CH Extra 5

Extra 5: If (上)

[Song Yu gege, ‘to see someone’s words is to see them’. I recently heard that traditional Chinese romantic phrase from my dad, and I found it really odd: every time I receive one of your letters, I feel like I’ve already seen you so many times. Waiting really is something hard to do. I don’t think you’ll believe me, but last month, when I didn’t receive a letter from you, I even went and bought a plane ticket to China for myself — but I woke up in the taxi on my way to the airport. Because you’ve said before that you really hoped our first meeting after growing up would be you coming to see me.

I heard from Dad that you’ll be coming here in the summer. I can take you out to the pastures to see newly born baby lambs, and my little garden would also be blooming with so many flowers during then. As well as the White Cliffs and the coastline — we can ride over to them with bikes.

I really hope summer would’ve arrived by the time I wake up tomorrow.]

The summer of his eighteenth year, Song Yu and his parents got onto a plane flying towards London. With the flight taking eleven and a half hours, it was already 7pm when they arrived, but in a country so high above the equator, daylight lasted extraordinarily long. Night had yet to fall, and the streets were still bustling with people.

Yue Yi and Olivia specifically came to pick up their family of three. Even though he hadn’t seen them in a good few years, Song Yu thought they hadn’t changed much at all — Yue Yi was still as cheerful and lively as he’d always been.

“Xiao Yu’s grown so quickly. I don’t think you were this tall the last time I saw you when I was back in China by myself.”

Song Jin said, smiling, “He’s at that growing age. Your kid’s half European, wouldn’t he be growing even faster?”

Olivia could already understand a majority of their Chinese conversations, and she said with English-accented Chinese, he isn’t.

Yue Yi also waved a hand. “My kid definitely isn’t growing as fast as your son, he’s shorter by at least…” He gauged Song Yu’s height with his eyes. “Half a head.” Then, the tone of his voice saying ‘please don’t blame me’, he said, “Yue Zhishi’s school started summer holidays early, so he packed up a bunch of things and went to our holiday home. The place is more comfortable than an apartment and tall buildings after all, and it also has the garden he loves. We originally asked him to come over and pick you guys up, but he was called over by the owner of the nearby pasture to help take care of their young lambs.”

He shrugged. “You know how he is. He gets all weak in the legs as soon as he sees small animals.”

Song Jin and Lin Rong both chuckled, and they brought up the amusing stories of how Yue Zhishi had chased after squirrels in parks as a child. Everyone got in the car, laughing and chattering, and conversation flowed naturally; they were like good friends who saw each other every day, without any hint of unfamiliarity among them.

In the car, the only person who felt regret was Song Yu.

After all, the guy who’d once written in his letters that he’d ‘definitely pick you up personally when you come’ hadn’t arrived.

The gege who sent him monthly letters, in reality, couldn’t compare to a little lamb.

Song Yu leaned back into his seat, and he comforted himself as he looked out the window to the busy city flying past. Perhaps it was a large group of little lambs.

The last time he and Yue Zhishi had seen each other was already an extremely long ago memory. At that time, Yue Zhishi had probably been only three or four years old. Later, there had been many times Yue Yi and his wife had wanted to take him back to China for a visit, but those plans had consistently been changed — most of them due to Yue Yi’s work. Song Yu remembered very clearly a certain time when he had been eleven years old: he’d waited for them to arrive very eagerly, but they hadn’t been able to get on the plane. Yue Zhishi had had a sudden allergic attack, his asthma flaring up.

Compared to modern, highly effective and fast ways of keeping in touch with friends, the one thing holding Yue Zhishi and Song Yu’s relationship together was their monthly handwritten letters. Yue Yi and his inherent romantic nature had thought of it; he found cellphones and chatting software to be the worst inventions in the world, omitting the process of careful thought and of waiting. Instead, they threw everything to the person on the other side with a sudden crash — they weren’t as warm and tender as even a phone call.

He’d said it would be good to write letters. He’d said, you’ll consciously consider your wording as you write. You’ll knead all of your emotions and feelings into the paper and into your writing, simply because you have no other way to express your voice and yourself — and then, as you wait for a reply, your feelings will ferment and grow.

On the other hand, Yue Yi believed Yue Zhishi also needed to master the ability to write in Chinese since he’d grown up in England. There was no one else more suitable to be his partner in training than the older brother far away in his motherland.

They established a very strange, yet very interesting, promise: they could only write letters to each other — any other form of communication was cheating.

And so just like that, from a very young age, Song Yu had started exchanging letters with Yue Zhishi at a rate of usually once a month. Yue Zhishi hadn’t quite been able to write Chinese characters in the beginning, and even if Yue Yi had been there to guide him, Yue Zhishi had preferred to communicate with Song Yu through straightforward drawings. Song Yu had been ten years old the first time he received a written letter from Yue Zhishi.

[Song Yu gege, your name’s so hard to write.]

It was clearly only one sentence, only eleven words, and yet Song Yu had looked at it again and again for a very long time. He’d found it so very cute.

And then even later, Yue Zhishi started to become even more familiar with Chinese writing. He’d even use sentences and phrases he’d read in books, flaunting his Chinese skills like a little peacock. Slowly, he started to talk to Song Yu about all the large and small problems in his life as he grew up, the confusion and bewilderment of puberty; he confided them all to Song Yu without holding a single thing back.

Or perhaps the long distance separating them created a sense of security and a kind of beauty. This secret communication between the two of them over such a distance allowed them to grow up with each other, and yet it also made them infinitely curious about each other.

“It’s already a bit late. You guys’ll be really tired with the time difference, so we won’t drive over there tonight.” Yue Yi took them back to his home on the outskirts of London so they could rest. It was a very cozy, very beautiful apartment with two floors in a row of tall buildings. Olivia settled Song Yu into Yue Zhishi’s room.

Pulling open the door, she used English to introduce the room to him and gave him some toiletries. “He’s a bit childish, so there are a lot of things in his room. Don’t mind them.”

There were many, many books inside, and there was even a book of plant drawings spread open on the rug. A half-drawn still life painting rested on the easel, and the room was stuffed full with plants, ornaments and lego pieces — it looked filled with life.

Song Yu quietly said, “Actually, I hope he wouldn’t mind me living here for one night.”

“He won’t. He was the one to suggest you sleeping here, because he thought the guest room was too small.” Amusement appeared on Olivia’s face. “He said you’re obsessed with cleanliness and begged me to clean up his room before you arrived. But I finished work too late today and didn’t have the time.” As she spoke, she tugged open the closet. “Xiao Yu, you should go downstairs and eat something first.”

Song Yu stood by the bed, his head slightly lowered. His eyes swept over that light blue coloured bed — it looked particularly clean and comfortable.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to,” he said to the busily cleaning Olivia.

He’d originally thought jet lag was something very torturous, but Yue Zhishi’s bed seemed to hold a power that could pull people quickly into sleep. Song Yu lay down, and as he gazed at the six small pots of exquisite plants sitting on the windowsill, at the unfinished painting; as he breathed in the gentle fragrance of plants, cream and wood embedded into the fluffy bedding — he fell into the dreams of deep sleep.

The next day, as Song Yu was making the bed, he belatedly thought: it felt delicately offensive to sleep in someone’s bed before actually meeting him.

Turning around, he saw the desk plastered with many sticky notes. Yue Zhishi’s English handwriting made it very easy to think of his handwriting in Chinese; they were both flowing and delicate. But Song Yu didn’t really read the notes, thinking it would be inappropriate — even if that guy had given him the right to use his entire room without a single care.

After breakfast, they started driving to their holiday home. It was in a village an hour’s drive away from London, located in the south of England and near a seaside town. According to Yue Yi, that place had the best sunlight in the entire country compared to London’s unpredictable weather.

Olivia made a call when they were almost there. Song Yu looked like he was casually watching the scenery outside the car windows, but the soft sounds coming from her phone disturbed him like the rippling on a magnetic field.

It was as though he could hear Yue Zhishi’s voice — but it was distorted, unclear.

He heard Olivia call Yue Zhishi by his English name of ‘Joey’ and heard her call him ‘sweetheart’, but he couldn’t clearly hear what Yue Zhishi said in return. For some reason, it made Song Yu somewhat irritated. Summer in a temperate marine climate wasn’t so scorching hot, and as the humid summer wind stroked his face through the window, it felt both tender and smooth — very much like Yue Zhishi in his letters.

[Song Yu gege, I heard you guys have had a really long period of rain. What a coincidence, London has too. It suddenly started to rain yesterday at dusk, and I was completely soaked in the rain. I was originally in a really terrible mood, but when I remembered that you might also be under the rain at the same time as me, my heart suddenly felt really sweet — it felt like you and I were actually really close to each other.

As always, I hope you can come earlier. I’m here, waiting for you.]

The car entered the town, driving through large areas of green broad-leaf trees. The grass was like a short-hair rug, and on top of it, honey-coloured cottages were scattered around, mixed with dark grey lodges.

“We’re here.” Yue Yi parked the car in front of a three story resort house, and everyone got out of the car, heading to the boot to take out the luggage. Song Yu followed Olivia into the house with a black suitcase, passing by a front courtyard with white roses and unnamed hedges. A tea table and several chairs were placed on the lawn. When the front door was opened, he saw a sweetly decorated living room, an opened sunscreen bottle sitting on the table, a light blue baseball cap and an opened carton of cold milk. A red cotton short sleeve shirt was thrown over the back of a chair.

“He’s definitely in the backyard,” Olivia said with certainty.

Sounds of water came from the backyard; Song Yu could hear it. The wooden floor underneath his feet seemed to have turned into driftwood washed up from the ocean, and his senses also seemed to have turned sharp and keen.

The moment he stepped outside, sunlight landed on Song Yu’s face. He couldn’t quite see clearly — under the gleaming rays of the sun, everything looked like an overexposed photo film. He faintly squinted; bushes of lilac coloured hydrangeas appeared. A snow white back was partly visible through the green leaves, as well as a spout of water rising up into the air and arcing over, accompanied by a faint rainbow.

“Joey!” Olivia shouted at him to stop, her hands on her waist. “You’re showering with the hose meant for the flowers again!”

The water instantly disappeared, and so did the gurgling and sloshing sounds of water.

An alarmed face turned around within those hydrangeas, a golden halo surrounding the wet hair under the sunshine — his eyes were very large, and they were as translucent as gemstones.

To see someone’s words is to see them.

It didn’t matter that he’d seen over a hundred letters; they were nothing compared to a fleeting appearance.

But Yue Zhishi, having been rebuked, very quickly turned his head back around. Soon after, Song Yu heard a long, dragged out and extremely adorable ‘sorry’, and then he saw a large grey towel draping over that snow white back before it came out from the other side of the bushes.

With bare feet, he walked on the soft lawn, his pair of legs pale and dressed in navy blue swimming shorts. The towel was on his upper body, but his fair belly and arms remained uncovered. His wet hair was pushed back behind his ears, exposing a pair of eyes that looked even more pure after being soaked in water.

“This is the gege you’ve been longing for every day,” Olivia deliberately introduced with a tease.

Yue Zhishi rubbed his hands together with some embarrassment and then stretched out a hand, clasping their hands together. Cold and warm body temperatures blended together and transferred across — Yue Zhishi’s lowered eyelashes were stained with water droplets, subtly trembling.

His voice was also really nice to listen to, and he specifically used Chinese to speak, as though to communicate how earnest he was. With a slightly accented voice, he called him, “Song Yu gege.”

For a moment, many of Yue Zhishi’s handwritten letters flashed across Song Yu’s mind. Paragraphs and paragraphs of grumbling spoken only to those close to him, the boasting filled with childishness — they were matched one by one to the person in front of him, and gave him a concrete sweetness.

The corners of Song Yu’s mouth curled up gently. While holding his hand, he intentionally used Yue Zhishi’s most commonly used word of ‘lovely’ and said to him in deep voice in English, “Lovely to see you.”

It was as though someone had twisted Yue Zhishi’s ears; they appeared a translucent red underneath the sun. Saying he was going to change his clothes, he released Song Yu’s hand and then ran directly into the house, grabbing the red shirt on the chair as he passed by.

His entire body, from head to toe, projected a youthfulness that brimmed with exuberance.

It was in Song Yu’s room on the third floor that they saw each other again. Song Yu was unpacking his luggage when he suddenly heard a knock, and when he turned around, he saw Yue Zhishi standing by the door, wearing black shorts and the red shirt that made his pale skin glow. He walked inside very naturally, and his brown, slightly curly hair was very soft and fluffy after being blown dry.

“You’re not how I imagined you being.” Yue Zhishi skipped over any greetings and came very directly to stand in front of Song Yu. He used curious eyes to look over him, not hesitant at all.

Song Yu placed down the rash guard in his hand and also looked at him. He calmly asked, “How am I different?”

Yue Zhishi’s mouth abruptly curved up with laughter. He nervously swung his arms twice before clutching them with his hands. After he released a sigh, he sincerely said, “You’re even more handsome than I’d thought you’d be.”

Seeing how unmoved Song Yu was to that kind of praise, Yue Zhishi then quickly asked, “Has there been a lot of people who’ve called you handsome? Have a lot of girls at your school asked you to be their date for prom?”

Song Yu hung up his final shirt, and with his back towards Yue Zhishi, he used a careless voice to say, “We don’t have prom. So there’s also no such thing as being their date.”

Yue Zhishi relaxed very obviously. “Now that’s truly very fortunate.”

Turning around, Song Yu saw Yue Zhishi already sitting on his bed, his slender and pale long legs spread open and lightly swinging — he looked particularly pleased.

“Don’t you know I care about cleanliness?”

Yue Zhishi looked startled at his words, his eyes widening slightly. But then Song Yu said very quickly, “Just joking.”

Baffled, Yue Zhishi said, “So you’re not actually a germaphobe.”

Song Yu gave him a more explicit answer. “Not towards you.”

He then walked out the door, Yue Zhishi quickly getting up and following behind him. He told Song Yu his room was next door and even attempted to show him his balcony, but Song Yu didn’t go in. Only their two rooms were on this floor; the second floor contained the two couples’ bedrooms, and he could hear their laughing and happy chatter when standing on the stairs.

For lunch, they had barbecue and French fries underneath the shade of the front courtyard’s trees. Yue Zhishi struggled to cut a steak with tendons, and sitting next to him, Lin Rong declared that she was definitely going to cook a table full of delicious local Chinese dishes for him that afternoon. He’d been looking forward to that for a long time, and so he placed down his knife and fork and gave Lin Rong a grateful kiss on the cheek.

Song Yu sat diagonally across from him, sipping on a gin and tonic. His eyes occasionally landed on Yue Zhishi and watched how excited and bubbling he looked.

“You went swimming today?” Yue Yi asked Yue Zhishi.

“Yup. The pool was so cold, and it wasn’t clean, which is why I had a shower when I came back.” Yue Zhishi explained himself.

Olivia laughed as she served them, saying, “But that’s not a reason to greet guests with a bare body.”

Yue Zhishi’s face flushed again. He hadn’t had a single sip of the gin and vermouth on the table, yet his face was suffused by an adorable blush. Song Yu had had some of the alcohol, but he had no reaction to it at all, his head lowered as he carefully sliced a plate of beef, precise and refined.

“That doesn’t count, I was wearing swimming shorts.” Yue Zhishi couldn’t help but retort, “Besides, I was covered by a towel.”

“That’s right, only his feet were bare,” Yue Yi helpfully added for him.

The adults around the table cracked up. Song Yu lifted his eyes and met Yue Zhishi’s eyes, noticing he would dodge away from his gaze. Yue Zhishi shifted his eyes back after two seconds and asked if he wanted fish, stumbling over his words.

Song Yu took a piece of grilled trout from him, said thank you and then offered over the plate of beef he’d already sliced up.

“No need to exchange.” Yue Zhishi hurriedly waved a hand at him.

“It’s not an exchange.” Standing up, Song Yu placed the plate in front of Yue Zhishi, his tall shadow enveloping him. “I was slicing it up for you.”

Yue Zhishi was somewhat stunned, quietly saying thank you before stuffing a piece into his mouth. The adults were joking with things such as ‘it must be nice to have an older brother’. Yue Zhishi’s cheeks were bulging from the food, and he occasionally glanced at Song Yu as he chewed.

It was time to relax after eating, and everyone sat in the front courtyard, drinking tea. Song Yu sat there for a while, reading a few pages of a book on a rocking chair, and started to feel slightly tired. And so he went upstairs, hearing the sound of overlapping footsteps when he arrived at the third floor.

Like a hunter waiting for his prey to fall into his trap, he waited behind his room door — he even obtained a flustered look.

“Are… Are you going to sleep?” Yue Zhishi asked, looking at Song Yu.

“Maybe.” Song Yu pulled open his door slightly wider, like an invitation for someone to enter his room.

“Don’t sleep.” Yue Zhishi went in very naturally, and he even caught Song Yu’s wrist. “I knew you were coming, so I spent several days planning. I wrote down all the fun, beautiful places in England and waited for you. And yet now you want to sleep during such a nice day.”

He added, “You don’t know how hard it is to get nice weather in England.”

Song Yu now believed English people all liked to discuss the weather. At the same time, he now realised there was a strange quality about Yue Zhishi: he held the sincerity and self-confidence of someone who’d never been hurt before. He could express himself without worrying about anything, and he was shy within reason, not feeling awkward simply because it was their first meeting. He approached him very naturally, and wasn’t scared of being rejected.

Of course, Song Yu also had no way of rejecting Yue Zhishi.

“Then let’s carry out your plans.” Song Yu thought of the nickname Yue Zhishi’s mother had called him over the phone in the car, and so he added for himself, “Little tour guide.”

Yue Zhishi didn’t know what the Chinese words of ‘tour guide’ meant, but he became really excited after asking. “I’ll definitely be an extremely amazing tour guide.”

He took Song Yu biking around the coastline. There wasn’t a beach filled with fine white sand here, but the coastline was filled with sparkling cobblestones. A small store sold strawberry waffles overflowing with cream by the side of the road, and even though Yue Zhishi couldn’t eat waffles, he still turned back to look at it three times before Song Yu himself said he really wanted to have one.

“Really?” Yue Zhishi was very surprised, rapidly stopping his bike. “I’ll buy one for you.”

But Song Yu only had one bite before handing it to him, saying it was too sweet. Yue Zhishi forked a really large strawberry covered with cream into his mouth, and he mumbled, “But it tastes okay.”

“Strawberry waffle.” Song Yu pointed at the container in his hand. “You eat the strawberries, I’ll handle the waffle.”

They reached an agreement, the understanding between them as natural as though they’d grown up together even if they hadn’t.

Song Yu fell under an illusion of having watched Yue Zhishi grown up, but a vividly alive Yue Zhishi was standing in front of him with so many gorgeous details Song Yu had never thought of: the shallow dimple at the corner of his mouth whenever he smiled, how he rubbed his arms as he spoke, the confidence as he introduced the town’s architecture.

“This is one of England’s most open places. The LGBT community celebrates and marches here every summer. Everything would be covered in rainbows and would be really beautiful.”

Having reached this topic, he tentatively tried to read Song Yu’s expression.

“Really?” Song Yu mildly said, “Sounds nice.”

The ocean was in front of their eyes, and they walked on top of the cobblestones with their shoes on. Men and women, dressed in bikinis and swimming trunks, filled the beach. Yue Zhishi took Song Yu to the edge of the water and suggested for him to take off his shoes, to experience the water. Song Yu did so, and with their shoes in their hands, they stood there, the salty sea breeze wafting up their clothes and the tide surging up to caress their feet and ankles.

“So cold.” Yue Zhishi was grinning like a small child, and he drew a bit closer to Song Yu, his round big toe brushing against the edge of Song Yu’s sole. Their feet were different in size, and Song Yu’s skin was slightly darker, Yue Zhishi appearing even paler in the water like a luminous piece of porcelain.

Song Yu also shifted closer slightly; he even stepped on the back of Yue Zhishi’s fair and soft foot with half of his own. Yue Zhishi didn’t move away.

A movement like that was even more intimate than holding hands.

When Song Yu pulled back his foot, water undulating, Yue Zhishi placed his own foot on top of Song Yu’s — and then he tilted up his face to him, smiling.

“Is this revenge?” Song Yu said.

“This is communication,” Yue Zhishi said, face serious. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the midst of ocean water and sea breeze, arm grazing against arm. Yue Zhishi lowered his head, measuring, and then he grabbed Song Yu’s wrist and lifted it high — it wasn’t to hold hands with him, but rather, it was to measure Song Yu’s wrist with his thumb and index finger. He wasn’t able to circle around Song Yu’s wrist completely. The flesh of his fingers, separated by skin, pressed onto Song Yu’s protruding wrist bones, Song Yu’s veins pulsing with life.

“I have a watch,” Yue Zhishi said, holding onto his wrist. “It’ll really suit you.”

“Yours?” Song Yu turned his hand and also caught onto Yue Zhishi’s very slender wrist.

“Yes, but I’ve only worn it once. Actually…”

As he spoke, a caucasian girl with brown hair in a black bikini headed towards them, her eyes locked onto Song Yu’s body and sizing up his broad shoulders and outstanding features. Standing in front of Song Yu, she very enthusiastically asked if he was here as an overseas student or on a holiday, and asked if he wanted to enjoy a cocktail with her at the bar nearby.

Yue Zhishi had also raised his face at this time, his eyebrows faintly drawn together.

Song Yu refused her, saying, “I’ve already had some alcohol.”

The girl keenly understood his meaning, as well as the opposition coming from the boy next to him. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t know you guys were together.”

Yue Zhishi’s knit eyebrows spread open, and they turned into the eyebrows of a panic-stricken face. He awkwardly shook his head, but he wasn’t quite willing to shake his head too definitively.

“We…”

Song Yu didn’t deny it, but neither did he admit it; instead, he wrapped a hand around Yue Zhishi’s wrist. The girl left after saying I won’t bother you guys on your date anymore.

“We’re not on a date,” Yue Zhishi weakly said, once she’d disappeared.

Song Yu let go. “Seeing each other for the first time after so many years — to say it a bit more solemnly, it could be considered as keeping an appointment.”

Yue Zhishi did his best to understand what he was saying, and he saw the faint red mark left on his wrist after Song Yu had held it.

“I wasn’t finished speaking, earlier.” Yue Zhishi gazed at the side of Song Yu’s face. “That watch I’ve only worn once — I actually bought it for you.”

“I wanted to send you a birthday present.”

And yet they were only allowed to send letters to each other.

“But that would be against the rules, right?” Yue Zhishi seemed to be talking to himself.

“I’m in front of you now.” Song Yu was also looking back at him. “I broke the rules first.”

Yue Zhishi’s eyelashes gently quivered, his eyes clear yet confused.

Song Yu said, “Did you know you once sent the wrong letter?”

Seeing apprehension flare within Yue Zhishi’s eyes, Song Yu continued speaking.

“It was a half complete letter. You crossed out more than half of it.”

[Song Yu gege, every time my asthma flares up, I always feel really depressed for a long time. Being unhealthy makes me really distressed, and every time it happens, I never want you to come and see me. When you come, I want to be healthy, to be filled with strength and energy. I hope you’ll like the real me (I get rashes when I’m sick, it’s really ugly) and not just the name written in these letters. It’s so strange; I actually don’t remember seeing you as a child anymore, but I really miss you. Why do humans miss someone they’ve never seen before?

In the entire world, you’re the only person to whom I can pour out my heart so utterly and completely. My family, my friends — none of them can take your place. As long as I see a letter from you in my mailbox, it doesn’t matter what I’ve gone through that day; I would be happy. You wouldn’t believe me, but I had a dream about you while in bed after my asthma attack. We met, and we didn’t shake each other’s hands. Instead, you kissed my cheek and said in English, ‘lovely to see you’.

The terrible thing is, that wasn’t the worst of it. When I woke up, I actually felt so much regret — I wanted that kiss to land on my lips.

Does that mean I like]

“Zhishi.” It was the first time he used that shortened name, one he’d thought about so many times and always wanted to write at the beginning of his letters. But he’d waver and change his mind every time he lowered his pen and started to write.

That final incomplete sentence — seemingly calmly, Song Yu asked him face to face.

“Does that mean you like me?”