In a Relationship With the Rugged Guy Next Door - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Chen Jingming felt an unprecedented sense of security…

“Why didn’t you say anything?! When did you get back?” The man stepped forward and slapped Chen Jingming on the arm with a crisp smack!

Chen Jingming flinched from the pain. Four red finger marks surfaced on his pale, delicate skin at a visible speed.

Chen Lang felt instant guilt: “…”

Before he could apologize, Chu Feng’s retribution arrived. Chen Lang began wailing in pain as Chu Feng dealt with him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Chen Jingming pulled Chu Feng back. “Ge, stop hitting him.”

Chu Feng pulled his hand back, fuming. “Look at what you did! Do you think Baby has thick skin like you? You don’t know your own strength. If you do that one more time, I’ll—”

Chen Jingming was dying of embarrassment. He quickly rinsed his mouth and stepped in front of Chu Feng. “It really doesn’t hurt, it’s fine.”

Chu Feng gently took Chen Jingming’s arm. “It’s all red.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Chen Lang twisted his body, looking at his own dark arm which showed no marks. “If I wasn’t so dark, the hits you just gave me would be blood-red by now!”

Chen Jingming lowered his head and chuckled secretly.

“You’re laughing?” Chen Lang grinned. “Do you remember me now?”

Chen Jingming nodded. “Xiao San Ge (Little Third Brother).”

“That name is bad luck. Don’t call me that anymore; just call me Lang Ge.”

“Lang Ge,” Chen Jingming said obediently.

“Aye!” Chen Lang beamed. “So well-behaved.”

Chen Lang was another local kid. His parents had been busy running a rice mill, so as the third child, he spent his days running wild. He had led Chen Jingming into plenty of mischief back in the day—the undisputed “little demon king” of Changling Town.

Chu Feng squeezed Chen Jingming’s arm. “Chen Lang manages the ranch with me now. He’s a shareholder.”

“A ranch?” Chen Jingming asked.

“Yeah.” Chu Feng talked while wringing out a towel to wipe Chen Jingming’s face. “People here have always raised yellow cattle. Our Changling cattle taste better than those from other places, so I leased some land for standardized farming.”

Chen Jingming’s face stung a bit from the wiping. With an outsider present, he felt incredibly bashful. He tried to take the towel to do it himself, but Chu Feng blocked him, even leaning down to carefully wipe behind his ears.

“I joined the second year your brother started the ranch,” Chen Lang said, clutching his bundle of vines and reminiscing. “Back then, I brought in a heap of capital to save your brother from the fire. You have no idea how exhausted he was managing such a huge ranch and an orchard by himself. He looks as strong as an ox now, but he was so thin back then he ended up in the hospital!!”

“Ah!…” Chen Jingming’s lips parted slightly as he turned to look at Chu Feng with heartache.

Chu Feng said dismissively, “Don’t listen to his bragging. It’s normal to take out loans for business. He’s the one who insisted on investing.”

Chen Jingming asked, “And the illness?”

Chu Feng: “Everyone gets sick sometimes. It was just a cold.”

Chen Jingming’s voice was very small. “You never used to get sick.”

“Ooh-ho,” Chen Lang leaned against the doorframe, watching Chu Feng’s helplessly satisfied expression. He teased, “Now that Jingming is back, someone finally feels sorry for our Big Ox Brother.”

Chu Feng: “You’re the old ox.”

Chen Jingming’s face flushed as he hung his head. Chu Feng reached out and gave Chen Lang another flick to the forehead. “Stop teasing him.”

Chen Lang, incorrigible as ever, smirked. “If he’s such a treasure, why don’t you just keep him in your mouth! Anyway, I gotta go. I need to go check on the slaughterhouse side.”

Chu Feng nodded. “The fragrant vines?”

“Oh.” Chen Lang handed over the vines. “Almost forgot. My dad finished the ‘grave streamers’ (ritual paper decorations), so you guys can go pick them up directly. Bye! Bye-bye, Jingming!”

“Bye-bye,” Chen Jingming replied.

…

Once Chen Lang left, Chu Feng put the vines in a basin to soak. Chen Jingming went upstairs to change. He had only brought two outfits—partly because he didn’t think he’d stay long, and partly because he didn’t have many clothes left at Xue Dongni’s place.

Xue Dongni was Chen Jingming’s best friend. They both worked in film; she was a cinematographer. Standing at 175cm with lean muscle, she could lug a Steadicam and pull all-nighters. She had a great eye and worked with steady directors. When the scandal broke, she was on set and couldn’t leave for long, but she rushed back overnight to stay with him for half a day, gave him her keys, and headed back to work.

Inside Chen Jingming’s suitcase was his laptop. It was a heavy “workstation” model, marketed for its long battery life and smooth processing. He had bought it so he could create anywhere. For the past ten years, he had used it almost every day. Even on days without inspiration, he would stare at a blank document.

But he hadn’t opened a document in nearly a month. The computer had become a channel for pain, extinguishing his passion for writing. He had almost left it behind when he decided to return to Changxi. He unpacked everything else but left the laptop in the suitcase, locked it, and pushed it into a corner.

His phone was charging on the nightstand—Chu Feng must have plugged it in.

“Baby!” Chu Feng called again.

Chen Jingming snapped out of his thoughts and trotted downstairs.

“Breakfast time,” Chu Feng said. “After we eat, I’ll take you to the town market, okay?”

The weather was getting a bit warm. On the table were two bowls of mixed rice noodles and two poshu buns. Chu Feng brought over a bowl of washed strawberries. “Strawberry season is almost over. You timed your return perfectly.”

Birds chirped outside, flying in groups from one side to the other. Chen Jingming kept his head down, stirring the flat noodles with his chopsticks.

“Don’t want to go?” Chu Feng asked softly.

Chen Jingming didn’t want to be in crowded places. “No.”

Chu Feng didn’t hesitate for a second. “Then we won’t go. It’s too crowded anyway. Want to see the ranch? The spring grass is up, and there are lots of calves.”

Chen Jingming relaxed. “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Chu Feng said.

Chen Jingming had little appetite. Lately, he suffered from frequent chest tightness and nausea; his appetite was always at its worst in the morning. But Chu Feng had prepared this, and he didn’t want to ruin the mood.

The noodles today were different from last night’s—they were flat rice noodles. They were chewy and fragrant but didn’t keep long, so these were clearly fresh from the market. The sauce on top had no meat and looked like tomato sauce.

Under Chu Feng’s expectant gaze, Chen Jingming took a bite. As the flavor hit him, his eyes widened slightly.

“Is it good?” Chu Feng saw the delight in his eyes and smiled. “Made from maola fruit.”

Chen Jingming chewed. “Maola fruit?”

“Wild cherry tomatoes,” Chu Feng explained, stirring his own bowl. “We used to grow them in the yard. You loved them, remember?”

Chen Jingming thought back. He remembered picking wild fruit, but he couldn’t distinguish one from another anymore.

“They aren’t in season now. I bought a lot last autumn, washed them, and froze them. I usually throw a handful into hotpots or stews.” Chu Feng pursed his lips slightly. “I could tell you didn’t have much of an appetite. I thought the sourness would be refreshing, so I made a topping out of them for your noodles this morning. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Chen Jingming said.

The portions were small—Chu Feng had intentionally made very little. Though it took him a while, Chen Jingming finished it all. He stood up to wash the dishes.

Chu Feng was replying to a WeChat message. Seeing Chen Jingming reach for the bowls, he said, “Baby, I’ll do it.”

“I can wash dishes, Ge,” Chen Jingming said.

“You don’t have to,” Chu Feng replied.

“Why? It’s just dishes. You cooked, so it’s only fair I wash up.”

“No reason. I just don’t want you to.”

Chen Jingming scratched his head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chu Feng said, carrying the bowls to the kitchen.

Chen Jingming followed him. “Ge, do you still think I’m like when I was a kid and didn’t know how to do anything?”

Chu Feng said solemnly, “It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t have to.”

“Then won’t I become a ‘useless person’ (waste)?”

Chu Feng leaned over the sink, turning his head with a smile. “Who said you’re a waste? Tell them to come see me.”

Chen Jingming had heard words ten thousand times worse than “waste” over the past month. He could only manage a thin, fake smile.

“You should do what you love. Write things,” Chu Feng said, turning back to the dishes.

Images of cursed computer screens flashed through Chen Jingming’s mind. He leaned against the doorframe, awkwardly tapping his toe on the floor.

“I don’t like it anymore.”

“Why?”

“I don’t write well.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Chu Feng was standing in front of him.

“Baby, don’t say that about yourself.” Chu Feng placed his hands on Chen Jingming’s shoulders. Since Chen Jingming kept his head down, Chu Feng leaned over to look him in the face. “Baby?”

Chen Jingming stepped back. “I just don’t write well. I can’t write anymore.”

Chu Feng took a step forward. “You will. Look at me.”

Chen Jingming had always listened to Chu Feng as a child. He realized that hadn’t changed; he looked up almost by reflex. He saw a flicker of pain in Chu Feng’s resolute eyes.

“You write beautifully. You’ll write again. Don’t say that, okay?”

Chen Jingming didn’t say yes or no; he just gave a faint smile. Chu Feng looked at his now-reticent brother, feeling a weight in his chest. It’s all my fault, he thought.

…

The ranch was twenty kilometers away. Because of the mountain roads, it took about forty minutes to drive. Chen Jingming initially huddled low in the passenger seat, but after realizing no one was paying attention to him—and there were hardly any people anyway—he slowly relaxed.

The landscape was typical of Changxi—mountainous, filled with bridges and tunnels. The car radio reported on the blooming azaleas. After emerging from a long tunnel, the view suddenly opened up. It was April, the season of blossoms; varying shades of pink and white dotted the hillsides. As the wind blew in, Chen Jingming could almost smell the fragrance.

In the distance was a massive valley. Large stretches of grassland were dotted with small hills, boulders, and herds of yellow cattle grazing lazily.

“Ge!” Chen Jingming said excitedly, turning to Chu Feng.

Expecting this reaction, Chu Feng laughed heartily, steering with one hand. “That’s it. We’re almost there.”

A spark of light returned to Chen Jingming’s melancholic eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

The car stopped next to a two-story dormitory building. The entrance was paved with concrete and stacked with machinery. From here, one could see both the vast pastures and the factory buildings nearby. It was much larger than Chen Jingming had imagined.

Chu Feng stepped up behind him, putting an arm around his shoulder. “How is it? This is the family estate I’ve built up for you.”

Chen Jingming turned to look at him. “It’s yours.”

“It’s yours too. We’ll spend the money together. I’m even saving up for your ‘bride price’ (dowry/marriage fund),” Chu Feng joked.

Chen Jingming slowly turned his head back to the grass and remained silent.

“…”

“Big Bro!” Chen Lang’s head suddenly popped out from a side office. “Come take a look at this batch of quarantine reports.”

Chu Feng called back an acknowledgment and looked down at Chen Jingming. “Come on, let’s go take a look together.”

“You go,” Chen Jingming said. “I’ll stay here.”

A yellow cow wandered near the fence, its innocent large eyes curiously observing the people inside. Chen Jingming’s adoptive parents lived in a coastal city with a completely different environment; he had rarely seen a live cow up close and found it novel.

He sat on a bench, feeling the sun on his face. The surroundings were so quiet that only the wind could be heard. Chen Jingming felt an unprecedented sense of security.

Inside, Chu Feng finished the reports and signed them.

“Big Bro,” Chen Lang said, looking out the door. “Jingming has changed a lot. Is it just because he grew up? He doesn’t seem… as cute anymore.”

Chu Feng’s “Brother-Protector” radar went off instantly. He said sternly, “What do you mean ‘not cute’? You’re the one being ‘not cute’ saying things like that.”