He hung his head, feeling a little ashamed, and his voice turned small.
“So I…I borrowed a bit of it to buy something to eat. It was that steamed bun… I planned to return the borrowed money multiplied many times over. But regardless of the reason, I still used it without asking. Forgive me.”
San Lang was still full of smiles as he listened. “There’s no need to be like this, Daozhang,” he assured him. “It’s only natural for a person to act that way. And aside from the fact that I already intended to invite you for a drink, wasn’t I the one who ate the steamed bun in the end? Don’t get hung up on little things. But it’s quite amazing, don’t you think? What a coincidence that you would be the one to find what I lost—truly, this is destiny.”
Seeing how understanding he was being, Xie Lian relaxed.
“But, San Lang, you have to be more careful,” he chided. “It was gleaming so brightly on the side of the road; how did you miss it? Don’t be so careless next time.”
The waiter, who had been cowering to the side, spoke up. “Sirs, have you calmed down, quack? If so, let’s settle the cost for breaking the table, quack!”
“…”
Xie Lian was silent. In his normal life, paying compensation would be nothing to him, no matter how expensive it was. But right now, he couldn’t even afford a single steamed bun.
“It’s fine. Put it all on my tab,” said San Lang.
He was going to voluntarily pay for the damage Xie Lian had inflicted, even though Xie Lian had clearly attacked him first. Xie Lian was so moved by the sweetness and consideration that he was rendered speechless.
He swallowed. “You…”
There was something wrong with the waiter too, looking so cheery when they’d smashed up the place—he even gave them a new, more magnificent table. The two sat back down, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but feel bad, but also grateful.
“Daozhang, from what you said earlier, it seems there’s a backstory. What’s going on? Did someone harm you?” asked a concerned San Lang.
But how could Xie Lian speak of such things? His face flushed in embarrassment again despite having just calmed down, and he replied haltingly, “…It’s nothing…nothing much.”
Yet San Lang pushed, “Won’t you tell me about it? Maybe San Lang can help somehow.”
He might have been coming from a place of goodwill, but Xie Lian felt like his questions were pushing him into a corner, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“It really was nothing…” he said helplessly. “San Lang, can you…not ask anymore…?”
It was so hard to speak of it.
At his request, San Lang didn’t force the issue. “All right. Where were we, then? You wanted to meet Hua Cheng, right?”
Xie Lian regained himself and straightened his expression. “Yes. Does San Lang know a way?”
“Of course,” San Lang said. “But it’s not easy to see him these days.”
“Why is that?”
San Lang pushed the veggies on his plate into a big smiling face with his chopsticks. “He must accompany his beloved, who has apparently fallen unwell recently. He has no time for anything else.”
Just as he thought, this Hua Cheng was a sentimental man too—he placed high importance on his feelings. Xie Lian admired him even more.
“I see. Then how long will I have to wait to meet him?”
“At least three days, at most five,” said San Lang. “I suggest you try to relax, Daozhang. Why don’t you find a place to rest while you wait?”
But I have nowhere to stay, he thought, but San Lang continued speaking.
“If you have no place to stay, why not come to my place? My house is big, and there aren’t many people living in it.”
Unable to resist any longer, Xie Lian said softly, “San Lang, you’re so… You’re such a good person.”
This was the first time he’d ever complimented someone so bluntly, and he felt a little bashful for it—but he honestly couldn’t think of any words that described him better.
San Lang seemed very pleased. “It’s because it feels like we’ve already known each other forever, Daozhang,” he said, smiling cheerily. “Oh yes, there is another thing I forgot to ask; how old are you?”
“I’m seventeen,” Xie Lian replied.
“Ah, seventeen. Younger than me,” San Lang said.
He did look around twenty or so.
Seemingly casually, San Lang continued, “Then that means Daozhang should call me ‘gege.’”
Xie Lian was royalty, a crown prince who commanded the utmost respect. He shouldn’t act so familiar with anyone, much less agree to address this man like a brother. Yet San Lang made him so comfortable and happy, plus he’d never addressed anyone as an elder brother before—it was a novel idea.
“I see. So it’s San Lang-gege,” Xie Lian said with a smile.
“…”
Maybe it was just Xie Lian’s imagination, but San Lang’s smile turned a little peculiar when he called him “gege.” It was rather hard to describe, but it was as if San Lang’s left eye had been set alight—and its blazing gaze was so ardent that Xie Lian could almost feel his skin burn.
He blinked. “What’s wrong?”
The horrifying, searing heat subsided in an instant, and San Lang returned to normal. “It’s nothing; I was just happy,” he said with a chuckle. “There’s no one younger than me at home, so I’ve never heard anyone call me that before.”
“Then, if San Lang doesn’t mind…I’ll continue to address you that way?” Xie Lian said.
San Lang smiled so wide his eye sparkled, yet his lips still demurred. “Oh, of course I certainly don’t mind. It depends on whether you do, Daozhang.”
“Not at all; of course not,” Xie Lian said. “San Lang-gege, shall we go to your house now, then? Or later…?”
San Lang put down his chopsticks. “Let’s go now. Come with me.”