Neither of the cousins had expected that Sheng Lin was the legendary mysterious mechanical engineer.
Jian Yun looked at her brother: “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know either…” Xia Yiyang secretly pinched his own thigh—ow, not dreaming, it really hurt.
Jian Yun’s company had an extremely high hiring bar. She’d had to battle through five rounds and six interviews to get in. Not long after joining, she’d heard her boss mention his “genius junior” who, after graduation, had turned down offers from several major companies and chosen to retreat to Rongcheng, occasionally collaborating with the company.
“Miss Jian—no, I should call you Engineer Jian.” Sheng Lin extended his hand again for a formal introduction. “What a small world. Yesterday, my senior told me a colleague would come to pick up the hard drive—I never expected it to be you.”
The “senior” he referred to was naturally Jian Yun’s boss.
Jian Yun looked at the hard drive in his hand, then at him: “Boss Sheng, so running an ice jelly shop is your side job?”
“No, the ice jelly shop is my main job.” He shook the hard drive in his hand. “This is my side job.”
Jian Yun: ?
She didn’t understand, but she respected it.
If Jian Yun didn’t have a flight back to Beijing to catch, she’d have loved to pry for more gossip.
She hurried off with the hard drive. Sheng Lin turned to the dazed Xia Yiyang at the table and waved a hand in front of his face.
“That surprising?” The man reminded him. “If you don’t eat it soon, the ice jelly will melt.”
They slept together every night, and Sheng Lin had been working overtime in the study lately, often not returning to the bedroom until after midnight. He’d assumed Xia Yiyang already knew what he’d been busy with.
The young master mechanically spooned a mouthful of ice jelly into his mouth. It wasn’t until the sweet fruitiness burst on his tongue that a hint of color returned to his eyes.
He set down the spoon and clutched his head in thought: “No, wait—this doesn’t add up…”
“What doesn’t?”
“Brother Lin, aren’t you a Level 8 fitter?” The young master asked in confusion. “Do trade schools even teach mechanical drafting?”
Now it was Sheng Lin’s turn to be confused: “Level 8 fitter? Trade school? Who told you that?”
“Master Qin!” Xia Yiyang threw Qin Zaozao under the bus without hesitation. “He told me you two were classmates at a trade school. He studied cosmetology, you studied welding, and you also took extra courses in appliance repair and motorcycle repair—which is why you have a whole room at home for tinkering with parts.”
Sheng Lin felt his temples throbbing.
“First of all, I majored in mechanical manufacturing in college.”
“Secondly, if I were really a repairman, the first thing I’d do is crack open Qin Zaozao’s head and do some repairs on him.”
…
“Sorry, little Xia—I was just joking around back then. I didn’t think you’d take it seriously!”
After the shop closed, Qin Zaozao pressed his palms together and apologized profusely to Xia Yiyang across the table.
Xia Yiyang sat pouting on the other side of the square table, chewing the straw of his Weiyi soy milk flat.
Wasn’t it said that you learn from your mistakes, and after learning twice, your IQ would rise to the high ground? How did he fall for something like this again?
Sheng Lin reminded him coldly: “You’ve been messing with him all this time, and a simple ‘sorry’ is enough?”
“Of course not!” Qin Zaozao said. “How about this—let’s go have hotpot, my treat! Consider it compensation for little Xia!”
In Sichuan, there was nothing a hotpot meal couldn’t solve. If there was, two hotpot meals would do the trick.
The hotpot place Qin Zaozao picked was not far from Rongda’s East Gate. This restaurant had been around for over twenty years, witnessing generation after generation of Rongda students enter campus and then graduate, flying off in all directions with their dreams.
Even though it was a weekday evening, the hotpot restaurant was packed with customers. The owner had set up several tables on the sidewalk, where diners could sit by the roadside, enjoying the spicy hotpot while catching the night breeze. The entire street was filled with the signature aroma of hotpot—Xia Yiyang felt like he was taking a bath in chili broth.
While waiting for a table, Qin Zaozao’s mouth couldn’t stay idle, and he struck up a conversation with Xia Yiyang again.
“Little Xia, that fortune cookie I gave you last time—did you eat it? Need me to interpret the fortune for you?”
“I didn’t eat it—the floor did.” The teenager sighed. “I accidentally dropped the cookie, then stepped on it and crushed it to bits. The paper inside got dirty too—couldn’t read a thing.”
Qin Zaozao let out an “Ah,” then began counting on his fingers again: “That’s the universe sending you a message! Telling you not to be swayed by outside influences—just trust your own heart.”
Xia Yiyang: “The universe is sending messages?”
“Don’t listen to his nonsense.” Sheng Lin cut off their conversation. “Xia Yiyi, he just fooled you—how are you falling for it again?”
“How is that fooling him?” Qin Zaozao protested. “I’m not taking his money. Can’t we just chat as friends?”
Sheng Lin ignored him and turned to ask the teenager: “What was that fortune cookie you mentioned?”
Xia Yiyang showed him the photo on his phone: “It’s this… you crack it open and there’s a little slip of paper inside with a sentence on it. Brother Qin said it could help guide me.”
Sheng Lin thought: Guide? It’s not a compass.
Xia Yiyang asked quietly: “Brother Lin, I know this is kind of childish…”
“It’s not childish.” Sheng Lin studied the cookie in the photo, mentally calculating whether he could recreate it with the ingredients they had in the shop.
It was just a small cookie and a slip of paper, after all. Since the young master liked them so much, he could make a bunch—let Xia Yiyang crack them open whenever he was bored.
Waiting for a table late at night went quickly. The customers ahead of them were a group of young people, one of whom was holding a Bichon Frise that was as fluffy as a dandelion.
Those customers proactively told the server: “We have a dog with us, so we won’t sit inside—we’ll take a seat outside.”
So the server arranged a spot in the public area for them.
Next, it was Xia Yiyang’s group’s turn. Sheng Lin told the server: “We also have a dog—please seat us outside too.”
Qin Zaozao was baffled: “A dog? Where do we have a dog?”
The young master said in an innocent tone: “I don’t know—I’m not a dog, anyway.”
Qin Zaozao caught on: “…So I’m the dog?”
“We never said that.” Xia Yiyang cackled mischievously. “Don’t take it personally.”
Of course, the whole “dog” thing was just a joke. In the end, the staff seated them at a square table indoors.
In the center of the table was a built-in stove, large enough to hold a cavernous hotpot pot.
“Someone can’t handle spice,” Sheng Lin scanned the QR code to order. “We’ll get a half-and-half pot.”
Xia Yiyang immediately protested: “Don’t look down on us Beijing folks—I can handle spicy food! Get the nine-grid pot, the spiciest kind!”
Sheng Lin raised an eyebrow: “I wasn’t talking about you.”
Xia Yiyang: “?”
“Ahem, ahem.” Qin Zaozao said awkwardly. “Since little Xia wants a spicy pot, let’s go with that. As for the spice level… uh, mild.”
He took a sip of water and added: “And a bowl of plain water on the side—the hotpot’s a bit oily, and rinsing is healthier.”
Xia Yiyang suddenly understood: “So it’s Brother Qin who can’t handle spice.”
Some Sichuan native he was.
The young master could handle spice; Qin Zaozao couldn’t—that was victory number one. Young master one, Qin Zaozao zero—victory number two. Young master two, Qin Zaozao zero—victory number three… and so on. The young master racked up victory after victory, sweeping the board.
Sheng Lin estimated the appetites of the three of them and ordered enough food for five people.
Besides beef and lamb, tripe, artery, and fresh duck blood were essential. The less common fresh duck intestines and braised pig brain also made the cut. As for vegetables, sweet potato noodles and celtuce were naturally a must.
What’s a Sichuan hotpot without fried rice? A simple plate of rice, with scrambled egg and chopped scallions, a touch of soy sauce for flavor—one stir of the spoon and it all came apart, each grain distinct and springy.
Sheng Lin submitted the order: “Let’s start with this—we can add more if it’s not enough.”
Qin Zaozao was shocked: “You ordered this much, and it’s still not enough?”
“What’s the matter? I’m still growing—it’s normal to eat a lot.” Sheng Lin replied.
Qin Zaozao: “?”
Who, who was still growing?
They really had ordered too much food. There wasn’t enough room on the table, so the server brought over a bamboo stand to place the dishes on. When one stand was full, they brought another.
The nine-grid hotpot bubbled and gurgled, the melted beef fat carrying chili peppers up and down, reflecting the pallor on Qin Zaozao’s face.
Qin Zaozao clutched his chest and played the victim: “Ah, my wallet!”
Xia Yiyang was soft-hearted and whispered to Sheng Lin: “How about I pay for this meal? I’ve saved up a good amount from my wages—don’t let Brother Qin go broke.”
He’d been living and eating at Sheng Lin’s place all this time, barely spending anything. Even when they went out, Sheng Lin covered most of the expenses. Even if Xia Yiyang tried to grab the bill, Sheng Lin wouldn’t let him, so all his earnings had been saved—his pockets weren’t exactly thin.
“He’s not poor—he’s cheap.” Sheng Lin picked up a piece of meat and placed it in the young master’s bowl, telling him to eat in peace and not worry about anything else. “He’s been pretending to be poor since college. I know him too well.”
Before Xia Yiyang knew it, the meat in his bowl had piled up to a peak.
He buried his head in eating: “(Chew, chew, chew) Brother Lin, were you really college classmates?”
“Mm.”
Xia Yiyang: “(Chew, chew, chew) Both studied mechanical engineering?”
“Yeah.”
Qin Zaozao chimed in: “Little Xia, do you think we’re both wasting our potential? After graduation, one of us runs an ice jelly shop just to get by, and the other prays to the gods and reads fortunes—neither of us does anything ‘proper.’”
“But what counts as ‘proper’?” Xia Yiyang finally swallowed his food and answered seriously. “Aren’t all the things you want to do proper?”
Qin Zaozao was taken aback, then instinctively glanced at Sheng Lin and blurted out: “Now I get why you like—ouch!”
Before he could finish, Sheng Lin kicked him under the table.
Xia Yiyang: “Brother Qin, what’s wrong?”
Sheng Lin: “He choked on the spice.”
Qin Zaozao: “…Right, I choked on the spice.”
He quickly downed a glass of water.
The young master had only been distracted for a few seconds, and his bowl was piled high with meat again.
He continued burying his head in eating: “(Chew, chew, chew) Brother Lin, which university did you graduate from?”
Sheng Lin’s answer was just two words: “Rongda.”
The young master, focused on his bowl, nodded absently: “Oh, Rongda, Rong—pfft—cough, cough, cough, cough!!!”
He coughed explosively, blood rushing to his brain, his entire face burning red. He stared blankly at Sheng Lin, light-headed, unable to believe his ears.
What had he heard?
Rongda??
Rongcheng University???
Rongcheng University’s School of Mechanical Engineering????
—That meant Sheng Lin was his direct senior?!
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