Going abroad
As the year draws to a close, the air, besides the chill, is gradually filled with other things—the aroma of frying meatballs, the festive songs playing on a loop in supermarkets, and the red lanterns hanging at the entrance of residential areas. Every household is preparing for that most important night of the year.
Fang Chi's family was no exception. His mother started cleaning early in the morning, directing Fang Chi to climb up and down to wipe the windows, until his arms ached from exhaustion. The living room was piled high with New Year's goods: nuts, candies, various brightly packaged gift boxes, and cases of drinks, a dazzling sight.
Fang Chi finished wiping the last pane of glass, jumped off the stool, and rubbed his lower back. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw it was the small group chat that had been silent for several days. The group name was originally "Competition Assault Team," but He Chen changed it to "Sleepless on New Year's Eve," and it only had the four of them in it: Fang Chi, Xing Jiayan, He Chen, and Tan Si.
The message was sent by He Chen.
[He Chen]: @All members! How's the New Year's shopping going? Haven't you forgotten our grand New Year's Eve plan?
[Tan Si]: No. Location?
[He Chen]: The usual place, Jia Yan's house. Spacious, no one bothers us. Didn't the auntie say she might not be back for the New Year because of a business trip? @Xing Jia Yan, right, Brother Yan?
Fang Chi stared at the screen for a while before Xing Jiayan's avatar appeared.
[Xing Jiayan]: Hmm. The location is fine.
[He Chen]: Alright! I'll be in charge of bringing the game console and movie discs! Tan Si, you bring the food! Fang Chi, you... you just need to bring one person!
Fang Chi: ...I can bring food too.
[He Chen]: No way! The story of how you almost set the kitchen on fire last time is still circulating! Let's cherish our lives and stay away from Chef Fang.
Fang Chi sent an eye-rolling emoji. The atmosphere in the group chat was relaxed, with people discussing what snacks to buy, what movies to watch, and what games to play. Fang Chi watched Xing Jiayan's occasional brief replies, and the vague anxiety in her heart subsided slightly.
Since that night at Xing Jiayan's house, a delicate balance had been maintained between them. When they bumped into each other at school, they still maintained that lukewarm rivalry, but in the instant their eyes met, something was always different. They contacted each other online more often, mostly discussing problems, but occasionally they would intersperse a few unimportant chatter, such as "It's so cold today" or "This problem is really tricky."
Fang Chi felt more comfortable chatting normally in the group like this now. It was as if the chaos, loss of control, and those passionate words from that night had been temporarily sealed away, waiting for the right opportunity to perhaps be reopened, or perhaps to simply fade away.
He put down his phone and helped his mother spread out the Spring Festival couplets and the character "福" (good fortune) she had bought on the table. The red background and gold characters made the whole room shine.
"By the way, Xiao Chi," Mom asked casually, gesturing where to paste the "Fu" character, "how have you been getting along with Jia Yan lately?"
Fang Chi's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm: "It's nothing special. What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," Mom smiled. "I just think that kid is a good person. It's just that his family situation is a bit special. His mother is raising him alone, which isn't easy. I ran into her a few days ago and we chatted for a bit. She didn't look well lately and seemed very tired."
Fang Chi recalled Xing Jiayan's mother's appearance: capable and elegant, but there was always a faint trace of fatigue between her brows. "Maybe she's busy with work," he replied casually.
"Sigh, even strong women have their difficulties." Mom sighed and didn't say anything more.
Over the next few days, Fang Chi was busy helping his family prepare for the Chinese New Year. He would occasionally chat with Xing Jiayan online, but the conversations were nothing more than "What are you doing?" "Doing a test paper" and "Oh." It was so mundane that he almost doubted whether everything that happened that night had actually occurred.
Until the afternoon of the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month.
Fang Chi was tidying up the bookshelf in his room when his phone rang. It was Xing Jiayan calling. This was a bit unusual; they rarely spoke directly to each other.
He answered: "Hello?"
There was silence on the other end of the phone, only the soft sound of breathing. Fang Chi waited a few seconds: "Xing Jiayan?"
"Hmm." Xing Jiayan's voice came through, low and a little hoarse, the background noise extremely quiet, unlike at home. "What are you doing?"
"Pack your things. What about you?"
“…Nothing.” Another brief silence followed. “Fang Chi.”
"Um?"
“If… I mean if,” Xing Jiayan spoke slowly, as if each word was carefully chosen, “one day, I suddenly go to a very far place and don’t come back for a long time, what will you…”
Before he could finish speaking, he faintly heard a woman's voice coming from the receiver. It was a bit far away, and it sounded like she was calling his name. Her tone sounded a little off.
Xing Jiayan immediately said, "I have something to do, I'll hang up now."
"Wait, you..." Fang Chi's words were cut off before the call was disconnected, leaving only a busy tone.
He stood in front of the bookshelf, phone in hand, a sudden, inexplicable weight settling over him. What had Xing Jiayan meant by that? A very far place? Not coming back for a long time? And that female voice that interrupted him…
He stared at his phone screen, hesitating whether to call back and ask. But in the end, he didn't. Since Xing Jiayan had hung up, it was probably inconvenient for him to say, or... he didn't want to say.
This feeling of being suspended in mid-air was unpleasant. Fang Chi forced himself to continue tidying the bookshelf, but he was somewhat restless. He didn't even notice that he had picked up a book upside down. ...
That evening, he sent a message in that small group.
[Fang Chi]: @Xing Jiayan, you called this afternoon, is there something you need?
The message was sent but disappeared without a trace. It wasn't until after 10 p.m. that Xing Jiayan finally replied.
[Xing Jiayan]: It's okay. The signal was bad, it cut out.
This explanation was perfunctory. Fang Chi stared at the line of text, his unease growing. He wanted to ask again, but felt that pressing the matter would make him seem overly concerned, very... unlike his usual self.
In the end, he only replied with an "Oh." It was the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, the day before Lunar New Year's Eve. Every household was making final preparations, and pedestrians hurried along the streets, carrying large and small bags, their faces beaming with festive joy.
Fang Chi was sent out by his mother to buy the last batch of seasonings. When he came out of the supermarket, the sky was overcast, as if it was going to snow. He carried the bags home, and when he passed the basketball court on the side of the street, he subconsciously stopped.
The basketball court was empty, and the cold wind blew across the bare net. He remembered not long ago, when he had a one-on-one game with Xing Jiayan here, and the man arrogantly said, "Whether it's the basketball court or the exam room, I'll win beautifully." He remembered the deliberate physical collisions and his own embarrassing escape.
Looking back now, it seems so distant.
He shook his head and was about to leave when he suddenly caught a glimpse of someone sitting on a bench at the far end of the stadium.
He was wearing a long black down jacket, the hood pulled low, almost completely obscuring his face. But his posture, his back view…
Fang Chi stopped in his tracks. It was Xing Jiayan.
Why is he sitting here all alone? It's so cold today.
Fang Chi hesitated for a moment, then walked over. The sound of his footsteps startled the people on the bench. Xing Jiayan looked up; his hat had slipped down slightly, revealing half his face. His complexion was very pale, a bloodless white, with faint bluish tinges under his eyes, making him look like he hadn't slept well and even appeared somewhat haggard.
Upon seeing Fang Chi, he was visibly taken aback, then tugged at the corners of his mouth as if trying to laugh, but failed, only managing a somewhat stiff arc.
“Skillful,” he said, his voice hoarse.
"Hmm." Fang Chi sat down next to him, a person's distance between them. The cold metal bench sent a chill through his trousers. "What are you doing here? Aren't you cold?"
Xing Jiayan didn't answer, his gaze falling on the empty stadium. After a long while, he said, "Peaceful."
The two sat in silence for a while. A cold wind blew, swirling up a few withered leaves from the ground. The atmosphere became somewhat tense.
"You..." Fang Chi began, but didn't know what to ask. Should she ask him what he hadn't finished saying on the phone yesterday? Should she ask him why he looked so tired? Should she ask him if something had happened at home?
The words circled on his lips a few times before finally settling on: "Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, is everything ready?"
Xing Jiayan gave a soft "hmm".
“He Chen said he’d bring the new game, and Tan Si said his mom made a lot of braised food…” Fang Chi tried to lighten his tone, “Don’t drink as much as you did on your birthday last time.”
Xing Jiayan finally turned her head and glanced at him. Her eyes were deep, filled with emotions that Fang Chi couldn't understand, so complex that they made his heart pound.
"Fang Chi," Xing Jiayan called his name.
"Um?"
Xing Jiayan stared at him for a long time, so long that Fang Chi almost thought time had stopped. Then, he reached out, seemingly wanting to touch Fang Chi's face or hand, but stopped abruptly just before touching him, his fingers curling up and retracting.
He looked away, returning his gaze to the court, his voice low and almost a whisper: "If... I can't go tomorrow, will you... be a little disappointed?"
Fang Chi's heart skipped a beat. "Why can't you go? Isn't your mother away on a business trip? Is there something wrong at home?"
Xing Jiayan shook his head, offering no explanation, only repeating, "If."
Fang Chi pursed his lips. Looking at Xing Jiayan's pale profile and tightly pressed lips, a strong unease gripped his heart. He suddenly didn't want to hear any "what ifs"; he wanted a definite answer.
"Xing Jiayan," Fang Chi's voice also lowered, with a tension he himself didn't realize, "What's wrong with you? Did something happen? Tell me."
Xing Jiayan's body trembled almost imperceptibly. He took a deep breath, letting the cold air enter his lungs, and then slowly exhaled, forming a cloud of white mist in front of him.
"It's nothing," he finally said, his voice losing its usual calm and even carrying a hint of feigned ease. "It was just a casual question. I'll go tomorrow."
He stood up and dusted himself off: "It's too cold, let's go back."
Fang Chi also stood up and looked at him: "Are you really alright?"
"What could possibly happen?" Xing Jiayan pulled his hat up, obscuring most of his expression. "I'm leaving. See you tomorrow."
After he finished speaking, he turned and left quickly without looking back.
Fang Chi stood there, watching his figure disappear around the street corner. The unease in his heart did not dissipate; instead, it grew bigger and bigger like a snowball.
He slowly walked home, carrying the spice bag. Fine snowflakes finally began to fall, landing on his face, feeling icy cold.
See you tomorrow.
He silently repeated those three words to himself, trying to draw some certainty from them.
However, some cracks have already spread silently, waiting only for a trigger to burst open.
When Xing Jiayan returned home, it was completely dark. The house was silent, with no lights on. He leaned against the wall in the entryway, neither taking off his shoes nor turning on the lights, and stood there in the darkness for a long time.
In the afternoon at the stadium, when he saw Fang Chi walking over, he almost used all his strength to restrain himself from grabbing him immediately and from pouring out his turbulent emotions.
He cannot.
A very faint sob came from the direction of the living room, suppressed and intermittent.
Xing Jiayan closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned on the light.
The light dispelled the darkness and illuminated the living room. His mother sat on the sofa, her back to him, her shoulders trembling slightly. Her usually meticulously combed hair was somewhat disheveled, and she was still wearing the elegant suit she wore during the day, but the coat was carelessly tossed aside, giving her an unprecedented air of dejection.
Several pieces of paper were scattered on the coffee table, along with a cell phone with a cracked screen.
Hearing the noise, the mother turned around abruptly. Her eyes were red and swollen, her makeup was ruined, and her exhaustion and sadness were no longer concealed. Seeing Xing Jiayan, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but tears fell first.
“Jiayan…” Her voice was terribly hoarse.
Xing Jiayan walked over and sat down beside her. He didn't snuggle into her arms like he did when they were children; he just sat there in silence. He looked at the papers on the coffee table. The top one was a transaction record for an overseas account, with huge sums and frequent transfers pointing to the same name. Below were several blurry photos of a familiar middle-aged man with his arm around a young woman's waist in an intimate pose in front of a hotel.
The evidence is conclusive and undeniable.
He had a premonition. His father was coming home less and less often, always hanging up the phone abruptly, and becoming increasingly impatient with his mother. The cold, false peace in the house was already crumbling.
I just didn't expect the collapse to come so suddenly and so ugly.
The mother spoke haltingly, her words incoherent. She recounted how she discovered it, how she investigated, how they confronted each other, and how the other party coldly and even self-righteously admitted it and filed for divorce.
“He said… he said all I care about is work, your achievements, and that this home has lost its warmth… he said he’s tired…” The mother cried, her voice filled with self-doubt and despair. “Jiayan, was Mom wrong? Mom worked so hard, wanting to give you the best, wanting you to be better than everyone else, was that wrong?”
Xing Jiayan listened with a blank expression, but his hands, hanging by his sides, had nails digging deep into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped red marks that throbbed with pain.
He didn't answer his mother's question. Right or wrong, at this moment, were meaningless. Broken things cannot be pieced back together.
“He…he wants that woman, and…they seem to have had a child abroad already…” The mother almost broke down in tears. “He wants a divorce, right now. He’s already transferred most of the assets…Jiayan, what are we going to do?”
Xing Jiayan reached out and gently put his arm around his mother's trembling shoulders. This woman, who was always strong and impeccably made up, was now as fragile as a piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.
“Mom,” he said, his voice unusually calm, even frighteningly calm, “let’s get a divorce.”
His mother looked up at him with tearful eyes.
“There’s no point in maintaining this marriage,” Xing Jiayan continued, her gaze falling on the unsavory photos and bank statements. “I’ll fight for as much property as I can, and if I can’t, so be it. I have scholarships, and I can earn my own money in the future.”
"But...but your studies, your future..." His mother grabbed his hand as if it were a lifeline. "You're about to be admitted to a top university through a special program..."
“It’s the same no matter where you study.” Xing Jiayan interrupted her, her tone carrying an undeniable determination. “Mom, let’s leave here.”
The mother was stunned: "Leave? Where to?"
Xing Jiayan remained silent for a moment. This afternoon, after receiving a tearful phone call from his mother and seeing the evidence, he sat alone on the basketball court, lost in thought for a long time. Anger, shame, disappointment, and a chilling sense of relief all intertwined within him. But finally, one thought became clear.
He didn't want to stay here. He didn't want to face the rumors every day, he didn't want to see anything related to that person, he didn't want... Fang Chi to see such a shameful side of his family.
“Singapore,” he said, uttering the name that had long lingered in his mind. His mother’s company had a branch there, and she had been offered a posting there, but had declined due to his studies.
Looking at his young yet resolute face, the mother felt as if she were truly seeing her son for the first time. The son who was always silent, outstanding, and made her proud, yet also felt somewhat distant, did not break down or complain when the family suddenly collapsed. Instead, he calmly planned a way out for her and for them.
She suddenly realized how unsuccessful and yet how fortunate she was as a mother.
"What about your student status, your eligibility for admission without examination..." she still hesitated.
“I will handle it,” Xing Jiayan said. “Singapore’s educational resources are quite good. I can apply to universities there directly, or we can talk about it later.” He paused, then added, “The sooner the better.”
Seeing the determination in his eyes, his mother finally nodded, tears welling up again, but this time, they seemed to carry something else.
"Okay...okay...Mom will listen to you."
Once a decision was made, things progressed with astonishing speed. My mother displayed another side of herself as a career woman, decisive and efficient. The next day was the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month, Lunar New Year's Eve.
Xing Jiayan woke up very early, or rather, he had barely slept all night. He quietly packed his luggage. Books, notebooks, competition medals, a few frequently worn clothes, a laptop... not much stuff, one suitcase would be enough.
He picked up his phone, and on the screen was the group chat for "sleepless New Year's Eve people." The latest message was still from yesterday when He Chen was clamoring about what snacks he wanted to bring.
His finger hovered above the screen for a long time, but he ultimately didn't tap it.
He walked to the window and looked at the sky gradually brightening outside. Fine snow was still falling, draping the world in a pale veil. This city, where he had lived for over a decade, seemed unusually quiet and unfamiliar on this morning that should have been the most lively and warm.
My phone vibrated; it was a private message from Fang Chi.
[Fang Chi]: Are you awake? What time are you going over tonight? Is there anything I can bring you?
As Xing Jiayan stared at the words, he could almost see Fang Chi on the other side of the screen, his expression a mixture of barely perceptible anticipation and nervousness. His heart felt like it had been twisted hard, a dull ache spreading through him.
He typed a few words, then deleted them. He typed again, then deleted again. In the end, he only replied with three words:
[Xing Jiayan]: See you tonight.
Then, he turned off his phone.
His mother knocked on his door. Her eyes were still swollen, but she had already redone her makeup, changed into a smart suit, and was holding her passport and plane ticket. "Jiayan, are you all packed? The car will be here soon. We need to get to the airport early; the procedures might be a bit complicated."
"Okay." Xing Jiayan zipped up the suitcase.
He took one last look around the room. Several posters of physics formulas were pasted on the walls, the bookshelves were crammed with various competition reference books, and the empty mineral water bottle that Fang Chi had left there that day still sat on the corner of the table.
Everything will remain here.
He pulled his suitcase, walked out of the room, and closed the door.
The car had arrived downstairs. The driver helped put the luggage in the trunk. The mother got into the car, looking at the home she had lived in for many years with a complicated expression.
Xing Jiayan stood by the car and looked back one last time. Snowflakes fell on his black down jacket, quickly melting and leaving dark water stains.
He recalled the genuine worry in Fang Chi's clear eyes when Fang Chi asked him on the court yesterday, "Are you really okay?"
He remembered that night in the dark room, when Fang Chi hugged him, the slight yet firm strength in his arms.
He recalled countless moments from earlier times, in the library, in the classroom, and on forums, where the two of them were both sharp-tongued and perfectly in sync.
"Jiayan?" his mother called from inside the car.
Xing Jiayan abruptly looked away, opened the car door, and got in.
Let's go.
The car slowly drove away, crunching over the thin layer of snow, leaving two clear tire tracks, which were quickly covered by new snowflakes.
The streetscape outside the car window rushed past, familiar shops, schools, basketball courts... one by one. The city was slowly waking up, preparing to welcome its New Year's Eve.
Xing Jiayan leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
The phone was in my pocket, as quiet as a cold stone.
I'm sorry, Fang Chi.
He said it silently to himself.
I'm going to break my promise tonight.
And this parting is a long and arduous journey, with no one knowing when we will meet again.
The snowflakes fell silently, covering the traces of departure and concealing all the unspoken farewells.
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