48 hours, chapters 18-21, eng trans
tl;dr i have a lot of feelings and i'm working through them and most of my feelings are in these last few chapters. kind of rusty on the translation side, haven't translated fiction in months. orig fic here.
Chapter 18
Walking out of the bedroom in a daze, the living room is already a complete mess. I don’t know at what point of this battle I’ve walked in on - all I know is that Yixing’s face is bruised and bloodied and his clothes are torn, and him and Jongin are tearing at each others’ upper halves. They fight from the sofa to the stairs, from the stairs to the floor. When I come out, he glances at me for a moment and Jongin siezes the moment to punch him and throw him to the floor, trampling him mercilessly. The him who refuses to be trampled to death might as well be some dog sprawled against the floor, but somehow, he manages to drag Jongin down to the ground and headlocks him, the two of them grappling.
I’ve said it before, he’s always like this - just when you think he’s completely done for, he just manages to pull through, telling you that he’s still alive.
I rushed into the kitchen, flipping wildly through the cupboards, grabbing the saucepan that Chanyeol recently used and stalked towards the two who were still locked in battle. Before I’d heard Yixing’s yell of “careful!” I’d already been tripped by a strand of rope, that goddamned familiar looking strand of rope.
Looking behind me, I was suddenly bombarded by an explosion, and only felt the mixture of alcohol and blood dripping down from the top of my head, drenching my neck and entire upper body. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Lu Han standing in front of me with a lighter in hand. He was looking at me like a dazed Satan.
My left ear was shattered by Yixing’s sudden yell of “Lu Han!!”
My memory blocked out all other sound - I guess Lu Han was like me too; unexpectedly, he turned to look at Yixing. “Yixing?” he said.
In the next moment, Lu Han was shoved to the ground by Yixing, the lighter thrown some two meters away. Jongin grabbed Yixing’s neck from behind, dragging him up. At the same time, he reached for a shard of a broken bottle on the floor, pressing it against Yixing’s carotid artery.
“Yixing!” Lu Han’s yell was one of pure instinct. “Don’t touch him! Don’t hurt him at all!” So saying, he crawled up until he was half kneeling, meaning to reach out to them.
“Don’t come any closer!” Jongin screamed at Lu Han.
“You too!” He eyed me, who’d been trying to get closer the entire time, nervously, dragging Yixing backwards with him step by step.
“Chanyeol!” Jongin yelled in the direction of the bedroom, but there was no sound to answer him. “Chanyeol, where are you!?” he yelled again, desperate, but again, it was the same silence that greeted him.
Jongin’s eyes began to fill with tears as he stared at the three of us. “Where’s Chanyeol?” he asked me.
Chanyeol’s already dead, but I didn’t dare to tell him. This was a case of two versus two, and in this case, Yixing had to die. I looked down without saying anything. Lu Han turned to look at me, as if he was considering something.
“You killed Chanyeol?” Lu Han asked me calmly in Chinese.
My voice was hoarse and raspy. “I…don’t know,” I stammered. “He’s in the closet.” Lu Han turned to glance at the bedroom, but in his heart, he probably already knew the answer.
On the other side, Yixing smiled at me, as if in farewell.
Jongin watched us converse in Chinese, scared and frightened, realising that he was the only one who was excluded here. “Lu Han…” he asked, shaking, “what are you guys talking about…? Where’s Chanyeol…?”
I looked at Lu Han, begging him with my eyes, but he didn’t look at me.
He stared calmly out the window, the corner of his mouth crooked in some deep musing. It was probably a really simple question, right, that he was asking himself.
“Chanyeol, he…” Lu Han lifted his gaze, and walked towards Jongin and Yixing, smiling. “He drank a few cups of wine, he’s asleep.” As he spoke, he walked forward, raising his hand, reaching for the broken wine bottle in Jongin’s hand.
Jongin looked at him, the look in his eyes suddenly fragile and helpless. “Really?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Really.” Lu Han smiled and nodded, slowly pushing aside the bottle, gently pulling Yixing out of his grasp and pushing him towards me. “He’ll wake up in a bit.”
Embracing Jongin, Lu Han rubbed comfortingly at his back as I tugged Yixing over and pulled him behind me. Jongin was crying like a child, clinging tightly to the corner of Lu Han’s clothes.
It was a morning with heavy rain. The four of us stood there in the irreparably destroyed living room, answering the most difficult multiple choice question one could make in a lifetime.
Everything had been brought upon us by ourselves, because the answer had been written in our blood from the start.
Just like Sehun who had volunteered to dance - that had been his answer.
Just like Taozi who’d never stopped cheating for his friends - that had been his answer.
Just like Chanyeol who had stared at me blankly, but hadn’t fought back - that had been his answer.
Just like the me who chose to walk towards Jongin, the saucepan from behind me in hand - that was my answer.
Just like Lu Han who saw me, yet closed his eyes and remained silent, that was the answer he chose for Jongin, and it was also the answer he chose for Yixing and I, and even more so, it was the answer he chose for himself.
I raised my arm and let it fall. Jongin turned to look at me and fell slowly, one hand gripping my arm, the other clenching my shirt in a death grip.
I closed my eyes and shoved him with all my strength to the ground. His helpless eyes were opened wide, probably as he thought back on all the battles that hadn’t gone his way in his short life - this was probably the only time he’d lost, the last time he’d lost.
Lu Han knelt on the floor, until Jongin’s pulse stopped completely. He used his hands to shut that pair of unwilling eyes. “Rest,” Lu Han said as he stood, walking between me and Yixing.
“I lost.”
-
Chapter 19
Rooted to the spot, Yixing and I looked at Lu Han, his back towards us. He turned to us with a bright smile, just like always. “Good luck,” he said, waving.
There’s always those people, who after having defeated all their opponents, willingly lose to themselves. The thing that is more difficult than dying, is to painfully live to the end. In the end, like always, he was smarter than me, making the correct choice.
I forgot how long had passed. Yixing had fallen asleep, leaning against the sofa. Lu Han opened the door and walked out of the bedroom on the second floor, standing next to the stairs. “Could you lend me the plastic rope on the floor?” he asked me, smiling.
Staring at the floor, I knew that the time on the display was slowly counting down to 4. Emptying the fluid from the lighter drop by drop, I made the dumbest decision in my entire life, and the decision that would nail me to the cross for my entire life.
I softly shook my head.
As if relieved of some heavy burden, he waved his hands dismissively. “Then never mind,” he said, smiling. “Oh, that’s right, there’s something I need to ask you to do for me.”
“Go on.” I was still staring at the floor.
“This is my family’s address and phone number.” He folded the paper in his hand into a paper airplane. “I haven’t really spoken to my parents in almost two years…” he said. “I have some savings in the bank, not a lot, but give it to them for me…and the other thing is,” he jerked his head in Yixing’s direction, “say goodbye to that idiot for me, yeah?”
“Should I wake him up?” I looked at him.
He held out his hands, stopping me. “No, don’t bother.”
“You’re always asking me to bring things for you,” I said, looking at him. “Why don’t you just do it yourself?”
He froze, smiling as he lowered his gaze. “I’m bad at talking,” he said.
Those were the last words he left with me, probably the last words he left with this world. Afterwards, he bent down, and left that pink watch on the ground.
He left me a smile, and then turned to walk back into the room, disappearing from my sight.
A bit over half an hour later, a loud thump outside took me by surprise. Yixing was still asleep, so I walked to the kitchen window by myself to look. My line of sight was limited, and I couldn’t see anyone. I only saw the deep red colour of blood slowly flowing down, along with the rain. Walking up to the bedroom on the second floor, I only saw the small door used to clean the chimney was open, and that the covers on the bed had been ripped to shreds. On the entire second floor, there wasn’t a single person.
I sat alone on the floor of the second floor bedroom, my hands touching the carpet that they had walked all over. I stood, and walking to the stairs, picked up that pink watch. It was still stopped at the time that Sehun had died yesterday.
The game was almost over. Yixing, look, we’ve won.
-
Chapter 20
By the time Yixing awoke, it was already 7 in the evening.
He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the ‘3’ on the countdown panel. “It’s already so late,” he said slowly.
Leaning awkwardly against the sofa, I looked at him.
“Where are the others?” he said.
“They’re dead,” I said.
He blinked, and then stared into the air.
He didn’t ask me how Lu Han had died. Probably, he didn’t need to know the answer to that question.
He stood and silently went upstairs. He opened the door to the second floor bedroom, the disorder appearing in front of his eyes. He smiled quietly, looking out the window.
Outside, it was raining heavily. The rain scattered against the leaves and the glass unevenly. In that evening on which the curtain had almost fallen, something saturated the air, taking the place of our words.
Those words that had never been spoken, words that I wasn’t even sure had ever existed.
“Hello, I’m Zhang Yixing.” We were in the dormitory. He scratched behind his ear, bashful. “You’re the first Chinese person I’ve met.”
“Wu Yifan.” I reached forward and clasped his hand.
February 2010, middle of the night. I was sitting in the dorm, staring despondently at that chain of keys. He looked down and laughed quietly, clapping my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Who knows, maybe I’ll be so popular as a stripper, I’ll earn even more than you do as a celebrity.”
Winter 2010, a rainy evening. He smoked his first cigarette, and deciding to reward himself for his hard work, walked towards a black and white watch he’d had his eye on. Seeing the hefty price tag, he pulled out all his cash and cards, and looked pitifully at the shopkeeper. “I didn’t bring enough money, can you put a hold on this for me?”
Last night, when the shooting star had flown past, he was sitting next to the window, the corner of his mouth upturned. “If I wake up tomorrow, I don’t want to live alone.” He smiled, looking at me.
Some things, it’s better not to bring them up again.
We stood like that quietly for some time, one in front of the other, until I walked forward, and hugged him from behind.
He didn’t turn around, nor did he speak.
His eyes still focused on the window, he asked me, detachedly, “when are you going to kill me?”
I closed my eyes, burying my face in his shoulder.
I’m a fraud of a person. Faking it for my entire life, but at the one moment where I should have faked it, I lost the strength to use that sort of sophisticated skill.
I softly kissed the side of his face. “Now,” I said next to his ear, my voice hoarse. So saying, I turned him around, shaking, and kissed him on the lips.
He opened his eyes, not entirely unexpectedly, his eyes blurry, and looked at me with an expression, an expression that I can’t describe with my words. It was an expression that said “I forgive you.”
It was raining heavily outside, and it was as if my head, my two hands, my two legs……it had drenched me entirely. He was like the tree outside, dripping with water, as he looked at me, his eyes saying: don’t feel bad, this isn’t your fault.
I couldn’t control my tears as I softly kissed his brow, his nose, his lips, the salty liquid flowing past the tips of our tongues…He leaned against the wall, responding to me with every shred of warmth. I couldn’t see his face, nor could I see my own face - this is the blind spot in my memory. Nor can I find the proof in any words, my entire mind is simply ashes that have been burned to their last breath, and when the dust is blown up, it’s as if something has fallen in my heart….
We staggered to the bathroom and forced our way in. I leaned him against the wall, brushing the hair that had fallen in his face, gasping for breath and unable to say a single word. He closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against my forehead.
I smashed the mirror above the sink and picked up one of the broken pieces, pinning his hands behind him, head pushed aside. Our breaths were loud by each others’ ears as I bent down and kissed him deeply on the lips. He closed his eyes and kissed me back with every ounce of strength, when I slashed open his arm.
Everything proceeded so quietly. He raised his left hand to wipe away my tears, and then slumped against the floor, his scalding blood soaking through everything. Subconsciously, I wanted to wrap the cut with my clothes - I’d probably forgotten that I was the one who’d hurt him.
A tear dripped out of his eyes. “I want to go home,” he said.
I lifted him up and carried him towards the bedroom. There, there was a brightly lit floor length window, facing fully east. I brought over a chair and sat him on it, and tidied up his hair and his clothes. He smiled towards me, and, as if he was simply too tired, said, “I’m going to sleep a bit first.”
And then, he closed his eyes.
I stared at those eyes, but they never opened again.
Somewhere far in that Eastern distance, I had no home, but wherever he went, I hope that I can go too, if I can.
-
Chapter 21
Frank:
“He’s asleep.” Walking out of the monitoring room, I said to Mike, “give him some time…I think he’s probably tired.”
Mike didn’t seem as upbeat as before. He took the case folder that David handed to him and gave it to me and then stared hard at Kris. What expression that was, I can’t really explain.
“My job here is done.” I smiled, patting David on the shoulder.
He smiled as well, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. After some hesitation, he picked up the report. “Your job is done, but… What I want to say is that maybe, there’s some things you should know.” He handed the report to me. “See for yourself.”
An hour later, walking through the hallways at the police station where there wasn’t a soul, my footsteps sounded particularly lonely.
As to what happened after that…it’s better not to talk about it. He’d already shed layer after layer of his shell, and was nothing but a mangled mess, you see, everyone has to leave something for themselves, isn’t that so?
That was when there was maybe an hour left on the countdown panel, and just over an hour after Zhang Yixing had died. He took a chair and swung it at that floor length mirror - the chair broke, but nothing happened.
And then, he went to try opening that number-pad door. He entered in random codes three times, but nothing happened.
And then, he took that saucepan that Chanyeol had used to smash the skylight - the same window that he’d stopped Chanyeol from breaking. The window broke, and nothing happened.
He smashed wildly at everything in the living room, kicking over the sofa and the coffee table, breaking the wall. He staggered, falling in front of the DDR machine, and noticed the words that no one had noticed, flashing on the machine that Lu Han had won on: surprise.
His hand shaking, he pressed down on it. The rules of the game on the wall slowly disappeared, as if it were a nightmare, and a few words slowly appeared in red. In Korean: “Two years anniversary!”
It was as if he’d faintly realised something, and at the same time, it was as if he couldn’t quite see it, couldn’t quite touch it. Everyone had woken up from the dream - only he was still stuck in the nightmare.
A few days later, I went to the police station to sort out some paperwork related to the case. Before I left, I went to visit that special patient one last time.
He was wearing prison clothes that was clearly too big for him, making him look even skinnier. His hair hadn’t been cut short yet, and was tied back messily. His graceful fingers rested lightly on his legs, and his face was extremely pale.
He kept coughing, and when I asked about his health, he only shook his head, meaning that he was fine.
I didn’t dare think about what life was like for him in the prison. Even though he was wearing a prisoner’s outfit with no embellishments, he was still ridiculously pretty. Even if he had walked like this into a gay bar, I would have been somewhat worried for his safety, never mind in a prison, and never mind that he was a rarely seen Asian.
“If…I mean, after.” I rubbed at my nose, choosing my words carefully. “If, during your sentence, there’s anything you can’t get used to… you can contact me at any time, I have a lot of lawyer friends.” I handed him my business card. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep this with you, but just remember my name, quite a few of the police officers know me,” I said, in a friendly tone. If my patient chose to die, this would be a blow against my work, but as to this, it wasn’t something I had a choice in.
He took the business card and smiled at me, as if understanding what I meant. “I won’t die, you don’t have to worry.”
“That’s good,” I said, looking at him.
“I’ll live,” he said, looking down. “I’ll bear all the punishment, and even…” he smiled as he said, “and even work hard to live, so that this punishment will last even longer.”
I looked at that boy, and it was like the first time I’d seen him, as he exuded an unavoidably strong presence.
“Here, I’m being smothered by several pyramids,” he said, smiling as he pointed at his own chest. “With every punishment, it’s as if I can lift up a stone… maybe after I’ve been here for a few hundred years, I’ll finally be able to breathe freely,” he continued, still smiling.
I fell silent. Maybe, not everyone needed a psychologist like I’d thought. Everyone had some sort of pain that no one could rescue them from, but when that pain finally lost its strength, then, their life would expire along with it.
One evening, two weeks later, the news was full of disasters around the world as usual. On that unassuming newsflash for a local car crash, I saw that Mr. Zheng had died in an accident.
In reality, maybe there are a lot of things that no one will ever know.
No one will know that the Kim Suho who’d been pushed into the mirror had said in a raspy voice, “there’s noise coming from the basement.”
No one will know that on that final visit, Kris had said to me quietly, with his head lowered, “actually, that trampoline, I think I only touched it a bit.”
No one will know that German jewellery giant Wellendorf, in 2014, released a limited edition set of rings, that were split into three layers that spun against each other, and that they could easily be rearranged into a fixed design. And as to the inside of that arrangement, it was a simple German word, written in cursive: Liebe.
And, there definitely wouldn’t be anyone who will know that in the winter of 2010, Zhang Yixing finally bought that black and white Tissot watch he had his eye on, and on the back of the watch was engraved a single line: it only stops when you fall in love.
Chapter 18
Walking out of the bedroom in a daze, the living room is already a complete mess. I don’t know at what point of this battle I’ve walked in on - all I know is that Yixing’s face is bruised and bloodied and his clothes are torn, and him and Jongin are tearing at each others’ upper halves. They fight from the sofa to the stairs, from the stairs to the floor. When I come out, he glances at me for a moment and Jongin siezes the moment to punch him and throw him to the floor, trampling him mercilessly. The him who refuses to be trampled to death might as well be some dog sprawled against the floor, but somehow, he manages to drag Jongin down to the ground and headlocks him, the two of them grappling.
I’ve said it before, he’s always like this - just when you think he’s completely done for, he just manages to pull through, telling you that he’s still alive.
I rushed into the kitchen, flipping wildly through the cupboards, grabbing the saucepan that Chanyeol recently used and stalked towards the two who were still locked in battle. Before I’d heard Yixing’s yell of “careful!” I’d already been tripped by a strand of rope, that goddamned familiar looking strand of rope.
Looking behind me, I was suddenly bombarded by an explosion, and only felt the mixture of alcohol and blood dripping down from the top of my head, drenching my neck and entire upper body. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Lu Han standing in front of me with a lighter in hand. He was looking at me like a dazed Satan.
My left ear was shattered by Yixing’s sudden yell of “Lu Han!!”
My memory blocked out all other sound - I guess Lu Han was like me too; unexpectedly, he turned to look at Yixing. “Yixing?” he said.
In the next moment, Lu Han was shoved to the ground by Yixing, the lighter thrown some two meters away. Jongin grabbed Yixing’s neck from behind, dragging him up. At the same time, he reached for a shard of a broken bottle on the floor, pressing it against Yixing’s carotid artery.
“Yixing!” Lu Han’s yell was one of pure instinct. “Don’t touch him! Don’t hurt him at all!” So saying, he crawled up until he was half kneeling, meaning to reach out to them.
“Don’t come any closer!” Jongin screamed at Lu Han.
“You too!” He eyed me, who’d been trying to get closer the entire time, nervously, dragging Yixing backwards with him step by step.
“Chanyeol!” Jongin yelled in the direction of the bedroom, but there was no sound to answer him. “Chanyeol, where are you!?” he yelled again, desperate, but again, it was the same silence that greeted him.
Jongin’s eyes began to fill with tears as he stared at the three of us. “Where’s Chanyeol?” he asked me.
Chanyeol’s already dead, but I didn’t dare to tell him. This was a case of two versus two, and in this case, Yixing had to die. I looked down without saying anything. Lu Han turned to look at me, as if he was considering something.
“You killed Chanyeol?” Lu Han asked me calmly in Chinese.
My voice was hoarse and raspy. “I…don’t know,” I stammered. “He’s in the closet.” Lu Han turned to glance at the bedroom, but in his heart, he probably already knew the answer.
On the other side, Yixing smiled at me, as if in farewell.
Jongin watched us converse in Chinese, scared and frightened, realising that he was the only one who was excluded here. “Lu Han…” he asked, shaking, “what are you guys talking about…? Where’s Chanyeol…?”
I looked at Lu Han, begging him with my eyes, but he didn’t look at me.
He stared calmly out the window, the corner of his mouth crooked in some deep musing. It was probably a really simple question, right, that he was asking himself.
“Chanyeol, he…” Lu Han lifted his gaze, and walked towards Jongin and Yixing, smiling. “He drank a few cups of wine, he’s asleep.” As he spoke, he walked forward, raising his hand, reaching for the broken wine bottle in Jongin’s hand.
Jongin looked at him, the look in his eyes suddenly fragile and helpless. “Really?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Really.” Lu Han smiled and nodded, slowly pushing aside the bottle, gently pulling Yixing out of his grasp and pushing him towards me. “He’ll wake up in a bit.”
Embracing Jongin, Lu Han rubbed comfortingly at his back as I tugged Yixing over and pulled him behind me. Jongin was crying like a child, clinging tightly to the corner of Lu Han’s clothes.
It was a morning with heavy rain. The four of us stood there in the irreparably destroyed living room, answering the most difficult multiple choice question one could make in a lifetime.
Everything had been brought upon us by ourselves, because the answer had been written in our blood from the start.
Just like Sehun who had volunteered to dance - that had been his answer.
Just like Taozi who’d never stopped cheating for his friends - that had been his answer.
Just like Chanyeol who had stared at me blankly, but hadn’t fought back - that had been his answer.
Just like the me who chose to walk towards Jongin, the saucepan from behind me in hand - that was my answer.
Just like Lu Han who saw me, yet closed his eyes and remained silent, that was the answer he chose for Jongin, and it was also the answer he chose for Yixing and I, and even more so, it was the answer he chose for himself.
I raised my arm and let it fall. Jongin turned to look at me and fell slowly, one hand gripping my arm, the other clenching my shirt in a death grip.
I closed my eyes and shoved him with all my strength to the ground. His helpless eyes were opened wide, probably as he thought back on all the battles that hadn’t gone his way in his short life - this was probably the only time he’d lost, the last time he’d lost.
Lu Han knelt on the floor, until Jongin’s pulse stopped completely. He used his hands to shut that pair of unwilling eyes. “Rest,” Lu Han said as he stood, walking between me and Yixing.
“I lost.”
-
Chapter 19
Rooted to the spot, Yixing and I looked at Lu Han, his back towards us. He turned to us with a bright smile, just like always. “Good luck,” he said, waving.
There’s always those people, who after having defeated all their opponents, willingly lose to themselves. The thing that is more difficult than dying, is to painfully live to the end. In the end, like always, he was smarter than me, making the correct choice.
I forgot how long had passed. Yixing had fallen asleep, leaning against the sofa. Lu Han opened the door and walked out of the bedroom on the second floor, standing next to the stairs. “Could you lend me the plastic rope on the floor?” he asked me, smiling.
Staring at the floor, I knew that the time on the display was slowly counting down to 4. Emptying the fluid from the lighter drop by drop, I made the dumbest decision in my entire life, and the decision that would nail me to the cross for my entire life.
I softly shook my head.
As if relieved of some heavy burden, he waved his hands dismissively. “Then never mind,” he said, smiling. “Oh, that’s right, there’s something I need to ask you to do for me.”
“Go on.” I was still staring at the floor.
“This is my family’s address and phone number.” He folded the paper in his hand into a paper airplane. “I haven’t really spoken to my parents in almost two years…” he said. “I have some savings in the bank, not a lot, but give it to them for me…and the other thing is,” he jerked his head in Yixing’s direction, “say goodbye to that idiot for me, yeah?”
“Should I wake him up?” I looked at him.
He held out his hands, stopping me. “No, don’t bother.”
“You’re always asking me to bring things for you,” I said, looking at him. “Why don’t you just do it yourself?”
He froze, smiling as he lowered his gaze. “I’m bad at talking,” he said.
Those were the last words he left with me, probably the last words he left with this world. Afterwards, he bent down, and left that pink watch on the ground.
He left me a smile, and then turned to walk back into the room, disappearing from my sight.
A bit over half an hour later, a loud thump outside took me by surprise. Yixing was still asleep, so I walked to the kitchen window by myself to look. My line of sight was limited, and I couldn’t see anyone. I only saw the deep red colour of blood slowly flowing down, along with the rain. Walking up to the bedroom on the second floor, I only saw the small door used to clean the chimney was open, and that the covers on the bed had been ripped to shreds. On the entire second floor, there wasn’t a single person.
I sat alone on the floor of the second floor bedroom, my hands touching the carpet that they had walked all over. I stood, and walking to the stairs, picked up that pink watch. It was still stopped at the time that Sehun had died yesterday.
The game was almost over. Yixing, look, we’ve won.
-
Chapter 20
By the time Yixing awoke, it was already 7 in the evening.
He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the ‘3’ on the countdown panel. “It’s already so late,” he said slowly.
Leaning awkwardly against the sofa, I looked at him.
“Where are the others?” he said.
“They’re dead,” I said.
He blinked, and then stared into the air.
He didn’t ask me how Lu Han had died. Probably, he didn’t need to know the answer to that question.
He stood and silently went upstairs. He opened the door to the second floor bedroom, the disorder appearing in front of his eyes. He smiled quietly, looking out the window.
Outside, it was raining heavily. The rain scattered against the leaves and the glass unevenly. In that evening on which the curtain had almost fallen, something saturated the air, taking the place of our words.
Those words that had never been spoken, words that I wasn’t even sure had ever existed.
“Hello, I’m Zhang Yixing.” We were in the dormitory. He scratched behind his ear, bashful. “You’re the first Chinese person I’ve met.”
“Wu Yifan.” I reached forward and clasped his hand.
February 2010, middle of the night. I was sitting in the dorm, staring despondently at that chain of keys. He looked down and laughed quietly, clapping my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Who knows, maybe I’ll be so popular as a stripper, I’ll earn even more than you do as a celebrity.”
Winter 2010, a rainy evening. He smoked his first cigarette, and deciding to reward himself for his hard work, walked towards a black and white watch he’d had his eye on. Seeing the hefty price tag, he pulled out all his cash and cards, and looked pitifully at the shopkeeper. “I didn’t bring enough money, can you put a hold on this for me?”
Last night, when the shooting star had flown past, he was sitting next to the window, the corner of his mouth upturned. “If I wake up tomorrow, I don’t want to live alone.” He smiled, looking at me.
Some things, it’s better not to bring them up again.
We stood like that quietly for some time, one in front of the other, until I walked forward, and hugged him from behind.
He didn’t turn around, nor did he speak.
His eyes still focused on the window, he asked me, detachedly, “when are you going to kill me?”
I closed my eyes, burying my face in his shoulder.
I’m a fraud of a person. Faking it for my entire life, but at the one moment where I should have faked it, I lost the strength to use that sort of sophisticated skill.
I softly kissed the side of his face. “Now,” I said next to his ear, my voice hoarse. So saying, I turned him around, shaking, and kissed him on the lips.
He opened his eyes, not entirely unexpectedly, his eyes blurry, and looked at me with an expression, an expression that I can’t describe with my words. It was an expression that said “I forgive you.”
It was raining heavily outside, and it was as if my head, my two hands, my two legs……it had drenched me entirely. He was like the tree outside, dripping with water, as he looked at me, his eyes saying: don’t feel bad, this isn’t your fault.
I couldn’t control my tears as I softly kissed his brow, his nose, his lips, the salty liquid flowing past the tips of our tongues…He leaned against the wall, responding to me with every shred of warmth. I couldn’t see his face, nor could I see my own face - this is the blind spot in my memory. Nor can I find the proof in any words, my entire mind is simply ashes that have been burned to their last breath, and when the dust is blown up, it’s as if something has fallen in my heart….
We staggered to the bathroom and forced our way in. I leaned him against the wall, brushing the hair that had fallen in his face, gasping for breath and unable to say a single word. He closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against my forehead.
I smashed the mirror above the sink and picked up one of the broken pieces, pinning his hands behind him, head pushed aside. Our breaths were loud by each others’ ears as I bent down and kissed him deeply on the lips. He closed his eyes and kissed me back with every ounce of strength, when I slashed open his arm.
Everything proceeded so quietly. He raised his left hand to wipe away my tears, and then slumped against the floor, his scalding blood soaking through everything. Subconsciously, I wanted to wrap the cut with my clothes - I’d probably forgotten that I was the one who’d hurt him.
A tear dripped out of his eyes. “I want to go home,” he said.
I lifted him up and carried him towards the bedroom. There, there was a brightly lit floor length window, facing fully east. I brought over a chair and sat him on it, and tidied up his hair and his clothes. He smiled towards me, and, as if he was simply too tired, said, “I’m going to sleep a bit first.”
And then, he closed his eyes.
I stared at those eyes, but they never opened again.
Somewhere far in that Eastern distance, I had no home, but wherever he went, I hope that I can go too, if I can.
-
Chapter 21
Frank:
“He’s asleep.” Walking out of the monitoring room, I said to Mike, “give him some time…I think he’s probably tired.”
Mike didn’t seem as upbeat as before. He took the case folder that David handed to him and gave it to me and then stared hard at Kris. What expression that was, I can’t really explain.
“My job here is done.” I smiled, patting David on the shoulder.
He smiled as well, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. After some hesitation, he picked up the report. “Your job is done, but… What I want to say is that maybe, there’s some things you should know.” He handed the report to me. “See for yourself.”
An hour later, walking through the hallways at the police station where there wasn’t a soul, my footsteps sounded particularly lonely.
As to what happened after that…it’s better not to talk about it. He’d already shed layer after layer of his shell, and was nothing but a mangled mess, you see, everyone has to leave something for themselves, isn’t that so?
That was when there was maybe an hour left on the countdown panel, and just over an hour after Zhang Yixing had died. He took a chair and swung it at that floor length mirror - the chair broke, but nothing happened.
And then, he went to try opening that number-pad door. He entered in random codes three times, but nothing happened.
And then, he took that saucepan that Chanyeol had used to smash the skylight - the same window that he’d stopped Chanyeol from breaking. The window broke, and nothing happened.
He smashed wildly at everything in the living room, kicking over the sofa and the coffee table, breaking the wall. He staggered, falling in front of the DDR machine, and noticed the words that no one had noticed, flashing on the machine that Lu Han had won on: surprise.
His hand shaking, he pressed down on it. The rules of the game on the wall slowly disappeared, as if it were a nightmare, and a few words slowly appeared in red. In Korean: “Two years anniversary!”
It was as if he’d faintly realised something, and at the same time, it was as if he couldn’t quite see it, couldn’t quite touch it. Everyone had woken up from the dream - only he was still stuck in the nightmare.
A few days later, I went to the police station to sort out some paperwork related to the case. Before I left, I went to visit that special patient one last time.
He was wearing prison clothes that was clearly too big for him, making him look even skinnier. His hair hadn’t been cut short yet, and was tied back messily. His graceful fingers rested lightly on his legs, and his face was extremely pale.
He kept coughing, and when I asked about his health, he only shook his head, meaning that he was fine.
I didn’t dare think about what life was like for him in the prison. Even though he was wearing a prisoner’s outfit with no embellishments, he was still ridiculously pretty. Even if he had walked like this into a gay bar, I would have been somewhat worried for his safety, never mind in a prison, and never mind that he was a rarely seen Asian.
“If…I mean, after.” I rubbed at my nose, choosing my words carefully. “If, during your sentence, there’s anything you can’t get used to… you can contact me at any time, I have a lot of lawyer friends.” I handed him my business card. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to keep this with you, but just remember my name, quite a few of the police officers know me,” I said, in a friendly tone. If my patient chose to die, this would be a blow against my work, but as to this, it wasn’t something I had a choice in.
He took the business card and smiled at me, as if understanding what I meant. “I won’t die, you don’t have to worry.”
“That’s good,” I said, looking at him.
“I’ll live,” he said, looking down. “I’ll bear all the punishment, and even…” he smiled as he said, “and even work hard to live, so that this punishment will last even longer.”
I looked at that boy, and it was like the first time I’d seen him, as he exuded an unavoidably strong presence.
“Here, I’m being smothered by several pyramids,” he said, smiling as he pointed at his own chest. “With every punishment, it’s as if I can lift up a stone… maybe after I’ve been here for a few hundred years, I’ll finally be able to breathe freely,” he continued, still smiling.
I fell silent. Maybe, not everyone needed a psychologist like I’d thought. Everyone had some sort of pain that no one could rescue them from, but when that pain finally lost its strength, then, their life would expire along with it.
One evening, two weeks later, the news was full of disasters around the world as usual. On that unassuming newsflash for a local car crash, I saw that Mr. Zheng had died in an accident.
In reality, maybe there are a lot of things that no one will ever know.
No one will know that the Kim Suho who’d been pushed into the mirror had said in a raspy voice, “there’s noise coming from the basement.”
No one will know that on that final visit, Kris had said to me quietly, with his head lowered, “actually, that trampoline, I think I only touched it a bit.”
No one will know that German jewellery giant Wellendorf, in 2014, released a limited edition set of rings, that were split into three layers that spun against each other, and that they could easily be rearranged into a fixed design. And as to the inside of that arrangement, it was a simple German word, written in cursive: Liebe.
And, there definitely wouldn’t be anyone who will know that in the winter of 2010, Zhang Yixing finally bought that black and white Tissot watch he had his eye on, and on the back of the watch was engraved a single line: it only stops when you fall in love.