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Since Zhehan was young, he’s been able to see the strings that connect him to the fated people in his life.
(“You believe you can see them,” ma said, one of the times he brought it up around her.
“I really can see them!”
“And Yue Lao is only supposed to tie one string,” ma went on. “One string between you and the person you’re going to marry.”
“Well, maybe Yue Lao’s thinking on significant lifelong relationships has evolved with the times,” Zhehan said. “I don’t know, ma, I’m just telling you what I see!”)
Zhehan isn’t claiming he’s connected to people left and right. There really isn’t much that he’s claiming about the whole thing at all, actually. All he knows is that sometimes he’ll be spending time with someone, and then out of nowhere he’ll see the red string between them and just know—I was meant to meet you.
It was pretty easy to deal with the first time (two times?) it happened to him, as a kid. He and Susu and Xiaoyu were already close friends; all Zhehan had to do was declare that they were best friends now, because he said so, and that was that.
A lot of things were easier as a kid.
Zhehan’s found that adult life—and especially adult life in the entertainment industry—doesn’t really make it easy to form deep relationships. He’s made friends, sure, but not without effort, and none of them ever approach the level of intimacy he has with Xiaoyu and Susu. He never sees the flash of red, which is disappointing, but—he decides, after years of reflection—not unexpected.
It’s work, after all—an all-consuming kind of work, maybe, but still work, in the end. Relationships with co-workers are distant and professional by default. Him as a person matters less than what he has to offer.
He signed up for it. He understands it. But still, whenever he starts working with someone new, he catches himself hoping for a sight of red. It isn’t as though having Susu and Xiaoyu isn’t enough for him; he just thinks it would be nice to be able to know someone else who understands.
But after a few years pass, then another, then another, he lets that hope fade.
He’s given up on it—it and almost the entire industry as a whole, really—when fate throws him into the path of Gong Jun.
“Tell me about him,” Susu says, much later, when Zhehan’s future is shrouded in fog and instead of trying to pick their way through it they’re all laying around on the hardwood floor of Susu’s condo, getting wasted. “I can’t believe I never got to meet him.”
Zhehan reaches out and pushes Susu’s shoulder, drink sloshing around in the bottle of convenience store liquor that Zhehan’s holding. Sad times call for sad drinks. “Don’t say it like we broke up.”
Thinking about that makes him even sadder than thinking about everything else that’s going on right now. He sets down his bottle next to their pyramid of empty ones, picks up his phone, and carefully types out the words miss you.
He stares at his phone until the message is marked as delivered, and when he lifts his head again, Susu and Xiaoyu are in the middle of a silent shoving contest. Zhehan picks up his bottle and takes a swig from it, and then another when his friends still haven’t finished with… whatever it is they’re doing.
After another few seconds, he gives in to impatience and tugs at the strings connecting his finger with each of theirs. He’s the only one who can see them, but Susu and Xiaoyu have both said they can feel something when he pulls—like out of nowhere, something’s reminded them of Zhehan.
Now, they turn as one in response to his call.
Zhehan swallows his smile and raises his eyebrows. “What are you two arguing about?”
“Nothing,” Xiaoyu says, with an obvious, pointed look at Susu.
Zhehan could press it further, but it’s really not worth the energy. “Okay. Xiaoyu. Tell him about Junjun.”
Xiaoyu, who was halfway to laying back on his elbows, scrambles up again, nearly tipping over his own drink in the process. “What? Why me?”
“Aren’t you always complaining that once I start talking about him I can’t stop?” Zhehan points his bottle in Xiaoyu’s direction. “I’m letting you have a break.”
He also wants to be able to stare at his phone until Gong Jun messages him back, but no one else needs to know that.
“How is this a break,” Xiaoyu mutters, mussing up his own hair. He drinks. He sighs. He gives in, like he always does. “Fine. Gong Jun is... he’s like a puppy.”
Susu gestures for him to go on.
“Like if Lufei had a fuckable human form,” Xiaoyu goes on.
“That—” Zhehan has no words for that. No amount of alcohol is an excuse for that. “No. What? What the hell are you saying? Why would you even say that?”
Xiaoyu flaps an insistent hand at him. “Listen. He has big puppy eyes—”
All right, fine, Zhehan can’t disagree with that.
“—and Zhehan likes to play with him—”
“That sounds wrong,” Zhehan says.
“Is it wrong, though,” Xiaoyu says.
Zhehan finds that, again, he can’t disagree.
But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
He throws his bottle cap at Xiaoyu. It lands a good meter away, on top of a crinkled rice cracker wrapper. “You’re not explaining him right at all.”
Xiaoyu sighs again. “He’s also loyal, hard-working, and sincere,” he says, ticking the qualities off on his fingers and reciting the words like the good friend who’s sat through months and months of Zhehan singing Gong Jun’s praises that he is. “And he bites. Metaphorically.”
“Well—”
“Metaphorically.” Xiaoyu glares at Zhehan. “I don’t want to know anything else.”
“He sounds nice,” Susu says, resting his chin on the lip of his bottle. “Is he nice?”
“I guess?” Xiaoyu frowns. “He’s polite.”
“He’s nice!” Zhehan says, unable to bear this attack on Gong Jun’s character. “He’s the nicest boy you’ll ever meet.”
Xiaoyu rolls his eyes. “I’m not saying he’s mean. I’m just saying he’s always polite, and sometimes nice. There’s a difference. Not that you would notice, since he’s always nice to you.”
“Ma thinks he’s nice.”
“Your ma thinks anyone who takes care of you is nice.”
“He takes good care of you, then?” Susu says.
“Always,” Zhehan says, emphasizing his point with a tap of his bottle on the floor. “I don’t even have to ask. I usually don’t ask.” He’s struck by a sudden longing to be wrapped up in Gong Jun’s arms, and he channels all of his pining into staring at his phone and willing Gong Jun to get off work and message him back.
“Oh,” Susu says, an oh like he’s just discovered the trick to beating a game level. “He’s one of us, isn’t he? One of your people?”
“I always thought so.” Xiaoyu glances at Zhehan. “You don’t act the same way with him like you do with others. You don’t look at him the same, either.”
“He is.” Zhehan’s finger has had three strings tied around it since last year. Two lead into this room; the other leads far, far away. He doesn’t let his eyes follow the trail, doesn’t let himself dwell on the physical reminder of their distance. “I haven’t told him about it.”
“Do you plan to?” Susu says.
Zhehan shrugs. His shoulders are as heavy as lead. “Maybe? I don’t know. By the time I could see it, I already felt like I’d made my choice. Seeing it was more like confirmation than anything else. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing his choice to stay or go, if I tell him.”
“If you ask me, he’s already made his choice,” Xiaoyu says, leaning back on his elbows. “Repeatedly. But what do I know, I was just your third wheel for a year.”
Zhehan shakes his head. “It’s different,” he says. “Choosing for now or choosing forever. It’s different.”
Susu pops open a new bottle. “I’m with Xiaoyu.”
Zhehan clicks his tongue and bumps his fist against Susu’s shoulder. “You haven’t even met him!”
Susu waves him off. “He’s one of us. Even if the whole world abandons you, your people never will.”
Xiaoyu elbows him.
“Not that the world is abandoning you,” Susu says, too quickly. “That was just an example. Everyone knows the way this all went off wasn’t right.”
Zhehan huffs out a breath that’s mostly amused, but somehow also mostly tired. “Thanks.” He contemplates the strings on his fingers again. “Do you ever wish you didn’t know?”
This time it’s Susu’s turn to shove him. “Have some faith in us,” Susu says. “Just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I feel it, too. We chose you as much as you chose us.”
“You’re stuck with us,” Xiaoyu says. “Red string hallucinations or not.”
“You should tell him.”
It takes Zhehan a second to realize what Susu is talking about, and then he takes another second to wonder why this should matter to Susu. “Tell Gong Jun? Why?”
“If he’s one of us, then I can tell you that what he’s probably scared of most right now is losing you.” Susu’s swirling his bottle around in his hand, but his gaze is fixed on Zhehan. “I can’t say exactly what it means to you, to be able to see the strings. But, for me, knowing that there’s one between us is knowing that we’re going to make it through whatever comes. That you’re not going to let go of me, either.”
Zhehan swallows past the thickening swell of emotion and says lightly, “I already promised him forever, you know.”
“Some promises feel stronger with a symbol.”
“He already gave the guy a wedding ring, you know,” Xiaoyu says. “But I know what you mean. I’ve actually felt crazy before. Like you’d say something ridiculous and I’d wonder, who’s this madman and why would I die for him? So when you told us about the strings, it didn’t change anything, but it made everything make sense. Why did I agree to bike to Tibet with him when I’ll probably die? Am I crazy? Oh, I’m not crazy, we’re just fated.”
“Tibet,” Susu says, and drinks miserably. “Wait. Wedding ring?”
“I didn’t tell him it was a wedding ring,” Zhehan says, as limited a defense as it is.
“It’s Gong Jun, he knows it’s a wedding ring,” Xiaoyu says. “You have a matching one. You probably both kiss it before you go to bed or something gross like that.”
“No comment,” Zhehan says in English.
“Anyway, stop changing the subject,” Susu says.
Zhehan raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who asked about the not-wedding ring.”
“The definitely-wedding ring,” Xiaoyu mutters into his bottle.
“Tell him,” Susu says, ignoring them both. “Right now, he’s lonely and scared of losing you. It would make him feel better to know.”
“You don’t know that,” Zhehan says.
Susu looks down and says quietly, “I know what it’s like.”
Zhehan’s phone starts ringing before he can respond, Gong Jun’s name and a picture of them both lighting up the screen. Susu waves at him to pick it up, and Zhehan hesitates just a moment before he does, pressing the button for speakerphone so he doesn’t have to hold the phone to his face. “Gong-laoshi!” he sings.
There’s a second of silence, and then Gong Jun’s voice says warmly, “Zhang-laoshi, you had me worried. You’re all right?”
“We’re at Zhang Su’s,” Zhehan says. “You’re on speaker, by the way, so don’t say anything dirty.”
“I wouldn’t anyway,” Gong Jun says, the liar. “Hi, Xiaoyu. Hi, Zhang Su.”
The other two chorus their hellos.
“Gong Jun, I have a question,” Susu says. He’s back to normal, like that quiet moment had never happened, his voice pitched a little too-loud so the phone’s mic will pick him up. “What do you think of our Zhehan?”
“Aish.” Zhehan elbows Susu lightly. “What are you doing? Do you really have to ask him this right now?”
“I don’t mind,” Gong Jun says. Even through the fuzzy crackle of the speaker, Zhehan can tell he’s smiling. “He’s my beloved person.”
Zhehan’s heart trips on a beat and he coughs to cover it up. Beside him, Susu smiles a little, and Xiaoyu puts his hand over his entire face. “Do you have to be so straightforward?”
“Aiya, don’t act like you didn’t already know it,” Gong Jun says, seven parts fond and three parts embarrassed.
Xiaoyu groans. “Look what you’ve started now,” he says, jostling Susu. To Zhehan, he says, “You, go be gross somewhere else.”
“Gong Jun, come over next time,” Susu says. “Zhehan says you can drink. And sing.”
Gong Jun laughs, his loud, boisterous laugh that makes Zhehan smile on reflex. “You definitely don’t want me to do both at the same time.”
“No, we definitely do,” Zhehan says. “Please, Junjun?”
“Aiya.” Gong Jun sounds more than slightly embarrassed this time. “I’ll think about it, all right? But I’ll definitely be there for the drinking part if I can.”
“Send over your schedule, we’ll figure it out,” Susu says. “Unless Zhehan already has it?”
“Of course Zhehan already has it,” Xiaoyu says. “Zhehan, either stop making eyes at your phone or leave.”
“Fine.” Zhehan sets his bottle down and clambers to his feet. “Hold on, Junjun, I’m taking you outside so we can make out.”
Gong Jun laughs. “Meet you on the roof?”
“See you there.”
Zhehan’s already turned to the door of the condo when Susu calls out to him. “Zhehan.” His expression is gentle. “Think about it.”
Zhehan nods. He takes the stairs two at a time up to the roof of Susu’s building. The cool air makes him feel a little more sober, though that’s overwhelmed with the high he’s getting from being able to talk to Gong Jun. “I’m here.”
“Me too.”
They both fall silent.
Zhehan is used to it. They have so little time together that he thought, at the beginning, that every moment would be filled with words, no matter how small; in reality, they both take care to only fill their precious time together with words that matter.
He follows the red string to the edge of the rooftop, and closes his hands around the cool metal of the railing. Past the lights of the city, past the point where red blends into nothingness, past the hazy edge of the horizon beyond is Gong Jun. Zhehan reaches his hand out, as though he could stretch the hundreds of kilometers and touch Gong Jun on the other side.
“I miss you,” Zhehan says quietly.
Gong Jun exhales. “Me too. Sorry for calling instead of messaging, I was just worried that—”
“Don’t apologize,” Zhehan says. “Not for caring.”
Silence falls again. In front of Zhehan is the sky, the same sky Gong Jun’s staring up at, too. It doesn’t make the distance between them feel any less vast.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Gong Jun says after a while.
Zhehan hums. “Don’t worry. We were just talking.”
“About anything interesting?”
“You, mostly.”
“Da-ge,” Gong Jun says, like he thinks Zhehan’s just teasing.
Zhehan can’t blame him for the response, because Zhehan really does enjoy teasing him, but the fact that it’s true makes it all the sweeter.
“I’m being serious!” Zhehan says, with a laugh that’s probably giving Gong Jun the entirely wrong idea. “Really. Zhang Su was sad you haven’t had the chance to meet in person yet.”
That tidbit is enough to appease Gong Jun. “I’d like to meet him too,” he says. “He’s one of yours, after all.”
Zhehan’s heart jerks to a stop. He makes a questioning noise.
“Your best friend,” Gong Jun says, and Zhehan’s heart starts beating properly again. “It feels weird to know you and Xiaoyu without meeting Zhang Su, when all three of you are so close. I’ve watched some of his streams, though, when I had free time.”
“Really?”
“Parts of them,” Gong Jun says, which is expected. He really doesn’t have a lot of free time. “He’s fun.”
“I’m fun, too,” Zhehan says, for no reason other than a desire to cling to Gong Jun, even through a voice call.
“Very fun, you’re very fun,” Gong Jun agrees. “If you stream for me, I’ll watch.”
Zhehan hums in mock thought. “Stream what?”
“Aiya,” Gong Jun says, sounding like a properly scandalized good boy even though he’s laughing. Zhehan can see the exact flustered-amused look on his face and grins. “I meant games, da-ge. Or music. Who’s the one being dirty, huh?”
“I’m joking,” Zhehan says. “Mostly. I’ll come with a surprise for you next time, okay?”
“Do I get a hint?”
“No.”
Gong Jun’s sigh is full of affection. “I’ll be sure to lock the door just in case.”
“Good idea.”
Silence falls again.
“We were also talking about...” Zhehan trails off, not sure how to complete the sentence. He wishes he remembered how he told Susu and Xiaoyu about it all, but unfortunately he hadn’t really planned it that time, either—he had been tired and emotional after surgery, and Susu and Xiaoyu were there as they always were, and it had all just come spilling out.
Gong Jun lets him have the time to think, nothing audible over the line but his steady breathing.
“I’m going to try something,” Zhehan says. He has no idea what will happen, especially since Gong Jun’s attention is already on him, but he wraps a finger around Gong Jun’s string and pulls. The string ripples past the horizon, into the abyss, but it catches against the solid, comforting presence of Gong Jun on the other end all the same. The feeling of it sends a thrill through him, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Did you feel that?”
Gong Jun stays silent. Zhehan waits for uncertainty, confusion, laughter—anything. After a few long, long beats, Gong Jun says, “Can you do it again?”
Zhehan pulls again, gently.
“I feel it,” Gong Jun says quietly. “It’s like... you’re touching my arm, the way you do when you walk by, to remind me that you’re there with me.”
Zhehan’s tears are sudden, but not surprising. He swipes at his nose and lets the nighttime air dry his eyes. “I’m there,” he says through the tightness in his throat. “I’m always there with you.”
“Me too,” Gong Jun says. Then, “What did you do? Could I do it, too?”
Zhehan takes a deep breath, and dives. “On my finger, I have red strings that tie me to other people. Xiaoyu, Susu, and you. I don’t know why, but I’m the only one who can see them. I pulled ours just now. That’s why you felt something.”
“On the little finger?” Gong Jun says. “Which hand?”
Zhehan blinks. Is Gong Jun really asking about those little details now? “Uh, my left. Your right.”
Gong Jun is quiet for a moment.
Then Zhehan feels it—the brief, familiar squeeze of Gong Jun’s long fingers wrapped around his hand. His heartbeat spikes, and he gasps.
“You felt it?” If Gong Jun had a tail, it would be wagging.
Zhehan stares at his hand. “How did you do that?”
“I pulled, like you said,” Gong Jun says, and he must do it again because Zhehan feels the warm pressure against his palm and forgets to breathe. “I can’t see it, but you can, so that must mean something’s there, right?”
Zhehan laughs, shocked into delight. “You are...”
Gong Jun laughs too. “What?”
“Amazing.” Zhehan touches the string connecting them and believes he can feel Gong Jun’s warmth radiating through it. “You’re not scared?”
“Of what?”
“What it means.”
“Does it mean anything different from what we’ve already promised?”
Zhehan’s laugh is watery. “Guess not. But it makes it real, doesn’t it?”
“It was always real,” Gong Jun says softly. “Ge. It was always real to me.”
Zhehan is clutching his phone so tightly that his fingers are turning white. What would those people think, he wonders, if they knew that after all he’d just been through, he still feels like the luckiest person in the world.
Careers, they can end; things, they can destroy; files, they can erase.
Faith, trust, love—these are the things no one can ever take from him.
And these are the things that matter most.
“I’ve always wondered why I could see them,” he says, with a wavering voice. He’s smiling, but he tastes salt on his lips. “Now I think it’s because I’ve always known this life was never going to be an easy one. But at least I know that I won’t be going through it alone. So—I’ll be okay. No matter how hard it gets, I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll be okay,” Gong Jun says. “We’ll be okay.”
They sit in silence again. Zhehan tries not to sniff too loudly, and Gong Jun’s breathing trembles. Zhehan’s never hated the horizon more than this moment. More than anything else, he wants a hug.
“When can I see you again?” Gong Jun says.
Zhehan sniffs and clears his throat. “You have some work in Shanghai soon, right?”
“Mn. A few days.”
“Come stay.”
“Of course.” Gong Jun is quiet. “I wish it could be for longer.”
“Maybe I can visit you, too,” Zhehan says. “A few days here and there.”
“Whenever you want,” Gong Jun says. “There’s always a place for you.”
Silence.
“Hey,” Gong Jun says. “If we pull at the same time, do you think it’ll feel like we’re holding hands?”
Zhehan laughs. “It can’t hurt to try. Ready? One, two, three.”
He pulls. Across the distance, he feels—something, from the other end. A matching pressure, firm and unyielding and sure. The string between them thrums with life, and he knows for certain that it won’t break, no matter how hard he hangs on.
“Wherever you are,” Gong Jun says, steady and soft and strong. “I’m there too.”
“No matter how high the mountains,” Zhehan says, “or how far the rivers.”
Gong Jun laughs a little. “Are you trying to get me to sing again?”
Zhehan smiles. “You know how much I love your singing.”
Gong Jun sighs, all fondness, and Zhehan is suffused in warmth. Zhehan curls his hand closed, like he can keep Gong Jun’s presence lingering against his palm forever.
“Together, then.” Gong Jun says, and it sounds like he’s talking about more than the song.
Zhehan smiles, and looks at the string stretching into eternity. “Together.”
任山高水远
你在我也在