After eating and drinking their fill, Zhu Ran cradled his slightly bulging belly as he stepped outside. The street was narrow, with warm yellow lights spilling from the restaurant’s exterior walls, evoking a retro sense of traveling back to the last century.
The weather was still very hot. Zhu Ran fanned himself with the hot breeze for a moment before pulling up a map to check a walking guide.
“I know the way,” a slightly deep Cantonese voice said. Zhu Ran froze for a second before realizing that Huo Boyan had fully immersed himself in the role.
Zhu Ran didn’t understand it very well and could only guess at the meaning as he put away his phone. “Then I’ll follow you.”
Huo Boyan nodded and turned to climb the steps.
The alley was cramped. Huo Boyan wore a high-end suit, and Zhu Ran felt hot just looking at him—not to mention that Huo Boyan was also in leather shoes. The hard-soled shoes clicked softly against the stone pavement under the dim yellow streetlights, giving off an old-fashioned, leisurely vibe.
It was just an ordinary late July night—no holidays or festivals. The shops on either side sold only everyday trinkets. The evening tourists had already left, leaving Zhu Ran and Huo Boyan walking side by side down the narrow stone slab road, their shadows stretched long by the streetlights.
“We’re now at Pottinger Street, also known as Stone Slab Street,” Huo Boyan said unhurriedly. His voice seemed gentler and more pleasant than usual. “There are many old shops on both sides, mainly selling festival decorations and souvenirs. Is there anything you like? Want to go take a look?”
Zhu Ran: O_O
Seeing no response, Huo Boyan tilted his head slightly and smiled as he asked, “What’s up with you?”
Zhu Ran wasn’t sure if it was because of the Cantonese, but Huo Boyan looked a bit roguishly improper right now.
It was all those Cantonese love songs—too many, sung too tenderly—that had led to his misunderstanding.
Zhu Ran shook his head and said bluntly, without giving any face, “…I don’t understand.”
Huo Boyan paused, then burst out laughing. He switched back to Mandarin to tease him. “I seem to remember someone saying they could understand.”
“You remembered wrong,” Zhu Ran said seriously. “What I said back then was that whether I understand or not is my problem—you just keep talking.”
Huo Boyan let out an “Oh” and said something else in Cantonese.
Zhu Ran still didn’t get it. He looked up and asked, “What did you just say?”
Huo Boyan unbuttoned his suit jacket casually. “Nothing much.”
Zhu Ran felt like he was being toyed with. He schooled his expression and said sternly, “Huo Boyan, stop speaking Cantonese.”
Huo Boyan raised an eyebrow and asked deliberately, “Didn’t you tell me to?”
Zhu Ran was unreasonable. “I changed my mind.”
“Alright, then let’s try a different approach.” Huo Boyan said good-naturedly, “How about I say it in Cantonese first, then repeat it in Mandarin?”
Zhu Ran thought for a moment and told him, “You say Mandarin first, then translate it into Cantonese.”
Huo Boyan reached up and ruffled Zhu Ran’s hair, saying straightforwardly that it was fine.
The gesture was so casual that neither of them noticed anything unusual about it—as if this wasn’t the first time he’d touched Zhu Ran’s head, but rather something he’d done countless times before.
The man’s broad palm brushed over the top of his head, reminding Zhu Ran of earlier that day when Huo Boyan had held him in his arms to comfort him.
Zhu Ran’s ears turned a bit red, and he complained, “Talk if you’re going to talk—don’t touch my hair!”
Huo Boyan had already withdrawn his hand. He didn’t say anything, just curved his lips in a faint smile, watching through his glasses as Zhu Ran fussed with his hair that wasn’t even messy.
In this unfamiliar city and street, the humid night breeze tousled their clothes and hair.
Under Huo Boyan’s gaze, Zhu Ran’s breathing inexplicably quickened, his legs growing faintly weak. He felt so hot he was almost irritable.
He bought a cold drink from a roadside shop, twisted off the cap, and chugged it down. Then he handed one to Huo Boyan and said, trying to act calm, “It’s too hot. Aren’t you hot in all that?”
He’d drunk too quickly, wetting the fine fuzz around his lips and a small patch on the collar of his T-shirt. Those already watery peach-blossom eyes now looked even more like they’d been dipped in water, gleaming unusually bright under the night lights, exuding the aura of overripe fruit.
The alley was narrow, and the night breeze grew even hotter.
Huo Boyan held the drink Zhu Ran had handed him without a word. Condensation gathered on the bottle, dripping wetly into his palm.
Only then did Huo Boyan slowly exhale and loosen his tie. “A little.”
This was a famous urban walking route that connected over a dozen well-known sights in Central in less than three hours—an excellent way to experience the local culture of Hong Kong Island.
Zhu Ran had originally planned for Huo Boyan to accompany him the whole way, but he hadn’t expected to falter at just the second stop.
He couldn’t bear to hear Huo Boyan speak Cantonese to him anymore, nor could he handle walking side by side with Huo Boyan down these narrow streets, their shadows stretched long by the streetlights.
After finishing that ill-timed bottle of ice water, neither of them spoke again. The latter half of Stone Slab Street was unusually quiet until they reached Tai Kwun at the end.
It was a cultural complex museum converted from a former prison. A few days earlier, Zhu Ran and Song Xingchen had visited, fanning themselves with small fans as they enthusiastically toured the revamped prison cells and had afternoon tea at the café out front.
But now, returning with Huo Boyan a few days later, Zhu Ran felt none of that previous lighthearted pleasure.
The air was muggy and hot, like being steamed in a bamboo steamer. Zhu Ran’s throat went dry, and he felt like a fish flopping on dry land.
Zhu Ran stared too long, and Huo Boyan asked, “Want to go in?”
“I want to go back,” Zhu Ran said suddenly.
Huo Boyan was silent for a few seconds before asking calmly, “Why?”
Zhu Ran didn’t look at him. He kept walking forward as he said, “Too hot.”
Huo Boyan said, “We can find a shop to rest in.”
Zhu Ran passed several bars in a row, but none caught his interest. He crossed the sidewalk, and Huo Boyan grabbed his wrist to warn him about oncoming traffic.
A black sedan drove by from a side road. Zhu Ran crossed the street and suddenly said, “It’s your grandfather’s birthday today. Is it okay for you to be out all night?”
“Zhu Ran,” Huo Boyan gripped his arm, but his tone remained calm, “Isn’t it a bit late to say that now?”
