Chapter 72: Anomalous Time 38

Half an hour later, a thin layer of warm mist bloomed across the pristine glass window, hazily outlining two slender figures.

One area of the spacious suite served as a compact kitchen, equipped with an induction cooktop and basic utensils. It wasn’t suited for elaborate dishes, but it was more than adequate for desserts or simple meals.

A plastic bag from a nearby supermarket sat on the countertop, filled with freshly bought whole milk, light cream, dark chocolate, cinnamon powder, and more.

Yu Bai had found two hot chocolate recipes on his phone. Their ingredients and steps varied slightly—one included cinnamon powder, the other was topped with cloud-like whipped cream.

He figured both flavors would taste great, so when he and Xie Wufang had gone shopping earlier, he’d bought everything needed for both recipes.

Grown-ups made choices.

A drunkard, of course, wanted it all.

Besides, Xie Wufang was the one doing the cooking.

The kitchen lacked an open flame, relying instead on the more user-friendly induction cooktop. Yu Bai didn’t even need to explain the basics of cooking; Xie Wufang glanced at the instructions and mastered it completely. He was already opening the milk carton.

After all, it was the unpredictable nature of flames and timing that caused rookie mistakes and kitchen disasters.

While deftly directing the non-human, Yu Bai hadn’t been idle himself. He had insisted on helping chop the chocolate, and no one could stop him.

On the brand-new cutting board scattered with blocks of dark chocolate, when Yu Bai’s pale fingertips brushed perilously close to the sharp knife blade for the third time, Xie Wufang—who had been watching—finally intervened. Without a word, he took the knife from Yu Bai’s hand.

“I’ll cut it,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “You sit over there.”

It was a rare firm stance from Xie Wufang. Yu Bai blinked in a daze, loosening his grip with a vacant expression before obediently settling into the chair Xie Wufang fetched. “Oh.”

He stepped aside, but just as the silver blade—now in its new owner’s hand—was about to sink into the rich dark chocolate, he suddenly called out, “Wait!”

Xie Wufang paused at his voice and looked up, puzzled.

Yu Bai, still somewhat clear-headed despite his drunkenness, glanced around the kitchen. His eyes lit up, and he hurried over to grab something, presenting it proudly. “Here, put on an apron. You don’t want to get your clothes dirty while cooking.”

The memory of that scene—glimpsed through the window—made Yu Bai want to laugh.

Amid billowing smoke, a man in a white shirt had stood by the gas stove, staring blankly at the orange flames leaping high from the wok.

He hadn’t worn an apron, turning his crisp white shirt into a panda-patterned mess. Probably because neither the boss lady nor the recipe had reminded him to tie one on first.

No matter. Now Yu Bai was teaching him.

Not in the endless loops where everything reset every 22 hours, 57 minutes, and 14 seconds.

But in a world where others wouldn’t forget in the blink of an eye.

Especially Xie Wufang, with his impeccable memory.

Lost in reminiscence, the beaming drunkard couldn’t help but tease softly, “That day you tried making fried chicken, you didn’t wear an apron either, so your shirt got all sooty… Hey, hey, don’t take off your jacket!”

Xie Wufang took the apron and moved to remove the black suit jacket Yu Bai had made him wear earlier, but Yu Bai stopped him.

“Just put the apron on over it,” Yu Bai said, slipping behind him. “I’ll tie it for you.”

A severely tailored, austere suit layered with a homely apron… There—roll up the sleeves a bit to reveal those lean, strong wrists.

The capricious drunkard dressed up the man before him like a life-sized doll, his eyes sparkling as he praised, “That looks even better.”

Don’t ask why.

It was just his kink awakening.

Yu Bai stood behind the man, head bowed, his nimble fingers tying the straps into a neat bow before carefully rolling up the sleeves. He was oblivious to how he’d let his slip show again in his excitement.

In the real world, he shouldn’t know that the non-human had turned the kitchen into a smoky battlefield while attempting fried chicken that day.

But just like with the first mention of Beef Wellington, Xie Wufang seemed to sense something but didn’t press further.

He let Yu Bai fuss over him and then asked abruptly, “Is Beef Wellington tasty?”

“Delicious,” Yu Bai replied without hesitation. “Yours was even better than the recipe described.”

“But—” He drew out the word, bursting into laughter. “I still prefer Sweet and Sour Pork.”

Xie Wufang asked, “Have I made you Sweet and Sour Pork?”

“Yep!”

The drunkard nodded vigorously, as if already catching the tangy-sweet aroma, his voice bright with excitement.

“That day, I specially went out and got takeout from that place Uncle Li used to take me to all the time. I love their version—the perfect balance of sour, sweet, crispy, and tender.”

“Then you only tasted two pieces before spending an hour experimenting and nailing the exact same flavor.”

Even after countless loops since, the memory remained vivid for Yu Bai. He marveled, “It was identical. You’re amazing.”

That day’s kitchen had filled with the sour-sweet tang of Sweet and Sour Pork. Now, the air carried the bittersweet scent of chocolate mingled with faint notes of milk.

Wearing the apron, Xie Wufang listened as he chopped the chocolate into neat chunks, the knife tapping rhythmically against the board.

He always picked up things with clear rules and logic quickly—and executed them flawlessly.

Finally behaving himself in the chair, Yu Bai leaned forward, elbows on the cool marble countertop, gazing at him with envy. “If only I were you. Imagine being able to perfectly recreate any food you love right away. Sounds like bliss.”

The man, focused on chopping, murmured softly, “I can recreate it for you.”

“Really?”

Propping his chin on one hand, the drunkard looked up with delight before furrowing his brow. “But you could only do it once or twice. I can’t keep bothering you forever.”

“It’s no bother,” Xie Wufang said. “Tell me every time you find something you like.”

“You’re saying that now,” Yu Bai said, shaking his head repeatedly. “But if I keep coming to you, you’ll get annoyed eventually.”

Xie Wufang paused, meeting his eyes intently. “I won’t.”

“You will!” The drunkard insisted stubbornly. “Even if you don’t, I can’t keep wasting your time like that.”

“Why not?”

He asked with such earnestness.

But Yu Bai just laughed as if struck by a sudden realization, his words tumbling out disjointedly. “Just… because. You wouldn’t get it.”

In the human world, there was no pure, eternal devotion—only lives marching forward methodically through joy and sorrow alike.

Everyone hustled through their own days, stumbling as they adapted to life’s firsts, with little time to spare for others beyond the children they were duty-bound to care for.

Children who were objectively underage—or forever young in their parents’ eyes.

It was basic common sense for any ordinary adult who had shed their innocence.

Even drunk, Yu Bai never forgot it.

He envied Xie Wufang’s ability to perfectly replicate food.

He even more envied the carefree, innocent god.

Xie Wufang, truly puzzled, wanted to ask again but was cut off.

Seeing the chopping stop, Yu Bai said regretfully, “I’m not talking anymore. Finish cutting the chocolate first.”

He knew better than to chat while someone was handling a knife.

It was a hard lesson from childhood, when he’d pestered his dad—who was chopping vegetables—until a slip sent blood flowing from his finger, reducing him to terrified wails.

He had never forgotten.

The drunkard fell obediently silent, even turning his back to the cutting board for good measure, his resolve firm.

Seeing this, Xie Wufang dropped the subject with a soft, “Alright.”

The figure facing away from him was bathed in warm amber light, his soft hair glowing faintly. Meanwhile, the dark chocolate beside Xie Wufang became a pile of even fragments.

At the same time, a rustling sound started up, followed by intermittent beeps filling the air.

Not far off, the young man’s slender fingers gripped the cool-edged phone, its glowing screen pressed to his flushed white ear, his fluffy brown head bobbing.

Yu Bai was making a call.

…He really wanted to talk to someone that badly.

Unable to chat with Xie Wufang nearby, he’d called someone else instead.

After a few rings, the call connected.

A surprised voice came through the receiver. “Hello? Little Bai?”

“Good evening, Uncle Li,” Yu Bai replied immediately.

The choking haze of cigarette smoke, refreshing Ice Cola, and the Sweet and Sour Pork that spanned his entire boyhood had made Li Nanxiao the drunkard’s pick for a chat.

The middle-aged man working overtime at the station heard that slightly unusual yet familiar voice on the phone. His brows furrowed sharply as he asked gravely, “Why the sudden call? Has something happened?”

The drunk didn’t catch the worry in his tone. Instead, he sounded a bit dissatisfied. “Nothing happened. Can’t I call you just because?”

Li Nanxiao thought that this made it sound even more like something was wrong.

Since reaching adulthood, Yu Bai only contacted him occasionally, and it always began with a standard opener: “Uncle Li, are you busy right now?” Never something as light and casual as this evening greeting.

“Of course you can. Call me anytime.”

Li Nanxiao set down the case files on his desk and devoted his full attention to this unexpected call. As his thoughts raced, a possibility suddenly occurred to him.

He cut straight to the point. “Have you been drinking?”

Nestled in his chair, Yu Bai’s eyes widened abruptly at the question.

…Criminal investigation cops were seriously terrifying!

“How did you know? I only had a little.”

He admitted it honestly while making a point to emphasize, “I’m not drunk, though.”

Li Nanxiao breathed a sigh of relief. Rather than calling out the drunk’s stubborn denial, he asked in a warm voice, “All right, where are you now? Are you by yourself?”

“I’m at a friend’s house. Not alone.”

Yu Bai picked up on an unusual note of concern in the question and quickly added, “I’m really not drunk! I just have something to ask you, Uncle Li.”

He had remembered one thing he hadn’t had a chance to deal with before. This was the perfect opportunity to ask Li Nanxiao about it.

“What is it? Go ahead.” Li Nanxiao offered proactively. “I’m not busy right now. I’ve already clocked out.”

Reassured, Yu Bai continued. “I wanted to ask… if a child from a single-parent family is suffering long-term domestic violence from their father, what can they do to get away from him? Uncle Li, are you familiar with the laws on this?”

The question caught the criminal investigation captain off guard.

Still, the hypothetical clearly had nothing to do with Yu Bai’s own situation, so he didn’t press for reasons. Instead, he patiently answered the drunk on the other end of the line. “Are you asking about the theory or the practice?”

Slowed by the alcohol, Yu Bai responded blankly, “What’s the difference between theory and practice?”

“Laws are set in stone, but people aren’t,” Li Nanxiao explained calmly. “A lot of cases have to be handled based on the real circumstances—especially when it comes to custody of minors. In your example, how old is the child?”

“Eight! Her mom must have left home a few years ago…”

In the warm air of the room, the young man curled up in his chair chattered animatedly into the phone.

The cutting board for the chocolate had been washed and put away. A pot of milk bubbled merrily on the induction cooker as the fresh milk came to a boil. The solid chocolate gradually melted, its rich dark brown hue seeping into the pristine white liquid.

The man—dressed in a shirt and suit jacket, with an apron tied around his waist—stirred the fragrant hot chocolate mixture quietly with a spoon.

White steam swirled around him, but the lake-blue depths of his eyes had frozen over uncontrollably.

Xie Wufang’s senses were sharp enough to catch every word of the phone conversation.

Yu Bai was calling someone else.

Talking about someone else’s problems.

The small kitchen felt like a clash of ice and fire.

The drunk, absorbed in his serious discussion, remained blissfully unaware.

The spoon, half-submerged in the hot chocolate and half battered by the frigid chill, was starting to buckle under the strain.

It really wanted to shatter.

That was until the voice on the phone suddenly rose in volume.

“…why ask someone else?” Yu Bai said, sounding unhappy. “I’m not drunk. I don’t need anyone taking care of me.”

With the legal consultation wrapped up, Li Nanxiao circled back to the matter weighing on him most, coaxing the drunk along the way. “I didn’t say you were drunk. I’m just curious whose place you’re at.”

“Oh,” Yu Bai replied before drawling slowly, “A friend you don’t know.”

“Is he right there with you? You said you’re not alone.”

“No.” Yu Bai glanced over his shoulder. “But there’s another friend next to me.”

He kept it vague, avoiding names. Li Nanxiao paused to think it over on the other end of the line before asking, “Is it that friend from the police station yesterday afternoon?”

Stunned, Yu Bai blurted out, “How did you know?!”

Criminal investigation cops were seriously terrifying times two!!

His clear voice brimmed with shock, making it sound especially lively and real.

Li Nanxiao chuckled. “Just a guess.”

He didn’t explain his reasoning and simply continued in an even tone. “Put him on the phone.”

“What for?” Yu Bai went on high alert right away. “The ID thing is over and done with, right, Uncle Li? No need to dig into it anymore…”

The words carried a rare hint of wheedling, drawing a helpless yet faintly wistful smile from Li Nanxiao—the smile of a father figure.

He tried to soften his voice even more. “Don’t worry. I’m not following up on the ID. I just want to say a few words to him. He hasn’t been drinking, has he?”

“Nope.” Yu Bai answered guilelessly, missing the implication behind the question. Then he added abruptly, “But… he’s shy!”

He remembered something else.

Tonight’s Xie Wufang was rejecting everyone but him.

“He probably doesn’t want to talk to you,” Yu Bai said. “It’s not that I don’t want him to take the phone—really—”

As he spoke, his gaze instinctively sought out that familiar figure. His words came to an abrupt halt.

There, at the kitchen counter thick with the scent of chocolate, stood the black-haired, blue-eyed man. He had turned the stove down to its lowest setting and set the spoon aside. Now he gazed down at the person in the chair.

He extended a hand toward the dazed Yu Bai. Pale light brushed over his knuckles and palm as he spoke in a calm, deep voice.

“Give me the phone.”