Singlehood Syndrome

The old western-style house had a unique appearance, carrying more urban warmth than the cold high-rise buildings. However, it lacked parking spaces and modern facilities, making it less convenient for daily life compared to modern residential buildings. Its value as a residence was far less than its historical value.

Most of the previous owners had moved to other places, and the old western-style houses were rented out. Due to its central location and historical charm, many people rented these places for their businesses. For instance, Xiang Mo opened an art studio, and Luo Yang, the owner of the restaurant across the street, opened “Eight Jin” restaurant.

Luo Yang’s restaurant had recently undergone renovation. The elegant courtyard was now adorned with green plants and soft lighting, giving it a sense of tranquility and Zen.

Walking on the small cobblestone path, Xiang Mo and Du Chi entered the restaurant. Several employees were preparing for the opening, and when Luo Yang saw them from behind the counter, he waved and called out, “Du Ge, Teacher Xiang, come over here!”

Xiang Mo’s footsteps involuntarily paused, and he looked at Du Chi beside him, asking, “Do you know each other?”

“No,” Du Chi continued walking ahead without stopping.

Many chefs began their culinary journey at a young age, just like Luo Yang, who started helping in a restaurant kitchen at the age of fourteen and had now been a chef for twelve years.

Xiang Mo didn’t sense any social formalities or tactfulness in Du Chi, and he had assumed that Du Chi was in his early twenties. However, he never expected that twenty-six-year-old Luo Yang would call Du Chi “Du Ge” (older brother).

Luo Yang offered them a new dish, “Honey Mustard Prawn Balls.” He handed them two forks and said, “Give it a try.”

The prawns on the white plate were about the size of table tennis balls, with a pale pink color and a lemon-yellow sauce. The side dish was simple shredded cabbage.

When the fork pierced the prawn meat, there was a clear bounce, and when Xiang Mo took a bite, the freshness and tenderness sent a signal of satisfaction to his brain, triggering the release of dopamine.

Putting down the fork, Xiang Mo wanted to compliment the dish, but suddenly, the pungent taste of mustard rushed up his nose, and he instinctively closed his eyes to relieve the stinging sensation.

“Is it very spicy?” Seeing Xiang Mo’s expression, Luo Yang quickly poured him a glass of water.

“A bit.” The spiciness of mustard came quickly and left just as fast. Xiang Mo took a sip of water to dilute the lingering taste in his mouth.

“Here,” Du Chi grabbed a tissue from the side and handed it to Xiang Mo, noticing him trying to suppress the tears in his eyes caused by the spicy sensation.

“Thank you.” Xiang Mo finally recovered, wiped his mouth with the tissue, and honestly evaluated, “The initial taste is good, with a nice balance of sweet and spicy, but it’s a bit overwhelming in the end.”

“Indeed,” Du Chi nonchalantly glanced at Xiang Mo’s reddened lips before picking up a prawn ball with his fork and putting it in his mouth. “A lighter taste of mustard might be better.”

“But then the honey flavor would dominate,” Luo Yang pushed his round glasses up his nose and pondered, “I’ll try substituting mustard with ginger.”

Indeed, Luo Yang, an experienced chef, quickly thought of a substitute for the spiciness.

Xiang Mo understood why “Eight Jin” restaurant always had a long queue every day. It was because the owner and chef, Luo Yang, was really good at what he did.

Du Chi put down his fork and casually leaned his elbow on the counter, asking Luo Yang, “Has the Michelin judge come yet?”

“Who knows,” Luo Yang sighed with frustration, “The restaurant’s signboard hasn’t even been put up yet.”

Xiang Mo knew that Michelin judges would come to the restaurant disguised as regular customers for inspection. However, that wasn’t the focus of their conversation. He took another sip of water and naturally joined the conversation, “Are you planning to participate in the Michelin selection?”

“Yes,” Luo Yang changed his expression from frustrated to determined. “This year, I’m determined to earn a Michelin recommendation.”

Xiang Mo had always thought that “Eight Jin” restaurant was already successful as a bustling business. However, he never expected that Luo Yang had even grander ambitions.

He had known Luo Yang for three years, and they had never discussed topics like “goals” before, as those kinds of conversations were usually more private and unnecessary in their ordinary neighborly relationship.

But Du Chi was different. He had just moved in a week ago and was already on such familiar terms with Luo Yang.

As they left “Eight Jin” restaurant, people were rushing in as if they were afraid of missing out on a seat. Xiang Mo and Du Chi were pushed to the edge of the cobblestone path, which was difficult to walk on. Inadvertently, Xiang Mo stepped into the gap between the stones, and his body swayed uncontrollably.

His back was immediately supported by someone, and he turned to look at Du Chi, saying, “Thank you.”

Perhaps because he was annoyed at Xiang Mo’s slow pace, Du Chi sidestepped and walked ahead, blocking the people coming toward them and making the path easier to walk on.

Xiang Mo suddenly realized that Du Chi had moved ahead not because he found him slow, but to clear the way for him.

Finally, they walked out of the courtyard, and the spring breeze dispersed the discomfort caused by the crowd. The two of them walked side by side towards their own small courtyard. At that moment, Xiang Mo’s phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID showing “Tan Song,” he instinctively slowed his pace, and Du Chi casually glanced at him before walking into the courtyard.

“Mo Mo, I have a gathering tonight, so I can’t come,” Tan Song’s voice came through the phone.

Hearing that name, Xiang Mo furrowed his eyebrows slightly. He had asked Tan Song countless times not to call him that, but Tan Song always did as he pleased.

He replied with a flat “okay” and was about to end the call.

“Can I come tomorrow?” Tan Song asked.

“No, you can’t.”

Monday nights at nine o’clock were the designated time for Xiang Mo and Tan Song to meet. If either of them had something unexpected, the plan was automatically canceled.

Xiang Mo didn’t like others disrupting his plans; he wanted to control his own time. When he decided to do something at a certain time, it was because he wanted to, not to accommodate others.

The greatest benefit of living single was having complete control over one’s time. Many people didn’t realize how precious that was.

With his evening unexpectedly free, Xiang Mo decided to tidy up his bedroom. The forty-square-meter room was relatively spacious, but it still felt a bit cramped with Xiang Mo’s artwork piled against the walls and a large easel in the middle.

After spending a couple of hours, he filled two garbage bags with things he didn’t need. The room suddenly became clean and tidy, and Xiang Mo felt much better.

Carrying the garbage bags, he walked out wearing flip-flops, intending to go to the corner to dispose of the trash.

The inconvenience of living in an old western-style house was that it didn’t have the convenience of trash bins scattered around like residential complexes.

Xiang Mo treated this as a stroll, enjoying the cool breeze of the night. The faint moonlight filtered through the leaves of the phoenix trees, casting a serene ambiance on the empty path.

The trash bin was just a few meters away around the corner. As Xiang Mo turned, he heard a voice questioning, “Why didn’t you reply to my message?”

Another lazy voice followed, “Didn’t see it.”

Without much thought, Xiang Mo assumed that it was a couple having an argument—until he saw Du Chi’s face.

His footsteps abruptly halted, and the two men who were talking also turned their heads to look at Xiang Mo, forming a peculiar equilateral triangle.

Of the three, the expression on the face of the man Xiang Mo didn’t recognize was the most baffling.

The man had delicate features, his eyebrows well-groomed, and his lips reflecting a faint glimmer under the streetlight, likely due to subtle makeup.

Regardless of this man’s relationship with Du Chi, if Xiang Mo’s guess was correct, he was probably Du Chi’s “exercise” partner.

How awkward.

With a trash bag in hand and the trash bin just ahead, Xiang Mo was blatantly showing his intention to avoid them by changing his direction.

The problem was, he had no reason to avoid them at all.

He was just a passerby. Who put them in the middle of the path?

Resuming his steps, Xiang Mo walked behind Du Chi and headed toward the trash bin. As he dropped the trash bag into the bin, he heard the unfamiliar man’s voice from behind, “Do you know each other?”

It was clear that the question was directed at Du Chi. Xiang Mo turned around, indifferent, and prepared to go back the way he came.
However, Du Chi had no intention of answering the man. His gaze swept over Xiang Mo’s flip-flops, and he asked with a familiar tone, “Why are you out so late to throw away trash?”

It’s not that late, Xiang Mo thought. It’s just a little past ten o’clock.

He didn’t want to engage in this strange situation, but not responding would be impolite. So, he spoke up, “I just finished tidying up my room.”

After saying that, Xiang Mo continued walking forward, but the unfamiliar man, not getting a response from Du Chi, looked at Xiang Mo with an unfriendly expression and asked Du Chi, “Who is he?”

A passerby. Xiang Mo silently replied.

He wasn’t a nosy person, and he didn’t have any thoughts about the situation at hand. If it wasn’t for Du Chi suddenly striking up a conversation, he could have left like any other passerby, completely unnoticed.

Du Chi still didn’t answer the man’s question. He raised an eyebrow, glanced at Xiang Mo, who was about to leave, and asked with a slightly displeased tone, “You’re just going to watch?”

Watch what?

Xiang Mo was slightly taken aback, only then realizing that Du Chi was accusing him: Are you going to leave me here?

With a perplexed look, he gazed at Du Chi, silently asking: What else should I do?

The silent exchange seemed to aggravate the unfamiliar man’s discontent. He furrowed his brows and asked a third question, “What’s your relationship?”

Neighbors.

This time, Xiang Mo intended to answer, but before he could speak, an arm suddenly reached out, and before he knew it, he found himself crashing into Du Chi’s arms.

Perhaps a bit untimely, but a thought flashed through Xiang Mo’s mind—Du Chi’s chest is indeed quite sturdy.

“We are already together,” Du Chi’s voice sounded above him.

Having been single for three years and intending to continue that way, Xiang Mo displayed an even more bewildered expression.

He was just here to throw away some trash.