Chapter 82 — Lan Yin
After the first wave of awkwardness passed, Xie Jing gradually returned to his usual self. He went about his business as he always did, just like before.
He hadn’t changed, and the people in the East Courtyard treated him just as warmly as ever.
Xie Jing went to see Shang Yulou to tell him the departure time. Shopkeeper Shang had been on edge these past days and had long wanted to leave. Hearing Xie Jing’s words, he immediately nodded in agreement.
Xie Jing had someone deliver a box of silver and handed it to Shang Yulou politely.
“Boss Shang, you’ve been startled these days. This is your pay for this period. I’ve delayed you for quite some time — I truly apologize. When I return to the provincial capital next time, I’ll personally visit on behalf of Lord Bai Jiu to thank you.”
Shang Yulou declined briefly, but eventually accepted the silver.
Inwardly, he sighed.
Their opera troupe probably wouldn’t be coming back to Nanfang again. They’d been frightened enough as it was.
Xie Jing held a farewell banquet for him on behalf of Lord Bai Jiu and invited Shang Yulou to dinner.
When performing, Shang Yulou was very particular about what he ate, but in his leisure time, his favorite food was hotpot — especially in cold weather.
A copper pot was set on the table, glowing red from the charcoal beneath it. The chef beside them sliced beef and mutton into thin sheets — each platter marbled with fat like snowflakes. As soon as they were sliced, they were dipped into the bubbling broth a few times. The meat was thin, so it curled and cooked in no time. Dipped in sesame sauce until well-coated, a single bite was scalding hot, savory, and fragrant — indescribably satisfying.
Xie Jing wasn’t picky with food and accompanied him with some bites.
It was cold in Nanfang these days. By the time they were halfway through their meal, snow began to fall outside.
In the hall, servants brought warm wine, but Shang Yulou never drank when performing, only tea. Xie Jing didn’t dare drink either and joined him in tea.
After eating about half his fill, Shang Yulou set down his chopsticks, letting the young apprentices finish the hotpot, and sat chatting with Xie Jing.
Xie Jing asked, “Boss Shang, you’re eating so little? If there’s anything else you’d like, just say so.”
Shang Yulou smiled and shook his head, “No, I’m used to this. I don’t eat much dinner. You know the saying — ‘sing hungry, eat full and you’ll croak.’ Eat too much and you can’t sing well. Nowadays, I only have a small supper later — a few tasty bites are enough.”
Xie Jing nodded without insisting.
He himself had once trained as a martial-role actor and understood the theater’s customs.
That very understanding made Shang Yulou feel comfortable with him. Their casual chatting flowed easily — Xie Jing neither flattered nor slighted him, unlike many others who treated him like an idol. Instead, he spoke like an old friend. It even puzzled Shang Yulou a bit — the more he looked at Xie Jing, the more pleasant he found him.
Sighing, Shang Yulou said, “Little Xie, my line of work is a hard one. But your line of work isn’t easy either. You have to deal with so many people every day. If another gang like the Azure Dragon Society appears again… ha! Tell me, we wander the world, earning our living honestly — who have we ever offended?”
He took a sip of tea and sighed deeply. “You’re still young. Save more while you can. Don’t spend your monthly pay carelessly. Put some away to buy a little shop in the provincial capital. When you’re older, you can settle down there peacefully. It’s safer and more stable than Nanfang.”
Xie Jing chuckled and nodded, “I’ll think about it later. But land in the capital is expensive — I don’t make money as easily as you do, Boss Shang. I’ll have to work a few more years. Actually, there’s good money in Nanfang. Why don’t you stay a bit longer?”
Shang Yulou blanched, “I like working and earning money, yes — but I sell my art, not my life!”
Xie Jing leaned on the table, laughing.
After the farewell meal, Xie Jing took his leave early so the troupe could rest before their journey.
On his way back, the snow was still falling. A black car waited outside. The driver had been standing in the cold, waiting to pick him up. When he saw Xie Jing, he hurried to open the door and said quietly, “Lord Bai Jiu sent me. He said Manger Xie doesn’t like cars, but since it’s cold tonight, please make an exception.”
Xie Jing nodded. “No problem.”
The car drove smoothly — the driver was skilled; there was barely any jolt.
Xie Jing didn’t get carsick, but since Lord Bai Jiu had gone to the trouble, he accepted it.
As he watched the snowflakes flutter in the streetlights, he found it strange. He’d seen snow several times since coming to Nanfang a year ago, but he’d always been too busy to stop and look.
Maybe because Lord Bai Jiu wasn’t around, he’d had no mood for such idle beauty.
He pressed a fingertip against the cold window, feeling the chill through the glass, and smiled faintly.
When the car stopped outside the Western-style house, Xie Jing got out and walked back slowly. As soon as he entered the yard, he saw Lord Bai Jiu standing there.
Lord Bai Jiu wore a snow-blue fur cloak and held a paper umbrella, already dusted with snow. When he saw Xie Jing jogging toward him, he waved and said, “Slow down — no rush.”
Xie Jing came closer, blew warm air into his palms, then clasped Lord Bai Jiu’s cold fingers to warm them. “Master, why did you come out? It’s cold. Let’s go back in.”
Lord Bai Jiu said, “It’s fine. I saw the snow and wanted a walk. Will you join me?”
Xie Jing nodded, still holding his hand.
Lord Bai Jiu turned his hand to hold his in return, and the umbrella tilted to cover them both. As they walked, he asked about the opera troupe.
Xie Jing told a few amusing stories, and Lord Bai Jiu chuckled softly.
Their boots crunched in the snow; the only sounds were the pattering flakes on the umbrella and their steps. It felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them.
Xie Jing drew a deep breath — the winter air filled his lungs with ice. Suddenly, he had an impulse to tell Lord Bai Jiu everything. His memories had faded except for a few major events, and he wanted to warn him. But when he opened his mouth, no words came out.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He clutched his throat — it was as if something was blocking it. He wanted to speak of their past, to remind Lord Bai Jiu — yet not a single word could escape.
The memories slipped away rapidly, except the vivid image of Lord Bai Jiu coughing up blood — that memory burned his mind, but he still couldn’t speak it aloud. His chest felt crushed.
Lord Bai Jiu noticed and asked, “What’s wrong? Feeling unwell again?”
Xie Jing’s forehead was drenched with sweat. He gave up and shook his head. “No.”
Lord Bai Jiu brushed his cheek, wiping the sweat, frowning slightly, “Still say no? You got carsick again, didn’t you? Next time I won’t send the car. You like horses — ride one instead.”
Xie Jing squeezed his hand and murmured assent.
Lord Bai Jiu kept talking to distract him, mentioning Bai Hongqi and the others.
Xie Jing managed to respond this time. “Sir, is Miss Hong going south?”
“Yes,” Lord Bai Jiu said softly. “Things are better in the south right now. My grandfather and aunt wanted her to stay in the north, but I think she’s capable — being too close to home will only limit her. Coincidentally, there’s a big business opportunity in the southeast. I didn’t have enough funds before, but after this trip to Russia, I earned some — just enough.”
“What kind of business?”
“It’s fine to tell you. I plan to send a few managers to the South Seas to build sugar and rubber factories. As for Hong’er, she’ll get some practice in the south first. In two years, when she’s older and steadier, she’ll manage things in the South Seas.”
Xie Jing looked up and asked quietly, “Sir, is the north going to fall into chaos?”
Lord Bai Jiu reached out, brushed snow from his hair, and said, “Hard to say. Times are like this — we must prepare and leave ourselves a way out.”
Xie Jing tightened his grip, but before he could reply, Lord Bai Jiu said, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you go. You’ll stay by my side.”
Xie Jing exhaled in relief and smiled. He relaxed enough to tease, “Sir, you treat Miss Hong better than the Second Young Master.”
Lord Bai Jiu laughed softly. “How can boys be raised like girls? They need some toughening up. He’s thick-skinned; he’ll be fine.”
Xie Jing laughed as well.
Knowing Xie Jing got carsick, Lord Bai Jiu had waited outside for him, then walked with him until he felt better before returning together.
That night, all of Xie Jing’s bedding and belongings were moved into Lord Bai Jiu’s room.
The room next door became purely ornamental.
Everyone in the East Courtyard was efficient — perhaps too efficient. Since young Xie was shy and honest, none of them dared meet his eyes. Whenever they saw him, they’d immediately lower their heads and pretend to be busy.
Only when Xie Jing went upstairs did he realize what had happened. But the deed was done. He thought for a moment, then simply accepted it and stayed.
Lord Bai Jiu, watching the red tips of his ears, felt delighted. Sitting on the bed, he teased, “Shall I have them move your things back? You can get used to it for a few days first if you like.”
Xie Jing shook his head. “It’s fine. I used to stand guard for you at night — it’s the same thing.”
“This isn’t quite the same,” Lord Bai Jiu said, pinching his chin and lifting it. “When has standing guard ever meant climbing into my bed, hm?”
Xie Jing tilted his head back; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he made a small, pleading sound.
Lord Bai Jiu leaned in, biting the corner of his lips, his voice low and magnetic in a way it never was by day. “You don’t know anything, yet you’re brave. I know you’re not ready — I won’t have you tonight.”
He said that — but he only kept to the words “not have.”
At just over twenty, Lord Bai Jiu had only ever read of such things in books — and even then, he had only recently started studying them.
Now, he practiced what he’d learned, experimenting carefully with Xie Jing, savoring every feeling — like holding an unripe yet sweet fruit in his palm.
…
Whether drunk or sober, Xie Jing was brave — the only difference was that when sober, he said little. Only when he couldn’t take it anymore did he bite his lip and let out a faint sound through his nose.
He gripped Lord Bai Jiu’s arms tightly, tilting his head back to look at him — eyes stubborn, refusing to look away.
Just watching him greedily.
Even when the white flash filled his mind — blurring the line between pleasure and illusion — he didn’t let go.
He could not speak of where he came from. He could not know where he was going. Only by clinging to the man before him could he cross to the other shore.
*
Winter, Nanfang.
Within just a few days, taverns sprang up along both sides of the railway. The Russian consulate’s head grew anxious and immediately sought out the local Nanfang officials, ordering them to shut them down at once.
But the officials weren’t as cooperative as before. First, they stalled with excuses for several days. When delay was no longer possible, they said evasively, “This matter’s beyond our authority — you’ll need approval from the Governor in the provincial capital.”
The provincial army general, Bai Xiliang, had already set his eyes on that area.
The Eastern Province Railway was crucial — spanning three key regions, it was the throat of the northern provinces.
