The drive from the distant suburban town back into the city took a little over two hours. For people like them, who spent years behind the wheel, it was familiar territory and hardly an exhausting chore. They could even take detours and choose expressway entrances with fewer cars and people, avoiding the overloaded freight trucks that barreled recklessly along the road. This time they did not encounter any road bullies arrogantly changing lanes, any miraculous spectacle involving live cattle unloaded onto the expressway and running everywhere, or anyone following them.
That afternoon, Yan Xiaodao was called into the company to sign documents. With Master Qi away, nearly everything requiring a signature now passed through his hands. The following day, one of the junior managers at a port subsidiary hauled him over to rescue them from another mess. A supposedly friendly company separated from them by only one wall had taken over part of their fire-access lane with unloaded containers and stockpiled goods. They had occupied Yan’s company’s territory and even planted their own company flag there, then continued nibbling farther into Yan’s side month after month. A fire-department official had brought personnel over for the routine beginning-of-year inspection, while the junior managers from both sides were arguing at the docks and the fire-department official stood between them trying to smooth things over.
Yan Xiaodao was irritated too. This pack of shortsighted idiots never spent their days thinking about legitimate ways to make money; all they did was manufacture stupid trouble! Wearing a suit with his sleeves rolled up, he argued beneath the sun for nearly an hour until his mouth was dry. The gang of shameless bastards opposite him said they could not move the goods. If Yan wanted them moved so badly, he could move them himself.
Yan Xiaodao thought this neighboring “ally” had grown increasingly overbearing in the market recently. They used to be stingy and slippery little schemers. Had they changed bosses and shareholders now? He turned and signaled to his junior manager with his eyes. The man nervously leaned close and reported, “Mr. Yan, they’ve been fucking arrogant lately. They latched onto one hell of a powerful thigh. I heard ‘Mr. Liang’ has already taken an internal stake and is preparing to acquire them. It hasn’t been announced publicly yet. All these people are new hires, and they’re cocky as hell.”
The moment Yan Xiaodao heard that, he pointed at the other junior manager. “Fuck me. You even dare take a bite out of your big brother-in-law’s territory? Think you can swallow me?”
While the other manager stared at him in utter confusion, Yan Xiaodao pulled out his phone. “Liang Youhui, when the hell are you getting here? Young Crown Prince, this is the business trip you came for, isn’t it? Hurry your ass up. I’m standing right here at the docks waiting to entertain you!”
One crisp phone call from Mr. Yan resolved the entire argument. In the end, a leader from the neighboring company came running over with bows and smiles to escort the “big brother-in-law” all the way back to his company car. They even arranged to take the fire-department official to dinner another day and toast Mr. Yan in apology, instantly becoming so chummy they might as well have been one family.
Yan Xiaodao thought his temper had genuinely grown much smoother and more reasonable over the years. If he had still been twenty, this would not have been how he handled things. Back then, he would have squatted at the docks in a tight white undershirt and black trousers with a knife at his waist and laid down the terms with the other side. “You know that company at Linwan Port that blew up a few months ago? Take a look at how much your cargo’s worth. Want to blow yours up too and see what kind of fireworks it makes?”
He absolutely would not handle things that way now. His desire to compete viciously and prove himself through violence had faded, partly because he was older. In the blink of an eye he was nearly thirty. Late at night, lying alone in bed while idly petting Master Bear, he sometimes wondered whether the rest of his life would simply continue like this—wandering through it alone.
No, that was wrong. Ever since Master Bear married Third Lady, he did not even come over to be petted anymore. He had long since abandoned Yan Xiaodao, that confirmed bachelor of ten thousand years, to spend every night rolling around affectionately in the dog bed with his wife. Yan had grown used to solitude, but sometimes he genuinely wished that whenever he came home at night, there would always be one warm yellow lamp left burning for him and somebody waiting inside the house.
Mr. Yan generally did not need a company car or driver. He was the sort of approachable, down-to-earth boss who preferred handling things himself. Today he had only put on the airs of a vice president because he had gone to the docks to quarrel with the neighboring company, so one of the company drivers was driving him.
He very quickly realized he would have been better off driving himself.
As they left the expressway and prepared to enter the city, Yan Xiaodao glanced calmly at the rearview mirror. “Xiao Li, get into the lane marked for a right turn. Slow down. Right—but don’t turn right. Turn left. Quickly. Accelerate through it.”
The driver was a proper company chauffeur accustomed to driving smoothly and steadily for executives. Even one hard bump that jarred the boss could cost a man his livelihood. When had he ever learned to drive like a lunatic? A few instructions from Mr. Yan were enough to confuse him completely, and he had no idea what his boss was trying to accomplish.
Yan Xiaodao’s right hand rested leisurely on his thigh, tapping rapidly through piano fingering without him even realizing it. Over and over, his fingers played the most exuberant, climactic measures of Carmen Overture.
“Don’t go back to the company yet. Take this exit onto the frontage road,” Yan Xiaodao said again.
The driver was baffled, but he adhered to the professional habit of a chauffeur: whatever the boss told him to do, he did. No questions, no unnecessary chatter.
Fuck. Yan Xiaodao cursed inwardly. He had noticed as soon as they entered the expressway that a gray car was following them this time.
“See that bus stop ahead? Pull over. Brake suddenly and stop,” Yan Xiaodao said.
The driver obeyed and stomped the brake, stopping sharply beside the bus stop. Yan Xiaodao did not even wait for the car to come completely to rest before yanking open the door and charging out with a cold expression. His face was sharp and intimidating, his right hand loosely clenched beneath the left side of his suit jacket—an old feint he used to suggest he was reaching for a concealed weapon, and one that almost never failed.
He strode down the sidewalk toward the car behind them. The gray car seemed to jump in fright and immediately hit the accelerator, roaring past so close it nearly ran over his foot before fleeing like a coward.
Apparently this had little to do with the bureau chief or the police. Whoever it was, they were watching him.
And every time he left home to handle some business, they quietly followed him. They never attacked him, rammed his car, or made any openly harmful move. But constantly dragging around a persistent tail from some unidentified faction was irritating as hell.
A few days earlier, when Yan Xiaodao took Ling He to visit his mother, he had deliberately brought an entire group of younger brothers precisely in case somebody tried to follow or attack them on the road. Yet that entire trip with Ling He had been peaceful. Nobody followed them or tried to rob them. So Ling He wasn’t their target?
When Yan Xiaodao got home, he first removed his suit jacket in the living room and shook the cigarette smell from it. Then he went upstairs with a corn cake in his mouth and finished it in a few bites.
The corn cake really was one Ling He had specially packed from his mother’s house. Whenever food was involved, Young Master Ling’s hands and feet became exceptionally efficient, and he had absolutely no sense of polite restraint. Ling He also seemed to love Mrs. Yan’s cooking, which comforted Yan Xiaodao. He estimated that more than half the reason was simply that his mother’s country spread of river fish, poultry, and wild vegetables genuinely tasted excellent. The remaining little part… Yan Xiaodao chose to interpret as Ling He’s fondness for Yan extending to the people around him.
Ling He was sitting alone on the terrace outside the sitting room, looking toward the lights of the distant port glowing through the night. The wind was strong, yet the man wore only a light layer and did not appear cold.
Ling He turned and rolled his eyes at him. “Your shirt and trousers smell like nicotine too. It’s choking. Why don’t you take those off and shake them out while you’re at it?”
Yan Xiaodao smiled. “Too lazy. I don’t live that delicately.”
Ling He’s smiles always carried a hint of mockery. “Mr. Yan, the truth is that your entire body smells like some old smoking pipe that’s been soaking in tar for more than ten years. The smell has seeped all the way into your shell. Seeing you every day is basically secondhand smoking for me. What difference does shaking your clothes make?”
The remark had been meant as a joke, but Yan Xiaodao immediately felt an embarrassed sense of inadequacy. His mind became unusually sensitive around Ling He. He had never thought about it before. Did I really look that rough and unkempt?
“…That bad? Fine. I’ll go.” Yan Xiaodao turned away, looking slightly hurt.
Ling He immediately changed his tune. “No. Sit down.”
Ling He was simply addicted to using that poisonous mouth of his and had not actually wanted to insult Xiaodao. In his eyes and heart, everything about Yan Xiaodao was beautiful. He was even willing to tolerate the unpleasant secondhand smoke because the lips holding the cigarette and the fingers pinching it were both perfect….
Yan Xiaodao draped his suit jacket over Ling He to keep him warm and sat down beside him in only his shirt.
Every so often he glanced toward the villa’s front gate. From this position on the terrace, one could see vehicles turning from outside onto the tree-lined lane leading to the villa and then driving through the electronically controlled gate. Facing the sea with the gate behind them, it really was an excellent spot to enjoy the scenery while conveniently waiting for someone to come home….
Without the slightest sense of being an outsider, Ling He reached into the suit-jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. He opened it and looked. “‘Mai Moves with the Wind, A Fine Companion by Night’ Concert Tour—Linwan Stop. VIP seating, second row? Heh…. Our acquaintance Mr. Mai is coming here for a concert?”
“Oh. Right.” Yan Xiaodao answered. The VIP tickets had been delivered to the company’s front desk, and he had shoved them into his pocket and forgotten to leave them on his desk.
“Mr. Mai went to all this trouble. Mr. Yan shouldn’t disappoint him.” Ling He studied his expression.
“What trouble? I wasn’t even planning to go.” Yan Xiaodao adjusted his shirt collar and looked directly at him.
Ever since meeting aboard the Cloudtop, Mai Yunliang had indeed remained in contact with him. Every day, without fail, he sent two or three messages in an elegant, lyrical style. Worse, the bastard wrote them all in traditional characters, severely testing the tiny amount of learning Mr. Yan could scrape from the depths of his brain! Yan Xiaodao rarely replied. Most of his responses were some combination of “mm,” “oh,” “ah,” “okay,” and the single most useful word of all: “busy.” Mr. Mai did not seem bothered by his coldness. Morning and evening, he continued checking in as dutifully as though examining himself three times a day. Perhaps people simply had this kind of masochistic streak….
“Why not go? You can catch up with someone you know.” Ling He smiled deeply. “I’m bored being trapped in your house too. Those little bastards you keep around here deliberately refuse to let me join their card games now! I’ve never visited your famous local Red Square either.”
Yan Xiaodao vetoed the idea immediately. “You’re not going. I’m not taking you.”
Ling He narrowed his eyes, a dangerous chill appearing in them. “Would my presence interfere with your concert, or with you and Mr. Mai pouring out your hearts and rekindling old feelings?”
Yan Xiaodao frowned. “What kind of nonsense is that?”
Ling He gave him a faint roll of the eyes. “Fine. Go by yourself! I’m simply worried that if Mr. Yan doesn’t come home all night, this enormous villa will be so empty that I won’t sleep securely.”
Now you’re fucking blackmailing me into staying with you? Yan Xiaodao could not tell whether he found the clinginess annoying or amusing. He shook his head and grumbled, “You really are something else!… Ling He, I don’t want to take you because I don’t want you seeing the people you encountered aboard the ship before. I’m afraid it’ll make you upset or uncomfortable…. You don’t genuinely want to see Mai Yunliang, do you?”
Ling He dismissed it. “Why would I be uncomfortable? What am I afraid of?”
Something shifted in Yan Xiaodao’s expression. Fragment after fragment of memory surged back. From that dark movement of their story came a magnificent, unrestrained aria rendered in heavy color and violent contrast, with church bells ringing somewhere behind it. How could he possibly have forgotten? Leaning slightly forward, he repeatedly weighed his words before speaking. “That day at the church, when you were talking to Pastor Qiu, you said you cared deeply about what happened to you back then…. Ling He, I’ve always been sorry I didn’t protect you well enough. At the time, because I wanted the quickest and most effective method, I chose an extremely terrible way to ‘win’ you. Maybe it hurt you far more deeply than I realized….”
Perhaps tonight was a good opportunity for the two of them to talk honestly and untie a few knots between them.
“Mr. Yan! Ha ha ha ha….” Ling He actually interrupted Yan Xiaodao’s informal apology and “confession” with loud laughter. “I’ve already forgotten what I said that day! What happened to me?”
Yan Xiaodao bit his lower lip. “…”
Ling He grinned with outrageous mischief. “My fault, Mr. Yan. Your mother fed me too many sweet potatoes and sugar beans that day. My blood sugar shot up and I went crazy. I talked a load of nonsense in front of the pastor because I was in such a great mood that I wanted to scare you! I’m perfectly fine. We young people say ridiculous things for fun. Old man, don’t take everything so seriously.”
You were scaring this old man? Yan Xiaodao stared at him in disbelief. Which sentence out of this bastard’s mouth was ever true?
Completely oblivious to how terrible his behavior was, Ling He grinned without a care in the world, his face full of demonic charm beneath the moonlight. “Sorry, Mr. Yan. My man-period came that day. Seriously, don’t take it to heart. Heh-heh….”
Ling He’s expression plainly said: This is what a generation gap looks like. Old men are so fussy.
Yan Xiaodao pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and swore at this imaginary male relative of Ling He’s.
Then he abruptly stood and leaned in toward Ling He’s face until their noses nearly touched, forcibly suppressing whatever uncontrolled movement at the final instant might expose the feelings he kept hidden.
“Ling He, don’t say things like that again—things that make people feel awful and shaken. I really believed you that day.”
Whether Ling He actually absorbed the plea was impossible to tell. He had been staring at the delicate black mole beside Yan Xiaodao’s nostril for quite a while. It took astonishing mental strength and self-control not to lose control and touch that handsome, captivating face when Xiaodao leaned this close….
Only half of anything Ling He said could ever be trusted.
Yan Xiaodao appeared restrained on the surface and did not lose his temper, but that night he tossed and turned without sleeping, replaying the confession at the church that had shaken him so badly.
My anger and hatred can never be released until I have carried every wicked thought into action, because they’re all I have left….
Those demons who hurt and humiliated me—I’ll make every one of them destroy themselves and turn to ash in a wildfire….
Yan Xiaodao suddenly understood. Those words actually sounded far more like something Young Master Ling—the man who had turned Yilu Island and the Cloudtop upside down—would say. Every sentence was classic Ling He, every word cutting straight into the heart, frightening enough to chill the blood, practically trailing yellow warning smoke behind its poisonous danger. Wasn’t that exactly what Ling He was like? Doing whatever he pleased, spraying venom into your face whenever the mood struck him! That country-toppling face might as well have been engraved with the words: I’m vicious as hell. Come hack me apart if you’ve got the guts!
It was only because they had spent too long lately living this leisurely pastoral life that Yan Xiaodao had deliberately begun forgetting the memories that made him uncomfortable—deliberately forgetting the Ling He he had met at the beginning, sharp-tongued and difficult, whose vicious speech and prickly personality had made Yan uncomfortable and irritated him. Yan had forced Ling He into a simple, beautiful oval box shaped according to his own tastes. And lately, perversely enough, Ling He had cooperated, retracting all his square corners, sharp edges, and thorny spikes and somehow squeezing himself into that oval box, deliberately presenting the image of a gentle, considerate, exceptionally courteous young man.
Was Ling He exhausted from pretending too? Was he about to lose patience with it?
Which shell actually contained the real man?
*
Yan Xiaodao had also considered secretly beginning an investigation into the scattered traces of what had happened long ago. Yet after so many years and such a great distance between north and south, he did not even know where to begin. There was nobody to ask. Almost everyone working in the group had joined later than he had. Who was he supposed to question? Who knew Master Qi’s real circumstances back then?
*
Over the following week, apart from spending his days visiting the various subsidiaries and the port to deal with company matters, shooting the breeze with friendly businesspeople and government officials, Yan Xiaodao gave nearly all his remaining free time to Liang Youhui, who had come over on business. Young Master Liang was running errands for his family enterprise. Chairman Liang deliberately wanted his only son to gain experience dealing with outsiders, and because Linwan New District lay close to the Yandu metropolitan region and transportation between them was convenient, this place had effectively become a private training ground frequently visited by young crown princes from powerful families. Many second-generation heirs also conducted cross-border business through the port’s tax-reduction zone.
Liang Youhui asked, “Xiaodao, you and that Mr. Ling… still together?”
Yan Xiaodao lowered his eyes and smiled. “What kind of ‘together’ do you mean? You misunderstood us aboard the ship. There’s nothing between us.”
“Come on, I understand!” Liang Youhui sounded faintly disappointed and lonely. “Before, your buddy and you were ‘living apart’ in two different cities, so I never had a chance. Now I’m finally about to be stationed at the new Linwan company and can come bother you all the time, and you’ve already gotten married!”
“Who got married? Fuck off.” Yan Xiaodao cursed him with the shape of his mouth, yet for some inexplicable reason the word married still made his heart stir.
Back at the company, he discovered another envelope waiting on his desk. He opened it and found another pair of VIP tickets for the “Mai Moves with the Wind” concert tour, in almost exactly the same seats as before. This time they were accompanied by a short handwritten greeting from Mai Yunliang, politely and sincerely inviting Mr. Yan to honor the concert with his presence.
Yan Xiaodao did not quite understand. Mai Yunliang had already sent him concert tickets more than a week ago. Why was the man sending tickets again? Couldn’t he sell them? The previous envelope simply had not contained a handwritten note.
His secretary, Xiao Yao, rushed in looking ridiculously excited. “Mr. Yan, Mr. Mai personally came to the company just now to deliver those tickets! I didn’t even recognize him at first. He had sunglasses and a baseball cap on to hide his face!”
Yan Xiaodao looked at the lingering intoxication on Secretary Yao’s pretty face. “The whole pack of you surrounded him asking for autographs, didn’t you?”
Secretary Yao giggled. “We didn’t embarrass you too badly. Just autographs and photos…. He wouldn’t even give me his WeChat!”
Yan Xiaodao had nothing to say. Was he supposed to stop the women from chasing celebrities? Who didn’t like handsome young heartthrobs these days? Even the annual New Year’s Eve patriotic gala was packed with every flavor of pretty young man imaginable.
Secretary Yao swayed her slim waist beneath an A-line skirt as she left, but not before throwing him a thoroughly insincere piece of flattery. “Mr. Yan, you’re actually incredibly handsome too! It’s a different kind of handsome from Mr. Mai. You’re still everyone’s favorite baby, so don’t get jealous, okay? Oh, and, um… our end-of-first-quarter bonus. About that bonus….”
Without the slightest trace of sexual desire, Mr. Yan felt an overwhelming urge to pinch Secretary Yao hard on the ass….
Red Square, located at the foot of Lighthouse Hill, was the largest cultural and performance venue in the Economic New District. Its predecessor had been the publicly owned Nationalities Palace stage. During the two years when Linwan was rapidly being established as a new administrative district, the property was privatized and acquired at a bargain-basement price by an arts company under the Jian family. A massive amount of money was then poured into renovations, quickly transforming it into the high-end luxury performance venue it was today. Because the outer walls resembled brick-red palace walls and looked magnificent beneath the night lights, it became known as “Red Square.” Over the last few years, it had hosted every kind of celebrity commercial performance and made a fortune.
Dazzling beams of light rotated through the darkness and shot into the sky, making Red Square look like an enormous glowing treasure bowl beneath the night. Vast organized fan groups poured in from every direction, with young students forming the main force enthusiastically handing over their money. The crowd surged wave after wave toward the shining entrance.
Mr. Yan’s villa really was not far from Red Square; both were in the port district. He did not rush or watch the time. Only after he and Ling He had properly dressed themselves did he carry the man downstairs.
The two wore suits in almost the same color. Ling He’s had a satin collar and four gold buttons at the cuffs, while Mr. Yan disliked that sort of unnecessary decoration and wore only solid, simple fabric.
Fengfeng, Bodyguard No. 1, and Kuanzi, Bodyguard No. 2, stood at the living-room entrance watching. They exchanged a look. “Damn, Boss looks like he’s getting married…. They really match. Might as well just get married already….”
Just as everyone prepared to leave, another delivery arrived at the door. This time the package was something genuinely expensive and enormous. A metal-sided security van had come with five or six professional movers, all handling the cargo with extraordinary care.
From the van, they unloaded a grand piano….
Ling He froze.
He needed only one glance at the bilingual German and English markings on the enormous shipping crates to know which imported brand and model it was: a concert-grade instrument, exceptionally expensive.
Ling He disliked events around him falling completely outside his expectations, leaving him without the slightest psychological preparation. He endured it for a moment before turning slowly toward Yan Xiaodao. “Mr. Yan… with your karaoke-level repertoire of three and a half pieces, I don’t think you particularly need to buy a Steinway Model D Concert Grand. That is obscenely extravagant and a complete waste of money.”
“If I used it myself, that really would be wasting a treasure.” Yan Xiaodao answered calmly. “I bought it for you.”
Ling He murmured, “That can’t be right. Their high-end instruments have to be ordered three months in advance. You can’t just get one in stock. Where did you order it?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “I jumped the queue. Told them I needed one delivered as quickly as possible and offered more money. They quietly sold me the instrument nearest the front of the reservation list.”
Ling He sat there and slowly lowered his head as though the world had shifted into slow motion, the last light of sunset staining his eyelashes. He deliberately rubbed the button of his suit cuff over and over with one finger to conceal the extraordinarily complicated uncertainty in his emotions. It was not as though Ling He had never seen a Steinway before. A man like him ought to have been thoroughly unimpressed by this sort of extravagant romantic trick—spending a fortune simply to win someone’s smile. If anyone else had done it, he would have found the whole thing tedious and vulgar.
But it was Xiaodao….
Why had he traveled thousands of miles back to the mainland after planning this trip so meticulously for so long? Why had he followed the flow of events and moved into Mr. Yan’s home exactly as he wanted? Why was he absolutely determined to dress formally and attend Mai Yunliang’s concert tonight? Yet at this moment, all those supposedly important questions suddenly seemed unimportant…. Without realizing it, Ling He’s eyes began itching, his nose clogged, and his throat hurt, symptoms remarkably similar to spring allergies. He was severely allergic to Yan Xiaodao himself!
Ling He looked at Yan Xiaodao and tried to speak with twelve parts sincerity. “Mr. Yan, I never planned to stay with you for long. Perhaps in another ten days or half a month I won’t even be here anymore. I don’t want to waste your kindness. This is too extravagant.”
Yan Xiaodao shook his head slightly. “It won’t be wasted. When you find somewhere more suitable to live in the future, the piano goes with you. It’s a gift.”
It was already done; there was no way to refuse it. Ling He felt that if he started saying bullshit like “It’s too valuable, I couldn’t possibly accept it,” he would only look coy and affected, dragging the matter out in a way completely at odds with both their personalities.
Yan Xiaodao was hardly short a million or so yuan. Ling He was not short that amount either. Both could afford it. Spending a million on a piano was simply one kindred spirit giving something to another the moment they recognized each other. It had nothing to do with money, and both men understood that.
Ling He smiled. “Mr. Yan, your real intention is to secretly steal my skills, isn’t it? You want me to teach you piano.”
“Exactly!” Yan Xiaodao mocked himself. “Otherwise I’ll be stuck with those same three and a half pieces forever. How am I supposed to show off in front of all those cultured businessmen? I’m counting on you, Mr. Ling. Please take good care of this hopeless student who can’t read music and has never properly learned a damn thing.”
Some people knew each other for eight or ten years and somehow never really understood one another, with barely any affection left between them.
Some people knew each other for eight or ten days and somehow felt as though they had already known each other for a lifetime.