Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Fang Bingxue had just come in from outside, his palms cool to the touch.

He had calluses from holding a gun on his right hand, particularly noticeable on the web between his thumb and forefinger. So, he deliberately used his left hand, pressing it against Zhou Xu’s forehead to check his temperature. He sighed, remarking, "He’s really burning up." It seemed Zhou Xu’s earlier wild knife-waving wasn’t madness, but pure feverish delirium.

Given the circumstances, Fang Bingxue reluctantly decided to let it slide.

For now, no calling the police, no bringing Zhou Xu to justice.

Even after Fang Bingxue withdrew his hand, the tall man was still staring at him, his expression vacant. Sickness often made people vulnerable. His gaze was like a stagnant mist—a little dull, a little hazy—and somehow, Fang Bingxue even perceived a hint of grievance within it.

Utterly pathetic.

Fang Bingxue reached out and touched his forehead again. "Feeling that bad?"

Zhou Xu mumbled, "Yeah, unwell."

"Your temperature is alarmingly high," Fang Bingxue said, pulling a chair over to sit opposite Zhou Xu, looking every bit like a physician. "Did you take any medicine? How many days have you been sick?"

Zhou Xu clutched a bottle of AD Calcium Milk. "Took some. Should be… two or three days?"

Fang Bingxue frowned. "Why didn’t you go to the hospital?"

He suspected Zhou Xu’s illness stemmed from going into the river. Catching a cold and running a high fever was perfectly normal, but neglecting it like this was practically tempting fate.

Zhou Xu fell silent.

Fang Bingxue pressed on, "What medicine did you take?"

"Fever reducers," Zhou Xu replied. "And some cold medicine packets, I think."

When questioned about their health, people instinctively answer honestly. Even though the person opposite him wasn’t a doctor, Zhou Xu’s usual arrogance had completely vanished.

Fang Bingxue urged him, "Come on, I’ll go with you to see a doctor."

Zhou Xu immediately shook his head. "No need."

He insisted, "It’s just a chill. A few more fever reducers, and I’ll be fine."

Fang Bingxue hissed, "You—"

But he wasn’t particularly adept at showing concern, nor was he as empathetic and thoughtful as Teacher Qin. After a moment’s deliberation, he added the latter half of his sentence: "A Liang’s terrified you’re going to kick the bucket."

Only then did Zhou Xu laugh, though it quickly devolved into a coughing fit that shook his shoulders.

Just as Fang Bingxue expected him to snap at A Liang or continue to be stubborn, Zhou Xu spoke softly instead.

"That chair you’re sitting on—I made it."

Fang Bingxue: "Oh?"

He immediately looked down. He couldn’t identify the type of wood, but it was smooth to the touch, without a single splinter. The backrest had a gentle curve, and the legs were perfectly proportioned. If no one had mentioned it, he would have assumed it was purchased from a furniture store. It was quite beautiful.

Zhou Xu continued, "I had to go into that river. And I had to get that money."

Fang Bingxue looked up, letting out another "Oh?" He felt Zhou Xu’s topic had shifted rather abruptly.

"Every last one of her obscure relatives crawled out of the woodwork, circling like wolves," Zhou Xu said, speaking faster now, his breath slightly labored. "If I didn’t force her to hand over the bankbook right then and there, in front of the police, stuffing it into my pocket, someone else would have snatched it."

Fang Bingxue’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t respond.

Zhou Xu’s chest rose and fell. "That old man called her before he died. People who use suicide as leverage are all like that—besides making a scene at the police station, how else could he pressure his own daughter?"

The hum of the range hood echoed from the kitchen.

"Better she hates me than hates herself. That’s how people are—they need an outlet for their pain, someone else to hate. Otherwise, they can’t go on living."

"Back in the county, there was this father who was lazy and didn’t pick his kid up from school. The kid had an accident on the way home and died. And what happened? The father went to the school and beat up the teacher, ranting that it was all the teacher’s fault for keeping the class three minutes late."

Zhou Xu looked at Fang Bingxue, licking his lips. "Do you understand what I mean?"

Fang Bingxue said, "I understand."

That day in the mediation room, he had personally witnessed Chen Xiu’s relatives—a man claiming to be her second uncle—furtively rummaging through her coat. Inside were only a few loose coins. The washing label on the collar was worn thin, and the sleeve edges were visibly stained. The man tossed the coat back in frustration, muttering about how they hadn’t been in touch for ages—how could she still be this poor?

They were indeed relatives, and helping with the funeral was genuine. Believing her family brought bad luck was genuine. And hoping to seize an opportunity to gain something was also genuine.

Like what grade of alcohol and cigarettes to serve at the funeral, how to arrange the banquet, and how to distribute the wake money.

But after dragging it out for so long, seeing Chen Xiu cornered over eight thousand yuan in the mediation room, they exchanged glances and whispered to each other—let’s just drop it and get it over with.

Fang Bingxue understood these social intricacies.

He was somewhat at a loss for words. Zhou Xu’s confession felt deeply personal, not something Fang Bingxue could dismiss with a joke. He paused, then began, "Xu-ge…"

"So I had my reasons!" Zhou Xu suddenly raised his voice. "What was that old bastard thinking, making me go burn joss paper for him again?"

He had already planned to return the money during the memorial service. Even sick, he had arranged for someone else to deliver it. It was already done.

Of course, Zhou Xu kept six hundred for himself. Business was business—this kind of thing required a red envelope to ward off bad luck.

He looked at Fang Bingxue with a deeply wronged expression and fell silent.

Fang Bingxue cleared his throat. "Yes, you’re right."

Zhou Xu rubbed his thumb against the drink bottle, almost peeling off the outer packaging. "So, earlier—I wasn’t crazy or stupid. It’s just a local custom here… If you’re sick, it might be because you’ve encountered something unclean. You scare it off."

Fang Bingxue nodded quickly. "I get it now."

He noticed Zhou Xu had fidgety hands, constantly squeezing the bottle, yet without making any annoying noises. The sky had almost completely darkened by now. The yard was unlit, and the light was dim and heavy, like the eyes of someone struggling to stay awake.

The two of them had been talking for a long time without much movement, except for that drink bottle, which Zhou Xu’s grip had probably warmed by now.

"Alright," Fang Bingxue said. "After dinner, let’s go see a doctor. If needed, get an IV. You’ll recover faster."

Zhou Xu, who had been talking nonstop earlier, now quieted, his lashes lowered. "What, you’re coming along?"

Fang Bingxue replied without thinking, "Do you want me to?"

Zhou Xu said, "Not really."

Still looking down, he added, "A Liang’s here, that’s enough. Why did you come all this way… And don’t spread what I just said."

Fang Bingxue made a show of standing up. "Oh, so you’re kicking me out now."

Logically, they hadn’t met many times, but each encounter had been… dramatic. And the chemistry between people was a mysterious thing. Sometimes, you could know someone for years and still be formal, but with others, a few words in, and you’re already familiar.

Fang Bingxue and Zhou Xu weren’t particularly close, but they felt comfortable talking to each other.

Zhou Xu finally looked up at him and placed the drink bottle on the ground. "No, that’s not what I meant."

The aroma of food was already wafting through the air, and A Liang ran out, giving a thumbs-up, looking quite happy. Fang Bingxue turned to follow, saying he’d lend a hand.

"No need," Zhou Xu called after him. "A Liang doesn’t like anyone around when he’s cooking."

Fang Bingxue turned back in surprise, eyes wide. "Really?"

He wasn’t much of a cook himself and held great admiration for anyone with culinary skills, so he could easily understand that some people preferred to handle things alone, finding helpers more of a hindrance.

Zhou Xu said, "Mhm… But I don’t mind when I cook. I’m not as particular as he is."

Fang Bingxue’s eyes widened even further. "You can cook too?"

Zhou Xu replied, "Yeah, didn’t I just say? These stools and cabinets were all made by me. And when we first met, wasn’t I the one who fixed your car?"

Still seated, he had to tilt his head up to look at Fang Bingxue as he spoke, his tone casual, without any hint of showing off. Zhou Xu had thick eyebrows, monolids, and a large build—looking down made him seem intimidating, but when he looked up like this, his eyes appeared slightly larger, and he looked genuinely sincere.

Fang Bingxue recalled, "Speaking of which, you nearly swindled me out of twenty bucks back then."

Zhou Xu, his illness making him a bit slow, took a moment to think before responding, "No, you were the one who first offered me a hundred, asking if that was enough. I didn’t take advantage of you."

Fang Bingxue paused. Somehow, that actually made sense. So he decisively dropped the subject and let his gaze settle on the courtyard’s decor.

Aside from these finely crafted everyday items, a flower bed had been set up in the yard, planted with grapes and roses now in full bloom, their pink blossoms crowding the branches, pretty as can be.

"Did you plant all these flowers?"

"Mhm."

Fang Bingxue smiled. "You’re pretty impressive."

Zhou Xu said, "I do alright."