EIP Extra 1

They left by ship and went to Hong Kong first, seeking refuge. They rented a small apartment with a low ceiling, surrounded by neighbors from all over, with different accents, faces, and skin tones. Zhou Jun had money, and he had originally planned to stay in a hotel before heading overseas to meet his older brother. However, the plane they could have taken left earlier than expected, and they missed it.

He needed to contact Mr. Shi before taking the next step, but Mr. Shi’s situation remained uncertain. Zhou Jun borrowed the landlord’s telephone, thanked the landlady, and then headed back upstairs through the narrow staircase.

When he returned to the apartment, Yong Jin was no longer in the living room. Throughout their journey, Zhou Jun never asked him about the past year, and Yong Jin never asked him either. They simply held on tight to each other’s hands, not daring to loosen their grip for a second. Under constant bombardment, nobody could guarantee what might happen in the next moment. Yong Jin carried a gun with him, always on high alert.

He was clearly not as calm as he looked. He slept very little, even when Zhou Jun urged him to rest many times. Fortunately, they arrived in Hong Kong at last and finally reached a relatively safe place.

There was nobody in the bedroom, but the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Zhou Jun opened the door, and steam rushed out. Yong Jin was soaking naked in the tub with his head tilted back, fast asleep.

His prosthetic limb had been removed and placed nearby, revealing the stump where he had been amputated, a testament to the pain and loss caused by war. Zhou Jun felt a pang of sorrow. Even though they had been reunited for a while, it still did not feel real. From the day they met, this proud, powerful man had endured who knew what. Zhou Jun dared not think too deeply about it.

He picked up the washcloth and moved closer, gently wiping Yong Jin’s body. When he reached Yong Jin’s hands, Yong Jin woke up. His fingers were wet as they brushed Zhou Jun’s face. Zhou Jun leaned in, letting his tears fall into Yong Jin’s palm, filled with heartache and longing.

Yong Jin kissed away his tears and asked him to help him up and into a bathrobe, then took his cane. The two shifted to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. The house was not large, and neither was the bed. They held each other tightly. Yong Jin’s chest was still warm and damp, and Zhou Jun pressed his face against it, overwhelmed by the joy of being alive.

Zhou Jun thought Yong Jin had fallen asleep, and he also assumed it would be a long time before Yong Jin told him about his experiences and hardships. Night fell, and dark clouds swallowed the sun. Rain tapped against the window, both soothing and unsettling. Somewhere, someone was playing mahjong; somewhere else, someone was cooking, and the sound of a knife hitting a cutting board echoed loudly.

Amid these homely sounds, Yong Jin placed a hand on Zhou Jun’s back and pulled him closer. Zhou Jun leaned into him, wishing he could melt right into his body. Then he heard Yong Jin say in a low voice, “I missed you.” Zhou Jun thought he had already cried all the tears he could over the past few years, but it turned out there were still more left.

He sniffled in embarrassment, his nose and eyes red. Yong Jin’s palm had become much rougher, scraping against Zhou Jun’s face and causing a bit of pain. Zhou Jun interlaced their fingers and affectionately kissed each of Yong Jin’s fingers one by one.

In this tender moment, Yong Jin shared what he had been through. It was not some thrilling brush with death: amid the shelling, he ended up buried beneath several corpses. He knew that if he fell asleep then, he would never wake up, so he forced himself to stay conscious until nightfall and only then managed to crawl out from under the pile of bodies.

He performed some emergency treatment on his wounds and crawled through the forest all night long. He could not tell if it was just his imagination, but in the darkness, he kept sensing a small beam of light ahead. Whenever he was about to pass out, it somehow drove him onward. He did drift off a few times, and in his dreams, he was rescued and brought back home, where he reunited with Zhou Jun.

How intoxicating that dream was, yet it never lasted long. He would awaken in the freezing cold, open his eyes, and find himself still in that forest, wrapped in blood and decay, pain and despair.

He had kept the silk pouch Zhou Jun had given him, now torn and tattered. He pulled out the copper coin it contained, clamped it between his teeth, and kept crawling. At dawn, a farmer discovered him. That man tended to his wounds and forced a bowl of herbal juice down his throat, then left him to fate.

Yong Jin was both lucky and unlucky. Infection set in quickly, and he developed a raging fever. He held on for several days and nights without dying, yet he reeked of death. His festering wounds filled the house with a foul stench. Whenever the family came in to bring him water, they would cover their faces with cloths to avoid the smell, just checking if he was still alive.

He could still feel sensations; sometimes he was in a daze, sometimes clearheaded. His wounds had rotted all the way through. He felt as though something was consuming his flesh. In his feverish half-conscious state, he often wanted to give up. His dreams replayed all his best memories, one frame at a time, like a film. When people from Governor Yong finally located him, they almost did not recognize the corpse-like figure on the bed. They took him from the farmhouse and rushed him to the hospital.

It was too late, though. In order to save his life, they had to saw off his leg, leaving him what the Governor called “a useless cripple.” A person without a leg could not inherit the Governor’s position, and Yong Jin expected as much. He thought he would willingly relinquish everything he had, after all, it did not matter much.

After staying in the hospital for a week, Mu Liqing came to see him. He had been sent there under orders. Later that night, Yong Jin would be taken abroad to continue his treatment. Leaning against the hospital bed, Yong Jin looked at his left leg, which was gone after the first surgery, yet he could still feel pain in that missing part.

He gazed at the empty space under the bedsheet, then finally raised his eyes to ask Mu Liqing, “If Father has already decided I should ‘die,’ then there’s no way I can ever go back, right?” Mu Liqing took a deep breath and looked away for a long moment before answering, his eyes red, “No, you can never go back. The Governor will not allow it.”

That very night, Yong Jin managed to escape. The Military Governor flew into a rage, berating everyone for failing to keep watch over an injured Yong Jin who had already lost a leg. Mu Liqing slammed down the phone and glanced at the weather outside, feeling overwhelmed with worry.

He knew Yong Jin was in bad shape, still running a low fever. And indeed, those assigned to guard him were useless. Both of them ended up bound and left in the hospital room while Yong Jin vanished without a trace. However, Yong Jin did not get far. With great effort, all he wanted was to make a phone call to Zhou Jun. He slumped against a phone booth and dialed Zhou Jun’s apartment number.

He tried three times, but nobody picked up. Hearing this, Zhou Jun tightened his hold on Yong Jin’s hand and asked urgently, “When was that?”

It had happened during the time Zhou Jun, himself wounded by a gunshot, was confined to the hospital. The fourth call went to the Zhou family home, but by then, people had found Yong Jin and forcibly took him away. The receiver slipped from Yong Jin’s hand, and it must have connected because he heard muffled sounds from the other end, someone asking who was there.

Nobody could know that Yong Jin was still alive. In the Governor’s mind, he had already done his duty, keeping Yong Jin off the battlefield and away from home. He would send him overseas, grant him a new identity, and provide enough wealth. But Yong Jin could never appear in the country again; otherwise, the Governor would not be lenient just because he was his son.

Zhou Jun wrapped his arms around Yong Jin’s waist. After a while, he murmured, feeling stifled, “If only I had found you sooner.” Yong Jin kissed his brow and spoke in a husky voice, “I know you were looking for me.” Zhou Jun stared at him, stunned. It turned out that house Mr. Shi had told him about really did have Yong Jin inside, and Yong Jin had seen him.

Yet word of their approach had leaked out beforehand. Yong Jin was sedated and stuffed into a car. In the final moments before losing consciousness, through the swaying car window, he caught sight of a weary-looking Zhou Jun in a dark overcoat, stepping out of another car and smoking. Zhou Jun’s eyes were fixed on the villa in the distance, unaware that the person passing right by him in that car was Yong Jin himself.