In June of that year, Beijiao was about to embark on his first summer vacation in college. Unlike his roommates who went traveling to Xiamen, he stayed behind. The night before their final exam, while his roommates excitedly discussed which direct flight to Xiamen would be the most practical, he received a text message.
The message came from his mother, Ms. Zhang, whom he hadn’t spoken to in nearly a year.
[Ms. Zhang: I really don’t have any extra money right now. You might need to figure out how to cover next semester’s tuition on your own during the summer.]
Beijiao didn’t reply. Instead, he casually opened her profile and checked her Moments, which were set to be visible only for the past three days—like a girl in her first bloom of romance.
She had just updated a post today. In a park somewhere in a foreign country, Ms. Zhang was seen arm-in-arm with a middle-aged man with a beer belly, smiling brightly.
The post was geotagged to Vancouver, Canada.
His dark eyes showed no flicker of emotion. He put his phone down and calmly turned another page of the textbook in his hands.
The pages rustled.
“Beige, you coming or not?”
Zhang Liang from the neighboring bed peeked out from under his mosquito net.
“No.”
A single, concise word. The young voice had just gone through puberty, but still carried a hint of a magnetic, boyish tone beneath its calm delivery.
He lifted his head. The cheap mosquito netting bought from the supermarket obscured his face.
Behind the netting, a soft strand of hair fell forward, almost grazing his eyelashes.
“Busy.”
“What with?”
“Working.”
A brief pause.
Everyone in the dormitory burst into laughter—
In this day and age, no one really believed that someone could be so financially strapped they had to work their way through school to afford tuition.
Amid the cheerful laughter, the young man’s face, already usually expressionless, showed no emotion. He merely gave his lips a slight, indifferent twitch.
His phone vibrated again.
It was a voice video call request from Ms. Zhang.
He moved the book beside him aside and declined the call.
A new message came through almost immediately.
[Ms. Zhang: At least acknowledge it when you receive.]
[Beijiao: 1]
…
“Beijiao, are you even human? Don’t you have a heart?”
Night fell and city lights flickered on.
Crowded streets bustled with people eager to return home. Perhaps to provide a haven for wandering souls with nowhere else to go, the neon sign of “Wǒwǒ” Bar at No. 3 Qingsong Street lit up as well.
Inside the dimly lit bar, there were no customers yet.
Behind the counter, the slightly overweight bar owner rubbed his slightly round belly and turned to the young man beside him, who was bent over the sink washing glasses.
The young man’s lowered lashes cast a faint shadow beneath his eyes.
His thin lips, slightly upturned even when he wasn’t smiling, gave him a look of impoverished nobility in his cheap bar uniform. Half his face was hidden in the warm glow of the bar lights, as if surrounded by a halo.
It should have been a beautiful scene.
Except for the innate aloofness he exuded, making him seem unapproachable.
The owner clicked his tongue. “Hey, wake up! You’re not even mad? If I had a son like you, I’d be laughing in my sleep. How could she bear to abandon you like that?”
The sound of running water stopped abruptly.
An elegantly shaped fingertip caught the last droplet clinging to the bottom of a glass.
The young man didn’t lift his head.
The owner nodded earnestly and continued enthusiastically, “Right, I really do feel for you.”
Beijiao placed the glass down, turned his head, and stared at him. “Then raise my wage.”
“What?” The owner blinked, shaking his head decisively. “Well, not that much sympathy.”
Beijiao turned his head back.
Not achieving his goal, he wouldn’t waste another word.
His natural arrogance surfaced effortlessly.
The owner scratched his chin, sighing—
This guy was like some rich kid filming a reality show episode at this tiny bar. Definitely not the “poor student working to pay tuition” type.
He couldn’t even tell who was the actual employee.
No longer indulging in unnecessary sympathy, the two went back to washing glasses and reviewing the day’s drink menu until the small bell at the bar’s entrance jingled, signaling the arrival of the first customers of the night.
The group entered noisily, chatting and laughing. Probably regulars, they greeted the owner familiarly.
Standing by the sink, Beijiao had just finished washing the last glass, dried it, and placed it on display.
He lazily lifted his eyes as he completed the motion, catching a vague glimpse of them—about five or six people, men and women…
He couldn’t make out the details in the dim lighting.
The last one to enter, a young man, happened to look up and lock eyes with him. Upon seeing the young man behind the bar, he first froze, then let out a soft “Ah.”
“Old Smoke, what’s wrong?”
Someone from the group turned to ask the young man, who stood at the door looking hesitant and stunned.
“Ah? Nothing…”
Zhao Keyan, nicknamed “Old Smoke,” answered. Meanwhile, the young man behind the bar had already indifferently turned his gaze away.
…
After the group settled in, there were three girls around the table. One sat in the corner, placed her drink order, and fell silent. The other two chattered animatedly, frequently glancing toward the bar.
Even in the dim light, he could sense the gleam in their eyes.
They made no effort to hide it.
The bar owner delivered the first round of drinks. On his return with the second round, he leaned against the counter and said to the young man beside him, who was bent over cutting fruit garnishes, “Three more. Can you bring them over later?”
Beijiao put down his fruit knife. “Extra work costs extra.”
“Ugh,” the owner blinked his eyes and shoved the tray into his arms. “We’re a licensed establishment running a legitimate business!”
“Never served tables before,” Beijiao didn’t refuse. “No responsibility if something happens.”
“What could happen?” the owner waved his broad hand dismissively. “You gonna spill it on someone’s face?”
…
He didn’t spill it on anyone’s face.
But he did spill it on someone’s bag. It was purely an accident. Beijiao had steadily carried the tray with one drink, just announcing the name of the cocktail—”Fulu Shou”—when the last syllable hadn’t even left his tongue. One of the girls sitting there suddenly lifted her phone and asked, “Big brother, can we take a photo together?”
Her movement was a bit abrupt.
As a result, the remaining two drinks on the tray crashed down hard.
Amid shrieks of chaos, the glasses shattered on the floor. Blue and orange liquids, mixed with orange slices and mint leaves, spilled onto a lady’s handbag resting on the sofa—
In the dim lighting, Beijiao couldn’t recognize the brand of the bag. But the logo looked familiar—it was the same one his mother had once drunkenly shown him, boasting, “Your Uncle Jiang gave this to me.”
How much had that bag cost again?
Around fifty thousand, probably.
Beijiao bent slightly at the waist, holding the tray, and tried to reach for the mint leaf stuck on the bag’s logo. But a hand adorned with sparkling rhinestones reached out first, accompanied by a scream: “My bag! It’s brand new goat leather straight from the boutique!”
The long, sharp nails scraped across his knuckles, leaving a cat-scratch-like mark.
Beijiao withdrew his hand.
Chaos erupted at the scene.
The bar owner dropped whatever he was doing and rushed over like his pants were on fire, shouting, “What happened, what happened?”
Beijiao stood half-bent beside the booth, calmly apologizing.
A female customer furiously wiped her bag, which was resting on her lap.
Another girl, who had been lively and insisted that “the cute bartender guy should serve them,” was laughing hysterically.
Zhao, the young man familiar with the owner, looked like he wanted to say something but held back.
The others remained silent.
“I just got this bag from the boutique,” the girl who had previously held up her phone to ask for a photo with Beijiao wasn’t looking too pleased as she stared at the wine stains on her bag. “Now what? Goat leather isn’t water-resistant. I’ll probably have to take it back to the boutique for cleaning…”
“Cleaning alone will cost thousands,” the girl who had been laughing uncontrollably gave her friend a nudge. “Don’t be like that. He didn’t do it on purpose. Besides, it’s your own fault for waving your arms around with your phone like that. And come on, you don’t even care about a few thousand!”
“I might not care about the money, but this bag took me half a year to get through the waiting list!”
“So you want him to pay for it?”
“Of course!” The girl grabbed a newly opened bottle of liquor. “How much does he earn washing glasses all night? Can he even afford it?”
She pointed at the bottle and looked up at Beijiao—
Even in the dim light, her clearly applied red eyeshadow with shimmer and thick, dark eyeliner made her eyes look like those of a wild animal in the dark, gleaming with reckless excitement.
She curled her red lips. “Drink it all, and we’ll call it even tonight.”
As soon as she finished speaking, reactions varied—
Her loudmouth friend beside her let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
The bar owner exclaimed, “Oh no!”
Others who had been silent turned to look.
Zhao Keyan, the young man who had come with them, stood up abruptly and called the girl by name in a slightly dark, warning tone, telling her not to cause trouble.
The girl initially ignored everyone, seemingly determined to confront Beijiao.
“Drink it!” Her voice sounded younger than her makeup suggested, wild and unrestrained. “If you made a mistake, don’t you owe an apology?”
Beijiao hadn’t yet decided how to handle the situation and remained silent.
Just then—
“Song Yan, that’s enough. If you eat noisily, can you blame drool on your collar? Are you out of your mind?”
A calm female voice suddenly came from the corner.
It was like a mighty pillar of stability, amplified to its maximum, plunging down from the South Gate of Heaven into the Eastern Sea.
In an instant, the entire bar fell silent.
“Jiang Ran.”
The girl, who had been defiant and unresponsive to anyone moments ago, flushed bright red.
She turned her head toward the corner, glaring at the figure leaning against the armrest of the sofa. Wanting to argue but too afraid, she finally managed only, “What are you doing? I was just joking. Why do you have to make everyone lose face like this?”
Author’s note:
Starting the story, everyone gets a red envelope today to celebrate!
This will likely be a medium-length story!
Updates will be at 13:30 daily for now. There might be random double updates in the first couple of days, which will be announced in advance.
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