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The restaurant named Lotus stood in the middle of Chentang and had become a curious sight for the city-dwellers. Opinions on it varied, depending on who you asked. It certainly had the look of a high-end establishment, having been converted from a courtyard house and retaining its traditional style. A plethora of red lanterns hung like ripe persimmons from the underside of its curved roof and long balconies. At night, they transformed an ordinary-seeming building into a bustling hotspot by lighting up its painted signage and the row of parked cars outside its gate. The restaurant’s interior always had a warm golden glow, welcoming its patrons from many walks of life who came here not just to have a good meal. Within its walls, aside from the usual dining areas, was a casino and a small opera stage, and they all contributed to its unique soundscape. The venue, for all it was worth, catered specifically to the rising middle class who liked to pretend they were lasciviously rich. The aristocrats and warlords turned their noses up at this form of hotchpotch entertainment, and those who couldn’t afford it simply wouldn’t go near.
The Li family, who had been well-respected in Chentang for many generations, wasn’t so high and mighty that they rejected going to such places once in a while, especially when opportunities were involved. Mr. Li had once been part of the military, but, foreseeing the instability of his position and the decay in morals within his fellow armymen, he decided to retire from service. He was decently successful as a businessman but by no means powerful, at least when compared to those skilful in buttering up the local government. He and his wife rarely involved themselves in frivolous distractions, and when they did, it was usually because of their business partners. This was the fourth time they’d been to Lotus.
The car stopped around the corner. It was pouring, and the servants were quick to whip out umbrellas and coats. Mr and Mrs. Li stepped out, clad in formal attire. They were here not for any prospective deal, but to celebrate their two sons who’d recently come back from America for a holiday. Perhaps for this reason, they’d booked a table on the upper floor, a good distance from the stench of tobacco smoke and the click-clacking of mahjong tiles. Following right behind them was the eldest son Jinzha. He wore a black, newly-tailored Western-style suit with a gold silk tie that perfectly matched his well-groomed appearance and composed demeanour. According to his last phone call before arriving, he was about to graduate and had made plans to grow his career domestically. His brother Muzha was a bit more unkempt; his well-worn white shirt wasn’t tucked in fully, and his grey dress pants were slightly faded. He said that his studies were going well, although his parents were concerned whether his degree in geology would amount to anything worthwhile.
The last person to enter the building, and doing so very deliberately, was the third son Nezha. He exuded a completely different aura from his other family members with his slumped-over posture and swaggering strides. There was a gloomy scowl on his face that not even his handsome features and casual red brocade shirt could alleviate. Many unkind rumours had been circulated about this young master. The servants all confirmed that he frequently got into street fights and would never budge on not studying abroad. Even worse, it seemed that not only did he refuse to leave the country, he’d rejected every important life decision his parents proposed in a mumbling voice — he hated following his father’s footsteps, hated university, and was vehemently opposed to getting married. For all the respect everyone living on their street gave his father, they downright disliked him. Fortunately, he seemed to have mellowed out after hitting twenty this year, settling for a prickly personality and a tendency to not take anything seriously.
Someone like that would surely refuse to join their parents for dinner in Lotus, as the atmosphere of this place utterly clashed with his style. The smell of opium and expensive perfume combined with the ostentatious accessories the patrons wore, luckily, didn’t make Nezha stand out — in fact, their loudness drowned out his presence to the point that no one batted an eye at whom they assumed to be a servant with an attitude. There was one thing none of these people knew, but would surely be shocked by: it was Nezha himself who suggested going to this restaurant!
The story behind this ordeal was a strange one. Mr. Li had taken his family to Lotus before, and thus Nezha’s reasoning that he liked the food here made perfect sense, yet if you asked everyone in the household, not one of them would believe him.
Mr. Li sighed, “This kid never stops sticking his nose into trouble. I have a feeling he’s planning to do something ridiculous.”
Mrs. Li cheerfully claimed, “Zha’er is searching for his crush!”
Even the two people who’d set foot in the country less than three days ago gave their input. Jinzha said, “If he wants to see his lover then we should cheer him on! We should even prepare betrothal gifts! He’s at the prime marriageable age anyway.”
Muzha added, “Apparently this babe of his is very pretty! I want to have a look as well!”
Nezha shouted, “Shut up! All of you are so goddamn annoying!”
His mom and brothers exchanged knowing looks, lips pressed together trying to stifle a grin, while Mr. Li shook his head in defeat. When they sat down, any observant person would notice that by picking a table so close to the balcony, they had the best view of the ground floor’s dining area and even a little bit of the casino. This was because, according to the rumours, that was where Nezha first saw his crush!
It was unclear if Nezha himself suspected his mother’s devious arrangement, but he chose to sit with his back to the balcony railings. The problem was, judging by Muzha’s darting eyes and Jinzha’s cold, mysterious smile, it was clear that even if Nezha decided to shut his eyes and cover his ears, his brothers were more than eager to scope out his “lover” in his stead.
“How do we know if this person shows up tonight?” Jinzha threw out a question while pouring tea.
Mrs. Li, full of wisdom, nodded her head: “If they’re fated to be, they’ll surely see each other again.”
“I heard laosan has been searching every corner of Chentang, short of digging the whole place up.” Muzha joked, elbowing Nezha. “Sounds less like fate and more like… a hunt?”
“Now, now. We’re celebrating you two’s visit today, so stop teasing your brother.” Li Jing intervened.
“This is a big deal, dad,” Jinzha said. “I and Muzha have been too busy to think about marriage, but Nezha’s finally found someone he loves, which means he’ll be the first to extend our family. More than anything, we should all be happy for him!”
“But… hm, his crush is a boy. I don’t know if marriage between them is possible,” Mrs. Li rubbed her chin.
There was a minute of silence.
“What? A boy!?” Jinzha coughed, the gulp of tea sloshing around in his throat.
“A boy? Really?” Muzha yelped, then quickly slapped a hand over his own mouth.
A loud thud rang out. Plates and cups jumped up at once, and the table was vibrating from the aftershock. Nezha had just slammed his forehead onto it.
“Everyone. Shut. The hell. Up.” Face squished against the mahogany surface, he emphasised each syllable with a muffled voice. “All I want to do is see that oddball again, because he is an oddball. I don’t have a crush on him, or want to marry him, or whatever it is you’re suggesting. Is that so freaking hard to understand?”
Jinzha and Muzha lowered their heads, the story their mother had told them coming to mind. It was a peculiar tale that, at the time, they found too ridiculous to give it any merit. Nezha, on the other hand, knew it too well, because he was one of the main characters in it.
It happened three months before, when the family had to attend a party by the Chentang commander, who’d sent out invitations to all businessmen and merchants in the area. Nezha tagged along, grumbling the entire time. They were assigned this same table, except he was seated to the side and thus could see the lower floor in its entirety. He sat there for two hours, bored out of his mind, before spotting three new people. They were mostly unremarkable, and Nezha would’ve forgotten them in any other circumstance. On that night, though, he decided to watch them be ushered to their table simply because he had nothing else to do. The oldest man was in his fifties and had aged wonderfully. He wore an expensive-looking suit while letting loose his white locks, worry etching deep lines into his clean-shaven face. The second man was dressed in all black and seemed to be a subordinate — or nanny, of some sort, considering he kept fussing over the third person, a gorgeous youth. Several heads turned towards him, full of curiosity, and were quickly shut down by the murderous glare of the older man who could not be anything other than his father.
Nezha, too, was taking a good look at the boy, for reasons he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t exactly because of his beauty, since he only pondered it for all of five seconds, giving it a nod like one would a random bystander on the street. No, it was because of an odd intuition that quickly overtook his body, stirring at the pit of his stomach and swallowing his wandering thoughts. He didn’t know what it was, but his heart was beating fast.
Li Jing started to explain the identities of the newcomers. The white-haired man was Ao Quang, the head of the Ao family, a noble clan that had sired many officials during the Qing rule, but had fallen out of favour under the new government. They were accused of being loyal to the monarchy; luckily, they managed to escape prosecution with only their fortune seized. Rebuilding everything from scratch was difficult, but thanks to Ao Guang finding a stable footing in the steel industry, it didn’t take them generations to do so. He was conscientious, having worked tirelessly to gain what he had today — that was, a slightly bruised but well-regarded reputation, a sizeable estate in the city of Donghai, and a family so secretive, barely anyone knew anything about them beyond the surface. Meanwhile, the man in black was called Shen Gongbao, a close confidante of the Ao clan and the tutor of their third son Ao Bing. He was the pretty boy Nezha had set his eyes on.
Li Jing told all of this with sympathetic reverence. Just ten years ago, most people would expect the Ao family to do great things, yet times had changed, and they ended up having to endure much hardship just so their descendants could lead a comfortable life. They, or at least their leader, had succeeded somewhat — Nezha hazarded a guess when he observed Ao Bing. Even from afar, the youth showed clear signs of being pampered since birth. His skin was healthy and unblemished, with full cheeks and pearly teeth. His figure was slender yet graceful and his movements were nimble, which Nezha recognised as the sign of a fellow martial artist. The boy’s hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall, resting above his pure white changshan. When his father and mentor went to the commander’s table for a chat, Ao Bing calmly took his seat without much concern and started ordering. In a span of half an hour, Nezha watched him gobble up dish after dish, a tower of empty plates piling up in front of him. Once he finished, he stood up and strode towards the casino. He stopped at a busy table where some kind of Western card game was being played, craning his neck to watch.
Nezha also got up from his seat and descended the stairs that led down to the bottom floor. He stopped halfway, leaning against the railings to take a good look. His parents forbade him from gambling, but he’d learned quite a lot about different types of card games and chess from watching people play on the streets. He assumed this Ao Bing kid also shared the same habit.
Of course, his parents could easily see what he was up to from the balcony, so Nezha was careful not to get too close. From where he was standing, it was impossible to hear what people were saying, but he could make out with his eyes Ao Bing leaning across the table, pointing at a card. The boy’s expression was that of sincere interest, a stark contrast to the shifty eyes and flapping mouths around him. Perhaps he was asking a question, because that innocent-looking young master was not the sort of person who knew what he was doing when it came to gambling.
Soon, the game became more intense, with harsh tones being thrown around and the patrons impatiently tapping their pipes and shaking their legs. Ao Bing was totally involved now, somehow. Before long, there was a winner, and it was the man sitting next to him.
A few arms were raised, gesturing towards Ao Bing. Nezha realised that Ao Bing had been drawing cards for one of the men. It wasn’t a big deal — the drunken patron had jokingly asked him to, which he’d obliged out of courtesy and, perhaps, curiosity. But now, it seemed the rest of the gamblers were convinced that the boy had some kind of golden hands and were trying to drag him to their side. Ao Bing, seeming confused, decided to step away after giving a deep bow. The moment he turned around, a hand shot out and grabbed at his waist, pulling him back.
Nezha slammed his hands on the railings, seeing red. He was seconds from jumping down to teach the old pervert a lesson when the loud, unmistakable noise of a slap hit his ears. The culprit’s cheek was swollen as though stung by an oversized bee. His eyes were bloodshot, and he shouted expletives while stomping towards Ao Bing. Before he could touch the young man, a svelte hand balled around the front of his collar, throwing him on top of the table in one swift motion. Playing cards fluttered like confetti.
Nezha was speechless. The next thing he realised was that the troublemaker didn’t come alone. He was, or had been, a bandit — the type whom the local military would love to recruit into their ranks — and his thuggish pals quickly left the other tables to rush towards him. Ao Bing, having flung a grown man with one arm, did not show an ounce of fear. He took a step back and kicked the gambling table from below, the flaps of his changshan billowing gracefully. The table flew about five metres into the air, raining cards and coins in the process.
It was then that Nezha knew he couldn’t stand aside and watch. He hopped over the railings and threw himself into the commotion, but not to be a knight in shining armour. Instead, he grabbed the edge of the table midair, stopping it from falling on the crowd below. Once he reached the ground, he gently lowered it, placing it back where it was. Puffs of dust formed around both his and the table’s legs.
It was dead quiet.
Since announcing his appearance, Nezha’s stare had never moved away from Ao Bing. The other boy gripped his own sleeve. His body language showed some wariness, but his expression was inscrutable.
One of the staff (or owners?) of the restaurant arrived to assess the damage. She blubbered:
“Oh heavens! I know losing feels terrible, but could you please control yourselves and not wreck our place?”
She looked around and cried out upon noticing Nezha:
“Young master Li, please tell these people to bring their fights outside next time!”
Nezha pressed his lips together. Then he spoke, but the contents of his speech were far outside anything the people around them expected:
“So you’re the third son of the Ao family from Donghai? Good to know! My name is Li Nezha, and I challenge you to a fight the next time we meet!”
Ao Bing was shocked as well. His pink lips parted, and he repeated with a predictably pleasant voice:
“Nezha…”
But Nezha had already turned his back. The patrons on Ao Bing’s side thought the Li young master was acting aloof, but those standing behind him could tell what was going on the moment he spun around: his face was fluorescent red as though he’d just given a love confession.
“Ao Bing!” A thunderous voice called out. Nezha sneaked a peek to see Ao Guang storming towards them. The patrons scuttled out of his way, understandably so — the man looked like he was about to sprout three more heads and devour each and every single one of them. He leaned down and said something to Shen Gongbao, before grabbing Ao Bing’s arm and pulling him over. Ao Bing didn’t resist, but as he was dragged away, he looked back at Nezha, and his eyes welled with affection.
Nezha felt something plucking at his heart like a zither.
“Nezha, I promise you… If we’re fated, we’ll definitely meet again!”
It was because of this accursed line that everyone started to whisper about how the Li family’s third son had a cute and scary male lover. Oddly enough, they only cared about the lover part, not the cute, scary, or male part.
In retrospect, it was a whole lot of nothing. What Nezha declared, and also what most people seemed to take as a marriage proposal, was simply a request for a match. Since he was three, Nezha had discovered he had some kind of freakish strength that terrified all the neighbourhood kids. He would accidentally kick through walls while playing jianzi and leave bruises on his playmates’ arms just by touching them during tag. As a result, no one dared let him join their games. No one wanted to practice martial arts with him, not even his masters. That night, he was convinced Ao Bing would be the one to match his prowess, and even give him some insight as to why he was born like this. That was all there was to it.
It was a lifelong wish of his to finally understand himself, so Nezha was determined to follow through, annoying rumours be damned. Upon hearing about Mr. Li’s plan to arrange a dinner with one of his contractors, Nezha demanded that his father choose Lotus and that he must come along, no ifs or buts. In the end, though, he didn’t meet Ao Bing. He didn’t really get why he thought this was a good idea either. After all, the Aos didn’t live in Chentang, and probably didn’t have so much money that they could frequent such a lavish restaurant, especially after what had happened to their son. He was blindly throwing darts — he knew it. Yet, a part of him, an aching, stinging part of him truly believed in this thing called fate.
It had been three months with no progress whatsoever, and Nezha was rapidly losing hope. Were they truly not meant to see each other again, after all?
Tonight was shaping up to be no different. Mrs. Li and the older sons only joked around for a bit; their topic of discussion soon turned into universities and careers during the next hour or so, and Nezha was largely forgotten. He wasn’t offended — in fact, he knew that his mind was too distracted to keep up with the conversation. Not wanting to look desperate, he kept himself from turning around, but his eyes and ears were peeled to the max. Each minute passing by without any shift in his family’s expressions felt like pure torture. Anxiety simmered his insides to a fever pitch, spreading through his body and threatening to burst out of his veins.
Ao Bing didn’t show up, after all. The nervousness within Nezha transformed into crushing disappointment when Mr. Li got up, signalling the end of the meal. He should’ve listened to his rationality telling him this was a futile endeavour, but at the time he didn’t have any better idea. He’d avoided hunting down the Ao estate thus far, but at this point, he had no other choice. He hoped Ao Guang wasn’t the overprotective type.
Nezha was still wrapped in his thoughts when he reached the restaurant’s entrance. The rain had not stopped. It was a heavy shower typical of the end of summer, with large drops whizzing through the windless air before exploding violently upon contact with any hard surface. Nezha was almost concerned for the family car, as the noises it made could convince him that this poor vehicle was being assaulted by the impact of a thousand bullets. His gaze drifted along the well-lit city street until… his throat choked up, and his heart squeezed painfully.
“Lemme borrow this,” he said, snatching the umbrella from the arm of a servant. Without uttering another word, he ran into the torrential rain, leaving his parents and brothers dumbfounded on the corner of the street.
“Oh!” Muzha snapped his finger. “Laosan just saw his sweetheart!”
As expected, Nezha’s mind was focused squarely on a lonesome silhouette. It was the second time he’d seen that slender back hidden behind the veil of damp hair and the white changshan swaying around those dainty ankles, but they were all so familiar to him, so dear that he couldn’t bear losing them to the city hubbub. Then, before Nezha’s voice could escape his mouth, the youth turned around, flinging droplets from his umbrella like strands of a beaded curtain.
Through the relentless rain that had become transparent, and through the blinding headlight of a passing car, their eyes met. The umbrella cast a crimson sheen over Ao Bing’s visage, which, combined with the amber glow of busy traffic, made him even more ethereal. Nezha stabbed a fingernail into his own palm to remind himself that he was awake.
Recognising him, Ao Bing beamed:
“You’re here! You’re really here, I… I had a hunch, but I didn’t quite trust my own intuition, after…”
He abandoned his speech to dash towards the other boy. The umbrella was still in his hand and pouring water down Nezha’s shoulder when Ao Bing embraced him, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. In a moment of panicked fluster, Nezha shoved Ao Bing away, something he immediately regretted.
“I… I don’t…,” he babbled like an infant, “we just met…! You can’t just-”
“I’ve been coming here for the past five days!” Ao Bing said without a hint of anger. “When I found out my father was travelling to Chentang, I knew I must go with him! I… I also knew you’d be waiting for me, which was why I came to this restaurant every night. Father forbids me from going to places like these, so I can only wait outside…”
“You could’ve asked around for my address, you know…” Nezha scratched his hair and averted his gaze.
“I was about to. After tonight, if I hadn’t met you, I would for sure find out where you live.”
Nezha blinked. Apparently, they shared the same train of thought.
This was extremely weird.
“So, uh… The match! When are we-”
“Oh, right,” Ao Bing chuckled. “We’ll discuss the time and place for that, but I’d like you to listen to my story first. About why I’ve longed for us to meet and how… we might’ve known each other from a past life.”
Nezha took a deep breath. Had this been anyone else, he would’ve yelled at them and called them a crazy person for proposing such an impossible idea. But there was something about Ao Bing that awakened an idealistic side of him and, frankly, made him believe in things he wouldn’t have otherwise, like fate and destiny.
Or… was it something different? What he was feeling in his chest was more than just a belief. Nezha couldn’t tell, but he’d like to know.
“Sure,” he replied.
Nezha wasn’t sure why he chose this spot. They were standing on a short stone bridge that didn’t allow cars. It stretched over one of the many channels that branched from the main river flowing through the heart of Chentang. There wasn’t much traffic here and thus, much light, with the only illumination being the street lamps from a few metres away and the meagre glow of the city on the opposite bank. It was quiet, though, and Nezha considered himself lucky to still be able to see Ao Bing’s face.
His family was probably on their way home. He’d told them to send a car to pick him up an hour later, and three of them (his mother and brothers, who else?) were eager to oblige. They also noisily and unhelpfully cheered him on as he walked away with Ao Bing. It was humiliating, and he was thankful Ao Bing didn’t comment on it despite witnessing everything.
“So you’re saying that… I used to be a demon…?” He tentatively asked, distracting himself from what had just happened.
“You were-… well…” Ao Bing hesitated. “You were first reincarnated from the Demon Orb, which granted you immense power. Many people called you a demon, but I’ve always thought it was meaningless nomenclature. It’s never clear what makes one a demon, unlike…”
“Unlike you, who were a dragon yao.” Nezha quirked an eyebrow, “but you’re not… anymore?”
“I’m a human in this life. And the life before. And perhaps… the life before that.”
Nezha was baffled.
“…Why?”
“I don’t know. But I have a theory…” Ao Bing fiddled with his long hair. “I have a theory that… we’ve been cursed to become powerless.”
Nezha narrowed his eyes.
“Explain.”
“As I said, we went through a lot together. You… you were supposed to receive the Spirit Pearl and become a general under the court of Heaven, but you and I ended up rebelling against them after witnessing their injustice. As a result, we were barred from godhood and had to go through the cycle of reincarnation like everyone else. My Spirit Pearl and your Demon Orb are too powerful to destroy, but… over the past few lives, I can barely conjure the Pearl’s abilities. It’s been weakened, locked away, possibly through making me a human. I imagine the same thing happens to yours.”
“So that’s the thing that gives me this unusual strength,” Nezha closed and opened his fist. “Almost makes me wish I didn’t have it, but… eh. It’s good for fighting, I guess.”
“Do you seriously not remember anything?” Ao Bing asked, placing a hand on the other youth’s forearm. “Our memories together during our second reincarnation… and then… all our lives after that… Can you not recall seeing-… meeting me?…”
Nezha suddenly felt hard to breathe.
“Well, I…” Ao Bing shakily brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “I suppose you can’t… because it never ended well for us. Our past reunions were very short-lived, after all…”
He fell into silence. On the street, a drunkard was slurring an opera verse. An unrelated gunshot rang out from up in the mountains, too far away to have an effect on the souls below them.
Ao Bing took Nezha’s hand and pressed his thumb into it, tracing over his palm lines.
“Can I…?”
Nezha didn’t know what the other youth wanted to do, but he let him. Ao Bing gingerly lifted his hand to his mouth, wrapped it in both hands, and placed a kiss on its knuckles. It was a soft peck as gentle as a butterfly landing on a petal, but it sent tingling down Nezha’s spine.
Then, from within him, a spark was lit. It was a feeble thing, cursed to flicker inside the darkness of mundanity for millennia — but it existed, and it was waking up from its slumber. A shard of the so-called Demon Orb was reaching out through the vessels in his arm, wanting to reach its beloved Spirit Pearl. Underneath his skin, a thin golden pulse glowed, warm and yearning. It shone on Ao Bing’s countenance, illuminating a tear rolling down his cheek, twinkling like stars.
“Your power… It’s here… It’s- It’s responding to me…” He sobbed, fingers crushing around Nezha’s arms. The umbrella fell wordlessly on the ground, and Ao Bing let himself be soaked in the drizzling rain.
“I… I cannot recall our past lives that spanned thousands of years, but in those that I can, I was always searching for you. No matter who we were, no matter how far apart we ended up, I always… tried to look for you, and sometimes I even reached you, b-but I could never-… we could never be together. Not like this. Never like this.”
Nezha didn’t know what to say. He touched the other boy’s face, wanting to wipe away his tears, but he could only lift his chin. Ao Bing’s eyes were a deep, unyielding blue. They defiantly drew him in, stirring his blank memories.
“I’m sorry. I still cannot remember you.” He murmured. “But… when I first saw you, I knew we had something together. I… I felt that I’d loved you all my life, although… I can’t really explain such a feeling.”
“It’s alright. I don’t want to force you.” Ao Bing smiled. “It’s fine if you don’t love me back. Just seeing you like this already makes me happy.”
Ao Bing meant it, Nezha could tell, but there was something in his voice that cut into him like a blade. It was, perhaps, helplessness. After all, they were once rebels who stood up against forces beyond their current selves’ comprehension. They were glorious, radiant, and they were together. Right now, under the dark, weeping sky through which the roar of warships echoed still from distant harbours, they were mere mortals with remnants of glory sealed deep inside their hearts. Even their love was tampered with — a red thread that had been cruelly segmented with each reincarnation.
“What are we supposed to do?” Nezha asked, dejected. “This is our punishment, isn’t it? To be born with little power, without influence, in an era this turbulent. We can’t reach Heaven in our state. What can we do?”
Ao Bing’s jaw quivered. He was grinding his teeth.
“I don’t know… But I believe, now that we are one step towards being together, the Spirit Pearl and Demon Orb can be unsealed. At the very least, we can fulfil our promise to each other in our second life.”
Nezha nodded. He did not remember that promise, but deep down he knew what it was. He brought Ao Bing closer, pressing their foreheads together. Somewhere beyond their mortal shell, the otherworldly pearls spun slowly to the ebb and flow of their life forces. Nezha could faintly feel the heat concentrating where his marking had once been, and he supposed Ao Bing was feeling the same.
If anything failed, the least they could do was have each other.
Before he opened his eyes, a kiss landed on the corner of his mouth and quickly took off. He leaned forward, his eyelids creaking open just enough for him to place his vow on Ao Bing’s shy lips.
The rain tasted bland, and Ao Bing had that faint oceanic scent that was so familiar. Nezha wondered why there was ever any doubt. They were meant for each other.
Ao Bing pulled back. He smiled, stroking Nezha’s drenched cheek.
“I need to go home now. We can meet here tomorrow if you want.”
“Stay in Chentang for longer,” Nezha pulled on the other youth’s sleeve.
“I will.”
“And… um… Let’s have a match some day, yeah?” Nezha sheepishly said. “I want to see how much I still got it.”
Ao Bing nodded.
“Yeah.”
He clenched the front of his changshan and, before he could change his mind, he walked away, step by excruciating step. Around him, light from the streetlamps struck against splattering raindrops, covering his figure in sparks. It reminded Nezha of fireworks from a distant memory.
Staring at his beloved’s silhouette growing smaller and smaller, Nezha couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. He picked up the umbrella that had become useless and walked in the opposite direction, thinking about the future. Now he must find a way to make it official to his nosy family that he, indeed, had found someone to spend the rest of his life with.