Chapter 79 Stroll Around

Chapter 79: Strolling Around

Xie Fengshi hadn’t counted on Lu Shiyan’s stamina. He had thought the young master’s drowsy look in the car was a sign of not sleeping well, but after finishing the beef soup, Lu Shiyan seemed to flip a switch, turning from a lazy cat into an unleashed dog—the kind that takes off the second you let go.

“Come on, I’ll take you somewhere.”

Lu Shiyan popped the last chestnut into his mouth, brushed the crumbs off his hands, and tugged Xie Fengshi’s sleeve deeper into the alley.

“Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.”

The alley grew narrower, the walls on both sides covered in withered vines. Some residents had hung their quilts out to dry, their colorful patterns standing out sharply against the gray winter day. Lu Shiyan walked fast, and Xie Fengshi followed behind, nearly losing him several times.

“Slow down.”

“Why slow down? Walking fast keeps you warm.”

Xie Fengshi considered that—fair point.

They walked for about ten minutes, one behind the other, until the alley suddenly opened up into a small community park. It wasn’t big—just a paved square surrounded by a few bare trees for the season. At the far end was a wall covered in graffiti, its bright colors clashing starkly with the dull gray of the surrounding buildings.

Lu Shiyan stood in front of the graffiti wall, hands on his hips, catching his breath. His cheeks were flushed from the walk and the cold wind. “What do you think?”

Xie Fengshi stepped closer. The graffiti style was mixed—some pieces were faded, others fresh. In the corner, a fat orange cat was painted, squinting lazily as it lay against the wall.

“Doesn’t this cat look like Xiao Jiang?” Xie Fengshi pointed at the chubby orange feline.

Lu Shiyan leaned in for a look. “Who’s Xiao Jiang?”

“Kaelen’s mom’s cat.”

“Oh, that one. You sent me a photo before.” Lu Shiyan crouched down and traced the cat’s whiskers in the air with his finger. “Yeah, they look alike. Both round as balls.”

Xie Fengshi took a photo, didn’t like it, adjusted the angle, and took another. He wanted to send it to Kaelen but hesitated, not wanting to bother him at work. After a long pause, he sent it anyway.

Not long after, Kaelen replied with a cute sticker—one he’d clearly snagged from their earlier chats.

They didn’t stay long. When Lu Shiyan had had enough, he dragged Xie Fengshi off again. This time they went to a bookstore tucked away in a residential building. It looked old, with only a narrow aisle to walk through.

Lu Shiyan weaved through the shelves, muttering under his breath: “I’ve been searching for this one forever,” and “The cover design on this one is out of print—they’re never going to reprint it.” Xie Fengshi followed, occasionally bumping into Lu Shiyan when he stopped short.

“Find something?” Xie Fengshi leaned in to look.

Lu Shiyan was holding a picture book with a worn cover, filled with botanical specimen photography—veins and textures crystal clear. He held it up to Xie Fengshi. “Nice, right?”

Xie Fengshi took the book and leafed through it. One page featured a ginkgo leaf, golden against a black background like a tiny lamp. “It’s nice. You buying it?”

“Yeah.”

Lu Shiyan paid for the book and walked out hugging the bag, his eyes squinting in contentment. “That’s what I call an unexpected find. You could search online for three days and never find something like this.”

Xie Fengshi nodded in agreement, but his eyes wandered to a shop across the street. “What’s that place?”

Lu Shiyan followed his gaze, squinting at the handwritten notes plastered on the glass door. “Oh, that one. They sell sugar-coated hawthorn skewers on a stick. They have everything—red bean paste, sesame, walnut, and date paste—you name it.”

With that, Lu Shiyan pulled Xie Fengshi across the street. Behind the counter was an elderly gray-haired woman. When she saw them, she set down her work and lifted the glass cover. “What flavors would you like?”

Lu Shiyan leaned over the counter, peering inside. The amber sugar glaze glittered under the light, coating bright red hawthorns. Some were slit open in the middle and stuffed with different fillings. “How about one of each?” he suggested.

Xie Fengshi nodded. The old woman wrapped the skewers in oil paper, then pulled out a roll of red string from a drawer and carefully tied it into a bow.

Lu Shiyan took the package, unwrapped two skewers, shoved one into Xie Fengshi’s hand, then bit into his own. The sugar shell cracked with a crisp sound, the sourness of the hawthorn and the sweetness of the glaze mingling in his mouth.

Xie Fengshi took a bite. The sugar shell cracked into crumbs; the hawthorn was so sour it made him squint, but the sweetness quickly followed, perfectly balancing it out.

Lu Shiyan finished one skewer, tossed the stick into a roadside bin, and rubbed his hands together. “Where to next?”

Xie Fengshi checked the time—it was just past two, still hours until dinner. He knew Lu Shiyan had brought him out specifically to explore. “You decide. I’ll follow you.”

Lu Shiyan had been waiting for exactly those words. He pulled out his phone. “There’s a new record store around here. The owner’s got an amazing vinyl collection. Cheng Lang stopped by and grabbed a few—they’re pretty good. Let’s go take a look. We can pick up one for your guy too; I bet he’ll love it.”

The record store had an unassuming dark green storefront, with an old phonograph in the window. Pushing open the door, jazz drifted from the speakers in the corner—low and lazy, perfectly matching the winter day outside.

There was only the owner inside, a man in his early thirties with shoulder-length curly hair and round glasses. “Feel free to look around. New arrivals are on the left shelf.”

The whole place was carefully curated. Shelves against the wall were organized by genre, from old jazz to rock, spanning every era. At the back sat an old record player, with a black vinyl spinning under the steady needle.

Lu Shiyan crouched in front of the jazz section, flipping through records one by one. About halfway through, he pulled one out—a deep blue cover with a golden trumpet silhouette standing out vividly. “I think this is last year’s new release. I’ve heard it—it’s pretty good.”

Xie Fengshi took it and examined it. The sleeve had handwritten notes of the recording date, location, and musician names. He put it back and turned to the classical section. He pulled out a record with a light green cover featuring a crescent moon reflected in water and admired it.

“This one’s nice. The cover is beautiful.” Lu Shiyan leaned in for a look. “Have you heard it?”

Xie Fengshi shook his head. “No, but I’m down to try.”

Lu Shiyan took the record. “Then buy this one,” he said. “Even if you don’t like it, it’s a good collectible. The cover would look great on the wall.”

Lu Shiyan dragged Xie Fengshi to who knows how many more places. First, they ducked into an alley so obscure even the map app couldn’t find it. Lu Shiyan rummaged around for a while and bought a tin frog for five yuan—wind it up and it’d hop a couple of times.

He stuffed the frog into his pocket. “I’m gonna mess with my brother with this.”

Xie Fengshi looked at him and thought, *If Lu Shixu actually falls for that, that’d be a miracle.*

Then they walked into a shop selling New Year goods. Red lanterns, fu characters, couplets—a sea of red dyed the winter street warm. Lu Shiyan stopped at a dried fruit stall, sampling one after another until the vendor got impatient, then bought a few pounds each of his favorites.

He handed the bag to Xie Fengshi. “Here, carry it. Snack on the way.”

Xie Fengshi looked down—amber-crusted walnuts, weird-flavored beans, hawthorn cakes, dried persimmons, a colorful mix of reds and yellows. Just looking at it made him feel like New Year was coming. He picked up a hawthorn cake and bit into it—sweet and sour, soft and sticky, the taste of his childhood melting on his tongue.

Then more walking. Lu Shiyan navigated the streets as if he had wings, darting into the narrowest spots, squeezing through the busiest crowds. Xie Fengshi followed, his legs starting to ache. He leaned against a telephone pole to catch his breath, amazed at how much energy Lu Shiyan seemed to have.

Lu Shiyan was crouched in front of a sugar painting stall, holding up his phone to snap pictures of the old craftsman. He bought a cat for Xie Fengshi and a butterfly for himself, eating his as he walked. “You have to walk to explore places like this. Driving is boring. Those alleys—cars can’t even get in. You’d just zip right by and miss everything.”

Xie Fengshi held the sugar up to his eyes, looking at the sky through the translucent candy. The sun turned into a blurry warm yellow spot. “I know.”

He actually enjoyed strolling like this too—no destination, going wherever the path led. The steam rising from street stalls, the oily smoke from fry shops, the raw, unpolished feel of it all. It’s just that after he got sick, he couldn’t walk like this anymore.

So now, he could walk as much as he wanted. Even if his legs ached and his heels hurt, it still felt good.

They stopped at a stall selling spring couplets.

“‘Heaven adds years, people gain longevity; spring fills the universe, blessings fill the door.’” Lu Shiyan read aloud. “This one’s good. Stick it on your front door. Even if you don’t celebrate Spring Festival where you are, we can still celebrate it ourselves.”

At 5:10, Lu Shiyan dragged Xie Fengshi out. The driver had been waiting nearby, and soon they arrived at the hotpot place.

The place wasn’t flashy—lanterns hung on both sides of the entrance. If it weren’t for the small sign by the door, Xie Fengshi might have thought it was someone’s house.

A server led them to the private room in the back. The walls were decorated with hand-painted New Year pictures. On the windowsill was a potted plant—not yet in bloom, but its lush green leaves were already shooting up tall. The stove was blazing, and a brass hotpot sat in the center of the table.

Cheng Lang, who had arrived earlier, practically sprang out of his chair when he saw them come in: "You guys are finally here! I'm starving!"

His hair was much shorter—a prickly buzz cut—and he looked full of energy. He gave Lu Shiyan a bear hug, then turned to Xie Fengshi, hesitated for a moment with his arms open, and switched to a handshake: "Your boyfriend didn't come? Good, good. When he's standing there, he puts too much pressure on me."

Zhou An followed him, his hair tied up in a small bun: "Don't listen to him. He's just running his mouth."

As soon as Xie Fengshi sat down, he suddenly remembered something, pulled out his phone, and tapped a few times.

"What are you doing? The food's already here." Lu Shiyan had already picked up a slice of lamb with his chopsticks, swirled it in sesame sauce, shoved it into his mouth, and was chewing with his cheeks puffed out.

Xie Fengshi told them to go ahead and eat, while he quickly typed on his phone. After sending a message, he made a call, and it was picked up after two rings.

Only after hanging up did Xie Fengshi pick up his chopsticks. The copper pot in front of him was already bubbling and steaming.

Cheng Lang asked, "What were you doing just now?"

"Having something sent over," Xie Fengshi said, pushing a plate of hand-cut lamb into the pot. He waited for the slices to change color, fished them out, dipped them in sauce, and put them in his mouth.

Lu Shiyan said, "Sent to who?"

"Who else could it be?" Zhou An laughed and took a sip of tea.

Cheng Lang caught on and put on an exaggerated expression: "Xie Fengshi, do you really need to do that? It's not like your boyfriend doesn't eat. You're having something sent over for him?"

Xie Fengshi's ears turned slightly red: "He gets busy and forgets. I sent something over so he can at least have a bite."

Cheng Lang pushed some meat into the pot: "Then don't just worry about him. Take care of your own stomach first. This is our first proper meal since you came back. Eat more."

The group chattered back and forth, their chopsticks clashing in the pot, occasionally squabbling over who got which slice of meat.

The meal lasted nearly two hours. By the end, the soup had been refilled several times. Everyone was stuffed. Song Zhiyuan wiped his mouth and said, "That's about it."

Lu Shiyan slouched in his chair, rubbing his stomach: "I can't take it. I ate way too much."

Xie Fengshi: "When did you ever not say you ate too much?"

"That's different. Today was really too much. Before, I was full. Today, I'm stuffed." Lu Shiyan said, letting out a small burp. "Whenever you come back, I lose control."

"How is this my fault?"

"When you come back, I get hungry. What does that mean? It means your presence has a direct positive effect on my stomach."

Cheng Lang couldn't take it anymore: "You're just greedy. Don't blame him for it."

By the time Xie Fengshi paid and left, the sky had completely darkened. The streetlights cast a warm yellow glow on the damp, cold streets. The air still carried the smoky smell of a nearby barbecue stall. The wind was stronger than during the day. Xie Fengshi pulled his scarf up higher. Lu Shiyan walked beside him, claiming that since he had snatched Xie Fengshi away from his boyfriend, he had to see it through.

The two of them climbed into the back seat. Once the heater kicked in, they started feeling drowsy.

By the time they reached the hotel entrance, Xie Fengshi was almost asleep. They were both jolted awake by the blast of cold air when Uncle Wang opened the door.

Lu Shiyan yawned: "Want me to walk you to your room?"

"No need. Go home and drive safe."

"Got it, got it. Go on up. It's cold out there."

When Xie Fengshi returned to the hotel, Kaelen still wasn't back yet.

The city's night view spread out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stood at the window for a while, decided there was nothing worth looking at, and turned and went into the bathroom.