Deep in the Act: Chapter 22

Fang Chi and Gao Zhun discussed whether to go to a community clinic or the CDC. Gao Zhun was afraid of running into someone he knew, so they skipped the morning rush and arranged to meet at the subway station. At nine thirty, the subway was still fairly crowded. Fang Chi kept making sure Gao Zhun stayed in front of him, lightly holding him from behind, hugging him a little when it got too packed.

The car swayed. Through the thin dress shirt, their skin was slightly warm, but Gao Zhun had no mind to feel awkward. His head was a mess, filled entirely with the word “AIDS.” He hadn’t slept at all last night. Compared to sexual violence, this was real terror. Discrimination, sickness, death. Promotional images he must have seen somewhere without thinking kept flashing before his eyes. It was a living nightmare.

“Don’t be scared.” As if sensing his panic, Fang Chi lowered his head, hot breath blowing against his ear. “I’m right here with you.”

Gao Zhun’s heart twisted so hard he was about to cry. He let himself lean back against Fang Chi’s chest. The subway stopped at a major station and quite a few people got off. Fang Chi nudged him toward an empty seat. It was such a spacious bench, yet they sat pressed tightly together. It looked a little odd.

The air conditioning wasn’t even that cold, but Gao Zhun was shaking. Weakly he said, “If it’s positive…” He turned to look at Fang Chi, with an expression cold enough to freeze dripping water. “Don’t bother with me. Just let me die.”

Fang Chi couldn’t stand hearing that. He grabbed the stiff hand on Gao Zhun’s knee, lacing their fingers together, rubbing between the gaps. Immediately people looked over. He could even hear whispering. Gao Zhun slightly pulled his hand back. Fang Chi wouldn’t let go. “Let them think what they want. All I care about is how you feel.”

He held on tight like that, until sweat soaked their cuffs. When they reached their stop, Fang Chi practically lifted him up. The CDC was a few hundred meters past the subway exit. A not very big courtyard, three stories, all kinds of people coming and going.

HIV testing was on the second floor, one large room. The door was always shut from the inside. Fang Chi supported Gao Zhun’s shoulder, watched him take two deep breaths, then turned the knob for him and went in with him. White room, yellow plastic chairs lining the walls, half full. The vast majority were young men. In that brief instant, many pairs of eyes turned toward them. There was pity from shared suffering, numbness from seeing it all before, and spiteful gloating.

Gao Zhun was terrified. So scared his vision blurred. Fang Chi propped him up from the side, found an empty chair and sat him down. “I’ll go find the doctor. Wait for me.”

Gao Zhun grabbed his sleeve and wouldn’t let go. Fang Chi patiently coaxed him. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

When the sleeve slipped from his hand, Gao Zhun felt like the whole world was collapsing. Tears stubbornly trembled on his lashes, blinking, about to fall. The young man sitting next to him, wearing a bright tracksuit, tall and slender, kept glancing at him with a complicated expression.

Fang Chi, true to his word, came back quickly. He was holding something. With so many people in the room, he went straight to Gao Zhun, squatted down in front of him without a word, and said, “Give me your hand.”

For some reason, the room’s gazes gathered over, carrying a kind of amazed envy. Fang Chi pulled a wet wipe from his pocket, carefully wiped Gao Zhun’s index finger, then tore open the wrapper in his hand, pulling out a long strip of paper and a sterilized needle. Gao Zhun had been watching blankly, but when Fang Chi was about to prick his finger with the needle, he suddenly jerked his hand back and reached for the needle. “No, I’ll do it myself.”

Fang Chi didn’t think much of it, dodging his hand. “It’ll be quick. It won’t hurt.”

But Gao Zhun insisted, even pulling his finger back. Only then did Fang Chi understand. He was being extremely careful, afraid of the tiny risk of infecting him. His heart melted completely. Yet his face was stern. “Hand. Give it to me.”

Facing him, Gao Zhun didn’t know how to refuse. He spread his fingers. In the blink of an eye the needle went in. Fang Chi held his hand, letting the dark red bead of blood drop onto the sample area, then added the buffer solution. He put away the needle, held up the test strip, and sat down beside him. In that moment, Gao Zhun was content. Even if they told him the result was positive right now, he would accept it. “How long do we wait?”

“Half an hour.” Fang Chi was afraid he’d get anxious, so he added, “It’ll pass before you know it.”

“Goodbye my almost lover, goodbye my hopeless dream…” The phone rang. Fang Chi glanced at it and hung up. It rang again immediately. He hung up a second time. When it rang a third time, he handed the test strip to Gao Zhun and answered reluctantly. “Hello, Miss Bai.”

He kept looking over at Gao Zhun uneasily, then pushed the door and went out. Gao Zhun chased him with his eyes like a ship chasing a star, until the young man beside him said in a flat tone, “Your boyfriend treats you pretty well.”

He kept looking over at Gao Zhun uneasily, pushed the door and went out. Gao Zhun chased him with his eyes like a ship chasing a star, until the young man beside him said in a flat tone, “Your boyfriend treats you pretty well, huh.”

Gao Zhun didn’t understand what he meant. He looked at him in confusion. The boy looked him up and down openly, a little mocking. “Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

Quite a few nearby people cast curious glances. Gao Zhun was a little dazed. Looking past him, he took in the people around him for the first time. They were all young, fashionable boys, their features carefully groomed, their clothes immaculate, with a kind of cheap prettiness. He wasn’t unfamiliar with this type. He’d encountered plenty in the industry. He just felt a little disgusted. Disgusted that they would think of Fang Chi that way.

“No, he’s my doctor.” He put on a proud, looking-down-from-above expression.

Immediately someone picked up on that. “The kind of doctor who gives you ‘injections’ at night, right!”

They laughed, laughing in all their colorful glory. Gao Zhun frowned in revulsion, turned his face away in disbelief. Just then Fang Chi came back, quickly sitting down beside him. “How is it?” He carefully studied his expression. “Did you get scared?”

Gao Zhun was about to answer when that boy leaned over familiarly, his bright sparkly eyes looking youthful and lively. “You’re a doctor?”

Fang Chi glanced at Gao Zhun. “Yes, a psychologist.”

The boy let out an exaggerated “oh,” then in what he thought was his most handsome pose, asked half shyly, “If I have psychological problems… can I find you?”

Gao Zhun felt his scalp go numb. Right then the phone rang. He looked. It was the board of directors calling. “Hello?” He had to answer, his tone very agitated. “The price can’t change. You tell him. Twenty-two million, that’s my number.” He kept looking over at Fang Chi and that boy. They were chatting pleasantly, shoulders touching.

“I have nightmares a lot, and insomnia,” the boy said. “I’m really troubled. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can come in for a consultation,” Fang Chi was being very gentle, professionally gentle. “No charge.”

“Then…” The boy looked at him with a certain sweet gaze. “Can I have a business card?”

The phone was still haggling over the prices of several Qing dynasty textiles. Gao Zhun watched as Fang Chi pulled out his card case, opened it with a crisp click of his long fingers. The white card stock. He smoothly pulled one out. He’d pulled one out for him too. Gao Zhun felt like he couldn’t breathe. The same sound, the same gesture. Back then Fang Chi had said to him, “Mr. Gao, very pleased to meet you.”

The boy took the card, slipping it into his pocket without forgetting to give Gao Zhun a faint look. Then he shook his own test strip, saying lightly, “Oh, it’s negative.”

He said goodbye to Fang Chi generously, tossing the test strip into the trash can in the corner as he went out. The call had ended long ago. Gao Zhun didn’t even know what he’d said. He couldn’t explain what was wrong with him. From then on, no matter what Fang Chi said to him, he ignored it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Fang Chi tried to take his hand. He jerked away neurotically. Fang Chi tried to look at his test strip. He wouldn’t let him either, moving to a different chair, sitting apart from Fang Chi.

The onlookers nearby giggled, chattering back and forth. “…Throwing a tantrum… Getting jealous…”

Fang Chi heard, feeling an inexplicable anger. “Mr. Gao… Gao Zhun,” he sat down next to him. “Look at me.”

Gao Zhun wouldn’t turn his head. Fang Chi tugged his arm. “Are you afraid they’ll think we’re… that kind of relationship?”

Of course not, Gao Zhun thought to himself. But he wouldn’t say a word. Fang Chi almost hugged him. “Did they say something to you?” He lowered his voice. “Look at them. They’re all alone. Those bed partners and so-called boyfriends, none of them came with them. But you have me. So they’re jealous.”

Gao Zhun finally turned to look at him. Then what are we? He wanted to ask. But he couldn’t get it out. Fang Chi thought he’d softened, so he took the test strip from his hand. There was only one red line, in the control zone.

“Negative.” He let out a long breath. That relieved, reassured expression made him look more like the one being tested. “You’re safe.” He looked at Gao Zhun deeply, repeating it. “You’re safe.”

Gao Zhun didn’t know what expression to give him. He treasured his care so much, yet resented his smoothness with everyone. He suddenly realized that he wanted this man. Wanted him to belong completely to him. Belong to him alone.

Fang Chi watched Gao Zhun get up from in front of him, silently walk to the door, and go out alone. He froze for a moment before chasing after him, calling his name as he ran. But Gao Zhun didn’t respond, plunging headfirst into the vast crowd at the subway entrance. Fang Chi followed him, baffled by his distance. He stood on the same platform, boarded the same car. Even though he was shaking with fear, Gao Zhun wouldn’t accept his touch.

More and more people came. Gao Zhun was pushed farther and farther away, until he was swallowed up. The thought of him forcing himself to endure made Fang Chi unbearable. He was a man who followed rules. But right now he didn’t care. Using his height, he shoved a path through the densely packed crowd. Amid complaints high and low, he reached Gao Zhun’s side.

Gao Zhun lifted his reddened eyes, looking at him timidly. He needed Fang Chi, but didn’t dare say so. Fang Chi sighed helplessly and pulled him into his arms.

It was brief intimacy. From exiting the subway to walking Gao Zhun to the entrance of his residential complex, neither of them said a word. About to part, Fang Chi asked uneasily, “Can I walk you up?”

Gao Zhun just shook his head. Then walked home alone. As he walked, he felt his nose sting, like tears were falling. He desperately wanted to turn around and tell Fang Chi, walk me up, don’t go. But the words stuck in his throat, choking him with pain.

Pushing open the apartment building door, he wiped his tears. He happened to see the metal mailbox on the wall, stuffed full of letters about to fall out of the slot. Taking the elevator up, he held the mail in one hand and opened the door with the other. Home, he flipped through it casually. Most were Lin Lin’s credit card statements, a few of his monthly reports and documents, and one small letter with no stamp or postmark.

Puzzled, he tore it open. Surprisingly, the letter was handwritten. The handwriting wasn’t beautiful, but had a kind of sincere warmth. The salutation read “Mr. Gao.” “Writing letters to patients is one method of narrative therapy. When I write to others I usually recap the treatment process at the clinic. But this time I’m writing to you, so I want it to be different. Mr. Gao, would you like to know how I see you?

I remember that night when I came to your house and you were waiting for me alone in the dark. I remember those physical contact exercises, how terrified you were, yet you didn’t run away. I remember the fireworks and fountain that night, when you boldly told me your story. What impressed me most about you was your courage to face death.

And beauty. It may be inappropriate to describe a man as beautiful, but you truly are beautiful. Just as the most delicate flowers are the ones people pick, beauty has brought you some bad things. But you should know that beauty is not your fault. What I least want to see is you torturing yourself for someone else’s crime. What I fear most is hearing that word ‘death’ from your lips.

Then there is your talent. Those paintings I saw in your living room, it’s hard to believe they came from your brush. You are so thin and delicate, yet you have a distinctive style and a captivating inner world. I don’t think you know that in my eyes, you are a rare treasure. I hope to see you shine forever, bright forever.

Finally, thank you for your trust and cooperation all along. No matter how ‘excessive’ a request I made, you would swallow your grievances to satisfy me. More than once I have felt that meeting you is one of the greatest gains of my life. Thank you, Gao Zhun.”

Signed: Fang Chi. Date: The seventh day of the seventh lunar month.

Tears flowed down both sides of his nose bridge. The hand holding the letter shook rustlingly. This was written by Fang Chi on that day, the day the truth came out. Gao Zhun couldn’t describe this feeling. Both joyful and fearful, both sweet and painful. Wanting to throw himself into the fire, yet afraid the result would be pathetic one-sided love.

He blamed himself for only seeing this letter now. Blamed himself for that tantrum at the CDC just now. He pulled out his phone from his suit pocket, trembling as he dialed that number. It only rang once before connecting. “Mr. Gao?”

Hearing Fang Chi’s voice, tears fell again. “Do you have patients?”

“No, I pushed back all morning appointments.”

Both sides fell silent. After a long while, Gao Zhun finally murmured, “The letter… I got it.”

Fang Chi said nothing. Not even an “oh.” Quietly, simply waiting for him to speak. This was a game of chess. The one who fell first was inevitably the one who moved first. “I’m sorry…” Gao Zhun said awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum this morning.”

Fang Chi was very satisfied, asking gently, “Why did you throw a tantrum?”

Even through the phone, Gao Zhun felt humiliated. “You really don’t know?”

Fang Chi played it cool and collected. “I want to hear you say it.”

Gao Zhun wanted to hate him, but couldn’t. “I just…” With a certain self-abandoning mindset, he said, “I couldn’t stand you giving that boy your card. I couldn’t stand you being as nice to others as you are to me. I…” Suddenly, he found the word. “I get… jealous!”