Chapter 7 – Beyond Measure and Ashamed Beyond Words

30

It was probably after the day Xiang Lei visited He Fei in the hospital that he became noticeably less flamboyant when answering phone calls in the dorm. The flirtatious remarks decreased, and he deliberately lowered his voice. Most of the calls were naturally from Wu Liang. Sometimes, Xiang Lei would say, “It’s not convenient to talk now. Let’s chat online instead.” Then, grabbing his computer card, he’d head to the computer lab.

Xiang Lei saw the shades-wearing avatar of “Give Me a Cigarette” lit up online. He initially thought of greeting him but then realized he didn’t know what to say afterward, so he decided against it. After some hesitation, he felt it was inappropriate and switched to invisible mode.

“Why’d you run away?” Wu Liang messaged.

“I didn’t. I just went invisible. There’s someone online I don’t want to talk to but don’t want to ignore outright either,” Xiang Lei replied.

“Just block them. What’s the big deal?” Wu Liang said.

“That’d be too rude. At the very least, we’re still friends,” Xiang Lei answered.

“What kind of friend? A former flame of yours?”

“What former flame?”

“Someone you were with before me? I’m jealous.”

“You’re my first official partner.”

“Really? Wow! I hit the jackpot, then!”

“Have you been with a lot of people before?”

“Don’t overthink it. You’re my first official one too.”

“Ah? So you’re planning on having an eastern palace and a western palace too¹A reference to the living quarters in an ancient Chinese imperial harem. The Empress (the primary, official wife) typically resided in the Eastern Palace, while high-ranking consorts lived in the Western Palace.?” Xiang Lei laughed while feigning annoyance.

“Heh, no. You can handle both roles. By the way, what should I call you?”

“Whatever.”

“Lei, Xiao Lei, Leilei, Xiao Leilei, Leizi, Xiao Leizi, Leir, Xiao Leir—which one do you like?”

“……” Xiang Lei burst into laughter in the quiet computer lab, drawing countless glances.

“Or: wife, baby, sweetheart, darling, honey, my heart—pick one.”

“……” Xiang Lei was on the verge of collapse.

“Pick one!”

“Why isn’t there a ‘husband’ option?”

“Because I’ve already claimed that title. I’m older, taller, and stronger than you, so of course I’m the husband!”

“All you care about are comparisons. You choose, but honestly, they all sound ridiculous to me,” Xiang Lei said.

“Ridiculous is fine as long as it’s just between us. Don’t be ridiculous with others, and we’re good. So, I’ll call you ‘wife.'”

“That’s weird!” was Xiang Lei’s first reaction.

“Fine, then I’ll go with ‘baby.’ No more complaining.”

“If there’s nothing better, I’ll just have to live with it.”

“Baby!”

“Mhm.”

Then Wu Liang started urging Xiang Lei to pick a nickname for him. Just then, the shades-wearing avatar flashed in the taskbar. Amidst the little bubble of happiness surrounding him, Xiang Lei felt a flicker of hesitation at the sight of that blinking icon. He clicked on it and saw a message from Xu Menghu: “You won’t even acknowledge me now?”

“I was writing something. How did you know I was online?” Xiang Lei replied.

“I could feel you were. How’s it going with that guy?”

“Great. Really happy.” Sending that message gave Xiang Lei a rush of satisfaction.

“And you’re sure it’ll stay that way?”

“It will! Absolutely! Always!” Xiang Lei deliberately intensified that satisfying feeling inside.

“Alright, protect yourself—both body and heart. Maybe when the day comes that you have to take those words back, I’ll reappear. Wishing you happiness. Goodbye!”

By the time the shades-wearing avatar stopped blinking, it had already turned gray. Xiang Lei couldn’t tell whether he’d been too slow to react or the other person had been too quick. That satisfying feeling instantly turned Ah Q-esque²A reference to the main character from “The True Story of Ah Q,” a famous novella by Chinese author Lu Xun. Ah Q is known for his method of “spiritual victory,” where he rationalizes his failures and humiliations into psychological triumphs, a form of self-deception and self-consolation., and Xiang Lei found himself inexplicably weighed down by an inescapable sense of loss, even as he reminded himself that he was supposed to be happy.

Xiang Lei clicked on the avatar’s profile and saw that “Give Me a Cigarette” had changed his name to “Days Without Cigarettes.” He started contemplating the meanings behind these usernames, only to realize that such thoughts were ultimately meaningless.

31

Wu Liang told Xiang Lei, “I miss you so much I’m in a daze.”

On Thursday afternoon, when there were no classes, Xiang Lei went to Wu Liang’s school.

After strolling around the Polytechnic University campus, it was time for dinner. Wu Liang asked Xiang Lei what he wanted to eat. Xiang Lei said braised eggplant. Wu Liang asked what else, and Xiang Lei said chicken drumsticks. Wu Liang remarked that he was easy to please and then took Xiang Lei to the school cafeteria for dinner.

“I’ll take you somewhere,” Wu Liang said mysteriously.

Wu Liang walked briskly ahead while Xiang Lei trailed two or three meters behind, neither speaking. Deep in a secluded garden where few people passed, Wu Liang finally turned around, slowed his pace, and extended his right hand toward Xiang Lei.

Xiang Lei hesitated before catching up and shyly offering his left hand.

“What’s there to be afraid of? More people around here know me than know you,” Wu Liang said with a laugh.

So the two boys held hands, left and right, walking through the dimly lit garden. Wu Liang stopped by a wall, still smiling mysteriously, and asked Xiang Lei, “So, what do you think? Nice spot, huh?”

“What’s so special about it?” Xiang Lei asked, puzzled.

At that moment, Wu Liang turned to face Xiang Lei fully. His smile shifted—mischievous now, tinged with temptation and recklessness. That silent, complex expression soon condensed entirely in Wu Liang’s gaze, just a few centimeters above Xiang Lei’s own eyes. Wu Liang stared at Xiang Lei unblinkingly, and Xiang Lei suddenly felt self-conscious. He let out a soft laugh and lowered his head.

“Damn, you’re blushing!” Wu Liang grabbed Xiang Lei’s other hand, bent down, tilted his head, and continued that reckless grin as he studied Xiang Lei’s face.

Flustered, Xiang Lei took a slight stumble and leaned back against the wall.

“Baby, you’re such a tease!” Wu Liang murmured into Xiang Lei’s ear. Then Xiang Lei felt Wu Liang’s lips on his. Before Xiang Lei could close his eyes, he saw Wu Liang’s own eyes—the same ones that had just been filled with that complex smile—now shut softly, overflowing with tenderness.

Wu Liang never let go of Xiang Lei’s hand, keeping his body just a fist’s width away, making no further advances beyond that greedy kiss. It lasted a long time—gentle but far from simple. Xiang Lei couldn’t help closing his eyes, feeling as though time had stopped while space stretched infinitely around them.

Only when footsteps approached did Wu Liang swiftly shift to Xiang Lei’s side, breaking the kiss.

Someone passed by and walked off. Wu Liang chuckled in relief before turning back to face Xiang Lei, immediately recapturing his lips. Then he unzipped both their jackets, slipped his arms beneath their sweaters to wrap around Xiang Lei’s waist, and pulled him flush against his body.

This time, Wu Liang’s kiss was noticeably wilder. Xiang Lei felt breathless more than once, his breathing growing heavy. When he opened his eyes, he saw Wu Liang’s still-closed lids, the tenderness unchanged. Xiang Lei found gazing at that expression almost more enjoyable than the kiss itself, so he kept his eyes open. Suddenly, Wu Liang opened his too. Xiang Lei saw Wu Liang blink twice, and found it absolutely bizarre—so much so that he couldn’t help but start laughing, and once he started, he couldn’t stop, laughing until the kiss couldn’t go on.

“Baby, you’re not taking this seriously,” Wu Liang pretended to scowl.

“What do you mean?” Xiang Lei asked between giggles.

“They say keeping your eyes open while kissing means you’re not really into it,” Wu Liang said gravely.

“How did you know my eyes were open if yours were closed?” Xiang Lei kept laughing.

“I felt you weren’t fully present, so I opened mine to check,” Wu Liang said.

Xiang Lei thought about it and realized it might be true—having his eyes open was distracting. So he stopped laughing, looped his arms over Wu Liang’s shoulders, cradled Wu Liang’s head, closed his eyes, and kissed him first. Wu Liang suddenly tightened his embrace, nearly lifting Xiang Lei off the ground.

They kissed endlessly, only pausing when interrupted by passing footsteps—as if those interruptions were intermissions. Once the footsteps faded, they’d reunite as if under a spell. Eventually, the frequency of joggers increased, forcing more frequent breaks, until Wu Liang reluctantly led Xiang Lei away.

The wind picked up, bringing a chill. Wu Liang went back to his dorm to fetch a vest for Xiang Lei to wear under his jacket, then took him to McDonald’s for hot drinks. Before the last bus, Xiang Lei had to leave. Wu Liang brought him back to that secluded garden, insisting on a proper goodbye kiss.

At one point, footsteps approached again, but Wu Liang kept kissing Xiang Lei as if nothing else mattered. Xiang Lei nervously tried to push him away, but Wu Liang only held him tighter, his kisses growing more fervent. Xiang Lei didn’t dare check if the passerby had looked their way, but in that moment, he found he didn’t care.

Wu Liang walked Xiang Lei to the bus stop, where they passed a popcorn vendor. Wu Liang asked if he wanted butter or caramel flavor. Xiang Lei said it didn’t matter—he couldn’t taste anything anyway, since his lips and tongue were numb. Wu Liang froze for a second before bursting into laughter.

Wu Liang sat with Xiang Lei while waiting for the bus.

“Baby, what do you want to do this weekend? Anywhere you’d like to go?” Wu Liang asked.

“Don’t you have tutoring?”

“There’ll be plenty of time after! Shopping? A movie? A day trip?”

“How about…” Xiang Lei drew out the word teasingly.

“What?”

“How about—how about we get a room.” Xiang Lei couldn’t help laughing as he said it.

“You sure? I’m not pressuring you,” Wu Liang said earnestly.

“Bus is here, bus is here.” Without another word, Xiang Lei grabbed the large bag of buttered popcorn and hopped on. Through the window, he waved goodbye. Wu Liang responded with a dramatic, heartfelt flying kiss.

Xiang Lei glanced around and saw that everyone on the bus was staring at Wu Liang, standing alone on the windy platform. His heart swelled with overwhelming happiness, yet at the same time, he burned with unbearable embarrassment.

32

Xiang Lei often felt his personality was a bit dull, so he sometimes deliberately tried to be humorous—like when someone teased him for interrupting a “manly” conversation, he’d occasionally playfully affect a coy tone, or when Wu Liang mentioned weekend plans, he teased him with the suggestion of getting a room. The next day, when Wu Liang called to discuss their Saturday meetup time and location, Xiang Lei replied, “Let’s decide what we’re doing first.”

“Damn! You’re backing out after all!” Wu Liang laughed, his voice exaggeratedly accusing.

“What?” Xiang Lei asked innocently.

“Nothing. Let’s go see a movie!” Wu Liang chuckled.

Xiang Lei suddenly remembered his joke about getting a room—apparently, Wu Liang had taken it seriously. He quickly tried to recall whether the moment had felt natural enough to follow through. The answer came fast. “I’m not backing out,” Xiang Lei said. “Come to my school, and we’ll book it together.”

After finishing his tutoring session, Wu Liang met Xiang Lei around 2 p.m. They found a small inn near campus with a sign that simply read “Hotel.” The price was surprisingly cheap, so they booked a double room on the spot, took the key, and headed to Xidan to play arcade games.

The underground pedestrian crossing at Xidan was unusually empty—aside from Xiang Lei and Wu Liang, there were only two girls chatting behind them. Wu Liang glanced back, suddenly cupped Xiang Lei’s face, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. Then, with a quick twist, he spun Xiang Lei around to face the girls before darting away himself. Only when Xiang Lei saw the shock on the girls’ faces did he realize what had happened. His face burned, and he quickly turned and ran off.

After dinner, Wu Liang pressed close to Xiang Lei’s ear and whispered eagerly, “I want to get back to the hotel fast and just hold you while we watch TV.” But when they arrived, they realized they’d been scammed. The room reeked of mildew, the air was bitingly cold, and the blankets were damp and dirty. When they turned on the TV, only one channel came in clearly—and the show was mind-numbingly boring.

“Fine. We’ll make our own entertainment.” Wu Liang smirked slyly, shut the door, pulled Xiang Lei into a rough kiss, and began stripping off his shirt.

“It’s freezing!” Xiang Lei pushed Wu Liang away, took off his outer layers, and slipped into the damp bed wearing just his thermal underwear.

Wu Liang quickly undressed and climbed in after him, wrapping his arms around Xiang Lei and resuming the kiss. He rolled on top of Xiang Lei, grinding against him with frantic urgency. Xiang Lei could practically hear Wu Liang’s trembling heartbeat—even the noise of their movements couldn’t drown it out. And the hand roaming his body shook just as fiercely as that heartbeat. From this alone, Xiang Lei could tell just how much the person kissing him wanted him.

Then the sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted them. Wu Liang bolted upright, sitting on the edge of the bed just as the door swung open. A middle-aged woman holding a notebook and pencil peered inside, announced, “Room check,” scribbled something down, and closed the door without another word.

Wu Liang turned to Xiang Lei and groaned, “Holy shit!” The moment he said it, there was another knock. Wu Liang opened the door to find a different woman holding an electric heater. “This is for your room,” she said.

“Thanks,” Wu Liang replied tersely, then added, “Tell your people not to just unlock doors without warning!”

He was equal parts furious and relieved. If he hadn’t reacted fast enough, that nosy woman would’ve gotten an eyeful.

Once the heater was plugged in, Wu Liang climbed back under the covers with Xiang Lei. He kissed him relentlessly but couldn’t regain the earlier momentum. Xiang Lei suggested they sleep first and wait until the staff stopped bothering them before continuing. Wu Liang reluctantly agreed.

In the middle of the night, Xiang Lei was woken by Wu Liang’s kisses. Wu Liang hadn’t bothered waking him up him first—instead, his tongue slipped past Xiang Lei’s lips, searching gently. Like the night before, the kiss was tender, Wu Liang’s eyes shut in concentration. When Xiang Lei opened his own eyes and saw that expression, he felt intoxicated.

The moment Xiang Lei responded, Wu Liang ignited like a bonfire, rolling on top of him. The bed had warmed up by now, and Wu Liang arched his back, hastily peeling off Xiang Lei’s clothes. His mouth left Xiang Lei’s lips to trail kisses down his cheek, neck, and chest—meticulous, unhurried.

As Wu Liang busied himself, Xiang Lei remembered the ill-timed laughter from before and inexplicably started giggling again. Wu Liang ignored him at first, continuing his ministrations, but Xiang Lei couldn’t stop.

“Baby, what’s so funny?” Wu Liang asked.

“I don’t know,” Xiang Lei admitted.

“Stop laughing,” Wu Liang mock-scolded.

This only made Xiang Lei laugh harder.

“Baby, please,” Wu Liang begged, half-amused, half-exasperated.

Xiang Lei was now wheezing with laughter. Wu Liang pressed down on him, recapturing his lips, and finally, Xiang Lei seemed to get it out of his system, eagerly kissing back.

Just as the fire between them reignited, Wu Liang suddenly rolled to the side and stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Xiang Lei asked.

Wu Liang didn’t answer for a long moment.

“What’s wrong?” Xiang Lei shook his shoulder and asked again.

“I… finished,” Wu Liang muttered.

Xiang Lei didn’t believe him at first. He reached down and felt the sheets beside them—sure enough, they were damp and warm. Wu Liang had climaxed without any of the usual signs, no warning at all. It was so strange that Xiang Lei burst into laughter again.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Wu Liang grumbled, though he was chuckling too.

“You made a mess of their sheets. What do we do?”

“Their sheets were already filthy!” Wu Liang retorted.

No sooner had he spoken than he was kissing Xiang Lei again, one hand sliding between his legs. Xiang Lei tried to mimic Wu Liang’s earlier restraint, holding back his reactions, but failed spectacularly—his heavy breathing and low moans betrayed him instantly. When Wu Liang noticed, he sucked hard on Xiang Lei’s lips and quickened his pace.

Afterward, Wu Liang lay flat, pulling Xiang Lei’s head onto his chest. Xiang Lei reached up to touch his face and was surprised to feel something wet. His heart clenched—Wu Liang was crying, silently.

“Why are you crying?” Xiang Lei asked softly.

“I don’t know. I just feel… really lucky,” Wu Liang murmured, tightening his arms around Xiang Lei.

“Let’s stay together, no matter what,” Xiang Lei vowed.

The words brought his own tears spilling over. He didn’t wipe them away fast enough—the stream from his right eye merged with the one from his left, trickling past his temple and dampening Wu Liang’s chest.

The moment struck Xiang Lei as almost melodramatic, yet he couldn’t help it.

Wu Liang cupped his face and kissed him, deep and desperate.

33

Xu Menghu seemed to have truly vanished. Every time Xiang Lei went to the computer lab, he’d log into QQ, but the shades-wearing avatar never lit up or flashed again.

Sometimes, Xiang Lei wondered if the man had been a figment of his imagination all along—like the fictional characters he’d conjured for himself back in middle school, appearing and disappearing as needed.

Maybe he felt this way because Wu Liang was giving him so much happiness now.

The morning they woke up in the hotel, Xiang Lei opened his eyes to find Wu Liang already staring at him from inches away. The sight made him dizzy for a second—at first, he thought it was an illusion. Only when he saw Wu Liang’s familiar smile did it feel real.

To gaze silently at someone’s face while they slept beside you—that had to be real love. Xiang Lei suddenly became aware of his own oily skin and the sleep crust in the corners of his eyes, so he ducked further under the covers in embarrassment.

Wu Liang grinned and kissed his shiny forehead anyway.

Then, worriedly, he mentioned that red spots had broken out all over his body—probably from the hotel’s filth—and he wanted to hurry back to shower. Xiang Lei would’ve liked to stay longer, but seeing Wu Liang’s concern, he reluctantly got up and checked out early.

Xiang Lei walked Wu Liang to the bus stop, then Wu Liang walked Xiang Lei back to campus, then Xiang Lei, unwilling to part, walked Wu Liang to the stop again. Their back-and-forth dragged on like a drawn-out farewell scene from a tragedy, lasting until noon. They ate lunch together, and finally, Xiang Lei sent Wu Liang off at the bus stop for good.

That night, Wu Liang called Xiang Lei, sounding anxious, and asked him to go online to talk.

He said the red spots had multiplied and itched terribly—he was afraid he’d caught some infection at the hotel. He asked if Xiang Lei was okay, and Xiang Lei assured him he was fine. Then Wu Liang admitted he was scared. If he really had contracted something filthy, he wanted Xiang Lei to leave him.

Xiang Lei replied firmly, “No matter what happens, I won’t use it as an excuse to walk away.”

He truly meant it.

Xiang Lei felt that if love ever came to him, it wouldn’t come easily. There was no excuse grand enough to justify leaving someone he still loved. Ever since he’d first recognized the feeling of “love,” he’d believed it was purely a matter of the spirit—everything else was incidental.

Like a lush tree—even if every branch, leaf, and vine were stripped away, it would still be a tree.

34

On Thursday, Xiang Lei planned to visit Wu Liang, but Wu Liang said over the phone that it was too cold and urged him to stay on campus and study. Xiang Lei ignored him and went anyway.

The red spots on Wu Liang hadn’t disappeared, though medication had eased the itching. Because of this, Wu Liang spent the whole afternoon with Xiang Lei in low spirits. Xiang Lei understood he was still worried about being sick and didn’t blame him.

After dinner, Wu Liang told Xiang Lei to head back to campus. He said the cold made walking miserable, there was nowhere else to go, and with exams in a month, they should each return to study.

Xiang Lei was suddenly heartbroken. He’d been looking forward to this Thursday for days. Despite the awful weather, he’d insisted on coming to see Wu Liang—only to be told to leave early now.

He fell silent.

Wu Liang looked at him guiltily and tried to cheer him up.

“Who made my baby upset? I’ll beat the crap out of them! It’s barely past six—why would I send my baby away? We should stay till at least eight! Otherwise, who’s gonna take responsibility if the roads near Polytechnic aren’t smooth enough for you?”

Xiang Lei couldn’t stay upset after that. They climbed to the top floor stairwell of Polytechnic’s Teaching Building No. 3, sat on the floor, and took turns singing. Wu Liang crooned, “I’ll take you to see the meteor shower, let it rain on this earth, let your tears fall on my shoulder.” Xiang Lei joined in: “I want you to believe my love dares only for you, you’ll see where happiness lies.³These lyrics are from the opening theme song for Meteor Garden.”

At eight, Wu Liang walked Xiang Lei back to his school.

“Good thing I didn’t storm off earlier. I would’ve lost sleep over it,” Xiang Lei said.

“Will you lose sleep now?” Wu Liang teased.

“Probably not. I was so happy to see you, and you crushed me,” Xiang Lei grumbled.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to. I don’t know when you’ll really understand me,” Wu Liang said, pinching Xiang Lei’s cheek. “Next time, I’ll come to you. Watching you run around breaks my heart.”

As usual, Wu Liang bought a large bag of buttered popcorn. As usual, he blew a flying kiss to Xiang Lei through the bus window. And as usual, under the gaze of every passenger, Xiang Lei burned with both overwhelming happiness and unbearable embarrassment.

• 1
  A reference to the living quarters in an ancient Chinese imperial harem. The Empress (the primary, official wife) typically resided in the Eastern Palace, while high-ranking consorts lived in the Western Palace.
• 2
  A reference to the main character from “The True Story of Ah Q,” a famous novella by Chinese author Lu Xun. Ah Q is known for his method of “spiritual victory,” where he rationalizes his failures and humiliations into psychological triumphs, a form of self-deception and self-consolation.
• 3
  These lyrics are from the opening theme song for Meteor Garden.