Chapter 5
Chapter 5
There were several people standing outside. Aside from my Tattooed Neighbor, there were three others.
All of them were tall and solidly built.
The burliest one had a buzz cut, muscles that could rival a boxing champion’s, and a fierce-looking face to match.
One of them had dyed blond hair, all kinds of accessories on him, and tattoos on his arms-both of them.
The last one had curly hair and wore a tank top. He was slimmer than the others, but he didn’t look like a good guy either.
Most importantly, they were all carrying things.
“Bro?” I looked at the neighbor in front, confused.
He led the others inside. As he passed me, he said, “I don’t have cookware over at my place yet. Borrowing yours for hotpot.”
As he spoke, he had already found his way to my kitchen and led the others over.
“Oh, right.” He glanced back at me. “Don’t close the front door.”
None of them paid me any mind. They went straight into the kitchen and got busy. They’d brought a ton of meat and vegetables.
It got too crowded back there, so the biggest one was chased out.
“Kid, what are you staring at me for?” He caught me sneaking glances at him and asked in a deep, booming voice.
I blurted out, “Bro, your muscles are really impressive. I was just looking.”
That happened to please him. He burst out laughing. “You’ve got good taste.”
“Bro, what should I call you?” I asked.
Through those few exchanges, I learned that the Big Guy lounging on my sofa as if this were his own home was named Li Sheng. The trendy blond guy in the kitchen was Jiang Chiyu, and Curly was Wen Shixuan.
As for my neighbor, his name was Xing He.
The aroma of hotpot drifted out. I watched as they brought out the soup base, plates of meat and vegetables, and two big bowls of dipping sauce.
They had only been here a short while, but somehow they looked more like the owners of this place than I did.
“Kid, what are you standing there for? Come eat. Why are you being so polite in your own home?” the Big Guy called out.
“…”
The pot was spicy. I kept sucking in sharp breaths as I ate. It was hot, but it smelled so good.
Beside me, the tattooed man popped open a can of ice-cold Coke with one hand, stuck a straw in it, and passed it to me.
“Can’t handle spicy food?”
“Brother He, I’m fine,” I said, having heard the others call him that. “I like it. I just can’t really take the heat.”
Xing He didn’t seem to care how I knew his name. He got up, poured me a bowl of plain boiled water, and set it in front of me. “If you can’t handle it, rinse it before you eat.”
At that, the other three all froze.
Blondie said resentfully, “Brother He, last time I had acne and didn’t want spicy food, you told me to open my own table…”
Curly was just as resentful. “Brother He, you once said picky eaters should get lost…”
The Big Guy roared with laughter.
Xing He snorted. “What, we’re eating in someone else’s home and you still want to chase the homeowner out? Are you trying to turn the natural order upside down?”
The others teased him a few more times.
Once they started talking, they were actually pretty easy to get along with. It was just their appearances that made people misunderstand them.
Halfway through the hotpot, sure enough, there came some noise from outside.