Chapter 12 – Xing Baichuan 0.5

Li Jiangluo told me a story, not a long one, just a few words, yet I found it hard to believe.

His face was deathly pale, his tone casual, but his eyes were filled with pain and despair.

After listening, I stood there in a daze for quite some time, trying to process what he had just told me through the passage of time.

The continuous bombardment of information beyond my imagination over the past few days had left me somewhat overwhelmed. I didn’t understand before why Li Jiangluo kept saying that he was the cause of Bolin’s misfortune, but now I did.

He said he was a “sex-averse” patient, and explained his condition to me succinctly with a few simple sentences.

But I didn’t believe that such an illness really existed in this world.

It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?

I needed to calm down, I needed time to think.

I left that room and urgently opened my laptop, which I always carry with me, and typed “sex aversion” into the search bar on the web page.

Row after row of search results, coupled with what Li Jiangluo had told me, made me understand the reason for Bolin’s infidelity.

But understanding doesn’t mean acceptance or forgiveness; the one who erred was still my brother.

Inability to have sex wasn’t a justification for his affair; it was his wavering heart and primal, ugly desires that were the reasons.

I remained disappointed in him and still felt apologetic towards Li Jiangluo.

He didn’t tell me much, merely stated his condition matter-of-factly. Though he tried to downplay it, the pain that permeated his words was not lost on me.

Words spoken by people are always processed layer upon layer within their hearts. The initial sorrow, frustration, and bitterness that well up from the depths of their hearts, when they reach the lips and are finally spoken, are carefully polished. Their owners always want them to appear light, not so attention-grabbing.

No one wants to truly display their most wretched side to outsiders. That’s a scar best hidden away, and unless absolutely necessary, no one would want to reveal it.

Especially someone like Li Jiangluo.

Perhaps, gathering the courage to be with Bolin was a significant feat for him.

Xing Bolin, his theatrical death, and the letter filled with love that was actually all about harm—maybe this had utterly dashed Li Jiangluo’s hopes in love.

I closed the laptop and reached into my pocket, finding an empty pack of cigarettes.

I sat in the living room for a while, feeling that I must have a proper conversation with Li Jiangluo.

I pushed open that door once again, and Li Jiangluo was still sitting on the bed, hugging a blanket.

Scattered around me on the floor were fragments of paper—the remains of my brother’s suicide note, which Li Jiangluo had torn up and attempted to eat.

The scene I saw when I came in earlier was something I’d probably never forget. For a moment, I thought Li Jiangluo had gone mad.

Fortunately, he hadn’t, but I felt that if I didn’t help him move forward soon, I’d soon have to take care of a lunatic.

“Want to eat?” I walked over, holding a bowl and asked him again.

He stared out the window in a daze, not responding to me.

I scooped a spoonful of rice and brought it to his mouth, pausing for a few seconds before he opened his mouth.

I didn’t know what was happening, why, after my brother’s passing, I, who was originally overwhelmed with grief, had to take care of his lover as well.

Oh right, I remembered, because my brother wronged him.

Li Jiangluo kept saying that everything was his fault these past two days. How could I make him understand that the tragedy that occurred, both of them bore responsibility for it?

I didn’t want him to continue like this, didn’t want to see him so self-condemning.

I also had grievances with him, even thinking that if someone had this kind of illness, they shouldn’t date and shouldn’t hurt others.

But since things had come to this, what was the point of resentment?

The harm Bolin inflicted on him was real, and seeing everything, I couldn’t just stand idly by.

Bolin still loved him, regardless of the reason. I thought that, no matter what, I should lend Li Jiangluo a hand.

Only while taking care of him, I also pondered that he wasn’t the only one suffering. I was making efforts to save him, so who would help me?

Bolin’s funeral needed to be arranged soon, and before the funeral, I had to notify my parents.

That would be the biggest hurdle I faced.

I couldn’t bear to watch my family suffer, and I could already imagine their reaction when they heard the news.

Their youngest son, that Bolin who liked to wrap his arm around Dad’s shoulder and stroll around the square, was dead.

“How are you?”

Li Jiangluo suddenly spoke.

I was taken aback, realizing that my hand holding the spoon was suspended in mid-air, half of the rice in the spoon had fallen onto the bed.

I collected myself, handed him the bowl and spoon, and as I tidied up, I said, “I’m fine, you eat yourself.”

Li Jiangluo held the bowl of rice, looking at me, and said to me, “Brother, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.”

When he called me “Brother,” I inevitably thought of Bolin, my only younger brother. The bond between siblings, how could outsiders understand.

I tried to suppress my emotions and not lose composure in front of Li Jiangluo again. Now, the burden on my shoulders was too heavy. On one side was Li Jiangluo, whom my brother wronged, and on the other side were my parents who were still unaware. I felt a storm brewing, unsure if I could really withstand it.

“Tomorrow, I have to go back to Canada for a trip, to pick up my parents.” I said, “Take good care of yourself here, we’ll be back soon.”

I originally planned to look for a house tomorrow because I really didn’t want to spend another second in Xu Zhao’s home.

But until Bolin’s affairs were resolved, I couldn’t focus on anything else.

After leaving the room, I booked my flight.

Then I went outside to buy some groceries. Since I didn’t know what Li Jiangluo could eat and didn’t have the energy to ask, I prepared some dishes randomly. Afterward, I put them in lunch boxes, attaching heating times to each box, so he could just pop them in the microwave when he was hungry.

After doing all that, it was about time for me to leave.

I didn’t know what else there was to say to Li Jiangluo, so I wrote a note and left it on the coffee table in the living room, then grabbed my simple luggage and left.

The wind had picked up, and it was very cold.

I walked a long distance before catching a taxi.

On the way to the airport, it was unfortunately coincidental that we passed by Swan Bay Community. I looked over but couldn’t find the building where Bolin used to live.

From the moment I saw the community until it disappeared around the bend, it took less than a minute. My heart felt as if countless knives were piercing it. Closing my eyes, I could hear the sound of blood dripping onto the ground.

My beloved younger brother, now forever separated from me by life and death. We had promised to celebrate our birthdays together every year, but from now on, it would be just me alone.

Birthdays, I probably wouldn’t celebrate anymore. We came into this world together, and now that he was gone, what mood did I have to celebrate the continuation of my own life?

I leaned against the back of the taxi seat, my eyes closed, with the sound of two radio hosts bantering in my ears.

The world seemed unchanged, everyone still forced smiles as they were pushed along by time. Yet, the world seemed to have changed completely. My home, which once belonged to me, had transformed beyond recognition.

In my pocket was Bolin’s photo, the one of him and Li Jiangluo together.

In the photo, my brother smiled particularly brightly, as if enveloped in a soft glow, his face filled with happiness.

I found this photo in Li Jiangluo’s suitcase and hid it away like a thief.

I resented my brother, yet I missed him.

On the fourth day since he left this world, I had an unprecedented desire to embrace him.

I returned to Canada, where it had also snowed heavily.

My parents didn’t know I was coming back today, nor had I called them.

The yard at home was neatly swept, the snow piled up into a chubby little mountain, seemingly waiting for children to dress it up with a scarf and eyes.

I went inside, pushed the door open, and as soon as I entered the house, I saw my mother sleeping on the sofa, hugging a half-knitted scarf.

This sight made me even sadder. How could I possibly break the terrible news to her.

I set down my suitcase and quietly walked over, kneeling in front of my mother.

I knelt for a long time, tears streaming down my face.

I originally thought I could calmly tell them this cruel news, because if I wasn’t calm, the whole family would really be thrown into chaos.

But now, I realized I couldn’t do it.

I didn’t even dare to wake my sleeping mother.

She was a lovable old lady, although she never let me call her old.

Of course, in my heart, she wasn’t old at all; it was just that Bolin and I liked to tease her.

Before she came to Canada, Bolin accompanied her to get a trendy perm, which complemented her big eyes, making her youthful and charming.

At that time, my father complained and told my mother to spend less time chatting with those old men.

Those were my parents, kind and lovable. But why did they have to face such a harsh reality.

“Baichuan, why are you back?”

My father came out from inside, saw me, and quickly approached.

My mother, who was in a light sleep, also woke up, groggy, and froze upon seeing me.

I must have frightened her. She dropped the knitting needles in her hands and rushed over, wiping away my tears as she asked, “Son, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I hugged her tightly, finally breaking down in tears.

How could I explain? What should I do to minimize the harm to them?

Why did the people I love have to endure such pain?

My mother kept asking me, kept wiping away my tears. Gently pushing her away, I retreated on my knees and bowed my head to her and my father.

My forehead pressed against the icy floor, tears fell and formed two small puddles. Steeling my resolve, I finally spoke.

“Mum, Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t take care of Bolin properly, he…” I clenched my fists, hearing their urgent questions about what happened.

Recalling Bolin’s state when he died, my heart felt like it was being torn apart.

“He committed suicide.”