Sure enough, the food stall had a steady stream of customers all night. Zhou Ya stayed by the kitchen stove the whole time, sweat beading on his forehead from the flames.

He finally just took off his t-shirt, bare-chested, with only a white towel slung over his shoulder.

With this many people, he didn’t want to be out front — if he had to shout all night, his throat wouldn’t hold up.

But tonight there were a lot of regulars, so he still had to go out and socialize occasionally.

After stir-frying a plate of clams, he brought it out to a customer, who grabbed hold of him and insisted he have a drink.

Zhou Ya couldn’t refuse, so he took a sip along with them.

Other customers saw and wanted him to drink too. Zhang Xiuqin came over just in time to shield him, smiling brightly: “You all know A’ya’s throat isn’t good, he can’t drink too much — let me toast you all on his behalf.”

The customers teased her, waggling their eyebrows: “Ooh, Sister Xiuqin, what status are you toasting us with?”

“With the status of A’ya’s longtime employee!”

“Oh, that’s right — Xiuqin, back in the day you were still a pretty young thing, already selling drinks here at A’ya’s place!” One male customer, having drunk too much, his face flushed red, reached out to try to pull Zhang Xiuqin close. “Remember? Back when you worked as a beer promo girl, all you had to do was ask and I’d order case after case of Duoduo beer!”

“So we should all be thanking you gentlemen for remembering A’ya all these years.”

Zhou Ya stepped forward, blocking Zhang Xiuqin, his voice hoarse: “I’ll toast you all with this one.”

The regulars all knew Zhou Ya’s personality and temper, so they didn’t push it too far — they had a couple of token drinks and let him off the hook.

Zhou Ya collected a few cigarettes the customers had offered him and handed them off to A’Feng and the other staff, keeping just one for himself, walking out of the stall with it between his lips.

Zhang Xiuqin followed him out, slowly falling into step beside him, her voice turning soft: “Thanks for earlier…”

Zhou Ya shook his head, signaling she didn’t need to say more.

But Zhang Xiuqin had so much she wanted to tell Zhou Ya.

Back when she’d worked as a beer promoter at the stall, she’d endured plenty of harassment from customers, and many times it was Zhou Ya who’d stepped in to help her out — he’d later even invited her to work the front of house at the stall.

That she had feelings for Zhou Ya was something plenty of people at the stall had noticed, but back then Zhou Ya had a girlfriend.

And besides… she was three years older than him, so she’d never worked up the courage to express her feelings.

Now that Zhou Ya had been single for a long while, she wanted to take the initiative, to take a step forward.

“Zhou Ya, actually I—”

The moment Zhang Xiuqin started to speak, Zhou Ya raised a hand to stop her: “Sorry, whatever it is, let’s talk later.”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before his legs were already carrying him away.

Zhou Ya thought at first his eyes were playing tricks on him, until he was standing right in front of Fang Long and confirmed it was real.

His brow furrowed tight, and he asked bluntly: “What happened this time?”

It wasn’t unreasonable of him to think that — this little troublemaker never showed up without some kind of issue.

Fang Long herself didn’t really know how she’d ended up walking to the food stall.

After work she’d wandered the town aimlessly. Whenever she spotted a help-wanted notice pasted on a lamppost, she’d stop to check if there was anything suitable for her.

Lamppost by lamppost, she’d made her way along, and by the time she came back to herself, she was already standing across from the stall.

A whole stomach’s worth of hunger had been drawn out by the fragrant smell wafting over.

—Tonight she’d only managed to grab a bit of bread; by now her stomach was practically caving in.

“Nothing’s wrong, just… hungry.”

Fang Long rubbed her stomach, her voice turning sweet the way it did when she wanted something from someone. “Big Boss Zhou, buy me dinner.”

Zhou Ya stared into her eyes.

He knew Fang Long must have run into some kind of trouble, but if she didn’t want to talk about it, he couldn’t force her.

After a moment, Zhou Ya sighed and tilted his chin toward the side: “Wait over there.”

Every table inside and outside the stall was full. Zhou Ya was pointing to a small open spot at the mouth of the alley under the arcade. Fang Long said “Okay” and walked over.

Zhou Ya turned back inside to the storage room to find a table.

A’Feng spotted Fang Long right away and scurried over: “Whoa, what’s the special occasion tonight? A fairy descending upon our humble stall!”

Fang Long laughed, playing along with nonsense: “That’s right, that’s right, so hurry up and bring out the good wine and good food, won’t you?”

“No problem! I’ll go steal your brother’s secret stash of Moutai!” A’Feng glanced around, then asked, “Hey, you here alone? Your little pretty boy… your handsome boyfriend not with you tonight?”

Fang Long had brought a boyfriend to the stall before; A’Feng thought the guy looked like exactly the type who’d be content living off a woman.

Zhou Ya, carrying a folding table with one hand, arrived just in time to catch A’Feng’s question.

“Move, move.” A cigarette still clenched between his lips, his words came out slurred. “Customers over there want to add dishes, go check on them.”

A’Feng hadn’t finished chatting with Fang Long yet, clearly reluctant: “Haven’t even taken little sis’s order yet.”

Zhou Ya frowned slightly, shot him a glare: “I’ve got it, go do your job.”

Once A’Feng left, Zhou Ya had already set up the table for Fang Long: “What do you want to eat?”

Fang Long pulled over a plastic stool: “Whatever, as long as it fills me up.”

Zhou Ya pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped the tabletop quickly: “Plenty of stuff’ll fill you up. Give you two big steamed buns, you’d be full too.”

“Then I’ll go around telling everyone this place is a total ripoff, bullying customers because you can.” Fang Long looked at him with some disdain. “That towel’s been wiping your sweat, hasn’t it? Why are you using it to wipe the table?”

“Bullshit, this towel’s clean.” Zhou Ya lied through his teeth.

“I don’t believe you.”

Fang Long, quick-handed, snatched it from him and brought it to her nose for a sniff.

The smell of cooking oil and smoke was strong. Fang Long’s face scrunched up like a bitter melon; she stuck her tongue out, pretending to gag. “Ugh — it’s all your stink of sweat!”

Zhou Ya grabbed the towel back, twisting it into a rope as if to whip her with it: “Fang Long, do you just feel restless if you’re not getting whipped? Huh? You looking to fight?”

Fang Long showed her usual ability to bend with the wind, laughing brightly: “Hurry up and get me my big steamed buns, Boss Zhou.”

Her laughter rang out like bells, but the laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Zhou Ya pressed his tongue against the cigarette in his mouth, tossed out a “wait here like a good girl,” and turned back into the stall.

Fang Long let the exaggerated smile drop from her lips.

She knew everyone working at the stall; each of them stopped by to chat with her, all asking why she’d come alone tonight.

Fang Long thought about it, then simply answered: “Not really alone — isn’t my brother right here?”

Meanwhile, A’Feng was scooping up the last roe-filled crab, about to weigh it.

Zhou Ya walked over and asked, “Which table wants the crab?”

“Table eighteen, the one that just asked to add a dish.”

“Ah, go apologize to them, say we’re out, ask if they want something else instead.”

A’Feng didn’t understand his boss’s move, pointing at the crab: “Isn’t there still one left?”

Zhou Ya reached out directly, pinching the straw twine tied around the crab, and said flatly: “This one’s already spoken for.”

Fang Long might have had a small frame, but her appetite was substantial.

She also had this one quirk — no matter how much food you served her, she’d finish every last bit, not wasting a single scrap.

The consequence, though, was that she’d need stomach medicine for a few days afterward.

So Zhou Ya never dared to make her portions too large.

Stir-fried mud crab with ginger and scallion, silverfish golden egg, winter melon duck soup, kai-lan with rice noodle sheets — aside from the crab, every other dish was made at half portion.

“Don’t force it all down. Leave what’s left over.”

Zhou Ya reminded her while setting down the last dish. “Eat slow. Drink some soup first. You’re starving, if you eat too fast now, tomorrow you’ll suffer for it.”

Once he’d finished and was about to head back to the kitchen, Fang Long suddenly called out to him: “Zhou Ya.”

Zhou Ya paused mid-step, turned back.

She wasn’t looking at him, picking up the soup spoon to ladle some soup, her voice very quiet: “I got fired from the supermarket.”

The furrow in his brow instantly loosened, and Zhou Ya felt a knot in his chest quietly settle too.

He asked: “Oh? What reason?”

“The boss found out I ended up at the police station last night.” Fang Long had gone hungry all evening and had been walking a long time in the cold night; her hands and feet were freezing, her voice trembling faintly as she spoke. “Also found out I used to steal things when I was a kid.”

Zhou Ya said nothing.

From his angle, he could see the small cowlick on top of Fang Long’s head, her long upturned lashes, and her pale fingertips, but he couldn’t see the emotion in her eyes.

He rubbed his brow with a bent finger, hooked a plastic stool over with his foot, and sat down across from Fang Long.

“A job’s gone, it’s gone. This place doesn’t work out, there’s always another.” Zhou Ya reached out and took the spoon and bowl from Fang Long’s hands, not pressing her further. “The family’s not counting on you to support us either. If you’re ever short on money, just tell your aunt.”

Fang Long glanced up at him, giving him a look: “How could I possibly ask Auntie for money? What my mom borrowed from Auntie and Uncle back then — I’ll never be able to pay that off in this lifetime.”

“That’s just you being stubborn, insisting on shouldering that debt yourself.” Zhou Ya set the ladled soup back in front of her. “As long as you eat well and sleep well, that’s enough to put my mom’s mind at ease.”

The first sip of soup warmed her tongue. The second warmed her chest.

After one small bowl of soup, Fang Long felt like her whole body was wrapped in a warm breeze; the steam clung to the tip of her nose, soothing her comfortably.

She’d regained a bit of energy, enough to snap back: “And who was it that acted like a little cop before, going on about ‘debts must be repaid,’ and dragged me store to store to apologize and pay everyone back?”

“That’s not the same thing. Those debts of yours, if you don’t clear them, they’ll weigh on you your whole life.”

Zhou Ya’s voice was a bit rough; he cleared his throat and continued, “But that money my parents are owed — your parents owed it, not you. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“…Tch, you really do talk like some world-weary old man.”

“…” Zhou Ya shot her a sideways glance. “And you’re really a hard nut to crack.”

Fang Long burst out laughing, finally showing her first genuinely sincere smile of the night.

She picked up a piece of crab leg meat, sucking on it, chewing with smacking lips: “Go on, get back to work, don’t worry about me, I’ll eat on my own.”

Zhou Ya sat sideways, leaning his back against the wall pillar, one leg bent, foot propped on the edge of the chair: “Been busy all evening, taking a break.”

“Then eat some with me?”

“Not hungry, you eat.”

“Oh—”

Zhou Ya didn’t need to ask her if it “tasted good” or anything like that.

He already knew it would.

After a while, a customer at the next table shouted excitedly: “Everyone, one minute to midnight! Countdown time!”

Zhou Ya and Fang Long both glanced at their watches without meaning to.

It really was almost midnight.

But neither of them was the type for much ceremony — whether they hung stockings for Christmas or counted down for New Year’s made no real difference to either of them.

The customers at the other tables were catching the festive mood too, gradually joining the countdown: “40! 39! 38… 25! 24…”

Zhou Ya waved A’Feng over, said a few words to him. A’Feng’s eyes lit up, and he nodded, flashing an “OK” gesture.

Fang Long finished her second bowl of soup right as the countdown went on.

When the countdown ended, everyone raised their glasses, calling out “Happy New Year” to one another.

That’s when A’Feng grabbed two empty basins and banged them together like gongs: “Boss A’ya says every table gets an extra half-dozen beers on the house! Happy New Year, everyone!!”

In an instant, the whole stall erupted with cheers; customers stood up one after another, raising their glasses in Zhou Ya’s direction to thank him.

Zhou Ya didn’t want to say much, just nodded at them one by one, responding without a word.

Turning back, he saw Fang Long grinning slyly, looking just like a little fox.

Fang Long asked: “Half a dozen per table? Does that include everyone here? I want mine too.”

Zhou Ya set his leg down, stood up, and gave a short laugh: “Dream on. I’ll give you a fart instead, you want that?”

Fang Long found the line oddly familiar; it took her a few seconds to realize — that was the exact thing she’d cursed at the police station last night!

She bared her teeth, turning fierce: “Thanks! Keep something that precious for yourself!”

Then she lowered her head and went back to battling the crab.

Zhou Ya slowly curled the corner of his mouth, his eyes looking as if dusted with snow — rare softness in them.

He earnestly called out her name: “Fang Long.”

“What?”

Fang Long didn’t even look up.

A moment later, she heard him say: “Happy New Year.”