Deep in the Act: Chapter 8

At 10:07 PM, Fang Chi lay on his bed at home and dialed the number he had written down in his consultation records.

“Hello?” It was Zuo Linlin who answered. He sighed. “Is Gao Zhun there? He’s not picking up his phone.”

“What happened between you two?” The tone on the other end was somewhat reproachful.

“There was a problem…” Fang Chi sounded very agitated. “He hasn’t come to therapy for two weeks. Please have him answer the phone, will you?”

Zuo Linlin went to get Gao Zhun, but there was no response for a long time. After three or four minutes, the call was disconnected. Fang Chi felt like his head was about to explode. Holding his breath, he dialed again. “Hello, Linlin, tell him I have something to say to him. Just one sentence.”

Zuo Linlin complained to him. “What on earth happened between you two!” Saying this, she went to find Gao Zhun.

Fang Chi stared at the wall clock. Thirty seconds. One minute. Two minutes. At the third minute, it seemed someone was listening on the other end. He quickly said, “Mr. Gao?”

There was no answer, but he knew he was there. He could hear his delicate breathing. “Mr. Gao.”

Hearing him call his name, Gao Zhun’s breathing trembled, even losing control somewhat. Fang Chi said, “I was wrong… You probably never want to consult with me again. I… I just want to tell you that from the very first meeting, every word I said to you, every emotion we experienced together, I invested genuine feeling in. Please don’t doubt that.”

Gao Zhun didn’t hang up the phone. They hadn’t seen each other for over two weeks. Fang Chi knew he was still attached to his voice. So he chose to play another emotional card. “These past days… how have you been?”

The phone clicked and disconnected with a busy tone. Fang Chi thought quickly, then dialed a third time. After a long while, Zuo Linlin finally answered. “Charles, please don’t call again. He… he seems to be crying.”

Fang Chi had guessed as much. “How has he been these past two weeks?”

“Not good. Not sleeping whole nights through. Not going to the company much either… We sleep separately. I have no idea what he does at night… Alcohol, yes, he’s drinking very heavily.”

Fang Chi clenched his fist. This was his responsibility. He even somewhat regretted having taken on Zuo Linlin’s commission. “Try to persuade him to come see me, OK?”

The other end hung up quickly. Fang Chi held the receiver in a daze for a long time before putting it down, lost in spirit. He had had many patients. Some were cured with a wave of the hand. Some dragged on without healing. Some had crises due to improper treatment. But none had ever made him so unable to eat or sleep in peace. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Perhaps it was Gao Zhun’s mysteriousness? His reluctance to open up to him? His uncompromising nature that presented a challenge? Or because he was Zuo Linlin’s boyfriend?

He remembered the breathing on the phone just now, so fragile, so helpless. He remembered the way he smiled and nodded in the elevator. He remembered those fine suits, the expensive leather shoes and bags, and that slender waist… He slapped himself. He felt the whole world should rush out to condemn him. But when he looked up, it was an empty apartment, silent and still.

“C’est la vie…” He rubbed his brow and slid into the soft bedding.

He didn’t sleep well. All kinds of sounds kept calling out by his ear. Cries for help. Curses. Weeping. And the ringing of a phone. A Fine Frenzy’s “Almost Lover.”

I never wanna see you unhappy, I thought you want the same for me, Goodbye my almost lover, Goodbye my hopeless dream…

He suddenly opened his eyes. It was his phone ringing. He turned on the bedside lamp. The alarm clock showed 3:20 AM. He cursed. Recently one of his personality disorder patients often called him in the middle of the night. But squinting and grabbing the phone, he saw it was a familiar number with no saved contact.

“Hello?” He answered lazily.

There was no sound on the other end. He said “hello” again. Still the same. Suddenly, he blurted out, “Gao Zhun?”

The moment the words left his mouth he regretted it. If it was another patient, calling the wrong name would undoubtedly be a dereliction of duty. If it was Gao Zhun, he should have called him “Mr. Gao.” Then the other end spoke. It was a low male voice. “Doctor Fang…”

It was indeed Gao Zhun. His voice was somewhat hoarse, lowered, timidly saying, “Did I disturb your rest… You… you said I could call you. I didn’t drink tonight, because you called, I wanted to do better…”

“Wait, speak slowly,” Fang Chi came to his senses, got out of bed and found paper and pen. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep… The moment I close my eyes I have nightmares.”

Fang Chi suspected what he was describing wasn’t nightmares, but flashbacks of traumatic situations. “What kind of dreams?”

There was a sound of sobbing on the other end of the phone. He might be crying. “It’s still that dream, but this time you were in it. You…”

Fang Chi recorded carefully. “What did I do?”

“I dreamed you were pointing at me, saying you looked down on me,” Gao Zhun spoke with difficulty. “I’m afraid you look down on me. Really afraid, really afraid!”

“How could I look down on you,” Fang Chi was very calm, even somewhat excited. This call showed that his earlier phone call had worked, at least reawakening Gao Zhun’s dependence on him. “I know these past two weeks have been very hard for you. You’ve wanted to see me, wanted to tell me things, wanted to call me, haven’t you? Now say everything that’s in your heart. I’m listening.”

He thought Gao Zhun would cry and say yes, say he missed him, that he wanted to call him every moment. But what Gao Zhun said was, “If even you look down on me…” His tone was calm. “Then what’s the point of living. I might as well die.”

This was suicidal ideation! Fang Chi’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst from his chest, but he didn’t show it. “Where are you right now?”

This question seemed to surprise Gao Zhun. “In… in the bathroom. I was afraid of waking her.”

“Can you go downstairs?” Fang Chi said while starting to look for clothes. “You’re afraid of the dark, right?”

“I… I don’t dare go downstairs. What’s going on?”

“I can get to your place in half an hour. I might not be able to get through the complex gate. Give me your unit number. I’ll figure something out.”

The other end of the phone went quiet. Fang Chi thought he was going to refuse. Many depressed patients had a tendency to withdraw. He was about to persuade him when Gao Zhun asked him in disbelief, “You’re coming… for me?”

“Yes.”

“Now?” He confirmed again and again.

“Yes. Give me your unit number.”

“You can’t get in. The property management is very strict,” he seemed to have gathered his courage. “I’ll come down to get you.”

Fang Chi was very surprised, to the point that his tone changed somewhat. “You can do that?”

Gao Zhun took a deep breath. “I can.”

Fang Chi got dressed and left within five minutes. He went to the underground parking garage, got into his Volvo, and drove up the ramp in pitch darkness. It was probably the beginning of the lunar month. There was no moon in the sky, only the dim yellow light of street lamps on both sides. He pushed the speed to 120, like a rebellious young punk, racing down the road.

He was surprised at his own recklessness. He had once ridden his bike across most of the city just to catch a glimpse of his first love. But that was nothing compared to this. His adrenaline was overproducing. His heart was pounding like a drum. In less than twenty minutes, he arrived at Gao Zhun’s complex. In the distance, he saw a thin figure standing under the only street lamp.

He didn’t even park the car properly. He killed the engine, tossed it by the roadside, got out and ran over. Gao Zhun was looking in his direction. He must have been terrified. Fang Chi couldn’t imagine how he had walked such a long dark road alone, when he didn’t even dare to sleep.

Even seeing him, Gao Zhun still didn’t dare step out of that circle of light. He was wearing a suit and tie, his hair hanging loosely over his forehead, with a special kind of vulnerability. Fang Chi stood in front of him, his breathing somewhat unsteady. Both of them had traveled an unusual journey to stand here. The emotions accumulated along the way had no outlet to burst forth, or rather, couldn’t burst forth. They were just doctor and patient, two adults kept at an appropriate distance by reason, two men.

Fang Chi looked Gao Zhun up and down to confirm his safety. Noticing his tightly clenched fist, he asked, “What’s in your hand?”

Gao Zhun seemed to have just come back to his senses from the wild joy of seeing him. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand and slowly opened it. Inside was a crumpled business card. Fang Chi recognized it at a glance. It was the one he had pulled from his card holder and given Gao Zhun on his first day of consultation.

“I took out your card to call you, and then…” Gao Zhun was slightly shy.

He was lying. Fang Chi stared at him. You couldn’t hold a business card while getting dressed and putting on a tie. Gao Zhun had intentionally clutched the card when coming downstairs. That was his courage. “I’m here. Throw it away. I’ll give you another one.”

Gao Zhun didn’t speak. The two of them just stood face to face, looking at each other until their eyes grew sore. Only then did Fang Chi say, “Let’s go. I’ll walk you back.”

The guard at the complex gate was from Henan. He recognized Gao Zhun and called out warmly, “Mr. Gao,” watching him lead Fang Chi inside. The complex was large, with many old trees whose branches grew thick and dense. The two of them walked along the pitch-black tree-lined path. Gao Zhun pressed closely against Fang Chi without showing it. Although he didn’t say so, he was clearly afraid of this darkness.

Fang Chi hardly did any careful thinking. With a flip of his hand, he grasped the cold hand beside him. Gao Zhun gasped, immediately gripping back, so forcefully, so entangled. As they walked like this, Fang Chi said, “Tell me about your dream?”

“I don’t dare…” Gao Zhun’s voice was ethereal and unreal.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” he choked up, tears sliding down his cheeks again. “I’m afraid of remembering that thing, but it’s always there… I’m afraid of Linlin knowing, afraid of my mother knowing, afraid of everyone knowing. Now I’m most afraid of you knowing… Then I would truly be alone…”

Fang Chi grew even more curious about what had happened to him, squeezing the hand he held. “I want to know.”

Gao Zhun stopped, as if about to open the door of his heart to him. But after repeated hesitation, he retreated. In its place came a flood of tears, flowing from that swollen face into Fang Chi’s heart. The tender flesh at the tip of his heart seemed to be stabbed hard. Fang Chi gently pulled him over, hugging him into his arms, like a loving mother holding a baby. “It’s fine. I’m here.”

They stood under a half-withered banyan tree, holding each other tightly. Gao Zhun’s face was buried in the hollow of Fang Chi’s neck. Fang Chi only felt that patch of skin was about to be burned by tears, hot as flames. Gao Zhun’s weeping was silent, just like his dignity. Without realizing it, Fang Chi held him even tighter. This body was too thin. His waist and back were already less than a handful. He slowly stroked his spine, pressing close to his ear. “See, you can accept being touched by others. Fear can be overcome too.”

His breath was too hot. Gao Zhun shrank his head to dodge, his voice muffled. “…Only you.”

Fang Chi felt strange. Holding him was like holding a girl, making him somewhat lightheaded. Gao Zhun hadn’t put on perfume when he came downstairs in the middle of the night. Fang Chi secretly sniffed. There was a faint, sweet body scent. “I can hear your heartbeat. Can you hear mine?”

Gao Zhun nodded, nestled in his arms. They were pressed so close, so close they seemed about to become one person. Fang Chi thought perhaps this was an opportunity. “You didn’t do your homework,” he said, and with one hand he grasped the back of Gao Zhun’s neck. With the other, he moved up along his waistline, stopping at the small, tight knot of his tie. “It’s strangling you too tight.”

Gao Zhun was like a well-trained cat. The moment the base of his neck was grasped by Fang Chi, he obediently raised his head, looking at him in panic in the darkness. “Are you disappointed in me?”

Fang Chi’s long fingers circled his tie knot. “I want to undo it,” feeling Gao Zhun’s Adam’s apple slide as he swallowed, he slipped his index finger in from behind the tie knot, hooking the knot opening. “Can I?”

Gao Zhun hesitated. When he hesitated, he pressed his lips tight. Fang Chi strengthened the grip of the hand that held him. “Can I?”

Gao Zhun was forced to nod. The moment he nodded, Fang Chi’s hand slowly pulled down. The clear sound of friction passed by his eardrum. Gao Zhun closed his eyes, letting Fang Chi pull the entire tie from around his neck. A shudder ran through his whole body.

Fang Chi casually held his trophy, watching it sway back and forth in the breeze. “You’re free.”

Gao Zhun still had his eyes closed. Fang Chi sensed his trembling, so he switched the tie to his other hand and placed his hand on his heaving chest, encircling his neck. “It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t be afraid…”

At that moment, a beam of light shone over. Out of a protective instinct for Gao Zhun, Fang Chi reflexively wrapped both arms around him, shielding him in his embrace. It was a patrol team from the property management passing by. The leader was that Henan man from the gate just now. He held up his flashlight, staring at the two of them in surprise.

“Mr… Mr. Gao?” He wanted to come over.

His companion with the same accent quickly came to pull him away, saying as he pulled, “Are you stupid, they’re doing that thing!”

They walked away noisily. Faint voices could be heard. “…Doing what?”

“That thing, called gay!”