“You said you wanted some human presence in the room, something lively, not so empty,” Liang Zhen looked at him, still smiling, “What do you want to hear? I can sing for you.”

What do you want to hear?

Shao Mingyin actually started to think about what he wanted to hear, rather than when Liang Zhen would leave. He seemed to see that teenager under the eaves again, his body trapped by the rain, but his song was like an unstoppable bird.

“Well…” Shao Mingyin licked his lips, lowering his head slightly, lost in thought. After a while, he straightened up, smiling at Liang Zhen. It was a typical Shao Mingyin smile, faint, genuine, but always with a sense of distance.

“What’s your favorite song? I might just sing it for you.”

Shao Mingyin shook his head, not because he didn’t know or didn’t want to answer, but he said, “I don’t understand these things.”

“What’s there to understand about music?” Liang Zhen wasn’t discouraged. “Music is just about whether it sounds good or not.”

“Okay,” Shao Mingyin leaned against the kitchen wall, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. “Then sing something good.”

“Alright!” Liang Zhen, with permission granted, brightened up, plucking the guitar strings and singing some songs that left a deep impression on him. He observed Shao Mingyin’s reactions as he played, trying to figure out which song suited him. But Shao Mingyin never showed any different expressions. Liang Zhen started to feel anxious. None of the songs were completed, several were just a few lines of the chorus, and after asking Shao Mingyin if he liked them and getting no answer, he would move on to the next one. He hadn’t touched the guitar for a long time, and his repertoire was starting to run out. As mistakes increased, he found it hard to immerse himself emotionally, let alone Shao Mingyin who was listening.

But as long as his fingers kept strumming, Shao Mingyin didn’t stop him. However, Liang Zhen couldn’t sing all night like this. Forgetting which song it was, when his voice didn’t hit the right note, he stopped the guitar abruptly, startled. Shao Mingyin didn’t say anything, just went back into the kitchen. Liang Zhen still carried the guitar, following him to the kitchen door, watching him open the fridge and take out a large bottle of chilled mineral water.

Bending down, Shao Mingyin opened the cupboard, took out a glass, wiped it clean, poured water into it, and handed it to him at the door. Liang Zhen took it, sipping it slowly, as if afraid that once he finished drinking, he would have to leave. Shao Mingyin could see what he was thinking, so he didn’t rush him, instead putting the water back in the fridge. His fridge was not stocked with much, so the soup pot the size of a rice cooker was quite conspicuous. Liang Zhen noticed it and asked Shao Mingyin what it was.

“Do you mean this?” Shao Mingyin tapped the pot with his finger bone. “Green bean soup.”

“Green bean soup?”

“Yeah,” Shao Mingyin casually asked, “Want some?”

“Yeah,” Liang Zhen nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking at grains. He abandoned the soda water on the table, lowering his voice as he asked Shao Mingyin, “Is it okay?”

Shao Mingyin lifted the lid of the pot. He remembered cooking it two days ago, but after drinking it once, he hadn’t touched it again. So there was still quite a bit left, and he couldn’t finish it alone. If he left it for a few more days, it would go bad. Since Liang Zhen wanted some, why not offer him a bowl?

But Liang Zhen had another request; he wanted it hot.

“Sure!” Shao Mingyin put the pot on the gas stove, asking him about the sweetness level he preferred, whether to add more water or sugar.

“Could you add a couple of lotus seeds? I just saw them in the fridge.”

“Sure, sure.” Shao Mingyin agreed. After putting the lotus seeds in, he lit the fire. Seeing Liang Zhen watching the stove intently, he asked, “Hungry again?”

“I’m not a glutton! I…” Liang Zhen furrowed his brow, smacking his lips, “Is there anything else to eat?”

Shao Mingyin: “…”

“There are still frozen dumplings, both fried and boiled.” Shao Mingyin opened the fridge again, teasing Liang Zhen, “Want them warm too?”

“No, no need.” Liang Zhen waved his hand, then asked Shao Mingyin, “Officer, do you usually eat a lot of frozen food?”

Shao Mingyin replied, “About half noodles, half frozen.”

“Do you not like rice?” Liang Zhen asked.

“I do, I cook a big pot, and the leftovers become fried rice.”

“Hmm? Don’t you cook other dishes?”

“Too troublesome to cook other dishes. More dishes to wash, and…” Shao Mingyin didn’t finish his sentence. He wondered why he was following Liang Zhen’s lead so easily. Whatever he asked, he answered. Although they were all trivial matters of life and didn’t involve privacy, it was still not the kind of conversation he should be having with Liang Zhen.

He cleared his throat, closed the fridge, and walked to the stove without saying anything. He covered the pot again, hoping the soup would boil faster. Even if Liang Zhen drank the whole pot, there would be an end to it. By then, he would have no reason to stay here. By then, there would only be him in this small single apartment again.

That’s exactly what he hoped for. He still remembered the absurdity he and Liang Zhen had engaged in at the gay bar a few weeks ago. Although Liang Zhen didn’t mention anything, maybe he was afraid of embarrassment, or maybe he hadn’t let go at all. But not mentioning it didn’t mean nothing had happened. They had almost hooked up. If he kept Liang Zhen tonight, what would that make them?

Shao Mingyin felt a bit restless, but he didn’t show it on his face. His eyes were fixed on the pot, just waiting for it to heat up faster. Several times, he idly lifted the lid to check and then covered it again. Unbeknownst to him, Liang Zhen interpreted these actions not as impatience but as Shao Officer being thoughtful at home, which reminded him of a song lyric, he couldn’t quite recall the beginning, only the chorus.

He sang as he stood at the kitchen door, with Shao Mingyin inside.

He sang:

“Who comes from the mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas—”