First meeting
For Xiangyang, the night in Taipei seems endless at this moment, like a huge whirlpool that never stops sinking.
No matter how hard the neon lights outside the window flashed, they could not illuminate the desolate dust in his heart caused by sadness. Jin Yu's "home" was more unfamiliar than he had ever imagined. Jin Yu's "return home" was far more difficult than he could have imagined?
He had just showered and was still damp. He changed into the hotel's soft bathrobe and sat alone by the window. He took a sip of the whiskey in his hand, and the spicy liquor slid down his throat, leaving a slight burning pain.
The urn was quietly placed on the low table by the window. Under the deliberately dimmed yellow light in the room, there was a porcelain photo of Jin Yu on the urn. His smile was still bright, but it was also so dazzling that it seemed like a mockery, making Xiangyang feel stuffy in his chest.
He stared at it, unable to tell whether he was sighing or something else, but he felt an indescribable depression in his heart.
Knock, knock, knock——
A sudden, light knock on the door broke the silence in the room.
Xiangyang put down his wine glass and walked towards the door in surprise.
Who could it be, it's so late? Through the peephole, he saw the guilty face of the hotel customer service manager and a staggering, unsteady figure behind him. It was Jin Changan.
As the door opened, the customer service manager looked apologetic, with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and was trying to support an old man who reeked of alcohol in a somewhat awkward manner.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Xiang," the customer service manager said, his voice lowered to a helpless tone. "This gentleman insisted on going upstairs, saying he knew you... He rushed up so fast that our colleagues couldn't stop him. We didn't have time to call the internal line to confirm with you."
Xiangyang recognized at a glance that it was Jin Changan, whom he had met once at the Jin family during the day.
But at this moment, his eyes were red and swollen, and his steps were staggering, a stark contrast to the tough and stern person he was during the day. He noticed that Jin Changan was tightly clutching a piece of paper in his hand, damp with sweat and wrinkled at the corners. It was the hotel business card he had left for Zhao Zhiling that day.
"It's okay, we know each other. Thank you for your hard work." Xiangyang took over and signaled the manager to leave.
The customer service manager breathed a sigh of relief, nodded repeatedly to Xiangyang and apologized, then quickly left.
Before Xiangyang could speak, Jin Changan stumbled into the room, one foot high and one foot low.
He was like a trapped beast that was injured and disoriented. He looked around in the spacious suite with a dazed look in his eyes, hesitating and mumbling something incoherently.
"Uncle Jin, you've drunk too much," Xiang Yang hurried forward, trying to support his shaky body, "Please sit down first, I'll pour you a glass of water."
"Give it back to me!" Jin Changan suddenly shook off his hand, his voice hoarse, with a strong nasal tone and the pungent smell of alcohol, almost roaring.
"You said...?" Xiangyang didn't react for a moment.
"Give my son back to me!" Jin Chang'an roared in grief, turbid tears bursting out uncontrollably, running down his old face.
Xiangyang's heart trembled, and he understood instantly. He turned quickly and took the urn from the table by the window. On the urn, Jin Yu's portrait was still smiling.
"This...Jin Yu." He carefully handed the urn to Jin Changan.
Jin Changan stretched out his trembling hands and hugged the urn tightly in his arms, as if it was a rare treasure that had been lost and found again, and he was afraid that if he let go, it would turn into smoke again.
"You're back... You're finally back... I've been waiting for you, every day... I've been worried about you every day..." He murmured to himself, tears dripping onto the cold body, his voice choked with sobs.
Xiang Yang supported him and led him to sit on the sofa. "Uncle Jin, please sit down first."
As soon as Jin Changan sat down, he lowered his head and gazed deeply at the urn in his arms, and his tears flowed even more.
"I'm glad you're back... Don't be afraid, Daddy's here... Don't be afraid, I'm glad you're back..."
His voice grew lower and lower, thick with nasal twang, and gradually, he fell into a deep sleep on the sofa, hugging the urn. A soft snore could be heard, and his face was still stained with tears.
Xiangyang stood quietly by, watching the scene in front of him, feeling mixed emotions and indescribable bitterness in his heart.
At this moment, the cell phone in Jin Changan's old coat pocket suddenly rang, and the ringtone was deafening in the silent room.
Xiangyang was afraid of waking him up, so he hurried forward, quietly took out his cell phone from his pocket, and walked to the entrance a little further away before answering the call.
"Hello..." He lowered his voice deliberately, "Yes, I'm Xiangyang... Uncle Jin is here with me, he's very drunk... Okay, come up, room 612."
After hanging up the phone, Xiangyang breathed a sigh of relief.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Xiangyang took a deep breath and walked over to open the door.
Standing outside the door was Jin Cang, who was breathing rapidly and sweating profusely, and Zhao Zhiling, who also looked extremely anxious, beside him.
Suddenly, when Xiangyang saw Jin Cang's face clearly, his heart seemed to be tightly grasped by an invisible hand.
He was so familiar with this face.
For nearly two hundred days and nights, he had shared countless secrets and thoughts with this face on his mobile phone screen and computer screen.
The boy in the photo has single eyelids, thin lips, and a bit of unruly coolness between his eyebrows. But when he smiles, the whole world can instantly brighten up, like a ray of light.
However, at this moment, this vivid, warm face appeared before his eyes, but those familiar eyes were filled with complete strangeness, anxiety, and undisguised...hostility.
Xiangyang was a little dazed for a moment. He stood at the door, at a loss, as if there were thousands of mountains and rivers between him, life and death, and an unspeakable huge misunderstanding between them.
"Is that you?" Jin Cang's voice was a little unsteady due to his rapid breathing. His eyes were bloodshot and tears were swirling in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He grabbed Xiang Yang by the collar, his young body full of strength. The force was so great that Xiang Yang took a step back and almost fell.
"What on earth happened to my brother?!" He practically yelled, his voice trembling slightly with excitement. "Is this how you take care of your boyfriend? So far away in such cold Beijing... what on earth did you... let him endure all by himself?!"
Every word and sentence was like a red-hot iron, burning Xiangyang's heart, leaving him unable to refute and powerless to argue.
Zhao Zhiling's face changed when she saw this. She quickly stepped forward and grabbed Jin Cang's arm. "Cang, calm down! You misunderstood. Mr. Xiang...he is not Dayu's boyfriend."
Upon hearing this, Jin Cang loosened his grip on Xiangyang's collar slightly, but the anger and doubt in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.
He stared at Xiangyang intently, his eyes full of scrutiny and distrust, as if he wanted to slam him to death against the wall.
"Where's my dad?" He turned around, his eyes quickly scanning the room. He immediately saw his father sleeping on the sofa, holding the urn. He immediately shook off Xiangyang and strode over. "Dad! Dad!"
Xiang Yang followed and whispered, "He's asleep. Let him have some good sleep. You can rest here tonight. I'll get another room..."
"No need." Jin Cang interrupted him rudely, his voice cold and devoid of any warmth. He gently patted Jin Changan's cheek, "Dad, Dad, wake up... We're going home."
Jin Changan slowly opened his sleepy eyes, looked at Jin Cang hazily, and a reassuring smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Jin Cang carefully and gently took the urn from his father's arms. After just one look, his eyes quickly turned red.
He took a deep breath, holding back the tears welling up in his eyes, and quickly handed the urn to Zhao Zhiling who was standing beside him.
Zhao Zhiling took the urn, and Xiangyang handed her the dark sandalwood box at the right time. She carefully placed the urn inside and closed the lid.
Jin Cang said no more, bent down, and skillfully carried his unconscious father onto his broad back.
Jin Changan's body was heavy, but he carried it steadily, his young back straight.
Jin Cang, a tall figure, carried his father on his back, turned around and walked out the door. Zhao Zhiling, holding the wooden box containing the urn, followed him silently.
As they passed by Xiangyang, Jin Changan leaned on his son's back and murmured drowsily, "Ah Cang, do you know? Your brother... your brother is back..."
Jin Cang didn't stop walking, his voice was extremely gentle: "Yes, Dad, brother is back. Let's go home together, we all go home."
Xiangyang stood there, watching them prepare to leave. His throat moved, as if something was blocking it, and he couldn't make a sound. He suddenly opened his mouth and called out, "A Cang."
The voice was not loud, but it carried an inexplicable familiarity, as if he had called this name countless times, on countless lonely nights, facing the cold screen.
Jin Cang paused for a moment. He did not turn around completely, but just turned his head slightly and glanced at Xiangyang out of the corner of his eye. His eyes were cold and distant, as if he was looking at a stranger who had no sense of existence.
"Thank you for your hard work." Jin Cang's voice was flat, without any emotion, and every word was filled with rejection. "Thank you for your kindness. I won't trouble you again."
After he finished speaking, Jin Cang did not stop. He carried his father on his back and strode towards the elevator.
Zhao Zhiling nodded slightly to Xiangyang as a greeting, and quickly followed him.
The elevator door opened and closed, and the cold metal door panel completely swallowed their figures.
Xiangyang stood alone in the empty room, Jin Cang's hostile eyes and cold tone still lingering in his mind.
He looked at the closed elevator door, his chest feeling tight and anxious, with many words stuck in his throat, but he couldn't tell clearly what he wanted to say to him.
He knew that at this moment, Jin Cang's heart was full of misunderstanding and resentment towards him.
Are you my brother's boyfriend? Why didn't you take good care of him? How could you let such a tragedy happen? Although Jin Cang didn't say these questions out loud, his angry and hurt eyes said it all.
He didn't even want to look at himself any longer, as if if he did, he would be forced to imagine his brother's three years of lonely wandering in Beijing and the unknown suffering he endured.
Xiangyang leaned against the cold wall. He stretched out his hand and rubbed his eyebrows tiredly.
This was his first real encounter with Jin Cang.
The same face once expressed the joys and sorrows in life that no one else could share, and the frustrations and joys hidden deep in the heart.
He thought he was already familiar with every subtle expression on that face and the soul represented by that name.
However, when this face, with its fresh breath and warm body temperature, really appeared before him, behind it was a completely different world.
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