It was late July. Lian Hui’s production team was busy filming on location in a foreign country. Chen Luzhou was taking Chen Xingqi to visit nearby Game of Thrones filming locations. He had caught a bad cold as soon as he got off the plane and was now acting as a lethargic tour guide for Chen Xingqi. As he was explaining how a superstar had once died nearby, even passersby were drawn in. Several curious and gossip-hungry gazes lingered on this handsome Chinese boy with a small black hair tie on his wrist.
Chen Luzhou was dressed all in black, looking clean-cut, slim, and tall. He still wore that black baseball cap on his head, though the logo had changed. Most of his clothes were from this brand – it wasn’t very well-known, but many boys at No. 1 High School wore it, largely because of his influence.
“He’s so handsome, and so patient with his little brother,” a passing girl remarked admiringly, unaware of the situation.
Chen Xingqi was listening intently, thoroughly engrossed. His brother was always a great storyteller. The more nonchalant his tone, the more captivating the tale. Just as he was about to ask who the superstar was, Chen Luzhou glanced down at him casually, arms folded. “Eight hundred. I’ll tell you the answer.”
Chen Xingqi exploded, “I just gave you eight hundred!”
Chen Luzhou, either due to his illness or the unfamiliar environment, seemed rather unenthusiastic. He just coughed and jerked his chin indifferently towards the international student tour guide at the entrance. “Why don’t you let her tell you? At our workload these past two days, it’s worth at least a thousand yuan. I just asked.”
Chen Xingqi knew that since his brother’s “breakup” with that girl, he had become obsessed with making money. Throughout this trip, he’d been charging everyone a flat rate for photos – 150 yuan for four shots. Some of the women on the production team had paid up. Especially that other big producer – the show’s executive producer, from a wealthy background, recently divorced with assets worth hundreds of millions. She was truly beautiful and quite brazen. She stood posing seductively on the deck while flirting shamelessly with his brother. “If you charge for photos, do you charge for touching, baby?”
“Touch where?” his brother had drawled lazily, adjusting the aperture.
“Where do you think?” Her suggestion was heavy, eyes gleaming with excitement.
“No can do. Just got dumped, can’t feel anything these days. You’re no exception.”
“Dumped?” The producer pulled out a cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she inhaled. She was very well-maintained, with smooth, plump skin around her eyes and no crow’s feet. She found Lian Hui’s son truly captivating, more intriguing the longer she looked. What had started as playful teasing now piqued her genuine curiosity. “Which girl’s so impressive she could dump you? I don’t believe it. You must have dumped her, right?”
“Guess I ran into the world’s most impressive girl then. Sent you the photo. Deleted you on WeChat.” Chen Luzhou pocketed his phone.
Out of all the contacts he’d added, she was the only one he’d deleted. And he hadn’t even charged her.
“Why delete me on WeChat?” The woman quickly pulled out her phone to check, grumbling, “I’m your mom’s colleague, you know.”
“Afraid you might harass me. None of my mom’s other colleagues have offered to touch me.” His brother leaned against the deck railing, his expression equally indifferent.
“Come to think of it, you do look a lot like your mom.”
“Do I?”
“Quite a bit, yeah.”
Chen Xingqi felt like he had accidentally stumbled into an adult world of frank conversations. It was at this moment that he suddenly realized his brother wasn’t a kid like him anymore. While his days were still filled with go-karts and bubble machines, his brother had quietly grown up, even able to skillfully handle annoying flirtations. But Chen Luzhou had probably been used to this since childhood. When he attended dinners with Chen Jishen before, plenty of uncles and aunties would tease him about his looks.
Perhaps because he’d experienced these situations so often, his brother, despite never having been in a serious relationship, was well-versed in the art of flirting. When Chen Xingqi had a crush on Xixi from his class before, he’d tried to get advice from his brother. His brother had arrogantly told him, “You’ve got to hook girls, not smother them with attention.”
How do you hook them?
His brother had been watching a game at the time. There happened to be a watermelon on the table that he’d only taken one bite of. Chen Luzhou scooped out a spoonful for him, eyes still glued to the TV, spoon in hand, and casually asked, “Is it sweet?”
Chen Xingqi shook his head, saying the middle part was sweetest and that’s what he wanted.
Chen Luzhou didn’t feed him anymore. He tossed the spoon back into the watermelon hollow, stuck his hands in his pockets, and continued watching the game while lounging on the sofa. He lazily summarized, “Get it? Feed her bit by bit, don’t give her the whole watermelon at once. Everyone knows the middle is sweetest.”
Chen Xingqi had a sudden epiphany, feeling truly enlightened. So he’d always thought his brother must be a natural when it came to relationships. These past few days, he didn’t seem particularly upset, just more sharp-tongued than usual. Chen Xingqi didn’t dare provoke him. He was grumbling and about to take out his wallet when their mom called, telling them to come back. The location shoot was finished, and they were heading back to the hotel.
Chen Luzhou grunted in acknowledgment and was about to hang up when two loud bangs suddenly came through the phone. He froze for a moment, then quickly reacted: “Mom, was that gunfire?”
Chen Xingqi was terrified, his whole body trembling as he huddled against Chen Luzhou, whispering, “Brother, I’m scared.” Chen Luzhou hugged him while trying to ascertain the situation from their mom, but Lian Hui must have dropped her phone in shock. Chen Luzhou heard some clattering through the speaker, then a few hurried footsteps, possibly trampling over her phone. After about a minute, Lian Hui finally picked up the phone again. Her breathing was rapid, her voice shaking like never before as she frantically called his name, “Luzhou, Luzhou.”
Chen Luzhou hailed a cab and bundled the pale, shivering Chen Xingqi into it. “Mom, I’m here. Chen Xingqi is fine.”
“What about you? Are you okay?”
“We’re both fine. We’re quite far from where you are.”
Lian Hui’s throat was dry. The person had collapsed right across the street, falling without warning before her eyes. Because there was no blood at first, she initially thought it might be some kind of foreign street prank show. It wasn’t until the person started convulsing on the ground that bright red blood began gushing out like a fountain. Lian Hui could even smell the metallic scent.
The grand boulevard was elegant and stately, with few pedestrians and wide roads. The magnificent castle-like buildings on both sides now exuded a cold, gloomy atmosphere due to this horrific shooting.
Many crew members were so frightened they collapsed on the spot. Nearby pedestrians screamed and scattered in panic. Lian Hui’s eyes were dry as she tried to stay calm, telling Chen Luzhou, “Take your brother back to the hotel first.”
That afternoon, heated discussions about the shooting dominated social media. The victim was an international student. Whether due to the prevalence of public opinion or more timely media reporting in recent years, such vicious incidents seemed particularly rampant lately.
After being questioned by the police, Lian Hui’s production team safely withdrew, leaving a few brave reporters to continue following the story locally. Back at the hotel, they debated whether to continue with the planned itinerary. In the end, Lian Hui gritted her teeth and decided to press on, figuring they probably wouldn’t get budget approval again if they returned now.
After the meeting, Lian Hui went down to the brothers’ room. Chen Xingqi was already asleep, his forehead covered in sweat from fright. His sleep seemed restless as he kept kicking off the covers. Lian Hui, looking exhausted, said to Chen Luzhou, who had just finished showering, “I’ve booked return flights for you two tomorrow afternoon. Go back to China for a couple of days first. It’s not very safe here lately.”
“Mm.”
“Is your cold any better?”
Chen Luzhou leaned against the bathroom door, roughly toweling his hair. His head was a mess of damp, tangled hair. “No, summer colds tend to linger.”
“I’ll go buy you some medicine later,” Lian Hui reached out to feel his forehead. It was cool. She then felt his cheek with the back of her hand. He wasn’t feverish, but she was surprised to find he seemed to have lost more weight. His face was already small, and when she touched it with the back of her hand, it felt like there was hardly any flesh there. “At least you don’t have a fever. Don’t shower when you have a cold. Is the food here not agreeing with you?”
Chen Luzhou didn’t respond to that. With the towel hanging around his neck, he leaned against the doorframe and asked, “If I take Chen Xingqi back, what about you and Dad?”
“We’ll be a few days later. I need to finish filming the remaining locations,” Lian Hui said. “Your dad might be even later than me. He has to transit through Germany in a few days.”
“Mm, be careful then.” Water dripped slowly from his hair, landing on the tip of his nose. Chen Luzhou finished speaking and picked up the towel from his neck, absentmindedly drying his hair again.
Lian Hui looked up at him, her gaze tender. “When I first met you, you were only this tall. Now you’re almost as tall as the door.”
“That’s an exaggeration. I’m only 185 cm. This door must be at least 210 cm.” He looked up, his Adam’s apple prominent.
“Wasn’t 185 cm what you measured last Chinese New Year? That little Liu from my office is 187 cm, and I think you’re taller than him.”
Chen Luzhou smiled perfunctorily, still rubbing the back of his head with the towel. “With shoes on, I’m probably 187 or 188 cm.”
Lian Hui looked at him for a while. Seeing that she didn’t seem to be planning to leave, Chen Luzhou guessed she had something to say, so he stayed quiet, waiting for her to speak.
The night was deep. The bedroom lights were off, and Chen Xingqi was snoring loudly, having turned over and scratched his neck. Only the bathroom light was still on. In the end, Lian Hui didn’t say what she had intended. After thinking for a long time, she just said softly: “There are many things that you wouldn’t understand even if we explained them to you because you’d inevitably analyze us from your perspective. Everyone’s the same – your dad only analyzes you from his viewpoint too. After all, we’re not each other. There’s no such thing as true empathy in this world. No one can truly understand another person.”
It was about two days after returning to China when Chen Luzhou went back to his rented apartment to get some things. As soon as he opened the door, a sour, rotten smell hit him. Several boxes of half-eaten Lao Tan pickled cabbage instant noodles had been left on the table, now stinking and rotten. He had lent the place to Jiang Cheng for a few days after he left.
The sour smell was truly pungent. Chen Luzhou didn’t know if his nose was too sensitive or what, but the acrid odor lingered, stinging his heart.
He sat on the sofa for a while, looking down at the small hair tie in his hand. He had deliberately taken it from her hair that night as they were kissing. Xu Zhi hadn’t noticed and had carefully searched every place they had kissed. Chen Luzhou had asked her at the time if losing this thing meant she was going to become a nun or what. Xu Zhi had said no, it was just that she always lost them, and this was her last one.
He had known this would be the outcome, yet he had still dived in headfirst. That day, when he returned from the barbecue restaurant, Zhu Yangqi was still there packing things. As soon as he entered, Zhu Yangqi asked, “You broke up?”
He had grunted in affirmation but inwardly thought self-mockingly that they had never really started in the first place.
Zhu Yangqi sighed, stuffing all his paintbrushes into his bag. “Luzhou, I initially thought you were the one chasing her. Later I realized you were the one being pursued.” Finally, he asked sheepishly, “Did you two… do it?”
At the time, he had slouched ungracefully in the chair, grabbing an empty beer bottle from the table and throwing it at Zhu Yangqi. “Can you not ask such stupid questions!”
“Damn, the way you’re reacting, you did.”
He was exasperated. “I said we didn’t. We just kissed, nothing else. Even if I was in a proper relationship with someone, I wouldn’t sleep with them after just a month. Use your brain. And that’s the end of me and Xu Zhi. If you dare tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”
“Too scared to own up to it, huh?”
“It’s not that. Qingyi is such a small place. I’m afraid if people gossip, it might not reflect well on her. It’s fine for me since I’ll be abroad, but she’ll probably come back here eventually.”
“Tsk tsk, Chen Campus Heartthrob, you’re the pinnacle of ambiguous relationships.”
“…Get lost.”
Chen Luzhou felt he shouldn’t have come back. The apartment was filled with her presence, especially this sofa. That night when he was helping her revise her manuscript on the sofa, they had almost gotten into a fight. Chen Luzhou had a habit of adding poetic phrases that fit the scene when writing, but Xu Zhi found it pretentious and stubbornly refused to add them. “Can’t you just speak normally?”
Chen Luzhou had gotten angry too. He snapped the laptop shut and casually draped his arm over the back of the sofa, sprawling with his legs crossed like some big shot. He roughly ruffled her hair. “What, looking down on us romantic poets, are you?”
They had been arguing quite heatedly, but his words made Xu Zhi collapse laughing into his arms. She nestled comfortably and said, “Anyone who can write about whether the moon is round or not must be more than a minor poet. Chen Spoiled Brat, and let me warn you one last time – don’t touch my head.”
“Fine, I won’t touch you anywhere.”
“That won’t do.”
Xu Zhi immediately leaned in. Chen Luzhou, leaning against the sofa back, kept a straight face but helplessly gave her a perfunctory peck on the lips. “Satisfied now?” he said.
Inwardly, he cursed, “You little brat.”
“Chen Spoiled Brat.” Xu Zhi seemed to know what he was cursing.
The “spoiled” in “spoiled brat.”
But these were all just memories now.
…
That day, Chen Luzhou sat on the sofa from daylight to nightfall. Outside the window, the city was brightly lit, the streets illuminated. But inside, all was dark. That slim figure was like an autumn leaf forgotten in a phoenix tree courtyard.
From the windows above came the muffled sounds of life – the sizzle of cooking, scolding voices, the beep of electric bikes being locked, the crunch of car wheels rolling over gravel. It was the lively world of mortal affairs.
But inside the apartment was cold and silent. Nothing had been cleaned up. He let the smell wash over him, let his nose sting uncontrollably, let his heartburn feverishly, and let his eyes grow red.