Another summer arrived. After a long and heart-wrenching process of production and publicity, The Life of Dong Haichuan opened the summer blockbuster season.
Pei Yan had spent three years making a single film: one year shut up in the studio preparing it and frantically revising the script, one year following the crew around the country to shoot it, and a final year working on post-production and promotion. Both production and post-production had gone over schedule repeatedly.
Fortunately, his colleagues hadn’t held that against him. They were all willing to help.
And luckily, the biggest star in his production would never demand additional acting fees every time filming went overtime…
Beijing Capital International Airport, the first stop on the promotional tour before the premiere.
The media had taken up positions along both sides of the arrivals passage, and many fans were waiting with bouquets to welcome Yanyan home. The crowd was less boisterous than in the old days. This time handsome Mr. Pei was returning early from America, where he’d undergone surgery and recovered from an injury, in order to attend the premiere. His fans were more considerate and quiet than before. Many clasped their hands together, hoping he’d return safely.
An assistant came out first, pushing a cart of luggage. The next person to emerge was unexpectedly Zhuang Xiao.
They had come back on the same flight. They had no intention of playing games with reporters by hiding or taking separate routes. The two men were walking about twenty meters apart, Zhuang Xiao in front and Pei Yan behind. Wearing sunglasses, his hair once more cut short into a soldier’s style, Mr. Zhuang looked strikingly cool. He successfully drew most of the attention. Wherever Mr. Zhuang went, he became a great source of heat that pulled everybody toward him. Cameras and microphones quickly surrounded him.
In the past Brother Xiao usually brought up the rear to protect Pei Yan. This time, before going out, Zhuang Xiao had told him, “I’ll go first. Follow me from a distance.”
Pei Yan wore a hat that covered his eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile on his lips. He looked cheerful and openhearted. As he emerged from the passage, he even gave the crowd a rather flirtatious little wave.
Quite a few people covered their mouths, letting out soft cries. “Ah…”
All eyes turned to him, and to his legs.
Pei Yan was coming out on two crutches. Even with those supports, he could move remarkably quickly, practically flying along by himself. He laughed as he went and even joked with reporters pursuing him. “A ligament’s just like the elastic in your trousers! If it gets loose, you tighten it again, and everything’s fine!” “Can you run faster than me? Want to race and find out?”
His right foot was wrapped up like a rice dumpling, making the location of the injury impossible to miss.
Pei Yan had severely injured his ankle during a major fight scene near the end of filming The Life of Dong Haichuan.
They’d been shooting at the site of an old royal residence near Shenyang, filming a scene in which “Prince Su receives Mongolian wrestlers, and Dong Haichuan steps forward to rescue his lord in a crisis, revealing his hidden talents.”
A splendid scene meant a fight scene. This was real hand-to-hand combat, yet it also had to look extraordinarily graceful and elegant.
The story itself was legendary. A powerful Mongolian wrestler defeated three of the prince’s deputy generals in succession. Prince Su, having suffered this humiliation, finally lost patience. He undid his clothes and threw aside his outer robe, preparing to fight personally. At that moment a quiet, unremarkable household servant named Haichuan passed the hall through the outer corridor, carrying a tray of tea things. He lifted his eyes and met the prince’s gaze through the doorway. Light shone in their eyes as they conversed without a word.
The prince played by Zhuang Xiao seemed to be saying, This has nothing to do with you. Don’t stand there gawking. Get back to the rear courtyard and fetch me a brazier, damn it. It’s freezing!
But Dong Haichuan, played by Pei Yan, seemed to say, Why should Your Highness personally trouble yourself with something so trivial? What’s the point of keeping a man like me if I can’t even do this for you?
Dong Haichuan suddenly stepped straight through the entrance into the great hall and sprang into the air. He flew across the walls and eaves as easily as walking on level ground, taking the Mongolian wrestler by surprise.
At the time Zhuang Xiao tore open his clothes and stripped off his belt until he was wearing only a close-fitting white silk shirt. Pei Yan flew in from outside, suspended on a wire, his toes brushing the plaque mounted on the wall as he swept over the crowd. With one palm strike called “A Flower Hidden Among Leaves,” he slashed diagonally toward the wrestler’s neck…
“Ah!”
Within the film, this was the battle that made the humble servant Dong Haichuan famous. Outsiders finally understood why the great Prince Su had always treated that handsome young servant in the rear courtyard with special favor, insisting on his personal attendance, taking him out riding and sightseeing, and maintaining a closeness between them that they couldn’t explain to the public. But on the actual set, the battle brought Pei Yan a terrible injury. It was wholly unexpected. The Mongolian uncle’s bulging muscles knocked him backward, and he landed unsteadily, his foot striking a steel plate used as part of the scenery.
“Ah… Ngh…” Pei Yan sat on the ground, gritting his teeth against the pain. He glanced at his foot. “Hey… looks like I owe you another pack of cigarettes today!”
The Mongolian wrestler hurried over. “Are you all right, young man? You aren’t hurt, are you?”
“I’m fine,” Pei Yan said. “Nothing serious… Don’t tell the young prince, will you? The brat will be delighted and laugh at me again…”
He braced himself and stood up. The instant he was out of camera range, his knees buckled and he collapsed against the threshold.
It was a new injury on top of an old one. For years the ligaments in Pei Yan’s ankle had been loose, an ailment that never quite healed, and there were bone spurs inside his foot. This time the ligament had torn.
He’d heard a sharp crack himself the moment it happened, and knew at once that something was terribly wrong…
Later his ankle swelled so much he couldn’t put on a shoe. Around the set Zhuang Xiao had to support or carry him everywhere.
During the final week’s filming, he could only shoot scenes where he was sitting, standing still, or lying down without moving. Every time he came to the set, Zhuang Xiao carried him inside, set him down in position, and carried him out again once the shot was finished…
The remaining action shots had to be completed by Sa Risheng and another young martial artist from Zhuang’s team, working as doubles. It made Pei Yan upset and resentful. “Damn it. How come somebody can be this lucky in love and so lucky at work too?”
“You think Xiao-Sa’s happy?” Zhuang Xiao said consolingly, leaning close. “He had to shave his head!”
“Hahahaha!” Pei Yan laughed gleefully at the other man’s expense, regaining his usual playful spirit. He rubbed his own shiny scalp and gave the young prince a meaningful look from across the set. “Handsome, isn’t it? Nice and cool, right?”
Xiao-Sa glared at him and pouted without answering. Pei Yan went out of his way to come closer. “Does it still work? … I’ve heard there are some breeds of pet that really shouldn’t have their fur clipped. They can get depressed after being shaved, something like that! Baby, are you all right? Hahaha! Can you still get hard?”
In order to double for the filmed scenes, Xiao-Sa had been ordered by the director to shave the front of his head. He now had the full Manchu Qing hairstyle, the remaining hair braided into a queue down his back. To be fair, Pei Yan said, “Our young prince is so handsome he’s about the only man who can pull off this hairstyle. It actually looks authentic on him. On anyone else it’d be unbearable!”
He still wanted to fly on the stunt wires. Once he was in the air, he argued, he didn’t even need his foot. Zhuang Xiao immediately scolded him. “Stay put on the ground! What the fuck do you mean, fly?”
Back at the hotel, Pei Yan lowered his head and surrendered. “Master… I’ve embarrassed you again.”
Zhuang Xiao felt terrible for him. “If you got hurt, it means I didn’t teach you well enough. It’s my responsibility. My fault.”
“No. You’re not to blame.” Pei Yan said. “Brother, you’ve made so many films and you never get hurt. You do everything well, just right, as though you have strength and skill left over. But I can’t. Every few days it seems I’m the only one getting injured. In the end my foundations aren’t solid and my technique isn’t good enough… I’m always just a little short. Compared to you, I’m always that little bit worse.”
Zhuang Xiao paused in surprise. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” Pei Yan said. “As far as I remember, the only time you’ve ever been injured and bled was when the steel wire cut your hand. And that was because of me.”
Zhuang Xiao put a cigarette between his lips, smiled, and shook his head. It had been five years. He’d almost forgotten.
The scar on his palm had settled into the lines of his hand.
“Ahem, really!” Pei Yan laughed too. “That was when I started thinking two things. First, this man is incredible. He’s so tough. I admired him with all my heart. And second, a man this good is someone I’d never let go once I’d met him. I was absolutely going to make him mine! Hahahaha!”
His ankle hurt so much tears threatened to escape. All he could do was flirt and run his mouth to distract himself from the pain.
After the film wrapped, Pei Yan traveled to Southern California. He spent the winter recovering from surgery. The injury had reached the point where treatment was unavoidable, and he needed a long rest. He couldn’t perform action scenes for two years. The doctor gave him a stark warning: if he continued abusing his body simply because he was young, his foot would be ruined. He might never be able to make action films again for the rest of his life.
Zhuang Xiao contacted the best orthopedic surgeons for him, flying with him from the West Coast to the East Coast and back again…
That winter, heavy snow fell across the eastern United States.
A blanket of white covered the earth, leaving the heart feeling pure and peaceful.
Pei Yan needed rehabilitation treatment at the hospital every week. Their car stopped outside the entrance in the snow, in a designated accessible parking space, with a temporary disabled parking permit hanging in the front window. Zhuang Xiao got out, went to the rear door to take out the wheelchair, then circled to the passenger seat to carry Mr. Pei outside.
But just as he finished unfolding the wheelchair, he noticed how much snow had fallen. The accessible walkway the workers had cleared that morning was already covered again.
“Hang on. Sit in the car for a while!” Zhuang Xiao said. He went to the trunk and pulled out a snow shovel. “Good thing I bought this!”
“Don’t bother shoveling, will you?” Pei Yan called from the window. “It’s all right. Just help me walk across.”
“Wait there!” Zhuang Xiao shouted. He didn’t want Pei Yan’s foot to get wet and cold in the snow.
He pulled up his hood and shoveled vigorously from the car door to the hospital entrance, quickly clearing a clean path. Snow on the East Coast could grow extremely deep. Zhuang Xiao measured the highest drift beside the road against his own legs and called to Pei Yan, “The snow’s already above my knees!”
He brushed the snow off the wheelchair, carried Mr. Pei out of the car, and pushed him inside.
Leaning back in the chair, Pei Yan looked up at him. “Hey, tomorrow I’ll just let my assistant bring me. That’ll be fine too.”
“I’ll bring you,” Zhuang Xiao said.
“I don’t dare keep making you do all this. I feel bad,” Pei Yan replied.
“No need for them,” Zhuang Xiao said. “Is it really the same thing when one of those skinny kids pushes you as when I do?”
Pei Yan didn’t know what to say.
He lifted his face, and a few tiny snowflakes drifted onto his skin, melting and evaporating almost instantly. He was as hot as a furnace, always overflowing with energy and burning brightly, warming everyone around him too. Zhuang Xiao suddenly bent down and kissed him on the forehead.
“Don’t treat me too well,” Pei Yan said. “When you do that, I keep wanting to marry you.”
* * *
The wind blew hard, whistling around his ears. Perhaps Brother Xiao hadn’t heard him, or perhaps he didn’t want to answer or get entangled in that question again. He gave no response. And so the bitter north wind carried that winter away.
But on the day Pei Yan completed his treatment and returned to China, he felt that Zhuang Xiao had finally “answered” him.
As he hurried forward on his two crutches, one of them accidentally came down on a strap dragging from a suitcase. An assistant ahead of him tugged the case forward, pulling the crutch out from under him. Pei Yan immediately lost his balance.
“Ah!”
The cameras were directly in front of him. Crowds watched him stumble helplessly, utterly lacking his old graceful confidence. He couldn’t support himself, and he dared not put any weight on his injured foot…
His handsome face, still wearing a reckless smile, was heading straight for the floor, about to make intimate contact with the cold, hard tiles, when someone suddenly caught him. Zhuang Xiao moved that quickly. He ran back from ahead, grabbed him, steadied him, and picked up his fallen crutch.
Zhuang Xiao supported his waist and helped him out of the airport, walking beside him for a long stretch.
The people around them had enough sense to open a path. They didn’t besiege the two of them with cameras, microphones, glowing fan signs, or autograph books. That counted as consideration and a little respect. The crowd ahead moved apart and retreated to either side. Countless eyes watched them. Pei Yan kept his head lowered. The people swirling before his eyes and the crowd’s excited noise seemed unreal.
But the strong arm around his waist was real… Zhuang Xiao must have lost his mind to show this much in public…
Back in China, Zhuang Xiao had personally driven him to treatment several times too.
In many places there was no accessible route into the building, or the ramp had been rudely occupied by street sellers and people sleeping on the ground. Zhuang Xiao simply carried him up the steps and through the doors. Those thin-armed, soft-legged youngsters who worked as his assistants couldn’t have carried him anyway.
In the hospital room, Zhuang Xiao told him, “Listen to the doctor. Don’t shoot action scenes for the next two years.”
“If I don’t do action films, what can I act in?” Pei Yan replied. “I’m not some versatile veteran who can play absolutely anything. This is how I make my living. I only have the one specialty.”
“Why not make an idol drama? A romance? Something easy so you can recover?” Zhuang Xiao looked at him seriously, searching for some kind of compromise.
“If I star in a romantic idol drama, who’d believe it? The audience would never buy it!” Lying on the hospital bed with his injured foot suspended high in the air, Pei Yan laughed with an air of reckless resignation. “The viewers would immediately ship me with the second male lead who was supposed to be fighting me for the heroine. They’d announce online that me and the other guy were the true couple. Just watch. Audiences understand perfectly well!”
“I don’t have any chemistry with those lovely actresses. I’m more flamboyant than any of them. I draw too much attention!” Pei Yan said, laughing. “Zhuang Xiao, you and I have chemistry in absolutely everything we do.”
Zhuang Xiao looked at him helplessly, then smiled too…
That night Brother Xiao had no intention of leaving the hospital.
He closed and locked the room door, then turned, pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, and walked toward the man on the bed.
“Fuck…” Pei Yan covered his face with an arm and murmured, “I’m in this condition, and I can still turn you on? Am I really that sexy and irresistible?”
“Yes, you’re incredibly irresistible.” Zhuang Xiao looked deeply at him. “How long has it been since we last did it?”
“Quite a while.” Pei Yan smiled. “Come here.”
Zhuang Xiao carefully positioned his injured leg in its support so it wouldn’t be bumped, stroked his thigh, and pulled open his hospital gown.
Pei Yan licked his lips and gave him a meaningful look. “Come over here… Closer.”
“No.” Zhuang Xiao refused the offer directly. “You’re terrible with your mouth.”
“Can you stop finding fault with me?” Pei Yan cried in indignation. “How about a little encouragement? Tell me ‘Baby, you’re wonderful,’ or ‘That feels amazing, you’re gorgeous.’ Then I’ll work much harder to please you in bed!”
“This is the part of you that’s the prettiest, and the part that feels best.”
Zhuang Xiao pulled the trousers of his hospital pajamas down to his knees, took hold of his buttocks and kneaded them, a smile appearing on his lips. “This is the part that works best. So good. It makes me feel wonderful.”
And then Zhuang Xiao made him feel so good on that hospital bed that he almost died of pleasure…
They faced one another, making do with the simplest position. Yet it was the most tender of all, gazing directly into one another’s eyes and hearts, with nowhere for their feelings to hide.
Zhuang Xiao kept lowering his head to kiss that face, studying every minute change of expression as Pei Yan reacted to him, every sound the younger man made beneath him…
Never before had Zhuang Xiao felt such an attachment to another person, so difficult to set aside. Again and again the thought of a “lifelong vow” occurred to him, although he’d always refused to acknowledge the idea aloud. Before he met Mr. Pei, he’d never considered marrying or raising children with anybody. Absolutely not. It wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t have children. He didn’t believe he could bear the responsibility or make a family happy. He would never take the chance of letting a child follow the hard road he’d traveled himself, enduring the same hardship and helplessness.
Everybody carried an obstacle inside the heart they couldn’t get past. Subconsciously it made them want to abandon everything, run away, and pretend they didn’t care… Such things were life’s unbearable lightness.
And now, to his own surprise, he was thinking about “marriage.” He wanted the man before him to belong wholly and completely to him.
He wished he could hurry up and get Mr. Pei pregnant.
As he pressed into him again and again, listening to Pei Yan make soft sounds and holding him so tightly their bodies almost became one, he found himself thinking: Why don’t we just get married?
During the past few years, his mother had tried to contact him, hoping to see him. She’d never succeeded. Mr. Pei knew about it too.
His mother had left the mainland long ago and gone abroad. She’d also retired from the film industry and settled in Europe. Apparently she’d opened a martial-arts school to earn her living by teaching students, then married a German businessman. She had a home, children, and a comfortable life.
“Why not meet her?” Pei Yan suggested. “It’s been so many years. Go see her. I’ll go with you.”
After thinking silently for a long time, Zhuang Xiao said, “After so many years, it seems even less necessary. I’m getting older. I don’t enjoy meeting strangers.”
Pei Yan was silent.
“Don’t be like that,” Pei Yan said, trying occasionally to coax him. “She might have another family and children now, but she still remembers she has a son in you.”
“Does she?” Zhuang Xiao gave a cold laugh. “I’m almost thirty-five, and she’s only just remembered I exist? I’m living very well now. I don’t need anybody worrying about me. When I was fifteen, why didn’t anybody remember they had a son?”
Pei Yan had nothing to say.
Better stop trying to persuade him.
He’d known for a long time that Zhuang Xiao cared deeply about certain things, held grudges, and could be extraordinarily stubborn, even though he rarely spoke harshly. Pei Yan himself was the one who fired his mouth without thinking, swore constantly, gave little thought to the words, and forgot them afterward. Brother Xiao was not a man to provoke lightly. Once he’d decided not to compromise, he never would. He could carry a grievance for life and never get over it.
Pei Yan pulled Brother Xiao’s head toward him, stroked his hair, and soothed him. “All right, then. My mom wants to invite you to Tanggu for seafood. Are you going? Will you see her?”
Zhuang Xiao smiled. “What’s all this about? Why does she keep finding excuses to take me out for meals?”
“Because Her Majesty likes you, that’s why! She loves having you around. Every few days she wants to have a heart-to-heart talk and buy you dinner!”
“I’ll go,” Zhuang Xiao agreed. “And I’ll pay. I’ll treat her.”
“Hey, when my mom talks with you, it’s because she wants to know about our lives,” Pei Yan warned. “Watch what you say, all right? Know what you can tell her and what you can’t.”
“What can’t I tell her?” Zhuang Xiao raised an eyebrow.
“Use your own judgment! … Just know what you’re doing!” Pei Yan leaned close to Zhuang Xiao’s ear and whispered a few things. Both men laughed.
“Then what can I say?” Zhuang Xiao asked with a smile.
“Tell her how much you love me, how you can’t bear to be without me!” Pei Yan replied, laughing. “You’ve got to make me look good!”
“My mom told me that the first time she saw you at the San Diego hospital that year, when you came to visit and brought food, she immediately knew you were her son’s ‘boyfriend.’ She liked you on sight and took to you straightaway.” Pei Yan laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “She said it’s like a mother-in-law looking at her son-in-law: the more she looks, the more she likes! And I told her, can’t we stop making assumptions? Why are you determined to be the bride’s mother? Can’t you have some ambition and be the groom’s mother instead?”
At the time, Empress Xu had told her little monkey: Don’t you know yourself at all? This isn’t merely me making assumptions. I know exactly what my child is like! That man is willing to be with you and take care of you for us. Your father and I are so relieved. Can you understand how we feel?
Zhuang Xiao roared with laughter, the gloom disappearing from his face.
They would go to Tanggu for seafood and spend time with Yanyan’s parents. They were such good parents.
Yanyan could always warm him, suddenly making his heart feel bright. The road ahead looked level and wide, filled with sunlight.
Sometimes he treated Pei Yan with almost obsessive, excessive kindness, giving him everything he could. He couldn’t bear for the man beside him to feel, even for an instant, that he might be like his own father, “heartless,” “a bastard,” or “irresponsible.” He desperately wanted those near him to know that he truly cared.
* * *
The Life of Dong Haichuan opened to packed theaters that summer, setting the box-office charts ablaze once again. Following Dragon Battles Heaven’s Pass, another traditional Eastern wuxia film had become a market leader.
A master and servant, gratitude for being recognized, the harmonious music of zither and flute, kindred spirits who admired one another. Two men from utterly different social ranks held their feelings deep inside, refusing to voice them. A man exhausted everything for someone who understood him, a worthy man would die for his true confidant… It was precisely the sort of aesthetic many audiences associated with “wuxia.”
That tenuous, almost invisible attachment was like white mist drifting through bamboo groves and seas of cloud in the film. It could be seen but never grasped, and it moved countless viewers without their quite knowing why.
The scenery was also extraordinarily beautiful. The cinematography captivated the soul, its beauty making hearts tremble. Even apart from its story, the film could be enjoyed as a magnificent journey through classically beautiful landscapes, satisfying the eyes and hearts of its audience.
During the film’s successful run in Beijing, Jiahuang’s President Zhang also went to see it. Zhang Shaochi booked a VIP screening room and invited several friendly business executives to watch with him.
By then the case involving Pei Yan’s eldest uncle had long been resolved, along with the associated financial disputes. Xu Qiyue had therefore returned to China quite openly. He received an invitation and agreed to come.
But something unexpected happened that night.
Zhang Shaochi didn’t witness it. He waited and waited in the theater for President Xu, then made a phone call and heard the news.
Xu Qiyue had been intercepted somewhere on the road from his suburban villa to the city. He had a driver and a bodyguard with him. Both were knocked down, and then President Xu himself was dealt with.
Considering the enormous sums in his financial case and the fact that he’d avoided going to prison, Xu Qiyue had plenty of people who hated him. Yet he’d dared to return as arrogantly as ever. People had been waiting to teach him a lesson, and at last someone had done it.
Apparently both his shoulder and one wrist had been dislocated. Whoever did it had shown mercy by not cutting off his limbs or killing him.
Zhang Shaochi hurried to the hospital that night. Xu Qiyue, normally so grand and arrogant, lay pale in bed with braces on his shoulder and arm…
“What happened to you?” Zhang asked.
Xu Qiyue looked grim and humiliated and said nothing.
Inside his heart, Zhang snorted. You old bastard, you’ve made so many enemies. So you’ve finally had your day.
“Big Brother, now do you understand what pain feels like?” he asked. “If it hurts, go back home and rest. The world has changed. You shouldn’t come out and make trouble anymore.”
The words “Big Brother” stirred complicated feelings in both men. Xu Qiyue had lost face. He would have liked to pull a hand out of the covers and slap Zhang Shaochi, but his arm had been dislocated, and it hurt.
“Who did it?” Zhang asked.
“You’re asking me?” Xu Qiyue glared at him. “I should be asking you…”
“How the hell would I know?” Zhang shot back, utterly bewildered.
Zhang Shaochi sat beside the bed and leaned closer to inspect the injuries. His expression suddenly darkened with shock, then brightened with a new realization. He said nothing.
The person who’d intercepted Xu Qiyue’s car had worn a hat and sunglasses, hiding his face. He’d come alone and overpowered the driver and bodyguard in seconds. He had an unusual way of walking, and was tall and thin. He rested one hand against the side of the car, flexed his finger joints, and laughed in a strangely cold way as he looked at President Xu.
“I heard you played a dirty trick on that old fool Zhang Shaochi?
“Zhang Shaochi’s just a stubborn idiot. Does he really believe in jianghu brotherhood when he’s dealing with people like you?
“I’ll deal with you once on his behalf. Heh. Let me show you what jianghu loyalty really means.”
Then the stranger struck and knocked Xu Qiyue down. It took only a few seconds, the blink of an eye. President Xu howled with pain and lost consciousness…
Zhang Shaochi stared at Xu Qiyue in silence, his eyes wide. Suddenly he lunged forward and started pulling the brace apart to examine what lay beneath. Xu Qiyue howled again. “Zhang Shaochi, you fucking stop! What are you doing?!”
The man’s method of dislocating a living person’s joints had been extraordinarily precise. His fingers worked like surgical blades, his technique as skillful as a butcher separating the joints of an ox. He left the bones unbroken and caused no permanent disability. He could even control the degree of pain exactly, dealing out three parts if he wanted three and ten if he wanted ten, enough to make the victim remember the lesson for the rest of his life.
Zhang Shaochi gazed at the injured joints, his face and Adam’s apple trembling faintly. It seemed impossible to believe. Every hair on his body stood on end. He abandoned Xu Qiyue, spun around, and strode out of the room…
Another winter came a year later. It was another bitter one, with heavy snow falling across both the East and West Coasts of America, covering the earth in clean white.
Even California, gripped by a cold front, remained full of vibrant energy, waves beating against the shore and crowds surging through the streets. Early that year, The Life of Dong Haichuan was fortunate enough to be nominated for one of cinema’s most important awards.
The bonds between tough, masculine heroes were a theme audiences never grew tired of. And obstacles created by rank, family background, historical period, and prejudice of thought made certain vague feelings impossible to fulfill, leaving viewers deeply moved and filled with longing. On that point, Eastern and Western values and tastes had found common ground. Genuine human feeling could always touch the heart.
Ever since the nomination was announced, the number of people traveling from China to California seemed to rise overnight. Tour groups added a stop in Hollywood. Visitors posed for photographs in front of the Chinese Theatre, visited the Walk of Fame and Beverly Hills, and sometimes went all the way to Irvine to seek out Zhuang Xiao’s neighborhood. Some fans even treated his home and the nearby Chinese supermarket as tourist attractions, creating so much commotion that Zhuang Xiao barely dared return home and couldn’t even buy groceries. For the time being, he hid out in Seattle.
Zhuang Xiao hadn’t worked in the North American film market in some time. After several quiet years, people had nearly forgotten him. This time he was returning with Mr. Pei to revisit old places and walk that red carpet once more.
Pei Yan’s ankle was much better. Surgery had largely healed it, but he still couldn’t put much force on the foot or perform difficult moves. All he could do was recover slowly.
He no longer needed a wheelchair, but sometimes still used a single crutch when he went out.
In a small Seattle café, Young Master Pei lounged comfortably against a sofa, admiring the pattering rain outside the window. He raised his injured leg and rested it squarely across Zhuang Xiao’s thighs.
Zhuang Xiao drank half his coffee, then lowered his head and massaged Pei Yan’s leg, loosening the calf muscles.
Pei Yan narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re good with your hands too. Very satisfying.”
Zhuang Xiao gave him a look. “Getting used to having that leg propped up, are you?”
“Sure.” Pei Yan grinned. “It’s pretty comfortable having this foot hung up from the foot of the bed. Otherwise I’d have to hold it up, support it, squeeze it between things, and that’s exhausting. Might as well just leave it hanging from now on…”
His eyes turned suggestive as he laughed.
“Fine,” Zhuang Xiao replied. “Tonight I’ll hang both your feet from the ceiling and take you upside down. … It’ll be very comfortable…”
“Hahahaha!” Pei Yan burst out laughing. Imagining the thrilling position sent blood rushing to his head and satisfied his fondness for provocative, unusual pleasures…
At the end of February, the streets of Los Angeles glittered with lights and thronged with people. At last the globally watched awards ceremony began.
Some people said that the last time Zhuang Xiao walked the red carpet at the Chinese Theatre, he hadn’t won. Now he was back again.
Others pointed out that his earlier appearance had been for an individual acting nomination. Best Actor was difficult for a martial-arts star to win. The elderly judges had struggled to accept that a kung fu performer could also possess “acting skill.” This time, however, it was a collective honor, and the film had received the nomination.
Others agreed. Last time, it was Mr. Zhuang who had been nominated. This time, in a sense, it was Mr. Pei. The film was Pei Yan’s own work. He was producer and financier as well as leading actor. If the movie won, he would be the greatest beneficiary.
Still others said, “Last time it was the Golden Globes. This time it’s the Oscars. Do you know how hard that is?”
* * *
On the day of the ceremony, Pei Yan couldn’t decide what to wear.
Assistants and team members surrounded him, helping with his face, clothes, and accessories.
He’d grown a short layer of hair on his scalp, then shaved a decorative design above his left ear. Two diamond studs glittered in that ear.
He was genuinely nervous and excited. At an event like this, humility and composure were performances for outsiders. Inside, he couldn’t hide the surging thrill he felt.
The fulfillment of his dream seemed only one step away.
He turned from the enormous mirror and saw Zhuang Xiao enter, already perfectly dressed in formal clothes, waiting for him.
Whenever he turned around, no matter the moment, this man was there beside him.
“You’re dressed just like me again,” Pei Yan said.
“What else could I wear?” Zhuang Xiao replied.
“We look like a couple again,” Pei Yan said, smiling.
Men’s formal evening wear was almost always a black suit. There were only so many ways to dress it up. Walking the red carpet hand in hand, dressed in the same color and of similar height and build, they looked very much like a pair.
Of course, the important thing was how they looked into each other’s eyes amid the crowd. Those looks were never the same as the looks they gave other people.
Pei Yan looked magnificently handsome on the red carpet, smiling recklessly for the cameras, showing off his haircut and earrings, joking and bantering with the female presenter without a hint of restraint.
He still leaned on one crutch, keeping one foot off the ground. Zhuang Xiao walked beside him, reaching around from time to time to steady his waist, making sure the man didn’t get so carried away that he fell flat on the carpet in front of the world’s press…
Walking down that glittering avenue beside Zhuang Xiao, Pei Yan felt that his life had been worthwhile. All his years of effort hadn’t been wasted. Winning the award or not suddenly seemed less important.
Seated inside the theater, he watched the ceremony proceed, saw one winner after another walk onstage to make a speech, and lowered his head now and then to glance at comments on the domestic livestream. He hadn’t expected much at first, but all the excitement had gradually awakened a hidden hope.
Zhuang Xiao turned to look at him and knew exactly what he was thinking. “If we really win, what are you going to do? Any plans? How are you going to celebrate?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go crazy, that’s what.” Pei Yan laughed. “First I’ll buy my mother a huge diamond ring! After that, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll go mad.”
“You don’t even know what you’d do or what difference it would make,” Zhuang Xiao replied. “So winning or losing isn’t that important. Don’t get so nervous.”
“Me? I’m nervous?” Pei Yan glared.
“You’ve been clutching my sleeve the whole time, pulling at the cuff button. That button’s in your hand right now,” Zhuang Xiao said.
Pei Yan covered his face and laughed, blushing. He’d tugged Zhuang Xiao’s cuff button right off its thread. The two cuffs no longer even matched.
“If you really win, will you suddenly become a different person?” Zhuang Xiao teased.
“You’ll still be together with me.” Zhuang Xiao looked ahead, calm as ever. “Even if you become famous beyond belief, where exactly do you think you’ll run off to?”
“You’re that confident about me?” Pei Yan gazed at the handsome profile of the man beside him and found his eyes going blank again. Ahem…
Zhuang Xiao turned and smiled at him tenderly, light in his eyes. It seemed there were words he wanted to say, but he didn’t speak them.
Another group of glamorous presenters came onstage and began reading the nominations for Best Foreign Language Film. The internet back in China must have been roaring. Viewers were probably filling the livestream with comments about Zhuang-Pei and The Life of Dong Haichuan. Pei Yan lightly brushed the back of Zhuang Xiao’s hand with his own, then instinctively wiped his sweaty palm against his suit.
As his hand passed the pocket of his jacket, he rubbed it twice and noticed something hard inside.
Usually nothing was kept in the pockets of formal suits. A bulge spoiled the silhouette on camera.
He swiftly slipped his hand inside. His fingers touched a small piece of metal, cool and hard. He froze.
At precisely that moment, the spotlights landed on him and Zhuang Xiao, enclosing the two in a great circle of light before the cameras. On the giant screen played a clip from The Life of Dong Haichuan, the two men riding horses and traveling through mountains and streams, running free beneath the open sky. The ceremony had reached their film.
Pei Yan’s fingers were damp and sticky with sweat. His fingerprints seemed to have blurred away. As he felt the shape and texture of the little metal object, a blaze seemed to explode inside his mind.
He jerked his head up and stared at Zhuang Xiao, desperate to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Zhuang Xiao looked straight ahead without changing his expression and said softly, “Don’t look at me. Look ahead. Everybody’s watching you.”
Pei Yan saw circles of light of every size around him. The ceiling lights glittered, making his face shine for the cameras. People were applauding. Then everything around him seemed to fall silent, until he could hear his own heartbeat.
He felt as if he could hear Zhuang Xiao’s heartbeat too.
Zhuang Xiao’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. His throat moved, but he still didn’t speak. He simply put one hand into his own suit pocket and gently caressed something hidden there.
Pei Yan slowly turned his gaze back toward the stage, letting it drift far away. His heart seemed to lift on a current of warmth. His entire body felt as though it were floating.
Every camera in the auditorium was trained on them. Neither man could take his hand from his pocket and hold what he had found out before the entire world. Some of the intimacy that belonged only to the two of them would have to stay hidden in their coat pockets, perhaps forever…
The presenter opened the envelope and read out the film’s title. Pei Yan didn’t hear the words at all. He was absorbed in his own dazzling, burning happiness.
Then the audience around him erupted in applause. People began standing.
The people in the row before him stood, turned toward them, and applauded in congratulations. Behind them, more people stood too, clapping for their film.
Then their own team began embracing one another wildly. Zhuang Xiao rose slowly from his seat, smiling at Pei Yan and applauding him from the bottom of his heart.
Pei Yan was the last person in the whole auditorium to rise. Every beam from the ceiling seemed to settle on him at last. He was stunned. Never had he imagined that fate would favor him twice in just a few short minutes. Only after the English title cut through the thunder of the crowd did his mind finally catch up: the winning film announced onstage was The Legend of Hai-Chuan.
He wiped his face hard and laughed uncontrollably. He must have looked mad with excitement. His eyes filled with moisture, his eyelids glimmering, bright drops hanging on his cheeks. He wanted to cry. All his feelings could be explained by the cheers shaking the theater, but only the two of them knew what this moment truly meant… They had gained so much more than the trophy onstage. How lucky they were to have met each other.
Pei Yan took up his crutch and moved two steps out into the aisle, then turned back once more, waiting for the man he loved to appear beside him.
He held out his hand to Zhuang Xiao. They clasped hands tightly, letting the eyes and spotlights of the whole world settle on their joined hands, capturing an image that would last forever.
* * *
End of the epilogues of Drunken Fist.
Author’s Note
The epilogue portion of this novel is now completely finished. Thank you to all the readers who followed and read the story, and thank you for your company and support. The epilogues are more perfect and sweeter than the main story’s ending, but they do not contradict it.
Without outsiders knowing, Mr. Zhuang quietly gave a token representing a promise for life.
Although the young prince and Princess Consort Rong still have some difficulties to overcome, the two lovers will ultimately be together and remain by one another’s side.
And for those concerned about President Zhang Shaochi’s own romantic pairing, there was a little glimpse from the sidelines in this chapter. A certain man’s method of separating joints and bones was described indirectly through Yan Xiaodao in my novel Blade Against the Current (逆水横刀).
The online edition of this story is now officially complete. News about the physical book edition will be announced on Weibo. Those interested can follow me at @大默默的护国寺小吃摊. (I changed my Weibo username recently.)
My next work will be a light, heartwarming slice-of-life novel called The Wanderer (浪子). Its synopsis preview is already available, so please visit my author page and be sure to select “Favorite this author.” See you in the next book. Happy New Year to everyone! 🙂