Shao Mingyin gestured towards the nearby folding bed. “He’s already gone. Go sleep on your bed.”

“That’s my bed, but I don’t want to sleep there today,” Liang Zhen said confidently. “I don’t care, you promised me. You said I could sleep in the same bed with you today!”

After Liang Zhen finished speaking, he exaggeratedly twisted his body, looking like he would fight if he couldn’t sleep there. Shao Mingyin, seeing he couldn’t persuade him, gave up. “Fine, I’ll sleep on the small bed tonight.”

Liang Zhen: …

Liang Zhen pouted, lifted the blanket, and climbed out of bed. He had only taken off his jacket; he was still wearing his sweater and pants. Standing there with an unhappy expression, he said, “Just coax me, okay?”

“Liang Zhen, you’ll be twenty next month. You’re almost twenty, and you’re still this childish, needing someone to coax you?”

“I don’t want just anyone. I…” Liang Zhen lowered his head, touching the back of his sweater, his voice so shy it didn’t sound like him at all.

“I just want you to coax me.”

Shao Mingyin actually heard him but wasn’t sure if he understood correctly, so he asked Liang Zhen to repeat it. Embarrassed, Liang Zhen waved his hands, saying he wouldn’t repeat it, then reluctantly went to the small space beside the big bed. He skillfully set up the folding bed and sat there, hunched over, looking dejected and very much like Xue Meng.

Seeing Liang Zhen upset, Shao Mingyin sat opposite him without speaking, waiting to see how long his tantrum would last. Liang Zhen initially wanted to stay serious but couldn’t help glancing at Shao Mingyin again and again. Finally, he raised his head, straightened his back, and flashed a smile, showing his tiger teeth.

“Tell me,” Shao Mingyin asked, “why did you come to see me today?”

“Ah,” Liang Zhen was momentarily stunned, “I wanted to play you the songs.”

“What’s in the bag?” Shao Mingyin pointed with his chin at the backpack on the floor. “It jingled, what’s in it?”

“Nothing special… I thought you might not have eaten, and since you’ve cooked for me so many times, I wanted you to try my cooking.”

Shao Mingyin was skeptical. “You can cook?”

“It’s simple… but it’s pointless to talk about it now, you’ve already eaten.”

“And you?”

“I…” Liang Zhen bluffed, “I ate too, I’m not hungry.”

Shao Mingyin just looked at him, and within seconds, Liang Zhen deflated. “But you already ate.”

“Well, if I’d known, I’d have eaten a proper dinner. Now my stomach feels empty,” Shao Mingyin said, looking at the ceiling as if carefully considering. “Hmm, I feel like having a midnight snack. Should I order takeout? Want to add your dinner to the order?”

“Why order takeout? I have food ready here,” Shao Mingyin was clearly giving Liang Zhen a chance, and he seized it. “It’ll be quick, just need to boil water!”

“Alright then,” Shao Mingyin nodded. He followed Liang Zhen into the kitchen, watching him fill the kettle and take out four containers. The largest one contained already-cooked rice noodles, enough for two people. Another container held sliced sausage, though the pieces were uneven, some even cut lengthwise, clearly showing the cutter’s lack of skill.

Shao Mingyin asked, “Is this the topping?”

“Yeah, Dong’ou sausage, local flavor.”

Shao Mingyin, rarely curious, asked, “From what you said, did you cook for yourself in Lanzhou too?”

“Not really, but if I were in Lanzhou, I’d just go to a beef noodle shop and get a few slices of beef. Plus, they’d be nicely sliced.”

Shao Mingyin laughed, “So you know your slicing isn’t great.”

Soon, the water boiled. Liang Zhen opened the other two containers, which had prepared seasonings: lard, soy sauce, salt, and chopped green onions. After putting the rice noodles and sausage into a bowl, he poured hot water over them and mixed everything together, making it ready to eat just as he had said.

Shao Mingyin had been in Wenzhou for three years but didn’t eat rice noodles often. Plus, he wasn’t very hungry, so he only took a small handful of noodles. They stayed in the kitchen to eat. Liang Zhen ate quickly and occasionally glanced at Shao Mingyin, asking if it was good.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“Really good?”

“Really pretty good,” Shao Mingyin replied. He had cooked noodles often, usually wheat noodles, and occasionally Yangchun noodles. But he didn’t often eat Wenzhou’s rice noodles, not because he was picky, but because he preferred the harder, coarser northern noodles he had grown up with.

However, Liang Zhen seemed to enjoy everything. Shao Mingyin stood close to him, and when he raised his right hand to use his chopsticks, his elbow often brushed Liang Zhen’s left arm. Liang Zhen focused on eating his noodles, while Shao Mingyin kept shifting to the side, but somehow, his elbow always ended up touching Liang Zhen’s arm again.

Eventually, Shao Mingyin found himself against the sink and gave up moving away, letting Liang Zhen stay close. When he finished eating, Liang Zhen had also finished. Liang Zhen was diligent about cleaning up since he wasn’t good at cooking, and he usually cleaned up afterward. With Shao Mingyin there, he helped out, and when they reached for the chopsticks, their hands touched, quickly pulling back and awkwardly avoiding each other’s eyes. They couldn’t remember who ended up washing the chopsticks.

Later, they went to the bathroom to wash up, one after the other. Shao Mingyin came out last and saw Liang Zhen sitting obediently on the camp bed, hugging a quilt. At that moment, he couldn’t quite describe his feelings. He sat on the bed and was about to turn off the light when he saw the accordion in the corner and told Liang Zhen to take it back tomorrow.

“Huh?” Liang Zhen reacted oddly. “Can’t I leave it here? You can play it when you have time.”

“Take it back tomorrow,” Shao Mingyin insisted, “It’s not even your accordion.”

“It’s alright, this accordion is…”

Liang Zhen stopped mid-sentence but had already let slip too much. Shao Mingyin sensed something wrong, “Is this accordion really Song Zhou’s?”

Liang Zhen said “yes,” but it was so unconvincing that Shao Mingyin asked directly about the price. Realizing he couldn’t hide it, Liang Zhen told him the truth. Shao Mingyin knew the market and almost couldn’t sit still when he heard the price.

“Which music store? Tell me the name. I’ll see if I can get some money back,” Shao Mingyin said urgently, rare for him unless he was arguing. He felt like it was his own money being wasted. “The price is too high, they took advantage of your lack of knowledge.”

“It’s just a few thousand, the important thing is…”

“Don’t you feel any regret?” Shao Mingyin was genuinely frustrated, “Didn’t you say your family cut off your financial support? How much of your grandfather’s money is left?”

Liang Zhen stayed silent. What Shao Mingyin said was true. From the start, his money was flowing out without any income. Occasionally anxious, he still didn’t regret buying the accordion.

Shao Mingyin pressed him, “Which music store? You still have the receipt, right?”

“Really, let’s not. I think the accordion is worth it…”

“Who understands better, you or me? I could buy the same one now for half the price.”

Liang Zhen remained stubborn: “It’s really worth it.”

Shao Mingyin was furious: “What’s worth it?” He took a deep breath, waiting for Liang Zhen to give a reason. He didn’t think Liang Zhen could provide a valid reason, and even if he did, Shao Mingyin could easily refute it and teach this spendthrift kid a lesson.

But to his surprise, Liang Zhen still stubbornly believed it was worth it.

“You’ve played it,” Liang Zhen said softly. “You played it, so it’s worth any price.”

Shao Mingyin didn’t expect this reason and couldn’t find a way to vent his frustration. Finally, he relented: “So if I could play the piano, would you also bring one into this house?”

Liang Zhen heard the sarcasm but remained serious: “Can you really play the piano? When you told me your mom was an elementary school music teacher, I guessed you might be able to. If you really can, I… I’ll earn the money to buy a piano. I can make money.”

“But you need an income first,” Shao Mingyin looked at him, shaking his head, “Immature.”

Liang Zhen’s spirit faltered again: “Why do you also call me immature?”

“Why ‘also’? Did Xue Meng just say the same to you?”

“Don’t bring him up,” Liang Zhen said. “Just tell me honestly, do you think so too?”

“Think you’re immature?” Shao Mingyin retorted, “Liang Zhen, think about it yourself. In the past few months, have you done anything that wasn’t immature?”

Shao Mingyin propped his chin with his left hand, clenched his right fist, and stared at it. For each thing he listed, he extended a finger: “Running away from home, claiming financial independence, busking on the streets, impulsive spending, and today, arguing with Xue Meng for so long. Which of these things is mature? Yes, you’re only nineteen, you’re young, you have the right to make mistakes, but everyone has to grow up. Besides, who was like you at nineteen? When I was nineteen—”

Shao Mingyin suddenly paused, his gaze still fixed on his right hand, revealing the old scars on his palm. Even though they had healed, one could imagine the pain they once caused.

He clenched his fist again, palm down, and turned his head away, the change in his demeanor obvious. Liang Zhen seized the moment to press on: “When you were nineteen?”

“I was at the police academy, training every day. Even going off campus on weekends required a permit.” Shao Mingyin’s tone was unusually flat, perhaps because the memories from six years ago were so distant, they had become unclear. But anyone who noticed his demeanor would suspect he was deliberately hiding something.

Liang Zhen sensed something was off, but didn’t push him to reveal everything. Instead, he probed gently.

Liang Zhen asked: “And then?”

“Nothing much, just did what police academy students do.”

“Why did you want to be a police officer?”

Shao Mingyin lowered his head, silent for so long that Liang Zhen thought he wanted to end the conversation. Then he said: “My dad was a police officer.”

“Wow…” Liang Zhen’s admiration was genuine. “A teacher and a police officer, that’s wonderful.”

Shao Mingyin smiled briefly: “Yes, it is wonderful.”

“So, was it difficult for your dad to visit you? Or do you go back to Shijiazhuang for New Year?”

“I don’t go back…” Shao Mingyin still kept his head down, his legs curled under the blanket, his hands resting between his legs. “I don’t go back for New Year either.”

“There’s no one to go back to,” he traced his fingertips along his palm, unaffected by Liang Zhen’s cheerful mood. “They’re all gone.”