Chapter 2: Eggs

Li Ran was in his second year of high school, with final exams at the end of the month. After the September term started, he would advance to his senior year.

He did not know much about cars and had never heard of a Cullinan before. It was on the third day after Mr. Chi moved into the neighborhood that he caught a distant glimpse of him and thought the man was as cold and aloof as his car.

That was how he came to know both the man and the car.

Chi Mo stood out like a sore thumb on this street.

He was like a noble born and raised at the pinnacle of the world’s pyramid, who had accidentally wandered into the bustling marketplace. He restrained himself and observed propriety, forever unable to blend in. Even when he left, no one would feel reluctant to see him go.

Everyone just hoped he would leave sooner.

Of course, Li Ran wanted to apologize for scratching someone else’s car, but after locking eyes with Chi Mo and then nervously climbing into the Cullinan like a child who had committed an unforgivable crime, the words “I’m sorry” and “I won’t get in” stuck in his throat, dying unspoken in his stomach.

The Cullinan’s driver—whom Mr. Chi called Uncle Shen—got out as soon as Chi Mo spoke his first words. He propped up Li Ran’s flat-tired mountain bike, wheeled it to the public parking area, and told Li Ran to lock it up. Uncle Shen would take it to be repaired later.

Li Ran watched the capable Uncle Shen at work and could not equate the man’s face—which looked no older than his mid-twenties—with the fact that the similarly young Chi Mo called him “Uncle” so indifferently.

But that was not the most important thing right now.

After getting into the car, Li Ran watched his bike, chained to a post by a trash bin, recede into the distance. The car windows were like prison bars, and Li Ran felt more miserable than if he had been kidnapped by villains, his face full of worry.

The teacher had assigned homework last week: a few textbooks and some test papers. Li Ran had diligently completed them all; they were now his entire possessions, stuffed into his black backpack.

He hugged his arms around the bag, clutching it tightly. He hunched his shoulders toward the window, trying to take up as little space as possible. His legs pressed together, motionless in the most obedient sitting posture. Apart from breathing, he made no sound. Half his body pressed against the car door. He twisted his face desperately toward the window outside, wishing he could flatten himself into a paper-thin sheet and vanish against the glass.

If Chi Mo glanced at him casually now, all he would see was a fluffy, round chestnut-brown occiput.

Chi Mo seemed to know the kid was scared half to death and did not look his way. Instead, he flipped through several contracts in his hand.

The numbness in Li Ran’s scraped elbow had long since faded, but he was still trembling. The motion was so slight it was barely noticeable, his naturally curly, thick hair tips flickering like twinkling stars.

It was just like when a kitten suddenly entered a new home.

Wary, but harmless.

If he were not truly about to be late for school—and if he did not have to compensate for damaging someone else’s car, which required face-to-face negotiation—Li Ran would never have gotten into this car.

…But he really was going to be late.

How was he supposed to apologize to a big shot like this big shot? If the big shot got angry, could he withstand the fury? How much did a Cullinan cost? Would they have to sell him to cover it? Could he pay it off with ten years of work after high school graduation?

A seventeen-year-old boy heading to school had incurred a massive debt halfway there. Before thirty, he definitely would not have his own house or car…

The more he thought about the future, the bleaker it seemed. Grief welled up in Li Ran, and he hugged his backpack even tighter. He was an honest kid who dared not challenge any rules of the world. He strictly followed school regulations and obeyed the law to the letter.

When it came to compensation, all he could think of was working ten years to pay it off, forgetting that the root of the mistake was not his fault to begin with.

He could only chalk it up to his bad luck.

Chi Mo’s lip corner twitched in a faint sneer at how Li Ran was still so terrified of being late. He had not spared the boy a single glance since he boarded with the resolve of a man facing death. Chi Mo pulled out one document to read separately.

“You don’t remember me?”

The casual question overlapped with the rustle of turning pages, standing out starkly in the confined car interior yet sounding like an auditory hallucination.

After a long daze, with the driver Uncle Shen not responding, Li Ran realized Mr. Chi must be speaking to him. The stray hair on the back of his head twitched, and he turned his head slowly, lagging behind.

Chi Mo did not look up, still wearing that cold and heartless expression. His jawline was as sharp and inscrutable as his facade.

He did not seem like someone who would strike up a conversation; he seemed more like a male ghost come to claim a soul. The kind that would strip the flesh from bones, gut from inside out, devour everything, and leave not a single scrap behind.

Li Ran trembled: “…Huh?”

The rest of the bike ride would have taken only ten minutes, with no more traffic jams or lights. Driving would get them there even faster.

Chi Mo closed the document; despite flipping through it for so long, there was not a single wrinkle. A slight fray at the corner of the page—he smoothed it with his thumb.

He tried to soften the aggressiveness of his gaze, wanting to act more kindly like an elder, but the effect was less than ideal. “I was here five years ago.”

Li Ran was bewildered. He tried to remember.

His brain felt rusted.

Nothing came up.

Summoning his courage, he asked: “…Then where did you go after? I’ve never seen you since.”

His voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz; ordinary people would not be sure if he had spoken at all and would have to ask again patiently. But Chi Mo was no ordinary person. He replied: “Abroad.”

That was a key word.

Memories in Li Ran’s mind immediately flashed back to his childhood. Back then, his mom and dad were on the verge of divorce and fought at every glance.

From a young age, his mom had taught him not to be like his dad, who could not speak properly, could not handle things, and was utterly useless.

No matter how busy or idle she was, she always found time to point toward the upscale villa district across the way and declare arrogantly that was where Li Ran should live when he grew up—somewhere even better than there.

In her grand vision, Li Ran was a genius with great prospects. He would effortlessly top the whole school, rack up awards in math and physics competitions, master English and IELTS without studying, study abroad one day, and return as an authority in his field—a true elite.

But Li Ran was just an ordinary kid.

Whatever brains he had were overshadowed by his good looks.

Back then, desperate to keep his mom from leaving, Li Ran thought that as long as he learned to be glib-tongued and sweet-talking, it would be fine. He desperately needed practice to prove himself.

When an impeccably dressed couple from the villa district emerged with their son, Li Ran overheard they were going abroad. The parents’ faces were full of coaxing allure, while the son’s face was stiff with reluctance.

It was obvious he was resisting, unhappy.

Li Ran tugged his mom’s hand and, summoning courage for the first time, puffed out his little chest and said to the strangers: “He clearly doesn’t want to go. Why force him?”

That day, he was like someone who had eaten Yunnan’s colorful poisonous mushrooms—boldly expressing himself while feeling torn, his little face flushed beet red, big eyes brimming with tears.

Tears streamed down. He cried without a fight.

His intention was just to show off his eloquence in front of his mom, to prove he was not a useless honest boy. But too eager, he overreached, veering off course in panic. He plunged into a frenzy, swimming deeper into madness.

One moment he called the woman “sister,” “auntie,” or “madam”; the next, the man “brother,” “uncle,” or “little brother.” Finally, he shouted “junior” in a bizarre, anachronistic mishmash.

The family was speechless but polite, asking who he was. He even debated them: “Don’t worry about who I am—just listen to me.” He rattled on until it was utterly exasperating.

When his frenzy ended, his mom looked down at him. She was genuinely shocked by Li Ran’s bizarre performance that day, unsure whether to respond with hope or an exorcism as she asked: “You know them?”

“I don’t know them…” Li Ran wailed.

The face-loving Lady Bai Qingqing’s cheeks immediately burned scorching red. She squatted down, yanked Li Ran into her arms, flipped him face-down across her lap, pinned him firmly, pulled down his pants, and gave him a solid spanking.

After the beating, she elegantly smoothed her hair and said with dignified apology: “My kid takes after his dad—he’s a nutcase. Sorry about that.”

Li Ran’s childhood dignity vanished into his swollen butt. With outsiders watching, those stares of shock and doubt made him feel he could never show his face again. He howled loud enough to shake heaven and earth, weep ghosts and gods.

From then on, apart from necessary interactions like grocery shopping, he never spoke to strangers again.

Afraid he would lose control again.

…

“Remember now?” Chi Mo asked calmly, smoothing the frayed corner of the document page until it looked brand new, fresher than straight from the printer.

He watched Li Ran’s delicate face flush from pale to crimson—it was quite amusing.

Li Ran’s hands fidgeted with his backpack straps, even his nails turning white. He felt like he had been thrown into a boiling pot, with Chi Mo’s eyes as the searing oil, frying him until he wanted to burrow into a hole in the ground.

Fortunately, Chi Mo had a cold demeanor, the stereotypical stern superior. Li Ran did not sense any teasing or mockery; he knew Chi Mo was just stating the fact of their past acquaintance with two sentences. The deadly embarrassment faded a bit.

The Chi Mo who had gone abroad with his parents back then was not reluctant at all—it was just how his face looked.

Uns smiling, expressionless.

Li Ran had mistaken it for unhappiness.

His brows were sharp, eyes pitch black, nose bridge high and unapproachable, lips pale and thin. If it were a stormy night with thunder and lightning, or in dimmer tones, Chi Mo would be perfect casting for a male ghost.

Whatever he wanted, he got.

“Um… I remember you,” Li Ran said, head bowed in shame. “I was young then. Sorry.”

In the short three-to-four-minute drive, which felt like half a century had passed, Li Ran finally spotted the school. Under the realization that they “knew” each other, he surprisingly found the courage to say the words he had not dared utter when boarding.

“Mr. Chi, I didn’t scratch your car on purpose… I’ll compensate you.” Li Ran thought of the astronomical compensation and felt dizzy again, but he said firmly, “When the time comes, please tell me how much.”

Chi Mo was nonchalant: “Mm.”

“Can I pay in installments?” Li Ran asked sadly, in a small voice.

Chi Mo said: “We’ll talk later.”

Li Ran: “…Oh.”

The Cullinan was nearing the school gate. Afraid of drawing attention, Li Ran said it would be fine to drop him off on the roadside. It was not his car, so his request lacked confidence, his voice still soft.

Chi Mo heard: “Mm.”

Uncle Shen pulled over to the curb.

Six minutes until class. Li Ran prepared to sprint. Before getting out, the back of his hand brushed his school uniform pocket—something hard inside.

He thought of how this distant bigwig had accepted his apology without forcing immediate payment. What a good person.

He should repay the kindness first.

Li Ran exhaled, steeling himself: “Mr. Chi.”

Chi Mo looked over: “Mm.”

Li Ran said: “Do you have any eggs?”

Without waiting for a response, he added: “I have two… Want them?”

Chi Mo fell silent, his expression odd.

He glanced at Li Ran’s mouth—lips red but not garish, beautifully shaped with a distinct Cupid’s bow. He could not fathom how such an honest-looking mouth dared ask such an outrageous question.

Begging for a beating?

When Li Ran pulled two large, round red eggs from his school uniform pocket, offered them to Mr. Chi, then bolted out the car door and dashed into campus toward his classroom, Chi Mo had not uttered a word.

He did not know the eggs were originally bribes for stray cats and had ended up with him instead.

Uncle Shen in the driver’s seat was speechless and silent for a moment too. Once he learned the truth, he burst into wild laughter, head thrown back nearly toppling: “Hahahahaha, that’s hilarious! He had eggs in his pocket—made me think those social climbers, the men and women desperate to climb into your bed, had tracked you here.

“So he wasn’t talking about a guy’s balls… Hahahahahahaha, goosey goosey goosey…”

He laughed like a goose laying eggs. Annoying.

The adult world was filthy; even if high schooler Li Ran had stayed, it would have taken him a moment to realize the joke.

With his thin skin, if he heard Uncle Shen laughing like that, he might hide under the covers crying that night.

He would never see anyone again.

Uncle Shen reached out: “Give me one. I skipped breakfast.”

Chi Mo pocketed the eggs: “Scram.”

“Like a dog guarding food—once it’s in your mouth, you won’t let go.” Uncle Shen said helplessly, “It’s just a stinky egg.”

He started the car: “You’d better not get a wife, or I fear she couldn’t handle you.”

Chi Mo humbly asked: “Why?”

Uncle Shen said: “If you guard food like that while eating, you’d lock your wife in a cage. No going out, no seeing people—just stay home naked waiting for you. So perverted, Chi Mo.”

“Mm. Good thing I don’t have a wife.” Chi Mo humored his friend, pretending to nod in relief. “The license plate was registered before. Drive in.”

The Cullinan proceeded straight ahead and entered the school, where the principal personally came out to greet them.