Chapter 1 – Xiang Lei’s Senior Year

Part One: Fruitless Blooms

1

During the Spring Festival of 2001, Xiang Lei was in his final year of high school.

One of Xiang Lei’s childhood friends, Yu Tao, mocked him for being old-fashioned and then dragged him to an internet café to teach him how to go online. Xiang Lei had no idea what to do and could only practice typing repeatedly in Notepad. The café played Du Dexi’s ‘Lover’ on loop, while people around him screamed hysterically in ‘Jianghu’¹A complex cultural concept from wuxia stories, referring to a semi-mythical world of martial artists and wanderers, which exists outside of mainstream society. In this case it simply means they’re playing online games with a martial arts setting., talking about killing someone or joining some faction.

Yu Tao gave Xiang Lei a QQ account, telling him that people from all over the world would be sitting in front of their computers, chatting with him. Xiang Lei typed slowly and found it quite boring after chatting for a while with a few people who had female avatars.

Then, accounts with male avatars began adding Xiang Lei as a friend. One with a baseball cap avatar popped up in the strangers list. Xiang Lei clicked on it and saw the message: “You must be a pretty little girl!”

Xiang Lei froze for a moment before replying: “I’m male.”

The other person told Xiang Lei that the account he was using had a nickname that read “I’m Ugly,” an age of 38, a female gender, and an occupation listed as “boss”—clearly Yu Tao’s prank. Xiang Lei asked how to edit the profile, but the other person’s explanation was unclear. After fumbling around for a long time, Xiang Lei still couldn’t find where to make changes.

Xiang Lei apologized, but the baseball cap guy said it was fine and continued chatting with him for a long time. Xiang Lei really wanted to know why the other person was still willing to talk to him after finding out he wasn’t a girl. When he asked where the guy was from, the reply came: “Jilin.”

At that moment, Xiang Lei suddenly felt an urge to tell him that he was gay—not for any particular reason, just to say it out loud to someone, preferably someone far away. Even if it meant getting cursed at, he just wanted to say it. This thought had been buried deep in his heart for countless days and nights, and Xiang Lei was truly exhausted from carrying it alone.

[“It’s nothing. Everyone has something that makes them different. As long as they don’t hurt others, they’re not wrong.”]

When Xiang Lei read this reply, tears immediately welled up in his eyes. He could hardly believe what he was seeing—that someone thousands of miles away, sitting in front of a computer, had actually said these words to him, sincerely and directly.

Then, the baseball cap guy copied and pasted a news headline: [“On January 1, 2001, the Netherlands became the first country in the world to legally recognize same-sex marriage.”]

This left Xiang Lei both exhilarated and astonished. Same-sex marriage—what a bizarre phrase! Xiang Lei was certain that neither he nor anyone around him could have imagined such a thing on their own.

After the baseball cap guy logged off, Xiang Lei accidentally clicked on the conditional search function in QQ. As if possessed, he typed the word “homosexual” in the nickname field. To his shock, the search results spanned over a hundred pages!

Xiang Lei had always assumed that people like him only existed in faraway, developed countries in Europe and America, and that he was the only one in all of vast China.

After asking Yu Tao how to edit his profile and change his password, Xiang Lei started adding those accounts indiscriminately, without caring about location or age.

Xiang Lei became addicted to the internet. Letters poured in from online friends across the country, and Xiang Lei—who had been suffocating under the pressure of college entrance exams—suddenly found himself brightening along with the spring, repeatedly falling into illusory yet sweet online romances. During the day, he would reply to letters and then collapse onto his desk to sleep. At night, after reason had thoroughly lost the battle, he would lose control and spend all night in internet cafés.

Someone taught him how to use a browser, and Xiang Lei spent hours reading ‘Beijing Story’²An influential Chinese web novel that was published anonymously online in 1996. The book tells the story of a gay love affair and was one of the first of its kind to be widely circulated in China, later being adapted into film.. Oblivious to the strange looks from people around him, he trembled in front of the computer screen, weeping silently in the glow of the monitor.

Later, someone sent Xiang Lei links to local gay websites, where he excitedly found friends nearby. There was supposed to be a self-study session on Sunday morning, but Xiang Lei skipped it and traveled 50 kilometers to Qingdao to meet someone who called himself Brother Song.

2

After hanging up Brother Song’s call, Xiang Lei stood at the entrance of the agreed-upon supermarket, waiting. He kept scanning the men in the crowd, wondering which one might be Brother Song, feeling both nervous and excited.

Someone waved from the convenience store across the street. Xiang Lei looked over and saw a man wearing sunglasses and a black fitted T-shirt. Once he confirmed Xiang Lei had noticed him, the man turned and walked into the alley opposite. Xiang Lei suddenly felt a little shy and deliberately let passing cars go first, stretching out the time it took to cross the street.

When he reached the alley entrance, Xiang Lei saw the man waiting in the shadow of the building behind the convenience store. Spotting Xiang Lei, the man turned his face away and said, “I’ll walk ahead. Don’t follow too closely.” Xiang Lei nodded and followed him into a stairwell.

Xiang Lei sat on the sofa while Brother Song handed him a bottle of cola. Then, he noticed Brother Song sitting across from him, staring intently. Xiang Lei grew even more embarrassed, his face burning, and he quickly lowered his head. Brother Song chuckled and asked if this was Xiang Lei’s first time meeting an online friend. When Xiang Lei nodded, Brother Song said it was better not to meet too many people—college entrance exams were more important.

“How tall are you?” Brother Song asked after a long silence.

“1.78 meters,” Xiang Lei replied.

“I don’t believe you! Come here, let’s compare.” Brother Song stood up and pulled Xiang Lei to his feet.

Xiang Lei thought they were really going to compare heights, but the moment he stood up, he found himself tightly embraced. His heartbeat instantly lost its rhythm, and Xiang Lei froze, unsure what to do with his hands and feet.

Then Brother Song kissed him on the lips. Xiang Lei’s mind resisted, but his body responded almost instinctively in a dizzying rush. He had expected his first kiss to be clumsy, but it flowed naturally—his response was anything but perfunctory.

Brother Song tightened his grip around Xiang Lei’s waist, making it impossible for Xiang Lei to hide the intense physical reaction that followed. Panicked, he twisted his face away and struggled free from the embrace.

“Seems like it wasn’t your first kiss after all. I was wrong,” Brother Song said with a smile.

Xiang Lei immediately denied it, but Brother Song wouldn’t believe him.

Then Brother Song asked why Xiang Lei didn’t shave, why he didn’t have a hairstyle, and why he paired those pants with those shoes. That day, Xiang Lei realized for the first time that he must look very unsophisticated and didn’t know how to respond.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, Brother Song started rummaging through his wardrobe, saying he had a set of clothes he’d never worn that would suit Xiang Lei. Xiang Lei kept refusing, but Brother Song didn’t stop.

When Brother Song found the outfit, he insisted Xiang Lei try it on right then. Xiang Lei blurted out, “You’d have to kill me before I’d take my clothes off here!” Brother Song relented but continued staring at Xiang Lei relentlessly. Just when it seemed like he might try something again, Xiang Lei hurriedly said he had to leave.

“Don’t go. I’ll take you to get a haircut and shower later. Stay the night,” Brother Song said, grabbing Xiang Lei’s arm and repeating the offer, the last time almost pleading. But Xiang Lei remained firm.

Brother Song finally gave up but stuffed the clothes into Xiang Lei’s hands along with 100 yuan, telling him to get a haircut himself. Xiang Lei refused. When Brother Song kept insisting, Xiang Lei simply opened the door and walked out. Brother Song followed, forcefully shoving the 100 yuan into Xiang Lei’s pocket and telling him to remember—he had to get a haircut.

Xiang Lei was desperate to leave and quickly descended the stairs, two at a time.

On the way back, Xiang Lei kept replaying what had just happened. For the first time, he couldn’t understand himself—did he want it, or was he resisting it? He couldn’t give himself a clear answer. This uncertainty felt unbearably pretentious, because Xiang Lei had always considered himself a person of extremes, governed by binary emotions for years. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so ambiguous before.

Then it struck him—for years, his attraction to men had existed purely in the realm of thought. This was the first time he had physically acted on that strange fixation, so of course it felt unfamiliar.

In that case, his subconscious must have accepted it—and perhaps even harbored a secret longing, as if eagerly anticipating the inevitable day when a more substantial validation would occur.

On his way home, Xiang Lei stopped by his house. To appease his mother, he handed her the 100 yuan in his pocket, lying that he had found it on the street. This attempt at appeasement felt abrupt in his mind, as if he had hastily reached a conclusion without proper reasoning.

His mother asked why he hadn’t been in class that morning. Xiang Lei hemmed and hawed but couldn’t come up with a convincing lie. His mother didn’t press further, only saying it was lucky his father wasn’t home—a middle school classmate had called at noon, saying he was back from the army on leave and had waited at the school all morning for Xiang Lei, who never showed. Xiang Lei quickly asked if the caller had left a number. His mother said it was written by the phone. Overjoyed, Xiang Lei immediately called back.

It really was Pei Yong! Xiang Lei stayed at home for a while, his mind wandering, before rushing back to the county town.

3

It was Pei Yong who had ultimately made Xiang Lei realize he was different.

The two had once liked the same girl and had been rivals who couldn’t stand each other—one a local delinquent, the other a model student from the countryside. But after various experiences, they became close friends, even yielding to each other over the girl, and eventually became inseparable brothers.

Of course, “brothers” was the public label. Xiang Lei knew that, under the guise of friendship, he had fallen irreversibly in love with his brother since the second semester of middle school.

When Xiang Lei found Pei Yong at the snack street in the square, he was drinking competitively with five or six friends. Pei Yong spotted Xiang Lei, smiled, and waved him over to the empty seat beside him. Xiang Lei exchanged brief greetings with Pei Yong’s friends and sat down. Pei Yong immediately complained about Xiang Lei being absent all morning and demanded to know where he’d gone.

Xiang Lei, usually skilled at lying, suddenly found himself at a loss. After stammering a few evasive replies, he changed the subject.

Pei Yong frowned and said, “We’ll talk if you don’t get into a good university!” Then he went back to rowdily challenging his friends to drinking contests.

Xiang Lei was suddenly overwhelmed with inexplicable guilt and sorrow. He felt he had failed Pei Yong—even though he knew Pei Yong could never return his romantic feelings, and even though that meant Xiang Lei wasn’t morally obligated to remain “pure” for him. But the thought that Pei Yong, a “hoodlum,” hadn’t even had his first kiss yet made Xiang Lei feel filthy, as if his unrequited crush was a kind of sacrilege against his best friend.

If Pei Yong ever found out, shock or disgust would be the least of it. The real tragedy would be realizing that the person he took such pride in, cared for so deeply—his closest brother—had turned out like this. How disappointed he would be!

One of Pei Yong’s friends wanted to play a drinking game with Xiang Lei, but Pei Yong quickly stopped him, saying alcohol damaged the brain and Xiang Lei needed to focus on college exams. The friend scoffed at Pei Yong’s attitude, but Pei Yong wouldn’t budge. Another guy handed Xiang Lei a cigarette and lit it for him. As Xiang Lei sat there, lost in self-loathing, Pei Yong suddenly snatched the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground.

Xiang Lei helped the drunk Pei Yong home, undressed him, and tucked him into bed. Tentatively, he said he didn’t want to go to evening self-study. Pei Yong, too drunk to scold him, just mumbled “whatever” and passed out.

As usual, Xiang Lei lay beside Pei Yong, carefully turning halfway and lightly embracing him, unwilling to move all night, drifting in and out of sleep. Pei Yong often turned over and hugged Xiang Lei without hesitation, making Xiang Lei frantically adjust his position to hide his obvious physical reaction while still trying to share the same air Pei Yong breathed.

In a sleep-talking murmur, Pei Yong said, “They’ve all tasted it… I’m starting to think about it all the time too. If only you were a girl…” As he mumbled, he pressed closer to Xiang Lei.

Xiang Lei began sweating profusely, curling up and shifting his hips and back as far away as possible, even exposing himself to the cold outside the blanket—terrified that Pei Yong might accidentally touch the part of him that would give everything away.

The next day, Xiang Lei tore the page with Brother Song’s number from his phone book and threw it in the trash without a second thought.

4

During the summer after the college entrance exams, Pei Yong called from the army to ask about Xiang Lei’s results.

For the past six months, Xiang Lei had been obsessed with the internet. Luckily, his academic foundation was solid, and his ranking in mock exams hadn’t dropped significantly. Even in the last test two weeks before the exams, his scores were stable. Unfortunately, he performed terribly in the actual exams and was admitted to a mediocre university in Beijing.

Years of dual pressures—academic and emotional—had been unbearable, so Xiang Lei adamantly refused to retake the exams. Despite his regrets, he was ready to accept his fate. Upon reflection, he realized his internet addiction had probably affected his performance. Even if he retook the exams, he couldn’t guarantee he’d resist the lure of the online world.

His refusal to retake the exams might also have been because he sensed, somewhere deep down, that a love story awaited him in a distant city. Missing that chance encounter might mean missing it for a lifetime.

Pei Yong exhaled in disappointment and asked if Xiang Lei had ignored all his warnings. Xiang Lei asked if he meant the prohibitions against smoking, drinking, dating girls, or watching porn—then confidently declared he’d obeyed every one.

“Then tell me honestly, are you still a virgin?” Pei Yong suddenly asked.

“What does it matter? Aren’t you one too? Why didn’t you come back to take the college entrance exams?” Xiang Lei retorted.

“Who said I was? Last time I came home, I ‘graduated.’ Those girls were so easy to pick up.”

Xiang Lei suddenly felt so sad he couldn’t speak, even though he couldn’t find a single shred of justification for that sadness.

“In the ten days after we drank that time, I slept with three of them, all introduced by my buddies. I really liked one of them—she writes to me all the time now. I asked her to be my girlfriend, and she agreed without even thinking…”

Xiang Lei’s hand trembled as he held the phone. Pei Yong kept talking in a boastful tone, and Xiang Lei had to force himself to process the words.

After hanging up, Xiang Lei felt like he was wandering in an endless desert, parched with thirst, yet knowing there was no hope within reach. He considered just lying down right there and giving up—abandoning everything, as if he had been struggling for half a lifetime already.

This state lasted for a week.

Then, one morning, Xiang Lei opened his eyes and saw the outline of the window cast in pale yellow sunlight on the wall. Outside, birds fluttered and chirped. For some inexplicable reason, he suddenly smiled.

In his heart, he began happily fantasizing about a love that didn’t exist—so detailed that it included a vague smile, a real embrace, a passionate kiss, and even more.

Xiang Lei closed his eyes sweetly, almost hearing a boy’s voice whisper by his pillow: “Xiang Lei, should we go see the ocean or climb a mountain? Should we head north or south?”

That evening, Xiang Lei went to the county town and holed up in an internet café, planning to stay all night.

He found a Beijing gay chatroom and registered an account called “I Will Find You.” Like a street vendor hawking his wares, he persistently posted: Looking for friends, looking for friends, looking for friends.

On his QQ panel, Brother Song came online. Seeing the name, Xiang Lei was surprised to realize that his earlier anticipation had completely vanished.

Brother Song asked why Xiang Lei hadn’t contacted him. Xiang Lei said he was afraid it would affect his exams. Brother Song then asked about Xiang Lei’s results, and Xiang Lei said he was about to leave for university in Beijing. After a few congratulatory and concerned remarks, Brother Song sent Xiang Lei a QQ number, saying it belonged to a friend from his hometown.

Xiang Lei added the account and saw the username: “Flying Tiger.”

They chatted, then arranged to meet.

Xiang Lei paced nervously in the town square, waiting for Flying Tiger to appear.

This nervousness far surpassed what he’d felt before meeting Brother Song—because the town was small, and there was a real chance they already knew each other.

5

Since they hadn’t exchanged contact details, Xiang Lei waited dutifully for hours, but the other person never showed. Maybe Flying Tiger had seen him from afar and decided he wasn’t what he wanted. Or maybe they did know each other, and Flying Tiger had left silently out of awkwardness. If it was the latter, then Xiang Lei had effectively come out right in his own backyard.

Xiang Lei thought about how crazy this kind of meet-up was.

Just as he was about to give up and head back to the internet café, he noticed someone sitting on the railing by the road, grinning at him. The guy looked about his age, with short hair, an orange tank top, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. He held a beer in his right hand, taking occasional sips while beaming at Xiang Lei like sunshine.

A bona fide handsome guy. Xiang Lei’s heart skipped a beat.

Xiang Lei stopped. That smile was so inexplicable that he could only stare back blankly. He couldn’t believe someone like this could be like him—or that they were actually meeting up. For a moment, he wondered if he was being pranked. Maybe that grin was just mocking arrogance.

Xiang Lei started walking again. When he was a few meters past the guy, he suddenly heard a voice behind him: “Hey, why are you ignoring me?”

Xiang Lei turned around and saw the guy standing with his legs apart, chin slightly raised.

“Are you Flying Tiger?” Xiang Lei asked.

“What do you think?” the guy shot back.

“I didn’t expect you to be,” Xiang Lei admitted honestly.

“Why not? It’s me!” The guy laughed, then strode forward, slinging an arm around Xiang Lei’s shoulders while taking another swig of beer with his free hand.

Xiang Lei felt awkward and tried to pull away, but the guy tightened his grip. “What’s there to be nervous about? No one knows what we are to each other. Isn’t it normal for guys to walk like this? The more unnatural you act, the weirder it looks.”

Xiang Lei thought about it and realized he was right. So he let himself be led all the way to a small Western-style house without even asking where they were going, exchanging only a few idle words along the way. Only then did Xiang Lei start to feel uneasy. He wanted to leave but couldn’t bring himself to say it—partly because the temptation beside him was strong, and partly because he didn’t want to expose his nervousness again.

Flying Tiger handed Xiang Lei a pair of shorts and told him to go shower, then sat at his computer, chatting animatedly on QQ while absentmindedly drinking beer. A song Xiang Lei didn’t recognize played on loop, with lyrics he could make out: “Love comes too fast, like a tornado… Love leaves too fast, like a tornado…”³These are lyrics from the song “Tornado” by Taiwanese singer Jay Chou.

Xiang Lei suddenly felt attached to this scene. He had always fallen for people easily—or rather, he had always been quick to fantasize about love. Like now, when Flying Tiger turned his head and grinned at the hesitant Xiang Lei, saying, “Don’t worry, I won’t peek,” Xiang Lei instantly felt like this was it—this was his love.

After showering, Xiang Lei stood behind Flying Tiger, watching him chat on QQ. Flying Tiger flirted openly with someone online, not bothering to hide it from Xiang Lei.

“Want a beer?” Flying Tiger finished one bottle, pulled another from the fridge, then held it up. Xiang Lei shook his head. “Do I seem like a little punk to you? Don’t overthink it. I’m just used to quenching my thirst with beer. This damn weather is unbearable.” With that, he went back to his QQ chat.

Xiang Lei figured this must be the home of a local official—the three-story house and its furnishings made that obvious. Suddenly, he realized how unrealistic his so-called love fantasy was.

Flying Tiger shut off the computer and gave Xiang Lei a complicated smile. “Let’s sleep.”

Xiang Lei nodded. Flying Tiger stripped casually, then reached past Xiang Lei to turn off the light, brushing against his skin—intentionally or not. Xiang Lei closed his eyes, his heart pounding wildly as he tried to steady himself.

A long silence followed, until Flying Tiger suddenly asked, “Scared?”

“What’s there to be scared of?” Xiang Lei replied.

“Look at me.” Flying Tiger shook Xiang Lei’s shoulder.

Xiang Lei turned his head. In the pale light from the window, he saw Flying Tiger lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand. Xiang Lei chuckled softly, then turned back.

“Aren’t you afraid I’m a…ghost?” Flying Tiger dragged out the word in a trembling voice before pouncing on Xiang Lei, who instinctively flinched. Flying Tiger swung a leg over Xiang Lei’s body, pinning him down, his face inches away. “Still not scared?”

“No. Do you eat people?” The moment Xiang Lei said it, he realized his tone was unmistakably flirtatious.

Flying Tiger licked Xiang Lei’s lips, then kissed him deeply.

Xiang Lei held firm, and Flying Tiger never managed to remove his shorts. But for the first time, Xiang Lei touched another boy’s private parts. In the final moments, Flying Tiger’s tongue tangled painfully with his, and the low groan that followed was the first time Xiang Lei had ever heard another boy moan so intimately in his ear.

Flying Tiger’s voice trickled into his ear, “One day, you’ll let me strip you bare.”

Hearing that, Xiang Lei suddenly felt a deep sense of comfort.

At dawn, Xiang Lei was startled awake by the sound of the door opening. The blanket had fallen to the floor, and Flying Tiger was half-draped over him. Before Xiang Lei could push free, the door clicked shut again. He shook Flying Tiger awake and whispered nervously that someone had come in. Flying Tiger mumbled, “Don’t mind them,” and went back to sleep.

At noon, Flying Tiger’s parents invited Xiang Lei to stay for lunch. When Flying Tiger mentioned that Xiang Lei had gotten into university, an inexplicable joy flashed through Xiang Lei’s heart. Later, Flying Tiger drove him to the bus station on his motorcycle. Xiang Lei asked how they could stay in touch, and Flying Tiger said he’d be getting a phone soon and would leave the number online for Xiang Lei.

Back home, Xiang Lei missed Flying Tiger day and night—achingly, yet sweetly.

But the second time they met online, Flying Tiger told Xiang Lei not to take things seriously. He liked Xiang Lei, but as Xiang Lei had seen that night while standing behind him, he already had someone he loved deeply.

Xiang Lei’s desert, once shimmering with mirages, withered in an instant, replaced by endless desolation.

A week later, another morning arrived. When Xiang Lei opened his eyes, he thought: He’s handsome. He’s manly. His father’s a high-ranking official. His home is a three-story house. His room has a computer and air conditioning. He has someone he loves deeply. My so-called love was just an illusion refracted by light.

Then, once again, Xiang Lei’s heart filled with anticipation, as packed as the luggage he would take north. Because of this anticipation, he became as happy as a child. In September 2001, a childishly joyful Xiang Lei, accompanied by his father, excitedly boarded the train bound for Beijing West.

• 1
  A complex cultural concept from wuxia stories, referring to a semi-mythical world of martial artists and wanderers, which exists outside of mainstream society. In this case it simply means they’re playing online games with a martial arts setting.
• 2
  An influential Chinese web novel that was published anonymously online in 1996. The book tells the story of a gay love affair and was one of the first of its kind to be widely circulated in China, later being adapted into film.
• 3
  These are lyrics from the song “Tornado” by Taiwanese singer Jay Chou.