HL 65

This meal was exceptionally silent. For the vast majority of the time, the private room echoed with nothing but the sounds of chewing and the clinking of knives and forks, as if they were two strangers who happened to be sharing a table.

Even the fine ingredients became tasteless in his mouth, as though Xu Nanxiao wasn’t chewing on beef, but on those long-expired days of the past.

When the waiter presented the bill, Xu Nanxiao finally spoke his first words since arriving: “What movie are we watching?”

Ying Yusheng smiled and said, “Director Lu’s new film, an early preview screening.”

Xu Nanxiao let out a cold snort, leaned back, and slumped against the seat. “You really don’t give up.”

And Ying Yusheng, as he had done countless times before, replied: “No, Nanxiao, this time it really is different.”

In truth, Director Lu wasn’t someone who only made bad films. His debut work had a flash of brilliance and profound depth—it was Ying Yusheng’s number-one Chinese-language film of all time. As for Xu Nanxiao, it would at least rank in his top three.

Xu Nanxiao had once asked Ying Yusheng why he liked this film so much, having rewatched it over a dozen times.

“This movie is very special. Its plot has no logic.”

Xu Nanxiao was speechless. “You call that a virtue?”

Xu Nanxiao couldn’t understand it. Professor Ying, who always walked the path of the optimal solution, who would even analyze and study human emotions to find patterns—how could he possibly like a film without logic?

Ying Yusheng then explained: “Maybe it’s precisely because it lacks logic that it has a kind of unfettered, whimsical romance.”

Huh? Is that so?

Xu Nanxiao liked it simply because the fight scenes were pretty cool and the female lead was beautiful. Although Director Lu was a bit unhinged, his casting choices were absolutely impeccable.

Xu Nanxiao asked in confusion: “Which part of the plot exactly did you find romantic?”

In the dim space, Ying Yusheng turned to look at Xu Nanxiao, his profile flickering in the shifting light of the television screen—

He said: “When Qiu He was taking a walk, he saw Chu Shang kneeling by the roadside, crying until she vomited.”

“And then, he fell in love with her at first sight.”

Later on, every time Director Lu released a new film, the two of them would go to show their support. Unfortunately, that Lu guy quickly ran out of inspiration—one bad film after another, and yet he was remarkably prolific.

Xu Nanxiao went from anticipation, to numbness, to finally only agreeing to go when Ying Yusheng dragged him along.

This time was no exception.

On a weekday, and with Director Lu’s “notorious reputation,” the theater was nearly empty. The two of them sat right in the middle, practically having the place to themselves.

But to Xu Nanxiao’s surprise, this time it really was different.

After two years of reflection, Director Lu’s latest work turned out to be quite good—no, it was practically perfect.

The cinematography, themes, characters, and plot, in Xu Nanxiao’s estimation, could even surpass that debut film. He kept muttering “holy shit” under his breath, utterly riveted.

As the credits began to roll slowly, the theater lights suddenly blazed on.

The light came too fast, too bright—like an unexpected slap, yanking everyone out of their dreams and back into reality.

Xu Nanxiao was dazed by the sudden brightness, unable to recover. He instinctively looked over at Ying Yusheng, only to find that Ying Yusheng was already gazing at him, and it was unclear how long that gaze had been there.

There was something in those eyes—something Xu Nanxiao didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand.

Xu Nanxiao turned his head back, staring at the white subtitles racing across the screen, but he couldn’t absorb a single name.

At that moment, Xu Nanxiao couldn’t help but think: Why the fuck?

Why couldn’t this movie have come out two years ago?

Why now?

That Lu guy had made four straight years of garbage—why did he have to produce a flawless work at this exact moment?

Back then, they used to huddle together on the sofa, cursing at Director Lu’s bad films as they watched. Back then, they thought they had all the time in the world, that the bad films would pass and the good ones would come.

The good movie came.

So where did they go?

Xu Nanxiao suddenly began to resent that Lu guy.

On the drive back, Xu Nanxiao kept leaning against the car window. The scenery outside rushed past the frame in a blur, and the streetlights, one after another, were stretched by the car’s speed into golden comets trailing long tails.

Before he knew it, the car stopped.

Xu Nanxiao snapped out of it, looked up, and saw that it was the entrance to his own neighborhood.

He was about to say angrily that there was no way he was going to do it at home, when he heard Ying Yusheng speak softly: “Good night, Nanxiao. See you next time.”

Xu Nanxiao paused, frowned, and sat up straight. “What do you mean?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m asking you—yes or no? Are we sleeping together or not?”

Ying Yusheng half-lowered his eyelids. “We’ve done it many times, both unwillingly. At least this time, I don’t want it to be like that.”

“Fine, Professor Ying.” Xu Nanxiao laughed in anger, forcing down the emotions that were about to burst from his chest before he spoke in a low voice. “If you want to play this game, fine by me—saves me the trouble. But you remember this: if you’re trying to use this to stage some kind of rekindled-romance act, save it. Keep that performance for the next person.”

Ying Yusheng froze, the color slowly draining from his face.

“Now you’re pulling this whole routine—taking me on dates, watching movies—it feels fake to me, annoying. Or do you just love seeing me pissed off, think it’s exciting? You haven’t changed one bit. You’re still just as disgusting.”

“Nanxiao…”

“Ying Yusheng, I’ve slept with quite a few people—some for a good time, some for convenience. Everyone gets what they want, we pull up our pants and go our separate ways, no one gets in anyone’s way.”

Xu Nanxiao grabbed Ying Yusheng by the collar and yanked him closer, looking down at him in a very aggressive, imposing manner.

“But someone as utterly boring as you? You’re truly one of a kind. I don’t do ‘have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too’ types. Who do you think you are? Aside from being more troublesome and more self-righteous, what else do you have? You’re not even as straightforward as my casual hookups.”

A deathly silence filled the car.

After a long while, Ying Yusheng finally looked at him calmly and asked:

“So in your heart, I’m different from all of them, aren’t I?”

In an instant, Xu Nanxiao was stunned, as if those words had hollowed him out.

He suddenly shoved Ying Yusheng away violently, and Ying Yusheng’s head slammed hard against the window, letting out a muffled grunt.

Then Xu Nanxiao quickly opened the car door and strode away without looking back. He walked faster and faster, leaving Ying Yusheng’s voice far behind.

The day Xu Nanxiao returned to the repair shop, he was treated like VIP royalty.

Whenever his teacup was empty, Ye Qiaozi would refill it. Liu Zhuo and Liang Sihua fought over who would do his work, not letting him touch anything dirty or tiring. Even at lunch, Xu Nanxiao had the privilege of picking up his chopsticks first.

He had initially planned to say that he hadn’t slept with Ying Yusheng—they’d just had a meal and watched a movie. But slacking off felt so good that Xu Nanxiao decided to play dumb all the way.

Unfortunately, people tend to forget gratitude after a while.

Not only did all those special treatments gradually disappear, but Ye Qiaozi also started sending Xu Nanxiao on errands, arranging for him to go into the mountains with an old man surnamed Wei to pick wild mushrooms.

Xu Nanxiao, on one hand, was too lazy to go up the mountain. On the other, Old Wei was notorious in the neighboring village for his hot temper and sharp tongue. Xu Nanxiao didn’t have a great temper either, and he’d have to bite his tongue hard to keep from arguing with him.

After Xu Nanxiao refused, Ye Qiaozi glared and said, “If you don’t go, don’t you dare eat any when they’re cooked.”

“What about Liu Zhuo and Liang Sihua? Can’t they go?”

“They’ve both already been. You eat and forget, don’t you?”

Liu Zhuo and Liang Sihua both flashed Xu Nanxiao a cheeky peace sign at the same time.

With no other choice, Xu Nanxiao reluctantly agreed to go.

Old Wei’s village was at the foot of the mountain. The overnight rain had just stopped, and the fog was so thick it wouldn’t lift, settling heavily and filling the entire valley. The tile roofs poked their pointed outlines out of the milky white mist, like a hidden fairyland.

Xu Nanxiao turned left and right based on memory before finally finding Old Wei’s rundown house.

“Old Wei, Qiaozi asked me to go up the mountain with you to pick some mushrooms.” Xu Nanxiao knocked three times and, without waiting for a response from inside, stepped in.

Before his words faded, a pair of cloth shoes came flying straight at his face, nearly hitting him.

Old Wei had lost one eye, and the remaining one was clouded over, but that didn’t stop him from glaring. He croaked hoarsely, “Get the hell out—this is my doorstep, who said you could come in?!”

Xu Nanxiao sighed, bent down, picked up the shoes, walked over to him, and repeated, “Qiaozi wants some wild mushrooms. She asked me to pick some for her.”

Hearing his adopted granddaughter’s name, Old Wei grinned, revealing a mouthful of missing teeth. “It’s really Qiaozi who wants ’em? Not you, you little glutton?”

Xu Nanxiao swallowed his irritation and forced a smile. “It really is Qiaozi. She said you were heading up the mountain today—take me along, will you?”

“Qiaozi wants ’em, Qiaozi wants ’em.” Old Wei muttered to himself, then braced his hands on his knees and stood up, yelling toward the back of the house, “Hey, kid, you comin’ along too?”

What kid? There was someone else here?

Before Xu Nanxiao could process it, he saw Ying Yusheng walk out from the backyard, carrying a piece of rotten wood.

He hadn’t expected to run into Xu Nanxiao here. After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Nanxiao, what are you doing here?”

Xu Nanxiao immediately frowned and said warily, “I should be asking you that. What are you doing here?”

“The mushrooms I planted keep dying, so I came to learn some growing techniques from Old Wei and buy some spawn.”

No one knew mushrooms better than this old man—everyone knew that.

Old Wei walked over, looked at the wood in Ying Yusheng’s arms, and the two of them muttered something back and forth. It was that very obscure Hebei dialect. Xu Nanxiao was from this area, and he was surprised that even he couldn’t understand some of it, yet Ying Yusheng spoke it with remarkable fluency.

Had Ying Yusheng specifically learned the local dialect to live here? There were no textbooks for it online—he’d have had to practice through extensive conversations with the village elders.

That aloof, arrogant Ying Yusheng?

Although Xu Nanxiao knew very well that most older people here didn’t speak Mandarin, and without the local dialect you could hardly even buy groceries, he still couldn’t help feeling nauseated.

The dialect was his inescapable past—the identity he’d left behind only to be forced back into. Was Ying Yusheng going to infiltrate even this, mocking his futile attempts to escape?

Old Wei picked up a worn-out basket, loaded it with some cooking gear, and slung it over his shoulder. “Nothin’ else? Then let’s go.”

“Make him leave,” Xu Nanxiao said in a low, muffled voice.

“What?”

“Make him leave. Don’t let him come along.” Xu Nanxiao clenched his jaw, his fists balled so tight his knuckles went white.

Ying Yusheng looked at him silently for a moment, then smiled helplessly. He turned to Old Wei and said, “Old Wei, it just so happens I have other things to do, so I’ll head off first.”

Old Wei’s sharp gaze darted between the two of them, as if trying to bore right through them.

He suddenly asked out of the blue: “I was gonna ask earlier—what’s the deal between you two?”

What’s the deal between them? That was really hard to answer.

Ying Yusheng said, “We—”

“We used to know each other, sort of. It’s been many years—we’re not close anymore.” Xu Nanxiao cut him off, his voice hard and cold as ice.