A Lucky Coin

That day, when Chu Yi said that the road would take about five minutes if you ran for your life, Yan Hang felt like asking: do you know how fast I run when I’m running for my life?

Of course, he’d never run for his life before — his max speed was geared more towards “chasing after someone he had to beat up”.

At this speed, if he ran down the riverside road and didn’t step into a pothole, it definitely wouldn’t take even five minutes.

Just by looking at Lowlife Number One’s stance as he dashed madly down the road and into a side alley, Yan Hang knew he’d catch up within 30 seconds.

When Number One entered the alley, Yan Hang was right behind him.
He was the wind-riding crown prince.

But Number One was so immersed in his sprinting that he didn’t look behind him; nor did he realise that Yan Hang had caught up.

Yan Hang simply had to reach out to drag him down.

But as he raised his arm, he changed his mind. Instead, Yan Hang sped up, leaned over, and yelled: “Where should I stab?”

Number One was so shocked by this roar that he leapt three steps further as he ran.

Yan Hang stopped. He was laughing so hard he could no longer run.
Number One turned his head to look at him, then looked away and continued to flee.

“I’ll give you a twenty-metre headstart!” shouted Yan Hang. “Good luck!”

“I’ll fuck your uncle!” Number One roared in anger as he ran.

“Sure, I’ll lead you to him!” Yan Hang called back through his laughter.

There was another bend in the alleyway ahead. Yan Hang didn’t know the area, so he took a breath and chased after Number One, intending to trip him up before he turned the corner.

Number One’s burst of energy could only sustain him for about 500 metres. When Yan Hang caught up with him around the bend, he was already slowing down.

Yan Hang whistled behind him.

Number One stopped suddenly. Perhaps realising he could not escape, he turned and threw a punch at Yan Hang.

Yan Hang was sprinting hard; inertia wouldn’t let him stop so quickly.
He didn’t intend to stop, either.

He blocked Number One’s incoming fist with his arm and grabbed his shoulder, pressing down. Using the inertia of his sprint, he kneed Number One in the gut.

When he let go, Number One crumpled to the ground.

He hadn’t even put any strength into kneeing him — it was pure inertia.
Dad once told him that fighting was like playing: a bit of pain was fine, but real injuries were not.

So Number One wasn’t injured, just very much in pain.

And almost certainly nauseous.

“You called me?” Yan Hang stood in front of him.

Number One did not speak. After two seconds of rest, he leapt up, as if he wanted to continue fighting.

The moment he got up, Yan Hang raised a foot and stepped on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

“I asked you a question,” said Yan Hang.
“Fuck your question!” Number One didn’t get up this time. Instead, he kicked at Yan Hang’s crotch.

Yan Hang quickly dodged and socked him in the face. This time, the hit was a little heavier than before; in two minutes, Number One’s eye turned red – then it would be green for a few days.

“Are you an animal?” Yan Hang asked. “Do you have no fucking shame?”

That this boy snuck in a below-the-belt attack when he couldn’t win really left Yan Hang speechless.

“The fuck are you doing?!” roared Number One.

“Playing around.” Yan Hang laughed at him, then bent down and said softly, “Don’t you play around like this too?”

“When did I ever beat people up for fun!” spat Number One, glaring at him.
“Have you forgotten?” Yan Hang’s smile slowly vanished.

“You wanna stick up for Chu Yi, don’t you? Well, hit me then! Go on! Yeah, I threw his stupid pen away, the pen he wanted to give someone, so fucking what! Stick up for him if you’re so tough!” screamed Number One. “Hit m–”

Yan Hang did as he asked and slapped him across the face, interrupting him mid-sentence.
“I’m not sticking up for anyone. What, you think Chu Yi can make me stick up for him?” Yan Hang’s voice grew cold. “Just so you know, I’m beating you up for the exercise. Capisce? So don’t get all cute with me when you see me. Just get the hell out of my way.”

Number One glared at him without answering.

“Oi, you hear me?!” Yan Hang grabbed his ear and roared into it.

Not expecting this, Number One’s pupils shrank in shock.

“Go.” Yan Hang patted his shoulder, then straightened up and put his hands in his pockets. “Keep running. Exercise, stay fit, defend the motherland.”

Yan Hang watched Number One curse as he ran out of the small alley. Once he disappeared around the corner, Yan Hang began to whistle a happy tune, swinging his arms as he walked to the cafe.

After venting so nice and early in the morning, his spirits were high.

He walked in the same direction as Number One, rounding two corners and emerging from the alleyway onto the main road.

To the right was the cafe, and to the left, not a hundred metres away, was the bridge.

Hands in his pockets, Yan Hang pondered for a few seconds, then turned and walked over to the bridge.

Down the steps he went, along the street that brought him to Chu Yi’s treasure-hunting spot the other day.

“To give to someone”?

The riverbank looked the same as ever. Black mud and rubbish blended into a uniform mixture; water snaked in rivulets through the rubbish, and when the wind blew in his direction… well, whatever.

Yan Hang turned to go.

Returning to the main road, he put his mask on and pulled out his phone. He posted “Come and play” on Weibo, then began to broadcast his live stream.

There weren’t a lot of people watching at this time, especially since it was a sudden, unplanned live stream. He didn’t care, though. He live-streamed just because he wanted to – no other reason.

[I’m here!]
[am I the first]

Quite a few fans actually turned up.

“I’m heading to work.” Yan Hang raised his phone camera and did a 360º. When he changed hands, the camera lens passed over his face.

[eyes]
[ahhh Xiao Tian Gege your eyes are so niceeee]

“At a cafe.” Yan Hang didn’t reply to the comments on the screen. “My boss is a coconut-haired, middle-aged man with a beard.”

[looooool]
[Wanna see]
[Xiao Tian Gege whatcha wearing today]

“I’m wearing a shirt, trousers, and shoes,” replied Yan Hang, pointing the lens downward.

[track bottoms again]

“Fine, I’ll wear a skirt next time,” said Yan Hang.

He chatted and rambled until he reached the cafe entrance, when he stopped streaming. It was time for work – time to get serious.

Putting his phone in his pocket, he heard a yell from inside the shop.

“How should I know! I didn’t bother him!” said a strangely familiar voice.

Yan Hang walked into the cafe. Sitting at the counter, with an ice pack held to his eye was… Lowlife Number One.

“If you didn’t start it, then lodge a police report!” Mr Li stood behind the counter. “Or fight back! When I was your age…”

Lowlife Number One turned and saw Yan Hang. His eyes widened. “Fuck, you…”

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time!” Mr Li slammed the countertop, glaring at Number One.

“It’s him!” Number One jumped down from the barstool, pointing at Yan Hang and screaming till his voice broke, “Him! Him! That’s him!”

Our friend, Little Nezha [1].

[1] Opening lines from the theme song of the 2003 animated series The Legend of Nezha.

Yan Hang couldn’t help but sing in his head.

“It’s him! Dad! It’s him! Dad!” Number One continued to screech.

Yan Hang watched the excited Number One, suddenly getting the impression that Number One was calling him Dad. He felt like saying, hey, no need to be so polite.

Mr Li looked up with some surprise. “Him?”

“That’s him!” Number One repeated himself, as though he’d lost the ability to say anything else.

“Jidao?” Mr Li looked at Yan Hang. “You beat up my son?”

“Yeah.” Yan Hang nodded. “Just a moment ago.”

Such a straightforward answer left Mr Li gaping for a while before he asked: “Why?”

“He said it was for fun!” Number One finally found some new words for himself. “Fun! Exercise!”

“You keep quiet,” Mr Li said, pointing at Number One. “Let me ask the questions.”

Number One glared at Mr Li. He threw his chair to the ground and sat down without another word.

“Why?” Mr Li asked, eyes on Yan Hang.

They really were father and son. Yan Hang would never have guessed. Mr Li looked calm, but Yan Hang had beaten up his own flesh and blood. Even if he explained, he probably wouldn’t be able to continue working here.

In any case, he didn’t want to explain.

“I don’t like the look of him,” said Yan Hang.

“You don’t like the look of him, so you beat him up?” Mr Li was shocked.

“Yep.” Yan Hang nodded and looked at Number One. “Hey.”

Number One turned to stare at him.

“Just so you know. You need financial backing if you don’t like the look of someone.” Yan Hang turned and left the cafe after he spoke.

At this hour on a Sunday, the streets were filled with bustling crowds.

Yan Hang stood under a tree next to the pedestrian crossing, bored to tears.

He dug out his phone and sent a text to Chu Yi.

[Come out, I’ll give you your money back.]

Chu Yi didn’t respond immediately. He was probably in telepathic conversation. After a long while came a reply.

[what money?]
[Noodle money]
[thought you weren’t eating it?]

“Which is why I’m giving it back.” Yan Hang couldn’t help but send a voice message.

[oh]
[Wtf is oh]
[noon then, I’m busy rn. I’ll wait for you at the tree hollow at noon]

Yan Hang looked at the last text. Compared to the way he spoke, Chu Yi typed so smoothly. It made him feel better, the way one might feel after healing from a cold.

But it made him feel a bit like laughing too.

The ten bucks were pretty important to Chu Yi after all.

Yan Hang put his phone back in his pocket and stretched. He didn’t want to go back yet, so he wandered about for a bit.

He looked around. The area across the bridge looked like it was flourishing, so he decided to walk over.

Yan Hang liked going out and walking through the streets. Every city had different streets, even if they all sold clothes and food and toys — all of them had a different vibe.

But he didn’t manage to walk down this street.

Because as he crossed the bridge, he looked left.

The river looked fine from the bridge, since the rubbish-laden, muddy river banks were screened from view by the riverside trees…

Through a gap in the tree leaves was a small shadow, moving on the banks.

“Fuck… me.” Yan Hang held onto a stone peach adorning the bridge railing and rocked back and forth. “Gotta give it to him.”

What kind of pen did you lose? I’ll buy you the same one.

How much did your pen cost? I’ll give you the money for it.

And if I see you rummaging through the trash again, I’ll give you a thrashing.

Don’t ask me why.

“Chu Yi!” Yan Hang yelled from the riverside railing.

Chu Yi wasn’t at the same spot as the day before, but a little to the right of it. Yan Hang frowned. He suddenly suspected that the kid hadn’t even seen where the pen had fallen.

But his hearing was better than yesterday. He turned as soon as Yan Hang called.

He blanked for a moment. Even from where he was standing, Yan Hang could see him let out a great sigh.

“Come up,” said Yan Hang.

Chu Yi hesitated, then shook his head. After a pause, he waved at Yan Hang, gesturing for him to go.

Yan Hang looked at him, slightly irritated. Deep breaths didn’t relieve his ire, not even after his knuckles clenched painfully on the cement railing.

He just couldn’t help it.

“Fuck!” he cursed through gritted teeth. “You’re really asking for a beating!”
He didn’t even bother with the iron ladder, leaping over the border directly.

Chu Yi raised his head at the sound of him landing, staring in surprise.

“If I see you here looking for that stupid pen again,” Yan Hang spoke as he pointed, striding over without giving a damn what he was stepping on, “I’ll beat you up so bad your own grandmother wouldn’t recognise you!”

Chu Yi stood still.

“Come here!” Yan Hang spoke as he strode another two steps towards him. As he was about to continue, he felt the ground go soft under his feet.

He looked down. He’d stepped in sludge.

“Don’t…” Chu Yi rushed over toward him, pulling out two plastic bags.

“Here.”

It was then that Yan Hang noticed the two bags on his feet: one red, one green.

“I don’t want them.” He couldn’t even be mad anymore. He was just dumbstruck. Not looking at Chu Yi, he turned to go. “Have fun by yourself.”

Yan Hang took two steps, then saw something twinkling on the ground to his left.

He turned sharply.

It was just a heap of trash.

Angling his head, he saw yet another flash.

“Fucking hell, I think I see your precious pen.” Yan Hang walked towards it.
Behind him, Chu Yi followed closely, his bag-covered feet sloshing with each step.

As Yan Hang bent over and picked the pen up from the mud, complete with its yellow bow, he felt as though he had recovered some ancient Buddhist relic.

“Is it this one?” he asked Chu Yi, pinching the pen.

“Yes.” Chu Yi nodded, grabbing the pen with some excitement.

“Are you blind?” asked Yan Hang.

“M-maybe,” laughed Chu Yi.

Yan Hang gazed at him, at a loss for words.

“Thanks.” Chu Yi pulled out a tissue and wiped the pen down.

Yan Hang retrieved the ten bucks from his pocket and handed it over. “I’m giving this back to you.”

Chu Yi didn’t take it. He looked rather awkward.

Yan Hang tucked the money directly into his pocket before turning around and retreating to the riverside with some difficulty.

Chu Yi followed behind in silence.

After he climbed the border of the river, Yan Hang sat atop the nearby stone bench, staring blankly at his mud-covered shoes.

Chu Yi removed the plastic bags from his own feet. Taking out the pack of wet wipes Yan Hang had given him the day before, he pulled two sheets out and bent down in front of Yan Hang, reaching over to wipe his shoes.

“Hey!” Yan Hang started and quickly tucked his feet in. “What are you doing?”

“H-helping you c-clean them,” said Chu Yi.

“No no no no no, no need,” Yan Hang said, pulling the tissues from his hand.

“I’ll do it myself.”

Chu Yi stared.

“You…” Yan Hang grabbed his arm and dragged him over. “Sit down.”

“Th-this pen,” Chu Yi began, then paused, pulling the pen out and wiping it down. “Actually, I…”

“Wanna give it to a girl?” Yan Hang asked as he scrubbed his shoes.

Chu Yi fell silent.

Yan Hang turned to look at him. “The ribbon. It’s a present, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” Chu Yi looked quite dejected.

“Just wash it a bit and change the ribbon, then give it to her,” said Yan Hang.

“I c-can’t,” said Chu Yi, “it’s d-dirty now.”

“Why not?” Yan Hang tsk-ed. “Not like she saw it.”

Chu Yi stared at him.

Yan Hang met his gaze.

After about ten seconds, Yan Hang narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t gonna give it to me, were you?”

Chu Yi lowered his gaze. “N-not anymore.”

Yan Hang had never received a present before.

He had no friends, so he had no presents. Only dad would buy him things on his birthday, but even these were quite perfunctory: last year he received a pineapple, with a piece of scrap paper stuck on top that read “My prince is the handsomest”.

“I don’t want that girly-ass bow,” said Yan Hang.

Chu Yi stared at him in surprise. He swiftly removed the ribbon and handed the pen over with some reluctance.

Yan Hang took it and examined it.

It was new, but judging from the style, it’d been purchased at least five years ago. Perhaps it had been one of Chu Yi’s souvenirs.

Yan Hang retrieved his phone and wrote a Weibo post.

When he began the livestream, a few of his fans were there, clearly even less busy than he was.

[looks like Xiao Tian Gege reached peak boredom for the day]
[I’m even more bored, I watched the last two streams live]

“I got a present.” Yan Hang held the pen to the camera.

[handdddddddd]
[been so long since we saw your Gorgeous Hands!]
[when u gonna do a cooking stream again, wanna see ur hands]

“That kid gave it to me,” said Yan Hang.

[The pitiful little kid?]
[Ahh! Pen from the pitiful little kid?]

“Yup,” Yan Hang said as he twiddled with the pen. “I… only just got it.”

[is he next to u]
[Xiao Tian Gege are you really gonna protect him frm now on?]
[can we see what he looks like? Haven’t seen his face]
[yosss pls can we can we]

“Do you…” Yan Hang turned to look at Chu Yi, “mind showing them your face?”

“Live str-streaming?” asked Chu Yi softly.

“Mhm.” Yan Hang nodded.

“Are there l-lots of viewers?” Chu Yi asked.

“Not really.” Yan Hang looked at the screen.

“N-no one watches your l-live str-stream?” Chu Yi was curious.

“Mhm.” Yan Hang nodded again.

“W-why?” Chu Yi looked at the screen as well.

“Are you sure it’s appropriate to ask me why I don’t have viewers, in front of my fans, during my live stream?” Yan Hang laughed.

“N-no one’s watching, anyway,” said Chu Yi.

The screen was filled with “hahahahaha”s and “lmaaaaoooo”s.

“Damn, you’re not wrong,” sighed Yan Hang. “Fine, since nobody’s watching, do you mind showing your face? The girls keep asking about you.”

“Ok.” Chu Yi nodded.

Yan Hang pointed his phone at Chu Yi’s face.

“Thank you,” said Chu Yi.

[!!!!!]
[handsome]
[good-looking guy!]

Was he? Yan Hang looked at Chu Yi’s face on the phone screen. Well… he was alright, the kid was pretty photogenic.