Chapter 18

On the third day of the conference, all the journalists were to have a group dinner afterward. This time, Lin Ze couldn’t escape and had to sit through it, bored out of his mind, while Situ Ye went to buy roast duck and pastries from Daoxiangcun.

At five in the afternoon, the two of them sat in the conference hall. The sight of the takeout box made Lin Ze nauseous. “Tie the plastic bag tighter,” he said.

Situ Ye, who had also suffered through two days of roast duck torture, looked equally pained.

That evening, during the dinner, the leaders gave speeches and toasts, and the journalists gathered in high spirits. Lin Ze, seeing such a scene, automatically began drafting a report in his head—only for another massive plate of roast duck to be placed right in front of him. No matter how much the lazy Susan turned, it always ended up back in front of him. Lin Ze had no choice but to force himself to eat some.

Late at night, bidding farewell to Beijing, Lin Ze sent text messages to Ke Maoguo and Zhao Yuhang, urging them to visit Chongqing someday, then boarded the plane with Situ Ye.

When Lin Ze got home, Zheng Jie immediately came over to unpack the gifts. “Perfect timing, I haven’t had my midnight snack yet,” he said.

Lin Ze: “…”

Zheng Jie took the takeout box to the microwave to heat it up, steamed the pancakes separately, and set out the cucumber and scallion strips before pouring the dipping sauce. “A’Ze, come eat, come eat.”

Lin Ze was on the verge of a breakdown, sitting at the table with tears streaming down his face like wide noodles. Zheng Jie said, “It’s no fun eating alone!”

Lin Ze stared at the duck rolled in pancakes and nearly threw up. He swore he would never eat roast duck again in his life.

December in Chongqing turned cold in an instant. Winter brought frequent rain, and without central heating, the entire mountain city felt like it was shrouded in a damp, chilly mist.

The year-end busy season began again. After returning, Ke Maoguo didn’t reach out to Lin Ze. Once Lin Ze finished organizing the materials and conveying the spirit of the national journalists’ conference in Beijing, he started preparing the year-end summary and plans for the new year. The newspaper’s subscription numbers were 30% higher than the previous year, and the editor-in-chief was overjoyed—a raise was surely on the horizon.

On one of his days off, Lin Ze lazily sat by the floor-to-ceiling window at home, booting up his computer to surf the internet. Outside, it was still overcast, with light rain drizzling endlessly.

A QQ notification popped up—Xie Chenfeng had sent a message.

Lin Ze checked the weather in Guangzhou: 28°C. He thought to himself, It’s still better to live in the south.

Xie Chenfeng: [Miss you.]

Lin Ze: [Is it cold in Guangzhou? If it’s too cold, don’t go to work.]

Xie Chenfeng: [Still wearing short sleeves, pretty much like summer.]

Lin Ze: [How’s work going?]

Xie Chenfeng: [Making some money, not much. Can I see you?]

Lin Ze thought for a moment, then clicked on the video call. Xie Chenfeng didn’t answer immediately, instead saying: [Wait, let me adjust the lighting.]

Lin Ze: [Maybe comb your hair while you’re at it.]

The video connected. After a moment of darkness, Xie Chenfeng’s handsome face appeared. He looked even thinner than before, and his hair had grown out a bit but had been trimmed recently.

Though it was overcast on Lin Ze’s end, the light by the floor-to-ceiling window was good.

Lin Ze: “Move your head a bit, let me see. Is your room a mess again?”

Xie Chenfeng rubbed his head and smiled. “Just cleaned it the day before yesterday. How’s this hairstyle?”

It was always like this. When they weren’t face-to-face, it felt like nothing had ever happened between them. But the moment Lin Ze saw Xie Chenfeng’s face again, all the emotions he had deliberately suppressed came rushing back.

“Mm,” Lin Ze said. “Much cleaner. Did you buy a computer?”

Xie Chenfeng: “It’s someone else’s. His name’s Chen Kai. This is the living room—everyone can use the computer here.”

Lin Ze figured this was probably one of the volunteers Xie Chenfeng lived with. Just as they were talking, Xie Chenfeng turned his head and called out, “Brother Kai! Come meet my wife.”

Lin Ze was torn between laughter and exasperation. Xie Chenfeng shifted to the side, gesturing for his friend to come over. The man approached, but only his clothes were visible, not his face. He spoke with a Hunan accent: “Such a handsome young man, very nice. Is this A’Ze?”

Lin Ze: “Hello, Brother Kai. Thanks for looking after Chenfeng.”

“No, no,” Chen Kai said hurriedly. “No need to be so polite. You two chat, I’ll go buy some things.”

Xie Chenfeng said goodbye to him. Once the door closed behind Chen Kai, Lin Ze asked, “Is he also…?”

“No,” Xie Chenfeng said with a laugh. “Straight. But a really good guy.”

Lin Ze: “What’s his phone number?”

Xie Chenfeng grinned. “Gonna have him keep an eye on me?”

Lin Ze: “Of course. I need to monitor your daily activities so you don’t go out causing trouble again.”

Xie Chenfeng typed Chen Kai’s number into the chat. Lin Ze, worried that Xie Chenfeng might hide it if he got sick or had an emergency, took down the number and sent Chen Kai a text introducing himself and asking him to reach out if needed. Casually, he asked Xie Chenfeng, “Are there many people like you there?”

Xie Chenfeng understood what Lin Ze meant. “About twenty or so. We don’t all live together, but we sometimes meet up on weekends for dim sum or just to chat.”

Lin Ze asked again, “How’s your health lately?”

Xie Chenfeng smiled. “What do you think, looking at me? You’ve lost weight, A’Ze. Work stressing you out?”

Lin Ze: “It’s alright. Just a bit busier at the end of the year. Not getting enough sleep.”

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. For a moment, neither of them spoke, just sitting in silence. Lin Ze got up to make coffee. When he returned, Xie Chenfeng asked, “Free for New Year’s?”

Lin Ze: “Probably not. Why?”

Xie Chenfeng: “Nothing. Just wanted to see you. They’re planning a little gathering for New Year’s—no performances or anything, just everyone sitting around talking.”

Lin Ze: “No time. Too busy.”

“What about Zheng Jie?” Xie Chenfeng asked.

Lin Ze: “Working overtime. It’s Christmas Eve today—business is good.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Did his blind date work out?”

Lin Ze: “Nope. Still failing. He’s almost as bad as Sakuragi Hanamichi at this point.”

Xie Chenfeng laughed. “Zheng Jie’s a good guy.”

Lin Ze sighed. “Don’t even bring him up. He’s trying to ask out a girl from the shop next door to go to Wulong and Fairy Mountain for New Year’s. I don’t have that much free time either.”

Xie Chenfeng made a noncommittal sound. Just then, Lin Ze’s phone rang—Situ Ye was asking him to go shopping for clothes. Lin Ze, feeling lazy, told him to just buy stuff online since it was too cold outside.

Xie Chenfeng said, “If your friend’s asking, you should go. Staying home all the time isn’t good. Is it Li Chiran?”

Lin Ze: “No, it’s the guy from Starbucks you met last time. He’s my partner now. Also a top.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Oh.”

“Take care of yourself,” Lin Ze said. “Don’t catch a cold.”

Xie Chenfeng smiled. “You too. Don’t overwork yourself.”

Lin Ze ended the call. He could almost feel the melancholy on both their faces when the video disconnected—as if some intangible connection, stretched across thousands of miles, had vibrated in unison at both ends.

Today was Christmas Eve. Zheng Jie probably wouldn’t be back until eleven or twelve after overtime. Lin Ze put on his jacket and walked through Bei Cheng Tian Street. Situ Ye stood in the square wearing a wool hat, brown dress pants, a black sweater, and a white scarf, looking like a male model.

“I’ll buy you clothes as a Christmas present.” Situ Ye said.

Lin Ze thought for a moment. “You’ve got good taste. Might as well pick up a few things for myself too.”

The two of them, nearly the same height, walked side by side down the pedestrian street, drawing glances from many girls. Lin Ze asked, “Any plans for Christmas?”

Situ Ye replied, “I met two bottoms on QQ. They’re both students at Southwest University of Political Science and Law. Said we could meet up for dinner around New Year’s. Wanna come?”

Lin Ze felt lazy. Winter was a season that made people crave warmth. He wanted someone to hold—but not some dependent younger guy.

“We’ll see,” Lin Ze said. “If I’m free, I’ll come. Zheng Jie also wants me to help him pick up girls.”

Situ Ye laughed. “Let’s all go together. More people, more fun.”

“Four gays, one straight guy, and one girl going to Fairy Mountain—are you trying to torture Zheng Jie to death?” Lin Ze teased.

They entered a store. Lin Ze bought himself a new outfit and, after some thought, picked out another set in a larger size—a sweater, pants, and a light yellow scarf.

“For Zheng Jie?” Situ Ye asked. “I’ll pay for it.”

“No,” Lin Ze said. “Don’t fight me on this. How much money do you even have?”

Situ Ye: “You’re giving it to that AIDS patient?”

Lin Ze: “His name is Xie Lei, not ‘that AIDS patient,’ Student Situ. Your year-end bonus paperwork is still in my hands—do you not want it anymore?”

Situ Ye: “You’re really giving it to him?”

Lin Ze: “No, I’m not planning to. I’m just buying it to keep at home. I’ll wear this one, and the other one won’t be for anyone—just sitting there.”

Situ Ye: “…”

Lin Ze: “Hard to understand?”

Situ Ye: “Sort of… Oh! The year-end bonus! When’s it coming?”

Lin Ze: “Soon, probably. You should get over ten thousand.”

Situ Ye: “What about you?”

Lin Ze: “Twenty or thirty thousand… Not sure, gotta check.”

A few days later, at 3 PM on December 30, the meeting ended. Department heads packed up their materials while Lin Ze sat quietly in a corner of the conference table, facing the empty hall.

Situ Ye asked, “A’Ze, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Lin Ze: “You go pick up your friends first. I’ll wait for Zheng Jie’s call.”

Situ Ye: “Come with us.”

Lin Ze didn’t answer. Situ Ye added, “Let me know once you decide. I’ll drive over to get you.”

Lin Ze made a noncommittal sound. His phone rang—Zheng Jie said he wouldn’t be off until after six. He’d already secured a date with the girl for dinner and a movie that night.

Lin Ze stared at his phone, unsure whether to third-wheel or spend the holiday alone. His thumb hovered over the message “You guys have fun, I won’t go,” but he couldn’t bring himself to send it. After a moment, he packed up, grabbed his wallet from the office, and went out to check his bank balance.

Year-end bonus, year-end bonus, year-end bonus…

Lin Ze’s mind was filled with visions of dollar signs like the gleeful Gray Wolf from ‘Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf.’ He tapped the ATM screen and was instantly overjoyed.

Thirty thousand! More than he’d expected!

As he mentally calculated his total assets, his phone rang—Chen Kai.

“A’Ze, got any free time lately?” Chen Kai asked.

“What’s up?” Lin Ze’s heart skipped a beat. Don’t tell me Xie Chenfeng died.

Chen Kai quickly clarified, “Nothing urgent. Just wanted to ask if you could write some articles. Lei Zi mentioned you’re a journalist.”

“What kind of articles?” Lin Ze figured Xie Chenfeng probably hadn’t told Chen Kai about their past.

Chen Kai asked, “Would you be willing to come over as a volunteer and chat with everyone? We’re putting together a newsletter-style pamphlet for a few volunteer groups to share. It’ll also be available at the CDC—anyone who wants to read it can take a copy. If we have the patients write it themselves, it might not be objective enough. There’d be too much emotional bias, maybe even negativity. We need content that’ll inspire them to want to live well. Since it’s for the CDC’s outreach.”

Lin Ze understood. Chen Kai wanted to document things in a way that highlighted the positive but couldn’t find the right person to write it.

Chen Kai added, “We can reimburse your plane ticket, food, and lodging. Let me explain first—our volunteer group’s principle is not to accept public donations. Everyone supports themselves. The group’s expenses are mostly covered by me. There’s no misuse of donors’ money for personal enjoyment. And honestly, Brother Kai isn’t short on funds. I’d like to invite you over for a visit—please don’t stand on ceremony.”

Lin Ze smiled. “Then I won’t be polite. I’m free—I’ll come over later.”

Chen Kai: “No rush. Come whenever you’re on break. Just text me your flight details once you book, and I’ll handle the ticket. If you can’t make it, no worries. I can record their stories and email them to you.”

Lin Ze: “I’d rather go. Face-to-face conversations with Q&A can cover more ground.”

As he was about to hang up, Lin Ze thought of something. “Did Xie Lei ask you to invite me?”

Chen Kai: “No. Are you two fighting? Lei Zi told me not to bother you, said you’re busy at year-end. I was hesitant to ask too—just thought I’d try. If it’s too much, don’t force yourself…”

Lin Ze chuckled. “No, I’m not busy lately. I’ve got nowhere to be tonight anyway. Let me check for flights—if there’s one, I’ll come.”

At 3 PM, Lin Ze took a taxi home. The streets were already bustling. Once home, he haphazardly packed a few clothes, changed into a sweater and dress pants, and headed out. “To the airport,” he told the cabbie.

In the taxi, Lin Ze booked a plane ticket on his phone—a premium economy seat for 1,500 yuan, departing at 5:10 PM. He’d make it just in time. He printed his boarding pass at a kiosk and boarded as soon as he got through security.

Sitting on the plane, Lin Ze still couldn’t quite believe he was doing this.

The flight attendant announced that all electronic devices should be turned off. Lin Ze zoned out for the two-hour flight. By the time he stepped out of Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport, it was already 7:30 PM.

Guangzhou was even more humid than Chongqing, though slightly warmer. Lin Ze took out his phone and texted Chen Kai, asking where they were and reminding him not to tell Xie Chenfeng. Chen Kai quickly replied with the address. Lin Ze hailed a cab and headed over.

In the old residential streets of Yuexiu District, the Kang Le Center was brightly lit. Lin Ze wandered around downstairs until he found a florist, bought a bouquet, and by then it was already 9:30.

Through the sliding security gate, he could see a lounge area where quite a few people were chatting and laughing.

“Is Brother Kai here?” Lin Ze called.

Chen Kai hurried over to open the door. When Lin Ze stepped inside, he saw Xie Chenfeng sitting alone in a corner, his face a picture of disbelief.

The moment Lin Ze entered, many eyes turned toward him.

Most were men, though there were a few women. Lin Ze could tell several were gay, and some were mothers accompanying their sons.

Xie Chenfeng’s lips moved slightly, as if he were nervous. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Lin Ze: “I’m here as a volunteer, not to see you.”

“This is A’Ze,” Xie Chenfeng said. “He’s my…”

Aside from a few volunteers, the room was filled with AIDS patients, who seemed puzzled by Lin Ze and Xie Chenfeng’s relationship. Xie Chenfeng’s face flushed slightly as he scrambled to find a chair and fetch water for Lin Ze. The place was sparsely furnished—no extra chairs were available.

Lin Ze: “You sit. Everyone, make yourselves comfortable.”

Chen Kai addressed the others: “A’Ze is a journalist, here to help us with the newsletter.”

Chen Kai took the flowers and brought over a chair. The group welcomed Lin Ze’s arrival and motioned for him to join them. Lin Ze took out his voice recorder. “Brother Kai asked me to come. Does anyone have stories they’d like to share? How about I start with one of mine? From when I first met this guy…”

Lin Ze recounted some of their past. The patients occasionally glanced at Xie Chenfeng, whose eyes were red-rimmed, tears welling up. When Lin Ze finished, Chen Kai patted Xie Chenfeng’s shoulder. “Good thing you used protection. At least you didn’t make an irreparable mistake.”

Xie Chenfeng nodded. The room fell silent for a moment before Lin Ze smiled. “That’s my story. Who wants to go next?”

“Me,” a young man offered. “I’ll start.”

Lin Ze made an acknowledging sound.

“Call me A’Kong. I got infected because I used to do drugs. I’ve quit now, though…”

Lin Ze kept the recorder running, listening quietly. A’Kong’s story was bleak—his parents divorced when he was young, he fell in with a bad crowd, started using drugs at twelve, and shared needles with his friends.

“What made you quit?” Lin Ze asked.

A’Kong looked lost in thought for a long time before answering, “Brother Kai… Brother Lei Zi… they helped me.”

“Friends,” Lin Ze said.

A’Kong smiled. “Friends.”

A woman spoke up: “Can we talk privately?”

Chen Kai, understanding that some were still hesitant, looked to Lin Ze for confirmation. Lin Ze smiled, turned off the recorder. “Of course. Let’s sit over here.”

He moved his chair to join her.

“Don’t use my real name. If my son sees this, he’d lose it. I still haven’t told him. Later, I’ll just say Mom’s sick and can’t be cured… so he’ll take good care of his grandma…”

Lin Ze: “I understand. All names will be changed.”

She named a rural town, then whispered, “My husband died young, leaving just my blind mother-in-law and my son. I only finished elementary school—not like you college graduates. My family was poor. You have no idea how bad it was. So poor we couldn’t even afford food. No jobs, just farming. Every year, people starved or died of illness. Kids couldn’t go to school—had to travel far just to study. ‘A widow’s door is full of gossip.’ I didn’t want to stay in my hometown, so I asked a fellow villager to bring me to Guangzhou for work. At first, they said I’d be a waitress, but it wasn’t like that. They took me somewhere… at first, I didn’t know what kind of place it was. Later, I realized it was a nightclub.”

“A man gave me a hundred yuan. I couldn’t resist the money, so I became a prostitute. I thought, as long as my fellow villager kept quiet and no one back home knew, I’d save up enough, quit, go back, and raise my son properly. But the prostitution scene… it’s disgusting. I don’t know when I got infected or how many people I might’ve passed it to before I was diagnosed. Tell normal people… don’t get into this line of work. Don’t have anything to do with it… really…”

Lin Ze listened silently to the string of “and thens.” By the end, all he could do was nod. Many of her words no longer held meaning at this point.

Back when he was a rookie reporter, Lin Ze had once accompanied a senior journalist to distribute condoms to sex workers. That senior was a mentor he’d never forget—it was because of his guidance that Lin Ze truly crossed the threshold from student to journalist.

The woman also mentioned a colleague who kept working even after being diagnosed with AIDS. After talking with volunteers all night, she agreed to seek treatment but died before she could start.

Lin Ze jotted down key points on his iPad. “Thank you for being willing to share this.”

After she left, a man approached—handsome and energetic. He shook Lin Ze’s hand with a smile. “You from Sichuan, handsome? Single?”

Lin Ze: “Chongqing. My surname’s Lin. What, you looking to date me?” He shook the man’s hand.

“Call me Brother Lin. I’m Lin Xiao K. We’re family.”

Lin Ze thought, What kind of weird name is that? But then again, pseudonyms were common here. He was also surprised to see someone so upbeat among the patients.

The man called out, “Bin Bin! Get over here!”

It sounded like he was summoning a dog. Another man, with a scarred face and a dark, sturdy build, was filling a cup at the water dispenser. He grunted and came over to sit down—looked to be in his thirties. “Call me Brother Bin. How old are you, kid?”

Lin Ze: “Born in ’86. You two… both…?”

“He’s not sick. I am. I’m scouting someone reliable for him… so he’ll have company after I’m gone…”

Brother Bin smacked his lover’s head. “Shut the hell up! Didn’t I teach you a lesson last night?”

Lin Xiao K, catlike, swayed on his stool, grinning.

“Sounds like I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” Lin Ze remarked.

They burst out laughing.

“He’s taken. Lei Zi’s his boyfriend. Watch out or Lei Zi’ll punch you,” Brother Bin added.

Lin Ze turned the recorder back on.

Lin Xiao K shared how he and Brother Bin met—two guys from the northeast living an ordinary, undramatic life. Both were well into their thirties. They’d originally planned to stay together but ended up in different cities due to work. After a fight led to a breakup, Lin Xiao K had a one-night stand and got infected. Later, after some back-and-forth, Brother Bin found out and brought him to Guangzhou, where they resumed their life together.

It had been nearly ten years since Lin Xiao K was diagnosed. The progression rate of AIDS increased each year.

“I’m only worried about one thing…”

“You’re disgusting!” Brother Bin scolded. “I’ll handle my own life. I’ll make sure it’s a good one.”

“Fine,” Lin Xiao K sighed.

Lin Ze couldn’t handle this pair—their banter was equal parts heartbreaking and hilarious. “Take care. It’s not easy.”

Another middle-aged man came over and sat across from him. “You’re a reporter?”

Lin Ze nodded.

“Tell me—do you think I need to be here?”

“What?”

“I’ve never done anything wrong. If I see an old person fall, I help them up. At the supermarket, if the cashier gives me too much change, I return it…”

Lin Ze turned on the recorder and listened quietly.

“An auntie I didn’t even know in my building got sick. At three in the morning, I carried her to the hospital. I loved my ex-wife deeply—for her job, I moved cities to live with her. We had a daughter. The town organized paid blood donations. I didn’t need the money, but I went anyway. I went three times. Used the money to buy my daughter a backpack and books and toys with the rest.”

“Plasmapheresis or whole blood?”

The man nodded. Lin Ze saw a wisdom in his eyes that only came with age. The blood-selling scandal had happened over a decade ago. This man had lived long enough to see through many things. His daughter must be in middle school by now.

The man seemed to be testing him. “Years later, I found out I had AIDS. When my wife found out, she took our daughter and ran back to her parents, afraid I’d infect her. She cut off all contact. I had to divorce her so I wouldn’t drag her down. With nowhere else to go, I returned to my hometown. My mom was long gone. When my dad heard, he kicked me out. Anyone who found out about my condition avoided me—no amount of explaining helped. On the surface, they pitied me. Behind my back, they either said I was gay because I was always helping male friends, or that I was a whore, so my wife left me, or… well, everyone thought I deserved it.”

“No one was willing to accept you?”

“My deskmate from middle school—a girl, already married—let me visit her home for a meal. I was worried her husband would mind, so I only went once.”

“What about now? Are you planning to do something before you die?”

The man laughed—a dangerous laugh. “Why not? You tell me—why is it that after a lifetime of being a good person, I’ve never gotten anything good in return? Why has fate been so unfair to me?”

Lin Ze thought for a moment, then countered, “If that’s how you feel, why are you still sitting here?”

“I want to hear your explanation.” Then, without waiting for an answer, he got up to get water.

Lin Ze leaned back in his chair and exhaled, seriously considering the man’s words.

When the man returned, he took a sip from his cup and handed it to Lin Ze. Lin Ze smiled, realizing this man wasn’t here to vent—he had something deeper in mind. “My boyfriend’s like all of you. No need for this.” He took the cup and drank from it.

“I know you’re gay.”

“I can’t answer your question, but I’ve thought about it—just like you. The night I found out Xie Lei was HIV-positive, waiting for dawn to get tested, I thought long and hard. I kept asking why fate was so unfair. And if I had this disease, what would I do?”

“What would you do?”

“I’d become a war correspondent.”

The man studied him and nodded slowly.

“Imagine if there were a machine that could measure everyone’s lifespan—accounting for accidents, illness, everything. When we grow up and pass by this machine, we’d get a slip of paper telling us how many years we have left. I think a lot of people’s lives would turn out differently.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. But I do know one thing—many would choose a different path. We’d all have to think about what we want to do in this life, what we want to accomplish… For us, it’s invisible. But you’ve stood before this machine. You already know what you want to do. Fate—you either submit to it or fight it. In good times, it’s a benefactor. When it turns on you, it’s an enemy, a rival. So now, you should… I think… you’re a victor. And… your deskmate… she must’ve said something to you, right? I should be the one asking you for advice. You know more than I do. I’d like to hear it.”

“How’s your boyfriend doing?”

“Okay. One-night stands are way too common in the gay community—so much that it’s hurting people who want serious relationships. I really hope the government and public opinion can step in to curb hookup culture… But in the end, it’s up to individuals to restrain themselves. Stay clean. Otherwise, if you indulge too much, by the time love comes along, you might not have much life left to enjoy it.”

“The biggest issue in your community is insecurity. Traditional values around marriage and children, the environment, society, the unique sensitivity of gay men—it all creates this pervasive lack of security. Men are naturally driven by desire—sexual, for power, for money. Relationships between men are fueled by instinct. If one side lacks even a little confidence, the relationship crumbles. First, there’s no marriage contract for stability. Second, you’re a hidden population—all living in the closet, right? Coming out means stepping out of that closet. If you stay in, society has no idea what you’re up to. How can they judge you? For example, if a man cheats, two-times, or uses dating as an excuse to sleep around, once he’s caught, his partner will make sure everyone knows, so people will shame him. What about you guys? No one knows what you’re doing. No one talks. You date someone—your coworkers, friends, none of them know who your partner is. Next time you date someone else, no one knows you’ve changed partners. Your parents don’t even know if you’re seeing someone or who it is. How can they keep you in check? After a breakup, the other person won’t tell anyone. Who’s going to hold you accountable?”

“Of course, this is also tied to social attitudes. If someone’s outed as gay, everyone discriminates. I’ve been mistaken for gay before—I know how it feels. No one dares to be open about their orientation. Over time, too many problems pile up. It’s like a discriminated-against kid who does something wrong but doesn’t tell anyone. ‘Born with a mother but no father to raise you’ is the external factor. But if no one’s watching over you, you have to be strong, have to discipline yourself! People have to take responsibility for themselves. Just because no one loves you doesn’t mean you can go off the rails. Just because no one slaps you doesn’t mean you can do drugs or become a murderer or turn against society. Right? Indulging yourself is the fatal internal factor. By the time you grow up and realize your mistakes, it’s too late for regrets.”

Lin Ze sighed. “Right.”

There were plenty of upstanding, clean-living gay men, but they were often dragged down by those who couldn’t control themselves. When something happened, public criticism always boiled down to one word: “gay.” If the gay community were a single person, it’d be exactly as this man described.

“So you need even more self-control than straight couples in traditional marriages. It’s inevitably harder—the environment makes it so. This won’t change overnight. Face the difficulties, but don’t give up the fight. Restrain yourselves while battling against the fate of your community, actively changing social attitudes until the day no one discriminates against you, until you can legally marry. Then, you’ve succeeded.”

“Don’t say it’s impossible. With determination, nothing’s impossible. You’re all men—act like it. There are plenty of role models in the gay community. Those who use loneliness as an excuse—what right do they have to say they can’t do it? I’ve met many gay men—some are great, but more often, relationships don’t last because both sides can’t endure loneliness, resist temptation, or handle setbacks. I’m not talking about you. Kai Zi says you hold yourself to high standards. You’re a role model…”

Lin Ze smiled. The man added seriously, “But you’re a journalist. You have a duty to expose this reality. On one hand, show society what’s happening in this hidden corner to eliminate discrimination. Tell them what kind of mindset is rampant in your community. On the other hand, remind your fellow gay men to stay clean. Look—your boyfriend’s such a spirited young man. You could’ve spent a lifetime together. Now he’s sick, counting down the days, each one gone forever…”

Lin Ze’s heart ached at the words.

“…Life is so beautiful. Love is so beautiful. But there’s a sword hanging over your heads, ready to drop any moment. What a shame. After he’s gone, will the gay community still be like this? If his story doesn’t serve as a warning, tragedies will keep repeating. I hope your story makes it into this newsletter, posted where your people can see it, to teach them self-respect. Don’t stay silent out of fear of judgment.”

Lin Ze closed his eyes, nodded, tears falling.

The man said, “Face the difficulties head-on. You’re a good kid, full of positive energy. I believe you all have the power to slowly change society.” He patted Lin Ze’s shoulder and walked away. Chen Kai waved him over from across the room, and the man went to join him.

Lin Ze remained seated. Person after person came to him. What he’d heard today equaled a year’s worth of suffering as a journalist. He could only nod repeatedly. This was tough work—most people would’ve cracked under the weight of it.

Around 10 PM, someone in the distance called out, “Lei Zi, go on.”

“Go, Lei Zi.”

Lin Ze looked up to see Xie Chenfeng approaching.

He sat in the chair across from Lin Ze, staring at Lin Ze’s hands, and murmured:

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Lin Ze recalled the famous line and replied:

“My son, I absolve you from your sins.”

Tears streamed down Xie Chenfeng’s face as he trembled, bowing over Lin Ze’s hands. After a long while, he finally calmed and looked up.

“Your lips are chapped. Drink more water,” Lin Ze murmured.

Xie Chenfeng choked out, “I wanted love. I wanted so many things—things I could’ve earned through hard work. When I was little, I believed that if you were a good person, the heavens wouldn’t wrong you. Then something happened, and I stopped believing. Then because of you, I believed again. But it was too late.”

“I used to believe too,” Lin Ze said softly. “You almost made me stop. My teacher said effort doesn’t always bring reward, but if you don’t put in effort for fear of no reward, you’ll never get any. It’s okay. It’s not too late to understand now. Let me see… your clothes look nice. What’s underneath?”

Xie Chenfeng sat quietly as Lin Ze tugged at the V-neck of his sweater. “Not bad. A lover gave it to you?”

Xie Chenfeng: “An auntie knitted it for us. Xiao K and A’Kong have them too.”

“Mm.” Lin Ze thought the sweater looked warm, making Xie Chenfeng seem cozy, which in turn comforted him. Under the V-neck was the short-sleeved shirt Lin Ze had bought him.

By now, it was very late. People were leaving the lounge. Chen Kai was putting chairs back in place. Lin Ze asked, “Many gay men here?”

Xie Chenfeng: “About a dozen who didn’t come today. There’s also a mother and son—both infected. Mother-to-child transmission. They went back to her parents’ place today.”

Lin Ze: “Do their families know?”

Xie Chenfeng: “Most of the gay men’s families don’t.”

Lin Ze: “For holidays, you all just gather here to chat and eat?”

Xie Chenfeng: “During Spring Festival, they go home. Chen Kai’s been advising them not to hide it from their families—to avoid spreading the virus and to prepare them mentally.”

Chen Kai finished tidying up the snacks. Lin Ze and Xie Chenfeng stepped out. Xie Chenfeng formally introduced Lin Ze to the gay men in their circle, passing out cigarettes. Lin Ze frowned. “I thought you quit.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Just a little. Really, hardly smoke anymore. Bought this pack two weeks ago.”

“Lei Zi’s whipped,” someone said.

Another person reached into Xie Chenfeng’s pocket, swiping his cigarettes to share. Outside the Kang Le Center, Xie Chenfeng slung Lin Ze’s gym bag over his shoulder and asked Chen Kai, “Which hotel, Brother Kai?”

Lin Ze, knowing Chen Kai wasn’t exactly rolling in money—especially now that he was doing charity work—quickly said, “Don’t waste it. I’ll stay at your place.”

Chen Kai draped an arm over the middle-aged man’s shoulders. “Alright. The house is clean. Lei Zi’s tidy. I’ll be hanging out with friends these days—won’t be back.”

The man offered Lin Ze a cigarette. Lin Ze took it and tucked it behind his ear with a smile. “No problem. I’ll sleep in Xie Lei’s room.”

The man added, “You’ll have to accept our arrangements—your lover’s in our hands now. Xiao Bin can drive. He’ll take you out tomorrow.”

Lin Ze laughed. Xie Chenfeng glanced at him. “How many days? Did you book a return flight?”

At the intersection, Lin Ze and Xie Chenfeng said goodbye to the others. Lin Ze replied, “Until the newspaper calls me back to work. Not sure.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Want to get late-night snacks?”

Lin Ze waved a hand. “Ate on the plane. Where do you live? What about work? Tonight, I’m here to inspect. Out with everything.”

The two walked ahead while the others teased them from behind.

Lin Ze turned. “How’s Xie Lei usually?”

“So cool!” someone said. “Never smiles.”

Another young man added, “Lei Zi, you’re scared of your wife!”

Xie Chenfeng: “Yeah. Really scared.”

The ribbing grew louder. At the crossroads, the group split up like schoolkids after class. Eventually, only Lin Ze and Xie Chenfeng were left, walking slowly under the dim streetlights.

“I don’t think you’re much better than before,” Lin Ze said.

Xie Chenfeng: “I feel much better. Knowing you’re still in Chongqing, living well, makes me happy.”

Lin Ze: “You only met me because you got sick. That’s how we crossed paths in a crowd. So there’s nothing to regret. Fate just worked out this way. If we rewound to when you were healthy, we never would’ve met, right? Painful bonds are still bonds. Love that brings hurt is still love.”

Xie Chenfeng was silent for a moment before nodding.

Lin Ze: “Let’s go. I bought you something.”

Xie Chenfeng led Lin Ze into a residential complex. Lin Ze picked up some fruit at a convenience store downstairs before heading up to the second floor, where he glanced at the supermarket flyer tucked into the security gate.

It was a two-bedroom apartment. The living room was neat, with no TV. A calligraphy scroll with the character for “Zen” hung on the wall. A computer sat on the desk. Lin Ze turned on the light—AIDS awareness pamphlets covered the coffee table. A few sleeping bags were spread out in the living room.

“A’Ze, wait in the living room,” Xie Chenfeng offered. “Let me clean up the room.”

“I’ll help,” Lin Ze insisted.

Xie Chenfeng: “No, no, really. It’s not messy. Just give me a minute.”

Xie Chenfeng disappeared into the room. Lin Ze asked, “Other people live here too?”

Xie Chenfeng’s voice came from inside: “Sometimes we host AIDS volunteers visiting Guangzhou, or family members who sign up online looking for work.”

Lin Ze: “Is it just Brother Kai handling everything? How old is he?”

Xie Chenfeng: “Thirty-five. When he was our age, he was pretty well-off. Ran a small company in Shanxi with his brother, made good money. His brother got AIDS from visiting prostitutes and infected his wife. After they died, he shut down the company, took his and his brother’s savings, and became a volunteer.”

Lin Ze: “His wife or his brother’s wife?”

Xie Chenfeng: “His wife. His brother infected his wife. Twelve years ago. Their unborn son got it too. They all died.”

Lin Ze described the middle-aged man from earlier and asked, “Who’s that uncle?”

Xie Chenfeng: “Li Tongguang. Chen Kai’s friend. He has AIDS and is also a volunteer.”

Lin Ze: “He’s sharp.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Uncle Tongguang’s impressive. Everyone respects him. He knows lots of volunteers, teaches them how to counsel patients. He’s their mentor. Doesn’t usually hang out with us—Chen Kai invited him today. Once the newsletter’s done, he’ll distribute it.”

Lin Ze made an acknowledging sound. Xie Chenfeng added, “A few volunteers came by recently but left for Guangxi. They’re from the AIDS village in Zhumadian—the mass infection years ago. The government stopped compensating them.”

Lin Ze: “What do they mainly do?”

Xie Chenfeng: “Talk to different patients, help with life and emotional issues, connect patients so they can support each other. Stop people from killing themselves or seeking revenge after diagnosis. Guide them to get treatment, be honest with their families, and practice safe sex with healthy partners to avoid spreading it.”

Lin Ze: “Need donations? I could start a column in ‘Yuzhou Daily.'”

Xie Chenfeng smiled. “Got promoted? Congrats. Not now. Donations are a last resort. Most situations, you have to rely on yourself.”

“Come in.” Xie Chenfeng said.

Lin Ze entered. The room reeked of disinfectant. Xie Chenfeng had sprayed it down, looking uneasy. “Maybe you should sleep in Brother Kai’s…”

Lin Ze sat on the bed. “It’s fine. I looked it up recently.”

Xie Chenfeng was puzzled. “Looked up what?”

Lin Ze: “The latency period depends.”

Xie Chenfeng smiled. “Right. Brother Kai says I’ve got at least another ten years.”

Lin Ze: “Could be twenty. Like Li Tongguang.”

“Hope so.” Xie Chenfeng said.

Lin Ze: “Do you have goals for the future?”

Xie Chenfeng smiled. “Of course.”

Lin Ze: “Like what?”

Xie Chenfeng: “Not telling. I’ve got it all planned—written down. What to do in the next two years, five years, ten… and if I live that long, what comes after.”

Lin Ze: “Let me see the paper?”

Xie Chenfeng said seriously, “Brother Kai has it. He’s supervising me.”

Lin Ze eyed him skeptically. “Does it even exist? I’ll ask him tomorrow…”

Xie Chenfeng: “He promised not to tell you.”

Lin Ze gave him a sidelong glance, then took out the clothes for Xie Chenfeng to change into. Matching couple’s sweaters and dress pants. Xie Chenfeng checked himself in the mirror—the new outfit gave him a fresh energy.

Under the orange lamplight, Xie Chenfeng’s sweater radiated warmth.

“I’ll… go buy you a towel and toothbrush.” Xie Chenfeng said.

Lin Ze nodded. Xie Chenfeng grabbed his keys and hurried downstairs. Lin Ze stood by the window, drawing back the curtain. Xie Chenfeng’s current place was much cleaner, no longer the wreck it had been.

He pulled the curtain aside and saw Xie Chenfeng—now in his new clothes—down by the flowerbed.

Xie Chenfeng crouched under a streetlight. Lin Ze watched for a while, unsure if he was burying something or what. After a moment, Xie Chenfeng stood, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and walked off.

Only then did Lin Ze realize he’d been crying.

In that moment, an impulse surged in him. Xie Chenfeng might have another ten years left—but how many decades did a person get? Some thoughts, once unconsidered, might never arise. Yet once they did, the urge became inescapable.

Xie Chenfeng had been diagnosed two years ago. If Lin Ze took him back now, they might still have eight or nine years together.