218: Chapter 218 Bachelor Party

Just past four in the afternoon, Li Xin headed out.

The manor's heavy iron gate slowly swung open, and he got into the grey Porsche, driving toward the city along the coastal highway.

Luo Maifa's private residence was on the top floor of a high-rise by the river.

The car turned into the underground garage, and Li Xin lifted his wrist to glance at his watch: 4:40 PM.

The elevator ascended rapidly, reaching the top floor in just over ten seconds.

The doors slid open; it was a single-elevator, single-unit floor, leading directly to Luo Maifa's front door.

Someone was talking inside—it sounded like Wang Hao, his voice bright and full of laughter.

Li Xin pushed the door open and entered. The entryway wasn't wide, and several pairs of shoes—leather shoes and sneakers—were already scattered haphazardly on the shoe rack. He changed into slippers and walked inside.

The living room was much more spacious than he had expected.

The entire floor-to-ceiling window faced the river, and the western sunset slanted in, bathing the floor in an orange-gold glow.

White boats drifted leisurely along the river, dragging long, slender ripples behind them.

The high-rises on the opposite bank stood clearly, their glass facades shining brilliantly.

In the center of the living room, several bottles of alcohol—both baijiu and Western spirits—were piled haphazardly on the coffee table.

Wang Hao and Zhang Ming were sitting to one side, and he had connected his phone to a Bluetooth speaker, from which old 90s Cantonese songs were drifting out.

Li Xin couldn't name the songs, but the tunes sounded familiar.

Hearing the door open, Wang Hao immediately turned his head to look.

"Brother Xin is here! Come on over, we were just talking about you."

"Talking about what?"

"About that gold coin you traded at the track last time." Wang Hao leaned forward and put his phone down.

"I heard from Luo Maifa that you traded a Mughal gold coin for a silver medal? Why can't I ever run into a good deal like that?"

"That's because you didn't bring anything to trade."

Li Xin sat on an empty sofa, casually picked up a beer from the coffee table, pried it open, and took a sip; it was icy cold and slightly bitter.

"Bring something next time, and you'll be able to trade just the same."

"I did bring something—a silver coin from the tenth year of the Republic, in good condition." Wang Hao spread his hands. "But they didn't want it. Said the condition was fine, but silver coins aren't rare, so it wasn't interesting."

"Then why are you blaming them?"

Wang Hao shook his head with a smile, didn't argue further, and picked up his phone to change the song.

Luo Maifa poked half his body out from the kitchen, holding a handful of bamboo skewers for grilling, an apron tied loosely around his waist.

"Brother Xin, you're here! Perfect, come help me move the grill to the terrace; we're grilling outdoors today."

Li Xin stood up and walked slowly to the kitchen.

The kitchen was very spacious, with an island in the center covered in fresh ingredients.

Two plates of thick-cut Wagyu beef were set out, the meat's texture fine and dense, with incredibly even marbling.

Beside it, oysters were soaking in a stainless steel basin, their shells damp, emitting a faint, briny scent of the sea.

The terrace door was open, and a dark-colored grill was set up outside.

The charcoal had been set up in advance, and a bag of unopened fruitwood charcoal was placed to the side.

The two men moved the grill to the center of the terrace. A river breeze blew over, carrying moisture and a hint of chill.

The clouds on the horizon were orange-red, with a layer of pale golden light underneath; the sun hadn't completely set yet.

"Qiang Zi and Yang Hong aren't here yet?" Li Xin asked.

"They said they're still on the way, almost here." Luo Maifa bent over to check the charcoal, squatting there to arrange a few pieces of fruitwood charcoal.

"Xiao Pang is in the kitchen chopping vegetables, saying he wants to show off his newly learned Sichuan-style boiled fish tonight."

Someone shouted from the living room. Luo Maifa stood up, wiped his hands, answered, and walked back.

Li Xin sat on a terrace chair for a while, watching the boats on the river. The light of the setting sun shone on the water, creating a fragmented shimmer; as boats passed through, the light scattered for a moment before closing back together.

In the distance, there were cargo ships, their black hulls low and deep in the water; the sound of their engines was far away, leaving only a faint, humming echo.

Qiang Zi and Yang Hong arrived one after the other. When Qiang Zi entered, he was carrying two bottles of alcohol; the glass bottles glinted with an amber light under the lamps—they were that old-fashioned flat-bottle style, looking like they had some age on them.

Yang Hong followed behind, wearing a white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, revealing sturdy forearms. His hair seemed freshly cut, looking much sharper than the last time they met.

"They're here, they're here, hurry to the table."

Luo Maifa brought out a large platter of grilled beef slices from the kitchen, the sauce dripping down the edge of the plate and leaving brown stains on the tabletop.

A long table had already been set up next to the grill, covered with a dark tablecloth. Bowls, chopsticks, and glasses were laid out—all casual, with no special fanfare.

The six of them sat around the table. The grill's charcoal made their faces feel a bit hot, but then the night breeze would blow and cool them down—it alternated back and forth.

Li Xin picked up a slice of Wagyu, dipped it in sauce, chewed twice, and swallowed. The beef was tender, with a thin, charred crust from the charcoal fire; as the fat melted, it spread across his tongue without feeling greasy.

"The meat is good," he remarked.

"Of course," Luo Maifa said, picking up a piece himself.

"I specifically got it from a Wagyu supplier; you can't buy this grade on the market. Eat more; you look like you've lost some weight."

As they chatted, the conversation opened up. From the ratio of the sauce for the skewers to the knife work for Xiao Pang's boiled fish—when Xiao Pang brought the pot out from the kitchen, a layer of red chili oil floated on the surface, and the sliced fish was submerged in the soup, hiding the ingredients beneath. Wang Hao made space for him.

The fish slices were thin and curled slightly when picked up with chopsticks; they were tender and smooth, spicy enough to make his forehead break out in sweat.

Afterward, Wang Hao opened the two bottles of alcohol Qiang Zi had brought—twenty-year-old Moutai, the seal on the bottle mouth already a bit brittle.

He carefully unscrewed it, and as the liquid poured into the glass, it smelled of that mellow, aged fragrance—not harsh at all. Everyone got a small glass.

Wang Hao lifted his glass but didn't drink immediately, sighing.

"This alcohol was at the bottom of my dad's stash; I stole it. He's got at least two more bottles hidden away."

Luo Maifa, flipping chicken wings on the grill, chimed in, "If your dad finds out, he'll break your legs."

"That's why I have to finish it, hide the bottle, and pretend it never happened." Wang Hao finished it in one gulp, set the glass down, and everyone laughed.

The dishes were mostly ready, and as they sat around the table, the conversation naturally turned to the past. Wang Hao started it off, talking about when they were in middle school and climbed over the school's back wall.

The wall was over three meters high, with moss growing in the brick crevices, making it hard to find footholds. He was the first to jump down and landed on his butt; the ground happened to be wet mud, and when he got up, there was a complete two-cheek print on his pants.

"You guys don't know, the mud was still soft. When I got up, I felt a chill at the top of my legs, and when I touched it, my hand was covered in mud." Wang Hao popped a piece of fish into his mouth.

"The next day, it spread through the whole school that someone had fallen into a mud pit from the back wall the night before. The principal even talked about it at the morning assembly, saying we needed to pay attention to campus safety. I was sitting there with my head down, almost breaking into a sweat."

Luo Maifa took over, saying he had actually gone that time too, but he didn't climb the wall; he walked right through the main gate, bold as brass.

"That day, I lied to my mom, saying I was going to a classmate's house to do homework. Who knew she had already talked to the old gatekeeper, telling him to let me into the school to get something."

"I just got to the school gate, and the gatekeeper asked whose kid I was. I just went along with it, said I was there to pick up a notebook, and that's how I snuck in."

"Then how come you didn't get caught?"

"Because I actually did bring a notebook out." Luo Maifa looked nonchalant.

"I ran to the classroom to get the notebook first, then snuck to the basketball court."

"Later, the gatekeeper chatted with my mom, saying I was sensible and didn't forget to get my homework even when returning to school. After my mom heard that, she even specifically praised me."

The table erupted in laughter. Zhang Ming was peeling shrimp on the side, his hands never stopping, his lips curling up.

"I was the honest one back then. While you guys were climbing walls, I was still in the classroom doing makeup lessons; my dad watched me like a hawk."

"You call that honest?" Wang Hao put down his chopsticks to look at him.

"In your second year of middle school, you stole an alcohol lamp from the chemistry lab to roast sweet potatoes. The dean of students investigated for a month and couldn't figure out who did it; the whole school was guessing who the 'arsonist' was."

"Using an alcohol lamp to roast sweet potatoes is called a physics experiment, not arson," Zhang Ming said, his face unchanging.

"Besides, I returned the alcohol lamp afterward—I washed it clean. Of course the dean couldn't find it, because he was investigating the ignition source, not knowing the source had already been flushed down the toilet by me."

Qiang Zi drank silently, clinking glasses every time, his face gradually turning red. Yang Hong clinked glasses with him, and the two began talking about work.

Qiang Zi reminisced about how, in his early job-seeking years, he was rejected due to his lack of a degree, so he followed a fellow villager to do freight transport, and later started his own business.

"It was truly hard back then," Qiang Zi said, poking at the fish slices in his bowl with his chopsticks. "But looking back now, it's nothing. I survived every stage."

His tone was flat as he said this, without any sense of lament, just a statement of fact.

Li Xin didn't say much the whole time, sitting in an inner position, his chopsticks barely stopping, occasionally lifting his glass for a sip, but mostly listening.

When someone asked about his past, he answered briefly, not elaborating. He mentioned the orphanage a few times, but glossed over it, not going into depth.

When they were mostly done eating, Wang Hao moved the Bluetooth speaker to the terrace, changed the playlist, and turned up the volume. He was still playing old songs, from Beyond to Wakin Chau to Jacky Cheung, one after another.

Luo Maifa was the first to sing along; his pitch wasn't very steady, but he sang with effort, getting every lyric right. Wang Hao joined in, and the two of them went back and forth; when they reached the chorus, Zhang Ming joined too, and the three of them huddled together, their off-key singing harmonizing perfectly.

Li Xin didn't sing along, but sat there listening, occasionally nodding his head to the beat. The night breeze blew on the terrace, the residual heat of the charcoal hadn't dissipated yet, and the grease on the grill dripped onto the coals, sizzling; greyish-white smoke rose up, only to be blown away by the wind.

Just before eight in the evening, the front door clicked. Su Wan walked in, wearing an off-white dress; her hair wasn't pinned up but draped over her shoulders, and she was carrying a paper bag.

When she changed her shoes at the door, Luo Maifa had already heard the commotion and walked over from the terrace.

"Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to rest at home?"

"I'll only stay a moment." Su Wan smiled, placing the paper bag on the entryway cabinet. "The samples for the wedding favors arrived, so I brought them over for you all to see. They're for tomorrow's wedding."

Luo Maifa took the paper bag and opened it to look. Inside were two small velvet boxes; one contained a pearl bracelet—the beads weren't large, but they glowed with a warm, gentle luster, looking like natural seawater pearls.

In the other box was a fountain pen with a dark barrel and a refined feel. "Just this?"

"Yes, two items per set, packaged in a dark blue velvet bag, tied with a gold sealing cord." Su Wan walked into the living room, saw the people on the terrace, and waved to everyone.

"You all continue; I won't disturb you."

Wang Hao poked his head in from the terrace. "Sister-in-law is here? Come on in and sit for a while."

"No, I have to get up early tomorrow." Su Wan stood in the center of the living room, her gaze sweeping around, pausing on Li Xin before moving away.

"Take a look at the wedding favors; if there are any issues, we can still adjust them tomorrow morning."

Luo Maifa put the paper bag away, walked to her side, and whispered a couple of sentences—it was inaudible. Su Wan nodded, then turned to walk toward the door, looked back toward the terrace, said "See you tomorrow," and left.

After the door closed, the living room was quiet for two seconds before Wang Hao spoke first. "Sister-in-law really has great class; you're a lucky man, Old Luo."

Luo Maifa didn't respond, walked back to the terrace, sat down, and took a sip of beer; his face was a bit red, perhaps from the alcohol, or perhaps for another reason.

After nine, Wang Hao went inside to browse the playlist, searched for a love song from the early 2000s, and played it. As soon as the tune started, Zhang Ming immediately recognized it, and once the melody began, everyone knew how to hum along.

Luo Maifa forgot the lyrics halfway through, holding his phone and staring at the screen to find them on the spot. Xiao Pang was off-key the whole time he sang, but he was very invested.

Li Xin stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace, leaning on the railing to watch the river for a while. The river water was dark at night, its color indistinguishable; only the light of the streetlamps stretched into long, swaying reflections on the water's surface.

The buildings on the opposite bank had their window lights on, row upon row, neat and orderly.

Zhang Ming walked over with a glass of alcohol, stood beside him, and was silent for a while before speaking. "I heard you traveled to quite a few places this time?"

"Not bad, just went around a bit."

"How was India?"

Li Xin didn't answer immediately. The river breeze blew over, flipping the hem of his shirt, and he pressed it down with his hand.

"It was quite hot, and I wasn't really used to the food, but some places were truly interesting to see."

"I heard the stone carvings in the temples there are very detailed."

"Yes, especially those old temples in the south; the walls are covered in reliefs, layer upon layer—you could look at them for a long time."

Zhang Ming nodded and didn't press further. He finished the last sip of alcohol in his glass, held the glass in his hand, and turned it.

"I went to Italy last year and saw some ancient Roman ruins; it was quite breathtaking. It's different from India, but you can feel that sense of 'layered time' in both."

"Yes, that's exactly the feeling," Li Xin said.

The two stood by the edge of the terrace for a while longer, not saying anything more.

Afterward, they chatted about other things for a while. Qiang Zi told a story about something he encountered while doing freight transport, saying that once, on a highway in the Northwest, he ran into a sandstorm. The truck was parked on the emergency lane for over two hours, the windows beaten white by the sand—he couldn't see anything.

Wang Hao chimed in, saying he had encountered a similar situation while on a business trip in Gansu, and on the way back, a layer of fine sand had blown into the truck's cargo hold.

Zhang Ming and Luo Maifa clinked glasses again; the sound of the collision rang out crisply in the night. Xiao Pang sat by the grill, using a bamboo skewer to poke the charcoal; the coals had mostly burned out, leaving only greyish-white embers.

Close to eleven, people started cleaning up. Li Xin put his glass in the kitchen sink and rinsed it off.

Luo Maifa took a notebook out from the house, flipped to the last page; the process for the wedding day was handwritten on it, dense and packed, the handwriting a bit sloppy.

"Tomorrow, the bride pickup is at six; you guys arrive at the manor at 5:30 to gather, and the motorcade leaves on time at seven."

He handed the notebook to Li Xin to take a look, then took it back. "Qiang Zi, you're the emcee for the second car, responsible for motorcade communication. Wang Hao, you lead the third car, Zhang Ming the fourth, Xiao Pang the fifth. Yang Hong, you follow the lead car; if flowers are lost, pass them up promptly."

"Got it," the others replied.

Luo Maifa closed the notebook, stuffed it into his pants pocket, paused for a moment, and said, "Alright, that's it for today. Get to sleep early tomorrow; don't stay up too late."

The others started walking out. Li Xin walked last; as he passed the doorway, Luo Maifa patted him on the shoulder at the entryway. "Was today alright?"

"It was good."

"See you tomorrow then."

Li Xin left, the elevator descended, the underground garage was quiet, and the car lights flashed once before turning off. He sat in the car, started the engine, and the air conditioner blew, cool and refreshing.

When driving out of the garage, he stopped at the exit, seeing Qiang Zi's car ahead waiting at the traffic light, its taillights glowing red.

It was almost midnight when he returned to the manor. He went upstairs, took out the champagne-colored suit and hung it up, placed the tie on the hanger beside it, and set the leather shoes at the foot of the bed.

He took a look, checked the cufflinks again—two pearl ones, glowing softly under the bedside lamp. Then he took a shower; when he lay down, it was very quiet outside the curtains, with no sound from the sea, only the faint waves in the distance, one after another, like breathing.

He turned over and fell asleep.