Chapter 46 – The Curse of Seasons

265

After returning to school after the New Year, Wei Tong really moved back into the dorm. Wei Tong told Xiang Lei that he had finally convinced Zhang Haiqiang—they had broken up. Though it was painful, he still felt much more at ease.

Wei Tong stayed at Xiang Lei’s place, preparing lunch together with him. Just as they were about to eat, several friends from the school basketball team called and took He Fei away.

After He Fei left, the calm expression Wei Tong had maintained all along could no longer be kept up in front of Xiang Lei alone. He repeated to Xiang Lei over and over again how much better it would have been if Zhang Haiqiang had never gotten married.

“Do you remember the night we first met him?” Wei Tong asked Xiang Lei.

“Of course I do! I told you he kept secretly looking at you, but you insisted he was looking at me.” Xiang Lei chuckled.

“Isn’t your type always more popular than someone like me?”

“Bullshit!”

“It was really hard for him! Someone like him must have struggled so much just to come over and strike up a conversation.” Wei Tong smiled.

“And he even waited until I went to the bathroom. Ha!”

“Still, his pick-up line was so cliché: ‘Hey, excuse me, can I ask what time it is?'” Wei Tong mimicked Zhang Haiqiang’s stiff tone. “I noticed right away that he was wearing a wristwatch, so I asked him strangely, ‘Don’t you have a watch on?’ If you’d been there, you would’ve laughed your head off. As soon as I asked that, his face turned bright red, and he couldn’t say a word for the longest time.”

“And then?” Of course, Xiang Lei knew what happened next, but he understood that Wei Tong wanted to tell the story himself right now.

“Then I checked my phone and told him the time. He smiled awkwardly and said, ‘You two look really good together!’ I’ve said it before—when we go to bars together, we should sit separately. Otherwise, everyone assumes we’re a couple. Who would dare come up and talk to us?”

“But Zhang Haiqiang did, didn’t he?” Xiang Lei laughed.

“If he hadn’t said that extra line back then, today we wouldn’t… wouldn’t have had to break up…”

“How did he agree to it?” If Xiang Lei didn’t ask this, Wei Tong’s gaze would remain despondent like that forever.

“He cried and said he was sorry, that he could change…” Wei Tong paused, swallowing hard to hold back his tears.

“I told him it was my fault,” Wei Tong continued. “He said he wouldn’t have the heart to look for anyone else in the future and that if I ever missed him, I could go back to him. He said raising such a small child takes so much effort, but maybe in a while, when both sets of grandparents come to help out, things will get better…”

“I don’t understand why he had to get married so early,” Xiang Lei said.

“At the time, he thought that getting married would make him stop thinking about these things. So naïve! But whether it’s early or late, what’s the difference? Oh, right—we agreed that if I don’t contact him, it means I’m not thinking about him, so he won’t contact me either. Later, he asked for your phone number. He might call you sometime to ask about me. If he does, just tell him I’ve found someone else.”

“To make him give up? Then why don’t you just call him yourself later and say it?”

“I can’t bring myself to say it.”

“What if you want to go back to him later?”

“Forget it. Like He Fei said, I shouldn’t look for married men anymore…”

As he spoke, Wei Tong couldn’t help but turn his face away, wiping away a few tears. Xiang Lei pretended not to notice, lowering his head to serve the rice.

Unable to find any truly meaningful words of comfort, Xiang Lei struggled inwardly, wondering who deserved more sympathy—Wei Tong or Zhang Haiqiang.

Gay men who choose traditional marriages are ultimately disreputable—telling a colossal lie, wronging themselves while also letting others down. But then again, how many traditional marriages are truly based on genuine affection? And how many people’s genuine affection is willing to remain within their marriages? If Zhang Haiqiang really gives up on finding true love from now on, would he still be the more immoral one compared to those heterosexual marriages that exist in name only?

Perhaps, no matter what adjective precedes the word “betrayal,” there is no moral high ground to be had.

And Zhang Haiqiang—regardless of whether he puts himself in a morally disadvantageous position from now on—should still be worthy of sympathy. Because he is doomed to never live for himself again.

Thinking about it this way, if Xiang Lei were to lose his love one day, he would probably also choose to marry a woman and have children, starting the next phase of his life. The only difference is that, unlike Zhang Haiqiang, if that day ever came, Xiang Lei felt he would declare to himself in advance: Farewell, love.

266

Xiang Lei told He Fei to go to school after getting up, print out the two thesis proposals on the flash drive, and hand them in to the department head.

He Fei, still lazing in bed, questioned where Xiang Lei was going again. Xiang Lei said that the duty member at Yucai Elementary School had asked for leave, so he had to go substitute. He Fei laughed and said, “Zheng Dongming and the others—the last batch of probationary Party members—are going to plant trees as volunteer work these two days. Why didn’t anyone invite you to join in on these kinds of public service activities?” Xiang Lei ignored him and walked out the door.

That night, a rare, moderate spring rain fell.

The heating seemed to have been cut off a few days early, leaving the room damp and chilly.

Xiang Lei called, saying he was taking shelter from the rain at a bus stop. The walk home wasn’t short, and he’d be drenched if he came back now. He asked He Fei to bring an umbrella, but He Fei, too lazy to move, told him to wait until the rain stopped before coming back.

When He Fei saw Xiang Lei return home soaking wet, he naturally felt full of guilt, but he couldn’t help thinking that if Xiang Lei had just listened, he wouldn’t have to feel so bad now. So, somewhat irritated, he scolded him: “Didn’t I tell you to wait until the rain stopped? If you didn’t want to wait, why didn’t you just say so on the phone earlier?”

Xiang Lei didn’t even glance at He Fei. As he took off his wet clothes, he muttered, “It’s spring. How could the rain just stop like that? I decided to walk back after hanging up. It’s cold outside, and I didn’t want you to have to come down either.” With that, he finished undressing and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He Fei walked over and pushed the bathroom door open. The water from the showerhead poured directly onto Xiang Lei’s head. Xiang Lei shivered violently, gasping and letting out a muffled cry as he stumbled backward in panic.

“Fuck! There’s no hot water!”

He Fei had originally planned to angrily ask why he was throwing such a tantrum, but seeing him in such a sorry state, he swallowed the words. Instead, he turned around, grabbed a towel from outside, and tossed it to him. “I forgot to heat it. Go warm up under the covers first. I’ll heat the water, and then you can shower.”

Xiang Lei dried himself off, shivering, and climbed into bed, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets.

He Fei walked to the balcony and carefully looked out the window before turning back to Xiang Lei. “Who said spring rain doesn’t stop suddenly? It’s pretty much stopped now!”

“Did you hand in the thesis proposals?” Xiang Lei asked.

“It was raining when I got up, so I didn’t go,” He Fei replied.

Xiang Lei sighed in disappointment. To He Fei, the sigh was full of frustration.

“What’s the matter?” He Fei turned to look at him.

“Nothing!” Xiang Lei snapped impatiently.

“Did it have to be today?”

“The department head emphasized multiple times—today’s the deadline!”

“But you didn’t tell me that!”

“But you were clearly at the guidance session that day too!”

“But I fucking wasn’t paying attention!”

Their voices rose higher and higher.

It was as if these words were competing—competing to see who had suppressed more for longer.

Xiang Lei conceded. After a long silence, he lowered his voice for his next sentence.

“I really don’t know what you do all day at home,” Xiang Lei said, almost to himself.

“I fucking don’t know what you’re running around doing all day either!” He Fei shouted. “You better think long and hard about how we’re living these days! How many fucking days has it been since we last did laundry? And meals—how often do we even have a proper one? We’re always eating at those cheap restaurants—fried pancakes, fried rice, fried rice, fried pancakes. On the rare day you’re in the mood to cook, fuck! Without fail, it’s always fucking noodles!”

Xiang Lei sat up, staring at He Fei with an incredulous expression.

“But why? Why does all of this have to be my responsibility?”

“What do you think?” He Fei tilted his chin up challengingly.

“OK, fine. I’ve never felt unbalanced about doing more, but even when I don’t make noodles, you don’t like what I cook anyway, do you? Fuck, this is all I can do—what else am I supposed to do? Go to culinary school and learn how to be a chef?”

He Fei snorted, lit a cigarette, and didn’t continue the argument.

But that didn’t mean He Fei didn’t want to keep arguing.

In fact, He Fei really wanted to bring up Dongzi at this moment—to boastfully tell Xiang Lei how well Dongzi could cook, how he wanted to prepare a proper lunch for him, and so on. But upon reflection, he realized that even if these words could piss Xiang Lei off, they were ultimately meaningless.

For He Fei, appetite wasn’t actually all that important. Yet here they were, arguing over it. It was almost laughable when he thought about it.

Speaking of Dongzi, He Fei’s lukewarm attitude seemed to have crushed his enthusiasm. He barely called once a week now and hardly ever asked when He Fei would invite him over again.

He Fei really wanted Xiang Lei to know just how resolute he had been with this boy named Dongzi.

The two of them fell into a stubborn silence. Xiang Lei stared blankly at the ceiling, while He Fei absentmindedly gazed at the Bézier curves on his computer screen.

The silence was shattered by urgent, heavy knocking at the door.

He Fei got up to open the door, and Shi Zhuo strode in carrying two bottles of Erguotou, bringing with him a gust of chilly wind. The air was immediately filled with the strong scent of alcohol.

He had clearly been drinking already—and not a small amount.

“What’s going on, Lao Shi?” He Fei asked as he closed the door behind him.

By then, Shi Zhuo had already entered the bedroom, panting heavily. Waving the bottles in his hand, he shouted gruffly at Xiang Lei, who was still in bed: “Come on, Leizi! It’s so early—why the hell are you sleeping? Let’s drink!”

He had forgotten to take off his shoes, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on Xiang Lei’s foam floor mats.

Xiang Lei hurriedly got out of bed, awkwardly naked, and rummaged through the wardrobe for clean clothes.

“Fuck! What time is it, you two… really…” Shi Zhuo looked at He Fei, then pointed at Xiang Lei and burst into laughter.

Xiang Lei’s face flushed red as he hastily pulled out a couple of clothes and threw them on.

Shi Zhuo plopped down, opening the liquor bottle before realizing there were no cups, so he asked Xiang Lei for some.

“You’re not planning to drink it straight, are you?” He Fei asked.

“Damn it! I forgot to bring some snacks!” Shi Zhuo rarely cursed so angrily.

Shi Zhuo stood up, intending to go downstairs to get some food to go with the drinks, but He Fei stopped him and went down to buy some himself.

Without wasting any words, Shi Zhuo poured the liquor to the brim and clinked glasses with Xiang Lei and He Fei. He Fei deftly dodged the toast, holding his cup away as he asked, “How much have you had already?”

“Not much. I was drinking alone on the side street earlier, but the more I drank, the more fucking bored I got, so I came looking for you two. Sorry, didn’t know you guys started so early—didn’t mean to interrupt your business!”

Usually, Shi Zhuo rarely cracked jokes like this.

“Bullshit! We were just fighting!” He Fei laughed.

“Again? What’s the problem this time? The downside of two guys being together is that you’re both so damn impulsive…”

“Alright, alright, enough about us—it’s nothing serious. But you—what’s going on with you?”

After He Fei asked, Xiang Lei chimed in as well. Shi Zhuo lowered his head, staring at his glass for a long time without answering. When they pressed him again, Shi Zhuo cupped his hands around the cup and suddenly burst into muffled sobs.

“Linlin broke up with me.”

It took several confirmations before they could finally make out the slurred words Shi Zhuo was mumbling.

He Fei and Xiang Lei exchanged glances. Neither of them had expected this to happen to them.

This season, there were just too many campus couples breaking up. As early as high school, they had heard about this kind of contractual college romance. But Shi Zhuo and Yang Lin—they had even planned out their future together.

Before the New Year, Yang Lin had signed a job offer with good benefits, but the location was in Shenzhen. Shi Zhuo’s parents wanted him to stay in Beijing, and because of that, Yang Lin had almost given up on the opportunity. In the end, Shi Zhuo had convinced his parents, deciding to go to Shenzhen with Yang Lin for a few years to build their careers. That was why he hadn’t paid attention to any job postings in other cities.

How could they just break up like this?

This was the first time He Fei had seen Shi Zhuo drunk.

Shi Zhuo was just like Chen Taoguang that day—eyes glazed, tongue stiff, body swaying uncontrollably—yet he still kept yelling, “Drink! Drink!” When they asked him what had really happened, he only had three words: “Do not ask.”

While Shi Zhuo wasn’t paying attention, Xiang Lei secretly poured out the remaining half bottle of liquor. Shi Zhuo insisted on going downstairs to buy more, but as soon as he stood up, he collapsed to the floor. Xiang Lei and He Fei each grabbed one of his arms to pull him up, but Shi Zhuo struggled a few times before bursting into loud wails again.

The room was a mess. Outside, the sound of heavy rain started up again.

Shi Zhuo was completely out of it—it seemed he’d have to stay the night. Xiang Lei cautiously asked He Fei for his opinion, and He Fei said there was no need to discuss it—this was the only option.

Since Shi Zhuo was in such a state, He Fei and Xiang Lei didn’t press him further, but Shi Zhuo himself intermittently recounted one thing.

Shi Zhuo said, “You guys wouldn’t believe how bold these freshmen are nowadays. That junior girl actually took the initiative to ask me to get a room with her. Tell me, what kind of man could resist something like that? So I fucking went along with it. Who knew she’d get so clingy? After I ignored her a few times, she actually went and found Linlin…”

“It’s over! No chance now! None of you know Linlin like I do. She might not blame me or hate me, but there’s no way she’ll ever take me back! She won’t look back!”

Lying on the bed, Shi Zhuo scratched his chest, shouting and crying at the same time.

He Fei and Xiang Lei struggled to take off his pants and shirt—he didn’t have a shred of consciousness left to cooperate.

Yang Lin called. After confirming that Shi Zhuo was with Xiang Lei, she relaxed and was about to hang up. Xiang Lei wanted to talk more, but Yang Lin replied, “Let’s chat another day when we’re all together. I might have to start my internship early, submit my thesis online, and only come back for the final defense and graduation. I was actually planning to say goodbye to you two.”

“You and Shi Zhuo… is there really no chance?” Xiang Lei asked her.

“Are you asking about feelings or about staying together? Feelings don’t just disappear, but as for staying together—that’s really not possible anymore.” Yang Lin’s tone was resolute.

For some reason, after hanging up, Xiang Lei felt a tightness in his chest, as if he had just gone through a breakup alongside Shi Zhuo.

Xiang Lei asked He Fei how they were going to sleep. He Fei smirked and said, “You sleep in the middle. In his state, even if you took full advantage of him, he wouldn’t notice a thing.”

“You’re insane!” Xiang Lei cursed.

After cleaning up the room and turning off the lights, He Fei rolled over and pinned Xiang Lei down. Xiang Lei pushed him away carefully but firmly.

“Have you lost your mind?” Xiang Lei hissed.

“Don’t you think doing it like thieves would be extra exciting? It’s not like he’s any different from a corpse right now,” He Fei whispered into Xiang Lei’s ear.

“Get lost!” Xiang Lei blurted out.

Xiang Lei hurriedly turned to check on Shi Zhuo, who was indeed still sprawled out, snoring thunderously.

He Fei rolled off, lying on his side facing Xiang Lei, grinning shamelessly.

267

Early in the morning, He Fei was woken by the sound of bare feet padding across the foam mats. He opened his eyes to see Shi Zhuo standing by the bed in nothing but his underwear, staring in bewilderment at the bed he had slept in.

“Sobered up?” He Fei propped himself up on his elbow, yawning as he asked Shi Zhuo.

“Yeah,” Shi Zhuo replied awkwardly.

“You didn’t notice Xiang Lei taking advantage of you while you were asleep, did you?” He Fei laughed.

“No,” Shi Zhuo answered honestly.

“Good.”

“Huh?” Shi Zhuo looked stunned.

He Fei burst into laughter, and Xiang Lei woke up shortly after.

Sitting up, He Fei suddenly remembered something and asked Shi Zhuo with a grin, “I clearly remember not stripping you down that much last night. How’d you end up in just your underwear?”

Shi Zhuo looked around and found his long underwear¹Long Johns piled on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Probably took them off in my sleep—I’m used to sleeping like this,” Shi Zhuo said as he dressed.

“Lucky for you you’re not used to sleeping naked, or else our Leizi would’ve had a rough night,” He Fei continued teasing.

Hearing this, Xiang Lei suddenly yanked the blanket off He Fei, leaving him completely exposed. Xiang Lei then said, “Someone here does sleep naked.” Shi Zhuo immediately pointed at He Fei and laughed.

He Fei hurriedly grabbed for the blanket but accidentally touched Xiang Lei’s body. Forgetting about covering himself, he reached out to feel Xiang Lei’s forehead. “Why are you so hot?”

“Probably have a fever. I feel awful all over,” Xiang Lei said, no longer fighting for the blanket as he lazily lay back down.

“Get up now and come back to school with me. Go to the clinic right away—you can’t drag out a fever this season,” Shi Zhuo said to Xiang Lei.

Xiang Lei stayed in bed, refusing to move. In the end, He Fei decided to go back to school to submit the thesis proposal and buy some medicine on the way. If Xiang Lei’s fever hadn’t gone down by dinner, he’d take him to see a doctor.

On the way, Shi Zhuo told He Fei that he still remembered showing up at their place last night, but he had no recollection of what happened afterward. He Fei recalled the story Shi Zhuo had muttered before falling asleep and couldn’t help asking—could a moment of impulse really have such a serious impact? Shi Zhuo was startled, realizing he must have spilled his shameful secret while drunk. He smiled bitterly, then sighed heavily and said that he really hadn’t expected such severe consequences at the time, but now he understood completely.

It was just too late.

He Fei submitted the thesis proposal, bought a bunch of medicine, and brought back breakfast. Xiang Lei ate a little, took the medicine, and went back to bed to rest. He Fei got a call from his basketball friends. Seeing that Xiang Lei was already asleep, he didn’t say anything and went straight back to school to play ball.

268

At noon, the team gathered to eat. He Fei hesitated about whether to join them, so he called Xiang Lei.

“Has the fever gone down?” He Fei asked.

“Yeah. The blanket’s soaked—don’t know if it’ll dry before sunset. I’m cooking now.”

“What are you making?” He Fei asked again.

“Don’t feel like going out, so it’s noodles again,” Xiang Lei replied sheepishly.

“Then eat by yourself. I’m at a team dinner here!”

“I made enough for two…” Xiang Lei’s words were cut off as He Fei hung up.

The guys were still competitive after the morning game, so they agreed to play again in the afternoon—this time with stakes. The beer they had ordered was sent back, and it was decided that the losing team would pool money to treat the winners to drinks.

In the afternoon, He Fei unfortunately ended up on the losing team, and his pockets were turned inside out.

At dinner, the group talked about parting ways in a few months, and the mood turned somber. They drank quite a bit. Just when He Fei felt like one more sip would make him puke, he pushed through the crowd and insisted on going home.

On the way, the cool breeze hit him, and He Fei really did throw up. He squatted alone outside a grocery store by the market, vomiting until his world spun.

There wasn’t even anyone nearby to hand him a tissue or a sip of water. For a moment, He Fei was furious—even though he knew that if he were in such a pathetic state at home, Xiang Lei definitely wouldn’t stand by idly. But He Fei still cursed unreasonably in his heart: Xiang Lei, where the fuck are you right now?!

His phone kept vibrating in his pocket, but He Fei hadn’t had a spare moment to answer it.

Only when there was almost nothing left to vomit did He Fei stand up and continue walking home. The lingering taste in his mouth and nose made him gag repeatedly.

He Fei suddenly wondered if Xiang Lei would still like him like this.

What’s even likable about me? He Fei thought Xiang Lei’s affection couldn’t possibly be because he was He Fei—it must just be because he was a man. If He Fei hadn’t chased after him back then, the person walking this road now, heading toward that familiar place, would probably be someone else—just any man, someone to make do with.

But it wasn’t the same. It really wasn’t! Laozi liked him, but not just because he was a man!

Then what was it? What about him was worth liking? Because he reminded He Fei of the brother he could never get back? Or was it something else?

Because he was Xiang Lei—such a lazy reason. Because he was Xiang Lei.

His phone rang again. He Fei answered.

“When are you coming back?” Xiang Lei’s voice.

“Almost home. What? Fever’s back?” He Fei asked, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“No, it’s gone. I’m fine now.”

“Good. Just lie in bed and wait for me.”

“You drunk?”

“A little. I’ll be home in two minutes.”

“Mm.”

When He Fei opened the door, Xiang Lei was lying in bed watching TV. He Fei went straight to the bathroom to wash up, then took a shower, sobering up considerably. Afterward, he walked into the bedroom, grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, and climbed onto the bed—feet still wet—directly pressing down on Xiang Lei and kissing him forcefully.

The next second, He Fei jerked his lips away.

“Fuck! You ate garlic!”

He Fei roared, then rolled off, turning his back to Xiang Lei and curling up.

“I had the leftover noodles from lunch for dinner. Didn’t want to get sick… Mom said garlic kills bacteria.”

“Stay the hell away from me!” He Fei scooted a few inches toward the edge of the bed in disgust.

Then he felt Xiang Lei turn to face the other side.

He Fei realized he’d hurt his pride. Maybe he should at least pretend to comfort him with a few words. But He Fei immediately abandoned that simple plan—just the thought of “should” made him unbearably irritable.

269

In early April, Yang Lin and Zhang Wenwen invited He Fei and Xiang Lei to a meal together.

Zhang Wenwen said it was to see Yang Lin off, while Yang Lin said it was to celebrate Zhang Wenwen getting into grad school. Noticing Shi Zhuo’s absence, Xiang Lei cautiously asked Yang Lin why he hadn’t been invited. Yang Lin said she had already said goodbye to him privately.

After hesitating for a long time, Xiang Lei asked Yang Lin again, “You and Lao Shi… is there really no chance?”

Yang Lin smiled faintly but didn’t answer. Instead, she took out her phone and showed Xiang Lei her sent messages.

One of them read:

“Lao Shi, don’t think I’ve stopped loving you and started hating you instead. That’s not it. I just suddenly realized—if we keep going like this, will there come a day when we accidentally lose the love we’ve always been so proud of? I really don’t want to face that moment. I want us to keep this love for the rest of our lives—only then can it be complete. It’s not that I don’t trust you or our love. It’s just that I don’t like the process of maintaining it—holding it in my hands while constantly fearing it might shatter. I don’t want to be the woman who turns into a worn-out housewife by your side, and I’m sure you don’t want to witness me becoming that either. You know, love and being together have always been two different things.”

Really? Love and being together have always been two different things?

Then why do two people who love each other still try so hard to be together? Why do people go to such lengths, even willing to break their heads, not knowing that being together has nothing to do with the fulfillment of their love?

Xiang Lei roughly relayed Yang Lin’s words to He Fei, who said that Yang Lin was probably right—two people together for too long would inevitably grow tired of each other.

So Xiang Lei asked He Fei, “Have you grown tired of me yet?”

He Fei replied absentmindedly, “Yeah. Tired.”

Those lovers who end up together always fade from people’s sight at the right moment, never to be heard from again. But those who still remember them firmly believe they’ll live happily ever after—that no matter how many years pass, they’ll still feel the same flutter in their hearts as they did at first sight. People’s faith in unseen happiness is like their faith that the sunrise will always come after the darkest night.

270

By mid-April, He Fei didn’t want to drag things out anymore, so he signed a random sales job. The position required a driver’s license, so He Fei enrolled in a driving school—finally, something to keep him busy.

Meanwhile, Xiang Lei was busy every day with graduation project work.

Xiang Lei felt that if this went on much longer, he’d go prematurely gray. One of his topics was progressing smoothly, but the other hit a bottleneck as he dug deeper—it seemed like his four years of university hadn’t equipped him to break through.

But at this point, changing topics would be even costlier, so Xiang Lei had no choice but to grit his teeth and push forward. He Fei was basically no help—his major courses were either barely passed or retaken. In truth, Xiang Lei hadn’t expected much from him anyway.

At the end of April, Tao Zhuwen called to say that to secure an overseas internship opportunity, he had already earned the required credits for the semester early and would be leaving for Singapore in a few days. By the time he returned, Xiang Lei would likely have graduated. Tao Zhuwen wanted to have a meal together before leaving and, to avoid misunderstandings from Xiang Lei’s ‘friend,’ suggested he bring him along.

He Fei was adamant—he wouldn’t go. But he didn’t stop Xiang Lei from meeting Tao Zhuwen alone either.

Tao Zhuwen wasn’t alone. When Xiang Lei found him, there was another guy sitting beside him. Tao Zhuwen asked in surprise why Xiang Lei had come alone, and Xiang Lei said that he was busy with his driver’s license and couldn’t spare the time.

Tao Zhuwen introduced the guy next to him—his first official boyfriend—then introduced Xiang Lei to him, concluding with: “This is the one who completely shattered my innate self-confidence!”

When graduation projects came up unintentionally, Xiang Lei sighed repeatedly.

Once again, Tao Zhuwen could help. He said he had an eccentric genius friend from his hometown who was studying for a master’s at Tsinghua in the same field as Xiang Lei. He could introduce them and ask this senior for some pointers. Xiang Lei asked if he had to pay, and Tao Zhuwen laughed, saying treating him to a meal would be enough.

Before leaving, Tao Zhuwen took Xiang Lei to meet his friend. The three of them spent half an afternoon in Tao Zhuwen’s dorm, finally solving the problems that had been giving Xiang Lei headaches.

271

Passing by the Book Building, Xiang Lei suddenly thought he should buy a cookbook.

Just as he paid for the book, his phone rang. The duty member from Yucai Elementary told Xiang Lei that the school was being shut down—Teacher Zhang and the kids hoped he could come teach one last day tomorrow.

Xiang Lei was stunned and immediately asked what had happened. The member said Yucai Elementary didn’t have the qualifications to operate and had been forcibly shut down by the education department.

Xiang Lei’s first reaction was anger. He roared into the phone, “It’s been fucking ten years, and now they shut it down for this?! What’s going to happen to the kids?” The member timidly replied, “They’ll either go to slightly larger private migrant schools that haven’t been shut down or to local elementary schools…”

After hanging up, Xiang Lei stood frozen at the entrance of the Book Building, suddenly feeling lost, momentarily forgetting to leave.

He told himself that this might actually be a good thing for those kids. Yes, a good thing. They deserved to sit in more spacious classrooms, taught by more professional teachers.

Xiang Lei went back inside and bought a stack of children’s books, planning to give them to the kids as keepsakes.

The next day, Xiang Lei got up early to teach his last day at Yucai Elementary.

The kids clearly already knew what was coming. When Xiang Lei handed out the books he’d prepared, every one of them—except Xiao Guang—gave him a gift in return.

The gifts were all watercolor paintings, each with the words To our beloved Teacher Xiang written in different-colored crayons, along with their names. Teacher Zhang told Xiang Lei that the kids had asked Tong Tong to draw them—she had spent an entire day on them.

Xiao Guang had once had a falling-out with Tong Tong, and the two hadn’t spoken since. Xiao Guang swallowed his pride and asked Tong Tong for help but was refused on the spot. When Xiao Guang realized he had nothing to give Xiang Lei, he actually cried from frustration.

When Xiang Lei found out about this, he asked them why they had fallen out. The two started arguing over something that had happened months ago. Although Tong Tong felt wronged too, seeing Xiao Guang crying so pitifully made her blush, and her rebuttal lacked conviction.

Xiang Lei said, “Teacher doesn’t like seeing you two fighting.” At this, Xiao Guang stopped arguing and just wiped his tears with the back of his hand. Tong Tong turned to Xiao Guang and generously asked, “Then what do you want to draw for Teacher?”

During the last class, Xiang Lei said, “This is the last time I’ll stand here teaching you all.” As soon as he finished speaking, the children all lowered their heads in unison.

After a long pause, Hui Jia whispered, “Teacher, don’t go.”

The three boys then chimed in one after another, “Teacher, don’t go.”

Xiu Xiu, who had finally gained the confidence to answer questions—and who had passed a math test for the first time last semester, with no one mocking her for being slow anymore—buried her face in her arms on the desk, her shoulders shaking silently.

Tong Tong was bent over, hastily finishing the drawing she was helping Xiao Guang with, occasionally lifting her hand to wipe the corners of her eyes.

Xiang Lei wanted to say, You’ll go to better schools, you’ll have more friends to play with, you’ll have more professional teachers. But he couldn’t get a single word out. He walked out of the classroom and stood under the setting sun in that dilapidated courtyard, unable to hold back the flood of tears. Behind him, the sound of sobbing rose in unison.

It felt like he had lost something extraordinarily important. In that moment, Xiang Lei felt a helplessness unlike anything he’d ever known before.

When he lost that close friend who used to eat and study with him, Xiang Lei had found solace in understanding that person’s reasons. When he later went through heartbreak, illness, or beatings, he had believed that such misfortunes would eventually pass. When he feared that a long-desired love might end without resolution, he had at least been able to convince himself to face it calmly. But now, it was as if his chest had been hollowed out in an instant, leaving only the echo of where his pulse had once thrummed.

On the bus, Xiang Lei kept flipping through the watercolor paintings. Xiao Guang’s still had a small tearstain from Tong Tong. Recalling everything that had happened over the past six months, Xiang Lei cried openly, oblivious to the people around him.

Back at school, Xiang Lei gathered a few members of the club and drank heavily at a small restaurant off-campus.

They tried to comfort each other, saying they should be happy for the kids—they’d get to attend better schools now. But soon, they were hugging each other and crying.

Xiang Lei got drunk without even realizing it.

When he got home, before he could even glance into the bedroom to see if anyone was there, he rushed to the bathroom and threw up violently. He tried to rinse his mouth but barely managed to stand before collapsing back down, hitting his head hard against the toilet lid. It hurt.

“You okay?” He Fei’s voice came from the bedroom.

Xiang Lei didn’t respond. He simply sat on the damp bathroom floor, leaning against the tiled wall, and cried for a while. This time, it was just the air in his body forcing its way out of his throat—no tears accompanied it.

“You okay?” He Fei called again from the bedroom.

He only asked. He didn’t take a single step out of the bedroom, so Xiang Lei still couldn’t be bothered to reply.

Xiang Lei felt overwhelmingly exhausted and unconsciously quieted down. Only then did he notice the sounds of fighting and killing from the online game coming from the bedroom.

After a long while, Xiang Lei struggled to stand up again, rinsed his face briefly, and returned to the bedroom.

He Fei was absorbed in playing the game at his computer. Hearing movement behind him, he asked again without turning around, “You drank? You okay?”

“Weren’t you worried I might’ve just died in the bathroom?” Xiang Lei slumped against the edge of the bed and slid to the floor.

“Fuck! Could a dead person cry like that?” He Fei said dismissively.

“What if I cried first and then died?” Xiang Lei stared at his back and pressed.

“I knew you wouldn’t fucking die that easily! See? You’re alive and well, aren’t you?” He Fei’s tone was absentminded.

“You weren’t like this last time. Last time, you rushed over right away,” Xiang Lei said.

“Because last time, when I rushed over, I realized you were nowhere near dying. So this time, I knew there was no need to rush over.”

“You’re fucking heartless!” Xiang Lei suddenly shouted.

He Fei glanced back at Xiang Lei but didn’t respond.

“Too fucking heartless!” Xiang Lei repeated.

He Fei slammed his mouse down, turned around, and glared at the completely wasted Xiang Lei.

“What? Am I wrong? Aren’t you heartless?” Xiang Lei met his gaze with a challenging look.

“Throwing a drunken tantrum? Picking a fight for no reason?” He Fei asked, restraining himself.

“Who said it’s for no reason? Are we fine? If we were fine, how did we end up like this?” Xiang Lei couldn’t help but yell. “You’ve already started fucking hating me! How is that fine?”

“Then tell me, what should I do? Huh? Tell me how I can not hate you?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Xiang Lei shouted. “Tell me—have you changed, or were you always like this and I’m just seeing it now?”

He Fei sneered. “Or maybe—”

“What? You want to say it? Break up? I’ve said it twice—I won’t say it a third time! Have you forgotten the oath you swore? Is that why you want me to say it? Well, I’m telling you now—I won’t fucking say it!”

He Fei continued sneering. “Don’t misunderstand. Didn’t Yang Lin say it? Two people staring at each other for too long will eventually get sick of it. How about I disappear for a few days?”

“Whatever!” Xiang Lei yelled before tipping over and collapsing onto the floor.

He Fei’s sneer faded, replaced by a dark expression. He stood up, kicked his chair aside, slammed both doors shut behind him, and left without looking back.

Xiang Lei thought to himself: It’s finally happened.

Curled up on the floor beside the bed, Xiang Lei passed out in a drunken stupor.

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