Chapter 5


Fu Peihang walked to the window and half-opened it, letting the night breeze slip into the room. He leaned sideways, his hair still casually tied back in a ponytail as he held a lit cigarette in his right hand.

The fifteen-story Zhuque Building, the tallest and largest in Chaozhou, stood on the bustling Zhuque Street. Its presence in Chaozhou, much like Fu Peihang's, seemed out of place.

From this height, one could clearly make out the brightly lit pedestrian street below, but those lights usually go out around 11:00 or 12:00 p.m. The small-town folks have no nightlife, retiring early to their homes, shutting doors and windows, and diving straight into a deep sleep. This made it hard for Fu Peihang, freshly returned from England, to adjust — to be precise, he first went to Shanghai, stayed with his parents for a week, then came back here.

Chaozhou seemed not much different from the Chaozhou of his memories. It progressed slowly in the river of time, evolving at its own pace despite the rapid modernization happening everywhere else. As it turned out, even the modern building he was in, which was built only in the last couple of years, was financed by his father.

His father, Fu Changcheng, was a true Chaozhou native. The soil and water of Chaozhou ran directly through his veins. Perhaps that was why, after decades, Fu Changcheng chose to bring his son back to Chaozhou.

Yes. Without his father's insistence, Fu Peihang might never have returned and would still be enjoying his freedom elsewhere.

The day Fu Peihang received a call from Fu Changcheng, he was at a party with friends in a villa on the outskirts of London. He covered the phone and stepped out of the villa. Outside was an expansive, verdant landscape cloaked in the darkness of the night. Sparks seemed to rise slowly from the ground, flickering and illuminating his eyes.

Fu Peihang had eyes that resembled his mother's: light brown pupils filled with indifference, and slightly elongated corners tinted with a melancholic air. Many said he looked like a born artist — indeed, God had granted him some creative talent that he knew he should put into good use soon or else it’d end up being a total waste. A waste on his talents, a waste on his expensive college education, and definitely a waste on his father’s resources.

"Hello, Dad. What's up?" Fu Peihang exhaled the scent of alcohol deeply as he said this.

"Come back," Fu Changcheng said. "You've finished your studies and you've had your fun. I have a project in mind for you."
"Oh?" Fu Peihang lifted his head to look up at the night sky. The starry expanse above him seemed to be from another dimension: clear, vivid, and beautiful all at once. His thoughts drifted with the moonlight, undisturbed by the emotions he was feeling. "What project?"

"Do you remember Chaozhou?"

"Chaozhou?" Fu Peihang knitted his brow. "Yes, your hometown."

Fu Peihang had no emotional attachment to Chaozhou. From what he could recall, he only spent two years there and never returned afterward. To him, Chaozhou was just like a foreign land he never bothered to think about.

Fu Changcheng let out a sigh, not angry with his response. He went on to say, "We've negotiated a partnership related to Chaozhou. We're planning an art museum there to promote its cultural essence and traditions. You studied this in college, and when you graduated, you told me you wanted to try things on your own. It's been two years, and I haven't seen any notable accomplishments from you. You're always partying with your friends. How much longer are you going to waste your time? Come back and help me with this."

Fu Peihang, looking at the moon, thought about how large and beautiful it looked tonight.

"Okay. When?"

"Tomorrow. I've booked your flight."

Oh. So, that could only mean there was no room for refusal. The thought crossed Fu Peihang's mind briefly, but he accepted anyway. From a young age, he was accustomed to following his family's decisions, thinking it was always for the best.

During his school days, teachers often asked, "What do you want to do in the future?" "Do you have dreams or aspirations?"

Watching his peers eagerly answer, Fu Peihang was always clueless. He had no idea what he wanted for his future.

Beneath the facade of a life more privileged than most was his lonely and vulnerable heart.

By the time Fu Peihang snapped back to reality, the cigarette he was smoking had almost burned his fingers. He extinguished it on the railing. A window, slightly ajar, swayed in the night breeze and his face was reflected on the clear glass.

In the dim light, his face seemed to merge with that of a young, pitiable, and naive child.

Strangely, such an ordinary face, one that would be impossible to find if lost in a crowd, had remained in Fu Peihang's memory for so long.

It was the face of Fang Yingchun when he was nine or ten years old.

A face that brought him guilt and made him want to make amends.

Fang Yingchun, of course, had no idea that at this very moment he was on someone's mind. He never believed that he was valued or special to someone; he never held any such hope.

Following his daily routine, as the closing time approached, he began to count the items on the shelves, meticulously recording the data. After that, he counted the money at the cashier's desk, making a detailed record. Finally, he wiped down the cashier's desk and swept the floor.

He fetched a dustpan and broom from the small storage room behind the cash register. Bending over, he leaned mostly on his left leg, dragging his right one. It wasn’t long before the task had tired Fang Yingchun out. He straightened up, leaning on the broom for support, panting for breath.

The wall clock ticked away.

Fu Peihang didn’t drive but instead rode a black Taibell electric bike, which he had bought immediately upon arriving in Chaozhou. In a small place like Chaozhou, sometimes it was more convenient to ride an electric bike than to drive. Bicycles were too tiring, and motorcycles not very safe, so after weighing the options, the electric bike seemed the best choice in terms of value for money.

In his free time, when he wasn't working or attending social events, he'd ride through the alleys of Chaozhou, getting to know them inside out.

He dismounted, removed his helmet, and looked at Fang Yingchun, who had his back to him. His thoughts became muddled right then. He couldn't articulate why, but he felt he should make amends to Fang, even though after all these years, Fang Yingchun had probably already forgotten about him entirely.

"Ding-dong — Welcome!"

Fang Yingchun turned and looked surprised to see Fu Peihang in his sleek black shirt and tied-back long hair.

"What's the matter?" Fu Peihang teased with a playful raise of his eyebrow. "Didn’t I say I’d pick you up after work?"

"Ah... um?" Fang Yingchun awkwardly shifted his weight, exuding discomfort. He murmured softly, "I thought you were kidding around."

"But now you see I wasn't," Fu Peihang said, taking a step closer and grabbing the broom and dustpan from him. "Take a break. I'll clean up."

"This... I don’t think this is appropriate."

Fang Yingchun swallowed the rest of his words when he noticed Fu Peihang was determined to help.

Having able legs was indeed a blessing. Fang Yingchun thought about how simple tasks, even sweeping, took him much longer due to his disability.

Fu Peihang's hair, which was soft and silky like satin, swayed with his movements. More than anything, he wanted to touch it.

By the time everything was in order and after they closed the convenience store, it was midnight. The streets were empty, save for the rustling sound of leaves.

Fu Peihang tossed a helmet into Fang Yingchun's arms and mounted the electric bike. He patted the seat behind him. "Hop on."

Fang Yingchun looked at him and then at the helmet silently. He obediently put on the helmet, adjusted the strap, and, with one hand holding a bag of oranges and the other bracing Fu Peihang's shoulder, he awkwardly climbed onto the back. As the bike adjusted to the added weight, Fang Yingchun murmured an apology from behind the mask of the helmet.

"Which way to your house?"

Fang Yingchun pointed his finger straight ahead. "Go straight and pass three traffic lights, then turn left."

"That close?" Fu Peihang knitted his brow, seemingly disappointed by the short distance.

"Huh?" Fang Yingchun didn't pick up on the sentiment, "It's close to home, which is convenient for me."

"You ready?" Fu Peihang started the bike, moving at a slow pace.

Not sure where to put his hands, Fang Yingchun rested them on his own knees, feeling slightly uneasy in that position.

Fu Peihang extended one arm backward, grabbing Fang Yingchun's hand and placing it on his waist. Fang Yingchun was pulled forward unexpectedly, his chest bumping into Fu Peihang's back, leaving him momentarily dazed.

He seemed to rarely have such intimate interactions with anyone other than Yin Yuli. This closeness made him feel uncomfortable all over as if every cell in his body was filled with utter awkwardness.

Fang Yingchun licked his lips and hesitatingly said, "About the medical expenses..."

"Invite me for a meal." Fu Peihang's voice was a magnetic blend, mixing with the wind. "Treat me to a meal next time, and we'll call it even for the medical expenses."

"Huh?" After considering, Fang Yingchun responded, understanding that it would be impolite to decline such a request. "All right."

"Do you cook?"

"Yes, a little."

"Can I eat at your place?" Fu Peihang cheekily inquired. "I feel like having some homemade dishes."

"..." Fang Yingchun stared at Fu Peihang's earlobe, which was adorned with a shiny, circular silver earring that glinted under the street light. "If you don't mind..."

"Then it's settled."

Fang Yingchun softly acknowledged with a nod. The spring night's breeze was gentle, its chilliness mixed with a tinge of warmth. The summers in Chaozhou were brief, with hints of summer arriving as early as mid-April.

The first traffic light.

The second traffic light.

After passing the third traffic light and taking a left turn for a few hundred meters, they arrived at the residential area where Fang Yingchun lived.

He leaned on Fu Peihang as he dismounted the vehicle, carefully removing his helmet to hand back to Fu Peihang. "This is far enough. I can go in by myself."

"Okay." Fu Peihang observed Fang Yingchun's evasive eyes as if being ensnared by them. "Can you message me when you get home?"
"Mhm," Fang Yingchun answered. "Thank you for tonight." He then took two oranges from his bag and handed them to Fu Peihang. "I heard they're sweet. Try them."

Holding the oranges, Fu Peihang watched as Fang Yingchun limped away. His mood seemed to have lifted considerably, and he couldn't help but smile slightly.

Night and oranges — a perfect match.

He peeled one open, breaking apart the segments, and tasted the fruit.

Sweet.