Deep in the Act: Chapter 52

Fang Chi lay on the therapy chair, not wearing his glasses, looking out the window in a blur. Beside him sat his supervisor, a woman in her thirties with the surname Yan, filling out an evaluation form: “All right,” she said: “Sit up.”

Fang Chi slowly sat up and put on his glasses. She asked: “Have you been taking your medication on time?”

Fang Chi nodded: “My sleep has improved a lot, and I’m not as depressed anymore, but the side effects are too strong.”

“You can manage it yourself,” Supervisor Yan put down her pen and looked at him with concern: “That person…” she asked as tactfully as possible: “How long since he last called you?”

Fang Chi blurted out: “One week and one day.”

She recognized his obsession: “Do you feel disappointed?”

“I’m in agony,” Fang Chi smiled bitterly: “I wish he would call me every day, forever and ever.”

“But you don’t pick up.” She challenged him slightly.

Fang Chi laughed at himself: “I love him, I really do love him…” As he spoke, tears fell, and he hurriedly wiped them away: “I’m sorry,” he kept running his hands through his hair: “I’m losing control of my emotions more and more.”

“It’s okay,” she handed him a tissue, hesitated for a moment, then reached out and rubbed his shoulder: “No psychologist wants to fall in love with a patient. You did your best.”

“You probably think I’m crazy,” Fang Chi took her hand and held it tightly: “I think he loves me too.”

She didn’t speak, using silence to tell him her opinion. Fang Chi calmed down for a while, then she said: “Maybe you could try calling him. You haven’t practiced for over a month now. Strictly speaking, you’re not a doctor anymore.”

“Maybe…” Fang Chi simply repeated her words, let go of her hand, and stood up: “Shall we stop next week?”

“It’s Spring Festival, I’m going home to have my parents pressure me into marriage,” she put away her professional seriousness and smiled easily: “If you’re afraid of being lonely, you can come home with me.”

She was joking, but Fang Chi couldn’t laugh: “Let me just stay lonely,” he put on his coat and pulled open the door: “I deserve it.”

He got home, and there was no one, but that wonderful scent was still there, just thinner. Fang Chi took a deep breath, turned around and saw the cold blue walls of the living room. Supervisor Yan had once told him to paint the walls white, that it wasn’t good for his depression, but he couldn’t bear to. Because Gao Zhun had once smiled and said that wall was beautiful. At the time, the evening light was shining on it, and the way he smiled seemed stamped onto it.

His heart hurt, hurt terribly. Fang Chi covered his chest. There was a sharp ringing deep in his ears. He staggered and sat down, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket, gripping it tight, waiting for the pain to pass. Five minutes, ten minutes, sometimes longer. He silently recited Gao Zhun’s name. Slowly, the pain faded, and faded again. Just as he was about to let out a breath of relief, his phone suddenly rang. He shuddered, and saw it was Zuo Linlin.

She hadn’t called in a long time. Fang Chi stared coldly at the noisy call screen. Gao Zhun had given up on him, and he had no reason to keep hiding from her: “Hello?” he answered.

“Fang Chi?” Zuo Linlin could hardly believe she had gotten through, and shouted right away: “Why haven’t you been answering your phone!”

“Not in the country,” Fang Chi lied: “What’s up?”

“I want to see you,” her voice softened, carrying a note of vulnerability: “I really need you right now!”

“Let’s not meet anymore,” Fang Chi’s voice was firm, even cold: “Take good care of Gao Zhun.”

“We broke up a long time ago,” Zuo Linlin used her usual trick, sweet, helpless, willing to go all out: “I haven’t found a place to stay, so I was thinking of staying at your place for a while…” she asked rather suggestively: “Is that okay?”

Fang Chi frowned: “How could you abandon him when he’s sick?”

That was harsh. Zuo Linlin immediately retorted: “He abandoned me, okay!” She was very agitated: “He’s never home at night, fooling around with shady women outside!”

“Impossible.” Fang Chi said with absolute certainty.

Hearing his attitude, Zuo Linlin got even angrier: “Over a month now. In between he only came back once to get his clothes. He doesn’t know who he’s shacking up with outside!”

Fang Chi hung up in anger, stood up with a jolt, and paced back and forth in the living room, a ball of fire lodged in his heart. He gripped his left wrist, grabbed his coat, and went out.

On the way, Fang Chi called Gao Zhun’s phone, but no matter how many times he called it was turned off. After thinking it over, he took the subway to Gao Zhun’s company. By the time he arrived it was almost lunch break. The secretary told him politely: “Mr. Gao left, it was last month.”

“Why did he leave?” he pressed, afraid something had happened to Gao Zhun.

“He probably started his own company, the specifics we don’t know either.”

Fang Chi thanked her and was about to leave with his head down when someone called out from behind: “Doctor Fang.”

He looked toward the voice. A tall man, white bow tie, small formal jacket, a red handkerchief tucked into his left chest, as if he were going to a cocktail party. It was Justin, with a cold smile at the corner of his lips: “What a coincidence,” he walked over with his head held high: “Looking for the teacher?”

Fang Chi turned to leave. Justin caught up to him: “Aren’t you curious why the teacher left?”

Fang Chi quickened his pace: “I only care about where he went.”

“He slept with me,” Justin slipped him that line, close to his ear, then stopped, waiting for Fang Chi to turn back around. He did turn back, glaring angrily. Justin felt a sense of victory: “In the same company, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it.”

“Nonsense!” Fang Chi denied categorically. Those vicious words from Zuo Linlin suddenly became real. Fooling around, shacking up… Could it be not with women, but with men?

“You didn’t want him anymore, so he can’t come find me?” Justin stared at Fang Chi, not wanting to miss the slightest change in his expression. Clearly he was flustered, and in pain. Justin looked down on him quite a bit: “Actually, he didn’t just find me…”

Fang Chi’s eyes were red, like a patient on the verge of a mental breakdown, so sharp, so terrifying. Justin stopped talking and gave an address: “You’ve heard of it, right? Go look for him place by place. He’s quite famous in the circle.”

He brushed past Fang Chi and walked out, his back carrying a trace of loneliness. Outside the building the sun was shining brightly. It was a warm winter nearing its end. Spring was not far off. But Fang Chi felt cold, as if he had fallen to the bottom of a frozen lake. The ringing in his ears came again.

“That day…” Zou Yun slowly exhaled a puff of smoke: “At the fitness club, I ran into someone I clicked with, went back to his place with him. Everything was fine, but when we finished…” He looked disgusted: “Damn it, he gave me money!”

He and Gao Zhun stood by the roadside, one listening quietly, the other speaking with difficulty: “I slapped the money in his face, took the elevator downstairs. My mind was a mess at the time,” Zou Yun’s hand holding the cigarette was shaking, not daring to look at Gao Zhun: “Maybe I pressed the wrong button. Getting out of the elevator it was the underground parking garage, and then I saw you…”

Gao Zhun turned to leave. Zou Yun grabbed him: “I’m sorry…” he sniffled, pressing the heel of his palm against his eye socket: “I’m such a jerk!”

“Give me the cigarette.” Gao Zhun had gotten a new haircut, the salon had styled it into something refined. The way he tilted his head was incredibly good looking. Zou Yun handed him the cigarette. He held it between his index and middle fingers, took a hard drag, and a white smoke ring puffed out from his slightly parted lips, oval shaped. His pale face was wreathed in smoke. Zou Yun looked at him sniffling: “It was just that one time… really!”

Gao Zhun rolled his eyes at him: “Don’t want to hear it,” he threw away the cigarette butt and ground it out with his shiny new shoes: “Let’s go.”

He turned and pushed open the shop door. Zou Yun wiped his eyes and followed. Ding-a-ling, setting off a string of crisp wind chime sounds. Coincidentally, the shop was playing Anthony Wong’s “Happy Together,” that intoxicating melody making one’s heart sway.

“Zhun.” Zou Yun called. Gao Zhun particularly hated him calling him that, as if they were so close. He ignored him and walked deeper into the shop. Zou Yun kept calling. Gao Zhun turned back impatiently: “Who are you calling!”

Zou Yun stood in the middle of the shop, where there was a small open space. He blushed, asking shyly: “Dance?”

Gao Zhun was stunned for a moment. It was as if everything around him had emptied out, only the song lingering: You feel with your gaze, the romantic quiet universe, but it can’t compare to two hands, gently roaming all over the body…

Maybe it was a moment of confusion, or perhaps a flash of softening. His feet moved beyond his control. Gao Zhun walked over. Zou Yun clicked the lighter, a blue-green flame shot up. “Infatuation fades easily, hard to bear this night of wasted spring light, could it be you can cover your body, to share everything,” he lit two cigarettes, handing one to Gao Zhun: “My favorite song.”

Gao Zhun pinched the end of the cigarette and put it to his lips. Zou Yun wrapped his arm around his waist, one pull, and pulled him into his arms, lazily humming along: “The more you hope the more beautiful it is, let this night of spring light replace it, could it be we must wait until youth has completely withered, to have it all…”

Gao Zhun pinched the end of the cigarette and put it to his lips. Zou Yun wrapped his arm around his waist, one pull, and pulled him into his arms, lazily humming along: “The more you hope the more beautiful it is, let this night of spring light replace it, could it be we must wait until youth has completely withered, to have it all…”

Their bodies pressed against each other, not really any kind of dance steps, slowly turning in place. Heads crossed, arms resting on each other’s shoulders, smoking lazily.

“I want to change my place.” Zou Yun murmured.

“Why?”

“The place where I teach kickboxing now is pretty good. Once it’s stable I want to buy a small place, with a balcony, a bigger kitchen…”

He spoke slowly of his plans. Ding-a-ling, the wind chime sounded. Just as Zou Yun turned to face the door, the door slowly closed, and there stood a man with glasses. He looked exhausted, staring straight at the two of them.

“Damn, what are you looking at,” Zou Yun cursed under his breath: “A straight guy showed up.”

Gao Zhun managed a smile. The music was too intoxicating, light smoke curling up. He couldn’t quite tell illusion from reality. The cigarette was down to just a stub. He held it between two fingers and sucked, swaying as he turned around.

“You and I are waiting for dawn, or brewing in silence, using lips to uncover, fantasies that cannot be spoken…”

He reluctantly glanced toward the door. His pretty brows lifted slightly, about to lower again, but they couldn’t. That figure was too familiar, familiar enough to be etched into his soul, eroding him day and night in his dreams. Gao Zhun stopped moving. Nostalgia took root beneath his feet. Zou Yun loosened his embrace, but didn’t want to let go, holding him half intimately, tilting his chin: “What’s wrong?”

Fang Chi clenched his fists, clenching until his nails turned blue. The person he had once held back from touching, not even with one finger, was now soft and nestled in someone else’s embrace. He wanted to speak, but felt there was nothing to say.

That sexy, husky voice was still singing in his ear: “You and I live the same, searching for partners day and night, yet day and night we fantasize, that there will be time ahead…”

Fang Chi took off his glasses, wiped away a tear, took a step forward, then seemed to regret it, spun around on his heel, and pushed the door to go out.

Ding-a-ling… The wind chime sounds were intermittent, rippling through the stagnant air. That echo lingered in his ears for a long time before Gao Zhun reacted, pushed Zou Yun away, and stumbled out in pursuit.

His new hairstyle was blown messy by the night wind. His new shoes were covered in dust. He blindly chased that figure, on the lively streets before the Lunar New Year, passing pair after pair of sweet or playful lovers, watching Fang Chi turn left up ahead, a flash, and enter a small alley.

Like dry branches thirsting for water, like a drowning person grabbing at driftwood, Gao Zhun ran over, one step deep and one shallow, a sharp voice screaming in his heart: Can’t catch up, I’m going to lose him!

But just as he turned into the alley, he was caught in a warm embrace. A bang, his face hurt from the impact. In the darkness, like ribs breaking, he was held tight, the collar of his shirt at his neck suddenly soaked wet.

For an instant, he was about to sink into this tenderness, sink into this dream of flowers in a mirror and the moon in water. Then a sharp pain in his palm, it was that half-smoked cigarette, it burned him awake. This was just one of Fang Chi’s many tricks. He turned into the alley waiting for him, so cunning, so cruel.

Gao Zhun struggled out of his embrace, turned and walked away. Fang Chi was stunned for a moment, then chased after him: “Gao Zhun!” he shouted, almost screaming, frightening the couples passing by.

Gao Zhun didn’t look back, with a coldness born of having suffered too much. Up ahead Zou Yun was coming toward him. Gao Zhun thought he was coming to get him, and reached out his hand. But in a flash, Zou Yun brushed past him.

Gao Zhun stared at the bustling crowd, used two seconds, then ran back: “Zou Yun!”

Zou Yun didn’t stop. By the time Gao Zhun caught up, he had already knocked Fang Chi to the ground. Gao Zhun watched from a few meters away. That blood and those gaping wounds, with every punch, his heart ached along with Fang Chi’s body. Incredibly, he didn’t make a sound, just let Zou Yun hit him that hard. This kid had fought for him before, more than once. He knew his strength all too well.

Knowing it was gay men fighting over jealousy, people all walked around them. It didn’t take long before Zou Yun shook out his hand and stood up, the bones of his palm covered in blood. He walked to Gao Zhun’s side, wrapped his arm around him, and pushed him into the Sahara parked by the roadside.

Ignition, shift into gear, step on the gas. The car drove out. Zou Yun glanced at Gao Zhun’s expression while watching the road. After sitting quietly for five or six minutes, Gao Zhun suddenly opened the glove compartment, took out the newly processed car insurance form, removed the paper clip from it, straightened it out, and used it to open the phone SIM card slot.

“What are you doing?” Zou Yun asked with a frown.

Gao Zhun ignored him, carefully shook out a SIM card from the inner compartment of his wallet, trembling, put it into the phone, threw away the paper clip, and then turned it on.