The Long Night - Chapter 30

In the second semester, it was as if Mercury, once in retrograde, had returned to its normal orbit. Many good things happened. Yan Liao’s college professor started taking him to various competitions. Although most of them only received honorable mentions, it was enough for many people to notice him.

He became a bit well-known. People would peek into his classroom, and in the cafeteria, he could hear the click of cameras like crunching biscuits.

He got more friend requests on WeChat, and most conversations ended quickly because of his unromantic replies. Near the end of the semester, someone even waited outside his classroom to give him a love letter, filled with sincere and obscure poetry. However, it didn’t account for the recipient’s literary skills. Any sentence with more than ten characters was a complex sentence to him, and he couldn’t understand it.

Yan Liao would sometimes return the love letter on the spot. The ones he couldn’t return because the person ran away too fast were difficult to deal with. He couldn’t just throw them away, as they might be picked up and expose someone’s privacy, so he ended up shredding them before throwing them out. His classmates would make exaggerated sounds and exclaim, “Yan Liao is cold-blooded and ruthless; he’s hurting those kids’ innocent hearts.”

Yan Liao’s entire focus was on why they called the students in the next grade “kids.” It gave him goosebumps.

The spring in May was in full swing. When Yan Liao got home, he immediately video-called Tang Shaocheng. Even though they had just seen each other last week, it felt like they had been apart for eight hundred years. Every few sentences, he couldn’t help but draw out a long, nasal whine as if he were trying to get his way.

The potted plant in the house had bloomed with small pink flowers. Spring had arrived.

Yan Liao sat at his desk and opened a chocolate tin on the table. Like a blind box, he would take one piece out every day. His favorite was still the dark chocolate with hazelnuts. He thought of something and asked Tang Shaocheng, feigning nonchalance, “Do you also suddenly start calling the next generation of students ‘kids’?”

“No,” Tang Shaocheng replied quickly, then paused. As if he knew what the other person wanted to hear, he said slowly, “I only call you a kid.”

Yan Liao couldn’t hold back his smile. “I’m not a kid. I’m going to be twenty soon.” But he still couldn’t help covering his mouth and chuckling.

He propped his phone up on a bookshelf. There was a pen and paper next to it, and he suddenly wanted to write a love letter to Tang Shaocheng.

It felt kind of romantic to write something to him while they were on the phone. The light from the desk lamp fell on the white paper. Yan Liao wrote the beginning but didn’t like it. He tore it up, crumpled it into a ball, and started over. They were both doing their own things and didn’t talk anymore. In the silence, the sound of the paper being crumpled and flattened was very sleep-inducing. The night wind would occasionally blow in through the slightly ajar window.

Yan Liao bit the end of his pen. He wrote “Hello” and crossed it out, writing “Good evening” instead. He was trying hard to come up with some lines that would warm his heart for a whole day. Then he heard Tang Shaocheng nagging him to “eat less sweets” and also mentioned how he had been drinking too much soda and not enough water lately. Yan Liao felt his head was about to smoke. He gripped his pen tighter and wrote faster, turning the love letter into a threatening one.

Tang Shaocheng, on the other end of the video call, was completely unaware. He looked at Yan Liao, who was sometimes frowning and biting his pen cap, and sometimes writing as if a divine hand were guiding him. He smiled, as if watching a puppy play with a ball of yarn.

Time flew by. For most of the year, Yan Liao had not mentioned that he was a transfer student until Ge Dong-lin brought up that he was working as an assistant for an artist. He asked if Yan Liao wanted to meet up since the artist’s promotional event was going to be held near Yan Liao’s school in a few days. They planned for a long time only to realize they were talking about two different places.

“I forgot to tell you, I’m not at school right now,” Yan Liao said, lying on the table bored. He rephrased it more specifically. “I transferred out.”

Ge Dong-lin on the other end of the phone was shocked. “When did you start doing drugs?” …Only after saying that did he suddenly realize what Yan Liao meant with a long “ah.”

“Yeah,” Yan Liao replied with a fake smile. “Can I hide at your place when the police come to arrest me?”

Ge Dong-lin no longer just laughed stupidly when the other person was joking. He skillfully played along. “That depends on how high the reward is.”

“You’d sell me out for more than ten dollars, wouldn’t you?”

Ge Dong-lin’s tone was very humble. “Five dollars would do it.”

Yan Liao let out a sound of frustration, then asked again, not giving up, “If I’m really in danger, you wouldn’t just stand by and watch, would you?”

“Why would it be my turn?” Ge Dong-lin said subconsciously. When he heard Yan Liao’s angry retort, “So you’d just do nothing?” he was amazed by Yan Liao’s current literary level and earnestly said, “I’ll try my best not to add insult to injury.” Finally, under the other person’s pressure, he was willing to go to great lengths for a friend. “Okay, give me your phone, and I’ll help you take out a loan, okay?”

Yan Liao laughed and, for the umpteenth time, marveled at how much this person had changed.

What was even more amazing was that he had never mentioned his relationship with Tang Shaocheng, yet Ge Dong-lin had somehow figured out he was in a relationship. It was probably an intuition honed by working in the entertainment industry.

Ge Dong-lin was a trainee assistant for a new singer. The singer wasn’t very famous yet. He had just released his first album and was now starring as a supporting actor in a movie. He had good public appeal and was considered to have a lot of potential among artists of the same generation.

Yan Liao didn’t have much of an impression of the singer’s name, but he asked out of curiosity, “What’s it like to be around a celebrity?”

When Ge Dong-lin answered, he wasn’t thinking about the convenience of his job or seeing those glamorous faces up close. Instead, he thought about the moments when he was overshadowed by a brilliant star, seen as invisible, or only as a foil.

Ge Dong-lin said slowly, “It’s about the same as being next to you in high school.”

“What’s it like to be next to me?” Yan Liao chuckled. “People wouldn’t rush over to ask for my autograph. They’d probably want to throw a brick at me.”

Ge Dong-lin laughed along. “Someone would be willing to block it for you.”

For a brief few seconds, Ge Dong-lin seriously thought about Yan Liao’s casual question, “What’s it like to be next to me?” and remembered a small incident from high school.

After school that day, they were riding their bikes home. Yan Liao pedaled so fast that he could only follow him with great effort. He squinted in the wind and watched him pass the green light and cross to the other side of the road without a hitch. But just when he was about to catch up, the traffic light above him suddenly turned red, a warning red light that forbade him from approaching. This was what it felt like to be next to him.

Watching the white shirt billow in the wind, like an infinitely long close-up shot, his figure became a distant, hazy dot, and all that was left in his sight was the glaring red light. This was what it felt like to be next to him.

Many words crashed around in his head, making him think, as before, that he had said a lot. In reality, he was silent for a long time until Yan Liao said, “Hello? Hello?” a little impatiently, “Should I hang up?” Only then did he reply, “Okay.”

Ge Dong-lin had changed a lot in two years. The industry he was in made it easy to make quick money, and he himself became more cheerful and confident.

Yan Liao didn’t know how they had stayed in touch until now. It was a very magical thing. He knew he was selfish and arrogant, only wanted to have fun, and was too lazy to share others’ problems. He also often felt that people his age were very childish. So, he never had any expectations about making friends. But perhaps a pack animal would always find a friend.

In high school, he would say anything to Ge Dong-lin, like a person in a fairy tale who confides secrets to a tree hole. Ge Dong-lin was also a dull, wooden kind of person—a little simple-minded and forgetful. He wasn’t afraid of him telling others and didn’t feel embarrassed talking to him.

Their personalities were very different. Ge Dong-lin was the type of person who, if someone was kind to him, would be overwhelmed and couldn’t wait to thank and repay them. Because he repaid them so promptly, people would sometimes misunderstand that he wanted to clear the slate as soon as possible. Yan Liao was the exact opposite of him. If someone was kind to him, he would feel it was only right.

So, they never established a normal, give-and-take friendship, but they were somehow a perfect fit. Ge Dong-lin said “thank you” as if it were “hello,” and Yan Liao heard his “thank you” as “hello.” He never thought the scale would ever be unbalanced.

But a scale that had been formed would sooner or later become unbalanced.

Because he had won some new artist awards, Yan Liao was interviewed at school many times. He had no experience with reporters and didn’t know how to say likable things like, “Talent is not important; hard work is. Anyone can succeed.” When asked how he got into art, he narrowed his eyes and said, “It’s just whatever.” When asked if he had any beliefs or ideals, he shook his head and said, “It’s just whatever.” When asked if he had any experiences to share, he said, “It’s just whatever.”

Many years later, when he unintentionally saw this interview, he couldn’t help but mock, “Why was I so pretentious?” Tang Shaocheng also teased him, “You don’t need to buy a shopping bag at the supermarket anymore.”

Twenty-five-year-old Yan Liao, with his sharp tongue, sneered twice. “You don’t use a shopping bag, and you don’t even have to go to the supermarket. You should be pushing a shopping cart with the old men downstairs at 6 a.m. to the market, drinking tea and playing chess by the bus stop, and in the evening, going to the park to do pull-ups and square dancing. And tomorrow morning, you can go to the top of the mountain to hit a tree.”

The schedule was very well-planned. Tang Shaocheng pretended not to have heard Yan Liao mocking his middle-aged lifestyle. He smiled and asked, “When we get old, should we do all these things together?” Yan Liao blew out a breath, and his bangs went up and down. “When I get old, I want to be the most stylish old man. I want to dye my hair red.” Tang Shaocheng felt a little dizzy at the thought of that scene. Yan Liao got so excited he couldn’t stop talking, planning to get matching couple tattoos at sixty.

The only thing that made the interview somewhat watchable was the reporter’s last question: “What would you like to say to the people who like you?” The question was naturally directed at the people who liked his work, but Yan Liao instinctively only thought of Tang Shaocheng when he heard this. So, he said without hesitation and with genuine emotion, “I like you, too.”

The students below cheered. Yan Liao quickly waved his hand, “I wasn’t talking about you,” but unfortunately, his microphone had been taken away after the interview. They thought he was waving hello and enthusiastically waved back with happy faces. One girl’s movement was so forceful that it looked like she was slapping him from a distance. Anyone who didn’t know would have thought an ex-girlfriend had come to make a scene and seek revenge. Even the security guards looked serious, ready to prevent a lovers’ quarrel.

After the interview, Yan Liao was ready to go back and pack his things. His flight was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. He finally didn’t have to book a return ticket. When he paid, Yan Liao said in his mind with a fierce tone, “Farewell.”

At that time, he thought he would never come to this terrible place again. He never expected to settle here with Tang Shaocheng after graduation and live here for many years.

Yan Liao, wearing a baseball cap, walked slowly out of the special passage. He was suddenly stopped. He caught words like “My name is Shen Yi-ran,” “Are you interested,” and “social media” in the other person’s fast speech. He casually asked, “What are you filming?”

The other person was prepared and expertly gave him examples. “Things like your daily painting process, your daily life, attending events…”

Yan Liao shook his head as he walked. “Not interested.”

Shen Yi-ran was not discouraged at all. He still smiled and said, “You just need to focus on creating. Our team will handle all the operations and monetization. The post-production editing, subtitles, and music…”

They were walking toward the exit of the passage, getting farther away from the air conditioning. The air was getting hotter, baked by the summer sun. Shen Yi-ran noticed Yan Liao’s impatient expression and got to the point. “Here’s my business card.” He held up a number with his fingers as he handed it to him. “We can split the profits 70/30. This is the minimum amount.”

Yan Liao didn’t take the business card. He narrowed his eyes. “Two hundred thousand?”

Shen Yi-ran smiled as if he had already won. “Add another zero.”

The last sentence was much more effective than what he had said before: “Your work deserves to be seen by more people,” and “Now is the time for art accounts to be trending, and you’ll be a leader in the future.” Yan Liao stopped walking. For the first time, he revealed his eyes from under the baseball cap, sizing up the person in front of him, and accepted the business card.

A fleeting image of him living alone in the partitioned room flashed through Yan Liao’s mind. Having experienced some hard times, he had a new understanding of money after that.

He also remembered the bold words he had said about supporting someone.

Even though he knew that with Tang Shaocheng, he would always have a way out, he wanted to be more like Tang Shaocheng, someone who could carve out his own path.

They were about to leave the exit. Yan Liao’s nose was sweating from the heat. He didn’t mind and asked seriously, “Then let’s talk?”

“Sounds good,” Shen Yi-ran said with a smile. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

The next day at the cafe, Yan Liao listened to the other person talk eloquently all afternoon. He had thought he would be completely lost, but in the end, he understood everything.

Shen Yi-ran’s gentle smile was very approachable, and talking to him didn’t feel like a business meeting at all. Everything was simple and easy to understand. Yan Liao thought this person would make a good teacher. At least for that one hour, he didn’t zone out.

He agreed to give it a try. When he heard the other person say, “It was a pleasure working with you,” he felt like he was playing an unfamiliar role, and it was a very subtle feeling.

At this moment, Yan Liao, who felt a sense of success and returning home in glory, was sitting in a new car leaving the airport. Occasionally, he would look at Tang Shaocheng gripping the steering wheel next to him and feel an unbelievable sensation. It was as if yesterday he was dozing off in a high school classroom, and today he had arrived in a new world.

They had been honest with each other in the bathroom many times. If it weren’t for a sense of shame that occasionally arose, Yan Liao would have wanted to leave the preliminary work to Tang Shaocheng as well.

White steam curled around the bathtub. Yan Liao leaned against the wet tiled wall, his trembling eyelashes laden with tiny drops of water.

A transparent trail of water slipped along his prominent shoulder blades, down his straight spine, and finally stopped at the hollow of his lower back, where it was gently wiped away by Tang Shaocheng.

…

Tang Shaocheng tensed his abdominal muscles. His year of working out had sculpted lean, perfect lines. His fingers moved from Yan Liao’s bobbing Adam’s apple to his chin.

The steam-filled bathroom brought a slight sense of oxygen deprivation. When his senses were blurred, it felt as if dazzling fireworks were exploding. Yan Liao’s pupils dilated and then focused. His gaze finally settled on a precarious water droplet. The water droplet, mixed with sweat, rolled down Tang Shaocheng’s jaw and dripped onto Yan Liao’s skin. He shivered from the cold. His consciousness seemed to be still in the clouds.

The warm, yellow light from the bathroom poured onto the floor outside through the open door. By the time Tang Shao-cheng carried Yan Liao out, he was already falling asleep. He mumbled, “I missed you so much,” as he snuggled into his arms. Tang Shaocheng put him on the bed, kissed his eyes, and then his lips. “Good boy, I missed you too.”

There weren’t many classes in the third year of college. After Yan Liao came back, he was in a good mood about his school, which was rare. It was much more comfortable here.

But his good mood was short-lived.

He only had twenty days of summer vacation. Starting in September, he had to plan his future—whether to go to grad school or start working. He had to decide on a thesis topic, complete an internship, and attend an endless number of lectures to make up credits. It was as if he had suddenly been pressed with a life accelerator button.

Tang Shaocheng no longer nagged him about every little thing like he did a child. He would only occasionally remind him what to do at important points in time. Yan Liao sometimes thought of an elementary school textbook he had read. The content was probably something like, “The first time I went to school alone, my mom followed behind me, nervously watching me cross the street.”

He had grown up quickly in the past year. He no longer felt separation anxiety when he was alone at home. He would go to the law firm and pay to have a couple of hours with Lawyer Tang, confiding in him as a client. Every time he left, he would feel happy and refreshed. He had come to deeply understand that the most important thing in a relationship was a solid financial foundation.

When the contract arrived, Yan Liao finally remembered to bring up what Shen Yi-ran had told him, regurgitating the new terms. He was a little proud when he saw Tang Shao-cheng’s surprised expression. It felt like all these years, he had never had any secrets from Tang Shaocheng, a person whose joys and sorrows could be seen through at a glance. In contrast, the other person was always at ease, with many unpredictable aspects. Now it was finally Tang Shaocheng’s turn to get to know a new side of him, and it felt great.