Ming Zhifei’s hand hesitated as he went to insert his key. He didn’t want to get involved in other people’s business. In reality, whatever happened to an unfamiliar neighbor had nothing to do with him. He had had too many casual acquaintances in his life; even the woman he thought would walk the whole path with him had eventually become a stranger. So, why should he care about what happened to someone who was surely just a passerby?
The sound from across the hall stopped. Ming Zhifei pulled his key out of the lock, turned toward his neighbor’s door, raised his hand, and finally knocked gently.
After a long time—long enough, Ming Zhifei felt, to satisfy his conscience and leave—he heard the sound of a heavy thud on the floor, like someone hopping. The sound stopped behind the door. He asked, “Yang Jianzhen, are you home?”
Ming Zhifei rarely called people by their full names. In a professional setting, he would try to use a colleague’s surname; it was more proper. But he found it hard to call Yang Jianzhen “Xiao Yang”. Calling him that felt strange for reasons he couldn’t quite explain—likely because he felt Yang Jianzhen didn’t quite fit such a serious, formal title.
The door opened from the inside. Standing before Ming Zhifei was a person with gauze wrapped around his head, bandages on his hands and feet, and a face so bruised and swollen it was unrecognizable. His right lower leg, wrapped in bandages, was suspended in the air, supported by his left leg. It looked like he had hopped over to open the door.
Ming Zhifei was speechless. Aside from being in the emergency room, he had never seen a person injured like this in daily life—and as a gynecologist, he had only seen such patients in passing in the ER; he had never actually treated one.
Because Yang Jianzhen’s eyelids were swollen, Ming Zhifei couldn’t read his expression, but he sensed the other man seemed relieved.
“Do you need help?”
“I just took a fall.” Yang Jianzhen’s speech was a bit slurred; perhaps his mouth was injured as well. “I was originally trying to make some dinner.”
Perhaps speaking made his wounds hurt, as he let out a sharp hiss of pain.
“Do you have crutches?”
“When I left the hospital that day, the taxi drivers all looked at me with disgust and didn’t want to take me. If I hadn’t threatened to report one for refusing service, I wouldn’t have even made it back,” Yang Jianzhen answered, dodging the question.
“So you couldn’t get crutches, then?”
“If I used those things, I’d really look like a cripple,” Yang Jianzhen said with a bitter smile, hisining again as the movement of his lips caused more pain.
He was in a pathetic state. Thinking this, Ming Zhifei said to him, “I’ll make some food and bring it over for you. You don’t need to cook.”
“Then can I go wait at your place first?” Yang Jianzhen pushed his luck. “I didn’t dare answer you just now because I was afraid those people had come to the door. They beat me and took my car. Your knocking really scared me, you know? So let me stay at your place and wait for dinner.”
“Was that Porsche yours?”
“Yeah. I thought I could hide it at first.”
Ming Zhifei left Yang Jianzhen’s doorway, and Yang Jianzhen hopped out on one foot. Seeing how much he was struggling, Ming Zhifei supported his uninjured right arm.
With his left hand and right leg both in bandages, were they both fractured? Was he beaten into this state?
But Ming Zhifei didn’t ask. He felt that if he asked, he might be forced to listen to the reason behind the injuries, and he wasn’t interested.
“For now, they think I just hid the car here, but they’ll probably find out I’ve rented a place here soon,” Yang Jianzhen continued.
“What will happen if they find out?” Ming Zhifei, despite thinking he had no interest, couldn’t help but ask.
“I probably won’t be beaten to death, but this time they might cut off my ‘number two’,” Yang Jianzhen said.
What was a “number two”? After being confused for a moment, Ming Zhifei helped Yang Jianzhen onto the sofa and stopped thinking about the question.
Ming Zhifei was a bit clumsy in the kitchen. He had low standards and little interest in food; he viewed it merely as a necessity to stay alive. Sometimes he would only cook a few noodles with some soy sauce when he was so hungry he was about to faint. He had bought several packs of dried noodles only because they were the fastest to cook and cheaper than instant noodles, ensuring he wouldn’t pass out while waiting. That day, however, as he stood in the kitchen, he found himself thinking about that beautiful, fragrant bowl of noodles Yang Jianzhen had made last time.
If he just boiled the noodles and added soy sauce like usual, would Yang Jianzhen even be able to eat it? He seemed like someone who had a certain standard for food.
Ming Zhifei silently opened the browser on his phone. His 29-yuan monthly plan had very little data, but since he didn’t go online much, it was just barely enough.
“How to cook a delicious bowl of noodles?”
Setting his phone aside, he turned on the gas stove and the range hood. Just as he was about to fry two eggs according to the recipe, he heard Yang Jianzhen’s voice. He looked back to see Yang Jianzhen leaning on the laundry pole with his left hand, while his right hand held his phone for him. He looked at the screen, read it aloud, and finally couldn’t help but laugh. The laugh caused his face to crumple in pain as it pulled on his injuries.
“Fei-ge, how have you even survived until now?” Seeing black smoke rising from the pan while Ming Zhifei just stood there holding an egg, hesitant to crack it, Yang Jianzhen hobbled over to the stove using the laundry pole and clicked the heat off. “You don’t just eat whatever’s around when you’re starving every single time, do you?”
He had casually called him “Fei-ge,” casually criticized him, and now he casually took the egg from his hand and cracked it into the pan that was no longer smoking.
“Why did you turn off the heat?” Ming Zhifei asked, a bit confused.
“The oil is hot enough. If you didn’t turn it off, it would have caught fire in a second!”
The eggs cracked into the pan sizzled instantly, the whites quickly firming into a solid opaque layer. Only then did Yang Jianzhen turn on the burner, setting it to a medium flame.
“Your hand isn’t broken?” Ming Zhifei asked, seeing him use both hands.
“Who said my hand was broken? I just needed a dozen stitches. It’s fine now—it’s been two or three days, doesn’t hurt as much.”
Indeed, his hand was wrapped in bandages but wasn’t in a cast. Since he wasn’t an orthopedic surgeon, Ming Zhifei hadn’t paid close attention to the details earlier. Now he noticed that Yang Jianzhen’s right lower leg was actually in a cast.
“Is your leg broken?”
“Stress fracture, didn’t snap all the way. Scary, right? One more ‘crack’ and it would’ve been gone. But hey, at least ‘Number Two’ was saved this time. They didn’t manage to take out my greatest treasure.” Yang Jianzhen expertly flipped the egg, added a splash of soy sauce, and finally poured in the water.
“Is ‘Number Two’ your younger brother?” This was the second time Ming Zhifei had heard the term. Why would a brother be his “greatest treasure”?
Yang Jianzhen looked at Ming Zhifei as if he were a caveman. Finally, he couldn’t hold it back and burst into a loud laugh, leaving Ming Zhifei completely baffled.
“Fei-ge, how old are you?”
“Why are you suddenly asking my age?” Ming Zhifei found it strange. How did the conversation jump to his age?
“Because you seem so innocent. Like one of those young masters who’s never seen the real world?” Yang Jianzhen dropped the noodles into the boiling broth, then turned to look at Ming Zhifei. “You don’t know what Number Two means? Do I seriously have to say ‘cock’?”
Never having heard such crude, blunt language, Ming Zhifei’s face grew uncontrollably hot. Not knowing how to handle the situation, he grabbed the only bowl in the cupboard and began rinsing it under the tap.
“Hahaha! Fei-ge, seriously, how old are you? Are you married?” Yang Jianzhen relentlessly teased the embarrassed Ming Zhifei. “Wait, no—if you were married, you wouldn’t be here alone, nearly starving yourself to death every day.”
“Pack up your portion of noodles and go home to eat.” Just a few sentences with this man left Ming Zhifei feeling deeply exhausted. Talking to him wasn’t much different from being in court, having his nerves frayed by plaintiffs, lawyers, and judges.
“Huh? Are you kicking me out, Fei-ge~?”
Ming Zhifei felt he had been quite harsh—he had spent his whole life being polite to a fault—but the other man didn’t seem to care at all. He even said in a wheedling tone, “How can you just leave someone to die like this? It’s really not convenient for me to be alone right now. Can you let me hide out at your place for a while? I’ll pay you back later.”
“If you had money, your car wouldn’t have been towed and you wouldn’t have been beaten, right?” Ming Zhifei decided there was no need to be overly polite and said directly, “This is happening because you’re in debt.”
In the past, he rarely expressed his true thoughts and was always courteous, even to the most unreasonable patient families. Speaking his mind so directly felt surprisingly good. But as he realized he felt a bit of relief, he worried if he had spoken too harshly and hurt Yang Jianzhen’s feelings.
He was extremely bad at handling intense emotions in others, which was why he avoided provocative language. If forced into such a situation, he preferred silence.
But Yang Jianzhen showed no sign of embarrassment. Instead, he replied cheerfully, “Yes! I owe a lot of money and the debt collectors are after me! Fei-ge, you’re finally interested in my life!”
His swollen eyelids looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to ask, “Why are you in debt?” Looking at that face—which had been impossibly handsome just days ago and was now a mess—Ming Zhifei felt a sudden surge of pity and forgot the exhaustion he had felt minutes before.