WHF Ch 18 – Pure White

The scene in the bathhouse didn’t disappoint Xiu Ma. Rusty faucets, cracked tiles—an authentic highway vibe. The owner was leaning against the counter, cracking sunflower seeds, and tossed him a locker key while kindly asking if he wanted a scrub.

“No scrub. I can’t handle a scrub.”

Xiu Ma stiffly declined the owner’s offer. With the owner’s build, he felt he wouldn’t last a few minutes before being scrubbed raw.

Outside, the world was freezing; inside, a warm breeze made his face tingle.

Morning showers were indeed his habit, but this habit masked another truth. He pushed the locker door shut and glanced at the inside of his left wrist, where a scar ran from one side to the other—steady, precise, brutal, and straightforward.

Cold or hot air made the scar itch, as did emotional shifts or lack of rest. A morning shower was an excellent way to regulate his skin’s condition, at least psychologically.

Since the college entrance exam, he’d rarely had sleepless nights, so the itching scar was expected. Xiu Ma absentmindedly rubbed his wrist, then noticed two pairs of rain boots lined up under the locker, caked with mud and snow, looking fiercely rugged.

Who’d be trudging through backroads in this freezing season?

Speaking of backroads, Xiu Ma vaguely recalled someone, but the bathhouse’s steamy heat quickly evaporated the thought. He pulled off his short-sleeve shirt, rubbing his wrist a couple more times.

Not wanting the unlucky boss to join him did have something to do with not being entirely open, though Xiu Ma wouldn’t admit to being shy. Let’s call it keeping some distance. But there was another reason: hot water made the scar turn red. A red scar wasn’t as easy to hide as it was in the wind, and he genuinely feared Yu Tianbai, with his unfiltered mouth, would grab his hand and blurt out, “You cut your wrist?”

Xiu Ma pondered in silence for a few seconds, then stuck his head under the open hot water, only to jerk back out with a start.

Who the hell turned the boiler this hot?

Shaking off the water, he stepped back to check the temperature display. Behind a low tiled wall a meter away, an uncle scrubbing clothes gave a cold smirk.

“Young guy, still too green to handle this heat.”

Xiu Ma glanced back, ignoring the taunt from this folk expert, but the glance mattered. The uncle’s back seemed oddly familiar—though saying so now felt a bit out of place, given they were both stark naked.

The clothes-scrubbing uncle seemed to sense something off too. In a flash, he half-turned his head.

The sound of washing water flowed, the showerhead hissed, and Xiu Ma locked eyes with Tu Lao Wu for a long moment. The standing one spoke first.

“Why’s your face so sooty?”

Lao Wu, startled by the sudden appearance of their target, jumped back several steps, retreating to the wall and frantically slapping his nephew, who was blissfully showering.

When two near-identical faces turned to Xiu Ma, he finally remembered who this vaguely familiar uncle was.

“You guys,” Xiu Ma pointed left and right, “robbed this place?”

Lao Qi opened his mouth to ramble, but his uncle slapped a hand over his face.

“No,” the older one said righteously. “We’ve turned over a new leaf.”

That sounded completely unreliable.

“Then I won’t hold you up,” Xiu Ma said, briskly shutting off the showerhead. “I’ll find another spot.”

“No, no, no—” Lao Wu reached out to stop him.

Everyone froze. Xiu Ma raised a suspicious eyebrow, and Lao Wu gave an awkward smile. “We’ll find another spot.”

With that, he dragged his nephew away, leaving Xiu Ma standing alone in the steam, dumbfounded.

In another cubicle around the corner, Lao Wu released his nephew. Lao Qi, mouth full of soap bubbles, spat several times before shouting, “I told you I saw them earlier!”

“It’s them, it’s them, you’re right,” Lao Wu said, unusually agreeing without a fight, too busy peering toward the next cubicle. After a long look, he turned back.

“Didn’t you say their van’s like ours?” he asked his nephew, who nodded eagerly.

“Then the layout inside should be the same,” Lao Wu muttered to himself, then turned to his nephew. “Opportunity’s here. Get dressed!”

Back in the corner cubicle, Xiu Ma wiped water from his face, staring at the rust stains on the ceiling. The unlucky boss really hadn’t followed him in. So obedient, so unlike him.

Maybe Xiu Ma had misjudged him before. After this trip, he’d see him in a new light.

As Xiu Ma reached for shampoo, someone suddenly appeared under the showerhead beside him, pure white. Staring at someone in a bathhouse was bad form, but he couldn’t help glancing.

Yu Tianbai leaned against the wall, watching him, and raised a hand in greeting.

“Morning, handsome.”

In the ensuing silence, Xiu Ma noted he’d been silent a lot today.

“Find another cubicle,” he told Yu Tianbai.

“This one’s got the hottest water,” Yu Tianbai replied without hesitation.

Another silence. Xiu Ma struggled to shift his gaze left, avoiding a full view of his boss’s naked body. In contrast, the unlucky boss’s gaze was unabashed, calmly turning on the showerhead right next to Xiu Ma’s, his red beaded necklace glinting.

Worse than silence was awkward silence. Xiu Ma started to speak three times but couldn’t find the words. He opted for a direct proposal.

“I suggest we don’t talk, don’t act like we know each other, and talk outside.”

“Why?” Yu Tianbai poked his head out from under the spray. “You’re shy, aren’t you?”

Xiu Ma whipped his head around to glare. Yu Tianbai looked genuinely surprised. “No way. You’ve never been to a bathhouse? Beihang’s got public baths, right?”

His voice was loud enough to announce to the world that he was bathing with a top-tier university student. Xiu Ma quickly scanned around, barely restraining the urge to fling a towel in his face.

“My classmates wouldn’t shower just to follow me!” Xiu Ma shot back. The unlucky boss actually chuckled.

“That’s it?” he asked. “I thought you had something on your body you didn’t want me to see.”

Xiu Ma knew his gaze was coming, so he simply closed his eyes, his mind a dead calm. Fortunately, Yu Tianbai was on his right, so his left wrist could stay hidden. He hadn’t completely given up.

After a moment of silence, Yu Tianbai continued on his own. “I used to run a bathhouse. I’ve seen all kinds of guys. Even saw one whose whole lower half below the navel was blue.”

All blue? Xiu Ma lifted his face.

“Like that tentacle we saw earlier?”

Vivid colors, blue and green, the drooping silicone tentacle floated in the bathhouse steam.

Yu Tianbai let out a hearty laugh, lowering his voice. “Scarier than that.”

Xiu Ma stared at the blank tiles, pondering for a while, realizing he’d fallen into the unlucky boss’s verbal trap and broken his own vow of silence.

“I’m done,” he said, shutting off the showerhead. “Keep going. I’m not interested in looking at you.”

“Wait,” the guy behind him called.

Yu Tianbai strolled out from under the water, leaning against the wall and handing Xiu Ma a key.

“Move my car up a bit. There’s one like ours behind it. Don’t want to scrape it again.”

Water droplets from his hand fell onto Xiu Ma’s, but Xiu Ma didn’t take the key.

“You trust me to drive your car?” Xiu Ma asked.

Letting someone drive your car was a big deal. Taking the key felt like being trusted, which didn’t sit quite right.

“You don’t have to,” Yu Tianbai said, hand unmoving as water rolled onto Xiu Ma. “Your choice.”

A few seconds later, Xiu Ma took the key.

“Never driven a Wuling Hongguang,” he said, waving the key at the guy behind him. “Meet you at the street corner.”

At the public bathhouse entrance, beyond the street, Tu Lao Wu was crouched by a van, muttering to himself. Tu Laoqi, bundled in a military coat, peered toward the bathhouse door.

“Uncle, just yanking their brakes like this—will it work?”

The north wind howled. Lao Wu slammed his crowbar into the ground and turned to snap, “Who’s the leader here, you or me?”

Lao Qi shut up, then conceded, sleeves tucked in, turning his head. “You are, you are.”

“Who’s ‘you are’?” Lao Wu stepped closer. “The factory director’s the leader. You and I are just hired hands!”

His uncle’s scolding was routine, but this time Lao Qi couldn’t stand it. He tugged at the sleeves tucked into his coat.

“You think, if they’re like Fang Hui, just out here working, small-time business, just trying to eat, are we sinning by doing this?”

Lao Wu paused, slowly turning to look at the sky, the air tinged with the scent of shampoo.

“Their lives are lives, our lives are lives. Ruin the reputation of our trade, and you ruin our lives. If they drive off fine this time—” the uncle clasped his hands behind his back—“call it their big luck and big lives.”

The two stared silently at the horizon, as if a deity there could unravel their doubts. A street-side engine roar snapped Lao Qi out of his thoughts.

After a long pause, he whispered to his uncle, “Uncle, I think someone just drove off in our van.”