After the night at the fraternity, the dreams didn’t fade. They became even more frequent.
In them, Qin Siyu began saying “I love you” beside his ear.
Aston fixed his gaze on the man in the dream and asked, “Sean, what did you say?”
Qin Siyu slipped out the tip of his tongue and wound his arms around Aston’s neck. With the fingers of his right hand he gently played with the ends of Aston’s golden hair, clinging to him as he said one word at a time, “I love you, Kingsley Aston.”
Qin Siyu half-closed his eyes and showed the tip of his tongue again. Aston parted his own lips and embraced him, their mouths meeting and their tongues mingling.
When Qin Siyu blushed, the little mole beneath his eye seemed to redden too. Aston stroked it with his thumb; Qin Siyu caught his hand and licked his palm.
Aston kissed his neck, where there was another small mole, sucking and licking at it until Qin Siyu trembled all over.
He held Qin Siyu’s shoulders firmly and raised his leg, about to—
Each time he reached that point in the dream, Aston would force himself awake.
He would go into the shower and turn on the cold water.
Cold water slid over his hair, his face, his collarbones, his chest and abdomen, and farther down. He forced himself to calm down.
But once, after seeing him on campus during the day, Aston dreamed of the two of them losing control that night. When Qin Siyu begged again, “Please,” and “Take me,” Aston was unwilling to leave the dream. He surrendered to it, hesitated and struggled, and finally crossed the forbidden line. Only when Qin Siyu cried out and shed tears of joy did Aston wake with a start.
He took a cold piece of ice from the ice machine and held it between his lips. Still dazed, he went into the shower and turned on cold water until it soaked him.
But it was no use.
The final scene of his dream had been so real, so overwhelming, that his blood still seemed to boil. He couldn’t subdue his body’s agitation; it was as though his own body had resolved to defy him.
Aston remembered the pastor telling him, “My child, you have the strongest will of anyone I’ve ever met. You must believe in yourself… You won’t be led astray by the Devil. If even you succumb, nobody will be able to stand firm in what is right.”
I must stand firm in what is right, Aston thought.
He thought of the Devil and of his faith, then of the dream he’d just had, of crossing the forbidden line and seeing joy on the other man’s face.
Aston held his breath, shut out everything else, and with trembling fingers…
He lowered his eyes. Under the cold stream, he braced one hand against the wall. His other hand… He closed his eyes and breathed hard, speaking Qin Siyu’s name as he imagined them kissing, their lips and tongues entwined.
The water kept rushing down with a steady splash.
For the first time, he went all the way to the end while thinking of that man.
That night, he had begun by resisting, but by the end it was almost as if he’d welcomed the Devil with open arms.
At first he still felt ashamed, but little by little he gave his imagination free rein. The images grew clearer and bolder, until even Sean wept, his voice clear and high as he called, “Kingsley…”
Aston showered mechanically, thinking: Has Sean ever said “I love you” to someone else?
Of course he had.
A person as devoted as he was.
When he said it, what did his voice sound like?
Earnest? Affectionate? Resolute? Tender?
For a long time Aston tried to imagine it. But all he could do was endlessly replay what the Sean of his dreams had said. He didn’t know whether that voice was close to reality, or immeasurably far away.
In April, the United States abandoned the gold standard.
This was another of Roosevelt’s aggressive measures.
To save the American economy, Roosevelt had decided to abandon everything, even his conscience.
As Aston had predicted, on April 5, 1933, Roosevelt issued an executive order prohibiting individuals from holding gold. The government required private holders to surrender their gold at the official price of $20.67 per ounce.
On April 18, 1933, another presidential order formally declared that the dollar would no longer be tied to gold.
Elio’s Notes: Roosevelt’s April 5 order did restrict gold hoarding, but contained several exemptions. The formal proclamation suspending gold convertibility came on April 20, 1933, rather than the April 18 date given in the novel. Sources: Executive Order 6102, Presidential Papers; Federal Reserve History, Roosevelt’s Gold Program.
Aston knew Roosevelt would take several further steps. The first would be to raise the official purchase price of gold after a few months, perhaps even doubling it from $20.67 per ounce to $41.34 or thereabouts.
In effect, this would devalue the dollar. Gold was still used as a standard of value in international trade, so raising the gold purchase price would reduce the dollar’s worth.
During the Depression, demand had collapsed, consumption had plummeted, prices had fallen, and deflation was severe. Devaluing the dollar would certainly drive prices up substantially, increasing the nominal incomes of ordinary people, especially farmers, reducing the burden of debt, and combating deflation.
It would boost exports too, allowing factories to reopen and workers to return to their jobs. At the same listed price, American goods would become “cheaper” to Europeans far away. Something that had once cost ten dollars, requiring two hundred francs, might still be priced at ten dollars but cost a European only a hundred francs after devaluation.
The second step would be printing money, also intended to weaken the dollar.
And the third would probably be the sudden abolition of the “gold clauses.” To prevent confusion, American contracts in recent years had often required debts to be repaid in gold. If the dollar depreciated, the burden of those debts would grow even heavier, prolonging the Depression. Aston was nearly certain Roosevelt would sweep away the gold clauses and stage a vast national default.
Elio’s Notes: The gold-clause provisions were invalidated by a congressional joint resolution of June 5, 1933. The official gold price later became $35 an ounce in January 1934, not the hypothetical $41.34 Aston imagines here. The character’s forecast is preserved as a forecast. Sources: U.S. Mint, gold-clause resolution; Federal Reserve History, Gold Reserve Act of 1934.
All this would undoubtedly transfer pressure to Europe, especially countries still adhering to the gold standard. Roosevelt’s methods were simple and ruthless.
As expected, the move caused an enormous uproar.
The printing presses started up, and stocks rose sharply, gaining a third in April. General Motors resumed operations. Many farmers wept with joy as crop prices rose, while the government continued to encourage destroying cotton, slaughtering pigs, and restricting supply to push prices higher still, walking an extraordinarily dangerous tightrope.
The international financial order moved toward collapse. Britain, France, and other countries vehemently protested. Representatives of sixty-six nations gathered at a conference in London, seeking to salvage the gold standard, but produced no agreement. European newspapers wrote that America’s wheelchair-using, disabled president was a madman.
Elio’s Notes: The London Monetary and Economic Conference was held June 12–July 27, 1933, not in April. The narrative compresses these events into its account of Roosevelt’s spring policies. Source: U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1933, Vol. I.
Of course, a few gold-exporting countries would probably benefit from the changes.
Since Qin Siyu’s performance, his relationship with Robert had grown closer. With Robert’s help, Aston had already stockpiled gold in South Africa and other gold-producing countries. He didn’t intend to sell it yet; he would wait for a better opportunity and higher returns.
The American economy began recovering, and even recovering rapidly, while Europe’s position grew worse. Nobody knew where humanity was headed.
Although the economy was recovering, Qin Siyu felt no difference in his own life. He was still studying, working on projects, and taking odd jobs.
The next time he saw Aston, it was because Aston invited him to do something unusual.
Aston believed there was a loophole in blackjack, or “twenty-one.” He had developed a mathematical model based on the rules and now intended to visit a casino to test it.
Qin Siyu paused. “Isn’t twenty-one a game you ought to play alone? Each player competes individually against the dealer. What difference would my presence make?”
Aston explained, “There are limitations to testing it by myself. What if I’m simply lucky? Two people would produce more reliable results. Besides… there might be times when we need to remind one another of something.”
Qin Siyu: “…”
Aston continued, “I’ve considered everyone around me. Apart from you, none of them have sufficient brains. There isn’t a single other person worth bringing to the table.”
Qin Siyu: “…Uh, thank you for your confidence.”
Is he always this blunt? Qin Siyu wondered. How has nobody punched him yet?
Sensing that Aston might be trying to give him an opportunity to earn money as well as test the model, Qin Siyu said calmly, “Kingsley, I can go, but promise me that you’ll take all the winnings yourself. All right?”
Aston hadn’t expected that request. “Hmm?”
Qin Siyu explained, “I’m strongly opposed to my father gambling at fan-tan. I can’t oppose him and then walk into a casino myself to play blackjack just because I think I’m clever and know how to win. Fundamentally, it’s the same thing. Every gambler thinks they’re clever, that they know how to play. I couldn’t persuade my father, and I couldn’t persuade myself.”
Qin Sanfu enjoyed fan-tan and always dreamed of making a fortune through it. The older generation of men in Chinatown were always gambling, something Qin Siyu detested.
He knew that gambling had already been legalized in neighboring Nevada, and that the state capital, Las Vegas, was rapidly opening casinos. Gambling remained illegal in California. Nevada was largely desert, with vast expanses of barren land and virtually nothing to sustain its economy. So in 1931, during the Depression, the state had decided to find a way out, creating an entertainment city where visitors could watch performances and fashion shows, vacation, shop, eat, drink, and gamble. Under brilliant neon lights, the nights of Las Vegas never ended.
Elio’s Notes: Nevada legalized licensed gambling in March 1931, but its capital was and remains Carson City, not Las Vegas. The story’s claim is preserved. Sources: Nevada Legislature, 1931 gaming statute; Carson City official history.
Aston was quiet for a moment.
“Besides,” Qin Siyu added, “that kind of income is too speculative. I don’t want to develop a taste for money that comes so easily.”
“All right,” Aston said. “I promise. I’ll take all the winnings. You only need to help test the model.”
“Then I can do that!” Aston had helped him so many times. Qin Siyu would never refuse when Aston asked him for help. “When are we going to play blackjack? I need to plan ahead… I’m repairing bicycles at the wharf every weekend now.”
Aston considered it. “Come find me next Saturday at eight in the evening. I’m working on a project in San Francisco with several people, and we’re staying in a hotel for the time being.”
“All right, let me check.”
“Mm.” Aston gave him the address.
After arranging time off, Qin Siyu dressed a little more smartly on the agreed evening, wearing clothes that wouldn’t make a casino look down on him, and went to find Aston.
He habitually arrived early, leaving himself some time in case anything went wrong.
Aston had given him his room number, but Qin Siyu was there well ahead of time and wandered around the hotel. When he came to the swimming pool, he saw Aston.
It was already dark, and Aston was the only person in the water.
In the moonlight his skin looked pale and cool. The way he swam was unlike anything Qin Siyu had ever seen, even in competitions. It was fascinating.
His body formed a streamlined shape, rippling beautifully with each movement. Rather than relying mainly on his arms, he seemed to drive the motion from his chest, abdomen, and core. Both arms emerged from the water together, sweeping in wide circles from near his hips before entering again. His body rose and fell in broad movements, almost like a dolphin, the developed, graceful muscles of his back lifting smoothly out of the water before he dove below the surface again.
Elio’s Notes: An early butterfly-arm recovery appeared in competitive breaststroke in 1933, while the recognizable butterfly stroke with its coordinated dolphin kick took shape around 1935. This early-1933 scene portrays the later form unusually soon. Sources: Swim England, butterfly history; Swimming World, butterfly history.
Perhaps because he’d never seen such a stroke, Qin Siyu kept watching.
Powerful back, waist, shoulders, and arms.
Qin Siyu remembered how, during his adolescence in the 1920s, beach culture had taken off in America. Some classmates loved going to the beach to look at pretty women.
Qin Siyu had never enjoyed that. For one thing, he found it disrespectful. For another, it bored him. But now… he had been watching for a very long time.
…It was beautiful.
After a while Aston stopped, held the pool edge, wiped his face, and pushed his hair back. He climbed out using the handrail.
Drops of water pattered onto the ground, leaving dark marks. Aston’s legs were long and powerfully built. His eight-pack was sharply defined, his waist narrow, and his chest broad. He had never seen a white man’s nipples before; they weren’t as pink as his own.
…But he was beautiful.
He pushed his wet hair back again. In the moonlight, his damp golden hair made him look almost like a sea siren.
After a few steps he noticed Qin Siyu and paused.
He came closer. Qin Siyu gradually made out the blue of his eyes emerging from the darkness, more truly blue than the water in the pool.
Qin Siyu turned around and picked up a white bath towel to drape around Aston. Perhaps Aston was tired, because he didn’t take it. Qin Siyu spread the towel, laid it over his shoulders, brought the edges together at his chest, then released them. The sides fell naturally apart, revealing only the bulge at the center of Aston’s black swim trunks. The wet fabric seemed stretched thin and glistened in the moonlight.
Qin Siyu: “…”
Please cover up, he thought.
Aston looked at him, reached around slowly, and drew the towel closed.
“…” It was chilly that night. Qin Siyu offered another towel, but Aston wouldn’t let go of the first.
Having just told Aston to hold the towel closed, Qin Siyu said, “Lower your head a little.”
Aston watched him for a few seconds, then bent forward.
Qin Siyu wiped his hair several times. Aston gradually raised his eyes, the blue deepening and lightening within them.
A lock of damp hair still refused to behave and fell across his forehead. “How long have you been here?” he asked.
“Not long,” Qin Siyu said, then asked, “What stroke were you doing?”
Aston looked at him. “A new technique that’s been developed recently. It’s called the butterfly. It can be faster, but it uses a lot of energy.”
“Butterfly?” Qin Siyu considered that. It really did look a little like one.
“Mm.”
Used to working in laundries, Qin Siyu automatically folded the white towel into a neat square and placed it in the designated collection area.
A woman came running into the pool area just then. She looked toward the water and smiled in relief.
Qin Siyu looked too. A pearl earring had fallen into the shallow end of the pool, close to a drain.
The staff were nowhere around. The earring was perilously close to the drain, and the woman was fully dressed, her long skirt and hair carefully arranged. Seeing that the water in the shallow end was only fifty or sixty centimeters deep, Qin Siyu volunteered, “Would you like some help?”
“Thank you!” the woman exclaimed delightedly.
Qin Siyu rolled up his trouser legs, kicked off his shoes, and pulled the fabric above his knees as he approached the pool.
The rolled fabric dug into the flesh of his thighs, leaving a constricting ring.
After a couple of steps he suddenly remembered the anklet he was wearing.
His parents were terribly superstitious. At the New Year, an elderly Daoist had warned that an evil spirit would soon attach itself to Qin Siyu, so his parents bought charms for him to wear. On his wrist he had a peace pendant; around his ankle was a red cinnabar charm flanked by two peachwood beads. One was intended to ensure safety, and the other to ward off evil.
If that anklet got wet and cracked, his parents would frighten him with warnings all over again.
So Qin Siyu released its clasp and removed it.
Aston noticed.
A red cord had circled Qin Siyu’s ankle, with the cinnabar charm resting over the ankle bone and a little round peachwood bead on either side.
Qin Siyu lifted his right foot and slipped it off.
His Achilles tendon was long, and his heel was faintly pink.
Then he approached the pool, used his toes to test the water’s temperature, and drew back. He went to the ladder, leaving a footprint on the tiles that gradually faded as it dried.
Aston realized that Sean possessed an unusually refined kind of eroticism.
It was common for men and women to display their bodies, exude charm, and try to seduce others, but Aston had never been interested; he’d found it all tedious. Sean, though… his eroticism was subtle and refined. His every gesture could provoke desire.
He wanted to use the ladder rather than jump in, because he was still wearing trousers.
Holding the anklet in one hand and the railing in the other, Qin Siyu paused. He hadn’t been thinking of anything in particular, but Aston walked over and held out an open palm.
Qin Siyu handed him the anklet and climbed down into the water, wading across step by step.
Aston lowered his gaze to examine the little cord in his hand.
He brought his fingers together in a circle to measure it. Qin Siyu’s ankle was precisely the circumference Aston could span with the tips of his thumb and middle finger.
Aston could encircle Sean’s ankle in his hand, draw it toward himself, and raise the leg high.
The dreams hadn’t included details like these.
His parents wanted him to be safe, fastening one charm after another to him. Aston imagined taking the charms away, closing his own hand around that ankle instead, and whispering, “You’ll never know peace again.”
□*□
At last, Aston imagined withdrawing and fastening the wrist charm and anklet back onto Qin Siyu. But that hand and foot would hang limply over the edge of the bed, too weak to ward off any evil spirit.
In the past, when Aston learned that people of the same sex also felt a need to unite physically, he had found it absurd.
People of the same sex couldn’t reproduce, so such intimacy seemed to him nothing more than a clumsy imitation.
But over the past few days he’d felt as though he were going mad.
Those images kept haunting him.
He wanted… to be inside him.
From above and below, he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of that person.
Aston brought his thoughts back to the present. He couldn’t actually do anything.
These thoughts would eventually fade and disappear with the passage of time.
In the pool, Qin Siyu reached the spot where the earring had fallen and rolled up his sleeves to retrieve it. Because the water refracted the light, he missed it at first. After feeling around several times, he finally found it.
He climbed out and returned the earring to the woman. Aston glanced at him, then gave Qin Siyu the bath towel he’d been wearing so he could dry his legs. Aston himself turned toward the changing room.
The towel was a little damp now, their water droplets mingled in it.
When Aston came out, Qin Siyu was waiting by the changing-room door. “Where’s my thing?”
Aston turned his wrist naturally, revealing the anklet.
He was wearing it around his wrist, and it fit perfectly.
Qin Siyu: “…”
“I was afraid I’d forget it after drying my hair,” Aston explained, “so I put it here for the moment.”
“…Oh,” Qin Siyu replied.
He looked at the anklet.
The round cinnabar charm lay against Aston’s wrist, the two peachwood beads on either side, resting over the bluish veins and supple tendons.
Aston had beautiful hands.
Qin Siyu felt his own ankle begin to tingle.
It was almost as though Aston’s wrist were pressed against his ankle and his fingertips were touching Qin Siyu’s palm. Entrusting such a vulnerable place to someone else left Qin Siyu both uneasy and exhilarated.
Aston released the clasp, took off the anklet, dangled it from his fingers, and handed it back.
“…” Qin Siyu accepted it. Aston’s eyes remained fixed on him.
But Qin Siyu didn’t put it back around his ankle. Instead he tossed it straight into his bag and asked, “Shall we go to the underground casino now?”
Aston glanced at the bag, paused for a moment, then said, “All right.”