38. The Sleeping Gypsy

The distance from the plains to Beijing is over a thousand kilometers. By plane, it takes two hours, and by high-speed train, it’s just five hours. Even though it’s hard to get tickets during the Spring Festival rush, Lu Zhengming wasn’t someone who couldn’t manage it, but he still chose to drive himself.

At times like this, his rugged off-road vehicle, which hadn’t yet crossed wild terrain, came in handy. It drove comfortably on the national highways. Yin Yan and he took turns driving, not taking the shortest route. Whenever they passed an interesting place, they detoured to take a look, enjoying the journey as they went. It took them four or five days to reach Beijing.

As dusk fell, they had just passed a toll booth and stopped by the roadside, waiting for the armed police to check vehicles entering Beijing.

Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, marking the first time they had seen snow on their journey. Snow was rare in the plains; even when it did fall, it melted quickly and never accumulated like this. Without a word, they both got out of the car and stared blankly at the snow drifting through the haze in the sky.

The city lights lit up the night sky, casting an orange and purple hue that mingled into an ambiguous warm tone. This kind of scene rarely appeared in Yin Yan’s or Lu Zhengming’s world. Yin Yan’s color palette was always cold and stark, while Lu Zhengming’s was always vivid.

Feather-like snowflakes settled on Yin Yan’s shoulders, in his hair, even on his eyelashes, creating little droplets of melted snowwater. The whole of him looked damp. Lu Zhengming, holding a cigarette, didn’t light it but kept staring at Yin Yan. The cigarette served as a substitute for Yin Yan’s lips, offering a slight comfort to his desire.

Yin Yan gazed off into the distance, silent. Lu Zhengming, growing a little dejected, took the cigarette out of his mouth, moved closer to Yin Yan, brushed off the thin layer of snow, and then cupped his hands around Yin Yan’s cold ears to warm them. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about you.” Yin Yan smiled.

Before he answered, Lu Zhengming had hoped to hear those words, but when they were spoken, he felt a sense of being brushed off and deceived. He put the cigarette back in his mouth, lit it, and took a long, forceful drag.

Lu Zhengming had thought Yin Yan would just brush it off with a smile, but instead, his expression seemed somewhat confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“You seem a little angry.”

Lu Zhengming extinguished the half-smoked cigarette. “I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you,” Yin Yan said, brushing the snow off Lu Zhengming’s head. “I really was thinking about you, and some… things from a long time ago.”

Lu Zhengming’s expression softened. “What things?”

“Things from elementary school.” He smiled a little, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “One time, I lost the house key and had to wait outside for my mom to come home. It was snowing then too. I wasn’t dressed warmly enough, and I was freezing. By the time she got back, there was frost on my water bottle…”

Lu Zhengming was incredulous. “Why didn’t you go to the neighbors’ house? Where was your dad?”

Yin Yan smiled bitterly and shook his head, not explaining. Just then, the armed police finished checking the car and returned their documents, cutting off the conversation completely.

The car set off again, and the two of them remained silent. It wasn’t until they were close to the hotel that Yin Yan suddenly spoke, saying something completely random:

“I like your warmth.”

The warm light from the streetlamps filtered through the car window, and snowflakes drifted outside. His face was calm and soft, completely different from the usual aloofness. Lu Zhengming’s chest fluttered slightly. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, leaned over, and kissed his lips. It was cool and soft, a unique sensation that belonged only to Yin Yan. In no time, it would be warmed by his own body temperature, igniting, becoming passionate and eager. Lu Zhengming showed great patience, and eventually, he had taught him to express desire in this language.

But that still wasn’t enough. Far from it.

“You’re wearing too little.”

Lu Zhengming pinched the sleeve of Yin Yan’s coat. Underneath the cashmere jacket, there was only a flannel shirt. This outfit wasn’t warm enough even in the plains, and in Beijing, it seemed too thin. There was no denying it, he looked good dressed like that, graceful and refined. But at this moment, Lu Zhengming suddenly dismissed his own sense of aesthetics and thought he could wear something thicker.

So, he started the car again and drove to a famous department store near Guomao.

Lu Zhengming wasn’t interested in luxury goods, but he thought they suited Yin Yan. There was a kind of noble aura about him, a refinement cultivated from a life of comfort. Yet sometimes, he also gave off the opposite feeling. After thinking for a long time, Lu Zhengming realized it reminded him of something he had once seen in a very impoverished student, a deep and overwhelming sense of lack.

This was so contradictory, he thought. Yet, for him, this contradiction held a kind of indescribable attraction. Yin Yan’s gaze could penetrate him, yet it seemed he would always remain unknowable to him, like a clumsy amateur detective piecing together the fragments of clues left behind.

The mall was filled with large mirrors, clearly and brightly reflecting the products, but also exposing every flaw on the passersby. As they walked past the mirrors, they would instinctively slow down, adjust their appearance, and in these repeated moments of self-examination, their hidden vanity was stirred, awakening their longing for the imagined, luxurious life that these products represented.

Lu Zhengming also looked at the mirrors, though he wasn’t interested in criticizing consumerism, because the other person in the reflection kept his gaze fixed.

Yin Yan, dressed in clothes too thin for the season, looked like a model on a poster. Lu Zhengming’s own jacket wasn’t much thicker, a leather bomber jacket, and he too resembled a male model. As he looked at the two of them walking side by side in the mirror, he suddenly felt they resembled one of those gay couples who often posted selfies on social media.

How far would they go?

Before confirming his relationship with Yin Yan, Lu Zhengming had never thought about this question. Everything had been driven by desire, starting from his lower body. Until physical satisfaction was no longer enough, he began to seek more, to pursue affection. The pain of unrequited love was, of course, difficult to bear, but what about after obtaining it?

He had prepared himself to come out to his family. Even if the school found out, it would only mean resigning. As for life after resignation, who would criticize the sexual orientation of an artist living on the fringes? But what was Yin Yan thinking? He had been slow to respond, was it because of concerns about his reputation within the system, or did he simply not feel the same way?

“What are you thinking about?”

Perhaps it was the unfamiliar surroundings that relaxed them, or perhaps Yin Yan had also felt that couple-like sense of compatibility from the mirror, but he unexpectedly took Lu Zhengming’s hand.

Lu Zhengming was surprised for a moment, then squeezed his hand tightly in return. “I was thinking about you.”

As soon as he said it, he remembered the exact same conversation they had at the toll booth earlier. At that time, he hadn’t believed Yin Yan’s answer, and now he worried that Yin Yan wouldn’t believe his. But Yin Yan didn’t doubt him. He spread his fingers, intertwining his hand with Lu Zhengming’s, their palms fully pressed together. And with that, Lu Zhengming no longer needed to explain.

He once again felt that gaze, quietly coming in, not stirring the dust.

The dust was nothing more than the trivialities of worldly life. Each piece so small and insignificant, hardly worth mentioning. Over time, these things accumulated in memory, becoming remnants that were hard to shake off and too lazy to clean up. If you recklessly stepped into them, they would stir up a cloud of smoke and dust. For example, every time Lu Zhengming returned home, he would be troubled by the dust for a long time, taking considerable time to calm his mind.

But once his mind settled, loneliness would occupy the empty spaces, and he would have to find someone to fill the void. As a result, not only would the old dust resurface, but new dust would also pile up in his memory. This dust would breed murkiness and heaviness, and over time, Lu Zhengming felt that his carefreeness was only a facade; his life was not as light as it appeared.

“Yin Yan…”

Lu Zhengming suddenly stopped and embraced him from behind. The two figures in the mirror still looked beautiful, like photos on a blog, illustrations in magazines, or posters on a gallery wall. In short, they were so perfect they didn’t seem real.

“I want to be with you,” he whispered, staring at the mirror.

Yin Yan didn’t pull away. Although he knew that people were coming and going in the mall, and their actions were attracting attention, he still held Lu Zhengming’s hand. He responded to his affection with one simple word:

“Mm.”

Yin Yan firmly rejected Lu Zhengming’s suggestion to buy him a down jacket, opting instead for a lightweight cashmere sweater. He bought two of them, same brand, different styles. So even if they wore them to school at the same time, no one would notice anything unusual. He wasn’t sure why he did that. So far, he had never given Lu Zhengming a direct answer, yet somehow, in these trivial matters, he made choices that spoke louder than words. What did that even mean?

Crossing his arms, Yin Yan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel room, overlooking Beijing’s CBD, where the lights burned all through the night. Snow swirled outside, the air biting cold, making the room feel oppressively warm. The sweater he had on felt unnecessary. He pulled it off, and then realized the shirt underneath felt unnecessary too. The air conditioning wasn’t set that high, so why was it still so hot?

He found the answer in the glass reflection. After showering, Lu Zhengming stood beside him, bare-chested. The heat was coming from him, from his body.

Even though Yin Yan felt hot, he still wanted warmth.

He pulled off his shirt, embraced Lu Zhengming for a while, and then started undoing his pants, stripping them off along with his own until they were both completely naked.

Lu Zhengming let him do as he pleased, his desire slowly rising, though he didn’t make a move. Yin Yan, for his part, looked indifferent, but his bare body betrayed him, unable to hide the secrets written on his skin.

They embraced again, their lips and tongues intertwining in a lingering, sensual tangle as their lower bodies pressed and rubbed against each other, teasing and colliding. Yin Yan glanced down at the damp streaks on his lower abdomen, then lifted his eyes to meet Lu Zhengming’s gaze, a trace of ambiguity flickering between them.

But Lu Zhengming refused his silent invitation, even though the atmosphere felt perfect for making love. Watching the city lights from high above had a charm of its own, a certain allure.

“Let’s sleep. We’re going to see the exhibition tomorrow.”

He kissed Yin Yan’s lips again, gentle but resolute, feeling that what Yin Yan needed most right now was rest, and that he shouldn’t give in to indulgence.

Yin Yan didn’t push further, instead putting on a playful expression, as though he’d been caught in the act of seduction and skillfully outmaneuvered.

In truth, he did desire Lu Zhengming. But since the other man wasn’t in the mood right now, Yin Yan acted like it didn’t matter at all. He no longer relied on provocative tactics to provoke a reaction because he had already won Lu Zhengming over. This man expressed his love daily, through words and actions, and would do anything for him.

And yet, after successfully playing it cool, a twinge of regret surfaced. Lu Zhengming wanted him too, so why not take advantage and satisfy himself just a little?

Unable to make sense of his own hesitation, Yin Yan decided not to dwell on it. He excused himself to the bathroom, where he quietly relieved himself, alone.

Just like on countless nights when he had silently craved Lu Zhengming, his imagination spun vivid fantasies…

He pictured himself being dominated, guided, punished… Then he imagined Lu Zhengming losing control, driven mad by his shamelessness. He longed for that strong, warm body, those deft hands, and that hard, throbbing shaft…

Yin Yan hadn’t brought any toys, and there was no way the hotel would have something like that prepared. Left with no other option, he mimicked the angle at which Lu Zhengming usually entered him, sliding his fingers inside himself. But no matter how he moved, he couldn’t reach climax. It just wasn’t the same.

Frustrated, he withdrew his fingers and focused on the front instead, gripping himself and stroking harder. His body throbbed with hunger, but this passive feeling of being filled wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he wanted.

He needed to seize. To possess He needed more.

His thoughts wandered to the moments when he had been inside Lu Zhengming: the tight tension in his body, the clumsy awkwardness of an entrance not yet used to being breached, struggling to swallow him whole, warm and accommodating.

No. Still not enough.

His mind drifted further, recalling how, at that moment, Lu Zhengming had surrendered to his rhythm, bent beneath him, enduring his reckless thrusts. Lost in the violent pounding, trembling as he came… begging for more. Saying it wasn’t enough. Again. Over and over, gripping him tightly, quivering around him until he released deep inside him…

Yin Yan finally came.

He stared at the streaks of semen slowly sliding down the wall, the brief satisfaction fading into emptiness once again.

After resting for a while, he did it again.

When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, Lu Zhengming was already fast asleep.

He had driven most of the way during their trip, and his body was clearly exhausted. If Yin Yan hadn’t been zoning out by the window earlier, he might have fallen asleep even sooner.

Yin Yan quietly slipped under the covers. Lu Zhengming stirred, letting out a small, sleepy murmur before instinctively pulling him close, wrapping him up with his limbs and locking him in place.

The feeling was familiar, yet not entirely the same. Yin Yan didn’t resist, and he didn’t feel suffocated either. In fact, he found himself wishing the hold was even tighter.

So, he turned over and wrapped his arms and legs around Lu Zhengming, mirroring the same position.

From an outsider’s perspective, the position might have looked twisted and awkward, like two drowning men struggling desperately, grasping at anything within reach as they sank deeper and deeper into the dark.