APR 39

The morning bird and flower market was relatively quiet, with only a few scattered customers browsing. Zhong Su parked his car in the lot across from the market and headed straight for the first ornamental fish shop near the entrance.

The shop owner was busy stocking shelves, struggling to pour a large bag of newly arrived fry into a display tank. A few splashes of water burst from the tank, landing on the floor near Zhong Su’s feet.

Zhong Su cleared his throat and called out, “Boss, got a moment? I need some fish medicine.”

“One of my fish at home has been losing scales badly lately, and there are quite a few ulcerated red spots on its body. What medicine would work? Recommend a good brand, something with solid results.”

After finishing with the fry, the owner wiped his hands on his apron, turned to look at him, and asked, “Young man, what kind of fish are you keeping? Scaled or scaleless? Different fish need different medicines, they can’t be mixed.”

Zhong Su answered without hesitation, “It’s a grass carp.”

The owner was taken aback at first, then burst out laughing. “Grass carp? I thought it was some rare breed. How precious can a grass carp be, worth you coming specially early in the morning to buy medicine for it? You can get as many as you want at the market for 20 bucks a pound.”

He pulled out a small blue box from behind the counter and handed it to Zhong Su, saying, “Here, use this for freshwater fish. Pour a capful into the water every day, and it’ll show results in three days.”

“How much?” Zhong Su took the medicine box.

“This one’s a bit pricier—35 a box.” The owner held up his fingers to show “35.”

Zhong Su carefully read the medication instructions printed on the box to confirm it treated skin conditions in fish before paying.

With breakfast taken care of and the fish medicine purchased, Zhong Su drove back to Chen Huan’s villa.

The villa was still excessively quiet, with no sign of Chen Huan. Zhong Su was glad for the peace; without anyone watching, dosing Hanzai would be much simpler.

He opened the fish medicine box, poured out a small packet of powder, then brought over a chair and placed it in front of the fish tank. Standing on the chair, he opened the lid on top of the tank and poured the powder into the water.

The pale yellow powder dissolved without a trace as soon as it hit the water. Hanzai, as if sensing something, flicked its tail, sending ripples across the surface.

Watching the familiar scene, Zhong Su felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering the times he’d fed Hanzai bean powder.

He flicked the fish’s head with his finger and chuckled, “Seven years apart, and who’d have thought you’d end up better off than me? Moving into this big villa, guess you’ve leaped through the dragon’s gate.”

He examined the fish’s body and muttered a bit more, “But how are you still so pitiful? Back then, you were so starved you were thin as a loach, and now that you’ve finally grown, you’re covered in wounds.”

Zhong Su didn’t understand how Chen Huan raised fish. If you said he didn’t care about Hanzai, he’d managed to raise it to this size; if you said he did care, he’d let its scales rot to this sorry state without doing anything.

If he had to find a reason, maybe Chen Huan was just naturally better at ruining things than keeping them alive.

Hanzai remained dopey, not bothering to dodge no matter how much Zhong Su flicked its forehead, slowly swimming back and forth.

Zhong Su estimated that a capful of medicine powder wasn’t quite enough for such a large tank of water, so he opened the packet again, intending to add a bit more powder.

While pouring the medicine, the door on the second floor opened silently. Chen Huan stepped out and happened to witness the scene. His expression remained blank as he asked, “What are you doing?”

He was clearly suffering from a hangover, his aura cold as if frosted over. The shirt he wore was the same one Zhong Su had unbuttoned for him the previous night, the collar hanging open to reveal a broad, sun-kissed chest.

Zhong Su glanced up at the sound, the corner of his eye lifting slightly. His hands never paused as he replied in a casual tone, as if making small talk, “Awake? Perfect timing—I’m poisoning your fish.”

He deliberately shook the packet of powder in his hand.

Chen Huan glanced at the packaging in his hand, showing no trace of amusement, and said calmly, “Go ahead. If you dare kill it, you’ll follow it to the grave.”

Chen Huan descended the stairs, filled a glass with water from the dispenser, and drank it in one go. A few droplets traced a path down his Adam’s apple.

After finishing, he extended his hand toward Zhong Su and demanded, “Give me back the keys.”

“Here. I just took your car for breakfast, it’s perfectly fine, no scratches or dents.” Zhong Su placed the keys in his palm, noticing the unusually high temperature of Chen Huan’s skin. He remarked offhandedly, “You had no one watching over you. Don’t drink yourself into a stupor like that again, it was practically unconsciousness. If you really want to drink, you should at least have Da Xiong or the others keep an eye on you beforehand.”

“And about the fish, next time, you should scoop it into a separate, clean tank before medicating it. Otherwise…” Zhong Su trailed off mid-sentence. Given his current status, such advice was inappropriate.

Chen Huan ignored his hesitation, picked up the box of fish medication, and skimmed the instructions for its effects.

Finally, he set the box down and said, “Come with me to a place.”

“Here we go again. What place?” Zhong Su eyed him warily but, as usual, received no response.

“Afraid to die?” Chen Huan cast him a faint, dismissive glance. “Even if you are, you’re coming.”

His demeanor was colder and more contemptuous than ever, the innate ruthlessness and danger in him even more unsettling than in his youth.

If not for his desire to retrieve the bracelet and leave Yangang, Zhong Su would have considered any entanglement with this version of Chen Huan sheer foolishness, a self-inflicted ordeal.

Chen Huan’s driving was far less steady than Zhong Su’s. Once in the car, he lit a cigarette, resting his hand on the window frame as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He slammed the accelerator to the floor, the engine roaring deafeningly as the car sped from the mountainside down to the foot of the hill in a single breath.

The wind tousled his stray locks, the smoke swirling around his arrogant brow before being torn apart by the airflow. He was undeniably dashing and unrestrained, but also utterly mad.

The car raced along and eventually halted in front of a shop specializing in rare, high-priced ornamental fish. The store was decorated like an aquarium, with mood lighting illuminating each tank in a kaleidoscope of colors.

Zhong Su peered through the car window at the surroundings, unable to fathom why Chen Huan had brought him to this fish store. If he wanted to buy fish medication, he had already purchased a packet, enough to last Hanzai half a month, or even marinate the fish in powder.

But this time, he refrained from asking aloud, quietly waiting to see what Chen Huan intended to do.

Chen Huan held a cigarette between his lips, the faint smoke blurring half his profile. He suddenly turned his head and spoke without warning: “Do you know what Su Er’s favorite type of fish is?”

Zhong Su was caught off guard by the question, instinctively furrowing his brow. He didn’t recall having any particular preference for fish.

“Xiao Zhong Ge…” He paused, swallowing the nearly uttered word “I” back down. “Doesn’t seem to have any special favorite fish, does he? Never heard him mention it.”

“Seems you don’t know him as well as you claim,” Chen Huan glanced sideways, a mocking curve forming at the corner of his lips. He casually flicked ash into the car’s ashtray and said, “His favorite has always been guppies.”

“You’re making that up. What basis do you have for saying that?” Zhong Su pressed his throbbing temples – he’d genuinely thought Chen Huan was about to reveal something significant.

Zhong Su simply found Chen Huan’s words unreliable. He didn’t even know what guppies looked like, let alone consider them his “favorite.”

Chen Huan paid no mind to his skepticism. The hand holding the cigarette brushed against his lip corner, his gaze seeming to pierce through the present scene and settle in some distant memory.

His voice carried a distinctive huskiness, especially captivating when he lowered it: “Back in the mahjong parlor, when Su Er wasn’t playing, he’d sit in front of the fish tank watching those guppies for hours on end, as if he’d never tire of them.”

It was a small, poorly maintained tank with slightly murky water, where a dozen colorful small fish darted back and forth among plastic seaweed.

And that handsome young man would watch the fish with such focus, eyelashes lowered, the tank’s light illuminating his brows, eyes, and neckline.

Zhong Su was momentarily speechless. There indeed used to be a fish tank in that mahjong parlor. So those colorful little fish were called guppies.

Actually, Chen Huan had misunderstood, he hadn’t been particularly interested in those fish. He just disliked playing mahjong and would space out in front of the tank when bored.

He never expected the other to notice such a small detail and remember it.

Chen Huan removed the cigarette from his lips, casually stubbed it out in the car’s ashtray, and pushed the car door open to get out.

The fish shop owner was adjusting his radio, turning the volume knob to maximum while intently listening to horse racing news—

The announcer was shouting excitedly into the microphone: “Final four hundred meters, number 4 Heavenly Gift and number 2 King sprinting neck and neck! Heavenly Gift pressing hard against King, the two horses inseparable, who will cross the finish line first—Heavenly Gift or King…”

Hearing the shop door open, the owner looked up belatedly. Seeing the indifferent Chen Huan, he quickly greeted: “Sir, what can I get for you?”

Chen Huan randomly pointed at several tanks, listing different fish names: “Give me several each of the lionheads, discus, and halfmoons from these tanks, you decide the quantity. And also a bag of guppies.”

Zhong Su, standing behind him, watched in astonishment. When had Chen Huan become so knowledgeable about fish?

The shopkeeper, seeing he didn’t even ask about prices and immediately ordered so many fish, knew a big customer had arrived. His face immediately broke into an enthusiastic smile.

“Right away! I’ll get them for you right now, boss.”

After scooping all the specified fish into plastic bags, he obsequiously recommended: “Boss, would you like to see this new shipment of Siamese fighting fish too?”

“The fish? Their colors are vibrant, and they’re quite lively. Put them in an aquarium with the lights on, and it’ll be a dazzling sight, very classy.”

Chen Huan leaned down to take a closer look and pointed at a few more. “Add these as well and pack them all together.”

The shopkeeper deftly gathered all the fish into a plastic bag, filled it with oxygen, and tied it securely.

“All packed up, um…” He held the bag, glancing at Chen Huan and then at Zhong Su, hesitating over who to hand it to.

With the demeanor of a high-ranking boss, it didn’t seem like Chen Huan would carry the fish himself.

Seeing Chen Huan light another cigarette with a detached expression and no intention of taking the bag, Zhong Su nodded to the shopkeeper. “Give the fish to me.”

“Alright, it’s a bit heavy, please hold it steady. Thank you for your patronage!”

Zhong Su took the heavy plastic bag, feeling the water sloshing inside. It was cool to the touch, like a water balloon that dented with a gentle press. The startled fish inside darted frantically in all directions.