At night, lights glimmered among the shrubs in the courtyard, reflecting in ripples across the swimming pool.
Zhuang Xiao leaned against the side of the pool with both arms spread along the edge, watching the man before him. “Coming in?” he asked.
“Just like this?” Pei Yan stood at the edge with a bathrobe loosely draped around his body, fluttering its front panels to fan himself. “I’m not coming in.”
“Who was it that said he’d strip naked and livestream himself if the film became a huge box-office hit?” Zhuang Xiao teased. “Get in here yourself.”
“Fuck… It wasn’t that big a hit!” The corner of Pei Yan’s mouth twitched. “It didn’t even beat Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass at the box office!”
Young Master Pei had made an extravagant boast at an earlier promotional event: if his new film The Rising Tide of the Blue Sea surpassed the box-office earnings of their previous wuxia film Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass, he would livestream himself skinny-dipping.
Yanyan was forever shooting his mouth off, talking nonsense as usual. The people watching online had been beside themselves with laughter and were eagerly waiting for the show. Fortunately, the final box office fell short by several hundred million, leaving their record intact. Fans eventually stopped talking about the threatened livestream.
“The moment it’s time to make good on your words, you chicken out,” Zhuang Xiao teased.
Pei Yan snorted and yanked open his bathrobe. There was nothing underneath. Not a single scrap of fabric.
They were in their own Irvine home, a secluded paradise with no outsiders. This was a world belonging only to the two of them.
The light concealed among the bushes seemed to brighten suddenly, casting a round glow over Pei Yan’s body, which looked rather pale. He looked at Zhuang Xiao, and Zhuang Xiao looked back. Their gazes lingered over each other’s strong bodies. Everything they wished to say was contained in that silence.
Zhuang Xiao nodded in invitation and said softly, “Come in.”
He hadn’t said “get down here” this time. He’d said “come in.”
“You’re telling me to come in?” Pei Yan instantly grew interested, his eyes shining. “Then I’m coming! Just wait till I get into the water!”
Zhuang Xiao mouthed a C-shaped curse. I told you to come into the POOL, you bastard!
He didn’t swear aloud. He was still smiling. A moment later, Pei Yan threw off the robe and leaped gleefully into the swimming pool, a streak of pale light wrapped in a wave, heading straight for Zhuang Xiao.
They crossed weapons beneath the water, tangling together at once. They caught each other’s joints, feinted, grappled, wrapped arms around necks, and sent up splashes…
The sound of splashing gave way to rapid breathing. Their warm breath drove away the early-spring chill and the desolation of winter. Pei Yan embraced Zhuang Xiao from behind. Zhuang Xiao turned his head. Threads of moisture joined their lips as they exchanged intimate kisses…
The recently released The Rising Tide of the Blue Sea was marketed as “wuxia,” but it was really a full-fledged comedy. Adapted from The Legend of the Condor Heroes, it had strayed so far from the original work that it was barely recognizable, a lighthearted popcorn film made to entertain. Zhuang Xiao played a wild, uninhibited young Huang Yaoshi, while Pei Yan wore a wig to portray a charming young Ouyang Feng. The two of them carried the romantic comedy, and audiences loved it.
Those two unparalleled martial-arts masters flirted and fought across the screen, from the summit of Mount Hua to Peach Blossom Island, into pavilions and chambers, and finally onto a bed… With such a subversive and comical storyline, there was no longer any role for Huang Rong’s mother or Ouyang Feng’s sister-in-law. The film was all about these two men, and once again it gave the gossip-hungry viewers more than enough to feast on.
Comedy was for making a living; serious drama was where his ideals and convictions lay. Pei Yan understood that distinction clearly. That was why he was willing to appear in films like this now, no longer quite so proud, stubborn, and unwilling to cooperate as he once had been. He had to balance President Yan’s books and make sure investors received their share of the profits. He also needed to raise money for the major project he’d been planning for years, The Life of Dong Haichuan. He needed a great deal of money.
Among actors who’d already made names for themselves, he was one of the lucky ones. He’d paid a relatively small price and received an enormous amount in return. There was always someone beside him he could rely upon completely, someone who would neither leave nor abandon him, who neither made a show of himself nor retreated in the face of trouble. Together they had pursued their shared ideals and honor, step by step, year after year…
They pressed against each other at the edge of the pool. Beneath the moonlight came the sounds of breathing and quiet murmurs.
Pei Yan bit the back of Zhuang Xiao’s shoulder and kissed his ear, saying, “You’re so good,” and “Your ass is amazing.”
Zhuang Xiao swung an elbow back at him, putting no strength into the feint. Pei Yan caught his wrist and slowly pulled his arm behind his back. His intentions were obvious.
“Brother.”
“Mmm…”
“Does this… feel good…?” Pei Yan asked.
“It does,” Zhuang Xiao answered.
Low laughter and flirtation floated across the surface of the water amid caresses and kisses, for a long, long time. Then Pei Yan suddenly bit hard at the scalp behind Zhuang Xiao’s head and drove forward abruptly…
Zhuang Xiao frowned slightly and forced back the moan that followed. With both hands gripping the edge of the pool, he let Mr. Pei do as he pleased tonight.
Zhuang Xiao’s eyelashes were wet, his gaze a little unfocused, his body trembling faintly. He was too embarrassed to admit aloud to Mr. Pei that perhaps he had certain tastes of his own. He seemed to enjoy doing this more and more. Once the floodgates of desire opened and washed away the limits he’d always maintained, there was no stopping it…
Every shift of expression was captured in Pei Yan’s eyes, intoxicating him. This man was incredibly sexy too…
And as for their spy thriller Sleeping with the Enemy, that film hadn’t lost money either. The appeal of the Zhuang-Pei pairing had been enough to compensate for the historical weight and tragic atmosphere it imposed on viewers. Its final box-office total exceeded nine hundred million yuan, higher than earlier films of the same genre. President Yan could finally breathe a sigh of relief. The investment had been recovered without losses. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared go home and account for the money.
The books were balanced, but President Yan still got thoroughly dealt with when he went home.
According to intelligence supplied by Miss Mao, President Yan had become popular online. Perhaps he was simply too handsome. Even as an investor and producer with only a brief cameo showing his face, he’d gained admirers and apparently acquired a “fan club” and “support group.” It was rumored that he was thoroughly put through his paces in six rounds that night, though whether it truly happened was impossible to verify.
Audiences had gone into the cinema with their hearts in their throats, only to break down in tears at the ending. Many cried uncontrollably, deeply moved and heartbroken.
At the end of the film, the camera swept across an open plain toward the lonely grave of a general, the light and shadows dreamlike.
Time seemed to have passed to the years after Liberation. Someone was visiting a cenotaph to pay respects to Commander Zhuang in the wilderness. The visitor’s face was never shown clearly. All the audience could see was a pair of strong, bony hands caressing the old earth on the grave in silent remembrance.
Audiences were drawn into the scene and argued about it. Who was the person visiting the grave? Was it the leading character? Had Yanyan’s character actually survived?!
The film used a clever device to leave a lingering mystery, with a pair of hands holding the clue. Online detectives examined a few still frames with painstaking care and eventually reached a verdict: those really were Pei Yan’s hands. No hand double had been used. Even the scar where a layer of skin had been scraped from the back of his hand was still there.
The leading character had been spared by Commander Zhuang. He hadn’t actually been executed. Another person had been substituted, and the two had thereafter been separated by vast distances, eventually divided forever by death amid years of warfare. Once viewers pieced the plot together that way, they sighed again and cried another flood of tears outside the theater…
One spring morning in Southern California, new life spread through the courtyard, and the flowers and plants grew with abandon.
The two men lay on their stomachs on the wide bed. Even the bedsheets were damp. They hadn’t dried off properly the night before, and their skin was still a little damp, retaining each other’s warmth…
Zhuang Xiao worked his way free from beneath Mr. Pei’s arm and leg.
As he got out of bed and walked away, he moved a little awkwardly. There were bruises on his buttocks, as if he’d been beaten the night before…
Pei Yan half opened his eyes, smiling with deep satisfaction. He was very well fed indeed. He reached out to grab Zhuang Xiao, only to receive a kick to the backside…
Zhuang Xiao went out to the pool in the backyard to tidy the remnants of the night before, collecting their robes, bath towels, and used condoms.
This was where they practiced their martial arts every morning. Their dreams had come true within this lifetime. Every morning when they woke up, they could see the person they loved…
Mr. Pei’s loose martial-arts trousers hung low on his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his lower abdomen and the dazzling tattoo at the small of his back. He came up behind Zhuang Xiao and wrapped his arms around him, breathing in the lingering dampness of his skin. When he glanced at the Wing Chun wooden dummy on the back deck, his wicked imagination and certain unspoken preferences made him itch with anticipation.
He whispered in Brother Xiao’s ear, “Next time, I’ll… tie you to the wooden dummy… I want to take you like that…”
“You shameless thing.” Zhuang Xiao’s face darkened. “Get lost.”
“Hahahaha!”
Pei Yan burst into wild laughter, only to be disciplined by the now-bristling lion. Zhuang Xiao twisted one of his arms behind his back, swept the back of his knees, and subdued him with a single effortless move, forcing him to kneel.
Pinned to the ground, Pei Yan still laughed fearlessly. “I know you like it!” “You always say you won’t do it, but every time you enjoy yourself like crazy!” “Brother, you love me so much, don’t you?” He got his wish when Brother Xiao lifted one of his long legs, making him stagger and stumble into the swimming pool…
They walked briskly along Chicago Avenue in the spring.
They went rafting through the Columbia River valley in summer.
They strolled beneath a fine rain on the streets of Seattle in autumn.
They trudged through Yellowstone National Park in winter, searching for bears in the snow…
Those years were wonderfully beautiful. They traveled together through the seasons, year after year. Whenever they weren’t filming or rushing between public appearances, they went to places where nobody knew them, quietly held hands, and enjoyed life…
In Seattle’s late-autumn drizzle, they stepped out of a restaurant bundled in coats and hats. In the cold wind and rain, their eyes still warmed whenever they met.
“The lamb tasted like curry. Southeast Asian style…” Pei Yan grumbled.
“Didn’t like it?” Zhuang Xiao asked. “That wasn’t a cheap restaurant.”
“I still prefer the way we make it back home. Lamb should be spicy, with chili and cumin! Or just boiled in water with some salt!” Pei Yan declared.
They walked briskly side by side, speaking softly, their elbows brushing. Zhuang Xiao glanced along the roadside. “There’s a northwestern noodle shop. If you’re still hungry, want to have something else?”
“Are we having a late-night snack tonight?” Pei Yan asked. “No? Then I’ll go in and eat another two huge bowls!”
Zhuang Xiao gave him another look. “And there’s a Starbucks over there. Coffee and dessert?”
Pei Yan smiled meaningfully. “I’ll save room to eat your ‘dessert’ when we get home.”
Zhuang Xiao ignored him.
Pei Yan leaned closer and blew air into Mr. Zhuang’s ear. Zhuang Xiao moved away, and they both laughed quietly.
Mr. Zhuang lowered his head with a smile, revealing his dimple. Pei Yan stared at his profile for a long time, entranced again. How he loved this man.
He knew Zhuang Xiao liked him too, and enjoyed those particular things. Zhuang Xiao simply wouldn’t say so or admit that it felt good. Even in bed last night he’d tried to preserve his dignity, until he couldn’t stand it anymore, panting beneath Pei Yan with his chest flushed red…
Pei Yan really did enter that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. In high spirits and with an enormous appetite, he ate a large bowl of minced-meat noodles. They also each devoured a piping-hot roujiamo sandwich.
“Is the flavor all right?” Zhuang Xiao asked.
“The braised-pork roujiamo isn’t authentic,” Pei Yan said. “Not juicy enough.”
“Look where we are. This is good enough,” Zhuang Xiao replied.
Pei Yan turned to the man he loved and murmured, “It’s not as juicy as you.”
A hand slipped beneath his coat and viciously pinched the soft flesh at his waist. Pei Yan laughed and dodged, nearly squeezed until all his own juice came out. Their quiet laughter lingered beneath the awnings and along the roadside in the rain, their close silhouettes slowly disappearing into the dark wet night.
* * *
* * *
Pei Yan’s eldest maternal uncle Xu Qiyue was also in America for a while, hiding from creditors.
When people had power, they commanded the wind and rain, arrogantly convinced nobody could touch them. Once they lost that power, they turned timid. Everyone who could flee did so, while people cursed them behind their backs and even dug into their ancestral homes.
Zhang Shaochi had helped clean up the mess left behind.
Pei Yan saw President Zhang a few times. On the first day of Lunar New Year, he saw Zhang climbing a mountain after a snowfall, his hair cropped very short, going to Tanzhe Temple in suburban Beijing to worship and offer incense. Anyone who didn’t know the story might have thought President Zhang had suffered so badly that he’d become disillusioned with worldly life, decided his three thousand beauties were nothing but passing clouds, and was about to become a monk.
A few years later, when the storm had passed, Xu Qiyue adopted a different identity abroad. After going around North and South America, he eventually returned home. As for how that old pair of brothers resolved their complicated affairs, whether they fought behind closed doors or how they made peace, nobody outside could say.
* * *
That year, as winter gave way to spring, the last snow clung to the eaves and palace lanterns illuminated red walls. The Life of Dong Haichuan officially began shooting at Prince Gong’s Mansion near Beijing’s Houhai. President Yan invested an enormous sum, while the studio committed all its resources and capital. This time they were serious. They were going to fulfill a dream that had taken years to realize: making another true wuxia film.
The film told the legendary life of Dong Haichuan, a martial artist of the late Qing. His youth was full of hardship. He wandered the jianghu until he entered the household of Prince Su in the capital as a servant. The historical background was turbulent and complex, full of political intrigue. Righteousness and genuine feeling struggled to survive in its narrow spaces. Between Haichuan and Prince Su grew an attachment that crossed the boundaries of status and class. They came to respect each other through martial arts and recognize kindred spirits. Whether the feeling between them truly existed depended on whom you asked. They left traces in each other’s lives, a story for later generations to sigh over, another legend for the jianghu…
Dong Haichuan was the founder of Baguazhang.
Pei Yan had originally planned this film for Zhuang Xiao. The role had always been intended for him, and no one could have been more suitable.
But Zhuang Xiao said, “You should play him.”
“If I play Dong Haichuan,” he continued, “who’s going to play the prince? Who’s the right age?”
Pei Yan thought about it and realized he had a point. Given the difference in their ages and manner, Pei Yan should play Dong Haichuan. If Zhuang Xiao took the role, they’d have to ask President Zhang to guest-star as the prince.
“But I don’t know how!” Pei Yan threw up his hands. “I can’t do Baguazhang. I’ve never learned it!”
“You’ve never learned?” Zhuang Xiao made a gesture, chopping his palm toward his own chin. The blow he’d taken there had been fierce enough to leave a bruise. He would remember it for the rest of his life.
“Hahahaha!” Pei Yan laughed. “Still holding a grudge, are you? … I only know that one move. It’s my specialty! Why don’t we have Dad teach me a couple more?”
“Why do you need him to teach you?” Zhuang Xiao looked straight into Mr. Pei’s eyes. “My father hasn’t been able to beat me for years. I’ll teach you.”
* * *
“You’ll really teach me?” Pei Yan was startled, then said, “Isn’t that inappropriate?”
“What’s inappropriate about it?” Zhuang Xiao asked.
“You can just teach me so casually?” Pei Yan bit his lip and said vaguely, “I haven’t even formally become your disciple.”
“Then serve me some tea and become my disciple. Right now.” Zhuang Xiao smiled, sitting there with perfect composure.
“Every martial-arts family passes its teachings to insiders, not outsiders. My surname isn’t Zhuang. What school or lineage do I belong to?” They stood close together. Pei Yan leaned against the table, his knee brushing Zhuang Xiao’s thigh.
“Don’t you want the surname Zhuang?” Zhuang Xiao asked lightly, joking.
“Do I have the surname Zhuang?” Pei Yan wasn’t joking. “Have you married me?”
Their eyes met, then both looked away. Zhuang Xiao didn’t answer. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly.
Pei Yan fell silent too, wishing he could bite off his own tongue in punishment. What a stupid mouth. Would he never learn to stop talking?
They were very happy together. Very happy.
Zhuang Xiao was an extraordinarily dependable man, to the point where some people might find him dull. He would never fool around with anyone else. He would never leave Pei Yan.
Pei Yan already possessed everything most beautiful and vital about this man. Heaven had treated him well. His life was so wonderful that there was nothing he could honestly complain about. A person had to know when to be content and grateful. Why insist on a piece of legal paper?
* * *