Wu Qian and Ke Qin did not pressure Ke Bu any further. They merely gave him a choice. Ke Bu lay with both hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He was calmer than he had imagined. There was no outlet through which he could vent. It was as though an explosion had blasted a crater inside his heart, destroying every nerve capable of emotion. He could not feel sadness, pain, or anything at all.
He woke earlier than usual that morning and sat on the bed, watching the world outside the window as the contents of his dream gradually faded from memory. The scenery outside had not changed, nor had the people within it. The only things that had changed were those invisible to everyone else. After sitting in the same position for a while, he walked barefoot into the living room. Ke Qin sat on the sofa watching television, while faint sounds came from the kitchen. Wu Qian hummed softly and poked her head out. “Hurry and wash your face and brush your teeth. Breakfast is almost ready. I made your favorite.”
Ke Bu tilted his head and stared blankly, as though he had returned to his childhood. It was as if heaven had suddenly taken the final image of family deeply imprinted in his memory and placed it before him. It was so familiar that it seemed unreal. He could not describe what he felt, yet he helplessly allowed himself to sink into it like opium.
He ate a great deal throughout the day, filling his stomach until it was round. Although Ke Qin repeatedly tried to read something from his expression, Ke Bu looked almost exactly as he normally did. There was no joyous excitement at regaining something, nor any heart-rending grief at losing something. This left both of them confused.
The darkness of night spread across the sky and gradually pressed downward, suffocating the city until only a faint sliver of moonlight remained, struggling for breath. Ke Bu lay on his side in bed, one hand rubbing his overstuffed stomach while the other held his phone. He lightly tapped the keys.
“Zhi Li, I’m hungry.”
When no reply came, he sent another message.
“Zhi Li, I’m hungry.”
“Zhi Li, I’m hungry.”
For some reason, whenever no response arrived, he mechanically sent the same message every five minutes. He forgot how long he had continued and how many messages he had sent. At last, the screen flashed in the darkness and the phone vibrated against his palm. Ke Bu answered and placed it beside his ear.
“Don’t force me to install a firewall on my phone.”
“I’m not a virus.”
“There isn’t much difference between you.”
“…………”
Neither of them had much interest in continuing the argument. Ke Bu rolled over on the bed. “I’m hungry, Zhi Li. I’m genuinely hungry. I’m not lying.”
There was a pause on the other end. Finally, Zhi Li’s faint voice came through the receiver. “Then come downstairs.”
The phone slipped from Ke Bu’s cheek. He tumbled from the bed onto the floor, but paid no attention to the pain. He scrambled up and pushed open the second-floor window. Zhi Li’s figure blended into the darkness so completely that even the orange streetlight could not illuminate his outline. He leaned beneath the lamp, holding a takeout bag in one hand while slipping his phone back into his trouser pocket with the other. He turned his face slightly and looked toward the house.
Something inside Ke Bu’s heart was plucked with tremendous force, and his face grew faintly warm. He flung open the front door and ran outside, ignoring Ke Qin and Wu Qian’s astonished gazes. He ran all the way to Zhi Li without stopping. Panting, he braced both hands on his knees and raised his head, trying to see Zhi Li’s blurred face. All he could make out was the warm halo of the streetlight behind him.
Ke Bu snatched the bag from Zhi Li’s hand. “You took far too long to deliver it.”
“It would’ve been faster to burn it as an offering for you.”
“Peh, peh!”
Zhi Li lifted Ke Bu’s chin with his index finger, exposing his face beneath the light. The smile there concealed something false. Zhi Li released him and began walking forward. “Is there anything I need to know?”
Ke Bu tore open the sandwich wrapper with his teeth, took a bite, and followed behind him. “Yes. A lot.”
They walked along the pavement beside the road as cars roared past. The city had not fallen asleep. Darkness began savagely tearing at civilization and pretense like a person with a fractured mind. The corruption of clinking glasses, women’s flattering and seductive laughter, young people with unfocused minds—all of it took turns appearing onstage. Night endlessly overturned and mocked the day.
Ke Bu quickly finished eating and threw the wrapper into a rubbish bin. In a relaxed tone, he began, “My parents know about us.” A smile remained in his voice. “Isn’t it ridiculous? They actually said that if I agreed to leave you, they would remarry and pretend none of this had ever happened.”
“And then?” Zhi Li’s voice sounded different from usual.
Ke Bu shrugged indifferently. “What do you mean, ‘and then’? They truly don’t understand anything. Whatever happens, I always listen to you. So I know you definitely won’t agree. They’re simply wasting their time.”
Zhi Li stopped walking, but Ke Bu continued forward and passed him. A car at the side of the road was blocking traffic, and the vehicles behind it repeatedly sounded their horns. One driver leaned out of his window and shouted curses. The noise tore through the silence between them and nearly drowned out Zhi Li’s voice, yet Ke Bu still heard every word clearly.
“What if I say I agree?”
The question made Ke Bu whirl around in panic, unable to believe what he had heard.
“What did you say? You fucking want to abandon me over this stupid mess? Is that all you’re capable of? Don’t give me that bullshit about doing it for my own good. You’re fucking—” Ke Bu raged like a lion ready to bite.
Zhi Li slowly approached him. His face finally emerged beneath the light, and the sight sent a chill through Ke Bu. There was not the slightest expression or emotion upon it. The darkness inside his eyes seemed ready to devour the entire world at any moment. Ke Bu instinctively stepped backward.
“What? Finished cursing?” The corner of Zhi Li’s mouth curved with bitter self-mockery. “Don’t worry. I would never say I was doing this for your own good. Ke Bu, I truly trained you far too well.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You don’t understand? Impressive. Do you want me to praise you? You listen to me? When the fuck have you ever listened to me about this? You refuse to make the decision yourself, so you want me to make it for you. Are you trying to push it onto me? Every time you look back on this matter with regret and sorrow, do you intend to blame all of it on me? Then you can accuse me and resent me for making the choice on your behalf while keeping yourself entirely outside it. You really are cruel, forcing me to carry something heavy enough to crush anything beneath it.”
“That isn’t it. It isn’t like that.” Ke Bu shook his head desperately, denying it, yet deep inside was the panic of having been seen through. The reason he had felt no pressure despite being so afraid was that he had decided to push the choice onto Zhi Li.
Zhi Li seized his wrist with a grip so tight that Ke Bu could not break free. “You must make this decision yourself. Which side you choose is your responsibility. Only after you choose does it become mine. Understand me clearly!”
Ke Bu remained silent with his brows drawn together. Zhi Li tightened his grip, his voice becoming an almost furious growl. “I’m talking to you!”
After a long while, Ke Bu bit his lower lip and nodded. Zhi Li looked at him coldly, flung his hand aside, and disappeared alone into the darkness, abandoning Ke Bu where he stood.
Ke Bu stared in the direction where he had vanished. Every nerve inside his body gradually returned to life. He understood that his behavior had hurt Zhi Li, and he understood that he had brought this upon himself. His stomach ached violently, while agony like fire raced through his body and blood. Clutching his abdomen, he staggered several steps before crouching down and covering his face. Liquid fell through the gaps between his fingers and landed on his canvas shoes. It hurt. The unstoppable pain tore broken cries from Ke Bu’s throat.
He could not bring himself to choose because he could not bear to lose either side.
Neither of them was kind enough. What they had once taken pride in had now become the flaw with which they tormented each other.
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