Chapter Two
When Ren Ningyuan got home, Le Fei immediately asked, “Uncle, did you give him the things?”
“I did.”
“You didn’t just have anyone deliver them, right? That would make me seem insincere, like not a good friend.”
Ren Ningyuan smiled slightly. “Don’t worry. I went myself.”
“That’s more like it. Then did he say anything?”
“No.”
Le Fei was dissatisfied. “Not a single word?”
“No.”
Le Fei grew unhappy. “Uncle Fatty is really something. So ungrateful.”
After thinking for a moment, he added, “Sigh, he must think I was messing with him, so he got mad. Uncle, don’t you really think his food is good?”
Ren Ningyuan frowned slightly. “Let’s talk about it later. Just cooking well isn’t enough to open a shop. In food service, without a distinctive flavor or secret technique, it’s hard to last. Write the proposal first.”
“It’s clearly a small matter…”
“Opening a shop is a small matter. But if you can’t even handle small matters well, then it becomes a big matter.”
That man’s cooking was indeed decent, but not refined. Probably because it was too homestyle—the flavor felt familiar and comforting, which was a strength. But investment couldn’t be that careless. Even if it was just a small delivery shop, losing a hundred of them wouldn’t matter much, but Le Fei was still too young. Every step of his growth needed to be steady. Playing around too much would only make him frivolous.
“And you’ve played enough. Go back and study properly.”
This nephew had gotten into a top school but refused to attend. He didn’t like doing proper things, yet was very successful at all kinds of improper ones.
Racing cars, playing music, even working as a paparazzo—and doing quite well. He had just traveled around half the globe, claiming to look for direction in life, and now had returned home to wander again. He’d only been dragged back a few days ago.
Young people nowadays were sensitive and peculiar. What they thought about was no longer something parents could control.
Le Fei was still grumbling. “You gave him your phone number, right? Why hasn’t he called even once? Uncle Fatty really has no sense of loyalty. And he calls himself a friend.”
“Isn’t it just your one-sided wishful thinking?” Ren Ningyuan said lightly. “You can’t even say his real name. What kind of friend is that?”
“Knowing he’s called Fatty is enough. Everyone just calls me Little P too.”
Ren Ningyuan was unconvinced. “When I went today, he didn’t even lift his head once. When talking to people, the most basic courtesy is required. Someone like that won’t be sincere with you either.”
“He’s just quiet,” Le Fei argued. “But we really get along well. He’s popular there too. There’s even a woman who likes him a lot.”
Ren Ningyuan smiled noncommittally.
“Hey, don’t discriminate against fat people. If Uncle Fatty slimmed down, he wouldn’t be ugly. At least now he’s easy on the eyes. Uncle, your taste isn’t necessarily that high-class either. If Uncle Fatty lost weight, he might not be worse than the one by your bed.”
Ren Ningyuan’s face darkened instantly. After a while, he said, “Let’s eat.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Li Ruo turned back and scolded her son. “That was your uncle’s deceased friend.”
Le Fei shrank his shoulders, realizing his mistake. “Sorry.”
Qu Ke also came downstairs. To break the awkwardness, Le Fei called out to her. “Little Ke, come help taste a bento. My friend made it. I want to open a delivery shop with him, so I need your precious vote.”
The extra bento was heated in the microwave. When Qu Ke opened the lid, she let out a soft “Ah,” staring at it for a while before saying, “So there are people who cook like this.”
Fatty had made many sample bentos. This one was a nutritious kids’ meal, with lots of cute carrot and spinach balls. The rice was shaped like a panda’s face.
“So nostalgic…”
“You’ve eaten this kind of bento too?”
“When I was in elementary school, my dad often made food like this for me.”
“What about now?”
Qu Ke glanced at Ren Ningyuan. The man was silent, expressionless. She looked back at the bento. “He passed away.”
Le Fei sank into compounded embarrassment. “Sorry…”
Ren Ningyuan suddenly asked, “Xiao Fei, when did your friend start setting up his stall there?”
“I don’t know. When I arrived, he’d already been there for quite a while.”
“How old is he? Where is he from?”
“Uh… I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Le Fei felt puzzled. “He doesn’t like talking. How much could I know? What’s wrong?”
Ren Ningyuan thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
He couldn’t quite explain it. It was just that something came to mind, leaving him vaguely uneasy.
The next day, when Ren Ningyuan went out on errands, he passed by that street again. But Fatty was no longer there. Asking nearby vendors, he got this answer:
“Seems like he got sick. Yesterday it rained and he didn’t pack up. Today he didn’t come.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“I’m not sure. Are you looking for him?”
“Not really,” Ren Ningyuan paused. “Thank you.”
It seemed like that was a family of three. And the person he was thinking of—even if he really crawled back from the grave—would still be alone.
Ren Ningyuan soon forgot about it. A new entertainment complex opened, and for the first seventy-two hours, there was no sleep. The place was packed, social engagements nonstop. Everyone was busy to the extreme. Of course, the more powerful people who came to show support, the higher his standing. In this kind of business, his connections were already enough for him to easily obtain anything he wanted.
Downstairs was noisy and bustling. Ren Ningyuan stood in a high-floor room, looking at the city through floor-to-ceiling glass.
The pedestrians below were like ants. In this feeling of standing above everything, he still felt something was missing.
Vaguely, it seemed as if he heard that person calling him again—admiring, trusting.
“Boss.”
Ren Ningyuan groped around and sat down in a chair. It had already been a year. He should have accepted it long ago. Relatives had exhausted their grief; others had already gone on singing. Besides, when that man was alive, he had never truly been anyone to him.
He had no standing to grieve for too long.
So he still looked as calm as ever, everything seemingly normal.
Yes, that person amounted to nothing at all—far too insignificant. Compared to him, perhaps no more than a single screw.
But something in his chest had come loose.
He could still function, but he was never steady again. With that one screw missing, there was a constant noise in his chest. Over the long stretch of time, he felt as if he were slowly coming apart, so weak he could hardly even stand.
“Mr. Ren, they’re still waiting for you downstairs…”
Ren Ningyuan waved a hand without turning around. A few minutes later he stood up, straightened his clothes, and the familiar calm had already returned to his face. “Have them get the drinks ready.”
Ren Ningyuan wasn’t in great shape tonight. After drinking a bit too much, he felt uncomfortable, so Ye Xiutuo went out with him to get some air. The car drove on for a while. Leaning against the seat, Ren Ningyuan suddenly straightened up. “Stop the car.”
The car braked sharply. Ren Ningyuan pushed the door open hard. “I just saw him.”
Ye Xiutuo knew exactly who he meant and grabbed his arm. “Ningyuan, don’t do this. Qu Tongqiu has been dead for a long time.”
In the first month after that man’s funeral, Ren Ningyuan was often like this. He refused to believe the man was dead. In every passerby, he seemed to glimpse that familiar figure.
Truth was, there were too many thin men on the streets. Any one of them could look vaguely familiar.
Ren Ningyuan insisted stubbornly, “No. I really saw him.”
But there was nothing outside the car. Even the convenience store nearby was about to close. At this late hour, there were no homebound middle-aged men among the few pedestrians on the street. The car stopped for a while, then finally drove away.
Fatty walked out of the convenience store, holding a bag of oden.
When the convenience store was closing, any unsold oden would be cleared out. A bit of smiling and pleading usually did the trick. He had changed to a different place to set up his stall. In this line of work, one day without working meant one day without income. He had already taken a few days off earlier—that was his limit.
He wasn’t good at sweet talk or shouting to attract customers. Whatever money he made was only because he was more hardworking and more enduring than others.
On winter nights like this, there was barely any business. Most vendors couldn’t stand it and went home to crawl under their blankets. The streets were almost empty, and only he could still sit there patiently. When everyone else wanted to go home, he alone could hold on. Selling one more item was one more item. He lived off this doubled patience and persistence.
It was especially cold tonight. There were few vendors and even fewer customers. Fatty ate a few overcooked fish balls to stave off hunger, then sat for a long time without selling a single thing. No one even stopped to look.
At last, someone walked toward his stall.
Fatty lowered his head, looking at his goods. In his field of vision, a pair of legs approached slowly, stopping less than a meter in front of him.
He didn’t move, frozen in place. The legs bent slightly as the person squatted down, and a hand picked up a lighter from the stall—one with fairly decent workmanship.
“How much is this?”
“Fifteen…” His pronunciation was a little unclear, yet the customer understood. He took out his wallet and paid. Fatty lowered his head to find the change. Then those legs walked away.
He continued sitting there, feeling slightly lighter, a bit distracted.
No wonder that old acquaintance hadn’t recognized him. He had grown old and fat, even fatter than back in school. His whole body looked gray and bloated, completely changed. Setting up a roadside stall like this, even former colleagues could walk right past him without giving him a second glance.
When no business came at all, it was time to pack up. Fatty gathered his things, slung them over his shoulder, and headed back. On such a cold night, all he wanted was to return home and cook himself a bowl of hot soup.
He lived on the ground floor—strictly speaking, a half-basement. Aside from the light and the dampness, there was nothing particularly bad about it. As he fumbled for his keys at the door, he suddenly heard someone speak behind him.
“Qu Tongqiu.”
Fatty instinctively turned his head. The moment he truly registered it, goosebumps exploded all over his body.
Before he could react, the man was already in front of him. The sheer presence made him panic. His wrist was seized in a hard grip—his own hand icy cold, the other scorching hot, like being locked into red-hot shackles.
“Is it you, Qu Tongqiu?”
The grip hurt so badly that he trembled. “Y-you’ve got the wrong person…”
The man still held him tightly, using such force that his wrist bones creaked, on the verge of breaking.
The streetlight wasn’t very bright, but it was just enough for them to see each other’s faces.
The man was still impeccably composed, his features carrying the same oppressive sense of authority. Ren Ningyuan was still Ren Ningyuan. Aside from faint traces left by time, he hadn’t changed at all.
Fatty, on the other hand, was just a fat man—utterly ordinary. Fat to the point that his features blurred, no different from countless other fat men.
“Qu Tongqiu.”
The man’s voice was certain, yet trembling.
“Sir, you’ve got the wrong person.”
They stood locked in tension. Suddenly Ren Ningyuan released one hand and forcibly reached to touch his face, his neck, then his chest. Beneath his palm, the heart was pounding—clear, undeniable, real.
“You’re alive.”
Fatty could feel the man shaking, which made him shake as well. The expression on Ren Ningyuan’s face was impossible to describe—like someone catching a wandering ghost in a dark alley.
“Qu Tongqiu.”
Fatty didn’t know where the strength came from. He suddenly broke free and ran with all his might. He wasn’t fast. When the man lunged to grab him again, he swung the bag from his shoulder and smashed it into him, then fled headlong, disappearing into the maze-like alleys of the night.
The alleys twisted and turned so much that even veteran taxi drivers couldn’t always navigate them. He darted around wildly, sweating and panting, until he finally couldn’t run anymore. He stopped, hands braced on his knees, gasping for breath.
No one followed him.
He knew he had shaken Ren Ningyuan off.
And yet he still felt as though that man were right behind him.
He knew his peaceful life was over. He would have to start running again.
A year ago, he had fled overnight once before. He didn’t even know where he was running to. He hadn’t gone far when someone followed him, cornered him in an alley, and robbed him.
The other man looked like an escaped convict, probably desperate and on the run. Seeing him alone, the man beat him without mercy until he couldn’t move, then stripped him clean—from head to toe, even taking his coat and shoes.
Later, he saw news on a roadside television. Along the bottom scrolled the words “Death Row Inmate Escapes,” while the main report showed a highway car accident, describing the damaged vehicle and the victim’s features.
In a flash, everything clicked.
He realized that “he himself” had vanished from the world.
That convict would be buried in his place. He was already “dead.” From then on, he could live again without a name or identity. No one would force him anymore. He was completely free of the past—and of those people.
Living again wasn’t easy.
He had been robbed of everything, even his identity. Beaten beyond recognition, and now that he was “dead,” he didn’t dare appear where there were many people, didn’t dare interact with anyone. He hid during the day.
At night, he survived by rummaging through trash for scraps to eat and things to sell. It was filthy, exhausting work, full of unwritten rules and constant humiliation. Yet the income was a little better than he had expected.
After a long time scavenging, selling recyclables every day, once he could keep himself fed, he slowly saved some money. With a bit of savings, he followed others and wholesaled some goods, setting up a street stall.
In this harsh life, he actually grew fat, as if inflated with air. He thought about nothing. He just ate, worked, ate again, worked again. Life was tiring, but simple. He didn’t have to carry too much.
Everyone believed Qu Tongqiu was dead. He truly felt that he was dead too.
Those people and events from before felt like a past life. He had already crossed the Naihe Bridge and drunk Meng Po’s soup. His former life had been stuffed into a jar and thrown away, and he could live like a brand-new person.
This new life was lower, harder, more exhausting than before—but at last, he had found a bit of peace.
And now, even that peace was gone.
Fatty knocked on the door three or four times. The woman inside came to open it. Beibei was delighted to see him and ran over, asking to be picked up. Seeing how disheveled he looked, with even his things gone, the woman hurriedly asked, “What happened? Did you run into robbers?”
Still panting, Fatty said, “Can I… stay here for a while?”
She poured him a cup of hot water. “Drink some water first. Don’t be polite—stay as long as you need.”
She knew he wasn’t a bad person. She had seen her husband hiding from debts often enough and was all too familiar with that frightened look of someone running from something.
Fatty curled up on the old sofa in the living room. The sky went from dark to the deepest black, then slowly began to brighten again, yet he couldn’t sleep at all.
The life he had wanted to abandon was now chasing him, making even breathing difficult.
After several days without any sign of Fatty, Ren Ningyuan almost began to think that night had been a drunken hallucination—a dream in which he had tested things by buying something from that man, following him, almost catching him.
Yet Fatty’s bag was still in his possession, and everything inside was real.
Ye Xiutuo and Rong Liu still didn’t believe him. They thought it was probably just some unlucky passerby who had been harassed again. But Ren Ningyuan never doubted himself.
If there were only one person in this world who could recognize that man, it would be him.
Fatty didn’t dare go home, nor dare return to setting up a stall—especially with all his goods gone.
He applied for a temporary job as a cleaner. Background checks for short-term work weren’t strict. His forged ID slipped through. He was hardworking and tough, so they hired him.
This was T City’s largest entertainment complex, newly opened. There were all kinds of novelties, and an unbelievable number of customers. Before coming here, he hadn’t known there were so many rich people in the world with money and leisure to spare.
Cleaners like him had to work from morning till night, avoiding being seen by customers. He was so exhausted his back wouldn’t straighten.
The work was endless—hauling, sweeping, wiping, washing, disinfecting. During breaks he couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t sleep either. Even though he knew T City was huge and the chances of running into Ren Ningyuan again were slim, his heart couldn’t settle. Every day felt unsteady and anxious. After just a few days, he had already lost a noticeable amount of weight.
After getting off work that day, Fatty bought some vegetables and headed to the woman’s place. He was staying there temporarily, and every day he would take care of cooking. At the doorway he bumped into a man. In the dim night he didn’t pay much attention; the other man cursed under his breath and walked away.
As soon as Fatty entered, he saw the room looking as if it had been ransacked—everything in a mess. The woman was sitting on the floor, her hair disheveled, tear marks still on her face.
Fatty was startled and hurried to help her up. “What happened? What happened?”
“A-Chao just came back,” she sobbed. “He took money again. He still wants to gamble…”
“Took money? Where do you still have money for him?”
“I saved a little… but that money was for Beibei’s schooling. She should be going to kindergarten soon…”
Fatty put the vegetables down on the table. “How can this be allowed! Did he just leave? I’ll go after him.”
“Fatty—”
No matter how the woman called after him, Fatty turned and rushed out. He hadn’t gone far before he caught up with A-Chao. Grabbing him from behind, he said, “Stop.”
A-Chao turned around impatiently. “What do you want?”
“Give the money back to A-Mei. You’ve taken everything. How are the two of them supposed to live? What kind of husband are you?”
A-Chao never held back when hitting his wife, but facing a big guy like Fatty, he hesitated. He shoved him once and cursed, “None of your damn business!”
Fatty stumbled back a couple of steps. Seeing he didn’t look like someone who could fight, A-Chao grew bolder. “Dead fat pig, you can barely stand straight, yet you meddle in other people’s business.”
The woman also ran over, anxiously saying, “Fatty, don’t argue with him…”
A-Chao looked her over and sneered. “Oh, now I get it. I was wondering why it’s your business—turns out you two are screwing around.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
A-Chao leered and moved closer to Fatty. “Heh, to be honest, that bit of money wasn’t even enough for me to play two rounds. I was just worrying I didn’t have enough. My wife’s broke—so you, her lover, must have money, right?”
The woman begged, “Stop making trouble…”
“Making trouble? You got it wrong. Owing money and paying it back—that’s only natural.”
Fatty was completely confused. “What debt do I owe you?”
“What debt? Don’t play dumb. Who sleeps with someone’s wife and doesn’t pay?”
Fatty flushed red. “Y-you bastard, you’re not human…”
Before A-Chao could strike, Fatty punched him in the face.
“Bastard! Give the money back!”
The two wrestled together. No matter how dull he was, Fatty’s strength didn’t lose to this monkey-thin man. After both of them were bruised and battered, he finally sat heavily on A-Chao’s back, twisted one of his arms behind him, and panted, “Take the money out!”
A-Chao cried out in pain and hurriedly pulled out a roll of cash. Fatty took it and handed it back to the woman, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and ignored A-Chao’s continued cursing. He tugged the woman lightly. “Let’s go back.”
She cried softly as they walked. Fatty comforted her. “It’s fine. No matter how much he makes trouble, you can’t give him money. With me here, you don’t have to be afraid of him hitting you.”
Just like before, he wasn’t good at fighting. But compared to his former self, he found it easier now to give rise to righteous anger out of weakness.
Perhaps it was because he had already understood that there were no saviors in this world. Small people could only rely on their own two hands. Reality sometimes forced people to be brave.
He dabbed iodine on the bruises. The next day, Fatty went to work at the entertainment complex as usual. After finishing his assigned cleaning, he picked up some discarded items. Scrap could still be sold, and having a little extra gain each day made him feel content.
After finishing the final disinfection of the restroom, he was about to leave when a customer came in.
Normally this meant he hadn’t timed it well—he could just bow his head and back out. But as he reached the doorway, the customer said, “Wait.”
The moment he heard the voice, Fatty knew he was in trouble. Sure enough, the man’s face was still swollen—it was A-Chao, the one he had fought with yesterday.
“Brother Gao, it’s him,” A-Chao said to the man beside him, acting like a total lackey. “He took my money and made me miss last night’s game. Ruined our luck.”
The man called Brother Gao looked Fatty up and down. “So you’re the one who robbed my brother’s money?”
Before Fatty could speak, he took a heavy kick to the stomach. His vision went black. As he bent over and squatted down, his head and back were struck several more times, and another kick landed squarely on his nose. Blood immediately poured out.
Hearing the commotion, security hurried over. “Sir, please don’t cause trouble.”
Brother Gao spread his hands. “Cause trouble? Are you blind? He’s mopping the floor. Can’t you see?”
“Sorry…”
Brother Gao lit a cigarette and flicked ash to the ground. “There’s ash on the floor. Are you blind? Don’t you see it? Be careful, I’ll file a complaint.”
Staff and customers passing by all looked over. It was obvious Fatty was being targeted, but no one dared say anything. A thug like Brother Gao, with some standing, was not someone people wanted to offend.
Kneeling on the floor, Fatty wiped up the fallen ash along with the blood flowing from his nose. He was still on duty, in uniform. As long as the other party didn’t openly use violence, they had to treat customers as gods, swallow all grievances, and maintain so-called service standards.
Brother Gao nudged his face with the toe of his shoe and said maliciously, “You clean pretty well. Dead fat pig, what time do you get off work? My brothers are waiting to treat you to a nice late-night snack.”
The meaning didn’t need to be spelled out. Everyone understood—tonight, Fatty was in trouble. Thugs like this had no humanity. People got beaten to death over trivial matters.
Suddenly a man’s voice said, “What’s going on?”
Brother Gao reacted first, quickly turning toward the man accompanied by several others. He smiled ingratiatingly. “Mr. Ren.”
The atmosphere immediately changed. Usually, something like this would at most bring the floor manager. No one expected to run into the owner. The boss rarely came down to inspect this level; many people hadn’t even known what he looked like until today.
The man glanced over the scene, his expression calm. “Does Mr. Gao have any complaints about our service staff?”
He wasn’t showing favoritism, even had a faint smile. Yet even A-Chao, who didn’t really know who “Mr. Ren” was, suddenly didn’t dare say a word in front of him.
Brother Gao kept smiling. “No, no. The service is excellent. We were just chatting, having a smoke.”
Ren Ningyuan smiled again. “This seems to be a non-smoking area.”
Without another word, Brother Gao stuffed the cigarette butt into his mouth and swallowed it, then slapped himself once, smiling. “See? I’m just careless.”
Ren Ningyuan did nothing more. The two men fled like mice seeing a cat.
Such a neat, gentle-looking person, yet the pressure he gave off was heavier than anything else.
Fatty kept his head down, utterly inconspicuous. He put his fallen uniform cap back on, picked up his cleaning tools, and turned to leave quietly. Ren Ningyuan looked at him and suddenly called out, “Stop.”
Fatty, who was always obedient, acted as if he hadn’t heard. Carrying his tools, he walked straight ahead. After just a few steps, he was grabbed from behind. The bodyguards had already seized him as a suspicious person.
Ren Ningyuan signaled them to let go, then said, “You’ve worked hard. You don’t need to work tonight. Go get some medicine.”
Fatty mumbled a vague “yes.” Ren Ningyuan could only see the top of his cap. Tilting his head, he tried to see that swollen, unrecognizable face, but the man lowered his head even further.
Ren Ningyuan suddenly said softly, “Qu Tongqiu.”
This time he couldn’t run anymore. Ren Ningyuan reached out and blocked him. Fatty struggled, even swinging the tools in his hands, but Ren Ningyuan had already wrapped his arms around him from behind, holding him tight.
“Qu Tongqiu!”
The bodyguards froze for two seconds, then hurried over to help. Finally they subdued the desperately resisting fat man. Under the stunned gazes of everyone around, he was practically tied up and taken upstairs.
Once the door closed and the bodyguards withdrew, the moment Fatty could move, he gasped for breath, got up, and punched Ren Ningyuan hard. Ren Ningyuan didn’t dodge—he just staggered back half a step from the force.
“Qu Tongqiu…”
Fatty threw a few more punches, making a show of it, to let Ren Ningyuan know that hiding from him didn’t mean he was afraid.
At this point in life, there was really nothing left to fear.
Besides, relying on his current bulk, Ren Ningyuan couldn’t really do much to him—at the very least, he couldn’t drag him away.
“Qu Tongqiu,” Ren Ningyuan tried to grab him. “I know you hate me. You can take revenge however you want. Just give us a little time first…”
Fatty shook off his hand, knocked him to the ground, and straddled him, pressing him down so he couldn’t move.
Ren Ningyuan only looked at him. “Qu Tongqiu, you’re hurt. Let me treat your wounds first.”
Fatty ignored him, grabbed his collar, clenched his teeth, and raised his fist, ready to land several hard punches on that face so used to hypocrisy.
But under Ren Ningyuan’s gaze, somehow, the fists meant for venting his anger finally only landed on his stomach.
Ren Ningyuan took the blows without a word, still looking at him, only giving a bitter smile. “You’re really heavy now.”
Fatty’s face flushed red. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly felt movement beneath him. He lost his balance and fell flat on his back. Ren Ningyuan quickly flipped over and pinned him down.
Because he was fat, he couldn’t move easily. Lying there spread-eagle, he couldn’t even turn over for a moment.
Ren Ningyuan hovered over him and pressed on his belly. Fatty lay there like a clown, belly exposed. Being pressed like that made him panic. “What are you doing!”
Ren Ningyuan said gently, “There are bruises. Does it hurt?”
“…”
“I’ll apply some medicated wine.”
Even unwilling, his clothes were forcibly undone. Ren Ningyuan pressed him down, spread out his curled limbs. Fatty struggled, but the medicine was still applied, ointment smeared on his face as well.
Then Ren Ningyuan pinned his hands to either side of his head. It didn’t take much strength to keep him from getting up—he could only lie there like that.
Fatty grew even more flustered, not daring to meet the man’s eyes at all.
Ren Ningyuan lowered his head and looked at him for a long while. It was as if he finally let out a breath, murmuring softly, “You really are still alive.”
“…”
“Have you suffered a lot this past year?”
“…”
“Why didn’t you come find us? You lost everything—how were you supposed to make a living on your own?”
Fatty pressed his lips tightly together. He had no intention of talking to him.
Ren Ningyuan watched him for a bit longer, then at last said gently, “Alright, I won’t ask. As long as you’re alive, that’s enough.”
Fatty wasn’t really afraid of anything anymore, but being stared at like that still made him uneasy somehow. Lying there and reminiscing felt especially strange. He couldn’t help struggling.
“L-let me up!”
Ren Ningyuan seemed to think it over. “If I let you up, you’ll just run again.”
“…”
“Qu Tongqiu, don’t hide from me. There’s no point. No matter where you go, I’ll find you sooner or later. I have more time than you.”
Fatty’s face flushed red with anger. “I don’t owe you anything. Why won’t you let me go?”
“I just want to make it up to you,” Ren Ningyuan said, looking down at him. “You don’t have to forgive me, but please give me a chance to make amends.”
Fatty grew agitated, struggling again. “I don’t want your compensation!”
“Even if you don’t want it, running away won’t solve anything, Qu Tongqiu.” Ren Ningyuan paused. “Qu Tongqiu, give me some time.”
“…”
“You’ve already run for a year. Give me one year too,” Ren Ningyuan softened his voice as he looked at the man’s reddened face. “Even a month will do. Just give us some time.”
This time, Qu Tongqiu really didn’t run. He only quit his job and went back to setting up his street stall.
Between him and Ren Ningyuan, it was as if they had reluctantly reached a silent agreement.
He didn’t run, and Ren Ningyuan didn’t chase. Ren Ningyuan didn’t push too hard, and he stayed where he was, living his own life. Each kept their own fragile peace.
But that peace was like a taut string—one slight movement, and it would snap. No matter what they thought inside, they could only work together, tacitly, to maintain this delicate balance.
