Chapter 11

Despite being in the same police car, the two of them hardly spoke. On one hand, it was because Roman was also in the car—stuffed into the trunk by the Moscow cops, silent as if he were dead. On the other hand, Ye Ji’an looked at Liang Xiao in his current state, his hands covered in cuts and his nose bleeding profusely, his face looking as if he had just eaten three large plates of bitter melon. It was clear he needed to be quiet and rest, not engage in conversation.

Of course, Ye Ji’an himself wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter either. In a two-against-many situation, who wouldn’t get hurt? Aside from a few cuts, his jaw ached, and he felt a twinge in his old back. He might have to visit the Navy General Hospital after returning home to get his bones adjusted by a master. That would mean getting up before dawn to queue for a specialist appointment, which was expensive, and with the New Year approaching, he might not have the time. During the Spring Festival holiday, the old experts wouldn’t be working, and Ye Ji’an began to worry again.

He just wanted to get on a plane and go home, lie in his own bed for a few days, and eat some frozen dumplings dipped in sweet and sour soy sauce.

After getting out of the police car, while the officers were busy with paperwork, Ye Ji’an had already completed his daily thoughts of despair. He handed his coat to Liang Xiao, which had been thrown on the ground and was now damp from the melting snow. “Put this on,” he said.

Liang Xiao paused for a moment, as if just returning to reality, and didn’t take it. “No need, Senior.”

Ye Ji’an draped the coat over his shoulders with a look that said “don’t be shy,” “Your shirt is all torn up. Why aren’t you wearing a thermal shirt and a cashmere sweater?”

“Did you wear them?”

“I wore three layers,” Ye Ji’an seemed a bit embarrassed as he followed the police into the station, not looking back. “I learned it from you!”

He thought Liang Xiao wasn’t the type to be stubborn, and he wouldn’t cling to that coat without putting it on. Although the size might be a bit small, it should still keep him warm. He also thought they would meet again soon, maybe in two or three hours? By then, the other colleagues would likely have sobered up and come to pick them up.

However, their next meeting was delayed until the morning two days later. Regarding the brawl, both Liang Xiao and Ye Ji’an expressed that they didn’t want to press charges or involve the embassy; their only request was to return home quickly. Roman also had someone come to bail him out, and the local police still took detailed statements. They were separated into different rooms, and all the negotiators were Slavic men, with only a few speaking English. Ye Ji’an felt a bit intimidated; although he had caused trouble before, he had never been in a police station, let alone in a foreign country, and they didn’t clarify when they would be released.

He even began to feel helpless, developing a sense of absurd desolation as if he were about to die far from home.

Fortunately, after more than thirty hours of being incommunicado, he regained his freedom. It was said that Roman was still temporarily detained, while Liang Xiao finished packing a few minutes before him and waited for him in the police station lobby. The first thing he did was return the coat. The other four colleagues had also arrived, almost crowding around him, welcoming Ye Ji’an into the car. Especially Lao Chen, who seemed to have completely forgotten everything he had heard in the dark alley while drunk. He grabbed Ye Ji’an with one hand and Liang Xiao with the other, silently shedding tears, and after a long pause, finally managed to squeeze out a sentence: they must treat these two enthusiastic young men to a meal when they returned home.

Ye Ji’an smiled, “No need, no need.”

Liang Xiao also smiled, “Thank you, Deputy Director Chen.”

Ye Ji’an glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, suspecting that he had already planned where to treat Lao Chen.

Xiao Li had already booked the tickets, with the flight scheduled for that afternoon. The first thing they did was head straight to the hotel to pack their bags, and the second was to rush to the airport. The two trips were not short, and Ye Ji’an sat in the back row, next to Liang Xiao, just like the previous days.

The two of them still didn’t say much.

To be precise, it was Liang Xiao who didn’t speak. And when he fell silent, losing his usual whimsical thoughts and peculiar points of interest, Ye Ji’an didn’t know what to say either. He realized that in their friendship, those little things that acted like lubrication for the gears were always provided by Liang Xiao. So what would happen if they stopped? A day passed, two days passed, would the machine fall apart?

Ye Ji’an found it hard to read any real emotions on Liang Xiao’s face. He still maintained a serious demeanor and could still smile; everything seemed normal except for his lack of words. This seemed to give Ye Ji’an an excuse to slack off—after all, it was said that the best news in the world was that an ex had died, and not all breakups were as peaceful as his with his ex-girlfriend. For Liang Xiao, even a business trip could be monitored by an ex, and with that unpleasant incident, it had thrown his and his colleagues’ plans into disarray. It was normal for anyone to want to avoid dealing with a temporary bad mood, right? Just take a breather, relax, and it would be fine, wouldn’t it?

But would it?

Ye Ji’an spent the time he should have used to think about how to report back to the General Manager pondering this matter. He realized that whether the lubrication was there or not was secondary; what he cared about more was Liang Xiao’s mental state. As someone who wanted to be a competent superior, he felt it was his responsibility. As a friend, especially a close one, he felt he couldn’t just let it go. The first-class seats on the flight back were sold out, and he and his colleagues were squeezed into business class, with Liang Xiao sitting across the aisle from him. He kept an eye on him, and when the cabin lights were turned off, leaving only the night lights, and the surrounding passengers had fallen asleep, Ye Ji’an remained wide awake.

He noticed Liang Xiao put down his laptop and get up to walk to the back, so he made one last half-hearted struggle in his mind.

In less than two minutes, he also got up and walked to the back. In the transitional area between business class and economy class, right next to the restroom door by the emergency exit, he ran into Liang Xiao.

“Senior.” Liang Xiao nodded at him and then turned to head back to his seat.

“Wait a minute,” Ye Ji’an grabbed his wrist, the water droplets from washing his hands hadn’t yet fallen off, making his palm damp. “There are still more than two hours until we arrive.”

“Yeah,” Liang Xiao turned back to look at him, “Senior, you should take the opportunity to sleep for a bit.”

Ye Ji’an immediately came to his senses and released his grip, nervously clutching his pants. “I didn’t come here to use the restroom.”

“Oh.” Liang Xiao raised an eyebrow.

“Do you… have anything you want to say to me?” Ye Ji’an took a deep breath. “If you have any worries, concerns, or things you can’t figure out, you can tell me.”

“Aren’t you tired, Senior?”

“Not tired.” Ye Ji’an was quite alert.

Liang Xiao completely turned around, leaning against the wall, slightly tucking in his chin, and focused on Ye Ji’an. “I actually want to talk to you, Senior. I’ve thought a lot these past few days, and I don’t know if I’ve figured it out or if I’ll say something foolish.”

“So you just decided to stay silent?”

“Pretty much,” Liang Xiao gave a faint smile, “Is it too late to speak now?”

“Go ahead.” Ye Ji’an smiled as well, feeling inexplicably more at ease.

“Do you remember when I fainted from needles? Actually, I didn’t have this problem before,” Liang Xiao paused, beginning his narrative. “When I was very young, my mom took my brother abroad for treatment; she had esophageal cancer, and my brother was studying there. When I graduated from middle school at fourteen, I went to find them, only to discover my brother rarely came home, and my mom was basically alone. She didn’t let me stay at home, and I quickly arranged for accommodation, renting a place next to the high school, and even hired a nanny to keep an eye on me.” He glanced at Ye Ji’an, a bit anxious.

“Go on,” Ye Ji’an encouraged.

Liang Xiao pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not long after, I went home to get something and saw her lying on the sofa as if she were drunk, with a syringe in her wrist.”

Ye Ji’an’s heart sank. Drug use? He really didn’t want to think in that direction.

But Liang Xiao continued, looking out the window at the darkness. “She said she was in too much pain to let me tell my dad, and of course, she didn’t want me to call the police, or she would kill herself. And my brother had known about it for a long time; when I asked him what to do, he echoed my mom’s sentiments, saying that hospitals used morphine for pain relief. I knew it was wrong, but I hesitated, kept hesitating, and in the end, I did nothing. A few months later, my mom died of a drug overdose in her home, and it was only when it started to smell that someone found her. A few weeks later, my brother jumped off a building and made the New York newspapers.”

Ye Ji’an was momentarily speechless. The detached tone was quite painful, yet with the little calmness still working in his heart, he felt that listening in silence was the best respect.

Liang Xiao shifted his gaze from the window back to Ye Ji’an’s face and gently said, “Actually, there were many chances to save the situation. Seeing my mom in such a state, I naturally thought it was because of cancer, and I didn’t notice all the needle marks. Even when I found out she was using drugs, I still did nothing, terrified out of my wits, and then they both died. My dad didn’t even blame me; he came over to accompany me through two years of high school.”

“Do you think he should blame you?” Ye Ji’an leaned closer, resting against him, both of them looking at the opposite wall, as if they were in a smoking room.

“I don’t know. I just don’t like needles anymore,” Liang Xiao shook his head. “But I’m not done yet. There’s also the matter with Roman,” he suddenly smiled, his hands hanging by his sides, looking indifferent. “Maybe I just can’t get along with drugs? I met him on a reptile forum; we both kept a lot of geckos, and later found out we were both in New York, and it seemed we were both gay. After meeting a few times, we got together.”

“Hmm.” Ye Ji’an nodded gently.

“I think I realized I was gay when I was eighteen. Roman was studying oil painting at an art school, while I was studying finance. We didn’t have much to talk about and often argued, but overall, happiness outweighed the pain. Then one time, I forgot something and went home when I shouldn’t have, and saw five or six people lying on my carpet, haha, just like my mom’s state back then.”

Ye Ji’an tried to squeeze his shoulder. “That was when you were around twenty-one or twenty-two.”

“Yeah.” Liang Xiao lowered his eyelashes, his shoulders tense. “At that time, I was very busy with my studies, and he was smart enough to know not to inject in obvious places, so I didn’t notice anything. I stepped out of the room, locked the door from the outside, and called the police. I could hear him and his friends banging on the door, crying and begging me. They wouldn’t dare jump from a twenty-something floor apartment, right? Soon the police came and took them all away.”

“Senior, I feel like I didn’t repeat the same mistakes, and I don’t regret it.” This conclusion came out hurriedly.

“I agree.” Ye Ji’an said.

“I don’t want anyone to die from getting high in my home again.” Liang Xiao added.

“I understand.” Ye Ji’an turned to look at him. “What you did was right. If it were me, I’m not sure I could be as decisive as you.”

Liang Xiao opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

Ye Ji’an stared intently, “More importantly, it’s normal for you to feel pain because of this, and that pain piling up makes it heavy and long-lasting, as if no one can share it. No one can say you’re wrong or that you’re being overly sensitive and don’t understand strength.”

Liang Xiao’s eyes suddenly turned red.

Ye Ji’an tried to appear calm, opening his arms. “How about a hug? It should help. You’ve been too depressed these past few days; I think it’s not good.”

However, in reality, he felt a bit anxious while saying this, even wondering if it was inappropriate—was it a comfort or an advance? Why did he want to hug Liang Xiao so much? Was he addicted to hugging in bed? But his doubts were quickly dispelled; Liang Xiao, perhaps not wanting to show his wet eyes, held Ye Ji’an tightly, and Ye Ji’an rested his chin on his shoulder, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist. “Haha, the flight attendant will come to catch us soon.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Liang Xiao was very determined.

“I’m quite surprised you’re telling me all this,” Ye Ji’an patted his back, helping him relax. “But it’s also a bit… how should I put it, I’m indeed happy. I feel trusted.”

“It’s all in the past; it won’t always hurt. But my personal matters have indeed caused a lot of trouble for you, Senior, and I want to explain clearly.” Liang Xiao’s voice was muffled, coming from behind Ye Ji’an’s ear, a long-lost angle. “There will be a lot of things to deal with when we return to the company.”

“It’s fine; we’ve all taken out safety insurance. Maybe we’ll even get some compensation when we go back. Besides, this matter isn’t ultimately our fault, and the leaders won’t make things difficult for us.”

“It’s still my fault. I should have made it clear earlier and reminded you to be careful.”

“Or I’ll get annoyed.”

Liang Xiao seemed to hesitate, rubbing against Ye Ji’an’s temple one last time before finally letting go, his eyes red. “Then let’s go back and sleep.”

Ye Ji’an looked at him, resembling a little rabbit, and suddenly felt emboldened. He said, “Wait a minute.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That poem, are you still planning to read it to me?”

“I—”

Ye Ji’an’s gaze didn’t waver. “It needs to be heartfelt.”

Liang Xiao showed a serious expression as he thought, and soon he regained his calm and composure. “Okay. Senior, you need to listen carefully.”

Ye Ji’an deliberately tugged at his earlobes and smiled at him.

Liang Xiao still wore a serious face, cleared his throat, straightened his collar, and stood up straight, speaking in a deep voice, like a high school student participating in a poetry recitation competition. As he recited the first line in Russian, Ye Ji’an silently mouthed the translation in his heart. If hearts could make sounds, they would hear their shared reading:

“И сердце бьется в упоенье,” My heart leaps in ecstasy.

“И для него воскресли вновь,” For it, everything awakens anew.

“И божество, и вдохновенье,” With the one you love, inspiration flows.

“И жизнь, и слезы, и любовь.”

“Life, tears, and love.” Ye Ji’an spoke the last line aloud.

Liang Xiao’s eyes widened in an instant.

“Sorry,” Ye Ji’an raised his hand in surrender. “Before boarding the plane, I thought you weren’t going to translate it for me, so I looked it up myself.”

He looked like he was playfully being cheeky, but in reality, he was trying to mask his embarrassment and nervousness. The heat radiating from his face indicated that he was definitely blushing. Those four lines of translation had been racing through his mind for hours, almost causing him to fumble his boarding pass before getting on the plane. At that moment, everything he had been holding back burst forth, and he had indeed said it out loud in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

Ambiguity, ambiguity, ambiguity, Ye Ji’an thought, the ambiguity is indeed here; don’t pretend you can’t see it. It could take your life.

Liang Xiao’s direct and emotional gaze made his heart race faster than if he had downed five cups of espresso in a day.

“Hey, don’t be silent…” Ye Ji’an pressed himself tightly against the wall, knowing he was about to chicken out.

“…Should we go back and sleep now?” he said awkwardly.

But Liang Xiao remained the same, neither speaking nor going back to sleep, completely ignoring what he said. Liang Xiao just pushed him another step against the wall, cupping his face with both hands, staring at him intently, leaning in slowly, as if caught in an unstoppable trance, with only the undercurrents surging beneath the calm surface. In the next second, a kiss landed on his lips, too soft and too brief, just a simple touch, not even unexpected. Liang Xiao gave him ample time to pull away, yet Ye Ji’an didn’t move at all.

He only felt that his breathing must be quite loud now.

“Does it feel bad?” Liang Xiao lowered his arms and took a step back, his ears flushed, losing the arrogance and confidence he had at work.

“Senior?” he said again.

Ye Ji’an snapped out of his daze, touching his lips.

The light in Liang Xiao’s eyes dimmed, and the bruises on his face looked weary, as if he was about to apologize.

But Ye Ji’an interrupted the apology before it could happen. He felt suddenly strong yet clumsy, realizing that if he didn’t hold on tightly, everything would slip through his fingers. So he took that step, one hand pressing on Liang Xiao’s shoulder, the other gripping his collar, standing on tiptoe to bring his face closer, opening his mouth to capture those two dry, thin lips.