Chapter 32

After Situ Ye returned, he barely spoke. Zheng Jie and Rongrong exchanged glances, then burst into laughter knowingly. Lin Ze played mahjong with a bored expression, winning six rounds in a row until the other three at the table were practically roaring in frustration.

“What’s this called?” Yang Zhiyuan laughed. “Lucky in love, lucky in gambling?”

Lin Ze grinned. “This is called ‘winner buys lunch.’ Lunch is on me.”

Zheng Jie groaned. “Let us win one round, damn it!”

“Alright, alright, here you go,” Lin Ze said as he deliberately played a tile to let Zheng Jie win. After finishing their game at noon, the five of them ate lunch at the farmhouse. Lin Ze felt drowsy again and didn’t want to continue playing, so he lay down to nap on the first floor of the farmhouse while Situ Ye took his place at the table.

When he woke up again, it was already 4 p.m. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Lin Ze found Situ Ye’s jacket draped over him. He yawned and went to wash his face. Outside, the mahjong table had already been cleared. Lin Ze walked to the faucet by the pond, turned on the water, and was instantly shocked by the icy coldness, making him shiver.

“He’s up on the mountain taking photos,” Yang Zhiyuan said.

Lin Ze hummed in acknowledgment without turning around, splashing the freezing water on his face. The cold jolted him awake, and he exhaled deeply. “What did Situ tell you?”

“He’s quite an interesting kid. He’s also troubled,” Yang Zhiyuan replied. “He talks about you a lot—how he likes you but doesn’t dare get too close. Every time he’s upset, he confides in me. He said the things you’ve done for him make him feel conflicted.”

Lin Ze straightened up and stood by the pond. “I didn’t really do much. Did he mention what he likes about me?”

“He said you promised to take him to Madrid,” Yang Zhiyuan explained. “It was the first time in his life someone had ever said something like that to him.”

“I was just saying it casually at the time. I didn’t expect him to remember. What else did he say about me?”

“Just bits and pieces. Like how you’d argue with the newspaper’s leadership for him. Your president is Zhou Zhixing?”

Lin Ze nodded. “It’s not that big a deal. The higher-ups generally don’t interfere much with my office as long as the news quality meets standards and the overall direction is correct. The leaders are all old men.”

“He said they didn’t like his photography style, but you went against the majority to keep him,” Yang Zhiyuan continued. “You also taught him how to deal with jealous colleagues and even gave him a 10,000-yuan bonus at the end of the year to encourage him, making him feel like work was something joyful.”

“But he still didn’t want to stay.”

Yang Zhiyuan smiled. “He wasn’t sure if you loved him. Because you held all the initiative, he always felt you just saw him as an assistant—someone who was nice to have around but not indispensable. At first, he said if he left Chongqing and you chased after him, he’d come home with you. But a few days ago, he said you probably wouldn’t go after him, so he decided to stay. But he didn’t know how to bring it up. If he left, would you have gone after him?”

Lin Ze was completely caught off guard. He had no idea Situ Ye had been saying these things to Yang Zhiyuan behind his back.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “He sees through me. He thinks I can take him or leave him, and honestly, he’s right.”

Lin Ze sighed, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt toward Situ Ye.

“Gay men are all like this—no sense of security,” Yang Zhiyuan said. “If I got too close to him before and caused any misunderstandings, I apologize. Personally, I believe in saying what needs to be said. Because once an opportunity passes, it’s gone forever. I follow my heart. If I see someone I like, I pursue them. But he has a lot of reservations and never let me tell you.”

Lin Ze quickly smiled. “No worries. Personal choices—I don’t have any opinions on that.”

“What’s Zheng Jie like? My sister said he’s still a virgin.”

“He’s a good guy. That’s true.”

Both of them laughed. Yang Zhiyuan handed Lin Ze a cigarette. The man was indeed generous, the type who got things done. Lin Ze had always known that successful people with wide social networks had their own ways of achieving things. They weren’t all petty or the type to throw money around for no reason.

There had to be a reason Situ Ye considered Yang Zhiyuan a good friend.

Lin Ze took the cigarette, and the two lit up.

“With his looks, how is he still a virgin?” Yang Zhiyuan chuckled.

Lin Ze shook his head helplessly, realizing Yang Zhiyuan was probing about Zheng Jie—after all, Rongrong was his sister. This meant Zheng Jie actually had a chance. Rongrong must like him too.

In this day and age, finding a guy who’d been working for years and was still a virgin was rarer than a phoenix feather. And Yang Zhiyuan had shared Situ Ye’s thoughts with him—clearly, this was a trade: Now, let’s talk about Zheng Jie.

“To be honest,” Lin Ze thought for a moment before continuing, “he definitely has flaws. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been single for so long. He’s careless, straightforward, and there’s his mother’s debt.”

“Debt is a small issue. What matters is his character.”

“I can vouch for his character without hesitation. Don’t you think so, Zhiyuan? Nowadays, dating is like a battlefield. When men and women meet, they don’t approach it with the mindset of complementing or blending with each other. Instead, it’s like they’re born with an innate hostility, sizing each other up from opposing sides.”

Yang Zhiyuan nodded with a smile. Lin Ze continued, “In today’s society, mainstream trends have shaped a premise of mutual distrust in relationships. It’s either you conquer me or I conquer you—especially in blind dates. The slightest dissatisfaction leads to an immediate breakup. People pick and choose, all hoping to find someone mature and reliable to spend their lives with. But the truth is, everyone starts off immature. They need to grow together. Those who seem mature when discussing marriage are usually ‘finished products’ shaped by others. If you don’t put in the effort, how can you expect results? Many tall, handsome, charming, and patient men—those with excellent qualities—are like ceramics meticulously shaped by their mothers, families, society, friends, ex-girlfriends, or even ex-wives. Zheng Jie is still rough around the edges. In many ways, he’s not mature yet. He needs to grow alongside Rongrong. If she’s willing to live like that, I’d suggest she consider him. But if she wants someone who knows how to talk to girls and understands their hearts from the get-go, then I’d say forget it. He definitely won’t be like that at first.”

“Also, Zheng Jie’s strength lies in this,” Lin Ze paused, holding his cigarette as he looked at Yang Zhiyuan seriously. “He’s here to date, not to fight. If he ever gets into a relationship, I guarantee he’ll lose every argument—he’s no match for his partner. But he’s willing to accept being shaped by the person he loves. He just quit his job yesterday. Life might not be sunshine and rainbows, but his heart is still bright, and he’s very sincere.”

Yang Zhiyuan nodded. The two continued walking by the pond. Lin Ze changed the subject. “Are you getting married, Zhiyuan?”

“Aren’t you planning to?” Yang Zhiyuan replied.

Lin Ze shrugged. “I’m out of the closet.”

“So am I. I came out to my parents when I was twenty.”

“Congratulations. Getting married abroad with your boyfriend?”

This was something Lin Ze had thought about too—saving up money through his own efforts, going abroad with the person he loved to get married, then returning to China to work and live. Or traveling the world wouldn’t be bad either. It sounded like a happy life.

But to his surprise, Yang Zhiyuan replied, “No, I’m marrying a girl. After marriage, whether it’s a sham or not, I won’t be playing around anymore.”

Lin Ze frowned slightly. Yang Zhiyuan continued, “I came out, but it didn’t change anything. My parents and relatives still treat me like a kid who’s just fooling around. They keep saying that once I’ve had my fun, I’ll have to come back and get married, start a family. Right now, I’m considering whether to find a lesbian to live with or marry a straight girl. There’s a very gentle girl pursuing me. She says she’s willing to be with me—as long as I stop seeing men.”

“I’d suggest finding a lesbian. It’s better for both parties. After marriage, you can still live a gay life.”

“But it’s not good for the child. Setting aside property disputes, if the kid grows up seeing their parents aren’t like other families, they’ll develop psychological issues sooner or later. I can restrain myself, but I can’t control the other person. Only a family where the father provides and the mother devotes herself is complete. It’s hard for gay men and lesbians to achieve that level of dedication to their spouse, children, and family.”

“Then how can you guarantee you’ll fall in love with a straight girl?”

“How do you know if you don’t try? I’m not a total bottom, you know. Yes, I’d be deceiving her. But if I show her tenderness and love without telling her the truth, what’s the difference? The only one truly suffering would be me. Ignorance is bliss. Nowadays, the gay community treats marrying straight women like it’s the plague, but it’s not that serious. A friend of mine said that after marriage and having kids, the happiness of family can outweigh the pain. At worst, you treat it as if you’ll never love again—just support each other with your wife, turning love into familial bonds, living like family. Plenty of straight marriages lose their passion after a few years anyway. How many families stay in love? As long as you hide it well, life goes on as usual. Besides, for men, family and marriage aren’t the entirety of life. This way, you can focus more energy on your career.”

Lin Ze didn’t voice his opinion. He knew a significant portion of the gay community thought like this. Parents would rage when their sons came out, reluctantly accept it after a messy fight, only to bring it up again years later: “I don’t care if you like men or women, but you still have to get married and have kids.” Some even believed their sons were just fooling around and would eventually settle down.

The conversation ended there. Their views clashed, and Lin Ze didn’t want to say more. The two stood silently by the pond, watching the water.

Situ Ye, Zheng Jie, and Rongrong came down the mountain path. Lin Ze knew their talk was over. He tossed his cigarette butt and asked, “Dinner together?”

“I have to head back first. A good friend is arriving today, and I need to pick him up at the airport.”

“See you.” Lin Ze shook Yang Zhiyuan’s hand. Yang Zhiyuan held his grip and added, “One more thing I shouldn’t hide from you. Xiao Ye’s family…”

Lin Ze: “…”

Yang Zhiyuan thought for a moment. “…His father is more [REDACTED] than us. His relatives are searching for him everywhere. According to him, they want to drag him back, lock him up, and force him to marry a woman. If he refuses, they’ll beat him until he agrees. This has also made him very insecure and miserable. I think you can protect him. Goodbye.”

With that, he shook Lin Ze’s hand firmly, a sly smile in his eyes, then turned and left.

Lin Ze thought to himself, You waited until the end to say this, you old fox. You’re telling me you had zero interest in Situ Ye? You just didn’t want to deal with his baggage, didn’t you?

“A’Ze!” Zheng Jie called out.

Lin Ze was still standing by the pond. The three descended the mountain, and he informed them, “Yang Zhiyuan left first. We’ll have to take the bus back.”

“Didn’t he leave at three?” Situ Ye asked.

Lin Ze understood—Yang Zhiyuan had waited for him to wake up just to tell him these things.

“What about dinner?” Zheng Jie asked.

“I’ll treat. Let’s eat in the city—Bei Cheng Tian Street, how about that?”

The four took the bus. Rongrong, exhausted from the day’s activities, dozed off on Zheng Jie’s shoulder. Lin Ze and Situ Ye sat in the back. Situ Ye gazed out the window at the dark scenery. Traffic was heavy on the way back to the city.

Lin Ze idly flipped through Situ Ye’s camera and found a photo of himself sleeping. It was the worst shot Situ Ye had ever taken—poor lighting, no composition, utterly devoid of artistic merit. In the dim evening light filtering through the grimy window, Lin Ze lay sprawled on the sofa in his suit and leather shoes, mouth slightly open, with an unfortunate bulge in his crotch.

“Delete this right now…” Lin Ze wanted to bash his head against a wall at the sight.

“You do it.”

Lin Ze was torn between laughter and tears. After a long internal struggle, he still didn’t delete it. Situ Ye reached for the camera, and Lin Ze immediately warned, “Don’t—”

“Give it—”

The two wrestled over the camera.

“It’s going to break—” Situ Ye warned.

Lin Ze kissed him. Situ Ye instantly let go. Lin Ze sealed his lips, kissing him briefly before pulling away as if nothing had happened, then continued browsing the day’s photos.

Most were of Zheng Jie and Rongrong, with a few of Lin Ze. The lake and mountains under the gray sky had a unique charm. Abandoned railway tracks overgrown with weeds stretched toward the horizon. Zheng Jie and Rongrong walked on either side of the tracks, holding hands—it could almost pass for a wedding photo.

“Come sleep over tonight,” Lin Ze said.

“Why?”

“I get cold sleeping alone.”

“Don’t you have an electric blanket?”

“But you don’t.”

Situ Ye fell silent. The traffic crawled forward in fits and starts. Situ Ye grew drowsy and began nodding off, eventually tilting onto Lin Ze’s shoulder. He jerked awake and tried to sit up, but Lin Ze wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to let him rest.

By the time they returned to Jiangbei at past eight, the city was alight with neon. The crowds at Bei Cheng Tian Street had thinned. At dinner, Situ Ye still seemed half-asleep. Lin Ze mixed his dipping sauce and even cooked food for him, practically feeding him bite by bite. The four chatted and laughed like two couples. After dinner, Zheng Jie walked Rongrong home while Lin Ze accompanied Situ Ye.

Chongqing was bitterly cold that night, the temperature dropping for the first and last time that winter. Pedestrians huddled in warm cafés and snack shops.

“Come back and stay. It’s too cold,” Lin Ze said seriously.

Situ Ye didn’t respond. His bed didn’t even have an electric blanket. When they got to his place, Lin Ze helped him pack. His female roommate teased, “Made up with your boyfriend? How long are you staying this time?”

Lin Ze chuckled and pretended not to hear, heading to the kitchen. Situ Ye exchanged a few words with her before packing up. This time, there was more to carry—two large bags. Situ Ye held his photo album and couldn’t manage the luggage, so Lin Ze carried the bags downstairs for him.

Situ Ye tucked his album under his arm. Walking uphill, Lin Ze panted under the weight of the heavy travel bags, his post-meal energy waning. I’m getting old, can’t even carry this much…

Situ Ye suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Lin Ze asked.

“Nothing.”

Under the streetlight, Situ Ye asked, “Want yogurt? I’ll buy some.”

“Go ahead.”

Situ Ye walked off but returned moments later. “Give me ten yuan.”

“You don’t even have money for yogurt?! How broke are you?”

“I gave all my money to you. Last month’s leftover 500 yuan was handed over, and this month’s salary still hasn’t come.”

“So you haven’t spent a single cent these past few days?”

“Yang Zhiyuan treated me. What, jealous again?”

Lin Ze thought, I’ve really lost to him. Frowning, he muttered, “Be more frugal from now on. We have to live within our means.”

“Mm.” Situ Ye smiled. “Got it. Still want the yogurt?”

Lin Ze handed him ten yuan. Situ Ye bought the yogurt, and the two stood under the streetlight drinking it. It felt odd for two grown men to be sipping yogurt outside a convenience store, so they crossed the street to chat under the lamp.

“What’s in the last few pages of your album?”

“Take a look.”

Under the dim yellow light, Lin Ze flipped to the back of the album.

Inside was a photo of Lin Ze and Xie Chenfeng—a candid shot Situ Ye had taken through the glass wall of Starbucks.

The summer sun cast a beam of light through the glass roof of Bei Cheng Tian Street. Xie Chenfeng and Lin Ze stood at the Starbucks entrance, Xie Chenfeng tugging at Lin Ze’s collar to stop him from going in, dragging him away.

Lin Ze thought hard before remembering that day’s conversation: Xie Chenfeng had said they weren’t going to Starbucks—they went there every day, so why not try somewhere else? How about Man Ji? Lin Ze had said, “Let me just say hi to the barista first.”

Xie Chenfeng had replied, “Why bother? They don’t even remember you,” and pulled Lin Ze away.

And Situ Ye, standing behind the counter, had captured that moment.

Every photo in Situ Ye’s album had a caption. Beneath this one, it read:

Year Three, Autumn, Chongqing Station, Starbucks at Bei Cheng Tian Street. The weather’s getting cold. When will my love arrive?

Lin Ze flipped to the next page—another photo of him and Situ Ye. A boundless road in Beijing, lined with red leaves. Lin Ze had his suit slung over one shoulder, his other arm around Situ Ye as they walked toward the end of the path. He was turned toward Situ Ye, smiling as if saying something.

The caption read: Winter, on a business trip in Beijing. Is this fate?

Lin Ze closed the album and handed it back.

“I was afraid seeing him would make you sad, so I didn’t dare show you.”

“Let’s go home.”