Chapter 30 Into the Dusk

Chapter 30 Flying into the Twilight

Tan Youming, thinking Shen Zongnian was distracted, called out, "Shen Zongnian?"

Shen Zongnian, stern and aloof, retorted, "Not trying to outdo Minglong anymore?"

Tan Youming picked up a willow branch and walked backward, more dashing than any ancient prince. "I can surpass them even while having fun. I’ll play and still get ahead. Otherwise, what’s the point of making money?"

A squirrel scampered up the ancient pine on the rockery. Tan Youming took the camera from Shen Zongnian to snap a picture. The Summer Palace was practically a royal zoo, with ducks, mandarin ducks, and swans appearing in endless succession, alongside numerous school children on spring field trips.

Tan Youming felt a tug on his jacket. He looked down to see a small child, standing on the outermost edge, stretching his neck and tiptoeing, lose his balance and lean against him.

"Sorry, big brother, I can't see."

"It's fine, go ahead and look." Tan Youming made room for him.

The child looked ahead, then turned back, glancing from the squirrel to Tan Youming.

Tan Youming arched an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

Children are the sharpest; they can instantly spot the person in a crowd who might offer them a treat.

"Big brother, can you pick me up so I can see?" He was too short and could only glimpse a tiny bit of the squirrel’s tail.

"Capital kids have guts," Tan Youming chuckled. "Sure." He bent down and hoisted the child up.

"Well? Can you see now?"

"Yes, haha, its tail is huge!"

The other children nearby saw this and looked up. "Big brother, I want a turn too!"

"I want to see as well."

Tan Youming had no choice but to lift each one in turn.

"My turn, big brother!"

"Big brother, the squirrel's leaving!"

Shen Zongnian wasn't interested in squirrels or crowds, so he stood under a weeping willow, waiting from a distance. Tan Youming, however, clearly enjoyed the children's company, and they were all laughing heartily about something.

Shen Zongnian quietly took many more photos.

Eventually, Tan Youming took out his phone to answer a call. He patted the child’s shoulder, signaling he needed to leave.

Shen Zongnian walked over and heard him say to the person on the other end, "Don’t issue the formal notice yet. Send me all the batches, current inventory, and remaining stock for the inspection items. I need a relatively accurate production value and valuation."

His tone was calm, devoid of the warmth he’d shown the children. "Also, collaborate with other departments to conduct a comprehensive assessment and emergency plan."

He hung up. Shen Zongnian asked, "What’s wrong?"

"Same old, same old," Tan Youming said, the stern expression on his face vanishing as soon as he ended the call. He lowered his head to check work emails. "It’s a transition period. New bosses, new rules—several associations are squabbling. *When the city gate catches fire, the fish in the moat suffer.* It’s all about inspections here and rechecks there."

Tan Youming made a few more calls to coordinate with his subordinates. He leaned against the railing of Kunming Lake, listening to the other end, his expression indifferent. But when his gaze shifted to Shen Zongnian, he offered him a smile.

Shen Zongnian pulled him a couple of steps closer, to prevent him from being bumped by tourists.

When he finished, Shen Zongnian asked, "Do you need to go back to handle it, or shall we continue exploring?"

"Of course, continue," Tan Youming replied to his last message and looked up. "I haven't had enough fun yet."

"Mm," Shen Zongnian made small talk. "Can the associations be coordinated?"

"Of course."

Shen Zongnian was reassured but still added a warning: "After Jianxin’s review passes, monitoring and random checks will only increase. You need to stay vigilant from now on. If you need data from previous years, you can ask Zhong Manqing for it."

"I know," Tan Youming teased him. "Why are you so naggy!"

Shen Zongnian pressed his lips together and didn’t retort.

The two walked back from the lakeside pavilion.

The Hasselblad lens, with its strong light sensitivity, was perfect for capturing dusk—red walls, stone lions, golden tiles adorned with white apricot blossoms. Shen Zongnian pressed the shutter 548 times, and in every shot, Tan Youming was animated.

"Am I doing okay? Can you capture its tail?"

Even the palace cats had a regal attitude. Shen Zongnian crouched down, patiently adjusting the focus, frowning slightly. "Stop moving around."

Tan Youming tried his best to hold still, afraid Shen Zongnian might miss his best angle. But he didn’t know that the most precise lens was Shen Zongnian’s eyes, capturing and recording every moment that would never come again.

The setting sun cast a golden glow, illuminating the ancient city’s red walls. Their eyes met across the crowds of tourists from all corners of the country. The cat meowed at Tan Youming, and Tan Youming grinned at Shen Zongnian. The spring breeze rustled loudly for a moment, then gradually stilled.

Tan Youming took photos with the cat, the birds, and even the squirrel.

Shen Zongnian moved the camera slightly and reminded him, "Your collar."

Tan Youming reached out and haphazardly pressed it down. Shen Zongnian found it unsatisfactory and walked over to fix it for him.

His brows were slightly furrowed, his expression focused. Tan Youming suddenly grabbed his hand. "We haven’t taken a photo together."

Shen Zongnian’s hand paused. Nearby, a Samoyed tied to a tree trunk was still panting with its tongue out, waiting.

"Weren’t you going to take a photo with the dog?"

"With you."

It sounded like an insult. Shen Zongnian politely declined, "There’s no tripod."

"That’s simple," Tan Youming found a tourist. "Hello, could you help us take a photo together?"

The girl looked up, paused for a moment, and smiled. "Sure." She took the Hasselblad and asked, "Are you celebrities? Or influencers? Models?"

Tan Youming said, "We’re tourists."

The girl nodded, took the camera, and directed, "Wow, cool guy, you’re too serious." Standing by the palace gate, he looked like an intimidating imperial guard.

"Handsome, put your arm around his shoulder."

Tan Youming tightened his grip on Shen Zongnian’s shoulder.

The sound of the shutter clicked repeatedly, masking the rhythm of their heartbeats. Birds on the palace wall flapped their wings, coming and going.

"I took a lot of photos. See if any are suitable. If not, we can take more."

Tan Youming looked through them and unconsciously smiled. "Amazing." Shen Zongnian, in a long black coat with his arms crossed, looked handsome and sharp, like a patch of snow on a mountain peak.

"Thank you, these came out great."

The girl waved her hand dismissively and let out a casual "Hah," thinking to herself that with how good-looking they both were, it would actually be quite difficult to take bad photos.

They had Huaiyang cuisine for dinner. Tan Youming ordered, while Shen Zongnian took his phone out from his coat and handed it to him. "Get that."

"Felipe?" Tan Youming grew nervous. "He’s not backing out, is he?"

"...Just pick up first."

After listening for a few moments, Tan Youming suddenly laughed, hung up the phone, and said to Shen Zongnian, "He asked when we’re leaving and if we want to go skiing together." They had first met years ago in a winter sports club at university; they'd started as rivals but became friends—so many years had flown by.

Shen Zongnian helped him with his coat. "Do you want to go?"

Tan Youming rolled up his sleeves. "Don’t you still have work?"

Shen Zongnian, seemingly lost in thought, replied, "If you want to go, you can."

Tan Youming looked at him in surprise—this was way too agreeable for Shen Zongnian.

The skiing they'd missed out on in the Alps, they made up for in the capital. The weather was perfect, with spring sun shining on the snowy mountains.

Shen Zongnian helped Tan Youming adjust his goggles and fasten his snowboard. After a few races against Felipe, Tan Youming ended up with one win and three losses. Panting, he urged Shen Zongnian to get him back. Felipe complained in his British accent, "You were just like this back in the winter competitions—when you couldn’t win, you’d always get Nian to step in."

Tan Youming grinned mischievously. "So what?"

Felipe remembered the final match of the tournament—Shen Zongnian had won despite being behind, grabbing the flag from the top and making a swift turn to glide straight to Tan Youming, presenting the flag to him.

With the Alps rising behind Shen Zongnian, Tan Youming’s smile outshone the sun atop the snow-capped peaks. He hugged him tightly, waving the victory flag and cheering excitedly in the snow.

That was the first and last time Shen Zongnian competed. The event broke inter-university viewership records, and club recruitment peaked that year, matching the numbers from when Zhao Shengge served as team captain.

But everyone later found out that Shen Zongnian never even attended regular training sessions, and soon after, he barely showed up at school at all.

The Hasselblad hung from Shen Zongnian’s chest.

"Shen Zongnian, like this."

"And this."

"Now like this."

He showed off with a rather flamboyant 180° edged turn into a diagonal descent.

"Pay attention to how you move the camera."

"...Mm." Shen Zongnian didn’t look too willing, but he adjusted the camera as requested.

"Did you get the shot?"

Shen Zongnian showed him the camera.

"Damn, I look so good."

"..."

Tan Youming: "Get some more shots."

"Shoot from a low angle, it’ll make my legs look longer."

Shen Zongnian crouched down.

"And I want an overhead shot too. When you edit the video later, remember to add some effects for me."

Shen Zongnian stood up and raised the camera.

Tan Youming directed dramatically as if commanding a scene, "When I go through the S-turn, you ski backward, okay? Get a front shot of me, like I’m swooping down toward you and you’re opening your arms to catch me."

"...Mm."

Tan Youming thought about it for a moment. "Do you think I look cooler spinning or drifting?"

Shen Zongnian glanced over and replied tersely, "About the same."

"Right," Tan Youming agreed, feigning a struggle, "It’s hard for me not to look good."

"..."

Tan Youming absentmindedly moved his legs while looking at his phone.

Shen Zongnian crouched down to check his snowboard, tightening the bindings on both feet.

Tan Youming pulled him up and instructed, "Let’s reshoot this part. End with a close-up for the ending, you get it?"

Shen Zongnian had personally taught Tan Youming how to ski. He could tell what move Tan Youming was going to make just by the way he lifted a foot. "Mm."

"Let me see."

Tan Youming was extremely satisfied and told him, "Shen Zongnian, send this one, that one, and this one—and that one too—separately to my aunt, uncle, third uncle, great-aunt, and my four younger cousins. Then post them in both the family group chats."

"..."

Tan Youming added, "Don’t use my account to send them, use yours." Sending them himself would seem too deliberate.

Shen Zongnian really felt like calling him crazy.

The tangerine sunset melted into the snowy mountains, tinting the slopes in shades of blue and purple. Yellow lights flickered to life at the foot of the mountains. After performing what felt like eight hundred flashy moves, Tan Youming was exhausted and plopped down on the snow, saying, "No more, I’m out of energy. Give me a piggyback ride."

Shen Zongnian looked down at him, but before he could say anything, Tan Youming had already gotten up and climbed onto his back.

He held on tight around Shen Zongnian’s neck and directed, "I want to go faster."

Shen Zongnian was unusually compliant today. He hoisted Tan Youming higher and said quietly, "Hold on tight."

The next second, they were racing down the mountain.

Wind and snow whipped past Tan Youming’s face as he cheered excitedly, "Faster, go faster!"

Shen Zongnian followed the command, accelerating as they soared over ridges and through layers of snow mist. Suddenly, Tan Youming felt as if he had been taken back to when he was sixteen in Fairbanks.

Shen Zongnian was his unruly warhorse, his trained valiant eagle, carrying him into the distant, fading twilight at the edge of the sky.

As they cleared a small peak, the wind kicked up snow, and Tan Youming quickly buried his face against the nape of Shen Zongnian’s neck. His nose, lips, and eyelashes pressed against Shen Zongnian’s spine, and Shen Zongnian faltered for a moment.

The wind roared loudly. Tan Youming pressed his lips to Shen Zongnian’s ear and shouted, "No, too fast!"

As the wind rushed past, he gasped for breath.

"You slow down a little."

Shen Zongnian couldn't slow down, nor could he brake to stop; all he wanted was to carry him, even if it meant going to pieces, to fly to the farthest place possible.

After a few turns, flying low to the ground, they reached the foot of the mountain. Tan Youming jumped off his back, his heart racing fiercely, chest heaving, laughing unrestrainedly. In the howling wind, he shouted, "Shen Zongnian, do you know why I saved Toffee?"

There were so many injured racehorses, some even more severely hurt and pitiable than Toffee, yet Tan Youming had chosen to save only it.

"Why?"

Shen Zongnian didn’t remove his snow goggles. His tall nose bridge resembled a snow-capped ridge, his thin lips appearing cold and aloof.

Tan Youming looked at him and burst into hearty laughter, thinking to himself, *Exactly because of this.*

Because when it ran, it was like you—reckless, wild, untamed. And earlier, it even had a bit of that ruthless ambition, especially in the years right after returning from Fairbury.

Competitive, striving, conquering, even if covered in wounds, fighting to the death, it had to win.

But Tan Youming said nothing, just flashed his canine teeth and teased him, "Because it’s good-looking, that’s all."

Shen Zongnian brushed him off, bent down to unbuckle his snowboard, and carried it under one arm to take the cable car.

Tan Youming asked to go again, but Shen Zongnian coldly refused, "No more."

Tan Youming caught up to him, playfully jumping on him from behind, saying, "Yes, yes, there is."

That evening, the two treated Felipe to a meal of imperial cuisine. During the meal, Tan Youming routinely checked his social media accounts. Most of his relatives had offered sincere praise and high praise for his moves in the snow. In the friends' group chat, aside from Zhao Shengge, everyone else expressed envy, with Chen Wan’s being the most natural and genuine.

Tan Youming felt quite satisfied and handed the phone back to Shen Zongnian.

Shen Zongnian noticed an unread private message from Guan Kezhi and reminded him, "You didn’t reply."

Guan Kezhi had asked, "When are you handsome guys coming back?"

Tan Youming called right back, "Don’t worry, we’ll make it back. We’ve even taken care of the wedding gifts on this trip." A couple of days earlier, they had ordered a carved jade screen symbolizing unity from an antique shop.

Guan Kezhi said, "Let Nian listen."

"Hey," Tan Youming passed the phone to Shen Zongnian, "Here, Nian, listen."

Whatever Guan Kezhi said, Shen Zongnian responded softly and succinctly: "Yeah."

"Okay."

"No problem."

"Goodbye."

They spent another day in the capital, visiting Shichahai and Yonghe Temple, but didn’t have time to see the pandas. They had to return to Hong Kong early the next morning. On their way back that evening, Tan Youming said he wanted to have another bowl of lamb tripe soup.

The roadside stall at the entrance of Yuping Hutong, next to Hongye Hutong, stayed open late into the night and was more authentic than any proper shop.

"It’s too cold; I want a bowl of something hot," Tan Youming said, already feeling nostalgic before even leaving. "We won’t be able to get this back home."

Shen Zongnian had no choice. The alley was quiet, with lanterns hanging every few meters, casting warm orange light that illuminated two slanting shadows close together on the ground. Shen Zongnian pressed down Tan Youming’s knit cap, and Tan Youming tucked his hands into Shen Zongnian’s pockets.

Unexpectedly, a long line had formed in front of the stall. The draft through the alley made Tan Youming’s head ache. "Let’s go," he said. This southern pampered soul couldn’t handle the chilly spring night wind of the north; standing in line would leave him frozen silly.

The alley was deep and dark. Shen Zongnian first brought Tan Youming back to the three-section compound rental house. Once Tan Youming had gone into the bathroom, he went back out.

About seven hundred meters away, the crowd had thinned. Under the dim yellow light, the spring night wind in the capital in March and April was still biting. Shen Zongnian hadn’t worn a scarf or gloves when he went out, but he waited quietly and patiently in line for a bowl of hot soup.

Another gust of wind swept through the alley, breaking off fresh branches of the crabapple tree. Shen Zongnian zipped up his windbreaker.

Tall and dressed entirely in black, with his hood pulled up, he looked less like someone buying soup and more like he was looking for trouble. When people glanced at him sideways, he stared back, startling them into quickly turning away.

Luck wasn’t on his side. By the time it was his turn, the soup had sold out. Shen Zongnian frowned, not out of anger, but immediately thinking of Tan Youming’s pout when disappointed.

He looked at the couple ahead of him who had bought the last bowl and considered asking if they’d sell it to him for ten times the price. But the guy had already opened it and was holding it, feeding his girlfriend spoonful by spoonful. Their huddled figures exuded a comfort in each other's company in the cold spring night.

Shen Zongnian watched for a moment, feeling for the first time that money couldn’t solve everything.

After the crowd dispersed, Shen Zongnian still didn’t leave.

The locals are friendly. The stall owner struck up a conversation first: "Here for tourism, buddy?"

"Yeah."

"Aren’t you staying in Hongye Hutong?"

"Yes."

"Out buying a late-night snack for your brother?" The owner had seen them—for several mornings in a row, one would come out to buy breakfast, then both would leave together, returning side by side in the evening. The older one carried all the food, drinks, hats, and scarves, while the younger one just spent the days all smiles.

"Yeah."

"You really dote on your brother."

"Not really," Shen Zongnian didn’t think this counted as doting, nor was he used to chit-chat. He got straight to the point: "Chief, what time do you open in the morning?"

"Eleven."

"...Oh."

The owner started packing up the stove, calling out to him: "Come back tomorrow. If you arrive ten minutes early, you can get the first batch."

Shen Zongnian shook his head and said, "We’re leaving tomorrow."

The wind picked up again. The owner glanced at his wind-chapped knuckles and said, "Then help me load the stove onto the cart. I saved some soup for my kid; I can give you a bowl."

Shen Zongnian said thanks, rolled up his sleeves, and helped extinguish the stove and secure it to the cart, his movements quick and efficient. The owner, surprised by his fancy clothes and watch, remarked, "You really know what you're doing."

Shen Zongnian wasn’t one for small talk. He paid, grabbed the bowl of hot soup, and headed straight back.

Author's Note:

Breakup trip (just kidding).