Pei Yan had only a week off in Beijing. During that time he had to record a variety show in a studio and a cultural promotional film about Chinese kung fu. Then he would leave town to shoot his next television drama.
Sa Risheng, who was preparing to join the same production as Pei Yan, had also come to Beijing. He did not seem to have any particular business there. He was simply out sightseeing on holiday.
Pei Yan more or less knew Xiao-Sa’s schedule and casually asked if he should pick him up at the airport.
Xiao-Sa replied that there was no need. Someone was picking him up.
Hearing that, Pei Yan let it go. He was not especially warm or eager to please people other than Zhuang Xiao, nor did he feel obliged to see to everyone’s needs.
Who was picking up their young prince?
Sa Risheng did not have so many complicated thoughts. When he said “someone,” he meant a younger friend he knew from the Zhuang Stunt Team was supposed to pick him up so they could have some fun together.
Xing Rong had also sent Xiao-Sa a WeChat message: [When are you getting to Beijing? Is anyone meeting you at the airport? If you don’t have a car, I can come get you.]
Sa Risheng sent back three characters: [Tomorrow.]
Dealing with a taciturn lump like this was such a headache.
Xing Rong held his phone and stared at those three characters, pondering them for ages. So does someone have to pick you up or not? Do you want me to pick you up or don’t you? And most important of all, which airline are you flying with? From what city? On a flight arriving at what hour and minute? Do you think I’m some professional fan who spends all year camped at the airport waiting for arrivals? How am I supposed to find your flight?
Every exchange was this ridiculous. Little Brother Xing would send eighteen characters, and Xiao-Sa would reply with two. Put both halves together, and their entire conversation amounted to twenty characters.
Before dawn the next day, another heavy snowfall hit the capital. It might well have been more than merely heavy. The forecasts always reported a middle estimate rather than the true extreme of a day’s weather. This could be a full-blown blizzard.
Flights were delayed, then delayed again, from morning well into the afternoon. Fortunately, the airport’s runway-clearing machines were efficient, and the plane eventually landed safely. But crowds of travelers were stranded in the terminal, unable to get out.
The plans for sightseeing were certainly ruined. The friend who had originally promised to pick Sa Risheng up that morning had been called in by a production crew to work overtime in a studio the day before. He could not get away and had to stand Xiao-Sa up, telling him to take a taxi.
The taxi stand was swamped with people. Even if you queued until tomorrow morning, you might not get a cab.
With his huge wilderness hiking pack on his back, Sa Risheng looked around the crowd. This was boring. He was unhappy. He did not like it. That was the trouble with big cities: transportation was so inconvenient. Where could he hire a horse? Even a camel would do!
Just then he received another WeChat message from Little Brother Xing. [Have you arrived yet? I’ve made it to the arrivals turnoff, but I’m stuck in traffic. Which of us is faster, you or me? Probably me, right?]
Xiao-Sa replied: [Looks like me. I’m here.]
For once he had sent seven characters and two punctuation marks, setting a new personal record. Seeing the line, Xing Rong wanted to complain: After two hours on the road, I finally crawled as far as the airport. You gave me seven whole characters. At least my trip wasn’t entirely wasted.
Xing Rong wrote: [I can’t move! There’s a snowplow right in front of me, and the flying snow has covered my whole windshield!]
* * *
Snow continued to fall, enormous flakes wheeling down through the sky and settling on Xiao-Sa’s face. His braids quickly turned white.
Xing Rong got out of the car. Amid the packed waiting area, he spotted his target instantly and waved. No mistake. It was the tallest fellow, with long arms and legs and the fewest clothes. Surrounded by slow-moving “bears” bundled in down jackets, there stood this “camel” in a leather vest. Who else could it be?
Xing Rong had disguised himself thoroughly. He had even dug out the knitted neck warmer he remembered from childhood, pulling it high over his lower face and neck, then adding a hat so only his eyes showed. It was only when the fellow wearing an orange neck warmer and a pale-blue pom-pom hat stood right in front of him that Xiao-Sa recognized his friend.
Xiao-Sa was delighted. He smiled, showing one little tiger tooth.
And then, under the envious, reddening gazes of the army waiting for taxis, he cheerfully climbed into the car with Little Brother Xing.
“Need help carrying your luggage? Is that everything?” Xing Rong asked.
“That’s all. Just me and one bag,” Xiao-Sa said.
“No luggage? Then I’ll carry you.”
Laughing, Xiao-Sa caught the pom-pom on Xing Rong’s hat between his fingers, as though he were lifting him by it and carrying him along.
They drove away from the airport. But the day was far from over.
The runway had been the cleanest place, thanks to the high-powered snowplows constantly at work. Outside, the streets were chaos. The roads into the city had ground to a standstill.
Before long, every lane was clogged with cars at crazy angles. Vehicles kept having problems: one engine stalled, another ran out of fuel, two more scraped against each other, and one crashed into the road divider… The two of them were trapped on the road with no way out. At first they grumbled and cursed at the traffic outside, particularly the shameless drivers cutting in ahead. Eventually Xing Rong collapsed against the steering wheel laughing. This is the worst drive of my life. Why on earth did I come to pick you up?
Exactly. Had he not come out, he could be comfortably curled on his sofa at home, sipping hot black tea and watching a movie. Sa Risheng could have found a hotel, or simply slept on the airport floor.
Sa Risheng laughed too. “Told you. If we’d brought a horse, we’d have been out of here ages ago.”
“How about you get out, then?” Xing Rong said. “Go for a stroll in the snow, come back in half an hour, and I’ll probably still be here holding my position.”
At one point, Xiao-Sa got out to relieve himself. He went over to the wintergreen bushes on the roadside divider and looked left and right, only to find a whole long row of men urinating there. Quite an impressive sight.
Then it was Xing Rong’s turn to get out and relieve himself. He pulled down his hat, tugged up his neck warmer, and for the first time in his life did such a thing beside a public road. How uncivilized! He really was sorry. He had not intended to end up like this.
Standing among the bushes, he unzipped his trousers and looked around nervously. Everyone else was hunched over in the cold, rummaging for their shrunken birds. No one had time to look at him. So he reached for his own bird too. A blast of cold wind made both him and his bird shiver violently. The poor bird was cold as well.
Back in the car, Xing Rong was dying to laugh. “Just now I was halfway through peeing when a really huge snowflake floated down. I wasn’t expecting it, and it landed right on my thing! It was so cold I jumped. I nearly pissed all over my trousers!”
“Heh-heh.” Sa Risheng grinned, imagining the humiliating scene: a snowflake flirting with Rongrong’s little bird.
Their conversation was casual and filthy. Around outsiders they always put on an act, wearing their idol masks like listless marionettes operated by somebody else’s hands. Xing Rong said, “If you pee outside when it’s this cold, does the stream freeze in midair?”
“It does,” Sa Risheng answered with a straight face. “Out on the grasslands in winter, it really does. The stream shoots out, whoosh, freezes solid, and freezes your dick right to it. One big icicle.”
“And then what?” Xing Rong stared at him.
“Then you bend down, break the icicle off the ground, and carry it back to the yurt. Warm it beside the stove until the ice melts and that thing softens, and then you can put it away again,” Sa Risheng said.
“Bullshit!” Xing Rong burst out laughing. “I’m a city boy. Go on, keep telling me these stories.”
“It’s true. I’m not teasing you city people.” Sa Risheng continued lying with an impressively solemn face. “Even tying wind-and-snow guards around horses’ legs doesn’t help. All four hooves freeze straight to the earth. I have to take a shovel and dig the hooves loose. On a winter morning I might go out to slaughter a sheep to eat. The instant the blade goes in, before the blood even spurts, the blood freezes in the sheep’s neck, along with my knife. They become one big frozen lump. I can’t pull the blade out until noon when the sun is high and I can finally work it free.”
Hahahaha!
Xing Rong folded over the steering wheel. What an imagination! So fucking funny. Their laughter became a duet inside the car, with Xiao-Sa’s deeper chuckles joining in, full of pride.
Xing Rong offered his assessment. “Baby Sa, your Mandarin gets better every time. Every time I see you, you speak better than before. Next time you come to Beijing, you can go perform crosstalk at Deyun Society.”
“I have to act in dramas. I have lines,” Sa Risheng replied. “I practiced.”
“You really practiced?” Xing Rong praised him. “That’s far more professional than actors who just recite one-two-three-four-five-six-seven at the camera!”
“Of course.” Sa Risheng looked pleased with the compliment.
Being trapped in traffic like this was not irritating at all. They were having a wonderful time.
They crawled along at a turtle’s pace until night fell, finally passing the toll plaza and getting into the city. Half the city was paralyzed, yet the toll collectors were still dutifully holding their posts amid the snow and ice.
Xiao-Sa suggested taking a turn driving for Rongrong, so they swapped places while traffic was stopped.
Xing Rong bent over and rose, stretching one leg toward the passenger seat as Xiao-Sa slid across beneath him.
That was when Xing Rong discovered he had made another spectacularly wrong decision. He could have driven his car safely home himself.
He did not mind lending Xiao-Sa his car. But letting Sa Risheng drive?
Holy fuck! The man drove a car far worse than he rode a horse. Holy fuck, this was a city road, not a heavenly trail across the grasslands! Holy fuck, it was still snowing outside and the snow was half a foot deep! He had completely lost his mind.
Even snow chains could not tame Xiao-Sa’s wild driving. Before long, near the edge of the city, Comrade Xiao-Sa drove Xing Rong’s car into a roadside ditch.
His last maneuver was especially stylish. Like a galloping horse wheeling around, he sent the back of the car sweeping across the road in a magnificent dragon-tail swing, straight into the ditch.
They got out together, stood staring wide-eyed at the car stuck beside the road, and burst out laughing again. They laughed for ages.
Because if they did not laugh, they would be cold. In the snow, their cheeks would freeze stiff if they stopped smiling. Laughter warmed their faces and the whole of their bodies.
Their car was not alone. Plenty of others stood at crooked angles along the roadside, stalled for various reasons. Sa Risheng rolled up his sleeves and tried, but he could not push the car out by himself. They had no choice but to abandon it and walk.
Snow rapidly whitened Xiao-Sa’s hair and brows. Little Brother Xing reached out and wiped it away. The flakes melted beneath his palm, leaving Xiao-Sa’s hair damp. A wet strand fell over his face, making his features seem more vivid: pale cheeks, red nose, and brilliantly bright eyes.
They struggled on through the snow and chose a hotel within walking distance. Before going in, Xing Rong thought for a moment. “You check in at the front desk. I’ll slip in quietly through the back.”
Xiao-Sa nodded, but Xing Rong was afraid of being misunderstood and explained, “Don’t take it personally. I’m worried someone will recognize me and cause trouble, dragging you into it too. That wouldn’t be good. You have to go in first and book the room under your own ID. I’ll sneak in. I’ll pay, though.”
“You don’t need to pay,” Xiao-Sa said.
The hotel had become a temporary refuge filled with people who had dragged their luggage in from the airport. Xiao-Sa was only able to book one small room. Twenty minutes later, Xing Rong slipped into the hotel with his neck warmer hiding his face, carrying restaurant takeout. They met near the lobby restroom like two men on a clandestine mission, then sneaked upstairs to their room.
Cold, hungry, and utterly exhausted, they had booked a room for nothing but food and sleep. Their greatest desire was to embrace the radiator and collapse onto the big bed.
Sa Risheng took a shower and emerged wearing a different T-shirt. Only then did Xing Rong finally notice the bracelet he had made, still on Sa Risheng’s left wrist.
“I thought you’d thrown it away,” Xing Rong said in surprise.
“It isn’t broken. Why would I throw it away?” Sa Risheng answered honestly.
All along the journey, Xing Rong had kept studying his wrists, looking at the left, then the right, never seeing the red-crystal bracelet. He had not asked. Whatever. If it was gone, it was gone. He had not expected Xiao-Sa to treasure that silly little thing.
It had only been hidden under his sleeve. That was why Xing Rong had not seen it.
“Thanks for not thinking it’s beneath you,” Xing Rong said with a smile.
“Why would I think that?” Xiao-Sa asked, equally puzzled.
His mind worked in such straight lines that it did not know how to turn a corner. Xing Rong waved a hand. Forget explaining. He was exhausted. Sleep, sleep!
On that snowy day, they enjoyed the warmth of the room, each burrowing beneath a separate quilt, and fell deeply asleep.
Xing Rong ignored the messages and calls from his manager and assistant checking up on him. He switched off his phone and disappeared completely. Stealing half a day of leisure from this life, ignoring every bark and squawk of the outside world. Wonderful.
* * *
Across the city, Pei Yan fitted snow chains onto his car’s tires and went out.
It had snowed relentlessly for days. Suddenly he wondered whether he ought to check on that ill-tempered old gentleman. The roads were buried under snow, and with Zhuang Xiao’s father in such poor shape, his legs barely working and no one to look after him, what if he could not get food and ended up starving?
Snowplows and salt trucks had made the city roads just barely passable, but they were muddy and clogged with traffic.
After driving a while he gave up. Better take the subway.
At the station he took one look and thought, Holy shit! Before him was a wall of people, like a tide of zombies all stampeding toward the apocalypse. He could not even see the security checkpoint. The street-level entrance was so crowded that nobody could get down the steps.
Pei Yan turned around. Fuck it, he would manage with the car after all.
It was nearly dusk when he finally reached the neighborhood. He deliberately stopped at a nearby supermarket to buy groceries.
The supermarket looked as though it had been looted during a zombie siege, with many shelves stripped bare. He managed to secure a big case of bottled water, bread, partly prepared foods, and instant noodles. He doubted the old man could cook anything elaborate, so he bought things that would fill his stomach as easily as possible.
He crouched on the floor, fishing out the very last case of bottled water from the farthest end of a shelf. Another fellow crouched beside him, ready to fight for that same case.
The man stared at him for a long time before finally speaking. “Excuse me, sir, you look familiar. Are you… that person? You were on a satellite-TV show last weekend, right? You look just like him.”
“Do I?” Pei Yan grunted, stretching to pull out the case of water. He got it free. “The spitting image, right?”
“It really is you!” The passerby smiled. “Out buying groceries in all this snow?”
“Of course. If you don’t buy food, what are you supposed to eat?” Pei Yan said.
“I thought someone like you would never come out to shop. Even if you ordered takeout, wouldn’t your assistant handle it? And wouldn’t it have to be from a five-star hotel?” the man said.
Pei Yan almost told him he was a university senior out doing practical fieldwork, conducting a social survey of this supermarket. Then he thought that was too ridiculous. Stop pretending to be young. He had graduated two years ago.
“The weather’s awful. I’m here doing volunteer social work, showing love to elderly people, visiting a lonely senior citizen,” he said, then laughed at himself. How noble! Though his lofty intentions were mixed with certain very important private feelings.
He signed autographs for several friendly passersby, wondering whether any of them had just become fans.
Someone tried to take his picture, but he quickly said, “I look like a bear in these clothes. It’ll ruin my image, so please don’t!” He fled with his cart of bottled water and instant noodles. Before paying, he also grabbed a bag of large steamed buns, freshly made and sold in the store.
Snow whirled through the air. Thick snow blanketed the lane.
It took a little motivation, and perhaps real affection, to come out in weather like this.
Old Zhuang’s door was not locked. Pei Yan pushed it open and carried everything inside. He piled things onto the dining table, picked his way over cardboard boxes and assorted packaging littering the floor, and went into the bedroom to find him. The old man looked all right, merely passing the time.
Old Zhuang sat alone by the window, his outline a gently moving black silhouette. He muttered softly to himself while sorting through things in a box.
“Hey, sir! Brought you some food. Are you hungry? Have you eaten? I bought stuff to eat.” Pei Yan stood in the doorway.
“Food?” Old Zhuang looked up and recognized the boy named Pei. His eyes immediately brightened. “Cake?”
“Huh?” Pei Yan froze. “You’re still thinking about cake?”
“Yes.” Zhuang Wenlong stared at him, nodding. “Thinking about cake.”
“Your son bought you some last time. Have you finished it all?” Pei Yan asked.
That was ages ago! When it came to food he loved, Old Zhuang was not confused in the least. He gave Pei Yan a look that clearly said, Don’t try to fool me, boy.
“Oh my God…” Pei Yan burst out laughing. “If you wanted that cake, you should’ve said! I’d have gone and bought the cake instead of lugging all this other stuff here. I brought a whole pile, and now I’m exhausted… Wait here. I’ve got plenty more stuff downstairs that I haven’t brought up yet.”
Old Zhuang stood stunned by the window, staring at Pei Yan’s retreating back.
He had never expected Mr. Pei to come. No one came to visit him. Apart from the housekeeper his son employed to visit three times a week, who ever came? She was a woman in her fifties from a nearby household who did domestic work, coming by a few times a week to tidy up and prepare food. Old Zhuang was probably quite unpleasant to her. She came when she felt like it and was fed up with him too. As long as she made sure the old man did not starve to death, that was enough.
Pei Yan made another trip downstairs, hauling up the cases of water and instant noodles. With nowhere to put them, he stacked everything under the dining table.
Old Zhuang hobbled out of his room. Something in his sluggish mind seemed to click into place. At last he realized who his visitor was.
“You, Pei… Pei something… You’re that person from Jiahuang…” Old Zhuang stared at him.
“Which Jiahuang person would that be? What’s the matter?” Pei Yan straightened up, panting.
“Don’t want your things. Take them away, away…” Old Zhuang waved irritably, determined to preserve a man’s dignity even with food right in front of him.
“Take them away? You should have said before I carried them all up!” Pei Yan said.
“You’re here to hurt me? That Zhang sent you to hurt me? He told you to buy these…” The old man’s gaze darkened.
“Give it a rest. Zhang Shaochi didn’t send me. He’d never buy you food. Do you think that type of guy runs a charity? He’s stingy as hell.” As Pei Yan spoke, he watched Old Zhuang limp toward him, looking ready to throw things and start a fight.
“You stop right there!
“You dare come at me?” Pei Yan raised a finger at the old man, stopping him dead in the center of the room as though casting a freezing spell.
“Don’t give me that fucking act. I’ll tell you straight: that routine of hitting and cursing only works on your own son because he never fights back. You’ve been spoiled rotten! Don’t try that on me, your very own son-in-law. I. Will. Hit. Back.”
Pei Yan rolled up his sleeves, exposing the veins on his forearms. “Go on, fight. Think I’m scared?”
“Need a weapon?”
“Here, use this.” He grabbed a baguette from the pile of bread on the table and threw it to the old man. “You’re elderly, so I’ll be generous and fight barehanded. Do you honestly think you’ve got even the slightest chance of beating me? Hah. When I’ve whipped you until you’re rolling on the floor begging for mercy, or pinned you in the bathroom hugging the toilet, don’t complain about how embarrassing it is.”
Pei Yan shrugged his shoulders and worked his neck joints, making them crack audibly.
Then he adopted a Krav Maga stance and beckoned. Come on. Fight.
“…”
Old Zhuang was genuinely intimidated.
When he had tormented his son before, he had never encountered a boy who could talk back so fiercely, taunt him, and actually dare to strike back.
He still held the baguette in one hand.
He lowered his head, squeezed it, and sniffed. Frowning, he said, “This isn’t good. Too hard. Hurts my teeth. Can’t bite it.”
“Too hard? Aren’t we fussy? I bought softer ones too. Eat those.” Pei Yan said.
“Hard. Don’t like it…” Old Zhuang tossed the baguette back.
Pei Yan sneered to himself. The old man was not completely stupid. He was afraid of taking a beating and losing face, wasn’t he? He had conveniently found himself a way to back down. Coward.
“The stairs are covered in snow. People have tracked snowy footprints all over them, and they’re so slippery!” Pei Yan complained as he tidied the living room. He was not about to do all this work without making the old man appreciate his effort. “At the bend in the stairway, I nearly took a huge fall and strained my waist! My waist’s nearly finished too, just like your son’s.”
Old Zhuang bent to peer over and under the table, searching for something edible.
Pei Yan laid out the freshly steamed warm buns and several packets of pickled mustard greens. “Make do with this. I often eat buns with pickled mustard when I’m filming.”
Old Zhuang really was hungry. He started eating the buns and pickles in enormous mouthfuls.
“Good. As long as you like them. Thanks for accepting my humble offerings,” Pei Yan said. “With this much snow outside, all the delivery drivers have gone home. You’ll have to settle for buns and plain noodles.”
To his surprise, half a container of cooking oil stood beside the stove. He considered it. “Want fried slices of steamed bun? I actually love fried buns. My mother used to make them for me when I was little. They’re delicious. Want some?”
Old Zhuang perked up and nodded. “Yes.”
So Young Master Pei took off his down jacket, rolled up his sleeves, washed the pan, and poured in oil. He beat several eggs as well, coating the bun slices in the egg mixture before frying them.
Only Zhuang Xiao’s father could inspire him to be this industrious. If Brother Xiao had not broken up with him, by now the two of them would surely have met each other’s parents, received their approval, and been openly together. Then the old man in front of him would officially be his father-in-law. If his father-in-law had such a rotten temperament, what was there to complain about? He would just smile and wait on him.
The aroma of egg-coated fried steamed buns filled the kitchen, the comforting fragrance of ordinary domestic life.
“Good…” Old Zhuang circled the kitchen doorway. His aggressive airs had disappeared, leaving him subdued, his eyes following Pei Yan.
“Good what?” Pei Yan asked. “Want to tell me I’m good?”
The old man grunted.
Pei Yan was making conversation for its own sake. When he wanted to win someone over, he could talk endlessly. He thought the old man was genuinely unfortunate and pitiful. Besides, he loved the son, so he could not help extending that affection to the father. Pathetic.
“If you want to praise me, just say it! Praise me a few more times. I love hearing nice things. Especially when your son calls you from overseas next time and asks what you ate and whether it tasted good, you must remember to mention my name. Remember! My surname is Pei, my name is Yan, and my courtesy name is Handsome. Make sure you tell him I bought you steamed buns and pickled mustard greens, and personally cooked fried bun slices for you. Tell him they were delicious!”