Chapter 40: Two People

Long Yin awoke the following evening to find his clothes had been changed. He guessed it must have been Xiao Chui who did it, so he didn’t give it much thought. Just then, his stomach began to rumble loudly, and only then did Long Yin realize he was so hungry that his chest nearly touched his back. At that very moment, a delicious aroma of food wafted toward him, making him swallow unconsciously. Puzzled, he made his way to the kitchen, only to be surprised by the sight of Yuan Shaolin, who stood there with an apron tied around him.

Yuan Shaolin happened to turn just then, locking eyes with Long Yin. His silver ponytail flicked as he moved, his bangs lifting slightly to reveal long, dark brows. Unlike his usual tightly pursed lips that made him seem severe and cold, a faint curve softened his expression, giving warmth to the hard lines of his face. He wore a gentle, focused look, a pale pink apron wrapped around his waist. In that moment, as he turned, Long Yin found it difficult to reconcile this Yuan Shaolin with the image in his mind; this side of Yuan Shaolin was so unexpectedly gentle it seemed almost unreal. A faint blush crept onto Long Yin’s cheeks, for he sensed a maternal air about the other, something that struck him as both strange and wondrous.

Yuan Shaolin came over, his cool hand pressing against Long Yin’s forehead, his brows furrowing. “Still have a fever?”

Long Yin turned his head, embarrassed. He certainly couldn’t tell the other about his strange feelings.

Just then, his grumbling stomach came to his rescue. Long Yin looked at Yuan Shaolin, his eyes soft, and asked in a quiet voice, “Is there anything to eat?” The lingering sense of vulnerability in his tone made Yuan Shaolin’s brow arch in surprise, a faint, amused glimmer flickering through his narrow phoenix eyes.

“There is,” Yuan Shaolin replied, pointing to the table. Long Yin quickly sat down, grabbing the freshly toasted bread and biting into it hungrily. Yet the flush on his ears betrayed him, and Yuan Shaolin’s lips curved once more.

Yuan Shaolin removed his apron and sat down in silence to eat.

Halfway through the meal, Long Yin suddenly remembered he had lost Xiao Chui. He looked around in confusion—surely, with such tantalizing smells, Xiao Chui wouldn’t have been able to sit still. Swallowing his food, Long Yin called out toward the kitchen door, “Xiao Chui!”

Yuan Shaolin paused for a moment with his chopsticks, but then continued eating as though he hadn’t heard Long Yin call out. Yet the upward curve on his lips remained, suggesting he was in rather good spirits. The word “companion” came to Yuan Shaolin’s mind again, and he began to believe that there truly were a few beings in the world who could embody that term. He himself had never had, nor ever cared for, companions, but he had never been without an appreciation for genuine affection.

Receiving no response, Long Yin decided to search for Xiao Chui himself. After looking everywhere in vain, he returned to the kitchen and asked Yuan Shaolin, “Do you know where Xiao Chui went?”

Yuan Shaolin finished his last mouthful, chewing slowly. Only under Long Yin’s anxious gaze did he finally say, “He went somewhere to train. He won’t be back for at least a week.”

“Train?” Long Yin stared in disbelief, but soon his brows drew together. “What did you say to him?”

Yuan Shaolin wiped his hands, lowering his head just enough for his lips to curl in a smile. “Are you so sure I said something?”

Long Yin slapped the table, leaning forward, eyes narrowed in warning. “Xiao Chui isn’t even four years old. You shouldn’t have said those things. Without someone deliberately guiding him, Xiao Chui would never leave my side, even for training.”

Yuan Shaolin was unmoved. He leaned back lazily and nodded. “You know your pet well. But you should also understand that if he hadn’t wanted to go, nothing I said would have persuaded him.”

Upon hearing this, Long Yin’s spirit instantly deflated. Biting his lip, he slumped into his chair, staring at the delicious food spread before him, suddenly unable to eat another bite. In a muffled voice, he asked, “Is it dangerous there?”

Yuan Shaolin’s lips curved even more deeply. So the bond between human and card beast could be this sincere, he thought. “Yes, it’s dangerous,” Yuan Shaolin replied. Long Yin looked up sharply, but Yuan Shaolin added, “Don’t worry. I’ve sent someone to watch over him. He’ll be fine.”

With this reassurance, Long Yin finally relaxed, stealing an apologetic glance at Yuan Shaolin. He knew the fault wasn’t the other’s. “Thank you.”

“No need,” Yuan Shaolin said, rising and leaving the kitchen. His kindness was not without reason; he, too, wanted to find solace in the wishes that had once gone unfulfilled.

Knowing Xiao Chui was safe, Long Yin’s appetite returned. He heaped a large bowl of rice for himself and ate with delight. Truth be told, Yuan Shaolin was quite a talented cook; aside from his cold demeanor, he had few faults. Thinking it over, Long Yin concluded that Yuan Shaolin actually possessed the qualities of a virtuous wife and devoted mother—it was just that these traits were hidden deep and needed to be unearthed. The thought amused him so much that he ate two more bowls in high spirits.

After he finished eating, Long Yin stretched and loaded the dishes into the automatic washer. He started the machine, watching as steam quickly enveloped the transparent panel, forming droplets that ran down as the sound of rushing water filled the kitchen. Contented, he left.

He noticed Yuan Shaolin’s door was tightly shut. After a moment’s hesitation, Long Yin decided not to disturb him. He returned to his own room, intending to make some cards, but upon seeing his personal network terminal in his storage space, he suddenly remembered the promise he made to that kid. The agreed-upon time had long since passed. After a moment’s thought, Long Yin logged onto the federal network and was transported to the same room as before. As he stood there, he saw the other seated upright in a chair, face expressionless. Long Yin was taken aback. “Have you been waiting since the agreed time?”

“I dislike people who break their word.” Bai Ze’s eyes were cold, his voice even, but Long Yin could hear the irritation beneath the calm. He opened his mouth to explain, but Bai Ze cut him off: “No excuse can change the fact that you broke your promise. If you can’t guarantee the time, don’t make promises so lightly next time.”

Long Yin opened his mouth, then fell silent. The other was right—he had broken his promise, and that was the truth. Awkwardly, he said, “Sorry. Next time, I’ll just avoid making appointments with you.”

In fact, Bai Ze himself didn’t know why he was suddenly angry. He had thought the other wouldn’t show, and when Long Yin appeared, his heart skipped a beat. He had intended to start the training, but somehow it turned into a rebuke. Perhaps it was because Long Yin was the first person he had ever chosen entirely on his own, and so his expectations were especially high.

“Let’s start practice,” Bai Ze said, producing a pair of silver ankle rings. He came over and fastened them onto Long Yin’s ankles. Glancing at Long Yin, who was momentarily startled, Bai Ze seemed entirely at ease, and soon Long Yin found himself absorbed in the rhythm: ding-ling-ling~ ding-ling~ ding-ling-ling~ ding-ling-ling~ ding-ling~ ding-ling-ling~ ling-ling~.

Long Yin had thought Bai Ze would make things difficult for him out of anger, but the other was as objective as ever. Determined to escape from the annoying silver ankle rings as soon as possible, Long Yin did his best to follow Bai Ze’s instructions. The awkwardness between them quickly dissipated as they fell into the rhythm of teaching and learning.

“Stop. Time’s up,” Bai Ze announced. Long Yin noted that Bai Ze’s expression remained as impassive as ever. A sudden pang of guilt struck him for having kept the other waiting so long. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Shall I keep you company to let off some steam?”

The moment he spoke, Long Yin regretted it, but Bai Ze’s eyes lit up as he looked at Long Yin with suspicion. “Aren’t you afraid of rats?”

Long Yin blushed. “Letting off steam doesn’t have to mean fighting rats.”

For a moment, Bai Ze fell silent, then suddenly said something that left Long Yin speechless: “How else can you vent if not by fighting rats?”

Long Yin suddenly felt sorry for those rats. Some people stubbornly believed that only by fighting rats could they relieve their frustrations.

“You could try something else,” Long Yin suggested.

Bai Ze knelt to unfasten the ankle rings for Long Yin, the bells chiming as he did so. Long Yin still couldn’t get used to the sound, but Bai Ze handled it with such ease and naturalness that there was not a trace of awkwardness.

“Do you know how to dance?” Bai Ze suddenly asked.

Long Yin replied, somewhat bewildered, “A little.”

Bai Ze stood, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps we could go to a ball.”

“What?” Long Yin dug at his ear, thinking he must have misheard.

Bai Ze looked at him. “Don’t you think the dance floor at the entertainment center is an interesting place?”

Long Yin was dumbstruck. “For example?” In his previous life, he’d never set foot in such a place.

“Come on,” Bai Ze said, taking Long Yin’s hand. A ring of light spun beneath their feet, and in an instant, they were transported to the entertainment center. The air was filled with a cacophony of noise as Bai Ze led Long Yin inside, the corners of his lips lifting in a faint smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Everyone has childhood memories, whether warm or absurd, and, time and again, the two of them would unexpectedly leave their mark on each other’s.