Chapter 5 – Xu Menghu
by Salted Fish18
Xiang Lei met several online friends almost every week, sometimes even more than one in a single day. Most of Xiang Lei’s online friends were slightly older than him and would often take the initiative to treat him to meals, almost invariably choosing McDonald’s. Xiang Lei complained that he now felt nauseous at the sight of the red “M.”
Xiang Lei always insisted on not staying overnight off-campus. Yet, every time he returned, his roommates would eagerly ask him, “So, Xiang Lei, was the guy wild? How were his skills?” Sometimes, Xiang Lei ignored them, and other times he’d retort, “Probably way better than you, asshole.”
The outcomes of Xiang Lei’s meetups with online friends either ended in immediate rejection or fizzled out after a few days of dragging on. Occasionally, Xiang Lei hoped that after meeting so many people, he could at least make a few ordinary friends. But things were never that simple. Xiang Lei told us that those he rejected always felt that if there was no hope of being together, it was better to stay far away. We asked Xiang Lei if his standards were too high. He murmured somewhat blankly, “Maybe I’ve been looking for a shadow all along, and the chances of finding it are just too slim.”
After Xiang Lei met someone online with the screenname “Give Me a Cigarette,” the situation took an extreme turn. Xiang Lei almost stopped meeting online friends altogether and rarely even received phone calls. He started habitually going invisible on QQ, hoping that if he ever encountered “Give Me a Cigarette,” he could focus entirely on deeper conversations with him.
Xiang Lei gave the novel he’d poured his heart into over the past week a rather clichéd title—’Memories Like Smoke’—and posted it on a gay forum he frequented. The next day, “Give Me a Cigarette” sent him a private message: “I’m exactly the kind of troublemaker you wrote about in your story. I’m very interested in you. Be my brother, okay?”
Xiang Lei was genuinely moved by this greeting, something he’d never experienced before, and immediately replied, “No problem.” Soon after, his QQ received a system notification:
“Give Me a Cigarette” has requested to add you as a friend.
“Hey, brother! My name is Xu Menghu!” the other person quickly sent as his first message.
“Such a strange name. Is it real?” Xiang Lei couldn’t help but ask.
“Of course! Duh!” the other person declared firmly.
“It seems like there’s a story behind it. Did your mom dream of a fierce tiger before you were born?”
“You!!!”
After just these few simple exchanges, the other person’s QQ avatar quickly turned gray—as if he was angry. The avatar was of a shades-wearing guy with a ponytail, and no matter how much Xiang Lei apologized or tried to get his attention, it never lit up again.
19
The second time they met, “Give Me a Cigarette” didn’t seem to remember the previous incident at all and even initiated the greeting himself.
“I thought you were mad last time,” Xiang Lei said.
“Idiot, what kind of man holds grudges over something so small?”
“Why is it that every time I go online, I run into you? Are you online 24/7?”
“Do you believe in telepathy?”
“What do you mean?”
“I only come online when I feel like you’re online.”
“Seriously?” Xiang Lei laughed out loud in front of his computer.
“Duh! The way you never trust anyone is seriously asking for a beating!”
“Wait, are you violent?”
“It’s not that I’m violent—it’s that you just piss people off!”
“Looks like if I want to keep talking to you, I’ll really need to learn how to watch my words.”
“Fuck this!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I printed your story, and on all 36 pages, some text got cut off at the margins!”
“…”
And again, there was no reply. Xiang Lei noticed the shades-wearing avatar had once again turned gray.
20
Xiang Lei and Xu Menghu’s third chat set a record for duration. Xu Menghu asked if Xiang Lei could write something for him—something specific, something meant only for him.
Xiang Lei wasn’t sure what was worth writing about. Even if he copied and pasted every single exchange they’d had, along with forum posts and replies, it still wouldn’t amount to anything resembling a proper story.
But Xu Menghu had already come up with a title. “Call it ‘Bittersweet Romance’!” he said.
Then Xu Menghu briefly recounted half a story, hardly acknowledging any of Xiang Lei’s responses in between.
Halfway through, Xu Menghu suddenly said, “Forget it,” explaining that he suddenly felt suffocated, like he could barely muster the energy to type anymore. Then he logged off abruptly, as usual, without giving Xiang Lei a chance to say goodbye.
21
In the second year of middle school, Xiao A1A placeholder name, like “Guy A”. got caught up in a gang fight at a roller-skating rink in Dewai. Amid the frenzied beats of ‘No Limit2A hit song by the Dutch Eurodance group 2 Unlimited, released in 1993.,’ the teenagers who had been happily skating quickly cleared the floor, huddling in the corners, trembling yet oddly fascinated by the spectacle.
Seeing his brothers outnumbered, Xiao A rushed into the crowd in the corner, grabbed a random person, and urgently gave him an address and a name, telling him to go find that person immediately and explain the situation. Finally, after a moment’s thought, Xiao A added his own name.
About ten minutes later, Xiao A’s childhood friend showed up with more than twenty rowdy guys in tow, and the opposing gang immediately scattered. Later, as Xiao A was about to leave, he happened to notice a blushing boy standing by the counter, arguing with the girl behind it. Xiao A vaguely remembered that this was the same boy he’d grabbed to go call for help, so he walked over to see what the trouble was.
The boy wanted his deposit back, but the girl asked, “Where are your skates?” The boy said he’d left them by the counter earlier. The girl said there weren’t any there now. The boy explained he’d been in too much of a hurry to return them properly. The girl said he could’ve at least said something. The boy suggested maybe one of the staff had taken them, but the girl insisted no one had told her about any skates being collected from the counter. Xiao A stepped in and snapped at the girl, “Just ask every single person here right now if anyone took them!”
The girl glanced at Xiao A, then turned to ask her colleagues. A tall guy admitted he’d taken a pair. The girl turned back to the boy and said, “But how do we know those are the ones you rented?”
Xiao A lost his temper. “I’ll vouch for him! I saw it!”
The girl glared at Xiao A. “No need to yell, psycho!” She angrily handed the deposit back to the boy.
The boy gave Xiao A a slight nod and an awkward smile, took the money, and bolted. Xiao A chased after him, stopped him, asked for his name, and insisted on treating him to a meal.
The boy said his name was Xiao B3Guy B and didn’t refuse the offer. The two ate a basket of steamed buns and two bowls of zhajiang noodles at a hand-pulled noodle shop. Xiao B asked if Xiao A went to Jiaotong University’s affiliated middle school. Xiao A looked surprised, and Xiao B laughed, saying he’d seen him around school plenty of times—and that he was kind of famous. Xiao A naturally knew his “fame” mostly came from the disciplinary notices on the school’s announcement board.
Xiao A hadn’t really expected much when he grabbed a random person to go call for help, but Xiao B had actually done it. So Xiao A decided Xiao B was a righteous guy, someone worth being brothers with.
Later, Xiao B clarified that he’d actually been afraid Xiao A would recognize him at school later and retaliate if he didn’t help—his actions were more out of fear than loyalty. But by then, the truth didn’t matter much anymore. Before this, when five of Xiao A’s friends had pulled him into a sworn brotherhood, Xiao A had specifically gone to Xiao B’s house, dragged him out, and made him join the pact. Even if Xiao A had misunderstood Xiao B’s initial motives, it didn’t change the fact that they’d become brothers. After that, Xiao B became the seventh brother.
At a school-wide assembly honoring outstanding students the next semester, Xiao A found out Xiao B was one of the top students. Xiao A had never cared about who was smart or who wasn’t, but after learning Xiao B was a top student, he felt inexplicably proud. Almost every time he introduced Xiao B to his other friends, Xiao A would add, “This guy’s crazy smart!”
Then a lot of things happened. Xiao B always had Xiao A’s back—more than any of the other six brothers. The gang from the roller-skating rink resented Xiao B for meddling and beat him up when they ran into him. Xiao B, afraid the trouble would never end, never told Xiao A. When Xiao A found out from someone else, he was furious—both at Xiao B for not treating him like a brother and at the gang. Xiao B tearfully stopped him two or three times before Xiao A reluctantly gave up on revenge.
Later, Xiao A was betrayed by one of the seven brothers and nearly crippled in a brutal gang fight. Xiao B, who had never been in a fight before, endured countless blows alongside him and refused to leave him behind, no matter what.
In the dead silence of the city night, Xiao A was dragged to the hospital by Xiao B, who was wailing uncontrollably the whole way. His life was saved, and afterward, Xiao A started calling Xiao B “Xiao Liu4Literally “Little Six,” as in sixth brother. After one betrayed them and the “brotherhood” went down form 7 to 6 people..”
Later, as time passed, the boys grew up. People and circumstances changed. Those who had once shared good times together now found it hard to endure hardship side by side. The old brothers all grew indifferent to their bond—except for Xiao B, who became even more loyal to Xiao A. Xiao A sighed helplessly and said, “Looks like I’ll have to start calling you ‘Xiao Er5Literally “Little Two.” People left the “brotherhood” one by one, and only Xiao A and Xiao B remained‘ from now on.” The two of them burst into hysterical laughter over this.
Xiao B laughed until tears streamed down his face, gasping for breath between giggles as he said, “Brother, let’s not pick fights anymore. Even if people mess with us, let’s try to tolerate it. Only fight if we really can’t take it.” Xiao A, still chuckling, nodded dumbly and replied, “Okay, okay, I’ll listen to you, I’ll listen to you…”
—Bittersweet Romance (Part 1)
Edited by Xiang Lei
2001.11.9
22
The next time Xiang Lei saw Xu Menghu online, he asked, “Xiao A is you, isn’t it?” Instead of answering directly, “Give Me a Cigarette” replied with embarrassing tenderness: “I missed you.”
A week had passed since Xiang Lei received that first private message—this was their fourth online chat. In that week, ever since being moved by Xu Menghu’s initial message, Xiang Lei had vaguely felt that something significant was going to happen between them, even though he still knew almost nothing about the other man.
Online, Xiang Lei had no choice but to neglect several other friends he’d been chatting with. Even when on QQ, he’d use the excuse of being busy to decline conversation requests. If Xiang Lei decided to watch a DVD, he would set aside everything else to focus on it—otherwise, he’d rather not watch it at all. Now, with Xu Menghu, before anything concrete had even developed, Xiang Lei was already falling into his usual habit of single-minded devotion.
Xiang Lei pressed Xu Menghu to finish the other half of his story, but Xu Menghu lazily replied that he wasn’t in the mood to continue that day. So Bittersweet Romance was left unfinished.
Xu Menghu was actually a lurker on the forum, while Xiang Lei had risen to the rank of Super Mod. Out of personal bias, Xiang Lei appointed Xu Menghu as a moderator for a small subforum. As soon as this “nepotism hire mod” took office, he reposted Xiang Lei’s story in his section and pinned it at the top.
This online interaction lasted nearly a month. Despite feeling his emotions deepening day by day, Xiang Lei still knew painfully little about Xu Menghu.
Xu Menghu never seemed to consider meeting in person, only repeating sentimental words online endlessly.
He said he’d printed Xiang Lei’s story again, and this time, no text was cut off at the margins. He said he read passages from it almost every day and often felt like he was one of the characters. He said that during meals, while playing basketball, in class, on crowded buses or subways, watching TV, or even trying to sleep, the name Xiang Lei would suddenly pop into his mind—so much that it was disrupting his life.
Heart fluttering, Xiang Lei tentatively said, “I want to hear your voice.”
Soon after, he received a call in his dorm at the agreed-upon time. The voice on the other end sounded slightly flustered and got straight to the point: “Okay, now you’ve heard me.” Delighted, Xiang Lei wanted to chat more, but the other person said, “Your wish is granted. I’m hanging up.” Before Xiang Lei could respond, the line went dead.
Later, Xiang Lei said, “Let’s meet.”
Xu Menghu’s reply was: “I don’t have enough confidence to see you yet. Maybe I never will.” When Xiang Lei asked what he meant by “confidence,” Xu Menghu actually said, “I’m not sure.”
Xiang Lei was baffled.
Sometimes, Xu Menghu would say things like “I miss you”, “I like you”, or even “I want to be with you”. But the next day, he’d say, “Xiang Lei, you’re my good brother.” Disappointed, Xiang Lei declared that he’d accept this brotherhood but would keep searching for love. At that, Xu Menghu seemed unwilling to let go, spouting nonsense like “Don’t you like me anymore?” and “Isn’t my love enough for you?”
Xiang Lei asked him over and over, “Are you just messing with me?”
Xu Menghu only ever countered, “Do you really think that?”
Xiang Lei wanted to give up, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to.
23
The guy from Room 202 seemed to have a sixth sense. Even though Xiang Lei always logged into QQ invisibly, the guy would still greet him with a hi every time. Xiang Lei never replied. That awkward meeting, coupled with Liu Chong’s interference, had left Xiang Lei feeling a little guilty—even though none of it had been under his control, he was still the cause.
Later, the guy left a message: “Every time I put my hands on the keyboard, I don’t know what to say so as not to bother you. That day, seeing you with someone else—a familiar face from school—I didn’t know how to react, so I just left without a word. Sorry!”
So that was it. In the end, it was Liu Chong’s fault. If not for Xu Menghu, Xiang Lei might have been tempted. Even though the other person had misunderstood—thinking Xiang Lei had brought someone else along as a lack of sincerity—he still set aside his own hurt to apologize. At the very least, someone like that could be a good friend, maybe even a close one.
Xiang Lei replied: “That was my roommate. He followed me without me knowing.”
The next noon, shouts and the sound of a scuffle alarmed everyone on the second floor. We saw the guy from 202 wrestling with a tall guy from his own dorm in the hallway. People from nearby rooms gathered to watch, but no one stepped in to stop them. By the time the dorm supervisor arrived, both had bloody faces. Xiang Lei’s heart clenched at the sight.
That afternoon, Liu Chong returned to the dorm and told Xiang Lei that the guy from 202 had been seen at the school gate with bags, hailing a taxi. Xiang Lei’s heart lurched again: What’s he planning? Moving out? Dropping out?!
After that, the guy never appeared in Building 19 again, and his QQ avatar never lit up for Xiang Lei.
When Xiang Lei told Xu Menghu about this, he sighed with emotion. Xu Menghu immediately asked, “Did you like him?” Xiang Lei said, “If I hadn’t met you, maybe I would’ve considered it.” Xu Menghu replied, “Good.” Xiang Lei was speechless.
Xiang Lei could always see Xu Menghu online, but it felt like the day Xu Menghu would take the initiative to meet would never come. The longer it dragged on, the more Xiang Lei grew tired of it. When Xu Menghu said, “Be my best brother”, Xiang Lei asked helplessly, “If you don’t even think you’re gay, why did you come after me?” Xu Menghu’s reply made Xiang Lei want to bang his head against the wall: “What counts as gay? What doesn’t? I can fall in love with men, but I only like sleeping with women.”
“Fine, you’re not fully gay. Being brothers isn’t bad, but for me, that’s far from enough. I really need love,” Xiang Lei said.
“If you need a man’s love that badly, you can’t care about brotherhood the way I do,” Xu Menghu retorted.
Xiang Lei thought about it and realized Xu Menghu was right. Whenever he cared deeply about a brother, it was never just brotherhood. And when someone was purely a brother, maybe he couldn’t care enough.
“If it’s purely brotherhood, would you still get jealous if your brother cared more about his lover?”
“If the lover’s a woman, why be jealous? If the lover’s another brother—yes!” Xu Menghu’s words made Xiang Lei’s imagination run wild, picturing the expression on that elusive face.
In the latter half of his senior year of high school, Xiang Lei had repeatedly fallen into uncontrollable online romances. After tasting every possible flavor of that experience, that phase of his life naturally passed. Xiang Lei concluded that he was just an ordinary person who couldn’t be satisfied with Platonic fantasies. If he could, Pei Yong would have been enough!
So, with Xu Menghu, Xiang Lei finally decided to give up.
He turned his QQ status back to visible and started reconnecting with the online friends he’d neglected for so long.
24
Xiang Lei updated his diary on the forum.
November 30, cloudy, cold. Xiang Lei plans to meet an online friend tomorrow.
Xiang Lei was used to writing diaries that anyone on the forum could read. If they were sad, it might seem like he was fishing for sympathy; if they were sweet, it might seem like he was flaunting his happiness. But he didn’t care whether readers related—he just wanted to be understood. He firmly believed that keeping too much bottled up would only make him as exhausted as he’d been in high school.
At some point, the self-proclaimed Xu Menghu had become the first reader of all Xiang Lei’s online writings.
Under the latest diary entry, he left a reply: After the tornado, wait for the downpour before you go. —Typical of his pretentious, inscrutably profound style.
“You’re meeting someone again?” he asked Xiang Lei on QQ.
“What, you have a problem with that?” Xiang Lei shot back.
“Do you need so-called love that badly?”
“Yes.”
“More than most people?”
“Yes.”
“Never considering how I feel?”
“You? I don’t know who you are, where you are, what you’re like, whether you’re fat, an old man, a playboy, or a sadist. You never show your real self. Apart from some vague nonsense, I get nothing meaningful from you. At best, you’re a gust of wind—you blow in when you feel like it and leave when you’re happy. You think it’s fun, but I can’t keep playing along.” Xiang Lei suddenly typed out this emotional rant.
After a long pause, the reply came: “But I really do like you.”
Just as Xiang Lei was about to type “But I can’t live on Plato—”, the other avatar went dark.
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