The Long Night - Chapter 2

“How long have you been staring in the mirror today?”

His mother’s voice, full of vigor, came from behind him, with a teasing tone, “Going on a blind date?”

Tang Shaocheng turned his head, his mouth opening and closing. He pressed his lips together and turned back to the mirror. He still wasn’t used to his mother’s youthful voice. In his memory, she hadn’t given him a kind look since he came out. For an entire year, they only had brief, indifferent exchanges on the days of his father’s memorial.

What he was even less used to was the person in the full-length mirror.

His warm breath formed a small patch of fog that slowly dissipated. The face in the mirror went from clear to blurry again. Tang Shaocheng stared intently, the shock still visible in his eyes.

He was a man nearing thirty, yet after his death, he had suddenly returned to being seventeen. This was simply too bizarre to comprehend.

His gaze reluctantly shifted downward. His height was the same, but the muscles he had built were completely gone, leaving only a thin layer. It seemed a decade of working out was all for nothing.

But his young body was in better shape. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, but he didn’t feel tired at all. His back pain was gone, and there were no wrinkles around his eyes or on his forehead. The lines of his profile were sharper and more defined.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the entrance. His mother’s heels clicked on the floor. “I have to work overtime tonight. You’ll have to cook for yourself.”

He quietly replied, “Okay.”

Tang Shaocheng was nonchalant about life and death.

His father died of a cerebral hemorrhage when he was five, which was his first time facing death. But he had no impression of the man who was rarely home, so he felt no sadness.

He couldn’t cry a single tear at the funeral. Relatives whispered that he was a “cold-blooded creature,” a label that had stuck with him his whole life, and he had long grown accustomed to it.

His suicide wasn’t an act of romantic sacrifice, but more a feeling that living had become meaningless.

The world was different in everyone’s eyes.

Others would see a beautiful landscape, eat a delicious meal, or witness a grand work of art and think, “Life is good.” But none of these things would stir any positive emotions in him.

For an entire year after Yan Liao’s death, there wasn’t a single second when he was happy.

Death had only released him from the oppression, but he hadn’t expected to get a chance to start over.

The calendar flipped to late February. Tomorrow was the first day of the second semester of their senior year… He would probably see Yan Liao at school.

Tang Shaocheng had very little memory of this ordinary day. He sat on the sofa watching the midday news, vaguely recalling how certain events had caused a brief stir but were later overshadowed by bigger waves.

When he heard the screech of a car braking downstairs, his heart jumped. He hurried to the window and saw a moving truck filled with furniture parked in front of the building’s entrance.

“The elevator is broken.”

“Oh, it’s not a lot of stuff. We can move it up in two trips.”

He lowered his head and, through the crisscrossing wires, unexpectedly saw Yan Liao bounce out of the passenger seat, a black woolen hat on his head. He pulled it off, but the man next to him put it back on him. “Put your hat back on if you’re sweating, or you’ll catch a cold again from the wind.”

“Okay, I get it—”

The world fell silent for a second. The boy’s clear voice was like melting snow dripping, and Tang Shaocheng’s heart gave a violent lurch.

It was the end of winter and the beginning of spring. The gentle sunlight cast dappled shadows through the leaves. Yan Liao’s dark blue jacket flickered in and out of sight. Tang Shaocheng moved from his room to the living room and then to the kitchen, his eyes following the running figure.

A face that was both unfamiliar and familiar, once untouchable and now so close, silently played out before him like a continuous long take in a movie.

Yan Liao, wearing dark blue jeans, ran quickly, radiating a vibrant energy. He took two steps at a time on the stairs, pausing when he passed a little cat. He bent down, scratched the cat’s chin, and smiled as he said something. The cat stretched, its furry head rubbing against his palm.

Tang Shaocheng remembered now. This had indeed happened before the start of the second semester of their senior year. He only remembered that a new neighbor, who happened to be a former middle school classmate, had moved in downstairs. They had run into each other in the hallway a few times, but they had never spoken.

The moving went quickly downstairs. Before Tang Shaocheng could find an excuse to go and say hello, he saw Yan Liao run out again. He must have snuck out when the adults weren’t looking. He wasn’t wearing his thick winter coat, but a thin gray hoodie. His figure was light and agile as he disappeared around the corner.

For the rest of the afternoon, Tang Shaocheng kept checking the window. It wasn’t until dusk that Yan Liao slowly returned.

The setting sun cast an orange-red glow, and the air seemed to turn into a heavy, semi-liquid state. A boy was following him, walking a little unsteadily. He was wearing a baggy down jacket and a grass-green scarf wrapped once around his neck, trailing behind him.

Tang Shaocheng also remembered Yan Liao’s friend. He was the first person to visit Yan Liao after the accident, sitting by his hospital bed and reciting The Temple of Earth with good intentions and great emotion. Yan Liao was so angry he nearly fainted. He cursed the boy to “get lost” from under his oxygen mask.

Slow, lazy footsteps echoed from downstairs as the two walked one after the other. When they reached the landing, Yan Liao seemed to feel Tang Shaocheng’s gaze and suddenly looked up.

The world was silent. Outside the window was the desolate winter sky, and inside the narrow hallway, light and shadow were distinctly divided. Yan Liao’s pupils were lighter in the dim light. They seemed to tighten for a moment during their brief eye contact.

Tang Shaocheng’s heart was pounding as if it would burst from his chest.

He clenched his hand into a fist and held it to his lips, giving a small cough to hide the smile that was curving his mouth. His gaze was fixed on the other boy, unwilling to look away for even a second.

“What are you looking at?” Yan Liao narrowed his eyebrows, his dark eyes looking slightly menacing as he stared up at him. “…Are you sick?”

Tang Shaocheng remained silent, not angry at all. His expression even held a hint of subtle tenderness.

Yan Liao’s gaze was slightly confused. Ge Donglin, still panting, finally caught up. He put an arm on Yan Liao’s shoulder. Because he was missing a tooth, he spoke with a slight lisp. “What are you doing here? Let’s go, let’s play video games!”

Yan Liao didn’t say a word. The next second, he did something no one, including Tang Shaocheng, had expected.

He instantly stuck out his right leg, tripping Ge Donglin at the back of his knee, and cleanly locked the arm around his shoulder, pulling it back. Ge Donglin, completely unprepared, stumbled backward, and fell to the ground like a stack of blocks being pulled from the bottom, crying out “Ah, ah” several times in perfect unison.

“Are you convinced?” Yan Liao asked in a low voice, his eyes casually glancing in Tang Shaocheng’s direction.

Ge Donglin nodded his head like a pecking chicken. “Yes, I’m convinced. I’m really convinced.”

Tang Shaocheng’s expression was now incredibly complicated. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing out loud. His feelings were also a mix of emotions. He didn’t want to look away, but he was afraid if he kept watching, Yan Liao would try to impress him by showing off a fake basketball throw.

Yan Liao’s face was full of righteous indignation, as if his expression read, “Even if my dad were here today, I’d still take him down.” Ge Donglin’s eyes were bewildered, as if he thought he had fallen because of an earthquake. He stood up like a clumsy bear, dazed, and patted the dust off his pants. He asked with a lisp, “…Should we still go play games?”

“Yeah.”

Yan Liao took his keys out of his pocket and handed them to him, his tone serious. “You go inside and wait for me.”

“Okay… but hurry up,” Ge Donglin said, still confused, and hobbled away as if he were a wind-up toy.

Tang Shaocheng watched him, sighing inwardly at his absurdly mismatched outfit. Maybe it was because he was older and couldn’t understand a teenager’s sense of style, but he didn’t remember this rebellious phase.

“Hey,” Yan Liao said, his hands in his pockets, glancing at him before quickly looking away. “We were classmates in middle school. You remember me, right?” When he saw Tang Shaocheng nod, he awkwardly continued, “We’re neighbors now. My family lives on this floor.”

Tang Shaocheng was very surprised that he had initiated a conversation. He suppressed his emotions. “Yes, well… It’s good to meet you.”

He sounded too formal, as if he were holding a delicate piece of porcelain, even his breathing was cautious.

The atmosphere was quiet for a moment. Yan Liao couldn’t help but look up at him again. He quickly looked away, as if he had been caught doing something wrong, and turned to run down the hallway.

“Come back.”

Tang Shaocheng saw him about to leave, and in a moment of absent-mindedness, he thought he was back in the past and unconsciously said these two words.

Yan Liao, who was almost out of the hallway, stopped as if bewitched and slowly turned back. He obediently stood where he was, looked up at Tang Shaochéng, and asked impatiently, “What do you want? Do you need something?”

He unconsciously twirled his fingers on his pants, and he thought he saw a fleeting smile in Tang Shaocheng’s eyes, a ripple on a lake surface caused by a gentle breeze. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination.

“Nothing,” Tang Shaocheng said, his voice gentle and calm. His gaze swept over Yan Liao.

From head to toe, there wasn’t a single thing about the boy’s appearance that he liked. Not only did his bangs cover half of his face, but his hair was also dyed yellow. The silver studs in his eyebrows and ears gave off a cold gleam. He was wearing two black metal cross necklaces. One would have thought he had a devout religious belief.

Even though it was winter, he was only wearing a hoodie, with his pant legs rolled up and his ankles exposed. He was young and not afraid of the cold.

Tang Shaocheng decided it was better to take things one step at a time so as not to severely damage the boy’s self-esteem. He said gently, “You should cut your hair. Your bangs are covering your eyes. Can you even see where you’re going?”

Yan Liao’s pupils instantly constricted. He stood frozen for a few seconds, as if hit by a cannonball. He couldn’t squeeze out a single word for a long time.

“I am not cutting my hair!”

His face was flushed with anger. He ground his teeth until his gums ached, then he shouted this with great force, emphasizing once more, “I can see where I’m going!”

Before Tang Shaocheng could say anything else, he turned and stomped away. When he was almost at the staircase, he stopped, then stomped back.

“You!” he threatened fiercely. “You just wait and see!”

Tang Shaocheng suppressed the upward curve of his lips and calmly replied, “Okay.”

His kind expression sent a shiver down Yan Liao’s spine. He let out another cold, feigned huff through his nose, and this time, he really ran off with quick footsteps.

Tang Shaocheng was immersed in a strange mix of emotions all evening. It was only after his reunion with Yan Liao that he truly accepted his rebirth. As he tidied his room, many memories from this period came back to him. It was late at night when his mother returned. The neighbor across the hall, hearing the noise, came over to return the iron she had borrowed that morning.

“Working so late, it must be hard,” the neighbor said with a sigh. She then changed the subject, the compliment sounding either polite or genuine. “But you’re so lucky to have such a good son.”

His mother replied quickly. “He has to be. His father died early, and we’re just a mother and son. A boy has to be the head of the household early on, or we’ll get bullied wherever we go.”

She said this in a loud voice. Tang Shaocheng was in the bathroom, shaving. The blade nicked his chin, and a drop of crimson blood oozed from the cut. He wiped it away, his face as calm as stagnant water.

He had grown used to hearing these words since he was young.

The first time he heard them, he might have felt pity and guilt for his mother. But from a certain point on, it slowly and continuously festered into a dark, twisted vortex.

“Are you worthy of your dead father if you don’t study hard?”

“Everyone will blame me for not raising you right. Your grandparents, aunts, and uncles will all blame me. I’ll become a sinner for all time. Don’t you understand?”

“Aren’t you afraid of people talking about us? Do you want others to laugh at us? The more they do, the more determined you have to be.”

It was as if a dark hole had opened up inside his body, and all family affection was drained away through it.

Tang Shaocheng had rarely spoken to his mother after he came out. Even though his soul was thirty years old now, he couldn’t communicate with her as two adults would.

Unraveling threads of yarn were tangled into a messy knot, slowly forming an airtight nest. If he didn’t escape, he would surely suffocate. This was often how he felt when he was with his mother.

If it were just for himself, Tang Shaocheng felt there was no need to live again.

But for Yan Liao…

As long as he could protect him this time, he wouldn’t make the wrong choices and wouldn’t end up with that same tragic ending.

Tang Shaocheng still remembered that evening. He was talking about a case with a client. When he said, “The second trial will most likely uphold the original verdict,” the client sobbed uncontrollably. He had to take the person to a lounge, leaving his phone outside. When he came out and called back, there was no answer. Later, he finally received another call, this time from the police, telling him to identify a body.

After sixteen hours of surgery and rescue efforts, everyone had given up hope. By some stroke of luck, Yan Liao survived. The first thing he said when he woke up was, “I would rather have died.”

He could have had a better life. He deserved a better life.

Late at night, Tang Shaocheng lay in bed. The room he had lived in for over ten years emerged from the darkness, its blurred outline making it hard to tell whether the past or the present was the dream.

He and Yan Liao didn’t have much contact in high school. They were in classrooms at opposite ends of the hallway, and the number of times they saw each other in three years was few and far between.

They only became close after college. Yan Liao came to Pingcheng right after graduation, saying he would stay for a few days while looking for a job, but he ended up staying for half a month. Just before he was about to move out, he treated Tang Shaocheng to dinner. They both had a little to drink that night, and the perfectly timed drunken flirtation led them to bed.

When he woke up the next morning, Yan Liao was lying on top of him, his eyes wet, the flush on his cheeks still not faded. He softly said, “I’ve actually liked you since I was seventeen.”

Tang Shaocheng had very little memory of Yan Liao’s high school days. Instead, the half-month they had lived together had forged a bond between them. Who knew that he had been such a rebellious teenager in high school?

He had thought yesterday’s events would trigger the boy’s teenage rebellious streak. But when Tang Shaocheng opened his door to go to school the next day, he saw a thin back not far away, dressed in a standard blue and white school uniform, a stark change from the weird outfit he was wearing the day before.

He could tell who it was just from the slight downward curve of his neck.

Tang Shaocheng smiled. He walked down the stairs, and when he reached Yan Liao, he smiled naturally and said, “Morning.”

It was as if they were old friends.

“Morning.” The word stubbornly escaped his throat before his consciousness could stop it. Yan Liao immediately fell silent, then, as if regretting it, he pressed his tongue against his back teeth. He turned and glared at Tang Shaocheng before striding ahead, as if the two had just happened to meet by chance.

The moment he turned, his dark, almond-shaped eyes were fully revealed. Tang Shaocheng was stunned for a second. It wasn’t until Yan Liao had walked a few steps that he remembered to follow.

On a cold winter morning, a white mist hung over the road. The air was cold and damp, forming small, glistening water droplets on his eyebrows and eyelashes, making his features look even more vibrant.

“The new haircut looks good,” Tang Shaocheng said, walking unhurriedly beside Yan Liao, choosing his words carefully. “Black looks better.”

Yan Liao’s body stiffened for a moment at the sensitive topic. His ears turned red at a visible speed, and a small cloud of steam came out of his lips. “I!…”

Just as he was about to retort, Tang Shaocheng offered him a bottle of milk.

“Here you go.”