Chapter 4 – Li Jiangluo 0.2

Xing Bolin’s older brother has arrived.

Looking at him, my heart aches even more.

The two brothers bear an uncanny resemblance, but I know that the likeness stops at their physical appearance. From the first word his brother spoke to me, I realized they are fundamentally different.

We didn’t talk much, there wasn’t much to say, and I was even afraid he might ask me questions I couldn’t possibly answer.

Even now, with the forensic doctor conducting the autopsy, I still can’t accept that Bolin is gone.

He was a living, breathing person, who talked about wanting hot pot for dinner before leaving home that morning. After work, I bought ingredients and his favorite fruits, but then he was gone.

How am I supposed to accept this?

We spent five years together, day and night, never once arguing. Both of us were rational people, calmly discussing our viewpoints on any issue and making decisions together.

I think the craziest thing I’ve done in my life so far is falling in love with Bolin.

Because love was never part of my plan.

I was prepared to stay with him forever, until he no longer wanted me.

We were happy, the feeling of being loved is indescribable.

He had become my air, without him, I doubt I could survive much longer.

But it must be acknowledged that over those five years, we did encounter problems. My illness could exhaust both our bodies and minds.

Though he said it was alright, that we could have a platonic relationship, living together meant that even if I didn’t care, a man’s desires couldn’t be hidden.

We slept in the same bed, each wrapped in our own blanket.

Just like the song says, a galaxy separated us.

Many nights, I woke up to the sound of his suppressed breaths. I knew what he was doing, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and embrace him.

I could only close my eyes, trying to distract myself, because thinking too much made me nauseous. I didn’t want him to suffer, nor could I allow myself to do anything else.

On those nights, I was consumed by guilt, each time something like this happened, I felt I owed Bolin more than I could ever repay in several lifetimes.

In the conventional view of relationships, sex is the catalyst for love. It isn’t necessary, but without it, it definitely affects a couple’s life.

Bolin understood my issues and never demanded anything from me. In fact, he only kissed my hands, palms and backs, the places he kissed now felt unusually hot.

He liked hugging me, using embraces instead of kisses and lovemaking.

I also enjoyed being hugged by him, rare and solid.

But there won’t be anymore, that embrace has left me forever.

I don’t know what Xu Zhao said to Bolin’s brother, nor do I care.

I don’t want to hear anything anymore, I just want to quietly remember my lover.

But I still need to know the truth, whether it was murder or suicide.

I don’t believe Bolin would commit suicide, it makes no sense, he wouldn’t leave me.

Leaving the police station, I took Bolin’s brother to a hotel.

I politely called him “Mr. Xing,” though my heart was already torn apart. I originally thought that when we first met, I should have smiled and called him “Brother,” just like Bolin did.

But Bolin is gone, he’s dead.

With him gone, everything around me seems to have died along with him.

Our plants will probably wither soon, our sealed-off home will quickly gather dust, and I, who he once cherished in his hands, will soon collapse.

Soon, but not yet.

Because I still don’t know the truth, I hope to personally kill the person who murdered Bolin, let’s end it all together.

I stayed at the hotel, after Bolin’s brother angrily pushed me against the door and then released me.

At that moment, our emotions completely broke down. I knew that Bolin was family to both of us, and his departure inflicted equal pain upon us.

My back hurt from the impact, but I wished it hurt more.

Crying is shameful, but I couldn’t hold back.

I don’t know how long I cried, only that when I looked up, the man with a face so similar to Bolin’s was silently crying against the wall.

I’ve known Bolin for ten years, been in love for five, but they were almost born at the same time into this world.

Looking at him, I understood the meaning of agony.

Suddenly, I wanted to apologize to him, but opening my mouth, I found I couldn’t make a sound.

After an unknown amount of time passed, the sky darkened, and the room grew dimmer.

He turned on the light and went into the bathroom.

I heard the sound of running water, then he called me over to wash my face.

Getting up, I felt dizzy, walking to the bathroom door, he was looking back at me.

For a moment, I had an illusion, thinking that standing there was Bolin.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

They were completely different individuals.

We both calmed our emotions, Bolin’s brother poured two glasses of water and placed them on the table.

We sat on the sofa, one on the left and one on the right.

“Do you know if he had any conflicts with anyone?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes red, staring at me after saying this.

I shook my head, someone as good as Bolin, how could he have conflicts with others.

“Do you know,” he picked up the disposable cup, hesitated, then put it down, “there is actually one person with the most suspicion.”

I was surprised, furrowing my brows, eager to know who it was.

Then I heard him say, “It’s you.”

I felt like I’d heard the biggest joke in the world. I loved him so much, how could I have killed him.

From the first day we were together, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I wanted to grow old with him, humming tunes while each of us carried a birdcage in the park at sunset, walking along the moat until we could walk no further.

I placed all my love and hopes on Bolin. I killed him? Unless I was truly insane.

I froze for a few seconds, then probably showed a smile uglier than tears.

I said, “Brother, how could you suspect me?”

He looked at me intently, his eyes scrutinizing me, like a sharp knife pressed against my heart.

“The police officer today seemed quite familiar with you.” He spoke again.

Talking about Xu Zhao, I frowned again.

“It seems I’m right.” He drank some water, then stood up and walked towards the water dispenser.

“He was my neighbor when I was young.” I said softly, “We’ve known each other for many years, coincidentally, he’s handling this case.”

“He told me he thinks Bolin committed suicide.”

Hearing this sentence, I roughly understood his implication.

He thought Xu Zhao was covering for me.

“It’s impossible.” I said firmly, “Bolin had no reason to commit suicide. We planned to have hot pot together that evening, and we scheduled to see a movie on the weekend. He said he would introduce me to you at Christmas, telling me to remember to call you mom, dad, and brother then. He wouldn’t commit suicide, absolutely not, absolutely not!”

As I continued, I became agitated, trembling all over, as if my heart might stop at any moment.

Perhaps the man didn’t expect such a reaction from me, quickly putting down the cup, grabbing my shoulders to calm me down.

I couldn’t calm down, I wished I could die.

“I wouldn’t harm him, I love him.” I probably cried again, no special feelings, only drops of water landing on my pants, “I’m going to catch that murderer, I’m going to kill him.”

I don’t know when I fell asleep, only remembering that I was overly excited, having not rested well for consecutive days. Eventually, I lost all strength, nearly collapsing.

Bolin’s brother led me to lie down on the bed, I said my room was next door, but he ignored me.

He helped me take off my coat and threw it on the sofa, removed my shoes, pulled the blanket over me, and covered me up. Throughout the process, he didn’t speak, showing no expression, and his gaze never lingered on my face for a second.

I looked at him for a while, not daring to look again.

Looking at him, especially when he was taking care of me, only made me miss my lover even more.

I bit the blanket, closed my eyes, but tears still welled up. I was too tired, so exhausted that I didn’t know when I would end up. I was too sad, feeling as if I was dying bit by bit.

I wondered if the netherworld was cold, if Bolin waited for me, if I would still make it in time after killing the murderer to find him.

Lost in these wild thoughts, the accumulated fatigue finally overwhelmed me. My eyes swam in tears, and I fell into a muddled sleep.

I had a dream, where all four sides were pitch black, unable to see my hand in front of my face.

Footsteps approached from afar, I recognized them immediately as Bolin’s.

He drew closer, and I was overjoyed.

However, when he finally reached me, I couldn’t see him.

It was too dark, I reached out, touching his icy body, I hugged him, asking if he was cold.

He only cried, then apologized to me.

Shouldn’t the one apologizing be me? I failed to take care of him, allowing him to be hurt.

I tried to lead him back, but turning around, I realized I had no idea which way was home.

I panicked, frantically searching, but except for darkness, there was nothing around me.

I wanted to turn back and tell Bolin not to worry, that I would take him home, but suddenly discovered that the hand I held had vanished at some point.

I couldn’t feel him anymore, calling out loud received no response.

I jolted awake, finding only a single bedside lamp illuminating the room, large enough for three people, with only me lying in the middle.

Sitting up, I saw Bolin’s brother smoking on the balcony.

I got up, pulling open the glass sliding door.

He turned to look at me, sighed but didn’t speak.

Standing beside him, the thick smoke drifted over, I took a deep breath of secondhand smoke.

The moon outside was unusually large and bright, but my Bolin could never see it again.