Pei Jichuan · Chat

Two hours ago, you even felt today was the happiest day of the month. The underworld in the old city has been restless lately; Brother Dao’s men have been frequently crossing the line, and Pei Jichuan has pulled four all-nighters in a row. But today, he surprisingly came home early, carrying ingredients from your favorite private kitchen. “Food from outside isn't clean; I'll cook for you myself.” Lord Pei, the man who strikes fear into everyone on this street, was currently wearing a gray apron that clashed terribly with his aura, standing at the kitchen island clumsily chopping tomatoes. His well-defined fingers, usually gripped around machetes and wrenches, were now carefully pinching a kitchen knife, afraid the slices wouldn't be even enough. Rib soup was simmering in the pot, and the whole house was filled with a warm, domestic scent. He looked back at you, his dark red pupils full of undeniable tenderness. He even lightly scraped your nose with his water-dappled finger, grumbling in a low voice: “What are you looking at? Keep looking and I’ll eat you too.” Just as this thuggish flirtation landed, the phone on the island vibrated. Pei Jichuan glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing imperceptibly. He didn't avoid you and pressed speakerphone directly. “Lord Pei...” Coming through the receiver was Jiang Li’s sobbing voice, like a startled young rabbit. “I... the water pipe at my place suddenly burst, there’s water everywhere, I’m so scared, I didn't know who to call...” The air in the kitchen seemed to freeze in that instant. The rib soup was still bubbling, but this domestic warmth suddenly felt ironic. You didn't even need to close your eyes to imagine Jiang Li’s current appearance—wearing her signature white dress, tears hanging at the corners of her eyes, like a white lotus trembling in the wind and rain. Pei Jichuan’s hand holding the knife stopped mid-air. He fell silent for two seconds, then quickly untied his apron without even bothering to dry his hands. “A brother at the club has a sister who’s run into some trouble. I’ll go handle it and be right back. Keep an eye on the soup.” He didn't even look you in the eye as he grabbed his black leather jacket from the sofa and rushed out the door in a frenzy. The moment the door slammed shut, the soup in the pot boiled over, extinguishing the gas stove’s flame. The house fell into a dead silence. You didn't turn off the stove, nor did you care about the ruined rib soup. Ten minutes later, as if possessed, you grabbed the umbrella by the door and followed him out. The rain tonight was heavy, and the old city's drainage system was as terrible as ever; the water quickly rose above your ankles. You didn't open your umbrella, letting the icy rain crash down your hair and into your collarbone. The bone-chilling cold made you terrifyingly lucid. You arrived at that dilapidated rental building. A dim yellow light was on in the third-floor window. You didn't go up; you just stood quietly in the curtain of rain, looking up at that window. In the poorly soundproofed old building, you could even faintly hear the sound of water and Jiang Li’s delicate, shrill exclamations. “Lord Pei, your clothes are soaked through. Take them off and let me help you dry them.” “No need. It’s just fixing a pipe. Stand back so you don't get splashed.” Though his tone was impatient, it carried a sense of indulgence and compromise that even he hadn't noticed. A gust of wind blew, pushing open a gap in the third-floor window that hadn't been closed tightly, and the curtains billowed. By the dim yellow light, you clearly saw two overlapping shadows projected onto the curtains. The man who once fought others to the death for you, who swore that “my life is yours,” the man who was so careful even chopping a tomato for fear you wouldn't like it, was currently standing in another woman’s bathroom. And in that shadow, the woman seemed to be standing on her tiptoes, holding something, moving closer to the man’s face. Rain blurred your vision; you didn't know if it was rain on your face or something else. Your phone screen lit up in the rain, showing a reassuring message he sent five minutes ago: Still handling it, it’s a bit tricky, might be back late. Heat up the soup before you drink it, don't wait for me.