After much anticipation, the young master’s long-awaited crayfish fishing trip… ahem, no, the Mount Qingcheng summer getaway was finally about to begin!
Because Sheng Lin had been busy recently, the trip had been pushed back a few days. Xia Yiyang’s originally separate two-week leave was combined into one, saving them the trouble of coordinating additional time off.
With the two of them away for a couple of days, Sheng Lin hired a construction crew to rewire the second-floor electrical system and install an air conditioner in the living room while they were gone. By the time they returned from their trip, they’d be able to enjoy the cool breeze in comfort.
The young master bounced with joy: “Long live the boss! Boss is the best!” But he quickly realized something: “Wait—why are you only installing an AC in the living room? Aren’t you getting one for your bedroom?”
“I’m not as sensitive to heat as you are,” Sheng Lin said indifferently. “Before you moved in, I barely even used a fan.”
Xia Yiyang thought back and realized that Sheng Lin really did seldom sweat. He was always doing the heaviest physical work in the shop—hauling fruit, moving the rice jelly, running around—yet even in the hottest weather, he stayed fresh and clean.
The last time Xia Yiyang had gotten heatstroke at the panda base, Sheng Lin had carried him on his back for several hundred meters. The boy, dizzy and lightheaded, had only caught a faint whiff of sweat mixed with hormones, mostly masked by the scent of soap on his clothes.
The night before the trip, they both washed up early and turned in.
But the young master couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned on the sofa bed, restless at the thought of going out with Sheng Lin again. Every time he closed his eyes, memories of that day after his heatstroke flooded back—the cold, water-soaked cloth pressed against his burning inner thighs. Though it had been a while, the vivid sensation of that ice-and-fire contrast still lingered.
So embarrassing.
To distract himself, Xia Yiyang pulled out his phone and browsed online—but that only made him more alert. He saved a bunch of posts: “Must-Visit Spots on Mount Qingcheng,” “Mount Qingcheng Photo Guide,” “Crayfish Fishing Tips,” “How to Use MBTI to Figure Out Your Sexuality,” “Chengdu’s Must-Eat Food List,” “How Many Internet-Famous Pandas Can You Recognize?” (Wait, something weird slipped in there)… Before he knew it, it was 3 AM.
Sheng Lin got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. The moment he pushed open his bedroom door, he spotted a bright phone screen glowing from the sofa bed, glaringly obvious in the pitch-dark living room. The next second, its owner, guiltily hiding, quickly dimmed the screen and shoved the phone under his pillow.
“…” Sheng Lin sighed. “Still up at this hour?”
The only response was the boy’s steady, even breathing.
Sheng Lin walked over to the sofa. Moonlight streamed through the window, faintly outlining the boy’s “sleeping” form. His eyelashes fluttered slightly, and his pupils darted nervously beneath his lids—what a sight.
The man leaned down and said in a low voice, “Xia Yiyang, are you going to hand over your phone and go to sleep nicely, or do I confiscate it?”
There was no pretending anymore. Xia Yiyang quickly opened his eyes, pressed both hands firmly over his pillow, and grumbled: “I’m an adult, not a high schooler—why should I have my phone taken away just for staying up late?”
“That depends on you. Why did you hide your phone the moment you heard my footsteps?”
Xia Yiyang was momentarily speechless: “Because—because… muscle memory.”
Sheng Lin raised an eyebrow: “I thought it was because you know staying up late is wrong and you felt guilty.”
Xia Yiyang: So annoyed.
Sheng Lin: “And you say you’re an adult—you’re clearly still a kid with a field trip syndrome.”
The young master quickly shoved his phone further under the pillow and curled his entire body into the blanket, leaving only a pair of pitiful eyes exposed: “Alright, alright, stop nagging! I won’t play with my phone! I’m going to sleep now!”
“Good.” Sheng Lin gave a satisfied hum. “When we get to Mount Qingcheng tomorrow, I’ll take you to eat taro chicken.”
A loud gulp came from under the blanket.
…
Because he’d gone to bed so late, Xia Yiyang felt like he’d only just closed his eyes when the alarm jolted him awake.
Yawning, he dragged himself up, dark circles under his eyes so heavy they seemed to droop to his mouth. He regretted not sleeping earlier instead of letting his mind wander to all those random thoughts.
Not long after breakfast, the construction crew for the rewiring project rang the doorbell, toolboxes in hand. The workers carried coils of cable and the new air conditioner waiting to be installed.
Sheng Lin gave the foreman, a man in his forties, detailed instructions. The foreman nodded along, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He put one in his mouth and offered another to Sheng Lin. Patting his chest, he said with a rough-and-tumble air: “Brother, don’t worry. With my twenty years of experience, this wiring job is guaranteed flawless!”
“I don’t smoke,” Sheng Lin declined. “Also, please don’t smoke in my house during the work. My family and I really dislike the smell of smoke.”
The foreman paused mid-motion, then quickly took the cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear: “Got it, got it.”
Xia Yiyang pulled Sheng Lin aside and whispered, “Boss, I don’t get a good vibe from this contractor. We’re going to be away for two days—maybe we shouldn’t let them work.”
Sheng Lin raised an eyebrow: “So you can tell good people from bad people after all.”
“Boss, I’m not joking!” The young master was annoyed. “Wen Sen talked exactly like that too—all slick and buddy-buddy right from the start.”
“I know.” To be honest, Sheng Lin also felt a bit uneasy about the contractor, but considering how sweaty Xia Yiyang was every morning when he woke up, he couldn’t put off the AC installation any longer. “I’ll have the aunties keep an eye on him. It’ll be fine.”
The aunties were sharp-tongued and fierce—if that contractor dared to cut corners or slack off, they definitely wouldn’t let him get away with it.
After handing things over to the foreman and going over everything carefully with the aunties one more time, Sheng Lin picked up their luggage and headed out with Xia Yiyang.
This time, they were heading to the mountains for a two-day, one-night trip. Each of them had packed a set of pajamas and a change of clothes. Since it would be cooler in the mountains, they’d also brought along an extra long-sleeved jacket each. Sheng Lin happened to have a large travel bag that fit both of their belongings perfectly.
Xia Yiyang still carried his little sports crossbody bag, stuffed with tissues, a power bank, bottled water, and the fortune cookie Qin Zaozao had given him. He still hadn’t found the right moment to open it, because he hadn’t yet encountered an “important question” that would affect his life.
Mount Qingcheng was over sixty kilometers from downtown Rongcheng—at least an hour by motorcycle—so after some discussion, they decided to take the direct sightseeing bus instead. It was less hassle and safer.
The bus departed from under the giant panda statue at Chunxi Road. The tickets weren’t expensive, and they got lucky—when they arrived, they snagged the last two seats on the bus, which happened to be in the back row.
The bus had two seats per row. Xia Yiyang loved looking at the scenery, so Sheng Lin gave him the window seat. The bus slowly pulled out of the city, with mountain ranges stretching along the highway under the glaring sun—another beautiful day.
“Hello, fellow travelers! I’m your tour guide for this trip to Mount Qingcheng.” A young woman in uniform stood up from the front of the bus, microphone in hand, speaking eloquently. “Mount Qingcheng is located southwest of Dujiangyan City and has been a famous Taoist mountain since ancient times. It stays green all year round, surrounded by peaks that form a natural green city—hence its name…”
Xia Yiyang listened with great interest, leaning over to whisper to Sheng Lin: “I looked it up online yesterday—turns out the old version of Journey to the West was filmed here on Mount Qingcheng! I saved the exact photo spots. Boss, you’d better not take bad pictures of me this time.”
As the boy leaned in, his arm accidentally brushed against Sheng Lin’s, and his skin was shockingly cold.
Sheng Lin reached over and grabbed his wrist: “Why are you so cold? Is the AC too strong?”
“…It’s nothing.” Xia Yiyang only felt the scorching heat of Sheng Lin’s palm, which made him restless inside. He quickly pulled his wrist back, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just over an hour anyway—we’ll be there soon.”
When they’d boarded, all their luggage had been stored in the compartment under the bus, so they hadn’t brought their jackets on board. The vent right above Xia Yiyang’s seat was blowing cold air directly at him, turning him into a fluffy dandelion.
Sheng Lin offered: “If you’re cold, we can switch seats.”
“I don’t wanna.” The young master insisted on keeping the window seat. “I want to see the view. You’ve been looking at this scenery for over twenty years, but it’s my first time—of course I want to take it all in.”
He claimed he wanted to watch the view, but after just a little while, drowsiness crept in. He’d stayed up like a kid before a field trip and only gotten a few hours of sleep. Now, on the bus, the swaying motion rocked him like a cradle, making this 200-month-old baby yawn repeatedly.
His round head kept sliding down against the window glass.
Sheng Lin steadied him by the shoulder: “It’s too cold in here. Don’t fall asleep—you’ll catch a cold.”
“…Huh? …Oh…” Xia Yiyang was clearly too groggy to think clearly. He forced his eyes open, but they immediately drooped shut again.
Up front, the tour guide had finished her spiel. She took a sip of water to moisten her throat, then suddenly shifted gears and pulled out an entire package of local specialties.
“Dear travelers, now that you’ve come to Sichuan, to Rongcheng, to Mount Qingcheng, how could you miss out on the local specialties? Our sightseeing bus sells official authentic merchandise at reasonable prices—for example, crispy shredded beef, flow-magnet fridge magnets, panda plushies…”
Instantly, murmurs rippled through the bus: “I thought she was a tour guide—why is she selling stuff now?” “Last time I took the high-speed train, the attendants sold toffee and beef jerky too.” “These are so expensive—half again what they cost at the supermarket.” “Mom, I want beef jerky! I want a fridge magnet!” “What do you mean ‘want’? I asked you at the convenience store and you said no—now you’re making a fuss!”
Sheng Lin suddenly stood up and walked from the back of the bus to the front.
The young tour guide was enduring the passengers’ complaints awkwardly—honestly, did they think she wanted to hawk stuff? It was just part of the job! When she saw Sheng Lin approaching, she looked at him like a savior and quickly asked what he needed.
She’d noticed this well-matched couple of men the moment they’d boarded. Rongcheng was an open-minded city—it was common to see same-sex couples holding hands on the streets—so no one batted an eye.
One was quiet and mature, the other adorable and endearing. They’d sat in the back row, which was higher than the other seats, so the guide could clearly see their every move. They kept leaning in to whisper to each other, and just now, the taller one had taken the other’s hand—so clingy it was almost sickeningly sweet.
“Do you sell travel blankets?” Sheng Lin’s voice cut through the guide’s wandering thoughts.
“Oh, yes, yes we do!” The guide quickly pulled one out for display. “Sir, how about this one?”
The blanket she showed was black-and-white panda-patterned, complete with a hood shaped like a panda head. When wrapped around you, with the hood on, you could transform into a giant panda.
To be honest, the design was cute, but most adult travelers found it too childish—she’d never sold a single one.
She’d expected this pitch to fizzle out too, but to her surprise, Sheng Lin inspected the blanket, found no quality issues, and immediately pulled out his phone to pay.
She watched as the man took the travel blanket and walked back to the last row, gently tapping the shoulder of the sleeping boy.
It was too far for her to hear what they said, but she could vaguely see the boy groggily open his sleepy eyes and obediently wrap himself in the panda-patterned blanket. Though the man looked stern and reserved, his movements were surprisingly gentle—he carefully buttoned each button on the blanket, then gently pulled down the fluffy panda hood to shield the boy from the glaring sun streaming through the window.
After doing all that, he gently guided the boy to lean against his shoulder.
The soft, adorable panda blanket wrapped around Xia Yiyang’s body, leaving only the tip of his chin visible. And so, nestled against Sheng Lin’s shoulder, he peacefully drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Witnessing it all, the young tour guide couldn’t help but smile with contentment—this was exactly the kind of thing women needed to see to keep going in life!
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