Chapter 17 The Reason for Not Being Hated

Chapter 17: Why He Wasn't Disliked

Guan Junshan got into the car and asked the driver to take Lin Haoda back to his place first. As the car passed an intersection, Lin Haoda, sitting on the side where he could see Victoria Harbour, naturally rolled down the window and took out his phone to snap photos.

Hearing the sound, Guan Junshan turned his head and watched him in silence for a while. When Lin Haoda put down his phone, he asked, "Why aren't you using the camera to take pictures anymore?"

Lin Haoda withdrew his gaze, glanced up at him, and responded somewhat vaguely, as if saying, "Not really necessary."

The evening wind poured in through the window, tousling the fine strands of hair on his forehead, making them float lightly, weightless.

Guan Junshan stared at Lin Haoda's face, at the very bright eyes revealed beneath his hair, which in the dim light exuded an emotion that Guan Junshan couldn't quite fathom. He rarely felt this way, so he absentmindedly hummed in acknowledgment and didn't continue the topic.

Halfway through the drive, it suddenly started to rain—a fine, soft drizzle that felt damp on the skin. At a bustling street intersection, the driver dropped Lin Haoda off. The rain visibly picked up a bit, and Lin Haoda stepped out of the car, said "Goodnight" to Guan Junshan, and like a rabbit, hopped into the crowd.

Outside the window, neon lights flickered, and puddles on the road reflected the dazzling nightscape of Mong Kok. Whether it was just his imagination or not, after Lin Haoda left, the faint sweet cream scent that had lingered in the car finally dissipated.

Guan Junshan had met all kinds of people, each with a different smell, and he kept people at a distance because he hated smelling artificial scents.

Lin Haoda was different. Though he carried the smell of dessert that Guan Junshan didn't particularly like, it wasn't unpleasant. Every time he leaned in, it reminded Guan Junshan of fruit mousse.

Even someone who didn't like sweets couldn't refuse it in summer. For a moment, Guan Junshan came up with a reason for Lin Haoda not to be disliked.

Lin Haoda ran back to the hotel in the rain, standing under the awning to wipe the raindrops off his clothes while craning his neck to see if Guan Junshan's car had left.

With the rain, the air was hazy with a thin mist. Before Lin Haoda could count the cars, the traffic light turned green. Guan Junshan's car, first in line, drove through the intersection, then sped up and quickly passed by in front of him.

Before Lin Haoda could react, he caught a glimpse of Guan Junshan's profile, hidden by the rising dark-tinted window—as handsome and distant as the first time they met. A glint of light reflected off the car, darting past Lin Haoda's vision like a shooting star.

In the past few days, Lin Haoda had seen Guan Junshan's profile many times: on campus, in the hotel, in the hospital corridor, and in the gap of the closing elevator doors.

On the last night before leaving Hong Kong, his wish came true. In that second when he could catch a glimpse of Guan Junshan, he silently bid him farewell in his heart.

After tonight, they would never see each other again.

It rained all night. The next day was cloudy with a cool temperature—the most pleasant day Lin Haoda had had since arriving in Hong Kong.

The flight was scheduled to take off at 3:30 PM. The final boarding call was announced when Lin Haoda finally made it to the gate. He ran onto the jet bridge with his luggage, even tripping once in his rush.

At 3:25 PM, in a patch of sunlight breaking through the clouds, the plane taxied down the runway. Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Guan Junshan, who had cut his trip short, arrived at the hospital and took the elevator to the single-bed ward on the top floor.

Doctors, nurses, and several maids taking care of Wu Manzhen were already waiting there. Guan Junshan stepped out of the elevator, dark circles under his eyes, looking exhausted. He asked, "What's going on?"

"Madam is emotionally unstable and keeps crying," replied an older maid on his right, who walked ahead of the others. "She even smashed a vase at noon."

Guan Junshan turned down the corridor and asked, "Did she hurt herself?"

"No," another maid quickly said, then paused. "She just won't let us into the room, and she won't even let us serve lunch."

Guan Junshan was silent for a moment, then frowned. "Who came this morning?"

"Mrs. Zhang and Mrs. Li. They stayed for about ten minutes," the older maid replied hesitantly. "Soon after they left, Madam got upset. She smashed all the flowers that Master Sihan had sent and said she wanted them all replaced with magnolias."

"Magnolias?" Guan Junshan paused, turning to look at her. "Were they found?"

"Yes... but it's not the blooming season now..."

Guan Junshan looked away and gestured for her to stop, then walked straight to Wu Manzhen's room.

The corridor was silent. Sparse sunlight fell on the floor tiles. A nurse said that Wu Manzhen had just been given a sedative and was now asleep.

The group stopped a short distance from the room, leaving only Guan Junshan to approach. He raised his hand to push the door open, but his gaze naturally fell, catching sight of a glass vase about thirty centimeters tall placed silently in front of the door. Clear water filled its slender neck, with a few branches of pinkish-white magnolias inserted at an angle.

Guan Junshan turned slightly and called the maid over. She stepped forward, saw the vase on the ground, and was taken aback. She quickly said, "This... no one else came today."

Guan Junshan said nothing, staring silently at the fresh magnolias for a while, then instructed her to bring the vase into the ward.

But the maid called out to him from behind, handing him an envelope that had been under the vase.

Guan Junshan took it. His gaze fell on the light-colored envelope, on which "Mr. Guan" was written in bold marker.

Guan Junshan immediately had a good idea of who this letter and these flowers could be from.

Without a doubt, it was Lin Haoda, full of childish ideas.

Wu Manzhen was indeed fast asleep. The air conditioning ran quietly at a constant temperature and humidity. The sun had fully emerged from the clouds, casting a soft glow.

Guan Junshan sat by the sickbed and opened the envelope. Lin Haoda had stuffed inside a sticky note, a photo, a discount coupon, and a good luck charm. Guan Junshan hadn't received such "gifts" since he was six, so for a moment, he even wondered if he was back in kindergarten.

And Lin Haoda actually explained each item to him seriously: First, the discount coupon was from the bakery across the street from the building where Guan Junshan's company was located. Their doughnuts and croissants weren't bad, and there were discounts after nine o'clock. Unfortunately, Lin Haoda could only enjoy it once, so he went ahead and left the extra coupon for Guan Junshan.

Second, the photo was the one he had secretly taken of Guan Junshan on the pedestrian street last night. Of course, Lin Haoda showed no guilt in the letter and didn't use any negative words like "secretly taking photos." He argued that he had taken it but didn't keep it to himself; instead, he generously gave it to Guan Junshan, which could be called noble. He also urged Guan Junshan to treasure it, claiming this photo was perfect in both lighting and composition and should definitely be considered one of the best photos of Guan Junshan's life. The entire account made no mention of the subject's own contribution.

Third, the good luck charm was one Lin Haoda had obtained at the Hua'an Temple in Shanghai the year he graduated. It was quite effective. To prove it, he even told Guan Junshan an anecdote: He had gotten his hair singed by incense while praying, and the master told him he would face a bloody accident but could turn misfortune into good fortune because of the charm. Sure enough, it came true a week later. Unfortunately, Guan Junshan, though born in Hong Kong, didn't believe in such things. After reading Lin Haoda's vivid account, he found Lin Haoda himself more amusing.

At the end of the sticky note, Lin Haoda offered his endless thanks and sincere wishes for Guan Junshan and his family. He also told Guan Junshan that although they might never meet again, he would remember to tap an electronic wooden fish for him every day.

An electronic wooden fish—as out of place as Lin Haoda himself.

After reading these rambling words, Guan Junshan's gaze fell once more on the magnolias blooming by the bedside. He rarely had such unbidden thoughts: about Lin Haoda's freedom and his clumsy, unconditional gratitude.

How many times had Guan Junshan heard "thank you"? He had lost count long ago. Most people would give him jade, jewelry, cash, or stocks. No one had ever sent a thank-you letter worthy of a kindergartner, along with some odds and ends.

Guan Junshan could think Lin Haoda was foolish and unlucky, or even more troublesome than he had imagined, but he found it hard to doubt Lin Haoda's sincerity.

Just as Guan Junshan folded the envelope, the door to the ward opened. The security manager came to see if he wanted to review the surveillance footage, saying they had found who had secretly placed the flowers and letter in front of the ward.

Guan Junshan was about to say there was no need, that he already knew, but after a moment's hesitation, he got up and left the room.

Lin Haoda had first arrived at the hospital around noon. He was holding a bouquet of lilies at the time. He stopped in front of Wu Manzhen's room but didn't enter. He stood outside for five minutes, then turned and left.

Two hours later, he appeared on the surveillance footage again. The lilies in his hand had been replaced by the magnolias Guan Junshan later saw. He was in a hurry, dragging a suitcase, and set down the flowers and envelope before leaving.

After reviewing the footage, the manager carefully observed Guan Junshan's expression and asked if he wanted the video turned over to the police.

Guan Junshan stood there with his hands in his pockets, his expression calm. He asked what the manager planned to do. The manager, as if encouraged, spoke with more confidence, saying they should definitely track down Lin Haoda and sue him.

"For a few worthless flowers and a letter?" Guan Junshan suddenly laughed, thinking to himself that if Lin Haoda knew, he might not be so willing to tap the electronic wooden fish for him every day.

In the end, he said nothing. Before leaving the surveillance room, he told the manager to email a copy of the surveillance video to his lawyer.

At six in

This was exactly the kind of behavior Guan Junshan absolutely detested.

In the end, he sent nothing. The air conditioning in the lobby was a bit cold; Lin Haoda, who was dressed too lightly, rubbed his arms and put his phone back in his pocket.

After the bumpy ride back to his rental place, it was almost eight in the evening. He hastily ate his takeout, turned on his computer to handle an urgent task, and by the time he showered and got into bed, it was already half past twelve. Though he hadn’t worked that day, it had been more tiring than expected. Lying under the covers, he scrolled through videos until his eyes teared up from exhaustion as he kept yawning.

He should have gone to sleep long ago, but he kept holding out, not even sure what he was waiting for—yet he couldn't help thinking: What if? Maybe?

Just as he was drifting off, half asleep, the phone by his cheek suddenly vibrated. Lin Haoda jerked his head up reflexively, stared blankly for a moment, before his unfocused gaze slowly cleared.

Guan Junshan’s profile picture popped to the top of the message list. Lin Haoda rubbed his eyes, took a second look, then tapped it open carefully.

He had sent a photo: a few magnolia branches in the evening sun, sitting quietly by the bedside, their buds slightly open, looking even more vibrant than when Lin Haoda had left them.

“Thank you.”

Guan Junshan had written below the photo for Lin Haoda.

In the darkness, the faint glow of the phone screen lit up one corner of the room. Lin Haoda’s heart seemed to skip a few beats before he belatedly realized what he had been waiting for all along.

If interactions between people could be simplified into a score, from the very first moment he met Lin Haoda, Guan Junshan had been deducting points for every one of his actions—sometimes one point, sometimes ten. Hard as it was to tell if there was a lower limit to the score, or exactly when the change began, at least at that midnight hour, Guan Junshan finally set aside his prejudice and brought Lin Haoda’s score back to zero.

Even if they might never meet again, Lin Haoda didn’t want to forever be a nuisance stuck with a negative score.

To become that occasional, barely needed mousse ice cream—not the best, nor the worst—just not yet something Guan Junshan would like, but also not to remain in his memories as someone he’d still hate.