Chapter 18: 18

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In truth, “forming a relationship” was a funny thing. Without it, one would get anxious, as if unable to stand on solid ground; yet after having formed a relationship, one would be anxious all the same.

Afraid of losing it; afraid of it breaking.

Chu Yi sat with Dad on the sofa, earnestly drilling a hole into the black rock with his head bowed.

Dad had already tied the red rock to his hand and was now watching Chu Yi work with great interest.

Chu Yi’s tools looked quite professional. With the rock clamped in a small black base, he twisted a hand-powered drill, slowly drilling a tiny hole in the rock.

“You’re making two intersecting holes,” Dad said, “so how do you make sure the holes intersect?”

“I measured it.” Chu Yi continued to drill.

“With what?” Dad asked. “I didn’t see you measure it.”

“My b-big eyes.” Chu Yi pointed at himself.

“Idiot.” Dad laughed.

Yan Hang brought out the sandwiches he made and put them on the coffee table. “Eat first. Did you come out this early because you had something to do?”

“I need to go to th-the market to get m-my grandmother a f-footbath.” The moment he saw the sandwiches, Chu Yi put the things down and reached out to take one. “So pretty.”

“Hey.” Yan Hang swiftly flicked the back of his hand. “Wash your hands.”

“Oh.” Chu Yi smiled as he rubbed the back of the hand, then went to the kitchen to wash his hands.

After eating second breakfast, Chu Yi was full of energy. He quickly drilled the holes in the black rock and put red strings through it again.

Yan Hang tied the rock back onto his ankle. That feeling from before eased up slightly. He hesitated, then asked Chu Yi, “What about the old string?”

“I c-cut it.” Chu Yi looked at his ankle.

“Give it to me. I want to… keep it.” Yan Hang felt a sudden embarrassment when he said this; he felt like he was being a fussy little girl.

Even Dad looked over at him.

Chu Yi gave him the little snipped red cord. He was thinking of putting it away in his room, but now it felt too awkward; after a pause, he simply put it on top of the TV.

“Can I c-come over at n-noon?” Chu Yi looked at Dad and asked as he prepared to leave.

“Sure, you can eat with me then. Yan Hang won’t be back at noon,” Dad said.

“I’ll bring food,” Chu Yi said when he opened the door.

Before Dad could speak, he jogged away.

“What money does he have for food?” Dad looked at Yan Hang.

“Depends what kind of food.” Yan Hang laughed. “Let him bring it. If you don’t let him spend a bit of money, he’ll be so repressed that he’ll make you a custom-polished rock every day.”

Dad laughed a little, then leaned against the sofa. “I’ll go out in the afternoon…”

Yan Hang was just about to take the plate back to the kitchen; upon hearing this, he paused and turned to look at Dad.

“Just to look around. I’m telling you so you don’t have to buy groceries today. I’ll bring them back when I come home,” Dad said.

“Mm,” Yan Hang answered, then went to the kitchen.

This was the first time Dad told him before leaving, even mentioning when he would return.

Yet Yan Hang didn’t feel as secure as he’d expected to. Instead, he was somewhat fretful.

With his palms on the countertop, he bowed his head, unable to calm down for the longest time.

He took a cigarette from his pocket. When he was looking for the lighter, Dad suddenly reached over from next to him, sparking a light for him.

Yan Hang leaned over to light his cigarette. He turned and looked at Dad. “When do we leave?”

Dad looked back at him and fell silent for a moment, then laughed. “This time, you decide.”

Yan Hang didn’t speak. He looked out the window with the cigarette in his mouth.

Today, Yan Hang ran to work to calm himself down. He was worried that otherwise, if he met a troublesome customer, he might beat them up.

There were many customers on the weekend. Not long after he changed his clothes, several tables of people came in, leaving him without a break till noon.

Very busy, he could temporarily set aside his emotions.

It was just that he didn’t have much of an appetite at noon; after having a glass of milk, he just sat there listening to his colleagues chat as they ate.

His phone vibrated. Chu Yi had sent a text.

He opened it and took one look.

It was a photo. Chu Yi stood before a sandbag, his face serious as he took a fighting stance. It made Yan Hang laugh.

[where did my dad take you wilding?]

[A boxing gym!]

Yan Hang could even feel Chu Yi’s excitement overflowing from that exclamation mark.

Dad would occasionally go to boxing gyms. Where there were no boxing gyms, he would go to a regular gym and train till he was completely spent before returning.

He used to think that Dad just liked this sort of thing. Now that he thought about it, perhaps most of the pain that Dad suppressed within him had to be let out through this sort of great exercise.

[has he taught you any good tricks?]

Yan Hang replied to Chu Yi.

[He taught me how to punch, and how to block punches]

[He’ll be teaching me to use my legs in a bit]

[Uncle Yan is amazing!]

Chu Yi texted three times in one go. Typing on the phone was far smoother than talking for him.

“Train properly then. Give me a show tonight,” Yan Hang laughed as he sent a voice message.

[I’m scared I’ll hurt you]

Yan Hang looked at this text, bent his head, and laughed for a while. “You’re much better at bragging than at talking. If you manage to so much as land a punch on me, that’ll count as me losing.”

This time, Chu Yi didn’t say anything, just sending a little emoji.

[:strong:]

Yan Hang replied with an emoji too.

[:applause:]

In the afternoon, one of his coworkers wanted to swap shifts with him. Yan Hang agreed and finished work early.

It made no real difference to him which day he worked and which day he rested. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, this day, that day, any random day.

When he reached home, nobody was there. He sat blankly on the sofa for a while, then took the little red cord on top of the telly back to his room and put it in one of the compartments of his luggage case.

There were other things in this compartment: half of a broken bracelet and a Gomoku sheet he had played with Dad, filled with circles and dots.

After lying in bed and playing with his phone for a while, he sent a text to Chu Yi, asking where the boxing gym was.

Chu Yi sent him the location very quickly. Before he had even looked at it, Chu Yi called him directly. “Are you d-done with work?”

“I exchanged shifts with someone,” said Yan Hang. “I’ll go over to hang out with you guys.”

“You’re taking p-public, transport…” Chu Yi panted slightly; he was probably in the middle of an exciting round of training.

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“I’ll hail a ride,” said Yan Hang. “Train while you can. When I get there in a bit, you’ll be done for.”

Chu Yi laughed. “Spare me, good sir.”

“You don’t stutter when you’re begging for mercy?” Yan Hang walked out the door.

“I’m scared if I s-stutter I’ll be f-flattened before I f-finish speaking,” said Chu Yi.

Sitting in the car, Yan Hang crossed his leg in the back seat, his finger gently bouncing against the little rock on his ankle the whole time.

He really liked Chu Yi. It wasn’t quite related to whether he’d had “friends” before. He just found Chu Yi really interesting. A lot of the time, after chatting with Chu Yi for a while, his emotional state would subconsciously relax.

But after he saw Chu Yi’s father’s expression change yesterday, whenever he thought of Chu Yi, or saw Chu Yi, his heart grew anxious.

This sort of anxiety followed his heartbeats. The moment he got up, it seemed to pump like blood out of his heart.

“Da-ge,” Yan Hang looked at the driver, “is it okay if I smoke?”

“Sure, go ahead,” said the driver. “Just open the window a little.”

“Thanks.” Yan Hang lit a cigarette.

For the past few days, he’d been smoking rather heavily. If this was back then, Dad would say something for sure. He sighed softly and looked out the window at the street that was just as unfamiliar to him now as it ever was.

When he reached the boxing gym, Chu Yi was just kicking a sandbag, completely focussed; he didn’t even notice when Yan Hang walked over and stood next to the sandbag.

When he lifted his leg, Yan Hang took one aggressive step forward and thrust his right hand into the crook of his leg, then grabbed his chin with his left hand and brought it backwards. Chu Yi immediately lost his balance and fell backwards onto the mattress.

Before he could get up, Yan Hang had already crouched down, using his finger to poke his forehead. “Bang.”

Chu Yi’s first reaction upon realising who it was was to stare blankly. Then he very cooperatively flopped his hands and feet onto the floor. “…ah!”

“You haven’t shouted ‘spare me, good sir’ though?” said Yan Hang.

“Are you s-stupid? You already s-shot me through the h-head,” said Chu Yi.

“Damn.” Yan Hang laughed, then flicked him with a finger. “Get up.”

Chu Yi sat on the mattress and looked at Dad, who was laughing next to them. “Uncle, this g-gap is too w-wide.”

“It’s a ten-year gap.” Dad handed Chu Yi a bottle of water, then sat by him. “Your goal right now is self-defence. Keep practising. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to use your elbows too.”

Chu Yi nodded. He rose and continued to kick the sandbag, still glancing at Yan Hang every two kicks.
Yan Hang pulled his phone out and took a series of continuous shots of him, then chose a few where his posture was pretty and posted them on Weibo.

“You switched shifts with someone?” Dad asked from next to him.

“Mhm.” Yan Hang grinned when he saw a whole load of comments appear within a blink of an eye, then lifted his head to look at Chu Yi. “He looks pretty capable to me?”

“He’s very well coordinated, and he learns really fast too,” said Dad. “From now on, he can practise by himself when he has nothing else to do. At least he wouldn’t be bullied so badly anymore.”

Yan Hang smiled.

The few little tricks that Dad taught Chu Yi were all very simple, but as long as he used them at the right moment, they were all very useful tricks.

Neat little tricks that combined self-defence, attack, and style.

Yan Hang sat on a chair beside them, looking at Chu Yi as he stood in front of the sandbag training seriously, along with Dad who occasionally went over to correct his posture.

For one vague moment, Yan Hang felt content.

An idle afternoon, a dad who hadn’t disappeared, and an interesting friend.

A foreign sense of contentment, like a bundle fluffed up by sunshine.

A sense of contentment that, despite knowing exactly how temporary it was, he carefully indulged himself within.

Dad said he wouldn’t be leaving for a while, and he really didn’t leave, except to go out and walk around sometimes.

Yan Hang didn’t know where he went walking, but he would be back before dinner every time.
This was the situation Yan Hang had always wanted in the past.

No leaving without goodbye, no disappearing for days at a time. They were like the most normal father-and-son pair living in any random apartment in a little area on a street in any old city.

The most normal sort, the sort there were thousands – ten thousands of, under the sun.

Doing the most normal jobs, without desires too high, ambitions too far off, with a friend or two, maybe lonely at times, but a loneliness that could be dissipated with a glass of wine.

Yet he and Dad both knew that this was just an illusion, so false he had no way of ignoring it, no way of pretending he didn’t care.

Dad seemed to be going through a procedure.

To show that he could do as he said he would—or perhaps he said it because he could do it.

Those doubts that were repressed within Yan Hang’s heart seemed to have been fertilised: they thrived more and more.

There were many times he would look at Dad with all his questions lined up within his mouth, as if they were waiting for a chance to burst out, to surge forth without a care for the consequences.

Today was Wednesday. Yan Hang had the day off. He lay in bed with an English edition of Game of Thrones, chewing over it slowly, bit by bit; part of his mind was also mulling over the afternoon menu.

Chu Yi was coming over to eat at noon. His reason for not going home to eat lately was that the end-of-term exams were coming soon and he had to study in class. Because his results were absolutely shit in the mid-term exams, when he suggested studying on his own initiative, nobody minded him.

Chu Yi liked to eat pizza. He had time today; he could make the dough himself.

Seafood pizza?

Fruit pizza?

A phone rang out. Yan Hang grabbed his phone casually; only after a glance did he realise that the screen was black—there was no call, and the ringtone wasn’t his either.

This was a somewhat unfamiliar ringtone. It was Dad’s phone.

It was Dad’s phone, the one that never rang in ten thousand years.

Yan Hang sat up violently. He leapt down the bed and ran to the door. As he was reaching out to open it, he stopped again.

Dad had picked up the phone.

It wasn’t a promotional call or an ad. Dad picked up the phone.

And after this, he heard Dad talking. So it wasn’t a scam call either.

The hand Yan Hang had placed against the door was trembling slightly. In these short seconds, his back had already begun growing numb from anxiety and insecurity.

He couldn’t tell what Dad was saying, nor did he dare to open the door and listen.

He froze behind the door just like that, a layer of wood between them. His body was so stiff that even breathing was somewhat difficult.

He didn’t know how much time passed, or even when Dad hung up. Only when the lighter clicked outside did he come to.

Staring at the door handle for a moment, he extended his hand and opened the door, then walked into the living room.

Dad was standing at the door, prepared to change his shoes.

In this moment, Yan Hang felt his hands and feet go cold as ice. A panic he had never felt before enveloped him instantly.

“Where are you going,” he said.

Dad paused and turned to look at him. “I’m going… to walk around.”

“Walk around where?” Yan Hang asked. “For how long?”

Dad didn’t speak.

“Whose call was it?” Yan Hang continued asking. “What did they want with you?”

Dad turned, sighed, and walked over to him.

“What are you going to do?” Yan Hang looked at him.

“Oh Hang…” Dad patted his face gently, but didn’t say anything else after that.

After staring at him for some time, Dad turned and walked to the door.

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