items out and laid them on the coffee table. The leaves were a bit wilted, but the berries were still fresh — a rich purplish-red, glowing under the light.

He grabbed a few and tossed them into his mouth one by one.

Using mushrooms he found himself to make hotpot — did that count as meaningful?

Sure, Fan Qing said it did.

Then picking wild raspberries and bringing them home — that counted too.

He’d spent the entire day out without taking a single photo, but he’d been in a good mood.

That counts too. It’s meaningful.

Luan Ye no longer felt like smoking. He stood up and stretched lazily. Planning to take a bath, eat the rest of the raspberries afterward, and then go to bed.

On the way to the bathroom, a thought crossed his mind. He pulled out his phone and sent Fan Qing a message.

Luan Ye: [I still have your jacket.]

He didn’t wait for a reply and went to take his bath. When he came back, the phone he’d left on the coffee table had a response.

Fan Qing: [If you go out in the next few days, just drop it off at the café.]

Fan Qing: [If you’re not going out, never mind. I’ll get it from you next time.]

Luan Ye smiled and replied with a simple: [Okay.]

Fan Qing was pretty considerate. Luan Ye didn’t really go out much when he had no plans — but returning the jacket could be a reason to go out.

The next day, he first tossed the jacket in the washing machine downstairs, then hung it out in the yard for a day. By the afternoon of the third day, it was completely dry. He packed it in a bag, took it out, and walked over to Laifu Café.

Laifu was lying at the door. It looked like it had lost some weight — probably hadn’t seen him in a while. As soon as it saw him, it wagged its tail wildly. Luan Ye bent down to pet it a few times.

The café owner — the “Li Ge” Fan Qing had mentioned — had just finished serving a customer and turned to see Luan Ye walk in.

“Oh, it’s you,” Li Ge smiled. “Out for a stroll?”

“Yeah.” Laifu kept sniffing the bag in Luan Ye’s hand, and he had to lift it a bit higher.

“Just returning a jacket.”

Li Ge gave a confused “Hm?” — probably not remembering when he had lent out a jacket.

“Fan Qing’s. Borrowed it a few days ago when we went into the mountains. He said I could leave it with you.”

“Ohhh.” Realization dawned. “Sure, just leave it here. I’ll bring it to him tonight.”

“He—” Laifu started jumping up on his thigh again, and Luan Ye sidestepped to avoid it. “He went up the mountain again?”

“No, no customers today. He caught a cold and took the day off.”

Laifu tried pouncing on him again, and this time Luan Ye didn’t move away.

“A cold?”

“Yeah,” Li Ge said.

Luan Ye nodded. “Oh.”

Caught a cold just from a bit of rain in the mountains — wasn’t that kind of a weak constitution?

Well, duh. Why did he get sick? Because the jacket was on you the whole time.

“Is it serious?” Luan Ye asked.

Li Ge waved a hand and answered while tidying the counter, “Just a minor cold. He’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. Just leave the jacket over there.”

Luan Ye nodded but didn’t move.

When Laifu pounced on him again, trying to play, Luan Ye finally spoke up.

“Um… where does he live?”

Li Ge turned around from the cupboard and saw Luan Ye smile. “I’m free anyway, so I might as well take it to him.”