As Shen Lang stepped out of the neighborhood, he couldn't help but notice the peculiar old man from the night before tailing him. The man didn't say a word nor did he approach directly; he simply followed Shen Lang persistently, like a shadow that refused to let go.
Shen Lang, however, maintained his composure. He barely acknowledged the old man's presence, giving him no more attention than a passing stranger would. He figured the old man's odd behavior was nothing worth stressing over. Anyone who didn't know the situation might have mistaken the man for some strange caretaker.
For Zhu Yong, though, the situation was harder to stomach. He worked to suppress the irritation bubbling up inside him, forcing his temper down until he could breathe easily again. Just when he thought he had steadied himself and prepared to confront Shen Lang, the young man abruptly turned around, extending a freshly bought steamed bun and a small bag of pickled vegetables toward Zhu Yong. He pulled out ten yuan from his pocket and placed it into Zhu Yong's hand, leaving the older man puzzled and a bit dazed as he glanced at the items in his hands, trying to make sense of Shen Lang's intentions.
With a nonchalant wave, Shen Lang gestured dismissively, as if shooing away a bothersome animal. Zhu Yong's hand tightened around the steamed bun in shock, and a hint of his anger slipped through as he accidentally crushed it, causing bits of the bun to peek through his fingers. Zhu Yong's nostrils flared, his temper flaring as a hot flush rose to his forehead. He knew he couldn't hold back much longer; his patience with the defiant young man was wearing dangerously thin. It seemed Shen Lang had no idea of the authority he was toying with, nor did he realize the consequences of provoking someone like Zhu Yong, who was all but ready to put the young man in his place. The morning's warnings from the Daoist elder were already slipping from his mind.
Sensing the heavy breaths behind him, Shen Lang turned and casually remarked, "People say if you meet someone asking for money, you give them food. If they're begging for food, you give them money. Guess that's spot-on! See, I've given you both. Now, how about you quit following me, alright?"
The mockery in his words only ignited Zhu Yong's anger further. The old man let out a bellowing shout, echoing through half the street, drawing the attention of everyone around. Onlookers turned to observe, eyeing Zhu Yong with a mixture of curiosity and concern, uncertain of what had triggered his outburst. Dressed sharply yet standing in the street, flustered, Zhu Yong felt the heat rise in his face as his jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the retreating figure of Shen Lang. His hands clenched around the items as if ready to toss them to the ground in a fit of rage, yet he paused, reconsidered, and slowly let his hands fall, a sense of resignation settling over him.
As Zhu Yong strode back toward the car, Zhu Feng quickly stifled a chuckle and adjusted his posture, pretending nothing had happened. Once inside the car, Zhu Yong's usual composure returned. He placed the items on the seat beside him and addressed Zhu Feng in a steady voice, "Take me back. Tonight, we'll keep things simple. It's been too long since I've tasted plain steamed buns and pickles. Imagine being outclassed by a kid in frugality," he added with a dry scoff.
As the car pulled away, Shen Lang watched them leave, his expression turning slightly sour. If not for last night's confrontation, he might have actually entertained the thought of engaging with the old man in earnest. But the elder's blatant disregard for Shen Lang's boundaries had left a bitter taste; he found it difficult to forgive or forget. Why the man had followed him all day only to reveal himself now was a mystery Shen Lang didn't feel compelled to unravel. It didn't matter much in the end.
In the driver's seat, Zhu Feng glanced at Zhu Yong in the rearview mirror, noting the older man's expression before cautiously breaking the silence. "Er… Second Grandpa, if I may say so, you seem a bit… off today. Is it that kid?"
Zhu Yong turned to gaze out the window, his face softened with a trace of regret. After a long pause, he murmured, "Yes and no. It's a shame, really."
Zhu Feng, though somewhat apprehensive, ventured, "You mean… that young boy?"
Zhu Yong nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, both of us missed something, it seems. The kid has potential; his background is humble, but he's resilient, sharp, and his spirit is commendable. It's rare to see someone like him at such a young age. But alas, what a pity…"
The weight of Zhu Yong's words settled over Zhu Feng as he realized his grandfather had taken a genuine interest in Shen Lang, seeing qualities in the boy that even family would envy. Zhu Feng understood, however, that whatever had transpired between them today was likely a topic best left alone. Anything more would overstep the line.
After a moment, Zhu Yong continued, as though to himself, "Experience shapes us, Xiao Feng. Don't let chances slip by. Missed opportunities are sometimes lost forever." His voice trailed off with a heavy sigh, and he leaned back, visibly pained by the memory of his misstep. It was foolish of him, he reflected, to have flaunted himself the night before, unbidden. Youngsters like Shen Lang rarely forgot a slight, and this particular boy's nature seemed especially unforgiving. If things had gone differently, he mused, taking the boy under his wing might have been possible. But what was done, was done. The chance was lost.
As Zhu Yong's gaze drifted to memories of others who had once crossed his path, a wry smile touched his lips. "Perhaps someone else will have the luck I didn't," he muttered. "And as for the old Daoist, well… it doesn't look like he's faring much better either."
Back home, Shen Lang was unbothered, showing no signs of regret over the day's events. What happened had happened; there was no point in fretting. People pursued different ideals, and ideals led to different paths. Someday, he'd find the path meant for him.
Setting his thoughts aside, he headed to the kitchen. Shen Lang sliced some cured beef, seasoned it, and then set it aside, planning to cook eggs a bit later so they'd stay fresh for his friend Fan Jun's arrival.
After a satisfying meal and finishing his assignments, Shen Lang invited Fan Jun to stay. "Are you busy tonight?" he asked. "If not, I could use a hand organizing some things. I've collected a lot over the past few days. With you here, we'd get through it a lot quicker."
Fan Jun nodded with a grin. "Deal. But tomorrow morning, breakfast is on you! I just need to call my parents so they don't worry."
The two boys set to work, sorting items with Shen Lang guiding Fan Jun on what to keep and where to place it. Though it sounded simple, the task was exhausting for them, testing their endurance more than they'd anticipated. Noticing Fan Jun's tired expression around nine o'clock, Shen Lang felt a twinge of guilt. He glanced at the clock on his desk and smiled apologetically, preparing the top bunk for his friend to rest. By the time Shen Lang brought a glass of warm water for Fan Jun, he found his friend already fast asleep.
With a resigned shrug, Shen Lang climbed down, placed the water on the desk, tidied up the remaining items on the floor, and was about to turn in himself when he heard the door creak open. A moment later, his father stepped quietly into the room.
Seeing Fan Jun asleep on the top bunk and Shen Lang sitting on the floor, his father could only shake his head. In a soft voice, he said, "Enough, son. Time for bed."