The Long Night - Chapter 35

On a Saturday afternoon, Yan Liao and Tang Shaocheng went to the supermarket to buy groceries. On their way back, they saw the two kids again. One of them had accidentally thrown a toy up into a tree and was standing below, hands clasped together like he was making a solemn wish for the wind to blow it down. He looked a bit like he was practicing a martial arts technique.

Tang Shaocheng, passing by, casually helped them get the toy down. The wing of the model plane was knocked out of alignment, but Yan Liao expertly fiddled with it for a few moments, fixed it, and then returned it to the children.

The two kids were very sweet. They shouted a clear, “Thank you, Uncle!” to Tang Shaocheng, and then said to Yan Liao, “Thank you, big brother!”

Yan Liao found it a little funny, but the early twenties was indeed a subtle age. It was fine for these four- or five-year-olds to call him anything. He remembered hearing a female classmate complain in college, “I was called ‘auntie’! And after I even gave up my seat for him!” Another girl had reasonably argued, “Well, you call their mom ‘older sister,’ so this is the correct seniority.”

Later, the two of them talked about their internships, where they would call their fifty-something bosses “big brother” without a change in expression. If they couldn’t bring themselves to say that, they would say “teacher.” After leaving school, they found that everyone outside was also a “teacher,” so their student life just continued.

When they got back, Tang Shaocheng cut him some melon. As Yan Liao took it, he teased, “Thank you, Uncle.” Tang Shaocheng pinched his arm and asked with a laugh, “What did you call me?” The person in question might not have intended it, but Yan Liao was inspired. He said with great emotion, “Tha-ank, you, Da-ad.” The last syllable stretched on for a long time.

Ever since Yan Liao no longer felt embarrassed using that name in everyday life, it was as if some law of conservation had taken effect, and the person who got a little shy was now Tang Shaocheng. He pushed Yan Liao’s head away. “Say it properly.”

Yan Liao became addicted to the game that night. Before dinner, he stood in the kitchen rubbing his stomach pitifully, saying, “Dad, I’m hungry.” After he was full, he genuinely praised him, “Dad’s cooking is so good.” Tang Shaocheng, in his apron, looked completely harmless telling him to shut up. Yan Liao remained triumphant until after the lights were out. The light from the living room peeked through the crack under the door, and Tang Shaocheng leaned over him, patting his face and asking, “Why aren’t you calling me that anymore?” Yan Liao’s face was as red as a cooked shrimp, and he bit his teeth, too embarrassed to squeeze out another word.

The art exhibition was on the weekend. On Friday night, Yan Liao lay beside the sofa with a troubled expression, holding up a piece of paper. The curve of his arched spine looked strained and laborious.

He looked like a diligent and hardworking employee toiling away on overtime. He held up the paper in his hand for Tang Shaocheng to see and complained in a voice that accused a cruel boss, “This is the speech Old Shen wrote for me. He told me to memorize it tonight.”

Tang Shaocheng was sitting on the sofa reading. He had developed a slight case of myopia over the last six months and was wearing a pair of thin silver-rimmed glasses. He put a bookmark in the page he was on and looked up with a laugh. “Is it tonight that you have to memorize it?” The emphasis was on the second and third words, so Yan Liao looked up at the ceiling with a guilty conscience. “…He sent it to me last week, but I’m so smart.”

Tang Shaocheng chuckled. “You are.” He thought of something from a long time ago, not that long ago—when he was a junior in college. He remembered finding out that the “very smart” Yan Liao always thought the idiom “聪明绝顶” (cōngmíng juédǐng, meaning extremely smart) literally meant “so smart his head was going to fall off.”

He probably still thought so now.

Yan Liao still looked troubled and confused. “What should I do? I can’t just go up there and say, ‘Hope you all have a great meal,’ can I? That’s the only thing I can think of off the top of my head.”

Tang Shaocheng took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He motioned for him to come over. “How about you read it to me first?”

“Don’t you laugh at me.”

Yan Liao first stood at attention in front of Tang Shaocheng, then felt a little awkward looking down at him. He moved a wooden stool over and sat next to Tang Shaocheng’s leg. He held the paper as if he were reading a text aloud to a teacher, without any emotion. “I am honored to be here, and my heart is filled with great excitement…” The more he read, the worse his expression became. To say he was reading a text was giving him too much credit; it was more like he was reading a self-criticism in front of the principal’s office.

After he finally stammered through the last sentence, “I wish you all a happy and fulfilling life,” Yan Liao wrung his hands at the seams of his pants and asked nervously, “How was it?”

“It’s not bad.” Tang Shaocheng didn’t have the heart to discourage him. “You’re too nervous. Your voice is shaking.”

Yan Liao stubbornly argued, “How could I be? Why would I be nervous?” After he said this, he swallowed hard, and when his Adam’s apple bobbed, he saw Tang Shaocheng raise his eyebrows.

“Damn it.”

Yan Liao couldn’t sit still anymore. He got up and paced around the living room a few times, then walked up to Tang Shaocheng and sat down squarely on his lap. “Let’s run away now.” He closed his eyes and imagined they were a pair of star-crossed lovers on the run. “We’ll buy two train tickets and head south…”

To regain his ability to speak, he began to vividly narrate a love story he had made up. In the story, Tang Shaocheng played a character who would die for love. Although he hadn’t yet thought of who was chasing them, Yan Liao was very invested and said with certainty, “You’ll tell me to go first to cover my escape.”

Tang Shaocheng nodded cooperatively. “I’m telling you to go now. My legs are getting numb. Get up.”

What should have been a one-hour task was dragged out for three hours by Yan Liao. When there’s a task, everything becomes interesting. At one point, he even took out a long-untouched, dusty gaming controller from the cabinet and asked Tang Shaocheng to play Overcooked with him.

Of course, they didn’t end up playing. The two of them held that paper and read it over and over all night. Tang Shaocheng, who was just listening, had nearly memorized it. He had no choice but to revise a few sections for him, making them as simple as a grade school English essay, with only the most basic subject, verb, and object in each sentence.

On Saturday morning, traffic was congested. The red taillights stretched out like a river. The sunlight was like shimmering sandpaper, and two rows of locust trees lined the road, providing ample shade.

Tang Shaocheng held the steering wheel and looked at the kid next to him, who was sitting very properly with his hands on his knees like a well-behaved elementary school student.

“I don’t have time to go. Take more pictures.”

Today was the day Li Yi-yun had been mentioning for a month for him to meet a big client. It was an unfortunate coincidence that it fell on the same day as the art exhibition. Yan Liao said, “Okay,” and then asked, “Can I call you after I’m done? I’ll send you a WeChat message first to ask if it’s convenient.”

There he goes again, making it sound like he’s pitiful and desperately waiting. No matter how many times he tried this tactic, Tang Shaocheng couldn’t resist it. He took one hand off the wheel and held Yan Liao’s. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

The car stopped downstairs at Building A of the cultural and creative park. As Yan Liao unbuckled his seatbelt with one hand, his eyes curved into a smile. “I won’t have time to check your messages. I have to work.” He got out of the car with a quick step, and when he turned back, he saw Tang Shaocheng waving at him with a helpless or resigned expression.

“Everything goes well.”

The opening host, Sheng Lin, was a colleague Shen Yi-ran had invited. She reportedly majored in broadcasting and hosting but had now given up a respectable job at a TV station that paid 3,000 a month to live stream and sell products, making more money and having fewer worries. That’s how life is: a trade-off.

Yan Liao’s voice was a little hoarse, as if he hadn’t fully woken up. He had practiced a lot last night, and in the end, he had the speech memorized perfectly, but his tone was stiff, as if he were reading a declaration of war to all nations. But today’s live effect was very good, with a bit of a stuffy nose that made it sound like he had a hard candy in his mouth.

There weren’t many people listening, though. Most were tourists who came to check in and take pictures, and some were there to get a free cupcake for posting on social media.

Of course, a few people seriously appreciated the artwork, and some even wrote letters to Yan Liao. He was too embarrassed to collect them himself, so he asked Shen Yi-ran to find a random box and have those people put their letters in it for him.

It looked a little like a donation box for a charity project.

David was usually a busybody, but he was very enthusiastic at the moment, abandoning his precious coffee shop upstairs to come down and do his part.

Yan Liao had half-jokingly called him “the boss is gracing us with his presence,” but he gained a newfound respect for him after seeing him busying himself. That is, until he pointed at the painting “A Big Bird” and said with a solemn expression, “This reflects historical nihilism.” At that moment, Yan Liao couldn’t control his expression.

Overall, the exhibition was a great success. It was orderly and had a lively atmosphere. Yan Liao found some time to take a few pictures and send them to Tang Shaocheng. After a moment’s thought, he also sent one to his mom.

A little while later, he received a reply from his mom first. “Look at you, you little rascal, making something of yourself.”

He was in his early twenties and his mom was still calling him a little rascal. Yan Liao “tsk-ed,” but when he put his phone back in his pocket, he couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up.

The successful little rascal was in a great mood.

Although he hadn’t achieved anything extraordinary, it was enough for him. As the sun set, the people who came to visit slowly dispersed like the tide receding. The venue was left with only some insignificant final tasks. Outside the window was the warm setting sun. Some cupcakes were left on the long table, and David brought a bottle of raspberry rum from upstairs. They stood by the window and had a few drinks to celebrate.

After a few rounds of drinks, David started to talk without a filter, bringing up topics that he thought would liven things up and that all men should be interested in. He talked about how he met a girl on a dating app and how he was able to charm her with just a few words.

“I told her I’m not the type to be tied down to a defined relationship, and that if you don’t put too much love into it, you won’t have as much pain,” he said, as if generously imparting his experience. “Then I neither initiate nor reject, and I just wait for her to come to me and let me have my way with her.”

David laughed, putting his fingers together and making a slicing gesture across his throat. He waited for Yan Liao and Shen Yi-ran’s reactions, but neither of them showed the expression he expected.

More accurately, Shen Yi-ran was slightly frowning, as if he were ready to say something to express his disapproval. Yan Liao, on the other hand, had no expression, showing his usual unconcerned look toward people who wouldn’t affect his life in any way. David found it boring. Before Shen Yi-ran could speak, he scoffed and waved his hand. “Lame.”

When Sheng Lin walked out of the restroom, David was leaning against the wall as if he had been waiting for a long time, giving her the illusion that he was holding a single red rose in his mouth.

She wanted to turn around and leave, but this was the only way back. So she walked up to him bravely and greeted this friend from upstairs, and then she heard a low, hoarse voice say, “Before I met you, I didn’t know what loneliness was.”

David said this with a melancholic expression, his arm propped against the wall. Then he began to recite an English love poem in a very dramatic tone.

Sheng Lin’s exposed arms were covered in goosebumps, as if they were a military parade. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. After a moment of silence, she finally couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sick?”

…

What happened next was a mess. Yan Liao heard a scream two minutes later. He walked toward the source of the sound and saw Sheng Lin pointing at a man covering his head and swearing at him. She used the same spirit she had when she used to practice tongue twisters in school, not repeating a single word.

Yan Liao wanted to take out a notebook and study her words verbatim. The bad thing was that he wanted to get a close-up look at the drama, so when David, enraged, picked up a vase from the counter and threw it, it happened to shatter at Yan Liao’s feet. Sheng Lin also instinctively ran behind him.

So, even if he didn’t want to understand anyone else’s business, fate always dragged him into situations where he had to make a choice.

Shen Yi-ran had just gone out to take a phone call and walked over a little later than Yan Liao. He was a few steps away from them and was slowly walking over when he saw David already crumpled on the floor like a clenched fist. If he had run or even walked a little faster, he could have prevented the accident from happening. But in that moment, he still chose to slow his steps.

At noon, in an upscale restaurant in Nanhu District, the number of guests received each day was limited. Li Yi-yun and Tang Shaocheng followed the waiter to the private room. Outside the window in the corridor were the city’s famous landmarks and a beautiful night view.

The door slowly pushed inward. Tang Shaocheng walked in without looking away, and when he saw that familiar face, his expression was out of control for a moment.

Qin Li smiled slightly. “We finally meet, Lawyer Tang. I’ve always admired you.”

Before Tang Shaocheng could speak, Li Yi-yun pulled him to his seat at the right moment. At the same time, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he acted as a middleman, introducing the two of them and using tactful and clever words to state their intentions or needs.

Qin Li’s eyes always carried a smile of appreciation, as if he were looking at a young and promising protégé. But only the corners of his mouth were smiling. His eyes were as calm as a motionless mirror. The pauses in his sentences held a tone of command. “Welcome to work for my company.”

It was as if a morning mist had appeared before his eyes. He knew the other person was putting on an act, but he couldn’t guess the true intention the other person was brewing.

Li Yi-yun kept urging him with his eyes. Tang Shaocheng picked up the wine glass and drank it all in one gulp. The spicy burning sensation spread across his chest. He put down the glass, and the calmness in his eyes was like a well-positioned army. “It is my honor to work for Chairman Qin.”

There were many precedents for holding dual positions. As long as there were no non-compete clauses, it was a win-win situation. With Li Yi-yun’s mediation, Tang Shaocheng signed a consultant contract with Qin’s Group in the name of the law firm, while also holding the legal position at their company.

After returning from lunch, Tang Shaocheng sent Yan Liao a few WeChat messages, but he didn’t receive a reply for a long time. He must be really busy.

He spent the entire afternoon readjusting his mindset. At least at that time, there was no reason to refuse Qin Li’s request. He also didn’t have the habit of worrying in advance. Even if he could only take things one step at a time, he had to do what was in front of him first.

It was like the water level was dropping, and a bit of the iceberg was resurfacing, but it wasn’t enough to reveal the truth.

Tang Shaocheng’s daily routine was very fixed. He would leave the law firm around seven in the evening, and at around 7:05 or 7:10, he would receive a call from Yan Liao. They would communicate like an old married couple, discussing who would get home earlier, who would cook, and what they wanted to eat tonight.

Now, their WeChat chat history only had a few messages a day. He still remembered that back in college, whenever they were apart, Yan Liao would send him messages from morning till night, every few minutes. Things like, “I’m so sleepy in class. I’m about to faint from exhaustion.” “I just saw a cloud moving really fast outside the window.” “Do you think dragons exist in the world?” “Our classmate found a new substitute teacher today who doesn’t even know how to hold a paintbrush.” He would tell him everything, no matter how trivial.

The moon was very full tonight. Tang Shaocheng’s mood as he left the law firm was not as heavy as he had imagined. He didn’t know if it was because his calm and rational nature made him suitable for being a lawyer, or if this profession had subtly trained him to handle any terrible sudden situation with a calm mind.

Even if a client called him the day before a trial to say, “Lawyer Tang, I just thought of a crucial piece of evidence!” he could still sit up in bed without a change in expression and turn on his computer.

If it were Yan Liao, he would probably just sit up in bed without a change in expression, walk to the balcony without a change in expression, open the window, and jump out.

So, tonight, he had originally expected to receive a message from the other person saying, “The art exhibition went well, I’m so happy.” But when he got a call after work saying that Yan Liao was “at the police station for fighting,” Tang Shao-cheng’s fingertips paused on the steering wheel for two seconds, and he still said calmly, “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

He walked into the police station with the composure of someone who was completely in control of all unexpected situations. When he saw Yan Liao’s tall, thin figure leaning against the wall, he was suddenly reminded of the lone, stranded-boat-like figure the kid used to cut when he would go to the teachers’ office to pick him up.

But now, Yan Liao didn’t look dejected at all. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and the impassive look on his face was his usual carefree expression in front of strangers.

His voice was full of disdain. “Before my lawyer arrives, I will not say a word.”