Between Us : Chapter 23: A Puppy Begging for Kisses

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, or even a single strand of hair falling to the ground.

But they were not yet at the age for hair loss. Xu Jue had his messy hair smoothed out by Chen Qian, whose hand then slid down from the back of his head and stopped at his nape, hooking him there.

Working in the nightclub to sell liquor, Chen Qian had used every trick in the book to coax people, verbal teasing and suggestive glances, but he had never softened his body to engage in all sorts of intimate contact like this. That was something only the white jade deer would do, and he had no need for it.

Now, rather than coaxing someone, it was more like he was punishing himself. He had stood above the corrupt world with his nose in the air, looking down on people like Yuan Shuang whose backside had gone slack yet still lowered himself to grovel, spreading his legs for any boss who came along. And in the end, he had lost to someone like that.

Five years of feelings crumbling in an instant. He did not deny for a second that Jiang Linsheng was at fault. But having invested his true heart and ending up with nothing, he felt lost and hollow, doubting himself and hating himself.

The skin beneath his palm showed signs of growing hot. A young man on the verge of adulthood, caught between green youth and maturity, putting on a calm face while the tiniest flickers of emotion leaked through his eyes.

Chen Qian stopped playing the kind soul who points lost travelers in the right direction. He indulged himself in being a bastard for once, pinching and rubbing the flesh at Xu Jue’s nape, and asked with a smile: “Lie back down. You think that’s appropriate?”

Xu Jue wanted to lick his lips: “How would I know?”

Who would have expected a pressure to bear down on his thigh, as Chen Qian rolled forward another inch closer: “What’s the use of lying down when there’s still something standing at attention?”

Xu Jue held his legs stiff and motionless, but his mind was clearer than his body.

He liked this side of Chen Qian, yet he did not like it. Since his heart had been moved, he wanted to cherish this properly. He only felt lost because the illusion Chen Qian was weaving for him right now was not the outcome he wanted.

A cheap inn room for one night was not appropriate. A bed reeking of the strange smells left by countless strangers was not appropriate. Hearts not yet in tune with each other was not appropriate. Chen Qian who had just broken up, and himself who was not ready, none of it was appropriate.

He wanted to have Chen Qian, but not now.

Xu Jue reached out to wrap his arm around Chen Qian’s waist, exerting force to pull him over and press him down onto the adjacent bed space, then tugged the quilt over him.

“I suddenly got up because I remembered something,” Xu Jue shook out Chen Qian’s jacket and laid it over the quilt. “That Jiang guy is probably waiting downstairs at your place right now. No telling when he’ll leave. Could be midnight, could be tomorrow. When you go back, find somewhere else to lay low first. Don’t run into him again.”

Chen Qian was covered up with only a pair of expressive fox eyes peeking out: “His flight is at nine tomorrow morning.”

“I have class at eight in the morning,” Xu Jue said. “Anyway, you can’t sleep in tomorrow. You have to be up by six. The studio has rules. Being half an hour late means painting one extra painting. It’s torture.”

He got out of bed as he finished speaking. Chen Qian called after him: “Where are you going?”

Xu Jue kicked on his slippers and headed for the bathroom, lifting the cloth curtain and declaring with ringing conviction: “Taking a leak!”

Young people take their time relieving themselves. Maybe it means good kidneys. Chen Qian lay alone in bed, the covers warm enough to stretch out his limbs without fear.

Staring up at the ceiling light, unable to sleep, Chen Qian turned to face the wall. The wall bore shoe prints, mosquito blood, phone numbers scrawled in pens of various colors, numbers for hookups and for call girls and for house repairs. Looking closely, there were even dried stains of unknown origin.

Chen Qian felt physically ill looking at it, and turned to face the other way. Just in time to see Xu Jue coming back, shaking water off his hands. Before he could get a clear look at whether the standing-at-attention fellow had lain down, Xu Jue snapped off the light with a click.

The mattress dipped. The quilt lifted and tucked. The bed gained a bit more human warmth.

As soon as Xu Jue got into bed, he lay on his side facing outward, eyes open, not a trace of sleepiness.

Chen Qian was not asleep either. He had thought certain emotions that burst forth in darkness would come flooding in, and had even finished off five hundred milliliters of mineral water ahead of time. Even if he soaked his pillow in the middle of the night, he could blame it on drinking too much water the next day when his eyes were swollen.

Who knew he would feel so calm now, even having the idle mind to guess how many paintings Xu Jue would have to do if he was late tomorrow, whether it would be sketching or oil painting, figures or scenery.

His pre-sleep thoughts hopped around like the streetlamp outside the window that flickered on and off. When the light came on, Chen Qian thought of the fixed lightbulb on the third floor of Sixth Lane. When it went dark, he thought of Xu Jue using his sleeve to wipe the soot off the bottom of his feet.

From that moment, whether looking backward or forward, he had gathered quite a collection of fragments.

He stretched out a finger and pressed it against Xu Jue’s back, then slowly dragged it down in a line. The other person jolted like he had been shocked and turned to lie flat, face turned toward him: “What are you doing?!”

“Curious,” Chen Qian said. “You’re good-looking, you’ve got good character, your grades are flawless except for English. By all rights you should be quite the catch at school. Has no one really pursued you?”

Already unable to sleep, and now receiving this double reward of physical and psychological stimulation, Xu Jue grew even more restless.

He had received Christmas cards hiding love poems in threes, come back from playing ball to find mysteriously packaged snacks in his schoolbag, and managed to get an A from the class representative even while stumbling through reciting English texts. And in this very moment, he turned his head to smell the same shampoo fragrance on Chen Qian’s head, his hand mere millimeters from touching the other person, yet he only let himself answer clumsily and off-topic: “Actually, I want to pursue someone.”

He held his breath after saying it, not knowing whether this vague confession was right or wrong.

Chen Qian asked nothing, only made a sound of acknowledgment: “Go to sleep.”

Chen Qian was not picky about beds. Whether big or small, he slept restlessly. After falling asleep, he would kick off the quilt one moment and squeeze toward the outer edge the next. Xu Jue had just begun to drift off when the person rolling into his arm chased away the chaotic dreams waving at him from afar.

Shallow breaths blew against his collarbone. Xu Jue opened his eyes. Chen Qian was still trying to squirm around. He hooked his arm and pinned the person firmly against his chest.

At some point, Chen Qian’s shirt had ridden up. Xu Jue’s palm pressed against his lower back, the sensation distinct beneath his hand, gradually warming that patch of skin.

Jiejie.

Xu Jue was like a puppy begging for kisses, not daring to trespass into forbidden territory, only brushing his lips against Chen Qian’s ear tip.

Chen Qian, you are the one I like.

They set out before dawn the next day. Chen Qian was not used to such a schedule, leaving the room with drooping eyes, hands in his pockets, looking particularly cold and aloof.

Xu Jue had held Chen Qian all night, waking up bright-eyed and energetic. In the hallway he even greeted a bald middle-aged man with a nicotine craving. The man did not respond, looking them up and down in disbelief, then stubbed out his cigarette and went back to his room.

The return trip took over an hour. Chen Qian slept through most of it. At first his temple rested against the car window, cold and bumpy, so he frowned. Later, Xu Jue propped his head onto a broad shoulder, and the space between his brows smoothed out.

Xu Jue was the type who could not fall back asleep after waking up. His left shoulder went numb from being used as a pillow, but he sat perfectly straight without moving a muscle, his right hand holding up his phone to watch the architecture online course his father had bought for him.

He had previously declared in front of his friends that he would be a Tsinghua reserve candidate, and it was not empty talk. He had set his sights on the architecture school with its extremely limited annual enrollment, and he estimated he would not change his mind even when the college entrance exam scores came out.

Xu Jue’s design talent came from his father. At four or five years old, he could already sketch the general likeness of buildings outside his window. As he grew older, he could spend an entire day hunched over a full sheet of drawing paper, outlining structures, filling in details, adding annotations, each step carrying his own vision.

Later, his parents divorced. Because Xu Jifeng was constantly traveling for work, Xu Jue went with his mother. But every winter and summer break, he would go back to his old home, dragging his suitcase to follow his father on business trips and vacations around the world. Through observation and immersion, he gained considerable experience, though his English remained as terrible as ever.

Xu Jifeng intentionally cultivated his design talent. When he received small commissions, he would pass them to Xu Jue for practice, then revise and supplement the work afterward. When the building took shape, he would take his son to visit the site. Standing on the rooftop terrace catching the breeze, Xu Jifeng would point to the distant morning light and tell him that only when one’s ability dares to break through limitations will one’s ideas become boundless.

Bumped around in the car for a long time, Xu Jue finished two lessons on mute. Just as he exited the app, his shoulder was lightly nudged. Chen Qian still thought he was a pillow, rubbing against him like a cat for a while, but unfortunately the sunlight swaying in disturbed his eyes and woke him.

Chen Qian was not embarrassed at all. After sitting up straight, he glanced at Xu Jue’s phone screen: “You spent an hour playing Fight the Landlord?”

Xu Jue listened to Qiu Yuanfei’s advice about balancing work and rest, so he studied for two hours then played a few rounds of games, to let his classmates who were grinding themselves to death in the rankings relax a bit: “Just played a little. This version of Fight the Landlord can win you phone credit. I’m living on a tight budget now, so I save wherever I can.”

Chen Qian, well-rested, smiled brilliantly in the sunlight: “Is it really that bad? Did you buy some deluxe data plan?”

Xu Jue’s lips curved up in amusement: “Not that. But I am someone’s top contact, so I have to try my best not to let my phone get cut off.”

Chen Qian had just woken up, his mind not yet caught up: “That one, the person you want to pursue?”

Xu Jue’s finger twitched, accidentally playing a bomb pair right at the start of the round.

His thumb rubbed against the phone frame. He seemed to be admitting it, yet with a tone that sounded like denial: “Don’t play dumb. Am I not the top contact in your phone?”

Chen Qian thought for a moment. It was true. He had changed the contact name after Xu Jue moved in: “Because you were at home after evening study hall. If it was windy or rainy, it was convenient to call you to bring in the clothes.”

“That’s it?”

“Or on weekends when I didn’t go out, I could have you pick up whatever I wanted to eat after class.”

From last night until now, Xu Jue’s mood had gone through several dramatic ups and downs. He had thought he was someone important, but it turned out he was just an important errand boy.

Fuming, he took it out on the game. Chen Qian asked why he was playing so erratically. He said it was because his arm had gone numb from being used as a pillow, making his hand shake.

Chen Qian knew he was in the wrong. He reached up to pinch Xu Jue’s shoulder, rubbing from the shoulder down to the bicep, his voice softening: “I’ll get off at the next stop. A friend lives nearby. I’ll go hang out there for half a day.”

Xu Jue got off at Wandeng Li, then transferred to go back to Changnian Road to pick up some things. The bus stopped at the mouth of Sixth Lane. Xu Jue had just stepped off when he froze.

The tree shadows were sparse, the long street plain and simple. In front of Auntie Qiu’s pancake shop, people lined up for breakfast, chatting noisily about family matters, neighborhood squabbles, and how the hair salon at the street corner had raised its wash-cut-blow price from twenty-five to thirty.

Standing out from all this was a light gold Mulsanne parked by the roadside, and the man leaning against the hood smoking.

Jiang Linsheng’s face was shrouded in dejection. His fitted suit bore several unsightly creases. The air was still there, just missing some of its former glory.

Xu Jue went back to get his schoolbag. When he walked out of the lane mouth, Jiang Linsheng glanced up at him, probably giving that same look to everyone who came out of the lane.

Class was about to start and he was running late. Xu Jue scanned a shared bike and swung his leg over. The small slope down had its opening blocked by the Mulsanne. He rang the bell and called out to Jiang Linsheng: “Uncle.”

Jiang Linsheng had just passed thirty. He frowned at the address.

Xu Jue lifted his chin, his front wheel aimed at the Mulsanne’s smooth bodywork: “Your car’s blocking the way. Move it.”