The chatter grew louder as the group approached. Yu Feng sat up and asked Xie An’yu, “I’m going to buy drinks. What do you want?”
“The coconut water here is pretty good.”
Yu Feng hummed in acknowledgment. “Got it.”
“Where are you going to buy drinks?” Zhou Yi asked, looking at him.
“There’s a pavilion over there.”
Yu Feng strode off with his long legs, heading to buy drinks—and also to escape the noise.
The group that came with Ding Xiaofei were mostly Xie An’yu’s former high school classmates. Among them, there was only one person Xie An’yu could name: a guy with a buzz cut named Gao Jun. The reason Xie An’yu remembered him was because this guy used to pick on him in school.
However, they had never had a full-blown confrontation. Xie An’yu had always ignored those who liked to talk big and stir trouble. As long as he paid them no mind, they couldn’t really cause any waves.
Gao Jun was a sports student, his skin tanned dark. Even after more than a year, he still wore a sour expression when he saw Xie An’yu.
Zhang Xiao greeted Xie An’yu with a smile. “Long time no see.”
It wasn’t until Xie An’yu saw Zhang Xiao in person that he matched her name to her face. They weren’t close, so he just gave a slight nod out of politeness. “Long time no see.”
Gao Jun stood behind her, smirking. “I thought you’d never come back. Must be nice living in the big city, huh?”
Xie An’yu glanced at him but didn’t respond.
Ding Xiaofei leaned in and whispered to Xie An’yu, “I didn’t invite them, by the way. I ran into them on the way here. Zhang Xiao guessed I was coming to see you, so she tagged along.”
“Ding Xiaofei, what are you whispering about?” Zhang Xiao said.
“Nothing.”
Zhang Xiao had her arm linked with a girl whom Xie An’yu also recognized—another classmate—but he couldn’t recall her name.
The girl looked at Xie An’yu shyly, biting her lip, too embarrassed to speak.
Zhang Xiao shot her a meaningful glance, but the girl was too flustered to take the initiative and talk to Xie An’yu.
Frustrated but determined to help her friend, Zhang Xiao stepped in as the wingwoman. “Why aren’t you guys playing? Just standing here baking in the sun? Let’s play beach volleyball.” She turned and asked the group, “What do you say, want to play?”
“Sure!”
“I don’t know how.”
“Just mess around, it’s for fun.”
“I’ll be the referee!”
“If you know how to play, speak up. I’ll go rent a ball.”
Zhou Yi chuckled. “You can play beach volleyball here?”
Hearing this, Zhang Xiao turned to the ‘adults’ behind Xie An’yu and invited them warmly, “Are you Xie An’yu’s friends? Want to join us?”
“No thanks, I don’t have that skill, so I won’t make a fool of myself.” Zhou Yi was curious. “But there’s no net here. How are you going to play?”
Zhang Xiao pointed to the north. “The net is over there.”
There weren’t many who knew how to play volleyball to begin with, let alone beach volleyball. After much effort, they only managed to gather five people—all amateurs. The only one who actually knew how to play was Gao Jun.
Zhang Xiao hugged the ball. “We’re short on people. We need at least three more.”
Gao Jun said, “Four is enough for beach volleyball. We don’t need that many.”
“The more people, the more fun. What’s the point of playing with just four?” Zhang Xiao glanced at Liu Xiaoyun, the girl she had been holding onto earlier. “Xiaoyun, you should join too.”
“I don’t know how…”
“You know how to play volleyball, don’t you? Beach volleyball is pretty much the same. Besides, it’s not a competition—just play however you want.”
Liu Xiaoyun gave an ‘Oh’ and said, “Alright then.”
“We’re still short two people.” Zhang Xiao’s gaze locked onto Xie An’yu. From the very beginning, her plan was to use this volleyball game to create an opportunity for Liu Xiaoyun and Xie An’yu to interact. She couldn’t leave Xie An’yu out. “Xie An’yu, what about you?”
“I don’t know how to play.”
Gao Jun sneered mockingly. “Who are you kidding? Weren’t you supposedly good at every sport? Our homeroom teacher always favored you, forcing you to participate in every sports meet.”
One of the main reasons Gao Jun disliked Xie An’yu was because Xie An’yu always stole his thunder during sports meets. His looks alone already gave him a popularity buff, and sports happened to be his strong suit—he never failed to place in any event he participated in, and every win was met with cheers from all the girls.
At this age, boys cared deeply about such things. If someone else hogged all the glory, what was left for him?
Moreover, Gao Jun had always been interested in Liu Xiaoyun, but it was obvious to everyone that Liu Xiaoyun liked Xie An’yu. With all these factors combined, it would have been strange if Gao Jun had actually liked Xie An’yu.
“Participation is what matters,” Zhang Xiao said. “If you don’t play, who else is going to? Look, even Ding Xiaofei is joining. Just play for fun.”
These people had come with Ding Xiaofei, so Xie An’yu couldn’t disregard his friend’s reputation. After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “Alright.”
Zhang Xiao turned and secretly flashed a victory sign at Liu Xiaoyun before calmly saying, “We still need one more person. You all can split into teams first—freely choose. I’m teaming up with Gao Jun.”
“I’m with Xie An’yu,” Ding Xiaofei said.
“What about you two?” Zhang Xiao looked at the other two boys.
They were both Gao Jun’s buddies, so naturally, they sided with him. Gao Jun’s team was already full, leaving Liu Xiaoyun no choice but to be automatically assigned to Xie An’yu’s team.
Gao Jun wasn’t happy with the arrangement—he wanted to be on Liu Xiaoyun’s team.
“Xiaoyun, aren’t you joining us?”
“Your team is already full.”
“That’s fine. If you want to be on my team, just swap with one of them.”
Liu Xiaoyun was thrilled to be on Xie An’yu’s team, so she just gave a dry laugh and shook her head. “No need.”
Zhang Xiao raised her hand. “Shouldn’t we decide in advance what the winners get and what the losers have to do?”
“Wasn’t this just for fun? Why do the losers need a punishment?” Ding Xiaofei asked.
“Without rewards and punishments, it’d be boring.”
Gao Jun raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you suggest? What’s the punishment, and what’s the reward?”
“The losing team has to buy the winners popsicle[mfn]冰棍 (bīng gùn): popsicle; ice lolly; iceblock. An ice pop is a liquid/cream-based frozen dessert on a stick. Unlike ice cream or sorbet, which are whipped while freezing to prevent ice crystal formation, an ice pop is frozen while at rest, becoming a solid block of ice with an icy texture. It is a fusion of flavored liquid, like juice or a sweetened water-based liquid. The stick is used as a handle to hold it. Without a stick, the frozen product would be a freezie.
[/mfn].”
“That’s it?”
“Besides buying popsicles, they also have to spin in place five times with their eyes closed, then ask the first person they see when they open their eyes for their WeChat ID.”
Gao Jun laughed. “Are we playing Truth or Dare now? How lame.”
“Then you come up with something. Go on, you do it.”
Gao Jun cup one fist in the other hand[mfn]抱拳 (bào quán): to cup one fist in the other hand (as a sign of respect); to salute or congratulate with the hands folded. A traditional Chinese etiquette form, commonly seen in martial arts circles and daily social scenes. The main action is to make a fist with the right hand, cover the left palm on the right fist and close it in front of the chest. It is used for greeting, congratulations or farewell. More information: Link 1, Link 2.
[/mfn]. “I wouldn’t dare. You go ahead.”
Xie An’yu’s attention had been fixed on Yu Feng in the distance the whole time. Only when Yu Feng turned around holding three drinks did he finally look away.
Yu Feng bought three coconut waters, carrying them in his hand, and gave one to each of them.
“Thanks for the trouble,” Zhou Yi said as he took the coconut water. “Why only three? Did you drink yours already?”
Yu Feng hummed in confirmation.
“No wonder you took so long. You drank yours before coming back, didn’t you?”
“One more needed. Anyone else want to play?” Gao Jun called out.
As soon as he finished speaking, Zhou Yi grabbed Yu Feng’s hand and raised it. “Here’s one. He wants in.”
Xie An’yu was stunned.
Yu Feng turned to glare at Zhou Yi, his eyes practically shooting flames. Zhou Yi leaned in and whispered, “There’s a penalty if you lose—like a game of Truth or Dare. I doubt you’d want to see your family’s little friend hugging a stranger, right? Besides you, there’s no one else here who knows how to play.”
Yu Feng frowned.
Hugging a stranger?
Zhou Yi continued to lie without batting an eye. “If you don’t step in, Xie An’yu’s team is definitely losing. The other team has someone who actually knows how to play beach volleyball.”
Yu Feng’s face darkened, but he agreed in a low voice. “Fine.”
As the group moved to the beach volleyball court, Shi Wuyang walked beside Zhou Yi and asked, “What did you say to Yu Feng just now? He agreed so quickly.”
“I told him there’s a penalty if they lose, so he should help Xie An’yu out.”
Shi Wuyang narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”
Zhou Yi smiled. “It was a little more complicated than that.”
Yu Feng wasn’t an idiot. After agreeing, he immediately turned to Xie An’yu and asked, “What’s the penalty if we lose?”
After hearing Xie An’yu’s answer, Yu Feng let out a dry laugh.
He knew it.
But it didn’t matter. In that situation, even if Zhou Yi hadn’t said that, he wouldn’t have refused. Xie An’yu’s team was short on players, and it was a fact that there was a penalty for losing. With so many people around, he didn’t want to ruin the mood—and he absolutely had to support Xie An’yu.
Before the match started, Xie An’yu’s team huddled up. None of them had played beach volleyball before, so they just did their best to mimic the rules of traditional volleyball, discussing where everyone would stand.
Liu Xiaoyun was a little nervous. “I don’t know how to play. What should I do…?”
Xie An’yu said, “Just play however you want. Just be careful not to get hurt.”
Liu Xiaoyun turned to look at him.
Xie An’yu never expected to win—it was just for fun. Ding Xiaofei was in high spirits, grinning broadly. It had been a while since the two of them had played together like this.
Xie An’yu and Yu Feng both had volleyball experience, and their height gave them an advantage. Handling Gao Jun wasn’t too difficult for them.
Xie An’yu didn’t care about the score. He was completely immersed in the game and even got a little excited halfway through. He leaped up and spiked the ball hard, his stylish form earning cheers from the onlookers.
In truth, their chances of winning weren’t great—they were behind in points—since Gao Jun actually knew how to play beach volleyball. The cheers from the crowd only irritated Gao Jun further. Xie An’yu and the bespectacled guy were surprisingly skilled; otherwise, he wouldn’t be having such a difficult time.
He’d wanted to abuse the weak[mfn]虐菜 (nüè cài): lit. abuse food; bullying; abusing the weak. Internet buzzwords, referring to the behavior of high-level players in video games or competitive sports who use their technical or level advantages to easily defeat low-level opponents.[/mfn], but it wasn’t happening.
What was the point of leading in points when Xie An’yu was still getting all the cheers?
Liu Xiaoyun had been running all over the court for almost half the game. As the team’s receiver, her stamina and speed weren’t quite up to par, and she had already fallen multiple times. When she saw the ball coming, her reflexes kicked in—she lunged forward, landing prone on the ground and sliding several feet across the scorching hot sand.
She missed the ball, but Yu Feng saved it. Liu Xiaoyun’s fall distracted Gao Jun, who failed to return the shot, giving Yu Feng the point.
“Nice one!!!” Ding Xiaofei leaped up in excitement.
Xie An’yu walked over and helped Liu Xiaoyun up, asking in a low voice, “Are you hurt?”
Every time she had fallen before, it was Ding Xiaofei who had pulled her up. The moment Xie An’yu’s hand touched her arm, her face instantly turned red. “…N-no.”
Gao Jun was already seething, and seeing Xie An’yu holding Liu Xiaoyun’s arm made him explode. He picked up the ball from the sand, assumed a serving stance, and—without waiting for the referee’s signal—he swung his arm and hurled it across the net.
The ball shot straight toward Xie An’yu’s face. He was still looking down, flexing his wrist, and didn’t notice the incoming ball. Yu Feng, standing not far behind him, reacted instantly—he stepped forward and shoved Xie An’yu out of the way. Gao Jun had put all his strength into that serve, and as the ball grazed past Yu Feng’s face, it knocked his glasses clean off.
Xie An’yu stumbled forward from the push, nearly falling, but managed to steady himself before turning around.
“Gao Jun, are you fucking stupid?!” Ding Xiaofei yelled. “The ref hasn’t even called the play yet! What the hell are you doing?!”
Yu Feng crouched to pick up his glasses, and Xie An’yu quickly approached. The left temple of the glasses had snapped off. Yu Feng couldn’t help but frown. The sand was soft, so the impact alone shouldn’t have broken them—but he’d worn these glasses for so long that the screws in the frame had probably loosened long ago. The force of the ball hitting them had been enough to finish the job.
Only when Yu Feng stood up, holding the broken glasses, did Xie An’yu notice the broken frame.
Zhou Yi had once mentioned that these glasses were a gift from Yu Feng’s younger brother—he’d worn them for seven or eight years without ever replacing them.
Xie An’yu suddenly felt it was hard to breathe. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and a surge of uncontrollable anger flared in his chest, making his heart feel like it was about to explode.
He didn’t know how many times he’d felt like this because of Yu Feng. He’d never thought his temper could be this volatile before.
Xie An’yu turned around, bent down, and picked up the ball from the ground. Without a word, he hurled it straight at Gao Jun’s face.
With a loud thud, Gao Jun’s head snapped back from the impact. He clutched his nose, groaning in pain. Liu Xiaoyun gasped, covering her mouth in shock, while the spectators looked on in stunned silence.
Even though a beach volleyball was relatively soft, getting hit in the face with that much force still hurt—especially since Xie An’yu had thrown it with everything he had.
Xie An’yu’s face was dark as he glared at Gao Jun. He had just taken a step forward when Yu Feng suddenly grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He paused and looked back.
“Come with me to get a new pair of glasses,” Yu Feng said, looking at him.
Through his blurred vision, Yu Feng couldn’t make out Xie An’yu’s expression—but the slight tremor in his hands betrayed his emotions.
If Xie An’yu was reacting like this, he must already know the significance of this pair of glasses.
Zhou Yi walked over, his expression solemn. “Did the glasses break?”
Yu Feng gave a quiet hum in response.
Gao Jun’s face was flushed red from the impact. He pushed aside the net and stormed over, his anger boiling over into a string of curses. “Xie An’yu, you fucking idiot! It’s just a pair of glasses! Was that really necessary?! Are you out of your mind?! Wanna fight? Come on, I’ll take you on anytime!”
Xie An’yu closed his eyes for a moment, fists clenched. Yu Feng grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind himself. Just as Gao Jun raised his hand, Yu Feng seized him by the collar and yanked him forward, pointing a finger in his face with icy calm. “One more word out of you, and you won’t be walking out of here on your own two feet today.”
Yu Feng’s voice was low and cold, his eyes narrowed. He towered over Gao Jun, his gaze pinning him down from above. Gao Jun shut his mouth, swallowing hard.
Yu Feng shoved him back by the collar, sending Gao Jun stumbling backward several steps.
Zhang Xiao rushed over, her face pale with shock, unsure how to handle the situation. She turned to glare at Gao Jun. “Gao Jun, you better apologize right now! His glasses are broken!”
Gao Jun clenched his jaw and stayed silent.
“Let’s call it a day. Can’t play with a broken pair of glasses anyway,” Yu Feng said. “We’re leaving.”
Zhang Xiao nodded hurriedly, then added, “Your glasses…” She glanced at Gao Jun. “You should pay for them, right?”
“Don’t bother. They weren’t worth much,” Yu Feng replied before pulling Xie An’yu away.
Ding Xiaofei stood frozen in place for a long moment. Zhou Yi, noticing someone was missing, turned and waved at him. “Xiao Fei, let’s go.”
Ding Xiaofei hurried after them, still a little dazed. He had never seen Xie An’yu lose his temper like that before.
The sun was setting as the five of them walked along the beach. Zhou Yi asked Yu Feng, “Can you see the road clearly?”
“If not, will you carry me?”
“That’s not out of the question,” Zhou Yi said, looking at the broken glasses in his hand. “The temple arms might still be fixable.”
Everything was a blur to Yu Feng now—getting a new pair was the priority.
“Any eyewear shops around here?” Yu Feng asked.
“Yeah,” Xie An’yu said. “I’ll take you.”
Yu Feng nodded. “I’ll head back to the guesthouse and change first.”
Ding Xiaofei saw them back to the guesthouse, reminding Xie An’yu before leaving not to forget dinner at his place that evening.
***
Yu Feng went back to his room to change clothes. When he came out, Xie An’yu was already waiting outside. The eyewear shop had a limited selection, mostly outdated styles from a couple of years back. After getting his prescription checked, Yu Feng chose a pair of thin, gold-rimmed glasses—the lightest and most comfortable of the bunch.
Outside the shop, a corgi sat in a cage by the door. Xie An’yu crouched to play with it, his mood subdued.
He couldn’t begin to imagine how Yu Feng felt right now, or how important those glasses had been to him. The corgi nudged Xie An’yu’s fingers with its damp nose, and he gently scratched under its chin.
He looked up toward the shop. Yu Feng stood with his back turned, slightly bowing his head as if adjusting the new glasses. A moment later, he turned around—and Xie An’yu’s lips parted slightly, stunned.
Yu Feng now wore the new gold-rimmed glasses, and with them, his entire demeanor had transformed.
The usual casual vibe was suddenly toned down a lot, and the sense of detachment in his eyes seemed even more pronounced.
Of course, so did his handsomeness.
Yu Feng’s looks had always been somewhat restrained by those thick black-framed glasses.
Xie An’yu was a little distracted, and it wasn’t until Yu Feng walked right up to him that he abruptly stood up.
Yu Feng looked at him, and he looked back at Yu Feng.
The glasses rested on Yu Feng’s straight, well-defined nose bridge, and Xie An’yu had never noticed the details of his features so closely before.
“Does it look weird?” Yu Feng asked.
Xie An’yu shook his head.
“These glasses are so light I’m not used to it,” Yu Feng said.
In truth, he had been constrained by those black-framed glasses for a long time, and now, for the first time, he felt a sense of lightness—both physically and mentally.
They were going to Ding Xiaofei’s place for dinner that evening. Zhou Yi and Shi Wuyang drove straight to the glasses store, and the sound of a car horn blared behind them. Zhou Yi waved at them from inside the car.
As soon as Yu Feng got in the car, Zhou Yi turned around and stared at him intently. “Your good looks really were sealed by those glasses! My God, how does changing frames make it look like you got a whole new face?”
Shi Wuyang chuckled. “He was always good-looking to begin with.”
[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 53″]
恨鐵不成鋼 (hèn tiě bù chéng gāng): lit. to hate iron for not becoming steel (idiom); (figurative) to feel resentful towards someone for failing to meet expectations; to be impatient to see improvement; wish iron could turn into steel at once—be anxious for sb to improve; regret that sb does not live up to one’s expectations; describes the feeling of being dissatisfied with someone who has high expectations but has not made progress, and the eagerness to see him change for the better.大大方方 (dà dà fāng fāng): natural; poised; confident; calm; refers to a person’s behavior that is natural and not tacky.
依葫蘆畫瓢 (yī hú lu huà piáo): lit. to draw a dipper with a gourd as one’s model (idiom); fig. to follow the existing pattern without modification; copy exactly; imitate mechanically; follow a pattern blindly; mimic without understanding; replicate without innovation; copycat; to do something by following a certain method.
得心應手 (dé xīn yìng shǒu): lit. what the heart wishes, the hand accomplishes (idiom); suit one’s mind and hand—work with facility/high proficiency; skilled at the job; entirely in one’s element; going smoothly and easily; (idiomatic) with high proficiency and facility, having perfect control over something; Metaphor of proficiency or doing things very smoothly.
當務之急 (dāng wù zhī jí): pressing matter of the moment; task of top priority; matter of great urgency; top priority job; matter of vital importance; urgent matter; pressing task; immediate concern.
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