Work Text:
“Car wash, sir?”
Liu Sang, just stretching after a long drive, winced internally at the thought.
The
last
time he’d gone through a car wash plant, the mechanical squeals and whirring brushes had nearly split his head open. His ears still remembered the painful, high-pitched shrieks of the spinning fins scraping along the car.
But then the words registered, and Liu Sang looked down.
A boy—maybe twelve—stood there with a bucket and a sponge. No machines. No screaming brushes. No threat to his hearing.
Liu Sang’s shoulders sagged with visible relief.
He glanced at his car—coated in another thick layer of dust and dried mud from the road. Then back at the boy, who looked hopeful in the way only kids chasing pocket money could.
“You are aware my car isn’t actually orange or brown, right?” Liu Sang asked dryly. “I’m afraid your little bucket won’t make much of a dent.”
The kid blinked, then took another long, appraising look at the dusty vehicle. Liu Sang didn’t even need to listen to his heartbeat to catch the sudden spark of determination.
The boy bit his lower lip thoughtfully, then straightened up. “How about this, Mister? If I get it clean, you give me fifty bucks. For another thirty, I’ll even do the underbody.”
Liu Sang raised an eyebrow, skeptical but amused. The kid had confidence, at least. And while the price screamed tourist trap , Liu Sang didn’t particularly care. If it saved his ears and his paint job, it was worth it.
“Very well. It’s a deal.”
“Yes, sir! You won’t regret it, sir!” the boy beamed and thrust out a hand for a handshake—something he’d probably seen in a movie.
Just then, a sleek black SUV pulled up beside them. The window rolled down to reveal Hei Xiazi, grinning like a cat with cream.
“What’s this, Liu Sang? Bullying a poor kid?”
Liu Sang lifted both eyebrows and gave him a long, unimpressed look that stopped just short of an eye roll. The two men stared each other down for a beat, then broke into smiles as Xiazi pulled into the adjacent space.
The boy, who’d been watching warily, set his bucket down. Then he stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Liu Sang flinched at the sharpness of the sound.
“Guys! We got a job!”
What followed sounded like a stampede. From the playground, behind the fence, and who knew where else, at least ten other kids emerged—older, taller, and moving with practiced coordination. They brought extra buckets, steam rising from the water, and unrolled a hose from somewhere nearby.
“You might want to step back, sirs,” the boy said seriously. Then he eyed Hei Xiazi’s SUV. “We’ll be careful not to splash your car, too. Though if I may say so… it could use a wash. I’ll even give you a discount.”
Xiazi threw his head back with a loud laugh and slung an arm around Liu Sang’s shoulders, steering him away.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I heard your prices.”
The kid gave a near-innocent shrug that clearly meant suit yourself.
“They’re going to rob you blind,” Xiazi teased, dragging Liu Sang a few steps further to safety.
At the boy’s sharp, commanding “Water—GO!” the scene exploded into what could only be described as a joyful, chaotic war between grime and determination.
There were shrieks and laughter and the slap of sponges and spray of water.
Liu Sang watched in stunned silence, white noise turned up in his headphones, leaning ever so slightly into Hei Xiazi’s side. Xiazi glanced down and followed his gaze, catching the look of confused wonder in Liu Sang’s expression.
He doubted Liu Sang had ever experienced something like this—something messy and loud and fun . Given what Xiazi knew about the man's isolated childhood, pillow fights were probably foreign territory, let alone a full-on water-and-soap battle with neighborhood kids.
Soon, the blue of the car began to emerge under all the elbow grease. Just as Xiazi thought they were wrapping up, two older boys rolled over car jacks and had the vehicle lifted at an angle within minutes.
Again the hose came out. Precise hands scrubbed the undercarriage while others cleared away the runoff, cleaning the parking lot with military efficiency.
By the time they were done, the car gleamed.
“One clean car, underbody included,” the boy announced, beaming with pride. “That’s eighty bucks, as agreed.”
Liu Sang gave the team—and his now shockingly blue car—a long look before reaching for his backpack. He pulled out his wallet and handed over a hundred yuan note.
“You did good work. Keep the rest. But make sure you split it fairly—and pay whoever’s water you’re using, too.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Wait—is this fake?”
Liu Sang snorted. Hei Xiazi chuckled.
“It’s legit,” Liu Sang said dryly. “But let’s be clear—your pitch won’t work on the rest of my group. I just happen to know good work when I see it. Enjoy the bonus.”
He didn’t wait for the stunned reply. He simply turned toward the nearby inn.
Hei Xiazi waved at the gathered kids before following. They’d barely taken a few steps when a chorus of voices rang out behind them.
“THANK YOU, MISTER!”
Liu Sang paused, gave a small wave, then slipped inside.
“So…” Xiazi began, only for Liu Sang to cut him off.
“It’s to buy their sister a bike. She’s been walking to work every day. They were short eighty yuan. The sale ends today. The extra’s for themselves.”
Hei Xiazi grinned. “You’re such a softie.”
“You sure you want to talk? If you tell anyone about this, I’ll tell them where that anonymous donation to your so-called not-godson came from.”
Xiazi gasped in mock betrayal. “You wouldn’t!”
“Try me.”
They both laughed.
Hei Xiazi only let go of Liu Sang’s shoulders when they reached the front desk and he needed both hands to check in. On the second floor, their paths split—Liu Sang heading up another flight of stairs, Xiazi to his room.
“Dinner in thirty?” Hei Xiazi asked.
“I’m gonna need more than that to feel human again.”
“I’ll probably still be eating by the time you show up.”
Liu Sang huffed a laugh and nodded—a silent promise not to vanish into his room all evening.
“Don’t shower too long or you’ll shrink,” Hei Xiazi called as he unlocked his door. “Pangzi’ll start calling you ‘shrimpy shrimp’ again!”
Liu Sang didn’t answer, but a moment later Xiazi’s phone buzzed with a message:
“Don’t give him ideas.”
Hei Xiazi laughed and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, dumping his gear in a careless pile. He had hot water to enjoy—before a maybe-maybe-not-shrimpy-shrimp used it all up.