EIP 54

In the end, Zhou Jun returned to his apartment alone. His housemaid hadn’t left him any food, and his stomach was consumed by an intense hunger, as if it were burning from within. He found himself squatting in front of the fridge, eating cans and cold bread. The bread was so dry it was hard to swallow, so he drank some juice. His stomach felt heavy, like a lump of iron inside, yet his body grew colder.

The cold made his hands tremble. In a moment of carelessness, he lost his grip, and the glass of juice fell to the floor, splashing all over him. Zhou Jun wiped the juice from his face with the back of his hand, his hair falling messily to cover his eyes. He felt terrible, a wave of unpleasant emotions washing over him. Just then, the phone rang, its calls coming one after another.

Zhou Jun squatted on the floor, staring somewhat dazedly at the living room. His thoughts were scattered and chaotic. He wondered if it was Miss Yang. If it was, maybe he could arrange to meet her tomorrow. After some time, as his older brother hoped, perhaps he would come to like Miss Yang. He had always liked girls; Yong Jin had just been an accident. After enduring these moments, the emotions would eventually pass.

When he came to his senses, he found himself standing in front of the phone. He picked up the receiver, but there was no response from the other end, just silence. Zhou Jun spoke first, asking, “Is this Jin Qian?” Miss Yang’s full name was Yang Jin Qian, and this was the first time Zhou Jun had called her that. Usually, he would call her by the name she used when she was studying abroad.

Unfortunately, there was no reply from the other end, but the breathing grew heavier. Zhou Jun thought that maybe it wasn’t Miss Yang after all; he had guessed wrong. Perhaps it was Miss Wen? So he asked again, “Yuan Yuan?” But still, no response. Zhou Jun grew a bit impatient, though, given how terrible he felt that night, he was willing to hold onto any form of warmth a phone call could provide, so he remained more patient than usual.

He held the receiver, leaning slightly against the sofa. His eyelids drooped as he looked down at his bare feet. He hadn’t noticed when, but there was a terrible bruise on the top of his foot. His hand was also injured, with a small cut on the knuckle. Zhou Jun began listing names one by one, saying them carelessly. The person on the other end of the line was remarkably patient. If it were any woman he had been close to in the past, she’d likely be furious by now, wondering why he was continuing to ramble on.

Zhou Jun bit his lip, listening to the long, drawn-out breaths from the other end, and finally confirmed the most unlikely guess he had in his mind. He opened his hand, looking at the small wounds on it. Without fully realizing what he was doing, the words escaped his lips. He said, “It hurts.”

The person on the other end of the phone took a breath, and Zhou Jun hung up. He took a bath and then moved the first aid kit to his bed. Leaning against the headboard, he treated his wounds. After a long soak, the cuts had developed a layer of white foam, which Zhou Jun grimaced at but wiped away before slathering some medicine on them in a hasty manner.

He then stretched his legs out, not caring if the medicine smeared onto the blanket, and wrapped himself up in it, feeling drowsy. As his mind began to drift, someone pushed open the door to his room. The person slowly approached and sat down near the head of the bed. Zhou Jun felt the mattress dip as someone settled beside him. He kept his eyes closed but spoke, addressing the person, “Do you have something to say?”

The person remained silent. After a long pause, Zhou Jun buried his face in the blanket. His voice was soft, but it still clearly reached the other person’s ears as he said, “Don’t come looking for me again, Yong Jin.”

The window rattled from the night wind, constantly buzzing in the stillness of the hopeless night. Zhou Jun returned the words with finality, but he felt no sense of satisfaction, only a weight as heavy as iron, dragging him further down. He felt his closed eyelids dampen, and so he burrowed further into the blanket, as if trying to hide from it, almost curling into a ball in fear.

The lighter flicked, and the faint scent of smoke drifted toward the head of the bed. Yong Jin silently smoked the entire cigarette before leaving it in the ashtray on the bedside. He still reached for him, sliding his hand through the gap in the blanket to touch Zhou Jun’s arm. His hand slowly traveled up to Zhou Jun’s shoulder.

Yong Jin’s hand was cold, as if all warmth had left him. His icy fingers touched Zhou Jun’s warm neck and came to a stop at the base of his neck.

What was Yong Jin thinking? Zhou Jun could never quite understand, never grasp it. After he said those words, why did Yong Jin place his hand on the back of his neck? Was he thinking of killing him? If that were the case, he should have applied more pressure, constricted his airway, made his eyes bulge with blood, made it hard for him to breathe, and watched him die, turning blue and purple. But instead, it felt like a gentle, even lingering touch on the skin.

Such a gesture, even at their most passionate moments, had never occurred. Perhaps it wasn’t even passion, it was merely Zhou Jun’s own obsession. He silently clenched the blanket, swearing that if Yong Jin tried playing the same game of push and pull with him again, he would definitely punch him hard.

As Zhou Jun ground his teeth in anger, he thought of the knife under his pillow. It was a gift from Yong Jin, and he had once promised that if Yong Jin ever married, he would use that knife to kill him. But Yong Jin hadn’t married. He had only gone on blind dates, only dumped him, only let Shirley get into his car. Zhou Jun suddenly opened his eyes wide. In the darkness, no one could see the nearly insane expression on his face.

Zhou Jun felt like he might truly be going mad. His hand slipped under the pillow, feeling the cold weapon. Whenever Yong Jin had come before, he would always breathe a sigh of relief and loosen the grip on the knife. He had never thought that, in this moment, with Yong Jin here, he would want to take the knife out and actually stab this person.

He wanted to know what color Yong Jin’s blood would be, whether it would be warm. He wondered what kind of expression Yong Jin would have. Would he look pale with anger, feeling betrayed? Would he pull out a gun and point it at him? Or would he do nothing at all, simply cover the wound and leave in disgrace, never to be seen again?

It was like being possessed by a demon, as if a voice was constantly whispering sweetly in his ear, tempting him to act, to go mad. He gripped the handle of the knife, slowly pulling it out. But then Yong Jin’s hand left him, and he turned on the light. Under the brightness, nothing could hide, not even the cold blade halfway drawn and the hand of Zhou Jun tightly gripping it.

Yong Jin’s gaze paused for only a moment on his hand, then casually shifted away as if he hadn’t seen anything. He picked up the first aid kit that Zhou Jun had pushed aside earlier. Pulling back the blanket, he carefully examined Zhou Jun’s body, and of course, noticed the mess of ointment smeared across Zhou Jun’s foot.

Yong Jin’s gaze once again lingered on Zhou Jun’s hand. Instinctively, Zhou Jun loosened his grip and let the knife fall. As soon as the motion was made, regret furrowed his brow. But Yong Jin’s eyes remained fixed on him, and he gently pulled Zhou Jun’s hand over to reapply the medication. Finally, Yong Jin spoke the first words of the night. It wasn’t even a full sentence, just a single syllable, simple yet enough to make Zhou Jun want to pick up the knife again in his anger. Yong Jin simply said “okay,” without looking at Zhou Jun, without any exchange of glances, and after speaking, he covered Zhou Jun with the blanket.

Yong Jin rested his hand on the light switch, then suddenly turned to look at Zhou Jun. Zhou Jun’s eyes glared at him with a terrifying intensity. Yet, Yong Jin seemed completely unaffected by the malice in his gaze. Instead, he focused intently on Zhou Jun’s cheek, scanning it slowly before lowering his eyelids. At the same moment, the light was switched off. He left, as though he had never been there at all.