If Ji Yao had known in advance that Zhou Qingbo was going to buy alcohol from Russia, he would have rather followed Jiang Heng’s lead and ordered a glass of mint water at the beginning.
At 8:30 in the morning, while still asleep, Ji Yao suddenly turned over and, for some reason, woke up with his body before his mind. He shot up from the bed, eyes closed, and reached under the pillow to retrieve his phone.
Ji Yao,, still in a deep sleep, had forgotten to close the curtains last night. Now, with the bright daylight outside, it was already past the usual working hours. Feeling startled, he unlocked his phone to check why his alarm hadn’t gone off, only to realize it was Saturday and his day off, so he didn’t have to be on duty.
With that, the tension that had built up within him dissipated in an instant. He relaxed completely, leaning back onto the bed.
His consciousness slowly emerged from deep slumber. At the same time, the physiological effects of a hangover started to creep in slowly, catching up half a beat behind. Ji Yao raised his forearm to shield his eyes, as if his body had woken up before his soul, and he belatedly recalled the scene of his acting “crazy under the influence” from the night before.
Thanks to his high alcohol tolerance, Ji Yao wasn’t accustomed to blacking out. Now, with his eyes closed, the events of last night flooded into his mind like a tidal wave, playing out like a movie reel, with each frame becoming clearer than the last.
Ji Yao: “…”
Alright, Ji Yao thought, maybe he should just pack up and leave the city.
For a brief moment, Ji Yao even harbored a suspicion deep down—could it be that Ge Xing had gone to extreme lengths to set him up, and together with Zhou Qingbo, they had drugged him?
But he quickly dismissed this thought himself, as he believed Ge Xing’s style of operation as the “king of matchmakers” would definitely not involve drugging only him. If anything were to happen, Jiang Heng would likely be involved too.
Thinking about Jiang Heng, Ji Yao’s thoughts momentarily stalled. He fell silent for a couple of seconds, then subconsciously turned over and pulled the covers over himself, as if he could bury himself in the bedding.
Clearly, when he was sober, he had the capacity to contemplate whether he and Jiang Heng were adequately prepared to be together again, yet once the air conditioning hit him, his thoughts went haywire, and he brazenly declared that he would “pursue” Jiang Heng. It was as if he had discarded all notions of “concern” and “caution.”
—Alcohol really was harmful, Ji Yao thought.
Ji Yao sighed deeply, half-squinting as he unlocked his phone’s screen. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, he decided to call Jiang Heng.
Whether it was a workday or a day off, Jiang Heng didn’t have a habit of sleeping in. The call was answered quickly, and Jiang Heng’s voice came through with a hint of amusement, as if he wasn’t surprised by Ji Yao’s call at all.
“Awake?” Jiang Heng asked.
Ji Yao was still groggy. Half-closing his eyes, he covered half of his face with the blanket and muttered in a muffled voice, “You name the price. How much money would it take to redeem that recording?”
Jiang Heng suppressed a laugh, coughing to compose himself twice.
“You want me to come up with a number off the top of my head?” Jiang Heng replied in a serious tone, “You might not be able to afford it.”
“Just give me a figure, and I’ll negotiate with you,” Ji Yao’s voice, still slightly hoarse from his hangover, sounded sticky and muffled, “If that doesn’t work, I’m willing to empty my pockets, sell everything I have, and even smash pots and sell iron. Will that be enough?”
“That won’t do. That would be extortion,” Jiang Heng relaxed his body, leaning back in his spacious armchair, and his pen, unconsciously, began to twirl between his fingers: “If you hang up now and transfer money to me, you might be looking at over three years in prison.”
Ji Yao gritted his teeth and used the blanket to cover his entire face, continuing in a muffled voice, “Then what about selling myself?”
Jiang Heng pretended not to hear, and repeated with a feigned innocence, “What? I didn’t catch that.”
“Selling myself! Is that an option?” Ji Yao exclaimed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment.
Jiang Heng finally burst into laughter, finding it hard to stop.
Then, Ji Yao turned over again, and with the slightly warm phone screen pressed against his face, he heard Jiang Heng’s laughter coming through the speaker, as if it was right next to him.
Ji Yao took a soft breath, suddenly feeling that fate was like this sometimes. He had thought he could move on, like any adult who carried regrets, but as soon as Jiang Heng appeared, he was completely defenseless.
After the laughter subsided, Jiang Heng’s voice returned to calm. After a brief pause of about two seconds, he spoke again, his tone somewhat casual, “But are you really sure?”
“I didn’t lie when I said that last night,” Jiang Heng said. “I still do like you, but my feelings also come with reservations.”
Jiang Heng’s tone was calm and composed, similar to when he was presenting his case in court. It sounded both serene and gentle, yet had an air of authority that made it hard for anyone to interrupt him.
“You and I aren’t kids anymore,” Jiang Heng continued. “Think carefully before you proceed again.”
Ji Yao sat up, propping up his head with an elbow and a bent knee.
“I know what you’re worried about.” Ji Yao’s next words made him a little nervous. He pursed his lips, feeling his heartbeats suddenly quickening, and then continued, “Actually, I’ve come out to my parents.”
There was a momentary pause from the other end of the line, and Ji Yao’s words seemed to have caught Jiang Heng off guard.
“When did you tell them?” Jiang Heng asked.
“The day after you left,” Ji Yao lowered his gaze, looking at his hand and pinching his fingertips until a white mark appeared, “I told them that I like men.”
After finishing his sentence, a long silence followed, both on the phone and in the room. Amidst the quiet receiver, only the faint hum of electricity could be heard, confirming that the call was still connected.
After a moment, Jiang Heng finally spoke, his voice calm, “What prompted you to do that?”
“I just had enough,” Ji Yao said, “I told them I was gay.”
With those words said, the room fell silent again, and it seemed like ages before either of them spoke.
“Why bother,” Jiang Heng sighed softly, “We were already broken up by that time anyway.”
Actually, Ji Yao knew that this wasn’t very meaningful. After all, considering the circumstances back then, the probability of them reconciling was quite low. If Ji Yao came out using Jiang Heng’s name, and then later brought home a boyfriend, his parents could easily rebuke him with “homosexual relationships never last.”
But at that time, he probably wasn’t thinking that far ahead.
“I don’t know,” Ji Yao said, “But I said it at the time. Maybe it was because I was young and not thinking about the consequences. It felt wrong not to say it.”
“…I see,” Jiang Heng replied.
The sound of breathing on the other end grew slightly heavier, and Ji Yao faintly heard the rustling of fabric and the soft rolling sound of a wheel. He guessed that Jiang Heng had stood up from his chair and, true to form, might have gone to light a cigarette.
Sure enough, in just about ten seconds, Ji Yao heard a quiet sound of a lighter being ignited.
“I won’t get married anymore,” Ji Yao said, “I won’t ever get married again—because my parents already know that their son is gay.”
“I’m staying in today, I have work,” perhaps not expecting Ji Yao’s sudden response, Jiang Heng didn’t acknowledge the statement but simply said, “I’m home. If you want to come over, feel free.”