Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Ji Mian didn’t have time to thank the system this time.

He barely opened one eye, looking at the menacing look on the person in front of him.

His gaze was stubborn yet direct, clearly not the look of someone ready to give up. There was a hint of panic, but it wasn’t fear of Duan Zhuo—just fear of getting hit.

Who the hell was gonna hit him!?

Duan Zhuo’s knuckles twitched, remembering his earlier threat—“I’ll beat you up too”—which Ji Mian had taken to heart.

In a way, he had hurt him, which was almost like hitting him.

“Brother…” Ji Mian’s thick, dark lashes trembled slightly, his tone strangely soft and pleading.

“...”

Duan Zhuo’s eyes met his, his right wrist still held gently by Ji Mian, whose fingers were slightly cold.

His grip slowly loosened, and the aggressive energy around him gradually subsided.

Without a word, Duan Zhuo silently turned and walked toward the door. Ji Mian still held his wrist, clinging to him like a bracelet charm.

As they passed the doorway, Duan Zhuo looked at He Haimei and smiled.

“Thanks.”

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have found Yi Zhang.”

Duan Zhuo’s smile was unnerving, and He Haimei, frightened, instinctively took two steps back as he approached.

Her peripheral vision noticed her husband struggling on the ground. Duan Zhuo had avoided vital areas, so Yi Zhang wasn’t seriously injured, but he lay there moaning.

Seeing Yi Zhang in such a pitiful state, a faint sense of vengeful satisfaction appeared in He Haimei’s eyes.

The small tricycle pulled up to the entrance of Duan Zhuo’s woodcarving shop. Sun Qi sat on Ji Mian’s usual stool, waving with his good hand when he spotted them.

*

However, neither of the two on the tricycle responded to his cheerful wave.

Duan Zhuo stepped off with a cold expression, and Ji Mian, closing the umbrella, jumped out right after.

“I’m sorry, brother. I…” Ji Mian followed closely behind Duan Zhuo, kept apologizing.

Duan Zhuo’s face grew darker, unaware that he now looked like a furious god.

Sun Qi was startled, then figured something was wrong. He stood up and walked over, putting on a tough act. “Boss, what did this brat do wrong this time!?”

Expecting a hit, Ji Mian closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, boss. It’s my fault.”

“...” Duan Zhuo laughed out of sheer anger.

Neither He Haimei nor Yi Zhang had made him this furious.

“W-what’s going on?” Sun Qi widened his eyes, quickly undoing his belt with his uninjured hand. “Boss! I’ll beat him up! I’ll deliver justice!”

He frantically signaled to Ji Mian, as if saying, “I’ll fake it, I’ll go easy.”

He looked just like a protective older brother shielding his younger sibling from the eldest brother.

Unfortunately, Ji Mian had his eyes closed and couldn't see him.

Duan Zhuo didn't notice Sun Qi's meaningful look either. Hearing this, he gave Sun Qi a light kick on the calf, mindful of his injury.

"Get outta here. Did I say you could hit anyone? Who gave you the right to beat him?"

Sun Qi was stunned by the unexpected kick and felt completely lost.

Duan Zhuo turned his gaze back to Ji Mian, his voice flat and unreadable, "Did I say you did something wrong?"

"...Huh?" Ji Mian peeked open one eye.

Wait, he didn't?

"Nah, he just threatened to beat you if you didn't let go."

"..."

Duan Zhuo looked away, unable to stand Ji Mian's clueless expression.

He'd been hearing "I'm sorry" nonstop, and it was driving him up the wall.

Did this kid really see him as some unreasonable boss who just worked him to the bone?

Sun Qi was still clueless about what was going on, more lost than ever. He'd only been sitting here for two hours. When did everything change?

Just then, two wooden carvings bundled up in cotton cloth in the tricycle's back caught his attention.

Sun Qi was startled: "Wait, the paintings—" Didn't they sell?

Duan Zhuo didn’t even glance at them, just muttered "smashed," and after staring at Ji Mian for a few seconds, he brushed past him and headed straight into the apartment building.

As the electronic sound of the door closing echoed, Sun Qi snapped out of his shock.

"Smashed? Smashed?" He looked at Ji Mian, "What do you mean? Really smashed?"

Ji Mian’s gaze shifted back from the tightly closed apartment building, and he nodded slowly: "Yes."

Holding onto these paintings would just make Duan Zhuo uneasy.

They should indeed be smashed.

"Alright, alright," Sun Qi sighed.

Times had changed, and he was struggling to keep up. Duan Zhuo was a man of few words, and Ji Mian wasn’t one to spill secrets. From these two, he hadn’t gotten a single useful piece of information.

He climbed into the truck and used his left hand to lift one of the wooden carvings from the compartment. The wooden carvings were heavy, especially since these two were relatively large pieces.

Sun Qi couldn’t use his right hand effectively, making it a real struggle. After finally managing to lift the painting out of the compartment, he still had to find something heavy to smash it with.

He borrowed a hammer from a nearby household, grabbing the hammer’s handle with his left hand and using his right arm to steady the top of the handle.

After struggling for three or four minutes, the painting was finally destroyed, but Sun Qi himself was howling in pain from the injury on his right hand.

He was panting heavily, totally wiped out.

"Ji Mian!"

Ji Mian stood motionless at the shop entrance, watching Sun Qi smash the painting. When he heard Sun Qi call him, he walked over.

"I can't do it anymore; if I move again, the mended bone will break. There's still one more; you do it."

"..."

Ji Mian looked at the wooden painting wrapped in cotton inside the carriage, glanced down at the scattered wood chips on the ground, and said, "Alright."

*

A little past midnight, Duan Zhuo was awakened by a phone call from Mu Yuman.

"Duan Zhuo, are you at the shop?"

"The shop?" Duan Zhuo sat up. "No."

Mu Yuman's voice on the phone carried a hint of confusion. "I just came back from the hospital and saw the lights in the shop are still on. Isn't it you?"

Mu Yuman, a doctor, works at the only tertiary hospital in the area. Tonight, she happened to be on the small night shift. When she returned at midnight, she saw the lights in the wood carving shop still on from afar.

Duan Zhuo's eyebrows raised, and his heartbeat quickened, vaguely sensing something.

He picked up the shirt hanging on the rack and replied briefly, "No. Sis, go back and rest. I'll go down and take a look."

After hanging up, he dressed quickly and went downstairs.

He pushed open the entrance door; the shop was right next to it. As Mu Yuman had said, the lights were still on, and the shop was quiet.

Duan Zhuo initially thought Ji Mian or Sun Qi had forgotten to turn off the lights when they left. But when he saw a figure with a lowered head through the glass door, his hand, about to push the door, suddenly stopped.

The person still in the shop was Ji Mian.

He sat behind the workbench Duan Zhuo usually used. On the workbench was one of the two wooden paintings from noon, with a small chisel lying quietly to the right.

Ji Mian's head was lowered, his expression unclear.

He occasionally touched the leaves on the wooden painting, looking at it for a long time before picking up the small chisel beside him and tapping twice on the leaf he had just touched.

The sound was soft, not even enough to disturb passersby.

Duan Zhuo remembered what he had instructed Sun Qi at noon.

"Smash it."

Ji Mian had taken over Sun Qi's task; he was smashing the painting. But Duan Zhuo had never thought someone could smash things in such a way.

It turns out the verb "destroy" can also be described with gentleness.

Ji Mian treated Duan Zhuo's painting just as he treated Duan Zhuo himself—with respect and cherishment. It was as if what was in front of him wasn't a piece of wood, but something he treasured dearly.

A strange emotion surged up, leaving Duan Zhuo at a loss.

Duan Zhuo had never known the taste of love. For him, the word "love" had nothing to do with him from the moment he saw Duan Jinyan die on the hospital bed.

He dropped out of middle school to work, and the restlessness of adolescence had not yet turned into a longing for love but was poured out in blood and sweat.

The southern summer, even late at night, was sultry, the humid air suffocating.

At this moment, looking at the young man inside the door, Duan Zhuo felt his breath catch.

According to Ji Mian's method of smashing the painting, it would take until midnight to completely destroy this one. Duan Zhuo didn't understand why he didn't go in to stop him.

He leaned against the wall outside the shop, hidden in the darkness, and did not push the door to enter.

Accompanied by the occasional "tap tap" sound of the chisel from the shop, Duan Zhuo slowly lit a cigarette.

The tiny orange flame could not be noticed by the young man inside the shop, that faint glimmer of light couldn't even illuminate Duan Zhuo himself.

He stood outside all night, sleepless.