Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Who?" Wang Chuan looked up in confusion, his eyes clear. "Are you talking about me?"

The next second, he unceremoniously pulled out his chopsticks. "No way! I'm from Sichuan, damn it! I can gnaw on *erjingtiao* peppers like fruit, and even slurp hotpot broth through a straw like it's bubble tea. Say I'm afraid of spice? What a joke!"

Across from him, Fang Bingxue paused but insisted, "I heard it's extremely spicy."

Wang Chuan was leaving the next day, so the two had gotten together for a meal. Though it was only a two-hour drive away, neither mentioned when they might meet again—former police academy brothers who'd once run punishment laps together behind the school walls knew better than to make empty promises. They were too busy; their class reunion kept getting postponed from Tomb-Sweeping Day to the Start of Winter, yet they still couldn’t get everyone together.

Back then, the discussions had been lively. The criminal investigation team joked about bringing handcuffs to use as bottle openers, while the narcotics team vowed they wouldn’t get drunk and force everyone to take urine tests this time.

Yet as years passed with snowfall after snowfall, now only Fang Bingxue and Wang Chuan remained, sitting in a small restaurant in a remote northwestern county, wordlessly staring at a plate of fiery red chili chicken.

Wang Chuan scoffed. "This?"

Fang Bingxue deadpanned, "Try it."

He genuinely thought it was spicy—the aroma alone made his eyes water!

Then, Fang Bingxue watched as Wang Chuan picked up a piece of chicken along with a pepper segment and popped them into his mouth.

Wang Chuan’s eyes lit up as he wolfed it down enthusiastically. "So good!"

A moment later, Fang Bingxue hesitantly picked up his chopsticks too.

The restaurant had been recommended by Ma Rui, who claimed it was a famous local spot, especially for its chili chicken—wok-fried in a blazing wok until the peppers released their pungent, smoky fragrance, the chicken marinated with Sichuan peppercorns and garlic until crispy on the outside and tenderly spicy inside. The moment Fang Bingxue took a bite, it felt like swallowing a ball of fire—

Wang Chuan laughed until he was breathless, waving to the owner. "Bring us a bottle of water..."

"Make it ice-cold, or AD Calcium Milk... *cough* *cough*!"

Fang Bingxue’s eyes were watering from the spice as he covered his mouth, coughing uncontrollably. The apron-clad owner hurriedly poured water into a cup. "We don’t have drinks here—the server went to buy some, they’ll be back soon..."

The only "beverage" the shop sold was beer.

Fang Bingxue grabbed the cup and froze the moment the lukewarm jasmine tea touched his lips—

The ball of fire in his throat exploded.

So when Zhou Xu stepped into the restaurant, this was the scene he walked into.

A young man sat with his back to the entrance, hunched slightly forward, his white shirt tapering into sharp, narrow lines at the waist. The faint outline of his shoulder blades shifted with each movement.

He appeared to be crying—used tissues were scattered across the table. The person beside him also had his back to the door, expression unseen, but his hand rested reassuringly on the other’s shoulder, patting gently.

Zhou Xu narrowed his eyes, his gaze drifting from the man’s nape to his flushed earlobes.

Then he reached out and covered A Liang’s face.

A Liang had been walking forward but was abruptly blocked, nearly stumbling from the sudden halt.

"Let’s go," Zhou Xu said, steering him around by the head. "We’re eating somewhere else."

The last time he’d seen that guy was a week ago. He hadn’t expected to run into him again today—small towns were like that, too cramped to avoid familiar faces.

Wait, no. That guy wasn’t even an acquaintance.

True enough, Fang Bingxue—completely oblivious to the doorway—had finally stopped coughing, though his lips still tingled from the spice, swollen and numb. Wang Chuan sat across from him, crunching loudly on chicken with a shit-eating grin while delivering a scathing critique of Fang Bingxue’s actions.

"What a waste of good food. Disgraceful."

"Bring this chili chicken to court as evidence—it deserves justice after what you did to it."

Fang Bingxue ignored him, continuing to rinse the chicken in water. The once-crispy pieces had turned soggy and limp after soaking in jasmine tea.

Still too spicy.

Fang Bingxue gave up entirely, settling for the other dishes instead. By the end of the meal, both men harbored grievances toward each other. Wang Chuan grabbed his jacket. "I’m out!"

Fang Bingxue bit his straw. "Mm. Give my regards to your wife."

Instantly, Wang Chuan’s expression shifted like a Sichuan face-changer, turning bashful. "Ah, she was just saying yesterday how much she misses me... Hey, check out these pants—she bought them for me."

Fang Bingxue, never one to waste, finished his drink before tossing the bottle. "Nope. Blind as a bat."

Wang Chuan could’ve stayed in the eastern regions, but he’d fallen for a girl from the northwest and followed her into this barren, rocky land, living in marital bliss.

Half an hour later, back in his dorm, Fang Bingxue’s ears still rang with Wang Chuan’s endless chatter.

It was giving him a splitting headache.

He hung his coat by the entryway, changed shoes, washed his hands, then went to the balcony to gather laundry before turning on the TV, flipping to a random channel.

Otherwise, the room felt too quiet.

Work had settled into a steady, demanding rhythm since he’d started. Lichuan County’s police force was understaffed, and investigative methods were still old-school. Fang Bingxue had been swamped for days, yet somehow his allergies had miraculously cleared up.

Last night, when Ma Rui brought the duty roster for him to sign, he’d remarked, "See? The northwest suits you."

Fang Bingxue had smiled. "Yeah, the ‘Jiangnan of the Frontier.’"

Ma Rui immediately corrected him. "That’s Yinchuan Plain. Xuebing, you gotta visit Zhangye sometime—the Rainbow Mountains! So beautiful!"

After getting familiar with Fang Bingxue, Ma Rui had picked up Wang Chuan’s habit of calling him "Xuebing." Nicknames were like a wolf's howl—once the first one sounded under the moonlight, the rest of the pack would inevitably join in the chorus.

Fang Bingxue had long since given up resisting. "Maybe later, when I have time."

Coincidentally, the TV was now airing a documentary about red cliffs and colorful hills. Fang Bingxue watched absentmindedly before his gaze drifted back to his phone.

He still hadn’t come clean.

But Teacher Qin had already noticed something was off, calling to ask, "If you’re on a business trip, why is your car gone too?"

Fang Bingxue had moved out two years ago, buying an apartment in the neighboring complex. He ate at the unit cafeteria during the week and dropped by for meals on weekends. But Teacher Qin’s eagle-eyed vision missed nothing—after two evasive calls, Fang Bingxue had brushed her off.

If he didn’t explain tonight, it’d be too late.

All told, he’d already spent over ten days in the northwest, with a full year still ahead.

He’d bought a washing machine and an electric kettle. The bedsheets were the same color he was used to, though the lack of decorations made the place feel bare, lacking personal touches.

But Fang Bingxue felt quite comfortable.

He took a shower, meticulously dried his hair, and applied lotion, emerging feeling completely refreshed. The moment he dialed the number—

"Wait," Qin Sumei cut in sharply, sensing something amiss. "Are you about to confess something? What did you do?"

Fang Bingxue's smile froze at the corners of his mouth: "Teacher Qin, what are you talking about?"

"Something's off," Qin Sumei mused. "You're using that sweet-talk voice."

Fang Bingxue: "Huh?"

"So fake-sweet. Just like when you lost your New Year's money as a kid—same exact tone."

Qin Sumei still remembered it clearly. Back then, Fang Bingxue hadn’t even started middle school. He'd come home in his crisp school uniform, first hugging Doctor Fang, then wrapping his arms around hers, smiling cautiously and asking, "Mom, Dad, am I still your favorite?"

He blinked as he spoke, his voice soft and sweet.

Then he nuzzled his little head into their arms.

No one saw through her son like Qin Sumei. With that innocent face of his, everyone thought he was well-behaved and obedient. But in truth, he feared nothing, was bold as come, and always scheming.

Especially good at playing the victim.

Fang Bingxue paused, cleared his throat: "Well... Teacher Qin, I have something to tell you. I’m staying in the Northwest. For a year."

Now it was Qin Sumei’s turn to go, "Huh?"

"It’s a work assignment," he explained earnestly. "It’ll be over in a year, and I can come back during holidays. Want some sweet fermented barley? I’ll bring some for you!"

Qin Sumei was silent for a long while.

Fang Bingxue lay sprawled on the sofa, his hair still slightly tousled: "Give me a sign here. The silent treatment's killing me."

"Why should you be nervous?" Qin Sumei suddenly raised her voice. "It’s not like we’d stop you. We get it's for work—we understand. But how could you not tell your family? I’m seeing red!"

"Tell me, did you bolt because I was pushing you to go on blind dates?"

"Not exactly... I just wanted to travel more while I’m young."

Qin Sumei glared: "Oh, so you've grown wings now!"

Fang Bingxue, knowing he'd messed up, listened quietly as his mother scolded him. At the same time, he felt a wave of relief. Good—as long as Teacher Qin was still willing to argue, it meant she wasn’t truly furious.

Qin Sumei went on a tirade for a while longer but, unsatisfied, handed the phone to Fang Jun: "You talk to him!"

Doctor Fang had been reading the newspaper in his rattan chair. Hearing this, he hurried over to take the receiver, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders: "Calm down. Why waste breath on that punk?"

Qin Sumei fumed: "What 'little brat'? Fang Bingxue is a grown man! I’d already given birth to him by his age!"

Now she was really mad—using his full name.

Fang Jun nodded: "You’re right. That Fang kid's clueless, no wonder he's still single."

Fang Bingxue, a thousand miles away: "..."

The two seemed to have forgotten they were still on the phone, muttering to each other for a good while. Fang Bingxue didn’t dare hang up, listening stone-faced as his parents berated him, their words interspersed with soft coaxing—"Don’t be upset, I’ll take our little Mei out for steak tomorrow..."

Finally, Fang Bingxue spoke up: "Dad, I want steak too."

"Whoa!"

Doctor Fang was startled: "You’re still on the line?!"

At the same time, the receiver clattered to the floor. Qin Sumei snatched it up by the cord, her anger mostly cooled by now: "So it’s decided? No changing it?"

"Yeah," Fang Bingxue picked at the sofa's edge. "I’ve already started working there."

Qin Sumei snorted: "Then when can you come back?"

"A year," Fang Bingxue gave the short version. "And I can visit during holidays. I'll be home for New Year's too."

His parents were reasonable people. Qin Sumei didn’t press further, getting in a few last jabs before circling back to her biggest concern.

"Remember that guy from your college dorm? The one who got married in the Northwest? If you meet someone suitable there, that’s fine too. We don't care about her background—as long as you like her, just bring her home."

Fang Bingxue rolled over on the sofa: "Okay."

Qin Sumei switched to her teacher voice, earnest and heartfelt: "Keep your eyes open. Don’t let work swallow your personal life. Ideally you'll nail both... Oh, and preferably someone light-skinned—for pretty babies! Good-looking!"

"Big eyes too, fair skin. We could even bond over facials. But of course," Qin Sumei repeated, "as long as you like her, none of that matters."

The ceiling light in the living room glared. Fang Bingxue rolled onto his back again, lying on the sofa with his head cradled in his arm.

He couldn’t help it—he laughed, his voice all soft and sweet again.

"Alright. Pale and big-eyed."

"I'll bring one home for you eventually."

Author's Note:

Bro Xu said nothing, silently following along with face-washing and moisturizing.