Chapter 13

The autumn heat finally passed, and the weather cooled down.

After another autumn rain, in October, the light rail Line 3 in the main urban area opened. Situ Ye smoothly passed his probation period. The photojournalists were all a bit displeased with him—Lin Ze was new, and Situ Ye was also new. However, aside from drawing his salary from the photography team, Situ Ye would just clock in and leave, hardly interacting with his colleagues. He always sat in Lin Ze’s office, legs crossed, wearing flip-flops and sipping coffee.

There was no way to ostracize Situ Ye, and besides, Lin Ze was the reporter most favored by the editor-in-chief. Having connections up top really made things easier.

However, no one stays at the top forever, and flowers don’t bloom for a hundred days. Rising too fast and shining too brightly inevitably leads to a reversal—what goes up must come down. Who knew when a sudden transfer might come from above, the director might retire, the editor-in-chief might be reassigned, and Lin Ze would take a fall. All of this was on his mind.

Lin Ze wanted to take over Director Li’s position. He balanced his performance in front of the editor-in-chief and deputy editor-in-chief, trying not to offend any superiors or take obvious sides. He repeatedly reminded Situ Ye to stay humble in front of the senior colleagues. When it was time to treat others, he should do so generously. If someone asked for photos or help, he shouldn’t be stingy.

At the same time, he had to visit the editor-in-chief’s office frequently—he couldn’t just cling to Lin Ze’s coattails and ignore the higher-ups.

Lin Ze did his best to create the illusion among his colleagues that “I’m very low-key, and if I become a leader in the future, your lives will be better.” He did what he could and left the rest to fate, staying humble and cautious—the rest depended on luck.

His news reports became increasingly popular, reposted by many websites. Some TV programs even cited Lin Ze’s headlines, and once, even Phoenix TV referenced his coverage of Chongqing’s military exercises.

Lin Ze treasured this like a rare gem, burning the Phoenix TV video onto a disc for safekeeping. If he ever needed to change jobs again, these would be valuable pieces of journalism.

Situ Ye listened earnestly to Lin Ze’s admonitions and took them to heart. He didn’t have much workplace experience, so many things he did were clumsy and obvious, but it was clear he was genuinely trying.

Lin Ze asked, “If you earn enough money, will you still leave?”

Situ Ye pulled his salary card out of the ATM, thought for a moment, and said, “Depends. If you need my help, I’ll stay for a while. Don’t you want to travel the world?”

Lin Ze replied, “Forget it. Zheng Jie’s a bit slow—I can’t just leave him alone at home. Let’s talk after he gets married.”

Situ Ye offered, “I’ll set your childhood friend up with someone, and you can come travel the universe with me.”

Lin Ze didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What girls do you even know to introduce? Don’t expand the scope randomly—you haven’t even built a spaceship yet.”

Situ Ye shrugged. “Spaceships can be bought. I think the girl I share the apartment with is pretty nice…”

Lin Ze and Situ Ye stepped outside. Bei Cheng Tian Street was bustling with people, but amid the crowd, as if by telepathy or perhaps fate, Lin Ze saw that person again—Xie Chenfeng—standing in the center of the square.

Lin Ze’s smile faded. Situ Ye asked, “Do you want to talk to him?”

Lin Ze nodded. Situ Ye warned, “Be careful.”

“Okay,” Lin Ze replied.

Situ Ye turned to get the car. Lin Ze walked into the square. Xie Chenfeng stood motionless, a sports bag on his back and a suitcase in tow.

Lin Ze knew Xie Chenfeng had come today to say goodbye—he was leaving.

“Train or plane?” Lin Ze asked.

“Train,” Xie Chenfeng answered, placing his backpack on the suitcase. “There’s something I want to say to you.”

“Go ahead.”

Xie Chenfeng knelt on one knee and took Lin Ze’s hand.

Lin Ze: “…”

“Get up!” Lin Ze quickly bent down. “There are too many people!”

The flowing crowd stopped in their tracks. Many noticed Xie Chenfeng’s gesture—a man proposing to another man?! People began murmuring, and some took out their phones to take pictures.

Then, Xie Chenfeng’s other knee touched the ground.

“A’Ze,” he said earnestly, kneeling fully. “I’m sorry.”

Lin Ze took a step back, instinctively wanting to kick him away, but memories of their time together flooded back. The noisy crowd, the blazing sun—it all faded into the background. Lin Ze frowned.

“Why do this? Is my forgiveness that important to you? Get up.”

Xie Chenfeng swallowed hard, then stood. Lin Ze quickly grabbed his hand, slung the sports bag over his own shoulder, and hurriedly pulled him away from Bei Cheng Tian Street. He thought, Damn, this might end up on Weibo tonight.

Xie Chenfeng stayed silent. The two stood on the escalator, slowly descending into the underground mall, still drawing curious glances from passersby.

“What time’s your train?” Lin Ze asked.

“10:20. K813.”

He opened his wallet to show Lin Ze the ticket. At that moment, Lin Ze’s emotions were indescribably complex—as if he was about to lose something forever. He thought he had forgotten, but facing Xie Chenfeng’s remorseful, sincere gaze, he realized he remembered everything vividly, etched into his bones.

Lin Ze suddenly had the urge to ask Xie Chenfeng to stay.

But what would that change?

“Do you have friends there?” Lin Ze asked. “Why Guangzhou all of a sudden?”

“A volunteer organization set up a support group for patients there. They help with jobs, and everyone gets to know each other.”

“That’s good. Live well. Don’t lock yourself in a prison anymore.”

The escalator reached the bottom, opening into the Far East Department Store. Lin Ze said, “Let’s get you some snacks for the train. It’s a 25-hour ride—hard seat or sleeper?”

“Sleeper.”

Lin Ze nodded. “Train rides… are tough.”

Xie Chenfeng stored his luggage and followed Lin Ze into the supermarket. Lin Ze tossed some of his favorite snacks into the cart.

“Don’t buy too much.”

“You can keep them at home after you arrive. Did you rent a place?”

“Yeah. Sharing with volunteers.”

Lin Ze nodded and pushed the cart to the checkout. After a long silence, Xie Chenfeng finally said, “A’Ze, if…”

Lin Ze knew what he wanted to say.

“If you had told me you were HIV-positive after I fell in love with you, I would’ve kept loving you.”

Xie Chenfeng didn’t speak.

“I would’ve rented a place with you.” Lin Ze passed the instant noodle aisle, his tone detached, as if discussing something unrelated to him. “Want some ramen?”

“No. Ate it every day—got sick of it.”

“Then instant rice… I would’ve taken care of you every day, stayed with you, until you died.” Lin Ze lowered his voice. “No sex, just holding each other when we slept.”

He felt a drop of water land on the back of his hand.

“If…”

“But if you didn’t say anything and I got infected, after learning the truth, I’d never be with you again.”

He looked up at Xie Chenfeng and lightly mimed a slap. Xie Chenfeng turned his head away, taking a long time to calm down.

“I’ll pay.”

“I will,” Lin Ze insisted.

Lin Ze paid, carrying the snacks in one hand and calling Situ Ye with the other.

Xie Chenfeng greeted Situ Ye. Lin Ze explained, “He’s my partner, working at the paper now. Situ, drive us to North Station.”

“Hello,” Situ Ye said, smiling behind his sunglasses. “I remember you.”

“Me too,” Xie Chenfeng replied, mimicking a coffee-making gesture.

Lin Ze and Xie Chenfeng sat in the back of the Jeep. “What about work? Will it really be settled?”

“They promised it would.”

Lin Ze touched Xie Chenfeng’s forehead. “Take care of yourself.”

Xie Chenfeng trembled, pulling a ring box from the side pocket of his sports bag and looking at Lin Ze.

They sat in silence for a long time. “For you.”

Situ Ye watched them in the rearview mirror.

Xie Chenfeng tried to open the box. Lin Ze pressed his fingers down, snapping it shut with a soft click.

“I don’t want it.”

Xie Chenfeng seemed to have expected this. He didn’t look at Lin Ze again, silently staring at the box.

“If… anyone in the same situation treats you well, accept it.” Lin Ze said. “Hold hands when you can, don’t just walk side by side. Kiss when you can, don’t just hold hands. Many people, many things—once missed, they’re gone forever.”

“Mm,” Xie Chenfeng choked out.

Lin Ze’s voice trembled slightly. “Your health isn’t good. Don’t overwork yourself. If it’s too much, come back… back to Chongqing. There must be volunteer groups here too.”

The car stopped in the North Station parking lot. Without hesitation, Xie Chenfeng opened the door and got out.

“I’ll see you off!”

Xie Chenfeng’s shoulders shook as he stopped, back still turned.

Lin Ze took his hand, bought a platform ticket, and escorted him all the way to the train. There were fifteen minutes until departure. Lin Ze carried the bags aboard, found the sleeper berth, and helped Xie Chenfeng settle in.

Xie Chenfeng took out a cigarette pack and stepped off the train onto the platform. There were two left.

“Don’t smoke.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Last one. Quitting tomorrow.”

He’d calmed down somewhat. They lit their cigarettes together, squinting through the smoke. Lin Ze brushed Xie Chenfeng’s hand holding the lighter in thanks, standing face-to-face as they smoked.

“Will you visit me?” Xie Chenfeng asked softly.

Lin Ze: “We’ll see.”

Xie Chenfeng: “I love you, A’Ze.”

Lin Ze flicked his cigarette away. “Get on the train. Goodbye, Xie Lei.”

Xie Chenfeng: “Take… take care of yourself.”

The train whistle blew. More passengers boarded, many glancing back as they checked their tickets. The entire car watched the two men through the windows.

Lin Ze didn’t look at Xie Chenfeng again, turning to leave the platform. The train roared to life, rumbling past him on the tracks.

At the end of the tracks were countless stars and flickering lights.

“Ah—!”

Lin Ze roared in anguish, punching the wall before slamming his head against it several times with dull thuds.

He went to the restroom, drenching his hair under the faucet. Pushing the wet strands back, his eyes red, he left the station and saw Situ Ye’s car waiting nearby.

“Take me home,” Lin Ze said.

Situ Ye didn’t respond, starting the Jeep and driving back to Bei Cheng Tian Street.

Lin Ze draped his suit jacket over himself, slumping in the passenger seat with his eyes closed. The car’s stop-and-go motion made it hard to sleep, so he adjusted, resting his head toward Situ Ye. He felt the shifts as Situ Ye steered with one hand and changed gears with the other, the rocking eventually lulling him to sleep.

The car stopped. After what felt like a long time, Lin Ze felt Situ Ye tuck a car pillow behind his head before getting out.

Lin Ze opened his eyes, yawning, and numbly took in the night view. The car was parked outside Far East Department Store, the dazzling lights and vibrant nightscape signaling that Jiangbei’s nightlife was just beginning.

Situ Ye had disappeared somewhere. Lin Ze waited a long time before he finally returned.

Situ Ye climbed back in and handed Lin Ze a paper box. “For you.”

“Thanks,” Lin Ze murmured.

He opened it to find a Starbucks city mug—Madrid.

“It’s where I most want to go,” Situ Ye said with a smile.

“I’ll try to get the paper to send us there on assignment,” Lin Ze replied. “Let’s go home.”

Situ Ye nearly crashed into a lamppost. Lin Ze quickly added, “Don’t get so excited! I said try.”

Situ Ye drove to Lin Ze’s apartment. Lin Ze slung his jacket over his shoulder and got out, mug in hand.

“Little Brother A’Ze.” Situ Ye’s voice was soft.

Lin Ze: “I’m your boss.”

Situ Ye grinned, scissoring his fingers. “I think you need a haircut. It’s getting long. Like a melancholy prince.”

Lin Ze considered it. “Yeah, maybe. Goodnight.”

Situ Ye’s lips quirked as he reversed and turned the car around. Lin Ze headed home alone.

The next day, Lin Ze’s appearance at the office startled many.

His hair was styled in the trendiest undercut, sides shaved close and top gelled up. He wore a fitted suit jacket over a white dress shirt. Though October in Chongqing was still warm, sweat dampened his shirt, outlining his toned physique. His black slacks were sharply pressed, shoes polished to a shine.

Lin Ze’s eyes were as clear as ever, his brows sharp like sword blades, his face carrying a youthful edge. “What?”

The staff quickly returned to their tasks.

Situ Ye remained in his T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, smiling as he raised his camera and snapped a photo of Lin Ze.

Lin Ze used the Starbucks city mug Situ Ye had given him to pour coffee.

An intern adjusted his glasses. “Boss, are you planning to interview people dressed like that?”

Lin Ze: “Yeah. Does it embarrass the paper?”

Intern: “No, no—it’s face-giving!”

Lin Ze nodded, satisfied. The intern added, “People will see you and think, ‘Wow! Even the interns at ‘Yuzhou Daily’ can land front-page stories—their standards must be sky-high!'”

Situ Ye laughed. “Or they’ll think, ‘Is ‘Yuzhou Daily’ about to go under? They can’t even hire real reporters—just some insurance salesman moonlighting for headlines. Is this okay?'”

The office erupted in laughter.

Lin Ze: “…”