“Yanyan. Yours Truly isn’t that easy to disappoint..”
Lan Yan took another sip of alcohol and shifted her gaze to the graffiti on the wall behind Liang Jingchuan. “You have good self-awareness.”
Liang Jingchuan’s brow arched slightly.
Lan Yan drawled, “The Yu Residence is very luxurious. I think it lacks a female owner.”
“You’ve already gotten tired of the food here, and you want to eat it long-term?”
“Once I become the female owner of the Yu Residence, of course I’ll hire ten chefs from South City to cook for me. What do you think?”
“Oh.” Liang Jingchuan’s eyes and brows carried a smile. “Then why didn’t you stay just now when Yu Wancheng asked you to play mahjong? You said you didn’t know how. Didn’t I teach you?”
The music grew louder.
Lan Yan seemed somewhat unable to recall what the verbal sparring with Liang Jingchuan had been like before.
But it certainly wasn’t like now, where she consciously weighed her sentences, words, and even tone, probing and expanding some boundary one time after another.
Nor was it like now, where words could create a mental dizziness far surpassing alcohol.
“…Getting serious, how many more days are you staying?” Lan Yan subconsciously skirted the verbal roadblock he had set.
“Heading back the day after tomorrow.”
“Where do you want to go play? Want me to find you a local guide?”
Liang Jingchuan looked at her.
“Don’t look at me. I have to work. If I don’t finish the repairs soon, I’ll be stuck here over the New Year.”
Liang Jingchuan didn’t make things difficult for her. “What places are fun?”
“Flag-Raising Mountain, Zhang Bilishi Residence, Bliss Temple, Li Bridge… For one day, those places should do it.”
“You’ve been to all of them?”
“Mm.”
“With Zhou Wenshu?”
“…Mm.”
“You don’t need to work at times like this.” His tone was cooler than the iced alcohol in her glass.
“We work six days and rest one. We’re not mules or horses; we always need to take a break.”
“So work and rest are both with him.”
Lan Yan really couldn’t stand his icy tone. Clearly, a single “What’s it to you?” would shut him down, but for some reason, she couldn’t say it.
She drew back her wandering gaze and looked at him. “Do you have to talk to me like this? Can’t I have other choices?”
Liang Jingchuan fell silent for a moment. The somewhat unserious smile on his face faded, and he said sincerely, “Sorry. Of course you can. I didn’t mean to interfere.”
His voice had always been on the cooler side. Without the smile, it was like jade falling into ice, so aloof that it made one’s heart tense with unease, afraid even to breathe.
Lan Yan opened her mouth, not knowing what to say, and could only lower her eyes to drink.
Liang Jingchuan’s gaze left her face, and his voice dropped a couple of notches, blending into the music so that it was hard to hear if one wasn’t paying attention. “…It’s just that I don’t have any other choices.”
Lan Yan bit down hard on her straw.
That familiar sense of her heart dropping swept over her. She tried to recall: it was that time returning to Suzhou, in the attic, when he had desperately hugged her.
Perhaps because she drank too quickly, her glass was already empty, and the straw made an empty sound.
Lan Yan straightened up and moved her glass aside. “…Shall we go? Or do you want to sit a bit longer?”
“Let’s go.”
Lan Yan nodded silently and stood up.
Liang Jingchuan went to the bar to pay. They pushed open the door and left the bar, crossed the alley, and returned to the desolate street.
Her ears seemed unable to adapt to the sudden silence, and there was still the phantom noise of drums in her head.
“I…”
“I’ll take you back.” Liang Jingchuan said.
Neither spoke again. Liang Jingchuan took out his phone and called a car.
The few shops that had still been open on the way here were now closed. The small city seemed to have slipped early into the silence of a dream from another world.
Under the streetlights, their two elongated shadows stretched out. Lan Yan stared at them.
Chen Boyu’s accusation against her had one point right: she was indeed rational to the point of seeming cold.
If not for his statement about “eternity” fitting perfectly like a key into her door, even chasing for another three years, she might not have agreed.
She knew her words just now must have hurt Liang Jingchuan; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone silent.
He had never minded all the harsh words thrown at him before.
People got hurt because they started to have expectations.
She didn’t know if she had the ability to respond to such expectations.
She couldn’t even tell yet if she was being cautious or fearful right now.
“Liang Jingchuan.”
Liang Jingchuan turned slightly toward her and lowered his head to look at her. He always took this posture when seriously listening to her speak.
“Do you have expectations that might end up disappointing you? If not, it’s best if… I don’t want to waste your time.”
“Have you asked Zhou Wenshu this question?”
“…No.” With Zhou Wenshu, though their work and rest synced, the boundaries were drawn very clearly. She thought Zhou Wenshu understood her attitude without needing such a reminder.
“Then he’s not your choice.”
In his tone, Lan Yan heard the familiar smile, and she looked up in slight surprise.
The eyes in the backlight indeed held amusement, as if the cold water she had splashed wasn’t enough to dishearten him for more than five minutes.
“Yanyan. This Seat isn’t that easy to disappoint.” His gaze was clear, serene, and profound, holding a determination undeterred by wind or rain.
Lan Yan quickly looked away, took a helpless step forward, and craned her neck to check the intersection. “…What’s the license plate number? Is it almost here?”
“Almost. One minute.”
Lan Yan hugged her arms and stared only at the intersection, as if closely monitoring the car’s approach.
She heard Liang Jingchuan chuckle behind her. “You’re looking in the wrong direction. This way.”
“…”
“You can’t even tell east from west, so you got lost for so long.”
An indulgent tone, almost helpless.
Lan Yan was even more speechless.
The car arrived soon.
Lan Yan stood a bit away from the roadside. As the car approached, she instinctively stepped back.
Her heel lightly bumped the curb, and a hand lightly steadied her arm. “Careful.”
The car stopped. Liang Jingchuan opened the back door and held it for her to get in first.
She got in and scooted over. Liang Jingchuan got in and closed the door.
The car started, the body swaying slightly, and inertia made her knee brush lightly against Liang Jingchuan’s leg.
As the car smoothly entered the road, Lan Yan unobtrusively shifted her legs an inch farther away.
Liang Jingchuan lowered the window halfway, rested his arm on it, leaned back, and sat somewhat languidly.
“Do you punch in at work?” Liang Jingchuan suddenly asked.
“No. You decide your own work hours freely.”
“So you can decide for yourself to work six and rest one, and choose which day to rest, right?”
“…”
Lan Yan realized she had stepped into his trap again.
This man always spoke like this: starting with something seemingly normal, turning a few times, and always reaching his goal.
In the darkness, his light laugh floated ethereally in the air like a fragrance. “Accompany me for a day of fun.”
“No.”
“I can pay you guide fees. What’s your hourly rate? I’ll pay for eight hours.”
“…Are you asking for a scolding?”
“Then scold me.”
“…You’re sick.”
A laugh came from the driver’s seat—the driver was probably Chinese and understood Chinese.
Lan Yan’s ears instantly turned red with embarrassment, and she turned to glare at Liang Jingchuan.
Liang Jingchuan lowered his head slightly, his voice also softer. “Did I ever tell you that your glare has no deterrent power at all?”
Lan Yan couldn’t hold back anymore and unhesitatingly punched him.
She hit the spot between his shoulder and chest. He raised his hand to hold hers, still laughing. “Resort to violence when you can’t win with words?”
“…I’ll be a pig if I talk to you anymore.”
The car stopped at the main gate of the Yu Residence. Since there was no traffic, Lan Yan opened her door and got out from her side.
She walked around the back of the car to the gate and pressed the doorbell. She heard Liang Jingchuan say behind her, “See you tomorrow.”
The next morning, Lan Yan got up very early and first went to One Corner Pavilion to do some material matching.
The box of edge scraps Liang Jingchuan had brought fit together perfectly, just enough to repair Ju Lian’s painting.
She had done half of yesterday’s burnishing work and picked it up to continue.
Moments later, Zhou Wenshu arrived too, yawning as he greeted her with “Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Senior Sister, why are you here so early today?”
“Mm. Taking Liang Jingchuan out to play later.”
Zhou Wenshu looked at her. “Mr. Yu said you could borrow a car from his residence if needed for the outing, Senior Sister. If you want…”
“No need. It’s bad to trouble others; we’ll just take a cab ourselves.”
Zhou Wenshu nodded.
They divided the work. Zhou Wenshu’s piece was at the full-coloring stage.
With the painting mounted on the mounting wall, he mixed pigments on a palette, pulled over a stool, sat in front of the mounting wall, and began working under the bright daylight streaming through the large window.
“Senior Sister.”
“Mm?” Lan Yan looked up.
“You and your brother—are you half-siblings?”
“Yes. What’s up?”
“When did you become a blended family?”
“My first year of high school.”
“That’s a long time ago.”
“Mm.”
“Your brother, he…”
Lan Yan felt Zhou Wenshu was a bit hesitant today. “What’s wrong? Just ask whatever you want to ask.”
Zhou Wenshu shook his head. “Nothing. Just asking casually.”
He seemed to remember the speakers weren’t connected yet. He set down the palette, took out his phone, and linked it up.
Zhou Wenshu didn’t like listening to light music while working because it made him drowsy, but his taste in music was good. Lan Yan used his playlist to expand her library.
About ten minutes later, the open peacock-green wooden door was lightly knocked twice.
Lan Yan looked up and, as expected, it was Liang Jingchuan.
She hadn’t heard his footsteps; probably drowned out by the music.
Lan Yan said, “Almost done.”
“No rush, take your time.” Liang Jingchuan peered inside. There was a chair by the window. “Can I sit?”
“You can wait in the living room. The smell here isn’t good.”
Painting restoration often used paste and alum glue, and to maintain constant temperature and humidity, the windows weren’t opened often. The various smells stewed together, naturally unpleasant.
“It’s fine.” Liang Jingchuan said.
Lan Yan let him be.
Liang Jingchuan walked in and sat on that chair. On the small stool beside it was a stack of books, all toolbooks on painting and calligraphy appreciation. He picked one up and opened it.
Burnishing the painting was simple but required meticulous care. For a full four-foot vertical scroll, doing it completely would take at least an hour.
Lan Yan first burnished the seams of the backing paper and the inlay material firmly, leaving the rest for tomorrow.
Even so, it took more than twenty minutes.
She set down the burnishing stone, rubbed her wrist, looked up, and prepared to call Liang Jingchuan—but paused abruptly.
The book in his hand was the first volume of Lingnan School Painting Techniques, which she had read for theoretical preparation on restoring Ju Lian’s painting.
The Taiwan edition in traditional vertical layout was very tough to read; she had found it headache-inducing.
At that moment, Liang Jingchuan had his legs crossed, the book spread on his knees, reading line by line seriously. Perhaps afraid of losing his place, he occasionally used his finger to mark the lines.
Outside the window stood a lush African neem tree on verdant grass. The green seemed like flowing water, spilling through the window onto his white short-sleeved shirt. With occasional breezes, irregular pale golden light spots swayed gently.
If undisturbed, he could probably sit there reading and waiting indefinitely.
Lan Yan stared blankly for a few seconds before speaking. “…We can go.”
Liang Jingchuan looked up. “Okay.” He closed the book, put it back on the stool, and stood.
Lan Yan called out to Zhou Wenshu. “Wenshu, I’m heading out first.”
Zhou Wenshu didn’t turn around. “Okay.”
It was still early, and the temperature wasn’t too high yet. Lan Yan called a car and first took Liang Jingchuan to Many Springs Tea House, where they settled breakfast with charcoal-grilled bread and local specialty white coffee.
They strolled casually, then went to Zhang Bilishi Residence for a visit. After lunch, they found an ice shop to avoid the midday sun. At three in the afternoon, they visited Bliss Temple, then headed to Flag-Raising Mountain for the sunset.
The must-do at Flag-Raising Mountain was the cable car system called the “little train”—old-fashioned cars threading through dense shade and tunnels, inevitably giving a sense of time travel.
This was Lan Yan’s second time. Learning from last time, she queued with Liang Jingchuan for an extra ride, specifically choosing the front row.
As soon as it started, she opened her phone camera and recorded the whole way.
Passing through a tunnel, the front window reflected their figures.
Lan Yan was speechless. “…Are you filming me again?”
Liang Jingchuan smiled. “Yeah.”
After getting off the cable car, they could still walk upward. An orange-yellow sunset hung on the horizon, the same color as the top layer of the cocktail she had drunk the day before.
They walked all the way to the highest observation deck. Railings blocked the way, and looking down past the trees revealed the splendid view of the entire George Town.
The twilight light resembled melted syrup.
The two did not speak. They gripped the railing and watched the sun gradually dim its blinding brightness, turning into a deep red like embers burned out, slowly sinking until it dropped below the city edge.
The sky darkened in an instant.
On the way back down the mountain, they took the cable car again.
This time, they did not beat the other tourists and only got seats in the last row.
After playing all day, Lan Yan felt a bit tired and did not say much.
Lights came on in the tunnel. The moment they entered, it was a little blinding, so she squinted her eyes. As they exited the tunnel, she turned her head, wanting to ask Liang Jingchuan if he was leaving tomorrow morning or afternoon.
Unexpectedly, Liang Jingchuan turned his head at the same time, as if he also wanted to say something to her.
Their gazes met, and their minds short-circuited instantly.
She did not know why she did not look away, and neither did he.
In the dim evening, lights sparkled like stars.
The wind howled, as if piercing straight through her heart.
Lan Yan forgot to breathe.
After going down the mountain, Lan Yan took Liang Jingchuan to eat Fujian noodles.
It was a tiny shop so cramped it was hard to turn around, with a huge fan spinning that did nothing to dispel the sweltering heat. Even so, it was packed with diners, everyone sweating as they ate enthusiastically.
In front of the shop, a small stall “parasitically” sold oyster omelets and Teochew fritters. After ordering shrimp noodles, Lan Yan bought one of each.
The two sat in the shop, which felt like a steamer. Lan Yan braided her hair, took a sip of iced cola, picked up her chopsticks, and said, “Last time we ate, Yu Wancheng mentioned that Penang’s Fujian noodles were actually created by early Fujian immigrants who came here.”
“Do you think I’m happy to hear someone else’s name while eating delicious food?”
“Yu Wancheng’s brother isn’t called Yu Daqi. You could change your name to Liang Xiaoqi.”
Liang Jingchuan chuckled.
Lan Yan did not know why, but she inexplicably laughed along.
After eating, they walked outside the shop, and Liang Jingchuan called a car, heading first to the Yu Residence.
He got out of the car and walked her inside the gate.
The two stood under the eaves of the Western-style building. Lan Yan asked, “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Morning.” Liang Jingchuan looked at her. “No need to see me off.”
“. . . I wasn’t planning to anyway.”
Liang Jingchuan smiled.
The wall lamps cast a dim yellow light. A pot of fan palm sat in the porch, its frond-like shadows projected onto the floor tiles by the light.
After a moment of silence, Liang Jingchuan said, “Will you be able to finish the Christmas work?”
“Probably not.”
“If there’s nothing urgent, I’ll come back for Christmas.” Liang Jingchuan lowered his head, as if involuntarily stepping forward half a pace. His voice also dropped, barely audible. “. . . Yanyan, do you want me to come?”
They were so close that the tips of their shoes were almost touching.
Lan Yan restrained the urge to blink or back away abruptly. “. . . My legs are on you. I can’t decide where you go.”
Liang Jingchuan did not speak. He just looked down at her, as if all his emotions were hidden deep in the shadows of his eyes.
It felt like a tide surging up, pressing against her heart.
Lan Yan felt the air grow thin. Finally, she could not help but tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, turned her face away, and stepped back to the side. “. . . Get some rest early. I’m going in.”
“Mm.”
Lan Yan did not look back. Her steps quickened unconsciously as she entered the door, hurried through the corridor, and reached her room.
She fumbled for the key in her bag and took two tries to insert it into the lock.
The petal-shaped chandelier flicked on. She walked into the bathroom, eager to wash her face.
On the vanity, she saw a white paper bag that had not been there before.
Inside the paper bag was a PANPURI set of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, along with a handwritten card with very simple content:
【Enjoy.
L】
Usually, only the maids who cleaned for the Yu Family would enter her room.
When had he prepared it, and when had he asked someone to deliver it?
Lan Yan held the card in her hand and stood there dazed for a moment. She walked to the bathroom window.
She pushed the narrow window open a crack and looked past the lush garden toward the main gate.
In front of the wrought-iron gate, a figure in white clothes stood faintly visible.
The next instant, he suddenly turned around, his gaze wandering as if trying to locate her room.
She knew the frosted glass made it impossible to see inside, but she still slammed the window shut.
Her hand gripped the window handle for a long while before she remembered to let go.