At six o’clock in the morning, Yao Zhen, who had been forced out of bed, was half-dreaming and half-awake, following Liang Jiming down the elevator like a wandering soul.
“Who drags someone out of their warm blankets before dawn—”
The elevator doors opened, and Liang Jiming signaled him to look outside: “See for yourself if the sun is up.”
Yao Zhen was dissatisfied: “It’s only six.”
Liang Jiming replied: “It’s already six.”
But the young master had never woken up before ten o’clock. He yawned, his heart full of resentment. He hadn’t slept well the night before on the yacht, but last night he had actually slept quite early, so it wasn’t that he couldn’t get up—he was just used to bickering with Liang Jiming.
“What’s the point of coming here for a honeymoon if you’re just hiding in the room playing games?” Liang Jiming said. “Let’s go, I’ll take you out.”
“…” Since when did you start taking this seriously?
The place they went to was the local pier’s fish market. You could smell the fish market from two streets away. Fishing boats had just docked at the pier, and workers were shouting loudly, unloading baskets of jumping seafood.
The morning sun was rising, and the air was buzzing with the sound of people. Yao Zhen stood at the entrance of the market, smelling the fishy scent in the air and looking at the wet, slippery puddles on the ground, frowning in disgust.
“What are we doing here?”
Liang Jiming stood with his hands in his pockets, slightly lifting his chin. “Let’s go inside and take a look.”
They followed the crowd forward. It was the young master’s first time in a place like this. Although he was repulsed, he was also curious, looking around at the mountains of seafood he couldn’t name. The stall owners were shouting in the local dialect, hawking their goods and haggling over prices.
Liang Jiming led him to a noodle stall and sat down on a low plastic stool. “Eat some breakfast.”
“Aiya,” Yao Zhen sat without any decorum, slouching his back and tilting his head. “Are you taking the young master out to experience ‘real life’?”
Liang Jiming said, “A local recommended it. The ingredients are fresh. Give it a try.”
Yao Zhen found it quite interesting—not the place itself, but the fact that a stuck-up, elite-looking lawyer like Liang Jiming actually liked coming to places like this to try something new. It really was…
The old lady running the stall soon brought over two bowls of seafood noodles. The broth was milky white, with fish balls, shrimp, crab, and shellfish floating on top. Yao Zhen picked up a mouthful with his chopsticks and hissed from the heat.
Liang Jiming glanced at him, silently pushed his own bowl over, and used his chopsticks to carefully pick out the lemongrass and lemon leaves inside. He had long noticed that the young master disliked these spices.
“What are you doing?” Yao Zhen stared at his movements.
“You don’t eat these,” Liang Jiming said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Yao Zhen froze for a second. “Oh.”
He picked up the largest fish ball from his own bowl and stuffed it directly into Liang Jiming’s mouth. “Shut up and eat.”
The fish ball was very hot, and Liang Jiming frowned slightly. Having succeeded in his prank, Yao Zhen burst out laughing. The morning sunlight fell into his curved eyes. As Liang Jiming watched him, his expression gradually softened, and he slowly began to chew the food in his mouth.
……..
Coming out of the fish market, the old town area of this coastal city was nearby. For the rest of the morning, they wandered through the crisscrossing narrow alleys and small paths.
The architecture here had a clear old colonial style, with colorful exterior walls, delicate wrought-iron balconies, and cobblestone streets, each glowing with different hues under the sun. Occasionally, an electric scooter would whiz by, giving the place a vibrant atmosphere.
Liang Jiming didn’t look at a map, letting his intuition lead Yao Zhen wherever it took them. There were specialty coffee shops wafting pleasant aromas along the streets, small souvenir shops lined up one after another, and after turning a corner filled with fresh flowers, one could see small shrines to the Virgin Mary on the walls…
The young master’s vacations usually only consisted of revelry and parties, so he found all of this fresh as well, holding up his phone to snap photos from time to time.
He turned his lens, catching Liang Jiming’s profile as he slightly tilted his head to gaze at the church spire ahead. The man’s expression, with his eyes slightly narrowed, was exceptionally focused. Startled by the sound of the shutter, he turned his head to look at him.
Yao Zhen made a face and pressed the shutter repeatedly. “Halt! You monster! Behold the soul-stealing power of Old Sun!”
Liang Jiming asked, “How old are you?”
None of your business, Yao Zhen thought. You only have your face going for you; what’s wrong with me taking a few more photos of you?
Liang Jiming ignored him and stepped toward a bookstore behind him.
“Hey!” Yao Zhen followed.
Liang Jiming pushed open the door, and the wind chime above rang softly. It was a very small bookstore, piled high with old books, and no one else was inside. Liang Jiming browsed casually while Yao Zhen chattered away behind him.
“Are we going back yet? I’m tired.”
“Why are you so dull?”
“I really don’t know what I saw in you.”
Liang Jiming pulled a leather-bound old notebook from a shelf and flipped it open. The paper had turned yellow, and the edges were slightly curled. On it were English words written in blue ink. It was a travel diary from 1976—the sights and feelings of the diary’s owner during their stay here.
The handwriting was concise and vivid, occasionally accompanied by simple hand-drawn illustrations.
Further in, the diary’s owner met a boy here. Every word and sentence became an outpouring of praise and admiration for him. Liang Jiming flipped all the way to the very last page, which contained only a single line:
【Today in Wangcheng, I held his hand.】
The handwriting was somewhat frantic, followed by nothing but blank pages. Liang Jiming’s fingers lightly brushed over that line, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, a warmth spread across the back of his hand as Yao Zhen’s hand covered his and snatched the notebook away.
“Wow, a love diary from fifty years ago,” the Young Master exclaimed with exaggerated wonder, shaking his head. “Tsk. Writing something so moving… it’s probably just someone getting horny for a local on a trip. I bet as soon as they got laid and satisfied their appetite, they went home and forgot all about him.”
Liang Jiming asked him, “Are you allergic to love? Why so cynical?”
“Am I not just telling the truth?” Yao Zhen said innocently. “Back in those days, a European who could afford to come all the way here to pursue ‘romance’ had to be rich. What ‘love’? Writing it so elegantly and refined… I don’t believe for a second he would have taken the boy back with him. I mean, look—the diary was left behind right here.”
Liang Jiming fell silent. He took the notebook back, closed it, and placed it back on the shelf.
Yao Zhen leaned in. “What’s up?”
Liang Jiming shot him a glance. “Does the Young Master know a lot about how rich people view love?”
The Yao Zhen gave an awkward laugh and hugged Liang Jiming’s arm. “I’m different. He might not have taken the person back, but I could leave everything behind to come here with you.”
Liang Jiming’s heart stirred. Driven by a strange impulse, he asked, “So, you love me?”
“…” You’re really going to be the death of me.
Yao Zhen winked. “Guess.”
He smiled far too flashily. Liang Jiming reached up and pressed down on his head. “Let’s go.”
Liang Jiming turned to leave first, and Yao Zhen let out a huff. He’s really hard to coax.
At noon, they found a restaurant by the street. After eating, they continued wandering through the old town. Yao Zhen protested, but his protests were futile. Liang Jiming told him that if he couldn’t walk anymore, he should go back first. Yao Zhen thought about it and decided against it; he didn’t feel at ease if the guy wasn’t right under his nose.
The afternoon sun grew more intense. They walked into a temple on the edge of the old town. Though called a temple, it was actually just a small Buddhist hall enshrined by the local community, hidden at the end of a quiet alley. The temple was tiny, consisting only of a main hall and a small courtyard with a Bodhi tree. There wasn’t a tourist in sight.
Yao Zhen had no interest in such places. He sat down on a stone bench under the tree and refused to walk another step. Liang Jiming ignored him and entered the hall alone. The Young Master muttered a “boring,” leaned against the tree trunk, closed his eyes, and started dozing off.
He slept so deeply he lost all track of time and space.
When he opened his eyes again, he was still sitting under the tree, but his head was resting on Liang Jiming’s shoulder. Yao Zhen’s heavy eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. It was nearly dusk.
Liang Jiming shifted his gaze away from his face and reminded him in a deep voice, “If you’re awake, get up.”
Yao Zhen wiped his chin and complained, “How long was I out? Are we ever going back or what?”
“Lazybones,” Liang Jiming cursed under his breath, suppressing the secret restlessness in his heart.
Yao Zhen immediately swung a foot to kick him. Liang Jiming stood up. “Let’s go.”
Yao Zhen chased after him. “Baby, were you staring at me the whole time I was asleep just now?”
Liang Jiming didn’t admit it.
Then it’s a yes, Yao Zhen thought with a hint of pride. You’re done for. You’ve fallen in love.
Leaving the temple, they turned a corner, and the end of the street opened up to the coastal highway. The sun was sinking, spreading a brilliant evening glow across the distant horizon of the sea. Seeing that Liang Jiming wanted to keep walking along the highway, Yao Zhen crouched down in a fit of stubbornness. “I really am not walking anymore. It’s useless even if you call me a lazybones.”
Liang Jiming stopped in front of him, his tall figure casting a shadow over him. “Truly not walking?”
Yao Zhen looked up, looking as aggrieved as a bullied puppy. “Are you picking on me on purpose?”
Liang Jiming looked down at him. His gaze lingered for a moment before he said, “Go rent a vehicle.”
Rent? The word “rent” didn’t exist in the Young Master’s dictionary. He dropped a thousand dollars on the spot and bought a small electric scooter from a passing local.
Liang Jiming tried to stop him. “It doesn’t cost nearly that much.”
Yao Zhen gave a grand wave of his hand. “I’m happy to pay it.”
He was happy even if he was being ripped off; he simply loved the thrill of throwing money around. Liang Jiming figured it wasn’t worth the breath to argue. He sat on the scooter and tossed a safety helmet over. “Sit in the back.”
The Young Master straddled the seat behind him. “Do you even know how to drive this? Don’t crash me—”
Liang Jiming twisted the throttle, and the scooter lunged forward. Caught off guard, Yao Zhen let out a yelp and squeezed Liang Jiming’s waist tight.
The bike sped along the coastal road, the wind roaring in their ears. Yao Zhen looked for something to say, shouting to be heard, “Baby, what did you pray for back at the temple?”
Liang Jiming replied nonchalantly, “I asked the Buddha to bless me so I can remember the past sooner, so the Young Master might forgive me.”
Yao Zhen was suddenly at a loss for words.
He loves me.
Aha.
Just as his slight guilt began to surface, Liang Jiming added the next line: “You are too hard to serve; I’d rather let the old me handle the serving.”
Yao Zhen raised a hand and thumped his back. You bastard.
Liang Jiming didn’t say anything more. His lips curled upward as he twisted the throttle to the max. Whether he remembered or not didn’t really matter—this wasn’t so bad. He just wanted to hold onto this moment.