1949, Hong Kong.
After changing his clothes, Qin Siyu pushed open the door of the ward’s changing room and strode out in a hurry. He was going home.
His shift was over. It was time to go home!
A great many doctors and nurses greeted him. "Dr. Qin!" "Bye, Dr. Qin!"
Qin Siyu answered every one of them. "All right, bye." "Mm, see you tomorrow."
Everyone at the hospital knew him.
Dr. Qin had been here for nearly four years, and his reputation was extraordinary.
This was already the largest general hospital in Hong Kong. And Dr. Qin, only thirty-four years old, was effectively the second-in-command of its surgical department, overseeing clinical operations.
His skill was formidable. He was especially adept at operating on the heart. Even while it was still beating, he could perform cardiac procedures with remarkably steady hands, repairing valves or the aorta, for example, almost without making mistakes.
He had another talent: dealing with chaos. However disorderly the situation, he could sort it out and respond methodically.
People said it was because he had spent years as a military doctor during the Second World War. There was nothing he hadn’t seen.
He was handsome and had a fine physique, too. Plenty of people at the hospital called him "the most handsome doctor."
At the same time, he was an associate professor at the best university, and might soon be a full professor.
He published paper after paper, all in leading international journals.
Qin Siyu left the hospital and headed into the car park, started his car in a hurry, and pulled onto the main road.
He always parked in the space closest to the building’s entrance, so that the moment he finished work he could climb into the car and head home.
Before leaving, Qin Siyu had called Aston to say that he was free to go. Aston had said he would be waiting at home.
They were always like this. Even though they both lived in Hong Kong, in the same house, they called each other several times a day.
Arrived at the hospital / Arrived at the office.
Finished lunch.
Coming home now.
On a day shift, there would invariably be three calls, at eight, at one, and at five or six.
Sometimes, if something important happened, such as Qin Siyu performing a difficult operation or Aston conducting major negotiations, they would call again afterward to tell each other how it had gone.
Today Qin Siyu left at half past five and reached home at five forty-five.
These days they lived mainly in a house halfway up the hillside, in the Western District, facing Victoria Harbour and not too far from Pok Fu Lam. Qin Siyu’s commute took only fifteen minutes.
He opened the front door. Sure enough, Aston was standing there waiting for him, with the dog.
The dog’s name was Lucky. He was actually a Chinese village dog that Qin Siyu had picked up on the battlefield.
After a railway was bombed, Qin Siyu had hurried to help the wounded. When he returned, this dog had somehow hauled himself out from a corner of the ambulance. Nobody knew when he had climbed in. Both of his hind-leg bones were broken.
Qin Siyu splinted the dog’s legs, and, against the odds, he survived.
After that, Qin Siyu entrusted Lucky to a friend in China. But Lucky missed him terribly, lost his appetite, and became listless. So when Qin Siyu arrived in Hong Kong in 1945, he contacted his friend and brought the dog back to his side.
Qin Siyu was not at all surprised to see Aston standing at the door. He walked over, and the two began kissing.
They were always like this.
Before coming home, one of them would make a call. The other would calculate when to expect him and wait at the door, making sure that, upon arriving home, the first person he saw was the one he loved. Making sure somebody was waiting for him.
There was always somebody waiting. He would never come home to find no one there to welcome him.
The dog leaped against Qin Siyu’s legs, tail wagging frantically, desperate for attention. Yet Qin Siyu went on holding Aston, sucking at his lips and touching the tip of his tongue.
How could they love kissing so much?
After they came to Hong Kong in 1945, Aston started a company.
He sold two valuable companies he owned in America, converted the proceeds into US dollars, and arrived in Hong Kong with a considerable sum of foreign currency to enter the trading business.
He foresaw that Hong Kong would become a bridge connecting mainland China with Western nations. So he went into finance, trade, shipping, insurance, real estate, and many other fields.
Four years later, his assets were already substantial.
"Seany." Aston picked up something from the shelf beside them and held it out. "Today’s present."
Qin Siyu laughed. "What is it this time? Let me see."
After their reunion, they knew they would never be separated again. Aston had also escaped his father’s control and was no longer bound by his family. So Qin Siyu stopped refusing his expensive presents.
The result was that, once Qin Siyu accepted everything Aston gave him… Aston started giving him something every single day.
Inside the box was a bird-shaped jade pendant dating from the Western Zhou dynasty, bought at a Sotheby’s auction.
Qin Siyu hardly dared pick it up. He examined the pendant in its box and asked, "Did you buy it here in Hong Kong?"
Aston shook his head. "In London last month."
"Thank you." Qin Siyu admired it for a long while before closing the box. "I like it very much."
The two began kissing again. Aston lifted Qin Siyu into his arms, carried him into the bedroom, and tossed him onto the bed.
They did this almost every day.
After spending the entire day apart, the moment they met again after work they simply couldn’t resist being intimate.
Qin Siyu had showered in the hospital’s changing room, and Aston had also showered while waiting for him. Now Aston had Qin Siyu lean back against the headboard and lowered his head.
Qin Siyu’s breathing quickened. His thighs tightened, and he seized a handful of Aston’s golden hair.
They always spent some time being intimate before dinner. They couldn’t help themselves, but at this hour they generally didn’t go all the way, and today was no exception.
Qin Siyu’s toes dug into the bedsheet on either side for a while, and then they exchanged positions.
Aston, however, was nothing like him.
Even while enjoying himself, Aston stretched out a long arm and extended his long fingers. "Seany, lift it a little higher."
"Mm… mm." Whenever Aston did this to him, Qin Siyu often couldn’t continue what he’d been doing. He would simply freeze in place, the muscles around his mouth tightening and relaxing, acting entirely on instinct. Yet somehow that still achieved the desired effect.
The two curled up together again and lay on the big bed for a while. Qin Siyu rested against Aston’s chest beneath him, feeling his warmth as they quietly enjoyed each other’s company.
Usually neither said much. They simply held each other and took long, deep breaths, thinking of nothing, doing nothing. For them, simply being together was happiness enough.
Around half past seven, Qin Siyu rubbed against Aston’s broad, muscular chest and said, "It’s about time. Let’s get up and have dinner."
"All right, Seany."
Qin Siyu climbed out of bed, his legs still weak.
Aston went to make something to eat, usually a few Western dishes, while Qin Siyu tidied up around the house.
Sometimes it was the other way round: Qin Siyu cooked a couple of Chinese dishes, and Aston did the tidying.
As they ate, they talked about their day.
Qin Siyu told him about his patients. "…That man whose finger I reattached! I specifically warned him not to smoke anymore, but he went behind my back and smoked anyway! Now the finger has to be amputated."
"Then there was a heart patient scheduled for surgery today. And before we could even operate, several people started fighting! It turned out he had two children born outside his marriage. They were afraid their father would die in hospital, so they rushed over and tried to force him to make a will dividing up his property. His legitimate children knew absolutely nothing about them! They only found out today! Then everybody started fighting. I was calming this one down, then that one. I felt less like a surgeon than the headmaster of a kindergarten."
Aston listened intently, responding to everything, and in turn told Qin Siyu all about his own day. "Last night, one of our cargo ships ran into a storm. A shipment shifted unexpectedly and piled up on one side of the hold. The captain feared the ship might capsize, so he threw the cargo overboard. The cargo company doesn’t want to acknowledge general average. We’re negotiating, but we may end up in court."
"I see," Qin Siyu said. "You need to prove that throwing it overboard was necessary to save lives, right?"
"Mm."
It was strange. After so many years together, each had practically become an expert in the other’s field. Whatever they discussed, almost nothing required explanation. The other could understand it as well as someone who worked in the profession.
After dinner, they washed the dishes and went out for a walk, as usual.
They drove down the hillside and wandered about, chatting as they went. They never ran out of things to say.
Qin Siyu mentioned that Wu Xintong had fallen in love too. His partner was a teacher.
When Qin Siyu started telling the story, he was speaking English, so Aston answered in English.
But Aston had barely spoken one sentence before Qin Siyu, seemingly without thinking, switched to Mandarin.
Aston switched to Mandarin as well to accommodate him.
Then, after Aston had managed only one sentence of Chinese, Qin Siyu changed to Cantonese.
Aston paused. A warning entered his voice. "Seany."
"Hahahaha!" His teasing had worked. Qin Siyu laughed so happily that he even doubled over.
Aston’s lips curved as he watched him.
"Speaking of English," Qin Siyu began again. He always grew more talkative around Aston. "I think I forgot to tell you something earlier. A man came in this morning. He was local, mind you. Remember that part: a local! He insisted on speaking dreadful English. Absolutely insisted! He even thought I didn’t want to speak it because I couldn’t, and looked down on me…"
Aston smiled again. "And then?"
"So I gave him what he wanted…" Qin Siyu said. "I spoke entirely in English, including every medical term. I even deliberately threw in a few especially obscure ones. I doubt you’ve even heard of some of them."
Aston continued smiling. "And then?"
Qin Siyu laughed too. "And then he went silent for a long while and asked, ‘Dr. Qin, could we speak Cantonese?’"
Aston’s height attracted even more attention in Hong Kong, but they had both grown accustomed to that.
And unlike in America, where most people had difficulty distinguishing one Chinese face from another, here plenty of people stared at Qin Siyu too, exclaiming, "What a handsome fellow…"
Aston would give them a sidelong glance.
Along the way, Qin Siyu gave directions to two or three businessmen from the mainland. Aston walked over to a nearby stall and looked around for a while. Then he pointed to a feather brooch and asked, "How much?"
The stallholder took one look at Aston and hurried to say, "Ten Hong Kong dollars!"
"Very well." Aston inclined his head and was about to take out his money.
Just then Qin Siyu charged up from behind and shouted at the stallholder, "Hey! Are you trying to rob him?!"
After all, at the time an ordinary worker earned only a hundred Hong Kong dollars a month!
The stallholder shrank back.
Qin Siyu was exasperated. He turned to Aston. "He’s trying to cheat you!"
"I know." Aston paused. "But I thought you’d like this. Somebody else looked at it too, and I was worried she might want it."
Qin Siyu’s heart instantly melted. Then he turned and shouted at the stallholder again. "Two dollars at most! Will you sell it or not?"
The stallholder put on a show of struggling with the decision before finally saying, "Fine, take it…"
They strolled until nine fifteen.
Whenever something caught one person’s eye and he slowed down, the other would look back, smile, and wait.
Once again Aston felt how happy Seany was.
Here in Hong Kong, Chinese people surrounded him. They spoke Cantonese, and they often met people who had come over from the mainland. There was no Chinese Exclusion Act, no racial discrimination; they shared a culture and could understand one another. Seany had been happy in America too, for that was simply the kind of person he was. But here he really was more relaxed, more at ease.
With the brooch pinned to Qin Siyu’s chest, they drove back up to their home on the hillside.
After going inside and giving Lucky a few strokes on the head, the two walked together into the house’s "display room." Qin Siyu went straight to a familiar cabinet, removed the brooch, carefully found a place for it, and set it upright inside. The bird-shaped jade pendant went in beside it.
This room was their "museum."
Huge display cabinets filled the entire room, containing memories the two of them had accumulated throughout their journey together.
Everything was arranged by year and month.
There was a gold watch with the letter "A" engraved on its back;
Journals containing the paper they had written together, and even some questionnaires left over from that time;
The glasses from that costume ball;
Sheet music copied out before the performance at Robert’s house;
The rabbit lantern Qin Siyu had made for Aston’s birthday had been destroyed, so he had made a replacement;
The notes he took at that lecture;
The two poems he had copied down;
Casino chips;
A spent cartridge case he had picked up the day after they encountered the bear in Yosemite. Qin Siyu had always regretted not collecting all of them, but back then his feelings were only just beginning to take shape;
The article about the "American Baby";
Photographs they had bought;
The necktie wound around an ankle on the mountaintop;
The seals purchased during the Dragon Boat Festival;
Lipstick Suyu had been selling, of course in shade C28;
The white towel used to wipe away rainwater;
A bridal glove;
An empty whiskey bottle;
The candlestick from Aston’s room at the Hillsborough estate;
A piano cloth;
Red waxed thread;
A copy of Flora containing a kapok blossom;
A sword;
A handkerchief;
A camera;
…
A protective amulet;
Another gold watch;
…
There were also tickets, receipts, snack wrappers, and countless other things they had collected after getting together.
There were all the things Qin Siyu had saved during their years apart, too: spring rain from every year, summer flowers from every year, autumn leaves from every year, winter snow from every year… Each held a memory of longing.
Qin Siyu was almost obsessive about it. Whenever something had been thrown away or he hadn’t been able to obtain it at the time, he went out and bought an identical replacement for the collection.
A Coca-Cola can, for example: the first time he had tasted Coke had been in Aston’s Cadillac.
And a matchbook they had studied on that night at the late-night station; the rope they’d pulled during the game at Cliff’s party…
Naturally, there were the presents they had exchanged in recent years as well.
More things were always being added, more and more.
Leaving the "museum," they passed the music room and exchanged a glance. Almost unconsciously, they walked inside.
Aston sat down at the piano.
The music room was decorated in a European style. It actually looked rather like that church, with oil paintings and stone columns.
Qin Siyu fitted his artificial fingernails, then picked up his pipa.
They had long since asked a renowned musician to rearrange the piece they had played when they first met. Now it could be performed as a duet.
Aston started on the piano. At a certain moment, a ringing zheng sounded as Qin Siyu’s pipa joined in, winding and blending with the piano.
It really was an excellent pipa, made of the finest wood, its strings wonderfully resonant. Qin Siyu’s fingers opened and danced, and from time to time the two exchanged glances.
They had practiced this piece from their first meeting until they knew it perfectly. The two streams of music fit together as one, blending and entwining, flowing out through the window into the sky and down the hillside. Each existed within the other. Without either one, the other would be unbearably lonely.
A single instrument was still breathtaking. But only when they played together did the two truly find somewhere to belong, truly feel that this life was complete.
In the past, neither had known that an Eastern and a Western instrument could be so close, so perfectly matched: supporting and bringing out the best in each other, every thread interconnected, the whole seamless.
When they finished playing, they came together again and embraced and kissed one another tenderly.
As on every other night, they had to make love.
Tonight, however, was a little different.
Today Aston had actually painted something on Qin Siyu’s body!
Now that they finally had some money, there were things Qin Siyu wanted to learn, and he had hired teachers.
Certain sports, for instance, and painting.
He was studying both traditional Chinese painting and oil painting.
Just now, when they had left the music room and walked side by side past the studio, Qin Siyu had seen the assignment he had completed on Sunday and intended to hand in tomorrow. He genuinely couldn’t help sighing. The painting, a classical floral study, was resting on an easel.
Aston asked, "What’s wrong?"
Qin Siyu tilted his head in the doorway. "I still feel it isn’t very good. I can’t control how heavily or lightly I apply the strokes."
"You can’t rush it," Aston told him.
"I know."
Aston went into the studio, replaced the paper on the teacher’s easel with a fresh sheet, put an arm around Qin Siyu’s waist, and guided his hand to paint a flower. "Understand a little better now?" Naturally, someone from Aston’s social class had been taught to paint in oils.
"I… I think so."
Everything had started so innocently. But when they finished painting, Aston’s fingertips slipped deftly inside Qin Siyu’s shirt!
The tip of the brush began to tremble. "Kingsy…"
"If you still can’t tell…" Aston said something very peculiar. "You could use yourself as the canvas, to feel the pressure of the brush."
"You…"
Aston patted the right side of Qin Siyu’s chest beneath his shirt with several fingertips, indicating the canvas to come. It sounded almost like an order. "Go take a shower."
"…" Qin Siyu actually did go shower and changed into a bathrobe.
When he returned to the studio, Aston had already squeezed paint onto his palette. He looked up at Qin Siyu through lowered lashes.
He even tipped his chin slightly toward the table. "Sit on the table."
"…" Qin Siyu obediently sat on it.
Aston exposed the right side of his chest, keeping the bathrobe wrapped around him on every other side. Qin Siyu shifted, and Aston said, "Keep it around you. It’s cold."
His pale-gold lashes lowered. Aston carefully mixed his colors, dipped his fine oil-painting brush into the paint, and traced a circle around Qin Siyu’s chest on his "canvas," leaving a tiny space right at the center for the flower’s stamens.
Qin Siyu let out a small, involuntary sound.
Aston raised his blue eyes to him. Qin Siyu looked back at him too, his eyes dark as obsidian.
The flower on his chest was exceedingly intricate. Orange, with petals all around.
Aston carefully worked on the details while Qin Siyu watched.
With every stroke, Qin Siyu curled his toes and gripped the edge of the table a little harder. At the same time, his chest instinctively drew back for a second.
His waist ached on both sides.
"Like this…" Aston said. "From a little more pressure to a little less… Can you feel the difference?"
He had apparently painted only two or three petals before he became dissatisfied with his canvas. "Why is the canvas wrinkling, Seany? Straighten up."
"…" Qin Siyu straightened up. After that, every time Aston painted him, he tried his best to thrust his chest forward.
Aston watched him repeatedly pushing himself forward and was almost at his limit.
At one point a drop of oil paint accidentally landed in the wrong place. Aston picked up a broader brush, dipped it into clean water, and brushed the spot on Qin Siyu’s skin to remove the orange.
But the clear water wouldn’t stay in place. After he wiped it, a droplet tinged faintly with orange rolled down Qin Siyu’s chest and into his bathrobe.
The second drop was much smaller. It stopped halfway down, hanging precariously on the muscles of his abdomen. Aston’s gaze fixed on it. He watched for a while until it finally slipped into the bathrobe too.
Their eyes tangled for a moment.
Last came the two points that would form the flower’s stamens. Aston took up his finest brush, dipped it in color, and began to sculpt them in place.
The "canvas" immediately wrinkled again, worse than before.
Aston had no choice but to spread it open once more. With one hand he held Qin Siyu firmly in position, then picked up a little white with the tip of his brush and continued his painstaking work.
Bit by bit, stroke by stroke, the result was three-dimensional.
And as time passed, those stamens became more and more pronounced.
They hadn’t originally looked so lifelike.
"Very beautiful. Very artistic," Aston said. "All the petals lie flat, but the stamens alone stand out in relief. They have such vitality."
"You…"
"Seany, you have to keep them like that," Aston went on. "If those stamens lose their shape, the flower won’t be beautiful anymore."
Qin Siyu curled his toes rigidly, overwhelmed with embarrassment. "Are we finished?"
"Probably not." Aston sighed. "I believe the teacher is going to teach you how to paint roses tomorrow. We might as well prepare for that too."
Qin Siyu asked, "Wh-where?"
His left chest?
Instead, Aston spread his left knee wide, resting the outer side of his lower leg against the tabletop.
This time the brush laid down pink. The skin of his inner thigh tickled terribly, and the whole "canvas" shook again. Qin Siyu’s upper body curled inward once more.
He was trembling so badly that Aston had to hold his ankle and raise it a little, keeping his pale canvas level so that he could paint.
Pink roses blossomed from his knee and climbed farther and farther up his thigh. The higher they reached, the more luxuriantly they bloomed, as if nourished by some inexhaustible source.
All the while Aston held his ankle, his thumb resting over the mole beside his Achilles tendon.
Little red specks rose on the skin of Qin Siyu’s leg. Beneath the flowers, they only made the roses look more alluring.
"One last thing," Aston said. "I’ll throw in one more, free of charge."
Qin Siyu really couldn’t endure much more. All he saw was Aston crouching on the floor before him, lifting his right foot and supporting his calf as he painted little daisies around his ankle. They bloomed downward from the ankle along the arch of his foot, all the way to his toes.
Daisies on his foot, roses on his leg, and an enormous orange flower on his chest.
After painting, naturally, they had to let everything dry.
To help his work dry more quickly, Aston blew softly over it.
The flower on his chest didn’t need it, but the ones around his ankle and on his knee did, especially where the paint was thicker at their centers.
Every time Aston "dried" a spot, Qin Siyu’s leg twitched. Aston held it still, keeping it under control.
At last they ended up tumbling onto the bed.
Qin Siyu couldn’t possibly walk up to the upstairs bedroom. Aston had to carry him on his back.
Qin Siyu lay against his back, the thigh blooming with roses rubbing along Aston’s waist, his right foot covered in daisies dangling in front, swinging to and fro.
In the bedroom, Qin Siyu still wore Aston’s paintings all over his body. He arched his neck and held himself taut, the flower on his chest contracting, opening, and contracting again, looking especially provocative.
Aston sighed. "It suits you so well, Seany."
Aston had kept wearing that tie clip for another four years. At the moment it rested on the bedside table in a blue velvet box.
He thought again of the day Qin Siyu had given him the tie clip, when the two of them had come together all night at the little hotel Qin Siyu had booked.
The hotel’s walls had been so thin that Aston had put his own knuckles between Qin Siyu’s teeth for him to bite. But Qin Siyu couldn’t bear to hurt him. Saliva had trickled from the corners of his mouth, soaking the pillow, and his tears had never stopped flowing.
Who would have thought that after so many years, Qin Siyu still hadn’t made any progress in that regard? The bed was often left damp.
After the first time, Aston turned Qin Siyu over again.
After they reunited in 1945, Qin Siyu had gotten a tattoo as well.
On his lower back.
The lettering was in an ornate English script.
A little above the left side of his lower back was the name Kingsley. A little lower on the right was Aston. But if one looked carefully, a thin line ran straight through the middle of the surname Aston, from left to right.
Aston loved to watch those tattoos move as he moved with him.
The letters on either side would sometimes sink inward and sometimes arch upward.
They stayed up terribly late that night. Fortunately, tomorrow was Saturday, and Qin Siyu didn’t have a hospital shift he had to work.
He was exhausted. Aston carried him to the bathroom to wash up, then brought him back. They kissed for a while, but Qin Siyu was so tired that before long he fell into a sweet, deep sleep.
When they first arrived in Hong Kong, both of them sometimes had nightmares.
But even in sleep, they could feel the other person’s body twitch or struggle. They would know he was having a nightmare and hold him, pat his back, stroke the back of his head, kiss his forehead, and murmur, "Seany/Kingsy, I’m here. I’m right here. I’m here. Can you hear me? I’m here."
Then the frightened one would gradually be soothed and fall back into deep sleep.
They hardly had nightmares now. Little by little, they were moving away from those four years.
Yet, just as in the daytime, they still longed to confirm that the other was there and well. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, one would mumble sleepily, "Kingsy/Seany…" And the other had developed an ability of his own: even while asleep, he could hear that faint call and answer just as sleepily, "Mm, I’m here."
It happened several times every night. One would keep his eyes closed, not truly awake, and murmur indistinctly, "Kingsy/Seany…"
And the other would answer, "Mm, I’m here."