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“It used to be the capital of China? I thought it’d always been Beijing.”
“Yes,” Yao replied patiently, as Rohan flipped through the Top 10 Attractions in Xi An City brochure with mild interest. “But that was a long time ago.”
“This is all so fascinating,” said Rohan. “And the food looks delicious.”
“It’s alright,” Yao muttered, not thinking about the food at all.
Truth be told, he really didn’t want to go back home, but his father was deathly ill, and his mother had sent him a long, guilt-inducing message on WeChat about filial piety and something about his last rites, and it was all too much for Yao to emotionally handle. So he’d given in and now he was sitting on a business class flight with his gorgeous, wonderful boyfriend, on the way back to a city inhabited by his intensely homophobic parents.
“Yeah- hey,” Rohan said, stroking Yao’s thumb. “Don’t worry.”
Yao’s mouth creased. “Not worried.”
“You are.”
“Just a little. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around… them. I told you what they’re like.”
“I know,” Rohan said softly. “But I offered to come. And I want to.”
Yao suddenly wanted to rest his head on his lover’s shoulder, to bury his face into his neck and breathe in his cologne - but they were unfortunately in a semi-public setting and he was a man in his late thirties, so he simply kept himself sitting upright with whatever dignity he had left and stared straight ahead at the little television screen.
“Yao?”
“It’s not too late,” Yao said. “We’re transiting at Shanghai. We can just stay there.”
“No, we’re going to Xi’an. You’re just anxious now, but it’ll be alright.”
The Chinese man didn’t know why but he felt it then, down in his core, that it might not really be, and that perhaps it hadn’t, not in a long time.
—
The familiar tones and dialects flooded Yao’s ears as soon as they stepped into the airport. The customs officer had said “welcome back” to Yao, as if he’d recognised him personally. When he walked out into the city, he realised that nothing had really changed either, save for a few new shiny buildings and the local fashion. When he’d first left, the people had still been savouring the throes of the 80s.
“The weather’s amazing,” said Rohan. “Can’t believe it’s almost summer. Summer in Beijing was hellish.”
“It’s still spring,” said Yao. “The winters are the worst. I was always freezing, no matter how many layers I wore.”
“Ah, that’s too bad. If you’d known me then, you’d have your own personal heater.”
“Ah, stop..” Yao blushed, but he was smiling anyway.
They took a taxi to Yao’s district - it wasn’t too far out, but distant enough from the city center that nature was still somewhat appreciated over housing development, and Rohan marvelled at all the pomegranate trees that lined the roads, for they were inching towards bloom.
“I used to have tons of mangroves around my house when I was a kid,” he said wistfully. “But they’re all skyscrapers now.”
“Because Mumbai’s the capital,” said Yao. “The capital city nearly always has the least trees.”
“I dislike that,” said Rohan. “Every city should have lots of trees.”
He couldn’t disagree with that. But for some reason, when he looked at the trees here, his heart trembled rather than stilled in awe. This fucking anxiety… he blamed his father. He blamed his dad for everything.
“We’re here,” said the taxi driver, his tone notably Xi’anese. “Have a good day.”
“Thank you,” Yao replied. He wondered if everyone could recognise that he was from this city, when he had been gone for so long. And even his clothes, his luggage, his hair - weren’t they all so different from what the locals donned here? But he appreciated it anyway.
Yao’s street was in a quiet suburb. His family lived on the fourth floor of an old duplex, though his younger brothers now lived in Hong Kong and Macau - so it was really only his mother and father left here. Yao had neither good nor bad memories of this place. His childhood was a listless, hazy memory to him, and often he felt that his life had only really begun when he’d gone to university, when he had started growing out his hair and looking at handsome men in public. And they too, had always looked back at him, but he had never really wanted to stay with any of them until Rohan.
The elevator was sadly undergoing maintenance, so Yao and Rohan ended up dragging their luggage all the way up to the fourth floor.
They stopped in front of the door - 402, on the plate, it said. Yao turned to his boyfriend, looking up at him.
“This is your last chance to back out,” Yao said.
“I’m fine, Yao,” Rohan said. “You can introduce me as your friend, if it makes you more comfortable.”
Yao glared. “No.”
Then he rang the bell.
They waited for a minute before Yao could hear that familiar patter of his mother’s slippers towards the door, then - the grand opening, and at the oak frame stood Yao’s mother in all her glory at five feet tall. She had a small face, almost identical to Yao’s, albeit slightly wrinkled and sagged. Her hair was in a tight bun.
“Yaoyao, you look the same,” she said in Mandarin, then she startled at Rohan. “…and you are Yaoyao’s friend.”
“Not my friend,” Yao said. “My… my boyfriend. Rohan.”
She pretended not to hear and turned away, but left the door open as silent invitation. Yao huffed, but acquiesced.
The house was the same as ever. It was cold and dark and there was too much empty space, on the floors and the walls. There were no family photos. The dining table was too small, and the television was an old, small cube, sitting on the floor at a comical distance from the miniature sofa stationed by the sliding door to the large, desolate balcony. The ceiling corners were all dusty.
“It’s… nice,” said Rohan, his voice uncertain.
“Please don’t lie,” said Yao.
“No, it really is.”
“It wasn’t nice when I was young, and it’s not nice now,” Yao said.
They passed by the old woman as she fiddled about in the kitchen and into the narrow corridor. Yao’s room was the third on the left, and it had been left mostly untouched, still as clean and small as ever. There were no posters, nor books - only a single bed and a table. The chair wasn’t even there any more, probably having been kidnapped by one of his brothers when he had moved out.
“Your mom must have cleaned it,” said Rohan. “It’s tidy.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Though I was hoping to see an old stuffed toy or two,” Rohan sighed, looking at Yao’s empty bed. “After all, your panda collection’s taken over half the sitting room back home.”
Yao snorted. “We weren’t allowed to have stuffed animals growing up.”
“Seriously? Is that why you’re so crazy about them now?”
Yao made a face. “Maybe? Subconsciously..?”
“Ah,” Rohan dropped his duffel to the side and came close to Yao. He smiled at him, patting his soft cheeks gently with both hands. “Then I’ll buy you more when we get home.”
Yao’s cheeks pinkened, his lashes fluttering as he looked at Rohan. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t,” Rohan said. “I just love you, that’s all.”
Yao couldn’t help but laugh, his chest feeling warm. “Okay.”
“Ahem.”
His mother had reappeared at the door. She didn’t look surprised or disgusted, just sort of irritated, but Rohan’s hands dropped from Yao’s face anyway.
“Sorry, Auntie,” he said in unsteady Mandarin.
“Don’t apologise,” said Yao. “Yes, Mom? Where’s Dad?”
“In the other room,” she said. “Do you and your friend want… tea? Or… bird’s nest?”
Yao stared at her for a moment, waiting. Then his mother’s face broke into a wide, toothy grin, and her eyes grew large and round - and she cackled maniacally. Cackling, cackling so hard her neck looked like it was about to pop right out of her head. She walked away like this, neck outstretched and her laughter echoing through the house.
“Uh..” Rohan fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.
“Crazy bitch,” Yao muttered. “Sorry. You can stay in here if you want, I’ll go see my dad.”
“No, uh, I’ll come with you…”
“Sure.”
They went towards the room at the end of the corridor, ignoring his mother giggling to herself in the living room.
Yao knocked thrice. A weak voice emitted, though too garbled for him to understand anything, and he opened the door.
His father laid there, desecrated by illness. He was no longer the tall, scary man that beat Yao. Instead, he had been reduced to a wiry old thing, lying in a hospice bed. He was hooked up to two large machines, and the whole room smelled like diarrhoea.
“Fuck,” Yao sighed. “He must have soiled himself. Wait outside.”
Rohan could still hear Yao’s mother laughing. “It’s fine - I’ll help. Anyway, I’m the one who’s a doctor, so…”
“You’re a blood specialist…” Yao mumbled.
“Still did my residency, still had experience with inpatient care. Come on Yao, let me help. We’ve talked about this.”
“Let you help me more, I know, but - this is my father.. shitting himself, it’s not-“
“Yao,” Rohan said, pinching his nose. “Let me help you. The smell is overwhelming me… a lot. Right now.”
Yao gave him a tight smile before approaching his father, who had not opened his eyes since they had come in.
“Dad,” he called.
His father said nothing in response. Yao rubbed his forehead. This trip would be a long, long one.
—
After they’d cleaned up the elderly Wang, Yao tried to talk to him, though it was a rather one-sided conversation. He was now on morphine, the illness having taken most of his cognitive and bodily functions away, and his mother had refused to tell Yao exactly what sickness it was.
“My boyfriend is a doctor,” Yao had messaged insistently. “We can figure it out if you can’t.”
“We know. It’s just not relevant to tell you,” his mother had sent back, with a sticker of a grumpy baby.
Now he sat by his father’s side, wiping his wrinkly little face.
“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Rohan,” Yao said. “We met back at Peking when he was on an exchange program. But his Mandarin’s still pretty bad.”
“Hello,” said Rohan awkwardly.
“We live in New York now,” Yao continued. “Rohan is a doctor. Good, right? Though I guess Xiao Chen’s kind of a doctor. But dentists don’t really count.” Chen was his little brother in Macau.
“They do,” said Rohan “And um.. Yao’s also very good.” He said in clipped Mandarin to the dying man. “He’s.. he does science, at the zoo.”
“You remember the word for zoo!” Yao said, delighted.
“Of course, I know,” said Rohan, smiling. “All the animals love him. And all the visitors too. Always calling him beautiful.”
Yao flushed a little. “Wait-“
The old man suddenly coughed a little. His eyes were still closed, but a little, throaty voice came out of him. “…he is.”
Yao blinked, surprised. And then his face crumpled terribly so, and he had to hide his tears, burying his cheeks into Rohan’s shoulder, though he knew his father couldn’t see anything, nothing at all.
—
For dinner, Yao took Rohan to a nearby restaurant which he used to patronise as a teenager (which was thankfully, still open and not demolished like the rest in the area had been). He ordered three variations of dumplings - chives, mutton, and prawn. Each came in a plate of a dozen, and soon the two men were scarfing down thirty six dumplings with mugs of goat’s milk under the whirring fan and yellow lights strung up haphazardly on the ceiling.
“This is good,” said Rohan through a mouthful of dumpling. “Are you gonna get some to go? For your mom?”
“She doesn’t eat store-bought food,” said Yao. “She’ll either cook dinner or I’ll cook for her later. What’d you think of her, by the way? You can be honest.”
Rohan shook his head. “Uh, I know you told me she was ‘kind of nuts’ but… I dunno, sorry, I think I assumed she was a tiger mom or something. Like mine. But she’s.. actually… you know.”
“Oh, yeah, I mean - she was, sort of, when we were younger,” said Yao. “But she was also always sort of like actually crazy. All our neighbours hated her. They probably still do.”
“And your dad?”
Yao bites into another dumpling. “He acts like it’s normal. Or he did, till he got sick.”
“Ah..”
“Can you guess what he’s sick with, by the way? Mom still won’t tell me.”
“Some kind of heart disease, I think,” said Rohan. “But I’d need the diagnostic reports to make any kind of actual judgement. And I mean.. if he’s on morphine, it’s likely… terminal.”
“I knew that,” said Yao, nonplussed.
“But- what’s happening to your mom, after he goes..?”
“Retirement village up north. Long and Chen agreed,” he said. Rohan looked sad. “Ah, don’t look so sorry. It’s for the best. None of us can give her a good life.”
“I know.. it’s just…” Rohan replied. “I just wish- things were better for your family.” Unlike Yao, he definitely loved his.
“Don’t we all?” Yao said.
His eyes were still rimmed red from the earlier moment with his father. But Rohan couldn’t find the exact words he wanted to comfort his lover, nor could he express his love outwardly - so all he could do was stroke his hand softly, under the table.
—
Yao made ya xue fen si tang for his mother. Her tastes still leaned Nanjingnese, though she’d moved here nearly six decades ago. She had said nothing to Yao when he handed the bowl to her, and had eaten it in silence while watching some soap opera on the little television.
At bedtime, Yao went to say goodnight to his father, secretly fearing that he could not the next day. Once again, his father did not reply. Then he went back to his room and squashed himself next to Rohan on the bed.
“I can sleep in one of your brother’s rooms, if there isn’t space,” whispered Rohan.
“No,” Yao said. “Stay with me, please.”
“Okay.”
Sleep then took the both of them, until Yao woke up in the wee hours of the morning to a strange, scratching sound from the wall - where his boyfriend was sleeping.
He murmured: “Babe?”, only to find Rohan fast asleep. He was snoring softly, his arms wrapped steadfast around Yao’s waist.
The Chinese man untangled himself gently, sitting upright as he looked around his dark bedroom. From the wooden window sill, only a streetlight shone through.
Scratch, scratch.
Yao’s heart pounded. It was just his mother again, probably.. or his father.. except he couldn’t even get out of bed. He felt like a child again- no, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t. He got out of bed, and went out into the corridor.
The wall he’d heard the scratching from.. it had to be his father’s room. He knocked thrice, gently, and then peeked in.
His father was positioned upright, staring straight at him. Yao could only see the whites of his eyes, looking at him through the darkness.
He swallowed. “Dad?”
Scratch, scratch.
He turned to the right - where the noise was sounding from, only to find nothing. It was only the empty wall. Then he turned back to his father.
He was lying down again, asleep.
Yao gulped, his heart now racing - expeditiously fast. “Goodnight, dad.”
He closed the door quickly. God, what the fuck was that? No.. he should be used to all this nonsense, his family had always been weird like this. It was why he never got scared during horror movies, while Rohan always clung onto him for dear life.
Yao could hear the soap opera still playing in the living room as he went back out. When he looked, his mother was still watching the television. From the back, she sort of looked like him, her long dark hair trailing across her back as his did.
“You bitch!” the villainess in the show screamed. She was the other woman. “I’ll kill you! I’ll curse you!”
He went back to bed. He didn’t want to see any more of this. He thought about New York, and the hydrangeas blooming by their kitchen window. He wished he was back there, in that sunny home, away from his parents, away from this old house.
—
The next day, the bathroom mirror greeted Yao with quite a sight - messy hair, dark circles, and his usually perfect skin now dull and lifeless. The last time he’d met this version of himself had been during his thesis, when his only form of rest had been two-hour naps.
“Fuck..” Yao muttered, trying to detangle his hair. Already had the aridity caused his usually silky hair to stiffen and dry, and it was now feeling more like wheat than keratin. “Fucking-“
“Yaoyao!” screamed his mother from outside. “Yaoyao!”
Yao dropped his comb into the sink and ran out to find his mother in the balcony. Rohan had run out of the bedroom at the same time, and they both shouted at once.
“Mom!” Yao yelled, quickly opening the sliding door - but it was locked? He fiddled with it, his eyes never leaving his mother, who was banging on the glass trying to break it, terrified out of her mind. “Mom?! How did y-“
He finally wrangled it open, and she immediately started screaming at him. Strangely, there were feathers everywhere, all over the balcony floor.
“You pushed me out there! You pushed your old mother out there!” she screamed at Yao, spit flying all over his face. “You are a terrible son! The worst son! A murderous son! You curse me! Ah, you curse me!”
The echoes of last night’s soap opera rang through Yao’s head. He closed the sliding door and locked it again, looking back at his mother.
“Mom-“
“You are a disappointment! Ah! I should’ve died… should’ve died…” she sobbed, suddenly keeling to the ground at Yao’s bare legs. “You took everything from me when you were born… you took it all… my beauty… you made me fat, you know? You made me fat and ugly. You made me disgusting. And I made you beautiful.”
Yao heaved. “Mom. Get up.”
“Auntie…” Rohan tried, though he didn’t dare go any closer to the woman. “Please-“
“Why? Why..?” she cried. Her tears fell to the linoleum floor. “Why..?”
“Mom.”
Yao kneeled down and tried to get her up. “Mom- up- I’ll make you breakfast, OK?”
She looked up at him, grimacing. Then she suddenly grabbed his face - hard. Her red, painted nails dug in painfully, as her pupils dilated, staring into Yao’s brown eyes. Her breath was absolutely rancid.
“This.. this should be mine- mine,” she whispered, as Yao scrambled at her hands frantically. “Why? Why? Why didn’t it work…?”
Rohan finally forced her hands off and she fell to the floor dramatically, lying on her back and wailing in gibberish.
“Fuck.. fuck,” Yao muttered, his heart thudding so fast that he could barely think. His face was aching from the pinch of his mother’s fingers. Fuck. “Rohan.. let’s get out of here.”
“But- what ab-“
“The nurses are coming soon. Mom,” Yao said. “We’re leaving, OK?”
She wailed louder, crying so hard that she was drooling a little. Yao hated when she got like this - she did this too when he was a child, and he had to go to school with his face all scratched up, like an idiot. He had always blamed a non-existent cat back then, and forced his brothers to play along. It was easier with the bruises - he simply just had to say that he fell.
“C’mon,” Yao breathed, grabbing Rohan’s hand. “I need to get out of here.”
—
The sun was beginning to rise over the mulberry trees, casting shadows through the foliage. Rohan was tending to Yao’s face on a park bench, quickly dabbing at the leftover blood with cotton swabs. Yao had tried to convince him that the scratches were minor, but Rohan had insisted on buying a small first-aid kit from the nearest convenience store and cleaning the tiny little wounds anyway.
Yao winced as he sprayed the antiseptic. “Ow.”
“Sorry - just.. a little more,” Rohan caressed Yao’s face gently as he pasted on the next bandage - then he reluctantly pulled away from his boyfriend. “God, how sharp were her nails?”
“They’re cut short, she’s just really strong,” said Yao.
“Do you.. do you wanna stay at a hotel for the rest of this trip? I think-“
“No, let’s not- let’s not waste money,” replied Yao, shaking his head. “She’s done this before. She… just gets into these episodes and freaks out about my face and stuff.”
“Why?” Rohan squinted. “Wait- what did she say earlier? When she screamed at you?”
“The usual- about how I cursed her to be fat and ugly, and how she should die, and what a terrible son I am,” Yao said, trying to sound bored though he was still trembling. “Just- yeah.”
“Yao..” Rohan’s voice cracked. “I know she’s.. ill, but you-“
“Ah, don’t go pitying me now..”
“I- I don’t, I just want you to…”
“Be happy? I am. I have been, ever since I met you.”
Rohan cracked a smile, though his eyes were watery.
“Don’t cry,” Yao smiled back tenderly. “One of us has to be good-looking, now that my face is out of order.”
“It’s never out of order, you gorgeous thing,” said Rohan softly. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
“Those old people doing tai-chi over there will probably call the police on us for public indecency,” said Yao, trying to keep his tone light. “But later, OK?”
“Sure,” Rohan breathed, finally relaxing a little. “Oh, Yao.. how did- how did she even get locked out on the balcony, anyway?”
“She probably did it herself,” Yao said. “Crazy hag. She’s always like this, doing things for attention. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”
—
The rest of the day was much better - filled with window shopping at a nearby district, plus several kebabs for lunch and dinner. When the two of them returned home, it was nearly dusk, and the nurses were just about to leave.
“Oh! You must be Yaoyao,” said one of them. “So pretty for a boy, just as your mother says. And your friend! So handsome!“
Yao nodded, used to this. “Thank you.” He turned to Rohan, smirking. “She called you handsome.”
“Er, thanks,” said Rohan, blushing.
“Your parents are doing well,” the other said cheerfully. “Your father’s comfortable, and he’s steadier than usual...“
“…he is?” Yao said, slightly confused.
“Yes!”
They blabbered on for a while about his parents before leaving by the stairs - the elevator was still broken.
Yao leaned against the door, bewildered as he thought to himself.
How can it be?
“You okay?” Rohan asked.
“I’m.. confused,” Yao said. “They just told me my parents are doing really well, my father’s condition is steady, and that my mom’s cheerful- and she’s okay, but…”
“That’s.. oh, sometimes patients act differently around the nurses versus their families, you know?” Rohan said, reaching for the knob. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s like how sometimes children behave well in school, then misbehave at home.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Isn’t it the same with animals at the zoo?”
“No,” Yao replied. “Animals are simple. My mother is not.”
Rohan opened the door fully to reveal Yao’s mother sitting on the sofa, watching the black, turned-off television screen. Her hair was in a neat bun again, and she looked a little better, brighter.
She looked at the two of them and smiled. She was sitting perfectly still.
“Hello, Yaoyao, Yaoyao’s friend,” she said.
“…hey,” Yao said, unnerved. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“…good,” Yao said. “How’s dad?”
“Great.”
“The nurses said his condition is stable. You told me he was dying.”
“He is,” said his mother. “He’s dying at a stable rate.”
Yao tossed his shopping bags aside and went towards his father’s room. This time, he didn’t knock, and instead he slammed the door right open.
His father was lying face down on the bed, unmoving. Yao’s eyes widened.
“Auntie?” he could hear Rohan cry out in confusion - and suddenly, he could hear his mother rapidly pitter-pattering down the corridor.
He felt her behind his back, breathing down his neck as her arm twisted around his torso to shut the door.
Yao stood, frozen.
“Knock,” she rasped out. “Knock! You disrespectful child! How many times have I told you?”
She rapped at the door with her knuckle. Bang, bang, bang.
“Like that. Do it,” she said.
Yao knocked on the door thrice, as he always did, as she always did. She opened it for him this time.
His father was sleeping normally again, face-up with his eyes closed.
“See?”
Yao swallowed. “Dad?”
The heart monitor was still pacing. Yao walked over to him. He seemed fine - alive, at least, judging from the soft breaths.
“Heehee!” his mother grinned, then began walking backwards down the corridor. Her eyes never blinked, always watching Yao. “Heeheehee!”
—
Yao could feel Rohan staring at him as they both tried to get to sleep. It had been a long day, but neither of them were feeling very tired.
“Yao..”
“Just say it.”
“Your mother is- terrifying.”
“I know.”
“She.. are you sure everything is alright- spiritually? In this house?”
“Are you being superstitious?”
“Well- it’s just.. a thought. My mother had a friend who went through something similar.. though it was with her dog.”
“A dog?”
“Yeah, her dog got possessed when it passed by a graveyard. I’m not quite sure about the logistics, but-“
“Her dog got possessed? It probably just got rabies from a squirrel or something.”
“…yeah, I don’t know, but- y’know. Just an idea.”
Yao blinked. A long time ago, Long had brought up the same idea, though Chen and Yao had both laughed it off. But if intelligent, sane Rohan was saying it... “Well… even if it’s spiritual, I don’t know where to go. A Buddhist temple? Or should I go to a mosque?”
“Depends on the spirit,” said Rohan. “I guess.”
Yao sighed. “It’s not a spirit. She’s just super crazy. Trust me. Honestly, I kind of wish it was a spirit.”
Rohan rubbed his thumb against Yao’s bandaged cheek. “You know best, Yao.”
“I do,” Yao said, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Rohan’s warm ones. Their legs were tangling tightly together, and he could feel his boyfriend’s hands trailing down, down to.. “Mmph.. god..”
“S-sorry.. we probably shouldn’t do it here.”
“I want to,” Yao breathed. He wanted Rohan to squeeze his ass harder, and he wanted to grope him all over. “Now..”
“Your parents will hear…”
Yao groaned in frustration, knocking his forehead against Rohan’s. “We should’ve booked that hotel, damn it.”
The Indian man laughed softly. “Maybe for our last night?”
Yao kissed him again. “Deal.”
—
The next morning, Yao woke up to his stomach aching. He was nauseous - and god, fuck- he scrambled to the bathroom before he could puke all over his boyfriend’s chest.
When he tried to heave over the toilet, nothing came out. He got himself up, stomach still churning - and when he looked down, he found that he was bleeding through his shirt.
“What the hell?” he mumbled tiredly, lifting up his shirt. Across his torso were several, long scratches, freshly cut and bleeding. There were so many, all criss-crossed on him like some fucked up puzzle. He blinked. “Rohan? Rohan!”
“Yaoyao,” he could hear his mother’s sing-song voice. “I want tofu for breakfast…”
“Mom,” Yao gritted out, taking off his shirt. He needed to wash off all this blood. “Get the first-aid kit, from the kitchen, it should still be underneath the-“
The bathroom door suddenly started to shake viciously - and something began to slam violently into it, over and over and over, like it was trying to force its way in. Thud thud thud. Yao trembled, falling back into the shower area.
“Auntie!” he could hear Rohan say. “Stop it!”
There was the sound of something slamming, and then his mother’s laughter, cold and high - and then Rohan’s soft knocking and voice.
“Yao? It’s me. Sorry- I had to sort of shove your mom out of the way.. she was throwing herself at the door..”
Yao was shaking. He was so afraid.. why was he so afraid? It was just Rohan. He shook and shook as he opened the door - and thank god, thank god, it really was him, and he was in his arms, safe and sound.
“Oh, Yao-“ Rohan said, horrified. “Oh god-“
“I woke up.. with all these scratches - and I don’t.. I don’t know,” Yao blubbered, unable to hold back the tears in his eyes anymore. They trickled down his face, all over his Rohan’s shirt. “I don’t know- how to.. how.. I can’t… my parents.. don’t..”
“Yao,” Rohan held him tighter, stroking his back. “Fuck- your back’s bleeding too.. oh, Yao, it’s alright.”
“It’s not.. it’s not,” he shook his head, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. He was so pathetic, but still, here Rohan was, holding him. “Nothing’s okay here.. nothing..”
“We can go back to New York,” said Rohan gently. “I’ll book a flight for tonight. How about that?”
Yao nodded. The blood was already drying out.
—
There were no flights out of Xi’an to anywhere that night, or the next day. Yao had picked a terrible day for himself to get attacked by a supernatural entity, the winds were too strong for any airplanes to take off anywhere. The news showed hundreds of people stuck at the airport, glumly waiting for the next flight.
“We could take the train?” Rohan said, bandaging the last of Yao’s scratches as he watched the little television in dismay.
“No,” Yao said, glancing at his mother, who was smoking at the dining table, smiling at him. “Let’s.. fuck, I don’t know. Let’s go to a temple or a mosque or something.”
Rohan paused.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Yao mumbled. “The weather’s still fine, the winds are only at the outskirts.”
“No, I mean- you.. you’re not fine. What if-“
“Rohan,” Yao said. “Come on.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “But I’m booking the next flight out of here.”
—
In the end, they’d decided on a shaman that Yao had randomly found online. He had called various places of worship and although they’d been kind about his conundrum, all had suggested that a shaman would probably be best suited to an event of this unholy nature.
The shaman lived on a rather populated street on the second floor of a shophouse. Below was a noodle store, and through the creaky staircase at the back was the room of the spiritual practitioner.
She looked like a rather nice, normal lady, wearing a simple dress, rather than the ritualistic robes Yao had imagined. Her office too, simply looked like a regular office, but with more crystals and talismans than usual.
“You can call me Ms Yang,” said she, sitting them down politely with two steaming cups of tea. “Please, go ahead.”
Yao told her everything that had happened. She looked at the scratches too, all over his torso and the sides of his face.
“Fifty five scratches,” she counted. “That’s a lot.”
“Indeed,” Yao had replied drily, nearly asleep from the time she’d taken to count.
After he’d relayed everything else that had happened, she then asked him about his childhood.
“What were you like, as a child?” she asked.
Yao shrugged. “Normal, I guess.”
“Did you often fall ill? Did you struggle to gain weight?”
He frowned. “How’d you know? But yes.”
“Do you have low blood pressure?”
Yao looked to Rohan, who sometimes performed random check-ups on him. “Do I have low blood pressure?”
“Yes,” said Rohan, slightly irritated. “I’ve told you that multiple times, and I’ve also reminded you about how you need to take your vitamins more often.”
“Yes,” Yao said to Ms Yang.
She shook her head. “Mr Wang. I cannot help you.”
Yao blinked. “What? Why not?”
“You must leave that house,” Ms Yang said. “There is no other choice.”
“Ms Yang, please- my parents-“
“Your parents cannot be helped,” she said. “You must leave, or you will die, Mr Wang.”
—
Yao and Rohan ate at the noodle store below the shaman’s office. She’d felt so sorry for him that she had offered him a coupon to the store, and only took about a quarter of the consultation fee. She even gave him a large, amethyst geode for “peace”.
“Your situation is too dire,” she said. “Not many can help you.”
Yao poked his spoon into his biang biang mian - staring at the flat, swirling noodles in its misty broth. It was delicious, as always. Next to the bowl, the amethyst glittered in the sunlight.
“I’m sure we can find.. some other temple, some other place,” said Rohan. “We could try a Hindu temple.”
“It’s no use. She- she said.. it’s too terrible for anyone to help. I have to leave. There’s no other way.”
“But you want to help your parents, don’t you?”
“She said I couldn’t,” Yao shook his head. “She wouldn’t tell me- exactly, what was wrong… Why won’t anyone tell me-“
He covered his face with his hands, afraid of crying. “My mother won’t tell me what he’s sick with. And the nurses and the shaman won’t tell me what’s wrong with them. No one will tell me anything.”
Rohan patted Yao’s back softly. “I.. I wish I knew what was going on too. But your mom- I don’t know. All I know is that she’s- well.. never mind.”
Yao removed his hands from his face. “Rohan..”
“Yeah?”
“What do you know? Finish your sentence.”
“Why- just. I was just talking about- how.. your mother’s strange, that’s all I know, really.”
Yao stared at his boyfriend. “Why… how did you even bring up that spiritual thing, in the first place?”
“I just- I told you, didn’t I? Because everything was so.. weird-“
“You’re not superstitious. You saw something, didn’t you?” Yao said.
Rohan gulped.
“I- it could be a mistake. A trick of the eye.”
“Rohan.. please.”
Rohan looked away.
“Please,” Yao whispered. “I can take it.”
“She has no reflection,” he said quietly. “I thought I was crazy - I couldn’t see it on the sliding door that day, when she scratched you. Couldn’t see it on the television when she ran towards you, when you.. you were knocking.. or when you didn’t knock-“
“How can it be?” Yao whispered. “How can-“
—
When Yao was very little, everyone said he was the most beautiful child they had ever seen. They couldn’t believe his beauty. No one could. Not even him, sometimes. But then one day, his mother became very, very sick.
A week later, there had been three knocks on their door. His father had invited someone in. And then suddenly, she became all better.
From then on, they had to knock on the door of the master bedroom thrice. And from then on, Yao got sick instead. And every time someone called him beautiful, his father would beat him, beat him bloody, till his head and nose were bleeding, beat his hands and knees, write the character for biang over and over with your bleeding hands, beat him more when he couldn’t scribble any more, and he’d always thought it was because they were afraid he’d like men, because he looked like that - because how dare he? How dare Yao be beautiful? As beautiful as a woman, as beautiful as his mother?
How dare he?
—
“Let’s just get our bags and get out of there,” said Rohan as they sat in the taxi home.
“Yeah,” Yao breathed.
“I can go in myself-“
“N-no..” Yao grabbed his hand. “No. I’ll.. come with you.”
Rohan squeezed his hand tightly. “Okay.”
When they reached the duplex, the nurses were on their smoke break outside. They waved at Yao happily.
“We just gave your mom a snack,” one of them said. “The zhu hong in the refrigerator.”
“Great,” said Yao. “Thank you.”
They went upstairs. Yao was holding Rohan’s hand very tightly.
“In and out,” he said.
“In and out,” Yao replied.
Yao went in.
His mother was devouring not zhu hong, but a packet of what he recognised was supposed to be for one of his father’s blood transfusions. It was red and sticky - it had gotten all over her mouth, all over her red nails, all over her long, dark hair. Bloody, bloody.
She looked at Yao.
“Yaoyao,” she said miserably. “Doesn’t.. doesn’t taste as good as yours.”
Yao swallowed. “Rohan, go get the bags.”
“No,” Rohan said, firmly holding Yao’s hand. “We’ll both get the bags.” Then in Mandarin, he managed out: “Auntie - we.. we have to go. Early flight.”
“Yaoyao..” she continued, ignoring Rohan. “Your mother’s so ugly.. she’s so sick. Sick without you…”
“Dad’s dying because of you,” Yao said. “Isn’t he? You’re drinking all his blood. The packets and his actual blood.”
“He lets me,” she said. “He lets me do whatever I want. It’s not my fault. He loves me. Does he love you, that much?” Her eyes finally darted towards Rohan.
Yao felt his eyes prick with tears. “Mom..”
“I beat you in that department. I can have children for my spouse. Unlike you, huh? You can’t do that. You can’t be like me!”
“Why are you doing this to me?” he whispered.
Why can’t you just love me?
“Why are you doing this to me?” she replied. “I’m your mother, you know?”
And why do I still-
“I know.”
“You were born for me,” she said. “You were born for me and your father.”
Yao sniffed, wiping at his face, this face that had caused all this misery... “I don’t-“
“You were born to make me happy. You failed. You made me miserable. You made me ugly.”
She sighed, dropping the blood packet. It bled all over the floor, seeping towards Yao and Rohan. “Come here.”
Yao shook his head, holding onto Rohan’s hand.
“Wang Yao. Come here.”
“No.”
”Wang Yao!” she screeched.
She pointed a finger at him, dragging a line across the air, and then he could feel it - something scratching across his belly. He doubled over in pain, and Rohan looked at him in alarm, his arms protectively bracing around his shoulders.
But he couldn’t protect him from this - no one could.
“Yao, what…” Rohan said, helplessly as his boyfriend clenched at his arms. Everything was hurting. “Are you okay?”
“Just.. need to think,” Yao huffed out.
But he couldn’t think of what to do - he thought about the animals at the zoo, when they got scared, or nervous… what did they do? A distraction? Yao couldn’t think. But his mother was neither scared nor nervous - she was just.. hungry. The only solution to a hungry animal was to feed it.
She was staring at him, ravenous, dragging her finger again. This time, he felt it on his back. Her nostrils were flaring. She could smell it, his blood. She would devour Yao whole if she could. She was going to, at this rate. She had already taken so much from him, and she was going to take more- and more- till he had nothing left to give…
He bowed over again as she scratched him for the third time, across his chest.
“She’s hurting me,” Yao choked out to Rohan. “She’s scratching-“
Before he could say anything more, Rohan threw the amethyst geode at the sliding door.
The glass broke into a million pieces - and the sun began to shine in from the balcony, lighting up the whole house, the dusty corners, the walls, the empty spaces. Everything was becoming light.
Yao blinked as his mother collapsed, screaming as she writhed on the floor. She was aging to death, both her face and arms wrinkling in the sun, faster than he’d ever seen.
From the room at the end of the corridor, Yao could hear his father shouting in pain as well. Everyone was screaming, everyone was dying, everyone was-
When I was very little, I was very beautiful. And every time I became more beautiful, everyone hurt me.
Yao thought of himself, bleeding in this house on the very same floor. He had cried for hours, and no one had helped him. Now all three of them could share his agony, as he had shared his blood. And he would not help them.
He collapsed into Rohan’s arms.
The sun was shining. It was a beautiful day.
—
As Rohan had promised, they spent their last night in a hotel. In Shanghai. His father had died officially of a heart attack, and his mother was comatose in the hospital. Neither of his siblings had come, probably for good reason. Yao had simply paid for everything, and left. There was no will.
“We didn’t get to see the Terracotta Warriors,” said Yao. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I saw you,” Rohan said, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist, stroking his stomach languidly. The scratches had already healed somewhat. “My little warrior.”
“Am I, now?”
“Yes,” he kissed the top of his head. “You are.”
Yao blinked, staring up at him as he laid on his chest. He tried to count all of Rohan’s long, lovely lashes. His dark hair, his lined skin, his regal nose, his wonderful jaw, his mouth. He couldn’t imagine wanting to take any of his beauty away. Not ever.
He only wanted to see it grow and age, by his side.
“Rohan,” Yao said. “Will you marry me?”
Rohan raised a brow. “…I just kind of almost killed your parents. Technically one.”
“Will you marry me?”
Rohan sighed.
“Why?” Yao’s heart stopped for a second. “Wait- don’t tell me, you don’t-“
“No- no..” Rohan laughed. “It’s just.. I.. the ring’s in New York.”
Yao gasped, his eyes shining as he stared at the other man. “I didn’t even buy one.”
Rohan leaned down and kissed him on the lips. “Good. Wait till we get back home.”