Chapter 11 – One After Another
by Salted Fish56
At the start of the new semester, Xiang Lei found that comforting things were happening one after another.
First, let’s talk about the feelings of being in love. Although Xiang Lei was fully aware that it might just be a fleeting romance, falling head over heels for Xu Menghu still filled him with an involuntary sense of fulfillment.
After reading Xiang Lei’s novel, Xu Menghu had once said that he felt like a character from the story. And after reading Xu Menghu’s own story, Xiang Lei discovered an uncanny similarity. So, even though Xu Menghu kept insisting that he only yearned for brotherly bonds and couldn’t accept same-sex love, Xiang Lei still faintly felt that what he and Xu Menghu shared would eventually go beyond mere emotional attachment. Xiang Lei even began to suspect that the person he had feared missing by refusing to repeat his senior year of high school might very well be this still somewhat elusive Xu Menghu.
Xiang Lei didn’t deny that, all along, he seemed to have been searching for traces of Pei Yong. Looking back on the past six months, Xu Menghu had the highest overlap rate with what he was looking for. While Xiang Lei hated online relationships with a passion, he couldn’t help but lose himself in one again and again.
At the very least, Xiang Lei made a serious decision for himself—to completely break away from the lifestyle of the previous semester, where he had blindly searched for love only to be constantly forced to face all sorts of frustrating emotional ups and downs. He began to feel that he shouldn’t neglect his studies any longer, and for the first time ever, he got up early several days in a row to attend his advanced mathematics classes.
When the math teacher called out Xiang Lei’s name during roll call, Xiang Lei answered. The teacher froze, called the name again, and Xiang Lei answered once more. The teacher’s expression immediately turned into one of disbelief, as if he had just spotted a UFO. He looked around urgently and asked, “Where? Where? Stand up quickly and let me see you! Do you know how hard I’ve been waiting for this moment?”
Xiang Lei awkwardly stood up, and more than a hundred pairs of eyes in the lecture hall turned toward him.
“Wow! Xiang Lei, I finally get to meet you! What an honor!” The math teacher clasped his hands together in greeting.
The classroom erupted in laughter. Xiang Lei’s face instantly turned red, and he stood there frozen, unsure whether to sit back down or remain standing.
Last semester, the math teacher had taken attendance six times, and Xiang Lei had only answered once—and that was before he came out, when he had asked someone else to answer for him. Clearly, the teacher had no recollection of that.
But what made those around him particularly resentful was that whenever Xiang Lei asked about the homework assignments, he could simply flip through the textbook a few times and quickly figure them out on his own. Meanwhile, those who actually attended class ended up borrowing his homework to copy. And when it came to exams, Xiang Lei’s scores were far above most of his peers. No one had any idea how he managed it!
57
Next, it seemed that Xiang Lei had finally broken free from his pattern of failed meetups or friendships that fizzled out without warning. One evening, Wei Tong called and invited him to go to a bar over the weekend.
“What kind of bar?” Xiang Lei asked.
“A gay bar, of course. You coming?” Wei Tong shot back.
“Won’t it be… sketchy?” Xiang Lei worried.
“People can be sketchy—environments can’t. It’s just drinking, dancing, and checking out hot guys.”
Xiang Lei thought it over and felt Wei Tong’s words made sense. He genuinely wanted to see what it was like, so he agreed.
As soon as he hung up, Liu Chong sidled up to him. Excited, Liu Chong asked if Xiang Lei was going to a gay bar. When Xiang Lei nodded, Liu Chong’s curiosity flared up again, and he kept begging to tag along. Xiang Lei hesitated, refusing at first, but after enduring Liu Chong’s relentless pestering, he finally called Wei Tong to ask if bringing a roommate along was okay. Wei Tong said it was no problem at all.
“Fuck yeah!” Liu Chong cheered.
58
There was another matter that made Xiang Lei secretly smile whenever he thought about it.
After PE class on Tuesday afternoon, a card game of Shengji was set up in the dorm. Xiang Lei’s partner was Zhou Yunzhi, who, despite being a complete amateur, had claimed a seat early on. Throughout the game, the onlookers kept scolding him for his terrible plays.
He Fei couldn’t stand it and stepped behind Zhou Yunzhi to start directing him.
From then on, Zhou Yunzhi kept asking He Fei for advice before every move. Each time he drew a card, he would first ask He Fei, “Should I play this one?” If He Fei nodded, Zhou Yunzhi would timidly place it on the table. If He Fei snapped, “Are you fucking stupid?” Zhou Yunzhi would turn to look at He Fei, then back at his cards, falling hopelessly behind the rhythm of the game.
The three other players and the surrounding spectators quickly grew bored of this repetitive scene—until He Fei finally couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Zhou Yunzhi by the collar, shoved him aside, and sat down across from Xiang Lei in a flash.
Xiang Lei instinctively glanced over just in time to see He Fei also shooting him a look.
Both glances were fleeting, and both were quickly averted.
They played well! Despite being six rounds behind, they won all the way to the final hand.
Throughout the game, Xiang Lei remained silent, while the guy across from him was animated and full of energy. Though the two exchanged no words, their plays were quick and perfectly synchronized. The scene reminded him of their drill squad during military training—startlingly consistent strides and rhythms, seamless teamwork that flowed effortlessly, leaving bystanders unable to help but marvel.
Xiang Lei kept replaying that glance in his mind. There seemed to be a hint of unease hidden within it. Was He Fei afraid that Xiang Lei would hold a grudge and storm off? At that moment, Xiang Lei suddenly realized—spring was the season when ice and snow melted away.
The thought of that moment made Xiang Lei smile uncontrollably.
59
This could also count as something worth mentioning—Xiang Lei had met a remarkably talented literary friend online.
This person’s screen name was quite unique: Bu Jinghong, likely inspired by wuxia novels. He sent Xiang Lei a private message asking why he hadn’t seen any new posts from Herbivorous Wolf lately, and from there, the two began exchanging messages back and forth.
Bu Jinghong talked about Li Ao1A prominent and controversial Taiwanese writer and social critic known for his sharp tongue and non-conformist views, and his vocal criticism of both the Kuomintang and the Communist Party of China. and Wang Shuo2An influential Chinese author and screenwriter who rose to fame in the late 1980s. He is known for his cynical, satirical style and “hooligan literature”, which critiques contemporary Chinese society and authority., about terrorist attacks around the world, about the escalating conflict between Palestine and Israel—all in a torrent of sharp, insightful opinions. These perspectives weren’t mainstream, and Xiang Lei had never seen them in TV or newspaper commentaries, yet they didn’t feel fringe at all.
Xiang Lei was quickly won over by this person’s meticulous way of thinking. When evaluating people and events, Bu Jinghong always approached them from two angles—yet this wasn’t simply the Confucian doctrine of the golden mean3A core concept in Confucianism, known as “Zhongyong”. It advocates for moderation, balance, and impartiality, avoiding extremes in one’s actions and thoughts to maintain harmony., which seemed to emphasize neutrality. Bu Jinghong was more focused on objective duality, similar to the Marxist philosophy of “viewing problems comprehensively4A reference to the principles of dialectical materialism in Marxist thought, which posits that phenomena should be understood not in isolation but in their interconnectedness and development. It emphasizes analyzing all sides of a contradiction to grasp its essence, rather than taking a one-sided view..” Understanding this wasn’t particularly rare, but when most people observed the world around them, they often struggled to correct their own biases.
Xiang Lei had been an internet denizen for a year now, and he knew full well that among those who were accustomed to voicing their opinions online, people like Bu Jinghong—who maintained such rigorous thinking—were truly few and far between.
“Chatting online really isn’t satisfying. How about we meet up and talk properly? My treat,” Bu Jinghong suddenly suggested.
This caught Xiang Lei off guard. He rarely even chatted with online friends whose sexual orientations were unknown, let alone met them in person. But unable to resist his curiosity, he jokingly replied: Sounds perfect!
That evening, outside the main building’s computer lab, Xiang Lei met Bu Jinghong—a man wearing stylish black-framed glasses, though the stubble along his jawline made him seem less scholarly than imagined. He was quite tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a way that struck a balance between trendy and plain, giving off an air of steadiness that didn’t quite match his age. This, at least, aligned with Xiang Lei’s expectations.
Sitting down at a small pub off campus, Bu Jinghong first introduced himself by his real name: Shi Zhuo. Xiang Lei naturally reciprocated. Then, to Xiang Lei’s shock, the guy ordered a large bottle of Erguotou5A type of strong Chinese baijiu (grain liquor). High alcohol content..
“You don’t drink, brother?” Shi Zhuo asked with a laugh when he saw Xiang Lei’s expression.
“I can handle a bit of beer, but this hard stuff… just the two of us…” Xiang Lei pointed at the bottle.
So Shi Zhuo ordered two beers for Xiang Lei and proceeded to drink most of the Erguotou by himself without so much as a flushed face. He showed no signs of intoxication during their conversation, leaving Xiang Lei repeatedly amazed.
Shi Zhuo invited Xiang Lei to a BBS gathering over the weekend. When Xiang Lei asked if it wasn’t already over, Shi Zhuo explained that this was a separate, smaller event organized by a group of about ten people—the most like-minded bunch on the forum, where there was common ground and little drama. He wanted to introduce Xiang Lei to a few guys he was sure would click with him.
It suddenly occurred to Xiang Lei that constantly immersing himself in that marginalized little world of his might be too shallow after all, so he readily agreed to Shi Zhuo’s invitation.
60
Xiang Lei tentatively said to Xu Menghu: We still haven’t exchanged photos!
He expected Xu Menghu to refuse, just like he had refused to meet in person. To his surprise, Xu Menghu didn’t say anything—he just sent a photo directly.
It was a half-profile, upper-body shot. The Xu Menghu in the photo bore no resemblance to Pei Yong at all. Pei Yong had slightly longer-than-buzz-cut hair, double eyelids, and a square face, while Xu Menghu’s hair looked about as long as Xiang Lei’s week-old stubble, with single eyelids and a round face. He wore a beige shirt with not a single button done up, leaving his chest and abdomen exposed.
Xiang Lei told Xu Menghu to wait while he logged into his email to download his own photo. Just then, Xu Menghu sent another message: Don’t bother. I’m not really interested in what you look like anyway.
The words struck Xiang Lei with a pang of disappointment, as if he’d been caught red-handed in some clumsy attempt at self-deception.
Oh well, Xiang Lei thought. It wasn’t like he was particularly confident about his appearance in the first place.
In any case, Xiang Lei was growing increasingly eager to learn more about Xu Menghu. He asked what Xu Menghu was currently doing, and Xu Menghu said he was just drifting through life at a vocational college. He asked how tall Xu Menghu was and how much he weighed, and Xu Menghu said 186 cm and 77 kg. He asked what Xu Menghu liked, and Xu Menghu said basketball, traveling, and music.
Xiang Lei suddenly realized he was using the same small-talk template from gay chatrooms to converse with Xu Menghu, who seemed completely oblivious. The thought made him laugh.
Xu Menghu’s photo and basic stats would probably be universally lethal to the gay men Xiang Lei knew—and Xiang Lei himself was no exception. He felt like he might be doomed, unknowingly throwing himself into another high-stakes gamble. It seemed there was no turning back from his feelings for Xu Menghu now.
“I suck at basketball,” Xiang Lei said.
“That’s fine. I can laugh at you.”
Xiang Lei chuckled. “You won’t teach me?”
“Nope! Either don’t play and just hold my clothes for me on the sidelines while you watch, or stay home. That’d be perfect.”
“Will that day ever come?”
“If you believe it will, it will.”
How could Xiang Lei dare not believe it now?
As the afternoon sunlight begins to fade, the basketball boy would toss his jacket over and dash onto the court to sweat it out. Whenever someone bumps into him, the guy on the sidelines would instinctively tighten his grip on the jacket in his arms. The basketball boy would lift his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, then take a break to jog over to the sidelines—where the other guy would already have unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and be reaching out to hand it to him..
Xiang Lei immediately laughed at himself for this fantasy. Was it inevitable for guys who liked guys to have these little girlish daydreams? Then he abruptly doused himself with cold water: The basketball boy’s girlfriend shows up, politely takes his jacket back from the guy on the sidelines, and then unabashedly cheers for her boyfriend while bragging to her friends beside her: See? Isn’t he hot?
Xiang Lei felt defeated by his own imagination, a wave of loneliness washing over him.
“Where’s the one place you’d most want to go?” Xiang Lei changed the subject.
“Yunnan and Tibet.”
“With a brother, or with a girlfriend?”
“You know, of course it’d be with a brother!”
The corners of Xiang Lei’s lips curled slightly as images flashed through his mind—two backpacking boys walking side by side on a snowy mountain, one slipping and immediately being caught by the sleeve by the other. The backpacking boy’s girlfriend is thousands of miles away at the time.
“What kind of music do you like?” Xiang Lei reined in his wandering thoughts and asked.
“Hip-hop, R&B, rock.”
“Any favorite artists?”
“U2! The greatest band in the world!”
“Recommend me your favorite song of theirs.”
“‘With or Without You’! Never gets old!”
Xiang Lei found the song in the school’s music library and started playing it on loop. One thing worth mentioning—the school’s computer lab didn’t provide speakers, and Xiang Lei hadn’t even brought headphones that day.
61
On Friday night, Xiang Lei took Liu Chong to wait for Wei Tong at the school gate.
It was obvious at a glance that Wei Tong had dressed up carefully before heading out—no wonder he was late. Apologizing, Wei Tong asked Xiang Lei if he had just left without changing clothes. When Xiang Lei nodded, Wei Tong let out a disbelieving sigh.
“So you’re Liu Chong?” Wei Tong looked at Liu Chong and said, “Pretty handsome.”
Xiang Lei noticed Liu Chong actually blushing.
While Wei Tong took a call, Liu Chong pulled Xiang Lei aside and asked eagerly, “Really? Seriously? Why have you never said anything? Damn, that feels even better than a girl complimenting me!”
On the way, Xiang Lei suddenly felt nervous. When he asked Liu Chong about it, Liu Chong replied, “I’m definitely more nervous than you, no question!”
From the moment they stepped into the bar until they sat down, Xiang Lei couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with anyone passing by, yet he distinctly felt every pair of eyes scrutinizing him. He had the illusion that everyone here recognized him, thinking to themselves: Why is Xiang Lei here too?
Only after sitting down did Xiang Lei cautiously look around, though he didn’t find anything particularly unusual.
“Xiang Lei, look at that person! Is that a guy dressed like a girl?” Liu Chong didn’t dare point but signaled with his eyes. Following his gaze, Xiang Lei saw what was unmistakably a flamboyantly dressed girl.
“There are girls here too,” Wei Tong responded.
“Isn’t this a gay bar?” Liu Chong pressed, puzzled.
“Some girls just like hanging out with gay guys, didn’t you know?” Wei Tong laughed.
“Huh? So do they like guys or girls?” Liu Chong continued.
“Could be either,” Wei Tong said.
Liu Chong was baffled.
A jarring burst of music started, and all three covered their ears. From Liu Chong’s expression, Xiang Lei could tell he had let out a weird shout. Listening closely, it sounded familiar—it was the opening theme of the ‘News Simulcast.’
“CCTV, Beijing TV, 1069419 TV, TV for smelly men and flirty women, now broadcasting the latest gossip—welcome to your regularly scheduled nonsense—”
A deliberately exaggerated, campy voice boomed from the dance floor in the center of the room, making Liu Chong burst into laughter. Xiang Lei squinted toward the blinding lights and saw a flamboyantly dressed, heavyset figure holding a microphone.
Calling them a “figure” was appropriate—this person had an unconventional physique but was decked out in heavy makeup, with a fake high ponytail, a red bellyband over their bare torso, a gaudy bag slung over their shoulder, a protruding belly, cropped pants, and cheap flip-flops. In short, it was a spectacle.
“Wow! All the brothers-in-law are here!” The figure turned to the left, curtsied exaggeratedly, then repeated the gesture toward Xiang Lei’s group. “Oh, and all the uncles-in-law too!”
The crowd erupted in laughter. Someone from the left side threw a banana peel onto the dance floor.
“Oh dear, look at me, mixing up generations! Slap my mouth!” They theatrically patted their own cheek, then bent down with exaggerated effort to pick up the banana peel, rubbing it suggestively. “Look at this skin—must be quite the size! Which girl was so cruel, keeping the good part for herself and tossing out the useless leftovers? If I weren’t careful, I might’ve slipped on this and cracked my back door—then what hope would I have left in life?” They pretended to wipe away tears.
The entire bar roared with laughter—except for Xiang Lei and Liu Chong, who exchanged confused glances. Liu Chong pulled Xiang Lei closer and asked what that meant. Xiang Lei shook his head. Truthfully, he didn’t fully understand either, only that this person was playing the clown to entertain the crowd.
The rest of the rambling was too convoluted for Xiang Lei to follow, so he tuned it out, feeling increasingly bored. Wei Tong seemed to notice and leaned in to whisper, “The show’s only half an hour. We can dance after.”
Ah, a show. Most of it consisted of tacky cross-dressing acts, which struck Xiang Lei as odd. Weren’t gay men supposed to dislike flashy displays of femininity? Yet everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Was it just the satisfaction of feeling “normal” by comparison? Beside him, Liu Chong was enthralled, even gasping in admiration during a drag fashion segment.
Suddenly, a figure glided over and sat gracefully beside Wei Tong. Liu Chong glanced at them, then immediately ducked behind Xiang Lei. Xiang Lei took a closer look—it was the infamous English department… senior. Just thinking the word “senior” made Xiang Lei feel awkward.
Xiang Lei suddenly chuckled. No wonder Liu Chong reacted so strongly—his bizarre encounter at the urinals had been with this very person.
After exchanging greetings with Wei Tong, the person raised a delicate finger and pointed at Xiang Lei. “Is this our school’s Herbivorous Wolf?” Wei Tong nodded, and the person stared intently at Xiang Lei. “So manly!”
Xiang Lei reflexively averted his gaze from those slightly unsettling eyes.
No wonder Liu Chong had said he couldn’t pull it off—those eyes seemed to pierce straight through to the bone.
“Xiang Lei, this is Meng Yan,” Wei Tong introduced.
Xiang Lei waved and said, “Hi.”
“Handsome Liu, what are you doing?” Wei Tong called out.
Reluctantly, Liu Chong emerged from behind Xiang Lei, his face red, and gave a sheepish wave.
“This is his roommate,” Wei Tong explained to Meng Yan.
“This cutie looks familiar,” Meng Yan mused, making Liu Chong even more flustered.
Finally, the show ended, replaced by dance music—but the dance floor remained empty. Wei Tong gestured for Xiang Lei to join him, but Xiang Lei declined. When Wei Tong turned to Liu Chong, he also refused. So Wei Tong took Meng Yan’s hand and led them onto the floor.
Without a hint of hesitation, the two began swaying to the music in the empty space. Soon, others trickled in, and the dance floor came alive with movement, lights, and sound.
Liu Chong watched Wei Tong and Meng Yan intently, murmuring in admiration, “Even though they talk and act like women, their dancing has both feminine grace and masculine strength. Not bad.”
Hearing this, Xiang Lei also found himself mesmerized.
Maybe this was the kind of Wei Tong Xiang Lei actually liked. Gay men still carried an innate desire to assert their masculinity, and sometimes, embracing that strength could be exhilarating. If his attraction to Xu Menghu stemmed from a subconscious need to compensate for his own softness, then how was he supposed to reconcile his own masculine instincts?
Xiang Lei suddenly felt lost.
Liu Chong leaned in and asked, “Xiang Lei, if you were like them… I don’t know how our department would handle it! Since you’re not effeminate, why do you like men?”
Maybe this wasn’t just another naive question—after all, Liu Chong couldn’t truly understand the gay experience. The “since” and the rhetorical question in his words didn’t actually form a logical connection, so Xiang Lei didn’t know how to answer. He could only say, “The fact that I’m not effeminate is exactly why I know I’m gay. Otherwise, how would it be any different from being straight?”
“Oh—” Liu Chong’s expression was one of half-understanding. After a pause, he asked, “So you’re saying those two basically see themselves as women, which is why they like men—so they’re not really gay?”
“Not necessarily!” Xiang Lei suddenly felt confused himself. “You’re just judging them by their less masculine mannerisms. How can you be sure their inner worlds are gender-dysphoric? Behavioral traits are just a small part of a person’s outward expression—they might not have any direct link to their psychological state.”
Seeing Liu Chong’s childlike bewilderment—like a baby listening to adults explain the mysteries of the universe—Xiang Lei couldn’t help but laugh.
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