Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Never in a million years did I expect Xie Cheng to show up at my door that weekend carrying a live chicken.
“My esteemed VIP, does this level of service meet your standards?”
Unfortunately, before he could even finish, the chicken broke free from the bag. With one flap of its wings, it launched itself onto the top of the chandelier. And the culprit? He stood there with one hand in his pocket, looking every bit the polished gentleman.
“Leave it to me. Just sit back and wait for the chicken soup.”
The words had barely left his mouth when the chicken flapped its wings again and came straight at us. He didn’t panic. “It’s fine, Xiao Jun. Don’t be scared…”
He was telling me not to be scared, but not three seconds later, he was the one being chased into the kitchen by the chicken.
Sure enough, people might be dependable, but they wouldn’t stay dependable forever.
In the end, I was the one who caught the chicken in the corner. I picked up the kitchen knife, raised my hand, brought it down, and finally put an end to that dramatic little episode.
Late that night.
In the quiet stillness, we sat facing each other in silence, each drinking from a bowl of golden chicken soup.
After a while, he was the first to break the silence.
“Is it good?”
“…It’s good.”
“That’s good.”
After all that chaos and running around, not even his black hair was messy. It was still fluffy and fresh, as if he carried some sort of permanently well-groomed filter around with him. There wasn’t the slightest trace of a working man’s exhaustion after a long day-or the self-awareness to go with it.
Seeing him hesitate, seemingly curious, I gave a light cough. “My mom used to gut fish at the wet market. I’ve helped her since I was little.”
“Oh?”
“My dad was a gambler. It’s always just been me and my mom.”
Xie Cheng didn’t say anything.
But looking at his calm expression, I found myself a little dissatisfied. “Don’t you want to say something?”
He nodded. “Everyone has hard times. Once you get through them, things get better.”
“You’ve had them too?”
“Mm.” Xie Cheng set down his bowl. Under the stark white light, his expression was open and unguarded. “Same as you. I don’t have a dad either.”
“When I had just started high school, my dad hit someone while driving a freight truck. The person died. The truck was gone too. Only the loan was left, and my mom and I were the ones who paid it back.”
What had started as a perfectly good bowl of chicken soup had turned into a contest of misery.
This time, it was my turn to feel sorry for him. “You were still in school then. How did you pay it back?”
“By doing in-home housekeeping jobs with my mom.” He smiled. “My mom had it really hard, so I have to be good to her and take care of her properly.”
At that, I could barely keep the expression on my face under control.
I kind of wanted to laugh, and I kind of wanted to cry.
“My ex-boyfriend said that too.”
“Hm?”
“He also said his mom had it hard, and that I should take good care of her.”
Xie Cheng: “?”
Seeing his face full of confusion, I lowered my head and drank my soup.
The difference between those two things was something he’d better never understand.