Good Night, Liang Xiao

“It was a shoegaze concert. There were three bands performing, all of them from the UK,” Liang Xiao explained. “That was back during the second day of the Mid-Autumn Festival holiday. You were standing at the front row.”

Ye Ji’an immediately recalled the occasion in question—the memory of that concert was etched rather deeply in his mind. After all, the opportunities to catch a performance or two were few and far between.

As for the bands… Liang Xiao and he were fans of two out of three of them.

Ye Ji’an remembered that the venue of the performance was a small bar west of the Temple of Heaven1. He’d drunk half a bottle of Duwei Sanhua, which was every bit as bitter as it was fragrant.

The performance had started at nine o’clock in the evening and lasted till nearly midnight. After adding on several songs for the encore, it was already too late for Ye Ji’an to catch a subway. He wasn’t able to hail a taxi either and had no choice but to hop on the last bus of a service, alighting at its terminal station in the suburbs.

From there, Ye Ji’an grabbed a public bicycle2 and followed the route on Gaode Maps. The journey was a long one; it was almost daybreak by the time Ye Ji’an returned to Satellite City.

That stint of his was followed by almost half a month of flu. During that period, Ye Ji’an was constantly coughing, and his nose was always runny.

Meetings were no exception, and this caused him no small amount of embarrassment. He couldn’t quite figure out what was to blame; was his sickness due to excessive sweating? Or was it because he was out in the cold wind for too long?

“Where were you at that time?” Ye Ji’an stopped thinking about his history as an unsatisfied yet helpless punk, raised his eyes and asked Liang Xiao, “Were you also in the front row?”

“I was in the middle. My spot was not very far from Senior’s.” Liang Xiao pushed at his cheek, a silent suggestion for Ye Ji’an to face the stage instead of staring at him blankly.

He saw that the band in charge of the opening act had already left with their instruments. A tall, thin, white-haired man with slumped shoulders had taken their place, making his way to the centre without saying a word.

He slung the guitar across his body and stepped on the effects pedal3, his every movement dripping with casualness. A dejected look hung on his face.

Ye Ji’an recognized him as the lead singer.

Five others followed suit, emerging on the stage one after another. All of them were tall men with long hair, dark circles and morbid looks on their faces. After greeting the audience with a “hello”, they focused on tuning their instruments. It was clear that they did not have any intention of interacting with the audience beyond that greeting.

Ye Ji’an and Liang Xiao both laughed. This was the feeling—shoegaze bands were meant to give off this morbid air. If they were met with a cheery, enthusiastic atmosphere instead, they would probably suspect that they’d gone to the wrong place.

“That was at the end of September… You’d only been employed for more than a month at that time!” Ye Ji’an hurriedly said.

“Yeah, I wasn’t familiar with Senior back then.” Liang Xiao chuckled.

Ye Ji’an did the same. He had already started sweating and thus removed his suit jacket. Originally, he planned to imitate Liang Xiao in slinging his suit over a shoulder in a cool way while holding it in place with a backhand.

Yet this did not quite work out. It felt awkward and uncomfortable no matter how Ye Ji’an placed his suit jacket. For a moment, he even considered the ridiculous idea of wrapping the sleeves of the jacket around his waist and tying a knot to secure them in place.

“It must’ve been pretty alarming to suddenly catch sight of me there,” Ye Ji’an commented, hurriedly hanging his jacket on his forearm in a serious manner, trying to dispel the awkwardness in his heart through conversation.

“It’d take eight lifetimes of misfortune to bump into a colleague while you’re out.”

At his words, Liang Xiao turned unexpectedly serious. “I was simply a little taken aback. That night was actually the moment I started to pay attention to Senior.”

“Started to care,” He added, correcting his words.

“All because you saw my tattoos?” Ye Ji’an bumped his shoulder.

“Of course not.” Liang Xiao nudged back.

“Then why?”

“We can have this conversation later!” Liang Xiao turned away, refusing to look at him any longer. He glanced at the stage—a sequence of drum beats resounded at this moment, heralding the beginning of the performance.

Ye Ji’an used to someone crazier than even musicians, especially back during his college period. He would dance around in the bar with a bunch of his hooligan friends until the middle of the night, long after the performing bands had left.

He could dance to anything. Ye Ji’an was sure that he would still be able to raise his arms and twist his hips, standing out as the prettiest boy in the club, even if the club was playing the Auspicious Three Treasures.4

This was further proof of how his strength had deteriorated over time. They were only six songs in, having covered perhaps seven-tenths of the performance, yet he already felt as if he was only a few minutes away from having to rest due to low energy.

The dense crowd around him were swarming around and jostling about chaotically. Those at the back pushed him forward, while those at the front spread out due to the large movements, such as jumping about and clapping their hands, they made.

There was barely any personal space for the audience members—elbows were pressed up against elbows and shoulders brushed against shoulders. Whenever the bass resounded onstage, the horde of people below would twist around like a wave.

The audience sang alongside the band—though it sounded more like a roar or a catchphrase, interspersed with intermittent screams that sounded out right beside Ye Ji’an’s ears.

Everyone was enraptured. Ye Ji’an himself yelled out as well, enlivened. The alcohol seemed to exploded in his head like popping candy, but the red and white wine he’d had seemed to slosh around in his stomach. A headache was also steadily spreading out from his temples.

Ye Ji’an felt that his suit trousers, wrapped firmly around his legs, were a hindrance to his dancing. Slinging his suit jacket over an arm was not the brightest idea, and it had slipped off long ago.

He was now holding on to it firmly in his hands, rumpling it immensely. Even as his old waist and legs started to go weak, Ye Ji’an still refused to accept the reality that he needed a break.

Liang Xiao, on the other hand, remained rather calm throughout the whole process. He did not dance, twist his body about, or shout like he was venting. The only movements he made were to raise his hands in applause after each song, with a refined and elegant air that would not be out of place at the end of an opera aria in a golden theatre.

However, this behaviour did not mean that Liang Xiao couldn’t appreciate the music. On the contrary, his actions were the result of intense concentration, just like how he’d get so engrossed when listening to CDs at home that he’d forget to even blink.

Only after Ye Ji’an took his wrist in a silent invitation to dance and bounce about did Liang Xiao finally come back to his senses.

“Hey, didn’t you say you were going to bring me clubbing?” Ye Ji’an’s bangs were scattered and sticking slightly to his forehead due to sweat.

Liang Xiao returned his hold and lifted their intertwined fingers into the air, quickly catching up to his rhythm amid the turmoil in the room.

Yet his eyes unwaveringly remained on Ye Ji’an’s face. He looked at him with an enthralled gaze—giving him even more attention than he’d given the music.

It was as if their surroundings were intangible or frozen in time—all Liang Xiao could see was Ye Ji’an’s face.

“Is Senior tired?”

“I’m alright. Isn’t this your favourite song?”

“You don’t look so good,” Liang Xiao remarked in concern, holding his waist. “And your body feels weak.”

Ye Ji’an wanted to argue a little, but Liang Xiao towed him back, heading straight for the back of the room. Their way back was chaotic, and he couldn’t see his surroundings clearly. All he knew was that Liang Xiao had the word “obstinate” spelled out on his body.

Liang Xiao first tried to shield Ye Ji’an behind him while opening up a path. However, the results seemed unsatisfactory, and he changed his strategy, holding Ye Ji’an close to himself instead, almost to the point of the latter being in his embrace.

With his support, Ye Ji’an would be able to walk steadily and would also be protected against random jostles from the strangers—some sober and some not—around them.

Ye Ji’an felt as if the sky and the ground underneath him were both spinning. His feet seemed to be stepping on nothingness. Liang Xiao dragged him over to the bar table at the back. When his butt touched the tall chair, Ye Ji’an heaved himself up and let out a sigh of relief.

Their current location was not far from the stage. Ye Ji’an could still see the band performing onstage and the music still reverberated beside his ears—it was just that the music had become slightly softer and that he could hear more chatter from the people around them.

Seeing Liang Xiao sitting beside him with no intention of leaving, Ye Ji’an finally felt the burning of the alcohol in his stomach ease a little. “It’s true,” he gently tugged on Liang Xiao’s cuff, as if trying to pull him a little closer. “I’ve become old.”

“It’s because Senior drank too much today,” Liang Xiao, surprisingly enough, went along with it, moving his chair closer to Ye Ji’an.

They were now close enough for their knees to bump against each other’s.

Liang Xiao ordered a glass of mint water with extra ice and pushed it in front of Ye Ji’an. “Drink a little.”

Ye Ji’an sipped from the straw obediently. The refreshing feeling in his mouth seemed to cool his head as well. “I didn’t expect you to behave like this when watching a live performance. I thought you’d be crazier than I was in my twenties.”

“Do you want to throw up?”

“No, I haven’t drunk enough for that. All the drinking has improved my ability to hold my liquor.”

Ye Ji’an wanted to lean on Liang Xiao, but eventually decided against it, leaning forward to collapse over the table instead. “I’ll take a short break before returning to the frontline.”

Ye Ji’an felt a hand on the back of his neck, smoothing down the curve of his spine. Liang Xiao was using an appropriate strength and speed, yet it made Ye Ji’an feel numb all over.

Comfortable and relaxed, Ye Ji’an pillowed his head on his arm and turned his face sideways. The bar was furnished with red lighting. Liang Xiao was frowning slightly, and his eyes reflected a bright crimson glow.

“Let’s talk about it. How did you take a fancy to me?” Ye Ji’an reached out for his hand once more.

Liang Xiao grinned and wrapped his hand around Ye Ji’an’s, his smile deepening. “Because you’re a walking paradox. The outward you and the true you are so very contradictory.”

“Huh?” Ye Ji’an immediately sat up straight.

Liang Xiao soothingly patted him and slowly recounted. “There’s a long story behind the word ‘paradox’. Senior, do you still remember? Six years ago, you went on a trip to New York. The company held career fairs in several schools—mine being one of them. That was where we met for the first time.”

“Hmm, I was…” Ye Ji’an was a little surprised. A vague memory surfaced in his mind. “Most of my tasks were menial. I was doing stuff like sorting out forms and what not.”

“Yeah. Senior was being scolded when I arrived,” Liang Xiao squeezed his fingers slightly, his eyes still gentle.

“I handed in my resume and filled out the forms afterwards. Everyone else seemed incredibly welcoming; after I left for other booths, you were the only one who hurried after me, persuading me to stay in school instead of working right after graduating with an undergraduate Degree.”

“You warned that I might have regrets about choosing the wrong path several years down the line, and that I might be bullied in the company. You wanted me to dismiss all outside factors and focus on what I truly liked and wanted to do.”

Ye Ji’an thought that Liang Xiao’s words were true. I am, after all, still someone who graduated with a master’s Degree from the second-best university in China and someone who’s passed the tests for two crucial certifications.

When I first joined the company, didn’t I have to keep my tail tucked and act like a grandson every day? 

But what good did that serve me? All it did was give me the opportunity to work on something a little more technical. My salary has increased several times—but so has my workload.

Having experienced this for himself, how could Ye Ji’an just stand by and watch as an idealistic youth made such a massive blunder? He had no memories of persuading a young and inexperienced university student, but he understood clearly what emotions would’ve been running through the younger him’s heart.

Ye Ji’an heard Liang Xiao speak once more. “Frankly speaking, I was at my most irritable during that period. I felt deceived by Roman and also felt as if I couldn’t make up for how badly I’d hurt him. Love is such a wonderful thing; but when it falls into my hands, all I can do with it is cause both parties pain. I was trapped by these thoughts of mine. The insomnia started during at this time.”

Liang Xiao spoke frankly. “My family kept urging me to go back to China. I was torn between my desire to return and my desire to stay. I eventually decided to stay and continue my studies. In hindsight, Senior might’ve had some influence in that decision of mine.”

“A mere stranger had sincerely cared about me. He didn’t ask anything of me; all he wanted was to prevent me from making a mistake. That incident made me feel that the world was amazing—and that I had no choice but to believe in it.”

Ye Ji’an hugged his shoulder and nuzzled his head on his neck. “I can’t remember any of that any more.”

“I know.”

“I’m just… I’m just so angry!” Ye Ji’an bit his lip. He felt that his words didn’t make sense and added, “Why did I forget?”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it doesn’t matter,” Liang Xiao returned the embrace, enveloping the confused and intoxicated Ye Ji’an against a solid chest.

“We then exchanged our contact info—our emails and Facebooks—before Senior returned to his chores. At that time, I only thought of you as someone foolishly good to everyone around him. A few years later, I noticed a Facebook account that would post a statement about wanting to die every few days and nothing else. Only then did I recall that the account belonged to the senior who I’d met at the recruitment fair.”

“I think that was slightly more than a year ago. I was preparing to return to China for work,” Liang Xiao added.

Ye Ji’an subconsciously shrank his neck. Like an ostrich, he buried his face in the man’s shoulder, refusing to lift his head. This matter couldn’t be considered a bolt from the blue, but it nonetheless felt as if he was streaking right under Liang Xiao’s eyelids unknowingly.

His classmates and colleagues didn’t use Facebook—or, at the very least, none of them had ever asked to add him as a friend. He’d signed up purely out of boredom, and, in later years, repurposed it into a dustbin to which he could vent his bitterness.

A little over a year ago: that was exactly when Ye Ji’an had wanted to die most. At that time, he’d taken out most of his savings for his adoptive mother’s medical treatment.

The pressure of his mortgage flattened him under its crushing weight, while a promotion was far off in the uncertain future. He’d pass each day in immense dread.

The circumstances added up together gave Ye Ji’an the urge to end it all, and he’d frequently ponder over how he’d die. Ye Ji’an thought that he might’ve really died if not for those exaggerated words he posted on Facebook.

Posting those thoughts of his on Facebook soon became a self-preservation tactic for him to let out his stress. Unexpectedly, Liang Xiao saw all of it.

“Then I became a miserable, suicidal person who’s foolishly good to those around him and is too afraid to end himself in your eyes,” Ye Ji’an lifted his eyelids and looked at Liang Xiao. Only God knew how sore his eyes were at that moment and how badly he wanted a comforting touch.

Lo and behold, Liang Xiao truly reached out a hand. He even stroked his eyebrows. Shaking his head, he replied, “Then I returned to China to work. Coincidentally, Senior was also there during the interview. You felt familiar and strangely dear to me, as if we were brought together by the fate that my father loves to talk about.”

“Later on, I realized that Senior is capable, gentle, modest, calm and reliable. From the outside, you seemed perfect—the type of perfect that girls would want to marry. No one would’ve doubted your passion for life,” Liang Xiao said, attentively looking at Ye Ji’an.

His voice was neither loud nor soft; a perfect volume for Ye Ji’an to hear him clearly.

“Who would’ve known that I’d see your tattoos at the rock scene I enjoyed so much? Your dress shirt had been removed, leaving behind only a tight-fitting T-shirt. Tattoos covered your skin all the way to the forearm. You looked happy—truly happy. At that moment, you were tremendously free.”

“Haha, I must’ve seemed strange…… My outside appearance really does contrast with how I am inside.”

Ye Ji’an could hear the thumping of his heart once more. The music was still so very loud—yet the sound of his heartbeat still overpowered its volume. But he was leaning against Liang Xiao. Ye Ji’an was confused once more—who did this heartbeat really belong to?

“It is as mesmerizing as it is contradictory. I understood on that day that Senior is actually an incredible person. Your enthusiastic side, your world-weary side, your perfect side, your free side; I’m probably the only one who has seen all these facets of you, aren’t I? And so you are special, as I am special.”

“I thought to myself, how much more remains hidden? Will I be able to see it? Will I go crazy if I don’t?” Liang Xiao gazed deep into Ye Ji’an’s eyes while saying this, his palms splayed out on his back.

“I’m a lucky person. I even know where each of Senior’s tattoos are.”

Ye Ji’an shuffled forward slightly and pressed himself against Liang Xiao’s lips. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should,” Liang Xiao replied, kissing him.

“You don’t even dare to look at me,” Ye Ji’an bit at Liang Xiao, complaining in a slightly nasal5 tone. “I took off my shirt, and you didn’t even dare hug me.”

Liang Xiao, contrary to Ye Ji’an’s petulance, was extremely patient, keeping his arms around him as before. He then started proving his claim: “There’s a gun flower here,” Liang Xiao started, rubbing Ye Ji’an’s left shoulder blade.

“Here lies Dream Theater in a long column of letters,” he continued, gently pressing along the ridges of Ye Ji’an’s spine, as if he was pressing the exact position of the letters that lay underneath.

“And here. Pantera, your favourite band.” With these words, the warmth of his hand slid lower, down to the dip of Ye Ji’an’s waist, right above his tight belt.

His hand was in no hurry to delve further down, but it was not that it had no intention of going further, for each gentle yet firm caress and each half-hearted pinch seemed to be teasingly plucking at a string hanging in mid-air.

“There are a total of nineteen bands; four on your left arm, five on your right arm, and ten across your back and waist. If Senior’s waist was a little thicker, you would’ve been able to shift the extra tattoo on your right arm to your torso.”

“Do you still want me to continue?” Liang Xiao asked in a deep voice.

Ye Ji’an did not have Liang Xiao’s calm. Instead, he’d been reduced to lightly trembling underneath the other’s hands. He didn’t know when it had started, but his body was now burning so hot that it could be felt through the fabric of his clothing.

He slid down from the high chair and draped himself on Liang Xiao’s body, clinging to him as if he’d never let go.

“The bathroom, where is it,” Ye Ji’an asked in a whisper.

It no longer seemed to matter if alcohol had taken over his rational thinking or if he’d already given this his full consideration. The reverberations from the powerful wall of sound and the jumping of the boisterous crowd paled in comparison to the turbulence in his body.

Fumbling and staggering, Ye Ji’an placed his hand on Liang Xiao’s belt and hooked it with his pinky.

“Come with me.”

 

1

A place in Beijing

2

China has public bicycles, so you have an app on your phone, scan the QR code on the bike, pay a small fee through your mobile wallet and the bike will unlock automatically

3

Don’t have a background in guitar, but this seems to be a pedal that, well, does exactly what it says. I believe it’s often used interchangeably with “effects unit”.

4

A song written and composed by Mongolian singer Buren Bayar, and sung with his wife Urina and their little niece Ingma describing a happy family

5

Sounds like he’s pouting.