Disobedience To Control chapter 25
The Third Time
Yang Xiaobei was momentarily stunned, then replied after two seconds, “Oh, it’s written on the postcard on your fridge.”
Song Siheng turned around to look, and indeed, there was a postcard on the kitchen fridge, held up by a magnet, that he had sent back during his graduate studies abroad.
Written in small letters at the bottom: Song Siheng.
Seeing that Song Siheng’s expression hadn’t changed, Yang Xiaobei seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take your money, but I won’t meddle in other matters.” He shook the Chinese New Year red envelope Song Siheng had given him, the bills inside rustling against each other.
Song Siheng was silent for a few seconds, thinking that he asked about quite a few things, even capable of confronting Xu Lang and asserting his dominance in front of him. But at this moment, Song Siheng just walked closer to him and patted his chest, “Then make sure to repay me properly.”
Seemingly to showcase his conscientiousness in handling money matters, Yang Xiaobei rode out on the bicycle in the yard after lunch. When he came back, the basket on his bike was filled with a large bag of stuff.
Song Siheng had just come down from the second-floor study and saw him opening the door from the staircase.
Yang Xiaobei placed the things he had bought on the dining table, but despite the cold winter, there was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.
“Where did you go?” Song Siheng asked.
“It’s too remote here. I had to ride four or five kilometers to find a large supermarket,” Yang Xiaobei patted the bag of things, “I’ll prepare a New Year’s feast for you later.”
Song Siheng crossed his arms and looked at him, unable to suppress a chuckle. He indeed didn’t have the stomach issues that other domineering CEOs might have, but he also didn’t have the habit of cooking at home all year round. Apart from occasionally eating at Song Ping and Fu Xuehua’s home, where he might have a meal or two they cooked, most of the time, he kept it simple. If he could eat at the company cafeteria, he would, and if he was short on time, he’d just ask Li Ke to order a set meal.
Being accustomed to a casual lifestyle, Song Siheng found it somewhat amusing that someone would brazenly barge in and claim they were going to prepare a feast for him. It all seemed a bit comical.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Yang Xiaobei was peeling layers of bamboo shoots and selecting the freshest and tenderest shoots. After sharpening the knife, he sliced them diagonally.
The salted pork belly was stewed in a pot, then taken out and drained of excess moisture after half an hour. It was then stewed again in fresh broth, and the bamboo shoots were added one by one.
In less than half an hour, the kitchen was filled with the fragrance of the stew.
As the pot simmered, Yang Xiaobei’s hands didn’t stop moving. Next, he grabbed a yellow croaker, threw it into the sink, turned on the tap, cleaned the fish scales, then took out a short-handled knife and scraped the fish scales off meticulously.
Soon, he skillfully gutted the fish, threw away the entrails into the trash bin, and then used kitchen paper to clean the surface of the blood.
After heating a little oil in the pan, Yang Xiaobei slid the fish coated in starch into it. With a sizzle, it was fried until golden and crispy. Without using a spatula, he simply lifted the pan with his right hand and flipped the fish over effortlessly.
Song Siheng had assumed that when he mentioned a feast, it would involve buying some semi-finished products and cooking them, but he didn’t expect Yang Xiaobei’s culinary skills to be quite impressive.
Seeming to read his mind, Yang Xiaobei turned to him and boasted, “I told you, I’m quite skilled. How about this, why don’t you pay next month’s fee in advance, and then you can request whatever you want to eat.”
Song Siheng chuckled, “Have you been watching too many TV dramas? Trying to trap my wallet with just one meal?”
An hour and a half later, three dishes and a soup were served. The dishes were arranged in deep and shallow white porcelain plates, as if they had been deliberately arranged.
“One penny, two work. You just enjoy yourself,” Yang Xiaobei untied his apron and shook it.
Song Siheng didn’t stand on ceremony and took his seat directly.
“But during the holiday season, why aren’t you going home?” Yang Xiaobei pulled out a chair and sat down.
Song Siheng glanced at him but didn’t say anything.
“Okay, I won’t ask,” Yang Xiaobei immediately raised his hand in surrender.
“I thought you were indifferent.” These past two days, Yang Xiaobei had been overly obedient, making Song Siheng wonder if he was hallucinating due to some nerve issue.
“Tsk, you’re saying that now. I take your money, don’t I have the right to make some progress?” Yang Xiaobei’s pretense of being mature only made him laugh.
After finishing the meal, Song Siheng didn’t go upstairs.
“Wanna watch a movie?” He sat on the sofa in the living room and turned on the large screen on the opposite wall.
Yang Xiaobei threw the plates into the dishwasher and shook off the water on his hands, “Rare occasion. What do you want to watch?”
Song Siheng put on the framed glasses he usually wore for meetings and pressed a few buttons on the remote control, finally stopping at a movie poster. A French movie from 2004. The poster depicted a middle-aged man and a young boy chasing each other on the beach.
“There’s wine in the fridge,” Song Siheng said, “There are glasses in the tall cabinet next to it. Pour two glasses.”
Five minutes later, just as the movie was about to start, Yang Xiaobei brought two glasses of wine to the side table.
The movie had a slow pace, and Yang Xiaobei was beginning to doze off. Song Siheng tapped him twice to wake him up.
“Do you like watching this kind of movie?” Yang Xiaobei rubbed his eyes, “I thought you liked sci-fi, like Star Wars.”
Song Siheng didn’t particularly have any preferences when it came to music or movies. Occasionally, when he traveled abroad, long flights were unbearable, so he would download a few movies on his tablet in advance to endure the boredom of the flight.
But for some reason, he had watched this movie three or four times.
“A single mother spending money to find a temporary father for her deaf child?” After watching the movie for twenty or thirty minutes, this was the only interpretation Yang Xiaobei could come up with.
Song Siheng couldn’t refute it and simply nodded, “Yes.”
Song Siheng sat facing the screen, while Yang Xiaobei sat beside him. The light from the screen cast a glow on Song Siheng’s nose and lips, while Yang Xiaobei’s entire face was hidden in the dimness.
On the side table with a slight reflection, there were two glasses of wine. The one closer to Song Siheng was almost empty, while the one next to Yang Xiaobei had only been sipped a little. He seemed to have little interest in alcohol.
“Don’t you drink?” Song Siheng was somewhat surprised. Yang Xiaobei had once worked in a bar and was very knowledgeable about alcoholic beverages.
“Nope. It makes you lose muscle,” Yang Xiaobei shook his head.
Song Siheng paused for a moment. He had originally thought Yang Xiaobei was just a pure playboy, but now it seemed that wasn’t entirely the case.
The movie from 2004 wasn’t in high definition, and the low-saturation images looked like faded traditional Chinese paintings.
A massive cruise ship sailed on the boundless sea. A man in a black leather jacket leaned against the ship’s mast, gazing at the land.
The usually silent Yang Xiaobei suddenly spoke up, “I used to be like this too.”
Song Siheng turned to look at him, “What, were you a sailor?”
Yang Xiaobei smiled, “Haha, impossible. I’m not reborn. I grew up on a ship.”
“On a ship?”
“Yeah, I used to live on the fishing boats in Nanjiang before I formally learned how to swim. But now… it’s gone.” Yang Xiaobei seemed to be lost in brief reminiscence. “I remember the deck swaying, but I was small back then, didn’t even know what seasickness was, just ran around barefoot everywhere.”
He rarely spoke in such a calm tone, speaking word by word, “When the tide rose in Nanjiang, it was especially spectacular. The adults wouldn’t even cast their nets anymore. We would all sit at the bow of the boat and watch the river. The sun was so big back then, bright red, it would just jump out of the river all of a sudden.”
Song Siheng finally understood why Yang Xiaobei’s dishes were all famous fisherman’s cuisine.
However, he didn’t have any resonance with this childhood memory. Nanjiang was just an ordinary area for him.
Halfway through the movie, the sailor who played the temporary father got off the boat and waved to the child.
“This risk is too great,” Yang Xiaobei said softly, then yawned and drooped his eyelids.
Song Siheng turned to look at him, “What’s wrong with it?”
“Paying someone to be a temporary actor to be a dad for the child,” Yang Xiaobei looked at the screen and said gloomily, “If he just leaves in the end, what will happen to the mother?”
Song Siheng finished the last sip of wine in his glass, “If you’re tired, you can go to sleep.”
“No,” Yang Xiaobei shook his head, insisting on watching the movie to the end with Song Siheng.
Their conversations always seemed to end abruptly, but each time would be replaced by the same impulse conclusion.
After finishing the wine, Song Siheng’s cheeks were slightly flushed. When he tried to get up, he stumbled. Yang Xiaobei supported him from behind. Their skins touched, and Song Siheng’s body felt warm.
“Boss, your alcohol tolerance is really poor,” Yang Xiaobei said in his ear.
The curtains of the French windows were slowly drawn, isolating the cold outside and the gaze of strangers.
Song Siheng wasn’t completely drunk. He raised his right hand to take off his glasses, but Yang Xiaobei stopped him.
“Don’t take them off.”
Outside the window, the shadows of the trees swayed, while inside the room, emotions intertwined. If money could bring sensory stimulation and temporary solace to the soul, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing.
Curled up on the marble platform in the living room, using a cushion as a pillow, Song Siheng thought like this in a daze.
They fell asleep in the living room without knowing when. They were tightly pressed against each other, huddled on the narrow platform, like two stray cats seeking warmth in the winter.
On the last day of the New Year holiday, the sun jumped out of the horizon at exactly seven o’clock. The warm light penetrated through the curtains and shone on Song Siheng’s eyelids, gradually awakening his body.
When he fully opened his eyes, it was very quiet around him. When he looked down, he found that he had changed into new pajamas and pants.
Yang Xiaobei wasn’t by his side, and his slippers were nowhere to be found. He guessed that Yang Xiaobei was probably in the basement working out again, so he went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of warm water.
However, even after drinking a glass of warm water, he didn’t hear any sound.
“Yang Xiaobei?!” Song Siheng put down the water glass, walked out, and shouted towards the empty staircase.
No one responded. The backpack at the entrance was missing, the coat hanging on the coat rack was gone, and the paper bag with cash from yesterday was also gone.
This was the third time Yang Xiaobei had left without a word.