Sweet Oxygen - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – After the Rain

There’s a bed in the storage room

——

“Me? Cheap?”

Qin Han never expected such a big misunderstanding and didn’t know how to explain it.

She definitely couldn’t tell him that she had seen an illustration in a history book at the library and thought he resembled the sword hidden in that dimly lit image.

It sounded silly just saying it.

And it would seem like she kept thinking about him.

Hugging her little cactus, Qin Han hesitated and explained, “Well, I didn’t know your name, so I didn’t know how to address you.”

“Zhang Yuqing.”

“Zhang as in bow (弓) and long (长)?”

“Yeah.”

“Yu as in jade (玉)?”

“No, yu (耳) with an ear radical.”

“Oh, and what about qing? Is it qing as in falling for someone (倾城, qīngchéng) or qing as in gently (轻轻, qīngqīng)?”

“…”

——Chinese names are made up of characters (汉字), and each character carries meaning. Unlike in English, where names often have historical or cultural significance but don’t always mean something in everyday language, Chinese names are essentially meaningful words or combinations of words.

Zhang Yuqing, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped and turned back to look at Qin Han with disbelief.

He rarely met people like this—someone who, despite not knowing whether they’d ever meet again, was so serious about getting every character of his name right.

It was probably a habit of good students.

They tended to take things more seriously than others.

Qin Han was wearing a navy-style short-sleeved shirt, denim shorts, and a high ponytail.

Her fair, makeup-free face had a few stray hairs brushing her brows. Her naturally arched eyebrows looked much better than those semi-permanent Korean or Japanese styles.

She looked quite clever, but the way she talked made it clear that she was just a straightforward, innocent girl.

Zhang Yuqing looked away.

She did seem young.

Probably just a middle schooler—what kind of schemes could she possibly have?

Unaware that Zhang Yuqing had mentally downgraded her to a middle school student, Qin Han still smiled brightly and continued guessing, “Is it qing as in falling for someone (倾城, qīngchéng) or qing as in gently (轻轻, qīngqīng)?”

“Qing as in blue-green (青色, qīngsè).”

“Zhang Yuqing.”

Qin Han softly repeated his name and smiled. “Your name is really special.”

Zhang Yuqing didn’t respond, but Qin Han felt that now that she knew his name, they were no longer strangers, and yesterday’s awkwardness had completely disappeared.

She held onto her little cactus, hopping along. Her shoulder bag bounced with her movements, rising and falling against her slender waist.

“I’m Qin Han—Qin (秦) as in Qin Shi Huang (秦始皇), and Han (晗) as in day (日, rì) plus now (今, jīn) plus mouth (口, kǒu), meaning ‘the dawn of a new day!’”

She hopped as she spoke.

The next second, her white sneaker landed right in a muddy puddle, splashing a few drops of mud.

Zhang Yuqing, “…”

By June, the capital was already hot. The cicadas in the trees chirped endlessly.

Maybe because it had rained the day before, the usually dry northern city felt a bit like Sichuan or Chongqing—humid and stiflingly hot.

——Sichuan 四川 and Chongqing 重庆 are regions in southwestern China known for their humid, rainy weather and spicy food.

Qin Han hopped twice on one foot. Her bright expression vanished like a flower wilting under the sun. She pouted, “Oh no, my shoe is wet.”

Zhang Yuqing casually waved her over. “I have slippers at the shop. You can use a hairdryer to dry your shoes.”

Qin Han felt a bit embarrassed about troubling him again.

After all, they had only met yesterday, and she had already asked him to turn off an inappropriate video, borrowed his roof for shelter from the rain, taken his umbrella—and now she was about to go to his shop to dry her shoes.

But she didn’t really have any other options, so she nodded. “Zhang Yuqing, you’re such a good person.”

Zhang Yuqing, unexpectedly receiving a “good person” card, “Uh…”

——In Chinese culture, a ‘good person’ card can be a genuine compliment or a polite way to reject someone romantically.

Qin Han followed him into his shop.

Seeing him always wearing black rubber gloves, she assumed he was in the renovation business.

The shop was small but very tidy.

The white tiles were spotless. By the window on the right was a wooden table, with an old electric fan blowing over some sketches on it.

Qin Han smelled that familiar bamboo-like fragrance again.

Thanks to the high ceiling, a small loft had been built inside the shop, giving it a bit of a modern feel.

There was a black wrought-iron staircase, and next to it, an easel held a half-finished sketch.

Seeing the pencils on the table, Qin Han grew curious. “Are you a painter?”

“A tattoo artist.”

Qin Han fell silent. She wasn’t the type to be witty and chatty about everything, and she knew nothing about tattoos.

Her only impression of tattoos was from high school. Back in sophomore year, she had heard about a boy who got a tattoo.

Or maybe it was during freshman year—one time at a flag-raising ceremony, that boy had to read out a long self-reflection speech.

Normally, students were impatient during these speeches, but that day, everyone was whispering excitedly.

Qin Han had been drowsy and didn’t pay much attention. On her way back to the classroom, she passed by the teachers’ office and saw the boy standing there with his head down, as if he had been called in with his parents.

At the time, she was confused—was getting a tattoo really that serious?

Apparently, it was.

Because that week, during homeroom, her teacher spent half a class emphasizing that students were strictly forbidden from getting tattoos.

So in Qin Han’s mind, tattoos were in the same category as smoking and going to internet cafés—things that were “bad.”

But staying silent now seemed impolite, so after a long pause, she awkwardly said, “That’s… a really special job.”

In just a few minutes, she had called his name and his profession “special,” using that word twice.

But Zhang Yuqing could tell that when she said his job was special, she wasn’t as genuine as when she talked about his name.

In Qin Han’s mind, tattoo artists weren’t supposed to look like Zhang Yuqing.

She secretly glanced at his arms—completely clean, without a single tattoo.

His neck was also bare, just cold, pale skin, with only his Adam’s apple standing out.

“What are you looking at?”

Qin Han was startled and quickly shifted her gaze away from his Adam’s apple. “I was checking if you had any tattoos.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Qin Han looked him over again. “I don’t see any.”

Zhang Yuqing said, “They’re in places you can’t see.”

Qin Han finally realized.

But… in places she couldn’t see…

Her eyes instinctively swept over his black short-sleeved shirt and then down to his jeans—only to hear a teasing voice say, “Where are you looking?”

“I wasn’t looking!” Qin Han denied immediately.

The tattoo shop wasn’t big. Behind a closed door in the shop, a client with a half-finished tattoo on his arm was resting.

The remaining space was just the main hall.

Thinking she might feel embarrassed changing her shoes in front of a stranger, Zhang Yuqing led her upstairs to his bedroom without much thought.

But just as they reached the doorway, he hesitated.

Bringing a young girl into his bedroom…

That didn’t seem appropriate either.

Qin Han was confused and only focused on her shoes as she followed Zhang Yuqing upstairs.

The stairs were covered with black velvet, and she was afraid of dirtying the floor with her muddy shoes. So, she carefully held onto the handrail and hopped on one foot, nearly balancing in midair with each step.

Sensing that Zhang Yuqing had stopped, she also stopped and peeked forward.

To his left was a brown door, and his hand hovered over the doorknob.

He hesitated briefly, then suddenly let out a small chuckle. Changing direction, he pushed open the door on the right and gestured with a slight tilt of his chin. “This room instead.”

The door opened to a storage room, which was less tidy than the rest of the shop. It had no windows, and the lighting was dim.

Standing at the doorway, Qin Han was about to thank him when her gaze swept over the interior, and she was stunned.

There was a bed inside.

The bed looked quite simple—just a wooden frame without a mattress or pillow.

But it was also strangely complex. It had an iron framework with white furry cuffs hanging from it, along with spring-like structures and black leather straps.

It looked like something meant to suspend a person.

Or maybe, to tie someone down.

The presence of this bed made the dim atmosphere of the storage room feel unsettlingly ambiguous.

Qin Han’s gaze landed on those unfamiliar metal components, her expression turning blank.

A flood of inappropriate words rushed into her mind, all rather explicit. She even thought of imprisonment.

Zhang Yuqing had just been about to grab a pair of slippers for her when he turned and caught sight of her expression. He raised an eyebrow.

This girl’s thoughts were written all over her face.

Following her gaze, Zhang Yuqing swept a glance around the room and let out a light tsk.

Against the far wall was a pile of discarded tattoo design drafts. The topmost sheet happened to be a full-back tattoo design—not exactly the kind associated with model citizens.

It was a particularly fierce roaring lion, the kind most associated with gangsters.

To top it off, the image was a printed reference mock-up for a client—showing a bare back with the tattoo.

Then, there was the Pilates bed. Zhang Yuqing chuckled.

He glanced at Qin Han.

Her face was already red, and she clutched her small cactus pot tightly. It was obvious she was nervous.

Zhang Yuqing didn’t bother explaining that it was a Pilates bed.

Nor did he tell her that Pilates was similar to yoga.

Instead, he leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching her with amusement. “What’s wrong? Thinking I’m not a good person again?”

Qin Han stiffly turned around. She didn’t even need to answer—her eyes were already full of suspicion.

Zhang Yuqing slowly raised a hand and hooked his index finger, pulling down his mask.

Pointing at his own face, he teased, “Little girl, bad guys don’t look this handsome.”

Just as he said this, the sound of a door opening came from downstairs, followed by a woman’s voice.

“Qing-ge? I’ve finished my break, I’m heading out now.”

“Mm.”

It was the woman getting her tattoo downstairs, apparently about to leave.

Zhang Yuqing straightened up, preparing to head down.

After all, she was a customer—it was only polite to see her off.

Before leaving, he pointed at the storage room. “That’s a Pilates bed, a proper fitness and exercise apparatus.”

Then, he pointed at himself. “And me—I’m a proper person. Got it?”

The woman downstairs spoke again, her voice carrying an amused lilt.

“Oh, right, I need to settle the payment first! How much was it per hour again?”

She stretched lazily as she muttered to herself, “But Qing-ge, your skills are solid! It didn’t even hurt at all, I even took a nap. Felt so good!”

After mumbling, she raised her voice again, “Shall we continue tomorrow afternoon?”

Zhang Yuqing immediately sensed that a certain little girl’s thoughts were spiraling in the wrong direction again. He looked up, and sure enough, Qin Han was staring at him with wide eyes, filled with large words—

You. Are. Not. A. Good. Person.

Zhang Yuqing, “…”