On the evening of December 25th, as the sun was about to sink below the horizon, a rose tree, personally crafted by Zhu Jingru, stood at the entrance of the South Bank Café.
“Still waiting?” Tang Chen asked, seeing Zhu Jingru standing motionless on the balcony for a long time.
Leaning his back against the railing, Zhu Jingru leisurely tilted his head back to look at the sky, in a good mood. He was a classic case of someone waiting idly for a prize to fall into his lap.
Tang Chen walked over. “You’re fanning your tail feathers like a peacock, but it’s obvious he’s not taking the bait.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Zhu Jingru said with a smile.
Speak of the devil. He caught sight of that familiar figure out of the corner of his eye, and the usual casual, devil-may-care look on his face became more vivid and animated. “Am I handsome?”
Tang Chen glanced at Bai Qinglin not far away. “He is.”
“I was talking about me, not asking you to look at him.”
“You should have said so sooner.”
Zhu Jingru laughed out loud.
Just then, Bai Qinglin walked past under a ginkgo tree that had lost all its leaves. He nonchalantly looked up at Zhu Jingru.
The two of them looked at each other from across the intersection, as if they had returned to that very first night.
Zhu Jingru had also been standing on the balcony then, chatting intimately with another man.
The moment their eyes met, those peach-blossom eyes, always laced with a hint of a smile, made Bai Qinglin’s thoughts stutter. In just a few seconds, as if burned by a cigarette butt, he quickly averted his gaze.
Goosebumps broke out all over Tang Chen’s body. He swallowed his words and was about to take off when he suddenly noticed something. “Wait, why does your face look like someone pinched it?”
Zhu Jingru explained, “It had faded, so I deliberately pinched it again myself.”
“…” The image alone was horrifying to Tang Chen.
Having gotten the person he was waiting for, Zhu Jingru contentedly went back inside to continue painting with watercolors.
The male hands were aesthetically beautiful, with smooth lines of bone and skin. This time, he was painting a hand gently plucking the thorns from a rose under the sunlight. He only painted the details from the cuff down, leaving endless room for imagination.
There were many such paintings; Zhu Jingru couldn’t remember how many he had done.
There were Bai Qinglin’s hands tied behind his back, hands in a dress shirt holding a cigarette, an arm slightly bent while making coffee, and even hands clasped around a neck… Zhu Jingru propped his chin on his hand, thinking, his eyes narrowed as he savored the memories.
He was like a pirate obsessed with a treasure hunt, wanting to understand the full story behind the treasure map. He enjoyed the setbacks encountered on the way, eager to unearth the treasure little by little with his own hands, and finally, to open the chest and possess it all.
Tang Chen remarked from the side, “It was only after going to Yunnan with you that I was sure. You’re serious this time.”
That’s right, Zhu Jingru thought. Love is exclusive. It’s perfectly normal to be selfish and greedy. You can’t be a good pirate if you’re not serious.
Before entering, Bai Qinglin saw the rose tree. His steps faltered for a moment. After a brief, detached glance, he went inside, trying to ignore it but unable to stop his nose from catching the scent of the flowers.
He took off his dark coat, revealing a dusty blue shirt underneath. His sleeves were held up by two brown leather garters. After tying on his bib apron, he began to work, his expression giving no hint as to whether he liked or disliked the display.
One hand held a coffee cup, the other controlled the spout of the heavy cream pitcher.
Most customers wanted latte art of a Christmas tree.
Just as he finished the coffee, a delivery man came in. The new glasses Bai Qinglin had ordered had arrived. The original pair had been touched by Zhu Jingru, so they had to be thrown away.
That’s how it should be.
As he put them on, Bai Qinglin couldn’t help but remember Zhu Jingru’s kiss and the unique scent of vodka he had smelled.
That past night had been so quiet, the only sound the moans that passed through their noses. The skin they brushed against was cool and soft; a gentle squeeze would leave a red mark, a color not as dark as the phoenix flower tattoo on his wrist, nor as vivid as the red cord around his waist.
Bai Qinglin didn’t snap out of it until he scalded his fingers with hot water. His back, which had been tensed, stiffened slightly.
Li Wenxue was beside him. “It’s rare to see you lose focus while making coffee.”
Bai Qinglin unhurriedly went to the back kitchen to soak his hand in cold water. He silently dried it and put on a bandage. When he lowered his head, he could still smell the scent of roses.
The Christmas night was exceptionally lively. Everyone was eagerly celebrating in advance, looking forward to New Year’s Eve. The bar across the street played one sentimental love song after another.
Yue Chuan was excited and wanted to ask Li Wenxue to go with him. “They’re having a costume play party in there. I just went to take a peek, and I’ve already found my twentieth first love.”
Li Wenxue quickly took off her apron. “Let’s go, right now.”
Tong Yin immediately shouted, “Teacher Yue, Sister Wen, come look, come look!”
Huang Chen had sent an internal video. On the screen was a rising stage. The DJ and the lighting designer were brilliant, illuminating the scene with an artistic flair. The surroundings were noisy. Tang Chen, wearing a white lab coat costume, was slow dancing with a random customer under the direction of the lights.
The three of them watched with great interest, even concluding that Tang Chen must be quite satisfied with the customer, as their slow dance was so close they were about to kiss.
Suddenly, Li Wenxue had a thought. “If the bar’s shareholder is up there, then the owner must be there too.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the three of them looked up in unison at Bai Qinglin, who was at a table by the window. He still had the same indifferent, icy expression, a book open in his hands.
Yue Chuan sidled over to him. “You going?”
Bai Qinglin looked up without answering, his dark pupils full of pressure.
“Since you’re not interested in him, go over there right now and get your scarf back. I’ll return the coat for you tomorrow. It’s not good to let things drag on,” Yue Chuan cleared his throat and continued, “Also, you’re holding your book upside down.”
