Work Text:
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20:32 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Hello again!
20:34 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Hellooooooo
20:35 【水牛】: Hey
20:35 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: How are you today?
20:40 【水牛】: I’m okay. You?
20:40 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: The weather was good today, so I’m very happy.
20:41 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Talked to anyone interesting recently?
20:45 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Are you still here
20:56 【水牛】: No there wasn’t anyone interesting
20:56 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Oh, what do you talk to other people about?
21:07 【水牛】: I recently started looking into gender studies, so I bring that up
21:07 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Wow! High-level! Are you a university student too?
21:07 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Gender studies…hmm…
21:09 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Have you read The Politics of Individualism?
21:09 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I finished it recently!
21:11 【水牛】: Never heard of it. But I just looked it up. It’s only in English.
21:11 【水牛】: You can read English?
21:11 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Yes I can! Can you?
21:15 【水牛】: My English is pretty bad.
21:15 【水牛】: My best friend is the only one good in English.
21:15 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: If you want, I can translate the key ideas for you.
21:21 【水牛】: That’ll be too much work to ask from a stranger.
21:21 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: No trouble at all!
21:22【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I want to cite it for a class so have to do it anyway…
21:24【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: And don’t all friends start as strangers?
21:32【水牛】: Okay. Then, thanks. I’m excited to read it.
21: 33【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Cool!
21: 34【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: So…I can add you as a friend?
Before Lin Shu could get a reply, the monitor went pitch black.
“What the heck?” He smacked the side of the bulky monitor with his palm. “Ma-laoban, my computer stopped working! I want a refund!”
From over the other side of the small, windowless room, Ma-laoban dragged on his cigarette. “It’s not working because I turned off your power. Your time’s up, you rascal! What have I told you about overstaying your welcome? I have other customers waiting!”
Lin Shu turned around to see a bookish boy about his age smiling sheepishly, a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder, causing his feeble body to slant to one side. “It’s my turn on this computer…” he shivered at his own words.
Lin Shu, like a wily bull ready to stampede, snorted out a huff of air. The other boy hopped backwards, hands instinctively shielding his face. Lin Shu stormed out of the internet café while rambling about how Ma-laoban was a cheat.
That said, he would always return another day.
In their first ‘anonymous’ encounter, Jingyan had said he’d come to find ‘like-minded individuals’. The phrase had made Lin Shu bristle. He’d intended to show up to the chatroom and pull a bit of a quick prank – just to flush the sour taste out of his mouth and get Jingyan to come clean. But after reading that phrase, things had gotten infinitely more complicated.
Wasn’t he, the best friend, a like-minded individual?
Was there a need to find others?
He’d griped about it to Nihuang the day after. They ate dinner at their usual roadside noodle joint, perched on low plastic stools. She’d listened with a dull disinterest, intent on peeling her prawns perfectly instead. Here and there she’d pop one forcefully into Lin Shu’s mouth, and he’d chew voraciously while continuing his rant.
“Just leave him alone,” Nihuang advised once his tirade came to an end. “I promise you he’s not trying to replace you or anything.”
“How would you know?” Lin Shu spat, his words propelling bit of chewed food towards Nihuang, which she successfully defended herself from. “Aren’t you worried that Jingyan may be – I don’t know – abducted by a stranger from an internet?”
Nihuang removed the food bits on her sleeve with a napkin. “Uh-huh.”
“You’re being sarcastic.” Lin Shu squinted. “Why are you being sarcastic?”
“I’m not being sarcastic at all,” Nihuang said, “I just think you’re projecting onto Jingyan. And being a little possessive.”
“I’m not projecting,” Lin Shu rolled his eyes. “Excuse me, but who’s the business student and who’s the psychology student?”
“Even practicing psychologists see psychologists of their own, you know. It’s not like studying it makes you immune to behavioural issues and aberrant thoughts.”
Lin Shu saw it like this: they’d been best friends since as long as anyone could remember, doing almost everything together; they would be rooming together now if Jingyan’s father weren’t ill. They kept no secrets between each other – or so he’d thought.
Three months ago, Jingyan’s mum had bought him a new Legend desktop PC – he’d heard the news straight from Jingyan, of course, then wanted nothing but to splay his fingers across its mint condition keyboard. Jingyan was happy to share, but Lin Shu caused the RAM to overload, according to the repairman they were later forced to bring it to.
Though Jingyan’s dad was rich, Jingyan wasn’t, nor was his mum, who’d gotten nothing in the divorce. She worked hard in Guangzhou at a sales counter, and PCs weren’t at all cheap. Jingyan forked out a large chunk of his own savings to get the PC repaired. He’d been saving for a birthday present for his mum.
Jingyan had been annoyed by it. Upset, really, because Jingyan had warned Lin Shu umpteen times beforehand about being mindful, not running too many programmes at once. Lin Shu had let his curiosity overtake his common decency.For a week, Jingyan gave him the cold shoulder – a distinct boundary had been established. Lin Shu was aware of his wrongdoing, but he had already apologised twice and offered to cover the repair cost. Jingyan wouldn’t accept any form of financial reimbursement though, since Lin Shu was on scholarship.
Afterwards, Jingyan pulled Lin Shu aside and said it was really all right, that he had gotten over it. He in turn apologised for acting so petulantly over an issue that was ultimately already resolved.
That said, it wasn’t too long past this incident that Jingyan started acting strange. He often retreated home much earlier than usual, no longer spending as much time with their group of friends. His reasons were always that he needed to handle chores since their housekeeper was on leave, or that his dad’s health was going through a rough patch. No one could argue with that. Lin Shu would offer to come over and help if he didn’t bear a grudge against Jingyan’s dad, and the animosity went both ways. Yet a niggling thought at the back of his head said that Jingyan was avoiding him. It must still be about the PC, he theorised.
On Wednesdays, Jingyan and Lin Shu wouldn’t casually cross paths on campus due to one having lectures all in the morning and the other only in the afternoon. Jingyan would return home to have his lunch, which was usually when Lin Shu would awaken in a stupor. Their set plan was for Lin Shu to come over to Jingyan’s. Beginning one unassuming Wednesday, a message for Lin Shu had been left with the supervisor of their dorm. It said: Taking care of dad. Don’t come over anymore on Wednesdays. Jingyan.
An entire month went by like this.
Lin Shu couldn’t endure this ambiguity. On the fifth Wednesday, he awoke, washed up in haste and made his way to Jingyan’s house, foregoing his academic commitments.
At the front porch, he spotted Jingyan’s dad through the window, reclining in his armchair and flipping through a newspaper. A tube wound from an oxygen concentrator, up and around his ears and into his nostrils. He’d been stuck with it for close to two years now. Otherwise, Jingyan’s dad seemed quite in the pink of health, livelier than usual, issuing commands to the housekeeper. Things weren’t adding up. Lin Shu trekked to the back of the house where the garden was and threw his backpack on the top of a manicured hedge.
Right under the window to Jingyan’s room was a wooden cross-beam pergola where lush creeper plants twisted upwards towards the sky. As soon as he had been old enough to climb, Lin Shu had taken to scaling the structure to reach Jingyan’s room and avoid any interaction with his dad. Jingyan would leave the window unlocked at all times, even if he weren’t around.
He had only arrived at Jingyan’s window when his hand froze before the handle. Jingyan was seated in front of the PC, rapt eyes enchanted by the words across the screen. Lin Shu was as quiet as a housecat as he observed Jingyan for several minutes, typing back and forth in a chatroom.
Lin Shu’s heart was pounding in his chest, sending waves of hot blood to his limbs as they ached to kick the window in for a confrontation. In the end, all he did was descend back to ground level, retrieve his backpack and return to campus. He arrived to his third lecture of the day with so much time to spare that it spooked the professor.
Lin Shu suddenly found he had a photographic memory. He could see the numerical ID of the chatroom scroll across his mind in an endless loop. The username didn’t need any extra effort to recall – it was the nickname he’d bestowed upon Jingyan himself.
This was the beginning.
So how was he going to get this random English book whose title he’d grabbed off the internet on a whim?
It was a little past ten when Lin Shu arrived back at the dorms. Lie Zhanying had already tidied his desk, washed up, and huddled into his bunk bed. An eye mask and ear plugs separated him from the waking world. Qi Meng, on the other hand, was still at his desk burning the midnight oil. His head bobbed to one side in a half-slumber, but his pen continued to make illegible squiggly lines in the margins of his text.
Lin Shu jabbed him in the shoulder with two fingers. “Pst, you’re only halfway through? Aren’t you supposed to be done with this book…like, last week?”
Qi Meng sat up and patted his cheeks several times. “Lin Shu-gege, you’ve already read this book, haven’t you? Come on, help me out here.”
“In my first year, yeah, but for leisure. I could help you…but you’ll never get the hang of linguistic analysis if you keep copping out with this–” Lin Shu pointed a finger towards his head. He then flipped over his backpack, letting its contents spill out across his desk in a noisy crash. Zhanying didn’t stir.
Slowly, Lin Shu gathered all the crumpled bills and loose coins among the detritus. “Using a language isn’t the same as knowing it, my friend,” he added with a cheeky cluck of the tongue.
“Please? I’m drowning here,” Qi Meng begged. “I’ll owe you one. Two, if I must!”
Lin Shu tapped on his pouted-out bottom lip. “Actually…” he sidled up to Qi Meng and planted his bottom onto the desk’s edge. “There is something I need.”
Qi Meng put his fist into his palm and declared with sincerity, “Name it and it shall be granted.”
“Since you’re in the school of humanities, surely you must know of someone who can put me in touch with the Book Smuggler?”
The Book Smuggler was the university’s open secret. They could get you any book in any language – it didn’t matter if it were a Scandinavian text, out of stock throughout the region or banned in the country.
When you needed the Book Smuggler, you had to use a public phone outside of school to dial their number. They would pick up only on the fifth ring, where you had to state what book you required – only one title was allowed per transaction. Later, you’d have a message left with your dorm supervisor about a meeting place from a pseudonym. It could take days, it could take weeks. A phone number would be included, but it’d be a fake – the last two to three digits would be the required price.
To his surprise, Lin Shu’s book arrived in only four days, but it was going to cost him two hundred yuan.
“That’s daylight robbery!” Lin Shu protested.
“It’s an English text, new and imported. What did you expect?” Qi Meng shrugged. “Hey, tell me what this person’s like. Those I know who’ve met them say it seems to be a man, pretty tall, could be in their forties. No one’s ever heard their voice though, so it’s all speculation.”
The meeting spot was in an alleyway behind an abandoned tile factory. From afar, Lin Shu spied a figure in a long beige coat huddled against the fencing, wearing oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed Stetson pulled over their face. Lin Shu had come with a baseball cap from Zhanying’s wardrobe, borrowed after the latter had left in the morning. He adjusted it to sit lower over his forehead while making a casual approach, as if they were just two people in the vicinity.
But when Lin Shu was an arm’s length away, he immediately knew who this mysterious Book Smuggler was.
“Yan Yujin!” he hollered, clutching the younger one by the collar of his coat. Yujin was the best friend of Xiao Jingrui, Jingyan’s distant cousin. Lin Shu had seen enough of him over the years to identify him from a close-up shot of his oblong nose.
Yujin cleared his throat several times, pushing out a gravelly “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Lin Shu aggressively ripped off his fake moustache.
“Ouch!” Yujin’s voice immediately returned to its familiar tenor. He placed a hand to the delicate skin of his upper lip. “Lin Shu-gege, you’re so mean.”
“What are those–” Lin Shu tilted his head towards the boots Yujin was wearing. “Platforms? Heavens.” Then, Lin Shu’s mouth curled into a devilish smirk. “Does Yan-shushu know about this? Does Jingrui know about this?”
Yujin’s eyes grew wide. “Oh no, please don’t tell either of them. Please, please, please.” He wiggled in Lin Shu’s grasp like a fish out of water.
Lin Shu stuck out his hand demandingly.
“Come on! Being my dad’s son doesn’t mean I get books for free from the suppliers!” Yujin whined.
Lin Shu didn’t budge, only narrowing his eyes.
“Ugh, fine!” Yujin issued a full refund.
Lin Shu finally released him. “And I’ll be keeping the book too, thank you very much.”
“At least return my moustache!” Yujin chased after Lin Shu, stumbling in the platform boots. “Those are premium; they don’t come cheap!”
. . .
20:18 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: You added me!
20:18 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I got cut off last time and was worried you’d think I just disappeared.
20:18 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: What are you up to?
20:22 【水牛】: Talking to you.
20:22 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I see…
20:23 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I finished my Chinese summary of the book!
20:23 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Shall I send it here?
20:26 【水牛】: You’re fast. Sure, my heartfelt thanks.
20:31 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: It’s taking forever…
20:43 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: [自在自己.doc]
20:43 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Heavens, finally!!
20:43 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Did you get it?
20:44 【水牛】: Yeah. I’m waiting for it to download.
20:46 【水牛】: Where do you live?
20:46 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: D City
20:46 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: What about you?
20:47 【水牛】: What a coincidence. Me too.
20:47 【水牛】: You’re the first person I’ve talked to who’s from the same area.
20:48 【水牛】: You mentioned being a university student too. J University, by any chance?
20:52 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Yes, how did you know?!
20:53 【水牛】: Pure luck. I would have guessed all the universities here one by one.
20:54 【水牛】: Can I buy you dinner some day? We can go somewhere near campus.
20:56 【水牛】: Just as a thank you. For the summary of the book.
20:58 【水牛】: No pressure.
21:00 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I’ll gladly accept!
21:01 【水牛】: Do you have time this coming Saturday evening?
21:01 【水牛】: I can meet you at the university’s western gate. 8pm?
21:05 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Sounds good.
21:06 【水牛】: Ok, I’ll wear navy pants with a white shirt and a brown jacket.
21:06 【水牛】: Oh, I’m a guy. With short hair. No glasses.
21:10 【水牛】: How will I identify you?
21:10 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I’ll be in a red shirt and a brown skirt.
21:11 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Ah sorry, I have to go!
21:11 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: See you soon. In person!
21:11 【水牛】: Ok, see you.
21:12 【水牛】: You write really well, by the way.
Lin Shu felt like he was imploding.
That was all it took. A document. Just a bunch of ones and zeroes on a virtual sheet of paper and Jingyan had asked to meet. Even to pay for dinner!
Sure, Lin Shu had missed a full day of classes and an additional morning as he speed-read the book and wrote the document in a race against the rising sun, but Jingyan didn’t know that. He probably thought that a really smart woman in the same university as him was going out on a limb for him. To be fair, Jingyan had asked to meet before the gender reveal, but that final sprinkle of praise about his prose seemed rather pointed, enough for suspicion to ferment. Jingyan had never expressed a desire to date – why now in their final year?
Lin Shu wasn’t going to dress up in a red shirt and a brown skirt. No way. He didn’t own such an outfit, and even if he did, even if he shaved his legs smooth, it’d be a dead giveaway. It’d be a worse job than Yujin’s shoddy disguise. But in some twisted way he desired to know how Jingyan would act with this fictitious woman he’d created at the last minute. The only way to find out his intentions was for a probable subject to show up.
Lin Shu employed Qi Meng for the second favour owed.
The next day, a mysterious leaflet was slipped under the door to the clubroom of the university’s theatre club.
Seeking one woman, any height and weight, must own a red shirt and a brown skirt of her own. Must be quick-thinking, good in English, somewhat interested in gender equality and have the ability to remember lines. Paid role. This is a serious job listing. Please call XXX-XXXX if interested and leave a message for Lie Zhanying, including your name and a contact number. We will reach you accordingly.
In the evening, Zhanying entered their room with a long face. “What advertisement did you use my name again for this time? I told you two to stop it.” He shoved a scrap of paper towards Lin Shu and Qi Meng – the two were huddled together over a pot of noodles on a portable burner.
Their dorm supervisor had an illegible scrawl when it came to names, but he printed numbers impeccably.
Lin Shu rarely had an opinion on women’s appearances. Maybe knowing Nihuang had helped him be critical of the way men were conditioned to think of them. Despite that, he did an appreciative double take when Gong Yu walked into the cramped barbecue shop. She carried herself like a noble lady, donning a well-made blouse with fine embroidery along the high collar and a long black shin-length skirt with pleats. Her hair was styled straight, falling over her shoulders. She was the kind of demure that most men probably fancied.
After they exchanged some small talk, the owner of the place jumped up from behind them. “Gong-guniang!” he teased, “brought a lovely gentleman this time, eh?” He scanned Lin Shu with solicitous eyes. “I’ll double the portions of your usual, then.”
Lin Shu wanted to object – they weren’t really here to eat, and his wallet was rather tight as of now – but Gong Yu caught his hand mid-wave and nodded to the owner with a gentle smile. “It’s on me,” she said with ease.
He happily obliged. Lin Shu considered himself progressive; he wasn’t the type to insist that men bear the cost of a meal. It was no longer the ‘80s! Then, without wasting time, he got down to business.
“So…” Gong Yu pondered with her glass of beer poised before her lips. “You want me to pretend to be this internet friend, who is actually you, and meet your best friend while ‘being myself’ and then reporting how it all goes to you?”
Lin Shu frowned. “Okay, don’t make it sound so bad.”
Gong Yu drained her glass. “I’m only summarising.” She didn’t think about it for too long. “I’ll do it.”
“Really?!” Lin Shu rose with glee. “Wait,” he sat back down, “how much will I owe you for this?”
“A hundred yuan.” Gong Yu stated.
“I don’t have that much!” Lin Shu retorted.
Gong Yu didn’t budge. “There’s been a rumour swirling around about the most expensive deal with the Book Smuggler. Didn’t have any extended interest in it until I heard your mission and put two and two together.”
Lin Shu gritted his teeth. “You’re not even a professional actor yet.”
“I could be in the future,” she opined. “Think of it as investing in my future career. I’ll thank you at the award shows. And the extra fee is for me to keep quiet about all this.”
Tragic, a beggar really did not have the luxury of choice. But Lin Shu was going to make hell for Yujin, that rumour-milling goat.
A hundred yuan for Lin Shu to get this itch scratched. The two shook hands, refilled their glasses and clinked them together as newly-acquainted accomplices.
Saturday’s imminence seemed both relentless and interminable. He became incapacitated in bed, his heart beating out of rhythm and his forehead constantly breaking out in a sweat.
“Zhanying, am I having a stroke? A heart attack? Zhanying?” Lin Shu stared at the ceiling, frozen with fright.
“No, you’re not.” Zhanying didn’t look up from his textbook. “You’re being dramatic.”
Qi Meng shushed Zhanying as he sat on a stool to Lin Shu’s bedside, patting the one exposed hand from under the quilt. It was rather clammy. Qi Meng was carrying a bowl of freshly-brewed qi-enhancing soup, the recipe coming straight from his mum’s mouth, a folk remedy everyone in his mountainous home region swore by. “Lin Shu-gege, you must keep your body nourished,” he fretted.
Doused with lethargy, Lin Shu retrieved a plastic funnel from under his pillow and presented it to Qi Meng. “Just pour it down my throat with this,” he said.
“Zhanying!” Qi Meng cried in desperation. “You can’t just sit by with Lin Shu-gege like this!”
Zhanying wanted no part in any of this, but he needed to finish the chapter he was on by tonight. With all the hubbub, he hadn’t made good progress all evening. At wit’s end, he stormed over and emptied a half mug of lukewarm water onto Lin Shu’s face.
“What the hell, Zhanying!” Lin Shu fumed, bolting upright. “You know I only change my sheets once every month, and I just did it last week!”
Zhanying fixed Lin Shu with a deadly stare. “You might be my senior, but let me break this to you frankly: I don’t approve of this elaborate stunt you’re pulling on Jingyan. But that doesn’t involve me, so live as you will. However, we eat, sleep and study in this shared space. I need you to get your act together and stop disrupting things for Qi Meng and I.”
Lin Shu was quiet, his hands intertwined and his fingers tapping on his knuckles.
“Understood?” Each syllable came bearing down like a pestle upon a mortar. Zhanying’s authoritative voice made Qi Meng shrink.
“Yes, I heard you,” Lin Shu acquiesced. He promptly ingested the soup on his own afterwards. It was delicious and indeed made him feel reinvigorated.
That night, Lin Shu slept soundly despite his supposed heart palpitations. In the morning, he saw that someone had bought him steamed buns for breakfast, leaving them on his bedside stool in a small thermal pot.
He knew it wasn’t Qi Meng. No one else but Zhanying would give him plain buns first thing in the morning where one’s mouth was at the peak of parched.
Lin Shu couldn’t recognise Gong Yu when he met her on the fated day.
She wore a woollen half-sleeve sweater that was a sharp crimson with a deep V-neck, and it was tucked into a chestnut mini skirt. It broadcasted her ideal curvature at all angles. The outfit was finished off with black patent high heeled boots that came up to a couple centimetres below her knees. She had tied up her hair, a golden pin piercing through her neat bun.
Lin Shu launched into a spluttering, flabbergasted tirade.
“Wasn’t the point of this operation to seduce him?” Gong Yu enquired innocently.
“No?!” Lin Shu wrung himself out in disbelief.
Gong Yu was nonchalant. “Well anyway, these are the only clothing I have that fit your description. I had to go home to my parents’ just to retrieve it before coming back here.”
It’s fine, it’ll be fine, Lin Shu told himself, rubbing at his temples. “All right,” he said out loud, “let’s move on to some role playing practice. Come, I’ll be Jingyan.”
Gong Yu was a gifted thespian. Lin Shu could believe that she was his online persona if he wasn’t behind all this. She easily and leisurely recalled minute pointers from their online chat history and the book he translated, never divulging too much of her own eccentricity. When he threw curve balls, she was always ready to swing.
At 7pm, Lin Shu was teeming with confidence over his plan. By 7.45pm, he was strategically crouched in a nearby bush, armed with a monoscope pillaged from his dad’s bird watching equipment.
He watched with magnified intensity as Gong Yu dithered at the western gate, swinging her handbag back and forth. Jingyan arrived at 7.50pm like a gentleman, and dressed like it too.
Being unable to hear their conversation frustrated him so – Lin Shu dearly wished for technology to hasten its development. If laser discs could shrink to compact discs, why couldn’t walkie-talkies be undergoing the same transformation?
Jingyan and Gong Yu actually seemed like a well-matched campus couple just by their looks. On top of that, there wasn’t any awkward movements between them. They were already chatting seamlessly as they headed southwards, strolling in step with each other. Lin Shu felt a heavy sense of gloom lingering.
He followed them inconspicuously all the way and was nonplussed upon seeing their destination. It was a small dim sum family restaurant he and Jingyan frequented for special occasions, milestones big and small. They’d had their first meal there, just the two of them, upon receiving their university acceptance letters. After passing each semester, they’d come here too.
He plopped himself down at the base of a tree across the shop and grumbled to himself. It was unfair, Lin Shu felt, that Jingyan so easily marred their sacred place. Five handfuls of grass had already been unjustly uprooted and thrown aside as Lin Shu baked and bothered.
The sun set quickly. With it came a refreshing breeze that carried the fragrance of new blooms and the quiet chatter of spring love. Lin Shu had fallen asleep under a sky full of stars, curled up under his jacket. He was harshly awakened by a slap to the back of his head.
“Wh–Who’s there?!” He sprung to his feet, poised to attack.
Gong Yu’s one upward eyebrow read like judgement. “Jingyan’s gone home. So can you.”
He looked at his watch and saw that it was 9.47pm. “What did you two talk about for over one and a half hours!” Lin Shu exclaimed.
“Not much,” Gong Yu said. “He mostly inquired about theatre and literature; I inquired back about science and space stuff, among others. He was very nice and paid for dinner, then insisted on sending me back to my dorm since it was late. But I declined with the reason that I was meeting someone. Hey, don’t you feel bad for fooling your best friend like this?”
Lin Shu seemed not to hear. “Did he say if he’d like to meet again?”
“Yeah, he did.”
Lin Shu trudged past Gong Yu with his brows all knotted, not even saying goodbye. He left behind the payment in a brown envelope, scrunched up and dropped on the bald patch of ground he had nested upon.
“What did you do on Saturday?”
“I was at home.”
“Were you. All day? I called your house but no one picked up.”
“What time was that? I might have been busy and didn’t hear.”
“In the evening.”
“Hmm, I don’t remember receiving any calls.”
. . .
21:02 【水牛】: Are you free next weekend?
21:04 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Why?
21:05 【水牛】: Thought you might feel ready to meet my best friend.
21:09 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Haha eh?
21:11 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Oh no need
21:11 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: I’m worried it’ll be awkward!
21:12 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: What if he mistakes me as your girlfriend or something?
21:16 【水牛】: You’re not actually Gong Yu, are you?
21:17 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Of course I am!
21:20 【水牛】: Just tell me who you are.
21:23 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Hehe, guess you got me…?
21:25 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: It’s your Xiao-Shu!
21:27 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Jingyan?
21:28 【飞檐走壁的天才鼯鼠】: Are you there?
【水牛】is offline.
Lin Shu loitered outside of the main engineering building. He knew that Jingyan’s last lecture for the day would end in three minutes.
They hadn’t talked since. Jingyan had disconnected the landline in his room. He’d done the same with the PC incident, so it wasn’t the biggest cause of worry. Lin Shu often rubbed many people the wrong way because of his antics, including Jingyan, but things always worked themselves out. Jingyan was a forgiving person like that; someone had to take the higher ground between them. Time would mend all troubles.
But an apology was probably owed.
Students began milling out of the front entrance and down the flight of stairs. Lin Shu looked up in anticipation. He spotted familiar faces, some he’d gotten to recognise from picking Jingyan up after classes.
But Jingyan never appeared. Instead, he saw Nihuang descending the steps in quick strides. Lin Shu verified the sign in front of the building.
“The business building is all the way on the other side,” Lin Shu joked.
Nihuang spared not a second for his jibe. “I’m here for Jingyan. He’s applied for leave with his professor and asked me to help pick up some papers for him.”
“Wait – Jingyan isn’t coming in? For how long?” Lin Shu worked up a jog as he matched her pace.
“I don’t know,” Nihuang said sternly, “as long as it takes for you to fix whatever mess you made.”
The forthright words struck Lin Shu right in the heart. He stood speechless as Nihuang sauntered off without throwing a glance back.
Whenever the two best friends had a spat, it stayed between them. That’s just how things would be. At most, the others in their circle would have an inkling that something happened behind the scenes, but they’d never have their own comments to throw into the mix. This was the first time Nihuang had something to say – and on Jingyan’s behalf. It shook Lin Shu’s bones.
He didn’t think he did anything that bad.
Did he?
He could still apologise.
He could just head over right now and enunciate the easy words “I’m sorry.” They would slide right off his tongue.
But Lin Shu had convinced himself not to. The more he thought about it, the more he extracted from the cracks: that Jingyan was upset over the trick meant that maybe he had really liked Gong Yu, perhaps even feeling cheated, and that got Lin Shu in a mood that obfuscated his pure apologetic intentions.
On how he’d been found out, only three people knew of his scheme – Qi Meng, Zhanying and Gong Yu. He immediately asked Qi Meng to track down Gong Yu’s schedule for him.
Lin Shu ambushed her between tutorials.
“No, I didn’t tell him, so will you get out of my way? I’m going to be late.” Whichever direction Gong Yu dodged towards, Lin Shu deftly followed, cutting her off.
He cornered her against the wall with his arms. “If not you, then how else would Jingyan have caught on? ”
Gong Yu rolled her eyes. “You could have said something stupid.” She lifted her leg and drove her heel right into Lin Shu’s toecap. He cried out, hopping around on the unaffected foot and hissing.
“Maybe you don’t know Jingyan like you think you do.” Gong Yu stormed off.
“I miss Jingyan. Is he just staying in his room and using his computer all day?”
Lin Shu lay across Nihuang’s lap. She was reading a tome on entrepreneurship – a pointless study, Lin Shu felt, its author being some tycoon born into old money. The lawn was freshly cut, the grassy aroma strong and musky. Broken shards of sunlight streamed through the canopy of tree branches that extended above them. Occasionally, leaves would come floating down like snow.
Nihuang had her free hand resting on Lin Shu’s head. She tugged on a tuft of his hair as a measure of discipline. “You wouldn’t have to miss him if you apologised.”
“I can just wait till he’s over it,” he said.
“Even though you’re the one who did something wrong.”
Lin Shu turned to his side to escape Nihuang’s glare. “He kept secrets from me first. We promised never to do that.”
“Xiao-Shu,” Nihuang sighed, “you made that oath as kids. How old are we now? Everyone is entitled to their own secrets. Not everything is about you.”
That stung. Lin Shu had entered this university because Jingyan wanted to – in reality, he couldn’t care less about which institution delivered him a degree as long as it had a psychology major. Jingyan hadn’t coerced him to make this decision, he did it all on his own. Yet deep down, he did want Jingyan’s attention in return, as much of it as he could amass. Logic and emotion could only be separated so far. If pressured, Lin Shu could admit at being selfish and illogical, but these beastly sentiments kept him in a chokehold nonetheless.
They’ve always been together, beyond two peas in a pod. Lin Shu can’t imagine a future where he’s forced to take a back seat in Jingyan’s life. It’s not that he doubts Jingyan’s ability to balance his relationships. He just – ah, well, he wants to monopolise him, all right? He doesn’t want to compete with a girlfriend, even though technically he doesn’t have to, love being finite and everything. Someone had drunkenly slurred that into his ear at a party in first year. Back then, he had thought it silly, but on further consideration, he realised he felt that way about Jingyan. So did he towards Nihuang, but things definitely varied by notable degrees between the two. Don’t ask him how he knew, he just knew. It was like knowing in your heart that you could never reach the end of the horizon even before understanding the concept of distance.
It was as if he were always chasing after Jingyan. Willingly so. It made him happy.
“Did you hear me at all?” Nihuang had continued talking while Lin Shu swum around in his head. She bent over to study his face from above. “No, I can tell you weren’t listening.”
“You know me best,” Lin Shu grinned. Nihuang shook her head in disagreement.
Two weeks went by. Nihuang branded Lin Shu unethical for being so stubborn. At this point, it wasn’t even about who’s right and who’s wrong; he viewed it as a war of attrition.
He was surprised to see who was waiting for him at the dorms. The men who passed by were catcalling, and Lin Shu had to scare them off with several roundhouse kicks.
“A-ning meimei! I didn’t know you were back from Australia!” Lin Shu lovingly held Jingning in his bosom. Jingning was Jingyan’s younger sister – the only full sibling he had. All of his older brothers were from his dad’s first wife, now married and having emigrated.
Jingning had a troubled look on her face and avoided eye contact.
“What’s wrong?” Lin Shu puffed up his chest. “If someone has bullied you, tell me right now.”
Jingning placated him with repeated assurances that she was fine, but she remained sombre. “Lin Shu-gege, I haven’t had good Chinese desserts in a long time,” she said, “let’s go have some together.”
They shared two bowls of tangyuan, one black sesame and the other red bean. “I came back because of Jingyan,” she confessed. “He…hasn’t been well.”
Lin Shu sucked in a whole tangyuan by accident. “W-what’s happened to him?” His voice quivered as his fingers kneaded at his sleeve.
“Lin Shu-gege, I don’t know what’s happened between you two – he won’t breathe a word to me – but won’t you please make up with Jingyan-gege?” Jingning’s eyes were downcast, her voice thick. “Our housekeeper said he’d spent hours overturning the garden, then went to the other extreme, holing up in his room. He comes out for meals, but his appetite’s been measly. I rang him when I heard, and he cried over the phone. Aside from mum and dad’s divorce, I’ve never heard Jingyan-gege cry.” Tears began to collect in the corners of her eyes.
Lin Shu was wracked with guilt. He felt his heart crumble by his own hand.
Jingning said she needed some time alone outside. It was probably her way of signalling to Lin Shu that he ought to head over right away and talk to Jingyan. Not that he needed any extra persuading to do so.
He pedalled at full speed all the way to Jingyan’s house and dropped his bicycle at the front, not bothering to lock it to the lamp post ten steps away. The living room was cloaked in semi-darkness; the wooden doors at the far end were closed shut, but light seeped through the slit between them and the floor. It made the wide space appear eerie. Jingyan’s dad was probably having a bad day, not to be disturbed.
When Lin Shu went round to the back, he was frozen for a long moment.
When Jingning had mentioned ‘overturning the garden’, he’d thought that Jingyan had pulled a landscaping overhaul, as he sometimes did, razing entire soil beds and homing new plants.
He didn’t foresee the pergola being dismantled. Each plank of wood was stacked in a square-base formation against the back wall like a bonfire construct. The creepers on the wall were satisfied with the new orientation of things, growing so abundant that the house’s siding was concealed in a flash of green.
Lin Shu gazed up at Jingyan’s window. The heavy curtains were drawn. He felt a wave of nausea all of a sudden; he quickly crouched into a squat as he felt an acidic burn at the back of his throat. Cold beads of sweat had gathered along his hairline.
Though his breaths were shallow, he tried his best to steady its rhythm, focusing on the ground. Lin Shu looked up and down, finally settling on a weed that grew tall above the cow grass. It had a singular flower branching from its green stem – a white, radially symmetric centre ringed by translucent yellow petals. Two brown butterflies happened to flit by, both coming to circle the flower repeatedly in a dizzying display. Despite their back and forth, Lin Shu’s stomach calmed at the sight.
He wished that Jingyan was out here with him on the lawn. He’d always liked these brown butterflies. “They look like moths, but they aren’t,” Jingyan had once shared as he repotted some begonias. Lin Shu was busy digging a pointless hole that Jingyan would have to fill later. “I think they’re nicer than the colourful ones, because not everyone can appreciate their beauty. You know, they make me think of you.” Lin Shu had lopped a handful of soil at Jingyan, heckling him for such an unflattering comparison. “You might be a boring brown butterfly,” he’d scoffed, “but I’m definitely not!”
Some time later, while waiting for Jingyan to finish borrowing some books from the library, he’d been standing next to the life sciences shelves and casually picked up a compendium on butterflies. He flipped the well-read copy open at random, and it brought him right to a page on the colour of butterfly wings. Too much of a coincidence to be forgettable.
Butterflies are classified as Lepidoptera, an insect order known for their complex variation in basic body structure…Their wing colours didn’t happen overnight, but over centuries…They are able to perceive a greater light spectrum than humans can, which is helpful in finding flowers and for camouflaging. It is also especially useful in finding romantic partners.
Lin Shu didn’t know why he could recall these excerpts – he hadn’t been reading that closely. But now he felt thrown back into the memory, the vivid sense of restlessness that had been conjured when he reached the end of the page.
He replaced the book on the shelf and peeked over at Jingyan from where he leaned. Jingyan was still chatting with the librarian, and Lin Shu felt something was aflutter. There was no flapping of winds to be heard or gusts of wind to be stirred by; Lin Shu studied Jingyan’s profile earnestly and felt something akin to gratitude – to know him and to have him in this life, to see all the colours radiating from him, how fortunate one was.
At times when he stole over in the middle of the night, they’d lie together under the covers in Jingyan’s bed. Looking out the window at the moon, Jingyan would say, “Xiao-Shu, I often feel that I change with each and every day. Even so, you always manage to see who I am.” In his sleep he’d mutter, “Only you, Xiao-Shu…”
Jingyan tended to writhe when asleep. If he did, Lin Shu would throw a hand and sometimes a leg over him, and immediately he’d go still. In the morning, Lin Shu was always the first to wake, having to zip to the restroom. In order to get up, he’d have to disentangle himself from Jingyan’s embrace. He did it with great care, not wanting to wake his best friend.
In Jingyan’s backyard, Lin Shu lay on the grass on his side in a vulnerable position. He was all alone.
Nihuang was right – what a mess he’d made. Jingyan had loved him all along, and he hadn’t stopped to think about it until now, where the assumption that he’d always have Jingyan’s heart had begun to fade.
The two brown butterflies flew off together and disappeared from view.
The one hiding something had never been Jingyan – no, it was himself, a foolish course of action borne by ignorance and complacency. Lin Shu snuggled deeper into the grass, willing himself not to cry. In doing so, he accidentally pressed into several small pebbles that prodded his exposed flesh.
Flinching from the pain, he thought: I do deserve that, in the very least. But in the next second, he had an idea.
He got up and went around gathering as many of these pebbles as he could find, trawling the entire garden.
There were two things Lin Shu knew he absolutely had to do: apologise, and make sure that Jingyan saw the true colours of his heart, too.
The pebbles deflected from the hard surface of the window pane in an arc.
Clack, clack, clack!
Every three throws, Lin Shu stopped and waited to see if Jingyan would emerge.
Clack, clack, clack!
The curtains remained as still as a picture. Lin Shu couldn’t help but grow agitated. Here he was, trying his best, but it seemed that nothing was getting through. Not to say that he was shedding responsibility over the matter, of course. It’s just – yes he gets the message, he was wrong! Better late than never!
He picked up another pebble and fisted it so tightly that it hurt his palm. Reeling his arm back, he catapulted it with incredible might.
Crunch!
That didn’t sound right. Oh, well – indeed there was a gaping hole in Jingyan’s window. Cracks began to spread out from the source. Lin Shu was just contemplating hoofing it when the curtains flew open.
Jingyan stared down at him through the hole in disbelief. All Lin Shu could think to do was give a sheepish wave in return. His plan might have deviated, but he couldn’t fault it after engendering the intended result. It was a bad time to pat oneself on the back, so he could only smile internally. When Jingyan slid open the window, the entire pane shattered into countless shards.
“Will you come down and hear me out?” Lin Shu half-shouted and half-whispered, cupping his hands round his mouth to form a cone.
“I can’t hear you,” Jingyan spoke as per normal – he was always good with projecting his voice. “And what’s the point of keeping your volume down anyway? You’ve already made such a spectacle.” He gestured at his empty window frame. “My dad must have been startled awake. Stay there and wait.”
Although Jingyan’s face was strict and stoic, Lin Shu thought that it really looked like he was trying to restrain from showing his amusement. He pumped his fist in the air, then paced back and forth to prepare for his grand apology.
He waited, and waited…and waited. His calves were aching by the time Jingyan deigned to entertain him.
Being at a closer distance, Lin Shu had the opportunity to study Jingyan. He was dressed in a casual white t-shirt and blue sweatpants, looking comfortable. In fact, one could even suggest that he was positively glowing. Jingyan appeared neither tired nor malnourished, far from the worse-for-wear portrait Jingning had painted. His tan had deepened several shades, making him look rather rugged in a dashing manner. Jingyan usually pulled late nights poring over research or mathematical equations, leading to persistent dark eye circles. Those seemed to have been alleviated as well.
Oh, did the pieces of the puzzle start coming together. Jingyan was fine; better than fine.
Lin Shu arched up like an angry feline. “Xiao Jingyan! You…you absolute scumbag, pulling this on me!” He launched over at Jingyan, wheeling him backwards to slam him against the pergola wood pile. Jingyan toppled over without resistance, his expression flat despite the the uneven, uncomfortable surface underneath, his waist bent backwards at an awkward angle. Jingyan didn’t struggle a hair, but Lin Shu pinned him down anyway.
“Do you know how worried I was?!” He bellowed, breathing heavily. Lin Shu was beside himself with emotions he could barely enumerate. They overwhelmed him, and tear droplets trickled onto Jingyan’s cheeks. He gasped and sobbed uncontrollably. “How can you be so damn mean to me?”
Jingyan didn’t laugh or smile. He raised both hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. No matter how quick the tears flowed, he caught them before they fell. “You’re the one who tricked me first. I was really hurt, too, you know. And you don’t think that was mean?”
“But that’s why I’m here,” Lin Shu scolded, “to apologise!”
“Would you have come if A-ning hadn’t spoken to you? Weren’t you just waiting for me to forgive you first?” Lin Shu didn’t reply, only sniffling. “To set the record straight,” Jingyan went on, “I merely told her that you and I were on a break, because I needed some time to think things through. She marched out of the house immediately saying she was going to give you a piece of her mind. You know what she’s like; I can’t stop her. What did she say?”
Lin Shu shook his head vigorously. “I’m not telling you.”
“Okay fine, you don’t have to tell me.”
Jingyan patiently waited for Lin Shu’s wracking sobs to quieten. Then, Lin Shu finally said, “Jingyan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You deserve a better best friend than me.”
The corners of Jingyan’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Thank you for apologising. But, Xiao-Shu, you are the best for me.” Jingyan paused for a moment, then added, “I like you.” He was still holding Lin Shu’s face tenderly in his hands, but his eyes darted away anxiously.
The words were simple and straightforward, no fluff and no frills. It almost seemed like an everyday expression – would have been, if Lin Shu hadn’t come out on the other side of his own journey. At this youthful age, time was still an endless, expansive conundrum – everything was yet to come and too distant to place. But in this instant, it all became contracted, because there Jingyan was, connecting his past, present and future.
Lin Shu closed the small distance between between them as he kissed Jingyan. Too excited, too frustrated, too forlorn, he used a little too much pressure. He didn’t care; he wanted Jingyan to feel the full force of his feelings.
He pulled back just to say: “I like you too. I’ve always liked you.”
Jingyan clung to Lin Shu and returned the kiss with equal fervour.
Later, deep purple bruises would form on Jingyan’s back from being pushed against the edges of the wood planks. But that was a worry for the future; for now, they could only feel their breaths against each other’s skin.
“I can’t believe you took apart the pergola just to spite me.”
“No I didn’t. Didn’t you see? They’re old, as old as the house; there’s plenty of fungal degradation. It might have given way any day now, and I was worried you’d get injured. What I find more unbelievable is that you thought I was trying to find a lover online.”
“Think from my point of view – you were being so cagey. What else could I have assumed?”
“Mm. I suppose.”
“And how did you know it was me?”
“Huh?”
“In the chat, how did you know it was me?”
“I didn’t outright know it was you, but I knew it wasn’t the Gong Yu I’d met. Over dinner, I’d confessed to her that I wanted her to meet my best friend, because I was in love with him. She promised to keep my secret.”
“But why would you tell a stranger that?!”
“Who else was I to talk to about my feelings at that point? Xiao-Shu – the problem was that I’d only ever shared my secrets with you.”