Chapter 87

Then no one spoke.

Xiang Mingqi couldn't wait to ask the follow-up: "Brother, did you agree to him?" The voice sounded muffled.

"No."

He almost jumped up and nearly threw Pei Huai off his back into the mud pit: "Yeah, yeah, yeah, why? Because his appearance doesn't meet your aesthetic standards, so rounding it off means he's not as good as me?"

"Why did you agree?"

"Oh, that's right, brother. You don't look like someone who can be easily won over. It took me a long time to even improve your attitude towards me. How many times has he confessed to you?"

"I can't remember."

“Is that more or less than me?”

"many."

The brown-haired man drooped. "How about I write you more love letters? Can I compare to him?" Unable to get a response from Pei Huai, he began to think wildly, coming up with a thousand possibilities, which were then ruthlessly eliminated one by one. When his thoughts jumped to the last one, his voice faded. "Brother, you didn't choose me because my IQ is similar to his, right..."

"Be better."

"But that doesn't comfort me at all!"

They walked up the mountainside, and toward the latter half, Pei Huai, driven to despair, was forced to continue. He had indeed personally gone to Mo An's house that day to reject his confession and solemnly declare that he didn't want any more relationships than friendships. Mo An looked hurt, his dark eyes revealing embarrassment and helplessness. He flipped the paper over and continued writing, his strokes trembling with embarrassment on the page.

He wrote [Why?] and then [Do I hate myself? I'm sorry. You must be wrong.]

【sorry. 】

[Please forgive me, please don't hate me.] These paragraphs are not only riddled with errors and omissions, but also completely incomprehensible. Pei Huai reluctantly pulled the manuscript from his sweaty hands and wrote [I don't hate you] in the lower right corner. He then said nothing more.

After that, he deliberately kept his distance. Mo An, not knowing what to do, stubbornly waited for him downstairs at the office and at the fast food restaurant. Sometimes, as soon as the ship owner finished counting the cargo at the dock, he would come running to give him roses woven from scraps of wool and paper cranes folded from candy wrappers.

He was always begging.

I'm not a liar.

【I want, I like you. 】

You won't cause me much trouble.

【I just like you. 】

Under the instigation of his colleagues, Pei Huai was forced to accept the gifts.

He didn't know what to do to make Mo An give up.

Things took a turn for the worse during the intermittently sunny and rainy plum rain season. The air was hot and sticky, and even a few breaths felt like the polyester fabric clinging to my skin. The dampness had persisted for nearly two weeks, and Pei Huai's commissions for the month coincided with field work, leaving him out early and returning late, working non-stop shifts. On this rare day off, Mo An, with no work to do and no regard for his presence, came to his dorm to deliver lunch.

Pei Huai was feeling down and wanted to close the door, but when he turned around, he felt a sharp pain in his temples and his vision went black. He twisted his ankle on the dustpan by the door, and Mo An held him by the waist and pulled him into his arms. Only then did he realize that his legs felt heavy as if they were filled with lead, and he couldn't straighten his calves. Judging by the dizziness, it must be a fever.

Mo An panicked, missing several steps with a flustered look. He wrapped his clothes around Pei Huai and carried him to the bed, taking his temperature with his palm. Pei Huai rarely fell ill, and when he did, it was usually on his day off after work. He was particularly prone to colds when he relaxed. He was also difficult to care for when he was sick. He wouldn't eat anything, like porridge, sweet corn paste, or vegetable soup. He kept turning his head, his eyelids and cheekbones red from the fever, his lips clenched tightly, and he occasionally let out a breathless whimper.

Looking at him this way, Mo An realized that his collarbone was obviously sunken, his neck line was thin, and he looked too fragile.

"Would you like some soaked rice?" He touched his burning forehead anxiously.

"don't want."

"You haven't eaten anything since this morning." He spoke Chinese in his usual disjointed way. "You know how to cook rice. Go ahead and do it. I'll wait."

There was no way to stop him. Mo An rushed downstairs, brought back two large bags of things, and went in and out of the kitchen and bathroom. Soon, he hurriedly brought out a small bowl of mung bean porridge, cooled it, and tried to offer it to him. Unfortunately, Pei Huai was dizzy at the sight of heat, so he turned his face away resolutely.

"It's not hot." Mo An said.

Pei Huai didn't want to pay attention to him.

"This disease will make you sick."

Frustrated by the lack of improvement in his poorly chosen words over the past two or three months, Pei Huai opened his eyes and swallowed hard. He hoped he would be quieter next.

"Sister." Seeing that he was willing to eat, Mo An was so excited that he started talking nonsense, "That's it, dead like you."

"Can you please stop speaking Chinese?" The main reason is that his Chinese language is messy, sometimes like he's doing it on purpose, leaving people speechless. While that's not his intention, it's more of a headache to hear.

"Yes. Okay, thank you."

“…”

My head really hurts.

The illness was like a mountain falling on him, and Pei Huai had lost his appetite. But after being disturbed like this, he felt at ease and didn't care. He let him feed him porridge while he listened to his stories in broken Chinese. Mo An pointed to the window facing the sea and said that his home was in that direction and he could get there by sleeping on the deck. Pei Huai told him that was North America.

"Is it far?" he asked sincerely.

"Just barely."

Mo An's every gesture was filled with joy. He explained that his parents used to work as car washers on a border crossing. Their garage was made of sheet metal, and the prices were cheaper than at other car washes, so people were drawn to them. He had a clever sister, and back then, they were both too young to attend school. At this point, he lowered his head, twisting his fingers, and said dejectedly that he had never been to school.

Because on my sister's birthday, someone broke in with a gun and burned down their car wash, taking away my father and many valuable things in the store. There were two or three particularly valuable cars in the garage at the time, which were severely damaged, which left them with a huge debt.

Dad didn't come back. They waited all night and cried all night. But Mom might have known something. At dawn the next day, she found a man at the dock, paid a large sum of money, and asked them to board the ship and leave together.

The boat was small, rowed with oars, and packed with terrified compatriots. It sank and sank in the rough waves, creating tiny white ripples.

That day, he saw bodies hanging and burning on the dock. That was Dad.

That day, my sister ate a can of moldy beans and started to run a high fever that wouldn't go away.

That day, the ship stopped.

That was also his last day. He stood up from the rocking of the boat, placed himself in front of his mother and dying sister, and held the boat owner's withered hand.

He asked him, "Where will they go?"

"A safe place."

"Is there food?"

"have."

"Will there be quilts, pillows, and a change of clothes?"

"have."

“Is there a school there?”

"have."

He then asked him, “Where would I go then?”

The captain turned around and looked at his young face without answering.

By the time the story was over, the bowl of mung bean porridge was almost empty. Mo An bit the spoon, responsible for eating the few lotus seeds that Pei Huai had picked out. He was so happy that he jumped up and asked for a second bowl. "You can't drink it anymore," Pei Huai called out to him.

Mo An, who didn't know what resistance was, obediently put down the bowl and spoon, sat on the edge of the bed, and stretched out his hand to his forehead. He didn't know why, but looking at the blinking brown eyes, Pei Huai hooked his finger.

As expected, he came over obediently.

Pei Huai didn't look at him, his eyelashes drooping as if escaping. He just told his story very slowly. As he was talking, Mo An suddenly leaned over and hugged him tightly with both arms.

It's very tight, with a determination that makes it impossible to escape.

"What are you doing."

"I like you."

“…Don’t answer irrelevant questions.”

"I don't want your likes, okay. But please, please let me like them."

"——Please let me be someone who can make you laugh."

Until the end of the story, the sea is still calm, and the sky on the horizon is still high, cloudy, and blue.

This is a world that sweeps away your cries.

-

The rain showed no sign of abating, and it looked as if the stream would dry up tonight. The mud had become soft and slushy, and the moss that clung to it clung to it and swallowed up his sneakers. Every step he took threatened to disorient him.

"So, brother," the listener hesitated, then asked softly, "You're thinking about revenge for him. Does that mean... you still like him a little bit?"

"Maybe."

"Don't try to fool me with that kind of answer." He bit his lip unwillingly. "Although it's true that you look very closed-hearted and love-locked, you're not practicing the ruthless way. Isn't it normal to have some worldly desires? Maybe you're still thinking about him now, right, right..."

Pei Huai felt helpless under his repeated questioning: "Xiang Mingqi, I am responsible for his death."

"But that's not your fault." She wrapped her arms around his knees and lifted him up again, refusing to let him go no matter what. "Here it comes again, here it comes again. I told you long ago that you love to take the blame on yourself."

He didn't want to answer him.

Xiang Mingqi started muttering to himself.

"You were only twelve or thirteen at the time, weren't you? What could a child of your age do? Earning money to support your family is fine, but you also expected to uphold justice and restore the Han Dynasty. Don't even think about it. Your family has been pua-ing you into thinking you have to take responsibility wherever you go."

"But brother, you did nothing wrong."

"I'm serious. Ever since you rescued us from this mountain, you've been taking on unnecessary responsibilities. After leaving home, you could have cut off all ties with your parents and not sent them back a single cent. That way, your uncle might never have found you. But you chose the second option. It's your sense of responsibility again."

He raised his head and looked through the gaps in the trees at the mountains stretching out in the rain.

"Brother, you're always perfect. But sometimes, you really do things too perfectly. Aren't you tired?"

Even though he regretfully didn't hear the answer, he still raised the corner of his mouth, smiled sweetly, and rubbed his senior's thigh: "Brother, you have to stay on my back for a while. Come down the mountain quickly and I'll call you. Otherwise, your shoes and pants will all get dirty. You're a bit of a germaphobe, aren't you?"

Pei Huai closed his eyes as if he hadn't heard: "Xiang Mingqi."

"Um?"

"I prefer the feeling of you being around."

Stopped.

The pointer stopped.

It was as if everything had suddenly stopped, as if the rain had frozen in time, as if everything in the dimensions of time and space had stopped flowing. This moment was the only tranquility I had felt in twenty-two years.

Xiang Mingqi raised his eyes and saw the rugged mountains and the vast sea of ​​clouds through the rain.

See the eternal blue future.