Chapter 7: 7

When Yan Hang brought his phone over and put it at the foot of the tree the other day, Chu Yi had already guessed that he was broadcasting a live stream. But it was only today that he discovered what a listless broadcast it was.

It was so laid back that he just started it whenever he felt like it, and stopped without a word of warning.

He didn’t even show his face; when his face might be exposed, he would wear a mask.

No wonder nobody watched it.

If Yan Hang would reveal his face, he’d definitely have a lot of female viewers like Chu Yi’s deskmate, all sending him gifts. But Chu Yi rather liked these kinds of listless live streams.

It made him feel like he was experiencing a different life. Maybe just as ordinary, maybe extremely mundane, but… different from his.

Worthwhile.

Even if he hadn’t seen many live streams before.

His ancient phone couldn’t support the newfangled technology of live streams – whenever he tried to join one, it would freeze as if it was using 2G, and then hang until he took the battery out entirely.

He wanted to see more of Yan Hang’s broadcast today, but there wasn’t enough time for that since he was only out to buy oil.

Mum never bought cooking oil from the supermarket. She would go to the wet market and buy the ones filled by the barrel there, since they were cheaper.

The wet market was a bit further away, so he had more time, but then he’d looked for the pen and hung around Yan Hang for a while. If he didn’t run to the wet market now, he’d exceed the allotted time.

Mum wouldn’t hit him, but he didn’t want to face her cold-faced reproaches.

“Getting oil?” Yan Hang looked at him. “Can’t you just go to one of the supermarkets?”

“Costs more,” Chu Yi replied.

“So you’re going to the market?” asked Yan Hang.

Chu Yi nodded.

“Go, then.” Yan Hang glanced at the time.

Chu Yi stood and looked at him. He felt like saying something more, but simply stared, unable to find the words.

“Hm?” Yan Hang was probably bewildered by his stare. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost another pen in the river.”

“No.” Chu Yi laughed and turned to run down the road.

The pen was from Auntie. He had never dared to use it. Mum would bring pens back from the water stand, in blue and red and black, so he would use one of those.

He’d kept this pen hidden away all this time. If it hadn’t been for thanking Yan Hang, he would have forgotten all about it, the same way he might forget the phone in the future.

In his experience, things you couldn’t have were best forgotten, or else it would hurt to think of them.

Chu Yi sprinted madly towards the wet market. Usually he would feel quite tired running like this, but this time it didn’t feel too far away.

Probably because he’d handed the pen over.

He didn’t have many chances to give presents to people. His classmates never invited him to birthday parties and the like, and as for his parents… well, he did give them something, once.

When he was in primary school, he had saved up his pocket money for a long time, even picking up plastic bottles to sell so that he could buy Mum a scarf, hoping she would be a bit happy.

The same way he became happy whenever Auntie gave him a present.
But Mum never expressed any such emotion.

Eventually, Nana brought him and the scarf back to the shop, made a scene, and returned the scarf. Nana bought cigarettes with the money. When they got home, Mum didn’t get the money back, so she fought with Nana.

Since then he never thought about giving presents to anyone again.

Even now, it had taken him ages to decide to give Yan Hang a gift.

That Li Zihao had thrown it away and that he had to search through the muddy trash for it was inconsequential to him. What worried him the most was that Yan Hang might not want it.

But Yan Hang took it. Even though he saw it come out of the muck with his own two eyes; even though it wasn’t washed, just wiped down with a bit of tissue.

Chu Yi smiled.

Yan Hang was a good person.

Once he bought the oil his mother wanted from the market, Chu Yi ran back carrying it.

When he ran past Yan Hang’s place, he looked over. Yan Hang’s living room window faced the street, separated by a flowerbed and three trees. The curtain was down.

Perhaps Yan Hang hadn’t yet returned.

Chu Yi slowed down. The oil was heavy. Running wore him out.
Mum didn’t call to harangue him, meaning he was still within the time limit… but when he turned down the road and saw his block, he understood why she hadn’t called.

She probably couldn’t care less right now.

From a distance he heard Nana’s voice.

Her cursing was full of vigour. Chu Yi couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could guess.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. His steps slowed.

He walked slowly along the wall. In his heart he prayed: hurry and finish yelling, let it end quickly, let it end before I reach the bottom steps.
But just as his tree-hollow wishes never came true, his prayers had never been answered either.

And today, hope and reality were eighteen thousand miles apart.

Nana wasn’t at the stairs. She was by the road.

She had taken her top off. He could see her pale skin through the onlooking crowd, where she stood half-naked with her arms akimbo.

Chu Yi stopped and leaned against the wall.

But he failed to avoid the onlookers.

“Chu Yi!” Someone called his name with a laugh. “Aren’t you coming to take your grandmother home?”

“If you don’t hurry, her pants will come off too!” laughed another.

Chu Yi lowered his head wordlessly.

He didn’t know what was with Nana today, and who she was fighting with this time. All he knew was that in the eyes of his neighbours, scenes like this one were comedic plays put on every few months.

Everyone knew that Nana was a nutcase who would rip her clothes off and fight whenever, wherever.

Whenever, wherever, including at school.

When Yan Hang walked in, Dad asked, “What’s that smell?”

“…you can smell it?” Yan Hang raised his foot and checked the treads.

“Yeah,” Dad said. “Did you wrestle someone in a sewage tank?”

“It’s almost time to eat, don’t spoil my appetite.” Yan Hang took off his shoes and put them in the bin by the door. He’d seen an old man come by and go through the rubbish twice a day.

“A working man is full of swagger,” Dad said.

“I lost my job.” Yan Hang entered the kitchen and washed his hands. As he came back out, he pulled the pen out of his pocket and sniffed it, then turned back to wash the pen twice.

“No pay for a day’s work?” Dad didn’t ask how he lost his job.

“Would you bother with a day’s pay? It can’t even buy a bowl of noodles.” Yan Hang sat and gazed down at the pen in his hand.

It was a silver Parker pen: still very refined, old-fashioned as it looked.

As a pen, Yan Hang didn’t have much interest in it. He did not often use pens – since he’d only gone to primary school, he usually preferred pencils.

But as a gift, it was quite another matter.

“What’s that?” Dad asked.

“You can’t tell by looking at it?” Yan Hang waved the pen in front of him.

“Even if I can, I don’t believe my eyes.” Dad lit a cigarette.

“Someone gave it to me,” said Yan Hang.

“Gave?” Dad was slightly surprised. “That kid you mentioned?”

“Yeah.” Yan Hang nodded. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Pizza,” said Dad.

Yan Hang gave him a look.

“The oven in the kitchen works, so I bought ingredients.” Dad pointed at the freezer. “I wanted to ask you to make it for dinner, but since you’ve lost your job, we might as well have it for lunch.”

Yan Hang got up and opened the freezer. The pizza crust, cheese, and sauces were all prepared.

“Fine,” said Yan Hang, “I’ll go get some green peppers and bacon and whatnot.”

“Get some red wine too,” Dad added.

“To celebrate losing my job?”

“To celebrate meeting a friend and getting a gift,” Dad said happily.

Yan Hang didn’t speak. He opened the door and left.

He did get a gift.

But a friend?

Chu Yi?

Yan Hang was hazy on the concept of friendship. He wasn’t too sure what sort of relationship, and how deep it had to be to be considered friendship.
But Chu Yi probably couldn’t be considered a friend.

They’d never spoken more than a few words to each other. Friends should at least be able to make conversation, right? If he had to chat with Chu Yi he would probably suffocate.

Down the road and to the left was a supermarket. Yan Hang had been buying vegetables there for the past few days. They were well-stocked and inexpensive, so most residents shopped here. It seemed that everyone had similar incomes, so he couldn’t really understand why Chu Yi’s mother made him go to the wet market for oil.
Yet Chu Yi was so obedient, running to the wet market to get a big barrel of oil…

It really was a huge barrel.

Yan Hang stood at the supermarket entrance and watched the approaching Chu Yi, along with the oil barrel in Chu Yi’s arms that was about the size of a water cooler.

But Chu Yi was clearly walking in the opposite direction of home.
Yan Hang didn’t move. He watched Chu Yi walk over, head bowed as if somewhat depressed – frowning in a way he never normally looked even when he was bullied.

Chu Yi didn’t see him, only walking forward with his head down. When he passed by, Yan Hang couldn’t resist reaching out to flick him on the head.

“Oi.”

Chu Yi turned.

“Weren’t you going home?” Yan Hang said.

“I’m t-taking a walk, first,” said Chu Yi.

“With your oil?” asked Yan Hang.

“Mhm.” Chu Yi nodded. “Good e-exercise.”

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Sometimes Yan Hang really didn’t understand how Chu Yi could still be so cheeky when he was clearly in a low mood.

“Is someone blocking your way?” asked Yan Hang.

“No,” Chu Yi said, shaking his head. “Sunday’s their d-day of r-rest.”

“Well, walk on then.” Yan Hang didn’t know what else to say. He turned and walked into the supermarket.

There were quite a few people in the supermarket. Amidst the crowd, Yan Hang reached in and grabbed some green peppers, along with a pack of seaweed.

At the freezer section, while searching for bacon, he suddenly noticed Chu Yi with his 800g barrel of oil, following behind him.

“Fucking hell,” Yan Hang said with a start. “What are you doing?”

“Walking,” said Chu Yi.

“Shouldn’t you put that thing in a locker?” Yan Hang looked at the oil barrel in his hands. “They sell oil here too, they might not let you out with it.”

“Mine’s unl-labelled.” Chu Yi turned the barrel around. There was no brand or label on it at all. “It’s fine.”

Yan Hang sighed and grabbed a wheelie shopping basket from the corner.

“Chuck it here. I’m tired just looking at you.”

Chu Yi placed the barrel in the basket and dragged it as he followed Yan Hang from an adequate distance.

After grabbing the red wine, Yan Hang continued looking for bacon. He would have to get a substitute, maybe sausages or saveloy or smoked ham, if there was no bacon.

Chu Yi must’ve gotten into some trouble, but Yan Hang didn’t have a habit of interrogating. If he asked twice and still got no response, he would stop asking; if it was Dad, he wouldn’t even ask once.

Done shopping, he looked at Chu Yi as they left the shop. Chu Yi had stopped following Yan Hang and was walking ahead, oil barrel in his arms, though it seemed he didn’t have any intention of heading home.

“Chu Yi,” Yan Hang called out.

Chu Yi turned around.

“Have you eaten?” Yan Hang asked rather pointlessly.

“I’ll d-drink some oil in a m-minute,” said Chu Yi.

“Come drink it at my place,” said Yan Hang. “I’ll get you a cup.”

“Is it c-convenient?” asked Chu Yi.

Yan Hang noticed that Chu Yi could be quite direct sometimes. At this time he didn’t even demur.

Good.

Dad was a bit surprised to see him come home from grocery shopping with someone lugging a barrel of oil in tow.

“Chu Yi,” said Yan Hang, by way of introduction, “is the kid who gave me the pen. I asked him over for lunch.”

“Welcome, welcome, I’m Yan Jidao’s father, Yan Shu.” Dad extended a warm hand to Chu Yi. “How kind of you to bring… oil?”

Chu Yi stood stunned for a moment before shaking his hand. “Hello, Sir.”

“He bought the oil to bring back home,” said Yan Hang. “Chu Yi, come give me a hand.”

There wasn’t much to help with. He was just worried that Chu Yi would be unaccustomed to Mr. Yan Shu’s nonsense.

“Okay.” Chu Yi immediately set down the oil barrel and changed into slippers, arranging the mess of shoes on the floor while he was at it.

Yan Hang glanced at his father, to see him looking back: Chu Yi’s behaviour had clearly astonished him.

“Let’s livestream it.” Yan Hang brought the phone stand to the counter and put his mask on.

“Will a-anyone watch?” asked Chu Yi.

”Can’t you let that go?”” Yan Hang gave him a look.

“I already have,” said Chu Yi instantly.

Yan Hang ignored him and adjusted his phone to face the ingredients on the countertop.

Chu Yi watched his hands.

Once viewers started entering the stream, the screen was filled with “haaaandssssssssss”.

Yan Hang’s hands were very beautiful, especially when they were moving.
Washing the peppers, opening the sausage packaging, holding the knife…
Chu Yi watched in a trance. It wasn’t just Yan Hang’s hands, but his knife skills.

The green peppers were julienned masterfully, the sausages diced. Every movement was as smooth as water, without an ounce of unnecessary hesitation.

Many comments flashed across the screen. Chu Yi glanced across it.

[Xiao Tian Gege, don’t be so cool, tell us the steps + guide us a little]
[the silent cooking series]
[the sudden-closing-livestream series]
[I see someone else tho?]
[me too]
[somebodys there]

Chu Yi backed away hurriedly.

Yan Hang looked at him. He reached for the phone and angled it towards Chu Yi. “It’s this guy.”

[mr handsome]
[cooking together!!!!]
[hmm makes me think of smth else iykwim…]

Without waiting for Chu Yi to change his startled expression, Yan Hang put his phone back and continued to handle the ingredients. “Bring me the baking tray.”

Chu Yi quickly passed the baking tray over.

“It’s a pre-made dough, there’s nothing much to do,” said Yan Hang.

“Whatever you want to eat, just cut it up and spread it on top, cover it with shredded cheese, then bake it.”

Yan Hang put the tray in the oven and set the timer. “You can eat it about as soon as it’s done.”

Chu Yi hadn’t regained his senses before he exited the livestream.
“D-done?” asked Chu Yi.

“Not yet, one more.” Yan Hang turned and continued to busy himself. “It’s the same thing again, so I won’t livestream it.”

“Nobody’s watching anyway,” Dad said as he walked over and leaned against the kitchen door. “Xingtian, the most unpopular cooking show in human history; even his fans can’t be bothered to send him gifts.”

“Says who.” Yan Hang sliced the bell peppers as he spoke. “Someone just sent me some points.”

“Why?” Dad said. “Did their hand slip?”

Yan Hang glanced at Chu Yi. “Probably ‘cause… Chu Yi showed his face.”

This sent Dad into a long fit of laughter. “But they sent it to Chu Yi.”

“Get out and wait for lunch,” sighed Yan Hang.

Dad laughed as he returned to the living room and continued to watch the local news.

“Do you w-want it?” Chu Yi asked softly, as if embarrassed.

“Want what?” Yan Hang said, blank.

“Face,” said Chu Yi. [1]

[1] To “not want face” = to be shameless; to “want face” = to have shame.

“Do you want me to dice you up as well?” said Yan Hang in shock.

“My,” Chu Yi pointed at himself, “face.”

“Hold up.” Yan Hang put down his knife and placed his hands on the counter. “Give me a moment to figure it out.”

“If you w-want gifts,” Chu Yi explained, “you can…”

“I get it,” Yan Hang cut him off. He stared wordlessly at Chu Yi for a long while. Only after he had placed the second pizza in the oven did he say, “You’re not trying to pay me back, are you?”

Chu Yi looked but didn’t speak.

“You…” Yan Hang was about to continue when Chu Yi broke in.

“No,” Chu Yi said.

“Then what?” asked Yan Hang.

“You don’t get g-gifts,” murmured Chu Yi, “it’s so sad.”

“…piss off!” said Yan Hang, laughing. “Fuck.”

Chu Yi leaned against the wall and watched the oven with Yan Hang.

He couldn’t say whether it was out of gratitude, or purely because he wanted to show how he felt.

For Yan Hang, some of these things weren’t done with any special intent — it was just whatever to him. But for Chu Yi, it felt very different.

These were feelings he didn’t dare to admit. He was afraid that Yan Hang might find them weird, or think that Chu Yi wanted his protection.

He didn’t need any protection. He just wanted someone to treat him like a normal person.

Yan Hang gave him that. He didn’t know how long it would last, but he treasured it anyway.

When the pizzas were done, Yan Hang made soup. Chu Yi quickly cleared the table in the living room and brought the pizzas and soup out, then dashed back and set the table.

Chu Yi’s observational skills surprised Yan Hang. Chu Yi didn’t ask where anything was, as if he wasn’t paying any special attention to these things, but even before Yan Hang spoke he had already finished preparing everything.

Yan Hang didn’t know how to describe the way he felt. All these years following Dad meant that, though he had no friends, he had seen many people and was sensitive to many things.

Chu Yi was visibly different from anything he’d seen before. He felt as if Chu Yi was trying very carefully not to make any mistakes, as if satisfying everyone was both a serious endeavour and second nature to him.

“Do you drink, Chu Yi?” Mr. Yan opened the bottle of red wine.

“N-no,” said Chu Yi.

“You can try a little.” Mr. Yan poured a drop for him. “Just to taste.”

“Mhm.” Chu Yi smiled.

Aside from visiting relatives during the Lunar New Year, he had no memories of ever eating at a friend or classmate’s house.

As for things like helping out in the kitchen, then sitting at the table and chatting while eating, they were completely foreign to him. Chu Yi took a bite of his pizza with great relish.

“You live close by?” asked Mr. Yan.

“Mhm.” Chu Yi nodded. “D-down the road, southward.”

“I must’ve passed by today, then.” Mr. Yan suddenly laughed, as if a thought just occurred to him. He nudged Yan Hang with his elbow. “I saw a half-naked grandma there arguing with someone when I was coming back at noon. What a tough lady! I felt so much second-hand embarrassment I couldn’t even watch the show.”

“Huh?” Yan Hang stared in shock.

The pizza in Chu Yi’s hand trembled.

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