Chapter 27 – Seeking Justification for Disappointment

141

He Fei thought he had completely offended Shi Zhuo and Yang Lin, but to his surprise, these two weren’t as petty as most people. A few days later, it seemed they had already forgotten the unpleasant gathering, and the group occasionally still sat together for meals and chats. It wasn’t unusual for guys not to hold grudges, but Yang Lin’s magnanimity made He Fei feel that this girl was much more likable than he had previously thought.

Chen Taoguang never appeared among them again. More often than not, only the four of them hung out together because, after school every day, Xiang Lei would go straight back to his off-campus apartment. Zhang Wenwen usually had all sorts of things that required He Fei’s company, but during the twice-weekly Japanese classes, He Fei always found a way to slip away to listen to the outspoken teacher explain Japanese grammar while angrily cursing “those damn Japs.”

Xiang Lei said he liked the Japanese teacher’s straightforward personality. Influenced by Xiang Lei, He Fei gradually began to appreciate the middle-aged woman who rarely pretended to be a “soul engineer.”

Zhang Wenwen found it strange that He Fei, who hadn’t even passed the English CET-4, could enroll in an elective Japanese course. Every time she asked about it, He Fei would dodge the question. For some reason, He Fei just didn’t want to tell Zhang Wenwen that attending Japanese class was simply because of the unique feeling he got from doing something seriously with Xiang Lei.

As for what that unique feeling was, even He Fei couldn’t quite describe it.

142

He Fei was walking arm-in-arm with Zhang Wenwen on campus when they ran into Wei Tong.

Wei Tong wore a gray snapback cap, large headphones over his ears, and a pair of oversized pink-purple glasses on the bridge of his nose. His outfit—a slim-fit jacket, wide belt, low-rise pants, and canvas shoes—made it obvious at a glance that his inner world was as unconventional as his appearance. As for his other eccentricities, most people would instinctively associate them with his psychological gender.

He Fei waved a casual greeting. Wei Tong shrugged, slightly raised his hand in a small wave, and said “hi” with a smile. Then, after glancing at Zhang Wenwen beside He Fei, he walked past them without stopping.

Zhang Wenwen nearly halted in her tracks, turning to watch Wei Tong walk away before asking He Fei in a tone of disbelief, “How do you even know him?”

“What’s the big deal? He’s just a friend of a friend,” He Fei replied deliberately, not mentioning that Wei Tong was Xiang Lei’s friend.

“That guy is so weird!” Zhang Wenwen said.

“How is he weird?” He Fei responded dismissively.

“I bet he’s gay!” Zhang Wenwen added.

“How would you know that?” He Fei still answered carelessly.

“So, you knew he was gay?” Zhang Wenwen stopped and stepped in front of He Fei, her tone serious.

“What does it matter what he’s into?” He Fei was starting to get annoyed by her attitude.

“He Fei, I didn’t even want to ask you last time, but what was up with you insisting on singing that duet with Herbivorous Wolf? At first, I thought you picked it for us to sing together. The second time, I thought it was a mistake. I never imagined you’d pick it a third time—that’s when I realized it had nothing to do with me. I almost wanted to cover my face and run out…”

“Are you serious?”

“That was a love song! And that time at the school gate, when you made that comment about him saving face, I finally got it—Herbivorous Wolf is gay too, right? People have been talking about it on the school forum for a while. Back then, none of us believed it, but now, thinking about it—you share a dorm with him. You must’ve known, right?”

“So what if he is? Yeah, I knew a long time ago! And I was the one who posted about it on the forum. What exactly are you trying to say?”

“You posted it? He Fei, I really don’t get you. You’re the one who exposed him like that—wasn’t that just hurting him? But now you’re always protecting him. You two… what exactly is going on between you?”

“Got it!” He Fei laughed. “What you really want to ask is whether I’m fooling around with Xiang Lei, right?”

“He Fei, if that’s not what you’re thinking, shouldn’t you stay away from him?”

“Stay away from him?” He Fei frowned.

“Unless you’re absolutely sure you won’t be influenced and end up…” Zhang Wenwen seemed to lose confidence mid-sentence, her voice trailing off until the last two words were barely audible.

He Fei found this amusing.

“Are you worried that I’ll change and fall for someone else, or that I’ll change and end up miserable? You don’t understand—he’s my best bro. Girls like you wouldn’t get it.”

“Fine, fine. I promise you this—if I ever do change, I’ll let you know in advance.”

To He Fei’s surprise, Zhang Wenwen burst out laughing at this.

But in truth, He Fei knew this wasn’t a joke.

Xiang Lei seemed to have grown accustomed to their current, more distant relationship—nothing like the chaotic online interactions of the past. Still, He Fei couldn’t shake the feeling that Xiang Lei wouldn’t stay this passive forever. Sooner or later, he’d probably bring up the topic of love again.

If that day ever came, He Fei might have to try changing once more.

143

During dinner, Xiang Lei kept texting on his phone.

He was always like this. He Fei had half a mind to snatch that hideous Nokia 3310 from him and smash it to pieces. People said those things were durable—well, let’s test that.

He Fei rarely texted. A one-minute phone call could say what would take at least ten clumsy back-and-forth texts to convey. Plus, you couldn’t tell the other person’s tone through text, nor could you accurately express your own emotions.

Everyone in the dorm had the same Nokia model, and their days were punctuated by the incessant “beep-beep” of incoming messages. He Fei said if he lived in the dorm, that shrill sound would drive him insane.

Xiang Lei’s fingers, however, seemed nimble. His thumbs danced over the tiny phone keyboard as he multitasked—or perhaps to prove he could text without looking—occasionally glancing up at He Fei and offering a vague “uh-huh” or “yeah.” The more he did this, the more it annoyed He Fei.

“Who the hell are you texting nonstop like this? Just call them!” He Fei finally snapped.

“Hmm—just an old classmate. It’s nothing worth calling about.”

As he spoke, another message arrived. Xiang Lei glanced at it, smirked, and resumed his thumb gymnastics.

144

After dropping Zhang Wenwen off at her dorm, He Fei ran into Xiang Lei on his way back to Building 19. Xiang Lei was carrying a shower caddy toward the bathhouse, explaining that the water heater at his place had broken down, forcing him to return to campus to shower. In the past, Xiang Lei usually met up with online friends after bathing. The thought made He Fei instantly irritable.

The moment He Fei opened the dorm room door, he heard the two-tone “beep-beep” that always set him on edge. The sound came from Xiang Lei’s backpack, lying on his bare mattress.

Without thinking, He Fei opened Xiang Lei’s backpack and pulled out his phone.

Tao Zhuwen? The name sounded familiar at first glance. He Fei assumed it was that hometown guy Xiang Lei had been secretly pining for all this time.

“Last night, I thought about it—our current situation should be satisfying enough. Don’t think I’m being presumptuous, but if things keep going like this, as long as you don’t refuse to see me, by the tenth time I ask you out—or even sooner—I guarantee you’ll fall for me.”

Reading this, He Fei couldn’t help muttering, “Fucking idiot.” Clearly, he’d guessed wrong. After a moment’s thought, he remembered—Tao Zhuwen was that guy who’d dropped out from Room 202.

He Fei fiddled with the phone and replied on Xiang Lei’s behalf: “Not happening, you bastard. You should just give up now.”

Then, he started scrolling through Xiang Lei’s message history.

Tao Zhuwen: If there’s no one else, why won’t you accept me?

Xiang Lei: Maybe I’m just not ready yet. You have no idea what I’ve been through. I don’t plan to share it, but I want you to know—it affected me deeply. Now, even the smallest things require careful consideration. I was too naive before. I don’t want to pay for that naivety anymore.

Tao Zhuwen: You don’t trust me?

Xiang Lei: It’s not about trust. Anyway, you shouldn’t hold out too much hope with me.

Tao Zhuwen: No matter what you say, I won’t give up. I’d love to know what happened to you, but I believe whatever it was doesn’t necessarily determine whether you accept me or not. If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve just toughed it out at that shitty school.

Xiang Lei: I don’t think I’m worth anyone sacrificing their future for. Being friends is the least risky option, isn’t it?

Tao Zhuwen: Walking is also the least risky, but people still choose to drive fast or fly to their destinations. Risks often lead to better outcomes than settling for safety. I’m wired to actively pursue love—I can’t rely on others or wait for them to come around. I’d rather take the risk.

He Fei thought this Peking University elite was insufferably pretentious. He wondered if Tao Zhuwen actually spoke like this in person. Though Xiang Lei had his own innate tendency toward melodrama, he was ultimately a straightforward guy—how could he stand listening to this drivel?

There weren’t many messages—just these few, plus some “goodnight” and “let’s talk another time” exchanges from the night before. Earlier messages had clearly been deleted. He Fei guessed most of Xiang Lei’s texts were probably from this Tao Zhuwen guy.

So they were still in touch! They’d been meeting up! Xiang Lei hadn’t accepted him, but he hadn’t outright rejected him either. He might still see him in the future—who knew what could happen between them?

He Fei expected to feel angry, even furious, but instead, he just felt… off.

While scrolling through the messages, Tao Zhuwen sent another reply. He Fei checked it: “Hahaha, you’re picking up Beijing slang now! ‘You bastard’ must be the easiest phrase to pick up, huh? Don’t worry—no matter what you say, this bastard isn’t giving up!”

At this point, He Fei didn’t even feel like mocking the guy’s pretentiousness or calling him an idiot anymore. He didn’t want to reply further either. His chest just felt tight—anger simmering but overshadowed by other emotions, disappointment lurking but with no real justification. He felt strangely helpless, rereading Xiang Lei’s messages to Tao Zhuwen over and over, wondering whether he should bring it up, how to ask, or whether he should just pretend he knew nothing.

If Xiang Lei found another gay lover, how was He Fei supposed to react?

He Fei set Xiang Lei’s phone to silent, stuffed it back into the backpack, then reconsidered and left it outside.

145

By the time Xiang Lei returned to the dorm, He Fei was playing games on Liu Chong’s computer.

This computer’s system frequently suffered from software conflicts, with messy applications installed all over its three disk partitions. Liu Chong often complained that ever since he bought it, the computer had officially become communal property—used for boiling water, hanging clothes, storing laundry detergent—he hardly ever got a chance to use it himself.

Without even turning around, He Fei could already sense Xiang Lei’s shock.

He heard the sound of Xiang Lei typing on his phone, followed by a sharp: “Hey! You—”

“Yeah, I touched your phone. The message alert was driving me crazy,” He Fei said casually while organizing his in-game equipment.

“You snuck a look at my messages!” Xiang Lei’s voice was tense.

“Did I need to sneak a look? I just opened it and it was right there for me to read,” He Fei replied dismissively.

“You even replied to one!” Xiang Lei was furious now.

“I helped you reject him—aren’t you gonna thank me? Don’t tell me you weren’t planning to reject him!” He Fei raised his voice.

Xiang Lei didn’t respond. He grabbed his backpack from the bed with enough force to make a loud rustling sound.

“Hey, wait!” He Fei exited the game and tried to shut down the computer. The system must have been overloaded—the screen froze. Hearing Xiang Lei slam the door, He Fei simply yanked the power cord.

He caught up with Xiang Lei, who snapped, “What do you want?”

He Fei suddenly felt shameless. “Nothing. Just wanna hang out at your place for a bit.”

Xiang Lei didn’t say anything else, but his steps quickened, leaving He Fei far behind in moments.

The walk was mostly silent.

When they reached the apartment, Xiang Lei opened the door and immediately started doing laundry, leaving He Fei standing there awkwardly. He Fei lay on the bed, turned on the TV, and soon fell asleep.

He was woken by Xiang Lei nudging him. It was already dark outside.

“What time is it?” He Fei asked groggily.

“Past seven,” Xiang Lei replied.

“Did you go out?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

Xiang Lei glanced at him. “Grocery shopping.”

He Fei muttered, “I thought you went to shower today because you had another online friend to meet.”

Xiang Lei didn’t answer. He turned and sat at the small table in front of the TV. Only then did He Fei notice that Xiang Lei had already cooked dinner—two sets of utensils and two bowls of rice were set out. Without another word, Xiang Lei started eating, not waiting for He Fei.

After a quick wash-up, He Fei sat down beside Xiang Lei. Looking at the spread of dishes, he suddenly felt ravenous. For a moment, an unusual sensation washed over him—something peaceful and warm, unremarkable on the surface but profoundly moving.

But the moment He Fei took his first bite, that feeling vanished. He even felt deceived. Xiang Lei’s cooking was… not great. The braised eggplant with green peppers and tomatoes looked decent but tasted off—Xiang Lei had added ginger, and worse, minced ginger.

“Sorry about that,” Xiang Lei said, half-smirking at He Fei’s pained expression.

He Fei had been debating whether to swallow or spit it out. At Xiang Lei’s words, he gulped it down without chewing.

His hopes now rested on the shredded potatoes, but they tasted more like shredded radish—crunchy, sweet, and slightly sour. He guessed Xiang Lei had been going for sweet and sour potatoes.

“Why do these taste nothing like my mom’s? Why are they so damn crunchy?” He Fei couldn’t help asking. “Did you buy fake potatoes or something?”

Xiang Lei nearly choked on his rice—probably the first time he’d heard of counterfeit potatoes.

“Easy fix—just don’t rinse them after cutting,” Xiang Lei said.

There was also a bowl of soup. The murky brown surface gave no clue about its contents—the ingredients must have sunk to the bottom. After scooping some, He Fei found mung bean sprouts and scrambled eggs. Even though He Fei couldn’t cook, he could guess the process: fry the eggs, set them aside, stir-fry the sprouts, add the eggs back in, pour water, toss in seasoning, boil, serve.

At least the soup tasted normal, so He Fei kept drinking it.

Then Xiang Lei said, “Hold on,” put down his bowl, and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes. No matter what, this was a dish few people could mess up.

He Fei’s appetite was finally saved.

After dinner, they watched TV. Xiang Lei kept getting text messages—even though his phone was on vibrate, every buzz made He Fei’s nerves twitch.

Xiang Lei glanced at He Fei several times, as if wanting to say something but hesitating. He Fei pretended not to notice, occasionally commenting on the TV show.

“It’s 9:30,” Xiang Lei finally blurted out.

“So?” He Fei replied without looking.

“Aren’t you going home?” Xiang Lei managed after a pause.

“Am I getting in the way of your date?” He Fei turned to stare at Xiang Lei, lips curling.

“I don’t have any dates.”

“Great, then I’m staying the night,” He Fei said.

“Whatever.”

At that moment, He Fei felt split in two. One part of him was genuinely angry at Xiang Lei’s attitude; the other couldn’t help but ache. One part believed Xiang Lei had no plans; the other worried that the moment he left, someone else would sneak into this room.

He Fei picked a DVD to watch, but Xiang Lei fell asleep halfway through. Unable to focus, He Fei turned off the lights and quietly climbed into bed.

Some inexplicable force drove He Fei—something he couldn’t resist. He kicked off his shoes and immediately reached for Xiang Lei’s body, pressing against him without thinking.

Xiang Lei woke instantly, instinctively shoving He Fei away. “He Fei, what the hell are you doing?”

Hearing that, He Fei deflated—maybe he’d been powerless to begin with. That strange energy drained away. He curled up, arching his back, hands gripping Xiang Lei’s shoulders, forehead resting limply on Xiang Lei’s chest. He imagined how ridiculous this pose must look under the light.

“Xiang Lei, tell me—if we do it a few times, will I get used to it?” He Fei mumbled against Xiang Lei’s chest.

After a long pause, Xiang Lei replied, “Xu Menghu, are you out of your mind?”

Xiang Lei hadn’t called him “Xu Menghu” in a long time. Tonight, the darkness must have brought it back.

“You seeing them—I can’t stand it. It’s worse now than when you didn’t know who I was,” He Fei murmured. “I want to try. Maybe I’ve got gay tendencies too.”

“Only when the lights are off do you feel like Xu Menghu to me. With them on, you’re just He Fei. Stop this, or I’ll feel like a criminal. Me and him—Tao Zhuwen—it’s not like that…”

“Not now, but what about tomorrow? Next year?” He Fei suddenly lifted his head, voice rising.

“I don’t get you… Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Treating a friend like this?”

“Have you seen me do this with anyone else?”

“Then… what do you mean?”

He Fei didn’t know how to answer. He rolled onto his back beside Xiang Lei and fell silent.

“Let’s just try. Do whatever you want to me. See if I can take it,” He Fei said.

Xiang Lei let out a humorless laugh. After a while, he said, “Forget it. Let’s both just accept things as they are.”

“Accept what?”

“Let things be. Don’t force stuff that only happens in Tsai Ming-liang movies.”

“What about you?”

“You read my texts to Tao Zhuwen. Do you really think I’d go back to how I was before?”

He Fei thought Xiang Lei must be afraid of the outcome—that’s why he wouldn’t even try. And if he was afraid, it meant he still couldn’t bear to lose what they had now, even if it wasn’t what he truly wanted.

“Xiang Lei—”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve fucking fallen for you.”

Xiang Lei lay still, not responding. He Fei turned onto his side, sliding one arm under Xiang Lei’s neck, the other around his waist.

In all his life, He Fei had never needed this kind of certainty so badly.

And in this moment, he felt utterly, completely sure.