The Long Night - Chapter 18

Tang Shaocheng stared at him, not speaking for a long time.

Yan Liao felt a little guilty. This time, he didn’t make a disdainful sound before speaking, but his voice still carried a hint of impatience. “I just hate him when I see him.”

Tang Shaocheng subtly moved the ornaments on the coffee table between them, closing the distance. He continued to ask, “So you think he’s not normal?”

“Yeah… everyone says that. He’s different from us. And being different means he’s not normal.”

Yan Liao looked into Tang Shaocheng’s eyes and felt a sudden nervousness. The last part of his sentence was hesitant. He lowered his eyelashes and squeezed the cushion on the sofa.

Tang Shaocheng’s tone was a little dark. “Have you ever thought that when we come out, some people will also say that you and I are gay and not normal?”

“What does it have to do with them?” Yan Liao was briefly agitated, then quickly realized that Tang Shaocheng wanted him to empathize. He twisted the corner of his mouth and calmed down. “Whatever, I don’t care.”

Whoever cares is in the wrong.

Just like that, he put himself back in the position of opposition.

“He is a person, a living, breathing person. No one has the right to judge others.” Tang Shaocheng took a deep breath, his patience wearing thin. “The clothes a person wears don’t mean anything,” he said, looking at Yan Liao. His voice was serious and earnest, as if they were back in high school discussing a tough problem. “Gender labels are an impression we’re given after birth. As long as he’s not hurting anyone else, it’s his choice what he wants to wear.”

“Maybe he just really likes to wear skirts. Maybe it’s a gender identity issue. But neither of those things is a reason to attack him. They can’t be a reason for him to be turned into a symbol, a target.”

“Being in the majority doesn’t make you normal. And being effeminate isn’t a trait to be looked down on. You shouldn’t have prejudices against him, should you?”

No.

Anger echoed in his chest.

Yan Liao looked up, his eyes suddenly very red. He bit his lip so hard he could taste the rusty, bloody flavor.

The subject of Tang Shaocheng’s statements was always “he,” not “people like them.” Yan Liao didn’t know why he was so obsessed with and bothered by those words. It felt like a betrayal, and he became even more thoroughly sad.

“Why are you defending him so much?”

The resentment in his heart was like a balloon inflated to its limit; even a slight touch would make it burst. “Why are you getting mad at me for his sake?” With a mix of unreasonableness and petulance, Yan Liao pushed the coffee table aside with a thump and stood up. “Then you shouldn’t be in a relationship with me! Go and like him instead!”

Tang Shao-cheng had been trying hard not to get angry, but Yan Liao’s attitude and words were just too much. He could feel the veins on his forehead throbbing.

He had wanted to discuss things calmly, thinking that a heart-to-heart talk would change the boy’s perspective, but it was clear that talking to him nicely wasn’t working.

Yan Liao got up, went back to the bedroom, and grabbed his jacket. His shadow on the window looked like a blob of black ink.

He was stomping toward the door. Tang Shaocheng called out to him with a frown, the veins on his arm bulging from where he had propped himself on the table. “Stop. Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

Yan Liao hadn’t even thought about where he was going; he just felt so angry. In his heart, there was a sense of indignation and grievance that said, “You’re not on my side anymore.” But he was grabbed by the wrist before he could reach the front door. It was a familiar hold. Just as Yan Liao was about to erupt, both of his arms were pulled back and behind him.

“What are you doing!”

He struggled desperately and furiously, only to have his head pressed down and be led to the sofa. For a moment, the world spun, and when he came to his senses, he was sprawled across Tang Shao-cheng’s lap.

This position and this situation didn’t look good at all.

Yan Liao suddenly felt weak in the knees. He swallowed hard. “Wait, let’s just talk…”

Before he could finish, a heavy slap landed on his backside. The dull thud sounded like a world-shattering noise in his ears.

He took a deep breath. “You! Don’t… you!”

Yan Liao’s breathing became uneven. He writhed constantly from his arms to his calves, but his hands were firmly held behind his back. Tang Shaocheng gripped his two wrists with one hand, while the other hand repeatedly struck him.

“What are you doing! You’re hitting me for that pervert!”

Each hit hurt. For the first few slaps, Yan Liao still made a show of yelling, but when the real, fiery pain spread, he was too embarrassed to make a sound. Instead, he just squeezed Tang Shaocheng’s thumb with his hands even harder.

“You’re bullying me for someone else! You’re doing this to me for a person you just met! You’re not nice to me at all!”

He was crying with all his might, his shoulders pressed against the sofa. He was barely holding on. When he was about to fall off, Tang Shaocheng pulled him up by the waist, hitting him harder and harder, which only made his sobs more frantic.

“Ow, ow… be gentle! Don’t…”

After the storm had passed, Tang Shaocheng’s face was stern and cold. He asked seriously, “Do you know you were wrong?”

“I was wrong, I was wrong… I shouldn’t have said those… those things…”

The sounds of pain and sobbing came out together as he confessed his mistake. Yan Liao was a little short of breath, flopping his legs like a beached fish. Then, he resignedly laid back down.

Tang Shaocheng held his waist. His voice was sharp. “You’re going to apologize tomorrow.”

“Ah… I know, I know. I’ll apologize…”

Tang Shaocheng released his grip. His palm could feel the slight heat underneath the pants.

The moment he touched him, Yan Liao’s shoulders subtly spasmed. He thought he was going to get hit again and his body trembled even more.

“Don’t…”

But Tang Shaocheng just massaged him. He left the boy on the sofa to get him a glass of warm water and some tissues.

Yan Liao’s tears still wouldn’t stop. He was so choked up that his head felt fuzzy. When he saw the glass of water and tissues offered to him, a wave of hurt passed through his heart.

The area behind him no longer hurt, just a swollen feeling. He shakily wiped away his snot and tears, then hesitated for a moment. His voice was muffled by the tissue. “…I’ll, I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.”

“Good,” Tang Shaocheng said, pushing his sweat-dampened hair aside. “That’s a good boy.”

He lowered his gaze and sighed heavily, like a worried father. He repeated his point again. “You said such hurtful things to someone’s face today. Wouldn’t that make them sad? You need to put yourself in someone else’s shoes and think about how you would react if you heard someone insulting you personally.”

Yan Liao pursed his lips, his eyelashes trembling. He grabbed Tang Shaocheng’s clothes and said in a muffled voice, “I know—”

He knew that changing a personality was a gradual process. It was impossible to make Yan Liao change over a decade of habits in a single instance. But at the very least, he could properly apologize and start learning how to respect others.

One more friend means one less enemy, one less person who might harm him.

Tang Shaocheng soothingly rubbed his head. “Okay, stop crying.”

Yan Liao took his hand and placed it under his face. His tears fell on the rugged veins on Tang Shaocheng’s hand. He looked up with red eyes and asked with hesitation and care, “Are you still mad?”

“Hmm?” Tang Shaocheng looked down at him.

“Are you still mad at me?” Yan Liao’s tearful whisper blew gently on his hand. He looked up with his red eyes and asked carefully, “Please don’t be mad anymore, okay?”

The crescent-shaped lamp on the table cast a gentle light.

Outside the window, the night was clear. Tall buildings stood against the sky, their navigation lights blinking like winking eyes. The clouds were thin, and the brilliant stars formed a sea.

Yan Liao lay on Tang Shaocheng’s chest, his crying slowly turning into soft sobs. His lean jawline was wet, and the sofa had kindly absorbed his tears.

He thought back to when they first moved in. He had wanted to lie on the wide, soft sofa to watch a movie together, but he didn’t expect to get a spanking here instead.

The more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt.

Yan Liao winced in pain while taking a shower and didn’t stop crying even after he was in bed. He would cry for a bit, rest for a bit, then start crying again, like a relay race. Tang Shaocheng checked before bed and saw that the red marks were a faint layer, and the skin wasn’t broken.

Even though it wasn’t serious, Tang Shaocheng held and kissed him tenderly all night until Yan Liao finally fell asleep properly.

He was sprawled on Tang Shaocheng’s chest. His thick, long eyelashes cast a small shadow, trembling slightly with his breath. The room was dim, with only the streetlights outside reflecting on his face. His pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness, and his mouth was slightly pursed, as if he was still sulking.

Tang Shaocheng’s fingertips lightly traced Yan Liao’s soft, pink lips. They looked very easy to kiss. When he wasn’t saying hurtful things, he was a very well-behaved kid.

The next day, Yan Liao obediently went back to school to apologize. Before entering the building, he still asked softly with a very reluctant expression, “Can’t I just add his WeChat and say it?” After getting a firm no, he gritted his teeth and walked up the stairs, enduring the humiliation.

As soon as the bell rang for the end of class, the classroom became noisy.

Chen Si-tiao tidied up the stationery on his desk and slowly packed it into his bag. His notebook accidentally fell to the floor with a crisp thud, startling the girl sitting in front of him.

He immediately held his breath and froze, his fingers gripping his bag so hard his knuckles turned white. The girl in front of him saw the notebook by her feet, bent down, picked it up, and tucked her long hair behind her ear as she looked back. “Is this yours?”

“Y-yes, thank you.”

Chen Si-tiao looked at her and instinctively made the same movement, his dark, smooth hair resting quietly on his shoulders.

“You’re welcome.”

The girl slung her bag over her shoulder and left. Chen Si-tiao let out a sigh of relief.

Students gradually walked out of the classroom. He slowly got up with his backpack on, thinking he was the last one. But he was suddenly pushed from behind, stumbling forward, almost falling face-first out the classroom door.

The bright light in the hallway instantly stabbed his eyes. He squinted slightly and stood up again nonchalantly.

Someone let out a loud whistle.

“Why aren’t you wearing a skirt today?”

The sound of laughter was like jellyfish in the deep sea, extending their huge, monstrous tentacles, flailing and swarming.

The door was slammed shut.

“What he wears is none of your business.”

Yan Liao leaned against the wall. “If you like minding what people wear so much, why don’t you go back to elementary school and be a hall monitor? It must be a lifelong regret of yours that you never got to check if people were wearing their red scarves at the school gate.”

He wasn’t sure if it was Tang Shaocheng’s nagging lecture from last night that had worked, or if he was simply in a bad mood and wanted to insult people.

In any case, he drove that group of rude boys away.

Chen Si-tiao stood next to Yan Liao without saying a word. He heard the boy’s muffled, rapid apology that sounded like bubbles from someone who was drowning: “I’m sorry for yesterday.” He smiled, pursing his lips.

“I’ll treat you to lunch,” Chen Si-tiao said, summoning the courage to be friendly.

“No.”

Yan Liao’s voice was firm. Seeing Chen Si-tiao’s expression visibly tense, he said in a nonchalant tone, “I should be the one treating you. I’m the one apologizing.”