462: Chapter 462 May You Possess Meaningless Courage

The autumn night descended quickly.

By the time they left Beihai Park, the last glow of twilight on the horizon was about to be swallowed by the darkness.

Outside the park, the streetlights were already lighting up one by one.

Chen Jiahao rubbed his belly and let out a clear sigh.

"Master Que, we’ve been trekking through the park all day. My legs are about to get thin from walking. The stewed offal I had for lunch has long since been digested."

As he spoke, he pulled his collar up to block the cooling autumn wind.

"Speaking of which, why does the wind in the capital feel like a knife at night? We need to find a warm place."

"How about some copper pot mutton? It's warm and can ward off the cold."

Chen Jiahao's suggestion was immediately met with a response.

Xu Changge tidied his windbreaker cuffs that had been ruffled by the wind and added,

"If we're having copper pot mutton, I know a time-honored brand. The taste is quite authentic."

Chen Jiahao looked at him in surprise.

"Brother Xu, you, a young master who doesn't touch the mundane world, actually know which mutton place is good?"

Xu Changge's expression was calm, and his tone was gentle.

"Because I've only ever been to that one."

"..."

"..."

Half an hour later.

The four of them stood at the entrance of Jubaoyuan on Niujie Street.

Although it had just turned dark, the open space in front of the door was already crowded with diners waiting for tables.

Chen Jiahao looked at the long queue in front of them, feeling a bit worried.

"How long is this going to take? I feel like I could swallow a whole sheep right now."

The surrounding diners were talking in low voices, many with phones in their hands.

"Hey, did you hear? This morning at Beihai Park, a high school student wrote a poem on the spot and completely crushed the Renmin University Poetry Society."

"Whoa, composing poetry on the spot?"

"I heard about it. The short videos are going viral."

"I heard that kid is the champion of Fu Zhi Yao Competition."

Hearing the discussions around him, Chen Jiahao couldn't help but feel a bit proud.

But he didn't start showing off like he did in the park; after a long day, he didn't want to be stared at on the street.

Just then, a middle-aged man in a black suit and bowtie walked out,

holding a stack of documents, and turned to give some instructions to the greeter at the door.

He was holding a registration book and was about to arrange the next batch of customers when his gaze swept across the crowd and suddenly stopped on Xu Changge.

The middle-aged man tucked the documents under his arm and walked over quickly.

"Jingwen? It really is you."

With a smile on his face, he stepped forward and looked Xu Changge over carefully.

Chen Jiahao was stunned for a moment—Jingwen was Xu Changge's courtesy name; the elders and family friends of the Xu Family all called him that.

Xu Changge stood up and gave a polite greeting.

"Hello, Uncle Hu. I came here on a whim with my classmates today to have a meal and let them taste authentic capital-style copper pot mutton."

Manager Hu waved his hand, his expression very kind.

"Your father just ate here the day before yesterday and even mentioned you."

"Alright, there's no reason for you to wait in line at your Uncle Hu's place. If the old man finds out, he'll give me trouble again. Follow me; a private room just opened up inside."

Chen Jiahao quietly gave Xu Changge a thumbs-up from behind.

The prestige of a young master from a prominent family really worked well in the capital.

...

The private room was very warm, and the copper pot was soon brought in.

The dark red charcoal fire made a slight crackling sound at the bottom of the pot, and the clear soup bubbled around the chimney.

Large plates of mutton, sliced as thin as a cicada's wing, were laid out on the table, red and white, looking very fresh.

Chen Jiahao regained his energy as soon as he sat down.

He picked up a plate of hand-cut fresh mutton and was about to put it in the pot when the waiter next to him stopped him with a smile.

"Look first."

The waiter took the plate and flipped it steadily in the air.

The mutton on the plate clung tightly to the white porcelain, with no sign of slipping.

"Standing on the plate without falling—this is what authentic fresh mutton is like."

Chen Jiahao's eyes lit up, and he immediately turned to Xu Changge.

"Brother Xu, how do you mix the sesame sauce?"

Xu Changge reached for the seasoning bowl, his movements composed—a base of eighty-twenty sauce, leek flowers for freshness, and fermented bean curd to suppress any gaminess.

Chen Jiahao watched with shining eyes. Once Xu Changge finished mixing, he snatched the bowl and pushed it in front of Dan Yi.

"Brother Dan Yi, try this. Even though it's a bit out of place for someone from Guang City like me to eat copper pot mutton, the flavor Brother Xu mixed is definitely authentic."

Dan Yi was a bit flattered as he took the sauce bowl,

dipped a bit with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth, his eyes lighting up slightly.

The copper pot bubbled, and steam rose as the four of them focused on eating for a while.

The aroma of meat and the rich scent of sesame sauce filled the private room. Their hands and feet, which had been frozen through in the autumn wind, began to warm up.

Dan Yi sat on the innermost side, with a large glass of orange-yellow juice in front of him.

The temperature in the private room was high, and combined with the steam rising from the copper pot,

a faint flush appeared on his deeply contoured mixed-race face.

He held the glass, watching the small bubbles constantly rising inside. His expression was a bit awkward, but much more relaxed than it had been in the park during the day.

Chen Jiahao was sweating as he ate, and he naturally started talking.

"To be honest, the first time I read Great Master Jian Shen's 'ordinary world', I cried like a baby.

My dad pushed the door open in the middle of the night and saw a grown man like me crying like that. He thought I'd gone through a breakup from a puppy love."

He shook his head and laughed, tapping his chopsticks twice on the edge of the pot, lowering his voice.

"Until now, my dad still occasionally asks me about that 'girl' in a roundabout way."

Chen Jiahao spoke vividly, describing the scene at the time humorously.

Xu Changge couldn't help but laugh and put down his chopsticks.

This kind of unreserved honesty was something absolutely never seen in the social circles of the capital's prominent families.

Everyone there had to think three times before speaking, fearing they might reveal their hand.

Chen Jiahao's laughter echoed in the private room and gradually infected Dan Yi next to him.

Dan Yi lowered his head, a very slight curve appearing at the corners of his mouth.

That was the unknown number of times he had smiled today.

Chen Jiahao pressed on, tapping the edge of the pot with his chopsticks.

"Seriously, what's the reaction when your parents catch you reading at home? Brother Xu, your family should be encouraging, right?"

After he finished, his gaze naturally swept around.

Xu Changge nodded slightly but didn't speak.

Chen Jiahao didn't add anything else. Having learned his lesson by the lake during the day, he knew what to do.

Stop when you should stop, wait when you should wait—don't use enthusiasm to crash into a door that others haven't opened.

The curve at the corner of Dan Yi's mouth slowly faded.

He lowered his head, holding the warm glass with both hands.

There was a long silence.

The steam from the edge of the pot rose layer by layer, even making the backs of his hands feel hot, and his shoulders slowly relaxed.

Perhaps it was this warmth, or perhaps it was something accumulated throughout the day,

that finally found an outlet in a safe place.

Dan Yi suddenly spoke.

His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

"The year my mom left, I was seven."

The private room fell silent.

The copper pot bubbled with water, and the rising steam blurred his face.

"She was Russian. Before she left, she left me a photo with a line of Russian written on the back. I didn't understand it, so I went to ask my dad."

His thumb slowly rubbed the side of the glass.

"My dad flipped the photo over, looked at it for a long time, and then locked it in a drawer. He never mentioned it again after that."

"Later, I learned Russian myself and found out the meaning of that sentence."

Dan Yi looked up, the jumping firelight on the surface of the copper pot reflected in his grayish-blue pupils.

"‘You look more and more like me.’"

His voice was almost drowned out by the sound of the water in the pot.

"From then on, I started to hate this face."

"Every time I look in the mirror, all I see are the things she left behind but couldn't take away.

The high bridge of the nose is hers, the grayish-blue eyes are hers, even the curve of the eyelashes is hers."

"I hate that I have a face that constantly reminds me of being abandoned."

Dan Yi gave a self-mocking twitch of his mouth.

"I later realized that no matter how hard I try to fit into the crowd, what people see in the end is the difference on this face."

"The harder I try to squeeze into their mold, the more the protruding edges stand out."

These words had been suppressed in his heart for over a decade, and now they were finally spoken,

like a scabbed wound being forcibly torn open, revealing the bright red flesh inside.

The playful look on Chen Jiahao's face completely vanished.

He looked at this mixed-race youth, who was half a head taller than him, and felt a lump in his throat.

Xu Changge also remained silent, his fingers lightly rubbing the rim of his cup.

He knew the pain of being bound by rules; although the nature was different, the sense of suffocation was mutual.

Lin Que picked up his teacup and took a light sip.

Steam rose from the rim, blurring his face.

He put down the teacup, and the crisp clinking sound was very clear in the quiet room.

Lin Que looked at Dan Yi, his gaze calm.

"You say you hate this face."

His voice was steady.

"You've mistaken fitting in for a way to survive."

Dan Yi was stunned.

Lin Que looked into those grayish-blue eyes.

"You think you hate the bridge of your nose and your eyes."

"But what you really hate is that she left. She left the parts that most resemble her on your face, while she herself is gone."

Dan Yi's breathing suddenly became heavy.

"But have you ever thought that you are the only thing left in this world to prove she was ever here?"

"Your high nose bridge, your grayish-blue eyes, the curve of your eyelashes—they are all the last fingerprints she left in this world."

"If you hate them away, she will truly disappear."

Dan Yi's lips trembled violently.

"Move forward with the face she gave you."

"See the scenery she didn't have time to see for her."

He paused for a beat.

"'They' want you to fit in."

"If you insist on moving forward, don't worry about whether there's anyone waiting for you on the road ahead.

To hell with fitting in.

I wish you... meaningless courage."

These few words fell into the air like an invisible force, instantly splitting the heavy atmosphere in the private room.

Dan Yi's body trembled again.

Meaningless courage.

Even if this persistence is meaningless in the eyes of others,

even if you have to walk alone through the wind and snow, you must have the guts to keep your back straight.

Dan Yi stood frozen. The tears in his eyes finally didn't fall; he forced them back.

"Brother Dan Yi."

Chen Jiahao picked up his teacup and held it out to him.

Dan Yi He calmed his breathing.， Pick up the juice glass in front of you， It crashed into it heavily.。

"To our meaningless courage, cheers!"

Chen Jiahao shouted and brought his cup over as well.

Xu Changge smiled, picked up his cup, and stood up steadily.

The four cups clinked in mid-air, making a crisp sound.

The soup in the copper pot bubbled with fine white foam, and steam rose from the edge, covering the four faces in a thin mist.

No one was in a hurry to put down their cups.

Outside the private room, the October night wind of the capital was blowing north along the old alleys of Niujie Street.

It blew past the roasted sweet potato stall at the entrance of the hutong, past the people cycling home under the streetlights,

and all the way to the lake at Beihai Park, shattering the reflection of the White Pagoda and then piecing it back together.

The crane that flew out of that pavilion this morning had probably flown across the entire skyline of the capital by now.

And the four people standing under the pavilion had finally sat down in the same warmth on this autumn evening.

Some relationships are never brewed by time.

It's after blowing in the same wind, being warmed by the same hot soup, and being struck by the same poem,

that they grow together.

...