Watching the Setting Sun Along the Same Path - Chapter 3

On the weekend, the boys in the class had all agreed to meet at the sports center to play soccer. Not everyone had arrived yet—some were showing off their new cleats, while others were stretching their legs in splits. Lu Ketong crouched on the ground, lacing up his shoes as if they were Fei Yuan, threading them through with a vengeance.

He thought to himself, Qiu, I guess I’ve avenged you.

Suddenly, a harsh buzzing sound grew louder from the distance, unmistakably the roar of a motorcycle ridden by some reckless speed demon. Some of the boys started exclaiming in surprise, but Lu Ketong remained focused on lacing his shoes, not even bothering to look up.

Fei Yuan sped through the main gate on his motorcycle as if he were about to run everyone over. Just when it seemed like a tragedy was about to unfold, he sharply turned the handlebars, pulling off a drift that left the exhaust pipe pointed directly at Lu Ketong.

Lu Ketong looked up and yelled, “Do you have any manners?!”

The others crowded around, admiring the motorcycle like it was a treasure. After dismounting, Fei Yuan walked over to Lu Ketong and teased him, “From far away, I saw a little kid crouching there. I wondered who it was.”

Lu Ketong stayed silent. Fei Yuan nudged the shoe in his hand and asked, “Hey, front-row kid, cat got your tongue?”

“Talking to you hurts my throat. I’m too precious for this,” Lu Ketong retorted. He was indeed two years younger than his classmates, just fifteen years old.

Fei Yuan crouched down and picked up the other shoe to help him lace it. Just then, the class monitor ran over, looking at Fei Yuan with admiration. “Fei Yuan, I added you to the group chat. Hurry, check it out!”

Lu Ketong rolled his eyes. “One of these days, I’ll bring a three-wheeler here and show you all what real class is.”

After joining the group chat, Fei Yuan found Lu Ketong’s profile and clicked to view his details. Suddenly, he realized just how young this kid seemed—from his buttoned-up collared shirt to his fair, delicate face.

“Hey, front-row kid, why don’t you become my sidekick?”

Lu Ketong glared at him. If his dark eyes could speak, they’d definitely be cursing. “Do you know who my dad is?”

Fei Yuan feigned ignorance. “The mayor?”

Lu Ketong sneered. “Don’t be scared, but my dad’s part of the city management enforcement team.”

The soccer match began. The boys were still buzzing with excitement over the cool motorcycle stunt, but after Fei Yuan scored two goals in a row, they were completely and utterly awestruck.

“I told you he’s insane…”

“This is downright maniacal.”

“Leave me alone, I’m going to swear brotherhood with him.”

…

Lu Ketong ran around aimlessly for a while without even touching the ball. Taking advantage of the others’ distracted minds, he dribbled the ball and continued his hapless sprint. The sunlight grew stronger, clearly illuminating the shadow chasing him from behind.

Lu Ketong came to an abrupt stop. The person behind him, caught off guard, crashed into his back, chest colliding with his spine.

It was the first time Fei Yuan had encountered someone braking while dribbling. Due to inertia, he ended up wrapping his arms around this little sapling. His nose bumped against the back of Lu Ketong’s head, cushioned by soft hair.

“What’s wrong with letting me score a goal?!”

Lu Ketong exploded out of his embrace, shouting at him. It seemed he had reached his limit with Fei Yuan. Fei Yuan took two steps back, hands on his hips, and said with a smile, “Sure, go ahead and score.”

A teammate ran up from behind, but Fei Yuan stopped him. “Let Little Lu score one. No one’s allowed to steal it.”

Lu Ketong kicked the ball into the goal, then turned and walked away without another word. This was infuriating—an absolute humiliation.

Fei Yuan whistled and continued playing with the others. By the end of the morning, he had basically won over half the class. Lu Ketong left the sports center and glanced back, surprised that no one had followed him.

He got into a taxi without knowing where to go and said, “Just drop me off at a decently sized internet café.”

He kept his head down, playing on his phone, seething with anger, completely forgetting that he was the one who had demanded to score the goal. He made a mental note: that guy named Fei had made him act like a lackey, blasted exhaust fumes right at him, and looked down on his basketball skills. It pissed him off so much he started rhyming in his head.

Angrily lifting his gaze to the window, Lu Ketong’s small face instantly darkened. At the entrance of an inconspicuous private restaurant, Lu Ruopei emerged after a meal with someone, chatting and laughing, but the other person was only visible from the back. He couldn’t make out who it was.

“Forget the internet café.”

The driver asked, “Where to, then?”

Lu Ketong stared blankly out the window. “To the municipal committee. I’m going to file a complaint.”

He waited in the reception room for nearly half an hour before Lu Ruopei returned. Seeing him there, Lu Ruopei seemed surprised and told his secretary to go buy snacks and fruit. Lu Ketong went straight to the point: “Are you never going to change?”

“You, step outside.” Lu Ruopei’s expression darkened. He indulged Lu Ketong, but that didn’t mean he had no temper.

“Yes, Mayor Lu.”

Lu Ketong’s voice was soft, almost airy: “You looked so happy laughing.”

“Lulu, don’t start trouble.”

“What did I do?” Lu Ketong stood up, his eyes reddening. “You’re so happy being with a man, so why did you get married? Why did you even have a child?”

Lu Ruopei took a difficult breath, loosening his tie. “Lulu, you’re still young.”

The house was always empty. Wen Ning didn’t like going out; she could spend most of her day tending to her greenhouse. Her husband was too busy to come home often, and her son was too wild, always running around—yet she never got angry.

Lu Ketong was dropped off by the driver, listless and dejected. He entered the greenhouse and sniffed each pot of flowers one by one, as if inhaling cocaine. Wen Ning saw him and asked with a smile, “Which one smells the best?”

He sniffled. “None of them smell as good as chicken wings.”

Wen Ning put down the watering can. “Then I’ll make chicken wings tonight.”

“Yeah, I love them.” His heart truly felt heavy, so he added, “Thanks, Mom.” Wen Ning found him odd, saying he was acting like a little kid.

Lu Ruopei also said he was still young. Young? He was fifteen years old.

At fifteen, what disgusted Lu Ketong the most was his father fooling around with men.

The alley was quietest before three in the afternoon, with every household taking a nap. Fei Yuan rode his motorcycle from one end to the other, waking up a whole row of neighbors, who would then curse at him a couple of times.

Fei Dean walked into the courtyard holding a purple clay teapot. “Since you’re awake, don’t go back to sleep. Come on, let’s play Xuan Hong Qiang.”

Four people playing Xuan Hong Qiang drew a crowd of fourteen onlookers. Fei Yuan went inside to do his homework but couldn’t focus because of the noise. He took out his phone and glanced at the group chat—everyone was calling for Lu Ketong.

“Lulu, are you really mad?”

“Don’t be. I’ll bring you the meat buns my mom steamed on Monday.”

“If you don’t say anything, I’m sending a red envelope.”

…

Fei Yuan was partly to blame, but he had no intention of coaxing anyone. He turned off his phone and went back to his book, even if he wasn’t really absorbing it. “Come on! Pay up!” Fei Dean’s rhythmic shouts from the courtyard finally got to him, and he irritably closed the book.

Lu Ketong lay on his bed looking at old photos—him wearing overalls while riding a horse, him and Wen Ning rowing a boat together, the three of them standing in front of a fountain… He thought again of Lu Ruopei’s smile—genuine and detestable.

Suddenly, he wondered how Lu Ruopei would feel if he knew his son was also fooling around with men.

Would it be the pride of “like father, like son,” the satisfaction of “the student surpassing the master,” or would it be the same disgust he felt?

The phone vibrated beside the pillow, and a message popped up. The name displayed was “The Guy Behind.” He opened it to see three words, and even through those three characters, he could almost picture Fei Yuan’s punchable face.

“Still mad?”

Lu Ketong stared at the message, thinking hard. Why did his childhood friend have to get beaten up like that? Why was he the one being bullied? He needed to get revenge, preferably killing two birds with one stone—settling the score and, most importantly, pissing off Lu Ruopei.

After editing and sending a reply, he reverted to his usual unreliable, half-baked self. He even opened his memo app to jot it down: Step one of the plan—disrupt the other person’s train of thought. The operation’s codename: Love for Sale.

Fei Yuan looked at the message, closed it, opened it again, closed it once more, and reopened it, wondering if his phone had been hacked or maybe Lu Ketong was just toxic.

“I heard you like guys. Do you like me?”