TOW 11

Liang Xuan lingered at Xu Fei’s place for another two days. Aside from ordering takeout when they were starving, their daily routine was basically gaming, watching TV, and fucking. Every corner of Xu Fei’s home had been ravaged, even the balcony wasn’t spared.

Liang Xuan pulled the curtains shut and pinned Xu Fei in a corner of the balcony, fucking him right there. Xu Fei had his ass sticking out, his face buried under the curtain, barely able to breathe. A few times, the curtain slipped open just enough to reveal green tree branches outside and the parking lot not far away. Someone even passed by. Xu Fei was so tense it was driving him crazy. His hole kept clenching up, making Liang Xuan hiss sharply from the pleasure. He gripped his ass hard and growled, “Relax.”

On the third day of the new year, around noon, Liang Xuan’s agent messaged him. “For fuck’s sake, get your ass back to Xinjing right now. I’m begging you, boss.”

At that moment, Liang Xuan had his head bobbing between Xu Fei’s thighs, giving him a blowjob. His mouth gliding back and forth over Xu Fei’s cock. Xu Fei gripped the back of his head, moaning incoherently, “Don’t lick.. no.. fuck…” His mind was a mess, unable to think straight. Then, without any lube, Liang Xuan shoved a finger straight into his hole. Xu Fei came right then and there, shooting into Liang Xuan’s mouth.

Liang Xuan coughed a few times but still swallowed everything. He even stuck out his tongue and licked Xu Fei’s dick clean, running up and down the shaft until it glistened. Xu Fei lay there weakly, staring at Liang Xuan’s flushed, handsome face and the cloudy mess still on his lips. His cock twitched again. Liang Xuan smiled and asked, “Can you still get it hard?”

Nope. Not a chance. He’d come too many times in the past two days. Xu Fei frowned and kicked Liang Xuan lightly, then slumped onto the couch to clumsily pull his pants back on. Liang Xuan also tidied up, picked up his buzzing phone, glanced at the screen, and said, “I’ve gotta go.”

Xu Fei paused for a moment, then quickly recovered and shrugged it off. “Alright.”

They finished off the leftover pizza from the night before. Liang Xuan packed his things while Xu Fei contacted a local service company and ordered a car. Before leaving, Liang Xuan paused briefly, like he wanted to say something, but Xu Fei shoved him toward the door, saying, “Call me if there’s anything.”

As if they’d actually call each other.

After the Spring Festival, Xu Fei started working at the theater. The play he joined was called The Bench in the Park, a brand-new original script about three couples and the stories that unfold around a park bench. Xu Fei played a college student. He even shaved his head for the role, kept his face clean, and slapped on moisturizing masks every couple of days. His character had a crush on a female manager working at a nearby office. Every day, he’d “coincidentally” run into her around the park bench and give her breakfast he bought two hours early, saying, “They’re doing a promo, buy one get one free.” Then he mustered the courage to invite her to his campus football match. She showed up with her boyfriend, introduced Xu Fei as “a sweet kid I met in the park.” The whistle blew, and the student got slide-tackled in the shin by the opposing team’s striker.

“This is brutal,” Xu Fei said, staring at the script. “Is this even a life worth living?”

Fu Zichuan overheard and burst into laughter. He was another actor in the troupe, just over twenty, tall, with an adorably baby-faced look. Xu Fei quickly hit it off with him.

In March, the headlines exploded with news of Liang Xuan and Zhang Jin’s on-set romance. Liang Xuan was twenty-five and Zhang Jin was twenty-eight, fitting the classic idea that a woman three years older makes the perfect match.

People flooded social media with blessings. Press releases were all the same copy-paste fluff about “a match made in heaven,” and nobody found it odd.

Xu Fei went to his parents’ place for dinner. The moment he saw his mom reading QQ news on her phone, he knew trouble was coming. Sure enough, she asked, “So it’s official now? Liang Xuan and Zhang Jin really do look good together.”

Xu Fei wanted to die. “Mom, how the hell would I know?”

“Fine, fine, I get it, he’s out of your league now,” his mom said. “But you’re not getting any younger. When are you bringing someone home for me to meet?”

Xu Fei smacked his forehead on the table.

His dad sat beside him looking smug as hell. His mom gave his dad a dirty look, then turned back to Xu Fei. “I’m not trying to pressure you. I know, you’ve got your… whatever. Guy or girl, doesn’t matter. If you like them, we’ll like them. I just think, you’re always by yourself… it’s too lonely.”

Xu Fei felt a soft ache in his chest. He gave a low grunt in response.

The next day, on his way to rehearsal, Xu Fei got a WeChat message from his mom.
“Someone a friend introduced,” she wrote.

Xu Fei stared at the two profile pictures side by side on the screen for a full fifteen minutes. Fu Zichuan wandered over, glanced at Xu Fei’s phone, and asked, “Your friends? The guy’s pretty good-looking. The girl’s a bit average. Her eyes are kinda crossed.”

Xu Fei rubbed his face hard, then let out a helpless sigh.

“Blind date,” he said.

Fu Zichuan froze for a second, then burst out laughing. His laugh was so loud it could drill through bone, and Xu Fei seriously considered stuffing him headfirst into a toilet and flushing. It took him forever to stop laughing. He plopped down next to Xu Fei and said, “Your parents are wild,” while giving him a thumbs-up.

But Fu Zichuan said, “I came out to my parents when I was fourteen. My dad nearly broke my legs. I ran away and came to Pinghai to stay with my aunt. My parents didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, I was dead. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Xu Fei was a little surprised. Fu Zichuan always seemed so loud and cheerful, always laughing like nothing ever bothered him. Hearing him say something like that now caught him completely off guard.

Fu Zichuan caught his expression and gave a loud “hey,” bumping Xu Fei’s shoulder. “Come on, that’s all in the past. I’m just saying, your parents are actually pretty good to you. So, which one are you planning to meet?” He pointed at the photos. “I say go with the guy.”

Xu Fei knew he didn’t want to keep talking about the past, so he didn’t push and just went along. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Fu Zichuan narrowed his eyes and looked at him for a moment, then suddenly said, “You’ve got someone, don’t you?”

Xu Fei nearly choked on his own spit. “Are you a high school girl or something?” he said. “Please don’t be gross.”

“So you do like someone?” Fu wouldn’t let it go.

“I don’t.” Xu Fei glared at him, stood up and said, “Stop making shit up.”

Before the end of the day, Xu Fei stood center stage, rehearsing his final monologue. The spotlight from above beat down on him, heating his entire body, giving him the illusion he was about to burn.

“What is love?” Is it fantasy? Is it the dream of you descending like a goddess every night? Is it seeing your face in the morning light, golden shadows falling across the corners of your lips? Is it the scent of your perfume when I sit close, the soft warmth in your fingertips? Or is it pain… the sharp crack of a kick to the shin, falling into the muddy grass after the rain, ears ringing with a dull roar? Yes, it’s pain. Pain startles me. Pain wakes me up. Pain makes me realize I don’t even deserve to be part of the love I feel for you.”

Applause broke out from the crew seated below.

Fu Zichuan shouted, “That was amazing!”

But Xu Fei just stood there, chest hollow and tight, struggling to catch his breath.

That night when he got home, he passed out almost instantly. In his dream, he saw Liang Xuan sitting cross-legged on his couch, frowning as he studied the game controller.

Xu Fei said, “That’s not how you use it,” and went to take it back. But Liang Xuan tossed the controller aside, pulled him into his lap, and pressed a kiss to the back of his head.

When he woke up, Xu Fei stared at the ceiling for a long time. The sky was just starting to lighten. Pale daylight bled through the curtains and cast soft shadows on the floor.

He stayed in bed, thinking about how, three months ago, Liang Xuan had sat here and said, “Zhang Jin is going to be my girlfriend this year.” He thought about the days they spent in Ceylon, when Liang Xuan had said, “We’re not dating, are we?” He thought about Liang Xuan’s hand brushing over his body, the way his fingertips traced the wings on his chest. And he remembered how Liang Xuan’s eyes sparkled whenever he watched him sing.

He went to meet the man his mother had introduced. The guy was about one eighty, with slightly upturned phoenix eyes, though his sharply defined features kept him from looking delicate. When Xu Fei arrived, he stood up and gave a polite nod.

“Hello,” he said. After Xu Fei sat down, he added, “Thank you for coming.”

Xu Fei replied, “I should be the one thanking you for showing up.”

The man gave a soft chuckle. His name was Wang Mian, and he worked in finance. Dressed in a sharp, perfectly tailored suit, he gave off the unmistakable air of a successful professional. Xu Fei had no idea where his mother had met someone like this.

“I’ve seen your work,” Wang Mian said. “Southbound, The Informant, One Step Further… You were great.”

Xu Fei was a little surprised. One Step Further was something he’d shot back in 2004. It was an experimental film that was bold for its time, exploring the confusion, anger, and crime among a group of young people on the edge of adulthood. It also featured his first and only full nude scene.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, a little awkwardly. The thought of his blind date having watched him touch himself on camera made him want to crawl under the table.

Thankfully, Wang Mian seemed to notice his discomfort and didn’t press further about the film. Instead, he handed over the menu.

“What would you like to eat?” he asked.

They kept in touch on and off for about half a year. By the time The Bench in the Park began its run in June, Wang Mian would show up from time to time, sometimes even sending flowers backstage. Eventually, the whole troupe knew Xu Fei had some “tall, rich, handsome fanboy.” Gossip spread like wildfire, mostly courtesy of Fu Zichuan.

In November, the Anping Independent Film Festival opened as scheduled. Xu Fei got sick and spent the entire week laid up at home, missing the whole damn thing. On the final day, The Woman on the Balcony, the film Liang Xuan starred in, won the jury prize. Liang Xuan himself took home Best Actor. Suddenly, media coverage of him was everywhere. Every corner, every feed was plastered with that solemn, handsome profile of his. The headlines were screaming ‘Liang Xuan Era Has Arrived.’

Wang Mian bought two tickets for The Woman on the Balcony. On the way to the theater, he joked, “You guys used to work together. He should’ve mailed you tickets himself.”

Xu Fei snorted.

The theater was packed. Normally, an art film like this wouldn’t draw such a big crowd, but with Liang Xuan in it, everyone wanted to come and see what the buzz was about.

Xu Fei shrank into his seat. As the opening scene played, Liang Xuan appeared slowly from the corner of the screen. He wore a loose white shirt, his steps slightly unsteady, but his back was straight, his presence calm and cool. It made people instinctively overlook the character’s disability.

A girl in the front row couldn’t help but whisper, “He’s so handsome.”

Xu Fei leaned back in his chair, feeling the urge to laugh just a little.

By the end of the film, the soldier played by Liang Xuan was accused of theft and thrown into a detention center. The woman who had been secretly watching him from her balcony scraped together enough money to bail him out. She said to him, “From now on, I’ll take care of you.”

Liang Xuan sat upright on the bench outside the station, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her, as if he didn’t quite understand what she meant. The camera slowly zoomed in, closing in on his eyes, which were filled with pain, silence, melancholy, and a hint of mockery. It felt like they were staring straight into the heart of everyone watching.

Like a gun.
Like a splintered piece of wood.

Xu Fei suddenly stood up.

“Bathroom,” he whispered to Wang Mian.

The restroom was empty. Xu Fei washed his hands slowly, then splashed his face twice. When he looked up, his cheeks were red from rubbing. He stared at himself in the mirror.

Outside, the final scene of the film was still playing. The woman was washing Liang Xuan’s feet. He struggled briefly, but in the end, gave up. He sat at the edge of the bed, head lowered, eyelashes casting shadows downward. On the giant screen, Xu Fei could even see the tiny freckle on Liang Xuan’s nose.

“It was an incredible film.”

That was Wang Mian’s verdict as they exited the theater. Xu Fei didn’t respond. He walked beside him in silence for a while, then finally stopped.

“I can’t keep doing this…”He paused.

Wang Mian turned to look at him. Xu Fei gave a bitter smile. “I can’t keep playing at something that’s not real.”

Wang Mian nodded. “You don’t like me.”
He said it so plainly.

Xu Fei said, “Sorry.”

Wang Mian smiled. “What are you apologizing for?” he said. “I like you. You don’t like me. That’s just how it is. These things are personal. It just means we weren’t meant to be.”

They hugged.

On the way home, Xu Fei kept thinking. Why couldn’t he like Wang Mian?
He couldn’t come up with an answer.

That night, he dreamt of Liang Xuan again.

These past few months, he kept dreaming of him. Liang Xuan kissing him. Sitting on his bed reading. Arguing over the game controller.

Every time he woke up, Xu Fei would stare blankly at the ceiling, then sink into this vague, irrational self-loathing.

But this time, he thought of what Wang Mian said. “I like you. You don’t like me. That’s just how it is.”

So he thought, maybe he didn’t have to keep being angry at himself. Maybe it was time to make peace with it. He needed to admit it to himself. He liked Liang Xuan.

Liked him so much it was making him lose his mind.