White porcelain jar
Beijing, five days after the tragedy.
Late at night, only a weak and dim light was on in Xiangyang's bedroom.
On the desk in front of the window, there is a white porcelain jar with a delicate texture placed upright. A photo is embedded in the jar. The young man in the photo smiles subtly and warmly.
That's Jin Yu.
Outside the window is an endless sea of lights in the city, and the moonlight is pouring down endlessly, while also embracing this lonely white porcelain jar.
Xiangyang sat quietly on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the jar for a long time, silently looking into Jin Yu's vivid and profound smile in the photo.
My thoughts drifted back to that chaotic night: the screams in the bar, the shattered glass, the glaring red.
The medical staff carried the blood-covered Jin Yu onto a stretcher. The scene is still clearly imprinted in his mind.
So unreal, yet so burningly real.
That night, when the stretcher was about to be carried into the ambulance, Jin Yu, whose consciousness was gradually becoming blurred, stretched out his hand with difficulty and reached out to Xiangyang who was standing beside him, like a drowning man exploring.
Xiangyang's heart tightened, and he stepped forward and held Jin Yu's cold hand tightly with both hands.
"Xiangyang..." Jin Yu's voice was as weak as a candle about to be blown out by the wind, "I'm so tired... I... really... want to go home..."
Back to reality, the bedroom was silent.
Xiangyang stood up and walked slowly towards the desk.
He opened a sandalwood square box that he had prepared in advance, gently and carefully placed the white porcelain jar inside, and closed the lid.
He leaned over and whispered to the wooden box, his tone more gentle than ever before: "It's okay, don't be afraid. Come on, I'll take you home."
At the time, this decision may have seemed like just a promise made on impulse.
Xiang Yang never anticipated how this journey across the strait would tie up the thread of fate, entangle the future of two families, and perhaps even lead to unexpected redemption.
Three days later, evening, Taipei, Wuxing Street.
The alley where the Jin family lives is located next to an undulating slope.
In the small living room, the afterglow of the setting sun slanted through the window, casting long, strange and deformed shadows on the floor, and a depressing silence floated in the atmosphere.
Xiangyang stood in the middle of the living room, holding the heavy sandalwood square box in his hands, with an expression of unconcealable embarrassment and awkwardness.
Jin Chang'an, Jin Yu's father, stood in front of the window with his back to him. The lines on his face were tense, like a stubborn rock, and the chill was oppressive.
Neighbor Yao Fengqin and her daughter Zhao Zhiling were also there, both with anxious and helpless expressions on their faces, but they didn't know how to break the deadlock.
No one asked Xiangyang to sit down, and no one gestured for him to put down the box in his hand.
He held it like that, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.
"You don't understand what I'm saying, do you?" Jin Changan's voice finally broke the silence, but it was as cold as if it were poisoned. "I'll say it again, he is not my son."
Xiangyang took a deep breath and spoke as sincerely as possible, "Uncle Jin, Jin Yu has had a very hard time in Beijing. He's only been able to keep going because he misses Taipei and his family..."
"When did he die?" Jin Changan turned around abruptly, his eyes sharp and cold, his face frozen.
"March 30th."
"Then you're mistaken." Jin Changan's mouth curled into an almost cruel sneer, "My son died three years ago."
Xiangyang's heart sank, but he still tried to communicate: "Uncle Jin, Jin Yu often told me that when he was a child, you took him to the distant mountains to find a teacher for violin lessons..."
"Get out!" Jin Changan suddenly roared, his face flushed red, veins popping out of his forehead, "Where did you come from, you bastard! What nonsense are you talking about here! Get out!"
"Uncle Jin, fallen leaves return to their roots..."
"Get out!" Jin Changan roared even louder, filled with desperate anger, "You disgraceful thing! You deserve to die!"
Yao Fengqin, who was standing aside, couldn't bear to listen any longer. She rushed forward and pushed Jin Changan hard. Her eyes turned red instantly and tears welled up in her eyes.
"Jin Changan! Shut your damn mouth!" Her voice trembled, filled with anger and heartache.
Xiangyang looked at the situation that was almost out of control and knew that it would be useless to continue talking.
He lowered his head and carefully placed the sandalwood box into his travel bag, carrying it across his chest, his hands still subconsciously protecting that area.
He raised his head and looked at Jin Changan with a complicated expression. "Uncle Jin, I...will take my leave first."
He turned around and walked out silently.
Zhao Zhiling, who had been silent all the time, glanced at Jin Changan who was standing stiffly there, then glanced at Yao Fengqin, bit her lip, and quickly followed Xiangyang out.
In the living room, Jin Changan remained with his back to the door, motionless, as if even looking at the departing figure and the ashes he took away would be a sin.
Yao Fengqin looked at his stubborn back, her voice trembling with excitement: "Jin Changan, don't do anything that will make you regret for the rest of your life!"
No one saw that in the last rays of the setting sun, Jin Changan had his back to everyone, with silent tears streaming down his face.
Outside the Jin family’s door, on the slope.
Zhao Zhiling trotted to catch up with Xiangyang who was striding away.
"Mr. Xiang..." She called him, walked up to him, and panted slightly, "Would you mind... leaving me your contact information? Give... give Uncle Jin some time, let him..."
Xiangyang stopped and showed a helpless smile on his face.
"I understand." He pulled out the hotel business card he had prepared from his pocket and handed it over. "This is the hotel I'm staying in, room 612. I'll come back when he's calmer."
"Thank you for your hard work." Zhao Zhiling took the business card, her eyes fell on the travel bag on Xiangyang's chest, her voice choked, "Are you Jin Yu's... boyfriend?"
Xiang Yang was slightly startled, then shook his head gently, a bitter smile on his face, with an indescribable melancholy: "Just a friend, a very close friend."
Zhao Zhiling reached out and gently stroked the cold travel bag, through the cloth and wooden box, as if she wanted to touch the old friend inside.
The tears could no longer be controlled and flowed down like a dam bursting.
Xiang Yang reached out his hand and gently patted her shoulder, his voice low and gentle: "Don't worry, I will take good care of him. I'm leaving first."
He nodded, turned around, and walked towards the road at the bottom of the slope thoughtfully.
The setting sun stretched his shadow very long, and his back was embossed with an indescribable desolation and compassion.
At this moment, Jin Cang, who received a call from Zhao Zhiling and rushed home anxiously, rushed up from the bottom of the slope like a whirlwind.
His face was pale, his eyes were red, and he stared at the direction of his home, full of anxiety, and did not even notice Xiangyang who passed by him.
Xiangyang also lowered his head, immersed in his own thoughts, and also did not notice the running young man.
Just like that, one going up and the other going down, on the slope in the evening, they hastily missed the first encounter in each other's lives.
Xiangyang's figure had already walked quite far away, but Zhao Zhiling still stood there, following him with her eyes until he disappeared around the corner of the slope.
Jin Cang rushed to the door and saw Zhao Zhiling with tears streaming down her face. His heart suddenly tightened. "Sister Zhiling, what's wrong? My dad..."
Zhao Zhiling pointed in the direction Xiangyang left, and said a few words to Jin Cang quickly in an anxious and tearful voice.
As Jin Cang listened, the color on his face instantly faded away and turned pale.
He didn't even have time to digest the sudden bad news before his body reacted instinctively.
Without saying a word, he turned around and ran in the direction where Xiangyang disappeared.
He used all his strength and rushed down the slope like a leopard running for its life.
Jin Cang chased the blurry figure and rushed down the bumpy, moss-covered slope of Wuxing Street.
The setting sun had completely sunk into the horizon and the sky was rapidly getting dark.
The streetlights on both sides of the slope lit up one by one, and the bright light made his shadow stretch and shorten, just like his frantic heartbeat at the moment.
Xiangyang turned a corner on the slope, and Jin Cang suddenly lost sight of him.
Jin Cang's heart tightened and he walked faster, almost stumbling.
He turned the corner and his vision suddenly became clear. He just happened to see Xiangyang coming down the slope and hailing a yellow taxi on the side of the road.
The car door opened, and Xiangyang bent down to get in. The yellow car body quickly merged into the traffic flow on the street, turned on the taillights, and sped away.
"Brother...Brother...Jin Yu!" Jin Cang ran forward desperately, screaming at the top of his lungs. His voice became hoarse and broken due to rapid breathing and great sadness, and trembled with despair.
He ran to the side of the road and stopped where Xiangyang had just stood. He watched the taxi merge into the river of cars and finally disappear into the falling night.
All the strength and motivation to run seemed to be drained away in an instant.
His legs went weak and he fell heavily to his knees on the cold roadside.
The tears could no longer be held back and burst out.
He lowered his head, his broad shoulders trembling violently. The grief that had been suppressed for a long time burst out like a mountain torrent. He could no longer hold back and burst into tears.
"Brother...Brother...you're finally back..."
His cries echoed in the desolate night, carrying with them the endless sorrow and the longing that had accumulated over three years.
The brother who had no news from me came back, but he became a cold porcelain jar in the hands of a strange man.
That was his brother whom he missed day and night, who had returned from the ends of the earth where he had exiled himself.
Now, they are in the same city, breathing the same air, so close, yet so far away.
It's so close, yet feels like a world away.
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