bar

In this small coastal town in the south, even the air carried a distinctly damp, salty aroma, distinct from the north. Cheng Xiaorui used his heavy savings to rent a small room in the old town, not far from the sea. He tried to numb himself with the unfamiliar surroundings and the sound of the waves, but the pain, like a thorn in his flesh, never truly left.

One night, he was wandering aimlessly when he came across a bar called "Safe Haven." The lights weren't glaring, and soft jazz music drifted from inside. For some unknown reason, he pushed the door open and walked in.

He sat down at the far corner of the bar, ordered the cheapest beer, and drank it silently, one sip after another. His outstanding appearance and the broken and alienated temperament he possessed were particularly eye-catching in the dim light. Soon, a bold girl came over to chat him up.

"Little brother, are you alone? Can I add you on WeChat?"

"Hello, my friend said you look a lot like a celebrity she likes. Would you be willing to meet me?"

There was even a rather loud discussion coming from the booth not far away: "Wow, he's so handsome, it would be great if he could come here every day to enjoy his sight..."

Facing all this attention, Cheng Xiaorui simply lowered his head and repeatedly declined in a barely audible voice: "Sorry... No thanks... Thank you." His resistance wasn't arrogance, but rather a sense of bewildered embarrassment and deep exhaustion. He was like a frightened bird, wanting only to hide.

This scene was observed by the man quietly wiping his glasses behind the bar. He was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, with an upright figure. His height, nearly 1.9 meters, made him stand out even behind the bar. He wore a fitted dark suit with a waistcoat, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his sleek arms. His movements were graceful and composed, a stark contrast to his surroundings, yet strangely fitting in.

He signaled the bartender to take care of other guests, while he took a bottle of whiskey and a clean glass, walked slowly to the opposite side of Cheng Xiaorui, pulled out a chair and sat down.

"This one, I'll buy." His voice was low and pleasant, with a reassuring magnetism. He deftly added a cube of ice to the glass, poured in the amber liquor, and pushed it towards Cheng Xiaorui, his movements so natural that no one could refuse.

Cheng Xiaorui raised his drunken eyes and looked at the man. In the dim light, the man's features were deep, and his eyes were gentle yet sharp, with a keen insight into the world.

"It's easy to get drunk when drinking alone." The man smiled slightly, his eyes scanning Cheng Xiaorui's face, which still couldn't hide its youthfulness but was full of stories. "You don't look like someone who often comes to places like this."

Perhaps it was the alcohol that lowered his defenses, or perhaps it was because no one had spoken to him so calmly in so long, but Cheng Xiaorui didn't refuse the drink, nor did he immediately flee like he had before. He took a sip of the spicy whiskey, coughing slightly, but didn't answer.

The man didn't ask any further questions and continued, "My name is Gu Yan, and I'm the boss here." He paused, his eyes falling on Cheng Xiaorui's lips, which were wet from the alcohol. His tone was casual but serious, "I'm in need of a helper recently, and I like you. Do you want to give it a try?"

Cheng Xiaorui's foggy mind reacted for a few seconds, and a faint glimmer of light suddenly flashed in his eyes, an instinctive desire for a job, a place to stay. But that light quickly dimmed, replaced by inferiority and loss. He lowered his head, his voice slurred with drunken sadness: "...Thank you... But I can't make a cocktail... I can't do anything..."

He felt like he was useless and a burden with no future in sight.

However, the rejection he expected never came. Instead, Gu Yan chuckled softly, a sound as rich as a cello. "If you don't know how, you can learn." He leaned forward slightly, staring intently at Cheng Xiaorui across the small table.

"I'm a pretty good judge of people. You should be a quick learner. Besides..." He paused, glancing meaningfully in the direction those people who had just approached him left. "Your presence alone is a real draw for customers."

"How about it?" Gu Yan pushed a simple business card in front of Cheng Xiaorui. It only had the name "Gu Yan" and a phone number on it. "Consider it? Don't worry, I'll teach you."

Cheng Xiaorui looked at the business card, then looked up at Gu Yan, who was looking at him with a look of encouragement and a hint of unquestionable confidence. The alcohol had made his head run wild, and this opportunity before him was like a faint light suddenly appearing in the vast darkness. He desperately needed a lifeline, something to fill his empty and anxious life.

He bit his lower lip, and finally reached out his hand, carefully took the business card, and said in a voice so soft that it was almost inaudible:

"...Okay. I'll...try."

The corners of Gu Yan's mouth curved upwards in an elegant arc of satisfaction.

"Come to work at 3 o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

Cheng Xiaorui clutched the hard-textured business card and practically fled his "safe haven." Only when the salty, damp sea breeze washed away the alcohol did he slow down and walk along the dim, wet street toward the old building he rented.

The room was on the fourth floor, with no elevator. The voice-activated light in the hallway was broken, so he groped his way up, relying on memory. The key slipped into the lock, turning with a dull thud. He pushed open the door, and a musty, dusty, odor, characteristic of an old, empty house, filled his nostrils.

This was his temporary "home," a single room less than 15 square meters, with nothing but a creaky single bed, a peeling wooden table, a worn-out chair, and a shabby bathroom.

The walls were a bit yellowed, and faint traces of rainwater could be seen in the corners. The only window faced the wall of another building, and the view was narrow. Only at certain angles could one glimpse a ray of gray sky and the faint sound of waves coming from further away.

Without turning on the lights, he walked straight to the window, and in the faint light reflected from the neighboring building, he looked at the business card again. "Gu Yan," the name and the string of numbers seemed unreal in the dim light. Tonight's experience was like a bizarre dream. That extraordinary bar owner, that unexpected job opportunity... all of it formed a stark contrast with the dilapidated and lonely environment he currently inhabited.

He took off his coat and fell onto the hard bed, fully clothed. The bedstead immediately groaned in pain. In the distance, the faint sound of a ship's whistle drifted in, long and lonely. He stared at the vague, mottled shadows on the ceiling with his eyes open, unable to sleep.

Images from the past surged up uncontrollably—his mother's gentle smile, the cold equipment in the hospital, Chen Zihan's paranoid eyes, the blood flowing from Lu Ziyi's forehead, Lu Yu's cold check...

He curled up suddenly, burying his face in the damp, musty pillow, trying to block out the memories. He needed this job; he had to grasp at this straw. He couldn't go back to that state of utter despair, where even breathing felt labored.

On this humid night in a small southern town, in a shabby room filled with a strange atmosphere, Cheng Xiaorui held on to that pitifully weak hope for "tomorrow", fighting against the huge emptiness and pain in his heart, tossing and turning until the sky was slightly bright, and then he fell into a light sleep exhausted.

-------

At three o'clock the next afternoon, Cheng Xiaorui appeared at the entrance of the "Safe Haven" bar on time. He changed into his cleanest white T-shirt and combed his hair carefully, trying to hide the haggard look of a hangover, the innate sense of desolation, and the exhaustion from a sleepless night...

The bar was exceptionally quiet during the day. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled strips of light across the polished wooden bar. Gu Yan, checking the bill behind the bar, looked up at the sound of wind chimes. He saw Cheng Xiaorui, and a subtle flicker of satisfaction crossed his eyes.

"Very punctual." Gu Yan closed the account book and walked around the bar. He was wearing a dark gray turtleneck sweater today, which made his figure look even more upright. He was less formal than last night and more relaxed at home, but his calm and controlled temperament remained unchanged.

"Hello, boss." Cheng Xiaorui stood a little stiffly.

"Just call me Gu Yan." He gestured for Cheng Xiaorui to follow him to the inside of the bar. "Before I teach you how to make drinks, there are some basic things I need to know. How old are you?"

"Eighteen." Cheng Xiaorui answered honestly.

Gu Yan's hand, which was about to take the cocktail shaker, paused slightly. He turned his head and looked at him again in surprise. Then the corners of his lips curled up in an arc of understanding and a hint of playfulness: "Eighteen...it turns out he is still a child." It was hard to tell from his tone whether it was a sigh or something else, as if he was confirming a guess.

Cheng Xiaorui blinked in confusion. Eighteen years old, in his own opinion, after all he'd been through, he was no longer a child. But he didn't say anything, simply accepting the title silently.

Gu Yan's eyes were sharp and soon fell on Cheng Xiaorui's wrist with his sleeves rolled up - there was a circle of not-too-new white gauze wrapped there, the edges were a little worn, and it was obvious that it had been bandaged for a few days. He had not noticed it last night.

"What's wrong with your wrist?" Gu Yan's tone was very casual, as if he was asking casually.

Cheng Xiaorui's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he quickly pulled his sleeve down to cover the gauze. His voice was a little tense: "No...nothing, I accidentally bumped into it."

He lied.

Beneath the gauze, there were no scars from bumps and bruises. They were from a train on the way to this small southern city, late one night when he was in utter despair. He stared out the window at the rapidly receding, pitch-black wilderness, feeling that there was no light left in his life. Enormous loneliness and pain consumed him.

He felt he couldn't hold on any longer and wanted to be with his mother. The sting of the sharp object piercing his skin brought him briefly to consciousness. However, at the moment blood oozed out, whether it was his instinct for survival or some vague, lingering thought that flashed through his mind (perhaps his mother's dying wishes, or perhaps... a final lingering attachment to life that even he couldn't quite put his finger on), he suddenly stopped, and like a madman, frantically searched for the simple gauze he had brought with him and pressed it firmly against the wound.

This incident was the deepest secret and shame in his heart, and he would never mention it to anyone.

Gu Yan's deep gaze lingered on his face for two seconds, not exposing this obvious lie. He then asked, "At this age, why don't you continue studying?"

Cheng Xiaorui's eyes dimmed instantly, as if a painful wound had been touched. He lowered his head, staring at the tips of his shoes, which had been washed white. His voice was so soft it was like a sigh: "...some problems have arisen." He couldn't describe them specifically—his mother's death, his friends' betrayal, the humiliation of exile...it was all too heavy, too complicated.

Gu Yan observed his sudden drop in mood and the sadness that permeated him, but he understood and didn't ask any further questions. He had met so many different kinds of people, and he knew that everyone had their own stories and wounds that they didn't want to touch. He respected this silence.

"I see." Gu Yan simply nodded, his face still etched with that elusive smile, as if the previous conversation was just an ordinary chat. He reached out and took a Boston shaker from the wine rack, and smoothly pushed it in front of Cheng Xiaorui, naturally changing the subject and giving Cheng Xiaorui a way out.

"Come on, 'kid,'" he said with a hint of gentleness in his tone, "start by getting to know the tools and base liquor. Don't worry, I'll teach you."

Cheng Xiaorui looked up at the cocktail shaker, which gleamed with a cold metallic gleam, and then at Gu Yan's eyes, which seemed to encompass everything and yet seemed unfathomable. He took a deep breath and nodded vigorously, temporarily suppressing all the past and pain in his heart. He reached out and carefully touched the cold vessel, which represented a new beginning.