The Stolen Lover

Untitled Episode 9

"It is not man who interprets fate. Fate imprints its traces upon the eyes of man. All I can do is discover. I can truly feel your pain—what you see, what you hear, what you touch, what you cling to—I feel it all. Perhaps your past, my past, our past cannot be altered. But we still have time to see it clearly together, and the chance to rewrite it with new lives. As long as you never give up, no matter how painful it is, I'm willing to listen with you. I'm even willing to believe that God's narrow gate truly exists, just a step away from us."

Nan Ge didn't know how much weight this message would carry, or if it could let Xiao Yan feel the sincerity behind his interpretation. After all, having someone willing to read you earnestly and understand something of you is rare in anyone's experience. But he still had to maintain Xiu Cai's persona, keeping his wording as close as possible to Xiu Cai's context. He couldn't respond to Xiao Yan using Xiao Yan's mindset; he needed restraint.

This exchange left Nan Ge feeling rather disheartened. When the Scholar messaged asking about the deeper meaning behind their conversation, Nan Ge simply replied that they should discuss it in person, unwilling to elaborate further. Men, after all, preferred to dissect their own triumphant experiences. Figuring Xiao Yan wouldn't reply anytime soon, Nan Ge decided he needed a few drinks. Otherwise, this jumble in his head would surely keep him awake until noon tomorrow. Every insomniac carries a puzzle with no clues in their mind—the harder you try to see the whole picture, the more you corner yourself. Who cares? Whatever big deal it is, he'd deal with it after sobering up.

Chapter Two

Brother Nan got so drunk he stayed that way for three straight days. Each day he drank until dawn, then collapsed until dinner, repeating the cycle. By the time Feifei saw him, he resembled a ginseng root soaked in a barrel of liquor. Days of unkempt stubble crawled across his face like wild grass, his eyes bloodshot as if possessed. When he opened the door and saw Feifei, he didn't even have the energy to tease her. glancing at her before slumping back onto the sofa. Seeing Brother Nan in this state, Feifei's anger flared. She strode straight to the balcony and pulled the double-layered blackout curtains wide. Sunlight flooded in instantly, making the filthy mess of the room even more unbearable. With both north and south windows wide open, Feifei found a spot to sit. Brother Nan covered his eyes with his arms, too drained to utter a single word.

Seeing him like this, Feifei couldn't be bothered to talk. She sat there, called the cleaning lady to come up, then walked over to the fridge, poured herself a large glass of orange juice, and slammed it down on the coffee table beside the sofa. She leaned back, waiting to see when Brother Nan would get up. But within seconds, he started snoring.

When Brother Nan finally stirred and heard the door open, the light streaming through the window cast long shadows from the guitar on its stand. Feifei walked in carrying two large bags. The room, except for Brother Nan, had been completely transformed.

Brother Nan opened his eyes, glanced around, then looked at Feifei. Sitting up, he lit a cigarette, exhaled a long stream of smoke, cracked his neck, and stretched lazily. Only after Feifei sat down did he drawl, "Consider this your home now," his tone and expression mirroring Ge You's to a tee.

Fei Fei sat down, catching her breath. Seeing Nan Ge's sly expression, her earlier irritation vanished instantly. The orange juice still sat on the coffee table. Nan Ge picked it up and downed it in one gulp. Setting the glass down, he smacked his lips. "Hey, girl, what's the recipe for this? It's really good."

"What recipe? Motherly love! Today, your dear mother cooked you a meal with her own hands, so this Asian orphan wandering far from home could feel the joy of coming home. Finish your cigarette and hurry up and get yourself ready. Look in the mirror—do you even look human? Quickly bathe, change clothes, burn incense, and wash your hands. Watch your mother show you a thing or two."

"Alrighty then. Calling her 'Mom' won't hurt, especially if she's got milk to offer."

"Get lost."

Nan got up, took a shower, trimmed his hair and beard, shaved carefully, and came out in clean clothes. Feifei was busy in the kitchen. Nan leaned against the doorframe, watching her in her apron. The phrase "graceful in the hall and skilled in the kitchen" came to mind—she was the very picture of it.

Brother Nan crept up behind Feifei, pressed his face against her cheek, nestled close to her hair, and pretended to sniff her neck. "Mmm, sweet. Being emperor must feel like this, right? Before any imperial consort takes residence in the Eastern Palace, she must personally prepare a couple of dishes for the emperor. This feels like a taste of ascending the throne. You personally delivered this order to my imperial study—if I didn’t turn it over, wouldn’t that be a bit unromantic?" As he spoke, Brother Nan gently wrapped his arms around Feifei from behind and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Fei Fei didn't pull away, continuing to stir-fry while bantering back, "Stop flattering yourself. You're not the only one with fantasies about Fei Fei. As long as you still dream of harems with seventy-two concubines, I'll always be your mother. Now, move aside— Stop being naughty." With that, she gently pushed Brother Nan aside and hummed a tune while measuring oil and salt. "Go wait over there. When the time comes, Mother will pass down her skills to you properly. No peeking. Just sit there nicely and wait to eat."

This wasn't Feifei's first visit to Nan Ge's place. Over the past year, whenever Nan Ge got too drunk, it was Feifei who brought him home. Once, when he wasn't quite as wasted, he'd toyed with the idea of making a move on her. But after testing the waters and seeing she wasn't interested, he'd let it go. Yet the two continued to maintain this ambiguous relationship, neither gaining the upper hand nor pulling away, simply drifting along.

Nan Ge strummed his guitar in the living room while waiting for Feifei to finish cooking. They sat across from each other, and Feifei's cooking was genuinely excellent. Nan Ge ate while showering her with smooth, flattering compliments.

Suddenly, Brother Nan remembered Xiao Yan. Feifei hadn't responded yet, so he asked, "Did you find out about that person I asked you about last time?"

"Li Xiaoyan? I found out. Turned out to be a waste of effort—turns out she's Xiao Qiao's classmate."

"Which Xiao Qiao? Oh, that Tiantian, right? What does she do?"

"Didn't I tell you? She's a teacher at Nanjing Arts Institute. Both she and Li Xiaoyan studied acting. Xiaoqiao comes from a well-connected family. After graduating, she stayed on as an adjunct lecturer. Li Xiaoyan acted for a few years before joining Nanjing University Press. When they got married, Xiaoqiao almost served as a bridesmaid. She didn't recognize Xiu Cai that day." I had to remind him later. It's none of your business, old man. Where'd you get this sudden urge to play the saint? Never saw you helping grannies cross the street before. What's your real motive? Saw the photo—a real stunner, huh? Pretty tempting, right?"

"This time you've really wronged me. I haven't laid eyes on the living soul, let alone had time to covet her. Didn't that couple have a falling out just the other day? After I got drunk, I suggested to Scholar that he go home and search Li Xiaoyan's phone. Turned out he found nothing, but Li Xiaoyan caught him red-handed. Because of that, Li Xiaoyan ran away from home. You tell me—after stirring up trouble like that, how could I just walk away? I was purely trying to help that couple patch things up. You know Scholar—he's stubborn as a mule. I just figured I'd give him a hand."

"How many couples have you split up this year? What kind of nonsense advice do you give? Going through someone's phone? If anyone went through yours, you'd have over twenty widows and orphans coming back to claim you. Why hasn't anyone gone through yours?"

"Who'd have thought he'd get caught red-handed like that? What kind of shows did Li Xiaoyan film all those years? Who did he hang out with most?"

"How should I know? You never asked me to snoop around about that. If you want to know, ask Xiao Qiao. I'm not getting involved in your mess. Are you bored out of your mind? Hurry up and finish those songs for Mr. Zhang's stage play. They've been nagging me about it for ages."

"His seasonal work gets done fast enough. Just tell him to wait patiently. When the time comes, he'll definitely deliver a job that satisfies the higher-ups."

Brother Nan and Feifei chatted over their meal, while he pondered inwardly that it seemed he'd need to have a talk with Xiao Qiao.

After they finished eating, Feifei cleaned up the kitchen, accompanied Nan Ge to the bar, exchanged a few flirtatious glances, reminded him to drink less, then headed home alone.

Nan thought for a moment before messaging Xiao Qiao: "Got something to ask you. Got time?"

Xiao Qiao replied promptly, "Can't meet tonight. Got something up. How about tomorrow afternoon at 3? Meet at the coffee shop on Back Street after class."

Brother Nan finally cut back on drinking the night before. Today, he woke up just past noon. Too lazy to brew tea in the courtyard, he tidied up and headed to the backstreet café early, following the location Xiao Qiao had sent.

The place wasn't actually small—a three-story building—but its sign was so understated that Brother Nan had to use his nose to finally find it. Following the aroma inside, he wandered through the floors. His mind still operated on commercial instincts: estimating rent, counting seats, calculating per-square-meter renovation costs, projecting daily revenue, and observing the clientele. This unconscious analysis felt natural—like a cook who instinctively dissects a dish after tasting it. Overall, it was a place perfect for photos, yet the owner didn't play pretentious piano music. Instead, the faint strains of Nelson's "It Always Will Be" drifted through the air—a sign of genuine care.

The third floor featured a semi-open terrace. Nan Ge settled into a corner booth for two. Just as he lit his cigarette, the waiter brought over the orange juice he'd ordered upon entering. It wasn't that he disliked coffee; he simply felt his vices were already numerous enough.

The afternoon weather was pleasant, with a gentle breeze occasionally playing with the smoke rings Nan Ge blew out. He instinctively reached for his phone to snap a few photos to share with his girlfriend, only to suddenly realize she had left him long ago.

Brother Nan didn't want to revisit those memories. He pulled out his phone and opened Foucault's The History of Sexuality, a book he'd saved for ages. This work had little to do with s****l acts themselves; it primarily analyzed how power influences the construction of personal ethics. These obscure, dry concepts were weapons in Brother Nan's arsenal, helping him understand the logic behind many behaviors. Of course, he rarely had the heart to read it seriously; he only occasionally flipped through it to kill time.

Seeing it was nearly three o'clock, Brother Nan asked the waiter for another cup of coffee. On his way here, he'd glanced at the shop's signature menu board; most of the girls had given this coffee high praise.

Shortly after, Xiao Qiao called and arrived. As she ascended the stairs and took her seat, the waiter brought over the coffee. Nan Ge smiled as he took in Xiao Qiao’s teacher’s attire—a stark contrast to the sweet girl he’d met that evening. “I ordered you a coffee. Try it. If it’s not to your taste, just ask them to replace it.”

Xiao Qiao glanced at the latte art on the coffee, smiled, and looked at Brother Nan. "For someone who looks so rough and tough, you're quite thoughtful. Did you do your homework?"

Brother Nan chuckled without reply. He pulled out a pack of slim cigarettes from his pocket, offered one to Xiao Qiao, and lit it for her. When lighting a cigarette for a girl, he always paused the flame just before it reached the cigarette, waiting for her to brush her hair aside and lean in herself.

"This is the first time I've seen you in daylight. You're absolutely a different kind of beauty from nighttime. How do you manage to blend charm and elegance into one body? Hey, what do you tell those young guys you teach when they can't hold back and confess their feelings to you?"