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In the courtyard, there were still a dozen electric bikes parked, which made Song Bunan feel a bit more at ease. After he parked his bike and put the keys in his bag, he stood by it, adjusting his clothes, but Xiao Mei had yet to come down from above. When she finally did, she pointed at her head with a smile and said, "This is pretty fun! I want to buy one too."
Reaching up to touch the helmet on his head, Song Bunan took it off and examined it closely, finding nothing particularly amusing about the old helmet. Perhaps his expression was too puzzled and conflicted; Xiao Mei quickly got off her bike, took the helmet from him, and pointed to a decoration on it. "That one!"
Xiao Mei was referring to the rubber duck stuck on the helmet. The duck wore sunglasses and had a tiny helmet of its own, with a bamboo dragonfly that could spin in the wind perched on top. However, due to its long stay on his helmet, it had faded somewhat, and the dragonfly's blades showed signs of wear. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Song Bunan chuckled as he took back the helmet and placed it in the storage compartment of his electric bike. "This was given to me by Ming Ge when I was in college. He put it on my bike, but it got stolen, so he stuck it on my helmet instead, and I've never lost it since. I have another one at home; I'll bring it for you next time."
After saying this, he noticed Xiao Mei making an "OK" gesture towards him before bouncing over to join the suited man who had entered behind them. " uncle Meng! I want to eat shrimp tonight!"
The man with graying hair smiled and nodded. Although Xiao Mei was holding onto his arm, he stood straight with one hand resting lightly on his chest. He quickly turned his gaze towards Song Bunan, who didn’t know how to address him and could only politely say hello.
"Hello, Mr. Song. Please follow me," the man said. The title made Song Bunan feel tense and uncomfortable; he hurriedly waved his hand and replied, "Just call me Bunan; Mr. Song sounds too formal for me."
As soon as he finished speaking, laughter erupted nearby. Turning around, he saw the man who had been in the same vehicle as Xiao Mei earlier approaching them while spinning a set of keys in his hand and carrying a backpack that looked anything but student-like. With his reddish-brown hair shining under the sunlight, he appeared quite fair-skinned, accentuating his light brown eyes. Judging by his appearance, he seemed to be a foreigner.
Perhaps because Song Bunan was staring at him for too long, the man clenched the keys in his palm and extended his right hand with a smile. "I’m Zhang Long, Xiao Mei’s friend. Let’s hang out together!"
After shaking hands with him, Song Bunan caught a familiar scent emanating from Zhang Long. He instinctively leaned closer to confirm it but startled Zhang Long into pulling back a few steps while asking in surprise, "What are you doing?"
Realizing he had been rude, Song Bunan immediately bowed in apology and explained sheepishly while rubbing his nose, "I just smelled something familiar on you and wanted to check if I was imagining things because that scent comes from a rather extraordinary place. I’m sorry; it was my mistake."
When he mentioned "extraordinary," he habitually glanced in Xiao Mei's direction. The person standing next to uncle Meng seemed to have thought of that so-called extraordinary place at the same time. Xiao Mei quickly walked over to Song Bunan's side and asked seriously, "Can you really smell something from home? And did that ghostly figure return the paper to you? Did you bring it?"
What happened next took Song Bunan completely by surprise. He was led into an incredibly luxurious room where he spent about two or three hours drinking tea. Aside from occasionally being asked simple questions that required only brief responses, most of the time he just sat there watching people come and go while Xiao Mei served as the focal point of conversation, speaking rapidly in less-than-standard Mandarin mixed with dialects he couldn’t understand.
The room was decorated in a style reminiscent of a grand palace from a television drama. Although Song Bunan wasn’t knowledgeable about architecture or decor, he could feel how much effort the owner had put into this place just by sitting there. The deep red color scheme featured decorative half-columns at each corner carved with unidentifiable beasts; the sofas and chairs were exquisitely crafted with intricate carvings and gold trim everywhere. The single sofa beneath him had armrests that were about half a meter wide each—almost as wide as a large crib.
The cushion against his back was elastic and conformed perfectly to every curve of his body. Leaning back while sipping tea that tasted expensive yet flavorless, he listened to their murmurs as fatigue quickly overtook him. He wanted to sleep but couldn’t; instead, he kept drinking tea to stay awake. Just as visions of swimming marine creatures danced before his eyes and mermaids invited him to join their dance, a shout broke through from nearby.
Xiao Mei’s voice wasn’t loud but struck right at Song Bunan’s drowsy mind like a hammer. He jolted awake on the verge of dozing off; confusion filled his eyes as they scanned the room before finally locking onto where most people were gathered after yawning widely. Pointing at himself in bewilderment while staring at Xiao Mei confirmed she was indeed calling for him; he hurriedly got up and walked over.
Over ten strangers parted ways for him as he approached them. As he passed through the crowd, he felt several pairs of eyes fixated on him—an unsettling sensation made him quicken his pace until he reached Xiao Mei’s side.
Everyone was gathered around a round table where a piece of paper lay alongside a cup. Sitting in an armchair behind the table was a middle-aged man dressed in a red Tang suit who smiled gently at him while nodding slightly as if greeting him; however, those eyes devoid of warmth sent shivers down Song Bunan’s spine—a chilling fear enveloped him like standing on the edge of an abyss.
Unsure what to do next, Song Bunan nervously rubbed his clothes with sweaty palms; when he tried to speak up, he found that his throat felt dry as if glued shut—he felt like he might turn into dried fish under all those scrutinizing gazes before being carted away to feed cats.
"Why are you so nervous?" Xiao Mei interjected first to rescue him from discomfort; she appeared relaxed again as she pointed at the paper on the table and said, "Now tell us about where this piece of paper came from—completely and thoroughly."
Song Bunan wasn’t usually at a loss for words; if discussing something within his expertise, he could ramble on without losing track even if interrupted multiple times. But now standing among so many watchful eyes made him feel inadequate—he barely managed not to crawl under the table with embarrassment.
Standing before them all at the table, he stumbled through recounting what should have been a short story filled with unnecessary details instead; fortunately for him, everyone listened patiently without interruption until he finished speaking.
For Song Bunan personally this wasn’t significant—just an odd occurrence—but for those present it seemed like an enormous event worthy of discussion afterward. Unable to insert himself into their conversation anymore after finishing up his tale, Song Bunan slipped out through an opening in the crowd and happily returned to sit back down on the sofa watching them chatter away while fatigue returned swiftly once again—the moment his backside touched leather seats again even tea remained untouched.
As time passed into evening darkness fell upon them; shortly after lights flickered on everyone paused their discussions upon Xiao Mei’s insistence that she was very hungry and needed dinner—a reason prompting them all to turn around only to find that peculiar young man who seemed unaware of possessing any special abilities slumped comfortably against the sofa cushions sound asleep with his head resting against them. Xiao Mei quickly approached him mischievously grabbing hold of one corner of the cushion without hesitation yanking it away forcefully.
The person who had lost their support was jolted awake, but it was clear that they had not fully emerged from their dreams. Blinking and with their mouth slightly agape, they stared at the culprit for a while before hoarsely asking, "Are you done talking?"
What a naive person, everyone still present thought. Xiao Mei smiled and replied, "Yeah." He reached out and grabbed Song Bunan's wrist, ignoring any reaction and pulling him toward the door. "Come on, let’s go! uncle Meng made shrimp!"
"Huh?" Suddenly yanked three to five meters away, Song Bunan was completely bewildered by the situation. He shouted that he wanted to go home while also calling out that he hadn’t grabbed his bag. By the time they reached the door, their figures were already out of sight, but those inside could still hear Song Bunan questioning, "Xiao Mei, what are you doing?"
Zhang Long turned to look at the person sitting quietly in the armchair, sipping tea. "Boss, this paper with strange writing is real. If what Xiao Mei says is true and he can awaken the old house, why not let him help Xiao Mei with that task?"
After saying this, he watched as the man gently set his teacup back on the table, folded the paper twice, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He then stood up and walked slowly toward the door. "Let’s keep him in the courtyard tonight; we’ll find out if he is really that Special Individual. Arrange for him to stay in the east wing with Xiao Mei, and just make sure uncle Meng doesn’t go over tonight."
This wasn’t a restaurant; it seemed to be a small area specially set aside in the kitchen for someone like Xiao Mei, who had a penchant for food. At this moment, only the two of them were at the table. uncle Meng occasionally came in carrying a plate filled with delicious dishes. Faced with an entire table of exquisite food, Song Bunan took quite a while to sit down under Xiao Mei's urging. After serving the last dish, uncle Meng wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at Xiao Mei, who was already busy devouring chicken wings and shrimp shells. Shaking his head gently in amusement and exasperation, he turned to Song Bunan. "These are just home-cooked dishes; you should eat quickly or else this little guy will finish everything."
Sitting before what had been redefined as home-cooked meals, Song Bunan nodded and picked up his chopsticks to thank uncle Meng. He was indeed hungry; usually done with dinner by seven and planning for late-night snacks by now, he found himself staring at a proper meal close to nine o'clock—a true experience of hunger pangs.
As he popped a golden fried meatball into his mouth, the crispy shell burst between his teeth, releasing a juicy filling that filled his mouth with flavor. The craving in Song Bunan’s stomach nearly sprouted wings as he chewed on the meatball and mumbled indistinctly to uncle Meng, "Your cooking is so good!!"
"Right?" In front of Xiao Mei, a towering pile of shrimp shells had already formed. Hearing this comment, he immediately nodded in agreement while not pausing his own eating. " uncle Meng ’s cooking is amazing! Once you’ve had it, you can never go back to those outside dishes; it’s just too good."
With his mouth stuffed full of chicken wings, Song Bunan could only give a thumbs-up to express his agreement.
uncle Meng gently patted both of their heads and said softly, "Take your time eating; I’ll go make you some soup."
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