Chapter 11 – Li Jiangluo 0.5

What more could I hope for?

The snow had stopped, and we had finished moving house.

Xu Zhao’s house was just a two-bedroom place, with one room each for me and Brother Baichuan.

It was all new, strange, and cold.

Brother Baichuan placed the suitcase in the bedroom before coming over to ask which items I wanted him to unpack.

He had lost a lot of weight recently too, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, less spirited than when he first arrived.

“Just leave everything in the corner,” I said, having lost interest in everything. “I won’t need it anyway.”

This place wasn’t like my home, nor like a hotel. It was somewhat far from the city center. The residential complex had been built only a couple of years ago, and the occupancy rate was low. Standing by the window, I looked out at the snow-covered ground; no cars had passed on this side since we came from the other end.

It was quiet, pristine.

My heart felt just like this neighborhood, empty.

Bolin’s letter was in my pocket, with me at all times. It was filled with my disappointment and sadness toward the world.

For others, the grave of love might be marriage, but for me, it was this sheet of paper.

Bolin’s final letter shattered my trust in the world.

But surprisingly, when I read the letter, it seemed I had cried all my tears and broken my heart completely. Now, thinking about those words, they felt disconnected from me, as if I were merely a lonely observer.

A corner of the envelope poking out of my pocket reminded me that the letter was deeply intertwined with my life, carrying a burning heat that threatened to ignite me at any moment.

But I really felt nothing anymore. At this point, I was just a hollow shell.

I hadn’t noticed when Brother Baichuan had stood beside me. He offered me a cigarette, asking, “Smoke?”

I took it, staring at it blankly.

He lit the cigarette for me, and we stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out the window, smoking together.

How strange it was. My lover was dead, and I had become a smoking buddy with his brother.

I didn’t know what Brother Baichuan was thinking now, nor did I want to look at him or ask him anything.

Everything would wait until after I finished this cigarette.

“About Bolin…”

The man next to me suddenly spoke, causing my hand to tremble, dropping ash onto the floor.

I couldn’t hear that name; it was taboo in my life.

As long as I didn’t hear that name, I could live well, forget everything, pretending he had never come or left, let alone betrayed me.

It was an escape, I knew.

But for now, this was all I could manage. Guilt, pain, regret, and disappointment—these emotions were enough to destroy me.

I had originally intended to die with Bolin. Since the person I loved most was no longer in this world, what was the point of living on alone?

But when I learned the truth of his death, I couldn’t go through with it.

In fact, I had indirectly killed him. I couldn’t avoid this guilt, nor did I want to. But his betrayal was real, something I couldn’t forgive.

Talking about making amends, redemption—it was all clear in my mind, every word in his letter.

What good were those words? The facts had already happened. He had sex with someone else on our bed. Whenever I thought about it, I wished I could kill them both with my own hands.

So I could only escape, separating these vile emotions from my body.

They left me, drifting away to who knows where, leaving my soul with nothing.

Empty, just a body. The future could go wherever it wanted.

“Jiangluo, what’s wrong?” The man in front of me spoke with urgency. I tried to focus on his words but could only hear him yelling my name.

My name was Li Jiangluo, right?

That person who had been toyed with by fate since childhood.

“Jiangluo!”

Before closing my eyes, he was calling out to me.

This face looked familiar, but we didn’t seem to be close.

I had a dream, one so vivid it made me vomit uncontrollably.

In the dream, I was only seven or eight years old, spending summer vacation alone at home while my mother went out. She put me to sleep before leaving.

When I woke up, it was already dark. I must have slept through the entire afternoon. The house was pitch black, and I wondered if my mother had returned.

I opened the door and found no one in the living room. The sounds were coming from my parents’ bedroom.

I was hungry, wanting to find my mother for food.

But when I reached the door, it was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw a shocking scene.

My father, naked, was lying on the bed, another man on top of him. Their movements were intense, lost in an activity I couldn’t comprehend, their mouths uttering obscene profanities.

I was so shocked that I froze, unable to move. I watched as that man’s penis repeatedly penetrated my father, and then finally ejaculated on my father’s face.

And then I threw up.

Vomiting until I was dizzy, collapsing to the side.

I woke up from a nightmare.

Sweating profusely, I sat on the bed, holding my chest for a long time before regaining my senses.

“Have some hot water.”

I heard a man’s voice. Turning to look, this person was familiar, but I knew we had only met a few days ago.

Brother Baichuan placed the water on the table beside the bed, still with a cigarette in his mouth. He wiped the sweat from my forehead, saying, “The water heater has been on for a while. You can take a shower later.”

After saying that, he started to leave. “My room is next door. Call me if you need anything. Tomorrow, I’m going out to look at houses. Can you stay home alone?”

I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

There was nothing special about my hands, but I didn’t know where else to look.

I didn’t drink the water, nor did I take a shower.

I wanted to see my mother.

The dream had taken me back to my childhood. Actually, I should have learned my lesson—that all men, including myself, were untrustworthy.

Bolin had once asked about my family, but I hadn’t said anything, unsure of how to explain.

My father cheated, and not just with any woman—a man. My mother naturally divorced him upon finding out. She must have been severely traumatized at the time. I didn’t know what happened after I fainted, but I never saw that man again.

From then on, my mother’s mental state deteriorated, and I suddenly matured faster than usual.

The most obvious manifestation was that I often recalled my father and that man, their actions making me feel sick.

That image lingered in my mind, each recollection bringing pain and torment.

Later on, my mother truly went insane.

She killed my father herself.

The tragedy of my family shaped my extremely dark personality. I disliked interacting with people, fearing they would ask about my past.

But Bolin was an exception. He made me admit that I was a pure homosexual, something perhaps inherited from that damned father of mine.

Regarding this, I should have felt pain and disgust, but because it was Bolin, it became a beautiful thing.

Unfortunately, though…

It wasn’t a beautiful thing; I had simply idealized the world too much.

I was destined to be a plaything of fate, born under a cloud of misfortune.

My existence was meant to show that one could be this ridiculous.

A messed-up family, messed-up love, and a messed-up self.

What was the purpose of my life?

I turned to look in the direction of the window. The thick curtains blocked the view outside.

I got out of bed, pulled open the curtains, and the orange streetlights shone on the snow, appearing peaceful and beautiful.

If only everything could be as it seemed.

I appeared to be a healthy person, seemed to be happy.

My coat suddenly fell from the sofa, and the letter dropped out.

I walked over, crouched down, picked up the envelope, and looked at it before sitting on the floor.

I thought I must be hungry.

It had been hours since my last meal.

I took out the letter, tearing it into pieces bit by bit, then put the fragments in my mouth.

It was tasteless, and I didn’t know if it could satisfy my hunger.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I lifted my gaze toward the door.

He pushed the door open, a bowl of scrambled eggs and rice in his hands.

His look at me was peculiar, as if observing a mentally ill person.

“Jiangluo!” He quickly approached, setting the bowl aside and snatching the fragments from my hand.

I somewhat hated him. Bolin had left me only this one letter, yet he was trying to take it away from me.

“Li Jiangluo! Are you crazy!” He shouted at me, his eyes red, as if about to explode with anger.

I stared at him first, then released my grip. The paper pieces scattered on the floor as I spat out the fragment in my mouth, supporting myself with the nearby sofa as I stood up. “You’re the one who’s crazy.”

I drank some water, swallowing a piece of paper stuck in my mouth.

“Li Jiangluo,” the man standing behind me paused before continuing, “how can I make you feel better?”

I took a deep breath, turned around, and frowned. I noticed that he was also frowning deeply, as if the sky were falling.

“In fact, it’s what I should do for you to feel better,” I said. “Brother Baichuan, I’m the one who hurt your brother.”

“His death has nothing to do with you.”

“It was me who caused his death!” I yelled at him, my throat aching. “You don’t understand, it was really my fault.”

I hesitated, unsure how to tell him about my situation.

He didn’t say anything more, picking up the bowl and walking over. “Eat first, we’ll talk about the rest later.”

I didn’t accept it, hanging my hands limply, head bowed. In the short span of a few seconds, I replayed in my mind the scene when I had told Bolin about my illness.

At that time, the sunlight was dazzling, but it couldn’t outshine the man in front of me.

The whole world was a backdrop to him, and I willingly submitted.

But even so, reality’s cruelty still caught me off guard.

The past was gone, but the old story needed to be retold.

I said, “I have a disease, I couldn’t have sex with Bolin. So, do you understand why he became ill now?”