FQ chapter 31

“…Ah.”

Luan Ye opened with such a novel greeting—said in the same tone as someone asking “Have you eaten?”—that it took Fan Qing a few seconds to register what he meant.

“The shop ran out of supplies, so I came to help with a delivery.”

Fan Qing was wearing a blue top. He must’ve just finished some work—his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he looked fresh and clean. Luan Ye studied him for a moment and said:

“You drank so much, I thought you’d still be out cold.”

Ah, youth—how quickly one recovers from a hangover.

The moment drinking was mentioned, Fan Qing couldn’t help but flash back to fragments of last night—the stage, the camera, and a kiss that tasted like red wine.

What the hell am I thinking about in broad daylight!

“I woke up in the morning,” he forced himself to say, pushing those thoughts aside. “I’m used to it—always wake up at the same time.”

Not to mention… he’d barely slept at all.

“You went into the mountains?” Luan Ye looked surprised.

“No. I drank last night—couldn’t drive this morning.”

After saying that, Fan Qing seemed to remember something. He quickly glanced at Luan Ye, looking like he had more to say, but held back.

Luan Ye looked at him. Fan Qing added, “Just… stayed home to rest.”

He’d woken up early, was perfectly clear-headed, stayed at home, and even had the time to help the café deliver something.

So he just… didn’t want to come over.

Luan Ye nodded slightly and said nothing more.

Laifu had finished its beef jerky and started circling around Luan Ye again, trying to see if he had brought any more snacks.

Luan Ye reached out and rubbed its head, then headed into the café.

“Come in and sit for a bit. Bring Laifu too—don’t let him go begging on the street,” he glanced at Fan Qing. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Fan Qing looked at him.

“Embarrassing for the dog,” Luan Ye corrected himself.

Fan Qing laughed, called Laifu, and followed Luan Ye into the café.

Li Ge had just finished his work and was stacking cups when he saw Luan Ye. He greeted him first.

“Yo, you’re here. Want a latte again?”

“Americano,” Luan Ye smiled. “Extra ice.”

“You must be tired from all the shooting lately,” Li Ge said as he grabbed a cup. “You’ve even switched to Chinese medicine.”

Luan Ye took a moment to realize that by “Chinese medicine,” the other person was referring to the coffee he had ordered. He burst out laughing.

“Even you know about that?”

“Probably half the village knows,” Li Ge chuckled. “The volunteer photography squad. Today’s coffee is on me.”

“Then I’ll need two,” Luan Ye didn’t decline and pointed to Fan Qing behind him. “I was going to treat him.”

“He doesn’t like coffee,” Li Ge said. “Usually just drinks sparkling water.”

Luan Ye raised an eyebrow and turned to Fan Qing. “You afraid of bitterness?”

You really wouldn’t be able to tell. He always thought Fan Qing—whose mental age seemed at least ten years older than his real one—wasn’t afraid of anything.

“No,” Fan Qing quickly denied. “I just don’t like the taste.”

Luan Ye looked at him for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Still afraid of bitterness.

They carried the Americano and pomegranate sparkling water upstairs and sat at a window seat.

The base of Fan Qing’s drink was a soft pink, with floating ice cubes. It looked quite pretty.

“You were the one who told me his coffee was good,” Luan Ye shifted into a more comfortable position. “But you drink sparkling water here every day.”

He was referring to their second meeting at the café.

“Everyone says that. And you’d already ordered and sat down…”

Fan Qing took a sip. “I couldn’t exactly say, ‘How about a sparkling water instead? That’s what I like.’”

They both laughed. Laifu had followed them upstairs and circled the table a couple of times. When he realized they hadn’t brought any food, he unapologetically hopped back down to continue his street-begging campaign.

Fan Qing laughed for a while, then finally said, “I was supposed to help you print the photos today… I forgot.”

As for why he forgot, he didn’t say, and Luan Ye didn’t ask.

“No rush, I haven’t had time to edit them yet,” Luan Ye replied. “I was exhausted today and slept all day.”

“Oh.” Fan Qing paused, clearly relaxing a bit.

“Come by tomorrow and the day after in the afternoon. Two days should be enough.”

Fan Qing hesitated and said nothing.

The lively atmosphere from before suddenly became quiet. Luan Ye took a sip of coffee and looked over at Fan Qing as he set the cup down.

“Something wrong?”

Fan Qing was silent for quite a while before he finally answered, a little awkwardly. “I’ve been kind of busy these past few days. I’m not sure I can make it.”

“Ah.” Luan Ye nodded, his tone casual as always.

“I’ll ask Qiao Feibai then. He’s at home playing games every afternoon anyway.”

Behind Fan Qing, in a corner near the second-floor window, stood a large potted areca palm. Whenever the wind blew in through the window, the leaves would sway gently.

After the leaves had swayed three times, Fan Qing finally spoke again.

“…Forget it. I’ll come.”

He picked up his cup, took a sip, and set it down with a soft clink.

“He has to work.”

“Not during the day,” Luan Ye said, setting down his cup.

“Works during the day and sings at night?”

“It’s fine. He still looks like he’s got a post-work high going,” Luan Ye said. “Might as well make use of the momentum.”

“Exploiting labor, huh?”

“I did live in a capitalist country for over a decade,” Luan Ye said.

Fan Qing laughed for quite a while before speaking again.

“I’ll come then. Every afternoon—”

He looked at Luan Ye, who said, “One o’clock.”

Fan Qing nodded. “Okay.”

Luan Ye smiled and lowered his head to take a sip of his Chinese medicine… Americano.

Only after replying did Fan Qing realize—he’d just told Luan Ye he was too busy to come. And now, a second later, he agreed to help out…

That switch was too fast.

He looked up at Luan Ye.

“Pretty busy lately, huh?” Luan Ye suddenly asked.

“Summer vacation means more tourists. A lot of people asking for mountain guides?”

“…Yeah,” Fan Qing breathed a little easier, pressing his lips together. “A lot more than before.”

Luan Ye nodded and picked up his phone, tapping a few times. Fan Qing’s phone buzzed twice.

He checked it—Luan Ye had just transferred him 2,500 yuan.

Fan Qing froze and looked up at him.

“1,500 is for the car rental, for July,” Luan Ye said, setting down his phone.

…Right, it was already July.

Luan Ye had already been here for a month.

How long did he say he was staying again?

“And the other 1,000 is a raise,” Luan Ye added. “I’ll give you 2,500 for both July and August.”

Fan Qing looked down at the transaction.

By all rights, getting paid should’ve made him happy, but instead he furrowed his brow, feeling oddly uneasy.

He had felt off ever since running into Luan Ye outside. The person and emotions he’d struggled with the night before had suddenly shown up without warning… and he still hadn’t figured out how to deal with them.

How to face Luan Ye. How to face what had already happened.

So he had avoided seeing him all day. Just now, he had even instinctively made up an excuse, trying to reduce their contact.

At least, in this state—where his rational mind still hadn’t quite recovered after being metaphorically eaten by Laifu—he instinctively wanted to distance himself from Luan Ye. Because he could vaguely sense that if he let things go unchecked…

Some subtle, possibly dangerous emotions… might spiral out of control.

But when Luan Ye had to find someone else for help because of his refusal, Fan Qing couldn’t help but regret it.

There were so many photos. If Qiao Feibai had to work, Luan Ye would probably do it all himself. He held himself to high standards—just look at how carefully he’d picked out his camera. If he couldn’t keep up, he’d be in a bad mood again… and he was still sick.

What if… he got sick again?

What if, what if… That one-in-a-million chance made Fan Qing visibly inconsistent and self-contradictory.

Now Luan Ye suddenly sent him money—so much of it. Fan Qing wasn’t sure what it meant. Was it because he’d gone back on his word without any reason or warning and annoyed him?

Fan Qing looked up again. “We originally agreed on 1,500.”

“Tourist season,” Luan Ye said with a faint, helpless smile. His expression was as calm as ever.

“Even sausages have gone up from 3 to 5 yuan. Still charging 1,500? Can you run a proper business or not, Student Fan?”

Fan Qing was about to say something else when Luan Ye spoke first.

“Also, help me pick up a few more packages. I still need to buy some things,” Luan Ye said. “I’ll send them to your address again.”

Fan Qing blinked. “Camera?”

“Clothes, shoes, bed sheets, napkins, shaving cream, face wash, shower gel…” Luan Ye rattled off a list without pause. “Household items, daily necessities, snacks, drinks.”

Fan Qing stared at him for a few seconds, confirming he wasn’t joking.

“These are in town—”

He was about to say the town had all of that, but then remembered Luan Ye probably had specific preferences. So he changed one word.

“The city has them.”

Luan Ye sipped his “medicine” slowly. “Too lazy to go.”

Fan Qing looked at him. “Too lazy to go to the city but okay waiting four or five days for delivery?”

“I don’t mind,” Luan Ye looked up. “I just hired a courier.”

Courier Xiao Fan blinked, then sighed with a smile.

“Alright. I’ll take the money and be there on time tomorrow.”

Luan Ye set down his cup.

“If you’re one minute late, I deduct 50. If you’re an hour late, just return the 2,500—and throw in another 500 while you’re at it.”

…His math was pretty sharp.

“Got it,” Fan Qing nodded.

Luan Ye smiled, stood up. “Heading back.”

Fan Qing stood too, a little dazed. “….heading back?”

So strange. He had avoided him all day, and now that he was leaving, he actually felt a little reluctant.

“Stick around and wait for Li Ge to treat us to dinner?” Luan Ye looked over at him. “A glass of sparkling water is enough.”

Fan Qing couldn’t help but laugh. After a whole day of gloom, his mood suddenly improved.

Three or four customers had come in downstairs. Li Ge was busy. Luan Ye didn’t bother him—just waved and walked out. Fan Qing followed him to the door.

Luan Ye looked back at him. “Buy a paper cutter when you come tomorrow.”

“Got it,” Fan Qing replied.

Luan Ye smiled. “See ya.”

….

On the way back, Luan Ye took out a cigarette and held it between his lips. He didn’t light it, just gently bit the filter.

He wasn’t a heavy smoker. Usually, he only smoked when he was really tired or in a terrible mood. Sometimes he just bit the cigarette to distract himself when he was irritated.

Annoyed.

People passed by in twos and threes. More stalls had appeared on the roadside. Luan Ye wove through them, cigarette between his lips, face expressionless.

Annoyed. Annoyed. Annoyed.

He turned a corner, halfway down the main street, when he suddenly pulled out the cigarette and shouted:

“Hey!”

Five or six meters ahead, a chubby kid—maybe around ten years old, but easily one and a half times Luan Ye’s weight—was holding Laifu by the hind legs, lifting him into the air and shaking him like he was trying to shake dust off clothes.

Laifu must’ve lost some weight, because the kid was able to lift him, but still couldn’t move. Remarkably, the dog was still well-tempered and didn’t even bark. It just flailed its front paws in the air, its belly wobbling with every shake.

The kid looked up—he must’ve been just playing—wearing a cowboy hat, still holding the dog.

Laifu was desperately clawing at the ground, trying to get down.

“Put him down!” Luan Ye pointed at him. “Do you hear me?!”

The kid hesitated, lowered the dog slightly, but still held onto its legs. “Who are you?!”

“That is my dog.” Luan Ye took two steps toward the boy and pointed at the big tree nearby.

“I’ll count to three. If you don’t let go, I’ll hang you up there for two hours too.”

The kid stepped back two paces and shrieked, “I’m telling my dad!”

Luan Ye’s voice turned cold. “Go ahead. Bring your dad. I’ll hang him next to you.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he started counting down.

“One.”

The chubby kid clearly hesitated.

Then Luan Ye suddenly shouted, “Three!”

The kid freaked out, dropped the dog in a panic, took two steps back staring at Luan Ye, then turned and ran off bawling. Whether he actually went to get his dad was anyone’s guess.

Laifu, now free, bolted to Luan Ye’s side.

“Quite the long begging route you’ve got there,” Luan Ye squatted down to pet Laifu, who placed its paws on his knee and panted at him.

“Thanks, though. Yelling at someone made me feel much better.” Luan Ye scratched its chin. “Wanna head home?”

Laifu didn’t respond—just wagged its tail. Luan Ye changed his mind.

“Never mind. Go home on your own.” He smiled. “Someone’s avoiding me anyway.”