HL 25

After that incident, Xu Nanxiao lost his appetite.

The finest delicacies were laid out before him, but he didn’t touch his chopsticks—he just kept drinking in silence, his head down.

Drinking so much on an empty stomach would break even the toughest man. Soon, Xu Nanxiao’s stomach felt hot and burning, his head dizzy and muddled. He went to the restroom to vomit several times, and then was firmly carried back to the room by Ying Yusheng.

Xu Nanxiao lay flat on the bed, feeling the ceiling spin slowly, with a nauseating, steady rhythm.

When he closed his eyes, the whole room felt like it had been tossed into a washing machine. Whatever little was left in his stomach sloshed around too, sour bile rising to the back of his throat.

“Get some early rest tonight,” he heard Ying Yusheng say.

Xu Nanxiao paused, then asked, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t ask.”

“You’re strange.” Xu Nanxiao let out a cold laugh. “Most people would want to watch the drama.”

But Ying Yusheng answered gently yet seriously: “Nanxiao, most people don’t treat others’ wounds as entertainment.”

“…”

“Get some rest. I’m going to take a shower.” Ying Yusheng stood up. “Do you want me to help you wash up too?”

“No.” Xu Nanxiao turned over, his back to Ying Yusheng. “I’ll sleep like this tonight.”

After finishing his shower, Ying Yusheng, afraid of waking Xu Nanxiao, didn’t even blow-dry his hair—he just patted it half-dry with a towel.

He sat down by Xu Nanxiao’s bed, wanting to check on him. Before he could even reach out, he heard Xu Nanxiao say, “Ying Yusheng, I know she didn’t do anything wrong, but I still don’t want to see her.”

Ying Yusheng was taken aback.

“I don’t want to see her,” Xu Nanxiao murmured again.

So he hadn’t been asleep—his eyes gleamed brightly in the darkness, like twinkling stars.

Though Ying Yusheng didn’t respond, Xu Nanxiao went on talking about his mother anyway.

“Rural women marry young. She married that old beast at eighteen. Not long after, he went to the city for work and went missing for two whole years, so she became a widow.”

“You know, a young widow can’t live with any dignity in a village. Back then, there was an educated youth sent to the countryside who felt sorry for her and often helped her with chores. They fell for each other. He said he’d take her to the city, but then that old beast turned out not to be dead—he came back. After he made a huge scene, that was the end of it.”

“Every time she brought it up, she acted like it didn’t matter, but I knew she regretted it. If she hadn’t let gossip shackle her feet, she should have run off with that educated youth.”

Ying Yusheng said, “But if she had left, there would be no you.”

“Then so be it.” Xu Nanxiao closed his eyes. “As if I asked to be born.”

“After I was born, I had a good face—took after her, not the old beast. He was ugly as sin. So he got suspicious, thinking I wasn’t his son but hers and the educated youth’s. Even though the timeline didn’t add up, he just couldn’t get it out of his head.”

Ying Yusheng was speechless.

“Ying Yusheng, can you imagine how rotten a man can be to his wife and kid if he suspects her of cheating?”

“Plenty of times at dinner, he’d stare at my face, then suddenly slam his bowl down on my head. Scalding rice and soup would run down my hair, burning my scalp. He’d say: ‘Eat, eat, eat—that’s all you know. With a face like a bastard’s, you’ll grow up to steal other men’s wives just like your goddamn father!'”

“What about her?” Xu Nanxiao paused, his voice dropping. “She’d sit right there, hands trembling so badly she couldn’t hold her chopsticks, head down, not daring to say a word. At most, after the old beast stormed out, she’d get a basin of water and silently wipe me clean. I’d glare at her and ask why she didn’t say anything. She’d just cry and say, ‘He’s your father—just endure it, it’ll pass.'”

“Endure?” Xu Nanxiao scoffed. “How do you endure? The worst time, the old beast came home pissed off at his boss. He beat her up, then dragged me over and pulled a red-hot fire hook out of the stove…”

“He didn’t actually burn me with it,” Xu Nanxiao said, with a strange hint of disappointment in his voice, as if that would have been more satisfying. “He just held that glowing, smoking iron hook, just a few centimeters from my face, and asked: ‘Little bastard, you see this? If this gets branded on your face, you won’t look like your father anymore.'”

“That hook was so hot it tightened the skin on my face. I couldn’t even open my eyes—I thought my eyelashes were going to singe off. I nearly pissed myself. I’ve fought so many matches, but nothing ever scared me as much as that moment. Then I heard a thud—she knelt in front of the old beast, clutching his legs, and that’s the only reason my face was spared.”

“I begged her to divorce him. Every time, she’d cover her face and cry, saying she would, she’d do it no matter what—that she couldn’t go on like this. But every time I thought I was finally going to escape that hell, she’d break her promise again. And when the old beast found out I was the one pushing for divorce, I’d get another beating. Pointless. Totally pointless. So I stopped bringing it up.”

“I’ve thought since I was little that cowardice is scarier than violence. Violence at least fights back; cowardice just lets bastards be even bigger bastards. She never protected me. Not once.”

“As I got older, the old beast couldn’t beat me anymore. I’d beat him until he was on his knees calling me ‘Dad.’ But I didn’t want to look at him anymore. I couldn’t wait to leave home. I lived by my fists, since I had a talent for fighting. Later, someone took notice and I started training in boxing… until I was seventeen.”

“At seventeen, the old beast got drunk, got into an argument, and didn’t know when to stop—he smashed a bottle over someone’s head and killed him. Sentenced to life in prison. Around that time, I made my first real money. When I heard that amazing news, I went home excited, thinking: maybe I should just take her away, and the two of us could finally have a decent life.”

“Guess what I saw when I got home?”

Xu Nanxiao let out a soft laugh in the darkness, but it was cold and piercing.

“That woman kicked a chair over and hanged herself in the house.”

As luck would have it, her hanging and Xu Nanxiao’s arrival happened almost at the same time. Xu Nanxiao was terrified out of his wits when he saw it, frantically scrambling to get her down.

After he lowered her, Xu Nanxiao realized his whole body was shaking violently, and tears were streaming down his face without him even knowing it. They splattered onto her face; she seemed to choke on them, coughed twice, and woke up—but her face was still a livid purple.

When she came to, she slowly moved her eyes, taking a long time to recognize the boy before her. Her face showed neither joy nor sorrow. After a long while, her gaze drifted back to the ceiling, and she said in a flat voice: “Why did you save me? Don’t bother. Living isn’t worth it.”

Xu Nanxiao’s sobs stopped abruptly. He stared at his mother with wide eyes.

What do you mean, not worth it?

Am I not worth it to you too?

That old beast treated you like that, and you still chose to die for him? I don’t get it—I don’t get it! Before you left, did you ever think of me? If you didn’t, why did you bring me into this world!

In that moment, Xu Nanxiao suddenly felt that half of all his suffering came from this woman.

She chose not to run away with the educated youth.

She chose to endure all of this.

She chose, again and again, to drag him back into that hell, using “for the sake of this family” as an excuse.

And she chose to die.

It turned out that Xu Nanxiao, from beginning to end, had never had a place to belong.

“Then just die!” Xu Nanxiao suddenly roared, his eyes bloodshot, the air trembling with the force of his shout. His mother flinched, as if frightened—or maybe jolted back to her senses. She stared at him blankly, her hand reaching out but stopping halfway.

“Nanxiao…”

“Die! Just die! Die far away—don’t die in front of me! From today on, I’ll go my way, you go yours—we’re done! Just die!!!!!”

After that hysterical outburst, Xu Nanxiao roughly wiped his tears, got up, and ran. He ran as fast as he could, as if trying to leave all the injustice and suffering behind.

She seemed to call out something behind him, but Xu Nanxiao no longer cared at all.

After saying all this, Xu Nanxiao was about seventy or eighty percent sober. He turned over, pulled the blanket over his head, and ended this bloody, raw confession.

Some wounds never scab over—they just keep bleeding in the dark.

A few minutes later, he turned back, showing his face to Ying Yusheng. “Forget everything you just heard. My brain was fried from drinking, so I rambled on about nonsense. And one more thing—I don’t want any lectures right now. I’m not your student.”

Before he could finish, a hand landed on the top of his head.

It was a hand just rinsed in cold water, the knuckles still carrying a damp chill—perfect for cooling Xu Nanxiao’s alcohol-flushed cheeks.

It rested very lightly on his head at first, pausing for a moment, as if checking whether it was allowed to touch. Then it began to move slowly, gently stroking through his sweat-dampened hair.

Ying Yusheng’s movements were steady and firm, his fingertips occasionally brushing against his scalp, sending faint, almost shivering sensations through him.

Xu Nanxiao reflexively sneered: “What’s this? Petting my head? Treating me like a little—”

“You’ve worked hard,” Ying Yusheng said softly.

Xu Nanxiao froze.

Finally, that hand cupped his cheek, as if trying to stop Xu Nanxiao’s trembling—or perhaps to give his heavy head some support.

Ying Yusheng said: “I wasn’t going to lecture you, and no one has the right to, unless they’ve lived through what you have. Nanxiao, I just hope you don’t let other people’s words make you bully that helpless younger version of yourself.”

After Ying Yusheng finished speaking, the room fell quiet again, leaving only the hum of the air conditioner and Xu Nanxiao’s too-loud heartbeat.

Fuck. He cursed silently.

Don’t pull this shit on me.

Xu Nanxiao bit hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing back the rising sob.

He held it in, held it in, and after a long time, he suddenly buried his face into Ying Yusheng’s palm. He pressed in slowly, rubbing against it like a kitten, his whole body curling up as if in pain.

After Xu Nanxiao had fallen asleep, Ying Yusheng studied his profile by the moonlight. Xu Nanxiao was completely relaxed, pressed tightly against him, like a little baby.

He knew—something had changed.

This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He had finally built a bridge of trust with blood and tears. After this, Xu Nanxiao’s heart had cracked open a sliver for him.

Truly cause for celebration.

But why wasn’t Ying Yusheng as happy as he’d expected?

Seeing Xu Nanxiao’s pitiful, beaten-dog appearance, he felt none of the excitement or arousal he’d anticipated.

Instead, a feeling he’d never experienced before rose in his chest—sour and swollen, aching and itching all at once. Like a kitten’s claws scratching on a blackboard, or the sensation of a pen tip writing on the palm of a hand.

This feeling was so foreign.

That in the countless nights to come, whenever Ying Yusheng looked back, he would hate himself for this night.

He hated himself for being so slow to realize.