WHF Ch 17 – A Shared Bath

Yu Tianbai suddenly felt a twinge of regret. He regretted not turning on the car stereo the moment they got in, so that the silence wouldn’t feel as unbearable as it did now, with only the hum of the heater for company.

But, surprisingly, after the silence, Xiu Ma’s reaction wasn’t as shocked as he’d expected.

“You don’t seem like you want to deal with him,” Xiu Ma said.

He was right, but as a reliable older figure, Yu Tianbai wasn’t about to just agree outright.

“Speaking ill of an ex is bad form,” Yu Tianbai said, opting for neutrality.

“If you don’t like him, you can stay away from him,” Xiu Ma replied.

Fair and reasonable—logic even a kid like Xiu Ma understood. But Yu Tianbai had to see him at least one more time, for a simple reason: the young master’s knife was in his possession.

After a moment’s pause, Yu Tianbai decided to come clean. “Your knife was taken by him.”

Xiu Ma shot him a sideways glance. “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to badmouth him?”

“It’s not badmouthing,” Yu Tianbai countered. “He really did swipe your knife.”

Sun Jiu must have noticed Yu Tianbai’s glance toward his pocket. In that moment of closeness, he’d discreetly lifted the item from Yu Tianbai’s jacket. As a factory director, he surely didn’t need the few tens of thousands it was worth. Yu Tianbai knew his game: he wanted Yu Tianbai to come looking for him, convinced they hadn’t truly broken up.

And that pickpocketing trick? Yu Tianbai was the one who’d taught him.

“I don’t need it back. You don’t have to go after him,” Xiu Ma said, preempting his thoughts.

“No way I’m not going,” Yu Tianbai said, floored by the young master’s generosity. “He didn’t steal my stuff. I can’t not return it to you.”

Xiu Ma looked at him, then out the window, falling back into silence before turning back reluctantly. “I feel like you’re pretty lenient with him.”

“Lenient?” Yu Tianbai nearly jumped. “How do you figure I’m lenient?”

The young master didn’t answer. Yu Tianbai, speechless, covered his mouth with his hand. Dawn was approaching, and he started muttering to himself. “Probably because I’m lenient with people I’ve loved.”

The word “love” coming from his mouth felt odd. Not because he seemed incapable of loving others, but because he didn’t seem to lack for love—likely loved by many at once. So love, from his lips, felt neither reliable nor real. But what he said now was real, and reliable.

“Why?” Xiu Ma asked.

“Huh?” Yu Tianbai lowered his hand from his mouth, taking a few seconds to realize Xiu Ma was asking him. “Maybe because I believe in fate now.”

He offered a not-so-far-fetched reason.

Fate—good fate, bad fate. Like how his five elements were heavy on water and light on fire. That was just how it was.

Xiu Ma stared at the light on the horizon, now turning pale pink, and asked, “So, you’re willing to keep going with me because of fate too?”

To be honest, when the young master stood at the wedding hall’s entrance, Yu Tianbai really did feel like it was meant to be. Not good, not bad—just inevitable. Even knowing the chair in his hands was about to come flying at his face, Yu Tianbai was willing to take it. That sounded pretty terrible.

“Yes,” Yu Tianbai answered.

“If fate hands you something bad, would you accept that too?” Xiu Ma asked again, and Yu Tianbai wondered why he had so many questions.

He calmly turned his head. In the morning light, Xiu Ma’s eyes reflected a golden glint.

“Most of it’s bad, so I can handle it,” he said, smiling. As always, Xiu Ma couldn’t read the meaning behind that smile.

“By the way,” Yu Tianbai added, “it’s almost dawn. If you want to catch some sleep, there’s still time. I’m used to driving at night, so I probably won’t be tired.”

“No need,” the young master said firmly. “Let’s check out.”

They checked out at seven in the morning. The woman at the front desk was different, not as cavalier about money as the last one. She frowned as she made change, and Yu Tianbai asked her, “Last night, did the front desk lights turn on by themselves too?”

She shot him a look. “Some jerk burned out the electrical box. You know who it was?”

Yu Tianbai froze, quickly saying he had no idea. As they left the guesthouse, the sky was half-lit. He decided not to tell the young master that last night’s “haunting” was just an electrical issue. Let his young life have a bit more thrill.

When the driver’s door opened, Xiu Ma was staring at the rising sun. Yu Tianbai returned, carrying the distinct late-winter chill, and Xiu Ma wrinkled his nose.

“Any work today?” he asked.

“Not much,” the boss replied. “One stop before Harbin. Going to meet an old cousin first.”

Unlike the Northeast, where you find Northeasterners everywhere in China, seeing outsiders in the Northeast was a rarity. Xiu Ma sat in the passenger seat, watching the van pull out of the rest stop, cruise down the highway, reach the suburbs, and roll into typical northern streets.

The shop Yu Tianbai was looking for was in a farmers’ market. Half a street of stalls away, Xiu Ma spotted the orange-red sign of an adult store. But rather than stay in the van with “Viagra” for company, he chose to follow the boss out.

In his twenty-one years, Xiu Ma had never so boldly entered an adult store. This one wasn’t like the ones you pass on street corners, brazenly displaying fishnet stockings or sailor outfits at the entrance. Stepping through the corridor with a seated God of Wealth, Xiu Ma saw only a lit incense burner.

“You can wait outside,” Yu Tianbai suggested to the guy behind him.

“People rust if they’re idle too long,” Xiu Ma said, rejecting the idea.

“It’s not about rusting,” Yu Tianbai countered. “I just think you’re better suited to staying at the door.”

Xiu Ma, hands in his pockets, stared at the God of Wealth portrait on the wall, not catching the meaning in his words.

Yu Tianbai stood in front of him, sensing the kid had no intention of waiting outside.

“Alright,” he said. “Come along then.”

Past the screen in the corridor, the adult store, which could pass for a tea shop, finally revealed its owner. Behind the glass counter, waiting for Boss Yu, was indeed a rare Southern face in the Northeast.

Not that Xiu Ma was an expert at reading faces, but the man greeted them in Cantonese. As a pure Northern man, Xiu Ma couldn’t understand a word, but Yu Tianbai, standing in front of him, seamlessly picked up the conversation—in standard Beijing dialect.

It was a strange feeling. The man who usually spoke with a Beijing accent, occasionally tossing in some Northeast slang, was now fluently conversing with someone speaking pure Cantonese. One with a Southern cadence, the other Northern, sounding like a chicken talking to a duck to an outsider, yet they understood each other perfectly.

How did this guy even know Cantonese?

Boss Yu had met another boss in the game, and Xiu Ma felt like a true apprentice in that moment. After the old cousin glanced at him a third time over Yu Tianbai’s shoulder, he decided to leave the stage to them, stepping aside to “keep watch” and pretend to browse.

The store’s setup didn’t scream adult shop. Beyond the God of Wealth at the entrance, there were just a few racks shorter than face height. Xiu Ma picked one at random, lowered his head, and put on a thoughtful expression.

But what met his eyes instantly obliterated his ability to think.

After settling on price and quantity, Yu Tianbai turned to look around the store. The young master, who’d insisted on coming in, was nowhere to be seen. The place was empty.

He said something to the owner, pocketed his hands, and headed toward the racks. Under the second-to-last rack, the young master was squatting, intently studying something.

“Want it? You can buy one,” Yu Tianbai said.

His sudden appearance didn’t startle Xiu Ma. The young master was holding a brightly colored silicone tentacle, his other hand prodding its suction cups.

“Do people actually want to use this stuff?” Xiu Ma asked Yu Tianbai.

As he spoke, he held up the tentacle. The thicker end drooped, the whole thing looking limp and lifeless.

“You could try it,” Yu Tianbai said, chuckling.

Xiu Ma looked up at him, then tossed the tentacle back onto the rack and stood.

“Make sure to grab the box from the counter,” Yu Tianbai said, already putting him to work. He turned to add, “There’s stuff like that model in there. If you want to try, I can help.”

“I didn’t say—” Xiu Ma started to shout, but cut himself off, realizing he was in someone else’s shop. His voice felt a bit too loud.

He sneaked a glance at the counter. The owner was watching him, his expression softer than before, giving a slight nod.

Xiu Ma hesitated for two seconds, quickly nodded back, and hurriedly grabbed the cardboard box he was told to carry.

The market outside was livelier than before. Yu Tianbai was leaning against the car door, smoking. Watching Xiu Ma open the trunk and load the box, he exhaled a puff of smoke and said, “The owner said you’ve got a good face.”

“Face?” Xiu Ma was used to being called good-looking, but this was the first time someone mentioned his “face.” “What was his old job, reading faces?”

Yu Tianbai, cigarette in hand, looked thoughtful.

“He was an auxiliary cop. Retired and came up North.”

“He was a cop, you were a soldier—how’d you both end up here?” Xiu Ma asked, shutting the car door.

Yu Tianbai gazed at the breakfast stall across the street. “Because this is the only real thing in the world. An orgasm doesn’t lie.”

Xiu Ma was used to his crude jokes in public by now. He leaned silently half a meter away from Yu Tianbai, waiting for him to finish the cigarette.

“Hungry? I’ll treat you,” Yu Tianbai said, nodding toward the breakfast stall. “Fried dough sticks.”

When he said “fried dough sticks,” the unlucky boss’s tone carried an irrepressible laugh. Xiu Ma knew what he meant—Yu Tianbai was still amused by his earlier tentacle-gawking.

“Not eating. Not hungry,” Xiu Ma said without hesitation.

A tricycle passed between the van and the breakfast stall. Both men straightened, pulling their feet back. Once the tricycle passed, Yu= Yu Tianbai slumped back against the car door.

Not at all like a former soldier.

“Is there a place to shower around here?” Xiu Ma asked out of nowhere.

“Hm?” Yu Tianbai turned his head. “Was sharing a bed with me that gross?”

Xiu Ma, exasperated, furrowed his brow.

“I just like showering in the morning. I haven’t today.”

“Got it,” Yu Tianbai said, flicking his cigarette. “There’s a place I’ve been to just outside the city, but it’s not great. You up for it?”

“I’m not some pampered rich kid,” Xiu Ma scoffed. “How far?”

Yu Tianbai tossed his cigarette butt onto the dirt in front of him, watching a passing bicycle crush it. Xiu Ma’s brows tightened further.

“No partitions, open faucets, white tile floors, all truck drivers.”

With that, Yu Tianbai turned and opened the car door. “Let’s go.”

When they arrived, Xiu Ma realized the scheming boss hadn’t exaggerated at all. Under a rusty storefront, a green curtain swayed in the breeze at the entrance, paired with the perfumed steam from the vent, giving it a tropical jungle vibe.

But it was still the first lunar month, still minus ten degrees in the Northeast.

Xiu Ma stood in the cold wind, turning to Yu Tianbai. “I’ll be quick.”

After a few steps, he turned back. “Don’t come in!”

“Ha?” Yu Tianbai drawled from the car. “I don’t even shower in the morning!”

“If you do come, wait till I’m done!”

The young master shouted again, backpedaling a few steps, checking that the guy in the car wasn’t moving before turning and ducking through the curtain, leaving Yu Tianbai staring out, utterly baffled.

Shy?

Given his midnight door-knocking, this kid wasn’t the shy type.

So why, as grown men, couldn’t they just be open with each other?

If Xiu Ma hadn’t made those demands before leaving, Yu Tianbai wouldn’t have been so intrigued. Staring at the white steam billowing from the vent, he silently turned off the car.

He decided to deepen his work camaraderie with the young master—or, in other words, he decided to take a shared bath.

—

In a public bathhouse on the Heilongjiang border, Tu Lao Wu was vigorously scrubbing clothes under a faucet, occasionally glancing outside. His no-good nephew had vanished somewhere.

“Where are you?” he shouted into the depths of the bathhouse, his voice echoing, lingering mournfully.

No response.

Last night, they’d blown the guesthouse’s circuit, leaving him covered in soot. He’d come to this bathhouse to clean up, but they didn’t allow laundry. The hot water cut off after three minutes, and the scrubbers stopped him four times. He’d asked Lao Qi to keep watch, but the kid disappeared the moment he turned around. Just his luck.

Lao Wu cursed under his breath and stood up. The bathhouse’s layout was a maze. He faintly heard someone else in the outer cubicles.

Good, more people. The more, the better—then no one would care about him washing clothes.

Muttering to himself, he figured he’d better find Lao Qi first.

Not in the bath, not under the showers, not in the toilets. The heat was low, and he wasn’t wearing slippers, so he shuffled cautiously, lifting the curtain. There was his no-good nephew, crouching and peering outside.

The factory director’s orders weren’t even done, and he’s slacking off washing clothes? Lao Wu’s anger flared, and he landed a kick.

Luckily, the bathhouse was nearly empty, and no one noticed. Tu Laoqi stumbled, yelping and clutching his lower back. Turning, he saw his uncle glaring, eyes wide with fury.

Lao Qi opened his mouth to speak but caught another smack to the head.

“You little punk, I told you to watch out, and you’re out here gawking at the commotion! Get back, finish the laundry, and we’re out.”

Lao Qi, rubbing his head, muttered, “Uncle, you should wash your face first. It’s all sooty, kinda scary.”

The words earned him another kick, followed by the sound of slipping feet in the bathhouse.

“We lost the guys we were tailing! Got nothing useful—and you’ve got the nerve to nitpick your old man?”

Lao Qi scurried under his uncle’s scolding, eventually slinking back to the faucet. For a few minutes, neither spoke, only the sound of soap scrubbing against fabric.

“Where do we look next?” the nephew asked quietly, dropping formalities, clearly deflated.

Lao Wu felt a pang of guilt. He scrubbed the clothes silently, choosing his words before speaking. “They’re just two peddlers. The Northeast only has a few main roads. Keep going, and we’ll run into them.”

“I saw a van parked outside just now. Looked like theirs,” Lao Qi said, wiping water from his face. “No way it’s that much of a coincidence, right?”

Lao Wu chuckled at his nephew’s naivety. “That’s our van! The factory director gave us the same model as theirs. You forgot?”

Lao Qi had a lightbulb moment, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Right, yeah. The one that went into the Songhua River was a Wuling Hongguang too.”

The mention of their painful past sank Lao Wu’s expression. He silently flipped the clothes over, and Lao Qi clammed up, letting the water rinse over him.

“Hurry up and wash,” Lao Wu said, maybe to his nephew, maybe to himself. “The factory director said the Northeast’s small. We’ll run into them sooner or later.”

But who could’ve guessed that encounter would happen just five minutes later?