25

Today was the eve before New Year's Eve. The moment Xu Yan stepped out of the studio after wrapping, he saw Xu Nian squatting by the car, lying in wait—on his birthday Xu Yan had promised him he'd come home tonight and kneel before their parents.

'It's this cold, can't you wait in the car?' Xu Yan pulled open the back door and set the camera inside.

'Can't I come out and look around?' Xu Nian asked back, squinting at him.

Lu Sen's car was parked beside them too. He walked over: 'Little Boss Xu moonlighting as a driver after work?'

'Yeah, supplementing the household.' Xu Nian answered.

Lu Sen said nothing, reached out to fix Xu Nian's scarf. Xu Nian looked at him seriously, then suddenly asked: 'You—do you have time during Spring Festival?'

'What is it?' Lu Sen asked.

Xu Nian said: 'I'm short a photographer for my Wedding Ceremony.'

Xu Yan kicked him straight in the shin: 'Is your brain clogged with shit? Getting Tide's top photographer to shoot a wedding?'

'Does your company have a rule that photographers can't do weddings!' Xu Nian angrily patted the footprint on his pant leg, talking confidently: 'I'll pay by the minute, whatever the price!'

Xu Yan couldn't be bothered to argue with an idiot.

'No rule, can do it.' Lu Sen smiled. 'But on the third of the first lunar month, Xu Yan and I are heading to Hokkaido for outdoor shoots, back in about a week. When do you need him?'

'No conflict. I'll send you the invitation.' Xu Nian grinned and clapped his shoulder.

What could Xu Yan say—straight men never knew how hurtful they were.

Out of the garage, Xu Nian hooked his arm through Xu Yan's, hauling him up the steps like a sack, frantically ringing the doorbell: 'Dad! Mom! Your ge and I are home for dinner!'

In that single second, memory seemed to rewind ten years—the two brothers coming home from school together, each time hammering the door until it thundered, shouting open up, we're home for dinner!

'Coming, coming.' Fang Hui's voice approached from far away. The door opened; she was still in her apron, wiping her hands while pulling two pairs of slippers closer. 'Slippers on, one more dish and we're ready. You two go sit in the living room first.'

Xu Yan stood rooted, and called her: 'Mom.'

Fang Hui's movements visibly paused. Then she straightened and looked at him, smiled before asking: 'Was work hard today?'

Xu Yan's heart ached. He shook his head. Xu Nian pushed his back: 'Freezing out here, ge, hurry up and change your shoes and go in.'

Bao Mu wasn't in; the food was Fang Hui's doing. Xu Nian went to set the table, Xu Yan went into the kitchen—Fang Hui was cutting scallions. A former ballet dancer, she'd been a university dance teacher for nearly thirty years; her grace hadn't dimmed. The pot was braising fish; Xu Yan picked up the ladle to baste it and asked: 'Where's Dad?'

'Upstairs in the study,' Fang Hui said. 'He's painting a landscape lately, says he wants to give it to Nian Nian as a wedding gift.'

Xu Shen had no heart for business—he loved traditional Chinese painting—but as an only son, he'd had no choice but to brace himself and take over the family company. From childhood, the words Xu Yan and Xu Nian heard most from Xu Shen's mouth were: 'Hurry up and grow up, take the company and play with it. I want to rest.'

Actually, Xu Yan was perfectly clear about what kind of family he'd been born into. His parents loved art, were open-minded. When he'd once said he liked photography, both Fang Hui and Xu Shen had expressed support. Unfortunately, in the end the first to give up was Xu Yan himself. If he'd talked it through properly with his parents back then, maybe these two years of cold war would never have happened—but there was no helping it, he'd been impulsive. That was the first time Xu Shen had ever laid a hand on him in his entire life.

Xu Yan felt Xu Shen had been right to hit him. He'd never regretted being with Shen Zhi. What he regretted was choosing to hurt his family to prove those young, arrogant, foolish, headstrong feelings.

The dishes were ready; Xu Yan carried them to the table just as Xu Shen came downstairs. Xu Nian stood beside his brother, muttering under his breath: 'Kneel, kneel, kneel...' Xu Yan shot him a look.

'Dad,' Xu Yan called.

Xu Shen pretended not to hear, went to the kitchen and served two bowls of rice—one for himself, one for Fang Hui. Xu Nian stuck his tongue out at Xu Yan and pulled him toward the kitchen. Fang Hui untied her apron; as Xu Yan served the rice, she gently touched his head and said: 'Your father's just like that. Being home is what matters—the rest will come with time. He'll get over his anger.'

The fragrant steam rose from the rice. Xu Yan blinked several times, pushing the sting back from his eyes. He nodded. 'Mm.'

The atmosphere at the table was inevitably stiff, but thankfully Xu Nian was a perceptive idiot, sparing no effort to liven things up. Before Xu Yan came home, he'd talked to their parents, saying ge had taken a fall and suffered out there—he couldn't come home only to be met with his family's cold faces. We need to give ge some warmth.

Xu Shen had said at the time: 'I don't want to see him.'

But now they were still sitting down to a meal together, which meant this father-son relationship still had hope. Xu Nian was relieved.

After the meal, Xu Yan and Xu Nian cleared the table, fiddling with the dishwasher in the kitchen. Xu Shen sat for a while, then got up to go upstairs. Fang Hui asked him: 'Yan Yan is rarely home—how can you eat and run?'

'He didn't need to be this rare in the first place,' Xu Shen said coldly.

He said this just as Xu Yan came out with two cups of tea. Hearing it, Xu Yan stood watching Xu Shen go upstairs. Fang Hui, sitting on the sofa, beckoned: 'Yan Yan, come sit.'

Xu Yan walked over and set the cups on the coffee table. Fang Hui took his hand, studied his face carefully for a long moment, then said softly: 'How did you get so thin...' Her voice caught at the end, her eyes reddening too.

'Then I'll come home more often to eat—you fatten me back up.' Xu Yan put an arm around her shoulder, keeping his tone as light as he could.

After nine that evening, Xu Yan and Xu Nian left the house. The door opened and cold wind hit their faces. The brothers simultaneously stepped in front of Fang Hui, telling her not to come outside. The stray hairs at her temples blew loose—she was still that elegant, striking face, always well protected, the only one Xu Yan had ever betrayed. She looked into Xu Yan's eyes and asked: 'Yan Yan, you'll be home for New Year this year, won't you?'

Xu Yan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling: 'I will. From now on, always will.'

He felt lucky to have a mother who could express tenderness and love so completely, so Xu Yan had never been stingy with his own feelings either. Even though he'd gotten nothing back from that person, at least he'd never have anything to feel guilty about.

The car pulled out of the garden gate. Xu Yan turned his head and just caught a gap in the curtain of the second-floor study—it quickly closed again, leaving only the curtain swaying slightly.

Xu Nian dropped Xu Yan off at the residential area, then turned around to find his sister. Xu Yan took the elevator up, and ran into a neighbor in the hallway—the bewitching flower shop owner lady, Yu Xue, swaying gracefully toward the elevator. She wore a grey fur coat over a camisole with a neckline that plunged impossibly deep. Xu Yan shivered just from looking at her.

'This mink of yours...' Xu Yan said.

'Oh, it's faux—who could bear to hurt little animals?' Yu Xue slowly twirled in front of Xu Yan. 'Does it look good?'

'It looks good.' Xu Yan worriedly tugged her fur coat up to cover her chest. 'Wrap up tight, it's freezing, don't catch a cold.'

Yu Xue slapped his hand away with a sharp 'pa': 'What do you know! Straight man.'

Xu Yan shut up. He didn't dare claim the title.

'Oh, right.' Yu Xue seemed to remember something. 'That guy waiting at your door today—what does he do? You work at a magazine, right? Is he some un-debuted actor? A model?'

'Loan shark,' Xu Yan said.

'Nonsense.' Yu Xue pulled out a compact from her little Gucci bag, checking her eye makeup as she spoke. 'How can a loan shark be this handsome—and devoted, too. I asked for his WeChat and he said he's not single.'

Xu Yan's heart jumped. He understood: this meant Shen Zhi and Tang Yunyan had gotten back together.

'I just don't get why he'd be waiting at your door—a man's door. I came home at 3 AM after drinking, and he was already standing here, freezing.'

'What...?' Xu Yan couldn't process it. 'Three?'

'Yes, scared me half to death. I asked him what he was doing, he said he was waiting for someone. I almost called the police, but then I saw his face—oh...' Yu Xue pressed a hand to her chest. 'Really so handsome. Pity he's not single—no fate for us.'

She blew him a kiss as she left. But Xu Yan stood rooted to the spot. He'd assumed Shen Zhi had left at 5:30 to come see Tang Yunyan early—but now he'd just learned Shen Zhi had been waiting at his door at 3 AM, or maybe even earlier. Why?

Sloppy clothes, dark circles under his eyes, an exhausted look, saying he'd come to pick him up from work... Thinking back now, Xu Yan realized he genuinely couldn't figure it out.

In fact, he'd been baffled since the very first time Shen Zhi had shown up at his door in the small hours. He'd thought it was because he hadn't been clear enough—but even after he'd firmly said it was over, said he didn't like him, Shen Zhi still came. Again and again.

Xu Yan felt a chill of fear. If all this came from Shen Zhi's inability to adjust, his unaccustomedness—then it could only mean that over the past few years, Xu Yan had truly been an overly competent housekeeper, so much so that even after quitting, the man of the house still couldn't let him go.

He laughed softly, self-deprecatingly, and took out his keys to open the door. His phone suddenly rang—it was Tang Yunyan. Xu Yan stared at the screen for three seconds, then answered. The other end was noisy.

'Chloe?'

'Xu Yan, sorry to bother you so late, but... Shen Zhi is drunk.'

'Oh.' Xu Yan lowered his head, his fingertip rubbing the teeth of his key. He asked calmly: 'So what do you need from me?'

'Could you come over—'

'Yanyan...' Before Tang Yunyan could finish, Xu Yan heard Shen Zhi's voice—drunk, slurred—call out that single word.

Too similar. Practically identical. Exactly like that night four years ago on Shen Zhi's birthday, in the pitch-black room, after they'd kissed fiercely, when Shen Zhi had called out to him like that. Xu Yan had stupidly thought he'd been confirmed as the one—but actually Shen Zhi had been calling someone else.

But fortunately, today the person Shen Zhi wanted was right beside him—not the Yan Yan who had impersonated and taken advantage of the moment, but his long-missed, well Yanyan.

'Sorry, Chloe. Shen Zhi and I really have nothing to do with each other anymore—don't take it to heart.' Xu Yan smiled. 'Shen Zhi holds his liquor okay; let him sober up a bit more and he'll be fine. I've got things on my end, so I'll hang up now. Good night.'

'Wait—let Shen Zhi talk to you.' Tang Yunyan put the phone to Shen Zhi's ear. 'Shen Zhi, say something.'

Shen Zhi lowered his eyes, was quiet for a moment, then called out again: 'Yan Yan.'

Xu Yan admitted—the instant he heard those two words, his scalp prickled slightly. Very pathetically, he found himself wishing it really was him being called, but it wasn't. He said: 'I'm not Yanyan.'

'You are,' Shen Zhi refuted, somewhat stubbornly.

'I'm not,' Xu Yan said flatly. 'Stop bothering me.'

He hung up without hesitation. Shen Zhi lowered his head and called again: 'Xu Yan.' But there would be no answer.

Tang Yunyan took back her hand, silently staring at the call-ended screen. Several people nearby exchanged glances. One of them was Ke Xun, a high school classmate close to Shen Zhi. He'd reached out to chat with Shen Zhi today, learned he was in the city, so they'd all arranged to meet up. No one expected Shen Zhi to be the first to get drunk.

'Young Master Shen.' Ke Xun held Shen Zhi's gauze-wrapped hand and asked earnestly: 'Which Yanyan are you actually looking for? Miss Tang is right in front of you. If it's not her, you should've called the full name from the start—otherwise that Yan Yan will get the wrong idea.'

Tang Yunyan sighed helplessly. She took a sip of wine, pulled the clip from her hair and tossed it into Ke Xun's lap, stood up, and reached for the palm of the mixed-race handsome guy who'd been glancing at her all evening. He politely kissed the back of her hand and led her onto the dance floor.

Ke Xun watched Tang Yunyan's carefree retreating back, then looked at Shen Zhi slumped on the sofa with unfocused eyes. Finally, he pressed his glass into Shen Zhi's hand, gripped his wrist, and clinked glasses with everyone: 'There'll be a Yan Yan—there definitely will. When has Shen Zhi ever wanted something he couldn't have? The next Yan Yan will definitely be better.'

Shen Zhi slumped forward onto the table and closed his eyes. The noise around him—his throat ached, his hand back ached, his wrist ached, his chest ached too. In a muddled daze, Xu Yan's face kept surfacing in his mind, over and over.

'There won't be a next one...' Shen Zhi murmured drunkenly. 'He's the best.'