TOW 23

On the first day of 2017, Xu Fei woke up with soreness all over his body. He was lying face down, and Liang Xuan’s arm was resting across his waist. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to remind him of the way his ass had been pounded open the night before. That made him confront a simple reality. After the New Year, he would be thirty-four. He was no longer the young man who could stay up all night having fun without consequence.

Xu Fei let out a sigh. He turned over and moved Liang Xuan’s arm aside. Liang Xuan stirred, opened his eyes in a daze, and pressed a kiss to Xu Fei’s shoulder.

“Morning,” Xu Fei replied, lifting the blanket and getting out of bed while holding his lower back.

A pair of jeans was lying on the floor. They were too long and clearly belonged to Liang Xuan, but Xu Fei’s own jeans had been tossed somewhere in the living room. He ended up putting on Liang Xuan’s and bent down to roll up the cuffs a few times. When he stood up again, Liang Xuan was already sitting beside the bed, watching him.

Sunlight streamed in and fell across Liang Xuan’s face. It was warm and golden, like something out of a famous painting. Xu Fei couldn’t help asking, “What year were you born?”

“Eighty-seven,” Liang Xuan replied.

“So you’re turning thirty too.” Xu Fei felt a little jealous. Liang Xuan didn’t look like someone with a three in front of his age at all.

Liang Xuan shrugged. When Xu Fei finished freshening up and went into the kitchen to cook instant noodles, Liang Xuan followed him in, standing close behind and watching him toss greens and hot dog slices into the pot. Xu Fei, annoyed by the heat of his body, elbowed him back a bit and muttered, “Go set the table.”

Liang Xuan obediently picked up a bowl and poured in a little sesame oil. As soon as Xu Fei added the noodle soup, the fragrance filled the room. Both of them were hungry, especially Xu Fei, who devoured the noodles like a storm and even drank all the broth clean. He rubbed his stomach and said, “Still not full,” voicing his strong dissatisfaction with Kang Shi Fu’s stingy portion sizes.

Liang Xuan pushed his own bowl toward him. “Want mine?”

Xu Fei wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I’m not eating your saliva.”

Liang Xuan pinched his chin and kissed him for a good half minute.

By noon, Liang Xuan’s agent called, apparently with something urgent. Xu Fei went to call a car for him, and Liang Xuan asked, “Are you free at the end of January?”

“I think so?” Xu Fei asked. “Why?”

“I’ve been nominated for the Jade Dragon Awards,” Liang Xuan said. “The shortlist gets announced tomorrow.”

The Jade Dragon wasn’t like the Huatu Awards. It was the highest honor in the allied film industry, a global event everyone anticipated each year. Xu Fei asked, “Lanterns Under the Eaves got nominated?”

“Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Original Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Original Score, Best Production Design, Best Supporting Actress,” Liang Xuan said. “Nine nominations.”

Xu Fei wasn’t surprised. A film directed by Hu Husheng, polished over a decade, not getting that many nominations would’ve been strange. “Then let me congratulate you in advance,” he said, patting Liang Xuan’s arm. “Hope you take home Best Actor.”

Liang Xuan’s lips curled into a small, slightly shy smile. “Xinjing Pictures spent a lot on PR,” he said. “And Director Hu’s reputation speaks for itself… Do you want to come to the awards ceremony?”

Xu Fei raised his eyebrows high. The red carpet at the Jade Dragon Awards wasn’t something just anyone could walk. Without a nominated work, no matter how much attention you got, the organizers wouldn’t give you a place. Especially not for someone like him, an unknown actor barely hanging onto the edge of the industry.

Was Liang Xuan trying to give him a chance to get noticed?

“Forget it.” He waved his hand. “I can’t handle the red carpet. I’d be so nervous I wouldn’t even know where to put my hands and feet.”

Since he said that, Liang Xuan didn’t press the issue. Just then, Xu Fei’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and said, “Your driver’s here.” Then he motioned for Liang Xuan to head downstairs.

But Liang Xuan held onto the doorknob without moving. After a moment, he turned back and said, “After the awards ceremony, there will be a celebration party hosted by Zhongyue Media.”

Of course Xu Fei knew about the party. It was a tradition. Everyone who received a nomination, whether they ended up winning or not, could attend. Fine wine, luxury cars, money, beautiful people… it was everything the public imagined the entertainment world to be.

“I don’t want to go to that party,” Liang Xuan said. “I’d rather stay home alone.”

He looked at Xu Fei for a long moment before saying, “Do you understand what I mean?”

Xu Fei froze. His heartbeat gradually sped up until it was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.

“You want…” He licked his lips, suddenly feeling dry-mouthed. “You want to fuck me at your place to celebrate your win?”

Liang Xuan let out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“But what if you don’t win…” Xu Fei mumbled, the rapid thudding in his chest clouding his head.

Liang Xuan raised an eyebrow. “Then I’ll still fuck you.”

“You’ll still fuck me,” Xu Fei echoed, like a broken recorder.

Liang Xuan didn’t say anything else. He just looked at him with that damned smirk. Xu Fei swallowed hard, catching the teasing glint in his eyes, and suddenly realized how ridiculous he sounded. Embarrassed and pissed, he growled, “Enough.” He yanked the door open and shoved Liang Xuan out. “I get it. Now get lost.”

That night, Liang Xuan messaged him again.

“If you decide to come,” Liang Xuan said, “I’ll leave the key to the front door in the mailbox.”

Xu Fei read that message five times. By the sixth, he finally snapped out of it, turned off his phone, and tossed it aside.

Fuck Liang Xuan. He thought angrily. Fuck Liang Xuan.

But he still went to Xinjing.

At the end of January, Xinjing was cold as ice. Xu Fei wrapped himself up like a black dumpling, breath fogging in the air, and found the key in Liang Xuan’s mailbox. The house was cold too. Liang Xuan had clearly been gone for a while. Xu Fei found the heater, turned everything on with a few sharp clicks, then curled up on the living room sofa to watch the live broadcast of the Jade Dragon Awards.

The red carpet was already crowded. One big name after another passed through, with cheers rising and falling. Liang Xuan’s crew arrived near the end. Hu Husheng led the way, with Liang Xuan following half a step behind, speaking quietly with a female cast member. The flash of cameras on both sides of the carpet was blinding, like a wall of strobe lights.

The hosts guided them to the interview area. One of them asked Liang Xuan, “This is your first time being nominated for the Jade Dragon Awards. Do you feel confident about winning?”

Liang Xuan smiled politely. “Everyone is excellent. Just being nominated is already an honor and a recognition of my work.”

Xu Fei let out a snort. “So fake,” he muttered, and headed to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat.

There were some vegetables in the fridge and half a piece of steak. Xu Fei pan-seared the steak until it was medium rare, gathered the vegetables into a simple soup, ate quickly, and tossed everything into the dishwasher. When he returned to the living room, the award ceremony had already been underway for a while.

The host was announcing the nominees for Best Feature Documentary. “A woman trapped in a marriage…”

Xu Fei sat quietly and watched for a bit. In the early awards, like Best Supporting Actress, Best Art Direction, and Best Editing, Lanterns Beneath the Eaves came up short. The camera kept cutting to their crew, showing Hu Husheng’s smiling face and Liang Xuan’s usual expressionless one.

Then came a turnaround. Best Cinematography, Best Original Score, and Best Original Screenplay, all swept by Lanterns Beneath the Eaves. Xu Fei finally let out a breath and reached for a glass of water on the coffee table.

By the time they got to Best Director, there was no suspense left. Hu Husheng strode confidently onto the stage, accepted the trophy, and gave his speech.

“This is my third Jade Dragon Award, and my second Best Director win,” he said. “I want to thank the crew, and I especially want to thank Liang Xuan. He may be young, but he carries the spirit and work ethic of an older generation of filmmakers. Working with them has been an honor and a real joy.”

Liang Xuan led the applause. When the clapping died down, Quan Jing stepped onto the stage.

She had debuted at twenty and had won Best Actress at the Jade Dragon Awards three times. Now in her fifties, she still walked with poise and carried herself with timeless grace.

“This year has been another harvest for film. Outstanding performances have poured forth like a spring, making us cry, reflect, rejoice, and rage.” She paused and turned slightly to face the large screen.

“The nominees for Best Actor are..”

“Zhang Weiran, Whale Island.”

“Wu Wei, The Long Road Home.”

“Liu Qisheng, Roaming South to North.”

“Shao Long, A Funeral Affair.”

“Liang Xuan, Lanterns Beneath the Eaves.”

On screen, Liang Xuan stood with a slight hunch in the ruins of an old mansion. A child ran circles around him, waving a bamboo dragonfly and shouting, “Fly, fly…”

He said quietly, “Stand still.”

But the child kept playing, even hopping up onto the well cover.

Suddenly, Liang Xuan exploded with anger. He swung the etiquette stick in his hand and struck the child hard across the back. His face turned red, veins bulging on his forehead as he shouted, “I told you to stand still!”

Quan Jing’s voice rang out, “The award for Best Actor goes to… Liang Xuan.”

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

The camera zoomed in on Liang Xuan, whose expression remained composed. He stood and gave a small nod before embracing Hu Husheng beside him. People around reached out to shake his hand, offering congratulations.

“Congratulations.”

Liang Xuan smiled politely, made his way up the aisle, and stepped onto the stage to accept the trophy from Quan Jing’s hands.

“Thank you to the committee,” he said, lifting the trophy. “Thank you to Director Hu, and to everyone in the crew. I also want to thank my mom. When we were filming, the weather was sweltering and both the air conditioner and the fan broke down. I mentioned it to her in passing, and she actually mailed me a fan.”

The crowd burst into laughter. Liang Xuan laughed too, then added, “Thank you,” and walked off stage with Quan Jing.

Xu Fei sat cross-legged, watching Liang Xuan’s figure gradually pull away on the screen. He suddenly remembered the first time he met Liang Xuan. He had looked far too young back then, with a trace of childishness still lingering on his face. And in the blink of an eye, seven years had already passed.

He turned off the TV and picked up his phone to send Liang Xuan a message. “Congratulations.” After thinking for a moment, he added, “I’m at your place.”

It took over half an hour for Liang Xuan to reply: “I think I’ll be back in a little over an hour.”

Xu Fei went upstairs to take a shower. He told himself he wasn’t doing it to get ready for Liang Xuan. He wasn’t that desperate. It was just that Liang Xuan’s bathroom had an oversized bathtub with full features and even a massage function. Xu Fei soaked for more than thirty minutes. The steam made him drowsy, and it felt so good that he thought he could die right there in the tub.

Eventually, he climbed out, wrapped himself in a bathrobe, and went back downstairs. It was nearly midnight. He sent Liang Xuan a message asking where he was, while heading to the kitchen to open a bottle of champagne.

Liang Xuan didn’t reply.

Xu Fei sat at the dining table, waiting for more than twenty minutes, until the bubbles on the surface of the champagne slowly disappeared. He drank both glasses, poured himself another, and sent one more message to Liang Xuan.

“When are you coming back?”

Liang Xuan still hadn’t replied.

Xu Fei sat in the chair, waiting until past midnight. At some point, he dozed off. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself slumped over the table, the kitchen lights glaring harshly. He rolled his neck, got up to put the champagne back in the fridge, then grabbed his phone and returned to the living room.

Three forty-five. Still no reply from Liang Xuan.

He wondered if he should leave. But his head was groggy and he was exhausted. In the end, he went up to the guest room on the second floor, pulled the covers over himself, and fell asleep.

In the early morning, he was awakened by noise downstairs. Amid the clatter of pots and pans, he vaguely heard someone say, “You’re heavy as hell” and “Be more careful next time.” The clinking and banging continued. Xu Fei sat up, rubbed his face, and checked his phone.

Liang Xuan still hadn’t replied.

On the trending feed, there was a photo right at the top. Liang Xuan and Zhang Jin were pressed together, kissing by the window. The headline read, “New Best Actor celebrates hard. Reuniting with his ex-girlfriend?”

Xu Fei let out a short laugh.

He went downstairs. Liang Xuan was slumped over on the sofa, the person who had brought him home already gone. Xu Fei went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, then nudged Liang Xuan’s shin with his foot.

Liang Xuan jerked upright. He blinked twice before he seemed to finally see Xu Fei clearly.

He froze. “You…”

Xu Fei held up his phone. “I messaged you. You didn’t reply. I figured I’d stay and make sure you were okay before leaving.”

Liang Xuan was still sitting there in a daze, clearly still caught in the fog of a hangover. Xu Fei gave him a small smile, set down the water glass, and walked over to the drying rack to get his coat.

Liang Xuan remained frozen until Xu Fei had finished dressing and buttoning up. Only then did he suddenly speak.

“I was supposed to come home last night.”

Xu Fei turned around and looked at him.

“They said I should at least make an appearance at the party,” Liang Xuan said. “But then too many people came over and kept making me drink. I got drunk. Zhang Jin said she’d take me somewhere to rest. I didn’t do anything with her. I just… I was too drunk and passed out. I didn’t see your messages. I really didn’t.”

Xu Fei nodded. “I figured as much.”

“I didn’t do anything with her,” Liang Xuan said again.

Xu Fei let out a quiet sigh. “I know.” He walked over and gave Liang Xuan’s cheek a light pat. “It’s okay.”

Liang Xuan gazed up at him with wide eyes. The deep black of his pupils made him look like a lost puppy, so endearingly helpless that Xu Fei couldn’t bring himself to stay angry. It was his own fault for being naïve enough to think he could keep his distance. In the end, he had fallen too far, blurring the lines he thought he had drawn.

He wasn’t as strong-willed as he liked to believe.

Liang Xuan raised his hand and placed it over the back of Xu Fei’s. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Xu Fei smiled faintly. The warmth and weight of Liang Xuan’s hand, like everything else about him, was something Xu Fei had come to crave. This wasn’t Liang Xuan’s fault. He couldn’t blame him.

“I have to go,” Xu Fei said as he pulled his hand away. “My agent called earlier. I need to head back to Pinghai.”

Liang Xuan’s gaze lingered on his hand. After a long moment, he gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment, then asked, “Will we talk again after this?”

Xu Fei reached out and tousled his messy short hair. “Sure.”