This is an era of prosperity.

It has nothing to do with me.

Left hand, or right hand.

I quickly move both hands, creating complex fleeting shadows, watching the youth before me.

He smiled, glancing over: “Lu Liu, how old are you, still playing this?”

“Guess.”

His feet were propped up on the glass table, red cloth shoes still bearing traces of mud. It had just rained outside.

He held his new game console, head lowered as he played, speaking indifferently: “Left hand, just left hand.”

I quietly moved the Zippo from my left hand to my right, opened my palm, and told him—wrong.

He looked up, squinting, glanced at the silver lighter in my right hand, then lowered his head again, saying whatever.

Yan Xi loved to say whatever.

This was his habit, one he only had with me.

This was quite ordinary when you knew that he often shouted “tail-following bug, hurry up” to the handsome Wen Si Wan, and raised his eyebrows to tease the simple-minded Xin Da Yi—”Pig, I’m fooling you.”

From childhood, I went to school with Yan Xi, went home together, ate together, played games together, and played pranks together.

We were the best of brothers.

In elementary school, everyone had an autograph book, we passed them around, and everyone in class collected a stack.

Yan Xi’s message to me was very perfunctory. He often mocked, brother, this is what people who aren’t close write, right?

—First impression of him?

—Eight years old, at a banquet, stole his three cups of juice, four portions of ribs, and five servings of caviar and still laughed, easy to fool.

—His personality?

—Stubborn, hypocritical, weak, shameless.

I finished reading, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it in the drawer.

I cursed at him: “Yan Xi, you beast.”

Yan Xi raised an eyebrow: “You son of a bitch.”

This was how we got along when no one was watching.

Even though I had learned every curse word in the book by age ten, there were still people who said I looked like a little Buddha.

Just as when twelve-year-old Yan Xi finally managed to properly look at the blackboard for a while, after class, the girl sitting in front of him would still ask with a blushing heart: “Yan Xi, you kept looking at me during class, does that mean, does that mean you like me?”

Yan Xi smiled gently: “I like your whole family.”

Born with a fate to attract romantic entanglements, no hope for salvation.

I sympathized with him: “One day, you’ll die among rotten flower petals.”

But Yan Xi almost smiled: “If you dig fewer pits, I could live ten more years.”

Ten years, how long is ten years, is it enough to erase that woman from his life?

When he said these words, I didn’t know, couldn’t predict, that in the future, there would be a woman present for ten years, and Yan Xi and I would become completely different people.

And Secretary Chen was the person I spent the most time with besides Yan Xi.

I called him brother, clung to him, was gentle and agreeable, obedient in everything, only hoping that when he reported to grandfather, he would downplay Yan Xi’s existence.

Like how we were inseparable, like how we played games until we passed out on the carpet.

Just slightly downplay it, just as long as it didn’t offend the old master’s eyes.

Chen was a person with warmth, though adopted by the Lu family, he seemed to still have some human feeling. He did conceal things, but his methods weren’t sophisticated, and things didn’t continue in balance as I had hoped.

The old master was someone who wouldn’t tolerate a speck of sand in his eye and wanted to drive Chen away.

That day, I cried truly miserably, making even myself believe that my feelings for this person were extremely deep.

The old master kept scrutinizing me, watching if I was acting.

I had no choice but to distance myself from Yan Xi and grow closer to Chen.

I silently recited, Brother oh brother, living isn’t easy for anyone, don’t blame me.

I remember clearly how Yan Xi would feed dirty little cats in the park, then throw them at me, saying: “Go on, Pikachu,” and then laugh heartily, but I’ve long forgotten how the cats didn’t particularly care for him.

During that time, he became somewhat silent. I don’t know how others saw us, but this Yan Xi indeed wasn’t the normal Yan Xi.

He wouldn’t attend class and only drew pictures. When teachers reported to old man Yan, Yan Xi was again locked in the first-floor study with an empty stomach.

I secretly brought him food, and he cursed at me: “You beast, what took you so long? I’m starving to death.”

I got annoyed too: “Yan Xi you beast, I’m already being nice by bringing you food, did I offend you? Damn it, I’m cheap, coming here just to be cursed at.”

He buried his head in eating, picking through the food, throwing everything he didn’t like out the window.

Eight years ago, it was the same scene.

I stroked his hair, sighing: “Brother, let me dig one last pit, okay?”

The hair under my palm paused, and he smiled faintly: “Is this a conscience awakening? You even know to give notice.”

I steeled my heart, though my tone was helpless, I said: “Yan Xi, I must go abroad, leave for a while. This is the only chance to escape my grandfather and my mother. Only when they’re both defeated can I…”

He interrupted me, saying fine, whatever.

He smiled, eyes curved: “Abroad if you can restrain your nature a bit, make some friends without pressure.”

But I was certain: “Yan Xi, you know what I did, you’ll hate me.”

As usual, I loved to put on airs in front of him. At eight years old, I said sternly, Yan Xi, I never wanted such a weak you; little did I know, Yan Xi was accomplished in both singing and acting, just pretending to cry, then making a face the next moment—I know.

Who knows who was weaker?

Putting down his chopsticks, he sat in the study’s swivel chair, suddenly, eyes cold as water, reached out, grabbed my neck, and applied force, smiling as he asked me: “Are you afraid? Tell me, Lu Liu, are you afraid?”

I couldn’t breathe, but looked into his eyes, shaking my head slightly.

He spoke word by word: “Why? Lu Liu, tell me your reason.”

I said: “In this world, only my brother… Yan Xi, won’t… harm me.”

He released his hand, fingers jade-white, and placed them on the windowsill. His expression proud, he spoke flatly: “Remember your words. I hope, one day, this sentence will also become my reason for forgiving you.”

And I, ultimately, harmed him.

Watching his incredulous eyes in the crazy, scorching flames, for the first time, I understood clearly that betrayal never hurts just one person.

I had no time for self-pity. If I wanted to have someone who could be with me for life, they must, like me, have a heart as hard as iron.

I often wonder, in that great fire, if Yan Xi had died, if he had died, would I regret it?

But he couldn’t endure it. Even though alive, and so weak, we would ultimately become strangers.

And rather than being strangers, better to be a dead brother.

He said, Lu Liu, I won’t hate you. I want to stand before you, even if I live just one day longer than you, I want you to see me living with your own eyes.

I leaned close to his ear, speaking softly: “Yan Xi, four years, give me four years.”

The old master finally believed that Yan Xi and I had no brotherhood, and instead kept Chen, using him as leverage to control me.

I left the country but hadn’t expected my mother would be so swift and decisive in driving Yan Xi into the dust.

I had gone to such lengths to hide it from the old master but hadn’t hidden it from this woman.

Why?

I asked her.

But she said: “Son, control your eyes well if you truly don’t care so much about someone.”

I mumbled: “Do you know what brotherhood means? Brothers, brothers aren’t bargaining chips, aren’t trading goods, aren’t enemies.”

She looked at me with sympathy and pity, this self-proclaimed gentle and kind mother. She was very magnanimous, throwing the photo negatives in front of me: “Lu Liu, if these could keep him by your side forever, would you, this good brother, still be willing to destroy them?”

Lu Liu.

Lu Liu, ask your heart.

She said: “Yan Xi misses you very much. I gave him an impasse he can’t return from, and you, if you can’t defeat me and your grandfather, completely control Lu Corporation, you’ll never have the qualification to save him.”

Her eyes, looking away, held deep love and despair, like a deep pool.

I stayed in Vienna.

Often had nightmares at night, someone grinding away Yan Xi’s spine inch by inch, while I stood aside, silently watching.

I was powerless, constantly taking sleeping pills to sleep.

Forget, sleep.

I Met Chen Juan, an extremely interesting person. Following Yan Xi’s advice about having friends without pressure, I often laughed at his deliberately comedic outfits.

He was an American kid, carrying that American openness, behavior absurd and unrestrained.

His eyes were very clean, like a dove’s.

He asked me: “Lu Liu, can Chinese men like men?”

I smiled, and shook my head: “Don’t know.”

Understanding his desires and intentions, this friendship, this companionship, became anxiously sad.

For the first time, making friends without purpose still didn’t end well. He confessed I refused, and he angrily returned to his country.

Taking sleeping pills, the dreams were good. In dreams, leaning back-to-back with someone whose face I couldn’t see, he gave young, weak me big red apples, the taste truly sweet.

We nestled together, drawing remaining warmth.

Mother became more rampant in Lu Corporation, greatly employing her relatives, up and down, blood flowing like a river.

Grandfather contained but didn’t reveal, handed me several project proposals, and asked how I would handle them.

He accelerated his pace in training me.

Yet didn’t know that even the weakest wolf cub grows up to tear at people.

In this world, black isn’t black, white isn’t white.

Too absurd.

I often turned to the only Chinese channel, staring at the weather forecast, the capital’s cloudy, sunny, rainy, foggy days, whether the weather was good or not.

2000, no snow.

From Si Wan I learned the real Miss Wen had returned home, and also received Sun Peng’s calls, when mentioning Yan Xi, occasionally, unconsciously, would hang this girl’s name.

Yan Xi, and Wen Heng, four characters paired, as if they were originally meant to be, not seeming out of place.

I hung up the phone, my heart increasingly painful, yet not knowing where the pain came from, or what heart strength remained to feel pain.

What a pity.

Lu Liu, Yan Xi.

Were once like that too.

The sleeping pill dosage increased, and when falling into sweet darkness, my young self often gazed into the vast distance, but the person behind me had disappeared.

Before the new year, I invited four people to Vienna to enjoy the snow, deliberately excluding Wen Heng.

Finally, I saw my brother again.

He hugged me, chuckling: “I’m still alive, see?”

I hugged back, so comfortable, so harmonious.

Didn’t want to ask if he would forgive me, or perhaps, this had nothing to do with me anymore.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with someone, why question the past?

He would eventually marry, have children, live a long life, and when we became old grandfathers then, sitting before a chessboard, sharing a laugh over a game would be good too.

My mother asked me: “Do you know why everyone loves to call you little Buddha?”

I smiled: “They’re all nearsighted with astigmatism, how would I know?”

My mother also smiled: “You’re often easily content and peaceful, if no one pushes you, you’ll never take the next step.”

She showed me photos of Yan Xi with Wen Heng, each one crystal clear. Yan Xi was gentle and doting, radiating infinite warmth, seemingly just waiting for this girl to crash right in.

He drank soup from her spoon, squeezed toothpaste on her freshly cleaned window pretending to be an old grandfather, and pulled at her clothes’ hem laughing heartily, mouth stretched into a heart shape.

I placed these photos at my bedside, took an overdose of sleeping pills, and still couldn’t sleep.

I finally understood why Yan Xi could treat me without hatred.

He was extremely clever, afraid we would dig too many pits for each other in this lifetime, and accumulate too much hatred, so he abandoned me first, finding an escape route.

He was extremely clever.

My mother smiled and asked me, he’s so happy, yet leaves you alone, Lu Liu, what will you do?

Those photos were developed again. What Yan Xi could least tolerate in this life was others trampling his dignity and abandoning him.

The first time I saw those photos, my fingers clenched into fists, still unable to control their trembling. My mother said: “Such dirty things aren’t for you to touch.”

She mailed them herself, throwing the receipt to Yan Xi.

Yan Xi was stunned for a long time, understood the receipt, for very very long, just knelt on the carpet, eyes looking at me, so painful. He wasn’t calling my name, but I could almost hear the sound of his heart breaking.

He mumbled A-Heng.

A-Heng.

A-Heng.

Oh, A-Heng.

Over and over.

Suddenly standing up, like a madman, stumbling in the snow.

I knew where he was going, he was afraid of being abandoned by Wen Heng.

Such dirty things, given to such a gentle, clean girl, Yan Xi covered in wounds, thinking of chasing her back, too terrifying.

Xin Da Yi looked at my mother and me, alert like a small beast.

He and Si Wan, Si Er hurriedly returned to the country.

Mother remained composed throughout, smiling, saying when I returned, there was still one more act.

“Lu Liu, your things, only by relying on yourself can you take them back.”

That’s what she said.

On the third day, Mother called, laughing: “The game has increased in difficulty, do you still dare to continue?”

The so-called difficulty meant Wen Heng’s unwavering loyalty to Yan Xi.

I couldn’t smile, looking at the sunny snow outside, speaking faintly, did I have any choice but to continue?

Yan Xi developed hysteria, causing an enormous commotion, the garden was turned upside down by one patient, interests, family ties, and balance of power—their play would never end.

I never doubted Yan Xi would walk out of it himself, even though I heard doctors had almost pronounced him terminal.

How could someone as proud as Yan Xi tolerate remaining in such a foolish state?

Wen Heng?

Wen Heng was just a catalyst.

Without Wen Heng, the outcome wouldn’t have changed one bit.

I believed this unwaveringly.

In the past eighteen years, I always thought I understood the meaning of suffering. Because I experienced suffering and witnessed suffering. Even with food and clothing assured, even being above others, these two characters still couldn’t be escaped.

Like Yan Xi, among my many sufferings, was the most heartbreaking one.

When he went mad the first time, I wasn’t by his side; the second time, I had already grown numb.

I hated myself, and questioned myself, why had I become like this? But in my heart, I was always anxiously yet desperately certain that Yan Xi would wake up, Yan Xi would forgive me.

This certainty came from my belief that the right hand cut off in a moment of righteous anger would always forgive the left hand. This is human nature, and although Yan Xi hated this nature, in this life, I relied on this nature of his.

In idle moments, what I painted thousands of times in my mind wasn’t the changes in Yan Xi’s appearance, but that stranger in the rumors who couldn’t be ignored—Wen Heng.

I saw Wen Heng as Yan Xi’s betrayal of me, but when she truly disappeared from the compound, countless times watching Yan Xi stare blankly in silence in the broadcast room, I realized that perhaps everything had undergone too great, too profound a reversal when I wasn’t there.

I hated, mocked, and then threw Chen Wan to Yan Xi, this youth who looked eighty percent like the girl in the photos. When Yan Xi saw him at Cutting Diamond, from beginning to end, he never blinked.

I wanted him to be gentle and caring, I wanted him to know how to cook ribs, I wanted him to learn to be wholly devoted to Yan Xi, and I wanted him to achieve what Wen Heng had achieved to the extreme.

But he failed.

I still remember, that day, it was raining, Chen Wan walked into my office, drenched in rain. He grabbed my sleeve, looking at me grievously, saying: “It’s you who lost, Lu Liu.”

Did I lose? How could I lose? Foolish love isn’t the only standard, the one who possessed this so-called only one was Wen Heng, not me. I hadn’t lost, I wouldn’t lose.

In university, there was once a logical analysis question.

Europeans very much appreciate China’s “High Mountains Flowing Water,” which is a treasure of Chinese classical music. Then, please answer, how does William, being European, feel about “High Mountains Flowing Water”?

The answer is love. Because it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, so he must love it.

“High Mountains Flowing Water” is to William as Yan Xi is to Lu Liu. Precisely because there is no choice, the love is so intense.

But Lu Liu to Yan Xi could never be love. His love, his forbearance, and his emotions that couldn’t be vented, all targeted Wen Heng.

If possible, if wanting to kill someone represented interrupting a love, then Wen Heng must have died and been reborn thousands of times in Yan Xi’s heart.

Wen Heng was like a drug, couldn’t be quit, couldn’t be discarded, couldn’t be ignored. Even if weak, even if hidden, even if an existence with nowhere to exist, I couldn’t sever this existence, let alone Yan Xi whose self-control had been weak since childhood.

I once saw Yan Xi and Wen Heng strolling on the street, they were so close, yet didn’t hold each other’s hands. After a long while, in the sunset, Yan Xi lowered his head. The posture of his hand was strange, very far from Wen Heng, yet maintaining that rigid position.

I also lowered my head, but the moment I lowered my head, my steps faltered, and I steadied myself against a nearby tree.

Yan Xi’s rigid maintenance was just to hold the shadow of Wen Heng’s hands. He wouldn’t retreat a single step, suspicious yet humble. This wasn’t like me, but in such a moment, I was forced into a corner, and could only stop at a distance far from them.

I watched them leave, sitting quietly under the tree. When the wind blew, I remembered the moments when we were young, sitting quietly together counting falling leaves.

I thought we were still me and him, but he didn’t want us. We were left with just me.

Among us, only I still constantly recalled the past like being gnawed by poisonous snakes, accompanied by pain, constantly unwilling to forget these memories.

At this moment, I finally realized that if friendship and family affection couldn’t contain all my feelings for him, then all these feelings turning toward love made Lu Liu willingly accept it.

Also at this moment, we had already grown apart, no matter how we had once been constant companions, no matter how much we had once hoped for such an eternal lifetime together.

I loved Yan Xi, loved him very much.

When alone, I once listened to a tune that no one sang. That vinyl record had been worn too long, the original text could no longer be seen. I didn’t know its name but kept listening.

Some people always pride themselves on how they cherish the past, unwilling to throw away used ballpoint pens, unwilling to change the streets they’ve walked, and unwilling to forget their first loves—this is the pride of fools like Wen Heng. But only I constantly hypnotized myself to forget, had to forget everything, had to forget thoroughly to be reborn, had to forget everything to be righteous, had to forget meticulously to discard my despicable self.

Yan Xi and I were alike, he was also forgetting. He tried hard to forget me, and I also tried hard to forget him. He forgot a bit faster, I forgot a bit slower. Helplessly, I could only force him to break up with Wen Heng, see him every day, see his forgetting, only then could I find solace in my still unforgotten memories.

When I heard about his car accident, I sat in the office all afternoon, not taking in a single word of the documents at hand.

This fool, even his intelligence was gradually aligning with Wen Heng’s ilk.

I brought him, who hadn’t died, back home. He began hunger strikes, began escaping, and began showing defiance toward me.

In my heart, I thought, just you wait, Yan Xi, you beast, you don’t need to be so arrogant, you wait until the day I forget you, you wait, wait until I no longer like you!

I listened to the vinyl record, gripping tightly the armrests of the swivel chair I sat in.

I firmly believed in the arrival of such a day, until I grew tired of looking at this person I had loved so deeply.

But in the end, still didn’t wait for it.

Sun Peng made an end for him and me.

He severed the “left wing” and “right arm,” until neither could foolishly hope for the other’s forgiveness.

But I laughed deeply at young master Sun’s naivety.

What use was this? Just as I still listened to my nameless vinyl record, this me who resembled a fool still loved the person I couldn’t thoroughly forget. No matter the past or present, no matter how much I wanted to forget.

I could still hum that tune completely, what did it matter if it had no name?