A Ferrari parked in a cowshed

Shen Wangjing strode off to search from the end of the street, a thin sheen of sweat forming at his temples.

The man selling potatoes saw him walking back and forth several times and couldn't help shouting, "Looking for that fair-skinned boy? He went toward the printed fabric stalls!"

Shen Wangjing strode in the direction the man pointed.

He rounded the printed fabric stall and passed a row of hardware shops hung with plastic buckets, his steps growing faster and faster. Sweat trickled down his temples and dripped onto his collar, soaking a small patch dark.

The market was full of people, full of vendors calling out, and nowhere was Jiang Xun.

Only after practically turning half the street upside down did he spot the familiar back of his head outside the steamed bun shop on the corner.

Shen Wangjing stopped and caught his breath.

The bun shop had a small frontage, just a counter of steaming baskets. Steam surged from the towering stacks, carrying the aroma of pork and scallions rampaging down the entire street.

Jiang Xun stood in front of the steamers with both hands in his trouser pockets and his chin tipped slightly up, staring unblinkingly at the stack that nearly reached the eaves. He didn't even notice Shen Wangjing walking up behind him.

A steamer lid lifted, and a cloud of white steam rushed out.

The buns lined up inside were white and plump, their pleats neatly pinched, their skins so thin the light shone through, faintly revealing the pink meat filling inside.

Jiang Xun's Adam's apple bobbed.

The look he gave those buns could only be called loving-his eyes blinked, his lips parted slightly, and his tongue unconsciously flicked over his lips.

He looked less like someone looking at buns than a cat crouched in front of a fish stall, staring at a goldfish tank, his pupils dilated.

Lost in his staring, he unconsciously swallowed, then suddenly heard slightly heavy breathing behind him.

He turned his head. Shen Wangjing stood beside him, the sweat at his temples still wet, his chest rising and falling a little faster than usual. His gaze lingered on Jiang Xun's face.

Jiang Xun reflexively forced an awkward smile and was just about to say, "I was just passing by"-

Shen Wangjing had already walked up to the bun shop and pulled a few crumpled notes from his pocket, setting them on the counter.

"Two meat buns."

Jiang Xun stood with his mouth open, the words stuck in his throat.

The bun shop owner deftly picked up two buns with tongs and put them in a paper bag. Shen Wangjing took the bag, turned, and pushed it into Jiang Xun's hands.

"Take it."

"Didn't you say you had no money?" Jiang Xun held the warm paper bag, the buns so hot through the paper that his palms tingled.

Shen Wangjing had already started walking back without turning his head.

"Didn't say I wouldn't buy you any."

Grease slowly spread through the paper bag in Jiang Xun's hands. The buns inside were still steaming, their aroma insistently filling his nose.

He hurried after him, took a bun from the bag, and held it to Shen Wangjing's mouth. "Have one too."

Shen Wangjing turned his head aside. "You eat."

"I can't finish two." Jiang Xun shoved the bun up to his mouth, sounding perfectly justified, though his stomach was already furiously proving him a liar.

Shen Wangjing said nothing and turned to walk away.

Jiang Xun swallowed, chasing after him as he took a huge bite.

His cheeks bulged. After two chews, his brows suddenly knitted, and his features nearly scrunched together.

"What the hell is this!" he complained in disgust. "There's a huge chunk of fat in here. It's so greasy. I don't want it anymore!"

As he spoke, he made to throw it onto the rubbish heap by the road.

Shen Wangjing stopped and turned around. Frowning, he reached out and took the rejected bun from Jiang Xun, then bit into the spot where Jiang Xun had bitten.

The meat filling was lean without being dry, rich with the aroma of scallions. The fat had been chopped so finely it was barely noticeable.

There was no huge chunk of fat at all.

The instant Jiang Xun saw him take that bite, the disgust on his face vanished completely. The corners of his mouth lifted, and his eyes curved into crescents.

"Good, right?"

Shen Wangjing paused mid-chew.

Jiang Xun had already skipped away from his side, happily munching on his remaining bun, his cheeks stuffed full. "I knew that would work on you, Mr. Too Cool."

Shen Wangjing swallowed the bun in a few bites and wiped the corner of his mouth, his gaze settling on the figure skipping ahead as he ate.

A mountain breeze blew past, lifting a tuft of Jiang Xun's messy hair.

Completely oblivious, he concentrated on his bun, stopping every couple of bites to lick the meat juices from the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

The twenty-li mountain road had taken over an hour to pedal along on the way there. By the return journey, the sun was almost down.

The tricycle jolted along the dirt road. Jiang Xun leaned against the empty sacks in the cargo bed, rocked into drowsiness.

Sleepiness hit especially hard on a full stomach. His head kept bobbing until it finally slumped against a sack and stayed there.

Hearing no more movement in the cargo bed, Shen Wangjing glanced back.

Jiang Xun had nestled between two empty sacks, curled into a small ball, and was dead to the world.

Shen Wangjing slowed his pedaling, taking particular care as he steered around the potholes.

It was nearly dark when the tricycle turned into the courtyard entrance. The yellow dog rushed up first, circling the tricycle with its tail wagging.

Shen Wangjing brought the tricycle to a steady stop and looked back at Jiang Xun, who was still sleeping soundly in the cargo bed. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and patted his shoulder.

"We're here."

Jiang Xun opened his eyes groggily, yawned, and braced himself on the side of the cargo bed to climb down.

His legs had gone numb in his sleep. He stumbled as he landed, nearly pitching headfirst into the yellow dog.

"Finally. I'm so sleepy I could die. I could fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow-"

Before he finished speaking, his feet stopped in place.

Through the hole in the window, he saw an extra person beneath the dim yellow bulb in the main room.

The man had a head of vivid blue hair, sprayed glossy with gel, and sat cross-legged on the long bench with the damaged leg.

His outfit covered in Balenciaga logos looked as out of place in this shabby house with its yellow mud-plastered walls as a Ferrari parked in a cowshed.

"What kind of shithole is this!" Blue Hair didn't even look up, his face full of the anger of someone cheated by life.

"The road was all mud. My brand-new shoes are filthy. Is this a fucking place for people to live?!"