Chapter 5: The Older Lover – 5: Still No Name

Today Luo Yan wasn’t wearing the neat three-piece suit from yesterday. Instead he had on an off-white hoodie, dark blue jeans, and canvas sneakers, with a backpack slung over his shoulders, looking every bit a student.

He answered with a beaming smile, “I came to make dinner for Little Han!”

Seeing Yan Qinghan nearly rooted to the spot, Luo Yan urged, “Hurry up and come open the door, or it’ll get late again.”

Yan Qinghan came back to his senses, walked to the door, took out his key, and fumbled several times before finally getting it open.

The moment he stepped inside, Yan Qinghan remembered something and turned to look at Luo Yan. “By the way, were you all right on your way here? I heard those two thugs who always loiter at the gate were beaten to a pulp and then taken away by the police.”

Luo Yan looked blank. “Huh? I hadn’t heard. It wasn’t dark yet when I came, so it was pretty safe.”

He certainly wasn’t going to reveal that on the way over, he’d tried out a [Huaxia Kung Fu] Skill Card and beaten the two perverts so badly they wailed for their parents, not a single tooth left in their mouths.

The dazed and delicate Little Steward Luo Yan entered the apartment, took an apron from his backpack and tied it on, then pulled out a sealed two-tier lunch box and headed to the sink to get busy.

Yan Qinghan watched Luo Yan’s back, opened his mouth as if to speak, and in the end said nothing.

It was Luo Yan who glanced back at him and said, “Start on your homework first. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Yan Qinghan didn’t show much happiness; if anything, he looked rather gloomy. Silently he walked to the desk, took out his math worksheet, and started working.

Yan Qinghan’s reaction was within Luo Yan’s expectations.

After just a few hours with him yesterday, plus the Worldline background he’d learned beforehand, Luo Yan already knew this boy had a proud streak and wouldn’t easily accept others’ goodwill. In other words, he was a textbook tsundere.

Now that Luo Yan had come running over and was so openly arranging food and drink, and since the boy didn’t know Luo Yan was doing Quests to earn Points, he most likely assumed Luo Yan was pitying him, which his pride probably couldn’t stomach.

Pretending not to notice Yan Qinghan’s expression, Luo Yan calmly rinsed the rice and started cooking, then took the dishes out of the lunch box and set them on the steamer rack.

He’d brought two dishes in total: mixed vegetables braised with diced pork, and stir-fried broccoli.

Neither portion was large; Luo Yan had made them in the Yan Family kitchen from leftover ingredients.

Though the ingredients were scraps, Luo Yan’s skill made all the difference: the potatoes in the medley were soft and floury, the cabbage sweet, the diced pork juicy, all braised in a rich, savory sauce until the flavor soaked through; the aroma alone was enough for three bowls of rice. The stir-fried broccoli was light and refreshing, dotted with diced carrots, red and green, a real feast for the eyes.

Besides these two dishes, Luo Yan had gone to the market himself and bought a box of eggs. From yesterday’s dry goods he’d dug out a pack of dried seaweed, torn off a few leaves, soaked and rinsed them, tossed them into a pot of boiling water, then poured in the beaten eggs and gave it a stir. A steaming pot of seaweed egg-drop soup was ready.

Half an hour later, Luo Yan laid the dishes out on the table and called Yan Qinghan over to eat.

As he served the rice, he thought he’d need to buy two folding stools; eating standing up every day was uncomfortable for both of them.

Yan Qinghan washed his hands and came to stand beside Luo Yan.

Though clearly very hungry, he didn’t reach for the chopsticks. He stared at Luo Yan and said slowly, “Luo Yan, why did you come again today?”

Luo Yan’s almond eyes curved with a smile. “Well, it’s just Uncle Zhang’s new assignment for me.”

Yan Qinghan kept staring at him. “Uncle Zhang? An assignment?”

Luo Yan sighed. “That’s right. When I got back this morning, Uncle Zhang gave me two options: either come cook dinner for the Eldest Young Master every day, or serve the Master and Madam at their evening mahjong games.”

“I had no interest in serving at the mahjong table. That mahjong room is thick with smoke, and you have to stay up all night. After one evening in there, your eyes sting from the fumes. So naturally I chose to make dinner.”

Yan Qinghan naturally knew about the Yan Family’s mahjong games.

He also knew that Yan Shi had even built a dedicated mahjong room in the mansion, inviting his friends over to fill several tables, sometimes playing entire nights at a stretch.

At every all-night mahjong session, Yan Shi would have servants on standby to serve tea, refill water, empty ashtrays, and in the small hours, simmer snow fungus soup and cook century egg porridge for them.

And since Yan Shi cared so much about appearances, the servants attending the games had to be good-looking and immaculately dressed, all in uniform white shirts and black vests.

But for these servants, the worst part wasn’t the sleepless nights or the constant errands.

The worst part was that Yan Shi tacitly allowed his unsavory friends to grope them.

When Yan Qinghan was just thirteen, he went out one morning to feed the rabbits in the garden and came upon a newly arrived young maid crying secretly in a corner, with Uncle Zhang comforting her, saying he’d never assign her to the mahjong room again.

Though Yan Qinghan didn’t quite understand what “being taken advantage of” or “being bullied” really meant, he could tell from the girl’s tears and Uncle Zhang’s tone that it must be something terrible.

At the time, his relationship with Yan Shi was already strained but not yet broken. Young and still ignorant of the darkness in human hearts, Yan Qinghan didn’t consult Uncle Zhang; he went straight to Yan Shi.

By the time he reached the second floor, the mahjong game had just broken up. The guests were gone, leaving the room littered with cigarette butts and melon-seed and peanut shells. Yan Shi sat on the living room sofa drinking ginseng tea, chatting desultorily with Yan Qinghan’s stepmother about the previous night’s wins and losses.

Yan Qinghan was, after all, only a child. He came right out and urged his father not to hold such mahjong games at home anymore.

Yan Shi couldn’t be bothered with the child. He only frowned. “You don’t understand adult matters. This is all networking. It’s necessary for business.”

Yan Qinghan was stubborn too. He said directly, “But when Mother was here, she never did any of this, and the family business was still doing well, wasn’t it?”

The moment those words were out, Yan Shi’s face darkened.

Yan Qinghan’s stepmother, Wang Manyao, took a sip of tea beside them and said with a honeyed smile, “Honey, the boy does have a point.”

“The way I see it, we really should cut back on these games. So what if we gather a little less intel and the approvals come a bit slower? It’s no big deal.”

“After all, we’re just not as capable as Qinghan’s mother, who could make the business boom without cultivating a single connection.”

“Qinghan is wonderful too. A professor’s grandson, after all; so knowledgeable and sensible, so different from us undereducated folk. Why, he’s only in middle school and already thinking of running the household for you, honey.”

Yan Qinghan could tell something was wrong with her words and immediately tried to explain. “Auntie Wang…”

Then came a bang as Yan Shi slammed his palm on the table, cutting off the defense Yan Qinghan hadn’t managed to voice.

“Qinghan, you meddle far too much,” Yan Shi said, scowling. “Shut your mouth and get back to your room.”

And so the Yan Family’s mahjong games continued. The young servants weaving between the mahjong tables could only rely on their own wits to navigate the games and avoid being harassed.

Looking at Luo Yan’s fair face and smiling eyes, and recalling the perfectly fitted three-piece suit he’d worn yesterday, Yan Qinghan understood at once: with looks like Luo Yan’s, Yan Shi would surely want him dressed to the nines and sent to the mahjong games as window dressing, waiting on the guests.

Come to think of it, Uncle Zhang assigning him to cook dinner here… was that actually to protect him?

“Oh, right.” Luo Yan set down the rice paddle, turned, and pulled a printed form from his backpack, handing it to Yan Qinghan. “Look, Little Han. Uncle Zhang also had me make this form. Every time I come cook a meal, I have to get your signature so I don’t slack off. At the end of the year, my bonus depends on it.”

Yan Qinghan took it and looked: sure enough, it was a perfectly proper form, with one column for dates, one for “Dishes Served,” and at the end, “Recipient’s Signature.”

So meticulous and by the book. That was Uncle Zhang’s style, all right.

Watching Yan Qinghan’s expression gradually soften, Luo Yan continued, “So hurry up and eat well, Little Han, then sign my form.”

Yan Qinghan looked at the dishes on the table, his throat bobbing twice, but he still pressed on with one last question. “Then the money for the groceries…”

Luo Yan looked a little embarrassed. “Ah, these dishes, I didn’t buy them. I made them from the leftovers in the kitchen, so the ingredients might not be great…”

Yan Qinghan shook his head. “They’re more than good enough.”

With that, Yan Qinghan picked up his bowl and chopsticks, took a bite of broccoli, and said between mouthfuls, “It’s really good.”

Luo Yan smiled. “Wonderful. I was worried you’d look down on dishes made from scraps.”

Yan Qinghan looked at him earnestly. “How could I? There’s only ‘food’ that hasn’t been finished yet. There’s no such thing as ‘scraps.'”

With that, he took another big mouthful of rice.

Watching Yan Qinghan eat with such appetite, Luo Yan knew he’d gotten away with it this time, and quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

In truth, the Old Steward had never offered Luo Yan a “choice” between the two jobs.

That morning, Luo Yan had described everything he’d seen to the Old Steward exactly as it was, without the slightest embellishment, and the sixty-year-old man’s eyes reddened as he listened.

By the time Luo Yan mentioned “only one cold steamed bun left in the rice cooker,” the Old Steward was already wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

The old man had served the Yan Family for over a decade; he had practically watched Yan Qinghan grow up.

Moreover, years ago, when his grandson fell suddenly ill, it was Yan Qinghan’s mother who paid for the surgery that saved the boy’s life. So naturally, he held a special feeling for Yan Qinghan’s mother, and for Yan Qinghan.

The Old Steward sighed. After Little Han had been thrown out, he had secretly gone to check on him at first, even buying him pots, pans, and bowls. But even that tiny bit of help was discovered by Madam Yan. She went straight to Little Han and said that if he dared let the Old Steward visit again, the Old Steward would be dismissed on the spot.

After that, Little Han refused to see him again. This Mid-Autumn Festival, all he could do was have the new hire, Luo Yan, sneak over with some things while no one was watching.

So when Luo Yan proposed that, while he was still a new face no one paid attention to, he go make dinner for the Eldest Young Master every day, the Old Steward agreed without hesitation.

Not only that, the Old Steward adjusted Luo Yan’s duties, moving him to the kitchen. For one, it kept him from appearing before the Master and Madam as much as possible; for another, it made it convenient for Luo Yan to use the leftover food to cook for the Eldest Young Master.

All that talk about choosing between two jobs, that printed form, were things Luo Yan had racked his brains over and worked out with the Old Steward himself.

In Luo Yan’s view, whether it was himself or the Old Steward, if they outright tried to bestow favors on Yan Qinghan, the boy would most likely refuse. But if Yan Qinghan believed the Old Steward wasn’t just helping him, but was simultaneously helping other “weak and vulnerable” people as well, then he would probably accept.

Sure enough, the boy had been persuaded just like that.

By the end of the meal, not a grain of rice was left in the pot, and every bowl and plate had been wiped clean. The sight filled the cook, Luo Yan, with a sense of achievement, and he marveled once more at how satisfying it was to feed someone well.

After clearing the dishes, Luo Yan went over to Yan Qinghan and spoke with a troubled look. “Little Han, there’s something I’d like to ask your help with…”

Yan Qinghan put down his pen at once and looked up. “What kind of help?”

Luo Yan sighed. “A few days ago, Uncle Zhang was chatting with a few aunties. They were complaining that their grandsons, who just started middle school, actually failed two subjects on their first monthly exam!”

“Uncle Zhang asked if I could help look over the problems and tutor the kids. In a moment of enthusiasm, I figured a proper college graduate like me could surely handle middle school problems…”

“And then… well. Sigh.”

Luo Yan shook his head, looking defeated. “I can’t even do middle school problems!”

“This weekend, the aunties are still waiting for me to teach their kids. Won’t I be exposed in front of everyone? And drag Uncle Zhang’s face down with me?”

“Then I heard from Uncle Zhang that your grades are excellent, Little Han, always among the very best…”

“So,” Luo Yan’s eyes were the very picture of “help me,” “so, Little Han, could you do me a favor and tutor the kids in my place?”

“The aunties said they’d pay 30 yuan an hour for the tutoring. Do you think that’s too low?”

Yan Qinghan looked straight into Luo Yan’s eyes, and only after a long while did he say, “…Not low. It’s very high.”

Luo Yan’s eyes curved with his smile. “You’ll help? Wonderful! I won’t have to embarrass myself after all!”

Yan Qinghan was silent for a long time before saying, “Thank you. And… thank Uncle Zhang for me.”

Luo Yan’s eyes sparkled. “What are you saying? Uncle Zhang’s the one who should thank you. You’ve earned him so much face in front of the aunties!”

Soon, besides the notification of increased Points, Luo Yan received a new notification:

[Plot Update!]

[Worldline plot update as follows:

[In these years of living alone in the outside world, the young Yan Qinghan lived in dire poverty. Fortunately, the Old Steward quietly looked after him the whole time, helping him survive the most difficult period.]

Seeing this plot development, which matched the preset trajectory, the still-nameless Little Steward Luo Yan was thoroughly satisfied.