Out Of Control All The Way - Chapter 8

Since the man wanted to make friends with him, continuing to rebuff him would make him seem ungrateful.

Shang Shixu didn’t seem particularly busy lately. Just as Jiang Muzhou asked him out, the two of them met up two days later over the weekend.

Instead of consulting Shang Shixu’s preference like last time and picking an exquisite, high-end restaurant, Jiang Muzhou took him directly to a noodle shop he frequented.

Boss, two large bowls of beef noodles, plus two extra portions of beef. Ignoring whatever thoughts Shang Shixu might have, Jiang Muzhou ordered the noodles on his own accord.

Dressed in clothes of an unbranded label, Shang Shixu stood there, staring at a stain on the chair that looked somewhat like oil but not quite, wondering whether he should sit down.

Noticing Shang Shixu’s hesitation, Jiang Muzhou pulled two tissues from the table and wiped the stool a few times. The stain didn’t come off, so he offered reassurance: It’s not dirty, it’s just the color.

Jiang Muzhou visited this noodle shop often, primarily because it was close to the company, and secondarily because it was cheap.

Shang Shixu glanced around the room, noting that business was clearly booming with students tutoring nearby coming and going.

The moment they walked in, everyone’s eyes gravitated toward Jiang Muzhou’s table, largely due to Shang Shixu’s overpowering aura, which seemed innate to his bones.

Combined with the striking appearance of both men among the surrounding crowd, they stood out like cranes in a flock of chickens, making it impossible not to notice them.

The weather was too hot, and the air conditioning inside failed to deliver any real coolness, though four wall-mounted fans blew back and forth to temper the stuffiness.

Two bowls of noodles were quickly served to their table. Jiang Muzhou pulled out two pairs of disposable chopsticks from the container and handed a pair to Shang Shixu.

Shang Shixu unwrapped the packaging, watched Jiang Muzhou toss the wrapper into the trash can beneath the table, and followed suit.

Jiang Muzhou hadn’t cared much for noodles before, but after coming to Beijing for school, he grew accustomed to the local environment and gradually started eating them.

Slurping away at his own bowl of twenty-something-yuan noodles, he polished off half the bowl in just a few strokes with his chopsticks. Seeing that Shang Shixu was still poking at his noodles with his chopsticks, Jiang Muzhou looked up and asked knowingly, Not to your taste?

Shang Shixu stared at the bowl of noodles. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat, but he rarely dined in such an environment. The soup stain left by the previous customer was still on the table, and with only one person running the shop, the owner hadn’t gotten around to wiping it yet.

He pulled out a tissue to wipe away the mark until the surface looked much more presentable, and only then picked up his noodles with his chopsticks.

A bit hot. Letting it cool.

If you wait for it to cool down, the noodles will get soggy. Seeing the rigid expression between the opposite man’s brows, Jiang Muzhou urged, Just eat.

Shang Shixu took a bite with his chopsticks. The taste was passable, but it fell far short of what he usually ate.

By the time Jiang Muzhou finished his bowl, Shang Shixu’s noodles remained virtually untouched.

Jiang Muzhou got up to pay the bill, returning with a small plate holding two fried eggs.

If you don’t want the noodles, eat these two eggs, or you’ll be hungry by afternoon, Jiang Muzhou said.

The fried eggs lacked the golden, appetizing hue of those made in upscale hotels, bearing instead a slightly brownish, deep-fried tint that didn’t look particularly appealing.

By the time Shang Shixu finished eating a single fried egg at a leisurely pace, the noodle shop was down to just the two of them. The students had finished eating and headed to school, while the office workers had hurried off to their jobs.

Unbothered by the surroundings, Jiang Muzhou pulled out a cigarette pack, tapped out a cigarette, and handed it to Shang Shixu.

Shang Shixu waved a hand in refusal.

Withdrawing his hand, Jiang Muzhou pulled out the cigarette for himself, lit it, took a drag, and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Watching Jiang Muzhou’s casual demeanor, Shang Shixu pursed his lips and asked, Is this what you usually eat?

Jiang Muzhou nodded. Mhm, keeps you full.

Shang Shixu set down his chopsticks. You’re really easy to feed.

Implying that he truly wasn’t picky—not about taste, not about the environment.

Smoking his cigarette, Jiang Muzhou smiled warmly. Ordinary people eat these things. You, on the other hand, are a bit harder to feed.

Shang Shixu wanted to object, but he also understood that for this noodle shop to stay so busy, many people relied on places like this to survive.

Yet if the environment here had been even slightly better, he wouldn’t have restricted himself to eating just that little bit.

Looking at Jiang Muzhou’s expression, he had reason to suspect the guy had done it on purpose.

Recalling the Japanese cuisine Jiang Muzhou had treated him to earlier, that choice had likely been tailored to his status out of consideration, whereas this time clearly had nothing to do with his title as the head of the Zhongshi Group.

Pondering this, his previously upright posture relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the chair. Shang Shixu smiled. Is this the treatment for being your friend?

Yep, this is the treatment. My circle is like this, and I’m like this myself. I don’t care about that many formalities. As long as there’s something to eat and we can stay fed, that’s enough.

As he spoke, Jiang Muzhou stood up, found a disposable cup, poured a cup of bright yellow barley tea, and handed it over with clear, bright eyes. Cool down your internal heat.

In truth, Jiang Muzhou had prepared himself mentally for Shang Shixu’s inability to stomach such food. He wasn’t intentionally trying to make things difficult for this favored child of fortune; rather, he wanted to show him the vast difference between their two living circles.

Making friends meant letting both sides understand each other’s personality and habits, rather than merely gathering for a drink. If the other person saw the real him and couldn’t accept it, then such a friendship wasn’t worth having.

He just hadn’t anticipated that Shang Shixu had such minor bouts of germophobia.

Sipping the tea, Shang Shixu looked at the person before him and said leisurely, Not bad.

Jiang Muzhou paused slightly, unsure of what Shang Shixu meant by that not bad.

Shang Shixu set down his cup. I’m having a birthday in a few days. You’re coming too.

Flicking his cigarette ash, Jiang Muzhou asked, How old?

Twenty-eight.

Jiang Muzhou knew he was young, but hadn’t expected him to be this young.

He couldn’t help marveling, Impressive.

Understanding what Jiang Muzhou meant, Shang Shixu explained, Zhongshi was founded when I was eighteen. Growing to its current scale over these past ten years hasn’t been smooth sailing either.

Watching him offer an explanation, Jiang Muzhou flicked his ash again. I’m just quite impressed by you. Even with backing, it’s no easy feat.

This was the first time he had heard Shang Shixu talk about personal matters. Coming from a privileged family background where life paths were entirely pre-paved, saying he felt no envy would be a lie.

Still, one couldn’t discount Shang Shixu’s own hard work; among all those second-generation heirs out there, only he had managed to achieve such great success.

Shang Shixu remarked indifferently, The earlier you plan your life, the better. Back in school, I mapped out my future completely—education, career, marriage. If any single aspect falls outside the plan, it’s a total disaster. Fortunately, things have yielded some results so far.

As they chatted casually, Jiang Muzhou found himself somewhat disagreeing with Shang Shixu’s approach of planning everything out so early, feeling it was far too exhausting.

Seeing Jiang Muzhou smoke, Shang Shixu felt a craving of his own, though his cigarettes were left in the car and not brought along.

Gimme one.

Jiang Muzhou retrieved the pack once more and tapped out a cigarette.

Shang Shixu reached out and pulled it free. With a scrape of the flint, a small flame was offered up to him.

Lighting the cigarette against Jiang Muzhou’s hand, Shang Shixu took a drag, but found it still far too harsh and unaccustomed to his palate.

He looked at Jiang Muzhou. What about you? What are your thoughts on life?

Jiang Muzhou smiled. I don’t have long-term life plans. Right now, it’s just about making a good game, and whatever comes after will naturally take its course.

He paused for a moment before adding, Besides, I believe everyone has their own way of living. I can’t live someone else’s life, and nobody else can live mine. Everyone has their own path.

Shang Shixu nodded in agreement, fully endorsing his words. Things that need to be planned must be planned, starting with settling down and building a family.

Hearing this, Jiang Muzhou felt as though he were suddenly speaking with some elder relative.

He looked at Shang Shixu. Sounds like you’ve already got that planned out?

Shang Shixu flicked his cigarette ash and fell silent.

Seeing his reaction, Jiang Muzhou teased, You aren’t still single, are you?

Faced with the teasing, Shang Shixu replied unhurriedly, Proceeding according to plan.

Jiang Muzhou chuckled. Did he really think he could just pull a random girl to marry whenever he wanted, giving her no room to refuse?

The words reached the tip of his tongue, but considering Shang Shixu’s conditions, he figured the man actually could pull something like that off.

Pondering for a brief moment, he shook his head. Marriage is way too far off for me. I’m still young, haven’t had enough fun yet. Let’s talk about it when I hit thirty.

With a grinning, punchable expression, Jiang Muzhou finished speaking and bit back down on his cigarette.