Chapter 11 – It’s All Your Fault

If Jiang Lou hadn’t mentioned it, Li Tang wouldn’t have realized he was crying.

A belated sense of embarrassment washed over him, and he hastily wiped his eyes, smearing tears across his face. As they evaporated more quickly, a chill spread across his skin.

“I, I…”

Li Tang couldn’t explain his actions; he found them absurd—why should he be so upset? Why did he come looking for Jiang Lou when he felt this way?

Was it simply because Jiang Lou was one of the reasons for his distress?

Fortunately, Jiang Lou didn’t press for an explanation.

He took Li Tang’s wrist, still bandaged, and said, “It’s about to rain. Let’s go inside.”

Li Tang had never seen such a rainy autumn before.

Inside, Li Tang held a cup of hot water, watching raindrops pelt the broken windowpane, and began to recall what the capital city looked like at this time of year.

Leaves scattered, dust swirling, dry air, and chapped, bleeding lips.

Entering the house for the second time, Li Tang felt differently about Xucheng’s autumn—it was much more humid than the capital, so the cold was damp and penetrating. His skin hadn’t even noticed the chill yet, but it had already seeped into his pores and bones.

Sneezing, the candle flame flickered violently in front of him, and the light on the wall distorted with it. Jiang Lou, sitting at the foldable table, glanced over. Li Tang apologized by sniffing his nose. “…I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

Although, perhaps he should have said that upon entering the door.

Jiang Lou led Li Tang into the inner room, which faced south and had better-sealed windows.

But it was darker here. Neon lights came from the northeast, while the southern side backed onto a mountain. The shadows of trees swayed in the thick night, giving the impression of being deep in a forest.

As if they were the only two people in the world.

“It often goes dark here,” Jiang Lou said, taking the candle from outside and casually placing it in a cup. “The power might not be restored tonight.”

Li Tang responded with a simple “Mm.”

The cup was wide-mouthed, causing the candle to tilt, and the wax dripped onto the table, forming a circle the size of a coin. Jiang Lou pulled out the candle again, pressing its base onto the wax to secure it in place.

Li Tang watched intently, then suddenly heard a soft laugh.

Through the flickering firelight, Jiang Lou looked at him. “You’ve never seen this before, right?”

Never before had Li Tang seen a house where power outages were common, or such primitive lighting methods.

Li Tang didn’t want others to think he was ignorant, pursed his lips, and said seriously, “Now I have.”

Even so, Li Tang still felt an unprecedented ease being in this small house.

He didn’t need to calculate how to maintain good relationships or force himself to blend in with noisy environments just to appear sociable. Even if the mask he wore were shattered, revealing an ordinary and cold, impoverished and dull soul beneath.

But it was too quiet, so quiet that one couldn’t help but want to explore further.

Among the countless curiosities, Li Tang chose one that seemed less obvious: “Have you been living here for a long time?”

Jiang Lou, who had given the only chair in the room to Li Tang and was sitting on the bed, replied, “Yeah, I’ve lived here since I was born.”

The word “born” naturally led Li Tang to ask, “When’s your birthday?”

This topic shift wasn’t smooth, and it even felt somewhat aggressive and urgent. Jiang Lou might have noticed, or he might not have.

“November 9th,” he said.

Li Tang was immediately surprised. “Your birthday is later than mine?”

Then he suddenly thought of something, “I started school a year earlier than everyone else, so you’re a year older than me.”

“No,” Jiang Lou said calmly, “I took a year off once, so I’m actually two years older than you.”

Two years, for someone in their fifties, would be negligible. But for Li Tang, who was celebrating his seventeenth birthday, it was a length of time longer than nine-tenths of his life.

Being two years older meant that when Li Tang was just born, Jiang Lou could already walk independently without assistance and most likely knew how to speak.

And almost every child’s first word was “Mommy.”

But his mother had…

“Why did you take a year off?” Li Tang had never been this eager to understand someone. “Is it because of…”

He looked at Jiang Lou’s left ear, which was complete and beautiful in shape, making it easy to forget that it lacked auditory function.

Just as he was about to say the word “ear,” his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Li Tang looked down and saw a call from a male classmate.

“We’re about to cut the cake. Where’s the birthday boy?”

“You guys eat it. I… I’m tired and going to sleep for a bit.”

“Okay, okay. By the way, have you seen Li Zichu and Huo Xichen?”

“No, why?”

“They almost got into a fight earlier.”

“…How could that happen?”

In Li Tang’s eyes, although Li Zichu was straightforward to the point of being slightly tactless, he had always been friendly and kind. It was hard to imagine him getting into a conflict with anyone.

“I don’t know what happened either.” The male classmate on the phone was equally confused. “They went out a while ago and haven’t returned.”

“Did you call them?”

“Yeah, but nobody picked up.”

“In that case, I’ll try contacting them too.”

After hanging up, Li Tang immediately called Li Zichu, but it went unanswered. He then sent a WeChat message to Li Zichu, receiving no response.

It was the same with Huo Xichen—they were unreachable.

Li Tang’s mind was in turmoil. He called his family driver to help look for them nearby and contacted the housekeeper to take care of the guests at home. If they wanted to leave, she should arrange a taxi for them.

Once everything was settled, the driver called back, saying he found both of them on the lawn in the neighborhood, and they were safe.

Finally able to breathe a sigh of relief, Li Tang put down his phone and looked towards the bed. Jiang Lou was no longer there.

Under the eaves of the doorway, a small, yellow-and-black dog was wagging its tail wildly. Its chubby forelimbs reached forward one after another, begging for food.

Jiang Lou squatted next to the threshold, his arms resting on his knees. There was only a small piece of sausage left in his hand.

Li Tang walked over, surprised by the scene before him. “Didn’t you say you weren’t going to feed it?”

Jiang Lou tossed another piece of sausage to the puppy and said indifferently, “Ever since you fed it that day, it’s been following me around even more.”

Li Tang suddenly felt embarrassed. “Sorry, I—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Jiang Lou turned to look at him. “Today is your birthday.”

Li Tang was taken aback, and it took him a while to understand what Jiang Lou meant—the birthday boy had the privilege of being pardoned for everything.

Li Tang had heard of such privileges before, but this was the first time someone showed him through action that on your birthday, you were the most important, and everything should revolve around your happiness, even if it meant breaking rules or acting unreasonably.

The gloom in his heart was silently dissipating.

There was still some empty space under the eaves. Li Tang squatted down and reached for the sausage in Jiang Lou’s hand.

Jiang Lou dodged. “There’s only one bite left.”

“But I’m not eating it myself.”

After mumbling this, Li Tang stubbornly took the last piece of sausage and personally fed it to the puppy. After finishing, the puppy wasn’t satisfied yet and licked Li Tang’s fingers, which felt wet and ticklish.

“Do you have any more?” Li Tang asked.

Jiang Lou held out his hands to show there was nothing left. Li Tang suddenly remembered the lavish feast on the table at home before he left, and he sighed regretfully.

“There were twenty-eight dishes prepared today,” Li Tang said, stretching his hand out to catch the rain under the eaves. “One of them was a spicy and sour soup. You’d definitely like it.”

“Is that so.”

Jiang Lou neither confirmed nor denied it, watching the raindrops fall onto his pale palm, slide over his slender fingers untouched by manual labor, and drop.

The crisp sound of the droplets hitting the ground echoed like a faint melody, a familiar yet unfamiliar piano tune.

Still, it remained unclear.

His world was always half filled with noise and half with silence.

For a moment, they were silent.

Li Tang washed his hands with rainwater. The puppy came over to lick him again, but he avoided it.

“Stop licking,” he frowned. “It’s itchy.”

The loosely tied bandage around his wrist completely unraveled with the movement, deepening the wrinkles between his brows. Irritated, Li Tang tugged at the bandage, but another hand reached over and took it first.

Jiang Lou lowered his eyes, his breathing slow and steady. Because they were so close, when he spoke, Li Tang could almost feel the low-frequency resonance of his voice.

“How come it hasn’t healed yet?”

Indeed, how come it hadn’t healed yet?

Li Tang asked himself, and then answered honestly, “It’s all your fault.”

A soft chuckle escaped his throat. Jiang Lou wrapped the bandage tightly, tied it securely, and then took Li Tang’s wrist, standing up.

Li Tang was pulled to his feet by Jiang Lou. Having squatted for too long, his legs weakened, and he stumbled, nearly falling.

Instinctively, he grabbed onto the person beside him. Li Tang thought to himself that drinking really did lead to trouble. Today, his shameful behavior could be posted on a gay forum, with a title he had already thought of—”Deadbeat Queer Pretends to Be Drunk and Clings to Straight Handsome Guy, Exposing His Ugly Face.”

Aside from that, Li Tang became aware once again of how strong Jiang Lou was. Li Tang had seen him beat people up before, but he hadn’t expected that this grip alone could cause pain in his wrist bone.

Although Jiang Lou held him tightly enough to prevent any chance of falling.

Once Li Tang regained his balance, Jiang Lou let go of his hand and turned to walk back into the house.

“Come here,” he said.

Li Tang wasn’t usually obedient and submissive. Even orders from teachers and elders wouldn’t make him blindly comply. He would typically think things through, ensuring they were reasonable before executing them, demonstrating a spirit of dialectical unity.

However, commands from Jiang Lou seemed to bypass the process of scrutiny. Upon hearing the word “come,” Li Tang’s body moved instinctively, following Jiang Lou to the table.

Then, he saw the small cake placed in the center of the foldable table.

So Jiang Lou had gone out earlier, buying the sausage along the way.

Not entirely sure, Li Tang pointed at the cake. “For me?”

Jiang Lou gave him a glance. “Is there a second person having a birthday here?”

With confirmation, Li Tang carefully examined the table—a very small cake, probably only one-tenth the size of the one at home. A plain circle with excessively smooth cream dyed with food coloring, visibly cheap to the naked eye.

“I could only buy this one,” Jiang Lou said. “If you don’t want to eat it, throw it away.”

Li Tang immediately stepped forward, protecting the small cake. “Don’t throw it away.”

Realizing his reaction was overly dramatic, Li Tang muttered, “Who said I didn’t want to eat it.”

Jiang Lou went back into the room and brought out the remaining candles that hadn’t burned out. No matter how he arranged the three candles, there was an inexplicable oddness to it. He decided to line them up in a row and suggested, “Make a wish?”

Li Tang nodded, closing his eyes slowly and solemnly.

This was his seventeenth birthday, the quietest and simplest one he had ever had.

But it was enough to turn the disaster around at the end of the day and bring him closer to the perfect birthday he had fantasized about.

The flickering orange-red light shone through his eyelids, illuminating the originally dark space. Li Tang became the only person in the world celebrating his birthday, receiving all the attention and favor.

This was the excitement he desired.

Even if the taste of the cake was quite ordinary—scooping a spoonful of cream into his mouth, Li Tang made a face, deducting half a point from an already perfect birthday.

Jiang Lou didn’t like sweet foods and didn’t eat cake. Sitting in the chair, he propped his chin on his palm and closed his eyes, dozing off.

Li Tang had heard that when people were about to fall asleep, their brains operated more slowly, and they would let down their guard.

Moreover, today was his birthday, and no one could bear to lie to the birthday boy.

“There’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Li Tang said.

Jiang Lou responded with a slightly lethargic “Mm.”

“Why did you make me switch seats?”

This matter had been bothering Li Tang for over a month. Every time he saw Jiang Lou, he was reminded of it. He wasn’t naive enough to believe the excuses given by the head teacher. There must have been another reason for the sudden seat change.

Perhaps unexpectedly, Jiang Lou lifted his eyelids, seeming a little more awake.

Initially, Li Tang had assumed that he would continue to ask Jiang Lou, “Why didn’t you come.”

But it was all the same.

“There’s a little over a year until the college entrance exam,” Jiang Lou said.

Li Tang didn’t understand, his expression revealing confusion.

Jiang Lou’s lips curved slightly, and the candlelight reflected in his eyes symbolized devotion.

His voice was hoarse as he patiently explained to Li Tang, “Having you sit next to me would distract me.”