EIP 55

Zhou Jun’s mind was overwhelmed by two thoughts, crashing like thunder through his consciousness. He lay at the edge of the bed, his body trembling slightly. Memories replayed in his mind like film frames, one after another. He thought of the earlier moments with Yong Jin. His teasing when they stood by the window, the sweet nothings Yong Jin had whispered to him, the angry looks, and the possessive force in his kisses.

Zhou Jun suddenly rolled off the bed, his robe sweeping items off the table. His pocket snagged on something, and with a sharp pull, a loud crash followed as everything tumbled to the floor. He landed hard, though the carpet softened the fall. What hurt most were the scattered objects striking his legs and waist, some heavy, some light, each delivering a sharp sting. Frustrated, he took a deep breath and slammed his fist against the floor.

Zhou Jun shouted Yong Jin’s name, his voice shaking with anger and frustration. He grabbed whatever was closest and hurled it at the door, desperate to break the silence. But instead of the crash he expected, there was only a dull thud, as if his rage had been swallowed. The light flicked on, and Yong Jin stood there, calm and steady, holding the cup Zhou Jun had thrown. His unreadable expression only made the weight in Zhou Jun’s chest press harder.

Yong Jin stood under the harsh light, squinting slightly as he looked down at Zhou Jun, who sat trembling with rage on the floor. The object Zhou Jun had thrown, though carelessly aimed, had left a faint red mark on Yong Jin’s forehead. Zhou Jun’s bloodshot eyes were filled with frustration, but he said nothing. Words felt useless, a blow to his pride he wasn’t willing to endure. All he wanted was an answer. Any answer. Even if Yong Jin admitted he was tired of it all and wanted to end things, it would be better than this crushing silence.

Zhou Jun roughly pushed the things off him, sitting on the floor as he shakily pulled out a cigarette box and lit one. The clock on the nightstand had cracked, its hands moving slowly. The faint ticking sound mixed with Zhou Jun’s labored breathing. He finally managed to calm down and looked at Yong Jin, hoarsely saying, “Go away. If you’re leaving, don’t come back.”

Yong Jin placed the cup on the nearby table and suddenly said to Zhou Jun, “Don’t just throw it away.” Zhou Jun focused, only to see that alongside the cup, Yong Jin had placed the ring Zhou Jun had discarded at the party. Zhou Jun stared at the ring, then at Yong Jin’s face. He was more and more confused, a sharp pain throbbing at his temples. His voice turned stiff as he said, “Major Yong, you really are one to forget things easily. I threw that away a long time ago.”

As soon as Zhou Jun finished speaking, he clearly saw a fleeting flash of pain on Yong Jin’s face, but it was quickly suppressed. Yong Jin turned his back to him, opening the door to the room. “Don’t throw it away in front of me,” he said, before lifting his leg and stepping out. With the sound of the door closing from farther away, Zhou Jun crushed the cigarette with his bare hands, grinding the ash between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

Meanwhile, Deputy Chen sat in the driver’s seat, idly smoking a cigarette. He hadn’t expected his superior to return so quickly. Usually, these meetings took longer. It made him think of how some of his comrades lingered when visiting their wives, though the Major General’s “wife” was clearly a unique case. Still, it was obvious that Mr. Zhou wasn’t just anyone. There was something different about him, something that made the Major seem to treat him with care.

The Major’s expression was grim, with a visible red mark on his forehead, making it clear that this wasn’t a passionate reunion but rather something close to a fight, followed by a breakup. Major Yong didn’t immediately get into the car but instead stood downstairs for a full thirty minutes. Deputy Chen rolled down the window for ventilation while his superior chain-smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, before finally crushing the empty pack and sitting down.

Deputy Chen gripped the steering wheel and quietly asked, “Back to the residence?”

Yong Jin leaned back against the backseat, closing his eyes and contemplating for a moment before replying, “Take me to my father’s.” Deputy Chen nodded in acknowledgment, and not long after, as the car started to move, he heard Yong Jin’s command from the backseat, “Leave the two who were with Zhou Jun behind.”

“If necessary, I’ll protect him and help him leave.”

The night had grown late, and the streets were very quiet. The car had driven off not long ago, when a young man, wrapped in a robe, hurried out of the hallway. He paced the street, looking around, but of course, the person he was hoping to see was nowhere in sight. Zhou Jun hadn’t planned on coming down, but when he saw Yong Jin still standing downstairs through the window, he couldn’t help but act on his impulse.

This wasn’t the first time Yong Jin had lingered downstairs, and he didn’t want it to be the last. Even as everything else fell apart, there was always a tender corner of his heart where that person remained. Letting go would feel like pulling bones from flesh, too painful to bear. In the end, it was already too late. The only evidence left behind was the cigarette butts scattered across the floor. Zhou Jun crouched down, resting his forehead on his hand, and absently picked up one of the discarded butts.

It still faintly carried his scent. Zhou Jun slipped it into his pocket, thinking no one would see his actions, so he might as well do whatever he wanted. He went upstairs, ignored the mess around him, and threw himself onto the bed, sinking into a deep sleep.

The next day, the housemaid slowly opened the apartment door with the key, carrying a basket of vegetables. As soon as she pulled the door open, she was startled. Her master had never gotten up this early. His hair was a mess, his eyes slightly red, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, wearing a worn-out coat, barefoot, curled up on the high stool. His feet were pale, with veins on the tops of his feet turning purple. It was unclear how long they’d been exposed to the cold, but they were frozen and lacked any color.

Zhou Jun was holding a drawing board, his right hand covered in charcoal smudges, nervously sketching and rubbing at the surface. The housemaid, tired from cleaning, attended to him as one might attend to a child. She took the cigarette from his mouth, put socks on him, and offered him water.

He seemed almost incapable of taking care of himself, as lazy as a piece of melted flesh, unwilling to move from the high stool. He wasted several hours, yet didn’t manage to produce anything. A thick stack of paper ended up in the trash, and a few sheets with rough sketches were tossed aside. The housemaid glanced over and immediately felt a sharp pain in her eyes. His drawings were all of naked man. Their waists, abdomens, backsides, thighs, and even… that part.

By the afternoon, while she was watering a few potted plants by the window, the doorbell rang. Walking from the balcony to the living room, the housemaid noticed that the high stool was empty. Her master was no longer there. The bedroom door was tightly shut, so he was probably still inside. She opened the door and found a young woman she didn’t recognize. It was rare for anyone to be in the house; her master never brought people home.

So, she leaned against the door, not allowing the well-dressed woman to enter. The woman smiled at the housemaid and said, “My surname is Yang. I’m here to see Mr. Zhou.” The housemaid politely invited her in and went to knock on her employer’s door. He opened it just a crack, revealing only one eye as he asked, “What is it?” The housemaid relayed that a young woman named Yang had come to see him.

He shut the door again. After a while, he stepped out from the bedroom, changed into a different outfit, looking refreshed and elegant, no longer disheveled. The housemaid was taken aback, clicking her tongue in surprise before heading to the kitchen. She intended to prepare two glasses of wine for her master and the young lady outside. It seemed like this visit was serious, and it appeared her master was ready to settle down.

Zhou Jun looked at the long-unseen Miss Yang. He called her by her English name, but unexpectedly, Miss Yang insisted, saying, “Jin Qian, call me Jin Qian.” Zhou Jun’s heart skipped a beat, and with a smile, he replied, “What’s wrong? You don’t like me calling you that?”

Yang Jin Qian didn’t respond. Instead, she placed her left hand on her right wrist, where a bracelet rested. It seemed to give her some courage as she looked up at Zhou Jun and said, “Give me a chance to be with you, Zhou. You know that I like you.”