During Yan Xiaodao’s several violent turns, Mai Yunliang clung tightly to the handle above the door and still managed to bang his ear and shoulder. It hurt, but he was too embarrassed to cry out because he feared Mr. Yan would laugh at him for being such a weakling. Compared with a man like Yan Xiaodao, he really did appear to have no strength at all—a beautiful, fragile showpiece.
Mr. Mai did not seem to know where he wanted to go either and was clearly unfamiliar with Linwan, so Yan Xiaodao took it upon himself to drive to a relatively secluded private teahouse. The entrance was hidden through turn after turn inside a quiet residential district away from the commercial center. Ordinary people could barely find it, so naturally business was sparse.
Once the two men were seated in a private room, Yan Xiaodao could not even be bothered ordering tea. He had not taken a single sip of his latte either. He sat at the table, looked directly into Mai Yunliang’s eyes, and dispensed with politeness. “Mr. Mai, what did you want to tell me? Say it.”
Mai Yunliang lowered his head and began the whole process of pouring water. He was naturally slow and deliberate and apparently needed to warm up before reaching any point. Even conversation had to begin with rinsing cups, pouring water, washing the tea, steeping the leaves, and fussing for half a day before finally filtering out a cup barely larger than a thumb. It would not have been enough for Mr. Yan to rinse between his teeth. Yan Xiaodao’s straightforward temperament had no patience whatsoever for these elaborate formalities.
Mai Yunliang said gently and slowly, “Mr. Yan, the truth is simply that I’m leaving soon. It’s difficult not to feel reluctant to go. I wanted somebody to talk with.”
Yan Xiaodao went directly to the point. “What were you saying about Ling He? Where have you seen him?”
“Oh… I….” Mai Yunliang had removed his sunglasses, completely exposing the way his gaze wandered whenever he was uncertain. “I know you care about Mr. Ling. Just now I was afraid Mr. Yan wouldn’t agree to meet me, so I said something casually. There really isn’t anything. I’m sorry, Mr. Yan.”
Two carved lines slowly appeared between Yan Xiaodao’s brows. In the next second, he straightened the collar of his coat, rose, and started walking away without wasting another word. When his expression cooled, his presence naturally pushed people a thousand miles away and inspired fear.
Mai Yunliang panicked and instinctively grabbed Yan Xiaodao, but his legs failed to follow the instructions of his brain. His foot caught against the table leg, and he actually pitched forward into an unexpected half-kneeling position directly in front of Yan! Perhaps because of the sudden embarrassing physical contact, or perhaps because he had endured too many contemptuous looks, taunts, and humiliations over the years that violated his dignity as a man, Mai Yunliang’s eyes and nose flushed red. His shoulders trembled violently with emotion. To see such a properly dressed, handsome man reduced to this kind of embarrassment in front of another person genuinely made it difficult to remain unmoved….
Even Yan Xiaodao had nothing to say. He helped the man back up and reseated him, then quietly freed his wrist from Mai Yunliang’s grasp.
A box of tissues on the table became the most considerate comfort available for Mr. Mai’s collapsing emotions. After blowing his nose, Mai Yunliang even laughed at himself. “I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, Mr. Yan. I’m not normally like this. I’ve simply been under enormous pressure lately. My agency keeps scheduling work for me, concerts and variety-show contracts are packed too tightly together, and my sleep and mood have both been terrible. I’m genuinely grateful that you’re willing to sit down and talk to me for a while.”
Yan Xiaodao nodded with gentlemanly composure. “I understand. There’s a limit to how much work is worth doing. No matter how much money you make, it isn’t worth more than living comfortably and happily, doing what you want without being controlled by other people.”
Mai Yunliang understood the meaning beneath Yan Xiaodao’s words. A bitter smile carved fine wrinkles all the way into the skin around his eyes, the sort no amount of hyaluronic-acid filler or protein injections could conceal because the desolation seeped outward from somewhere much deeper. “Mr. Yan, do you think people like me are simply shameless and responsible for our own humiliation? That I see a big tree and immediately crawl up it, and now I’m already rotten beyond salvation?”
Yan Xiaodao answered directly. “No. I can tell you don’t want this.”
The four words you don’t want this shattered Mai Yunliang’s control over his tears.
When that handsome face was finally touched at the point that hurt most, every muscle and line of his features twisted. The beautiful outer shell seemed to crack apart under the spasms of unbearable grief and scatter across the floor. Even now, he did not dare cry aloud. Swallowing huge, restrained tears into his mouth had long since become habit.
Mai Yunliang choked out, “Mr. Yan, I didn’t have a choice. By the time I had enough judgment and strength to want to leave that horrible pit of fire, it was already too late…. I was already filthy and rotten all over. Even if I crawled out, how could I stand in front of everyone with a face as ugly and dirty as mine? Everything I have today was built on those shameful, filthy transactions. If I lose them, I’ll have nothing. I have no way out….”
Yes. You surrendered a man’s body, blood, and dignity for enormous benefits that were too difficult to resist, then regretted it and wanted to escape the web of利益 tying everything together, yet still didn’t dare or want to endure the damage to your career and reputation. Is that it? Nothing good comes both ways. Even sugarcane isn’t sweet at both ends. That was what Yan Xiaodao thought, but he did not say it aloud.
Mai Yunliang looked at Yan Xiaodao with red, vacant eyes, his soul seemingly without anywhere to settle. “Mr. Yan, my fate was decided when I was eight years old. That was when I fell into the devil’s palm.”
“…” Yan Xiaodao’s expression gradually became severe as Mai Yunliang recounted the past in broken fragments.
Mai Yunliang said he was an illegitimate child—and an illegitimate child whose birth itself had been arranged for a purpose.
But that “purpose” had not been to serve as leverage for some mistress or secondary wife competing with the legitimate wife for favor. Mai had been deliberately planned and brought into the world by his father as a bargaining chip that could be used to win benefits for the family.
When a child was born merely to serve as leverage, naturally neither father nor mother loved him. From birth, he had been destined to become part of a filthy transaction.
There were still many people in this world who liked beautiful, obedient little boys. For example, if a household was unable to have children and your family had more than enough sons, you could sell one or two to them. An illegitimate son was not born to the lawful wife, so the price was lower—perhaps you could even give him away for free. Or suppose there was a household with certain special tastes for pretty boys, one that accepted as many as possible and raised them inside the estate. If your family had spare sons, you could send one as a favor. That would suit the recipient’s preferences and demonstrate far greater sincerity than gifting famous paintings and calligraphy, luxury cars and watches, or even a cruise ship or a Steinway piano! When “presenting treasure,” what mattered was the thought—and choosing exactly what pleased the recipient.
And the more closely related the child was to the giver by blood, the more clearly this “pledge of allegiance” displayed a naked red heart and absolute loyalty. If you dragged some little stray off the roadside to make up the numbers, some common lowborn thing without rich blood, who would even care to play with him?
“A wealthy family? Who was your father?”
Yan Xiaodao listened without speaking, his face faintly pale. Where no one else could see, four deep grooves had been carved into the underside of the tabletop by his fingers. He could not believe that beneath the magnificent high-rises of this prosperous world there could exist transactions this horrifying, parents this cold and malicious. He did not even know who his own biological parents were. Having grown up in a poor, broken household, he still longed for and treasured parental love. He genuinely did not want to hear something like this.
The scenery outside the window reflected in Mai Yunliang’s frozen eyes. “I think it was the year after the handover. I was sent to the mainland and given to—to a group of the wealthiest and most powerful men here, people who could reach the sky with their hands, the so-called richest men in those circles…. My father used me to exchange for powerful financial backing and public support and obtained an important seat on a legislative council that he had dreamed about. At such an important historical moment, a man like him would never accept being left behind when everyone else had something. His business empire needed a respectable public identity to support it. He needed to demonstrate his position and loyalty to those powerful people. He needed…”
Mai Yunliang was deliberately blurring the details now. He did not name a single crucial person. Yan Xiaodao understood that it could hardly have been only some ordinary council or representative seat. It may have been something far higher and more distinguished, something that could not even be mentioned now. That meant Mr. Mai before him had almost certainly been born into a prominent family, merely an unfortunate secondary son from that family who had become a discarded chess piece, forced to exchange half a lifetime of reputation and dignity for somebody else’s official rank, wealth, and decadent luxury.
“You’re saying they could do that to an eight-year-old?” Yan Xiaodao asked with difficulty.
“No. Not exactly. Some people specifically don’t like children that young. They raise them first. They prefer them tall, grown into an adult shape….” Mai Yunliang’s voice drifted faintly. “My fifteenth birthday.”
“Actually, it was probably a particular circle. Certain people with power and authority enjoyed keeping prey, while other people were responsible for finding and gathering underage ‘cubs’ for them, arranging a kind of long-term raising ‘game’ that lasted years. I wasn’t the only one born into that miserable, tragic fate. That host you saw at the celebration a few days ago—Lu Yilun—I know he was also… like me…. He was forced too…. He didn’t want it either.”
Lu Yilun, nicknamed “Top Host Lu” at the television station, was a gifted host with extraordinary eloquence and an equally handsome face. In private, rumor painted him as the favored high-class male companion on whom wealthy ladies lavished money. Yan Xiaodao had never imagined this could be the reason behind it.
A pack of deranged fucking perverts.
Who exactly they were perhaps no longer mattered. Those circles would never lack every imaginable transaction of power for money, power for sex, and the destruction of ordinary human conscience. The eternal law of supply and demand guaranteed that such transactions would continue reproducing themselves without end.
Mai Yunliang’s submissiveness, his resistance, helplessness, cowardice, and fear—all those shallow outward traits now received the most unbearable explanation imaginable. Everything fell into place.
Mai Yunliang drank some tea. His emotions gradually settled, though his face remained swollen. “Mr. Yan, this probably feels extremely abrupt. You and I aren’t close. We were practically strangers, and yet I came to tell you all these deeply unpleasant things from my past. Why would I say them to you?
“Because I truly don’t have anyone I trust enough to tell what I really think! I look glorious in front of people and live alone behind them. I can hardly announce to my fans that this ugly and humiliating thing is my real face. I can’t tell my assistants, agent, company, or friends either. Nobody sympathizes with you over something like this. They only call you filthy and disgusting…. The truth is I have nothing. I’m just a walking corpse wrapped inside a glamorous shell.”
Mai Yunliang actually laughed once. The sound was indescribably bleak and unpleasant.
Even away from the stage, the man wore makeup from sheer habit, yet no cosmetics could conceal the sickly pallor beneath his skin. Mai Yunliang had beautiful eyes that ought to have been a rich gold mine. But the mine had been carved open and plundered over and over until every glimmering trace of gold had been sifted away, leaving nothing in those eyes but two handfuls of desolate yellow earth.
“I’ve been under tremendous pressure recently. Those people have pushed me until I can’t stand it anymore. I’m constantly unable to sleep, and I’ve become… very ill. The doctor says it’s depression. I really feel terrible. I just wanted to see you one more time before I went back. Mr. Yan, you truly are a good person.”
As he finished speaking, a smile trembled at the corner of Mai Yunliang’s mouth as he looked at Yan Xiaodao, almost as though a long-held wish had finally been fulfilled.
Pain struck through Yan Xiaodao’s heart. His throat tightened, and he could not even produce the right words of comfort. What good were a few cheap consolations? Could they close wounds carved this deeply into bone? Could they reverse a merciless fate?
“What can I do to help you? Just tell me,” Yan Xiaodao said. “You can still choose to leave. Go abroad. Go far away. Find somewhere nobody knows you and start the second half of your life over.”
Mai Yunliang lowered his eyes and gave no definite answer. “I’ll consider your suggestion. Start again, perhaps…. I’m flying back tomorrow, and I don’t know when we’ll meet again. Mr. Yan, meeting you has been an extraordinary honor. I’d like to give you something as a small expression of what I feel.”
Mai Yunliang had come prepared. From the bag he carried with him, he took out an elegant dark-blue square box bearing the logo of a Swiss luxury-watch brand. One glance was enough to tell that it was expensive.
Yan Xiaodao instinctively declined. “You don’t need to do that.”
Mai Yunliang said, “It’s only a small gesture. Please accept it.”
Yan Xiaodao felt genuinely uncomfortable. “I’m a rough man who hasn’t helped you with anything. I’ve got no face taking a gift.”
“I’m the one who wasted your time and ruined your mood when you were supposed to be working and attending a meeting.” Mai Yunliang looked completely sincere and apologetic. “It’s only a watch I’ve worn several times and even had repaired before. It isn’t particularly valuable. I know Mr. Yan can afford any more expensive watch he wants and wouldn’t care about the price. But it represents my feelings about knowing you. Please accept it, and please keep it yourself.”
Mai Yunliang’s gaze was so pleading that he looked almost ready to fall to his knees again. The blue box was forced beneath Yan Xiaodao’s fingers. Their hands remained pressed against the tabletop in almost a deadlock until, at the final moment, Yan opened his palm and took the watch box. “All right. I’ll accept it. But please take care of yourself, Mr. Mai. If there’s anything you need help with, I’ll be willing to help at any time.”
…
This difficult conversation should have ended there. The mood was already unbearably heavy.
Yan Xiaodao stood up, but Mai Yunliang remained sitting there, gripping the teacup so tightly that the white porcelain looked ready to disappear into his palm and fuse with his pale hand bones.
Yan Xiaodao’s five fingers tightened around the corner of the table. In only a moment, he had peeled splinters from the relatively soft mango wood. He asked Mai Yunliang hoarsely, “You said earlier that it was a specific circle, and you weren’t the only person forced into that kind of tragic fate…. Besides you and Lu Yilun, do you know who else was ‘inside there’?”
The hand gripping Mai Yunliang’s teacup trembled. His ingrained timidity and submissiveness always made him hesitate and look both ways at critical moments like this.
“It’s only you and me here. Tell me.” Yan Xiaodao wanted to close his ears and hear nothing at all, yet he could not stop himself from asking.
Could Mai Yunliang possibly fail to understand what Yan Xiaodao was really asking?
“When, exactly, and where did you see Ling He?” Yan Xiaodao did not look into Mai Yunliang’s eyes.
Mai Yunliang tried to keep his voice steady. “The first and second times I came to the mainland. In Yandu. At ‘that’ place….”
Yan Xiaodao stared at him. “Then you were still very young?”
Mai Yunliang nodded. “Everyone was… roughly around the same age…. I’m twenty-five this year. I think Mr. Ling is around my age? He should be a little younger than me. He was already very beautiful back then.”
For one instant the veins at Yan Xiaodao’s temples throbbed violently. It felt as though five bolts of lightning had struck the crown of his head at once, and ringing filled his ears so strongly that he had to brace both hands on the table and bend toward Mai Yunliang. “Mr. Mai, that was so many years ago. You were eight. Isn’t it possible you simply remembered the wrong person?”
Mai Yunliang opened his eyes wide and considered it. “Mr. Ling hasn’t had cosmetic surgery. A face like his, with those distinctive mixed features—Mr. Yan, do you really think anyone could mistake him for somebody else? It seems he changed his name and identity. He wasn’t called this at all before. But if you had met him more than ten years ago, do you think you would fail to recognize what he looks like now?”
The teacup in front of Mai Yunliang shattered beneath Yan Xiaodao’s fingers, crumbling piece by piece into fragments.
Yan Xiaodao was the sort of man who could watch Mount Tai collapse before his eyes without letting blood rise into his brows. He would never allow himself to lose his soul or panic. He straightened, brushed his fingers clean, and addressed Mai Yunliang with solemn seriousness. “I think you simply misjudged it. You’ve mistaken him for someone else.
“What you just said stays between you and me. I do not want you to mention it to any third person. Can you promise me that, Mr. Mai?”
Mai Yunliang looked up at him in surprise. Yet in the next instant, he understood the depth of feeling that words could not describe. How he envied Mr. Ling!
Yan Xiaodao said, “I’m going to treat everything you told me today as something I never heard. I’ve never heard about it before, and in the future I do not want to hear that anyone else learned or mentioned it through you. Can you promise me that, Mr. Mai?!”
Mai Yunliang nodded numbly. “I won’t say anything. Don’t worry, Mr. Yan. I’ll never bring it up again.”
…
The two men parted ways inside the teahouse. No intense emotion showed on Yan Xiaodao’s face as he said solemnly, “Take care of yourself, Mr. Mai. If anything happens, call me. I’ll be going.”
He did not get back into Mai Yunliang’s car. Instead, he strode out of the teahouse and straight into the cold wind. Early spring in the north still carried a lingering chill, and poplar fluff blew everywhere, scattering the mind along with it.
He walked alone along the pavement buried beneath drifting poplar fluff, his face expressionless, privately sorting his emotions into their proper places. Somewhere deep inside, he spent a moment weighing two possibilities: continue single, enjoy unrestricted freedom and endless boring loneliness, take on none of the trouble that came with another person—or choose to place an arm around someone’s shoulders and carry every criticism and pressure that might come afterward, remaining at that person’s side to protect him.
The weighing lasted perhaps ten seconds. The balance swung decisively in one direction and crashed down. The contest between the weights on either side was over.
He wanted that person, regardless of what had happened before or what might happen later.
Within three days, two basins of filthy water had been thrown over Ling He.
The first came from Master Qi. Yan Xiaodao did not dare accuse his godfather of lying, but the rumors circulating through their circles claimed that Ling Huang might never have died at all and that something “unclean” had existed between Ling Huang and his son.
The second basin came from Mai Yunliang. Mai genuinely did not look as though he had been inventing a story. Throughout their entire conversation in the teahouse, the man had hovered at the edge of collapse, his body repeatedly spasming. By Yan Xiaodao’s reasonably extensive jianghu experience, Mai Yunliang was probably suffering from severe depression. If all of that had been fabricated and acted, his skill would have been unbelievable. Mai did not possess acting ability that good, and no one would casually destroy both his own reputation and his family’s reputation simply to invent a story that won sympathy.
Yan Xiaodao knew perfectly well that Ling He had secrets, and that there were hidden problems inside the history of Ling He’s family and father.
Ling He had two faces. Sometimes he was solitary, perverse, and almost inhumanly difficult to approach. There had to be a reason.
Ling He had mentioned only that he studied abroad during his youth. Exactly how many years he had spent overseas, whether he had lived on the mainland, who he had lived with—Yan Xiaodao actually knew none of that. Nor had he ever interrogated him for answers.
In Yan Xiaodao’s view, loving someone was simply loving someone. Love did not care about family background or social status.
What remained most deeply impressed in his mind were the many things Ling He had said to him.
Ling He had said with a child’s happiness, “I’m taller than you. It makes more sense for me to put my arm around you.”
Ling He had met his eyes late at night and said, “You’re allowed to request one. I’ll teach you whatever piece you choose.”
Was that acting?
Yan Xiaodao closed his eyes and remembered. The man beside him had always possessed formidable acting skills, but in those rare moments when genuine feeling slipped out, the affection between them had been real.
At a little roadside shop, he bought an enormous candied hawthorn skewer stuffed with fillings and sat down on the curb. He let the cold wind and dust sweep across the tails of his coat while stripping hawthorn, red-bean paste, and orange segments from the stick and chewing them in large bites. He licked sugar crumbs from the corner of his mouth and confirmed that it still tasted exactly as he remembered. Occasionally there was a rough bit of grit mixed in, but underneath it all, the thing remained crisp, soft, fragrant, and sweet.
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