Chapter 44
by Salted FishNot long after returning from Tongjing that day, Zheng Jie’s house was finally renovated, and Lin Ze actually felt a sense of relief. Recently, he had been avoiding Zheng Jie a little, though in reality, he didn’t need to go out of his way to do so—Zheng Jie still worked from sunrise to sunset, and they hardly ever ran into each other.
Zheng Jie took two days off specifically, and Lin Ze accompanied him to buy furniture and appliances. They arranged for the larger items to be delivered by the furniture store, including all sorts of things like appliances, tables, chairs, and more.
“This sofa is nice,” Lin Ze said. “It’s a shame Chongqing doesn’t have an IKEA. I prefer IKEA’s style.”
“So expensive!” Zheng Jie was stunned—a sofa costing over 8,000 yuan?!
“You get what you pay for,” Lin Ze replied. “The same goes for appliances—buy good ones, and they’ll last a long time.”
“Small things like wall clocks and shoe racks don’t need to be so fancy…” Zheng Jie muttered.
“No! Everything should match, or the style of the house will look off,” Lin Ze insisted. “Buy what you need—you’ll be getting married someday.”
“Right, A’Ze, I have something to tell you,” Zheng Jie said.
“Let’s talk at home,” Lin Ze cut in.
Zheng Jie’s new house was in a high-end residential area with complete facilities and a great environment. It was about half an hour from his workplace, so he could sleep in a little in the mornings. Lin Ze sent the last batch of items off at the furniture market, then waited for Zheng Jie to finish up at the new place before heading home for dinner.
It was time to part ways. That night, Lin Ze took out all of Zheng Jie’s cards.
“The sofa is my gift to you,” he told him. “The new house stuff cost 54,000 yuan. The small appliances and miscellaneous things—you can buy those yourself later. This card is for a financial product I bought—it has 15,000 yuan of yours in it. I’ll return the rest to you next month.”
“What about you? Are you staying here?” Zheng Jie asked.
“Yeah, we agreed on that before. I’ve already found someone to share the rent with. Look.”
He showed Zheng Jie his iPad, where he had posted a roommate ad on a gay forum.
Zheng Jie stood by the dining table, his expression somewhat despondent. In that moment, Lin Ze couldn’t help but feel a little cruel. But at least separating now was better than later. Otherwise, when Zheng Jie eventually found a girlfriend, Lin Ze would still have to move out.
By then, things might get even more complicated, and it could easily lead to arguments between Zheng Jie and his future wife.
“Alright,” Zheng Jie said listlessly before heading back to his room.
“Let me know when you’re ready to move,” Lin Ze called after him. “I’ll help you. Keep a guest room for me—I’ll come stay on weekends and hang out.”
Zheng Jie: “Sure.”
Lin Ze sat alone at the dining table. Alaska followed Zheng Jie around as he started packing his things. Zheng Jie then asked, “What about the dog?”
Lin Ze: “Leave it here. You won’t have time to take care of it.”
Zheng Jie: “A’Ze, promise me—if you ever feel lonely, come stay at my place.”
Lin Ze smiled. “Don’t worry. Wasn’t it like this before too?”
Zheng Jie hummed in agreement. Lin Ze got up to feed the dog, then returned to organize the drafts on his laptop. He noticed that Xunlei Player was logged in in the bottom-right corner. He didn’t remember using Xunlei today, so he clicked on it and saw the list…
…It was a GV1Gay video. Porn..
Lin Ze: “…”
“Zheng Jie?” Lin Ze called.
“What?” Zheng Jie answered from his room.
Lin Ze didn’t know what to say. He pushed open the door and saw Zheng Jie holding a box, rummaging through things—inside were their graduation photos from school.
Lin Ze: “You…”
Zheng Jie: “???”
Lin Ze: “You used my computer?”
Zheng Jie: “Uh, yeah.”
Zheng Jie’s expression became very, very strange. Lin Ze asked, “You watched my GV?”
Zheng Jie: “Two guys, yeah. Watched it.”
Lin Ze felt like his mind was spinning in the wind—he was both amused and exasperated. Right now, he didn’t have the energy to think deeply about why Zheng Jie had done this. He just instinctively asked:
“How did it make you feel?”
Zheng Jie: “…”
Lin Ze: “Did you get hard?”
Zheng Jie, awkward: “N-no. It was… terrifying.”
Lin Ze: “Did you throw up?”
Zheng Jie, intrigued: “No, but… it must hurt. Kinda gross.”
Lin Ze couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter. Zheng Jie started laughing too. Lin Ze collapsed onto the bed, kicking Zheng Jie playfully, while Zheng Jie ruffled him around. Lin Ze laughed until tears streamed down his face.
Zheng Jie blurted, “It looks so painful! How do people do it?! That guy looked like he was dying—screaming like a pig getting slaughtered.”
Lin Ze knew which video Zheng Jie had watched. His own tastes differed from those of his friends—some preferred Western GVs with big dicks and all kinds of uniforms, but Lin Ze liked pretty boys or the “forbidden desire” type—male actors in their late teens or early twenties, often in Japanese GVs where a “trainer” would insert all sorts of strange props into the boy’s ass before taking him. Some of the boys’ expressions were exaggerated, or they’d scream in pain.
Zheng Jie had clearly been scared by the GV and even imitated the boy’s pig-slaughter screams for Lin Ze. Amused and helpless, Lin Ze pinned Zheng Jie to the bed and asked, “Why did you watch a GV?”
Zheng Jie lay there, Lin Ze straddling his waist. His shirt was open at the collar, revealing his attractive, sun-kissed collarbones. He replied, “Wanted to try it out… see if I could be gay. But… nah, doesn’t seem like it.”
Lin Ze leaned down and asked, “Are you hard now?”
Zheng Jie: “N-no.”
Lin Ze stared into Zheng Jie’s eyes. In them, he saw a warmth that would never change—a feeling more enduring and profound than the passionate vows of love or the willingness to go through fire and water for someone.
“Can I kiss you?” Lin Ze asked softly.
Zheng Jie smiled—a charming smile—and wrapped his arms around Lin Ze’s neck. “A’Ze.”
Lin Ze pressed his forehead against Zheng Jie’s, quietly looking at him. It felt like they were kids again. He knew Zheng Jie wanted to do something for him.
He wanted to be gay—for him.
But he couldn’t. There was no physical reaction.
If someone else had said this, Lin Ze would’ve found it ridiculous. But right now, he was deeply moved.
Lin Ze lay on top of Zheng Jie, motionless, burying his face beside him. Zheng Jie held him, stroking his hair. Their breaths mingled, but there was no desire to kiss.
“I’m going to sleep,” Lin Ze said, getting up.
Zheng Jie smiled. “Goodnight, Dreamcloud Marsh.”
Lin Ze was about to close the door but paused, leaning against the doorframe. “How did you know I was called that?”
Zheng Jie: “Saw it on your iPad. You’re such a heartthrob—everyone loves you.”
Lin Ze chuckled helplessly. Before he could return to his room, Zheng Jie added, “A’Ze, come live with me.”
Lin Ze: “No—but keep a room for me. I’ll come stay with you on weekends if I’m free.”
Zheng Jie: “Alright.”
Lin Ze asked, “When are you moving? I need to reply to the roommate ads.”
Zheng Jie seemed reluctant. “You decide.”
Lin Ze felt both reluctant and amused. “Does it matter where you live? We’ll still hang out on weekends. And you need to adjust to living alone.”
Zheng Jie: “Then I’ll move in the next few days.”
Lin Ze nodded and returned to his room, leaning against the door. He felt a little lonely but not heartbroken. After a long sigh, he flopped onto the bed.
His iPad lit up.
Hong: [Goodnight, A’Ze.]
Lin Ze rolled over and held up the iPad.
Lin Ze: [Not goodnight, Hong.]
Hong: [Hm.]
Lin Ze: [What’s with the ‘hm’?]
Hong: [Listening.]
Lin Ze: [Where do you work?]
Hong: [Far from you. Why ask?]
Lin Ze: [Do you share a place or live alone? Still having issues with your landlord?]
Hong: [Live alone. It’s a modified single room—no interaction with other tenants. Not dealing with the landlord anymore.]
Lin Ze thought for a moment, then sent another message while lying on his side: [I have a two-bedroom, two-living-room place. I want to rent out one room, but it’s troublesome finding someone I don’t know. Renting to you would be better than a random person online. Want to move in?]
Hong: [I only make 1,600 a month. Can’t afford Jiangbei.]
Lin Ze: [I can give you a discount on rent.]
Hong: [No, I’d be a burden.]
Lin Ze: [Can you take care of yourself? I don’t mind.]
Hong: [No, I can’t. Thanks for the offer.]
Lin Ze: [Alright.]
Hong: [Sorry, I appreciate it. Did your childhood friend move out?]
Lin Ze: [His new place is ready.]
Hong: [So you’re separating after all.]
Lin Ze: [Yeah.]
Hong: [Some time apart might be good. Maybe he’ll realize and come back.]
Lin Ze: [No. Today, I realized it’s impossible. What we have isn’t love—or rather, I shouldn’t be greedy. What he’s given me is already more than love.]
Hong: [Don’t get it, but I’d love a friend like that. Still planning to date?]
Lin Ze: [Of course.]
Hong: [Wish you all the best. Goodnight.]
Lin Ze: [Goodnight, Hong.]
The next day, Zheng Jie moved out. Lin Ze bought groceries and went to his new place for a meal, helping him inaugurate all the kitchenware, utensils, fridge, and other appliances. The two of them roughhoused in the house, messing up the pillows and blankets on the bed. Zheng Jie even ran into the guest room reserved for Lin Ze and messed that up too.
They threw couch cushions at each other, playing like kids. Finally, they turned on the new TV and watched for a while. Lin Ze stood. “I’m heading back. Haven’t fed the dog yet.”
Zheng Jie walked Lin Ze downstairs and gave him a key. Lin Ze took it happily. When he reached the gate of the complex and looked back, Zheng Jie was still standing under the streetlight.
Lin Ze called out, “I’m leaving!”
Zheng Jie waved. Lin Ze felt a pang of sadness. He turned the corner to the bus stop and stood there, waiting for the last bus. His phone rang—an unfamiliar number.
Lin Ze: “Hello? Who’s this?”
No answer. After a moment, the call ended.
Lin Ze had a hunch. He called back, but no one picked up. He hung up and sent a text:
[Is this Situ?]
The reply came: [It’s me, Hong.]
Lin Ze: [How did you get my number?]
Hong: [Saw it on the gay forum—your first post. Are you the one in Jiangbei looking for a roommate?]
Lin Ze: [Yeah. Want to move in? I don’t mind.]
Hong: [Not about moving in. Just wanted to give you my number so we can stay in touch even if you stop using Jack’d.]
Lin Ze: [Just rent the room. I really don’t mind.]
Hong: [Goodnight, Dreamcloud Marsh.]
Lin Ze found this guy exasperating, but he let it go. Maybe Hong was just sensitive. The principle of friendship was mutual respect—better to follow the other’s rules.
The bus arrived. Lin Ze boarded, and another call came in—a slightly roguish male voice: “You renting out a room?”
Lin Ze: “Yeah. Want to come see it?”
The guy: “Free tomorrow? I’ll call you after work.”
Lin Ze set a time for him to check the place the next afternoon. That night, he went home, fed the dog, and slept. The next morning, out of habit, he knocked on Zheng Jie’s door before remembering he wasn’t home. He pushed the door open—the room was clean, just a bare bed frame with a sheet on it.
At lunch, Hong’s messages migrated from Jack’d to his phone—still the usual “Have you eaten?” small talk. After work, the same guy from yesterday called. Lin Ze told him, “Wait at Bei Cheng Tian Street. I’ll come get you.”
He leashed Alaska and took it out. When he arrived, he called, and the guy greeted, “Over here, handsome.”
Lin Ze turned and saw a sporty guy in shorts, sneakers, and a Hipanda T-shirt—over 1.8 meters tall, with tanned skin and a short, neat haircut.
For a moment, Lin Ze felt struck—he was reminded of Xie Chenfeng.
“You’re pretty good-looking,” the guy commented with a smile.
Lin Ze was distracted. The guy asked, “What kind of dog is this? Hey, it’s wagging its tail at me.”
Lin Ze snapped out of it. “Alaska. Let’s go—this way. You’re not bad yourself.”
Lin Ze led the dog and the guy home. The two of them looked like a couple, drawing glances from passing gays. Lin Ze asked, “How old are you?”
“24. What should I call you?” the guy replied. “I’m Xu Hui.”
Lin Ze: “Call me A’Ze. I’m 26—older than you. Just finished playing sports?”
Xu Hui: “Working out.”
Lin Ze nodded. Xu Hui asked, “Single?”
Lin Ze nodded. Xu Hui was quite handsome for a gay guy—tall, with only a slight lilt to his voice, not too noticeable, and without much Chongqing accent. Xu Hui inquired, “Are you a top or bottom?”
Lin Ze: “Top. You?”
Xu Hui: “Vers. 0.5.”2Versatile, open to both topping and bottoming. Neither a pure bottom (0) nor a pure top (1)
Lin Ze had met plenty who claimed to be 0.5, but most were actually bottoms. He liked this guy—maybe because he felt familiar somehow.
They got home, and Lin Ze showed him the room. “You can use anything. Utilities are split. I work during the day, come back at night. But shampoo, oil, salt, vinegar—if you use too much, I’ll charge you, added to the utilities. I’m easygoing—you’ll see once we get to know each other. Won’t argue over trivial things. No hookups at home.”
Xu Hui nodded repeatedly, looked around, and asked, “Who lived here before?”
Lin Ze answered, “My childhood friend… Hey! How many times do I have to say it? Don’t touch that!”
Alaska had dragged Xie Chenfeng’s gloves back to its bed. Xu Hui asked, “You play soccer?”
Lin Ze explained, “They’re my ex’s.”
Xu Hui nodded. “How long since you broke up?”
Lin Ze hesitated. “It’s complicated… But if we become friends, I’ll tell you later.”
Lin Ze smiled. Xu Hui grinned back. “Cool. I’ll take it. Moving in tomorrow. Need a deposit?”
This guy was straightforward. Lin Ze asked, “Do you work? What do you do?”
Xu Hui: “Just quit. No job right now—looking. My mom supports me, gives me living expenses. Might send me abroad.”
Lin Ze nodded. Xu Hui took out his wallet—a big one, stuffed with cash and a messy stack of gold and silver cards. He counted out 500 yuan and handed it over. Then his phone rang. He answered while saying, “I’ll pay the rest when I move in tomorrow. Cute dog. Later.”
Lin Ze: “Wait, let me write you a receipt.”
Xu Hui smiled. “Nah, I trust you.”
That night, Lin Ze went online, spending his second night without Zheng Jie. He called Zheng Jie to say he’d found a tenant. Zheng Jie was out drinking with clients and seemed uneasy, asking all sorts of questions before hanging up.
The next day after work, Xu Hui moved in. Everything went smoothly—he didn’t have much, just a few cardboard boxes. Lin Ze gave him a key and helped him move in. He wanted to have a meal together to get to know each other, but Xu Hui said he had plans and would treat Lin Ze another time. After dropping off his things, he left again.
Lin Ze took Alaska for a walk as usual. That night, lying in bed, he heard the door open. He was about to go greet Xu Hui when he heard voices—seemed like Xu Hui and his boyfriend.
Alaska barked a few times. Xu Hui shushed it. Lin Ze was about to get up and call the dog, but Alaska quieted down.
A man’s voice: “Oh, you have a dog? He lives alone?”
Xu Hui: “Super handsome—your type. But doesn’t talk much. Wanna meet him?”
The man didn’t answer, probably smiling. Then he asked, “When are you coming home?”
Xu Hui: “Dunno. Don’t tell Dad I’m in Chongqing.”
Lin Ze was puzzled—another runaway? In the next room, Xu Hui handed over a card. “Here’s a card. Don’t max it out again.”
Man: “Got it.”
A pause. Then Xu Hui offered, “I’ll walk you out.”
They left. Lin Ze was baffled, speculating about Xu Hui’s situation. That night, Xu Hui came back but didn’t knock—just went straight to bed.
The next morning, Lin Ze got up. Xu Hui seemed to have been online all night without sleeping. “A’Ze, haven’t gone shopping yet. Can I eat some stuff from your fridge? I’ll pay.”
Lin Ze: “Go ahead. No need to pay.”
Xu Hui thanked him and opened the fridge. Lin Ze thought this guy was a bit like Situ Ye—kind of amusing, like a mix of Situ and Xie Lei.
Lin Ze: “You’re not from Chongqing?”
Xu Hui: “Nah, here for work. Had a fight with my family—not going back for now. Oh, here’s the rent. Forgot yesterday.”
Xu Hui handed over the money, and Lin Ze left for work. So far, this tenant was fine, though he seemed to have a lot of social engagements. Every day when Lin Ze came home, Xu Hui was out. The fridge was stocked—all imported food. Lin Ze thought, This kid’s loaded.
At first, Lin Ze had been proactive about getting to know this guy—thought they could be good friends. But Xu Hui didn’t seem to care, never asked about Lin Ze’s job, never invited him to eat. He’d come home and hide in his room, barely interacting—polite but distant.
Lin Ze felt like his enthusiasm was wasted. Oh well—to each their own. No need to force it.
That weekend, Zheng Jie went on another blind date. Lin Ze had been working overtime for days and was exhausted. He didn’t leave until 7 p.m. Passing Bei Cheng Tian Street, the lights were just coming on, crowds bustling. Suddenly, he felt indescribably lonely.
At 8 p.m., Lin Ze sat at home, petting Alaska’s head. The lights were off. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, the nightscape was vibrant. In the quiet night, he sat alone by the window, watching the lights outside.
Hong: [What are you doing? Eaten yet? Been too busy to even text today.]
Lin Ze: [No.]
Hong: [Not going to eat?]
Lin Ze: [Not hungry anymore. Missed the window.]
Hong: [No one to eat with? Home alone? What about the new tenant?]
Lin Ze: [Dunno. Out dating, probably.]
Hong: [What about your childhood friend?]
Lin Ze: [Out on a blind date. Why so concerned about me?]
Hong: [Never been dumped? I want you to fall for me, then I’ll dump you—let you experience it.]
Lin Ze: [Wrong. I’m always the one getting dumped.]
Hong: [Even you get dumped?]
Lin Ze called Hong—just wanted someone to talk to, unrelated to romance. Just to vent, no advice needed, just silent listening. No answer, but the call wasn’t hung up. Lin Ze listened to the ringback tone—Zhou Chuanxiong’s “Dusk.”
“After the whole summer, the sadness hasn’t eased…”
“Can’t finish a song, exhaustion leaves dark circles…”
“Still remember the ‘goodbye’ from your lips, firm as iron…”
“In the gloom, it feels like the sun is scorching me…”
“Still remember the tears falling from your eyes, heartbroken…”
A fitting song, Lin Ze thought.
At Bei Cheng Tian Street, streams of car lights flowed under neon lights, flickering with a surreal brilliance.
The glow spread, neon lights of all colors rising and falling like lonely waves in the long night.
Here they surged, there they receded, crashing against Lin Ze’s soul.
In this dark night, memories of Situ Ye overwhelmed him—flooding him entirely.
When young, he didn’t understand love. His first relationship was clumsy.
Grown up, he met Xie Chenfeng in the vast sea of people—a love carved into his bones, longing deep as the ocean. It was love. Their time together held no regrets—a good parting. He held his hand, handed him over to death, whispered for it to be gentle, and bid him farewell with a smile.
But Situ Ye was the hardest to let go of. That was affection. They could’ve been together quietly, but before it even began, they were torn apart. To this day, he didn’t know what had separated them. That day—Situ Ye’s tension, his despair when leaving, his trembling lips when they met again at Bei Cheng Tian Street—it all felt vivid still.
“I’ll go back to get divorced, but I might never return. Which do you choose? You decide.”
Situ Ye’s love for him was like roaring waves—crashing over him in an instant. Lin Ze held Alaska, watching the glittering lights of Bei Cheng Tian Street, and finally understood Situ Ye’s choice.
In this world, there was someone who loved him more than life itself.
The ringback tone cut off.
Hong: [What’s wrong?]
Lin Ze: [Nothing. Just wanted to hear the song in your ringback tone.]
Hong: [I’ll give you a gift. Answer the phone.]
The phone rang. Lin Ze saw the unfamiliar number and answered. “What gift?”
A soft, reedy sound came through—like a wind instrument, but distinct. Soon, a melodious tune played: the pure instrumental “Canon.”
Lin Ze laughed. The playing was clumsy, halting at first, then smoothing out.
The Canon played, and the heavy night suddenly lightened, as if the world had transformed.
The dazzling nightscape outside became a grand dance floor. The music lifted a curtain of splendor—lights intertwined under the night sky, stretching into the distance.
At the climax, it poured sunlight and joy into his heart like a waterfall, notes drifting around them one after another, chasing each other.
Finally, all sound faded, suppressed low before rising again with a lingering echo—the end. The city at night resonated with distant aftertones.
“That’s an ocarina, right?” Lin Ze said quietly.
A hum of agreement. Lin Ze could tell it was a young voice. He thought of Hong’s Jack’d profile picture. “Xuezhi’s ‘Ocarina Airship.'”
A light tap on the phone’s mic—a soft sound. Lin Ze urged, “Don’t hang up. Stay on the line. I want to talk.”
He suddenly realized—Hong might be mute. That’s why he didn’t answer calls. He added, “I got dumped. Might never love again—my last relationship took my love with it. Just listen, no need to comment. I just want to talk.”
Lin Ze recounted meeting Situ Ye and their separation, whispering, “This is the hardest love to let go of. I always keep him in my heart, telling myself it’s over—something I can’t change. But on nights like this, not sleeping, not chatting, not speaking, with nothing to do, just thinking… I still remember him.”
“I’m the type who needs to resolve everything—leave no regrets. End one chapter before starting anew. But with Situ… I really have regrets. I can’t convince myself. I can only try to forget, but now I realize I can’t. Because I can’t end it. It’ll stay with me until I leave this world.”
“Before I die, I might still think—when I was young, there was someone who loved me so much, and I didn’t even stay with him…”
Lin Ze murmured, “I miss him.”
“Situ.” In that moment, Lin Ze was just talking to himself, as if this stranger were Situ Ye. He added, “The new tenant reminds me of you—carefully asking if he can eat from the fridge. Seeing him makes me think of you.”
“I miss you too… A’Ze.”
On the other end of the line was Situ Ye’s trembling voice. Then, he hung up.
Situ Ye sat by the river, staring at the lights across the Jialing River, shaking, choking back sobs.
The phone kept ringing—frantic. He didn’t answer, just held it against his chest, over his heart, feeling its vibrations.
Lin Ze got up, stumbling out in flip-flops and shorts, bare-chested. He stood in the hallway for a moment. On the phone, Zhou Chuanxiong’s voice rose and fell, soul-stirring.
“The dusk horizon draws a line of farewell…”
“Love enters eternal night…”
“Still remember the tears falling from your eyes, heartbroken…”
“Chaos brings the illusion of burning tears…”
“Ah—”
Lin Ze pressed his forehead against the hallway wall and cried—sobs filled with inexpressible sorrow and emotion.
Situ Ye staggered along the riverbank, weeping as he walked, gazing at the nightscape reflected in the water.
Lights blurred into streaks through his tears.
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