Chapter 6: I’ll Provide for You

When Ji Xu stood at the doorway of the barbecue shop’s back kitchen to send a message to Rong Du, his hands were still wet.

Having just washed a bundle of iron skewers, water droplets ran down his wrist, dripping onto the phone screen and blurring several characters.

Wiping his fingers on his apron, he typed out another line: “Rong Du, I found a job! At a barbecue shop, working until closing, might come back a bit late today.”

He followed it with a smug emoji—an animated GIF of a cartoon pig holding its waist and laughing with its head held high.

After sending the message, he stuffed the phone into his apron pocket, turned around, and returned to the grill.

Old Liu, the boss, handed over a plate of freshly skewered beef; the iron skewers were arranged neatly, and the glistening pieces of meat near the charcoal fire emitted a mixed scent of raw meat and marinade.

When Ji Xu took it, the plate felt a bit hot to the touch; holding it steadily, he walked over to the tables of customers near the entrance, asking them one by one what extra items they needed.

This table wanted ten lamb skewers, that table wanted five chicken wings, and the table inside against the wall ordered two bottles of iced beer.

Taking mental notes as he lowered his head, his mind spun as he ran through all the rules Old Liu had instructed earlier on the tip of his tongue—first ask if they want it spicy, then ask if they want cumin, serve beverages first, and bring out skewers in order.

The first hour or so went smoothly enough.

With customers coming in twos and threes, the speed of serving dishes kept pace, allowing Ji Xu to pull out his phone for a quick peek in the intervals of carrying plates through the front dining area.

Rong Du had replied with a “Got it, stay safe,” followed by another sentence: “What time can you get back?”

Just as Ji Xu finished typing “Probably twelve o’clock” and prepared to send it, the front door pushed open to admit another table of seven or eight people—men and women talking loudly with laughs and giggles—flopping down to occupy two pushed-together tables.

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Ji Xu left that line of text stuck in the input box unsent, never remembering it again afterward.

The time that followed felt as though it had been tightly wound up on a spring, moving so fast there wasn’t even a gap to catch a breath.

Customers arrived table after table; the small round tables in the front dining area were never empty, plastic chairs pulled out and pushed back with harsh scraping sounds.

The charcoal fire on the grill stayed red the entire time; Old Liu and the young guy he hired took turns grilling, iron skewers fluttering across the charcoal mesh, fat dripping down to send up puffs of white smoke carrying charred fragrances.

Ji Xu ran back and forth between the front dining area and the back kitchen—carrying plates, retrieving drinks, clearing empty dishes, wiping tables, and restocking dipping seasonings—the floor beneath his feet trodden back and forth, stained with sauces and grease, becoming slick and slippery.

A few drops of hot oil splashed onto his arms; he didn’t feel the pain at the time, only realizing two small red spots had raised after things calmed down.

One table of customers ordered a dozen oysters; when Ji Xu carried them over, the plate was too hot to touch, making him switch postures several times before finally holding it steady using the hem of his apron as padding.

An Omega probably thought he looked good, smiling as he said, “Young man, take it easy so you don’t burn yourself,” to which Ji Xu flashed a grin in response, leading that table to order two more bottles of fruit wine.

There was also a table that drank too much, knocking over a glass and spilling wine all over the table; when Ji Xu brought a rag to wipe it, the drunk man slapped his arm and said, “Good kid, bring ten more chicken gizzards.”

He noted down those requests one by one in his phone notepad; by the time he reported them back to the back kitchen, his voice had grown slightly raspy, his throat parched from the cooking fumes, gulping down a mouthful of water from a glass before running back out to greet the next table.

His phone vibrated several times in his apron pocket, yet he didn’t pull it out to look even once.

When Rong Du finished work and returned to the rented apartment, the stairwell was dead silent, the voice-activated light taking two seconds to switch on.

Pulling out his keys to unlock the door, he reached out to flip the switch on the wall, lighting up the living room.

White light spilled into the empty room—sofa, coffee table, TV stand—everything sat quietly in its original place; there wasn’t even a water glass on the coffee table, and the sofa cushions were arranged neatly.

Rong Du stood at the doorway and froze for a moment.

Changing into slippers and walking into the living room, he pushed open the bedroom door to take a look; the blanket on the bed was folded, that thin gray duvet laid neatly at the foot of the bed, pillows placed side by side at the headboard, one still bearing a shallow indentation pressed out from last night.

The entire rented apartment was quiet enough to hear the hum of the refrigerator compressor, along with the occasional rustle of car tires rolling over asphalt outside the window.

Standing at the bedroom doorway for a few seconds, Rong Du backed out, switched off the living room lights, and walked through the dark to sit down on the sofa.

He didn’t turn on the television either, simply sitting there in the dark with his legs extended against the edge of the coffee table, his hands clasped together on his knees.

Streetlamps outside cast tree shadows onto the ceiling, swaying back and forth; occasionally, a gust of wind moved the curtains, making the tree shadows tremble along with it.

Waiting for a while, he pulled out his phone to check—Ji Xu’s last message remained at “found a job,” the latter half of the sentence constantly displaying “typing…” before disappearing again, hanging like that without ever being sent.

Looking at that incomplete line of text, Rong Du knit his brows, set his phone aside, and tilted his head back against the sofa backrest.

In truth, it wasn’t that he insisted on Ji Xu waiting at home for his return.

He simply wanted that person to be there when he got home.

Whether curled up in a sofa corner or fast asleep on the bed.

Rong Du sat with his eyes closed for a while, suddenly feeling a bit stuffed up in his nose, likely from blowing the air conditioner too much.

At 1:10 AM, the last table of customers at the barbecue shop finally settled the bill and left.

Old Liu stood before the grill, pulled at his apron strings, and shouted to Ji Xu: “Knock off time! Go wipe the tables clean.”

Ji Xu responded, picked up a rag to wipe down the last few tables, stacked the chairs against the wall, and swept the floor once.

Old Liu pulled out a hundred-yuan bill from the cash register drawer and handed it to him; when Ji Xu took it, he felt his fingers weren’t obeying his commands, trembling slightly from sheer exhaustion.

“Same tomorrow, come at five,” Old Liu patted his shoulder.

Ji Xu nodded, folded the bill, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Walking out the shop door, the air outside felt several degrees colder than inside; as the night wind blew, the hot sweat from grilling instantly turned freezing cold.

He walked along the dimly lit alley toward the bus stop, scanning an electric bike with his phone.

Only upon pulling out his phone did he discover several unread messages accumulated, all sent by Rong Du.

The earliest was at 7:30 PM: “What time can you get back?”

An hour later came another: “Ah Xu?”

At 8:40 PM: “Reply when you see this.”

At 11:00 PM: “I’m off work.”

The final one was past midnight: “Tell me when you reach home.”

Staring at those messages and scrolling from bottom to top, an indescribable feeling slowly welled up in Ji Xu’s heart.

He wanted to type “just finished work,” but his fingers were somewhat stiff; after typing a few letters, he deleted them again, replying only with “on the way.”

Arriving at the alley mouth, Ji Xu dragged his heavy steps up to the fifth floor.

The voice-activated lights lit up all the way; upon reaching the door, his hand still trembled slightly while pulling out his keys, turning several times in the keyhole before aligning.

He tried his best to soften the noise of opening the door, yet the door hinges still let out a subtle creak.

No lights were turned on in the living room—pitch black—and just as Ji Xu stepped inside, his peripheral vision caught a vague contour on the sofa.

Startled violently, he bounced back half a step, his back hitting the doorframe with a thud.

Scrambling to feel for the switch on the wall and pressing down, the lights turned on, the white glow revealing Rong Du on the sofa—sitting there leaning against the backrest with his legs stretched onto the coffee table, head tilted sideways, staring right at him.

Rong Du’s complexion held a trace of exhaustion, his eyelids half-drooping, clearly having waited here for a long time before being awakened by the sound of the door opening.

“Rong Du!” Ji Xu stood at the doorway clutching his chest, his heart still pounding thump-thump, “Why aren’t you asleep yet? You scared me to death.”

Saying so, he walked briskly to the front of the sofa and looked down at Rong Du, his eyes holding a trace of linger-shock anger, his face scrunched up, “Sitting here in the pitch dark, I thought a thief broke into the house.”

Rong Du pressed his temples and sat up a bit straighter.

Looking up at Ji Xu, his gaze shifted from Ji Xu’s grease-stained collar to his face—flushed red from cooking fumes—finally landing on his fingers, where those slender fingertips still retained wrinkle marks from being soaked in water while washing iron skewers.

Knitting his brows, Rong Du patted the spot beside him to signal him to sit down.

Ji Xu kicked off his sandals and sat cross-legged beside him; the moment his buttocks touched the sofa cushion, the muscles in both his legs let out a comfortable sigh simultaneously.

“Wasn’t I waiting for you?” Rong Du turned his body to look at him, reaching out to turn his face toward himself, carefully inspecting his eyes under the light, “Tired?”

Feeling a bit guilty under that serious expression, Ji Xu’s lips moved, wanting to say “not tired,” but his throat produced a sound faster than his brain—dry, raspy, carrying obvious exhaustion: “…a little.”

Withdrawing his hand from Ji Xu’s face, Rong Du leaned back, remaining silent for two seconds.

“How about not going to work after all,” he said, his voice pressed very low yet exceptionally clear, “It wasn’t easy to get a vacation, so play a bit more. Haicheng is so big, it’s fine whether you wander around, go play ball, or just lie at home every day.”

Ji Xu tilted his head to look at him, blinking twice, seemingly not fully comprehending the meaning of those words.

Immediately, however, he picked up a plastic bag from beside the sofa—he had been holding it in his hand on the way back, dropping it on the floor when he was startled earlier—and set it on the coffee table, the plastic bag making a rustling noise.

“I brought back barbecue,” he said, opening the bag to reveal several skewers wrapped in tin foil, still carrying residual warmth, “I grilled them myself, Old Liu let me bring them back.”

Rong Du glanced at those foil packages, then looked back at Ji Xu’s face.

“I’m serious,” he repeated, “Don’t go anymore. I’ll provide for you.”

Ji Xu’s hand about to open the foil paused.

Looking up at Rong Du, Rong Du’s expression didn’t look like a joke.

They were separated by about a fist’s distance, the light illuminating both the exhaustion and seriousness in the depths of Rong Du’s eyes crystal clear.

Opening his mouth, Ji Xu was first pinned in place by that phrase “I’ll provide for you,” his brain spinning over and over before recovering his voice: “Where would you get the money? How much do you even earn a month? Rent, utilities, food—you aren’t well-off yourself.”

“I have some savings,” Rong Du said in a very flat tone without any boastfulness, merely stating a fact, “Saved up from working over these years, more than enough to provide for you.”

Ji Xu looked at him.

Rong Du was wearing a light blue short-sleeved shirt with a slightly worn collar, a loose thread at the sleeve cuff, and calluses on his fingers.

His rented apartment had only one bedroom and one living room, the sofa was second-hand, the fridge was an old model—in every way, he didn’t look like a person with “savings.”

Lowering his head, Ji Xu opened the foil package to reveal a skewer of grilled chicken wings and several skewers of beef inside, still giving off faint steam.

Lifting a skewer, he held it out to Rong Du’s lips: “Try it first, my first time grilling.”

Interrupted by that skewer shoved to his mouth, Rong Du lowered his head to take a bite, chewed twice, and nodded: “Mm, not bad.”

Ji Xu bit into a skewer himself, chewing as he spoke: “I still prefer earning money myself.”

When saying this, he felt a bit hypocritical himself; if possible, he’d love nothing more than for pie to fall from the sky, lying still every day while someone fed him, but unfortunately, this pie fell on Rong Du.

He didn’t want to become a burden weighed on Rong Du; during those middle school years, he had been taken care of enough by Rong Du—back then he was young and understood nothing, accepting it with a clear conscience.

Now that he was grown up, whether out of an Alpha’s self-esteem or the mindset of feeling embarrassed to owe too much after already owing so much, he simply couldn’t say that word “okay.”

Knitting his brows, Rong Du set down the skewer: “But this job of yours is far too late, knocking off at one or two in the morning; I can’t rest easy with you walking home alone at night.”

He reached out to pinch Ji Xu’s arm through that thin layer of muscle under his T-shirt, “You used to cry even running eight hundred meters; now working until midnight every day, your body can’t take it.”

“I’m an Alpha, you know.” Ji Xu pulled his arm out from Rong Du’s hand, handing another skewer over so Rong Du had no choice but to take it and continue eating.

His eyes shone bright in the night, carrying a hint of unyielding stubbornness, “Rong Du, are you still looking down on me? Thinking I’m still that little kid who only knew how to hide behind the playground and cry when bullied?”

Taking a bite of the chicken wing, Rong Du choked on the chili, turning his head to cough twice; when he turned back, the corners of his eyes were slightly red: “Not looking down on you. Just worried about you.”

His voice lowered, his gaze falling on Ji Xu’s face, as if watching a scene from many years ago, “When you were little, you cried so easily—your eyes would redden if someone pushed you just once. I’m afraid you’ll suffer grievances again.”

Ji Xu froze briefly, and then he smiled.

That smile gradually spread from the corners of his mouth, pushing aside the exhaustion on his cheeks.

Stuffing another bite of lamb skewer into Rong Du’s mouth, he said: “See, am I not doing just fine now? After a busy shift, nobody bullied me, and I even learned a grilling skill. Stop worrying blindly, I can take good care of myself.”

Chewing that mouthful of meat and looking at Ji Xu’s smile, Rong Du offered no further rebuttal.

By the light of that small desk lamp on the coffee table, the two shared and finished the few skewers of barbecue Ji Xu brought back.

The chicken wings were grilled slightly tough, but the beef had just the right heat; the chili powder was sprinkled a bit heavily, making Ji Xu smack his lips as he ate, while Rong Du went to the kitchen to pour two glasses of plain boiled water to set on the coffee table.

By the time they finished eating, it was nearly 2:30 AM.

Ji Xu let out a yawn, tears squeezed out from the corners of his eyes, his entire body visibly slumping; once that bravado spirit scattered, both his legs instantly turned soft like noodles.

Rong Du pushed him toward the bathroom: “Hurry and shower, go to sleep after showering.”

Dazedly grabbing a change of clothes, Ji Xu went inside; water sounds echoed in the bathroom for twenty minutes, and when he came out, water was still dripping from his hair, yet he was so sleepy he could barely open his eyes, walking wobbly.

Rong Du dragged him to wipe his hair with a towel, not even getting a chance to blow-dry before Ji Xu collapsed onto the bed.

The moment his body touched the mattress, Ji Xu fell asleep almost instantly.

His breathing quickly became even and deep, his eyelashes closed, half his face buried in the pillow, his lips slightly parted.

Lying down beside him, Rong Du switched off the bedside nightlight.

As darkness surged back, that familiar honey scent drifted over from the direction of Ji Xu’s gland, sweet and fragrant as it seeped into Rong Du’s nostrils, soaking and melting the entire day’s exhaustion and anxiety.

Turning on his side, Rong Du looked at Ji Xu’s profile by the line of streetlamp light filtering through the curtain gap.

His neck was exposed outside the blanket, that small patch of skin on his nape glowing with a pale pink, the gland area bulging slightly, dyed warm by the honey pheromones.

Rong Du reached out a finger, touching it with extreme lightness; his fingertip brushed across that thin layer of skin, feeling the warm pulse beneath.

In his sleep, Ji Xu knitted his brows slightly, yet didn’t wake up, instead tilting his head toward Rong Du’s direction, bringing his body’s warmth a bit closer.

Withdrawing his hand, Rong Du pulled the duvet higher to cover Ji Xu’s exposed nape.

The scent of honey wrapped around him tightly, so sweet it felt as though he was soaked entirely inside a honey jar.

Closing his eyes amidst that sweet aroma, he heard Ji Xu’s steady breathing sounding rhythmically beside him, with distant dog barks echoing occasionally outside the rented apartment, yet those sounds felt very, very far away.

The last thought Rong Du had before falling asleep was to make his movements even lighter when leaving tomorrow morning.

Don’t wake him up.

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