This Is Not Unofficial History, This Is History

The town's market had a warm, neighborly atmosphere where most people knew each other. Even if they didn't, regular shoppers would eventually become familiar faces.

Shen Nian carried a bucket of fish to sell, drawing curious glances from uncles and aunties as he passed by—it wasn’t every day you saw a young man selling fish at the market.

Eventually, a fish vendor offered to buy his entire stock at what he claimed was market price (though it was undoubtedly lower). Shen Nian, happy to skip the hassle, kept two decent fish for himself and sold the rest. He didn’t bother haggling over the small difference—it wasn’t worth the trouble. With the quick sale done, he headed straight for the milk tea shop.

The fish market reeked of seafood, but the milk tea shop wasn’t much better.

The town’s education system wasn’t exactly thriving, and the place was crawling with rebellious young men—tattooed peers loitering around milk tea and fried chicken shops, nursing a single drink all day while glued to their phones.

Making it through middle school without getting sucked into that lifestyle was already a stroke of luck.

Shen Nian glanced at the smoke-filled milk tea shop and the group of delinquents inside before turning to Xia Yanchun with a solemn expression.

"Stay right here. I’ll go get you—"

"Shut up, snow leopard." Xia Yanchun moved to step out of the car. "I’ll go see what’s good."

"You wanna breathe in secondhand smoke?"

"...Then wouldn’t you be breathing it in too?"

"Better one person than two, dumbass. What, did studying fry your brain? Bookworm. Idiot."

"..."

She was pissed.

Xia Yanchun swung a fist into Shen Nian’s stomach—not hard, but with enough force to make her point.

Stupid Shen Nian.

She’d just had a momentary lapse in judgment, and he’d insulted her three times in one go. Three times!

Shen Nian ducked into the milk tea shop to order.

The place was indeed thick with secondhand smoke. The owner wouldn’t dare stop these kids from lighting up—what if they never came back? Those meager earnings weren’t worth losing.

Xia Yanchun stood gracefully by the car, waiting. When Shen Nian returned, he shoved a milk tea into her arms.

"On me."

"Why so much?"

And it was her favorite—grass jelly milk tea.

"Your parents, my parents. I’m not drinking any." Shen Nian shrugged.

"Oh..."

"Made almost three hundred today. Wanna split it fifty-fifty?" He nudged Xia Yanchun’s soft arm with his elbow.

"No, just give me fifty. You’re better suited to two-fifty anyway."

"Damn, still mad? Not over it yet?"

"Not mad."

Truthfully, she wasn’t really angry—just teasing him a little, trying to reclaim her old sharp-tongued, thick-skinned self.

Later, they’d need to grab two bottles of Pulse to recharge.

Shen Nian adjusted his cap as he mounted the electric bike, waiting for Xia Yanchun to climb on behind him before leisurely setting off.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

Xia Yanchun sipped her drink silently, tiny tapioca pearls sliding up the straw as she peeked over Shen Nian’s shoulder, waiting.

"So, Zhang Fei used to look down on Guan Yu. Zhang Fei sold pork, Guan Yu sold mung beans. The day they met, Zhang Fei said pork was a luxury—hard to sell—while mung beans were cheap, so even a stray cat could sell them..."

"And then?"

"Then Guan Yu fired back, ‘I once saw a cat running a stall. Every day, it’d sigh and say...’"

"Say what?"

"‘Hachimi, I can’t sell these mung beans—’"

Xia Yanchun: ...?

What the hell.

Who could understand the sudden burst of salvation when "Hachimi" left his mouth?

Certainly not Xia Yanchun. He could take his "salvation" and shove it.

This was like making dumplings just for the vinegar.

Not even Hachimi the Immortal could save this joke—maybe Hachimi the Buddha.

"What kind of fake history is this?" she muttered.

"Seriously? You don’t think it’s funny?"

"Nope."

Might as well claim Lü Bu wasn’t the "Three-Surnamed Slave" but the "Three-Family’s Plaything"—at least then she’d call Shen Nian a pervert but secretly laugh.

Now that would be fake history. This Guan Yu-Zhang Fei-Hachimi nonsense? Just nonsense.

"Damn, if I told Chen Dong and the guys, they’d lose it."

"Proof that every last one of you boys is a weirdo."

"Fair."

On the way home, Shen Nian glanced at Xia Yanchun in the rearview mirror, her face half-hidden like an ostrich.

"How’re your parents doing health-wise?"

"Why?"

"Just asking."

"They’re fine. Yours?"

Xia Yanchun’s parents worked in the town government and the local clinic—aside from back pain from sitting too much, they were in good shape.

But Shen Nian’s parents ran a fishery. Even with hired hands, they still pitched in during busy seasons—hard, physical labor. Xia Yanchun remembered when Shen Shi used to make Shen Nian give him massages after long days.

"My folks are good too. The fishery’s quiet lately, so they’re mostly just supervising."

At her doorstep, Shen Nian parked the bike and grabbed the two fish, trailing behind Xia Yanchun.

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why’re you coming to my house?"

"Saved these two for your mom. Doesn’t she like fish?" He lifted the bucket innocently. What was wrong with being nice to her mom?

Auntie Wen had always looked out for him—watched him grow up. He’d watched her grow older too. She was practically a second mother.

"Just give them to me."

"Nope. Handing them to her myself."

"You’re up to something!"

"It’s basic courtesy. Neighbors give each other stuff all the time, especially families as close as ours."

"...Fine. But behave."

Upstairs, Wen Zhining was snacking on sunflower seeds and watching TV. Xia Yanchun led the way, glancing back every few steps, as if expecting Shen Nian to pull something. His awkwardness spiked under her scrutiny.

‘You better behave!’

Shen Nian could practically read her mind—Hachimi-Chun’s eyes said it all.

"Mom, Shen Nian’s here!"

"Hehehe, Auntie Wen, I caught two fish earlier—still fresh!"

Wen Zhining blinked at the sizable fish in the bucket. "You know how to fish? Did your dad teach you?"

"Self-taught. It’s not hard." Shen Nian scratched his head. "Xia Yanchun came too. She even caught a big one—sold it for over a hundred."

"Really?" Wen Zhining raised a brow.

"Really."

Xia Yanchun nodded, fighting a smile at the memory. Sure, Shen Nian had helped, but she’d held the rod too. Close enough to count.

Wen Zhining chuckled. So that’s where they’d been all morning—she’d assumed her daughter was studying. Sneaking off with Shen Nian, huh?

Could’ve at least given a heads-up.

"That’s wonderful! Yanchun, you should go fishing with Shen Nian more often. Don’t spend the whole break buried in homework—get out and have fun."

"No way."

One trip out and Shen Nian had already gotten handsy. A few more outings, and who knew where his hands would wander? Hard pass.

When she thought about being held in Shen Nian's arms, Xia Yanchun's cheeks couldn't help but grow slightly warm, her disheveled hair hiding the faint tremble of her lashes.

She couldn't resist shooting a sidelong glance at Shen Nian, wondering just what he had to look so smug about.

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