Stolen Jade | Chapter 28 | The Taste of Chaos | Novela.app

Chapter 28 - The Taste of Chaos When Pei Cangyu returned to the convenience store to swap shifts, he found that Shouzi—the "Skinny" one—had actually arrived on time for once. More surprisingly, the man didn't reek of alcohol. Shouzi stepped through the door, his eyes fixed on Pei Cangyu with an unreadable intensity. Without a word, he grabbed a bottle of Cola from the cooler, twisted it open, and sauntered over. Pei Cangyu barely spared him a glance as he continued packing his belongings. "I’ve logged that bottle under your name," he muttered. Shouzi let out a noncommittal grunt, tilting his head back to drain the soda while he waited for Pei Cangyu to finish. He was exceptionally tall and gaunt, his spindly limbs making him look like a literal matchstick man. Even in the height of summer, the sharp bones of his elbows protruded through his short sleeves. His prominent Adam's apple bobbed rhythmically in his thin neck as he gulped the drink, his eyes never quite leaving Pei Cangyu. By the time Pei Cangyu was ready to leave, Shouzi had finished his drink, letting out a series of loud, carbonated burps. As they crossed paths to trade places behind the counter, Shouzi’s foot slipped. He stumbled, nearly losing his balance, and Pei Cangyu instinctively reached out to steady him by the arm. The contact was brief. They both pulled away immediately, acting as if nothing had happened, and began walking in opposite directions. Just as Pei Cangyu reached for the door, Shouzi called out to him. Pei Cangyu paused and turned back. "What did Brother Tang want with you today?" Shouzi asked. He was busy changing into his work vest, his head down, feigning a casual indifference that didn't quite reach his voice. Pei Cangyu shrugged. "He didn't say." "Oh." Shouzi tightened the cap on his empty bottle. Pei Cangyu waited a beat, and seeing that the conversation had seemingly reached a dead end, he gave a dismissive wave. "I'm off, then." "Pei Cangyu." It was rare to hear Shouzi use his full name. Pei Cangyu turned back again, his patience beginning to fray. "Just... watch your back," Shouzi said. Pei Cangyu studied him for a moment, trying to discern the intent behind the words. He realized it wasn't a threat, but a genuine, if awkward, warning. He gave a sharp nod and pushed through the door into the cool night air. When he arrived back at the villa, Bai Shi was nowhere to be found. Pei Cangyu hesitated, staring at his phone. He knew that if he called, he would hear that smooth, pleasant tone in Bai Shi’s voice. Lately, Bai Shi seemed genuinely happy—a happiness that didn't feel manufactured. This gave Pei Cangyu a new perspective on the concept of "putting on an act." He wondered if Bai Shi was secretly gloating, amused by how easily a simple confession had left Pei Cangyu stumbling and confused. Ultimately, he decided against calling. He headed upstairs and retreated into the private screening room, flipping through the channels. He settled on a news station, figuring he should keep up with current events in case they appeared on his upcoming exams. He lay flat on the polished wooden floor, the cool surface grounding him as the anchor’s voice filled the room. His thoughts, however, kept drifting back to Bai Shi. *Bai Shi wasn't like this when we were kids,* he thought, rolling onto his side and cushioning his head with his arm. *He’s so pretentious now.* Was being "out" really that complicated? Had the chaotic world of high society twisted the once-somber but straightforward boy into this calculated stranger? Bai Shi had always been a bit gloomy, but he had never been a bad person at heart. He used to be so honest. Now... Pei Cangyu let out a heavy, paternal sigh. "Correct." A familiar voice from the television snapped Pei Cangyu out of his reverie. He sat up abruptly, his eyes locking onto the screen. It was an interview with Bai Shi. On screen, Bai Shi wore a pair of elegant silver-rimmed glasses, his hair styled back with meticulous precision. Pei Cangyu couldn't help but make a shallow comparison; though both wore their hair slicked back, Bai Shi looked worlds apart from the thuggish Gao Tang. It really did come down to the face. The camera zoomed in for a close-up. Bai Shi’s profile was as sharp and refined as polished marble. A gentle, practiced smile played on his pale lips. As his glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his straight nose, he reached up to push them back into place. The sight of the prominent veins and tendons on the back of Bai Shi’s hand sent a sudden jolt through Pei Cangyu, reminding him of the weight of those same hands on his own body. His face flushed crimson. Someone off-camera called his name, and Bai Shi turned toward the lens, his gaze piercing and direct. "Yes, taking over Yaoguang Media certainly comes with significant pressure," Bai Shi said, his tone calm and measured. "However, operations are currently stable, and we have no immediate plans for an IPO." The reporter followed up: "So the rumors regarding APX’s capital injection were also false?" Bai Shi looked at her—not at the camera, but at the reporter—and offered a small, knowing smile. "Correct." After that, no matter how much the reporters clamored for more, he didn't look back at the camera again. Bai Shi patiently fielded questions for nearly twenty minutes before handing the floor over to Peng Zhu. Only then did it occur to the viewers that he was the high-ranking executive who only needed to make a brief appearance for the sake of protocol. Pei Cangyu watched until the very end. Though he didn't fully grasp the business jargon, he was struck by Bai Shi’s poise. He remained polite and smiling throughout, even when the questions turned to the sensitive topic of Bai Yinhua’s death. He handled it with the perfect blend of mourning and corporate responsibility. It was, in a word, impenetrable. Just as the broadcast showed Bai Shi leaving the press conference, Pei Cangyu’s phone rang. It was him. "Are you home?" Bai Shi asked, the background noise of the event still audible. "Yeah." "Good. I'm on my way back." "Bai Shi." "Hmm?" "Do you want to get some late-night snacks?" "Are you hungry? I'll find a—" "Let's just eat on the street," Pei Cangyu interrupted, lying back down on the floor. "That place where we used to get soup dumplings. Do you remember? The one near the old school. You used to say we’d catch some terminal disease just by looking at the stall, haha..." He laughed, remembering Bai Shi’s elitist disdain for street food. "I wonder if it's even still there." There was a brief silence on the other end. Pei Cangyu could hear the steady rhythm of Bai Shi’s breathing. Finally, Bai Shi spoke. "It's still there. I'll come pick you up." Pei Cangyu waited by the main gate, expecting one of the luxury cars from Bai Shi’s collection. He was trying to guess which model it would be today when the roar of a modified HP4 engine shattered the silence. The bike thundered from the distance and screeched to a halt right in front of him, the resulting gust of wind tossing Pei Cangyu’s hair into a mess. Pei Cangyu silently smoothed his hair as Bai Shi planted a long leg on the ground, sat upright, and pulled off his helmet. A stray tuft of hair poked out from the side of his head as he handed his helmet to Pei Cangyu. Pei Cangyu didn't take it. "Is this thing even street-legal?" Bai Shi smirked. "Probably." "Give me a new one." Pei Cangyu pointed to the spare helmet hanging from the bike. He wasn't about to wear one that was still warm from Bai Shi’s head. Bai Shi chuckled and handed him the spare—a vibrant, garish purple. Pei Cangyu took it, immediately regretting not taking the blue one Bai Shi had been wearing. He pulled the helmet on and climbed onto the elevated pillion seat. He sat bolt upright, looking down at Bai Shi. When Bai Shi gestured toward his own waist, Pei Cangyu gave a stubborn shake of his heavy, helmeted head. Bai Shi glanced back at him, said nothing, and simply smiled before pulling his own helmet back on. Then, before Pei Cangyu could even process what was happening, the bastard gunned the engine. Without a single word of warning, the bike surged forward. The sudden acceleration nearly threw Pei Cangyu off the back. His reflexes saved him; he lunged forward, grabbing a handful of Bai Shi’s jacket before instinctively wrapping his arms tightly around the man’s waist. As he caught his breath, Pei Cangyu realized he’d fallen right into the trap. He was doing exactly what Bai Shi wanted. If he hadn't reacted so quickly, he’d be eating hospital porridge through a straw right now. *This kid is too much,* he thought. In retaliation, he gave Bai Shi’s waist a sharp pinch. He felt Bai Shi chuckle beneath his hands, but the man didn't say a word. They parked in a lot near the long promenade and began walking along the riverbank. The fog had lifted, but the air remained biting. This didn't deter the local "aunties" gathered in the plaza for their nightly dance routine. Lately, their music of choice was a series of high-energy Linkin Park remixes—the kind of driving rhythm that appealed to their generation's sense of "keeping the most beautiful clouds in the sky." Years ago, the plaza dance playlists were synced with the Billboard charts, but the recent shift toward trap music clearly hadn't sat well with the aunties. They didn't care about being "cool"; they stuck to the classics. Pei Cangyu loved the classics. Watching them brought a genuine smile to his face. As he walked, he watched the dancers with amusement. Bai Shi looked from him to the aunties and patted his shoulder. "Do you want to join them?" Pei Cangyu: "..." The place they were looking for wasn't a proper restaurant, but a humble roadside stall. It consisted of a single cart with a massive pot of simmering wontons and a stack of bamboo steamers for the dumplings, all illuminated by a solitary, bare lightbulb. A sign on the cart read in bold red characters: *Chaos Wontons and Buns*. Despite the blatant typo in the word "wonton," the message was clear. The proprietor, a woman bundled in thick layers with white oversleeves and a deep blue apron, was busy chopping green onions with practiced speed. The street stall had endured for years, a testament to the resilience of the local food scene. Back in the day, Bai Shi had loathed these places, claiming they were unhygienic and looking down on Pei Cangyu and his friends for eating there. Back then, Bai Shi had asked, "Don't you think it's unsanitary?" "Yeah," Pei Cangyu had replied. "It’s probably pretty filthy." "Can you even trust the quality of the meat?" "Probably not." "Then why do you keep coming back?" Pei Cangyu had answered with mock gravity, "Whenever I feel like my health is getting too good, I come here to give my immune system a challenge." Despite the banter, Pei Cangyu always returned. Now, even the roadside stalls had licenses, and the area had blossomed into a vibrant, mobile food court. They strolled leisurely, the river breeze brushing against them with a gentle touch. Pei Cangyu took a deep breath, inhaling the savory aroma of steaming meat. Bai Shi reached out to pluck a stray leaf from Pei Cangyu’s hair, smiling warmly. "I imagine the other students are all busy studying right now." The comment instantly soured Pei Cangyu’s mood. "Hey..." Bai Shi laughed, trying to soothe him. "It’s all about balance. You’ve been working hard. This is my treat." Pei Cangyu kept his face set in a frown, but Bai Shi slowly reached out and draped an arm over his shoulder. Pei Cangyu stiffened but didn't pull away. Emboldened, Bai Shi tightened his grip, pulling him closer. Pei Cangyu lowered his head. There was a limit to how long he could play dumb. This was it. It was time to lay his cards on the table. Hiding and dodging just wasn't his style. As they approached the cart, the auntie immediately pegged them as customers. "What can I get you?" Bai Shi looked at Pei Cangyu, who muttered, "Whatever." "In that case," Bai Shi said, holding up two fingers, "two orders of dumplings and two bowls of wontons." After ordering, they headed to the "dining area"—a few folding tables set up on the pavement, barely a meter high, paired with tiny, multicolored plastic stools. For two grown men, sitting down was more akin to a deep squat. Bai Shi stared at the greasy tabletop with a furrowed brow, making no move to touch it. Pei Cangyu stood up, grabbed some napkins, and began scrubbing the table—first his side, then Bai Shi’s. Bai Shi watched him work with a satisfied smile. Pei Cangyu looked up. "Why didn't you do that yourself?" "Because you already did it." "..." Pei Cangyu huffed and sat down. The look in Bai Shi’s eyes was nothing short of saccharine. It was genuinely baffling to Pei Cangyu. *If he’s acting,* he thought, *why isn't he a professional actor?* A group of middle school students rode past on their bicycles, still wearing their uniforms. They looked exhausted, their clothes dusty from a long day, but they moved with a frantic energy. They screeched to a halt at the stall, ordered their food, and crowded around a single table, loudly complaining about their homeroom teacher, oblivious to their surroundings. Bai Shi glanced at them, recognizing the uniform as the one from Pei Cangyu’s school. Pei Cangyu, however, was too focused on his food to notice. Bai Shi remained silent, knowing that pointing it out would only irritate him further. "Bai Shi." "Hmm?" "You're not eating much." Pei Cangyu pointed to the dumplings sitting untouched in front of Bai Shi. Bai Shi smiled. "I'm just a slow eater." "You don't actually like this stuff, do you?" Pei Cangyu looked up, his gaze searching. Bai Shi started to wave the concern away with a smile, but Pei Cangyu pressed on. "What... what are you actually after?" Bai Shi blinked, caught off guard. "What?" "I'm just asking," Pei Cangyu said, struggling to find the right words. "You’ve gone through all this trouble—making me stay at your place, the confession... what is the point of it all?"