Chapter Text
He Xuan felt the sun burning into his skull. He dipped the ladle into the old metal bucket at his feet and poured cool water over the back of his neck. The heat was brutal, even for Hong Kong. In plastic tubs and glass tanks, water burbled around live shrimp, crabs with bound claws, eels, and a dozen kinds of shellfish. Hand-scribbled price tags jutted out everywhere. The air was thick with the smells of the sea, raw fish, and soy sauce drifting from a cheap food stall next door—home, incidentally, to the best dim sum in the world, stuffed with shrimp he himself had sold them.
He glanced at the counter, its broad surface faced in gleaming white ceramic tile, and caught his reflection before turning to greet the customers who had just walked up.
“What’ll it be, gentlemen?”
He gestured toward the display entrusted to him: fresh-caught fish laid out on a bed of ice, gills still twitching. Sea bass, spotted groupers, snakeheads, piles of mackerel, and—
“Plenty of stingray today as well,” He Xuan said, lifting his hands to show off the finest cuts dangling from his fingers.
“Clean them for us, please.”
“Of course.”
He handled the razor-sharp knife with practiced ease in his worn black apron and rubber boots. The fish came apart without resistance. Backbones, fins, and heads fell into the waste bucket, while the fillets were carefully wrapped into a neat bundle. When he finally handed it over and pocketed the cash, nodding politely in farewell, his eyes met a pair of jade-green ones studying him with open curiosity. He Xuan instinctively drew back, fussed with his unruly hair, tugged at his mustache, and smoothed down his rumpled work clothes—smearing fish across himself.
The stranger’s red-painted lips curved into a faint, indulgent smile that made him feel like the biggest fool alive.
He stared, transfixed. Her hair was set in flawless waves; her pale qipao, embroidered with slender green chrysanthemum branches, made her skin look even whiter; and the painted fan flickering lightly in her hand lent her an air of mystery. She seemed to embody elegance, confidence, and aristocratic restraint to him.
He only returned to himself when a tall man in a perfectly pressed police uniform appeared at her side. The easy smile, proud stance, and athletic build crushed any fragile hope he might have harbored. He sighed and cast a gloomy glance at the couple. Against a rival like that, he didn’t stand a chance.
“What did you expect?” he muttered, shaking his head and brushing off the foolish thought. Customers wouldn’t serve themselves. Already a line had formed while he wasted time staring.
By the end of his shift, exhaustion weighed heavily. The crowd never seemed to thin, and the day blurred past in a haze of work. Still, he couldn’t chase away the image of the mysterious woman—or the thought that all his luck had already been spent on his admission, leaving none for romance, let alone the chance of ever meeting her again.
When the stall finally closed, He Xuan slammed his cleaver into the cracked wooden board with a weary “Enough for today.” He rinsed the counter one last time, washed away the scales and guts, cleaned his knives, pulled the canvas awning into place, hooked it down, flipped the sign, and tossed his apron onto the hook by the door.
“Can I go?” he asked the stall owner, who always counted the day’s takings into a big wooden box.
“Yes, you’re free,” the man replied, handing over his pay wrapped in a crumpled piece of newspaper. It was enough for a bit of rice wine, some snacks, tobacco, and maybe even something to put aside. “Your mother said you’ve been accepted. Now I’ll need to find a new worker. Hard to come by good ones these days.”
“So I finally get a compliment out of you?”
“The others are just worse.”
“I see,” He Xuan chuckled softly. “But you won’t get rid of me that easily before autumn.”
“Go on, get out.”
“And a pleasant evening to you too.”
He Xuan stepped out into the narrow street already pulsing with the chaos of nightfall. Young people spilled into teahouses, cafés, and bars. Voices rose in laughter, song, and quarrels.The city easing into its evening rhythm.
In the courtyard of his building, he found the usual scene: a knot of retirees gathered under the open sky, crowded around a battered wooden table balanced on half-broken crates, loudly playing mahjong and trading gossip.
He leaned over them.
“Out of the way, you’re blocking my luck!” one of the old men barked.
“Mr. Lau, you promised to cut my hair today.”
“Let me finish this round! Your dancing won’t run off without you,” the old man waved him off. “Go wash off the smell of fish first.”
He Xuan snorted but obeyed. Half an hour later, he sat clean and fresh in a sagging chair on the street, its worn seat creaking beneath him. Before him hung a grimy mirror, smoke-stained and veined with fine cracks, dangling from a rope looped around the drainpipe.
The barber, gray at the temples, appeared with a towel slung over his shoulder and a stub of fragrant soap. Without a word, he lathered He Xuan’s face, scrubbing as though to wipe away every hardship from his skin. Foam spread everywhere: across his cheeks, neck, ears, and hair.
“I’m shaved already. Just the haircut!”
“Stop squirming or I’ll nick you. You’ve no hands for shaving yourself. Only good for fiddling with screws. Do I take the mustache off?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“As you wish.”
The old man drew out a straight razor, stropped it until it gleamed, and slid it down He Xuan’s cheek with practiced ease. Foam vanished with the stubble, leaving smooth skin behind.
“Ah, to have your years and your handsome face again—the girls would never leave me alone,” Lau sighed, recalling his youth as he guided the blade beneath the cheekbone. “But you, all you do is bury yourself in books.” His wrinkled hand gripped He Xuan’s cheeks, twisting his head to check the result. He Xuan forced a crooked smile, careful not to move and risk a cut.
“The neighbor from the third house keeps asking about you,” Lau added casually. “Still waiting for you to join her for dinner.”
“Not my type.”
“Then who is?”
“You want me to tell you everything?” He Xuan smirked, meeting the old man’s eyes in the mirror. At last, Lau reached his hair and ran a fine comb through the thick black locks.
“Of course,” the scissors clicked even before he began cutting. “I’ll tell the grannies. They’ll spread it around the city. You’ll have a bride in no time.”
“I’ll manage on my own.”
“As serious as ever.”
A cool evening breeze brushed He Xuan’s shoulders as the towel was lifted, and he shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin.
“All done,” Lau said at last, giving the back of the chair a light tap in invitation.
“Thanks!”
“Enjoy your evening.”
“I will.”
"What kind of filthy swine did this?" Hua Cheng barked as the sleeve of his jacket stuck to the sticky wooden surface. "Is it hard to pour beer into your mouth instead of all over the table?"
While the elder was wiping the mess off himself, some drunkard grew bold enough to snort with laughter in his direction.
"What are you staring at?"
"How do people tell the difference between being in love and just thinking someone's attractive?" He Xuan's words hit like a bucket of cold water, stopping the fight before it could begin.
"Huh?"
The question came out of nowhere and made Hua Cheng choke on the last drops of alcohol he'd been trying to swallow before giving the loudmouth a bloody nose. A burst of music and drunken laughter saved them from the crowd's attention.
"What did you feel the first time you saw Xie Lian? And what do you feel now? Are they the same?" He Xuan's gaze drifted lazily across the room until it stopped on one of the many couples tangled in a corner, kissing fiercely without a care for propriety. He wasn't a voyeur, nor was he prone to lustful fantasies, yet right now his mind betrayed him with images that were far from puritanical.
"What the hell?"
"I'm asking what you felt when you first saw Xie Lian. And what do you feel now?" He Xuan repeated, sounding perfectly casual. Hua Cheng's look screamed, why do you need to know that? He blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing like a fish, grasping for words that wouldn't come. Meanwhile, He Xuan didn't even glance at him—he just stared out the window opposite and chewed the remnants of spicy fried tofu with mechanical precision.
"Though… never mind," he said just as Hua Cheng finally managed to force out his first sound.
As if he hadn't asked anything, He Xuan slowly rose from the table and shuffled off for another round of drinks and snacks. His figure disappeared into the crowd momentarily, reappearing with a bottle. With his usual grunt, he sank back into his seat.
"Sometimes I really envy you two," He Xuan murmured, swirling his glass and staring drunkenly at the liquid inside. "You're so happy together."
"What's with you all of a sudden?"
"I just can't decide if I even want that for myself. Maybe something's wrong with me?"
The atmosphere in the hall shifted. The lively bustle quieted, and a slow, tender melody came from an old phonograph. Couples stepped into the center of the room one by one and melted into unhurried dancing.
"Why the long face?" Hua Cheng nudged him playfully in the shoulder. "Look, plenty of single girls have been eyeing you all night. Go on, give it a try. Or they'll come to you eventually."
"Excuse me."
A woman's voice spoke behind him. He Xuan flinched at the light touch on his shoulder—gentle, unobtrusive, like a soft silk blanket across him. The delicate scent of peonies filled the air.
"Would you mind granting a lady one dance?"
"It's you?" His eyes blinked in surprise, a smile breaking across his face—rare for him, softening his sharp features.
"It's me."
"How unexpected." He clumsily rose from the table, nearly tripping over the chair leg. "Of course I don't mind," he whispered, as if afraid to scare away his luck.
The slip of paper with today's date, the one he'd later tear from his calendar, was worth saving—as a reminder of one of the best days of his life. He'd been accepted into university, met the loveliest young lady he could imagine, and she had invited him to dance.
He followed after her as if guided, carefully intertwining his fingers with hers. Tentatively, shyly—afraid she might pull away. Instead, she drew him in naturally, effortlessly. Her face was suddenly so close. Panic fluttered through him, and he loosened his collar to free his neck from the fabric's grip. Her hands rested on his shoulders, warm and sure, sliding over the soft fabric of his vest as they shifted in slow steps.
"I should admit, for one dance with you, I'd risk taking a beating from your suitor," he blurted out before stopping himself.
The girl arched her brow playfully and let out a laugh.
"I've no idea what you mean. Right now, you are my suitor."
He Xuan felt like a clumsy, waddling penguin, shuffling in place, fixated on his steps so he wouldn't crush her toes and ruin the rhythm they'd built.
One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
"The officer," he muttered, still staring at his feet. "He escorted you this morning."
"Pei Ming?" she said with another smile. "You jest. He's just a friend of my brother's. Promised him he'd show me a little of the city. I assure you, there's nothing between me and that flirtatious rogue beyond acquaintance. I don't care for men who treat relationships lightly."
"That's good to hear."
"And what about you? Are you frivolous?" she teased, leaning closer, trying to catch his eyes.
"If you believe my friend, I'm far too serious and boring," he muttered, still focused on the floor, counting the rhythm. "Slow as a turtle, too," he added, finally lifting his gaze.
He Xuan felt heat creep across his cheeks, a soft blush he'd never experienced. He didn't know what was happening, but wanted to draw closer to her.
They stood in the middle of the hall. Tension hung in the air, though only He Xuan could feel it. His chest tightened with strange spasms, and he had no idea what to do next. He was frozen, a fool in every sense, until the spell broke when returning dancers bumped him in the shoulder on their way back to their tables.
Despite his awkwardness, he still invited her to join their table with Hua Cheng. His friend may help him navigate this.
"Please." He Xuan politely pulled out a chair for her.
"Thank you."
"What's your lady friend's name?" Hua Cheng asked, nodding as he lifted another drink. The question left He Xuan frozen again—he suddenly realized he hadn't even asked her.
After a delicate handshake, the girl said:
"Shi Qingxuan."
"Hua Cheng. A pleasure." The elder introduced himself, and when she returned the gesture with a polite nod, he added, "And this is He Xuan."
"Seems your friend has quite a sense of humor," she remarked.
"Mm. The circus must have lost its clown," He Xuan muttered, kicking Hua Cheng under the table.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Try embarrassing me, and see what happens," he hissed.
"Don't worry, your cockroach mustache does that for you."
"Shut up, idiot."
"I just want to see how you ruin it yourself."
"Sorry about him…"
"It's fine," she replied with an understanding smile. "I've got an annoying older brother myself."
Hua Cheng only snorted in amusement, but He Xuan knew that sly glint in his eye: Tonight I'll swallow my pride and let the jokes slide, but tomorrow—expect a grand performance.
Qingxuan was witty, charming, and playful; yet, He Xuan wasn't used to anyone but Hua Cheng speaking confidently to strangers, unafraid of being misunderstood or offending.
"Will you be in Hong Kong long?" Hua Cheng asked briskly.
"Hopefully forever." She leaned back against the tiled wall, her voice unhurried. "My brother works here, so I thought enrolling in a local university was the perfect excuse to escape our parents' watchful eyes."
"You're from Jiangxi?" Hua Cheng pressed, catching the lilt of her accent.
"Hunan."
"Ah. And how do you like living on your own?"
"Had I known my brother would be stricter than my parents, I'd have thought of another plan."
"For example?"
"Marriage," Qingxuan replied without hesitation, then turned her eyes on He Xuan. When he nearly choked on his drink at the bold declaration, she added with a playful note of regret, "Though so far, every candidate's been rather… underwhelming."
She paused just long enough to take her order from the waitress. "Neither fish nor fowl."
"Must be a Hunan thing," Hua Cheng retorted dryly, clapping his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He Xuan, still stunned, only blinked. "Look—he speaks English, Japanese too; he's handy, can manage a household, and he's about to be a certified engineer."
He Xuan opened his mouth to protest, but Hua Cheng hissed through clenched teeth:
"Shut up. I'm selling this for your sake."
The one-eyed man had always been good at selling—whether goods, ideas, or outright junk. Right now, He Xuan felt like just another piece of merchandise on display, shoved onto the shelf for the next customer.
"Is he always this quiet?" Qingxuan teased, brushing a fingernail lightly over the back of his hand.
"That's his only flaw."
"Or his greatest virtue," she corrected herself.
They traded barbed remarks for a while longer until the clock struck midnight. Then Hua Cheng nudged He Xuan to walk her home.
"Here we are," Qingxuan said, stopping beneath a streetlamp plastered with flyers. She cast a fleeting glance at the doorway.
He Xuan only nodded, at a loss for words. He shifted from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching his fists in his pockets as if searching for scraps of confidence. In the end, silent nodding seemed safer—less humiliating than stumbling over some awkward line.
"Good night."
"Good night."
The last thing he saw before turning toward his own home was a dim light flickering to life in a second-floor window. A small yellow square in the dark, telling him she was safe inside and—
"Cowardly fool." He Xuan kicked the first stone at his feet, which clattered directly into a trash can and toppled it with a resounding crash. With a sigh, he crouched to clean up the scattered garbage.