Sun Wenqu often blurted out unexpected things, did things without warning. But Fang Chi had never imagined that, in the middle of something as serious and proper as writing an English sample essay, Sun Wenqu would pull something like this.
The touch was soft, damp, like a small whirlwind, coming quickly, barely lingering, gone in an instant.
Yet even that fleeting brush toppled Fang Chi completely.
He jerked backward, chair and all tipping over.
Shock.
Confusion.
Fear.
Not even time to get angry.
With a crash, he and the chair hit the floor.
Sun Wenqu was still leaning on the desk, pen in hand, head tilted, no chance to speak, because in the same instant Fang Chi hit the ground, he pushed himself up and sprang straight back to his feet, landing steady by the desk.
Good reflexes!
Then, he threw a punch, right to Sun Wenqu’s face.
Good strike!
Before Sun Wenqu could recover from the stars exploding in his vision, Fang Chi was already crashing into desk, chair, door, making a racket as he bolted out.
By the time Sun Wenqu lifted his hand from his eye, he only heard the bang of the front door slamming shut.
“D*mn.” He muttered, frowning, propping himself up for a moment before sighing and dropping his head back to the desk, closing his eyes.
Fang Chi felt like he practically vaulted the courtyard wall without using his legs, fastest he’d ever run home in years, and that after a full day of training.
Cold wind whipped into his collar, freezing his whole body, ears ringing with nothing but rushing air. Only when he slowed near his building did he catch his breath.
Climbing the stairs, panting, his mind still buzzed, all thoughts erased, replaced with that unexpected, unguarded touch from Sun Wenqu.
Even inside his apartment, he felt dizzy, collapsing onto the sofa.
“Ow!” came a yowl by his arm, followed by sharp claws digging in.
“Hey!” Fang Chi looked quickly, Chief Huang was squashed between his arm and the sofa back. “I didn’t mean it!”
Chief Huang ignored him, darting up to perch on the fridge.
“Sorry… sigh…” Fang Chi let out a long breath, closing his eyes, trying to steady his spinning head.
He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, couldn’t even name the feeling. Just messy.
Messy like falling into a pile of straw, dazed and heavy. That fall at Sun Wenqu’s house hadn’t even hit his head…
But the instant he thought of Sun Wenqu, it was like his body was pierced by a hundred burning needles, leaving him hot, prickling, and numb with palpitations.
Yes, besides confusion and dizziness, the clearest feeling was a racing heart.
Fear.
Nerves.
Unease.
He didn’t remember how he finally fell asleep that night. By morning, he found himself still sprawled on the sofa, hadn’t moved an inch.
Sitting there, head heavy, he had to cradle it in his hands for ten whole minutes before clearing up enough to wash, change clothes, and head to school.
But,
No bag, no books, no homework. Nothing.
All left behind at Sun Wenqu’s place.
The only thing he’d taken was his phone, just because he’d shoved it into his pocket beforehand.
Back on the sofa, he sighed. Last night’s events surged back like a tide, leaving him lost.
He stared at Sun Wenqu’s name on his phone for a long time. In the end, he stood, fed Chief Huang, and left.
Forget it. The bag could wait. He’d just borrow from classmates today.
With empty hands swinging, he walked out.
It wasn’t until he wanted breakfast near school that he remembered, not just his bag, but also his wallet were missing. He had absolutely nothing.
“Sh*t.” Fang Chi muttered under his breath, left with no choice but to stand at the school gate.
After a couple minutes, Xu Zhou came buzzing up on his e-bike. Fang Chi was about to call out, then saw Xiao Yiming riding on the back seat. He hesitated.
“Fang Chi!” Xu Zhou spotted him, pulled up. “What are you doing here?”
“…Got any money?” Fang Chi asked. “Lend me some.”
“How much?” Xu Zhou immediately reached into his bag.
“Two hundred.” Fang Chi said. Breakfast would’ve cost ten at most, but he had no idea when he’d find the nerve to fetch his bag from Sun Wenqu’s.
“You’re killing me,” Xu Zhou froze, then joked, “Want to go shake down grade-schoolers? They’ve all got cash these days.”
“Well…” Fang Chi was considering just asking for ten for breakfast.
“I’ve got it.” Xiao Yiming spoke up from the back seat, then got off.
“Give…” Fang Chi started his usual phrase, then stopped, switching quickly: “Lend me.”
Without a word, Xiao Yiming pulled out two hundred and handed it over.
“I’ll go park.” Xu Zhou drove off toward the school.
Fang Chi and Xiao Yiming stood on the sidewalk, awkward.
“You eaten?” Fang Chi asked.
“No,” Xiao Yiming said. “I was thinking of wontons.”
“Then let’s go.” Fang Chi nodded toward the shop across the street, big meat wontons, tasty. “My treat.”
“Mm.” Xiao Yiming agreed.
They were about to cross when a taxi pulled up in front of them, blocking the way.
Fang Chi frowned, ready to go around, when the door opened and someone stepped out.
“So it really is true, you came to school just like this.” The person said.
Fang Chi froze, turned his head, and saw Sun Wenqu, with a clear bruise at the corner of his eye, most likely from the punch Fang Chi had landed yesterday.
That strong?
And he hit right by the eye?
“Here.” Sun Wenqu yawned as he pulled Fang Chi’s schoolbag out of the car and tossed it over.
Fang Chi caught the bag. Xiao Yiming was standing right next to him. He didn’t know what to say… but honestly, even if Xiao Yiming weren’t there, he wouldn’t have known what to say.
“Thanks.” In the end, that was all he managed.
“No problem.” Sun Wenqu gave the two of them a glance, then turned back, got into the car, and the car drove off.
“I thought… you already left your bag in the classroom,” Xiao Yiming said, glancing in the direction the car disappeared.
Fang Chi said nothing. He slung the schoolbag onto his back and stuffed the two hundred yuan back into Xiao Yiming’s pocket.
The two of them silently crossed the street, silently entered the shop, ordered two big bowls of wontons, and silently ate. Several times, Xiao Yiming looked up, wanting to speak, but in the end, he didn’t.
Fang Chi didn’t know what he wanted to say, but in Xiao Yiming’s eyes, this must have looked like he’d spent the night at some man’s place and even forgotten his schoolbag there. If it had been someone else, maybe it wouldn’t matter, but it was Xiao Yiming.
If their relationship were still like it used to be, Xiao Yiming would’ve asked already.
That whole morning of classes was torture, not sleepy, not tired, not hungry, just staring at the teacher while waves of tension kept surging through his mind, each one making his heart lurch and pound.
The constant unease bubbling up from deep inside kept him wide awake even during English class. He stared at the teacher blankly, startled at every little thing.
When Liang Xiaotao casually picked up the test paper from his desk to take a look, that one movement nearly made him jump straight out of his chair.
“What’s wrong?” Liang Xiaotao was startled too, whispering, “I just wanted to look at your test paper.”
“Go ahead.” Fang Chi tugged at his collar.
Liang Xiaotao gave him a strange look, then lowered his head to look. Flipping to the essay section, she suddenly tilted her head. “Who wrote this for you? The handwriting is so pretty.”
“Hm?” Fang Chi turned his head to look at the paper.
At a glance, he froze. The essay prompt had already been filled in, with round, plump loops, obviously Sun Wenqu’s writing. He didn’t say a word, just pulled other test papers and homework out of his bag, finding that the questions Sun Wenqu hadn’t had time to go over with him yesterday were already written in.
“Someone’s even doing your homework for you?” Liang Xiaotao clicked her tongue. Her English was good; she skimmed the essay and clicked her tongue again. “And a top student, no less.”
Fang Chi stayed silent.
At lunch he didn’t eat, just lay on his desk trying to force himself to sleep, but failed.
Strangely, even in afternoon self-study, he wasn’t sleepy. When the teacher came in to answer questions, he was full of energy the whole time, but he didn’t really hear anything, just stared blankly at the problems Sun Wenqu had solved for him.
He didn’t dislike Sun Wenqu. At first, of course, he had. But later, not anymore. He thought Sun Wenqu must be really smart, just emotionally stunted, childish, liked to tease people, stir up trouble, but essentially kindhearted.
A lonely snake’s egg, the kind who’d even do your homework for you.
But no matter how good his impression of Sun Wenqu was, this, this was something he instinctively resisted and could never accept. Just thinking of it made his whole body uncomfortable.
During the last self-study period, he spent the whole class seriously turning things over in his mind, deciding he needed to tell Sun Wenqu directly not to do that again.
As soon as the bell rang, he grabbed his bag, ran out of the classroom, hurried to a quiet side street, and pulled out his phone.
For some reason, his hand was shaking when he dialed.
The line rang a long time before Sun Wenqu finally picked up. “Hello?”
His voice sounded a little low, and hearing it through the receiver, Fang Chi felt like it was right at his ear. His throat tightened before he managed: “It’s me, Fang Chi.”
“Mm.” Sun Wenqu responded, but nothing else.
“So, uh…” Fang Chi bit his lip. “Today… I won’t come over to cook.”
“Mm.” Sun Wenqu again.
“I just… wanted to say,” Fang Chi forced the words out, “I really don’t like you doing that. Like yesterday. You know what I mean.”
“Mm.”
“So what I mean is, if you keep doing that, I won’t come over anymore… But I’ll still pay you back the money.”
“Mm.”
All the way through, just “mm.” Fang Chi didn’t know what that meant, agreement? Refusal? Something else?
“Your face…” he hesitated, then asked. That bruise he’d seen this morning didn’t look light. Even if there’d been a reason, he still felt awkward about it.
“Are you?” Sun Wenqu suddenly cut in.
“…Am I what?” Fang Chi jumped, that lightning-bolt feeling stabbing through his chest again.
“Do I really have to say it?” Sun Wenqu said. “Feels like you don’t really want to hear it.”
Fang Chi stayed silent, feeling like everything in front of him was bouncing along with his heartbeat.
“Gay,” Sun Wenqu said calmly. “Are you?”
The three words slammed into Fang Chi, making him stumble back against a tree. Despite the cold weather, sweat broke out instantly across his back.
He tried to steady his breathing, waited a few seconds before he could force out: “I’m… not.”
“Really?” Sun Wenqu’s voice seemed to carry a smile. “You sure?”
Fang Chi steadied himself. “Sure.”
“I see.” Sun Wenqu paused. “Then you don’t need to come over anymore. That contract, the, uh, ‘service agreement’, let’s void it.”
“…Huh?” Fang Chi was stunned.
“The first time I said I liked men,” Sun Wenqu’s tone hadn’t changed, “from your reaction, I thought maybe you were too… But if you say you’re not, then you’re not. So no need to come.”
Fang Chi didn’t reply right away, still dazed.
“If you’re not, then there’s no fun in teasing you either. Let’s leave it at that.” Sun Wenqu said. “This month’s pay is in the zip pocket of your bag. Buy Chief Huang some good cat food.”
“…Oh.” Fang Chi wasn’t sure what he was even thinking. “I’ll still pay you back.”
“No rush, it’s not due yet.” Sun Wenqu chuckled. “I’m hanging up. Bye.”
Before Fang Chi could speak, he hung up.
Fang Chi put his phone back in his pocket. He didn’t keep running, just sat down on a stone bench under the tree. The cold of the stone seeped through his pants and spread through his body.
He pulled out his cigarette pack, lit one, and stuck it in his mouth.
After a few drags, he reached into his schoolbag again and felt a small envelope in the zip pocket.
A stack of fresh bills, tied with a slip of thin paper. Fang Chi looked, it had writing on it.
Sun Wenqu’s handwriting, probably with a fine brush. About the same size as pen script, but very neat and beautiful. It read: Cooking fee, dishwashing fee, mopping fee, sweeping fee, wall-climbing fee, window-breaking fee…
Fang Chi didn’t read the rest. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. Each listed item brought back scenes from his time at Sun Wenqu’s house.
Not a pleasant feeling.
When he finished the cigarette, he put on his headphones and stood up, walking slowly home.
No cooking tonight. No grocery shopping, no cleaning. Suddenly he had extra time, enough to stroll unhurried.
At the entrance of his complex, he stopped by the pet shop to buy two bags of the same cat food Sun Wenqu used, then went to the little supermarket for some noodles. He realized he hadn’t cooked himself noodles in his shabby place in a long time.
When he got back, Chief Huang wasn’t tormenting the food bowl as usual, but curled up asleep in his slippers by the door.
“So good today,” Fang Chi picked him up and stroked him. “Why don’t you ever grow any bigger, huh?”
Chief Huang swiped his paw.
After feeding him and cleaning the litter, Fang Chi sat at his desk to study.
The desk had come with the rental. Same size as the one at his grandpa’s place, probably just as old.
Covered with stickers, it was nothing like Sun Wenqu’s wide, matte-black, spotless desk that seemed made for focus.
He bent over and started his homework. About half an hour in, hunger drove him to cook noodles.
They turned out pretty well. He added a few drops of sesame oil, fragrant, steaming, sweat beading at his nose as he ate while watching TV.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, he wondered what Sun Wenqu was eating.
Probably takeout. Or eating out.
Then he scoffed at himself, what was he worrying for? A rich young master who treated money like nothing hardly needed concern about meals. And besides, before Fang Chi ever cooked for him, hadn’t he been just fine?
After noodles, he went back to problems. Not going well, he kept spacing out. Still, he forced himself through them, leaving blanks where he didn’t know.
After a drink of water, he sat down again, stared at the blank problems for a long while, sighed. Blank was blank. Without Sun Wenqu’s explanations, they stayed blank.
Frustration rose suddenly.
Frowning, he slumped in his chair, sulking, and sulking more because he was sulking. What the h*ll was wrong with him?
By nearly midnight, he managed to grind through the unsolved problems, not caring if they were right, just filling the spaces so at least the page looked complete. That felt a little better.
Yawning, he tossed down his pen, showered quickly, and collapsed in bed. Since he was still wired like a lunatic even at this hour, he put on headphones, thinking to use music to lull himself.
He set it to shuffle, turned off the lights, closed his eyes.
The music was all calm, perfect for running, walking, clearing the mind. Relaxing to listen to.
Fang Chi closed his eyes, slowed his breath, matching it to the rhythm. After a whole day of restlessness, if he couldn’t fall asleep tonight, he’d be ruined tomorrow.
A few tracks passed, but drowsiness didn’t come. He sighed, thinking to pick some even slower ones.
Just as he raised his hand, a soft double cough sounded in his ear.
He shot upright like stabbed, every hair standing on end.
“Let me play something for you, judging by your level, you probably haven’t heard it.” Sun Wenqu’s voice came through his headphones. “This is The Shepherd Girl. I like it a lot. That day at your place, I meant to play this, but you requested Galloping Horses.”
Fang Chi sat frozen on his bed.
After a short silence, the distinctive, slightly mournful sound of the erhu came through.
He could tell Sun Wenqu’s erhu was far better than his grandpa’s, richer, smoother. Even though the MP3’s recording quality wasn’t great, Fang Chi was quickly pulled into the melody.
***
“…You going to open the door or not?” Ma Liang’s voice said over the phone.
“I’m dead tired, want to sleep.” Sun Wenqu was wrapped in his blanket. “Quit bothering me.”
“Then I’ll… open it myself.” Ma Liang hung up.
“Ugh…” Sun Wenqu rolled over, hearing Ma Liang outside opening the courtyard gate, then the living room door, finally pushing into the bedroom.
“Up.” Ma Liang pointed at him.
“What.” Sun Wenqu lay still with eyes closed.
“What’s on your mind?” Ma Liang pulled the blanket off him. “Something this big, and you didn’t… didn’t tell me?”
Sun Wenqu sat up reluctantly, pulled on his robe, sat cross-legged on the bed. “How big a deal can it be? You left your wife in the middle of the night just to yank my covers.”
“The old man… called me.” Ma Liang sat on the stool by the bed, staring at him. “What… what’s going on?”
“What did he say?” Sun Wenqu yawned.
“No–not allowed to give. If give you money, then cl-clean me out,” Ma Liang said.
“What did you say?” Sun Wenqu turned his head. His old man moved pretty fast, already starting to cut him off financially?
“Take it, and clean me out, I guess,” Ma Liang frowned. “What, you think he’s gonna beat me up or something.”
“If he cuts off your clients, you’re screwed.” Sun Wenqu chuckled.
“No, my clients and his aren’t the same style,” Ma Liang looked worried, lit a cigarette right there in the bedroom. “You’re about to turn into a drifting snake, you know that?”
“You came just to remind me of that?” Sun Wenqu turned his face to look at him.
“What’s with your face?” Ma Liang stood up, grabbed his chin, and turned it. He was shocked. “He laid… hands on you?”
“No,” Sun Wenqu slapped his hand away. “Wasn’t my dad.”
“Then who!” Ma Liang barked around the cigarette in his mouth, ash dropping on the bed.
“My son,” Sun Wenqu brushed off the ash. “Take your d*mn smoke outside.”
“Your… your son? Fang… Fang, Fang, f*ck,” Ma Liang gaped at him. “You messing around? Pulling some sleazy thug act?”
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