A Dog Out of Nowhere Chapter 20

Fang Chi stared at Sun Wenqu for a long moment, then turned upstairs to fetch the erhu from Grandpa’s room.

Grandpa loved those instruments, several erhus and jinghus. He hardly played now, but always polished and maintained them.

When Fang Chi came down holding the erhu, he saw Sun Wenqu sprawled on the sofa, legs stretched long, the same pose he always struck at his own place, like he could hibernate without a blanket.

But tonight was a bit different. Maybe it was the wine, he looked livelier, somehow easier on the eyes.

“You really can play?” Fang Chi handed it over, still doubtful.

“Listen, all these pretentious things,” Sun Wenqu slung the erhu across his leg and drew two notes, “I know them.”

Fang Chi said nothing. At least to an untrained eye, his posture was completely proper.

“Your erhu hasn’t been played in half a year, has it?” Sun Wenqu pulled out his phone. “I’ll have to tune it first.”

“More like a year,” Grandpa said with a grin.

“The instrument’s still good,” Sun Wenqu shifted the bridge slightly, tapped at his phone. “But let it sit longer and the skin will sag.”

He even had a tuner app. Fang Chi felt his understanding of Sun Wenqu refreshed yet again.

Once tuned, he sat upright and casually played a short passage. Fang Chi crossed his arms, leaned on the wall, watching him no longer coiled like a snake on the sofa.

“What do you want to hear, Grandma?” Sun Wenqu moved to the wooden stool.

Fang Chi had known him for a while, but this was the first time he’d seen him serious, proper, doing something in a normal way.

“How would I know? Usually I just hear grandpa scratch away.” Grandma laughed.

“Play whatever you like,” Grandpa sat up straight on the sofa.

“Then…” Sun Wenqu turned his head toward Fang Chi, “is there anything you want to hear?”

Fang Chi’s knowledge of the erhu was limited to “Grandpa has one” and “sometimes Grandpa plays it.” Asked so suddenly, he didn’t even know what to say.

“I don’t know either,” Fang Chi fumbled for a long time, then tried, “Galloping Horses?”

“Oh-ho,” Sun Wenqu laughed. “You can even name Galloping Horses? Well, at least you know something. If you really didn’t, you’d have blurted out Moon Reflected on Erquan Spring.”

“I really don’t know,” Fang Chi smiled.

“I haven’t touched this thing for almost a year…” Sun Wenqu clicked his tongue.

“Then just play something simple,” Fang Chi said.

Sun Wenqu didn’t answer. He lowered his head, tested a few notes, then as if deciding, said, “Alright then, Galloping Horses.”

Aside from Grandpa, Fang Chi had basically never heard anyone else play the erhu. To be honest, Grandpa’s playing was pretty muddled, probably only Grandma liked it. Fang Chi himself had never heard it sound good.

He used to think the erhu was just boring. But when Sun Wenqu, after a moment of silence, suddenly gave a shake of the bow and drew out the opening phrase, Fang Chi’s head snapped up.

Galloping Horses was something he’d said offhand, couldn’t even remember where he’d first heard it, but it was a piece instantly recognizable, he’d heard it in many places.

Yet this was the first time he’d watched up close, seeing how the notes leapt one by one from strings beneath someone’s fingers, Sun Wenqu’s fingers, the same ones always hanging loose in lazy postures.

The feeling was not something as simple as “surprise.” He could only sit silently, watching Sun Wenqu, listening to this familiar melody that, in this moment, carried a completely different weight.

Sun Wenqu’s fingers were long; his left hand pressing on the strings was like a dance of fingertips that drew the eyes. Halfway through, he threw aside the bow, and with his right index finger plucked rhythm after rhythm, bright, skipping hoofbeats sprang out. Fang Chi’s gaze followed his fingers without control.

This was the first time Fang Chi had listened so seriously to an erhu piece. At times grand and unrestrained, at times joyful, every swell and pause could be felt.

When it ended with the neighing cry of a horse, he was still dazed. Only when Grandpa called out in praise did he hurriedly clap along.

“Didn’t expect it,” Grandpa gave Sun Wenqu a thumbs-up. “Young man, you’re something else.”

“Wonderful!” Grandma laughed. “Your grandpa probably won’t bother with the erhu anymore. Not as good as that little rascal’s classmate.”

“He’s not my classmate,” Fang Chi sighed.

“I worked up a sweat sitting so stiff,” Sun Wenqu tugged at his clothes with a grin. “I haven’t sat that straight in years, my back’s about to cramp.”

“Play another,” Fang Chi said.

“Hm?” Sun Wenqu turned his head at him.

“Pretty… nice,” Fang Chi suddenly felt embarrassed, raised a hand to rub his nose.

Sun Wenqu chuckled, lowered his head to the instrument, seeming to weigh what piece to play next. Just as Fang Chi thought he might be falling asleep, he suddenly put the erhu down.

“I…” Sun Wenqu’s voice was low. “Feel a little off.”

“Stomach pain?” Fang Chi jumped.

“Was it that berry wine?” Grandpa grew anxious too.

“No, no, no, not that,” Sun Wenqu quickly waved his hands. “Probably just a bit of a cold… I’ll play for you another time.”

“Then go rest early,” Grandma said. “These city kids are delicate, must’ve caught a chill last night!”

After chatting with Grandpa and Grandma a little longer, Sun Wenqu took a change of clothes to bathe.

Fang Chi went upstairs to his room, and set out the bedding.

From what he knew of Sun Wenqu, this wasn’t a cold, not even being unwell, more like some nerve misfired and he was acting on impulse again.

Fang Chi grabbed his own bedding, planning to take it to the living room downstairs, when Sun Wenqu came in.

“Your grandparents go to bed early, huh? They’ve already turned in?” Sun Wenqu asked.

“Mm. They’re up before four every morning,” Fang Chi smiled. “If they didn’t sleep early, how could they manage?”

“Four a.m. is when I just fall asleep,” Sun Wenqu yawned. “Where you going?”

“Downstairs,” Fang Chi said.

“You’re sleeping on the sofa?” Sun Wenqu looked at him. “That sofa’s too narrow, you’ll roll right off in the middle of the night.”

“I sleep steady, don’t toss,” Fang Chi shot him a glance.

“Really?” Sun Wenqu squinted, smiling.

“Is the bedding enough? If not, I’ll get more,” Fang Chi ignored him and headed down.

No sooner had he spread the bedding on the sofa than Sun Wenqu poked his head from upstairs: “Hey, Fang Little Chi.”

“Mm?” Fang Chi turned.

“Outside your room, isn’t there a terrace?” Sun Wenqu asked.

“There is. Just open the door. There’s chairs and a table,” Fang Chi said.

“Slave contract needs a few add-on clauses according to circumstance,” Sun Wenqu still craned his head out. “Do you agree?”

Fang Chi looked at him without answering.

Sun Wenqu grinned. “Alright then, ‘service contract’ needs a few add-ons. Do you agree?”

“Say it,” Fang Chi replied.

“Come upstairs and chat a while,” Sun Wenqu whispered. “If you make me sleep now, that’s a death sentence.”

“Aren’t you sick?” Fang Chi eyed him sideways. “Better rest.”

“What about the dignity of the slave master?” Sun Wenqu slapped his pants, turned two circles on the stairs. “Did you drop it somewhere?”

Fang Chi sighed, picked up his thermos, and walked over. “Alright, let’s go.”

The terrace could be reached from Fang Chi’s room or the back courtyard. Usually it was just for drying laundry and produce, beans, cabbage, bitter melon, whatever was in season.

Fang Chi had set an iron table and chairs there, but they were rarely used, too hot in summer, too cold in winter.

Tonight, sitting with Sun Wenqu, was the most formal use they’d ever had.

“You’re wasting this backyard,” Sun Wenqu leaned on the railing, looking down. “Such a big yard, just a junk room.”

“What else would old folks in the countryside do with it,” Fang Chi sipped his tea. “It’s always been like this.”

“If this were my yard,” Sun Wenqu pointed below, “I’d clear the ground, plant a circle of coarse grains, put up a swing, a trellis, grow some climbing plants.”

Fang Chi said nothing.

“And flowers over there,” Sun Wenqu went on, “no pots, that’s boring. Just fill a few tires with soil. Doesn’t have to be fancy, wildflowers, the kind that bloom in sheets.”

“Don’t you have a yard at home?” Fang Chi said. “Why not fix yours up?”

“Mine’s too small. And it’s tiring to do yourself. If I ever get a big place like this, I’ll hire a few people to do it,” Sun Wenqu said.

“Aren’t you free enough now?” Fang Chi said.

Sun Wenqu leaned on the railing, looking at him.

“If I said something wrong, just tell me directly,” Fang Chi shoved off the ground, sliding back with his chair. “Don’t suddenly act up.”

Sun Wenqu laughed, sat beside him. “You didn’t. I really am pretty free.”

“You paint, write, play erhu, learning all that must take a lot of time,” Fang Chi said, then added, “Really impressive.”

“Impressive, huh.” Sun Wenqu gave a soft sigh.

“Mm. Any one of those takes effort to get good at,” Fang Chi truly admired it. “I didn’t expect you to know so much.”

“So what though?” Sun Wenqu smiled faintly, leaned back, arms behind his head.

“What do you mean, ‘so what’?” Fang Chi turned to look at him.

“Kid,” Sun Wenqu clicked his tongue. “You wouldn’t get it.”

Fang Chi said nothing. He really didn’t understand what Sun Wenqu was thinking. Maybe it was just their different upbringings, he couldn’t grasp how someone who had everything and nothing to do could still be restless.

But… maybe that was exactly why. With no clear direction to throw himself into, everything felt empty.

“You really never had a job?” Fang Chi couldn’t help asking again.

Sun Wenqu laughed a long while. “Well… not really. My dad dumped me on construction sites for a few years, does that count?”

“Did you get paid?” Fang Chi asked. “No, did you actually work?”

“There wasn’t any work for me to do,” Sun Wenqu said.

“Then you really never had a job,” Fang Chi said. “Played around thirty years. Impressive.”

“Jealous?” Sun Wenqu picked up his cup of tea, took a sip. “Then let’s swap.”

“You… were you just thirsty?” Fang Chi looked at him in shock, then jumped up. “I’ll get you a cup.”

“No need.” Sun Wenqu reached out, grabbed his pants. “Just a sip.”

“Hey, don’t pull my pants.” Fang Chi tugged them back, hesitated, then sat down again.

“Big grown boy, startled so easy, don’t you have any guts?” Sun Wenqu drawled, lazily drinking another sip.

“You said just a sip!” Fang Chi glared.

“What of it? I ‘just said a couple words,’ but was it really a couple? That pup barked at me twice, was it only twice? I ‘just took a sip’, was it only one?” Sun Wenqu said leisurely, taking another drink. “Your creditor drinks two sips of your tea, and you’re heartbroken already. It’s not even good tea. I’ll give you a couple tins of the good stuff tomorrow, green, black, whatever you like.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Fang Chi muttered.

“Then what do you mean?” Sun Wenqu gave him a look. “Worried I’ll infect you with something? I don’t have anything.”

“You’re right, you’re just crazy,” Fang Chi said helplessly.

“Crazy doesn’t spread,” Sun Wenqu said with utter confidence, and took another sip.

Fang Chi jumped up again. “I’ll get you a cup!”

“No need, I’m done.” Sun Wenqu laughed until he couldn’t stop.

“I’ll get you one,” Fang Chi said, heading for the stairs.

He had just taken two steps when Sun Wenqu grabbed his arm. Fang Chi was about to shake him off when Sun Wenqu suddenly pulled him back hard.

Fang Chi stumbled, startled to find that the perpetually lazy Sun Wenqu actually had a lot of strength.

But before the surprise wore off, Sun Wenqu’s arm hooked around his neck, pulled him close from behind.

Fang Chi’s hairs stood on end.

“You tell me,” Sun Wenqu’s voice was right at his ear, “do you dislike me, or… are you afraid of me?”

The voice was low, brushing his neck like a tickle. Fang Chi could even feel Sun Wenqu’s breath against his ear. In that instant, it was like a herd of bulls stampeded through his brain, hooves clattering.

“Why is that, you think?” Sun Wenqu whispered, faint amusement in his tone. “Such a strange boy.”

By the time Fang Chi thought to shove him away, Sun Wenqu had already released him, flopped back into the chair. “Go get the cup. Or maybe bring me hot chocolate instead?”

Fang Chi didn’t look back or speak. After a few seconds, he headed downstairs.

Sun Wenqu went inside, grabbed a small blanket, then slid down in his chair, propped his legs up on another chair, covered himself, and closed his eyes.

The mountain night wind was cool, but fresh from a bath and wrapped in a blanket, it felt pretty nice to just let the breeze blow.

The mountains here weren’t like the ones at the construction sites. Those were dirt hills, all dug up and ugly, filthy too. At night, lying in bed, you could always hear the workers drinking, playing cards, chatting, just noisy and irritating.

Now, after two days of fatigue loosening up, this kind of relaxed comfort was a real enjoyment.

Fang Chi hadn’t brought up a cup, let alone hot chocolate. Sun Wenqu guessed he probably wouldn’t come upstairs at all tonight, and maybe tomorrow morning he’d even have to find his own shuttle bus…

Sun Wenqu chuckled twice, picked up Fang Chi’s cup and took another sip of tea, then stood, ready to head inside and lie down.

As soon as he stood, he saw a small wisp of smoke drift up from the edge of the terrace.

He walked over, looked down, and saw Fang Chi sitting on the back steps smoking.

He didn’t leave. He leaned an arm against the railing, looking down at Fang Chi.

From this angle, Fang Chi looked different with a cigarette in his mouth. Normally, whether he was happy or angry, he always carried a simple kind of energy, like a clueless teenage boy.

But now, he looked weighed down, troubled.

Sun Wenqu curled his lip inwardly. He hadn’t even done anything to him, and already the kid was looking this miserable.

Really made a person’s mind wander.

When Fang Chi finished the cigarette, he got up and went inside. Sun Wenqu yawned and went in too.

The room was tidy and clean, but simply furnished: a small wardrobe, an old desk, and a wooden bed.

It must have been Fang Chi’s childhood room. Sun Wenqu walked to the desk. Its surface was carved and scribbled over with knives and pens, messy shallow and deep marks, ugly doodles, the kind made while avoiding homework.

He took a fountain pen out of his bag, sat at the desk, found a blank spot, and slowly sketched a dog.

He was debating whether to add the grandparents or draw Fang Chi, when the door opened. Fang Chi came in holding a small milk pot.

“Knock first,” Sun Wenqu said. “What if I was stark naked?”

Fang Chi didn’t answer. He set the pot on the desk, glanced at the dog sketch.

The pot held steaming hot chocolate, sprinkled with crushed peanuts on top.

“Heavens, thank you, really, this should win a national award,” Sun Wenqu leaned in, sniffed hard, almost dunking his face in. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

Fang Chi still said nothing. He turned and left, closing the door.

“I’m just supposed to drink it like this?” Sun Wenqu called after him.

He looked at the milk pot, sighed, got up, opened the door, and hurried downstairs.

Just as he was about to grab a spoon from the kitchen, Fang Chi came in from outside, holding one.

“Fang Chi,” Sun Wenqu accepted the spoon, watching him turn his back to straighten the bedding on the sofa, “that thing earlier…”

Fang Chi’s hands froze.

“Sorry,” Sun Wenqu cleared his throat. “I just…”

“I know,” Fang Chi muttered. “Go to sleep. We have to be up early, or I’ll miss third period.”

“Then good night,” Sun Wenqu said.

“Good night,” Fang Chi replied.

Sun Wenqu went back upstairs and happily finished the hot chocolate. Later, going out to wash up in the courtyard, he passed the sofa and saw Fang Chi sprawled awkwardly, one leg on the floor, arm over his eyes, already asleep.

The sofa really was too small for someone his size. All long arms and legs.

Sun Wenqu stepped into the yard. The dog was dozing by the chopping block, wagged its tail when it saw him.

All long arms and legs.

The village night was quiet. No neon lights, no streetlamps, yet bright, moonlight and starlight poured white over rooftops and paths.

Fang Chi’s bed was a wooden plank bed, a little hard. Sun Wenqu tossed and turned until past midnight before dozing off.

In dreams, his body felt sore. He couldn’t tell if it was from those falls or the bed pressing too hard. Shouldn’t be the bed, a grown man wasn’t that delicate. But then why did his fingers…

Hurt.

Hurt!

Hurt hurt hurt!

Sun Wenqu tumbled downstairs in a panic. Fang Chi, half-asleep and about to head to the toilet, was jolted fully awake by the commotion.

“Holy!” Sun Wenqu, wide-eyed, lunged over and hissed, “Do you have rats in your house?!”

“Uh,” Fang Chi blinked, not fully awake. “Yeah.”

“And they bite people?!” Sun Wenqu glared.

“They don’t bite,” Fang Chi glared back. “They never bit me.”

“Wake up, will you!” Sun Wenqu grabbed his arm.

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