Later, after getting the cautious approval from Dr. Shen ("Only a short walk! Stay in sight of the house!"), Yichen helped Zhiyuan into a warm jacket and they stepped outside.
The late afternoon sun was golden, casting long shadows across the dirt path that led from the villa towards the small village. The air smelled of salt from the sea and woodsmoke from nearby homes.
Zhiyuan walked slowly, still a bit sore, but the fresh air felt wonderful. Yichen stayed close, his hand hovering near Zhiyuan's elbow, ready to catch him if he stumbled.
"So, this is really where you grew up?" Zhiyuan asked, looking around at the simple, sturdy houses.
"Yep," Yichen said, a fond smile on his face. "Right over there, see the house with the blue door and the chicken coop? That's I lived."
"Chickens?" Zhiyuan asked, his nose wrinkling slightly in a way Yichen found adorable.
Yichen laughed. "Yeah! I used to hate collecting the eggs in the morning. The hens would peck my hands. And over there," he pointed to a small, weathered building near the docks, "that's Old Wang's fish market. I worked there for two summers when I was a teenager. My job was to clean the fish and sweep the scales. It smelled… awful."
Zhiyuan listened, fascinated. This was a world he had never known. "You cleaned fish?"
"I did! And I was terrible at it at first. Old Wang used to yell at me every day. 'Yichen! You're wasting the good meat! Pay attention!'" Yichen imitated the old man's gruff voice, making Zhiyuan chuckle.
They walked a little further, towards the edge of the village where the land met the sea. "And that path," Yichen said, pointing to a narrow trail leading up a small hill, "that goes to the best spot. The 'thinking rock'. Whenever I was upset or confused, I'd go sit up there and watch the boats. You can see the whole village and the ocean. It felt like being on top of the world."
Zhiyuan looked at the path, then at Yichen. "Can we go there?"
Yichen shook his head gently. "Not today. It's a bit of a climb. Maybe when you're feeling stronger." He saw a flicker of disappointment on Zhiyuan's face and quickly added, "But look, down here by the water. See those flat stones?"
He led Zhiyuan to the pebbly shore. "This is where all the village kids learned to skip stones. I was the champion." He bent down, picked up a smooth, flat stone, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it skimming across the calm water. Plink-plink-plink-plink! It bounced four times before sinking.
Zhiyuan's eyes lit up. "Wow! How do you do that?"
"Here, I'll show you." Yichen found another good stone and placed it in Zhiyuan's hand. He stood behind him, gently adjusting his grip. "Hold it like this. Sideways. Then you snap your wrist, like this, and let it go low and flat."
He guided Zhiyuan's arm through the motion. Zhiyuan tried, but the stone just plopped into the water with a sad bloop.
They both laughed.
"It's harder than it looks!" Zhiyuan protested.
"Everything is, the first time," Yichen said, his voice warm. He found another stone. "Try again."
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, they walked slowly back towards the villa. Yichen pointed out more things the tree he'd fallen out of and broken his arm, the spot where the village held its annual festival, the little shrine where the villagers used to pray.
Zhiyuan didn't say much. He just listened, his eyes taking in every detail, a soft, admiring smile on his lips. He wasn't listening to stories about a village he was listening to the story of Yichen's life, a story of simplicity, hard work, and a deep sense of belonging he had never experienced himself. And with every word, he felt himself falling a little more in love with the man beside him, and with the peaceful world he came from.
As they turned to make their way back to the villa, an old man was closing up the small, weathered fish market. He had a kind, wrinkled face, tanned from decades by the sea.
He squinted at Yichen as they approached, then his face broke into a wide, toothy grin. "Eh? Is that… little Yichen?
Yichen laughed, a real, happy sound. "Uncle Li! It's me! You're still here!"
"Where else would I be, boy? The fish won't sell themselves!" Uncle Li chuckled, wiping his hands on his apron. He looked past Yichen, his eyes curious but friendly as they landed on Zhiyuan.
"And who is this fine young man? A friend from the city?"
Yichen's smile softened, his arm moving instinctively closer to Zhiyuan. "Yes, Uncle. This is Zhiyuan. He's… he's staying with me for a while."
Zhiyuan gave a small, polite nod. "Hello."
"Welcome, welcome!" Uncle Li said warmly. Then his expression grew somber. He looked back at Yichen.
Yichen smiled and asked "How's Old Wang? Is he alright?"
Uncle Li shook his head slowly. "Not good, boy. Not good at all. He's been sick for months now. Stuck at home. His son came from the city to take care of him. He doesn't come down to the docks anymore."
A wave of sadness passed over Yichen's face. Old Wang, for all his yelling, had been like a second father to him. "I… I didn't know. I'll have to go visit him."
"You should," Uncle Li said, nodding firmly. "He asks about you sometimes." Yichen managed a small smile.
The old man then turned and rummaged in a cooler behind him. He pulled out two fresh, silvery fish, already cleaned, and wrapped them in newspaper. He thrust the bundle into Yichen's hands.
"Here. For you and your friend. The last of today's catch. Very fresh. Cook them with a little ginger and soy. Old Wang's favorite way." He patted Yichen's arm. "He'd be glad you're having it."
Yichen was touched. "Uncle Li, you don't have to…"
"Nonsense! Take it! A welcome home gift." The old man shooed them away with a wave. "Now go, go! It's getting cold. And you," he said, pointing a finger at Zhiyuan, though his eyes were kind, "take care of our Yichen. He may look tough, but he's a softie from this village."
Zhiyuan, surprised, just nodded again. "I will. Thank you."
Carrying the gift of fish, they walked back in a more thoughtful silence. The simple kindness, the connection to Yichen's past, the news of an old friend ailing… it was a reminder that this peaceful village had its own stories of life, hardship, and community. Zhiyuan glanced at Yichen's profile, seeing the mix of nostalgia and concern there, and felt his heart squeeze with a new, deep affection. This was Yichen's real world, and he was being welcomed into it.
But he noticed Yichen had grown quiet, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Hey," Zhiyuan said softly, nudging his shoulder gently. "What's in your mind? You got quiet."
Yichen hesitated, then sighed. "I'm just… worried about Old Wang. He was like a stern father to me. He was always grumpy, always yelling Yichen, you're too slow!' 'Yichen, that's not how you hold a knife!'" A small, sad smile touched his lips. "But that was just his way. His way of showing he cared. He taught me everything I know about being tough. Hearing he's sick… it hurts."
Zhiyuan's heart softened. He understood that kind of complicated love. "Then we should go pay him a visit," he said simply.
Yichen looked at him, surprised. "We? No, no. You should rest. Dr. Shen said—"
"I'm fine," Zhiyuan interrupted, frowning. He leveled a glare at Yichen, the one that usually made junior executives tremble. "I want to go. I want to meet the man who helped make you who you are."
Seeing the determined set of Zhiyuan's jaw, Yichen knew he'd lost. He sighed in mock defeat. "Okay, fine. You win, boss. You can come."
A satisfied smile spread across Zhiyuan's face, and he continued walking.
But something was bubbling inside Zhiyuan. He watched Yichen's profile, the way he carried the fish so carefully, the concern still in his eyes. He felt a sudden, playful urge an urge to give back some of the endless teasing he always received.
He bit his lip, gathering courage. As they passed under a large tree, he glanced at Yichen sideways.
"You know," Zhiyuan began, his voice deliberately light, "for someone who's supposed to be so tough, you're being awfully soft about some grumpy old fisherman."
Yichen stopped walking. He turned his head slowly to look at Zhiyuan, his eyes wide with utter shock.
Zhiyuan kept walking, a tiny, nervous smile playing on his lips. "What? It's true. The great, fearsome bodyguard, brought to tears by a sick old man and a couple of fish. It's… cute."
Cute. The word hung in the air.
Yichen was completely frozen. His brain short-circuited. Zhiyuan… was teasing him? Playfully, affectionately teasing him? A flush of heat rushed up his neck and spread across his cheeks.
Seeing Yichen's stunned, flushed reaction, Zhiyuan's own confidence wavered. Had he gone too far? Was it stupid?
Embarrassment washed over him. His ears turned red, and without another word, he hurried his pace, walking faster down the path towards the villa, trying to hide his flustered face.
Left standing a few paces back, Yichen watched him go. The shock melted away, replaced by a surge of such intense, warm affection it stole his breath. The sight of Zhiyuan, shy and embarrassed after daring to tease him, was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.
A powerful, almost overwhelming urge gripped him. He wanted to run after him, pull him into his arms, and smash his lips against Zhiyuan's in a kiss that conveyed all the love and wonder he was feeling. He wanted to tell him how perfect he was.
But he just stood there for a moment, a goofy, lovesick smile spreading across his own flushed face, holding the newspaper-wrapped fish, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. The walk back had just become the best moment of his life.
Back at the villa, Dr. Shen looked up from his book, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as Yichen and Zhiyuan walked in, Yichen holding the newspaper-wrapped fish.
"We come bearing dinner," Yichen announced with a grin.
Dr. Shen blinked. "Fish? From the market?"
"Yup" Yichen confirmed. "I'm going to cook it."
Zhiyuan, who had only ever seen Yichen make tea or order food, shook his head doubtfully. "I don't want to eat burnt food."
Yichen shot him a confident smirk. "Just you sit back, wait, and watch. You'll forget all about those five-star hotel meals after you taste mine."
Zhiyuan chuckled, amused by his confidence.
Dr. Shen stood up. "Alright, I'll help."
Yichen nodded. "Great, you can cook the rice."
Eager to be part of it, Zhiyuan chimed in, "Let me help too!"
Both Yichen and Dr. Shen turned to him and said in unison, "NO!"
The synchronized, sharp rejection made Zhiyuan freeze. His happy expression fell, replaced by a look of dejection.
They immediately realized their mistake. They had been too protective, too quick.
"I mean…" Dr. Shen said hurriedly, forcing a softer tone. "Why don't you… um… peel the peas? That would be a big help."
Zhiyuan's face instantly brightened. "Okay!" He happily sat down at the kitchen table as Dr. Shen placed a plate of fresh, unpeeled peas and an empty bowl in front of him.
Yichen watched him start carefully shelling the peas, his tongue peeking out in concentration, and thought he looked utterly adorable. Smiling to himself, Yichen began washing the fish at the sink.
Just then, the front door opened. Han Zhenlong walked in.
The atmosphere shifted immediately. Yichen straightened up, wiping his hands nervously on a towel. "Boss" he said, his voice tight.
Zhiyuan looked up from his peas. He noticed Yichen's sudden formality and the way Dr. Shen frowned deeply at the newcomer.
"Who is he?" Zhiyuan asked Dr. Shen quietly.
Dr. Shen hesitated, then plastered on a strained smile. "Oh, he's… he's Yichen's business partner. From the city."
Zhiyuan wasn't convinced. He glanced back at the tall, imposing man. There was something strangely familiar about his eyes, but he couldn't place it.
Zhenlong, seeing his son right there, felt his breath catch. He couldn't talk, not with Zhiyuan watching. He cleared his throat. "I'll… come back later."
Yichen panicked. He didn't want him to leave. This was a chance, however awkward. "Boss— I mean, dude!" he corrected himself clumsily. "Why don't you stay? Have dinner with us?"
Dr. Shen's frown deepened. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove with a huff.
Yichen gave a nervous laugh. But he saw it the way Zhenlong's eyes lit up at the invitation, a flicker of desperate hope. The man hesitated. "No, I shouldn't impose…"
"Please," Yichen almost whispered, pleading.
A warm, genuine smile touched Zhenlong's lips. "Okay. Alright. Thank you."
"Great!" Yichen said, relieved. "You will have to wait a bit. We—"
But Dr. Shen spoke up, his voice cold. "Yeah, come here and cut some vegetables. Why should he eat without doing anything?"
Zhenlong forced a smile at him and walked over, bumping his shoulder against Dr. Shen's on purpose. "Fine. Then I'll make the dumplings."
Dr. Shen's frown returned. "I'm already working on the filling."
"I know how to make them better," Zhenlong said, his jaw clenching slightly.
"Better? You over-season everything!"
"And you make them taste like hospital food!"
Their bickering started, low and tense. It wasn't really about the dumplings. It was about Wenhao. Making dumplings had been his favorite, and each of them believed their way of making them was the way he would have preferred. The simple kitchen task had become a quiet, painful battle over a memory, right in front of their oblivious son, who was just happily peeling peas, unaware of the history simmering in the room with the dinner.
The kitchen, which was supposed to be a place of simple cooperation, had turned into a quiet war zone over a bowl of dumpling filling.
"You're adding too much ginger! It'll overpower the pork!" Dr. Shen hissed, trying to grab the ginger grater from Zhenlong's hand.
"He liked the ginger! It needs a kick!" Zhenlong argued, holding the grater out of reach. "Your filling is always too bland!"
"Bland? It's balanced! You're just heavy-handed!"
"And you have no sense of flavor!"
It escalated from there. Dr. Shen "accidentally" knocked over the bowl of chopped cabbage Zhenlong had prepared. Zhenlong, in retaliation, picked up a spoon and stirred Dr. Shen's carefully seasoned filling so vigorously it splattered.
"Hey! That was perfect!"
"It needed more mixing! It's lumpy!"
Yichen stood by the stove, watching the scene with his mouth slightly open. He had never, in all his years of knowing the fierce, controlled Han Zhenlong, seen him behave like this. He looked less like a feared mafia boss and more like a stubborn child fighting over toys.
Zhiyuan, from his seat at the table, had stopped peeling peas. He watched the two older men bickering, shoving each other's ingredients around, their serious faces etched with ridiculous concentration over something as silly as dumplings.
A small giggle escaped him.
Then another.
Yichen heard it and looked over. Seeing Zhiyuan's amused, disbelieving smile, a laugh bubbled up in his own throat. It started as a snort, then turned into a full, helpless chuckle.
The sound of their laughter light, genuine, and completely unexpected cut through the kitchen tension like a knife.
Dr. Shen and Zhenlong froze mid-argument. Zhenlong had his hand poised to dump more pepper into the bowl. Dr. Shen was holding a rolling pin like a weapon.
They both turned slowly towards the source of the laughter.
There was Zhiyuan, his hand covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth, his eyes crinkled with joy. And beside him, Yichen was leaning against the counter, laughing freely, his face relaxed and happy.
For a long moment, the two older men just stared. The anger and competitiveness drained from their faces, replaced by something far softer wonder, and a deep, aching tenderness.
They were seeing Zhiyuan laugh. Not a polite CEO smile, not a tired smirk, but a real, happy, carefree laugh. It was a sound they hadn't heard in years, a sound they both associated with a different time, a different person.
The dumpling war was instantly forgotten.
Dr. Shen slowly put down the rolling pin. A small, unwilling smile touched his own lips.
Zhenlong's stern expression melted away completely. He just looked at his son, laughing in the warm kitchen light, and for the first time in twenty years, he felt a flicker of something like peace. The fight over the past didn't matter. In this moment, seeing this was worth more than any memory.
The kitchen was quiet again, but the air was no longer tense. It was filled with the soft echoes of laughter and the shared, unspoken realization that sometimes, the most precious things are found in the simplest, most unexpected moments.
Dinner was a surprisingly warm affair. The fish Yichen cooked was, to Zhiyuan's shock, perfectly seasoned and flaky not burnt at all. Yichen meticulously picked out every tiny bone from Zhiyuan's portion before putting it on his plate.
"Eat more," Dr. Shen said, scooping more rice into Zhiyuan's bowl.
"Try this vegetable," Zhenlong added, almost shyly, placing a dumpling on the edge of his plate. "It's… good"
Zhiyuan, surrounded by this unusual, fussy attention, ate quietly, listening to the light chatter. But halfway through the meal, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The room seemed to tilt slightly. He put down his chopsticks and pressed a hand to his forehead.
The change was immediate. All three men stopped talking and looked at him.
"Zhiyuan? What's wrong?" Dr. Shen asked, his doctor's instincts kicking in.
"Just… a little dizzy," Zhiyuan murmured.
"I told you not to walk so far," Dr. Shen said, his voice a mix of concern and gentle scolding. "Your body is still healing from the inside. Come on, let's get you back to your room. You can rest and finish dinner there."
Yichen was already on his feet. Without a word, he walked around the table, bent down, and slid his arms under Zhiyuan, lifting him easily from his chair.
"Yichen!" Zhiyuan gasped, his face flushing bright red with embarrassment. "Put me down! I can walk!"
"It's faster this way," Yichen said simply, ignoring his protests. He carried him carefully out of the dining area and towards the stairs.
Zhenlong, watching from his seat, clenched his jaw. A father's protective instinct flared, mixed with a strange pang. What if he stumbles? What if he drops him? But he said nothing.
Dr. Shen just glared at Zhenlong's tense expression, then sighed and sat back down. "Let the boy handle it."
Upstairs, Yichen laid Zhiyuan gently back on the bed. He propped up the pillows and helped him take a few sips of water, then handed him his medicine.
"Here, take this. It'll help." After Zhiyuan swallowed the pill, Yichen gently brushed the hair from his forehead, his thumb stroking his cheek. "Just rest now. I'll be back to check on you in a bit."
He turned to go, but Zhiyuan's hand shot out, fingers closing around Yichen's wrist. His grip was weak, but his eyes were full of fear.
"Yichen," he whispered. "Wait."
Yichen immediately sat back on the edge of the bed. "What is it?"
Zhiyuan looked up at him, his expression vulnerable and scared. "What's… what's really wrong with me? It's not just an internal wound, is it? It feels… different. I feel different. Tell me the truth."
Yichen's heart broke. He hesitated, then leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against Zhiyuan's. It was an intimate, comforting gesture. "Don't worry bao bei. Don't be scared. You're healing. Your body went through a .....very big shock. It needs time. That's all."
"But I'm scared," Zhiyuan confessed, a tear escaping and trailing down his temple. "I don't understand what's happening to me."
Yichen wiped the tear away with his thumb. He lay down beside him on the bed, wrapping an arm around him, holding him close. "I know you're scared. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Dr. Shen is here. You're safe. Just focus on resting. On getting stronger. One day at a time. I promise, everything will be okay."
He kept talking, his voice a soft, steady murmur, telling him about nothing in particular about the sound of the sea outside, about the village festival next month, about anything to distract him from the fear. He held him until he felt the tension slowly leave Zhiyuan's body and his breathing even out into a calmer rhythm....