Chapter Ninety-Two: A Photograph

Sitting on the bus, I instinctively raised the bottle of mineral water in my hand. The sunlight refracted through the water, casting a hazy glow. I remembered Lele once told me she loved looking at the sun through a glass of water; the sunlight then wasn’t glaring at all, but felt like the warmth of two people in love.

Though the sun shone brightly, to me the sky always seemed tinged with a faint gloom. Gazing up into the boundless expanse, a voice both familiar and strange echoed across the heavens—near and far, clear yet blurred, as if just within reach, yet from a distant ancient time.

“Beizi Pig, do you love me?” In a fleeting vision, I saw Lele smiling at me.

I set down the water bottle and sighed softly, yet said nothing. I knew Lele always liked to answer for me after asking, muttering to herself, “I know you love me.”

Maybe so. But what truly is love? Perhaps love is merely a habit, like the faint scent of green apples I had long grown accustomed to.

Unconsciously, a year had slipped by. Staring out the bus window at the ever-familiar scenery, I realized I had chosen to come back after all, even though a voice inside warned me not to return—it would only stir up old wounds.

But what must be faced, must be faced sooner or later…

“Li Xiaobei!” The moment I got off the bus, I heard someone call out to me. Following the voice, I easily spotted Haozi not far away, waving at me. A few days ago, when I told him I’d be back for National Day, Haozi immediately insisted on picking me up at the station. Having known him so long, I had never enjoyed such treatment before—it made me feel unexpectedly cherished.

He took my luggage and casually slung an arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” I asked, eyeing his mysterious, smiling face, puzzled.

Outside the station, Haozi hailed a taxi—not to my home, but straight to a restaurant.

It was not yet mealtime, so the restaurant was somewhat quiet. Haozi ordered a few dishes casually and two bottles of beer.

“Today it’s on me,” he said, cheerfully pouring me a glass and then filling his own. Years of brotherhood needed no words. We clinked glasses and drank it down in one gulp.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back this year,” Haozi said, swirling his empty glass and glancing at me sideways.

“Heh,” I forced out a dry laugh and quickly changed the subject. “Dead rat, what’s brought on this sudden urge to treat your brother to a meal?”

“Damn, don’t talk to me like that about brotherhood!” Haozi instantly put on a mock-outraged face. “You wound me deeply…” As he spoke, he pretended to wipe away crocodile tears. Honestly, Haozi’s got a knack for acting—I almost believed him.

“Hey, Dead Bei, any plans while you’re back?” I was about to comfort him when suddenly Haozi looked up, grinning mischievously at me.

Since there were no other customers, the dishes arrived quickly: stir-fried three delicacies, lychee pork, and a cold heartleaf vegetable salad—all my favorites. I shot Haozi a sharp glare, grabbed my chopsticks, picked up a piece of lychee pork, and flicked it into his bowl. “Eat it! You sure talk a lot!”

Happily, Haozi stuffed the whole piece into his mouth and said between chews, “Dead Bei, if you’re free tomorrow morning, come climb North Mountain with me.”

I replied with a noncommittal “hmm,” which counted as agreement.

The next morning, Haozi’s call woke me early. Groggy, I followed him onto a bus heading toward North Mountain.

I hadn’t exercised in so long that after just a few steps, my legs felt like they were filled with lead. Soon, Haozi was far ahead. He glanced back at my gasping figure, then stopped to wait.

“Dead rat, slow down… ugh… I’m exhausted,” I said, hands on hips, tongue lolling out like I was ready to surrender.

“Damn, you used to be fast at climbing. Looks like you’ve really become a homebody!” Haozi ignored me and grabbed my shirt, pulling me forward. “Today, I’m dragging you up this mountain if I have to.”

“Stop! Stop… don’t… don’t pull me… I can walk myself.” I shook him off, took a deep breath, and then followed, head down, determined to climb with all my might.

“31 minutes and 47 seconds,” Haozi said, glancing at his phone after the last step, sounding resigned.

“No way! That long?” I walked into a pavilion at the summit, utterly drained. In high school, Haozi and I often climbed North Mountain on weekends, and I recalled our fastest time was just 20 minutes. I guess I can’t deny I’m getting old.

After resting a while, I finally regained my senses and nudged Haozi, who was dozing with his eyes half-closed, lost in his music. “Where to next?”

Haozi yanked off his earbuds and yawned loudly. “What?”

“Uh…” I was about to repeat myself when I noticed his expression suddenly change. “Where to next…” I finished my sentence professionally, puzzled as Haozi slowly stood, looking as if he had lost his soul, and headed toward a nearby rock carving outside the pavilion.

I was momentarily stunned, watching as Haozi quickened his pace until he was almost jogging toward a girl crouched beneath the carving, sipping soda.

I didn’t know what Haozi intended, and fearing trouble, I hurried after him. Only when I was close did I realize the girl was Xiaofei.

Haozi had kept their breakup a secret, and I only heard vague whispers from others. I didn’t press him about it.

I stayed back, sitting on nearby steps, watching Haozi’s every move with nervous attention.

Haozi swayed back and forth before Xiaofei, adopting a casual, roguish manner—but I knew this was just his nervous habit.

Suddenly, Haozi turned, pointing a finger at me. Xiaofei followed his gesture, spotted me, and waved warmly.

I debated whether to approach, but then a man appeared nearby. He wrapped his arm around Xiaofei’s shoulders—undoubtedly her current boyfriend.

Though some distance away, I could clearly feel Haozi’s swaying intensify. Seeing the girl he loved in another man’s embrace must have been unbearable. I think anyone would feel the same.

It was evident Haozi was suppressing his emotions, probably not wanting to cry in front of Xiaofei. Sometimes, men are strange creatures.

At last, Haozi quickly said goodbye to Xiaofei and, staggering but resolute, turned to leave.

From the corner of my eye, I thought I caught a fleeting tear in Xiaofei’s eyes.

I never expected the always joking Haozi to show such vulnerability—he cried like a child when Xiaofei wasn’t around, as if unleashing years of pent-up sorrow.

“I love her…” Haozi said, leaning against me, eyes vacant, staring at the sky.

“I know.” I couldn’t find words to comfort him, so that was all I could say.

“Let’s head down.” After sitting in silence for a long while, Haozi finally spoke again. “Dead Bei, come with me to the internet café later…”

Since freshman year, I hadn’t been to an internet café. Sitting beside Haozi watching him surf felt dull, so I went to the service desk and logged into QQ, aimlessly browsing friends’ photo albums.

Suddenly, a photo in Lin Hui’s album caught my attention. Instantly, a chill ran through me; I stood frozen, motionless.

(October 19, 2010—End of chapter revision)