That evening, several people connected to the matter received calls from Xing Rong at almost the same time.
Pei Yan had just driven away from Old Man Zhuang’s home.
And Zhuang Xiao had just returned from Taipei. At the airport he was fending off enthusiastic fans and persistent entertainment reporters, obliged to answer several questions about Mr. Pei this and Mr. Pei that. At last he broke free, got into his car, and prepared to go home and see Pei Yan.
Xing Rong was calling to tell them something urgently. “Hasn’t little Letu woken up?”
“You all said he didn’t recognize people at all. But just now I think he might have woken up properly. He can say Xiao-Sa’s name, and he… he said mine too. He called me by name. I think he recognized me.”
Xing Rong alone couldn’t bring himself to call Sa Risheng. They still seemed to be “not speaking” to each other. Earlier Xiao-Sa had repeatedly tried through Fatty Bao to make arrangements to see him, but Xing Rong had been stubborn and awkward, refusing every invitation and hiding down south. Perhaps Xiao-Sa had given up on him by now.
He’d slept with the man and then fled after pulling his trousers back on. He knew he’d done wrong and couldn’t bear to face Baby Sa.
* * *
It was an eventful winter, full of unexpected developments.
Everyone who heard the news gathered at the hospital that night. Sa Risheng strode down the corridor, his braid coming loose behind his head, sweat shining along his neck. Letu wasn’t the only person he wanted to see.
Behind him, Fatty Bao jogged along panting for breath.
In his heart Fatty Bao must have been grumbling very seriously: Every last pair of them is getting together, damn it. This New Year I’m definitely bringing a wife back to my hometown! This time I’m going to work up the nerve and confess to the goddess I’ve loved for years!
Zhuang Xiao arrived in haste from the airport with his old canvas bag slung across his shoulder, looking solemn. His feelings were complicated, and he seemed to have an uneasy premonition…
Pei Yan was the most excited of them all when he stepped into the hospital. His eyes shone like stars, his expression bright, and he strode ahead eagerly.
For him, this was a knot that had long troubled his heart, a defeat and mistake in his life for which he was responsible. No amount of money donated could ever undo it. He’d always hoped for a change in Letu’s condition, even though that hope was almost impossibly faint.
Sa Risheng sat before Letu. Letu looked back blankly. He could remember only two people and utter only two names, pointing again and again at the photograph. “Xiao-Sa…” “Rongrong…”
These were the names he’d heard most often over a long period of time, the brother who frequently visited his sickbed and the person his brother kept talking about. The two names seemed embedded in his mind, escaping his mouth without needing conscious thought.
* * *
By the time the others assembled at the hospital, Xing Rong had already left. He was still too embarrassed to discuss their relationship and future with Xiao-Sa in front of so many people, so he hid himself again.
Sa Risheng didn’t get to see Brother Rong. Instead, they unexpectedly encountered the police.
That evening, hospital staff had reported that the brain-injured, paralyzed patient had regained consciousness and his condition had improved. The police promptly sent two officers to the hospital to check on victim Eriletu’s health and assess whether they could record a statement.
A statement was clearly impossible. The patient could barely articulate words, and he couldn’t recall what had happened. The two officers looked disappointed and quickly abandoned that possibility.
But there was another vigorous, healthy person present who was connected to the case and could provide a statement, someone who could describe the events in great detail. The officers approached Pei Yan, nodded politely, said a few words, and gave him a look. He should come along.
They didn’t even need to visit his home to summon him. Pei Yan had happened to turn up here tonight.
He looked up at everyone, utterly astonished and on his guard. “What statement?”
“Why do I need to give a statement? … What am I supposed to testify about?”
Everybody was stunned. After all, the events of several years earlier had been “closed” in their minds. Pei Yan and the brothers of Zhuang’s team had let bygones be bygones and reconciled. He’d worked alongside Sa Risheng on productions several times and become almost a brother to him. And now they wanted his statement? What had he done?
The officers identified themselves and explained their position. The serious incident at the martial-arts tournament several years earlier was now being reinvestigated in full, along with two other similar incidents. Deeper issues were involved that they couldn’t yet disclose. They asked Mr. Pei to cooperate.
“I already gave a statement three years ago,” Pei Yan said, striving for calm. “I told you everything I could at the time. It was an accident during the competition.”
“I kicked him by accident. He fell and hit the back of his head. That’s all it was, an accident.”
Pei Yan stood ramrod straight at one side of the corridor while speaking to the officers. He tried to turn his face away so he wouldn’t see Sa Risheng’s or Fatty Bao’s reactions. He couldn’t imagine what everyone was thinking as they looked at him. He didn’t even want to look at Zhuang Xiao.
Sa Risheng was stunned too, staring at Pei Yan with suspicion.
Pei Yan shook his head repeatedly and tried to explain to the police, his face gradually growing red.
Zhuang Xiao dropped his bag and walked straight to him.
He put his arms around Pei Yan and whispered into his ear, “Just go give them a statement. It’s no big deal. Tell them whatever you know. Don’t hide anything, and don’t take responsibility for things you didn’t do.”
“Have I ever hidden anything?” Pei Yan raised his eyes and demanded. “What am I supposed to say? … Why are they arresting me?!”
Zhuang Xiao hesitated, gripped his wrist tightly, and mouthed the words: It’s only questioning.
“What does that mean?” Pei Yan was horrified and unable to accept it.
Zhuang Xiao’s eyes were telling him plainly that he’d known the police were about to investigate this ugly matter while Pei Yan himself had been left in the dark.
The whole world seemed to tilt and turn upside down again. Turbulent currents suddenly broke the calm surface of the water. In another moment dark clouds would gather and huge waves would rise. There would be no peace left.
Everything had gone back to the beginning. Back to the time when he was an arrogant youngster, ignorant of his limits, who’d flown to Los Angeles to challenge Hero Zhuang at his home. Facing him had been a whole group of Zhuang’s disciples who hated him, furious over Letu’s injury. He had arrogantly bent Xiao-Sa’s leg backward, and then Zhuang Xiao had struck, slapping him so hard he almost flew into the sea and splitting his earlobe.
That was how they had met: by fighting. The past was still painfully clear.
Now it was as though another vicious slap had landed, this one hard enough to split his skull.
* * *
This year-end was going to be miserable for a great many people.
The traveling combat tournament at which several serious injuries had occurred had finally drawn the attention of higher authorities and come under investigation. Amid sweeping anti-corruption efforts, a bloody storm rose through the jianghu. Old cases were reopened, old events dragged into the light. Dusty, long-hidden corners where corruption had festered, and wrongs nobody had troubled to investigate, were going to be examined one by one. At last, someone was prepared to get to the bottom of things.
The winds of rumor blew fiercely that night. Shocking claims spread online, each one cutting like a knife.
“Before Pei Yan joined the industry, something happened during a martial-arts tournament. He kicked an opponent, a martial artist, into a vegetative state. Apparently it wasn’t an accident at all. It was deliberate assault!”
“He really was the one who disabled him with a kick! Why can’t we say so? We all saw the video at the time. Now it’s been censored and we can’t find it anywhere.”
“Fuck, the trending searches were bought off and buried within minutes! The topic vanished!”
“Maybe he didn’t intentionally injure him himself, but do you know who the big shareholder behind the tournament was? Supposedly one of Little Bald Pei’s own relatives! Maybe they organized the whole tournament for him. They’d do anything to make sure he won. The competition was rigged from beginning to end.”
“Such dangerous tournaments shouldn’t exist! Deliberately injuring somebody like that is practically murder!”
Public condemnation cut like icy blades. Every account was told in vivid detail, as though the speakers knew the full truth and had witnessed it themselves. Some things were impossible to clarify once the public had decided what to believe. For example, one careless claim that “the tournament was organized for him” or “all the championship matches were rigged” could erase every competition Pei Yan had fought over two years, burdening him with an accusation he couldn’t disprove…
It truly was a dark mark on his professional record, a documented part of his past. He’d needed time to overcome the psychological weight of it.
Now somebody was telling him, and telling everybody, that it hadn’t been an accident. It was a case of deliberate injury.
Pei Yan spent an entire night and the following daytime hours with the special investigation team.
Because it was late when he arrived, the investigators had intended to take a preliminary statement and let him go home, then ask him to return the next day. But Pei Yan said, “Don’t make me come back tomorrow. I never want to come back to a place like this. Ask everything you need to ask now. What else do you want to know?”
He genuinely hadn’t known much of what had been happening. He’d fought his matches with his head down, intent on winning, arrogant and full of ambition. He hadn’t looked into anything beyond his own competitions or cared much about anybody else. Only now did he realize he’d been living like an idiot.
And the idiot had been played for a fool.
Around noon the following day, Pei Yan emerged from the special investigation team’s offices. His expression was hard and blank. He kept his head lowered without a word and quickly climbed into the car his manager had brought.
The moment he appeared, he was surrounded by reporters and paparazzi, licensed and unlicensed alike, rushing from every direction. Their faces were alive with excitement as they pursued him along the road, eager for Mr. Pei to repeat his police statement before their microphones and cameras.
The story had generated an enormous uproar, the year’s sensational final headline.
After all, celebrities accused of public scandals rarely faced a case of this severity. Most stars’ misdeeds involved marriage and relationships, cheating, infidelity, messy divorces, or public conduct such as drunk driving, traffic accidents, and brawls. At the most serious end were illegal acts such as drug use or soliciting prostitutes.
Pei Yan’s story stole the headlines from countless others. Even major stars preparing to release albums or hold concerts might have to postpone their announcements.
The assistant drove away at speed, weaving and turning sharply through the streets to shake off several cars following them.
The paparazzi convoy stayed close behind, threading through traffic with equal recklessness. Their passion for gossip and scandal was like great vultures on the grassland spotting carrion. Catching the scent of decay, their eyes gleamed green as they rushed to tear at the exposed flesh.
Pei Yan sat in the car with his head down and lips pressed tightly together, refusing to look out. His manager, Uncle Johnny, was quick enough to pull a baseball cap over his head, shielding his large forehead and eyes so the camera flashes wouldn’t blind him.
Even that weightless cap seemed unbearably heavy. The world had turned upside down overnight, crushing the air out of his lungs. Miserable and dispirited, he instinctively took out his phone and opened it, but didn’t know whom to call to protest his innocence or pour out his grievances.
He lifted a finger toward his eye. Johnny Wu looked back and made a startled sound, not knowing what he meant to do.
Pei Yan pulled open one eyelid and used a finger to peel out the contact lens, flicking it away. Then he opened the other eye and removed its contact lens too. Everything went blurry. He was severely nearsighted, around five diopters. If he couldn’t see the endless cars and people crowding outside, perhaps he would feel a little better…
He was used to being strong-willed. He simply couldn’t swallow this. He felt furious, defeated, humiliated, almost sick with rage…
When Pei Yan’s car first emerged, another familiar vehicle had pulled close behind it.
Pei Yan kept his head down, so he didn’t notice. Johnny Wu spotted it in the rearview mirror. “Hey, isn’t that Mr. Zhuang’s car?”
Zhuang Xiao forced his vehicle into the space beside them, cutting off a paparazzo’s car. Brakes screamed against the road.
He crossed the lane markings, jerked the steering wheel, and stopped his own car sideways in the middle of the street, provoking a chorus of emergency braking behind him. Straddling two traffic lanes, he blocked two of the pursuing paparazzi cars.
Pei Yan’s car sped away.
Zhuang Xiao lowered his window and looked impassively into the cameras. “Stop following him. Give him a break, all right?”
He was holding half a cigarette between his fingers. Apparently he’d started smoking again recently. That wretched craving was difficult to quit.
Pointing toward the drivers, Zhuang Xiao said, “Nobody follows. Turn around and go home.”
* * *
When Zhuang Xiao said turn back, you turned back. Who would dare force his car through?
For months the media had been investigating every clue to Zhuang Xiao’s and Pei Yan’s relationship, producing elaborate essays and investigative reports supposedly documenting “thirty pieces of evidence” that Zhuang and Pei were together. Even the fans from both camps had gradually come to believe it and had accepted that the men were a couple.
The only thing missing was undeniable proof. And those two were never going to let a reporter catch them in bed.
Today, Zhuang Xiao looked utterly fearless, concealing nothing. His expression seemed almost to say, I’m waiting for you to find your proof. Then we’ll come out. Go ahead and try.
* * *
Pei Yan went home, closed and locked the door, and wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to see anybody, least of all go online and read the abuse.
There was still a trace of masculine fragrance in the rooms, even in the bathroom. The night before Zhuang Xiao left, they’d spent the night together and used a newly purchased scented body cream. Zhuang Xiao had ended up swallowing quite a lot of it, sneezing nonstop, and at one point had sneezed violently onto the back of Pei Yan’s head in the middle of their intimacy, ruining the atmosphere in a spectacularly funny way…
The intimate scent of perfume hadn’t even faded, yet his whole world had changed.
Zhuang Xiao called.
Pei Yan declined the call.
Zhuang Xiao dialed again.
He declined again, then sent a voice message: [Brother, let me be alone for a while.]
His spirits had sunk to the bottom. Let the world curse him to its heart’s content. In some ways he deserved it. He had nothing to say.
Whenever he’d faced setbacks in the past, he’d always hardened himself and fought to the bitter end. He wouldn’t give in. He certainly wouldn’t arrange to appear before the public now, offering explanations, apologies, and tearful displays of weakness to win sympathy. He couldn’t perform that role. He hated lowering himself and waiting for people to mock or pity him.
He could imagine every accusation. All the demons and monsters from every side would seize the chance to settle old grudges. Vicious rumors were ready to swallow him whole, the whirlpool of public opinion opening its bloody jaws to devour him.
It hurt terribly. He had poured all his passion and conviction into his career and had been sailing his little boat proudly over the vast sea, meeting the wind and waves head-on, convinced the road before him was bright. Now he discovered his boat was veering off course and might lose its direction. Worse, the most loyal and dependable first mate aboard might no longer wish to stay and continue the voyage beside him… What could he do?
While he was trapped in those painful thoughts, the door lock clicked open.
The apartment had a keypad lock. The one person who knew the code could come in whenever he wanted, without a key and without asking Pei Yan to open it.
Zhuang Xiao stepped inside and saw Pei Yan standing pale and rigid in the entrance like a wooden post.
The code was the date of their first night together on the Huitengxile Grassland. As Young Master Pei put it, Zhuang Xiao never usually bothered to visit his home unless he was coming to sleep with him; then he pulled his trousers on and left. They never did anything else together or had anything else to say. So of course the code should be the day Zhuang Xiao had first slept with him. It was perfect.
Zhuang Xiao stepped forward to embrace him. Pei Yan pushed him away and turned to leave.
Zhuang Xiao grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He tried to hold him again, but Pei Yan struggled violently, tore himself free, and tried to walk away.
“Yanyan.”
The third time Zhuang Xiao used enough strength to pin Pei Yan into a corner of the living room, with a determination even stronger than Pei Yan’s resistance. He wasn’t letting him run. Both men were straining so hard it looked like a fight. They faced each other, breathing roughly.
Zhuang Xiao held his arms, pressing him against the wall with his hip.
“Yanyan.”
He stroked Pei Yan’s back and rested his forehead against his. “It’s all right. It’s over. Don’t hurt yourself over it.”
The words made Pei Yan feel even worse. He couldn’t stay tough in front of Zhuang Xiao, couldn’t even pretend. Neither of them had slept all night. Their eyes were bloodshot.
“You knew all along?” Pei Yan’s gaze was confused.
Zhuang Xiao nodded.
“Before I went to Taipei, the police came to me too. They asked about my father’s injury. That was when they began investigating,” he said.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Pei Yan stared at him, his voice shaking. “The tournament was rigged. Letu’s injury wasn’t an accident at all. And your father’s crippled foot, his injury, none of it was an accident… You knew?”
Pei Yan’s mind was a muddle. He really had been slow to understand. The night before Zhuang Xiao left Beijing for the awards in Taipei, the two of them had been so intensely close. Zhuang Xiao had behaved as though he wanted to devour him whole…
“I’m sorry, Yanyan.” Zhuang Xiao’s eyes were slightly red too. “I was planning to find a chance to tell you when I got back from Taipei. There just wasn’t time. I didn’t expect Letu to wake up, or the police to come so quickly… I should have warned you sooner so you’d be prepared. That was my mistake. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to accept it.”
Pei Yan was silent.
Then he shook his head. “Zhuang Xiao, what are you apologizing for?”
I’m the one who should be sorry. I don’t even have the face to meet your eyes.
Are you going to leave me?
You probably will.
How can I ever face Xiao-Sa again?
The next time Young Prince Sa sees me, he’ll turn against me and try to fight me again. How could he possibly forgive me? What sort of relationship can you and I still have? Some contradictions can’t be resolved just by loving each other.
By now the situation was basically clear. During that important match, Pei Yan had noticed his opponent seemed confused and unsteady on his feet, stumbling around the ring and making mistakes. Eriletu had been given some kind of sedative. The result had been under manipulation before the match even began.
The fighters performing before the public were nothing but pieces of meat on the butcher’s block.
The pieces were sorted, tossed about, and finally thrown together into one great dish.
But the dish had gone horribly wrong. Without knowing any of this, Pei Yan had become the hand that caused the disaster. He’d been so young, proud, eager to win, and swept away by the fierce bloodlust of the fight that one kick had disabled his opponent for life. He couldn’t deny his part in it. Regret came far too late.
The companies invested in the tournament had engaged in serious corruption, including bribery, illegally fixing fights, deliberate injury, and laundering money through sports betting. What had begun as an arena for young martial artists to test their abilities had become a profit-making tool for a handful of people, a trap baited with money… There was even more money to be made from it than from film production, tempting some to take enormous risks.
Those matters were linked to the earlier investigation of film financiers laundering money, and Zhuang Wenlong’s explosion accident on set was brought under investigation as well.
It was becoming obvious that Xu Qiyue’s company stood behind the operation. The police had hinted as much. The connections couldn’t simply be brushed aside anymore.
Pei Yan buried his face against Zhuang Xiao’s neck, filled with anger and humiliation, unable to face it.
“You didn’t know anything about it. It had nothing to do with your intentions. I know that, and I won’t blame you.” Zhuang Xiao rubbed his back and caressed his face. “I won’t blame you.”
“I just feel so ashamed,” Pei Yan said in a small voice.
Only now did he discover how fragile he was, how badly these setbacks could hurt him, despite all his efforts to keep up appearances.
“All right,” Zhuang Xiao said, ruffling his hair. “When we finish this film, let’s go away for a while. I’ll take you to America to rest. How about that?”
“I know I made a terrible mistake and people hate me for it.” Pei Yan raised his eyes, speaking with stubborn courage. “Zhuang Xiao, if deep down you blame me and hate me, then beat me. Slap me a few more times. Hard. Don’t hold back. But afterward remember what you promised me. You aren’t allowed to take it back. You still have to love me. Don’t leave me.”
Even as he said it, he was desperately dispirited. A faint layer of moisture covered his eyes, which he swallowed back along with the sting in his nose.
“What are you thinking?” Zhuang Xiao asked. “You’re so clingy. You think I’d throw you away?”
Clinging to Zhuang Xiao, Pei Yan said in the smallest voice something he’d always refused to admit before. “Brother, I know I was wrong. I’m so sorry to you, to your father, to Letu… Please don’t separate from me. It hurts so much…”
“We won’t separate.” Zhuang Xiao gripped the back of his neck and pressed him close. “If one day I’m so angry with you I can’t bear it anymore, I really will give you a beating. I won’t hold back. I’ll beat you until you stop being stubborn and fix those rotten habits of yours… But I’m not going to tell you lightly that I don’t want you anymore.”
“If it ever gets too hard for you, if you can’t make a living in this business and want to leave, then I’ll take you back to America.”
“That incident destroyed my family. You understand that. After struggling through all those years, I was lucky enough to meet you. I’m not stupid enough to destroy my own home again. And don’t regret meeting an old enemy like me. I don’t regret the promises I’ve made. I don’t regret knowing you… Yanyan, I won’t leave you.”
Zhuang Xiao kissed the wetness on Pei Yan’s face firmly.
* * *