The hotpot restaurant was buzzing with noise. In the bathroom, the sound of running water was constant as someone bent over the sink, head under the faucet washing out garlic-scented oil. People coming in and out of the bathroom found it strange, glancing briefly before quickly looking away and leaving.
Chu Zhi stood nervously beside him, her small face pale. Just five minutes ago, she thought her life might end in this hotpot restaurant, but surprisingly, this man’s temper was much better than she had imagined, even after she had dumped an entire bowl of clear oil on his head.
She had expected him to shove her face into the sesame sauce, and she had even prepared herself to hold her breath. But the calmer he remained, the more uneasy and guilty she felt.
The echoing sound of running water filled the space. Standing behind him, Chu Zhi looked at his broad, slightly curved back and softly reminded him, “There’s still a piece of cilantro on the left side of your hair.”
“…” He was silent for a few seconds, then tilted his head to let the water run over his left temple. “Thank you.”
Chu Zhi’s shoulders tensed, feeling that this “thank you” definitely wasn’t meant to express gratitude.
The sink was clearly too low for him, and he looked uncomfortable hunched over it. Chu Zhi stood there awkwardly for a while, wondering if she should help him wash his hair. She started to speak again, “Um…”
He heard her and paused, supporting himself on the counter as he raised his head. His wet hair dripped water, droplets running down his face and neck, the black hoodie’s collar completely soaked. His dark eyes were cold, thin lips slightly pressed together. Without turning around, he looked at her through the large mirror with an expressionless face, waiting for her to continue.
The man’s expression was far from friendly, his presence intimidating, as if he was barely containing his anger. His gaze seemed capable of stripping away layers, making her nervous enough that her scalp tingled.
Chu Zhi swallowed, her eyes falling on the hand soap on the marble counter.
“I don’t think the water alone will clean it properly. Do you want to use some hand soap?” she tentatively asked.
The man seemed amused by her suggestion: “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and get me some dish soap?”
Chu Zhi looked at him in surprise: “Should I?”
She straightened up, looking ready to actually go get it.
“…” He ignored her and turned the faucet back on, lowering his head again.
One person washing their hair in a hotpot restaurant bathroom, the other watching, they attracted countless stares from people coming and going.
Neither spoke, creating an awkward silence.
Chu Zhi suddenly remembered a Japanese drama she had watched before, where the male lead was a monk, and during his first meeting with the female lead, she had dumped ashes on his head during a ceremony. But not only did he not kill her, he actually fell for her, following her around like a lovesick puppy every day. She wondered how the female lead had apologized, and if she had helped wash his hair at the temple1.
Chu Zhi’s mind wandered, and when she came back to reality, she found the man looking at her through the mirror again.
He probably felt he had washed off most of the garlic and green onions, though he had no hope of removing the oil. He turned off the faucet and suddenly asked, “What do you want?”
Chu Zhi stood behind him, leaning against the wall as she looked at him. His black hoodie was stained, the oil marks darker than the surrounding fabric, showing the OFF-WHITE logo. She wondered if this style was still available for purchase.
Not really focusing on what he had said, she responded absently: “Hmm?”
The man took two long strides toward her, looking down with lowered eyelashes and a curved smile: “You can just say what you want directly. No need to go through all this trouble.”
Even in this disheveled state, his good looks weren’t diminished. Under the warm lights of the hotpot restaurant, his skin maintained an untouchable coolness, his eyes narrow and long, with double eyelids and slightly upturned corners. They were somewhat like peach blossom eyes, somewhat like phoenix eyes.
Though he was smiling, it didn’t reach his eyes, coming across as cold and frivolous, with a hint of casual rebelliousness.
Whether it was psychological or not, Chu Zhi felt she could smell a faint garlic aroma when he came closer. She had to admit, this hotpot restaurant’s dipping sauce was quite authentic.
She thought for a moment, took out her phone, and asked softly, “Can I have your contact information?”
He smirked, letting out a long “heh” before reciting a string of numbers.
Chu Zhi carefully typed in each digit and dialed. A ringtone sounded from the man’s pocket.
She hung up and was about to speak when her phone rang again – it was Lin Tong asking where she had gone. Unable to explain clearly at the moment, Chu Zhi gave a brief explanation while watching the man examine his clothes with furrowed brows.
Her guilt reached its peak. After hanging up, Chu Zhi looked at his oil-stained black hoodie with a dejected expression. She bit her lip, raised her head, and suddenly turned serious as she introduced herself: “I’m Chu Zhi from Advertising Class 2, Year 1 at A University,” the young girl looked at him solemnly and sincerely said, “I’m really sorry for what I did to you today, but don’t worry, I’ll take responsibility.”
“…”
Chu Zhi’s thinking was simple – someone had come to enjoy hotpot, everything was fine, then suddenly! A bowl of oil was dumped on their head. She also remembered the pretty girl talking to him earlier that day – what if they had been on a date? Going back with a head full of garlic would be quite embarrassing.
This misfortune was entirely her fault, and Chu Zhi felt she should at least buy him a new hoodie. To reassure him that she wouldn’t try to get out of it, she gave him her phone number and name.
However, military training2 for new students began the next day and would last for half a month. Chu Zhi temporarily had no time to think about this as she was exhausted from dawn to dusk each day, standing in the sun from seven in the morning like a dried fish, being cooked on both sides.
A week later, Lu Jiaheng had almost forgotten about the incident, until one day when he and his friends were passing by the training ground after pulling an all-nighter and saw the new students’ military training.
“Military training really shows the overall quality differences among this year’s candidates, especially after a week when everyone’s true colors come out. The beauties are still beautiful,” Cheng Yi was saying when he suddenly exclaimed and pointed to a shapely girl in military uniform at the front of the formation. He turned to Lu Jiaheng, “Isn’t that the one who asked for your WeChat3 during orientation?”
Lu Jiaheng, who hadn’t slept all night, was drowsy and his eyes were sore. He glanced up perfunctorily, “Maybe.”
Lin Baiyang looked in the direction Cheng Yi was pointing and said with a pained expression, “Lu Jiaheng, you’re wasting a treasure.”
Cheng Yi looked wistful: “I’d trade ten years of my dog’s life to see Ah Heng seriously flirt with a girl just once.”
Lin Baiyang: “Fuck you, Cheng Yi.”
While Cheng Yi continued chattering, Lu Jiaheng was barely listening, when his casual scan across the rows of green uniforms suddenly stopped.
A young girl in military training uniform stood at the very end of the formation. The late morning sun was scorching, and as a cloud passed overhead, everyone in front of her was covered in shadow, but she alone stood in the sunlight.
Lu Jiaheng’s eyes narrowed, and his steps halted.
After a week, surprisingly, she hadn’t tanned at all. The loose military uniform made her look small and fragile. Her lips were pressed together, and her clean, round ears peeked out from under her cap, flushed red from the sun.
Her hands were exposed, delicate fingers resting softly on her trouser seams when the instructor noticed and slapped them: “Keep them tight! Haven’t you eaten?”
The instructor didn’t hold back, and a light red mark immediately appeared on the young girl’s fair skin.
Lu Jiaheng frowned.
He suddenly remembered that this girl hadn’t sent him even a single punctuation mark since that day at the hotpot restaurant. She had gone through all that trouble to get his contact information, then completely vanished.
This wasn’t what they had agreed on.
He tilted his head, stepped out of the shade, and walked over to stand by the training ground’s gate, watching her from a moderate distance.
The training ground was full of new students in military uniforms and officers, with occasional teachers. Lu Jiaheng’s presence at the gate was particularly eye-catching, and several rows of students turned to look at him.
He acted as if he didn’t notice, his gaze fixed on the girl standing in the sunlight. He leaned slightly forward, hands on his knees, lowering his height to try to see her eyes under the cap brim.
She seemed to be daydreaming again, and it took quite a while before she finally noticed and looked over.
Their eyes met, and she paused, blinked, her long eyelashes fluttering in the shadow of her cap brim, making his heart itch.
Lu Jiaheng’s lips curved up, waiting for her reaction.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
The young girl wrinkled her nose, then looked away as if she hadn’t seen him at all.
Lu Jiaheng: ??
He raised an eyebrow, unhurriedly stood up straight, and leaned back against the fence, his lips curving lazily. As if watching her stand at attention without moving was something particularly interesting.
The early September sun was at its peak, heating everything exposed – hair, clothes, all scorching hot. Chu Zhi was dazed from the sun and had no energy to notice if someone was persistently watching her.
After a while, the instructor finally called out and moved the formation into the shade for rest.
Chu Zhi looked up toward the training ground entrance. The “garlic oil bowl guy” was still leaning there, his black hair seeming to have been color-filtered in the sunlight, appearing a shade lighter.
Chu Zhi really didn’t want to move right now, only wanting to sit down and drink some water, but she still owed him a four-digit priced hoodie.
She hung her head and slowly walked over to him, like a small plant wilting from the sun’s dehydration, shuffling to stand before him.
The little plant only reached his chest. She looked up at him with puppy eyes for a moment. She still didn’t know his name, and after a pause, she obediently said, “Hello, senior.”
Her voice was a bit hoarse, her lips dry, her eyelashes long and thick, her deer-like eyes clear and bright. Her fair ears were flushed red from the fierce sun, the fine skin almost transparent enough to see the blood vessels beneath.
As if bewitched, Lu Jiaheng suddenly raised his hand without warning, his long fingers reaching toward her ear, gently touching the reddened shell. It was thin and soft, the warmth pressing against his cool fingertips.
- The drama is From Five to Nine! ↩︎
- In Chinese schools, “military training” refers to a short period before school where students, usually high school or college freshmen, undergo basic drills and physical training, often run by actual soldiers. ↩︎
- Think: the WhatsApp/Facebook Messenger/Line of China. ↩︎
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