Song Ting didn’t lead her out of the alley; instead, he headed deeper inside.
After walking for a short while, he stopped in front of a courtyard door and knocked.
“Biaozi, open up.”
“Who is it?”
Came a voice from inside.
“Song Ting.”
Soon, a young boy ran over and opened the gate. Biaozi was hosting a mahjong game at home and peeked out to ask, “What’s up?”
“Can I borrow your motorcycle?”
“The keys are on the cabinet.”
After saying that, he went back to his tiles.
Song Ting took the motorcycle keys from the cabinet, then picked a helmet from several and tossed it to Nan Jiu. Nan Jiu looked at the cartoon helmet speechlessly.
“That’s your son’s, right?”
Song Ting came back, took the helmet from her hand, and snapped it onto her head.
“Fits perfectly.”
“…” Nan Jiu reluctantly buckled the strap and asked, “Why don’t you drive your car?”
“The car can’t get in.”
Song Ting swung onto the motorcycle parked by the door and gestured for her to get on.
Nan Jiu sat behind him, holding the rear handrail. The motorcycle weaved between alleys before heading onto the main road, almost crossing half of Nancheng.
Facing the wind, Nan Jiu shouted, “Do we have to go that far just for some duck heads?”
Her words had barely fallen when Song Ting leaned slightly, and the motorcycle turned into an unfamiliar alley.
The night in Nancheng was a different world from the day. The days were as hot as a steamer, but the nights were cool and comfortable. The motorcycle occasionally passed over an arch bridge, with low walls and shallow-roofed houses lining the small riverbanks.
The night breeze whooshed past her ears, blowing away all the annoyance.
The crisscrossing alleys formed a complicated maze. Song Ting gripped the handles confidently, arriving at a night stall.
He greeted the owner, who took a long moment before recognizing him.
“Haven’t seen you in ages. How have you been?”
“Pretty good.”
Song Ting smiled.
He found an empty table for Nan Jiu to sit, then went to buy two duck heads nearby. The owner brought over potstickers and wontons, saying to Song Ting, “Since you came all the way here, here’s an extra two taels of potstickers. If that’s not enough, just ask.”
Song Ting thanked him.
By the time they finally ate the duck heads, Nan Jiu’s interest was already waning. But after biting into the first piece, her enthusiasm reignited. These duck heads were no worse than the marinated dishes from the shop in Hat Alley; in fact, with a hint of sweetness, they tasted even better.
“How did you find this place?”
Nan Jiu asked after sipping the wonton broth.
Song Ting tilted his chin.
“That alley leads out to a school. I used to study there.”
Nan Jiu recalled Song Ting’s past and asked, “High school?”
“Yeah.” He answered briefly, as if unwilling to say more.
Her gaze stretched to the end of the alley. That short lane probably held memories Song Ting could never return to.
Nan Jiu lowered her eyes and heard Song Ting ask, “What’s going on between you and your cousin?”
“Nothing much. We played together when we were kids, but after the adults had a falling out, he started talking to me with hidden barbs.”
“You shouldn’t get involved in adult matters.”
“You should tell him that.”
Nan Jiu frowned.
“Alright.”
Song Ting slid a potsticker toward her.
Nan Jiu raised an eyebrow, expecting him to continue scolding her, but he simply agreed so readily.
Her lips twitched, her mood slightly lifted. The delicious duck heads and the aroma of the wood-fire wontons blended into the night air — a unique flavor of Nancheng’s alleys that stirred carefree childhood memories. Back then, before her parents divorced, she still had a home.
On the way back, Nan Jiu kept urging Song Ting to speed up. He ignored her and rode as he normally would, turning a powerful machine into something like an electric scooter.
She tapped on the Jinkang Iron Bones beneath her.
“Such a powerful bike wasted on you. If you can’t handle it, let me ride.”
She fidgeted, trying to make Song Ting stop, twisting her body restlessly. Song Ting’s knuckles tightened as he twisted the throttle. The bike roared deeply and suddenly accelerated.
Nan Jiu gasped, lowered her posture, eyes flashing with excitement.
Rounding the alley corner, Song Ting swiftly tilted his body, shifting his weight, cutting the curve sharply. The exhaust shot out a scorching blast of hot air, and the bike traced a smooth yet dangerous arc. Nan Jiu’s heart pounded ahead while her soul chased from behind.
The bike suddenly accelerated again; Song Ting glanced over and said, “Hold tight.”
Nan Jiu gripped his waist tightly. The bike charged toward the arch bridge. Unlike before, the speed tore through the wall of wind, and as they hit the slope, her body briefly lifted off the seat. Her heart leapt into her throat before inertia slammed it back into her chest.
She instinctively tightened her arms, clutching Song Ting’s strong waist. Through the thin fabric, the taut, power-filled muscles were the only lifeline she could grasp.
Nan Jiu was sure Song Ting had done this plenty of times before, his skill honed to such mastery. Riding through the night, she caught a glimpse of his passionate youth.
The bike leapt off the bridge and gradually slowed. Song Ting turned to her, asking, “Fun?”
Nan Jiu’s adrenaline surged, her burning eyes framing his profile.
“Thrilling.”
“Can you let go now?”
Nan Jiu withdrew her arms but didn’t return to the handrail, instead resting her hands on Song Ting’s waist.
Song Ting cast a glance at her whitened fists. He opened his mouth to ask her to let go, then swallowed the words.
***
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather returned in a sour mood after hearing that an old friend’s health was poor, going straight to his room.
Song Ting parked the motorcycle at the Tea House entrance and told Nan Jiu to head back first while he returned the bike.
Nan Jiu passed through the main hall and pushed open the door to the side room. Nan Qiaoyu was lying on her bed, wearing shorts and a shirt, legs crossed, with luggage and scattered items all over the floor.
Nan Jiu’s blood surged as she stepped inside, glaring at him.
“Get out!”
Nan Qiaoyu leaned against the headboard, playing a mobile game, glancing at her indifferently.
“Who says I have to leave?”
“This is my room.”
Nan Qiaoyu’s expression darkened.
“Nan Jiu, get this straight — this is Grandpa’s Tea House, not your father Nan Zhendong’s. Don’t go marking your territory. I’m sleeping here tonight. What are you going to do about it?”
Without a word, Nan Jiu grabbed Nan Qiaoyu’s hair and tried to pull him off the bed. Nan Qiaoyu dropped his game, grabbed her wrist, and struggled fiercely.
Nan Jiu jumped onto the bed in pain and kicked him hard. Nan Qiaoyu shouted, “Let go, damn it! I just got my hair done!”
Gritting her teeth, Nan Jiu said, “Good, then I’ll pull it out and see how you keep up the act.”
Neither willing to back down, they fiercely wrestled.
Song Ting had just entered the Tea House when he heard the commotion. He changed direction and headed toward the side room. At that moment, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather was also awakened by the noise and opened his door.
Nan Jiu and Nan Qiaoyu were locked in a vicious struggle—one pulling hair, the other choking—seemingly trying to kill each other.
Song Ting strode forward, grabbed Nan Qiaoyu’s skinny arm, and forcibly separated them. Nan Jiu clenched her fists, glanced at Song Ting, and stood by the wall, refraining from further attacks. Nan Qiaoyu looked defiant, the pain from his scalp only fueling his anger as he pointed at Nan Jiu, wanting to come forward again.
Song Ting lifted him by the waist and tossed him aside. Nan Qiaoyu’s body flew into the air; his heart stopped for a moment before landing hard with his back against the wall. The force made him wary, and his gaze shifted from Nan Jiu to Song Ting, full of caution.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather walked over with his cane, seeing the mess in the room. He slammed the cane heavily on the floor.
“All of you, get out here.”
***
In the center of the tea hall, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather sat on a chair. Song Ting was flipping through the Family Ledger that Nan Jiu had kept over the past few days.
Nan Jiu and Nan Qiaoyu stood before him, three meters apart. The old man was so angry the corners of his lips turned pale as he sternly scolded, “When you were kids, I scolded you for fighting because you didn’t understand better. Now that you’re grown, you still fight? Aren’t you ashamed to have this spread around?”
His gaze swept to Nan Jiu, noticing two bruises on her arm—likely from the scuffle—but otherwise her hair and clothes were neat. Then he looked at Nan Qiaoyu.
His hair looked like a bird’s nest atop his scalp, with fingermarks on his neck and arms. His collar was torn, hanging loosely on his shoulders. Seeing him like this only fueled the old man’s anger further.
As kids, they often fought over food, with Nan Qiaoyu ambushing Nan Jiu from behind and pushing her down the stairs. Usually, Nan Jiu was the one riding him in battles.
After all these years, he’d only grown taller, not wiser, and now he was provoking Nan Jiu again.
The old man raised his voice suddenly at Nan Qiaoyu, “I told you to sleep with me at night. Why did you go to Nan Jiu’s room?”
Nan Qiaoyu shrugged lazily.
“I don’t want to sleep with you. You smell like an old man.”
Nan Jiu pressed her lips together and quickly glanced at Nan Jiu’s Grandfather, standing aside watching the scene unfold.
The tea hall fell into a suffocating silence. A few seconds later, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather opened his eyes wide, each word striking Nan Qiaoyu like shards of ice.
“Then you’ll sleep on the floor.”
Nan Qiaoyu turned his face to the side, his eyes slanting as he stared at the old man. His nostrils flared with each breath.
“Grandpa, I’m your eldest grandson, the head of the Nan family. You’re making me sleep on the floor while Nan Jiu gets a room? Isn’t that blatant favoritism? I’m not sleeping on the floor. If you make me, I’ll call my mom.”
Nan Jiu’s Aunt was notorious in the family for stirring trouble. Nan Qiaoyu’s spoiled attitude owed much to his mother’s “careful cultivation.”
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather’s head ached just thinking about his daughter-in-law. When he paid to smooth over the resentment between his second son and eldest, it had a lot to do with her causing a three-day uproar at the Tea House.
Now that he was old and wanted to maintain harmony in the family, his heart was willing but his strength lacking. He waved at Nan Qiaoyu.
“Go ahead and hit me. I’ll have your parents come tonight to take you home.”
Nan Qiaoyu’s face twisted in fury, glaring at the old man. Song Ting came out from behind the counter, eyes fixed on Nan Qiaoyu. “You can sleep in my bed. Pack up your things and come upstairs.”
His tone wasn’t a suggestion but a decision, each word full of authority, leaving no room for negotiation. Nan Qiaoyu’s tantrum was just about wanting to sleep alone on a bed. Song Ting settling the issue took away his reason to keep causing trouble.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather looked up at Song Ting.
“He gets the bed. Where do you sleep? Don’t let him run over you.”
“I’ll sleep wherever. That’s settled.”
Nan Jiu’s eyes darted back and forth. Seeing the matter settled, she went back to the side room, kicked Nan Qiaoyu’s scattered sneakers, clutter, and luggage out the door, and slammed it shut.
Nan Qiaoyu, seeing his precious sneakers treated like that, stormed into the side room, raising his hand to smash the door. Song Ting stepped aside, blocking the door with crossed arms and lowered gaze. The fabric of his shirt stretched tightly over his biceps, revealing a clear and solid outline.
Nan Qiaoyu’s raised fist froze mid-air. He withdrew it, crouched down, and began stuffing the scattered items into the suitcase. It was overfilled, messy inside, with things falling out even as he tried to pack.
Song Ting couldn’t watch any longer. He grabbed the suitcase, tidied the contents to make room, then organized the remaining items on the floor neatly before closing the suitcase and carrying it upstairs with one hand. Nan Qiaoyu followed, holding his limited-edition sneakers protectively.
Song Ting gave the bed to Nan Qiaoyu and laid out bedding on the floor, setting up a simple spot to sleep inside the room.
Nan Qiaoyu lay on the bed, unable to sleep, playing on his phone. The noisy sounds from the game echoed clearly in the quiet attic room.
“Turn it off.”
Song Ting’s voice carried a cold metallic edge, like a bell striking near Nan Qiaoyu’s ear, making him shudder and lock his phone.
After turning off the phone, Nan Qiaoyu felt more and more frustrated. Song Ting had nothing to do with him; why should he obey him?
Tossing and turning, he finally grabbed his phone again, planning to go outside and play.
Just as he got off the bed, a strong gust hit him in the dark. Before he could react, someone grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him back onto the bed. His back pressed against the mat; he stared at the skylight, swallowing dryly as his heart raced.
Men’s battles required few words. Faced with absolute strength, Nan Qiaoyu dared not act rashly.
The next morning, Nan Qiaoyu was still sound asleep when the pillow and blanket were suddenly pulled away. The air conditioner also shut off. The attic was unbearably stuffy in summer, and without air conditioning, it was impossible to stay.
Nan Qiaoyu woke up sweating, sitting up with a start. He saw Song Ting had tidied everything and folded the blanket to one side, giving him a glance.
“Get up.”
Nan Qiaoyu cursed silently in his heart. This was like military training. The coach never stayed by the bed at night, but Song Ting was even more of a demon.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather, surprised to see Nan Qiaoyu up so early working, asked Song Ting, “No trouble last night, right?”
Song Ting replied, “All good.”
“…” Nan Qiaoyu hid nearby, furious but silent.