Clink… clink…
Zhuang Xiao lightly tapped two twenty-five-cent coins together, holding them in his palm and rubbing them between his fingers.
The instant his attention wandered, who knew what he was thinking, the coins sprang out of his hand and scattered across the floor, rolling wildly away on entirely different paths.
One coin rolled toward a wall and stopped in a damp corner covered in dust and grime. The other rolled a long way, looking ready to race away into freedom without ever turning back. Then it made a wide, unexpected curve and somehow ended up in that same corner. The two coins took different paths to the same destination and gently touched, making the blackened corner seem to brighten with a sliver of light.
Zhuang Xiao stared at the two coins lying in the corner, bewitched, for a long time…
Only when a homeless man nearby began looking in the same direction did he hurry over. In two big strides, he reached the corner and grabbed his fifty cents as though he were competing with the man for a handful of gold.
He wiped both coins clean on his clothes and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket to keep.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he followed a habit he could no longer remember developing: searching Weibo for every photograph and piece of news about Pei Yan.
Filming on Undercover War III had begun smoothly. The first month was being spent on suburban sets outside Beijing, and the second would move to several locations in Hong Kong and Thailand. The shoot was nearly finished.
Old Pei was still immensely popular. His Weibo follower count had climbed wildly, gaining another million in just two months, including new admirers from Hong Kong and Thailand.
Zhuang Xiao never cared about views, follower numbers, or whether he himself was “popular.” But he cared about Pei Yan’s followers and views. Every day he checked the trending searches and hot topics to see who was being discussed. If they were all about other people’s nonsense, he closed the page. Whenever he spotted Pei Yan’s name, he clicked it and could spend ages reading…
Without registering, he could not see the posts. So, for the first time in his life, he was forced to make an account.
“Young Hero Pei Injured in Accidental Collision on Set; Mobbed by Fans During Hospital Checkup.” Every entertainment account was sharing the story, and he read them all. He had already seen it online before Pei Yan sent him a text.
Zhang Huan’s publicity team had seized the opportunity and easily put their own star in the headlines again. They had clipped the footage of the moment Pei Yan was hit by the car on set and posted it online.
The car struck him at the waist with a dreadful bang, sending Pei Yan flying seven or eight meters…
Some fans were so frightened they cried. Others brought figurines and plush toys to the hospital to show their support. Passersby photographed Pei Yan hurrying through a hospital corridor in a baseball cap and face mask.
A secret fan among the hospital staff leaked Pei Yan’s X-ray image to her social media, where it was soon circulated more widely.
Zhuang Xiao saved the X-ray.
He examined it himself, turning it over in his head and losing sleep over it. He even sent it privately to a Western-trained medical specialist who treated him with physical therapy, asking for an opinion. The specialist replied that the film showed no obvious damage to bones or internal organs. It should be nothing serious, only skin swelling and bruised muscles.
* * *
They were in a subway station in New York.
The director called the crew together. An assistant came over to tell him it was time to roll. Let’s get to work, old fellows!
Zhuang Xiao put down his phone. The stylist came to rearrange his hair, deliberately mussing the neat style.
This time he was not shooting a police thriller, a martial-arts epic, or a kung-fu movie. He had accepted a low-budget domestic drama about marriage, family, and morality. A young Asian immigrant couple struggled at the lowest level of New York’s sprawling, diverse immigrant society, facing troubles at work, at home, and in their marriage, as well as bitter conflicts with their families of origin. They fell into cycles of argument and interrogation, then separation and divorce… It was a heartbreaking, socially realistic story, subdued and oppressive in tone.
A little while earlier, Zhuang Xiao had suddenly told his manager that he was tired of filming fight scenes. He wanted a change. He wanted to try an ordinary-life drama, and he did not mind romantic scenes so long as there were no excessively naked bed scenes. Fatty Bao had found him this project.
He thought the script was excellent and liked the director’s team too. He accepted even though the fee was low.
New York’s subway was old. The station platforms had no safety doors. The underground passages smelled unpleasant, and homeless people wrapped in blankets occupied corners by the walls, contributing to the unvarnished realism of the shot.
Action!
A woman, crying hysterically in a breakdown, ran down the passage stairs. Halfway there she collapsed, struggled back up in a daze, and stumbled toward the platform.
Zhuang Xiao entered the shot.
Two strands of hair stuck to his sweat-drenched face. He gasped raggedly and ran down the deep underground passage. In his eyes, the tunnel shook and lurched, stretching endlessly ahead, as though he could never reach the end… A broad flight of stairs appeared, crossed by a cold iron barrier. He vaulted it.
An action star had to pretend to be clumsy and weak, deliberately twisting an ankle and tumbling awkwardly over the barrier. He threw himself toward the platform, trembling and calling his wife’s name, finally catching the woman just as she was about to fall in front of an approaching train.
Suffocating inside a cage made of concrete, lost and desperate, he had found his loved one again. The shock of recovering what seemed lost brought them together. They held each other, shaking and crying, until their breathing slowly calmed…
A long, long time passed. The next train was nearly due before the director finally called cut.
Voices broke out on all sides, and everyone abruptly relaxed into smiles. The director said, “Good. Excellent. That one works!”
Zhuang Xiao slowly released his acting partner. This time he was slow to emerge from the character. His face was still wet.
The actress playing his wife was of Japanese descent, with a clear, delicate face and a gentle, quiet manner. After every take, she would politely nod and bow before turning away, exceedingly courteous. The two of them bowed to each other fifty times a day. After a while, Zhuang Xiao began to feel that all this courtesy was putting an extra burden on his back. He was not accustomed to so much politeness…
The director came over and patted his shoulder. Mr. Zhuang, very good.
The director’s English was not particularly fluent either. Both spoke with immigrant accents, so they communicated through the language of cinema and the camera. The shoot went surprisingly smoothly. There seemed to be an unspoken understanding about how each shot should be played and what sort of sorrow, repression, and inner conflict had to be shown.
In an interview about his filming experience, the director said, “This Chinese actor is someone I’m working with for the first time. I had heard he was a kung-fu star and worried he wouldn’t be suited to this role. Actors from that background often perform in an exaggerated, superficial way. After his audition, I realized that had been a prejudice I had carried for years. Mr. Zhuang has a subdued, melancholy presence. Living away from his homeland for many years has left its traces on him. Those experiences give his performance depth and complexity… I have great confidence in his portrayal of this outsider.”
The director asked Zhuang Xiao, “Have you lost more weight? You’ve already slimmed down enough. You really don’t need to lose any more.”
Zhuang Xiao smiled in his usual way and nodded. Yes. He was not trying to lose any more.
The weight loss was required by the script. The male lead was supposed to change from an ordinary man in the first half of the story into someone depressed, alcoholic, quarrelsome, and eventually separated or divorced. His appearance had to change drastically. From the opening to the ending, he needed to lose about ten jin (approximately five kilograms) of body weight.
So the director had instructed him at the start to slim down gradually as filming went on. By the ending, he should have lost roughly the required amount.
Lunch on set was the hot dog everybody hated.
In New York’s suddenly colder weather, with bitter winds and rain, the hot dogs quickly became cold dogs.
Standing by the catering truck, Zhuang Xiao collected six sausages in their now-cold buns. Before him stood a dozen bottles of sauces in every imaginable variety.
He did not need to think about which condiments to choose. He remembered clearly which ones he had eaten before, so he picked up the bottles one by one and squeezed different flavors onto the hot dogs: ketchup, honey mustard, peach barbecue sauce, and a Mexican hot-pepper sauce.
“Sir Zhuang, you can eat all that yourself?” someone asked.
“It’s not much. I can finish it.”
“And you can still lose weight eating that much?” People on set were incredulous. It was as though another person lived inside Zhuang Xiao, eating those hot dogs and hamburgers for him and burning all the calories.
Zhuang Xiao sat on a bench in a New York park with his food, eating an entire plate of six cold dogs one bite at a time… To tell the truth, they were not good. They were cold and unappetizing. He was only tasting a memory.
Working all day left him exhausted and ravenous. He ate so much, yet he still got thinner.
Luckily he had taken a film requiring weight loss. Had he accepted something like Dangal, a film that demanded weight gain, he would have been finished and unable to play the part.
In two months he had lost around fifteen jin (approximately 7.5 kilograms). He was wasting away uncontrollably, much too quickly.
The story mirrored his mood all too well. These days, if he crouched in a corner of the set, he could stay perfectly still, letting roots grow from beneath his feet and branches spread above his head until he quietly became a tree…
Later the director came over to tell him again, “Stop losing weight! The film has an open ending that suggests reconciliation. Your character finally decides to quit drinking and seek treatment, and the couple remarries. There’s still hope in life, still light! People grow after suffering setbacks, and everything comes back to life after winter. You look as though you’re about to be killed off in the very next scene!”
Fatty Bao came to visit the set. He circled it once, looking around. Eh? Where was he?
Only on his second lap did he notice Zhuang Xiao crouching nearby, smoking.
Eyes wide, Fatty Bao ran over in exaggerated shock. “Oh… Brother?”
“Why are you wandering around like that?” Zhuang Xiao asked with a cold smile. “I’ve been watching you circle for ages. You came within three meters of me and kept spinning like a top, practically rotating around your own axis!”
Fatty Bao came closer and bent down to inspect him carefully, making sure this really was his boss. “Boss, listen, I’ve been so busy dealing with Xiao-Sa’s contract and the other production contracts lately. It’s only been one month since I last saw you!”
“Whatever you want to say, just say it.”
“Boss, last time I saw you, you were a whole person. Now it looks like only half a person is left.”
“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Zhuang Xiao asked.
Fatty Bao paused. “It really is pretty bad.”
* * *
Fatty Bao accepted a cigarette and lit it. Both men hunched their necks inside their raised collars, squatting in the park to smoke and watching their cigarette tips glow red in the wind.
Fatty Bao began, “If you really can’t bear being apart from Mr. Pei, if you miss him so much, why don’t you go back and see him?”
Zhuang Xiao turned to look at him. He had never told anyone about this relationship. Fatty Bao answered with an oversized, living imitation of the “nose-picking, sideways glare” emoji. I work in show business too, you know. Who couldn’t see it?
Zhuang Xiao was extremely uncomfortable sharing his private life. He could not even imagine Pei Yan telling the people around him about every tiny thing: his manager, friends, parents, everyone. Zhuang Xiao never told anyone anything, and could not understand why Pei Yan liked to tell people or bring them together to meet.
“Are you really going to act proud and save face over something like this? If it were me, I’d shamelessly stick to him like glue,” Fatty Bao said. “Besides, Pei Yan is Pei Yan. He hasn’t got any shame to begin with. Why are you playing the cool, aloof gentleman with him?”
“No. It has nothing to do with pride. I’m not even in a position to act aloof,” Zhuang Xiao said.
“Then at least contact him. Ask Mr. Pei to come over for a visit when he has time. It might be easier to meet and talk here.”
Zhuang Xiao said nothing.
Fatty Bao took out his phone. “How about I get in touch for you?”
Zhuang Xiao pressed his hand down.
“Too obvious?” Fatty Bao asked. “Then I won’t contact Mr. Pei directly. I’ll call his manager and drop a subtle hint… How about that?”
“We already broke up. If I keep reaching out, dangling hope in front of him and never letting the connection end, wouldn’t that make me a complete bastard? Then we’d be living in different countries, seeing each other only a few times a year.” Zhuang Xiao shook his head. “He’s doing so well. Before long he may meet somebody else. Why should I delay his future?”
Fatty Bao silently put his phone away.
“Then I only have one question.” Fatty Bao stubbed his cigarette out on the ground. “Do you really, really love him? Can you really not bear being without him?”
Zhuang Xiao nodded. “I love him very much. I can’t bear it.”
“To think even someone like you would have a day like this,” Fatty Bao sighed. “Mr. Pei really is charming. He draws people in. With you, he’s your little shadow and your big sweetheart!”
Zhuang Xiao laughed too. He lit another cigarette, wholeheartedly agreeing. Yanyan was the best and sweetest person.
“Drunken Fist will be promoted for its mainland release next month,” Fatty Bao said. “Will you go?”
Zhuang Xiao shook his head. “No. Tell them I can’t get leave from the film set… I’m not seeing him.”
* * *
A little over a week later, the production was nearly finished. Liang Youhui happened to be coming from California on business and arranged to meet Brother Xiao for some fun.
“Hurry over,” Zhuang Xiao told him. “Did your whole family place burn down?”
“So you do know!” Liang Youhui said. “I thought you went to New York and weren’t ever planning to come back to our little countryside!”
“Of course I know. It’s all over the news. How bad was Napa? Is your villa still there?”
Liang Youhui sounded miserable on the phone. “It burned! That big house my dad left me. Not one tile or timber survived. The entire community on the hillside was burned to the ground!”
They were talking about the devastating wildfires that had swept through northern California a few days earlier. Liang Youhui’s wealthy father had been implicated in financial crimes and had left him some property before going to prison, mainly houses and wineries near Napa Valley.
The world was unpredictable. Acres upon acres of vineyard estates in the valley could turn to scorched earth in a single night. The paradise-like scenery had been destroyed, the losses enormous. Who knew when the beauty could be restored?
Liang Youhui lamented pitifully, “I said I’d take my Brother Xue to Napa when the grapes ripened. I kept waiting for his annual leave, but he never got any time off… Now everything’s burned down. No chance at all.”
“Don’t you still have a winery near Irvine?” Zhuang Xiao snorted. “Take your boyfriend to southern California instead.”
“That’s true…” Liang Youhui said. “The scenery isn’t as good as Napa, but at least it’s a winery with a few grapevines. Next time I’ll take my darling Brother Xue to our place.”
The words don’t come flashed through Zhuang Xiao’s head. Don’t come show off your relationship in front of me. I don’t want to see it.
For the first time in his life, he found himself having such a petty thought. Never before had he felt that being single could be such a painful, difficult thing.
Didn’t he love his freedom?
Wasn’t living alone wonderful?
Wonderful, my ass.
* * *
When they met, Liang Youhui looked anything but depressed. He had always been carefree and optimistic. So he had lost a villa and a winery in a fire. Big deal. He still had other houses to live in, and his husband was doing fine.
As long as Brother Xue had not stopped loving him or dumped him, as long as the person was still there, who cared about houses? Liang Youhui was as cheerful as ever. The important thing in life was to be happy.
Seeing Zhuang Xiao, Liang Youhui exclaimed theatrically, “Brother Xiao! Why have you gotten so thin?”
Zhuang Xiao shook his head, unwilling to explain.
“How did you lose the weight? Write me a diet plan. I really need to lose some weight myself.”
Only someone like Liang Youhui could put on several more pounds after losing a house to fire. He lifted his shirt and patted his belly, producing a ripe-watermelon series of smacks.
“Look at my stomach! My beautiful abs are all gone! If my Brother Xue thinks I’ve gotten too fat, what will I do? Brother Xiao, give me your diet. A matching workout plan would be even better!”
Fatty Bao made frantic gestures at him. Shut the fuck up already. Too much talking.
Zhuang Xiao turned and walked away. Try getting dumped yourself, kid. Then you’ll learn how to lose weight…
The old friends went together to a bar in town. The other two drank alcohol, while Zhuang Xiao had mineral water.
Outside the window, crowds streamed endlessly past, everyone hurrying along. Each time Zhuang Xiao lowered his eyes and raised them again, the crowd outside had changed, a different scene unfolding. Everyone moved forward quickly with a purpose. Nobody stopped or looked back to wait for anyone else.
Life was like that.
Who would stay by your side?
If there was nobody alongside you on the road, were you supposed to imagine that when you reached its end, you might miraculously find someone waiting there, ready to help you place the final full stop on your story?
The only person who had not left was a Black homeless saxophonist on the street corner, leaning against a wall and playing a gentle melody for a few coins from passersby. He raised his head and smiled happily at Zhuang Xiao through the window. Zhuang Xiao smiled back.
Liang Youhui glanced at him. “Brother Xiao.”
Zhuang Xiao responded automatically. “Mm?”
“Are you missing our big Yanyan?”
The room abruptly fell silent. All three men stopped talking.
Liang Youhui rolled his big double-lidded eyes until their folds seemed to triple. “You’re treating me like an idiot again. I’m not that stupid!”
“Fuck.” Zhuang Xiao laughed at himself. “Am I really that obvious?”
“You are,” Liang Youhui and Fatty Bao answered, nodding vigorously at the same time. They had been holding it in for a long while.
He had always been the coolest, slowest, least sentimental of them all.
“Fuck, I’ve been dying to say this!” Liang Youhui launched into a magnificent speech. “I noticed ages ago. You wouldn’t admit it, so I wouldn’t either. You all thought I was an idiot, anyway. Am I an idiot? You two were so obvious. Good grief, the way you acted over a barbecue! You had one little lamb chop, he had one little lamb chop. You ate a mushroom skewer, he ate a mushroom skewer. You didn’t like grilled squid, so he ate two skewers for you. You liked bell peppers, so he grilled bell peppers especially for you… Tsk, tsk! Why didn’t you two just feed each other directly? Were you pretending I didn’t exist?”
Fatty Bao sprayed beer out of his mouth and burst into laughter across the table.
Zhuang Xiao’s ears reddened, as did the corners of his eyes. He laughed aloud. “Did we? When was I ever that sappy?”
“You were,” Liang Youhui insisted. “That night we had a barbecue in your backyard!”
“No. Impossible. We definitely weren’t thinking anything like that then,” Zhuang Xiao denied firmly.
“Brother Xiao, you absolutely were.” Liang Youhui pointed at the top of his head. “See what’s up here? Know what it is? I’ll tell you: a gaydar antenna.”
This time Zhuang Xiao sprayed mineral water across the table and into Young Master Liang’s face.
Liang Youhui wiped his face and continued. “That night, you two really wanted to sleep together, didn’t you? I was a third wheel the whole evening. You should’ve said something! I’d have fucked off and left you two to do whatever you wanted. I was drunk and too lazy to move, so I slept on your living-room sofa, and Yanyan slept on the sofa too. In the middle of the night, Brother Xiao, you sneaked out to cover us both with blankets.
“I was too lazy to move, but my radar was still working. You were really trying to take care of Yanyan. I just happened to be there. When you covered me, you waved your big hand and whap, the whole blanket landed across my face. I nearly suffocated, you know? But when you covered Yanyan, you first unfolded the blanket once, then unfolded it again, opened it all the way, even shook it out. Then, starting from his feet, you very gently drew it up a little at a time, all the way to his neck, tucked it securely around him, smoothed every edge. Tsk. You were practically embroidering flowers over his body just to put a blanket on him!”
Fatty Bao was laughing so hard he could scarcely breathe. “We should write a script about this. I mean it.”
Zhuang Xiao kept a straight face, revealing half a dimple. He would not admit it.
Had that really happened? No. Absolutely not. He had forgotten everything.
“My gaydar was going beep beep beep on top of my head!” Liang Youhui declared in conclusion. “When men cover other men with a blanket, they just toss it over them, whap! The way you covered Yanyan was the way a man tucks his wife into bed. Understand, Brother? If you don’t understand anything about dating, come ask me. I’ll teach you a whole semester, from beginner through intermediate to advanced. How about it?”
So that was how a man tucked his wife into bed.
Now he understood.
He had simply understood too late. He had never really known how to live, not before. What a fool he was.
Two patches of red gathered at the corners of Zhuang Xiao’s eyes as he looked out the window. He had actually loved Mr. Pei for such a long, long time.
He had long been accustomed to shutting himself away emotionally. He surrounded himself with the illusion of distance, transforming into a high wall that held everyone far away.
He had been in love with Pei Yan for so long, stupid and slow and completely unaware.
* * *