CH 68

Chapter 68: Dark and Gloomy Breeding Ground 

Song Yu’s provocation having reached that point, he decided to let it go once he saw Yue Zhishi’s red ears.

A waiter pushed open the door to the room and placed dishes one after another onto the table, a platter with a large steamed fish head set into the very middle. An equal mix of chopped spicy red chillies and pickled green peppers were poured over the top, and delicate fish flesh soaked in the sauce along with its translucent layers of gelatine. It was spicy, and yet the sourness of the pickled peppers teased the appetite. Yue Zhishi really liked mixing his rice with the steamed fish head’s sauce, and it would be even better if he could get a mouthful of preserved eggs mashed with spicy green peppers to eat with it. Mashing the soft, roasted peppers with preserved eggs until everything was crushed together made the entire dish creamy and silky — and a light, mild milky fragrance could be savoured. 

He loved the kind of delicious dishes that were made using every day ingredients; they were like the majority of everyone’s lives: everyone was very ordinary, yet there would always be someone who lived their lives filled with pleasure and beauty. 

Both Qin Yan and Jiang Yufan were the type to really take care of their partners when in a relationship. They were constantly serving food and pouring soup for their girlfriends, and noises of their mutual teasing and nagging, clever jokes or snappy lines, were heard around the table. They made the lunch very lively. Yue Zhishi was watching them while he ate, and he occasionally joined in their chatter with a few words; when he lowered his head, he realised his own bowl suddenly held an extra piece of fish, free of bones with no scallions or minced ginger. There was also a small portion of the fish collar — something Yue Zhishi enjoyed eating.

He looked at Song Yu and quietly said to him, “You eat it.”

Song Yu didn’t speak. He lowered his head and drank some soup, saying he didn’t like that part.

“How delicious are fish collars, it’s usually super expensive when you buy them grilled,” Qin Yan said.

Hearing them talk about fish collars, Jiang Yufan stared at Yue Zhishi’s face for a while from his seat directly across from him. He stared until Yue Zhishi lifted his head and met his eyes, and then he poked in the air with his chopsticks. “Le Le, why do you have a split lip?”

Shen Mi and Nan Jia also peeked at him. 

“Huh?” Yue Zhishi subconsciously licked his lip before remembering something. His face madly flushed, and he said, “The weather’s been a bit dry lately… My lips have been peeling, and I accidentally split it when I was picking at the skin.”

Song Yu pushed a cup of water in front of him as soon as he finished speaking. “Drink.”

Yue Zhishi glanced at him, but he could only obediently pick up the boiled water he’d been unwilling to drink.

“I think it’s been okay. The last few days have been damned humid with it raining every day. We’ve only been able to practice indoors.” Qin Yan stretched. “Once your arts festival’s over, it’ll be about time for basketball season to start. And then we’ll have to continue training. Brother Song, come over and help with the new kids when you’re free.” 

Song Yu put down his chopsticks, mildly saying, “We can talk about it again when I’m back.”

“Back?” Jiang Yufan was curious. “Senior, are you heading out for field work again?”

Yue Zhishi was obviously much more surprised than he was — he almost choked, and he ended up coughing for a while. 

“Mn.” Song Yu gave him some more water, and the tone of his voice was much gentler than before, sounding as though he was explaining only to him. “I was notified only last night.”

No wonder. They’d met in the middle of the night yesterday, and they hadn’t been able to speak about other things.

“Then how long will you be gone? Will you leave the province?” Yue Zhishi hurriedly asked, not bothering with his water.

Song Yu dipped his head. “For around a week.”

Pressing his lips together, Yue Zhishi very sensibly didn’t continue asking further, but Qin Yan, with his curious heart stirred up, asked a bunch of various questions. “Hey, what kind of stuff is this place filled with? Any expensive rock or ore or something? Bring me back some~” 

“It has plenty of nanmu wood.” Song Yu took off his glasses and placed them on the table, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Nanmu? Is that really expensive?” Yue Zhishi’s voice was filled with doubt, and he took and fiddled with Song Yu’s glasses, perching them on top of his own nose.

“Yes.” Song Yu raised his eyes. “Valuable for coffin making.”  

“Coffins?” Shen Mi was the first to burst into laughter. “Hahahahaha, that’s fantastic!”

Everyone around the table howled, and Qin Yan wrapped his arm around Song Yu’s neck, shaking him. “You little shit, your mouth’s so poisonous!” 

“Weren’t you looking for something expensive.” A slight smile was on Song Yu’s face, and his eyes were directed at Yue Zhishi. He gently told him to take off his glasses, saying, “Don’t wear mine, it’ll be bad for your eyes.”

After finishing their lunch, Qin Yan was going to bring Nan Jia and Shen Mi back to the basketball team while Jiang Yufan was going to go on a date with his girlfriend. Everyone separated in front of the restaurant. The car park was a bit far; the rest of them stood and waited for Qin Yan and Song Yu to drive their cars over. Yue Zhishi and Nan Jia were standing on the side of the road, watching as Shen Mi and Jiang Yufan pretended to fight and fuss with each other not too far away. The sky was so blue it was clear and transparent, and clouds floated high up — only the wind was a bit strong, and so Nan Jia gathered her windbreaker around herself tightly. She looked at Yue Zhishi and noticed his wrist.

“Your watch’s really nice,” Nan Jia praised very sincerely. Pulling her messy hair behind her ears, she lightly said, “I only noticed just now. I’m truly so slow.”

Yue Zhishi only heard the first part of her words, and he happily said, “Right? Senior, you think it’s nice?” 

Nan Jia earnestly nodded. “It must’ve been a birthday present. You can tell someone’s spent a lot of time and effort while choosing it.” 

But she didn’t ask who gifted it, and Yue Zhishi didn’t notice anything wrong — he only nodded in pleasure. Except he was still slightly unused to wearing it, saying, “I’ve never worn a watch before. This looks really expensive, so I keep worrying about knocking it into things. I’m also afraid it doesn’t suit me.”

“You worry way too much.” Nan Jia patted his shoulder and gave him a sweet and pretty smile. “No one is more suitable than you. And the important thing isn’t the watch — it’s the feelings behind it. It’ll be fine as long as you make sure to protect and treasure it.”

Yue Zhishi nodded and helped wrapped the loose half of Nan Jia’s scarf back around her neck. When he heard Qin Yan’s voice, he turned around and saw his and Song Yu’s cars drawing near.

Song Yu’s car was the same as his person: matte black, very low key and spotlessly clean. He sat in the driver’s seat, steering without any expression on his face, and occasionally glanced at the mirrors. 

Jiang Yufan and his girlfriend came over, and he first said Yue Zhishi was wearing too little and then told him to remember to bring him back some yummy things after going home. Yue Zhishi responded to everything, while Jiang Yufan’s girlfriend asked Nan Jia, curious, “Senior, are you currently single?”

Nan Jia smiled as she nodded. “Yes.”

“Are your standards too high?” Jiang Yufan’s girlfriend joked, “Or maybe there are really too few suitable people.” 

“Not at all,” Nan Jia chuckled. “I don’t have a particular ideal in mind. It’ll be fine even if I just liked how the person looked at first glance. I’m just currently missing that tiny bit of fate.”

The other girl also laughed. “Then what about a girl hahahaha.” 

Nan Jia pulled up her hair into a ponytail very handsomely and purposefully winked at her. “Who knows.” 

Jiang Yufan suddenly felt a sense of danger and jumped to stand in between his own girlfriend and Nan Jia. “Senior, not this one. Not this one.”

Yue Zhishi laughed until his stomach hurt, and he crouched down, propping up his face like a child while he gazed at them. He stayed there until Song Yu arrived in front of him with his car, rolling down his window. Yue Zhishi stood back up, getting into the car and leaving after saying goodbye to everyone.

On the drive back, Yue Zhishi had nothing to do. He took Song Yu’s phone and watched some anime, but he didn’t like the newly released sequel. Without even finishing an episode and before they’d even crossed the river, he’d already fallen asleep in the passenger seat, his head curved.

They were almost home by the time he woke back up. He noticed his seat was laid flat, and there was a U-shaped pillow supporting his neck — Song Yu was still in his driver’s seat, focused on driving, as though he’d done nothing at all.

Yue Zhishi didn’t make a sound and didn’t get up; he lay in his seat, on his back, and reached out, caressing Song Yu’s elbow.

“You’re awake.” Song Yu quickly looked at him from above through his rearview mirror, and then he gave him a bottle of sparkling water. “Have some.”

Listening to him, Yue Zhishi sat up. His mind was a bit fuzzy from sleep, so after he opened the bottle and drank a large mouthful, he stared at the sky in a daze. It had been only a short while, and yet the sky had already changed — the world outside the window looked as though it was covered by grey fog, heavy and ugly rain clouds all gathered together to darken the sky.

Lin Rong and Song Jin had originally planned to come and have dinner near their university, but Song Jin hadn’t been able to leave work. Coincidentally, since Song Yu needed to head out to the northwest region of China for fieldwork, he wanted to go back home and stay for a night, conveniently packing up a few pieces of thicker clothes.

The last time Yue Zhishi had gone home, it’d been by himself. It had been the same as always: he’d eaten and slept, played around with the cat and dog at home, watched dramas with Lin Rong while listening to her gossip — he hadn’t felt much of a burden. But returning this time with Song Yu, his heart kept feeling vaguely uneasy.

They exited the elevator, and Song Yu didn’t look different compared to usual. He silently opened the door to their home, and Yue Zhishi went into the hallway entrance with him, changing his shoes. Their house slippers were already waiting at the doorway, placed neatly and tidily. 

Cotton Candy immediately rushed out, and he circled around Yue Zhishi and Song Yu’s legs. Picking him up, Yue Zhishi kissed him a few times on his head and closed the door. He heard Lin Rong calling from inside, “Are you boys back?”

In that moment, Yue Zhishi was transported back to secondary school. Every day they’d come home during the midday break, Lin Rong had waited for them, just like this. 

He made a noise in response and greeted her; he then went in with his slippers, Cotton Candy jumping out of his arms to bother Song Yu. Orange was sleeping on the sofa in the living room, and he raised his head at the noise, lazily swaying his tail like he was giving them a very dignified greeting.

A half-finished cashmere sweater was left on the sofa, the other one already completed. The only difference between them was the colour. 

Yue Zhishi had bought Lin Rong’s favourite ice cream downstairs. Whenever they watched television together, Lin Rong would always fuss and say, “I’ll get fat again after finishing this,” and then devour the entire carton. 

Song Yu followed behind, only greeting his mom after entering. Lin Rong came out of the kitchen in a dusty pink apron, holding a tomato, and was completely bare-faced; her hair was very loosely tied up behind her head. In Yue Zhishi’s eyes, she didn’t look much different compared to ten years ago. 

“I bought ice cream, I’ll put it into the freezer.” Yue Zhishi headed over to pull open the freezer door.

“Aiyah, I’ll gain weight again,” Lin Rong may have said, but she still went after Yue Zhishi, looking at what flavour he’d bought. 

“Your dad’s on his way back, he’ll be home soon.” She lifted her head, looked at Song Yu and then frowned. “Xiao Yu, have your eyes gotten worse?”

“They’re okay.” Song Yu said he only wore them when studying or driving. “They’re still around 200 degrees.”

“Make sure you get them checked on a regular basis, you can’t let them get worse.” Lin Rong smoothened out a wrinkle on his coat before she turned around and went back into the kitchen with her uncut tomato. She chattered, “I hear if your nearsightedness gets to 600 degrees, it’ll be passed onto your next generation. Our family has no history of nearsightedness, so try not to let your little one have bad eyes as soon as they’re born.” 

Yue Zhishi froze for an entire second once he heard what Lin Rong said. A thin, closely woven layer of pain slowly grew on his face — it felt ice-cold, like it was being pierced by many very narrow, very small needles. 

He looked over, and just happened to meet Song Yu’s eyes. Song Yu seemed to be extremely sensitive to his reaction; he directly went and caught his arm. He didn’t use much strength, but it felt like his hand pressed onto one of Yue Zhishi’s restlessly beating nerves, giving him some reassurance. 

“I’m going to rest upstairs for a bit,” Song Yu said, looking at Yue Zhishi’s eyes.

Lin Rong replied with her back to them, “Go ahead, it’s still early. It’s only 4pm.”

But Yue Zhishi didn’t go up with him — he stayed in the kitchen, helping Lin Rong get the vegetables ready for cooking.

Song Yu stood in place for a while, as if he didn’t want to head upstairs by himself, but his cellphone rang with a call from his advisor. He ended up going upstairs.

“Your brother’s so busy,” Lin Rong sighed.

Compared to the majority of other mothers, Lin Rong very often gave off the sense of being not too reliable. She didn’t seem to be as steady as many other mothers, let alone appear to be as weary. She was young, beautiful and had a childish heart — she liked to whine and act spoiled to her husband and son, and sometimes she’d even be talked about by their relatives behind her back. 

But in reality, Lin Rong took it upon herself to take care of their lives as wholeheartedly and seriously as any other mother. Everyone in her family had their food, clothing, shelter and transportation organised perfectly; Yue Zhishi thought even if she cooked the simplest stir-fried vegetables, the dish she made was better than what anyone else could make.

“How’s school? Any issues with the preliminary round?” Lin Rong made a very shallow cross cut on the top of the tomato and then placed it into boiling water for a few minutes.

“No, there shouldn’t be.” Yue Zhishi told her about some of the things that’d happened at school, focusing on only the minor ones — like the old professor who lectured with an accent, the revolting watermelon stir-fried with meat in the cafeteria and the osmanthus flowers that’d bloomed across an entire road without anyone plucking them.

The sole thing he didn’t dare talk about was his current dating life.

“What a pity, they could’ve been made into so much osmanthus sugar. Ah, that’s right — I made some tangyuan with osmanthus sugar. I left them in the freezer, so have some after dinner.” The skin of the tomato started to curl, and Lin Rong scooped it out, putting it into iced water. She peeled off the skin, placing it to the side, and then pulled out a long stalk of celery; after breaking off the end, she very carefully pulled off the rough strings on the back of the stalk.

Yue Zhishi also grabbed another stalk, attempting to help her. But he wasn’t very used to the movements, and Lin Rong taught him how to do it, step by step. “Like this. Pull off the strings from the bottom part. Yes, just like that.”

At one point, she called Yue Zhishi ‘maomao’. She usually called him Le Le, sometimes called him darling — maomao was what people in this city called little babies who’d just been born. But Lin Rong often called Yue Zhishi by that nickname, as though he was still a very small child needing to be breastfed.

Yue Zhishi was already used to it, and yet when he suddenly heard it come out of her mouth today, his nose started to burn. 

“The two of you are honestly so funny. You can’t eat so many things, but you love eating everything except for ginger and goji berries. Your brother’s much more troublesome with how picky he is — he won’t eat celery with strings still in them or unpeeled tomatoes. And he likes soup.” She set down the peeled celery talks to one side and gave a great sigh. “Luckily he knows how to cook himself, or else I’d be so worried.”

Knowing what she would be worried about, Yue Zhishi only said, “Gege is really amazing, he can do everything by himself.”

“But he still needs someone to care for him and for him to care for.” Lin Rong chopped the cooled tomato into chunks and put it into the wok that was simmering over the stove. Chunks of beef, braised until soft, were inside. “I actually don’t know how to feel. On one hand, I don’t want you guys to grow up — either of you — and whenever I remember the two of you will one day leave me to create your own families, my heart really hurts.”

She stirred the wok with a small spoon. “But the thing is, I still want you guys to be able to find someone you like. Especially your brother. Every time I think about how lonely he always is, I feel so upset. He clearly has such good qualities, so why has he been single all these years?” 

Yue Zhishi stayed silent. He didn’t know what he should say, so he didn’t add to the conversation at all.

“I know he has high standards, and he might not be able to be like other children and immediately find someone he likes. But he can’t keep continuing on like this. I’ll get anxious.” She scooped out some soup, blew on it and held it out for Yue Zhishi. “Give it a try. Does it need more salt?” 

Yue Zhishi obediently sipped it and shook his head. “It’s perfect.” He touched Lin Rong’s arm, trying to comfort her, but he could only say to her, “Don’t think about stuff like that anymore.”

“Then what else can I think about?” Lin Rong set down the spoon. “The two of you are grown up now. We can only hope for you and your brother to be safe and healthy and to spend each day in happiness. For you to have very blissful lives.” She stroked Yue Zhishi’s face, wrinkling her own nose a bit playfully. “But you’re still young, don’t rush to get into a relationship. I still want you to stay with me for a few more years.”

Yue Zhishi smiled. “Why aren’t you rushing me?” 

Crouching down, Lin Rong checked the chicken wings baking in the oven. She said, voice full of worry, “Because darling, you’re too innocent. I’m really scared of you getting tricked. It’s already bad enough to have your feelings cheated, but what if someone likes you and you don’t like them back? Or what if they come back for revenge after breaking up? You already have a body different from everyone else. If you end up in some kind of danger, I’ll probably cry myself to death.”

Yue Zhishi stood in the kitchen, completely still — he gazed at Aunt Rong, who was crouching right in front of him, and was unable to push a single word out of his mouth. His eyes were stinging, but he restrained his own emotions. For a single moment, he wanted to come clean to Lin Rong: he wanted to tell her that there was a possibility he liked men and didn’t like women. 

But he looked at the kitchen, brimming with food, and thought about the sweaters sitting in the living room. His thoughts jumped around, and they landed on Song Jin, who was rushing home from work to spend his birthday with him despite being so busy with work. 

He let go of that reckless thought.

At the very least, he didn’t want to shatter the one day everyone was focused on celebrating with him. 

Yue Zhishi was heartbroken for everyone except himself. The love and warmth, the flavours and smells of life in his home — they were like a dull knife scraping at his heart, and it made him unable to decide between going forward or moving backwards. In the end, he chose to hide away. 

“I’ll go feed Orange and Cotton Candy.”

Lin Rong turned around and lovingly brushed a hand down his back. “Sure. I’ve left their food bowls upstairs in the entrance of the corner storage room. Don’t give them too much, Cotton Candy’s stomach hasn’t been too well lately.” 

Going upstairs with slow footsteps, Yue Zhishi knelt outside the storage room and poured some dog food for Cotton Candy. He then opened a can of cat food for Orange. Cotton Candy hurtled upstairs as soon as he heard the sound of food, while Orange leisurely made his way. Yue Zhishi sat in front of them, hugging his knees, and quietly watched on as they ate.

“Don’t eat so quickly,” he softly said to Cotton Candy. Stroking his back, Yue Zhishi felt like he’d lost weight, and even his breathing had become heavier.

Yue Zhishi rose back up and walked down the corridor to open the door to his room. The curtains were pulled open inside, and his room was very dim in the rainy, overcast day. He lifted a hand, wanting to close the door and turn on the lights; abruptly, he felt his arm being caught by a warm hand.

The door was pushed shut.

He met Song Yu’s eyes as soon as he raised his head. All of a sudden, for no reason at all, Yue Zhishi felt bleak.

In the past, if Song Yu had entered his room like this, he would’ve been ridiculously, insanely happy. But Song Yu had never came. 

His arm lowered. He didn’t want to turn on the lights anymore. 

Yue Zhishi tilted down his face, and in the shadowy room, he wordlessly wrapped his arms around Song Yu. They leaned on the door — beyond it lay their bright, warm home.

Song Yu raised a hand, massaging Yue Zhishi’s nape. He gently asked, “Tired?”

Still in his arms, Yue Zhishi shook his head, giving him an answer to a question he didn’t ask. Very, very quietly, he called out, Song Yu.

“Hm?” Song Yu looked down, and his hand slid to his back, lightly caressing.

“I love you,” Yue Zhishi very quietly said.

Song Yu seemed to understand something — both of them had extremely keen abilities to sense the changes in each other’s emotions. But Song Yu didn’t ask the reason for his current mood, only lifting up Yue Zhishi’s face. He didn’t kiss him, as though he was afraid of agitating him, and simply pressed their foreheads lightly together. “It’s your birthday today. Don’t be sad.” 

“I’m not sad.” Yue Zhishi rose on his tiptoes and kissed Song Yu. He didn’t dodge away, squeezing him even tighter.  

The colour of the sky was edging closely to darkness, and this room was like a breeding ground that could tolerate secrets and mistakes — even though Yue Zhishi knew one day they needed to turn on the lights.

No one could live their entire life in darkness. Especially someone like Song Yu, so outstanding he belonged to a shining and brilliant future.

There will be one day where their lies would be laid bare, but he secretly told himself in his heart: when that day really came, he wanted everything to be laid upon himself. Song Yu was someone cautious and thorough, and he had a perfect, orderly life — he shouldn’t be the one to make mistakes, and it also shouldn’t be him to admit to those mistakes.

In his parents’ hearts, in pretty much everyone’s hearts, Song Yu would become an extraordinary man of learning. He’d shine and glow in his chosen field, have a beautiful and kind wife, and then he’d have an adorable child blessed with his excellent genes. His life would be full of joy, and would not have a single blemish. 

At this thought, Yue Zhishi’s heart started to irrationally hurt; it became hard to breathe.

He was so petty — even imagining something like that gave him pain. If a hopeful, glorious blueprint of life really needed to be shredded, then it should be his. 

After all, he had been so selfish. He’d snatched away all of Song Yu’s possibilities. 

To Yue Zhishi, the love Song Yu gave him was like a prize dropped from the sky; it was a beautiful dream he was unwilling to wake from. But Yue Zhishi was very aware — to him, the familial love Lin Rong and Song Jin gave him was precious and unlike anything else.

He had no one else he could call his family.

It was highly unlikely he could have both. Yue Zhishi didn’t think he would be that fortunate. Greedy people would get nothing at all, so he needed to prepare himself to one day give up one of them.

Lost in his thoughts, Yue Zhishi could feel Song Yu drawing him in closer. He called out a single Le Le, voice very low, and it made Yue Zhishi feel very, very secure.

“I suddenly want to see your parents,” Song Yu said.

This was already something that couldn’t be done, but Yue Zhishi still asked, “Why all of a sudden?”

Song Yu spoke very gravely. “I need to thank them for giving birth to you.”

Yue Zhishi felt even more distressed, but he didn’t want to cry. He continued holding it in.

“I hear you were born in the afternoon. I remember my parents receiving a phone call in the afternoon, but it should’ve been morning in England.” Song Yu softly laughed, as though he was laughing at himself for unexpectedly being able to remember something that’d happened when he was three.

His chin gently rested on the top of Yue Zhishi’s head. A rarely seen feeling of dependency came from his posture, as if at this moment, Song Yu really needed Yue Zhishi.

“I really want to go back to this time nineteen years ago. I want to wait for you to be born in the delivery room, and then hold your hand.”

Yue Zhishi’s eyes were burning, stinging very badly, but he was still smiling. “Just my hand?”

Song Yu hesitated. “Would they let a three year old child carry you?” 

“Perhaps, if it were you.” Yue Zhishi felt he was being very strange, acting as though that fantasy was real. “What would you do? Steal the baby away?”

Song Yu shook his head. “I would carry you to the corner and tell you — we’ll grow up together. I really like you, and a bit more than a decade later, we’ll be together.” He spoke lightly, airily, and yet his voice was tender, tugging Yue Zhishi out from his suffering and anxiety and giving him warmth.

“Please fall in love with me a bit earlier, okay?”