After sending Manager Jiang away once more, He Wenqi returned to the room: “Are you satisfied now? That liquor money wasn’t cheap.”
“I won’t make you pay for it,” Han Ji said, leaning his head back on the sofa.
“It wasn’t me who smashed them, anyway; there’s also the room cleaning fee.” He Wenqi looked at the floor covered in glass shards and wine stains. “What a waste; it’s a pity.”
Han Ji looked at him: “Yes, you didn’t smash them. I just don’t know who threw them even harder than I did. You have some unhappiness in your heart too, don’t you?”
He Wenqi remained silent, deep in thought.
The room suddenly became quiet, the smell of alcohol in the air slowly evaporating.
“I’m sorry,” Han Ji suddenly spoke, looking at him steadily, saying each word extremely slowly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was just worried… that you would become like that.”
“So that’s how you saw me?” He Wenqi looked back at him with the same intensity.
Han Ji shook his head: “That night, I saw you get into that man’s car. And yesterday, you took the card he gave you…”
He Wenqi laughed out of anger: “Couldn’t you think of anything good about me?”
Han Ji paused: “Are you okay? Whisky is strong, and you have a stomach condition; drinking the way you did is no joke.”
“It’s fine, not to that point yet,” He Wenqi waved it off.
Remembering something else, Han Ji’s eyes flickered: “Do you remember when we were kids, that time we stole Old Zhang’s liquor to drink?”
He Wenqi pursed his lips, his eyes curving slightly: “How could I not? The first time drinking—I was a total mess of a drunk.”
Han Ji laughed too, his features relaxing a bit: “And I was the one who covered for you.”
At that time, in the old residential area, there were still those mailboxes for newspapers and magazines by the doors; they had long been abandoned but no one removed them. That time, Old Zhang had hidden a bottle of liquor inside and locked it behind his wife’s back, and He Wenqi happened to see it.
That kind of lock had no technical complexity; you could turn it open just by inserting a narrow piece of iron and twisting.
It was a palm-sized glass bottle, two mouthfuls at most. Once He Wenqi got the liquor, he drank it all in one go.
For a child, and for a first time, he passed out drunk immediately. After Han Ji found him, he dragged him onto his own bed. When He Yanqiu came back in the evening and asked, he said He Wenqi was at his house and was explaining exercise problems to him.
Han Ji had good grades and was always self-disciplined; the two children were often like this, so He Yanqiu didn’t suspect anything.
Speaking of childhood things, both of them were drawn into the memories.
“How old were we then? Second grade of primary school?”
“No, it was the second month after I moved in,” Han Ji said with certainty.
“Is that so? We were already playing that well after only two months? Why did you care about me back then? Wouldn’t it have been good to watch me get a beating from my mom?”
“I couldn’t bear to,” Han Ji mumbled softly.
“What?” He Wenqi didn’t hear clearly.
“I’m sorry,” Han Ji said it again.
“Forget it,” He Wenqi decided to be magnanimous. “I also gave you a slap; we’re even.”
“No,” Han Ji’s eyes were clear, with no hint of drunkenness. “I mean when you went to the university to find me—I’m sorry.”
Bringing up the old matter again, it was still… that incident.
The smile was still hanging on his face, but He Wenqi went silent.
Han Ji’s gaze was burning: “At that time, my consideration was inadequate. There were things I only slowly figured out later. Xiao Qi, actually, I…”
“No need to apologize, you did nothing wrong,” He Wenqi feigned a relaxed tone.
“No, Xiao Qi, I want to say…” Han Ji wanted to say that he hadn’t seen his own feelings clearly back then; he was too used to the way they got along, too familiar, and he simply never thought about which emotion that habit came from.
He Wenqi, however, didn’t let him continue: “It’s in the past, let’s not mention it. I was immature back then. At that time, I ate and lived with you every day; after being separated from you for a year, I just wasn’t used to it and misunderstood this brotherly affection. Actually, I don’t like you either—you understand what I mean…”
Han Ji’s eyes dimmed, and the words blocked in his chest were all swallowed back into his stomach.
He had mistaken love for a habit; the other had mistaken a habit for love.
He Wenqi gave a carefree wave of his hand: “I know you don’t like men. It’s a good thing I didn’t cause you trouble back then. By the way, I haven’t asked—how are things with you and her?”
“Hm?” Han Ji didn’t react for a moment.
“Your girlfriend. Speaking of which, I was even a witness,” He Wenqi laughed.
“I am not with her.”
“Oh, I see. Then maybe you and she didn’t have the destiny for it.”
“Xiao Qi, listen to me…” Han Ji wanted to explain.
But He Wenqi spoke first: “That time I broke the appointment, I went to the hospital to see my mom.” He had wanted to say this for a long time, but just hadn’t figured out how. First, he was truly exhausted at the time, and second, it involved the reason for He Yanqiu’s breakdown.
“The person you saw driving to pick me up was Liu Ping, Uncle Ping,” he continued.
“Uncle Ping?”
“Don’t you remember? That uncle who would occasionally come to our house during festivals and holidays.”
During holidays, Han Ji would spend time with his parents at the new house. When he was younger in the old house, he had indeed seen Liu Ping, but he was too young and the impression wasn’t deep.
Now that He Wenqi mentioned it, he seemed to have a slight memory of it.
“You said you went to the hospital? What happened to Auntie Qiu?”
Mentioning this, He Wenqi paused for a long while before saying: “She can’t walk.”
“How did it happen? When was this?”
“The summer break of my senior year of high school. I pushed her.” He Wenqi lowered his head, his palm lightly gesturing. “It wasn’t intentional, but it was still because of me. It’s my fault.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier? If I had known Auntie Qiu was in Jing City, I should have gone to see her sooner,” Han Ji said. “Back then I lived at your house all the time; Auntie Qiu took care of me for so many years, even longer than the time I spent with my own mother.”
Han Ji: “Which hospital is she in? I’ll go see her.”
He Wenqi: “Let’s talk about that later.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t told her you’re in Jing City too.”
“What’s difficult about that? Just tell Auntie Qiu, and I’ll go see her. By the way, is the hospital good? Is there anything you need my help with?” Han Ji seemed to realize something. “Selling the house… was it because of Auntie Qiu?”
After losing contact with He Wenqi, Han Ji had gone back to Jin City to find him, only to discover they had sold the house and moved away.
He Wenqi bit his lower lip lightly and nodded.
“So you didn’t go to X University because…”
“Tuition wasn’t cheap, and my art studies cost money too. At the time, the doctor said there was a chance she could recover, but the treatment time would be very long.”
The doctor had said that He Yanqiu’s spinal cord wasn’t completely damaged and there was a chance of recovery. It was just that the treatment time was long and the cost would be very high. During the process, the patient and family needed to cooperate simultaneously, with nerve nourishment and acupuncture carried out at the same time.
The surgery had already spent most of the money from selling the house. Their family wasn’t wealthy; in order to let He Wenqi study art, He Yanqiu usually worked three jobs, and studying that cost a lot of money.
Relatives and friends didn’t visit often, and in times like these, it was even harder to borrow money—such is human nature. Moreover, being high in debt meant having to pay it back.
To make it easier to care for his mother, He Wenqi gave up the good university in another province. He found a less-than-standard vocational school locally and hurriedly spent two years getting a diploma.
At the beginning, He Yanqiu was somewhat cooperative, but later she was unwilling to continue treatment no matter what was said. Actually, she just felt it cost too much money, and what the doctor said was “there is a chance”—who knew if she could really recover? If not, wouldn’t the large sums of money spent be for nothing?
Her son was in the prime of his life; he originally had a better future and should have run toward a bigger world, but now he was looking after her, trapped in this small city.
Mother and son each blamed themselves. After both took a step back, they came to Jing City together.
Later, Liu Ping managed to get news and found He Yanqiu.
Liu Ping was He Yanqiu’s classmate from her accounting class back then. Under the constant persuasion of him and He Wenqi, He Yanqiu finally relented recently and agreed to undergo rehabilitation again.
Since the treatment had been interrupted for several years, it was more difficult now than back then, but if she didn’t treat it now and continued to drag it out, there would be no possibility of recovery at all.
The worst times had passed, and everything was slowly getting better.
“Xiao Qi, let me help.” Han Ji’s heart felt sour, and he couldn’t stop the aching.
Mentioning it now, it was finished in just a few sentences, but at the time, he didn’t know how helpless and heartbroken He Wenqi had been, while he himself had known nothing.
He Wenqi shook his head and laughed: “Uncle Ping and I have almost gathered the money for the later stages.”
“Then when will you tell Auntie Qiu so I can go see her?” Han Ji planned to visit first and then see what they needed.
“Sure, I’ll notify you once I’ve made the arrangements,” He Wenqi agreed casually.
“Speaking of which, I really miss Auntie Qiu’s braised ribs; I haven’t eaten them for so many years.”
“That’s right, you even used to fight me for them back then.”
“When did I ever fight you for them? Which time didn’t I let you have them?”
…
The barrier between the two had finally been broken along with the floor full of smashed alcohol bottles, except…
Each had their own thoughts and tacitly avoided mentioning them again.
In the latter half of the night, the three glasses of whisky He Wenqi had drunk earlier went to his head, and he tossed and turned on the sofa.
Han Ji carried him to the bed but didn’t let go for a long time after putting him down.
He Wenqi’s head rested in the crook of his arm, his soft long hair covering half his face, his lips a rosy red.
A strand of hair slid to the tip of his nose; perhaps it tickled, as He Wenqi wrinkled his nose.
Han Ji pulled out a hand to brush the hair away for him, revealing the small mole on the side of his nose bridge. He used his index finger to press on the small mole—first a light tap, then a slide, as if teasing a kitten.
Han Ji hadn’t seen this peaceful appearance for a long time; he felt both moved and cherished it.
“Am I too late? You’ve already gotten used to not having me,” he murmured softly. “Can you get used to it again?”
His gaze slid down to He Wenqi’s slender neck—very white, very thin; Han Ji could take control of it just by opening his hand. The collar of the originally loose sweater was pulled crooked, revealing half of his collarbone.
Too thin. Looking at that gaunt shoulder and neck line, Han Ji wondered what he usually ate—how could he not have any meat on his bones?
Han Ji pulled over the quilt to cover him. His other hand was still being pressed down by He Wenqi, and in that position, he himself crawled into the quilt.
Just like when they were kids…
When they were little, He Wenqi was restless in his sleep—kicking the quilt, rolling around on the bed—so Han Ji would tuck him into the side of the bed against the wall.
The difference was that, at that time, he had never thought about casually pulling the person into his arms.
Only now, after many years, taking advantage of the person’s unconsciousness, did he quietly let that late-realized sentiment flow out, mixing into the strands of hair and sliding between the gaps of his fingers, held tightly.