Mai Ding suddenly grabbed An Zi Yan’s arm. “Go somewhere else. Let’s go somewhere else.” An Zi Yan did not answer and did not change direction. Even though Mai Ding did not want to go, the car still carried him to the cabin. Happy memories were easily buried beneath painful ones. An Zi Yan got out, walked around to the other side, opened the door, and dragged Mai Ding out. Mai Ding struggled uselessly and was still thrown into the cabin.
There were not many stars tonight, but the moon was very bright. Moonlight wrapped the cabin in a soft embrace. Yet under that moonlight, the most beautiful thing was not the scenery but An Zi Yan’s face. They had only been apart four days. His cold expression fit the moonlight too well. He had once again ignored Mai Ding’s feelings and dragged him here. Mai Ding had no way to deal with him, while An Zi Yan could control him however he wanted. Mai Ding walked toward the door and placed a hand on the handle.
“You want to leave again?” Mai Ding’s hand froze.
“Mai Ding, how many times have you walked away from me now?” An Zi Yan stood behind him. Mai Ding clenched his hand. Maybe this argument had already used all the courage he would have for the rest of his life. He wanted An Zi Yan to hurt the way he did. Stop showing that indifferent face. Hurt. Hurt. “You really do forget things easily. You only remember what I’ve done and never what you said yourself.”
“Don’t speak to me in that tone.”
“Why not? Aren’t we broken up? I can talk to you however I want. Who are you?” His voice trembled. Before he could even turn around, he was thrown to the floor. Skin scraped off his knees and elbows. He twisted around and glared furiously at An Zi Yan. Now he could clearly tell that something was wrong with him. An Zi Yan walked over and crouched down. His hand reached toward Mai Ding. Was he going to hit him? Mai Ding squeezed his eyes shut. The wind from a fist cut past his ear, then struck the wall behind him. A moment later An Zi Yan’s hand closed hard around his chin. Mai Ding slowly opened his eyes, met An Zi Yan’s gaze, then shut them again. “Look at me.” Mai Ding kept his eyes closed. An Zi Yan knocked his back against the wall. “I told you to look at me. Didn’t you hear?” Mai Ding finally opened his eyes.
“As expected, locking you in here would be better.”
“You want to lock me in here?”
“It’s not that I want to. I will. Mai Ding, why…” His grip on Mai Ding’s chin tightened. “Why do you keep doing it again and again…” He did not finish. He only looked at Mai Ding for a while, released him, stood, and walked to the pond on the other side of the cabin. The wooden boards creaked over the still water. An Zi Yan sat down with his left leg bent and one hand resting on his knee. His words and actions made no sense to Mai Ding. Why was he always so unreasonable, so cruel to him, only to turn his back afterward? Mai Ding stared at the door. If he walked out now, would An Zi Yan stop him? Would he get angry? Would he finally stop being silent? Mai Ding endured the pain and moved with difficulty.
A set of car keys landed by his feet. An Zi Yan did not turn around. He looked at the water. “You can leave if you want to leave that badly… But Mai Ding, if you leave this time, I won’t look for you again. Didn’t you ask me to think from your side? You want to leave. I’ll let you go.” First he had dragged Mai Ding here saying he would lock him up, and now he was saying he would let him go. Did he realize how contradictory he sounded?
Mai Ding walked toward An Zi Yan. He reached the doorway and was about to step onto the wooden platform, about to confront him, when his heart missed a beat. Moonlight spilled over An Zi Yan’s face without reservation, letting Mai Ding see everything clearly. Why did An Zi Yan look so sad? Too sad. The fish saw it and cried. The moon saw it and cried. That expression did not belong on his face. He sat there quietly while sadness overflowed from his eyes, the corners of his mouth, his skin, covering him completely. Mai Ding saw it and cried too. His body lost all strength and he dropped to his knees. He wanted to call An Zi Yan’s name, but no sound came. He could only stare at him, unable to move one step closer.
An Zi Yan, what are you sad about? I’m the one who’s supposed to be sad.
Mai Ding’s eyelids grew heavy. He thought he had a dream. Nothing grand happened. He only dreamed that An Zi Yan was holding him.
When Mai Ding woke on the cold floor, he could not tell which part had been the dream. Two seconds later, reality returned. Pain in his body and chest reminded him that he had only slept three hours. The night was still deeply black. Children desperately want to remember things and somehow forget. Adults desperately want to forget things and somehow remember. Mai Ding’s gaze landed on An Zi Yan. His posture had not changed, though his eyes were closed. Mai Ding moved as quietly as possible, walked in front of him, looked down, then knelt. He reached out to touch An Zi Yan, but his hand hesitated in midair. Suddenly the extended hand was caught. An Zi Yan opened his eyes. They looked at each other. Night had taken the color and light out of both pairs of eyes.
“Why do you and Grandpa both have to leave me?” His expression looked like a child’s. The question hurt Mai Ding. He wanted to ask why An Zi Yan had suddenly brought up Grandpa too. A few seconds later, Mai Ding’s face turned white as paper. He remembered how, inside this very cabin, he had once cried and shouted and told An Zi Yan with absolute certainty: Grandpa is gone, but I’m still here, loving you desperately, desperately. I can’t replace Grandpa. I’m only an ordinary, ordinary Mai Ding. But Mai Ding will never leave An Zi Yan. You still have me. You still have me. He had lied to An Zi Yan again, just like back then when he had lied and said a miracle would happen. The truth was that no miracle had come. Grandpa had still left An Zi Yan. And Mai Ding had broken his promise too, leaving again and again. Was time really enough to make people forget promises so easily?