When we love heroes, we inevitably love the beauty behind them.
In this world, topics about men are always abundant, from Comrade Da Yu who passed his home thrice without entering, to Scholar Fang Xiaoru who had ten generations of his family executed; from Black-faced Bao who executed his nephew impartially to Father Sun who led the way to the republic.
From unofficial to official histories, from strange tales to orthodox accounts, men always manage to shape themselves into tragic figures. Perhaps we can call this the hero complex, just like women’s love for pretty clothes and complete SK-II sets.
This thing, no man can do without.
Take Lu Liu, for instance, Young Master Lu who loves B-grade TV drama plots. Was all that trouble really necessary? When Miss Wen set a three-day deadline, that’s when he chose to make his move – not earlier, not later, had to destroy the stage at the critical moment. Couldn’t you just have had some men grab Yan Xi? With his small frame, how far could he run? Was it necessary to drag Xin Dayi into it? The kid’s grandfather was already dead, what did he do to deserve this? Such misfortune.
Then there’s Yan Xi, Young Master Yan who loves tragic Qiong Yao dramas. Always showing off how much he can sacrifice at every opportunity, those bones and flesh of his could make China’s soccer team look good, saying his ears are deaf when they go deaf, saying he’ll commit suicide, and daring to crash his car when he gets the chance. If you were going to crash and die, fine, but what’s the point of being wrapped up like a mummy now, wobbling around the hospital with a crutch? The suffering wasn’t thorough enough, leaving the author in an awkward position.
Xin Dayi supported him, trembling: “Yan Xi, how could you be so desperate? Ah Heng will hate me to death again.”
Yan Xi practiced walking while struggling to speak – during surgery he suddenly didn’t want to die anymore, but he’d bitten his tongue too hard, splitting his palate.
The care worker licked an ice pop nearby: “What are you dawdling for? Yes, you – the one who doesn’t want to get better, with the comminuted femur fracture.”
Yan Xi turned his face; behind him were two girls who had surgery to correct their pigeon-toed walk, reportedly both non-mainstream types.
Xin Dayi supported him: “Beautiful one, hang in there, let’s walk a few more steps.”
Yan Xi spoke word by word: “You didn’t tell others about this, did you?”
Xin Dayi twitched: “I was too ashamed to tell them about your failed suicide attempt. I told Si Wan and the others that Ah Heng left, and you went traveling because you were in a bad mood. Though, probably can’t hide it from Lu Liu.”
When the ambulance checked Yan Xi’s phone, the last call was to Dayi so they called him. Dayi thought he was the only one who knew about Yan Xi’s accident.
Yan Xi patted Dayi’s head and continued practicing walking.
It had been nearly three months since Ah Heng left, now in the height of summer.
Yan Xi wrote: “Where did you get the money?”
Xin Dayi looked around vigilantly, then wrote: “I don’t know either. These past few days several tens of millions appeared in my account, even more than what Chen Juan took.”
Yan Xi was stunned, looking at the crystal-clear water in the pond, feeling something wasn’t right but unable to figure out what.
The next day, Lu Liu came.
Seeing Yan Xi, he smiled – this behavior, more pharaoh than the Egyptian pharaohs. He said: “I’m truly surprised you would use such a method. This troubles me – how should I deal with you next?”
Yan Xi couldn’t speak and didn’t want to, wrote two characters: Whatever.
Lu Liu looked at him, gently crouched beside him, held Yan Xi’s slender white fingers, and asked: “Can we not return to the past? The past without Wen Heng. Yan Xi, really can’t we?”
Yan Xi opened his eyes, pupils black and bright, innocent yet mocking. He wrote a few more characters: Did we ever have a past, Lu Liu?
Lu Liu looked at his writing, touched it lightly, rose indifferently, took out a handkerchief to wipe the ink stains from his hands, casually tossed it, and said methodically: “I’ll make you remember.”
Yan Xi also smiled and parted his lips slightly, his voice hoarse and unpleasant: “Lu Liu, are you sure what you feel for me is love?”
Lu Liu pushed his wheelchair, lowered his head, and smiled: “I have no choice. In a world that feels so lonely, no one matches me better than you.”
In September, his leg was somewhat better. A well-known domestic newspaper wanted to interview DJ Yan – DJ Yan who had left the entertainment circle to live as a normal man.
Yan Xi declined several times, being imprisoned in the apartment by Lu Liu – where could he go? Later he thought it was an opportunity and became interested.
He discussed it with Lu Liu, without much hope, but surprisingly the man agreed, so he told Dayi in advance about his meeting place with the reporter.
The reporter was an experienced veteran who had interviewed Yan Xi before; they were nodding acquaintances. Looking at Yan Xi’s appearance with his notepad, he adjusted his glasses, very surprised: “Did something happen to you?”
Yan Xi had always been known for his “handsome beauty” in the entertainment circle, but his current appearance could hardly approach those words.
Yan Xi smiled, his voice still hoarse and unpleasant: “I think you can ask about other things. I have another appointment in an hour.”
Though puzzled, the reporter nodded: “Alright. Your fans want to know how you’re doing, or perhaps the reason you quit back then when you were such a hot commodity with a fan club approaching 500,000 members.”
Yan Xi thought for a moment and said: “At that time, compared to work, I had something more important I wanted to accomplish.”
“More important than 500,000 fans?”
“Although I’m sorry, yes. The existence of 500,000 fans was for DJ Yan, which was incredibly honorable, but my medals, I still want to reserve them for my woman.”
“You… do you have someone you like? Is it Chu Yun?”
“Although everyone has always expected such an ending, Chu Yun and I… let me put it this way, if I hadn’t met her as DJ Yan, perhaps I would have fallen in love with her. We’re both loyal to our professional ethics, and I believe she understands this clearly.”
“That seems difficult for people to accept. So, this person isn’t from the entertainment circle. Can you talk about the woman you like? I’ve been hearing such rumors lately, that you and the Lu Corporation’s young master Lu Liu have an unusually close relationship, seemingly crossing boundaries. Is saying you have a woman you like just a cover?”
“Lu Liu and I have been good friends since childhood. As for that woman, although we’ve known each other for eight years, it’s just eight years after all. Such a term – woman I like – isn’t appropriate. I’ll be frank, if it weren’t for her, perhaps Lu Liu and I would have made do living a lifetime as good brothers. But she exists, which gives me a headache.”
“Eight years is quite long. What kind of woman is she? It seems she makes you… quite helpless.”
“I’ve been using a long time to resist becoming too close to her, but obviously without success. To a large extent, I’m quite a selfish, cold person, but for her, I’ve done too many things that even I find bizarre.”
“I heard that DJ Yan was working on an art collection for a long time before resigning. Your artistic skills have always been excellent, so will this collection be published?”
“This collection is personal property. Perhaps someday when there’s a chance, I’ll bring my wife to show everyone.”
“Is it related to that woman?”
“No, it’s some abstract things, unrelated to her, related to certain emotions. Passion, love, brightness, coldness, bitterness, timidity – things too polar opposite, yet experienced in continuous time. That child is a rigid, slow person, probably wouldn’t understand.”
“DJ Yan, I hope one day I can attend your wedding with her.”
Yan Xi smiled, and grasped his hand: “That is… the best blessing.”
After exchanging a few more pleasantries with the reporter, the interview ended.
Dayi crouched low, running out from the other side of the café. Just as the two awkward kids met up, Lu Liu walked over with an ambiguous smile. Behind him followed Sun Peng in a white suit, with an unrestrained smile.
Sun Peng looked at Yan Xi, his dark eyes carrying a smile, frivolous, pinching Yan Xi’s cheek: “Oh, Young Master Yan, how did you get so thin?”
Lu Liu shook his head and smiled faintly: “Not eating all day long. Next time, I’m planning to have someone give him nutrient injections.” The latter half carried a threatening tone.
He turned around, saying: “Oh, Dayi is here too. Where were you planning to go? I just happened to run into Sun Peng, and it’s been a while since we’ve all met – why don’t we have a meal together?”
Xin Dayi looked at him, his face hard and cold, carrying frost: “No need, I’m afraid you’ll poison me!” Then he took out a book and handed it to Yan Xi, “The book you asked me to find, specifically about handling light and shadow in lines.”
Lu Liu raised an eyebrow, extending his fair, slender hand: “Why are you suddenly interested in reading these? Didn’t you stop reading basic books long ago when you were studying art with Professor Su at M University?”
Yan Xi carelessly handed the book to him.
Lu Liu observed Yan Xi’s expression. The book felt genuinely heavy in his hands, but he didn’t open it, just smiled and returned it, gently gripping his hand, saying: “It’s time for lunch, let’s go.”
Sun Peng narrowed his peach blossom eyes at the gold-embossed book, taking a long while before withdrawing his gaze, looking at Yan Xi with an ambiguous smile, and pinched his left cheek again.
Yan Xi hit him on the head with the book: “Sun Peng, are you sick or what? Every time you see me you pinch my face. You’ve had this problem since childhood, you psycho!”
Sun Peng coughed lightly, turned his head, smiled, nodded, and said: “I am.”
Lu Liu gave Sun Peng a look, his gaze deep, unfathomable.
They sat together for lunch, Yan Xi lazily poking at his steak, not taking a single bite, only occasionally sipping juice.
Lu Liu was talking with Sun Peng: “I heard you’re planning to start a company?”
But Sun Peng said: “Yan Xi, you just swallowed a fly.”
Yan Xi’s face turned green: “Ah!”
Sun Peng stuffed a large piece of tender meat into his open mouth, smiling: “I was kidding.”
Yan Xi chewed angrily, swallowing it down.
Sun Peng smiled: “Yan Xi, your life is built on the ambitious goal of becoming a pig.”
Yan Xi’s voice was hoarse, disdainful: “Who decided that?”
He said: “I did.”
Turning around, he finally answered Lu Liu politely with a smile: “After I make a big profit in a while, I’ll start full operations.”
Yan Xi was taken back to the apartment. Lu Liu had a board meeting in the afternoon, so after instructing the bodyguards, he left.
Yan Xi took out that book, his palm covered in sweat.
This wasn’t a book, or rather, it was just a box that looked identical to a book but had been hollowed out in the center. Yan Xi spotted this immediately, because in the market, only six copies of this original book remained, all stored in libraries in terrible condition, never this pristine.
This was Dayi’s way of passing him information. Fortunately, Lu Liu wasn’t interested in painting techniques.
Yan Xi opened it. Inside was a letter and a document envelope.
He unfolded the letter.
Yan Xi:
I hope this letter finds you well.
More than four months have passed since I left, and I hope all is well at home.
The weather in Paris is consistently good. It’s summer now, flowers are in full bloom, and the landlady says winters here are quite warm too, unlike Beijing with its city full of snow.
I live in the 12th district, very close to the research institute. It’s only five metro stops, though it takes thirty minutes to walk to the station, which is quite troublesome. I’ve gained weight recently – Paris cheese with bread tastes strange, but once you get used to it, it becomes addictive, like this city. That’s fine though, getting fat just means I need to lose weight. Among all men, except for you (since you rarely notice my appearance), most don’t like Ah Heng with a waist like a barrel.
I bought a coat for just thirty-five euros, the landlady took me shopping, the price was acceptable.
When I reported to the institute, besides giving me 300 euros for living expenses and a white lab coat, they even gave me a Bible. The landlady’s son – eight-year-old Iso – told me, “This is God’s word, you should read it.”
Such a small child, wearing an oversized coat altered from his father’s clothes, dragging on the ground, told me he wanted to be Sherlock Holmes. I folded him a paper pipe, which he carries in his mouth all day, asking if I want to be Watson.
I think this is nice, it could be a profession in the future too.
If one day you can’t find me in Beijing, it’s not because I’m holding a grudge about your “never come back,” but probably because I’ve become Holmes’ Watson, and won’t return anymore.
Perhaps you still return home occasionally. Since you left the courtyard idle, I planted it full of sunflowers in my spare time. Though I can’t claim to have nurtured them meticulously every day, checking on them was always my first task upon returning home. Now, after three full years, the blooming season approaches.
I wonder if you remember Chu Yun, the first woman you were so close to after becoming an adult. She once said her favorite person was a man like a sunflower. Those words suit you well.
Sunflower. Golden and bright, when smiling, beautiful light flows in your eyes, forever facing the sun.
And I, always facing the sunflower.
Among the world’s multitudes, sadly, everyone has their quirks, none alike, but after seeing enough, they cease to be surprising.
Yan Xi, I think I’ve finally found a place where I can shout your name loudly, yet no one turns to look.
They don’t understand Chinese, nor what these two characters mean to me.
I hope you’re well, though I don’t know your current situation. Since you met Wen Heng, you’ve never trusted me for even a moment, you only trust yourself, which is why you’d rather rely on your strength to save Dayi. But you don’t know, that day, one minute before your phone call, Chen Juan had just called to ask me to keep you steady, saying he was willing to negotiate with Lu Liu to the end for Dayi. I don’t know if your actions fulfilled Lu Liu’s wishes or your own.
I know you said those things because you feared Lu Liu would hurt me, but having said I would only forgive once, I won’t go back on my word. Besides, if you dare crash into a truck, disregarding life and death, if I were really with you, with such courage of yours, wouldn’t Wen Heng’s chances of becoming a widow increase?
Moreover, I said I would support a disabled man, even if your legs were disabled and you had to crawl to see me, I would support you. But with your calculating nature, would you dare to believe it?
I hope you’re well, thinking that after years of indecision, still entangled with Lu Liu to this point, you must harbor thoughts of lifelong companionship. Wen Heng has no intention to obstruct, may you and Lu Liu sit in a room with a fireplace, hair turned white, reciting your favorite poems, looking at your paintings, gazing lovingly at each other until death do you part.
Grandfather gave me something the day before I left the country – evidence about the Lu family that he had kept for many years, concealing it until now, ready for a final desperate measure. I begged for long, begged for our future, but you never trusted me for even a moment. Now that it’s no longer needed, I’ve had Dayi transfer it all, only hoping that though you’re close to Lu Liu, you won’t be constrained.
Since knowing you, my only wish was for lovers to end up together. Now, having settled my heart’s affairs, my mind is at peace.
Don’t worry about me.
Wen Heng
Written in September 2006