The next day, Yang Shuyi’s grandpa was buried.
Shao Wu stayed with them through the entire process, from going to the funeral home in the morning, to the farewell ceremony, to the cremation, and finally the burial of the urn. Yang Shuyi’s grandpa and father were buried in the same cemetery, their gravestones not far apart.
Grandma had developed a fever the night before and stayed home resting with several aunties, so Yang Shuyi handled the entire funeral. He wore black from head to toe. There were no black shoes at home, so he had gone to the market and bought an old-fashioned pair of black cloth shoes. Shao Wu watched Yang Shuyi from the funeral procession, watched him walk at the very front in mourning clothes, holding Grandpa’s portrait in both hands. He took cigarettes from his pocket and passed them around skillfully to relatives who had come to help. At the farewell ceremony, he calmly read the eulogy, and Shao Wu did not even know when he had found time to write it. At the funeral banquet, it was still Yang Shuyi arranging everyone: this table needed another chair, that table was missing a dish. He kept track of all of it.
Shao Wu discovered that the only thing he could do was hand Yang Shuyi a bottle of mineral water. Yang Shuyi shook his head and refused it, saying he would not have time to go to the restroom later.
It was only after the funeral banquet ended and the people who had come to help or offer condolences gradually left that everything finally went still. Longlong was so exhausted she had fallen asleep face-down on the table, both knees still black with ash from kneeling and kowtowing. Surrounded by dishes and cups in complete disarray, Yang Shuyi sat there without moving.
Shao Wu walked over and sat beside him. Yang Shuyi was right there, close enough to touch, yet Shao Wu felt a strange flash of unfamiliarity. When had Yang Shuyi become a man capable of handling everything on his own? Yes, a man, not a boy. Even though his body still looked somewhat lean, even though he had spent the whole day running around beneath the blazing sun until his shirt was sweat-soaked and wrinkled, even though there was a freshly scabbed scrape on the side of his face and he looked so worn out.
Shao Wu asked quietly, “What happened to your face?”
“I fell on the way to the hospital,” Yang Shuyi said.
“…”
Shao Wu suddenly realized that Yang Shuyi had not cried once all day.
He had not cried while reading the eulogy. He had not cried when he received the ashes from the staff. Even when Longlong sobbed herself hoarse during the burial, he still did not cry. The funeral had been like a battle. Yang Shuyi had charged through it decisively, leaving every soft emotion to Longlong and Grandma, to the relatives and old acquaintances who had come to mourn.
Was he sad? He had to be sad too.
“Shuyi.” Shao Wu’s eyes stung. “If you’re tired, sleep for a while. I’m here.”
Yang Shuyi’s gaze moved to Shao Wu’s face, then slowly shifted away. After a long time, he said, “Then I’ll put my head down for a bit. Twenty minutes. Wake me when it’s time.”
“Okay. Sleep.”
Yang Shuyi nodded and simply laid his head down on the cluttered banquet table. The restaurant had been open for years and its facilities were old. Many tiny flying insects circled the ceiling light. In the middle of the curved lampshade was a small, dark clump that Shao Wu knew was made up of dead insects accumulated over the years. Even the light looked dim and murky as it fell over greasy plates, tablecloths, unfinished soups and dishes, and Yang Shuyi’s injured cheek.
Outside the window, dusk had arrived, the setting sun red as blood.
The air smelled of leftover food. Everything was silent. Even the air conditioner seemed to have stopped running without a sound. Longlong slept, and Yang Shuyi slept too. He was so exhausted that he even began to snore very softly.
The moment felt like a dream whose truth was impossible to judge. If it were false, then everything had truly happened, and Yang Shuyi still wore a strip of mourning cloth around his arm. But if it were real, there was no Zou Xin here, no Zhiruo, none of those girls whose names Shao Wu did not know. Yang Shuyi was right beside him. The scene was too beautiful to feel real.
Time seemed to stop. It was almost stolen time. Before Chen Yimang left for Shanghai, he had warned Shao Wu, Don’t be foolish. Does this count as being foolish? Yang Shuyi’s breathing was like waves, rising and falling, washing gently against Shao Wu’s eardrums and his body. This doesn’t count, Shao Wu thought. At least right now, I’m the one beside Yang Shuyi. Me, not anyone else.
Looking at Yang Shuyi, Shao Wu thought, So I can’t go to Sichuan University now. At least not through a postgraduate recommendation. Do I take the graduate entrance exam, then? I heard it’s hard, but it looks like that’s the only road left. Fine. I’ll take it.
He did not know where the courage came from. Maybe Yang Shuyi was sleeping too deeply. Maybe this moment felt too much like a dream. The dim light wrapped around them as though distorting the room into some other space. No, not that. Shao Wu absurdly remembered a line: Light bends around massive objects. Actually, it was not the light itself bending. Massive objects curved spacetime. The book had explained it as refraction, in simple terms: light keeps refracting through curved spacetime, refracting again and again, until the density of those refractions becomes high enough and, look, the light appears to bend.
When the density became high enough, light bent. Light curved away from them and dissolved them into darkness. They were no longer in Yongchuan, no longer in a restaurant. They had hidden themselves in some corner of the vast universe, in absolute darkness, absolute silence, where time no longer counted. Very, very slowly, Shao Wu leaned down and pressed his lips to Yang Shuyi’s.
His body began to tremble and his eyes grew hot. He felt as though he had become a tiny asteroid, about to, about to explode. He would become warm fragments dancing through the darkness. His lips remained pressed to Yang Shuyi’s, and he refused to close his eyes.
The next second, Yang Shuyi opened his eyes. Light returned. Time started again.
Yang Shuyi shoved him away so hard that with a thud, Shao Wu fell straight off the chair. His tailbone hurt.
Longlong made a sleepy sound and sat upright. “Brother, what happened?”
“Go downstairs first.” Yang Shuyi’s face was expressionless. “Wait downstairs for us.”
“But we haven’t paid the bill—”
“I said go downstairs.”
“…Okay. Okay.” Longlong seemed frightened. She looked at Yang Shuyi, then at Shao Wu, and hurried out.
Shao Wu sat on the floor and looked up at Yang Shuyi. He did not know what Yang Shuyi was going to do. Beat him? Probably. At Grandpa’s funeral banquet, while Yang Shuyi was asleep, Shao Wu had actually kissed him. Any straight guy would find that disgusting, wouldn’t he?
Yang Shuyi stood in front of Shao Wu with his fist clenched. Shao Wu was already prepared to be punched and kicked.
But Yang Shuyi only said, “Get up.”
So Shao Wu climbed to his feet. His tailbone still hurt.
“I know… I know what you mean,” Yang Shuyi said. “I have for a while.”
For a moment, Shao Wu was blank. What did “what you mean” mean? Then he understood. Yang Shuyi wanted to say, I know how you feel, or perhaps, I know about your feelings. But he could not even bring himself to say those words aloud. Could one man’s feelings for another man be called “feelings”? Could they be called “affection”? No. A man’s love for another man apparently deserved only to be called what you mean, something this vague and evasive.
So he already knew?
“The last time I ran into you at school,” Yang Shuyi said clearly, “you told me you were there to see Zhu Jingjing. But Zhu Jingjing wasn’t at school that day. She had gone to Guiyang for a competition.”
Shao Wu thought, How could it be such a coincidence?
“I saw her the day before. Their whole team of athletes left together on the university bus.”
“…”
“Add that to everything before…” Yang Shuyi avoided Shao Wu’s eyes. “Shao Wu, that’s when I became sure.”
So he had sensed it for a long time. Of course. He had always been smart.
Shao Wu moved his lips. He knew he ought to say something. Apologize for kissing him while he slept, or grit his teeth and deny everything. One way or another, he should say something. But… what was there to say?
“I love you,” Shao Wu said. “Really.”
Yang Shuyi fell silent.
“I know you like girls. I’ve known for a long time… But Yang Shuyi, I really love you. Maybe you think it’s ridiculous for me to say ‘love,’ but I really do. You… right, you have a girlfriend. You like girls… Yang Shuyi…” Shao Wu spoke faster and faster until he was almost incoherent. “Everything I’m saying is true.”
Yang Shuyi’s voice was very low. “I’ve always thought of you as a friend.”
“I know. But… just a friend?”
Yang Shuyi fell silent again. His gaze returned to Shao Wu’s face and seemed to tangle with the murky light. His jaw tightened. His Adam’s apple moved.
Shao Wu was still trembling, visibly trembling. He was like a prisoner waiting to be executed, the gun already loaded, waiting only for the shot. Then he heard Yang Shuyi speak, his voice nine parts certainty and one part hesitation:
“I’m sure I like girls, Shao Wu. But sometimes… one percent. One percent of the time, if I forget that I like girls, then the person I think of… seems to be only you.”
Yet in the very next second, his tone softened and filled with apology. “Shao Wu, there’s no way for us.”