Aston began trying to restrain himself.
He kept himself busy with all kinds of things. That way he’d have fewer distracting thoughts, and fewer dreams at night.
But the more he suppressed them, the more fiercely they returned.
On two occasions he encountered Qin Siyu somewhere on campus. Sometimes Qin was carrying a book; sometimes he had a schoolbag over one shoulder, his fingers resting lightly on the strap. He was usually with a Chinese friend, talking, and when his gaze met Aston’s, his eyes would curve in a smile.
Aston would merely give a slight nod. Yet that night he would dream about him.
In the dream, Qin Siyu arched his body. The shape and color of his chest showed faintly through his shirt. His eyes were hazy and his lips parted, revealing a glimpse of his teeth and tongue.
The Aston in the dream parted his teeth, caught the tip of his tongue with his own, and then kissed and nibbled at his skin.
Their clothes fell to the floor in a few swift movements. Qin Siyu’s skin was pale, his body smooth, and Aston would… Qin Siyu always trembled and said, “Kingsley, come…”
Aston always forced himself awake at that point.
Yet unlike a few days earlier, on those two occasions Aston had been reluctant to get up immediately and take a cold shower. He lingered for a while, remembering the dream and letting the rush of feeling run through him. Only when he was close to seeking relief for himself, close to crossing a line, did he go to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and force himself to calm down.
And now even cold water seemed less effective.
The events of the day and his dreams at night refused to leave his mind. His whole body ached and throbbed. He lowered his eyes and looked at himself.
He had to force himself to recall what the pastor had said. Only after a long time could he settle down.
Qin Siyu approached the library with trepidation, prepared to pay for the book.
He had no idea how much it would cost. He almost wanted to hit himself.
He’d been back to the garden afterward but hadn’t managed to find it.
“Um,” he told the librarian, “I lost a book last Friday.”
“Which book?” the librarian asked.
Qin Siyu gave the title. The librarian searched through the catalog cards in a drawer for a long while, then said, “This one doesn’t seem to be checked out.”
Qin Siyu: “Huh?”
“How strange.” The librarian took him to the shelves. There it was. He pulled the library card from the front of the book, checked it carefully twice, and said, “This has already been returned.”
“???” Qin Siyu was delighted. “It’s been returned?”
“Yes.” The librarian looked at the last entry. “Are you the last borrower? Sean Chin?”
“That’s me!”
“You lost it last Friday?” The librarian checked the date. “It was returned that same evening.”
“The same evening?” The unexpected good fortune almost knocked him off his feet. “Then another student must have found it and brought it back. Thank you!”
“Probably. You’re welcome.”
Once he left, the sky seemed bluer, the flowers redder, and the grass greener. What a wonderful mood he was in.
He even went to the dining hall for a meal.
Normally Qin Siyu cooked his own meals and brought his food with him because it was so much cheaper.
He hardly ever ate meat. Each week he bought a small amount of inexpensive vegetables, and every now and then he’d buy a quarter of a pound of meat for Lin Xiangmei to cook, just a quarter-pound for the three of them.
But Lin Xiangmei made delicious cured pork. When the family craved meat, she’d slice off a couple of pieces.
As for their staple food, Qin Siyu mainly ate rice. He bought it loose in Chinatown and cooked a little bowl every evening. First he scattered the grains over the table, spread them into a thin layer with his fingertips, and carefully inspected them, throwing away any weevils. Then he rinsed the rest and simmered a small portion in a cast-iron pot. Qin Siyu himself was thin, but the rice weevils were quite plump.
That cast-iron pot was poor quality and always leaked black water, but he made do. It wouldn’t kill him… probably.
In the university dining hall, Qin Siyu bought a helping of beef stew and some bread.
As he carried his tray in search of an empty seat, he spotted several wealthy fraternity boys.
He knew who they were. They were fraternity members he’d seen on the night he sold condoms, the ones who had left the bar ahead of Kingsley Aston. They seemed to be on decent terms with him. They had all attended the Columbus Day dance and spoken with Kingsley there too.
Now it was lunchtime, and those rich students ate in the dining hall every day.
“…” Qin Siyu’s feet seemed nailed to the floor. He held his tray and hesitated for several seconds. In the end he quietly went over as if nothing were unusual and sat across the aisle from them. He began eating, all the while pricking up his ears.
He felt there must be something wrong with him.
He realized he only wanted to hear more about Kingsley Aston. What was he like in class, at the fraternity, on the sports field, at parties?
But why did he want to know? And why was he eavesdropping?
Even while reproaching himself, Qin Siyu slowed the pace of his meal. He ate his beef slowly and sipped his soup quietly, not wanting to make a sound that would prevent him from hearing whenever someone mentioned that man.
Several fraternity members were sitting at the neighboring table. A red-haired one said, “I think the president lied.”
The others asked, “Huh?”
Qin Siyu knew Kingsley Aston was the president and immediately paid even closer attention.
The redhead went on, “There was a social with the sorority last Friday night. You all went, right?”
“I went.” “We danced and talked. It was fun.”
“Everyone took the event seriously. The president had agreed to attend… and obviously, a lot of the sorority girls signed up because of him.”
“True, but he explained just now that he was sick last Friday.”
“Actually, he wasn’t.” The red-haired student said, “I was a little late that night and saw the president in the garden… looking for something, I think.”
He lowered his voice, but Qin Siyu had keen hearing.
“Oh,” another asked, “at exactly that time?”
“Yes. Seven fifteen.”
Seven fifteen? Qin Siyu tore off a piece of buttered bread.
Last Friday, he’d said goodbye to Aston in the garden at six thirty.
So Aston had stayed in the garden at least another forty-five minutes… searching for something? What?
The answer seemed obvious: that book Qin Siyu had thought he’d lost, only to discover it had been returned.
Why?
Was it because they were friends? Because Aston knew how upset Qin Siyu would be, and had stayed to find it for him?
He had even missed that fraternity event.
He…
Qin Siyu remembered another still night at a train station.
He had unintentionally made what amounted to a nuisance call to that man, but because Aston worried something serious had happened, he’d gone to the station in the middle of the night.
Friday had been the same. Knowing how distraught Qin Siyu would be over the lost book, Aston had stayed and found it.
Kingsley Aston… what a good person he was. Being his friend was surely an honor.
But why hadn’t he called to tell Qin Siyu?
Qin Siyu had finished his bowl of beef. He drank all the soup too, then speared pieces of bread with his little fork and wiped them around the inside of the bowl to soak up the last drops.
One piece, then a second, then a third, until the bowl was spotless. He wouldn’t waste food.
The fraternity boys were still talking admiringly about Aston.
Two of them were practically green with envy. One said, “It was so obvious. When the prettiest girls in the sorority realized Aston wasn’t coming, they wanted to leave right away. They looked miserable and bored.” At the same time they saw Qin Siyu wiping his bowl clean with bread and gave him a look as if they wanted to get away from him.
Qin Siyu didn’t notice.
Strangely, once he learned Aston had found the book and returned it, Qin Siyu felt almost drawn back to the library to borrow that very book again.
Back in his apartment, he stared quietly at the library card inside. On its final line was written, “Returned April 7, 1933.” He stood there dazed for a long time.
Almost possessed, he closed the front cover and imagined where Aston had held the book when he picked it up, and where his fingers might have rested as he walked along. Probably near the lower part of the spine. Qin Siyu lightly rubbed that spot with his own fingertips, feeling a faint tingling sensation.
His handwritten poetry sheet was still tucked inside.
He took it out and looked at it for a while. Did Aston know I was thinking of him when I copied these poems?
Strangely, after studying his writing, Qin Siyu thought it wasn’t good enough.
He took out his very best pen, not the one he’d used at the library, then carefully smoothed a sheet of paper over his desk and adjusted its angle to the exact position and distance most comfortable for writing. He began copying those two poems again.
He formed every letter very slowly, determined that each should be handsome and beautifully shaped.
This time his standards were even higher. Whenever a single letter went crooked, he started over.
Only on the fifth attempt was Qin Siyu satisfied. He tucked the new sheet back into the poetry collection.
Afterward, he patted his cheeks. The weather felt unusually hot today.
Since he knew Aston had found and returned the book, he ought to telephone and thank him.
When the call connected, Qin Siyu sensed a little coldness in the other man’s voice, an almost deliberate coldness.
He couldn’t understand it.
What was wrong?
“What is it?” Aston asked.
“Uh,” Qin Siyu said, “I found out by accident today that you were the one who found my book in the garden last Friday and returned it to the library.”
The moment he realized Qin Siyu knew, Aston’s carefully assumed reserve collapsed. He fell quiet, then asked, “How did you find out?”
“Mm.” Qin Siyu didn’t lie, though he concealed a small part of the story. “I was eating lunch next to some fraternity members, and they said you didn’t attend the social that night. You said you were sick, but someone had actually seen you in the garden. I can’t tell you who it was.”
“…I see.”
“Anyway, thank you.” That trace of distance when Aston had answered the phone left Qin Siyu confused and a little anxious. He began searching for something else to talk about. “Um, does the fraternity hold events a lot? Like that social?”
“Fairly often.”
“Oh.” Qin Siyu really wanted to confirm that Aston wasn’t being cold and that he’d only imagined the change. Hoping to draw out a longer answer, he made something up. “The fraternity house looks big and beautiful. What’s inside? Is there a ballroom? Was the social held there?”
Aston: “…”
Realizing how awkwardly he’d asked, Qin Siyu added, “Chinese students certainly can’t join the fraternity, but I’ve always been curious about it. What’s inside that building? What do you usually do? I’ve really, really wanted to know.”
When Aston heard that Qin Siyu wanted to know, he closed his eyes briefly. He realized he couldn’t refuse the urge to satisfy that wish as thoroughly as he could. “Would you like to come and see?”
Qin Siyu: “Huh?”
“There’s a regular meeting next week,” Aston said. “I could hide you somewhere so you can listen to what they discuss. Then you’ll know what our activities are, down to the organizing process, which would be more useful than anything I can tell you now. I can also show you around the building.”
“Oh.” Qin Siyu hadn’t expected the offer, but he disliked the faint distance he’d sensed between them. He wasn’t genuinely interested in fraternity business, yet he answered at once. “Could I? Thank you. I’d love to go. What day next week?”
“Monday,” Aston replied. “Then let’s meet beneath the clock tower at four next Monday afternoon.”
Qin Siyu agreed immediately. “All right!”
After hanging up, Aston closed his eyes again.
Why did he have to tempt me again?
He remembered what Pastor Peter had told him.
Peter had said, “My child, the Devil will continue tempting you. His wiles are endless. He will keep attacking your weaknesses, trying to break your spirit. You must believe in yourself. You will not be led astray. In the end, you will overcome desire and overcome him.”
Peter had also opened the Bible and pointed out several lines:
“Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”
“There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able.”
Peter had repeated tenderly, “Kingsley, you must stay awake and vigilant, for the Devil prowls everywhere seeking someone to devour. Resist him with unwavering faith. When you stand against the Devil, he will flee. Every temptation you face is one a human being can endure, and God will never allow you to face something beyond your strength. Believe in yourself, and believe in God.”
Aston knew he ought to resist. Yet when that person came to tempt him again, he was utterly incapable of doing so.
Author’s Note: Read the passage about the Devil prowling around looking for someone to devour carefully, and use your imagination.
The young master doesn’t blame himself. He blames the Devil. And Sean.