EWH 15

Later, Yang Moshou was dropped off by two of Xu Wanhe’s underlings in his Cayenne.

He must’ve thrown up at some point during the ride, because when he woke up the next morning, there was still a dried patch on the front of his shirt.

He ended up taking three showers back-to-back, which almost made him late for work.

Almost.

Yang Moshou furrowed his brows, clearly on edge.

“Can you hurry up? I’m going to be late.”

The person in front glanced back at him but didn’t say anything.

Yang Moshou’s face tightened with urgency.

“Only five minutes left.”

That person turned around again and looked at him.

Yang Moshou let out a heavy sigh.

“Shit, I even scheduled a follow-up with a syphilis patient today. They’re probably already here.”

Someone else in line couldn’t take it anymore, threw some coins down, and stormed off.

“Freak.”

Yang Moshou quickly stepped forward. “Boss, one egg flatbread, add a sausage, extra chili sauce.”

The vendor took his coins.
“Alright, three minutes tops.”

Yang Moshou frowned. “No, I’ll give you one more yuan. Make it a rush order.”

The boss hesitated for a second, then sped up. “Alright, fine.”

In just two minutes, the egg pancake was done and handed over.

Yang Moshou grabbed his breakfast and made it to the punch-in machine right on time. Not even a second to spare.

The old gatekeeper gave him a big thumbs up. “Xiao Yang, you’re something else. Every time it’s right before clock-in, I see you out there buying breakfast, but you still always make it. You’ve got real potential as a hundred-meter sprinter.”

Yang Moshou didn’t say anything. He just gave a small smile, hiding his flatbread and sausage as he turned to head upstairs.

By the time he got to the office, two patients were already waiting outside his consultation room.

Across from him, Old Huang had already started seeing patients.

“Xiao Yang, cutting it close again, huh?”

Yang Moshou’s pale face stayed dead serious. “Close to what? I didn’t step on anything.”

Then he turned to the patient sitting by the desk. “Wait a moment. I’ll get some water and we’ll start.”

Old Huang pulled a case file from under the printer and handed it to his patient.

“Xiao Yang, don’t boil yourself. Don’t take water that hot. Can you even drink that?”

Yang Moshou capped the thermos, placed the flatbread upright next to the cup, wrapped both together with a towel into one tall stack. “It’ll cool down by the time I’m done.”

He wiped his hands, turned on the computer, then glanced up at the patient’s registration slip. “Surname Xu?”

The patient nodded. “Doctor, do you trade stocks?”

Yang Moshou started entering the info. “No. I only know how to stir-fry noodles.”

The patient let out a long sigh. “Lately I’ve been so obsessed with the stock market I’ve lost my appetite, can’t sleep at night, and I’m always constipated. I went to internal medicine and they told me to come see neurology.”

Yang Moshou looked at him. “Do you feel irritable? Anxious? Restless?”

The patient thought for a moment. “Hmm… not really. Mostly just no appetite, bloating, nausea. It’s really uncomfortable…”

Yang Moshou tapped away at the keyboard.

“Okay. Did you get any tests done in internal medicine?”

“Yeah, they checked me. Everything came back mostly normal, so they referred me here.”

Yang Moshou paused. “Do you have erectile dysfunction?”

The patient froze. “Doctor, what kind of question is that?”

Yang Moshou gave him a glance. “You might be dealing with autonomic nervous dysfunction. It can cause temporary disruptions in various body functions, including digestion and sexual performance. I’m asking to help with diagnosis. Don’t take it the wrong way.”

The patient thought about it. “It’s… been a while.”

Yang Moshou ran a few more relevant tests. Once it was confirmed, he printed out the payment slip.

“Alright, go pay first, then come back for the initial treatment.”

Once the man left, he called in the next patient.

By the time he was finally done with everything, it was already ten in the morning.

Feeling defeated, Yang Moshou unwrapped the towel, touched the flatbread, and found it had gone cold. He walked over to the window to eat under the sun.

Old Huang poured himself a cup of Rizhao green tea.

“Xiao Yang, just because you’ve got pale skin doesn’t mean you should go tanning your face at the window.”

Yang Moshou took a bite of the flatbread and realized the vendor had forgotten to add lettuce in the rush. That pissed him off a little. “It’s cold. I figured warming it in the sun might help a bit…”

Right after he said that, his phone buzzed.

A text from 10086.

Not Xu Wanhe.

Yang Moshou kept eating while messing with his phone, pulling up Xu Wanhe’s number in his contacts.

He remembered that dark face last night warning him that his phone had better be on twenty-four-seven. If he couldn’t be reached, there’d be hell to pay.

What a fucking killjoy.

Still, he looked the best when he was flushed all over and frowning in bed like a steamed sweet potato.

Yang Moshou put the flatbread down and renamed Xu Wanhe in his contacts to “Old Black Xu” just to vent a little.

——

Tang Ziyan really did hand over those few business lines under his control to Xu Wanhe.

And he didn’t play any tricks.

If this had happened in the past, Xu Wanhe would’ve been over the moon.

After all, everything he fought and clawed for over the years was to compete, to win, to take.

But from now on, there was no need to fight anymore. Tang Ziyan didn’t want it.

Honestly, being used wasn’t so bad. At least it meant he still had some value in the man’s eyes.

But even that would be gone soon.

Tang Ziyan said he was just tired of it all. Maybe it was really time to walk away. Who knew unless he tried?

Worst case, he could always come back.

He said it so casually, sitting by the windowsill with a layer of morning light spilling over his shoulders.

To him, it was all just stuff. Nothing that really mattered.

Xu Wanhe sat inside for two hours cleaning his gun, the irritation in his chest refusing to go away.

What the fuck, had Tang Ziyan gone completely brain-dead?

Two goddamn bastards. Hope they catch AIDS and break up fast.

He slammed the gun onto the table, grabbed his car keys, and stormed out.

No one in the room dared to say a word. They just watched as Xu Wanhe walked down the stairs, started the car, and sped off with a roar.

He drove aimlessly through the streets, itching to find something, anything that could lift his mood.

He thought of a few places but lost interest just as fast.

The same old shit. He was sick of all of it.

Nothing new, nothing exciting.

Naturally, his thoughts drifted to Yang Moshou.

That guy was strange as hell. Clearly the weaker one, yet always seemed to go against him.

Kind of interesting, actually.

——

Yang Moshou seriously thought Xu Wanhe was the worst.

Why ask for someone’s number and then never call? What kind of bullshit was that?

Obviously treating him like some backup booty call.

Yang Moshou clenched his fists hard, swearing to himself that from now on, he would never wash his ass again. He’d eat garlic and onions like crazy, enough to suffocate that pervert with his breath.

Just as he was thinking that, “Old Black Xu” suddenly popped up on his screen.

Yang Moshou froze for a second before answering the call.

Xu Wanhe’s voice was low. “Where are you?”

Yang Moshou let out a long breath but didn’t dare inhale. “At home.”

“Where’s your place?”

Yang Moshou covered his nose and took a tiny breath. “Unit 1, Room 202, Xinghuo Community, Dongfanghong Street.”

“Mars Community?”

“It’s Xinghuo…”

Xu Wanhe lit a cigarette. “Why do you sound all muffled?”

Yang Moshou had the phone wedged to his ear, one hand still covering his nose while the other was busy moving.

“I’m on the toilet, covering my nose. That’s why I sound weird. Oh, right, what did you call me for?”

From the other end came the sound of clothes being slapped. Xu Wanhe’s voice carried a faint trace of anger. “Forget it.”

Yang Moshou stirred the soup pot with a ladle. After tossing in the MSG, he turned off the stove and finally let go of his nose, enjoying the aroma like it was the greatest moment of his life.

“Ahh… smells amazing…”

“…You’re disgusting…”

Yang Moshou smiled. “Why are you asking where I live anyway?”

“Be at your community gate in twenty minutes.” Xu Wanhe’s voice turned cold and commanding. “And wash your ass clean for me.”

Then he hung up.

Yang Moshou looked at the time.
There wasn’t enough time to get ready, so he figured he might as well sit down and eat properly.

So he scooped up a bowl of rice, set the dishes and soup on the table, grabbed two side dishes from the fridge, and sat down to eat slowly and peacefully.

Xu Wanhe called again soon after.

“Where are you? I don’t see you.”

Yang Moshou slurped his soup, loud and clear. “I haven’t gone down yet.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Washing my ass, obviously…”

The line cut off with a sharp click.

Yang Moshou figured he probably left.

No big deal. Consider it punishment for being too cheap with himself.

Suddenly, he wasn’t that hungry anymore.

After poking at his food for a bit, he cleaned up, then threw on a pair of shorts and slippers and headed out for a walk.

He decided to swing by the gate just to check if the guy was still around, even though he doubted it.

The moment he stepped out of the stairwell, he saw a Range Rover parked right at the entrance.

An old lady downstairs was wobbling along with a huge basket of vegetables, muttering with her lips pursed.

“Goodness… who parks such a big car right in front of the gate…”

Yang Moshou hurried over to help carry the basket into the stairwell. After seeing the old woman off, he turned and headed toward the car, ready to give the owner a piece of his mind.

It was already dark. The car windows were tinted, and he couldn’t tell if anyone was inside, so he leaned in against the passenger side window.

The window suddenly rolled down, and Yang Moshou nearly fell into the car.

Xu Wanhe had a cigarette between his lips, half his face sunk in shadow.

He didn’t look handsome at first glance. In fact, he looked a little mean. But there was a strange kind of pull about him, like the strongest liquor locked away in the darkest corner of a cabinet, the kind that made words like heat and dominance pop into your head without warning.

Yang Moshou stared at him in a daze. “You’re still here…”

Xu Wanhe spoke, his voice calm, with no trace of anger.

“You trying to die?”

Then he unlocked the doors.

“Get in.”

Yang Moshou looked down at his thin shirt and slippers, hesitated for a moment, then pulled the car door open.

Xu Wanhe gave him a look full of disdain, but when he noticed the watermelon-pink slippers on his feet, his expression softened just a little.

“Nice color on those slippers.”

Yang Moshou glanced at the pair he’d bought for two yuan outside the university bathhouse years ago, then looked at Xu Wanhe’s expensive watermelon-pink shirt.

“Your shirt looks pretty good too.”

Xu Wanhe curled his lips into a slight smile, trying hard to hide how pleased he was.

“Not bad, I guess.”

Yang Moshou suddenly found him kind of pitiful. Quietly, he pulled out his phone.

He opened his contacts and changed “Old Black Xu” to “Little Beauty Xu.”

Consider it a small act of kindness.