Chapter 10

Lin Ze arranged to meet Weiwei at Starbucks. Sitting there, he recalled a quote from his media studies professor in college: “There are two things in the world you must be careful about—don’t let emotions cloud your judgment. One is love, the other is news.”

Both require rationality. But what is rationality?

“Don’t forget the good someone has done for you when you hate them; don’t forget the bad when you love them—that’s rationality. It applies to nations, society, cities, governments, and families alike.”

Weiwei arrived. Lin Ze first pulled out the test report from his bag and showed it to him.

Weiwei was a clean-cut kid, fresh out of college, working as an assistant to a designer at an interior design studio. He looked somewhat downcast. After seeing Lin Ze’s press pass and the test report, he said, “So you’re a reporter. Don’t write about him, okay? I’m afraid it’ll ruin him.”

Lin Ze nodded. “I won’t report on this. Who cares about such individual cases? Newspapers won’t run interviews about promiscuity and AIDS. Don’t worry, I just want to see him and clear things up.”

Weiwei finally relaxed. “Are there any other victims… I mean, people who were with him without knowing?”

“I don’t know. He returned my phone last month but still owes me money.”

Lin Ze remembered Xie Chenfeng saying his phone had been stolen—another lie. “Was he using your phone?”

“We got matching phones two years ago. He mailed it back to me, so I knew he was still in Chongqing.”

“How long were you two together?”

Weiwei took a sip of coffee. “Less than a year. We broke up. I have a boyfriend now—please don’t tell him about this.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t even know who your boyfriend is. Tell me about Xie Lei. What’s the real story?”

Situ Ye brought Lin Ze’s coffee over and glanced at them. Weiwei hesitated for a long time.

“Let me go first.”

Lin Ze recounted his experience with Xie Chenfeng, from their first meeting to their night together. Perhaps because he showed enough sincerity, Weiwei finally seemed less guarded and began talking about the Xie Chenfeng he knew.

They had met three years ago when Weiwei was still in college. Like Lin Ze, he had met Xie Chenfeng through a gay forum and slept with him the same night before moving in together. At the time, Xie Chenfeng had just left Lifan Club and had a decent job as a middleman, introducing sports students to schools and taking a commission.

“He really played soccer?”

Weiwei nodded. “Yeah, and he’s a black belt in taekwondo. Don’t fight him—he’s really strong. Rumor has it he used to play for a team sponsored by Hongta. Later, his coach recommended him to Lifan as a backup, but the coaches there didn’t like him. The team was cliquey, and as a guy from Guizhou, he couldn’t fit in. He even got into a fight with a coach, shoved him, and just left.”

“Did he ever hit you?”

Weiwei shook his head. “Of course not. When we were together… he wasn’t like that.”

After leaving the team, Xie Chenfeng made a living off college entrance exam students, connecting them with schools for a commission while also working with PE teachers at several high schools in Nanping. His income fluctuated—some years he made 30,000 to 40,000 yuan, other years nothing. The rest of the time, he stayed home, chatting online and watching TV.

Weiwei kept urging him to find a real job instead of drifting, but Xie Chenfeng refused after quitting the team. He’d snap at Weiwei, telling him not to meddle—what right did a student have to lecture him?

“You were right.”

“He had a lot of flaws. He was messy—never cleaned up at home. Every day when I came back from class, the place was a disaster. But the worst part was… you know what? He loved flirting with guys on Weibo, QQ, and forums, sending them photos or video-chatting, though he rarely met up in person.”

“Ah.” Lin Ze frowned.

He knew this type of behavior was common among gay men.

“It wasn’t about hookups. How do I put it? He loved video-chatting and bragging about his taekwondo skills and soccer background. Some desperate bottoms really ate it up, constantly calling or texting him. Basically… fawning over him.”

“I get it. Vanity, narcissism.”

“Yeah. No job, just drifting. It wasn’t like he cheated or had one-night stands, but he loved the attention, flirting online. I hated that.”

“I don’t like it either… Maybe it’s subconscious insecurity. If life isn’t going well, you compensate in other ways. So you broke up?”

Weiwei nodded. “You’re right—it’s insecurity. An empty life, dissatisfaction with reality, leading to deep-seated inferiority. He relied on his looks and physique for validation, to relieve stress. At first, I really, really liked him—a soccer player, tall, not effeminate, very masculine… But over time, I grew indifferent. We just couldn’t make it work.”

Lin Ze sighed deeply.

“Once, I was sick and asked him to take me to get an IV. He was too busy chatting on QQ and ignored me. I ended up going alone, crying the whole time. After that, I broke up with him.”

Situ Ye stood behind the counter, watching them with confusion as they talked.

Lin Ze thought, God, how could it be like this?

“It was an amicable split. Later, he called me a few times, but I didn’t answer. He said he’d return my iPhone after paying the phone bill. I didn’t believe him at the time. Then I heard he was broke, sleeping around and borrowing money. He even hooked up with a few well-known guys on Jack’d, one of whom later tested positive for AIDS. I panicked and got tested—luckily, I was clean.”

“A friend told me they saw him at Bei Cheng Tian Street last month with a really handsome guy. That was you, right? Were you wearing a white shirt and dress pants?”

Lin Ze felt like a piece of his heart had been ripped out.

“When was he diagnosed?”

“Two years ago.”

Lin Ze fell silent.

Weiwei’s eyes reddened. “I never thought he’d end up like this.”

After a pause, Lin Ze said, “I need to find him. Will you come with me?”

“Sure. I’m off tomorrow.”

“Lin Ze, I’ll go with you.”

“No, I can handle it.”

“Don’t let him retaliate.”

“I won’t get too close.”

“Be careful.”

The next day, Lin Ze met Weiwei at Bei Cheng Tian Street.

“Where do we start?”

Lin Ze made a call to a friend at the police station. The officer arrived, and after exchanging pleasantries, Lin Ze took him to the business hotel where he and Xie Chenfeng had stayed. With the officer present, the front desk pulled up Xie Chenfeng’s ID scan.

Lin Ze printed a color copy and pocketed it. “Thanks.”

The officer smiled. “No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.”

After the officer left, Weiwei remarked, “You reporters really have connections everywhere.”

Lin Ze looked at Xie Chenfeng’s ID. The photo was unflattering, but ID photos always were—his own was worse. Xie Chenfeng’s was actually decent, with sharp, handsome features. His real name was Xie Lei, from a small county in Guizhou.

“Are we going to Guizhou?”

“No, he’s probably still in Chongqing. Did you bring the courier slip I asked for?”

Weiwei pulled it out of his bag. Lin Ze checked the tracking number on his phone—the courier branch was in Jiangbei District.

“He said he lived in Nanping… Let’s check the bus route he usually took…”

They stood at the bus stop, comparing the notes on the slip. Shentong Express, Jiaochangkou branch.

“You think he lives in Jiangbei?”

“This bus is the one he took home after the light rail stopped at night. The last stop is Nanping’s Begonia Courtyard, but it passes Jiaochangkou too. See?”

Weiwei didn’t reply. Lin Ze murmured, “He probably lives in Jiaochangkou. Let’s search along the route.”

They boarded the bus. Weiwei held onto a pole. “He’d never expect us to track him down like this.”

Lin Ze stared absently at the bustling scenery outside. When seats opened up, he guided Weiwei to sit. “Here.”

Weiwei glanced at him. “Are you a top?”

Lin Ze paused, then nodded. “But I bottomed for Xie Lei.”

“Li Chiran really likes you.”

Lin Ze acknowledged it with a hum.

“You’re really good at taking care of people.”

Lin Ze sighed. At Jiaochangkou Station, they got off and walked to the Shentong Express branch. Lin Ze called the courier for the area first, but the man didn’t remember Xie Chenfeng. They went to the branch, where Lin Ze showed his press pass and Xie Chenfeng’s ID. The staff were startled until Lin Ze explained it was a personal matter.

A girl seemed to recall a tall, thin, handsome guy who had come in to mail a package.

“That’s him. He didn’t use a pickup service—he came in person. Did you two ever live around here?”

“No. Do you think he’d take the bus here just to mail something?”

“Probably not. The light rail’s last stop is just ahead. He took the light rail during the day, so he wouldn’t go out of his way to mail something from an unfamiliar place. Just a guess, though. Let’s walk around and ask.”

Lin Ze showed Xie Chenfeng’s ID to street vendors, but with so many people passing through, no one remembered him.

Then they went to a small supermarket. The cashier recognized him.

Bingo.

Lin Ze’s heart pounded.

“Which direction did he come from?”

The manager came over. “Why are you looking for him?”

Lin Ze showed his press pass, saying it was for an interview, and the manager backed off.

“Across the street, probably. There’s a neighborhood there.”

“What did he usually buy?”

“How would I remember? Instant noodles, maybe.”

Weiwei nodded. They left the supermarket, and Lin Ze scanned the area. A high-rise community stood in the distance, but Xie Chenfeng likely didn’t live there. He kept asking around until Weiwei pointed. “He’s there. I can feel it.”

Lin Ze followed his gaze to a row of old buildings waiting for demolition.

“Yeah, he probably can’t afford the high-rises. Are these old walk-ups two-bedroom units?”

Weiwei shook his head blankly.

“Should we ask a real estate agent? He probably doesn’t share an apartment—taking meds and living with others would be tricky. Either he has a single room or a whole unit. Or maybe a partitioned space with shared bathrooms and kitchens.”

Weiwei showed Xie Chenfeng’s photo around. An old woman at a dimly lit convenience store recognized him immediately. She pointed to Building 6.

“Does he still live here?”

“Yeah. He went out this morning.”

“…”

“…”

“What now?”

Lin Ze was at a loss. “Which floor?”

“No idea.”

Lin Ze walked along the road. A newspaper stand stood outside. Lin Ze asked the vendor, “Auntie, are there any rental units around here? Shared or partitioned?”

The vendor thought for a moment. “Maybe the sixth floor. Can’t remember.”

“Which unit?”

She pointed vaguely to the right.

“Should we wait for him downstairs?”

Lin Ze hesitated, then said, “When we see him, stay behind me. Do you want to ask him to pay you back?”

“Not really. If he’s broke, forget it. I just have a few things to say.”

“Me too. Let’s wait here.”

Weiwei seemed scared. Lin Ze, noticing his unease, said, “Don’t worry. If he has any conscience left, he won’t lash out.”

“It’s not that… He wouldn’t do that. I know him. I’m just afraid…”

Lin Ze sighed. He knew what Weiwei feared.

Lin Ze bought two bottles of water and handed one to Weiwei. “Is your boyfriend good to you?”

Weiwei nodded, tears welling up. Lin Ze patted his shoulder. “Maybe you should go home.”

Weiwei steadied himself. “It’s fine. I won’t get back with him. I’ll tell him to go home and get treatment. He’ll listen to me.”

Lin Ze stood in the sun, watching his shadow. Sweat dripped to the ground. Suddenly, he sensed something and looked up to see a man watching them from across the street, less than thirty meters away.

Lin Ze bolted. Xie Chenfeng turned and ran, but after a few steps, Lin Ze dashed into the road. Xie Chenfeng stopped and shouted, “Watch out!”

Cars honked wildly. Lin Ze halted and stepped back.

Xie Chenfeng, terrified, pushed Lin Ze back to the sidewalk.

Once inside the neighborhood, Lin Ze turned and punched Xie Chenfeng square in the face.

Weiwei screamed.

Xie Chenfeng stumbled back. Lin Ze grabbed a broom from the grass, removed the head, and swung the handle at Xie Chenfeng’s neck.

The sharp crack left a red mark.

Weiwei gaped. Xie Chenfeng shielded his head as Lin Ze kicked him in the stomach.

Xie Chenfeng rolled away, scrambling. Lin Ze chased him, kicking him into a corner. Xie Chenfeng didn’t fight back, just collapsed into a bike shed, toppling a row of bicycles.

“Stop!” Weiwei cried. “Don’t hit him anymore! He’ll bleed!”

Lin Ze fought back tears, grabbing whatever he could to smash at Xie Chenfeng. He seized a shovel with a metal base and struck Xie Chenfeng’s head with a dull thud.

Weiwei sobbed, pulling Lin Ze away. Xie Chenfeng curled up, taking the beating silently.

“Enough, enough…” Weiwei whimpered.

Xie Chenfeng’s eyes were red. He sniffled, struggling to his feet, face and body covered in bruises. He was still wearing the clothes Lin Ze had bought him.

Lin Ze trembled, gripping the shovel. He wanted to strike again, but Xie Chenfeng’s nose was bleeding. One more hit would break it.

He knew Xie Chenfeng could easily overpower both of them if he fought back—he just didn’t dare.

The commotion drew a crowd of retirees.

Weiwei handed Xie Chenfeng a pack of tissues. Their fingers didn’t touch. Xie Chenfeng took the tissues and pocketed the rest. Weiwei stepped back.

Xie Chenfeng stopped the bleeding. Lin Ze wordlessly took the shovel, washed it, and covered the bloodstains with dirt.

“Come up?” Xie Chenfeng rasped.

Lin Ze tossed the shovel aside and followed Xie Chenfeng upstairs, silent as death.

Xie Chenfeng unlocked the door on the sixth floor. Weiwei hid behind Lin Ze as they entered.

The apartment was exactly as Lin Ze had guessed—a two-bedroom unit partitioned into four single rooms. Xie Chenfeng rented the slightly larger master bedroom. Next door, a couple argued loudly, throwing things.

The sound triggered Lin Ze—his parents’ domestic violence had left deep scars.

Xie Chenfeng roared, “Shut up! You’re not the only ones living here!”

His voice was fiercer than Zheng Jie’s. The couple quieted down, clearly intimidated.

Xie Chenfeng opened his door. A single bed, piles of clutter, mismatched socks, the stench of sweat and feet. Unwashed bowls of instant noodles sat on the table.

The room was a mess, the windows covered with newspaper, turning it into a dim cell. A half-empty bottle of disinfectant stood on the table. The Pikachu plush Lin Ze had given him sat on the nightstand. Xie Chenfeng tossed a new phone—worth a few hundred yuan—onto the table.

Lin Ze surveyed the room, then checked the kitchen—rusty pans, greasy grime, dusty windows.

The toilet was filthy, the bowl stained yellow.

“Still getting revenge?” Lin Ze asked at the door. “Stop. Do something good for once.”

“No,” Xie Chenfeng replied. “I returned Weiwei’s phone. I don’t have a computer—how would I hook up? I’m leaving for Guangzhou this month to get treatment.”

“How many people did you hurt?” Lin Ze asked.

“Just you. Didn’t succeed. I’m dying anyway—no point lying.”

Xie Chenfeng explained: After his diagnosis, he had wanted to take revenge on society. He arranged several hookups but chickened out each time, ghosting the guys and blocking them. Over time, people in the scene labeled him a flake and ignored him.

He had lived alone in this tiny room for over a year, idle, scraping by on student referral commissions. No family, no lover, no job. Then he met Lin Ze at Bei Cheng Tian Street. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he started it.

Lin Ze believed him—Weiwei had only just found out, after all.

“Those two times you lied about recruiting students—where did you sleep? Didn’t hook up?” Lin Ze asked.

“I texted you from the CDC. I was getting checked.”

Xie Chenfeng sat on the bed, looking up at Lin Ze.

“Before I saw you,” he said, “I disinfected my clothes.”

“Your clothes aren’t what needs disinfecting,” Lin Ze said coldly. “It’s your heart.”

The words cut both ways—hurting Xie Chenfeng and wounding Lin Ze himself.

“I know I’m vile. You can kill me if you want. I’ve only got one life—take it.”

Lin Ze didn’t reply. He walked to the desk, picked up Xie Chenfeng’s phone, and checked his recent contacts. The phone was in camera mode, showing a photo of Lin Ze and Weiwei waiting outside his building, taken from across the street.

“Do you believe me when I say I never hurt anyone? That when I was lonely, I just wanted someone to talk to? That when I saw you on Jack’d, I fell for you? That I didn’t dare tell you I had AIDS? I lied about so much… but the one thing I didn’t lie about was loving you. Do you believe me?”

Lin Ze didn’t answer.

“Of course you don’t. Because I have AIDS, because I slept around, everyone assumes I’d hurt people.”

“You’re the one who posted about taking revenge on society. Weiwei saw it. I saw it. Who told you to say that?” Lin Ze asked.

Xie Chenfeng stayed silent.

“You’re bitter,” Lin Ze said. “Your heart’s so dark it’s rotting.”

The new phone’s camera was poor quality. Lin Ze scrolled through the photos—street scenes, one of him standing outside a sports field’s fence, watching the grass. The shot was taken from across the street.

Another showed Lin Ze leaving his new workplace after an interview, captured from the opposite sidewalk.

Bei Cheng Tian Street, Starbucks—Lin Ze lost in thought.

Him and Zheng Jie leaving the CDC.

The photos were distant, blurring Lin Ze’s face, but he knew it was him.

For a month, Xie Chenfeng had been following him.

Never approaching, just taking pictures from afar.

Lin Ze opened a drawer and found the AIDS diagnosis report dated late the year before last. He checked the other drawers—one was filled with test results.

“HIV testing is free now,” Lin Ze remarked. “Lucky you. What’s in this drawer?”

Xie Chenfeng didn’t answer.

“Can I look? Photos of the people you hurt?” Lin Ze asked.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it. It’s full of my rotting heart,” Xie Chenfeng replied dully.

“Let’s see. I’m curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Xie Chenfeng murmured. He tossed a key onto the table.

Lin Ze opened the last drawer. Inside were Xie Chenfeng’s fake IDs, a Lifan access card, and an envelope. Xie Chenfeng handed it to Weiwei. “Here’s your money. Count it.”

Weiwei hugged Xie Chenfeng’s neck and burst into tears. He closed his eyes, silent tears falling.

Lin Ze spotted a small blue box beside the envelope—a ring box. He glanced at Weiwei, who said nothing.

He opened it. Two 925 silver rings—likely from Xie Chenfeng’s ex. He clicked his tongue. “Treasure these, Xie Lei?”

“Yeah,” Xie Chenfeng replied simply.

Lin Ze held the rings up to the light. One was engraved with “Xie Lei.”

The other: “Lin Ze.”

Lin Ze stood for a moment, then turned to leave. “Need money? I can lend you some.”

“I’ve taken enough from you. You didn’t get infected, right? I saw you leaving the CDC… heard Zheng Jie talking… I even asked the nurse. I was so scared… Thank God you’re okay…”

“I’m leaving. See you around.”

Weiwei’s sobs softened. Lin Ze walked out.

“A’Ze! Wait!” Xie Chenfeng called.

Lin Ze hurried downstairs. He couldn’t stay any longer—he still loved Xie Chenfeng, a love undiminished by lies or AIDS. But he knew he couldn’t love him anymore.

He also knew he was pathetic. Xie Chenfeng had deceived him, yet he couldn’t just stop loving him. The only way was to leave, to pretend none of it had happened.

He walked from Jiaochangkou to Chaotianmen, following the riverside aimlessly until he reached Chaotianmen Square—where the Jialing River’s pale yellow waters met the Yangtze’s blue, forming a stark divide as they rushed eastward, endless.

Lin Ze leaned on the railing, watching the currents. He remembered his early days in Chongqing, when Zheng Jie had taken his photo here—the one on his Jack’d profile.

Xie Chenfeng had said that photo drew him in at first sight. He had tracked Lin Ze’s distance on the app, searching Bei Cheng Tian Street until he found him at Starbucks.

Lin Ze buried his face in his arms, exhausted. After all these years, why was he still so alone?

Back in college, he had been full of dreams, eager to make his mark. Yet here he was, years later, still solitary—no career success, no love, just another face in the crowd.

Drowned in the city, crushed by money and society, with nothing left.

“No… no way, that’s our boss!”

“Boss, don’t jump!”

Lin Ze: “…”

Lin Ze whirled around, instantly furious.

A crowd had gathered, pointing. One of his intern reporters gaped, camera in hand. Lin Ze realized he had become breaking news: “Man contemplates suicide at Chaotianmen.”

Lin Ze shielded his face, grabbed the intern’s collar, and dragged him away. “It’s nothing. Just needed some air.”

The crowd dispersed, though the police still watched. The intern yelled, “He’s our boss! Not a jumper!”

Lin Ze hissed, “Shut up! If other papers hear, we’ll be front-page gossip!”

He hauled the intern onto the light rail. The kid was clueless and intimidated—Lin Ze’s usual stern demeanor left little room for praise.

Lin Ze exhaled wearily. “No leads today?”

“Nope,” the intern replied, adjusting his thick glasses. “You were off, so the editor told me to freelance.”

“I’ll assign something.” Lin Ze rubbed his nose, pulled out his phone, and opened the team’s QQ group. “Go to Chongqing University, Southwest Normal, Southwest Political, and Nanping Business School. Chongqing Post is too far—skip it. I’ll connect you with advisors. Do a feature on summer job pay raises for college students. Drafts due by 5 PM—send them to my email.”

He dispatched the interns, called the editor to arrange overtime, then went home to shower and sleep. The next morning, a text from Xie Chenfeng arrived—just a QQ number.

Lin Ze logged on and added it. The next day, he resumed his lonely life.